df.therunelords-第74部分

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n　into　a　dire　melancholy　that　made　him　sit　beside　the　fire；　stroking　his　beard　with　his　fingers；　wondering　at　his　own　plans。
　How　many　times　had　he　eaten　at　this　inn　on　his　trips　to　visit　Sylvarresta？　How　often　had　he　feasted　on　the　bounty　of　these　woods？　How　often　had　he　thrilled　to　the　baying　of　the　hounds　as　they　chased　the　great　boars；　taken　joy　in　the　toss　of　the　javelin　as　he　rode　a　pig　down？
　The　innkeeper's　hospitality；　the　fineness　of　the　meal；　somehow　made　King　Orden　feel。。。desolate。
　Five　years　past；　while　Mendellas　Orden　hunted　here；　an　assassin　had　broken　into　his　keep；　had　slain　his　wife　in　her　bed；　with　a　newborn　babe。　It　had　been　only　six　months　since　two　daughters　died　in　a　previous　attack。　The　murder　of　King　Orden's　wife　and　babe　sparked　outrage。　Yet　the　killer　was　never　apprehended。　Trackers　followed　his　trail；　lost　the　assassin　in　the　mountains　south　of　Mystarria。　He　could　have　been　escaping　southeast　into　Inkarra；　or　he　could　have　headed　southwest　to　Indhopal。
　Orden　had　guessed　Indhopal　or　Muyyatin。　But　he　could　not　have　struck　out　blindly　at　his　neighbors；　without　proof。
　So　he'd　waited；　and　waited；　for　assassins　to　strike　again；　to　e　for　him　personally。
　They　never　did。
　Orden　had　lost　a　part　of　himself；　he　knew。　He'd　lost　his　wife；　the　one　love　of　his　life。　He'd　never　remarried；　planned　never　to　remarry。　If　one　cannot　replace　a　lost　hand　or　a　leg；　how　can　one　hope　to　replace　half　of　himself？
　For　years　now；　he'd　acutely　felt　the　pain。　With　so　many　endowments　of　wit；　he　could　perfectly　recall　her　tone　of　voice；　her　face。　In　his　dreams　Corette　yet　walked　and　spoke　with　him。　Often　when　he　woke　on　a　cold　winter's　morning；　he　felt　surprised　to　find　that　her　soft　flesh　was　not　cupping　him；　trying　to　drink　his　warmth；　the　way　she　had　when　still　alive。
　He　found　it　hard　to　describe　the　sense　of　loss　he　felt。　King　Orden　had　once　tried　to　express　it　to　himself。
　He　did　not　feel　that　he　had　lost　his　future；　that　his　life　was　at　an　end。
　His　son　was　his　future。　King　Orden　would　continue；　go　on　without　his　wife；　if　the　Powers　so　willed　it。
　Nor　did　he　feel　he　had　lost　his　past；　for　Orden　could　remember　perfectly　the　taste　of　Corette's　kisses　on　the　night　of　their　wedding；　the　way　she　cried　in　joy　when　she　first　suckled　Gaborn。
　No；　it　was　the　present　he　had　lost。　The　opportunity　to　be　with　his　wife；　to　love　her；　to　spend　each　waking　moment　in　her　pany。
　Yet　as　King　Orden　sat　in　the　Dwindell　Inn；　eating　roast　off　a　fine　china　platter；　he　became　keenly　aware　that　something　new　had　been　ripped　from　him。
　His　past　was　gone。　All　of　his　good　memories　would　soon　bee　unbearable。　King　Sylvarresta　was　not　dead　yet；　so　far　as　Orden　knew；　but　sometime　this　evening；　Borenson　would　try　to　carry　out　his　orders。　Orden　would　be　forced　to　kill　the　man　he　most　loved　and　admired。　It　was　a　foul　thing；　a　bitter　seasoning　to　a　fine　meal。
　Perhaps　Stevedore　Hark　understood　what　he　felt；　for　the　innkeeper　got　a　thin　stew　cooking　for　some　of　the　men；　then　came　to　sit　a　few　moments　at　Orden's　feet；　miserating。
　〃We　heard　the　news　last　night　from　Castle　Sylvarresta；〃　he　whispered。　〃Bad　news。　The　worst　of　my　life。〃
　〃Aye；　the　worst　in　several　lifetimes；〃　Orden　grunted；　looking　at　the　old　innkeeper。　Stevedore　had　gotten　a　few　more　white　hairs　in　his　sideburns　this　year。　Indeed；　his　hair　was　more　white　now　than　grizzled。
　It　was　said　that　each　year；　the　Time　Lords　would　ring　a　silver　bell；　and　at　the　ringing　of　the　bell；　all　who　heard　it　would　age　a　year。　For　those　whom　the　Time　Lords　disliked；　a　bell　might　be　rung　more　than　once；　while　those　whom　the　Time　Lords　favored　might　not　have　such　a　bell　rung　in　their　presence　at　all。
　The　Time　Lords　had　not　favored　Stevedore　Hark　this　year。　His　eyes　looked　puffy。　From　lack　of　sleep？　No；　the　man　would　not　have　slept　last　night；　after　such　tragic　news。
　〃Do　you　think　you　can　dislodge　the　monster？〃　Stevedore　asked。　〃He　has　you　outnumbered。〃
　〃I　hope　to　dislodge　him；〃　Mendellas　said。
　〃If　you　do；　then　you　will　be　our　king；〃　the　innkeeper　said　flatly。
　King　Orden　had　not　considered　the　possibility。　〃No；　your　royal　family　is　intact。　If　House　Sylvarresta　falls；　the　Countess　of　Arens　is　next　in　title。〃
　〃Not　likely。　People　won't　follow　her。　She's　married　in　Seward；　too　far　away　to　rule。　If　you　win　back　Heredon；　the　people　will　want　no　one　but　you　for　their　lord。〃
　Orden's　heart　skipped　at　the　thought。　He'd　always　loved　the　woods；　the　hills　of　Heredon。　He'd　loved　the　clean；　friendly　people；　the　sparkling　air。　〃I'll　drive　Raj　Ahten　out；〃　Orden　said。　He　knew　it　wouldn't　be　enough　to　drive　Raj　Ahten　from　this　land。　He'd　have　to　go　further。　A　Wolf　Lord　cannot　be　whipped　like　a　pup。　He　must　be　slaughtered；　like　a　mad　dog。
　In　his　mind's　eye；　King　Orden　saw　the　war　unfold　before　him；　realized　he'd　have　to　prepare　to　head　south；　to　strike　Deyazz　and　Muyyatin　and　Indhopal　e　spring；　from　there　sweep　south　into　Khuram　and　Dharmad　and　the　kingdoms　beyond。
　Until　all　Raj　Ahten's　Dedicates　lay　dead；　and　the　Wolf　Lord　himself　could　be　slain。
　If　he　won　this　war；　there　would　lands　to　plunder。　He　cared　nothing　for　most　of　the　Southern　kingdoms；　but　he　would　take　one　thing：　the　blood…metal　mines　of　Kartish；　south　of　Indhopal。
　King　Orden　changed　the　conversation；　talked　with　the　innkeeper　of　days　past；　of　hunts　with　Sylvarresta。　Orden　joked；　〃If　the　day　should　e　that　I'm　king　of　Heredon；　I　suppose　I'll　have　to　invite　you　on　my　next　hunt。〃
　〃Indeed；　I　fear　it　is　the　only　way　you　will　keep　me　from　poaching；　Your　Highness；〃　Stevedore　Hark　laughed；　then　slapped　the　King　on　the　back；　a　touch　so　familiar　that　no　one　in　Mystarria　would　have　dared　anything　similar。
　But　Orden　imagined　that　Sylvarresta　had　been　slapped　on　the　back　by　friends　many　times。　He　was　that　kind　of　man。　The　kind　who　did　not　have　to　be　cold　and　distant　to　be　kingly。
　〃It　is　agreed　then；　my　friend；〃　Orden　said。　〃You　will　e　on　my　next　hunt。〃　Orden　changed　the　subject。　〃Now；　tonight；　Raj　Ahten's　army　should　e　here　and　find　that　the　bridge　is　out。　I　ask　a　favor　of　you。　Remind　them　that　Boar's　Ford　is　shallow　enough　to　cross。〃
　〃Well；　that's　where　they'd　naturally　go；　isn't　it？〃　Hark　asked。
　〃They're　strangers　to　this　land；〃　Orden　said。　〃Their　spies　may　only　have　marked　bridges　on　their　maps。〃
　〃You　have　a　surprise　in　mind？〃　Hark　asked。　Orden　nodded。　〃Then　I'll　tell　them。〃
　On　that　note　the　innkeeper　went　back　to　work。　Soon　after；　the　rain　let　up；　and　King　Orden　took　his　leave　of　the　inn；　ready　to　set　back　out　on　the　march。
　He　checked　to　make　certain　that　the　bridge　at　Hayworth　was　down；　its　huge　beams　and　planks　all　safely　stored；　then　let　his　men　and　horses　finish　their　own　brief　meal。
　His　captains　had　purchased　grain　for　the　horses；　and　kegs　of　ale　were　opened　for　his　troops。　Though　his　men　lost　an　hour　in　their　ride；　they　felt　much　invigorated　afterward。
　So　they　set　out　on　the　road；　much　renewed；　racing　all　the　faster　for　Longmont。
　They　proceeded　through　the　Durkin　Hills　for　the　rest　of　the　afternoon；　marching　near　the　mountains　to　reach　Longmont　before　sunset。
　Castle　Longmont　sat　on　a　steep；　narrow　hill　among　some　downs；　and　had　a　cheery　little　town　to　its　south　and　west。　It　was　not　huge；　as　castles　go；　but　the　walls　rose　incredibly　high。　The　machicolations　atop　the　walls　were　sturdily　wrought。　Archers　could　shoot　through　the　machicolations　or　drop　oil　or　stones　on　attackers　from　any　part　of　the　wall　with　little　fear　of　reprisal。
　The　stonework　on　the　walls　was　phenomenal。　Many　stones　weighed　twelve　to　fourteen　tons；　yet　the　stones　fit　together　so　cleanly；　a　man　was　hard…pressed　to　find　a　fingerhold。
　Many　considered　Longmont　unscalable。　No　one　had　ever　achieved　a　successful　escalade　of　the　outer　walls。　The　castle　had　fallen　once；　five　hundred　years　earlier；　when　sappers　managed　to　dig　beneath　the　west　wall；　so　that　it　collapsed。
　Other　than　that；　the　castle　had　never　been　taken。
　So　as　the　troops　neared　Longmont；　King　Orden　found　himself　longing　for　its　safety。　He　felt　unprepared　for　the　scene　of　destruction　before　him。
　The　village　at　the　base　of　the　castle　had　been　destroyedhundreds　of　homes；　barns；　and　warehouses；　all　burned　to　their　foundation　stones。　Smoke　curled　up　f