fs.thesecondbookofswords-第42部分

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　　　〃Leave？　Back　to　the　world？　But。。。〃　Half　supported　by　the　older　man；　Dmitry　was　already　on　his　feet。　In　another　moment　he　had　pushed　the　support　away　and　stood　alone；　though　swaying　a　little　on　his　feet。　Like　his　father　he　was　of　low…average　height　and　sturdily　built；　though　otherwise　they　looked　little　enough　alike。　〃Wait；　I　can't　leave。　Not　without　my　friends。〃　〃What　friends？　e　on；　hurry。〃
　　　Dmitry　lurched　back；　pulling　his　arm　free　again　from　Mitspieler's　grasp。　From　blankness　and　confusion；　the　youth's　face　had　settled　into　a　childish　scowl。　〃They're　my　friends；　I　said！　I'm　not　going　anywhere　without　them。〃
　　　The　wizard；　his　own　look　of　tenderness　already　gone；　glared　back　at　him。　〃If　you　mean　people　from　that　bandit　gang　you　came　here　with；　forget　it。　I'm　not　going　to　waste。。。〃
　　　〃Then　I'm　not　leaving。　I　mean　two　men　in　my　squad　here；　Father；　Willem　and　Daghur。　They're　both　great　pals　of　mine　and　I　can't　go　without。。。　well；　hello　there。〃　His　eye　had　at　last　fallen　upon　Ariane。
　　　Doon　had　had　more　than　enough。　In　a　fierce　muted　roar　he　ripped　out　an　oath。　〃Who　doesn't　get　moving　in　the　next　instant；　I'll　run　him　through。　Now　move！〃
　　　Dmitry　had　by　now　regained　his　full　balance。　He　used　it　to　vault　back　over　the　bed　that　he　had　just　left。　His　weapons；　sword　and　dagger；　had　been　stashed　on　that　side　of　the　couch　and　he　grabbed　them　up。　Smiling　happily；　he　told　Doon：　〃Just　who　in　all　the　hells　do　you　think　you　are？　I'll　mode　on　when　I　am　ready。〃
　　　Mitspieler；　with　more　than　a　century　of　experience　to　draw　on；　found　gesture　and　speech　to　quell　them　both　…　at　least　for　the　moment。　〃Put　down　your　weapons；　the　two　of　you。　Put　them　down；　I　say！　It　would　be　madness　to　fight　here　among　ourselves。　Dmitry；　where　are　these　other　two？　I'll　wake　them　swiftly　if　I　can。〃　He　turned　to　Doon　and　added：　〃It'll　mean　two　more　men　with　us。　Two　more　fighters。〃　〃All　right　then。　But　be　quick；　demons　blast　you！〃
　　　Dmitry　indicated　to　his　father　the　two　nearby　couches。　The　following　rituals　were　if　anything　quicker　than　the　first　had　been；　but　Mark　thought　that　when　Mitspieler　straightened　up　from　the　last　one　he　looked　notably　weaker　than　before。　〃No　more；〃　the　magician　murmured　in　a　drained　whisper。　〃e；　we　must　move　on。〃
　　　Two　loutish…looking　men；　the　latest　fruit　of　his　endeavors；　had　sprung　up　stumbling　to　their　feet。　They　recognized　Dmitry　grinning　at　them；　and　pleaded　in　loud　bawling　voices　to　be　let　in　on　what　was　going　on。　He　thumped　their　backs；　and　swore　at　them　joyfully。　〃We're　going　on　to　pillage　the　treasure　after　all！〃
　　　Willem　was　tall　and　black；　his　face　a　whitened　mass　of　scars　as　from　some　old　ill…treated　wound　or　wounds。　He　roared　out　now　in　a　jumble　of　oaths　that　he　was　ready　to　follow　Dmitry　anywhere。　〃Best　squad　leader　in　the　whole　damned　garrison！〃
　　　Daghur　concurred　with　this；　expressing　himself　with　an　eloquent　grunt。　He　was　short　and　pale；　with　good　muscles　burdened　under　a　thick　layer　of　unhealthy…looking　fat。　A　horned　helmet　with　one　horn　broken　off　sat　slightly　sideways　on　his　head。　His　gross　arms　were　heavily　tatooed；　and　many　of　his　teeth　were　broken。
　　　〃But　where'd　you　get　the　rest　of　this　scum？〃　he　demanded　of　paltry；　meanwhile　glaring　at　Mark　and　Ben　and　Doon。　〃What　made　you　think　they　could　keep　up？〃
　　　〃The　best　I　could　find　on　short　notice！〃　Dmitry　shouted；　hugging　the　two　around　their　necks。　〃Never　mind　them；　e　on。〃
　　　〃And　who's　the　old　one　here？〃　Willem　wanted　to　know。
　　　〃Never　mind；　he'll　keep　up　too！〃
　　　〃So；　it's　a　revolt；　hey；　Dimmy？　I'm　for　it；　what　the　hell；　let's　go。〃　Then　Willem　broke　off　suddenly；　staring　at　Ariane。　It　was　as　if　he　had　deliberately　kept　her　the　last　to　notice。　〃Wow。　This's　yours　already；　I　suppose？〃
　　　Mark　had　observed　some　time　ago　that　Doon　could　control　his　temper　very　neatly　whenever　its　unleashing　or　display　would　not　advance　his　purpose。　So　it　was　now。　The　Baron　spoke　very　quickly　and　earnestly　to　Mitspieler；　and　the　wizard；　his　brow　now　even　a　little　paler　than　before；　spoke　solemnly　to　his　son。　Dmitry；　with　a　look　and　a　nod；　managed　to　convey　much　information　quickly　to　his　otherwise　obtuse　friends。　Immediately　the　little　army　of　intruders　and　escapees　began　to　move　in　the　direction　that　Doon　wanted　them　to　go；　following　the　Sword。　Mark；　close　behind　the　Baron　now；　could　hear　him　murmuring　to　it　as　to　a　woman：　〃Bring　us　to　the　treasure　now；　my　beauty！〃
　　　Doon's　band　was　now　eight　strong；　and　it　followed　him　at　a　quick　pace。　But　before　the　group　had　gone　a　hundred　strides；　muttered　warnings　were　exchanged　among　its　members。　Looking　off　to　the　right；　Mark　could　now　discern　another　band　of　people；　some　forty　or　fifty　meters　distant；　trotting　at　parable　speed　along　a　parallel　course。　The　headlamps　of　Doon's　party　were　turned　off；　and　they　could　not　make　out　the　other　group　very　clearly；　but　undoubtedly　it　was　there。
　　　Mark　trusted　strongly　in　the　Sword；　and　he　tended　to　trust　Doon's　leadership　as　well。　Mark　ran　now；　keeping　up　with　the　Baron；　who　had　accelerated　his　own　strides。　But　already　Daghur　and　Willem　were　panting；　starting　to　lag；　swearing　away　in　protests　what　little　wind　they　had。　Dmitry　too　was　falling　behind；　declaring　in　gasps　that　he　was　bound　to　stay　with　his　two　panions　…　it　sounded　like　a　transparent　excuse；　meant　to　hide　his　own　poor　condition。
　　　Even　so　they　had　gained　a　little　on　the　party　running　to　their　right。　But　now　Mark　could　see　yet　another　force；　at　about　the　same　distance　to　the　left　and　also　speeding　along　a　parallel　course；　with　torchlight　glinting　on　its　weapons。　The　garrison　appeared　to　be　rousing　itself　piecemeal　to　meet　the　incursion。　Now　someone　in　the　group　to　the　left　called　out；　and　Mark　realized　that　those　were　women。
　　　〃Amazons；〃　a　voice　beside　him　panted。　〃Bandits　and　warriors　just　like　the　rest　of　the　garrison。　I'd　rather　face　the　men。〃
　　　Doon　was　not　disposed　to　loiter　for　the　benefit　of　stragglers；　and　Dmitry　and　his　two　friends　kept　falling　farther　back。　Mark　looking　over　his　shoulder　saw　that　there　was　now　pursuit　to　the　rear　as　well；　whatever　they　might　encounter　up　ahead；　doubling　back　did　not　appear　to　be　an　option。
　　　And　now；　directly　ahead；　another　armed；　torchbearing　contingent　was　assembling；　soldiers　moving　into　position　to　block　the　way。
　　　Doon　halted；　his　people　stopped　around　him；　all　gasping　with　the　effort　of　the　futile　run。　The　enemy　array　blocking　their　path　was　already　solidly　in　place　behind　its　leveled　spears；　and　in　itself　had　some　advantage　in　numbers　over　the　intruders。　Certainly　the　other　forces　on　both　flanks　and　in　the　rear　would　have　time　to　close　in　before　any　breakthrough　could　be　made。
　　　Now　for　a　little　time　there　was　silence　in　the　cave；　except　for　the　less　and　less　distant　shuffle　of　many　feet；　a　sound　that　gradually　shuffled　into　silence；　and　for　the　faint　sizzle　and　drip　of　the　torches　that　a　number　of　the　enemy　were　carrying；　and　for　the　slowly　quieting　breathing　of　hard…worked　lungs。
　　　Now；　from　the　very　center　of　the　opposing　front　line；　a　grotesquely　squat；　thick…bodied　figure　detached　itself；　and　waddled　a　few　paces　forward。　This　man　wore　an　elongated　helmet；　as　if　in　some　preposterous　effort　to　achieve　impressive　height。　His　strange；　waddling　gait　made　Mark　look　at　his　feet；　and　these　also　appeared　lengthened；　by　oddly　thick　soled　boots。　Torches　on　either　side　of　him　cast　a　flickering　red　light　upon　his　bulbous；　red…nosed　face。　In　a　hoarse　voice　this　figure　bellowed：　〃Surrender；　you　scurvy　sons　of　loadbeasts！　We　have　you　surrounded！〃　The　sentences　were　punctuated　with　waves　of　a　short　sword。
　　　Dmitry　for　once　was　quiet；　Mark　from　the　corner　of　his　eye　observed　that　the　youth　appeared　sullenly　downcast。　But　Doon　was　equal　to　the　occasion；　and　put　on　his　best　mander's　voice　and　manner：　〃Who　speaks？　Where's　your　captain？〃
　　　The　squat　one　bellowed　back　at　him：　〃I'm　captain　here！　mander　of　the　bloody　garrison　of　the　Blue　Temple　Main　Depository。　Field　Marshall　d'Albarno　…　ever　hear　of　me？〃　He　rolled　a　few　paces　farther　forward；　into　somewhat　brighter　light；　as　if　he　took　pride　in　his　bizarre　appearance。　His　face；　now　more　clearly　visible；　was　bloated　and　spectacularly　ugly。