wilbursmith_warlock-第89部分
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Once again Taita gestured and the sigh became a soughing； a gentle whistling。 It came from the east； and slowly all their heads turned towards it。
Out of that strange； cloudless brilliance； they saw it ing。 It was a solid dun wall that reached from the earth to the highest heavens。
'Khamsin！' Trok whispered the dread word。
The wall of airborne sand marched towards them with a terrible deliberation。 It undulated and pulsed like a living creature； and its voice changed。 No longer a whisper； it became a rising howl； the voice of a demon。
'Khamsin！' The word was yelled from chariot to chariot。 They were no longer warriors hot for war； but small terrified creatures in the face of this destroyer of men； cities and civilizations； this eater of worlds。
The column of chariots lost its formation and broke up into fragments as the drivers wheeled their teams and tried to run from it。
As soon as they left the narrow path of harder ground the sand sucked down their wheels。 Men leaped from the cockpits and abandoned their vehicles； leaving the horses in the traces。 Instinctively the horses sensed the menace and reared and screamed； trying to escape by kicking themselves free of the traces。
The khamsin bore down upon them inexorably。 Its voice changed from a howl to a bellow。 Men ran before it in mindless panic。 They slipped and fell in the loose sand； dragged themselves up and ran on。 They looked back and saw the great storm e on apace roaring like a crazed monster； rolling and roiling upon itself； twisting curtains of sand； brazen where the sunlight struck them； dun and sombre where their own mountainous heights shaded them。
Taita stood with his arms and staff outstretched and watched the army below him engulfed。 He saw Trok and Ishtar still frozen like a pair of statues in the sunlight； and then； as the front of the storm reached them； they were gone with magical swiftness； they and all their men； chariots and horses； gone in the rolling billows of the khamsin。
Taita lowered his arms； turned his back on the monster and； without haste； started down the hillock。 His long legs spanned the difficult places and he leaned upon his staff as he stepped from ledge to ledge。
Nefer and Mintaka were standing hand in hand at the base of the cliff。 They weled him with a bemused expression； and Mintaka's tone was subdued and incredulous as she asked； 'You called up the storm？'
'It has been brewing all these last days。' Taita said； his face neutral and his tone equivocal。 'You have all remarked the heat and the dolorous yellow mists。'
'No；' said Nefer。 'It was not in nature。 It was you。 You knew and understood all along。 You called it up。 And I doubted you。'
'Go into the shelter now；' said Taita。 'It is almost upon us。' His voice was lost in the shrieking cacophony of the khamsin。 Mintaka led the way； crawling into the low narrow cave through the opening in the rude wall。 The others followed her； crowding into the tiny space。 Before he entered Hilto handed in the almost empty waterskins。
In the end； only Taita stood outside the shelter。 Almost as though the storm was his creature； his face was intent as it loomed over him。 It struck with a force that made the living rock around them seem to quiver and vibrate and Taita was gone； his tall figure obliterated。 The first gust lasted only a few seconds； but when it passed Taita was still there； unmoved and serene。 The storm gathered itself bellowing； like a berserk monster； and as it hurled down on them in all its terrible majesty Taita stooped through the opening and sat with his back to the inner wall。
'Close it up；' he said； and Meren and Hilto blocked the entrance with the rocks they had placed at hand。
'Cover your heads；' said Taita； and wound his headcloth over his face。 'Keep your eyes closed； or you will lose your sight。 Breathe carefully through your mouth or you will drown in sand。'
* * *
The storm was so overwhelming that its first front picked up Trok's chariot and rolled it over with the horses screaming as the lashing shaft broke their backs。
Trok was thrown free。 He fought his way to his feet； but the storm struck him down again。 He managed to pull himself up； using all his brute strength； but he had lost all sense of direction。 When he tried to open his eyes he was blinded by sand。 He did not know in which direction he was facing； or where he should try to escape。 The storm was swirling upon itself so that it seemed to be ing from every direction at once。 He dared not open his eyes again。 The khamsin ripped at his face； and its harsh rush abraded the skin from his cheeks and lips until he covered them with his headcloth。
In the turmoil of sand and wind Trok screamed； 'Save me！ Save me； Ishtar； and I will reward you beyond your greediest dreams。'
It seemed impossible that anyone could have heard his cry in the deafening uproar。 Then he felt Ishtar seize his hand and squeeze it hard to caution Trok to hold fast。
They stumbled on； at times sinking to the knees in the sand； which ran like water。 Trok tripped over an obstacle and lost contact with Ishtar。 When he groped for him in panic he touched the object that had tripped him； and realized that it was one of the abandoned chariots lying on its side。
He screamed for Ishtar； staggering in a circle and Ishtar's hand grabbed his beard and led him on。 He was scorched by sand； blinded by sand； drowning in sand。
He fell to his knees and Ishtar hauled him up again； ripping out a handful of his beard。 He tried to speak but when he opened his mouth the sand rushed in and he choked。 He knew he was dying； that no man could survive this terrible thing that had them in its grip。
It seemed endless； their tormented journey to nowhere。 Then； abruptly； he felt the force of the wind diminish。 For a minute he thought that the storm had already passed them by； but the roar had not abated…to the contrary； it seemed still to be rising。 They staggered onwards； reeling and bumping into each other like two drunkards trying to lead each other home from the tavern。 Still the wind force dropped。 In a vague and confused way Trok thought that somehow Ishtar had worked a spell to shield them； but then a sudden gust almost lifted him off his feet and broke the grip that Ishtar had on his beard。 He crashed into a wall of rock with such force that he felt his collar…bone break；
He dropped to his knees and clung to the rock； like a child to its mother's breast。 How Ishtar had brought them to it he neither knew nor cared。 All that mattered was that the cliff above them was breaking the full force of the storm。 He felt Ishtar kneel at his side and pull up his tunic until it covered his head。 Then Ishtar pushed him down flat in the shelter of the cliff and lay down beside him。
* * *
In the tiny cave Nefer crawled close to Mintaka and took her in his arms。 He tried to speak to her； to fort and encourage her but both their heads were swathed with cloth； and the wind drowned out all sound。 She laid her head on his shoulder and they clung to each other。 They were entombed in the roaring darkness； dumb and blinded and half suffocated。 Each hot breath they drew had to be strained through cloth and taken only a sip at a time to prevent a rush of talcum fine sand passing between their lips。
After a while the roar of the wind deafened them and dulled all their other senses。 It went on and on； without ceasing or relenting。 They had no way to judge the passage of time； except the tiniest awareness of light and darkness through their closed eyelids。 To mark the arrival of the day there was a faint rosy aura； when night fell it faded into utter darkness。 Nefer had never known such plete and endless dark。 If it had not been for Mintaka's body pressed close to his； he thought that he would have gone mad。
Every once in a long while she stirred against him and answered the pressure of his arms with her own。 He might have slept； but there were no dreams； just the roaring
