srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第34节

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y　through　knee…deep　snow；　letting　the　blizzard　guide　him　wherever　it　chose。
　　　　Yet　in　spite　of　the　night　and　the　storm；　his　senses　became　slowly　aware　of　looming　rock　walls。　The　wind　lost　its　single　fury；　turned　to　frigid　gusts　and　eddies；　and　he　limped　between　sheer；　close　cliffs　into　a　valley。　But　the　disruption　of　the　storm's　force　came　too　late　to　save　him。　The　valley　floor　lay　waist…deep　in　heavy　gray　snow；　and　he　was　too　exhausted　to　make　much　headway　against　it。　Once　again；　he　found　he　was　supporting　a　rade；　Quirrel　hung　from　his　shoulders　like　spent　mortality。　Soon　he　could　go　no　farther。　He　fell　into　a　snowbank；　gasping　into　the　snow；'　Tire。　Must…fire。〃
　　　　But　his　hands　were　too　frozen；　his　arms　were　too　locked　in　ice。　He　could　not　reach　his　lomillialor　rod；　could　never　have　pulled　flame　from　it。　Quirrel　had　already　lost　her　graveling。　And　his　was　in　his　pack。　It　might　as　well　have　been　lost　also；　he　could　not　free　his　shoulders　from　the　pack　straps。　He　tried　to　rouse　Quirrel；　failed。　The　lower　half　of　her　face　was　caked　in　ice；　and　her　eyelids　fluttered　as　if　she　were　going　into　shock。
　　　　〃Fire；〃　Triock　rasped。　He　was　sobbing　and　could　not　stop。　Frustration　and　exhaustion　overwhelmed　him。　The　snow　towered　above　him　as　if　it　would　go　on　forever。
　　　　Tears　froze　his　eyes　shut；　and　when　he　pried　them　open　again；　he　saw　a　yellow　flame　flickering　its　way　toward　him。　He　stared　at　it　dumbly。　It　bobbed　and　weaved　forward　as　if　it　were　riding　the　wick　of　an　invisible　candle　until　it　was　so　close　to　his　face　that　he　could　feel　its　warm　radiance　on　his　eyeballs。　But　it　had　no　wick。　It　stood　in　the　air　before　his　face　and　flickered　urgently；　as　if　it　were　trying　to　tell　him　something。
　　　　He　could　not　move；　he　felt　that　ice　and　exhaustion　had　already　frozen　his　limbs　to　the　ground。　But　when　he　glanced　away　from　the　flame；　he　saw　others；　three　or　four　more；　dancing　around　him　and　Quirrel。　One　of　them　touched　her　forehead　as　if　it　were　trying　to　catch　her　attention。　When　it　failed；　it　flared　slightly；　and　at　once　all　the　flames　left；　scurried　away　down　the　valley。　Triock　watched　them　go　as　if　they　were　his　last　hope。
　　　　Then　the　cold　came　over　him　like　slumber；　and　he　began　to　lose　consciousness。　Unable　to　help　himself；　he　sagged　toward　night。　The　cold　and　the　snow　and　the　valley　faded　and　were　replaced　by　vague　faces…　Lena；　Elena；　Atiaran；　Trell；　Saltheart　Foamfollower；　Thomas　Covenant。　They　all　regarded　him　with　supplication；　imploring　him　to　do　something。　If　he　failed；　their　deaths　would　have　no　meaning。　〃Forgive　me；〃　he　breathed；　speaking　especially　to　Covenant。　〃Forgive。〃
　　　　〃Perhaps　I　shall；〃　a　distant　voice　replied。　〃It　will　not　be　easy…I　do　not　desire　these　intrusions。　But　you　bear　a　rare　token。　I　see　that　I　must　at　least　help　you。〃
　　　　Struggling；　Triock　turned　his　sight　outward　again。　The　air　over　his　head　was　bright　with　dancing　flames；　each　no　larger　than　his　hand。　And　among　them　stood　a　tall　man　dressed　only　in　a　long　robe　the　color　of　granite。　He　met　Triock's　gaze　awkwardly；　as　if　he　were　unaccustomed　to　dealing　with　eyes　other　than　his　own。　But　when　Triock　croaked；　〃Help；〃　he　replied　quickly；　〃Yes。　I　will　help　you。　Have　no　fear。〃
　　　　Moving　decisively；　he　knelt；　pulled　open　Triock's　cloak　and　tunic；　and　placed　one　warm　palm　on　his　chest。　The　man　sang　softly　to　himself；　and　as　he　did　so；　Triock　felt　a　surge　of　heat　pour　into　him。　His　pulse　steadied　almost　at　once；　his　breathing　unclenched；　with　wondrous　speed；　the　possibility　of　movement　returned　to　his　limbs。　Then　the　man　turned　away　to　help　Quirrel。　By　the　time　Triock　was　on　his　feet　among　the　bobbing　flames；　she　had　regained　consciousness。
　　　　He　recognized　the　flames　now；　he　had　heard　of　them　in　some　of　the　happiest　and　saddest　legends　of　the　Land。　They　were　Wraiths。　As　he　shook　his　head　clear　of　ice；　he　heard　through　the　gusting　wind　snatches　of　their　light　crystal　song；　music　like　the　melody　of　perfect　quartz。　They　danced　about　him　as　if　they　were　asking　him　questions　which　he　would　never　be　able　to　understand　or　answer；　and　their　lights　bemused　him；　so　that　he　stood　entranced　among　them。
　　　　The　tall　man　distracted　him　by　helping　Quirrel　to　her　feet。　Surrounded　by　Wraiths；　he　raised　her；　supported　her　until　she　could　stand　on　her　own。　Then　for　a　moment　he　looked　unfortably　back　and　forth　between　her　and　Triock。　He　seemed　to　be　asking　himself　if　he　could　justify　leaving　them　there；　not　helping　them　further。　Almost　at　once；　however；　he　made　his　decision。　The　distant　roar　of　the　blizzard　rose　and　fell　as　if　some　hungry　storm…animal　strove　to　gain　access　to　the　valley。　He　shivered　and　said；　'e。　Foul's　winter　is　no　place　for　flesh　and　blood。〃
　　　　As　the　man　turned　to　move　toward　the　upper　end　of　the　valley；　Triock　said　abruptly；　〃You　are　One　of　the　Unfettered。〃
　　　　〃Yes。　Yet　I　aid　you。''　His　voice　vanished　as　soon　as　it　appeared　on　the　tattered　wind。　〃I　was　once　Woodhelvennin。　The　hand　of　the　Forest　is　upon　me…　And　you〃…he　was　thrusting　powerfully　away　through　the　snow　as　if　he　were　talking　to　himself；　as　if　he　had　been　panionless　for　so　long　that　he　had　forgotten　how　people　listen…〃bear　lomillialor。〃
　　　　Triock　and　Quirrel　pushed　after　him。　His　gait　was　strong；　unweary；　but　by　following　his　path　through　the　drifts；　they　were　able　to　keep　up　with　him。　The　Wraiths　lighted　their　way　with　crystal　music　until　Triock　felt　that　he　was　moving　through　a　pocket　of　Andelain；　a　brief　eldritch　incarnation　of　clean　light　and　warmth　amid　the　Gray　Slayer's　preternatural　malevolence。　In　the　dancing　encouragement　of　the　flames；　he　was　able　to　disregard　his　great　fatigue　and　follow　the　Unfettered　One's　song：
　　　　Lone
　　　　Unfriended
　　　　Bondless
　　　　Lone…
　　　　Drink　of　loss　until　'tis　done：
　　　　Til　solitude　has　e　and　gone；
　　　　And　silence　is　munion…
　　　　And　yet
　　　　Unfriended
　　　　Bondless
　　　　Lone。
　　　　Slowly；　they　worked　their　way　up　to　the　end　of　the　valley。　It　was　blocked　by　a　huge　litter　of　boulders；　but　the　Unfettered　One　led　them　along　an　intricate　path　through　the　rocks。　Beyond；　they　entered　a　sheer　ravine　which　gradually　closed　over　their　heads　until　they　were　walking　into　a　black　cave　lit　only　by　the　flickering　of　the　Wraiths。　In　time；　the　crooked　length　of　the　cave　shut　out　all　the　wind　and　winter。　Warmth　grew　around　Triock　and　Quirrel；　causing　their　garments　to　drip　thickly。　And　ahead　they　saw　more　light。
　　　　Then　they　reached　the　cave　end；　the　Unfettered　One's　home。　Here　the　cave　expanded　to　form　a　large　chamber；　and　all　of　it　was　alive　with　light　and　music；　as　scores　of　Wraiths　flamed　and　curtsied　in　the　air。　Some　of　them　cycled　through　the　center　of　the　chamber；　and　others　hung　near　the　black　walls　as　if　to　illuminate　inscriptions　on　the　gleaming　facets　of　the　stone。　The　floor　was　rude　granite　marked　by　lumps　and　projecting　surfaces　which　the　Unfettered　One　clearly　used　as　chairs；　tables；　bed。　But　the　walls　and　ceiling　were　as　black　as　obsidian；　and　they　were　covered　with　reflective　irregular　planes　like　the　myriad　fragments　of　a　broken　mirror　in　which　the　Wraith　light　would　have　dazzled　the　beholders　if　the　surfaces　had　not　been　made　of　black　stone。　As　it　was；　the　chamber　was　warm　and　evocative；　it　seemed　a　fit　place　for　a　seer　to　read　the　writing　graved　within　the　heart　of　the　mountain。
　　　　At　the　mouth　of　the　chamber；　Triock　and　Quirrel　shed　their　packs　and　cloaks；　opened　their　ice…stiff　inner　garments　to　the　warmth。　Then　they　took　their　first　clear　look　at　their　rescuer。　He　was　bald　except　for　a　white　fringe　at　the　back　of　his　head；　and　his　mouth　hid　in　a　gnarled　white　beard。　His　eyes　were　so　heavily　couched　in　wrinkles　that　he　seemed　to　have　spent　generations　squinting　at　illegible　munications；　and　this　impression　of　age　was　both　confirmed　by　the　old　pallor　of　his　skin　and　denied　by　the　upright　strength　of　his　frame。　Now　Triock　could　see　that　his　robe　had　been　white　at　one　time。　It　had　gained　its　dull　granite　color　from　long　years　of　contact　with　the　cave　walls。
　　　　In　his　home；　he　seemed　even　more　disturbed　by　the　Stonedownors。　His　eyes　flicked　fearful　and　surprised　glances　at　them…not　as　if　he　considered　them　evil；　but　rather　as　if　he　distrusted　their　clumsiness；　as　if　his　life　lay　in　fragile　sections　on　the　floor　and　might　be　broken　by　their　feet。
　　　　〃I　have　little　food；〃　he　said　as　he　watched　the　puddles　which　Triock　and　Quirrel　left　behind。　〃Food　also…I　have　no　time　for　it。〃　But　then　an　old　memory　seemed　to　pass　across　his　face…a　recollection　that　the　people　of　the　Land　did　not　treat　their　guests　in　this　way。　Triock　felt　suddenly　sure　that　the　One　had　been　living　in　this　cave　before　he；　Triock；　was　born。　〃I　am　not　accustomed；〃　the　man　went　on　as　if　he　felt　he　should　explain　himself。　〃One　life　does　not　suffice。　When　I　found　I　could　not　refuse　succor　to　the　Wraiths…much　time　was　lost。　They　repay　me　as　they　can；　but　much…　much…　How　can　I　live　to　the　end　of　my　work？　You　are　costly　to　me。　Food　itself　is　costly。〃
　　　　As　Triock　recovered　himself　in　the　cave's　mouth；　he　remembered　his　message　to　the　Lords；　and　his　face　tightened　into　its　familiar　frown。　〃The　Gray　Slayer　is　costly；〃　he　replied　grimly。
　　　　His　statement　disconcerted　the　Unfettered　One。　〃Yes；''　he　mumbled。　Bending　quickly；　he　picked　up　a　large　flas