srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第56节

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s　watching　for　Quaan　and　Amatin。
　　　　A　short　time　later；　the　first　crosswalk　fell。　The　battered　remnant　of　an　Eoman　dashed　along　it　out　of　the　tower；　rabidly　pursued　by　Cavewights。　Archers　sent　the　Cavewights　plunging　to　the　courtyard；　and　as　soon　as　the　warriors　were　safe；　the　walk's　cables　were　cut。　The　wooden　span　swung　clattering　down　and　crashed　against　the　wall　of　the　tower。
　　　　The　tumult　of　battle　echoed　out　of　the　tower。　Abruptly；　Warmark　Quaan　appeared　on　one　of　the　upper　spans。　Yelling　stridently　to　make　himself　heard；　he　ordered　all　except　the　two　highest　crosswalks　cut。
　　　　Mhoram　shouted　up　to　the　Warmark；　〃Amatin！〃
　　　　Quaan　nodded；　ran　back　into　the　tower。
　　　　The　next　two　spans　fell　promptly；　but　the　sentries　at　the　third　waited。　After　a　moment；　several　injured　warriors　stumbled　out　onto　the　walk。　Supporting　each　other；　carrying　the　crippled；　they　struggled　toward　the　Keep。　But　then　a　score　of　Stone…born　creatures　charged　madly　out　of　the　tower。　Defying　arrows　and　swords；　they　threw　the　injured　off　the　span　and　rushed　on　across　the　walk。
　　　　Grimly；　deliberately；　the　sentries　cut　the　cables。
　　　　Every　enemy　that　appeared　in　the　doorways　where　the　spans　had　been　was　killed　or　beaten　back　by　a　hail　of　fiery　arrows。　The　higher　crosswalks　fell　in　swift　succession。　Only　two　remained　for　the　survivors　in　the　tower。
　　　　Now　Lord　Trevor　was　panting　dizzily　at　the　High　Lord's　side；　and　Mhoram　himself　felt　weak　with　strain。　But　he　could　not　afford　to　rest。　Tohrm's　Gravelingases　would　not　be　able　to　hold　the　gates　alone。
　　　　Yet　his　flame　lost　its　vehemence　as　the　urgent　moments　passed。　Fear　for　Quaan　and　Amatin　disrupted　his　concentration。　He　wanted　intensely　to　go　after　them。　Warriors　were　escaping　constantly　across　the　last　two　spans；　and　he　watched　their　flight　with　dread　in　his　throat；　aching　to　see　their　leaders。
　　　　One　more　span　went　down。
　　　　He　stopped　fighting　altogether　when　Quaan　appeared　alone　in　the　doorway　of　the　last　crosswalk。
　　　　Quaan　shouted　across　to　the　Keep；　but　Mhoram　could　not　make　out　the　words。　He　watched　with　clenched　breath　as　four　warriors　raced　toward　the　Warmark。
　　　　Then　a　blue…robed　figure　moved　behind　Quaan…Amatin。　But　the　two　made　no　move　to　escape。　When　the　warriors　reached　them；　they　both　disappeared　back　into　the　tower。
　　　　Stifling　in　helplessness；　Mhoram　stared　at　the　empty　doorway　as　if　the　strength　of　his　desire　might　bring　the　two　back。　He　could　hear　the　Raver's　hordes　surging　constantly　upward。
　　　　A　moment　later；　the　four　warriors　reappeared。　Between　them；　they　carried　Hearthrall　Borillar。
　　　　He　dangled　in　their　hands　as　if　he　were　dead。
　　　　Quaan　and　Amatin　followed　the　four。　When　they　all　had　gained　the　Keep；　the　last　crosswalk　fell。　It　seemed　to　make　no　sound　amid　the　clamor　from　the　tower。
　　　　A　mist　passed　across　Mhoram's　sight。　He　found　that　he　was　leaning　heavily　on　Trevor；　while　he　gasped　for　breath；　he　could　not　stand　alone。　But　the　Lord　upheld　him。　When　his　faintness　receded；　he　met　Trevor's　gaze　and　smiled　wanly。
　　　　Without　a　word；　they　turned　back　to　the　defense　of　the　gates。
　　　　The　tower　had　been　lost；　but　the　battle　was　not　done。　Unhindered　now　by　Amatin's　fire；　the　dead　were　slowly　able　to　push　a　path　through　the　sand。　The　weight　of　their　assault　began　to　mount　again。　And　the　sensation　of　wrong　that　they　sent　shuddering　through　the　stone　increased。　The　High　Lord　felt　Revelstone's　pain　growing　around　him　until　it　seemed　to　e　from　all　sides。　If　he　had　not　been　so　starkly　confronted　with　these　dead；　he　might　have　believed　that　the　Keep　was　under　attack　at　other　points　as　well。　But　the　present　need　consumed　his　attention。　Revelstone's　only　hope　lay　in　burying　the　gates　with　sand　before　they　broke。
　　　　He　sensed　Tohrm's　arrival　behind　him；　but　did　not　turn　until　Quaan　and　Lord　Amatin　had　joined　the　Hearthrall。　Then　he　dropped　his　power　and　faced　the　three　of　them。
　　　　Amatin　was　on　the　edge　of　prostration。　Her　eyes　ached　in　the　waifish　pallor　of　her　face；　her　hair　stuck　to　her　face　in　sweaty　strands。　When　she　spoke；　her　voice　quivered。　〃He　took　a　bolt　meant　for　me。　Borillar…he…　I　did　not　see　samadhi's　aim　in　time。〃
　　　　A　moment　passed　before　Mhoram　found　the　self…mastery　to　ask　quietly；　〃Is　he　dead？〃
　　　　〃No。　The　Healers…he　will　live。　He　is　a　Hirebrand…not　defenseless。〃　She　dropped　to　the　stone　and　slumped　against　the　wall　as　if　the　thews　which　held　her　up　had　snapped。
　　　　〃I　had　forgotten　he　was　with　you；〃　Mhoram　murmured。　〃I　am　ashamed。〃
　　　　〃　You　are　ashamed！〃　The　rough　croak　of　Quaan's　voice　caught　at　Mhoram's　attention。　The　Warmark's　face　and　arms　were　smeared　with　Wood；　but　he　appeared　uninjured。　He　could　not　meet　Mhoram's　gaze。　〃The　tower…lost！〃　He　bit　the　words　bitterly。　〃It　is　I　who　am　ashamed。　　No　Warmark　would　permit…Warmark　Hile　Troy　would　have　found　a　means　to　preserve　it。〃
　　　　〃Then　find　a　means　to　aid　us；〃　Tohrm　groaned。　〃These　gates　cannot　hold。〃
　　　　The　livid　desperation　in　his　tone　pulled　all　the　eyes　on　the　abutment　toward　him。　Tears　streamed　down　his　face　as　if　he　would　never　stop　weeping；　and　his　hands　flinched　distractedly　in　front　of　him；　seeking　something　impossible　in　the　air；　something　that　would　not　break。　And　the　gates　moaned　at　him　as　if　they　were　witnessing　to　the　truth　of　his　distress。
　　　　〃We　cannot；〃　he　went　on。　〃Cannot。　Such　force！　May　the　stones　forgive　me！　I　am…we　are　unequal　to　this　stress。〃
　　　　Quaan　turned　sharply　on　his　heel　and　strode　away；　shouting　for　timbers　and　Hirebrands　to　shore　up　the　gates。
　　　　But　Tohrm　did　not　seem　to　hear　the　Warmark。　His　wet　gaze　held　Mhoram　as　he　whispered；　〃We　are　prevented。　Something　ill　maims　our　strength。　We　do　not　prehend…　High　Lord；　is　there　other　wrong　here？　Other　wrong　than　weight　and　dead　violence？　I　hear…all　Revelstone's　great　rock　cries　out　to　me　of　evil。〃
　　　　High　Lord　Mhoram's　senses　veered；　and　he　swung　into　resonance　with　the　gut…rock　of　the　Keep　as　if　he　were　melding　himself　with　the　stone。　He　felt　all　the　weight　of　samadhi's　dead　concentrated　as　if　it　were　impending　squarely　against　him；　he　felt　his　own　soul　gates　groaning；　detonating；　cracking。　For　an　instant；　like　an　ignition　of　prophecy；　he　became　the　Keep；　took　its　life　and　pain　into　himself；　experienced　the　horrific　might　which　threatened　to　rend　it…and　something　else；　too；　something　distinct；　private；　terrible。　When　he　heard　frantic　feet　clattering　toward　him　along　the　main　hall；　he　knew　that　Tohrm　had　glimpsed　the　truth。
　　　　One　of　the　two　men　Mhoram　had　sent　to　watch　over　Trell　dashed　forward；　jerked　to　a　halt。　His　face　was　as　white　as　terror；　and　he　could　hardly　thrust　words　stuttering　through　his　teeth。
　　　　〃High　Lord；　e！　He！…the　Close！　Oh；　help　him！〃
　　　　Amatin　covered　her　head　with　her　arms　as　if　she　could　not　bear　any　more。　But　the　High　Lord　said；　〃I　hear　you。　Remember　who　you　are。　Speak　clearly。〃
　　　　The　man　gulped　sickly　several　times。　〃Trell…you　sent…he　immolates　himself。　He　will　destroy　the　Close。〃
　　　　A　hoarse　cry　broke　from　Tohrm；　and　Amatin　gasped；　〃Melenkurion！〃　Mhoram　stared　at　the　warrior　as　if　he　could　not　believe　what　he　had　heard。　But　he　believed　it；　he　felt　the　truth　of　it。　He　was　appalled　by　the　dreadful　understanding　that　this　knowledge　also　had　e　too　late。　Once　again；　he　had　failed　of　foresight；　failed　to　meet　the　needs　of　the　Keep。　Spun　by　irrefusable　exigencies；　he　wheeled　on　Lord　Trevor　and　demanded；　〃Where　is　Loerya？〃
　　　　For　the　first　time　since　his　rescue；　Trevor's　exaltation　wavered。　He　stood　in　his　own　blood　as　if　his　injury　had　no　power　to　hurt　him；　but　the　mention　of　his　wife　pained　him　like　a　flaw　in　his　new　courage。　〃She；〃　he　began；　then　stopped　to　swallow　thickly。　〃She　has　left　the　Keep。　Last　night…she　took　the　children　upland…to　find　a　place　of　hiding。　So　that　they　would　be　safe。〃
　　　　〃By　the　Seven！''　Mhoram　barked；　raging　at　all　his　failures　rather　than　at　Trevor。　〃She　is　needed！〃　Revelstone's　situation　was　desperate；　and　neither　Trevor　nor　Amatin　were　in　any　condition　to　go　on　fighting。　For　an　instant；　Mhoram　felt　that　the　dilemma　could　not　be　resolved；　that　he　could　not　make　these　decisions　for　the　Keep。　But　he　was　Mhoram　son　of　Variol；　High　Lord　by　the　choice　of　the　Council。　He　had　said　to　the　warrior：　Remember　who　you　are。　He　had　said　it　to　Tohrm。　He　was　High　Lord　Mhoram；　incapable　of　surrender。　He　struck　the　stone　with　his　staff　so　that　its　iron　heel　rang；　and　sprang　to　his　work。
　　　　〃Lord　Trevor；　can　you　hold　the　gates？〃
　　　　Trevor　met　Mhoram's　gaze。　〃Do　not　fear；　High　Lord。　If　they　can　be　held；　I　will　hold　them。〃
　　　　〃Good。〃　The　High　Lord　turned　his　back　on　the　courtyard。　〃Lord　Amatin…Hearthrall　Tohrm…will　you　aid　me？〃
　　　　For　answer；　Tohrm　met　the　outreach　of　Amatin's　arm　and　helped　her　to　her　feet。
　　　　Taking　the　fear…blanched　warrior　by　the　arm；　Mhoram　hastened　away　into　the　Keep。
　　　　As　he　strode　through　the　halls　toward　the　Close；　he　asked　the　warrior　to　tell　him　what　had　happened。　〃He…it…''　the　man　stammered。　But　then　he　seemed　to　draw　a　measure　of　steadiness　from　Mhoram's　grip。　〃It　surpassed　me；　High　Lord。〃
　　　　〃What　has　happened？〃　repeated　Mhoram　firmly。
　　　　〃At　your　mand；　we　followed　him。　When　he　learned　that　we　did　not　mean　to　leave　him；　he　reviled　us。　But　his　cursing　showed　us　a　part