fs.thesecondbookofswords-第50节
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ng as of some distant but determined hammer； working at the hardest metal。
〃So？〃 Doon raised an eyebrow； considering this。 〃It seems that you do。 But we'll see。 I've never yet given up on a fight … even against a god … nor lost one； when I had to win。〃
And with marvelous sudden speed he feinted a movement toward the tree； then； when Mark moved to block him from it； he spun away to reach for another rack of elegant weaponry upon another wall。 From this he snatched down a small battle axe and a matching shield； both of beautiful workmanship； embossed with silver and ivory and gold。
〃Ben；〃 called Mark； 〃stay out there。 I'm all right。 Stay with her。〃
And in his hands Mark could feel the faint； cold hammering vibration of the Sword he held。 This was not Townsaver with its impressive scream； but perhaps equally powerful； perhaps more so。。。 in his mind's eye Mark again saw； his father dead； his brother too； who had held that other Sword； that had saved nothing。。。
Doon said to him considerately： 〃You should first drop your bow and quiver； lad。 They'll hinder you。 Go ahead； I'll wait。〃
Mark made a little shrugging motion； meaning： it will make no difference。 Doon seeing his shoulders move perhaps thought that Mark had been distracted； that his grip on the hilt was poor； that the ruse had worked。 For the Baron brought up his axe and shield； and closed with a rush。
Mark expected the axe to e at him from one direction； and realized too late that it was swinging from another。 His arms unaided could never have parried it with any weapon。
But the weapon he was holding was no longer subject to his control。 Shieldbreaker only emphasized two notes amid the almost hypnotic streaming rhythm of its sound。 Its movement on the two beats drew Mark's arms with it unhurriedly； melding him into its own power and speed。 The parry caught the flashing battle axe in midstroke； ripped it from Doon's grasp and hurled it like a missile across the room； where it smashed into a jeweled breastplate and set a whole rack of fancy armor toppling； a crash that seemed to go on endlessly。
The backstroke of the Sword of Force came at Doon himself； but he was able to catch it on his shield。 The steel buckler was ripped almost in half； the strips of its precious metal inlays torn loose and sent flying。 Doon was knocked down； but he scrambled back to his feet almost at once； ridding his numbed left arm of the useless twisted metal。 He darted to another rack of weapons； grabbed up a javelin with a jeweled point； and hurled it with all his strength at Mark。 Shieldbreaker flashed to shatter the weapon in midair； the pieces flying like slung stones。
Mark； breathing only a little harder than normal； held the Sword easily in his two hands … rather； he stood there letting it hold him。 He could not now have let go the hilt if he had wanted to。 〃Ben。 Move her back a little farther。 Out of the way。〃
But； just then； Ben's wordless； helpless cry went up。 Mark understood； without taking his eyes from Doon； that Ariane was dead。
Doon had already rearmed himself from the walls of this mad arsenal。 This time with a morningstar。 He spun the spiked head rapidly on its chain； and probably meant to try to tangle the blade of the Sword of Force and pull it from Mark's grip。 But Shieldbreaker's shining blur this time intercepted the weight itself。 With the clang of a split anvil； the spiked iron ball； points tipped with bronze and gold； spun free to give up its momentum in the devastation of another shelf or two； from which inlaid helmets and gilded gauntlets cascaded in metallic thunder。
Doon had a broadsword now； in his hands the silvered blade of it made a blur that looked as swift and bright as the arc drawn by the Sword of Force。 But when the two met； only one remained。
Staggering amid the wreckage of the room； marked with blood from minor wounds from metal fragments and splintered wood； the Baron grabbed up a spear。 Holding this like a lance under one arm； and swinging a scimitar with the other； he let out a scream of defiance and despair； and ran； with all his force at Mark。 〃Stop！ I。。。〃
Whatever argument Mark might have made； there was no time for it。 The Baron closed with him … or came as close to him as will and skill could drive。 The Sword hammered briskly； blurred impersonally。 How many teeth of the gleaming millsaw bit at Doon； Mark could not count。 The spear was in three pieces before it hit the floor； and Doon himself was left in more than one。 One of his arms was gone； and when the Sword of Force at last came to rest it had transfixed his body。
Mark watched the life depart from Doon's eyes； which were fixed on him。 And Shieldbreaker's rhythm； perhaps keeping time with the heart it pierced； went thudding softly down into silence。
Still the body stood almost upright； glaring as if the Baron's will were not yet dead。 But in fact the Baron's flesh was supported by a set of tilted shelves that he had crashed into； and by the thrusting Sword itself。 Mark raised a foot and pushed。 The dead weight slid from the blade； away from the supporting shelves； and fell amid debris with a last crash。
The Sword was suddenly a dead weight as well。 Mark let it sag。 He turned to the doorway； where Ben still crouched； oblivious to everything but the dead girl he rocked in his arms。
Just then； a strange voice boomed； from somewhere out in the dark cave： 〃You four in the weapons room； surrender！ We have taken your two friends already； and you are trapped！〃
Mark forced himself to move methodically。 He turned first to the tree of Swords； and got down the belt that had held Shieldbreaker； and put the weapon bloody as it was into the sheath； and strapped it to his waist。 He called： 〃Ben； e on。 You must leave her； for now。 e here； quickly。〃
Ben came lumbering toward him。 〃Where's Dmitry； Mark？ He threw the rock。 He hit her。〃 The big man was obviously in shock。 〃I've got to get him。 But … she's gone。 She's gone； Mark。 She。。。 just。。。〃
〃I know。 e on； Ben； e on。 I know where Dmitry went。 No； just leave her there。 You've got to leave her。〃 He dragged Ben almost unresisting to the tree of Swords； and there loaded him with Doomgiver and its belt。 Then Mark took down the last Sword； Stonecutter； for himself； for the moment carrying it belt and all in one hand。 For a moment； touching Stonecutter and the Sword of Force at the same time； he was aware of the old feeling that when he was still half a child had terrified him to the point of fainting； a feeling of being taken out of himself； of what he had imagined death itself to be like。
Now to find a way out。 Or make one。
He went to the set of huge shelves that stood at the far end of the room； almost against the rock wall of the cave。 〃Ben； help me tip these back。〃
The big man followed the order mechanically。 The shelves toppled until they caught leaning against the wall of rock； more treasure spilling and crashing from them unheeded。 Now they made a high ladder； or crude steps。 Mark led the way； climbing up them。
Again the distant voice called： 〃Your last chance to surrender！〃
Ben had mechanically strapped on the first Sword； Doomgiver； that Mark had handed him； and now； while they balanced awkwardly atop the leaning shelves； Mark gave him Shieldbreaker to hold； saying： 〃Fight them if they e。〃
Ben nodded numbly。 〃What are you doing？〃
For answer； Mark turned to press Stonecutter against the wall of stone； feeling the blade e alive in his grip as he did so。 Like Shieldbreaker； this Sword generated a hammering vibration； but Stonecutter's was heavier and slower than that of the Sword of Force。 When Mark pressed Stonecutter against the wall； the point sank right in； as if the stone it touched had turned to so much butter。
The first piece he cut free； an awkward cone the size of a man's head； came sliding out。 It fell heavily between the two men's feet； bounced from the angled； tilted surface of the top shelf； and crashed down to the floor below。
〃You're carving steps？ To where？〃
〃It'll have to be more than steps。〃
The next pieces that Mark cut out were larger。 Quickly their crashing fall became an almost continuous sound。 Mark was cutting them at an upward angle； so that each block when loosened slid free of its own weight。 This meant that the men had to keep their feet out of the way； it also meant that the hole now rapidly deepening in the wall was angled upward。 But that was all right； they wanted to go up anyway。 Rough…cut pyramids and lopsided cones continued to fall free at an encouraging rate。
Soon Mark had to widen the mouth of his excavation； to be able to step up into it and continue to reach the receding workface； while still keeping his feet and Ben's out of the way of falling blocks。
Ben was ing out of shock a little； belatedly getting the idea。 〃We can cut a tunnel； and get out！〃 〃So I hope。 If we have time。 Watch your feet！〃
There were renewed cries for their surrender； ing from somewhere cautiously out of sight。 Ben and Mark were now pletely inside their ascending mine； and the Old World lights somehow registered their depart
