gns.thegraveyardvultures-第28节

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　　Sabat　soared　up　into　the　summer　sky；　saw　some　diving　swallows　and　envied　them　their　freedom。　Below　him　the　village　resembled　a　toy　model；　growing　smaller　as　he　gained　height；　and　he　found　it　hard　to　believe　that　dangerous　evil　could　be　spawned　in　such　a　tranquil　setting。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　Daimler　where　he　had　parked　it；　they　had　wasted　no　time　in　disposing　of　it。　Sabat's　trail　was　already　obliterated。
　　
　　In　due　course　he　came　to　that　barren　wasteland　which　was　his　intended　destination；　that　arid　expanse　where　the　final　battle　between　the　dark　and　light…skinned　races　had　been　fought。　Here　he　changed　his　form；　a　bearded；　sweat…soaked　warrior　clad　only　in　a　tattered　loincloth；　experiencing　the　rigours　of　the　merciless　sun；　scuffing　blistered　feet　in　the　powdery　silver　sand。
　　
　　Water　holes　beckoned　and　then　mocked　him　by　fading　into　the　shimmering　haze；　palm　trees　that　turned　out　to　be　stunted　cacti　when　he　approached　them。　Sabat　knew　it　was　self…torture；　masochism；　that　he　could　have　used　the　shape　of　a　desert　bird　to　traverse　the　distance　so　much　quicker；　but　this　was　the　way　it　had　to　be；　a　pilgrim　on　his　way　to　worship　at　the　shrine　of　the　gods；　humble　and　beseeching　his　gods　to　grant　his　request。
　　
　　The　sun　was　past　its　zenith　when　he　spied　the　battle　scene；　bloated　vultures　waddling　amongst　the　slain。　Their　cruel　beaks　speared　dead　eyes；　their　crops　bulging　with　a　glut　of　these　delicacies。　Tomorrow；　when　they　had　digested　their　optic　banquet；　they　would　return　for　the　deposing　flesh。　Days　later　they　would　be　gleaning　the　whitening　bones　and　then　there　would　be　no　way　of　identifying　the　slain　forces　of　good　from　the　corpses　of　evil。
　　
　　Slowly　Sabat　wound　his　way　between　the　bodies。　Eyeless　sockets　seemed　to　follow　his　every　movement；　the　smell　of　death　and　flesh　which　was　already　beginning　to　putrefy　hung　heavy　in　the　still　atmosphere。　The　slain　stretched　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　rigor　mortis　capturing　the　final　throes　of　agony。　Then　a　sudden　movement　halted　him　and　he　shielded　his　eyes；　saw　human　forms；　a　hundred　yards　or　so　away。　Four　of　them；　huddled　cloaked　figures；　bowed　with　grief　as　they　surveyed　the　carnage　around　them。
　　
　　Sabat　experienced　a　sudden　chill；　a　shiver　running　through　him　in　spite　of　the　intolerable　heat。　He　turned；　began　to　make　his　way　towards　them；　a　feeling　of　guilt　causing　him　to　avert　his　eyes。　For　he　had　no　right　to　be　here；　a　trespasser　in　the　land　of　the　gods；　one　who　came　only　when　the　final　conflict　was　over。　But　it　was　not　over；　an　eternal　struggle　in　which　the　forces　of　good　struggled　to　repel　the　armies　of　evil；　a　battle　won　today　would　be　lost　tomorrow；　and　so　it　would　be　for　always。
　　
　　He　raised　his　head；　saw　that　all　four　of　them　were　watching　him　intently；　yet　their　expressions　were　impassive。　Three　men　and　a　woman；　at　least　those　were　the　forms　in　which　they　showed　themselves　to　him；　robed　and　cowled　so　that　they　might　just　have　been　desert　wanderers　who　had　happened　upon　the　slaughter　like　himself。
　　
　　'You　came　too　late；　Sabat。'　The　oldest　of　the　men　spoke　with　a　heavy　nasal　accent；　one　that　could　not　be　likened　to　any　race　anywhere　in　the　world。　'This　day　has　been　long　although　it　is　far　from　finished。　Warriors　have　been　slain　by　the　thousand　but　there　is　neither　conqueror　nor　conquered。　And　so　it　will　always　be；　eternal　strife　and　suffering。'
　　
　　'That　is　why　I　e；　my　Lord　Damballah；'　Sabat　spoke　humbly。　'Greetings　to　you　and　your　woman　Aida　Ouedo。　Had　I　a　white　cock　and　hen　1　would　sacrifice　them　to　you　but　all　I　see　around　me　are　vultures。'
　　
　　'So　be　it。'　Damballah　waved　a　hand　in　the　direction　of　his　three　panions。　'Today　is　Wednesday　which　is　my　day；　Damballah's　day。　Yet　you　may　also　address　Papa　Legba；　the　giver　of　opportunities；　and　Maitre　Carrefour；　the　Lord　of　the　Crossroads。　See；　they　even　pay　homage　to　him　in　this　land　of　death。'
　　
　　Sabat's　eyes　followed　the　pointing　finger；　saw　a　crude　wooden　cross　some　seven　or　eight　feet　high　on　which　had　been　draped　a　tattered　tail…coat；　above　which　hung　the　remnants　of　a　top　hat。　The　Lord　of　the　Crossroads；　indeed；　was　represented　here　but　today　it　was　Damballah；　chief　of　the　Rada　gods；　who　manded　worship。　Sabat　was　fortunate；　any　other　time　he　might　have　happened　upon　the　evil　Petro　gods　and　surely　Baron　Cimeterre　would　not　have　forgiven　him　for　his　treachery；　first　in　the　cemetery　and　later　when　he　had　put　Maurice　Storton's　body　beyond　the　reach　of　the　Lord　of　the　Cemetery。
　　
　　'You　risk　your　soul；　Sabat；'　Damballah　warned。　'It　is　only　the　foolish　and　the　brave　who　dare　to　tread　this　blood…soaked　battlefield　from　which　there　is　no　escape　except　by　the　benevolence　of　the　ruling　god　on　that　day。'
　　
　　'I　came　because　it　is　Wednesday；'　Sabat　kept　his　eyes　on　the　ground；　saw　a　scorpion　scuttle　beneath　a　dead　body；　'otherwise　I　would　not　have　done　so。　I　e　to　ask　your　help。'
　　
　　'Even　Damballah　is　wary　of　your　treachery　now。'
　　
　　'My　treachery　concerns　only　Baron　Cimeterre。　Surely　you　do　not　despise　me　for　what　I　did　to　your　sworn　enemy；　a　Petro　god。'
　　
　　'No；　but　I　cannot　trust　a　mercenary　in　this　eternal　war　between　good　and　evil。　Yours　is　a　selfish　request；　a　plea　that　you　might　be　saved。'
　　
　　'No！'　Sabat　raised　himself　proudly　to　his　full　height。　'I　ask　not　to　be　saved　myself　but　unless　I　am　spared；　the　duppy　of　my　brother　Quentin　will　be　released　to　join　forces　with　the　Petro　gods。　Only　by　saving　me　will　you　prevent　this　happening。'
　　
　　'You　are　cunning；　Sabat；'　a　faint　smile　flicked　briefly　across　the　parchment…like　features　of　the　Wednesday　god；　'but　as　your　soul　is　also　Quentin's；　how　can　I　be　certain　that　you　will　not　reward　me　with　evil；　turn　on　me　as　you　did　on　Baron　Cimeterre。'
　　
　　'I　can　make　no　such　rash　promise；　nor　would　I　attempt　to　do　so；'　Sabat　replied；　'for　at　times；　Quentin　is　strong　within　me。　But　I　will　make　one　vow　here　on　this　bloodsoaked　land。'
　　
　　'You　are　honest　and　for　that　I　respect　you。　But　what　vow　will　you　make；　what　bargain　for　your　life。　You　cannot　guarantee　me　your　duppy　because　it　is　not　wholly　yours；　and　after　death　it　may　go　into　the　dark　unknown。'
　　
　　'I　promise　this；'　Sabat's　voice　was　loud　and　clear；　shouting　because　distant　thunder　was　rumbling；　an　approaching　desert　storm　ing　to　whip　the　sand　and　drive　it　so　that　this　day's　battle　would　be　buried　and　forgotten；　'that　I　will　kilt　he　who　is　known　as　Royston　Spode　in　the　name　of　Damballah；　and　that　I　will　destroy　his　duppy　before　it　can　leave　his　body　in　the　same　manner　in　which　1　did　one　called　Maurice　Storton。　And　should　it　by　chance　elude　me；　then　I　will　follow　it　into　the　black　beyond　and　hunt　it　down　like　a　savage　beast。'
　　
　　Damballah　was　silent　for　a　few　moments；　glancing　at　Aida　Ouedo　and　the　other　two　in　turn　as　though　seeking　their　opinion。　Heads　were　nodded；　shaken；　then　Damballah　turned　back　to　Sabat。　'It　is　a　terrible　vow　which　you　make。　You　will　be　held　to　it。'
　　
　　'I　vow！'　Sabat　spoke　slowly；　dropping　his　voice　to　a　whisper；　'to　destroy　the　line　of　evil　that　has　been　continued　through　William　Gardiner　into　the　person　of　Royston　Spode。　And　if　1　fail　then　you　may　take　me。'
　　
　　'No；'　Damballah　hissed；　'I　shall　not　take　you；　for　the　Rada　gods　will　have　no　use　of　you　then。　The　Petro　gods　will　claim　your　duppy　and　doubtless　Baron　Cimeterre　will　exact　a　terrible　revenge　upon　you　for　the　manner　in　which　you　tricked　him。　That　is　the　price　of　failure。　Now　go；　return　to　your　body　and　we；　the　Rada　gods；　will　do　our　best。　But　even　we　cannot　promise　victory；　for　the　evil　in　that　temple　is　so　strong　that　we　may　not　be　able　to　breach　its　battlements。'
　　
　　Sabat　bowed；　turned　away。　The　tension　which　had　built　up　inside　him　now　oozed　its　way　out；　droplets　of　sweat　that　evaporated　at　once　and　a　trembling　that　had　him　shaking　in　every　limb。　Now　that　the　ordeal　was　over　he　wanted　to　hasten　back　to　his　drugged　body；　to　rest　awhile　in　order　to　prepare　himself　for　whatever　lay　ahead。　For　even　Damballah；　chief　of　the　Rada　gods；　was　not　all…powerful；　Baron　Cimeterre　and　other　lords　of　the　dark　would　not　concede　their　evil　prize　without　a　terrible　struggle。　And　Sabat　was　to　be　the　rope　in　their　tug…o'…war！
　　
　　With　some　alarm　Sabat　realised　that　the　heat　of　the　day　had　lessened；　that　the　sun　had　slipped　towards　the　western　horizon。　In　a　world　where　time　stood　still　he　had　delayed　too　long；　now　he　sped　earthwards；　a　hurtling　speck　that　could　have　been　a　hunting　hawk；　being　a　jinking；　twisting　bat　as　he　flitted　past　the　ivy…covered　vicarage　and　honed　towards　that　open　square　in　the　overgrown；　disused　adjoining　graveyard。
　　
　　It　was　the　smell　he　noticed　first；　stronger　than　before；　a　sickening　odour　of　rotting　flesh　and　death；　mingled　with　the　acrid；　unmistakable　aroma　of　blood。　Terror　such　as　he　had　never　experienced　before　in　astral　form；　fear　that　he　had　been　away　too　long；　deserted　his　physical　body　and　left　it　totally　at　the　mercy　of　the　evil　Royston。
　　
　　Even　as　he　entered　the　crypt　the　scene　which　he　feared　most　greeted　him。　His　own　body　lay　there　before　that　black　altar　just　as　he　had　left　it；　but　in　the　light　cast　by　the　twin　candles　he　saw　the　blood　。　。