rj.theshadowrising-第172部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


ng　the　houses　and　the　trees　that　had　once　been　the　rim　of　the　Westwood。　The　Two　Rivers　men　shifted　uneasily；　peering　after　him　or　out　into　the　night。
　　　　　　　〃He　is　wrong；〃　Loial　said。　〃Gaul　and　I　saw　what　we　saw。〃　His　face　sagged　wearily；　broad　mouth　turned　down　and　long　eyebrows　drooping　on　his　cheeks。　No　wonder；　if　he　had　carried　Gaul　for　three　or　four　days。
　　　　　　　〃You　have　done　a　lot；　Loial；〃　Perrin　said；　〃you　and　Gaul　both。　A　great　thing。　I　am　afraid　your　bedroom　has　half　a　dozen　Tinkers　in　it　now；　but　Mistress　al'Vere　will　make　you　up　a　pallet。　It　is　time　for　you　to　get　some　of　that　sleep　you　want。〃
　　　　　　　〃And　time　for　you　as　well；　Perrin　Aybara。〃　Scudding　clouds　made　moonshadows　play　across　Faile's　bold　nose　and　high　cheekbones。　She　was　so　beautiful。　But　her　voice　was　firm　enough　for　a　wagon　bed。　〃If　you　do　not　go　now；　I　will　have　Loial　carry　you。　You　can　hardly　stand。〃
　　　　　　　Gaul　was　having　trouble　walking　with　his　wounded　leg。　Bain　supported　him　from　one　side。　He　tried　to　stop　Chiad　from　taking　the　other；　but　she　murmured　something　that　sounded　like　〃gai'shain〃　in　a　threatening　way；　and　Bain　laughed；　and　the　Aielman　allowed　them　both　to　help　him；　growling　furiously　to　himself。　Whatever　the　Maidens　were　going　on　about；　it　did　have　Gaul　in　a　taking。
　　　　　　　Tomas　clapped　Perrin　on　the　shoulder。　〃Go；　man。　Everyone　needs　to　sleep。〃　He　himself　sounded　good　for　three　more　days　without　it。
　　　　　　　Perrin　nodded。
　　　　　　　He　let　Faile　guide　him　back　to　the　Winespring　Inn　with　Loial　and　the　Aiel　following；　and　Aram；　and　Dannil　and　the　ten　panions　encircling　him。　He　was　not　sure　when　the　others　fell　away；　but　somehow　he　and　Faile　were　alone　in　his　room　on　the　second　floor　of　the　inn。
　　　　　　　〃Whole　families　are　making　do　with　no　more　space　than　this；〃　he　muttered。　A　candle　burned　on　the　stone　mantel　over　the　small　fireplace。　Others　did　without；　but　Marin　lit　one　here　as　soon　as　it　turned　dark　so　he　would　not　have　to　be　bothered。　〃I　can　sleep　outside　with　Dannil　and　Ban　and　the　others。〃
　　　　　　　〃Do　not　be　an　idiot；〃　Faile　said；　making　it　sound　affectionate。　〃If　Alanna　and　Verin　each　has　her　own　room；　you　should；　too。〃
　　　　　　　He　realized　she　had　his　coat　off　and　was　untying　the　laces　of　his　shirt。　〃I　am　not　too　tired　to　undress　myself。〃　He　pushed　her　gently　outside。
　　　　　　　〃You　take　everything　off；〃　she　ordered。　〃Everything；　do　you　hear？　You　cannot　sleep　properly　fully　dressed；　the　way　you　seem　to　think。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　will；〃　he　promised。　When　he　had　the　door　closed；　he　did　tug　off　his　boots　before　blowing　out　the　candle　and　lying　down。　Marin　would　not　like　dirty　boots　on　her　coverlet。
　　　　　　　Thousands；　Gaul　and　Loial　said。　Yet　how　much　could　the　two　of　them　have　seen；　hiding　on　the　way　into　the　mountains；　fleeing　on　the　way　back？　Maybe　one　thousand　at　most；　Luc　claimed；　but　Perrin　could　not　make　himself　trust　the　man　for　all　the　trophies　he　brought　in。　Scattered；　according　to　the　Whitecloaks。　How　close　could　they　have　e；　armor　and　cloaks　shining　in　the　darkness　like　lanterns？
　　　　　　　There　was　a　way　to　see　for　himself；　perhaps。　He　had　avoided　the　wolf　dream　since　his　last　visit；　the　desire　to　hunt　down　this　Slayer　rose　up　whenever　he　thought　of　going　back；　and　his　responsibilities　lay　here　in　Emond's　Field。　But　now；　perhaps。。。　Sleep　rolled　in　while　he　was　still　considering。
　
　　　　　　　He　stood　on　the　Green　bathed　by　an　afternoon　sun　low　in　the　sky；　a　few　white　clouds　drifting。　There　were　no　sheep　or　cattle　around　the　tall　pole　where　a　breeze　ruffled　the　red　wolfhead　banner；　though　a　bluefly　buzzed　past　his　face。　No　people　among　the　thatched　houses。　Small　piles　of　dry　wood　atop　ashes　marked　the　Whitecloaks'　fires；　he　had　rarely　seen　anything　burning　in　the　wolf　dream；　only　what　was　ready　to　burn　or　already　charred。　No　ravens　in　the　sky。
　　　　　　　As　he　scanned　for　the　birds；　a　patch　of　sky　darkened；　became　a　window　to　somewhere　else。　Egwene　stood　among　a　crowd　of　women；　fear　in　her　eyes；　slowly　the　women　knelt　around　her。　Nynaeve　was　one　of　them；　and　he　believed　he　saw　Elayne's　red…gold　hair。　That　window　faded　and　was　replaced。　Mat　stood　naked　and　bound；　snarling；　an　odd　spear　with　a　black　shaft　had　been　thrust　across　his　back　behind　his　elbows；　and　a　silver　medallion；　a　foxhead；　hung　on　his　chest。　Mat　vanished；　and　it　was　Rand。　Perrin　thought　it　was　Rand。　He　wore　rags　and　a　rough　cloak；　and　a　bandage　covered　his　eyes。　The　third　window　disappeared；　the　sky　was　only　sky；　empty　except　for　the　clouds。
　　　　　　　Perrin　shivered。　These　wolf…dream　visions　never　seemed　to　have　any　real　connection　to　anything　he　knew。　Maybe　here；　where　things　could　change　so　easily；　worry　over　his　friends　became　something　he　could　see。　Whatever　they　were；　he　was　wasting　time　fretting　at　them。
　　　　　　　He　was　not　surprised　to　find　he　wore　a　blacksmith's　long　leather　vest　and　no　shirt；　but　when　he　put　a　hand　to　his　belt；　he　found　the　hammer；　not　his　axe。　Frowning；　he　concentrated　on　the　long　half…moon　blade　and　thick　spike。　That　was　what　he　needed　now。　That　was　what　he　was　now。　The　hammer　changed　slowly；　as　if　resisting；　but　when　the　axe　finally　hung　in　the　thick　loop；　it　kept　shining　dangerously。　Why　did　it　fight　him　so？　He　knew　what　he　wanted。　A　filled　quiver　appeared　on　his　other　hip；　a　longbow　in　his　hand；　a　leather　bracer　on　his　left　forearm。
　　　　　　　Three　land…blurring　strides　took　him　where　the　nearest　Trolloc　camps　supposedly　lay；　three　miles　from　the　village。　The　last　step　landed　him　among　nearly　a　dozen　tall　heaps　of　wood　laid　on　old　ashes　amid　trampled…down　barley；　the　logs　mixed　with　broken　chairs　and　table　legs　and　even　a　farmhouse　door。　Great　black　iron　cauldrons　stood　ready　to　be　hung　over　the　laid　cook　fires。　Empty　cauldrons；　of　course；　though　he　knew　what　would　be　cut　up　into　them；　what　would　be　spitted　on　the　thick　iron　rods　stretched　over　some　of　the　fires。　How　many　Trollocs　would　these　fires　serve？　There　were　no　tents；　and　the　blankets　scattered　about；　filthy　and　stinking　of　old　acrid　Trolloc　sweat；　were　no　real　guide；　many　Trollocs　slept　like　animals；　uncovered　on　the　ground；　even　hollowing　out　a　hole　to　lie　in。
　　　　　　　In　smaller　steps　that　covered　no　more　than　a　hundred　paces　each；　the　land　seeming　only　to　haze；　he　circled　Emond's　Field；　from　farm　to　farm；　pasture　to　barley　field　to　rows　of　tabac；　through　scattered　copses　of　trees；　along　cart　tracks　and　footpaths；　finding　more　and　more　clusters　of　waiting　Trolloc　fires　as　he　slowly　spiraled　outward。　Too　many。　Hundreds　of　fires。　That　had　to　mean　several　thousand　Trollocs。　Five　thousand　or　ten　or　twice　that　…　it　would　make　little　difference　to　Emond's　Field　if　they　all　came　at　once。
　　　　　　　Farther　south　the　signs　of　Trollocs　vanished。　Signs　of　their　immediate　presence；　at　least。　Few　farmhouses　or　barns　stood　unburned。　Scattered　fields　of　charred　stubble　remained　where　barley　or　tabac　had　been　torched；　others　had　great　swathes　trampled　through　the　crops。　No　reason　for　it　but　the　joy　of　destruction；　the　people　had　been　long　gone　when　most　of　it　was　done。　Once　he　lighted　in　the　midst　of　large　patches　of　ash；　some　charred　wagon　wheels　still　showing　hints　of　bright　color　here　and　there。　The　site　of　the　Tuatha'an　caravan's　destruction　pained　him　even　more　than　the　farmhouses。　The　Way　of　the　Leaf　should　have　a　chance。　Somewhere。　Not　here。　Not　letting　himself　look；　he　leaped　south　a　mile　or　more。
　　　　　　　Eventually　he　came　to　Deven　Ride；　rows　of　thatch…roofed　houses　surrounding　a　green　and　a　pond　fed　by　a　spring　walled　'round　with　stone；　the　spillover　splashing　from　cuts　long　since　worn　deeper　than　they　had　been　made。　The　inn　at　the　head　of　the　green；　the　Goose　and　Pipe；　was　roofed　with　thatch；　too；　yet　a　little　larger　than　the　Winespring　Inn；　though　Deven　Ride　surely　had　even　fewer　visitors　than　Emond's　Field。　The　village　was　certainly　no　bigger。　Wagons　and　carts　drawn　close　by　every　house　spoke　of　farmers　who　had　fled　here　with　their　families。　Other　wagons　blocked　the　streets　and　the　spaces　between　the　houses　all　the　way　around　the　edge　of　the　village。　The　precautions　were　not　enough　to　have　halted　even　one　of　the　assaults　made　on　Emond's　Field　the　last　seven　days。
　　　　　　　In　three　circuits　around　the　village　Perrin　found　only　half　a　dozen　Trolloc　camps。　Enough　to　keep　people　in。　Pen　them　until　Emond's　Field　was　dealt　with。　Then　the　Trollocs　could　fall　on　Deven　Ride　at　the　Fades'　leisure。　Perhaps　he　could　find　a　way　to　get　word　to　these　villagers。　If　they　fled　south；　they　might　find　some　way　across　the　White　River。　Even　trying　to　cross　the　trackless　Forest　of　Shadows　below　the　river　was　better　than　waiting　to　die。。。
　　　　　　　The　golden　sun　had　not　moved　an　inch。　Time　was　different；　here。
　　　　　　　Running　north　as　hard　as　he　could；　even　Emond's　Field　passed　by　in　a　blur。　Watch　Hill　on　its　round　prominence　was　bordered　as　Deven　Ride　had　been　with　wagons　and　carts　between　the　houses。　A　banner　waved　lazily　in　the　breeze；　on　a　tall　pole　in　front　of　the　White　Boar　on　the　hill's　crest。　A　red　eagle　flying　across　a　field　of　blue。　The　Red　Eagle　had　been　the　symbol　of　Manetheren。　Perhaps　Alanna　or　Verin　had　told　ancient　stories　while　they　were　in　Watch　Hill。
　　　　　　　Here；　too；　he　found　only　a　few　Trolloc　camps；　enough　to　pen　the　villagers。　There　was　an　easier　way　out　from　here　than　trying　to　cross　the　White；　with　its　endless　stretch　of　rapids。
　　　　　　　On　northward　he　ran；　to　Taren　Ferry；　on　the　bank　of　the　Tarendrelle；　which　he　had　grown　up　calling　the　River　Taren。　Tall；　narrow　houses　built　on　high　stone　foundations　to　escape　the　Taren's　yearly　flooding　when　the　snows　melted　in　the　Mountains　of　Mist。　Nearly　half　those　foundations　supported　only　piles　of　ash　and　charred　beams　in　that　unchanging　afternoon　light。　There　were　no　wagons　here；　no　signs　of　any　defense。　And　no　Trolloc　camps　that　he　could　find。　Perhaps　no　people　remained　here。
　　　　　　　At　the　water's　edge　stood　a　stout　wooden　dock；　a　heavy　rope　drooping　as　it　arced　across　the　swift…flowing　river。　The　rope　ran　through　iron　rings　on　a　flat…decked　barge　snugged　against　the　dock。　The　ferry　was　still　there；　still　usable。
　　　　　　　A　jump　took　him　across　the　river；　where　wheel　ruts　scarred　the　bank　and　household　objects　lay　about。　Chairs　and　stand…mirrors；　chests；　even　a　few　tables　and　a　polished　wardrobe　with　birds　carved　on　the　doors；　all　the　things　panicked　people　had　tried　to　save；　then　abandoned　to　run　faster。　They　would　be　spreading　the　word　of　what　had　happened　here；　what　was　happening　in　the　Two　Rivers。　Some　could　have　reached　Baerlon　by　now；　a　hundred　miles　or　more　north；　and　surely　the　farms　and　villages　between　Baerlon　and　the　river。　Word　spreading。　In　another　month　it　might　reach　Caemlyn；　and　Queen　Morgase　with　her　Queen's　Guards　and　her　power　to　raise　armies。　A　month　with　luck。　And　as　much　to　return；　once　Morgase　believed。　Too　late　for　Emond's　Field。　Maybe　too　late　for　the　whole　Two　Rivers。
　　　　　　　Still；　it　hardly　made　sense　that　the　Trollocs　had　let　anyone　escape。　Or　the　Myrddraal　at　any　rate；　Trollocs　did　not　seem　to　think　much　beyond　the　moment。　He　would　have　thought　destroying　the　ferry　would　have　been　the　Fades'　first　task。　How　could　they　be　sure　there　were　not　enough　soldiers　at　Baerlon　to　e　down　on　them？
　　　　　　　He　bent　to　pick　up　a　doll　with　a　painted　wooden　face；　and　an　arrow　streaked　through　where　his　chest　had　been。
　　　　　　　Springing　out　of　his　crouc