rj.theshadowrising-第87部分

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　　　　　　　He　could　still　hear　smothered　sounds　from　the　darkness　at　the　far　end　of　the　Island；　the　clatter　of　hoofed　feet；　the　scrape　of　boots；　harsh　breathing　and　guttural　murmurs。　More　Trollocs；　how　many　he　could　not　say。　A　pity　they　had　not　been　linked　to　the　Myrddraal；　yet　perhaps　they　might　hesitate　to　attack　without　it　to　drive　them。　Trollocs　were　usually　cowards　in　their　way；　preferring　strong　odds　and　easy　kills。　But　even　lacking　a　Myrddraal　they　could　work　themselves　up　to　e　again　eventually。
　　　　　　　〃The　Waygate；〃　he　said。　〃We　have　to　get　out　before　they　decide　what　to　do　without　that。〃　He　used　the　bloody　hammer　to　gesture　to　the　still　flailing　Fade。　
　　　　　　　Faile　reined　Swallow　around　immediately；　and　he　was　so　surprised；　he　blurted；　〃You　aren't　going　to　argue？〃
　　　　　　　〃Not　when　you　speak　sense；〃　she　said　briskly。　〃Not　when　you　speak　sense。　Loial？〃
　　　　　　　The　Ogier　took　the　lead　on　his　tall；　hairy　fetlocked　mount。　Perrin　backed　Stepper　after　Faile　and　Loial；　hammer　in　hand；　the　Aiel　siding　him；　all　with　bows　ready　now。　Shuffling　hooves　and　boots　followed　in　the　blackness；　and　harsh　mutters　in　a　language　too　rough　for　human　tongues。　Back　and　back；　with　the　mutters　edging　closer；　working　up　courage。
　　　　　　　Another　sound　floated　to　Perrin；　like　silk　sighing　across　silk。　It　sent　shivers　along　his　bones。　Louder；　a　distant　giant's　exhalation；　rising；　falling；　rising　higher。　〃Hurry！〃　he　shouted。　〃Hurry！〃
　　　　　　　〃I　am；〃　Loial　barked。　〃I　…　That　sound！　Is　it　…？　The　Light　illumine　our　souls；　and　the　Creator's　hand　shelter　us！　It's　opening。　It　is　opening！　I　must　be　last。　Out！　Out！　But　not　too　…　No；　Faile！〃
　　　　　　　Perrin　risked　a　glance　over　his　shoulder。　Twin　gates　of　apparently　living　leaves　were　swinging　open；　revealing　a　smoked　glass　view　of　mountainous　country。　Loial　had　dismounted　to　remove　the　Avendesora　leaf　to　unlock　the　gate；　and　Faile　had　their　pack　animals'　leads　and　his　huge　mount's　reins。　With　a　hasty　shout　of　〃Follow　me！　Quickly！〃　she　booted　Swallow's　ribs；　and　the　Tairen　mare　sprang　toward　the　opening。
　　　　　　　〃After　her；〃　Perrin　told　the　Aiel。　〃Hurry！　You　cannot　fight　this。〃　Wisely　they　hesitated　only　a　heartbeat　before　peeling　back；　Gaul　seizing　the　packhorse's　lead　line。　Stepper　came　abreast　of　Loial。　〃Can　you　lock　it　shut　some　way？　Block　it？〃　A　frantic　edge　had　entered　the　harsh　mutterings；　the　Trollocs　had　recognized　the　sound　too；　now。　Machin　Shin　was　ing。　Living　meant　getting　out　of　the　Ways。
　　　　　　　〃Yes；〃　Loial　said。　〃Yes。　But　go。　Go！〃
　　　　　　　Perrin　reined　Stepper　back　quickly　toward　the　Gate；　yet　before　he　knew　what　he　was　doing　he　had　thrown　back　his　head　and　howled；　defiance　and　challenge。　Foolish；　foolish；　foolish！　Still；　he　kept　his　eyes　on　that　pitch　dark　and　backed　Stepper　into　the　Waygate。　An　icy　ripple　slid　across　him　hair　by　hair；　and　time　stretched　out。　The　jolt　of　leaving　the　Ways　hit　him；　as　if　he　had　gone　from　a　dead　gallop　to　a　stop　in　one　step。
　　　　　　　The　Aiel　were　still　turning　to　face　the　Waygate；　spreading　out　across　the　slope　with　arrows　nocked；　among　low　bushes　and　stunted　mountain　trees；　wind…twisted　pine　and　fir　and　leatherleaf。　Faile　was　just　picking　herself　up　from　where　she　had　tumbled　from　Swallow's　saddle；　the　black　mare　nuzzling　her。　Galloping　out　of　a　Waygate　was　at　least　as　bad　as　galloping　in；　she　was　lucky　she　had　not　broken　her　neck；　and　her　horse's；　too。　Loial's　tall　horse　and　her　packhorses　were　trembling　as　though　hit　between　the　eyes。　Perrin　opened　his　mouth；　and　she　glared　at　him；　daring　him　to　make　any　ment　at　all；　maybe　a　sympathetic　one　least　of　all。　He　grimaced　wryly　and　wisely　kept　silent。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　Loial　came　hurtling　out　of　the　Waygate；　leaping　out　of　a　dull　silvery　mirror　with　his　own　reflection　growing　behind　him；　and　rolled　across　the　ground。　Almost　on　his　heels；　two　Trollocs　appeared；　ram's　horns　and　snout；　eagle's　beak　and　feathered　crest；　but　before　they　were　more　than　halfway　out；　the　shimmering　surface　turned　dead　black；　bubbling　and　bulging；　clinging　to　them。
　　　　　　　Voices　whispered　in　Perrin's　head；　a　thousand　babbling　mad　voices　clawing　at　the　inside　of　his　skull。　Bitter　blood。　Blood　so　bitter。　Drink　the　blood　and　crack　the　bone。　Crack　the　bone　and　suck　the　marrow。　Bitter　marrow；　sweet　the　screams。　Singing　screams。　Sing　the　screams。　Tiny　souls。　Acrid　souls。　Gobble　them　down。　So　sweet　the　pain。　On　and　on。
　　　　　　　Shrieking；　howling；　the　Trollocs　beat　at　the　blackness　boiling　around　them；　clawed　to　pull　free　as　it　sucked　them　deeper；　deeper；　till　only　one　hairy　hand　remained；　clutching　frantically；　then　only　darkness；　bulging　outward；　seeking。　Slowly　the　Waygates　appeared；　sliding　together；　squeezing　the　blackness　so　it　oozed　back　inside　between　them。　The　voices　in　Perrin's　head　finally　stopped。　Loial　rushed　forward　quickly　to　place　not　one　but　two　three…lobed　leaves　among　the　myriad　leaves　and　vines。　The　Waygate　became　stone　again；　a　section　of　stone　wall；　carved　in　intricate　detail；　standing　alone　on　a　sparsely　wooded　mountainside。　Among　the　myriad　leaves　and　vines　was　not　one；　but　two　Avendesora　leaves。　Loial　had　replaced　the　trefoil　leaf　from　inside　on　the　outside。
　　　　　　　The　Ogier　heaved　a　deep；　relieved　sigh。　〃That　is　the　best　I　can　do。　It　can　only　be　opened　from　this　side　now。〃　He　gave　Perrin　a　look　at　once　anxious　and　firm。　〃I　could　have　locked　it　forever　by　not　replacing　the　leaves；　but　I　will　not　ruin　a　Waygate；　Perrin。　We　grew　the　Ways　and　tended　them。　Perhaps　they　can　be　cleansed　someday。　I　cannot　ruin　a　Waygate。〃
　　　　　　　〃It　will　do；〃　Perrin　told　him。　Had　the　Trollocs　been　ing　to　this　Waygate；　or　had　it　just　been　a　chance　encounter？　In　either　case；　it　would　do。
　　　　　　　〃Was　that　…？〃　Faile　began　unsteadily；　then　stopped　to　swallow。　Even　the　Aiel　looked　shaken　for　once。
　　　　　　　〃Machin　Shin；〃　Loial　said。　〃The　Black　Wind。　A　creature　of　the　Shadow；　or　a　thing　grown　of　the　Ways'　own　taint　…　no　one　knows。　I　pity　the　Trollocs。　Even　them。〃
　　　　　　　Perrin　was　not　sure　he　did；　not　even　dying　like　that。　He　had　seen　what　Trollocs　left　when　they　got　their　hands　on　humans。　Trollocs　ate　anything；　so　long　as　it　was　meat；　and　sometimes　they　liked　to　keep　their　meat　alive　while　they　butchered。　He　would　not　let　himself　pity　Trollocs。
　　　　　　　Stepper's　hooves　crunched　on　gritty　dirt　as　Perrin　turned　him　to　see　where　they　were。
　　　　　　　Cloud…capped　mountains　rose　all　around；　it　was　the　everpresent　clouds　that　gave　them　their　name；　the　Mountains　of　Mist。　The　air　was　cool　at　this　altitude；　even　in　summer；　especially　pared　to　Tear。　The　late…afternoon　sun　sat　on　the　western　peaks；　glinting　on　streams　running　down　to　the　river　that　coursed　along　the　floor　of　the　long　valley　below。　The　Manetherendrelle；　it　was　called　once　it　had　traveled　out　of　the　mountains　and　much　farther　west　and　south；　but　Perrin　had　grown　up　calling　the　length　of　it　that　ran　along　the　south　edge　of　the　Two　Rivers　the　White　River；　an　uncrossable　stretch　of　rapids　that　churned　its　waters　to　froth。　The　Manetherendrelle。　Waters　of　the　Mountain　Home。
　　　　　　　Where　bare　rock　showed　in　the　valley　below　or　on　the　surrounding　slopes；　it　glittered　like　glass。　Once　a　city　had　stood　there；　covering　valley　and　mountains。　Manetheren；　city　of　soaring　spires　and　splashing　fountains；　capital　of　a　great　nation　of　the　same　name；　perhaps　the　most　beautiful　city　in　the　world；　according　to　old　Ogier　tales。　Gone　now　without　a　trace；　except　for　the　all…but…indestructible　Waygate　that　had　stood　in　the　Ogier　grove。　Burned　to　barren　rock　more　than　two　thousand　years　ago；　while　the　Trolloc　Wars　still　raged；　destroyed　by　the　One　Power　after　the　death　of　its　last　king；　Aemon　al'Caar　al'Thorin；　in　his　last　bloody　battle　against　the　Shadow。　Aemon's　Field；　men　had　named　that　place；　where　the　village　called　Emond's　Field　now　stood。
　　　　　　　Perrin　shivered。　That　was　long　ago。　Trollocs　had　e　once　since；　on　Winternight　more　than　a　year　gone；　the　night　before　he　and　Rand　and　Mat　were　forced　to　flee　in　the　darkness　with　Moiraine。　That　seemed　long　ago；　too；　now。　It　could　not　happen　again；　with　the　Waygate　locked。　It's　Whitecloaks　I　have　to　worry　about；　not　Trollocs。
　　　　　　　A　pair　of　white…winged　hawks　wheeled　above　the　far　end　of　the　valley。　Perrin's　eyes　barely　caught　the　streak　of　a　rising　arrow。　One　of　the　hawks　cartwheeled　and　fell；　and　Perrin　frowned。　Why　would　anyone　shoot　a　hawk　up　here　in　the　mountains？　Over　a　farm；　if　it　was　after　the　chickens　or　the　geese；　but　up　here？　Why　would　anyone　even　be　up　here？　Two　Rivers　people　avoided　the　mountains。
　　　　　　　The　second　hawk　swooped　on　snowy　wings　toward　where　its　mate　had　fallen；　but　suddenly　it　was　climbing　desperately。　A　black　cloud　of　ravens　burst　from　the　trees；　surrounding　it　in　wild　melee；　and　when　they　settled　again；　the　hawk　was　gone。
　　　　　　　Perrin　made　himself　breathe。　He　had　seen　ravens；　and　other　birds；　attack　a　hawk　that　came　too　close　to　their　nests　before；　but　he　could　not　make　himself　believe　it　that　simple　this　time。　The　birds　had　burst　up　from　about　where　the　arrow　had　risen。　Ravens。　The　Shadow　used　animals　as　spies；　sometimes。　Rats　and　others　that　fed　on　death；　usually。　Ravens；　especially。　He　had　sharp　memories　of　running　from　sweeping　lines　of　ravens　that　had　hunted　him　as　though　they　had　intelligence。
　　　　　　　〃What　are　you　staring　at？〃　Faile　asked；　shading　her　eyes　to　peer　down　the　valley。　〃Were　those　birds？〃
　　　　　　　〃Just　birds；〃　he　said。　Maybe　they　were。　I　can't　frighten　everybody　until　I'm　sure。　Not　while　they're　still　shaky　from　Machin　Shin。
　　　　　　　He　was　still　holding　his　bloody　hammer；　he　realized；　slick　with　black　Myrddraal　blood。　His　fingers　found　drying　blood　on　his　cheek；　matting　in　his　short　beard。　When　he　climbed　down；　his　side　and　his　leg　burned。　He　found　a　shirt　in　his　saddlebags　to　clean　the　hammer　before　the　Fade's　blood　etched　the　metal。　In　a　moment　he　would　find　out　if　there　was　anything　to　fear　in　these　mountains。　If　it　was　more　than　men；　the　wolves　would　know。
　　　　　　　Faile　began　unbuttoning　his　coat。
　　　　　　　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　he　demanded。
　　　　　　　〃Tending　your　wounds；〃　she　snapped　back。　〃I'll　not　have　you　bleeding　to　death　on　me。　That　would　be　just　like　you；　to　die　and　leave　me　the　work　of　burying　you。　You　have　no　consideration。　Hold　still。〃
　　　　　　　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said　quietly；　and　she　looked　surprised。
　　　　　　　She　made　him　strip　off　everything　but　his　smallclothes；　so　she　could　wash　his　wounds；　rub　them　with　ointment　fetched　from　her　saddlebags。　He　could　not　see　the　cut　on　his　face；　of　course；　but　it　seemed　small　and　shallow；　if　unfortably　close　to　his　eye。　The　slash　across　his　left　side　was　over　a　hand　long；　though；　straight　along　a　rib；　and　the　hole　a　spear　had　made　in　his　right　thigh　was　deep。　Faile　had　to　put　stitches　in　that；　with　needle　and　thread　from　her　sewing　kit。　He　took　it　stoically；　she　was　the　one　who　winced　at　every　stitch。　She　muttered　angrily　under　her　breath　the　whole　time　she　worked；　especially　while　rubbing　her　dark　stinging　cream　into　his　cheek；　looking　almost　as　if　the　hurts　were　hers；　and　his　fault；　yet　she　tied　bandages　around　his　ribs　and　his　thigh　with　a　gentle　hand。　It　made　a　startling　contrast；　her　soft　touch　and　her　furious　grumbles。　Purely　confusing。
　　　　　　　While　he　donned　a　clean　shirt　and　a　spare　pair　of　breeches　from　his　saddlebags；　Faile　stood　fingering　the　slice　in　the　side　of　his　coat。　Two　inches　to