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！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃Very well。〃 Tull faced the Lord； but his visage was shrouded in darkness。 Troy could not see his eyes； he appeared to have no eyes； no mouth； no features。 When he began his tale； his voice seemed to be the voice of the blind night。
But he told his tale clearly and coherently； as if he had rehearsed it many times during his journey from Seareach。 And as he spoke； Troy was reminded that he was the youngest of the Bloodguard…a Haruchai no older than Troy himself。 Tull had e to Revelstone to replace one of the Bloodguard who had been slain during Lord Mhoram's attempt to scout the Shattered Hills。 So he was still new to the Vow。 Perhaps that explained his unexpected emotion； and his ability to tell a tale in a way that his hearers could understand。
After the deaths of Lord Shetra and the Bloodguard Cerrin； there was rain in Sarangrave Flat all that day。 It was cold and merciless； and it harmed the mission； for Lord Hyrim was sickened by the river water he
had swallowed； and the rain made his sickness worse。 And the Bloodguard could give him no ease…neither warmth nor shelter。 In the capsizing of the raft； all the blankets had been lost。 And the rank water of the Defiles Course did other damage： it spoiled all the food except that which had been kept in tight containers； it ruined the lillianrill rods； so that they had no more potency to burn against the rain； it even stained the clothing； so that Lord Hyrim's robe and the raiment of the Bloodguard became black。
Before the end of the day； the Lord was no longer strong enough to propel or steer the raft。 Fever filled his eyes； and his lips were blue and trembling with cold。 Sitting in the center of the raft； he hugged his staff as if for warmth。
During the night； he began to rant。
In a voice that bubbled through the water running down his face； he spoke to himself as to an adversary and tormentor； alternately cursing and pleading。 At times he wept like a child。 His delirium was cruel to him； demeaning him as if he were without use or worth。 And the Bloodguard could do nothing to succor him。
But at last before dawn the rain broke； and the sky became clear。 Then Korik ordered the raft over to one bank。 Though it was perilous to stop thus in darkness； he sent half the Bloodguard foraging into the jungle for firewood and aliantha。
After Sill fed him a handful of treasure…berries； the Lord rallied enough to call up a flame from his staff。 With this； Korik started a fire； built it into a steady blaze near the center of the raft。 Then the steersmen pushed the raft out into the night； and the mission continued on its way。
In the course of that day； they slowly passed out of the Sarangrave。 Across the leagues； the Defiles Course was now growing constantly wider and shallower； dividing into more channels as islets and mudbanks increased。 These channels were treacherous…shallow； barred with mudbanks； full of rotten logs and stumps …and the effort of navigating them slowed the raft still more。 And around it； the jungle gradually changed。
The vegetation of the Sarangrave gave way to different kinds of growths： tall； dark trees with limbs that spread out widely above bare trunks； hanging mosses； ferns of all kinds； bushes that clung to naked rock with thin root…fingers and seemed to drink from the river through leaves and branches。 Water snakes swam out of the path of the raft。 And the stench of the Course slowly faded into a smell of accumulated wet decay and stagnation。
Thus the mission entered Lifeswallower； the Great Swamp。
As they moved； Korik kept the raft in the northern passages。 In this way； he was able to begin traveling northeastward…toward Seareach…and to avoid the heart of Lifeswallower。
When night came； they were fortunate that the sky was clear； in that tortuous channel； starless darkness would have halted the mission altogether。
Yet they were still in one of the less difficult regions of Lifeswallower； water still flowed over the deep mud and silt。 Eastward； in the heart of the Great Swamp； the water slowly sank into the ground； creating one continuous quagmire for scores of leagues in all directions； where the mud flowed and seethed almost imperceptibly。
But in other things they were not so fortunate。 The fever now raged in Lord Hyrim。 Though Sill had fed him with aliantha； and on water boiled clean； he was failing。 Already he looked thinner； and he shook as if there were a palsy in his bones。
And without him…without the power of his staff the mission could not escape Lifeswallower。 The steersmen were forced to keep the raft where the water was deepest because the mud of the Swamp sucked at their poles。 If the logs touched that clinging mud； the Bloodguard would be unable to pull the raft free。
Even in the center of the channel； their progress was threatened by the peculiar trees of Lifeswallower。 These trees the Giants called marshwaders。 Despite their height； and the wide stretch of their limbs； their roots were not anchored in solid ground。 Rather they held themselves ；erect in the mud； and they seemed to
move with the submerged； subtle currents of the Swamp。 Passages that looked open from a distance were closed when the raft reached them； channels appeared which had been invisible earlier。 More than once trees moved toward each other as the raft passed between them； as if they sought to capture it。
All these things grew worse as the days passed。 The level of the water in the channel was declining。 As the mission moved north and east； more and more of the river was swallowed into the mire； and the raft sank toward the mud。
The Bloodguard could find no escape。 Lifeswallower allowed them no opportunity to work their way northward to solid ground。 Although they were always within half a league of the simple marsh which bordered the Swamp； they could not reach it。 They thrust the raft along； labored tirelessly day and night； paused only to collect aliantha and firewood。 But they could not escape。 They needed Lord Hyrim's power…and he was lost in delirium。 His eyes were crusted as if with dried foam； and only the treasure…berries and boiled water which Sill forced into him kept him alive。
During the afternoon of the eighteenth day of the mission； the logs of the raft touched mud。 Though thin water still gleamed among the trees； the raft no longer floated。 The bog held it despite the best efforts of the steersmen； and drew it eastward deeper into the Swamp； moving with the slow current of the mire。
Korik could not see any hope。 But Sill disagreed。 He insisted that within Lord Hyrim's ill flesh an unquenched spirit survived。 He felt it with his hand on the Lord's brow； something in Hyrim still resisted the fever。 Through the long watch of the day； he nourished that spirit with treasure…berries and boiled； brackish water。 And in the evening the Lord rallied。 Some of the dry flush left his face； he began to sweat。 As his chills faded； his breathing became easier。 By nightfall he was sleeping quietly。
But it appeared that he had begun to recover too late。 Deep in the dark night； the grip of the mud bore the raft into an open flat devoid of trees。 There the current eddied； turned back on itself； formed a slow
whirlpoo