tw.togreenangeltower2-第81章
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his torch was little more now than a smoldering glow。
This cavernous place seemed as high…ceilinged as that which had held the great pool。 As Simon moved forward and his eyes adjusted to the greater dimensions； his heart lifted。 It was like the chamber of the pool in another way as well： a great staircase ran upward into the darkness； following the curve of the walls。 Something else gleamed faintly in the middle of the chamber。 He moved closer； and the dying light of his torch revealed a great circle of stone that might have been the base of a fountain； at its center； set in black earth but stretching up to many times Simon's height； was a tree。 Or at least it seemed to be a tree…there was a suggestion of humped and knotted roots at the bottom and amazingly tangled branches above…but no matter how close he held the torch； he could see no detail of it； as though it were draped in clinging shadow。
As he leaned nearer； the shadow…tree rattled in an unfelt wind； a sound like a thousand dry hands rubbing against each other。 Simon leaped back。 He had been about to touch it； certain it was carved stone。 Instead he turned and hurried past it to the base of the winding stairway。
As he circled around the perimeter of the chamber； picking his way up the steps by fading torchlight； he was still intensely aware of the tree standing at the room's center。 He could hear the breathing sound of its leaves as they moved； but he could feel its existence even more strongly； it was as palpable in the darkness as someone lying beside him in a bed。 It was not like anything he had felt before…less starkly powerful than the pool； perhaps； but somehow more subtle； an intelligence vast； old； and unhurried。 The pool's magic was like a roaring bonfire…something that could burn or illuminate； but would do neither unless someone was present to use its power。 Simon could not imagine anyone or anything using the tree。 It stood and dreamed and waited for no one。 It was not good or evil； it simply was。
Long after he had left the base of the stairway behind him； he could feel its living presence。
The light from his torch grew less and less。 At last； after he had climbed some hundreds of steps； it finally died。 Having anticipated its passing for so long did not make the moment any less dreadful： Simon slumped down and sat in plete darkness； too tired even to weep。 He ate a mouthful of bread and some onion； then squeezed some of the last of the water from his drying shirt。 When he had finished； he took a deep breath and began to crawl up the stairs on his hands and knees； feeling before him in the blackness。
It was hard to tell whether the voices that followed him were phantoms of the underground realm or the chattering of his own drifting thoughts。
Climb up。 All will be ready soon。
On your knees again； mooncalf？
Step after stone step passed beneath his hands。 His fingers were numb； his knees and shins aching dully。
The Conqueror is ing！ Soon all will be ready。
But one is missing！
It does not matter。 The trees are burning。 All is dead； gone。 It does not matter。
Simon's mind wandered as he clambered up the winding track。 It was not hard to imagine that he had been swallowed whole； that he was in the belly of some great beast。 Perhaps it was the dragon…the dragon that was spoken of in the inscription on his ring。 He stopped and felt his finger； reassured by the feel of the metal。 What had Binabik said the inscription meant？ Dragon and Death？
Killed by a dragon； maybe。 I've been swallowed by one； and I'm dead。 I'll climb around and around inside it forever； here in the dark。 I wonder if anyone else has been swallowed？ It's so lonely。。。。
The dragon is dead； the voices told him。 No； the dragon is death； others assured him。
He stopped and ate a little more of his food。 His mourn was dry； but he did not take more than a few drops of water before resuming his four…legged climb。
Simon stopped to catch his breath and rest his aching leg for perhaps the dozenth time since entering the stairwell。 As he crouched； panting； light suddenly flickered around him。 He thought wildly that his torch had blazed again； until he remembered that the dead brand was stuck beneath his belt。 For a startlingly beautiful moment the whole stairwell seemed full of pale golden light； and he looked up the shaft into infinite distance； up past a shrinking spiral of stairs to a hole that led straight to heaven。 Then； with a silent concussion； a ball of angry flame bloomed in the heights above him； turning the very air red； and for a moment the stairwell became hot as forge fire。 Simon shouted in fear。
No！ the voices screamed。 No！ Speak not the word！ You will summon Unbeing！
There was a crack louder than any thunder； then a blue…white flash that dissolved everything in pure light。 An instant later everything was black once more。
Simon lay on the stairs； panting。 Was it truly dark again； or had the flare blinded him？ How could he know？
What does it matter？ asked a mocking voice。
He pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids until faint sparkles of blue and red moved in the darkness； but it proved nothing。
I will not know unless I find something that I know I should be able to see。
He had a hideous thought。 What if； blinded； he crawled past a way out； a lighted doorway； a portal open to the sky？
Can't think。 I'll climb。 Can't think。
He struggled upward。 After a while he seemed to lose himself entirely； drifting away to other places； other times。 He saw Erchester and the countryside beyond as they had looked from the bellchamber atop Green Angel Tower…the rolling hills and fenced farms； the tiny houses and people and animals laid out below him like wooden toys on a green blanket。 He wanted to warn them all； tell them to run away； that a terrible winter was ing。
He saw Morgenes again。 The lenses that the old man wore glinted in a beam of afternoon light； making his eyes flash as though some greater…than…ordinary fire burned within him。 Morgenes was trying to tell him something； but Simon； young； stupid Simon； was watching a fly buzzing near the window。 If only he had listened！ If only he had known！
And he saw the castle itself； a fantastic hodgepodge of towers and roofs； its banners rippling in a spring wind。 The Hayholt…his home。 His home as it had been； and would never be again。 But； oh； what he would give to turn Time in its track and send it rolling backward！ If he could have bargained his soul for it 。。。 what was a soul worth； anyway； against the happiness of home restored？
The sky behind the Hayholt lightened as if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud。 Simon squinted。 Perhaps it was not spring after all…perhaps it was high summer？。。
The Hayholt's towers faded； but the light remained。
Light！
It was a faint； directionless sheen； no brighter than moonglow through fog…but Simon could see the dim form of the step before him； his dirt…crusted； scabby hand flattened upon it。 He could see！
He looked around； trying to determine the source of the light。 As far as he could see ahead of him； the steps wound upward。 The light； faint as swamp…fire； came from somewhere above。
He got to his feet； swayed woozily for a moment； then began to walk upright once more。 At first the angle seemed strange and he had to clutch the wall for support； but soon he felt almost human。 Each step； laborious as it seemed； was taking him closer to the light。 Each twinge of his wounded ankle was taking him nearer to 。。。 what？ Freedom； he hoped。
What had seemed an unlimited vista during the blinding flash of light now abruptly closed off above him。 The stairs opened out onto a broad landing； but did not continue upward。 Instead； the stairwell had been sealed off with a low ceiling of crude brick； as though someone had tried to cork the stair…tower like the neck of a bottle…but light leaked through at one side。 Simon shuffled toward the glow； crouching so that he would not bump his head； and found a place where the bricks had fallen down； leaving a crevice that see
