bl.necroscope2-第13章

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　doesn't　e　into　it。　From　now　on　if　there's　any　problem　at　all…from　whatever　cause　or　quarter…I'll　just　toss　you　off　the　cliff。　That　way；　if　I'm　to　die；　I'll　know　that　you　died　first。　For　let's　have　something　clearly　understood；　old　man。　I　don't　trust　the　Ferenczy；　I　don't　trust　his　〃dogs〃；　and　I　trust　you　least　of　all。　There'll　be　no　further　warnings。〃　He　jerked　his　thumb　up　the　path。　〃Lead　on；　Arvos　of　the　Szgany…and　nimble　about　it！〃
　Thibor　did　not　think　that　his　warning　would　carry　much　weight；　even　if　it　weighed　on　the　gypsy；　it　certainly　wouldn't　weigh　on　his　master　in　the　mountain。　But　neither　was　the　Wallach　a　man　to　issue　idle　threats。　Arvos　the　Szgany　belonged　to　the　Ferenczy；　no　doubt　of　that。　And　so；　if　more　trouble　was　on　the　way　from　that　quarter　（Thibor　was　sure　that　the　avalanche　had　been　arranged）　then　he　would　see　that　it　came　to　Arvos　first。　And　trouble　was　ing：　it　waited　in　the　defile　where　the　cliff　was　split　by　a　deep　chasm；　at　the　back　of　which　sat　the　castle　of　the　Ferenczy。
　This　was　the　sight　they　saw；　Thibor　and　his　simian　Wallach　friend；　and　the　now　sinister　gypsy　Arvos；　when　they　reached　the　cleft。　Back　in　the　dim　mists　of　time　the　mountains　had　convulsed；　split　apart。　Passes　had　been　formed　through　the　ranges；　of　which　this　might　have　been　one。　Except　that　in　this　case　the　opening　had　not　gone　all　the　way　through。　The　cliff　whose　face　they'd　traversed　had　led　finally　to　a　high　crest　which　reared　now　a　half　mile　away。　The　crest　was　split　into　twin　peaks…like　the　ears　of　a　bat　or　a　wolf。　And　there；　straddling　the　defile　where　it　narrowed　to　a　fissure…clinging　to　both　opposing　faces　and　meeting　centrally　in　a　massive　arch　of　masonry…there　sat　the　manse　of　the　Ferenczy。　As　before；　two　windows　were　lighted；　like　eyes　under　the　sharp　black　ears；　and　the　fissure　below　seemed　to　form　a　gaping　mouth。
　〃No　wonder　he　runs　wolves；　this　one！〃　Thibor's　squat　panion　grunted。　His　words　acted　like　an　invocation。
　They　came　down　the　cliff…hugging　track　from　the　castle；　and　not　just　four　off　them。　A　flood　of　them；　a　wall　of　grey　fur　studded　with　yellow　jewel　eyes。　And　they　came　at　the　lope；　full　of　purpose。
　〃A　pack！〃　cried　Thibor's　friend。
　〃Too　many　to　fight　off；〃　the　Voevod　shouted　back。　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　saw　Arvos　start　forward；　towards　the　oning　wolves。　He　reached　out　a　leg；　tripped　the　old　gypsy。
　〃Grab　him！〃　Thibor　manded；　drawing　his　sword。
　The　squat　Wallach　lifted　Arvos　as　easily　as　he　would　lift　the　dead；　dry　branch　of　a　tree；　swung　him　out　over　the　abyss　and　held　him　there。　Arvos　howled　his　terror。　The　wolves；　scant　paces　away；　came　to　an　uneasy　halt。　Their　leaders　threw　up　pointed　muzzles；　howled　mourn…fully。　It　was　for　all　the　world　as　if　they　waited　upon　some　mand。　But　from　whom？
　Arvos　stopped　his　yelling；　turned　his　head　and　gazed　wide…eyed　at　the　distant　castle。　His　gullet　bobbed　spastically　with　his　gulping。
　The　man　who　held　him　glanced　from　the　wolves　to　Thibor。　〃What　now？　Do　I　drop　him？〃
　The　huge　Wallach　shook　his　head。　〃Only　if　they　attack；〃　he　answered。
　〃You　think　the　Ferenczy　controls　them；　then？　But。。。　is　it　possible？〃
　〃It　seems　our　quarry　has　powers；〃　said　Thibor。　〃Look　at　the　gypsy's　face。〃
　Arvos'gaze　had　bee　fixed。　Thibor　had　seen　that　look　before；　when　the　old　man　used　the　frying…pan　mirror　down　in　the　village：　as　if　a　film　of　milk　had　been　painted　on　each　eyeball。
　Then　the　Gypsy　spoke：　〃Master？〃　Arvos'　mouth　scarce　moved。　His　words　were　the　merest　breath；　vying　with　the　mountain　breeze　at　first　but　rapidly　growing　louder。　〃Master？　But　Master；　I　have　always　been　your　faithful…〃　He　paused　suddenly；　as　if　cut　short；　and　his　filmed　eyes　bulged。　〃No；　master；　no。r　His　voice　was　now　a　shriek；　he　clawed　at　the　hands　and　brawny　arms　that　alone　sustained　him　against　gravity；　shifted　his　once　more　clear　gaze　to　the　ledge　and　the　wolves　where　they　gathered　themselves。
　Thibor　had　almost　felt　the　surge　of　power　emanating　from　the　distant　castle；　had　almost　tasted　the　rejection　which　had　surely　doomed　the　Szgany　to　his　death。　The　Ferenczy　was　finished　with　him；　so　why　delay　it？
　The　leading　pair　of　wolves；　massive　beasts；　crept　for…ward　in　unison；　muscles　bunching。
　〃Drop　him！〃　Thibor　rasped。　Utterly　pitiless；　he　urged；　〃Let　him　die…and　then　fight　for　your　own　life！　The　ledge　is　narrow…side　by　side　we've　a　chance。〃
　His　panion　tried　to　shake　the　old　man　loose　but　couldn't。　The　gypsy　clung　like　thorns　to　his　arms；　fought　desperately　to　swing　his　legs　back　onto　the　ledge。　But　already　it　was　too　late　for　both　men。　Heedless　of　their　own　lives；　the　pair　of　great　grey　wolves　sprang　as　one　creature；　as　if　triggered。　Not　at　Thibor…not　even　looking　at　him…but　directly　at　his　squat　rade　where　he　tried　to　break　Arvos'　grip。　They　struck　together；　dead　weight　against　a　lurching　double…silhouette；　and　bore　the　apish　Wallach；　Arvos；　and　themselves　out　over　the　rim　and　down　into　darkness。
　It　was　beyond　Thibor。　He　gave　it　only　a　moment's　thought。　The　pack　leaders　had　sacrificed　themselves　in　answer　to　a　call　he　had　not　heard…or　had　he？　But　in　any　case；　they'd　died　willingly　for　a　cause　he　could　not　possibly　prehend。　He　still　lived；　however；　and　he　wouldn't　sell　his　life　cheaply。
　〃All　of　you；　then！〃　he　howled　at　the　pack；　almost　in　its　own　tongue。　〃e　on；　who'll　be　first　to　taste　my　steel？〃　And　for　long　moments　not　a　beast　of　them　moved。
　Then…Then　they　did　move；　but　not　forward。　Instead　they　turned；　slunk　away；　paused　and　looked　back　over　lean　shoulders。
　〃Cowards！〃　Thibor　raged。　He　took　a　pace　towards　them；　they　slunk　further　away；　looked　back。　And　the　Wallach's　jaw　dropped。　He　knew…suddenly　knew…that　they　weren't　here　to　harm　him；　only　to　ensure　that　he　came　on　alone！
　For　the　first　time　he　began　to　understand　something　of　the　true　power　of　the　mysterious　Boyar；　knew　why　the　Vlad　wanted　him　dead。　And　now；　too；　he　wished　he　hadn't　scoffed　so　much　at　the　warnings　of　his　court　informant。　Of　course；　he　could　always　go　back　to　the　village　and　bring　up　the　rest　of　his　men…couldn't　he？　Behind　him；　pale　tongues　lolling；　a　crush　of　furry　bodies　crowded　the　track　cut　from　the　face　of　the　cliff。
　Thibor　took　a　pace　their　way；　they　didn't　move　an　inch；　but　their　dog　grins　at　once　turned　to　snarls。　A　pace　in　the　other　direction；　and　they　crept　after。　He　had　an　escort。
　〃My　own　free　will；　eh？〃　he　muttered；　and　looked　at　the　sword　in　his　hand。　The　sword　of　some　warrior　Varyagi…a　good　Viking　sword…but　useless　if　the　pack　should　decide　to　attack　in　a　body。　Or　if　that　were　decided　for　them。　Thibor　knew　it；　and　he　suspected　that　they　knew　it；　too。
　He　sheathed　the　weapon；　found　nerve　to　mand：　〃Lead　on；　then；　my　lads…but　not　too　close　or　I'll　have　your　paws　for　lucky　charms！〃　And　so　they　took　him　to　the　castle　in　the　riven　rock。。。
　In　his　shallow　grave；　the　old　Thing　in　the　ground　shivered　again；　this　time　from　fear。　However　monstrous　a　man　may　bee　in　this　world；　when　he　dreams　of　his　youth　the　things　which　frightened　him　then　frighten　him　anew。　So　it　was　with　the　Thibor…creature；　and　now　his　dream　was　carrying　him　to　the　edge　of　terror　itself。
　The　sun　was　down；　its　rim　forming　the　merest　red　blister　on　the　hills；　but　still　its　rays　lanced　across　the　earth　and　gleamed　fitfully　on　land　where　shadows　visibly　lengthened；　quickly　blotting　out　the　sun's　golden　stains。　But　even　when　the　sun　was　fully　down；　burning　on　other　lands；　still　Thibor　might　not　〃waken〃　in　the　sense　that　men　waken；　for　he　was　one　who　might　dream　for　many　a　year　between　bouts　of　that　black　hatred　called　waking。　It　is　not　pleasant　to　be　a　Thing　in　the　ground　awake；　alone；　immobile；　undead。
　But　the　rich　blood　which　soaked　the　earth　would　waken　him；　certainly；　in　that　instant　when　it　touched　him。　Even　now　the　nearness　of　that　warm；　precious　liquid　roused　passions　in　him。　His　nostrils　gaped　for　its　scent；　his　desiccated　heart　urged　his　own　ancient　blood　faster　in　his　veins；　his　vampire　core　moaned　soundlessly　in　the　sleep　it　shared　with　him。
　Thibor's　dream；　however；　was　stronger。　It　was　a　magnet　of　the　mind；　luring　him　to　a　conclusion　he　knew　and　dreaded　of　old　but　which　he　must　always　experience　again。　And　down　in　the　cold　earth　in　the　glade　of　stirless　trees；　where　the　stones　of　his　mausoleum