Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第4章

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‘What　was　that？’　squeaked　Chlod；　eyes　snapping　open；　fingernails　digging　into　the　wooden　gunwale。
‘Big　fish；’　said　one　of　the　grim…faced　boatmen。　Calard　was　unsure　if　the　man　was　joking　or　not。
Within　minutes；　Calard　was　soaked　to　the　skin；　his　hair　clinging　in　long　wet　strands　down　his　neck。
The　journey　through　the　fog　seemed　to　last　an　eternity。　Strange　noises　echoed　around　them：　creaks；
groans　and　distant　screams　that　Calard　guessed　were　seabirds　but　sounded　distinctly　human。　On　more
than　one　occasion　he　was　convinced　he　heard　whispering　voices　nearby；　but　saw　nothing。
Chlod　gave　a　yelp　at　one　point；　and　Calard　glared　at　him。
‘I　felt　someone　breathing　on　my　neck；’　said　Chlod；　his　voice　strained。
‘You　imagined　it；’　said　Calard。　‘Be　silent。’
Calard　was　starting　to　doubt　the　boatmen’s　ability　to　guide　the　barge　safely　through　the　fog　when　the
sound　of　gravel　scraping　against　the　hull　signalled　their　arrival　on　the　shores　of　Mousillon。
The　riverbank　appeared　like　a　mirage　through　the　fog　as　the　barge　came　to　a　grinding　halt　in　the
shallows。　The　land　was　rendered　in　shades　of　grey　and　hidden　in　mist；　but　a　narrow　strip　of　black　sand
soon　emerged　forming　a　beach　in　front　of　them。
Clearly　eager　to　be　away；　the　boatmen　unloaded　the　barge　hastily。　There　was　a　brief　struggle　to　get
Chlod’s　mule　off　the　deck。　The　obstinate　beast　was　reluctant　to　step　ashore；　and　the　struggle　only　ended
after　Calard　slapped　it　hard　on　the　flank。　His　own　steed　was　equally　uneasy；　but　did　as　it　was　bid　with
less　complaint；　stepping　off　the　front　of　the　vessel　and　splashing　into　the　shallow　black　water。　Without　a

word　of　farewell；　the　boatmen　poled　the　barge　off　the　river　bank　and　were　swallowed　by　the　fog。
It　was　as　dark　as　twilight；　though　it　couldn’t　have　been　an　hour　past　midday。　Looking　around　them；　it
seemed　to　Calard　as　if　all　colour　had　been　bleached　from　the　land。　The　sun　had　been　shining　through　the
clouds　on　the　other　side　of　the　river；　but　it　was　nowhere　to　be　seen　here。　The　grass　and　vegetation　was
shrivelled　and　dead。　A　lone　tree　stood　nearby；　its　trunk　twisted。　A　raven　the　size　of　a　small　dog　perched
on　a　leafless　branch；　watching　them　with　its　head　cocked　to　one　side。　Calard　saw　movement　in　the
corner　of　his　eye；　but　whenever　he　turned　to　face　it；　it　was　gone。
‘We’re　never　leaving　here　alive；’　said　Chlod。
Somewhere　in　the　mist；　a　wolf　began　to　howl。
IV
SOMETHING　WAS　HUNTING　them。
They　had　barely　halted；　riding　westwards　through　lonely；　wind…swept　landscapes　and　muddy　fields
filled　with　rotting　crops。　They　had　passed　through　a　number　of　isolated　peasant　hamlets；　but　seen　only
glimpses　of　the　inhabitants　peeking　out　at　them　through　barred　windows。
The　haunted　realm　had　at　first　seemed　to　exist　in　a　permanent　state　of　twilight；　but　the　shadows
deepened　as　that　twilight　gave　way　to　night。　With　no　visible　moon　or　star　in　the　sky　overhead；　the
darkness　was　soon　all…consuming。　Only　far　beneath　the　Worlds　Edge　Mountains　had　Calard　experienced
such　utter　blackness。　Lighting　torches；　they　continued　on　through　that　first；　nightmarish　night。
The　darkness　was　filled　with　the　howling　of　wolves；　the　beat　of　heavy；　leathery　wings；　and　the　rustle
of　unseen　creatures　in　the　undergrowth　nearby。　They　dared　not　rest；　and　pushed　on　through　the　night。　A
multitude　of　eyes　glinted　in　the　torchlight；　watching　their　progress。　In　a　break　in　the　ever…present　fog；
Calard　glimpsed　huge；　black…furred　wolves　loping　alongside　the　road；　dogging　their　progress。
Wolves　were　not　the　only　things　stalking　them。　On　more　than　one　occasion　Calard　glimpsed　hunched
figures　on　the　road　behind　them。
‘They’re　back　again；’　said　Chlod；　his　voice　strained　as　he　looked　back　along　the　road　behind。
‘They　have　been　there　for　some　time；’　Calard　replied。
‘They　are　growing　bolder。’
‘‘We　need　to　find　shelter；’　said　Calard。　‘We　cannot　travel　on　through　another　night　without　rest；　not
hounded　by　those。。。　things。’
They　continued　on　in　silence　as　the　shadows　deepened　around　them。　Abruptly；　the　muddy　road
turned　and　veered　over　a　small　creek；　angling　straight　into　the　dark　forest　they　had　so　far　been　skirting。
The　wood　was　shadowy　and　threatening；　its　trees　bloated　and　misshapen。　Their　trunks　were　rotten　and
covered　in　lichen　and　fungus。
‘Do　we　go　in？’　asked　Chlod。
‘It　has　to　lead　somewhere；’　said　Calard。　‘And　we　have　to　keep　moving。’
With　a　nudge；　he　urged　his　steed　on。　Its　hooves　sank　into　the　marshy　ground　as　it　stepped　down　to
the　shallow　creek。　The　water　stank；　and　was　covered　in　a　film　of　scum。　With　a　kick　of　encouragement；
Calard’s　warhorse　leapt　forward；　clearing　the　stream　and　climbing　the　bank　on　the　other　side。
Chlod’s　mule　was　incapable　of　such　a　leap　and　seemed　reluctant　to　step　into　the　foul　waters。　As
Chlod　kicked　and　swore　at　the　stubborn　beast；　Calard’s　gaze　was　drawn　upwards　by　the　ugly　cawing　of
carrion　birds。
More　than　a　dozen　corpses　were　strung　up　in　the　trees　overhead；　hanging　from　ropes　and　gibbets。

They　spun　gently　as　black　birds　tore　strips　of　flesh　from　the　bodies。
Movement　in　the　trees　dragged　his　attention　down　from　the　grisly　sight。　Shadows　were　detaching
themselves　from　the　surrounding　darkness；　edging　towards　them。
Calard　reached　over　his　back　and　drew　his　massive　bastard　sword　from　its　sheath；　holding　it
one…handed。
‘Hurry　up；　peasant！’　he　hissed。
Perhaps　catching　a　scent　of　the　hunters　on　the　breeze；　the　mule　lurched　forwards　suddenly；　almost
throwing　Chlod　from　its　back；　and　the　peasant　lost　his　grip　on　the　reins。
‘Whoa！’　shouted　Chlod；　clinging　on　desperately　as　the　mule　set　off　down　the　roadway；　ears　flat
against　its　skull。
Calard’s　steed　flared　its　nostrils　and　stamped　its　hooves；　and　he　fought　to　keep　it　under　control；
guiding　it　skilfully　with　his　knees　as　he　took　his　sword　in　both　hands。　He　heard　something　hiss　nearby；　the
sound　low　and　sibilant；　and　he　kicked　his　steed　into　a　canter。　It　needed　no　encouragement；　and　took
after　Chlod　instantly。
Glancing　back；　Calard　saw　a　pack　of　hunched　creatures　loping　after　them。　He　could　not　tell　if　they
were　human　or　beast；　or　some　horrid　blend　of　the　two。
Something　caught　at　his　hair；　scratching　his　neck；　and　Calard　swung　his　sword　with　a　cry。　It　was　just
a　branch；　and　Calard　swore；　berating　himself。　Foul…smelling　sap　was　dripping　like　blood　from　the　tree；
and　it　recoiled　with　a　groan；　twigs　shivering。
‘Lady　above；’　Calard　breathed。　The　other　trees　seemed　to　lean　in；　branches　reaching　towards　him。
Ducking　away　from　their　snagging　twigs；　Calard　urged　his　warhorse　into　a　gallop。
Within　a　few　heartbeats　he　had　drawn　alongside　Chlod；　still　clinging　vainly　to　his　panicked　mule；　and
he　reached　out　and　grabbed　the　beast’s　wildly　swinging　reins。　Calard　forced　the　animal　to　slow　its　wild
gallop。　Behind　him；　the　road　was　clear　again。
It　was　half　an　hour　before　they　escaped　the　grotesque　wood；　and　Calard　let　out　a　breath　that　he　didn
’t　realise　he　had　been　holding。　Up　ahead　he　saw　a　small　farmhouse。　Turning　up　a　muddy　path；　he　led　the
way　towards　it。
There　was　no　sign　of　life　at　the　farm　other　than　a　starving　three…legged　goat　tethered　to　a　rotten
stump。　The　pitiful　animal’s　ribs　were　clearly　visible　beneath　its　stretched　skin。　It　bleated　frantically；　pink
tongue　protruding　as　it　strained　on　its　chain。
Calard　spied　a　small　covered　well；　and　slid　from　his　saddle　alongside　it。　He　began　drawing　the
bucket　up　from　below；　hauling　it　up　on　its　thin　rope。　His　horse　was　lathered　in　sweat；　its　mouth　flecked
with　foam。　Calard　hoped　the　well…water　was　drinkable。　He　dragged　the　bucket　over　the　lip　of　the　well；
and　lifted　it　to　his　nose。　Frowning；　he　brought　it　to　his　lips　and　took　a　swig。　He　spat　it　out　instantly；
coughing。
‘Bad？’　asked　Chlod。
‘Bad；’　said　Calard；　throwing　the　bucket　to　the　ground　in　disgust。　It　split　like　an　overripe　fruit；　spilling
its　contents。　His　stomach　churned　as　he　saw　bloated　worms　wriggling　in　the　water。
A　woman’s　cry　sounded　nearby；　high…pitched　and　in　pain；　and　it　was　joined　by　voices　raised　in　anger
or　excitement。　The　sounds　were　coming　from　around　the　side　of　the　farmstead’s　barn。　Calard　drew　his
sword　and　rode　towards　it。
A　foetid　stench　assailed　his　nose　as　he　approached　the　barn；　something　akin　to　rotting　meat　and
excrement。　Rounding　the　rotting　structure；　he　saw　a　cluster　of　peasants　gathered　around　a　woman　on　the
ground。　They　were　beating　her　mercilessly　with　sticks；　and　Calard　winced　at　the　savagery　of　the　attack。
She　screamed　again；　but　was　knocked　back　to　the　ground　as　she　tried　to　rise。　The　peasants　laughed

cruelly；　clearly　enjoying　their　sport。　Indignation　and　anger　swelled　in　Calard；　and　with　a　yell；　he　kicked　his
steed　forwards。
The　peasants　looked　up　in　shock；　then　scattered。　They　took　off　over　the　fields；　and　Calard　dragged
on　the　reins；　cutting　short　his　pursuit。
‘Cowards；’　snarled　Calard；　shaking　his　head　in　disgust。　He　sheathed　his　sword　and　turned　his
attention　to　the　woman。
She　was　sitting　on　the　ground　like　a　broken　puppet；　slumped　forward　over　her　splayed　legs。　Her　hair
was　long　and　unkempt；　hanging　down　over　her　face。　Her　thin　shoulders　heaved　with　each　pained　intake
of　breath。
‘They　are　gone；’　said　Calard；　stepping　towards　her。　‘They　will　trouble　you　no　more。’
Her　tattered　peasant　garb　was　ripped　at　the　shoulder；　exposing　skin　that　was　purple　with　bruises　and
cuts。　The　girl　made　no　move　to　cover　herself；　and　Calard　averted　his　eyes　out　of　modesty。
‘You　are　hurt；’　he　said；　stepping　close。
Her　head　snapped　up　and　Calard　caught　a　glimpse　of　bloodshot　eyes　staring　out　through　the　girl’s
tangle　of　matted　hair。　Thin　lips　drew　back　to　expose　filthy；　jagged　teeth；　and　as　Calard　recoiled　in　disgust
she　lashed　out；　seizing　his　forearm。　Swearing；　he　tried　to　pull　away；　but　the　girl　was　surprisingly　strong
and　held　him　in　a　vice…like　grip。
With　a　feral　hiss　she　slashed　at　him　with　her　free　hand；　fingers　curved　like　talons。　Those　fingers　were
long　and　bone…thin；　their　nails　cracked　and　encrusted　with　filth。　Instinctively；　Calard　turned　his　face　away
from　the　blow；　a　move　that　undoubtedly　saved　his　eyes　from　being　torn　from　their　sockets。　Still；　he　could
not　avoid　the　strike　entirely；　and　her　nails　gouged　four　deep　cuts　across　his　che