CHAPTER ELEVEN THE UNWELCOME FELLOW TRAVELLER
When Shasta went through the gate he found a slope of grass and a little heather running up before him to some trees. He had nothing to think about now and no plans to make：he had only to run, and that was quite enough. His limbs were shaking, a terrible stitch was beginning in his side, and the sweat that kept dropping into his eyes blinded them and made them smart. He was unsteady on his feet too, and more than once he nearly turned his ankle on a loose stone.
The trees were thicker now than they had yet been and in the more open spaces there was bracken. The sun had gone in without making it any cooler. It had become one of those hot, grey days when there seem to be twice as many flies as usual. Shasta’s face was covered with them; he didn’t even try to shake them off—he had too much else to do.
Suddenly he heard a horn—not a great throbbing horn like the horns of Tashbaan but a merry call, Ti-ro-to-to-ho！Next moment he came out into a wide glade and found himself in a crowd of people.
At least, it looked a crowd to him. In reality there were about fifteen or twenty of them, all gentlemen in green hunting-dress, with their horses; some in the saddle and some standing by their horses’heads. In the centre someone was holding the stirrup for a man to mount. And the man he was holding it for was the jolliest, fat, apple-cheeked, twinkling-eyed King you could imagine.
As soon as Shasta came in sight this King forgot all about mounting his horse. He spread out his arms to Shasta, his face lit up, and he cried out in a great, deep voice that seemed to come from the bottom of his chest：
“Corin！My son！And on foot, and in rags！What—”
“No,” panted Shasta, shaking his head. “Not Prince Corin. I—I—know I’m like him... saw his Highness in Tashbaan... sent his greetings.”
The King was staring at Shasta with an extraordinary expression on his face.
“Are you K-King Lune?” gasped Shasta. And then, without waiting for an answer, “Lord King—fly—Anvard shut the gates—enemies upon you—Rabadash and two hundred horse.”
“Have you assurance of this, boy?” asked one of the other gentlemen.
“My own eyes,” said Shasta. “I’ve seen them. Raced them all the way from Tashbaan.”
“On foot?” said the gentleman, raising his eyebrows a little.
“Horses—with the Hermit,” said Shasta.
“Question him no more; Darrin,” said King Lune. “I see truth in his face. We must ride for it, gentlemen. A spare horse there, for the boy. You can ride fast, friend?”
For answer Shasta put his foot in the stirrup of the horse which had been led towards him and a moment later he was in the saddle. He had done it a hundred times with Bree in the last few weeks, and his mounting was very different now from what it had been on that first night when Bree had said that he climbed up a horse as if he were climbing a haystack.
He was pleased to hear the Lord Darrin say to the King, “The boy has a true horseman’s seat, Sire. I’ll warrant there’s noble blood in him.”
“His blood, aye, there’s the point,” said the King. And he stared hard at Shasta again with that curious expression, almost a hungry expression, in his steady, grey eyes.
But by now—the whole party was moving off at a brisk canter. Shasta’s seat was excellent but he was sadly puzzled what to do with his reins, for he had never touched the reins while he was on Bree’s back. But he looked very carefully out of the corners of his eyes to see what the others were doing（as some of us have done at parties when we weren’t quite sure which knife or fork we were meant to use）and tried to get his fingers right. But he didn’t dare to try really directing the horse; he trusted it would follow the rest. The horse was of course an ordinary horse, not a Talking Horse; but it had quite wits enough to realize that the strange boy on its back had no whip and no spurs and was not really master of the situation. That was why Shasta soon found himself at the tail end of the procession.
Even so, he was going pretty fast. There were no flies now and the air in his face was delicious. He had got his breath back too. And his errand had succeeded. For the first time since the arrival at Tashbaan（how long ago it seemed！）he was beginning to enjoy himself.
He looked up to see how much nearer the mountain tops had come. To his disappointment he could not see them at all：only a vague greyness, rolling down towards them. He had never been in mountain country before and was surprised. “It’s a cloud,” he said to himself, “a cloud coming down. I see. Up here in the hills one is really in the sky. I shall see what the inside of a cloud is like. What fun！I’ve often wondered.” Far away on his left and a little behind him, the sun was getting ready to set.
They had come to a rough kind of road by now and were making very good speed. But Shasta’s horse was still the last of the lot. Once or twice when the road made a bend（there was now continuous forest on each side of it）he lost sight of the others for a second or two.
Then they plunged into the fog, or else the fog rolled over them. The world became grey. Shasta had not realized how cold and wet the inside of a cloud would be; nor how dark. The grey turned to black with alarming speed.
Someone at the head of the column winded the horn every now and then, and each time the sound came from a little farther off. He couldn’t see any of the others now, but of course he’d be able to as soon as he got round the next bend. But when he rounded it he still couldn’t see them. In fact he could see nothing at all. His horse was walking now. “Get on, Horse, get on,” said Shasta. Then came the horn, very faint. Bree had always told him that he must keep his heels well turned out, and Shasta had got the idea that something very terrible would happen if he dug his heels into a horse’s sides. This seemed to him an occasion for trying it. “Look here, Horse,” he said, “if you don’t buck up, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll dig my heels into you. I really will.” The horse, however, took no notice of this threat. So Shasta settled himself firmly in the saddle, gripped with his knees, clenched his teeth, and punched both the horse’s sides with his heels as hard as he could.
The only result was that the horse broke into a kind of pretence of a trot for five or six paces and then subsided into a walk again. And now it was quite dark and they seemed to have given up blowing that horn. The only sound was a steady drip-drip from the branches of the trees.
“Well, I suppose even a walk will get us somewhere sometime,” said Shasta to himself. “I only hope I shan’t run into Rabadash and his people.”
He went on for what seemed a long time, always at a walking pace. He began to hate that horse, and he was also beginning to feel very hungry.
Presently he came to a place where the road divided into two. He was just wondering which led to Anvard when he was startled by a noise from behind him. It was the noise of trotting horses. “Rabadash！” thought Shasta. He had no way of guessing which road Rabadash would take. “But if I take one,” said Shasta to himself, “he may take the other：and if I stay at the cross-roads I’m sure to be caught.” He dismounted and led his horse as quickly as he could along the right-hand road.
The sound of the cavalry grew rapidly nearer and in a minute or two Shasta realized that they were at the crossroads. He held his breath, waiting to see which way they would take.
There came a low word of command “Halt！” then a moment of horsey noises—nostrils blowing, hoofs pawing, bits being champed, necks being patted. Then a voice spoke.
“Attend, all of you,” it said. “We are now within a furlong of the castle. Remember your orders. Once we are in Narnia, as we should be by sunrise, you are to kill as little as possible. On this venture you are to regard every drop of Narnian blood as more precious than a gallon of your own. On this venture, I say. The gods will send us a happier hour and then you must leave nothing alive between Cair Paravel and the Western Waste. But we are not yet in Narnia. Here in Archenland it is another thing. In the assault on this castle of King Lune’s, nothing matters but speed. Show your mettle. It must be minewithin an hour. And if it is, I give it all to you. I reserve no booty for myself. Kill me every barbarian male within its walls, down to the child that was born yesterday, and everything else is yours to divide as you please—the women, the gold, the jewels, the weapons, and the wine. The man that I see hanging back when we come to the gates shall be burned alive. In the name of Tash the irresistible, the inexorable—forward！”
With a great cloppitty-clop the column began to move, and Shasta breathed again. They had taken the other road.
Shasta thought they took a long time going past, for though he had been talking and thinking about “two hundred horse” all day, he had not realized how many they really were. But at last the sound died away and once more he was alone amid the drip-drip from the trees.
He now knew the way to Anvard but of course he could not now go there：that would only mean running into the arms of Rabadash’s troopers. “What on earth am I to do?” said Shasta to himself. But he remounted his horse and continued along the road he had chosen, in the faint hope of finding some cottage where he might ask for shelter and a meal. He had thought, of course, of going back to Aravis and Bree and Hwin at the hermitage, but he couldn’t because by now he had not the least idea of the direction.
“After all,” said Shasta, “this road is bound to get to somewhere.”
But that all depends on what you mean by somewhere. The road kept on getting to somewhere in the sense that it got to more and more trees, all dark and dripping, and to colder and colder air. And strange, icy winds kept blowing the mist past him though they never blew it away. If he had been used to mountain country he would have realized that this meant he was now very high up—perhaps right at the top of the pass. But Shasta knew nothing about mountains.
“I do think,” said Shasta, “that I must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except me. Those Narnian lords and ladies got safe away from Tashbaan; I was left behind. Aravis and Bree and Hwin are all as snug as anything with that old Hermit：of course I was the one who was sent on. King Lune and his people must have got safely into the castle and shut the gates long before Rabadash arrived, but I get left out.”
And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.
What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing（or Person）was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.
It darted into his mind that he had heard long ago that there were giants in these Northern countries. He bit his lip in terror. But now that he really had something to cry about, he stopped crying.
The Thing（unless it was a Person）went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn’t be imagination！Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand.
If the horse had been any good—or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse—he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.
“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.
“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.
“Are you—are you a giant?” asked Shasta.
“You might call me a giant,” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.”
“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then（for an even more terrible idea had come into his head）he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not—not something dead, are you? Oh please—please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world！”
Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”
Shasta was a little reassured by the breath：so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.
“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and—”
“There was only one：but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”
“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”
“It was I.”
“But what for?”
“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”
“Who are you?” asked Shasta.
“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook：and again “Myself”, loud and clear and gay：and then the third time “Myself”, whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.
Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.
The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the mane and ears and head of his horse quite easily now. A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun.
He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.
Luckily Shasta had lived all his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.
The High King above all kings stooped towards him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.
第十一章 不受欢迎的同行者
沙斯塔穿过门，看见一个草坡向上延伸到树木边上，草坡上还缀有一些石南。如今他不再需要思考，也不用制订计划；他只需向前飞奔，只要跑就可以了。他的四肢都颤抖起来，体内像针扎一样疼得可怕。汗水不断流入眼睛，刺得眼睛生疼，视线变得模糊不清。脚步也不那么稳了，不止一次，他不慎踩到松动的石块，差点扭到脚踝。
比起刚才，树林变得更浓密了，空旷些的草地上长着蕨类植物。阳光被遮住，但这也没能让天气更凉快些，反倒是变得又灰暗又闷热，苍蝇也是平常的两倍多。沙斯塔脸上爬了不少苍蝇，但他根本没去搭理它们——他还有很多其他事情要做。
突然，他听见了号角声，不同于塔什班那让人心悸的号角声，这号角声非常欢快。嘀——啰——嘟——嘟——嚯！紧接着，他走进了一块宽阔的林中空地，发现身边聚着不少人。
至少在他看来，这儿站着不少人。实际上也就只有十五或二十个人，都是些身着绿色猎装的绅士们，有些人骑在马上，有些人站在马头旁边。人群中央，有人正拉着马镫以便于另一人上马，兴高采烈准备上马的那人，正是胖嘟嘟、面色红润、眼睛亮闪闪的亚钦兰国王。
国王一看到沙斯塔，便完全忘记了上马，他神采奕奕地向沙斯塔伸出双臂，洪亮深沉的声音仿佛来自胸腔深处，他大喊道：
“科林！我的儿子！你怎么在步行，还穿得破破烂烂的！发生什么——”
“不，”沙斯塔摇摇头，气喘吁吁地说，“我不是科林王子。我——我知道我和他长得很像……在塔什班见过殿下……替他问候您。”
国王直勾勾地盯着沙斯塔，露出耐人寻味的神色。
“您是卢——卢恩国王吗？”沙斯塔喘个不停，不等国王回答便继续说道，“国王陛下——快——安瓦德、关上城门——敌人冲过来了——拉巴达斯还有两百人马。”
“孩子，你确定这是真的吗？”另一位绅士问道。
“亲眼所见，”沙斯塔说，“我看到他们了。我从塔什班城，和他们一路赛跑过来的。”
“步行？”绅士说道，眉毛微微向上挑起。
“骑马——在隐士那儿。”沙斯塔说。
“戴林，不用再问了，”卢恩国王说，“从他脸上我能看出这是真的。绅士们，我们必须快马加鞭赶回去了。把备用的马牵来给这孩子。孩子，你能骑马快跑吧？”
有人牵来一匹马，作为回应，沙斯塔一脚踩上马镫，利落地翻身跨上马鞍。过去与布里同行的几周中，这个动作他已经重复了上百次。还记得第一天晚上，布里说他的上马动作看起来像是在往一堆干草上爬，而如今他的上马姿势已大有不同。
他开心地听见戴林勋爵对国王说：“陛下，这孩子很有骑士风范。我敢保证他一定有贵族血统。
“他的血统，是的，这是关键。”国王说。他再次深深注视沙斯塔，灰色的双眸中透出一丝古怪的、如饥似渴的神色。
现在，大家都骑着马轻快地慢跑着向前移动起来。沙斯塔的马鞍相当精良，但由于坐在布里背上时他从不去碰缰绳，所以他不知道该如何运用，这令他有些沮丧。他用眼角的余光悄悄看向别人的动作（就像参加一场宴会，而我们不太确定刀叉的使用方式时会做的那样），试图让手指姿势看起来正确无误。但他并不敢尝试真正把控马的行进方向，他相信它会跟着其他马跑的。当然，这只是一匹普普通通的马，并不会说人话；但以它的智慧也足够判断出，自己背上的这个陌生男孩儿既没有马鞭也没有马刺，而且无法真正把控局势。因此，沙斯塔很快便发现自己落在整个队伍的末端了。
即使如此，他的速度还是很快。现在，没有了苍蝇的骚扰，清新的空气扑面而来，他终于缓过气了，而且他已经完成了他的使命。这是他抵达塔什班以后（仿佛已经过去了许久），他第一回感到如此舒适。
他抬头想看看距离山顶有没有更近一些，但却不见山顶的踪影，这令他有些失望。视野中只有一抹朦朦胧胧的灰色向他们翻滚而来，以前他从未进过山野地带，因而有些惊诧。“这是朵云，”他自言自语道，“一朵云飘下来了。我明白了，在这样高高的群山中，人就好像真的升到天空中去了一样。让我看看云朵里边是什么模样。真是太有趣了！我一直都很好奇呢。”在他身后、左侧很远的地方，太阳就要下山了。
现在他们踏上了一条崎岖的山路，依然保持着高速骑行。但沙斯塔的马儿远远落在后头。有一两次拐弯时（现在山路两边尽是连绵不绝的森林），他差点就跟丢了。
然后大家一头钻进雾中，或者说浓雾吞没了他们。世界变得灰蒙蒙的，沙斯塔未曾想到云雾里如此寒冷潮湿，也不知道里头原来一片灰暗。紧接着，这片灰以令人惊恐的速度转变为黑。
在纵队前领头的人时不时吹响号角。每一次号角声都越来越远。沙斯塔现在看不见其他人了，不过他知道再拐个弯就又能看到他们了。但是拐弯后，他仍然没有看见其他人。事实上，他什么都看不见。现在他的马在慢走。“跑起来，马儿，追上去。”沙斯塔说。号角声再次传来，但已经十分微弱了。布里以前总是告诉他要脚跟朝外，所以沙斯塔一直以为脚跟要是戳到马的身体，就会有非常可怕的事情发生。眼下的情况似乎刚好可以让他试试。“听着，马儿，”他说，“如果你还不提速，知道我要对你干什么吗？我会用脚跟戳你的身体。我真会这么做的。”然而马儿并未把他的威胁放在心上。于是沙斯塔在马鞍上稳稳坐正，夹紧膝盖，咬紧牙关，竭尽全力地用脚跟猛戳马儿的身体。
唯一的成效便是这匹马装模作样地跑了五六步，随后又开始慢走起来。天已经很黑了，他们似乎没有再吹号了。四周只剩水滴接连不断地从树枝上滴落下来发出的声响。
“行吧，就这样走也总能走到个地方。”沙斯塔对自己说，“但愿不要撞上拉巴达斯和他的人马就好。”
他继续前行了貌似很长一段时间，始终都是慢步的节奏。他开始讨厌这匹马了，同时他也开始感觉饥肠辘辘。
不久，他走到了一个岔路口，有两条路可选，他正琢磨哪条路会通往安瓦德时，被身后传来的声音吓了一跳。那是战马奔跑的声音。“拉巴达斯！”沙斯塔心想。他无从猜测拉巴达斯会选择哪条路。“我如果选这一条路，”沙斯塔自言自语道，“他有可能会选另一条；但我要是在这岔路口原地不动，我一定会被逮到的。”他翻身下马，牵着马儿尽可能快地沿着右手边的路前进。
骑兵队的声音迅速逼近，一两分钟后，他们就赶到了岔路口。沙斯塔屏气凝神，等着看他们选择了哪条路。
低沉的命令声传来：“停！”接着是一阵马儿的喧嚣声——马儿喷出的鼻息声、马蹄刨地的声音、马嘴咬着马嚼子的声音还有士兵轻拍马儿脖子的声音。接着，一个人声响起：
“全体注意，”那人说道，“现在我们离城堡只有两百米了。牢记命令。我们预计日出时分抵达纳尼亚，一旦到纳尼亚境内，你们必须尽可能少杀人。本次行动中，你们必须把纳尼亚人的每一滴血看得比自己的一加仑血更加珍贵。仅限于本次行动。众神将会赐予我们一个更好的时机，到那时，你们就能把凯尔帕拉维尔与西部荒原之间的区域杀个片甲不留。不过现在还没进入纳尼亚，在这亚钦兰境内就另当别论了。此次突袭卢恩国王的城堡，最重要的就是速度，其他都无所谓。拿出你们的勇气，我们必须一小时内攻下城堡。成功后，我不会给自己留任何战利品，这里的一切属于你们。给我杀光城墙里的所有蛮族男人，哪怕是昨天才出生的孩子也不能放过。其余的一切——女人，金子，珠宝，武器，还有美酒——你们想怎么分就怎么分。要是有人被我发现进城时畏缩不前，我就把他活活烧死。所向披靡、势不可挡的塔什神在上，前进！”
伴着马蹄响亮的嘚嘚踏步声，队伍开始移动。沙斯塔松了一口气，他们选了另一条路。
沙斯塔觉得他们花了很长时间才通过，尽管他一整天都在想着、叨着“两百人马”，他并不清楚真实数量。最终，骑兵的声音渐渐消失，他再次独身一人，只有树枝上的水滴嘀嗒落下。
虽然他已经知道怎么去安瓦德了，但他现在当然不能往那儿去，不然注定是往拉巴达斯军队的利剑长矛上撞。“我到底该怎么办呢？”沙斯塔对自己说。他重新跨上马背，沿着他选定的路继续前行，心怀侥幸，希望能够找到一间农舍讨口吃食，休息一下。他当然考虑过回隐士那儿去找娅拉维斯、布里还有赫温，但目前来说他根本认不清方向了。
“归根结底，”沙斯塔说，“这条路总能通向某个地方。”
不过这完全取决于你怎么定义“某个地方”。这条路继续延伸向“某个地方”，一路上树越来越多，全都黑黑的，到处都是水滴滴落的声音，空气也愈发寒冷。怪异而又凛冽的风不断吹着迷雾，却总也无法将雾气吹散。如果沙斯塔对山野有所了解，他就该意识到自己身在海拔很高的地方了，甚至可能已经到达山顶。可惜他对高山一无所知。
“我真的觉得，”沙斯塔说道，“我一定是这个世界上最倒霉的男孩儿。除我以外，其他人都很顺利。那些纳尼亚的少爷小姐们都顺利离开了塔什班，我却被抛在后头；娅拉维斯、布里还有赫温舒舒服服地和那老隐士待在一起，而我却得来通风报信；拉巴达斯到这儿之前，卢恩国王和其他人肯定已经安全抵达城堡，早早关好了城门，而我却被关在外头了。”
沙斯塔又累又饿，他为自己感到难过，泪水滑过了脸颊。
突如其来的惊吓打断了一切。沙斯塔感觉有东西或者有人正在他身边走动，可身处漆黑之中他什么也看不见。那东西（或人）动作很轻，他几乎听不见脚步声，只能听到有呼吸声传来。这位隐身的同伴呼吸幅度听起来很大，沙斯塔感觉它应该是个庞然大物。他是逐渐才注意到这呼吸声的，所以他完全不知道那东西在这儿待了多久。这个认知深深吓到了他。
沙斯塔突然想了起来，很久以前他曾听说过北方国度有巨人存在。恐惧中，他咬住自己的嘴唇。现在是真有值得落泪的原因了，而他反倒停止了哭泣。
那东西（或人）继续静静地在他身边走动，沙斯塔开始祈祷这一切都是幻觉。就在他快要确信这一点的时候，他身旁的黑暗中突然传出一声深沉的叹息。不是幻觉！不管怎么说，他冰凉的左手已经感觉到那声叹息散出的温热气息了。
要是那匹马表现得好——或者说如果他知道让那马表现得好些的方式——他就会不顾一切地冒险策马狂奔，逃离这里。但他知道他没法让马跑起来。于是他只能慢慢走着，那看不见的同伴如影随形，在他身边呼吸着。直到最后他再也忍不住了。
“你是谁？”他说，声音没比耳语时响多少。
“我一直都在等你开口，等了很久了。”那东西说。他说话声不响，但却非常深沉。
“你是——你是巨人吗？”沙斯塔问。
“你可以称我为巨人。”那个浑厚的声音说，“不过我和你们所说的巨人不一样。”
沙斯塔努力瞪了一会儿，说：“我根本看不见你。”接着，一个更为恐怖的想法出现在他脑海中，他几乎是惊声尖叫着说：“你不会——你不会是什么已经死了的东西吧？哦，拜托——拜托你走开吧。我可曾伤害过你吗？啊，我真是世上最倒霉的人啊！”
他再一次感到那东西温热的气息扑在他的手上和脸上。“感受一下，”它说，“这可不是鬼魂的气息。告诉我你为什么伤心吧。”
那气息让沙斯塔稍稍安心了一些，于是他便讲起他被一个严苛的渔夫养大，连自己父母是谁都不知道；然后又讲了他出逃的事以及他们被狮子追赶，不得不游水保命；还有他们在塔什班遇到的所有危险，比如他在墓地度过的那一夜，沙漠里的野兽冲着他咆哮。接着他还讲到他们穿越沙漠时饱受热浪与口渴折磨，还有他们接近终点时却被另一头狮子追赶，娅拉维斯还受了伤。当然，他也讲到自己已经很久没有吃过东西了。
“我不认为你很倒霉。”浑厚的声音说道。
“遇见那么多狮子还不够倒霉吗？”沙斯塔反问。
“只有一头狮子。”那声音道。
“你到底想表达什么？我都告诉你至少第一天晚上就有两头狮子了，而且——”
“只有一头狮子，但他跑得很快。”
“你怎么知道？”
“我就是那头狮子。”沙斯塔瞠目结舌，张开了嘴却什么都没说。那声音继续说道：“迫使你和娅拉维斯走到一起的那头狮子是我；在逝者的家园安抚你的那只猫也是我；在你熟睡时为你赶走胡狼的那头狮子也是我；为了让你能及时赶到卢恩国王身边，使两匹马在恐惧中激发出新的力量、跑完最后一程的那头狮子还是我。当年你还很小，躺在船上奄奄一息，你后来能被坐在海边、深夜仍然醒着的渔夫收养，是因为有头狮子推动小船让它漂到了海滩上，而那头狮子依然是我。”
“是你伤了娅拉维斯？”
“是我。”
“可这是为什么？”
“孩子，”那声音说，“我在讲述的是你的故事，而不是她的。我只对别人讲述他自己的故事。”
“你是谁？”沙斯塔问。
“我自己。”那声音低沉浑厚，大地也为之颤动；接着，声音再次响起：“我自己。”更加响亮、清晰而又愉悦；最后是第三遍：“我自己。”轻声细语，几乎难以用双耳捕获，却又无比温柔，似乎是从四面八方穿行而来，树叶也随之簌簌有声。
沙斯塔不再畏惧，因为那声音的主人不是幽灵，也不会吃掉他。一阵全新不同的颤抖传遍他的全身，而他为此感到高兴。
迷雾从黑色转为灰色，又从灰色变为白色。这个变化定是好久之前开始的，可当他与那个东西交谈时他什么都没注意到。此时，环绕在他身边的白色闪耀着光芒，他眨了眨眼睛，前方不知何处的鸟儿开始歌唱，沙斯塔知道黑夜就要结束了。现在，他可以轻松地看到马儿的脑袋、耳朵还有鬃毛。一道金色的光芒落在他们左侧，他以为那是阳光。
他转身看见一头比马还高的狮子正在他身侧踱步。那马似乎并不怕它，又或许是看不见它。狮子身上闪着金色的光芒，那是世界上最可怕又最美丽的东西了。
幸亏沙斯塔住在卡乐门南方的偏远地区，所以他从未听说过在塔什班广为流传的故事，一个关于化身为狮子的纳尼亚恶魔的故事。当然他也不知道关于阿斯兰的真正故事：他是伟大的狮王，是海洋之王的儿子，是纳尼亚众王之王。沙斯塔只看了一眼狮子的脸便跳下马鞍，跪倒在狮子脚边。他什么都说不出来，他也什么都不想说，他知道自己什么都不需要说。
众王之王朝沙斯塔俯下身来，它的鬃毛垂落在他身边，散发出奇异而又庄重的气息。狮王舔舐他的前额，沙斯塔仰起脸来，他们眼神相接。蓦然之间，迷雾苍白的光芒与狮王耀眼的金光交织在一起，化为不断旋转的光芒，最终聚拢消失。蔚蓝的苍穹之下，绿草如茵的山坡上只剩沙斯塔独自一人与马儿在一起。鸟儿在吟唱。
CHAPTER ELEVEN THE UNWELCOME FELLOW TRAVELLER
When Shasta went through the gate he found a slope of grass and a little heather running up before him to some trees. He had nothing to think about now and no plans to make：he had only to run, and that was quite enough. His limbs were shaking, a terrible stitch was beginning in his side, and the sweat that kept dropping into his eyes blinded them and made them smart. He was unsteady on his feet too, and more than once he nearly turned his ankle on a loose stone.
The trees were thicker now than they had yet been and in the more open spaces there was bracken. The sun had gone in without making it any cooler. It had become one of those hot, grey days when there seem to be twice as many flies as usual. Shasta’s face was covered with them; he didn’t even try to shake them off—he had too much else to do.
Suddenly he heard a horn—not a great throbbing horn like the horns of Tashbaan but a merry call, Ti-ro-to-to-ho！Next moment he came out into a wide glade and found himself in a crowd of people.
At least, it looked a crowd to him. In reality there were about fifteen or twenty of them, all gentlemen in green hunting-dress, with their horses; some in the saddle and some standing by their horses’heads. In the centre someone was holding the stirrup for a man to mount. And the man he was holding it for was the jolliest, fat, apple-cheeked, twinkling-eyed King you could imagine.
As soon as Shasta came in sight this King forgot all about mounting his horse. He spread out his arms to Shasta, his face lit up, and he cried out in a great, deep voice that seemed to come from the bottom of his chest：
“Corin！My son！And on foot, and in rags！What—”
“No,” panted Shasta, shaking his head. “Not Prince Corin. I—I—know I’m like him... saw his Highness in Tashbaan... sent his greetings.”
The King was staring at Shasta with an extraordinary expression on his face.
“Are you K-King Lune?” gasped Shasta. And then, without waiting for an answer, “Lord King—fly—Anvard shut the gates—enemies upon you—Rabadash and two hundred horse.”
“Have you assurance of this, boy?” asked one of the other gentlemen.
“My own eyes,” said Shasta. “I’ve seen them. Raced them all the way from Tashbaan.”
“On foot?” said the gentleman, raising his eyebrows a little.
“Horses—with the Hermit,” said Shasta.
“Question him no more; Darrin,” said King Lune. “I see truth in his face. We must ride for it, gentlemen. A spare horse there, for the boy. You can ride fast, friend?”
For answer Shasta put his foot in the stirrup of the horse which had been led towards him and a moment later he was in the saddle. He had done it a hundred times with Bree in the last few weeks, and his mounting was very different now from what it had been on that first night when Bree had said that he climbed up a horse as if he were climbing a haystack.
He was pleased to hear the Lord Darrin say to the King, “The boy has a true horseman’s seat, Sire. I’ll warrant there’s noble blood in him.”
“His blood, aye, there’s the point,” said the King. And he stared hard at Shasta again with that curious expression, almost a hungry expression, in his steady, grey eyes.
But by now—the whole party was moving off at a brisk canter. Shasta’s seat was excellent but he was sadly puzzled what to do with his reins, for he had never touched the reins while he was on Bree’s back. But he looked very carefully out of the corners of his eyes to see what the others were doing（as some of us have done at parties when we weren’t quite sure which knife or fork we were meant to use）and tried to get his fingers right. But he didn’t dare to try really directing the horse; he trusted it would follow the rest. The horse was of course an ordinary horse, not a Talking Horse; but it had quite wits enough to realize that the strange boy on its back had no whip and no spurs and was not really master of the situation. That was why Shasta soon found himself at the tail end of the procession.
Even so, he was going pretty fast. There were no flies now and the air in his face was delicious. He had got his breath back too. And his errand had succeeded. For the first time since the arrival at Tashbaan（how long ago it seemed！）he was beginning to enjoy himself.
He looked up to see how much nearer the mountain tops had come. To his disappointment he could not see them at all：only a vague greyness, rolling down towards them. He had never been in mountain country before and was surprised. “It’s a cloud,” he said to himself, “a cloud coming down. I see. Up here in the hills one is really in the sky. I shall see what the inside of a cloud is like. What fun！I’ve often wondered.” Far away on his left and a little behind him, the sun was getting ready to set.
They had come to a rough kind of road by now and were making very good speed. But Shasta’s horse was still the last of the lot. Once or twice when the road made a bend（there was now continuous forest on each side of it）he lost sight of the others for a second or two.
Then they plunged into the fog, or else the fog rolled over them. The world became grey. Shasta had not realized how cold and wet the inside of a cloud would be; nor how dark. The grey turned to black with alarming speed.
Someone at the head of the column winded the horn every now and then, and each time the sound came from a little farther off. He couldn’t see any of the others now, but of course he’d be able to as soon as he got round the next bend. But when he rounded it he still couldn’t see them. In fact he could see nothing at all. His horse was walking now. “Get on, Horse, get on,” said Shasta. Then came the horn, very faint. Bree had always told him that he must keep his heels well turned out, and Shasta had got the idea that something very terrible would happen if he dug his heels into a horse’s sides. This seemed to him an occasion for trying it. “Look here, Horse,” he said, “if you don’t buck up, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll dig my heels into you. I really will.” The horse, however, took no notice of this threat. So Shasta settled himself firmly in the saddle, gripped with his knees, clenched his teeth, and punched both the horse’s sides with his heels as hard as he could.
The only result was that the horse broke into a kind of pretence of a trot for five or six paces and then subsided into a walk again. And now it was quite dark and they seemed to have given up blowing that horn. The only sound was a steady drip-drip from the branches of the trees.
“Well, I suppose even a walk will get us somewhere sometime,” said Shasta to himself. “I only hope I shan’t run into Rabadash and his people.”
He went on for what seemed a long time, always at a walking pace. He began to hate that horse, and he was also beginning to feel very hungry.
Presently he came to a place where the road divided into two. He was just wondering which led to Anvard when he was startled by a noise from behind him. It was the noise of trotting horses. “Rabadash！” thought Shasta. He had no way of guessing which road Rabadash would take. “But if I take one,” said Shasta to himself, “he may take the other：and if I stay at the cross-roads I’m sure to be caught.” He dismounted and led his horse as quickly as he could along the right-hand road.
The sound of the cavalry grew rapidly nearer and in a minute or two Shasta realized that they were at the crossroads. He held his breath, waiting to see which way they would take.
There came a low word of command “Halt！” then a moment of horsey noises—nostrils blowing, hoofs pawing, bits being champed, necks being patted. Then a voice spoke.
“Attend, all of you,” it said. “We are now within a furlong of the castle. Remember your orders. Once we are in Narnia, as we should be by sunrise, you are to kill as little as possible. On this venture you are to regard every drop of Narnian blood as more precious than a gallon of your own. On this venture, I say. The gods will send us a happier hour and then you must leave nothing alive between Cair Paravel and the Western Waste. But we are not yet in Narnia. Here in Archenland it is another thing. In the assault on this castle of King Lune’s, nothing matters but speed. Show your mettle. It must be minewithin an hour. And if it is, I give it all to you. I reserve no booty for myself. Kill me every barbarian male within its walls, down to the child that was born yesterday, and everything else is yours to divide as you please—the women, the gold, the jewels, the weapons, and the wine. The man that I see hanging back when we come to the gates shall be burned alive. In the name of Tash the irresistible, the inexorable—forward！”
With a great cloppitty-clop the column began to move, and Shasta breathed again. They had taken the other road.
Shasta thought they took a long time going past, for though he had been talking and thinking about “two hundred horse” all day, he had not realized how many they really were. But at last the sound died away and once more he was alone amid the drip-drip from the trees.
He now knew the way to Anvard but of course he could not now go there：that would only mean running into the arms of Rabadash’s troopers. “What on earth am I to do?” said Shasta to himself. But he remounted his horse and continued along the road he had chosen, in the faint hope of finding some cottage where he might ask for shelter and a meal. He had thought, of course, of going back to Aravis and Bree and Hwin at the hermitage, but he couldn’t because by now he had not the least idea of the direction.
“After all,” said Shasta, “this road is bound to get to somewhere.”
But that all depends on what you mean by somewhere. The road kept on getting to somewhere in the sense that it got to more and more trees, all dark and dripping, and to colder and colder air. And strange, icy winds kept blowing the mist past him though they never blew it away. If he had been used to mountain country he would have realized that this meant he was now very high up—perhaps right at the top of the pass. But Shasta knew nothing about mountains.
“I do think,” said Shasta, “that I must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except me. Those Narnian lords and ladies got safe away from Tashbaan; I was left behind. Aravis and Bree and Hwin are all as snug as anything with that old Hermit：of course I was the one who was sent on. King Lune and his people must have got safely into the castle and shut the gates long before Rabadash arrived, but I get left out.”
And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.
What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing（or Person）was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.
It darted into his mind that he had heard long ago that there were giants in these Northern countries. He bit his lip in terror. But now that he really had something to cry about, he stopped crying.
The Thing（unless it was a Person）went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn’t be imagination！Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand.
If the horse had been any good—or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse—he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.
“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.
“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.
“Are you—are you a giant?” asked Shasta.
“You might call me a giant,” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.”
“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then（for an even more terrible idea had come into his head）he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not—not something dead, are you? Oh please—please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world！”
Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”
Shasta was a little reassured by the breath：so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.
“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and—”
“There was only one：but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”
“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”
“It was I.”
“But what for?”
“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”
“Who are you?” asked Shasta.
“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook：and again “Myself”, loud and clear and gay：and then the third time “Myself”, whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.
Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.
The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the mane and ears and head of his horse quite easily now. A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun.
He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.
Luckily Shasta had lived all his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.
The High King above all kings stooped towards him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.
第十一章 不受欢迎的同行者
沙斯塔穿过门，看见一个草坡向上延伸到树木边上，草坡上还缀有一些石南。如今他不再需要思考，也不用制订计划；他只需向前飞奔，只要跑就可以了。他的四肢都颤抖起来，体内像针扎一样疼得可怕。汗水不断流入眼睛，刺得眼睛生疼，视线变得模糊不清。脚步也不那么稳了，不止一次，他不慎踩到松动的石块，差点扭到脚踝。
比起刚才，树林变得更浓密了，空旷些的草地上长着蕨类植物。阳光被遮住，但这也没能让天气更凉快些，反倒是变得又灰暗又闷热，苍蝇也是平常的两倍多。沙斯塔脸上爬了不少苍蝇，但他根本没去搭理它们——他还有很多其他事情要做。
突然，他听见了号角声，不同于塔什班那让人心悸的号角声，这号角声非常欢快。嘀——啰——嘟——嘟——嚯！紧接着，他走进了一块宽阔的林中空地，发现身边聚着不少人。
至少在他看来，这儿站着不少人。实际上也就只有十五或二十个人，都是些身着绿色猎装的绅士们，有些人骑在马上，有些人站在马头旁边。人群中央，有人正拉着马镫以便于另一人上马，兴高采烈准备上马的那人，正是胖嘟嘟、面色红润、眼睛亮闪闪的亚钦兰国王。
国王一看到沙斯塔，便完全忘记了上马，他神采奕奕地向沙斯塔伸出双臂，洪亮深沉的声音仿佛来自胸腔深处，他大喊道：
“科林！我的儿子！你怎么在步行，还穿得破破烂烂的！发生什么——”
“不，”沙斯塔摇摇头，气喘吁吁地说，“我不是科林王子。我——我知道我和他长得很像……在塔什班见过殿下……替他问候您。”
国王直勾勾地盯着沙斯塔，露出耐人寻味的神色。
“您是卢——卢恩国王吗？”沙斯塔喘个不停，不等国王回答便继续说道，“国王陛下——快——安瓦德、关上城门——敌人冲过来了——拉巴达斯还有两百人马。”
“孩子，你确定这是真的吗？”另一位绅士问道。
“亲眼所见，”沙斯塔说，“我看到他们了。我从塔什班城，和他们一路赛跑过来的。”
“步行？”绅士说道，眉毛微微向上挑起。
“骑马——在隐士那儿。”沙斯塔说。
“戴林，不用再问了，”卢恩国王说，“从他脸上我能看出这是真的。绅士们，我们必须快马加鞭赶回去了。把备用的马牵来给这孩子。孩子，你能骑马快跑吧？”
有人牵来一匹马，作为回应，沙斯塔一脚踩上马镫，利落地翻身跨上马鞍。过去与布里同行的几周中，这个动作他已经重复了上百次。还记得第一天晚上，布里说他的上马动作看起来像是在往一堆干草上爬，而如今他的上马姿势已大有不同。
他开心地听见戴林勋爵对国王说：“陛下，这孩子很有骑士风范。我敢保证他一定有贵族血统。
“他的血统，是的，这是关键。”国王说。他再次深深注视沙斯塔，灰色的双眸中透出一丝古怪的、如饥似渴的神色。
现在，大家都骑着马轻快地慢跑着向前移动起来。沙斯塔的马鞍相当精良，但由于坐在布里背上时他从不去碰缰绳，所以他不知道该如何运用，这令他有些沮丧。他用眼角的余光悄悄看向别人的动作（就像参加一场宴会，而我们不太确定刀叉的使用方式时会做的那样），试图让手指姿势看起来正确无误。但他并不敢尝试真正把控马的行进方向，他相信它会跟着其他马跑的。当然，这只是一匹普普通通的马，并不会说人话；但以它的智慧也足够判断出，自己背上的这个陌生男孩儿既没有马鞭也没有马刺，而且无法真正把控局势。因此，沙斯塔很快便发现自己落在整个队伍的末端了。
即使如此，他的速度还是很快。现在，没有了苍蝇的骚扰，清新的空气扑面而来，他终于缓过气了，而且他已经完成了他的使命。这是他抵达塔什班以后（仿佛已经过去了许久），他第一回感到如此舒适。
他抬头想看看距离山顶有没有更近一些，但却不见山顶的踪影，这令他有些失望。视野中只有一抹朦朦胧胧的灰色向他们翻滚而来，以前他从未进过山野地带，因而有些惊诧。“这是朵云，”他自言自语道，“一朵云飘下来了。我明白了，在这样高高的群山中，人就好像真的升到天空中去了一样。让我看看云朵里边是什么模样。真是太有趣了！我一直都很好奇呢。”在他身后、左侧很远的地方，太阳就要下山了。
现在他们踏上了一条崎岖的山路，依然保持着高速骑行。但沙斯塔的马儿远远落在后头。有一两次拐弯时（现在山路两边尽是连绵不绝的森林），他差点就跟丢了。
然后大家一头钻进雾中，或者说浓雾吞没了他们。世界变得灰蒙蒙的，沙斯塔未曾想到云雾里如此寒冷潮湿，也不知道里头原来一片灰暗。紧接着，这片灰以令人惊恐的速度转变为黑。
在纵队前领头的人时不时吹响号角。每一次号角声都越来越远。沙斯塔现在看不见其他人了，不过他知道再拐个弯就又能看到他们了。但是拐弯后，他仍然没有看见其他人。事实上，他什么都看不见。现在他的马在慢走。“跑起来，马儿，追上去。”沙斯塔说。号角声再次传来，但已经十分微弱了。布里以前总是告诉他要脚跟朝外，所以沙斯塔一直以为脚跟要是戳到马的身体，就会有非常可怕的事情发生。眼下的情况似乎刚好可以让他试试。“听着，马儿，”他说，“如果你还不提速，知道我要对你干什么吗？我会用脚跟戳你的身体。我真会这么做的。”然而马儿并未把他的威胁放在心上。于是沙斯塔在马鞍上稳稳坐正，夹紧膝盖，咬紧牙关，竭尽全力地用脚跟猛戳马儿的身体。
唯一的成效便是这匹马装模作样地跑了五六步，随后又开始慢走起来。天已经很黑了，他们似乎没有再吹号了。四周只剩水滴接连不断地从树枝上滴落下来发出的声响。
“行吧，就这样走也总能走到个地方。”沙斯塔对自己说，“但愿不要撞上拉巴达斯和他的人马就好。”
他继续前行了貌似很长一段时间，始终都是慢步的节奏。他开始讨厌这匹马了，同时他也开始感觉饥肠辘辘。
不久，他走到了一个岔路口，有两条路可选，他正琢磨哪条路会通往安瓦德时，被身后传来的声音吓了一跳。那是战马奔跑的声音。“拉巴达斯！”沙斯塔心想。他无从猜测拉巴达斯会选择哪条路。“我如果选这一条路，”沙斯塔自言自语道，“他有可能会选另一条；但我要是在这岔路口原地不动，我一定会被逮到的。”他翻身下马，牵着马儿尽可能快地沿着右手边的路前进。
骑兵队的声音迅速逼近，一两分钟后，他们就赶到了岔路口。沙斯塔屏气凝神，等着看他们选择了哪条路。
低沉的命令声传来：“停！”接着是一阵马儿的喧嚣声——马儿喷出的鼻息声、马蹄刨地的声音、马嘴咬着马嚼子的声音还有士兵轻拍马儿脖子的声音。接着，一个人声响起：
“全体注意，”那人说道，“现在我们离城堡只有两百米了。牢记命令。我们预计日出时分抵达纳尼亚，一旦到纳尼亚境内，你们必须尽可能少杀人。本次行动中，你们必须把纳尼亚人的每一滴血看得比自己的一加仑血更加珍贵。仅限于本次行动。众神将会赐予我们一个更好的时机，到那时，你们就能把凯尔帕拉维尔与西部荒原之间的区域杀个片甲不留。不过现在还没进入纳尼亚，在这亚钦兰境内就另当别论了。此次突袭卢恩国王的城堡，最重要的就是速度，其他都无所谓。拿出你们的勇气，我们必须一小时内攻下城堡。成功后，我不会给自己留任何战利品，这里的一切属于你们。给我杀光城墙里的所有蛮族男人，哪怕是昨天才出生的孩子也不能放过。其余的一切——女人，金子，珠宝，武器，还有美酒——你们想怎么分就怎么分。要是有人被我发现进城时畏缩不前，我就把他活活烧死。所向披靡、势不可挡的塔什神在上，前进！”
伴着马蹄响亮的嘚嘚踏步声，队伍开始移动。沙斯塔松了一口气，他们选了另一条路。
沙斯塔觉得他们花了很长时间才通过，尽管他一整天都在想着、叨着“两百人马”，他并不清楚真实数量。最终，骑兵的声音渐渐消失，他再次独身一人，只有树枝上的水滴嘀嗒落下。
虽然他已经知道怎么去安瓦德了，但他现在当然不能往那儿去，不然注定是往拉巴达斯军队的利剑长矛上撞。“我到底该怎么办呢？”沙斯塔对自己说。他重新跨上马背，沿着他选定的路继续前行，心怀侥幸，希望能够找到一间农舍讨口吃食，休息一下。他当然考虑过回隐士那儿去找娅拉维斯、布里还有赫温，但目前来说他根本认不清方向了。
“归根结底，”沙斯塔说，“这条路总能通向某个地方。”
不过这完全取决于你怎么定义“某个地方”。这条路继续延伸向“某个地方”，一路上树越来越多，全都黑黑的，到处都是水滴滴落的声音，空气也愈发寒冷。怪异而又凛冽的风不断吹着迷雾，却总也无法将雾气吹散。如果沙斯塔对山野有所了解，他就该意识到自己身在海拔很高的地方了，甚至可能已经到达山顶。可惜他对高山一无所知。
“我真的觉得，”沙斯塔说道，“我一定是这个世界上最倒霉的男孩儿。除我以外，其他人都很顺利。那些纳尼亚的少爷小姐们都顺利离开了塔什班，我却被抛在后头；娅拉维斯、布里还有赫温舒舒服服地和那老隐士待在一起，而我却得来通风报信；拉巴达斯到这儿之前，卢恩国王和其他人肯定已经安全抵达城堡，早早关好了城门，而我却被关在外头了。”
沙斯塔又累又饿，他为自己感到难过，泪水滑过了脸颊。
突如其来的惊吓打断了一切。沙斯塔感觉有东西或者有人正在他身边走动，可身处漆黑之中他什么也看不见。那东西（或人）动作很轻，他几乎听不见脚步声，只能听到有呼吸声传来。这位隐身的同伴呼吸幅度听起来很大，沙斯塔感觉它应该是个庞然大物。他是逐渐才注意到这呼吸声的，所以他完全不知道那东西在这儿待了多久。这个认知深深吓到了他。
沙斯塔突然想了起来，很久以前他曾听说过北方国度有巨人存在。恐惧中，他咬住自己的嘴唇。现在是真有值得落泪的原因了，而他反倒停止了哭泣。
那东西（或人）继续静静地在他身边走动，沙斯塔开始祈祷这一切都是幻觉。就在他快要确信这一点的时候，他身旁的黑暗中突然传出一声深沉的叹息。不是幻觉！不管怎么说，他冰凉的左手已经感觉到那声叹息散出的温热气息了。
要是那匹马表现得好——或者说如果他知道让那马表现得好些的方式——他就会不顾一切地冒险策马狂奔，逃离这里。但他知道他没法让马跑起来。于是他只能慢慢走着，那看不见的同伴如影随形，在他身边呼吸着。直到最后他再也忍不住了。
“你是谁？”他说，声音没比耳语时响多少。
“我一直都在等你开口，等了很久了。”那东西说。他说话声不响，但却非常深沉。
“你是——你是巨人吗？”沙斯塔问。
“你可以称我为巨人。”那个浑厚的声音说，“不过我和你们所说的巨人不一样。”
沙斯塔努力瞪了一会儿，说：“我根本看不见你。”接着，一个更为恐怖的想法出现在他脑海中，他几乎是惊声尖叫着说：“你不会——你不会是什么已经死了的东西吧？哦，拜托——拜托你走开吧。我可曾伤害过你吗？啊，我真是世上最倒霉的人啊！”
他再一次感到那东西温热的气息扑在他的手上和脸上。“感受一下，”它说，“这可不是鬼魂的气息。告诉我你为什么伤心吧。”
那气息让沙斯塔稍稍安心了一些，于是他便讲起他被一个严苛的渔夫养大，连自己父母是谁都不知道；然后又讲了他出逃的事以及他们被狮子追赶，不得不游水保命；还有他们在塔什班遇到的所有危险，比如他在墓地度过的那一夜，沙漠里的野兽冲着他咆哮。接着他还讲到他们穿越沙漠时饱受热浪与口渴折磨，还有他们接近终点时却被另一头狮子追赶，娅拉维斯还受了伤。当然，他也讲到自己已经很久没有吃过东西了。
“我不认为你很倒霉。”浑厚的声音说道。
“遇见那么多狮子还不够倒霉吗？”沙斯塔反问。
“只有一头狮子。”那声音道。
“你到底想表达什么？我都告诉你至少第一天晚上就有两头狮子了，而且——”
“只有一头狮子，但他跑得很快。”
“你怎么知道？”
“我就是那头狮子。”沙斯塔瞠目结舌，张开了嘴却什么都没说。那声音继续说道：“迫使你和娅拉维斯走到一起的那头狮子是我；在逝者的家园安抚你的那只猫也是我；在你熟睡时为你赶走胡狼的那头狮子也是我；为了让你能及时赶到卢恩国王身边，使两匹马在恐惧中激发出新的力量、跑完最后一程的那头狮子还是我。当年你还很小，躺在船上奄奄一息，你后来能被坐在海边、深夜仍然醒着的渔夫收养，是因为有头狮子推动小船让它漂到了海滩上，而那头狮子依然是我。”
“是你伤了娅拉维斯？”
“是我。”
“可这是为什么？”
“孩子，”那声音说，“我在讲述的是你的故事，而不是她的。我只对别人讲述他自己的故事。”
“你是谁？”沙斯塔问。
“我自己。”那声音低沉浑厚，大地也为之颤动；接着，声音再次响起：“我自己。”更加响亮、清晰而又愉悦；最后是第三遍：“我自己。”轻声细语，几乎难以用双耳捕获，却又无比温柔，似乎是从四面八方穿行而来，树叶也随之簌簌有声。
沙斯塔不再畏惧，因为那声音的主人不是幽灵，也不会吃掉他。一阵全新不同的颤抖传遍他的全身，而他为此感到高兴。
迷雾从黑色转为灰色，又从灰色变为白色。这个变化定是好久之前开始的，可当他与那个东西交谈时他什么都没注意到。此时，环绕在他身边的白色闪耀着光芒，他眨了眨眼睛，前方不知何处的鸟儿开始歌唱，沙斯塔知道黑夜就要结束了。现在，他可以轻松地看到马儿的脑袋、耳朵还有鬃毛。一道金色的光芒落在他们左侧，他以为那是阳光。
他转身看见一头比马还高的狮子正在他身侧踱步。那马似乎并不怕它，又或许是看不见它。狮子身上闪着金色的光芒，那是世界上最可怕又最美丽的东西了。
幸亏沙斯塔住在卡乐门南方的偏远地区，所以他从未听说过在塔什班广为流传的故事，一个关于化身为狮子的纳尼亚恶魔的故事。当然他也不知道关于阿斯兰的真正故事：他是伟大的狮王，是海洋之王的儿子，是纳尼亚众王之王。沙斯塔只看了一眼狮子的脸便跳下马鞍，跪倒在狮子脚边。他什么都说不出来，他也什么都不想说，他知道自己什么都不需要说。
众王之王朝沙斯塔俯下身来，它的鬃毛垂落在他身边，散发出奇异而又庄重的气息。狮王舔舐他的前额，沙斯塔仰起脸来，他们眼神相接。蓦然之间，迷雾苍白的光芒与狮王耀眼的金光交织在一起，化为不断旋转的光芒，最终聚拢消失。蔚蓝的苍穹之下，绿草如茵的山坡上只剩沙斯塔独自一人与马儿在一起。鸟儿在吟唱。
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