末日主牌·序
罗杰·泽拉兹尼 著
风飞鹰影 译
这是作者完成了《安珀志》十本后写的关于安珀的短篇之一。与另外几篇不同，这个故事发生在上下卷之间，讲的是下卷主人公梅林(科幻世界译的是莫林?)离开混沌宫廷，可以算作是下卷的背景吧。
翻译水平相当低，所以附上原文，希望大家多多批评指正。——译者
这简直太容易了。转弯、盘旋，再原路折回。
然后他的面前出现一堵粗糙、歪斜的墙。他抬起头，看到了竖井。他开始攀登。
这不再容易了。一种摇摆不定的感觉开始了——微弱，接着明显起来——就好象他正骑在一棵大树最高的树枝上一样。他的道路一次次变亮，又一次次暗下去，以某种难以察觉的方式。过了一会儿，他的眼睛疼痛起来。图像出现重影，摇曳着。
当道路突然变为水平时，他怀疑起他的视力来，直到伸出的手使他确信的确可以选择通道。
他身体前倾，把头伸进每条通道。左边的那条里微弱的音乐声显得稍微大一点，于是他沿它前进。这一点，至少他可以确定。
现在他的道路忽上忽下降，他也上下攀爬。光亮与昏暗的交替还在继续，只是现在光芒更加明亮度，黑暗更加暗淡。
摇摆不定的感觉并没有丝毫减弱。地面似乎在他的脚下起伏，墙壁与天花板好象不断缩小、扩大。他打了个趔趄，站稳脚跟，又打了个趔趄……
在下一个转弯处，声音稍微大了一点。他注意到它根本不成曲调，更像是杂乱无章的噪音。
他攀登，下坡。通道收缩，使他最终匍匐前行。
摇动的感觉愈加剧烈。有时他似乎在旋转;其他时候，他似乎正在坠入无底深渊。
闪光刺痛了他的头颅。他开始产生幻觉。面孔与身影。火焰。或者，它们真的是还是幻觉吗?
他感受到了左手手腕上第一次微弱的搏动……
他移动了多久了?他早已衣衫褴褛，遍体鳞伤，却已毫无痛觉。
他沿着一口井下降，又在某种程度上好象上了一层楼。疯狂的笑声在他周围回响，偶尔会停下来，那是他意识到了狂笑的是他自己。
那声音更大了，最后好象他直正试图走过一个挂满见鬼的铃铛声的走廊。那些铃铛那样疯狂，毫不谐调，它们的共鸣轰击着他。
思想变得令人痛苦。他知道他绝不能停下，绝不能回头，绝不能走上声音更柔和的道路。任何这类的道路都将是致命。他把这些想法归结为一点:继续。
手腕上又有一次搏动，随后微微动了一下……
他四肢沉重，当看到他不得不再次攀登时他咬了咬牙。每一步都像是在水中进行——缓慢，比平时需要 付出更多努力。
一道烟幕造成了可怕的阻力。他驱动自己向前，很久后，他穿过烟幕，感到他又能自由活动了。这发生了六次，每次阻力都更大。
最终他爬了出来，鲜血淋漓，到达了房间的另一端。。他目光涣散，眼睛不能聚焦在他面前的小个子黑色身影上。
“你是个傻瓜，”它告诉他。
他过了一会儿才理解这句话，之后却无力回答。
“一个幸运的傻瓜，”它继续道，黑暗在他周围涌动，像一双翅膀。(或者它们真还是翅膀?)“我认为你在相当长的时间内不会准备好挑战Logrus的。”
他闭上眼睛，不理睬说话的人。一幅他走过的路径的图象在他的脑海中舞动，像一张明亮、破裂的网，在微风中折叠。
“一个没带上把剑，好给它灌注魔法的傻瓜……或者镜子、高脚杯、手杖，来支持你的魔法。不，我只能看到一条绳子。你本该再等等的，等待进一步指示，等待更强的力量。你还有什么好说的?”
他使自己升离地面，疯狂我光现在他眼中舞动。
“时辰已到，”他说。 “我准备好了。”
“一条绳子!什么半驴子的运气!”
那条绳索发着光，勒住了它的喉咙。
另一个解开绳子，黑色身影咳嗽了几声，点点头。
“也许你知道自己在干什么——这样的话……”它咕哝道。”时辰真的到了?你要走了?”
“是。”
一件深色斗蓬落在他肩上。他听到瓶子里的水声。
“给。”
在他喝水时，那条绳索自动缠在了他的手腕上，消失了。
“谢谢，叔叔。”他咽了几口后说。
黑色身影摇了摇头。
“冲动，”它说。“像你爸爸。”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Prologue to Trumps Of Doom from Amberzine #4 August, 1993
by Roger Zelazny
------------------------
It was almost too easy. A turning, a twisting, a doubling back...
And then he faced a rough, slanted wall, looked up and saw the shaft. He commenced climbing.
It was no longer easy. A swaying sensation began--faint, then distinct-- as if he were mounting into the uppermost branches of a tall tree. His way brightened end then dimmed, repeatedly, in no perceptible pattern. After a time, his eyes ached. Images doubled, wavered...
When the way grew suddenly level he doubted his vision, till his extended hand assured him that there was indeed a choice of passages.
He leaned and moved his head into each of these. The faint musical sound seemed slightly louder in the one to the left, and he followed it. Of that, at least, he was certain.
Now his way rose and fell. He climbed up, he climbed down. The brightening and dimming continued, only now the brightness was brighter and the dimness dimmer.
And the sensations of external movement had nit abated. The floor of the tunnel seemed to ripple beneath his feet, the walls and roof to contract and expand. He stumbled, caught himself. Stumbled again...
At the next turning the sounds grew slightly louder, and he realized that they were not a tune, but rather a totally random concatenation of noises.
He climbed. He descended. The passageway shrank, and finally he crawled.
The sensations of movement increased. At times he seemed to be spinning; other times, it felt as if he were falling into an enormous abyss.
The flashes of light now drove nails of pain into skull. He began to hallucinate. Faces and figures. Flames. Or were they hallucinations?
He felt the first faint pulsation upon his left wrist...
How long had he been moving? His clothes were already in tatters and he bled, painlessly, from a dozen scrapes and lacerations.
He descended a well and emerged somehow upward onto a floor. Mad laughter rang about him, ceasing only when he realized it to be his own.
The sounds grew even louder, until it lefts as if he negotiated a gallery of demonic bells-- wild, out of phage, their vibrations beating against him.
Thinking became painful. He knew that he must not stop, that he must not turn back, that he must not take any of the lesser turnings where the sounds came softer. Any of these courses would prove fatal. He reduced this to one imperative: Continue.
Again, a pulsing at his wrist, and a faint, slow movement...
He gritted his teeth when he saw that he must climb once more, for her limbs had grown heavy. Each movement seemed as if it were performed underwater - slowly, requiring more than normal effort.
A screen of smoke offered frightening resistance. He drove himself against it for an age before he passed through and felt his movement become easy once again. Six times this occurred, and each time the pressure against him was greater.
When he crawled out, drooling and dripping blood, on the other side of the chamber from which he had entered, his eyes darted wildly and could not fix upon the small, dark figure which stood before him.
"You are a fool," it told him.
It took some time for the words to register, and when they did he lacked the strength with which to reply.
"A lucky fool," it went on, darkness flowing about it like wings. (Or were they really wings?) "I had not judged you ready to essay the Logrus for a long while yet."
He closed his eyes against this speaker, and an image of the route he had followed danced within his mind's seeing, like a bright, torn web folding in a breeze.
"...And a fool not to have borne a blade and so enchanted it... or a mirror, a chalice, or a wand to brace your magic. No, all I see is a piece of rope. You should have waited, for more instruction, for greater strength; What say you?"
He raised himself from the floor, and a mad light danced within his eyes.
"It was time," he said. "I was ready."
"And a cord! What a half-ass-luck!"
The cord, glowing now, tightened about his throat.
When the other released it, the dark one coughed and nodded.
"Perhaps you knew what you were doing--on that count..." it muttered. "Is it really time? You will be leaving?"
"Yes."
A dark cloak fell upon his shoulders. He heard the splash of water within a flask.
"Here."
As he drank, the cord wrapped itself about his wrist and vanished.
"Thanks, Uncle." he said, after several swallows.
The dark figure shook its head.
"Impulsive," it said. "Just like your father." |
发表于 2007-3-11 19:26:29
发表于 2007-3-23 09:32:12