污名 Stains on a Name

作者： John O’Bryan

“我相信过你，刀锋舞者！”男人嘴角泛着血沫，哽咽着说。“你给我们指明了道路……”

“I believed in you, Blade Dancer!” the man choked, his lips frothing red. “You showed us the path…”

艾瑞莉娅稳稳地保持着架势，低头看着这个兄弟会的信徒。他跪在泥泞中，身体被她的利刃洞穿了许多次。

Irelia held her stance. She looked down at him, this devotee of the Brotherhood, on his knees in the mud. He had been pierced over and over by her blades.

“我们可以更强大……只要联合起来……”

“We could have been strong... United as one people...”

“万灵不为此道。”她说。“你那样想，可就错了。”

“That is not the Spirit’s way,” she replied. “If that’s what you think, then you are wrong.”

他来到这个村子，耐心地等待着动手的机会。但他手脚笨拙，左支右绌。艾瑞莉娅可以轻易地在他身边起舞。

He had come to this village, waiting for the perfect moment before making his move. But he was clumsy and awkward. She had danced around him easily.

他已经下定决心要取她的性命，但糟糕的是，他不是头一个这么打算的。艾瑞莉娅的刀刃此时正悬浮于她的双肩，随着她不断优雅地画圆的双手飘动。只要一个手势，一切就结束了。

He had been determined to kill her. The worst thing was, he wasn’t the first. Irelia’s blades now hovered at her shoulders, following the graceful, circling movements of her hands. One simple gesture, and it could all be over.

他吐出一口鲜血，眼睛里腾腾燃烧着愤恨：“如果你不愿带领纳沃利，那就让兄弟会来。”

He spat blood on the ground, his eyes burning with hatred. “If you will not lead Navori, the Brotherhood will.”

他虚弱地抬起匕首指着她。这个人不可能活命了。

He tried weakly to raise his dagger against her. This man would never be taken alive.

“我相信过你。”他又说了一遍。“我们都相信过。”

“I believed in you,” he said again. “We all did.”

她叹了口气。“我从未要求你们这样。抱歉。”

She sighed. “I never asked you to. I’m sorry.”

艾瑞莉娅的双臂如波浪般柔软地舞动起来。她转向一侧，刀刃齐出，划出一道死亡的弧线，轻盈干脆地切过了他的身体，仿佛是为了自我防卫一样，结束了他的痛苦。

Her limbs flowing lithely around her body, Irelia whirled to the side, sending the blades out in a deadly arc. They sliced cleanly through his flesh, as much an act of mercy as self-defense.

一个简单的转身，极尽优雅的一步，所有的刀刃便回到了她身边。刀刃沾着血迹，男人的尸身向前无力地扑倒。

A simple turn, just one elegant step, brought the blades back to her, their edges slick with blood. The man’s lifeless body toppled forward.

“愿万灵予你安息。”艾瑞莉娅说。

“May the Spirit bring you to peace,” said Irelia.

她回到营地，心头沉甸甸的。等她终于走进了自己的帐篷，才终于长长地呼出了一口气，坐在了芦苇垫上。

Her burden was heavy as she returned to the camp. When she finally entered the privacy of her tent, she released a long, tense breath, and lowered herself to the reed mat.

她闭上了眼睛。

She closed her eyes.

“父亲。”她低声说。“我再次让家族的荣誉沾了血。原谅我吧。”

“Father,” she whispered. “I have bloodied our family’s honor once more. Forgive me.”

艾瑞莉娅将刀刃在面前一字排开。就像艾欧尼亚一样，这些刀刃曾经也属于一件更伟大的事物，如今却落得个惨烈的下场。她把水倒进一个木碗，再浸入一块破布。清洗刀刃的过程已经成为了一个仪式。每次战斗之后，她都觉得必不可少。

Irelia spread the blades out before her—like Ionia itself, they were the fractured pieces of something that had once been far greater, now turned to violent ends. She poured water into a small wooden bowl, and dipped in a rag. The simple act of cleaning the shards had become a ritual, one that she felt compelled to undertake after every battle she fought.

随着她的动作，水慢慢地变红了。但除了鲜血，金属刀刃上还沾着颜色更暗，更久以前的污渍，似乎永远也没办法去除。

The water slowly turned red as she worked. But beneath the fresh blood, the metal carried much darker, older stains that she could never seem to remove completely.

这是她同胞的血，是纳沃利自己的血。

This was the blood of her people. The blood of Navori itself.

神思恍惚间，她把刀刃聚在一起，慢慢地拼成了自己家徽的形状。面前是支离破碎的三个图案，分别代表着赞家、她的故乡，还有初生之土的其他地方，和谐地相接在一起。她的祖先曾经遵循着卡尔玛的教诲生活：无论任何情况，都不伤害任何人。

Lost in thought, she began to slide the blades around, slowly reforming them into her family crest. Its three symbols lay cracked before her, representing the Xan name, her home province, and the rest of the First Lands, all in harmony. Her ancestors had always lived by the teachings of Karma. They inflicted no harm on anyone, regardless of circumstance.

而如今，他们留下的印鉴和徽记已经变成了武器，带走了无数人的性命。

And now, here was their seal and crest turned into weapons, and takers of countless lives at that.

她能感觉到自己的兄弟们正在看着自己。即便他们已经与艾欧尼亚的万灵一道长眠，她仍然害怕自己会让他们失望和怨恨。她还想起了亲爱的奶奶，看着每一个人的死状，心如刀割地啜泣着的模样。

She could feel the eyes of her brothers upon her. Even in their eternal rest, at one with the Spirit of Ionia, she feared earning their disappointment, their resentment. She pictured her dear old O-ma too, broken and sobbing, devastated by each kill...

无数次，一想到这个画面，艾瑞莉娅的眼泪便再忍不住了。

Many times, that thought had made Irelia weep more than any other.

刀刃再也不干净了。她心里清楚，但她不会放弃讨回公道。

The blades would never be clean. She knew that—but she would still do right by those she had harmed.

在去墓地的路上，她遇到了许多自己的追随者。虽然他们都视她为首领，而且人数比以前更多，但她却认不出几个熟面孔。每个冬天过去，陌生的脸孔就多了一些，旧有的反抗军成员已经全都被狂热的新战士们取代了。他们从遥远的省份和村镇赶来，而她甚至都没听说过那些地方。

She passed many of her followers on her way to the burial grounds. Though they looked to Irelia for leadership, now more than ever, she recognized so few of them. With each winter the faces became less familiar, as the last of the old resistance were replaced by new and more zealous fighters. They came from faraway provinces, and towns she had never heard of.

即便如此，她还是会经常停下来回应他们的敬礼和鞠躬，但却拒绝任何人帮她搬运裹在布里的刺客尸体。

Even so, she halted often to return their half-hearted salutes and bows, and would accept none of their help in dragging the shrouded body of her dead attacker along the road.

在一棵繁花压低了枝头的大树下，艾瑞莉娅找到了一处空地。她把他小心地放在地上，转过身，与一群鳏夫、寡妇和孤儿寡女们一起哀悼。

Finding an open patch beneath the blossom-heavy branches of a tree, Irelia set him down carefully, and turned to join in the grief of the widows and widowers, the orphaned sons and daughters.

“我知道这不容易。”她说着，一手放在一个男人肩头以示安慰。他正跪在一双新坟前。“但每个生命，每次死亡，都属于——”

“I know it is never easy,” she said, placing a consoling hand on the shoulder of one man, who knelt before a pair of fresh graves, “but each life, and each death, are part of—”

他拍掉了她的手，盯着她，直到她退开。

He batted away her hand, glaring at her until she retreated.

“迫不得已，”她喃喃地说着，一边准备开始挖掘。然而她自己也不能说服自己。“都是迫不得已的。兄弟会将会靠铁腕统治这块土地，比诺克萨斯好不到哪去……”

“It was necessary,” she murmured to herself as she prepared to start digging, though she remained unconvinced by her own words. “It is all necessary. The Brotherhood would grip this land in an iron fist. No better than Noxus…”

她不经意间看到一个老妇人，坐在大树树根下一只简陋的木头凳子上，哼着一支轻柔的挽歌。她脸上泪痕斑驳，衣着朴素，一只手放在身旁的墓碑上。坟前摆放着给死者的供品。

Her eyes fell upon an old woman, sat on a simple wooden stool at the foot of the tree, singing a soft lament. Streams of tears had dried on her face. She was dressed plainly, with one hand resting on a grave marker next to her. It was adorned with food offerings for the deceased.

妇人停止了哼唱，让艾瑞莉娅有些惊讶。

To Irelia’s surprise, the woman halted her song.

“赞家的女儿啊，又带人来了，是吗？”她喊叫道。“这儿已经没多少地方了。但你的朋友就是我们的朋友。”

“Bringing us some company, are you, daughter of Xan?” she called out. “Ain’t much room left round here. But any friend of yours is a friend of ours.”

“我不认识这个人，但还是谢谢你。他理应过得更好的。”艾瑞莉娅犹豫地走近一步。“你在唱那些老歌。”

“I did not know this man, but thank you. He deserved better than he was given in life.” Irelia took an uncertain step closer. “You were singing one of the old songs.”

“能让我不会胡思乱想。”老妇人压了压坟上的浮土。“这是我的侄儿。”

“Helps keep my mind off bad things,” said the old woman, tamping down a patch of dirt on the grave. “This is my nephew.”

“我……我很抱歉。”

“I… I’m so sorry.”

“我相信你已经尽力了。另外，一切都是万灵的安排，你知道吗？”

“I’m sure you did all you could. Besides, this is all part of the Spirit’s way, you know?”

她的善意让艾瑞莉娅完全放松下来。“有时候我真不知道。”她承认。

Her kindly demeanor had put Irelia entirely at ease. “Sometimes I don’t know,” she confided.

老妇人带着期望坐直了身子。艾瑞莉娅终于说出来困扰她许久的疑虑。

The old woman perked up, expecting more. Irelia continued, finally giving voice to the doubts that had plagued her for a long time.

“时候……有时候我觉得，我是不是亲手扼杀了和平。”

“Sometimes… Sometimes I wonder if I killed our peace.”

“扼杀了和平？”

“Killed our peace?”

“诺克萨斯入侵的时候，也许我们的反击就毁掉了什么东西，我们再也找不回来了。”

“When Noxus invaded. Perhaps we lost something when we fought back, something we can never restore.”

妇人站起来，想掰开一个大个儿的坚果，但却没有成功。“孩子，我很清楚地记得和平的岁月。”她伸出一根指节粗大的干瘦手指，指着艾瑞莉娅。“那可是好日子！没人比我更想念那段和平的时光。”

The woman stood, trying in vain to open a large nut. “Child, I remember peace well,” she said, thrusting one gnarled, knobby finger at Irelia. “Those were good days! Nobody misses peace more than me.”

她从皮带上掏出一把小刀，开始撬坚果。

She pulled a knife from her belt, and began to pry open the nutshell.

“但世道变了。今时今日已经不复以往。没必要再抱着不放了。”

“But the world’s a different place now. What worked then don’t work today. No point dwelling on it.”

终于，果壳被撬开了。她把碎裂的果仁放在坟前的小碗里。

At last, the shell cracked, and she placed the broken kernel into a bowl on the grave.

“看到了吗？从前我只用手就能掰开，现在得用刀了。年轻时的我肯定会很不高兴，因为会弄碎果仁。但那有什么关系，年轻的我又不用活在此时此地。”老妇人和蔼地点点头，继续唱起了歌。

“See, there? Used to be able to open these with my hands alone, now I need a knife. The young me would’ve fretted about it, damaging the nut like that. But that me don’t matter, because she don’t have to live in the here and now.” The old woman nodded kindly, then went back to her singing.

这么久以来，艾瑞莉娅头一次露出了笑容。在她的背囊里，裹在布中的，是破碎的家徽所变成的锐利武器。她知道这些刀刃永远不会干净无瑕，回归一体。

For the first time in a long while, Irelia smiled. Within her satchel, wrapped in protective cloth, were the shard-blades of her shattered family crest. She knew it would never be clean, never be whole again.

但它们一直蓄势待发，这便已经足够。

But they were always ready, and that would have to be enough.