亡者之语 The Voices of the Dead

作者：David Slagle

我故乡的岛上有一种说法。“只有夺去人的呼吸，狂风才能说话。”你想让我描述我带着罩帽、背着圣物火炮，刚到这座艾欧尼亚村庄时迎来的黑雾？

There’s a saying on my island. “Only through stealing our breath can the wind speak.” You want me to describe the Black Mist that greeted me when I first arrived in the Ionian village, hood raised, relic cannon on my back?

黑雾也会夺去人的话语，那是死者的尖叫。

The Mist steals words too. The screams of those who die within.

其中曾充满了我的尖叫——但我现在已经活过来了。

Once, they were my screams—but I’m alive now.

我感到卢锡安温暖的手搭在我的肩膀上。我们走下船，踏上了艾欧尼亚的土地，不知为何，只有他的温度能这样穿透我的心墙。只有他会这样愚钝而又固执地尝试。

I felt the warmth where Lucian’s hand touched my shoulder as we stepped off the boat onto Ionian soil, somehow reaching through my walls the way only he can. The way he’s the only fool stubborn enough to try.

只有他懂得，唯一能够穿破我的盔甲，以及盔甲背后的规矩的东西，就是爱。

To learn the one thing that gets through my armor, and all the rules beneath, is love.

“你走高，我走低？”我问道。他陷入思考，我能感受到他手上的温度凉了下来。那一刻，他看到的不是我，而是那个他努力拯救的女人，那个身受诅咒、被迫终生逃亡的我。他看到那把钩镰向她抽过去……他与她四目相对——他透过的是我的双眼，看到的是她。

“You go high, I go low?” I asked, feeling his warmth go cold as he considered. For a moment, he didn’t see me standing before him. He saw the woman he tried to save, who was cursed, always running. He saw the scythe, swinging toward her… He looked straight into her eyes, even as he looked into mine.

“我走低。”他只说了这一句，其余的都用沉默表达。现在他的双手已经握在他的双枪上。“赛娜……”他的声音在记忆的重量下略带哽咽。

“I go low,” he said, leaving other things to silence. And now his hands were on his guns. “Senna…” His voice broke with the weight of the memory.

“没关系的，”我轻轻地说。我也记得那个女人。

“It’s okay,” I said softly. I could remember that woman too.

地平线上，黑暗在翻滚，将一座石头里凿出来的村庄笼罩在更暗的阴影中，淹没在暴雨中，还会有更糟的事发生。在那团黑暗中藏着光明。是另一名哨兵召唤我们来到此地。

On the horizon, darkness swirled, casting even darker shadows onto a village carved into stone, deluged by heavy rain, and worse. Somewhere in that darkness was light. Another Sentinel who’d called us here.

我必须杀出一条路，找到它。

I’d have to fight my way to it.

通往村子的山路经历了数百年的风暴侵蚀，留下的只有最硬的顽石。我能感受到风吹打着罩帽，海浪激起的水雾溅在我的皮肤上，似乎整个世界都在阻拦我，警告我前方的黑暗。但与之相比，最令我却步的是村庄里响起的嚎叫声……

The path up the mountain to the village was nearly worn away by centuries of storms, washing away everything but the toughest crags… if that’s the right damn word. I could feel the wind pressing against my hood, the spray of the ocean hard against my skin, as if the world were pushing me back, warning me of the darkness ahead. But none of that compared to what hit me as a howl rose up, roaring through the village…

那是我的诅咒。黑雾知道我来了。它会第一个来找我。

It was my curse. The Mist knew I was here. It would come for me before anyone else.

“又到了每天的伏击时间了。”我喃喃自语，无动于衷，天边的死气黑暗中，鬼魂涌出。我每一下呼吸都在吸引他们。

“Must be time for my daily ambush,” I muttered, unmoved, and from a horizon black with death, souls poured forth. Drawn to me as I drew breath.

我抽出了武器。

As I drew my weapon.

圣物石块整齐划一地动了起来，它们都是已故哨兵的遗物，每一块都曾多次传承转手。他们当中有男人、女人、父亲、姐妹，全都被黑暗夺去。但当我握住我的武器，我也握住了他们的光，就在这巨炮的双膛中闪耀着。

The relic stones of fallen Sentinels moved as one, each held by too many hands before mine. Men and women, fathers, sisters, all lost to darkness. But when I held my weapon, I held their light, gleaming in the gun’s two barrels.

黑雾里面的怨灵凝聚成形，甩出触须击中了我。我被打得向后踉跄几步，眼看就要跌落到下方的乱石里，但最后站稳了脚跟。伴着一声洪亮的雷鸣，幽灵的尖叫混入了雨水和拍岸的惊涛。然而雷声过后的光亮却不是闪电。

A tendril of Mist hit me as the wraith within took shape. Staggered by the blow, I stumbled back, catching my footing just before falling toward the rocks below. Thunder pealed as the screams of souls joined the rain and crashing waves that besieged the island. But the flash of light that followed wasn’t lightning.

是我的圣物火炮，发出的光弹让怨灵沸腾蒸发化为黑影。

It was my relic cannon, the shot boiling the wraith into shadow.

它需要控制。需要集中。我必须动用身体中的每一丝力气去对抗黑雾。而且我不能停下。此生一刻都不能停下。

It required control. It required focus. I needed to fight the Mist with every fiber of my being. And I could not stop. Not for a moment of my life.

每一发炮火都燃尽一个怨灵，随后又有新的出现。我已经非常接近村庄了，我能看到新的怨灵站起来，奔向我。

With every shot that burned a wraith away, another was revealed. I was so close to the village now, I could see new wraiths rising, sent spiraling toward me.

奔向福光。

Into blessed light.

“安纳巴尔，你在吗？”我大喊道。我和他只见过一次面，那是乌利亚斯带我参加哨兵大会的时候。哨兵举行集会是很罕见的，但有什么东西让乌利亚斯很不安，不得不召集了所有哨兵。他没有告诉我详情，但从他们看我的眼神，我就大概明白了……

“Anabal, are you there?” I called out. I’d met him only once, when Urias brought me to a meeting of Sentinels. It was rare for Sentinels to gather, but something had frightened Urias that made him call them all together. He never told me what it was, but I could tell by the way the others looked at me…

他们的无知只会加剧痛苦。他们会试图透过我的铠甲，但最后发现的只是无奈和妥协。

It hurt more when they didn’t know. When they tried to get past my armor, only to find the reason it was there.

我的火力始终不停，突入村庄。怨灵的速度很快，迅猛地席卷了村舍。这些建筑几乎和这座岛屿一样古老，都是用岛上的顽石凿刻而成。不过混沌之中暗含着秩序。怨灵纷纷在上空盘旋。它们渴望着什么。不仅是生命。不仅是灵魂。不仅是我……

Still firing, I advanced further into the village. The wraiths moved fast, swooping into buildings nearly as old as the island itself, carved from the same stone. But there was order in the chaos. The wraiths were circling above. They wanted something. Not just life. Not just souls. Not just me…

“安纳巴尔！”我又喊了一声，风暴几乎让我听不见自己的声音。

“Anabal!” I called again, barely hearing myself over the storm.

“在这！快来！”一个惊恐的声音回应了我。是一个女子的声音……随后她的光与我在黑暗中汇合了。

“Over here! Hurry!” a panicked voice responded. It was the voice of a girl… and then her light joined mine in the darkness.

是安纳巴尔的学徒，达欧万。

Anabal’s apprentice, Daowan.

她脚边躺倒着一个人，两个人影被黑暗包围。安纳巴尔的圣石阔剑发出黯淡的光照在她脸上。她眉宇间严正专注，守护着倒地不起的导师。

She stood above a crumpled body, two figures in the dark. The light of Anabal’s relic-stone glaive glowed dully on her face, concentration clear on her brow as she defended her fallen mentor.

他已将星火传给了下一任……圣石并没有遗落。

He had managed to pass the torch, then… his relic stone was not lost.

“我们必须离开这儿，”女子颤抖着说，“我们必须带村民们离开。我依然能听见他们的声音。一定是他们……”她停顿一下，望向脚边的那个人，疑惑而又痛苦。“我依然能听见他的声音……”

“We have to get out of here,” the girl said with a shudder. “We have to get the villagers out of here. I can still hear them. It must be them…” She paused and looked down at the shape at her feet, in confused agony. “I can still hear him…”

虽然她的手指关节已经没了血色，但她还是紧握着剑柄。我将圣石火炮收到背后，轻轻揽住她的肩膀。

But even as her knuckles grew white, clenching the haft of her glaive, I put my relic cannon on my back. I reached out gently and took her shoulder.

“我们会一起挺过去的，”我对她说。在她身后，我看到了村庄地下墓穴的入口。怨灵在那里聚集。“我们所有人一起。”我简略地补充道。

“We’re going to get through this,” I said. Beyond her, I saw the entrance to the village catacombs. Swarming with wraiths. “All of us,” I added softly.

无论黑雾想要的是什么，一定就在那里。

Whatever the Mist wanted, it was there.

墓穴被无数次洪水侵蚀而成。就在我们离开村庄步入地下的同时，风暴依然在宣示自己的力量，雨水正在沿着墓穴的岩壁流淌。但如果我们要淹死在地下深处的话，那么淹死我们的不会是暴涨的海潮，也不会是倾盆的雨飑……

The catacombs had been carved out by countless floods. As we left the village behind, heading underground, still the storm made itself known, water rolling down the walls around us. But if we were going to drown in the depths, it wouldn’t be from rising sea, or falling squall…

淹死我们的会是翻滚奔袭而来的黑雾，用粘稠窒息的咆哮吞没我们的光。

It would be in the Black Mist that rolled like a wave to meet us, swallowing our light in a liquid roar.

我能听到故乡人们的尖叫，那是我小时候第一次看到死亡时，黑雾夺走的尖叫。我能听到我自己的回声，我能看到卢锡安的表情，那是死亡第一次看到我的情形。我被头顶上那些待死之人的愤怒和恐惧击中，他们哭喊的语言我并不能懂，但其中的痛苦我再熟悉不过。

I could hear the screams of the people from my village, torn away when I was just a girl and first saw death. I could hear the echoes of my own, and see the look on Lucian’s face, when death first saw me. I was hit by the rage and fear of the people still dying above, their cries in a language I couldn’t understand, but speaking of pain I knew all too well.

怨灵从墓穴的四面八方出现。他们被困在痛苦的狰狞中，注定要制造更多的痛苦。但无论生者的尖叫声多么撕心裂肺，也无法安抚他们自己的嘶嚎。而且无论我的圣光多么炽热，对它们制造的伤害也不及黑暗重新涌聚后带来的剧痛。

Wraiths rose up throughout the catacombs, trapped in a rictus of the agony they meant to inflict. But no matter how loud the screams of the living, the sound could never drown out their own. And no matter how brightly my light burned, it could never hurt them worse than when the darkness returned.

所以，我没有开火，而是赶在死亡之前，拥抱了他们。

And so instead… I embraced them, before death could.

我的召唤是无法抗拒的。我可以将黑雾从其他恶质中抽离出来，抽进我的体内。我感觉到死亡涌了进来，将肉体的虚妄推开。就在黑雾与我纠缠的同时，那些灵魂一个接一个地离开了。所有曾在此淹没的人。一瞬间，我觉得我看到了安纳巴尔……只有一个模糊的影子踟躇不离，是一个缓缓觉醒的意志。它悬停了片刻，然后转过来面向我，双眼所在的位置，怒火燃烧。

My call was irresistible. I could draw the Mist to myself, away from others. I felt death rush in, push the lie of my body away. As the Mist clung to me, one by one, it let the souls go. All who had been drawn here. All who had died above. For a moment, I thought I saw Anabal…

“不，”我透过死亡的帷幕轻语，现在的我已变成了幽灵魅影。“你没有说话的份。你只能听着。”

Only one vague shape lingered, a will still slowly awakening. It hovered for a moment before turning to face me, rage burning where there were no eyes.

我将黑雾填进炮膛。从源头聚集的痛苦和恐惧化作炮火倾泻而出，射向它应得的地方。黑暗与黑暗碰撞，我体内的光明开始闪烁。生命不愿放过我。我感到我的身体回来了，随着最后一丝迷雾离开我，一口气注入我的胸膛。我双腿不支，跪倒在地。

“No,” I whispered through the shroud of death that had transformed me into a wraith. “You don’t get to speak. You listen.”

“我错过什么好戏了吗？”一个声音从通道深处传来。

Pushing the Mist into my gun, I fired all the pain and fear I’d gathered back at its source, where it was deserved. As darkness collided with darkness, the light within me glowed. Life wouldn’t let me go. I felt my body return, as the last of the Mist left me. With a gasp, I fell to my knees.

“你懂的。老一套。”虽然我还在费力地喘息，但还是冷静地说。

“What did I miss?” a voice asked, emerging from deeper in the tunnels.

“破败之王在墓穴里搜寻着不知道什么玩意？”卢锡安问道。

“You know. The usual,” I said coolly, though I was still catching my breath.

“差不多。”我回答。我抬头看看达欧万，她的表情开始释然。她手中的巨剑依然指着我。

“Ruined King raiding catacombs to find who knows what?” Lucian asked.

我故乡的岛上有一个说法。“只有夺去人的呼吸，狂风才能说话。”

“Pretty much,” I answered. I looked up at Daowan, realization dawning on her face. Her glaive was still pointed at me.

在黑雾的喧嚣和咆哮中，我听到死者在说话。

There’s a saying on my island. “Only through stealing our breath can the wind speak.”

而现在我要把声音还给他们。

In the roaring clamor of the Black Mist, I hear the words of the dead.

And I’m here to give their voices back.