【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第十️三章：自由 Free
本章概述：
亚历桑德拉睡着又醒来。
In which Alessandra sleeps and then wakes.
正文：
“这不是我想要的！”
我扯着嗓子喊出这些话语，对着周围覆着面纱的黑暗喊叫磨哑了我的喉咙。死亡的铜臭充斥着我的鼻腔，在舌面上覆上了一层屠宰场般湿滑的锈迹。
护甲沉重地挂在我的周身，它的动力核心早已死去，闪耀的金色和银紫色蚀刻被锈蚀到不复存在。即便是亚光黑的生热密封剂也被刮去，展现出裸露，破碎的陶钢。
另外几步把我带离了推进的人群，但这仍然不够。永远也不够，因为我不将也无从逃离她们。
我不被允许逃离，因为她们还没有……一个也没有。
“求求你！”我踉跄着后退，这些话语脱口而出。“我……原谅我吧……”
我跪倒在地，累到无法继续下去，累到再也无法跑开，而那些人形在我身边围成了该死的一圈。
“求求你，姐妹们，”我痛苦地啜泣着，“求求你们原谅我……”
她们从来都没有。她们从不责怪也不谅解，亦未曾指控或释怀。
她们只是盯着。
她们的躯体残破不堪，可她们仍然紧盯着。她们的护甲在上千把兽人巨斧的压迫下不堪重负，她们的骨骼断裂，她们的肢体血肉模糊，头颅支离破碎，血液从破裂的陶钢中喷涌而出。
一如既往地，她们看起来就如我所见的最后一面。我记得卡利昂的无头遗骸从碾碎了她的头骨的兽人老大的抓握中跌落。我记得阿提卡被十几个聒噪的杂碎淹没时高喊着抵抗，她的喊叫声在自己被劈成两半时糊成了语无伦次的一团。
以及悲惨的余（Yu）姐妹，我们之中最年轻的，甚至比我更小。这本是她身为光耀紫藤修会完全合格的姐妹的首战。这一战本该光辉壮丽，对她来说，这本不该随着她的胸廓被某个走运的兽人射击小子一枪击碎而如此迅速地结束。
加西特姐妹紧盯着我，她的头颅耷拉着，她的脖颈上的淤青肿胀着——那个本该死去的兽人压倒了她，攥住她的喉咙，拧断了她的颈椎。
“对不起，”我又一次抽泣着，弯曲着已是一块死重的双臂环抱着自己。“求求你……原谅我吧……”
但她们永远不会原谅我。
她们永远也不会说话。我再也听不到她们的声音，再也没有卡利昂挑剔的评判，抑或是余在吟诵对神皇的赞美诗时柔弱而谦卑的语调。我再也不能在阿提卡第十五次拿自己击败混沌邪教冠军的那一天逗我们开心时与她同坐，或是听到三笠在羊皮纸带上记叙对地上的祂的奉献时发表的长篇大论，再或是跪在莉莉马拉姐妹旁听她解读圣人们的神学著作。
而这都是我的错。
因为我一直都不够强大，强大到能拯救她们，强大到能站稳脚跟，与她们一同赴死。
血潮上涨起来，在我的梦中一直如此。它一直涨到开始渗入我破损的护甲，涨到包覆住我的护颈，触及我的下巴，然后是嘴唇，然后——
然后……
是歌声。
乐声如某种实物般充满了空气，而我无从确切地找出它从何而来。它并非是赞美诗，甚至不是哥特语。它闻所未闻又极为古老，承载着这歌声的嗓音在我周围的世界中激起细浪，伴着力量和某种更甚于美的事物的起伏而涨落。
那声音和词句——如若它当真如此——穿过睡梦的坚壁滑进我的心底。驱赶着我鼻腔中的血腥和舌面上的铜臭，而这血潮随之退缩。这潮水转而带走了我死难的姐妹们，而即便我知道她们还会再次找上来，我也不由得苦涩地感激于能哪怕短暂地摆脱她们。
黑暗吞噬了我，而我感激不尽。
———————————————————————————————————————
世界慢慢地回到了我的身旁。
由于长时间维持着高肾上腺素并无视了伤口和淤青，我的全身都反馈着疼痛。尤其是我的左臂，在我终于设法睁开眼睛时疼得我龇牙咧嘴。
房间里一团漆黑，但有种我难以辨识的香气。我感觉得到母亲的手握在我的手中，而我轻捏着它，确定它就是……
不…….不是这样。
我抬高视线，发现一只非人般优美的苍白的手正握着我的手，沿着连接它的手臂的曲线一路向上直到它的主人——伊莎莱那里，她正俯视着我，带着某种在日出般的发丝的映衬下几乎像是担忧的表情。
那外星的双眼对我来讲是陌生的，或者说至少本该这样。可我却在其中，在那双明亮的、紫藤色的、绝不会被错认为人类的眼睛中寻得了宽慰。
我把目光从她身上扯开，扫过被汗液浸透的床单和一团糟的毯子，随后我单手把自己撑到倚在一直抓着的枕头上，目光又回到她的身上。另一只手一直坚决地呆在原本的地方，紧握着她的手。
“我睡着了？”我轻声问道，伊莎莱低声附和着点了点头。
“有一小会儿。”伊莎莱回答说。
“你为什么在这？”我转过头去，环视着房间。
我浑身难受，我的身体还想要休息更久，可我的内心躁动不安，而我知道睡眠仍渴望找上我。
“为了死亡，Cre’yth，”她过了一会儿回答道，“我告诉过你了。”
“确实，”我抬头瞥向她，看到她别过头去，嘴唇沮丧地扭着。“你原本来到安菲特里亚寻死，可你现在仍在这里……你本可以在我熟睡时离开，到城里创作你的画廊，可你没有。”我用完好的那只手臂把自己支撑起来，转身看向她的眼睛。“相反你和我呆在一起。”
“你在睡觉时哭出来了。”伊莎莱简单地回答。
“我梦到了我的姐妹们。”
“将死？”
“已死。”
“嗯，”伊莎莱叹了口气，随后把手从我的指间抽出来，在袭来的一阵短暂的懊悔后突然从座位上站起来，移到了我的身上。
我在她把我压到床上时惊得猛吸了一小口气，她的手按着我的肩膀，双腿跨在我的髋部上，我想我在那一时间才意识到她仍赤裸着。她逐渐挺直身躯直到可能比我高出半个头的程度，而我惊讶到动弹不得。当普瑞莱克斯的四颗苍白卫星的有害月光照亮她苍白的皮肤时，我能感受到她身体的醉人的重量。光线映着她的发丝的样子也很是奇怪……像在半夜时分被月光捕捉到的猩红色地平线。
我抬头看向她，气息被卡在了肋骨附近的某处，她则以某种神秘莫测的表情迎接我的注视。
“你想要我吗？”伊莎莱伸出手来，从我的胸口抚摸到下巴，然后是我的嘴唇。“哪怕我是异形……哪怕我是你的敌人。”
“你不是我的敌人，伊莎莱，”我毫不犹豫地说出这些，尽管这本应是异端邪说，我却知道这是真的。
“你何以知晓？”她俯下身子，她的头发在我的脸上点下阵阵瘙痒的波纹。“我是灵族，一个骗子……更糟的是，我是黑暗灵族。”
“我就是知道。”她对此抬起眼眸。
“我是个新人，但不是傻子。”我断然道。“我知道灵族海盗和你这样的纯黑之物的区别，尽管我花了点时间才意识到这点。”我伸出那只完好的手臂，将指尖置于她的脸颊上，摸索着在那里找到的非人的优雅曲线。
“那你从何得知我并非你的敌人？”伊莎莱的声线绷紧了些，我能看到一丝微弱的威胁在她的眼后燃烧起来。“你如何知道我没有欺骗你……我并非为了某些可怖的结局才救助你？”
我如何知道？我试图抓紧那个诘问，那个古怪而无端的问题自从那次沐浴后就在我的脑海中漂荡。我知道伊莎莱很危险，危险得难以置信，可我相当肯定她不会危及我。
可如何？
在脑海的深处，一阵轻快的旋律向我传来。
“因为你唱歌给我听，”我轻柔地回答，伊莎莱则僵住了，她睁大双眼，气息以能听见的程度卡在了喉咙里。“那是你，不对么？在我的梦境中……我听见了歌声。”
“那——”
“那就是你。”
伊莎莱从我的身上甩开腿下马，然后朝着卧室门大步走去。
“等等！”我爬到膝盖上，咒骂着这过紧的裙子，站起来想跟上她并发誓要找到什么我能穿的上的东西。
明显地，我的双腿不在状态。
我的双脚几乎还没落地，身体的重量就压了上去，同时肌肉以最激烈的手段抗议着——它们完全罢工了，刹那间，我看见了地板出于我胆敢在这时候起身而直冲过来狠揍我的脸的景象……
而伊莎莱就在这，像一道苍白的闪电般，她的双臂从我身下滑过，搂住我的腰，把我完好的手臂拉到她的肩膀上。当她把我拉近并站起来，将我的大部分重量分担到自己身上时，她柔软的红发洒落在我的身上。
“小心，Cre’yth，”伊莎莱的声线低沉而忧虑。“你还身负重伤，你的躯体为了让你如此快速地移动而受罪了太久。”
她搀着我走回床边并低身把我放回去，随着我的脑袋躺上枕头，我那尖叫着的身躯似乎解脱地长出了一口气。
“看见没？”我有些微弱地笑着，在她小心翼翼地把我放回床上时将我的手放到她的手上。“你不是我的敌人。”
伊莎莱用鼻子轻哼了一声，那闷闷不乐的恼火的声音让我笑了出来，终于，她摇摇头站了起来。
“或许你是对的，”她平静地承认道。“但或许不是，我只知道我不想让你死，亚历桑德拉……我就知道这点。”
“这种感觉是相互的，”我回答道，承认了自己小小的异端行径。
“那我们可真是相配，”伊莎莱冷笑道。“你，一名教团的修女，和我，一个科摩罗的巫灵……在其他的任何情况下都会试图互相残杀。”
“令人恼火地讲，我很确信你能赢下那场战斗，”我以同样干巴巴的语气回敬，而这让她笑出声来。
她转身看了我一会儿，随后俯身拉过被子盖在我身上。
“我给你拿些水来，”伊莎莱轻声说，“然后我就会离开这座尖塔。”
听她说这些话，我的心一下子跌进了谷底，而这明显在我脸上表现了出来，因为她给了我一个安心的微笑。
“是去拿补给，”她澄清道，“然后我就会回来。”
“答应我，”我伸手，这次是两只一起，强行驱动我淤肿并几无知觉的左臂抓住她的手，缠绕着对方的手指。“答应我你会回来。”
“灵族的话对人类来讲有什么意义？”她漫不经心地问道。
“你的话对我来说有意义。”
有那么一瞬间，我以为她会在我这么说时抽身而退。她的双眼只睁大了一点点，而我能感到一阵突如其来的紧绷感像微波一样滚过她全身。
“我保证会回来，”伊莎莱轻声说道，随后附身，再次将嘴唇贴向我的额头。“现在休息吧，Cre’yth。”
我点头躺了回去，满足于她的对我来说已经是最好的回复，并相信她会信守承诺把自己带回来。我甚至不确定她会回来这点为什么如此重要，但我就是知道这点。当她转身打开房门并要离开房间时，我能清楚地看到她的后身，一个想法出现在我的脑海里，并以问题的形式脱口而出。
“你为什么一直光着身子？”我迷迷糊糊地问道，片刻后才意识到自己是大声发问的，她带着困惑的微笑转过身来。
“因为，”她回答说，把双手放在髋部上，“我光着的时候看上去最好，不是吗？”
好吧……我无法反驳这一点。
原文：
“This wasn’t what I wanted!”
I screamed the words through a torn throat, raw from screaming the same words at the veiled blackness around me. The charnel stink of copper filled my nostrils and coated my tongue with an abattoir-slick patina of rust.
My armor hung heavy around me, its power core long dead and the gleaming gold and silver-lavender etchings were corroded to nothing. Even the matte black thermogenic sealant was scraped away to reveal bare, cracked ceramite.
Another few steps carried me away from the advancing horde, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough because I would never and could never escape them.
I wasn’t permitted to escape them, because they had not escaped… none of them.
“PLEASE!” The word ripped its way out of my throat as I staggered back. “I… forgive me…”
I dropped to my knees, too tired to continue, too tired to run anymore as the figures closed into a damning circle around me.
“Please, Sisters,” I sobbed bitterly, “please forgive me…”
They never did. They never admonished nor forgave, neither accused nor relieved.
They just stared.
Their bodies were ruined, but they stared nonetheless. Their armor was cracked and split under the weight of a thousand Orkish axes, their bones were broken, their limbs pulped, skulls shattered, and blood poured endlessly from wide rents in ceramite.
As always, they looked as I remembered them last. I remember the way Kalion’s headless body slumped out of the grip of an Ork Nob as it crushed her skull. I remember how Attica screamed her defiance as she was buried under a dozen of the hooting bastards, her shrieks turning to wet, burbling noises as they hacked her apart.
And poor Sister Yu, the youngest of us, even younger than me. This was her first battle as a fully-fledged sister of the Order of the Radiant Wisteria. It should have been glorious, and it should not have ended so quickly for her, with her ribcage blown out by a lucky shot from an Ork Shoota.
Sister Kassiter stared at me, her head hanging limp, her neck a swollen bruise from where the Ork who should have been dead had borne her down, gripped her by the throat, and snapped her spine.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed again, curling my heavy, dead-weight arms around myself. “Please… forgive me…”
But they would never forgive me.
They would never speak either. I would never hear their voices again, not Kalion’s critical remarks, or Yu’s soft, unassuming lilt as it rose in praise of the God-Emperor during hymnals. I would never sit with Attica again as she loudly regaled us for the fifteenth time about the day she bested the champion of a chaos cult, or hear Mikasa speak the litanies of command as she scribed devotions to Him On Earth on strips of parchment, nor would I kneel beside Sister Lillimara and listen to her interpret the theological writings of the Saints.
And it was my fault.
Because I had not been strong enough, not strong enough to save them, nor strong enough to stand my ground and die with them.
The tide of blood rose, as it always did in my dreams. It rose until began seeping into my damaged armour, until it crested my gorget and reached my chin, then my lips, and-
And…
There was singing.
Music filled the air like a physical force and I couldn’t properly account for where it was coming from. It was not a hymn, it wasn’t even in Gothic. It was new and so, so very old, and the voice that carried the song made the world around me ripple as it rose and fell with strength and something so much greater than beauty.
The sound and words, if that is what they were, slipped through the walls of sleep to my mind, and chased the smell of blood from my nose and the copper from my tongue as the tides began to recede it. In turn, those tides carried with them my dead sisters, and even though I knew they would find their way back to me, I found myself bitterly thankful to be free of them for even a short while.
Blackness swallowed me, and I was grateful.
———————————————————————————————————————
The world came slowly back to me.
My entire body reported the aches and pains of a long time spent riding a high of adrenaline and ignoring my wounds and bruises. My left arm, especially, was little more than a mass of agony that made me grimace as I finally managed to peel open my eyes.
The room was dark, but there was a scent to it that I couldn’t quite place. I felt my mother’s hand in mine, and I squeezed it softly to reassure myself that-
No… that’s not right.
I raised my gaze and found a pale hand, inhumanly graceful, holding mine, and followed the curve of the arm it was attached to up until I reached its owner, Isarae, who was looking down at me with an expression almost like concern framed by straight sunrise locks.
Those alien eyes were strange to me, or they should have been at least. Yet I found comfort in them, in those bright, wisteria eyes that could never be mistaken for human.
Tearing my eyes from hers, I glanced around myself to find sweat-soaked sheets and mussed blankets, then turned back to her as I nestled back against the pillow I’d been clutching to myself with one hand. The other hand remained steadfastly where it was, gripping hers.
“Did I fall asleep?” I asked softly, and Isarae made a quiet hum as she nodded.
“For a little while,” Isarae replied.
“Why are you here?” I turned from her and stared across the room.
My body ached, and it wanted more rest, but my mind was restless and I knew slumber would be long in coming for me.
“To die, Cre’yth,” she answered after a moment. “I told you.”
“Precisely,” I glanced up at her and found her turning away from me, her lips twisting in frustration. “You came to Amphitria to die, but you’re still here… you could have gone out into the city and created your gallery any time while I slept, but you didn’t.” I propped myself up on my good arm and turned to meet her eyes. “Instead you stayed with me.”
“You cried out in your sleep,” Isarae said simply.
“I was dreaming of my sisters.”
“Dying?”
“Already dead.”
“Hmm,” Isarae sighed, then pulled her hand free of my fingers, and felt a stab of remorse that lasted only a moment before she was suddenly up from her seat and moving over me.
I let out a small, sharp breath of surprise as she pressed me to the bed, her hands on my shoulders, her legs slung over me to straddle my hips, and in that moment I think it only just caught up to me that she was still naked. I was too surprised to move as she rose to her full height, maybe half a head taller than me. I could feel the intoxicating weight of her body as the poison moonlight of Praelex’s four wan satellites lit her pale skin with a radiant glow. The way the light played off of her hair, too, was strange… a scarlet horizon captured in the middle of the night by the light of the moon.
My breath was stuck somewhere near my ribs as I stared up at her, and she met my gaze with an inscrutable expression.
“Do you want me?” Isarae reached out to play her fingers across my chest up to my chin, then to my lips. “Even though I am xenos… even though I am the enemy.”
“You’re not my enemy, Isarae,” I said the words without thinking, and as heretical as they might have been I knew they were true.
“How can you know?” She leaned down, her hair falling across my face in tickling waves. “I am Aeldari, a deceiver… worse, I am Druchi.”
“I know.” She raised an eyebrow at that.
“I'm a novice, not an idiot” I said flatly. "I know the difference between a corsair and a true dark one like you, even if it took me a little while to realise it.” I reached out with my good arm and put the tips of my fingers to her cheek, tracing the fine, inhuman lines I found there.
“Then how do you know I am not your enemy?” Isarae’s voice grew tight, and I could see the faint hint of threat burning behind her eyes. “How do you know I am not lying to you… that I did not save you for some terrible ends?”
How did I know? I tried to cling to that line of questioning, that odd, idle query that had been drifting through my mind since the bath. I knew Isarae was dangerous, impossibly dangerous, but I knew with just as much certainty that she was not dangerous to me.
But how?
In the back of my mind, a lilting tune reached out to me.
“Because you sang to me,” I replied in a soft voice, and Isarae stiffened, her eyes widening and her breath catching audibly in her throat. “It was you, wasn’t it? In my dream… I heard singing.”
“That-”
“It was you.”
Isarae slung her legs off of me, dismounting and slipping off of the bed to stalk away towards the bedroom door.
“Wait!” I scrambled to my knees, cursing the too-tight dress, and vowing to find something that could fit me as I stood to follow her.
My legs were, apparently, not in the mood.
My feet had barely struck the floor and my weight settled on them when the muscles protested in the strongest possible terms by giving out entirely, and for a moment I was treated to a view of the floor rushing up to neatly clobber me in the face for my hubris of daring to stand when-
Isarae was there, like a flash of pale light, slipping her arms under mine and around my waist and pulling my good arm over her shoulder. Her soft, red hair spilled over me as she pulled me close and stood, lifting me to my feet and taking the greater share of my weight on herself.
“Be careful, Cre’yth,” Isarae’s voice was low and concerned. “You are still battered, and your body has suffered too long for you to be moving about so quickly.”
She walked me back to the bed and lowered me onto it, and my screaming body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as I laid my head back on the pillows.
“See?” I laughed a little weakly as I placed my hand over hers where she was carefully settling me onto the bed. “You’re not my enemy.”
Isarae made a soft snort through her nose, a sullen, irritated sound that made me smile, and finally, she just shook her head and stood.
“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted quietly. “But perhaps not, all I know is that I do not want you to die, Alessandra… I know that much.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I replied, admitting my own small heresy.
“What a pair we are, then,” Isarae chuckled dryly. “You, a sister of a holy order, and I, a Wych of Commorragh… in any other situation we would be trying to kill each other.”
“Galling as this is to say, I’m certain you’d win that fight,” I replied in an equally arid tone, and that actually got a burst of laughter from her.
She turned to regard me for a few quiet moments before leaning down and pulling the covers over me.
“I will get you some water,” Isarae said softly, “and then I will be leaving the spire.”
I felt my heart plummet to my stomach at her words, and it must have shown on my face because she gave me a reassuring smile.
“For supplies,” she clarified, “then I will return.”
“Promise me,” I reached out, with both hands this time, forcing my bruised and mostly-numb left arm to move as I grasped her hand, twining her fingers with mine. “That you’ll come back, promise me.”
“What meaning has the word of an Aeldari to a human?” she asked blithely.
“Your word means something to me.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to pull away when I said that. Her eyes widened just a little, and I could feel a sudden tension roll up her body like a subtle wave.
“I promise to come back,” Isarae said quietly, then leaned in and pressed her lips to my forehead again. “Now rest, Cre’yth,”
I nodded as I laid back, satisfied that her word was the best I was going to get, and trusting that she would hold to it enough to bring her back to me. I wasn’t even certain why it was so important that she come back, but I knew that it was. As she turned to open the door and leave the room, I got quite a nice view of her backside, and a notion occurred to me that fell out of my mouth in the form of a question.
“Why are you always naked?” I asked blearily, only realising an instant later that I actually asked it out loud as she turned to me with a bemused smile on her lips.
“Because,” she replied, planting hands on her hips, “I look best naked, do I not?”
Well… I could not argue with that.
