【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第九章：交互——超越命运 Interact - Beyond Fate

本章概述：

            一名伊比里斯方舟世界的见习先知狠狠地撞到了她的脑袋。

            In which a novice Seer of Craftworld Iybraesil hits her head very hard.

正文：

疼痛。

这是我苏醒时首当其冲的也是唯一的感官输入，这盖过了其他所有可能有过的感觉。

我试图呼吸，但我胸口的压力只允许我吸入极浅的空气。这恐怕是件坏事，我以意志力强睁开眼睛却只见到了几乎彻底的黑暗。

破损的灵骨碎片洒在我身边，把我埋葬在一堆碎石下。我的下半身被这场洒落埋住了，但它还明显完好到我能感受到那里的一切，这颇让我不安，因为我的双腿似乎仍试图传回的唯一信息就是疼痛。

“梅内萨（Menesa）！”

隔着这层裹得严严实实，曾是伊比里斯的一座训练塔的灵骨的重量，我能听到有人在远处叫我的名字。一座与至高天的流向对齐的调谐塔明显在某一时刻砸到了我的身上……可是为什么？

我之前在做什么？为什么我……啊，对，是这样，我记起来了。

我的符石爆炸了。

事实上，它们可能已经炸了两次，我不确定这在物理上是否能做到。我曾一直在看……在预知……可是我一直在看的是什么？回想起的爆炸前的那个时候，所有我能记起来的是一片宽阔的空白空间。

我原本在注视一个世界，我就知道这些。

一个被绿皮蹂躏的的Mon-Keigh帝国。这本看起来是个练习我的预知能力，来辨认一些或小或大的战争结果的好地方，因为这场战争会在接下来几十年的影响该扇区，可这都仅是……练习。

“梅内萨？”

真好……母亲在这儿。

母亲从没有原谅我走上更危险的先知之道而非像她一样的塑造之道。再至少我本能有幸像我姐姐一样被召唤到狂嚎女妖的战士神殿。

然而并没有，叛逆的梅内萨一定要走上巫师道途并在脑袋上砸下一座塔。我不会得知这一切的终局，除非——当然了——我死在这一堆灵骨下，这听起来开始像个好主意了。

可是……我忘记了某个事情。某个我必须告知的重要的事情，可我记不起来那是什么了。

某个我曾见过的事。

不……不是，是我曾经预知过的事。

“呃……”我沙哑地说出这个词来，不过这更像是一种噪音，我那迟钝而伤痕累累的大脑突然锁定了这段记忆。

黑暗。

虚无。

我完全忘记了自己看到了什么。

“这里！”我喘息道，疼痛击穿了我的肋骨，我尽可能大声地呼喊着。“我在这里！”

没有回应。我喊得太晚了，他们已经转向另一堆符石了，我却没法让自己的声音高过窃窃私语。但我得让他们听到我……我得——

轻快而萦绕的歌声响了起来，压在身上的重量骤然减轻时我猛地倒吸一口气。符石像熔岩一样流淌起来，破碎的灵能物质的坚硬边缘全部软化直到从我身边流走。

只剩下肋骨间的拳头大的碎块。

“梅内萨！”

我的视野突然一片光明，很快便化成了我母亲的脸。她脸颊上严厉的线条和总像是审视着我的不足的眼睛正因担忧和恐慌而起皱。她的眼睛，我们共有的像古老的恒星一样蓝的眼睛，以及像她吟唱塑形的灵骨一样的皮肤，和像银河边缘一样乌黑的头发。

“哦，梅内萨……”她小心翼翼地环抱起我的头，把我向她拉进了些，随着她用颤音唱出一阵柔和的调子，我胸口的灵骨颤抖，屈伸，直至敷在我的伤口上。“那里……应该保持到我们能带你去看治疗师为止。”

“没有……时间了，”我喘着粗气道。“叫来……主战（warhost）……”

“什么？”母亲看上去倍受打击，转身从毁坏的塔边叫来了一个治疗师。“主战？为什么？你看见了什么？”

“什么都没有……”回忆令我瑟瑟发抖。“我看到了……一个Mon-Keigh世界的未来……然后什么都没看到……一片空虚……命运之线……上的黑洞。”

“不可能，”一个低沉，浑厚的的声音从我母亲的后方和上方响起，我疲惫地睁开眼睛。

一个死亡幽魂般的人立在我的头顶。他盔甲的灰蓝色被头盔的鲜红色映衬着，即便隔着他的面具褪色的镜片，我也能感到他目光里的不赞成。

“欧瑞瓦，”我喃喃地念出我的主人，伊比里斯方舟世界极少的无上先知的名字，他一直以来训练着稀少的希望踏上巫师之道的灵族。

“这是……可能的……我看到了。”

“你误解了，孩子，”欧瑞瓦跪下来伸出一只手，突然间我的呼吸顺畅了。“你过载了你的符文，而你能活下来是个奇迹。”

“不，”我喊到，“我看见它了！”

“你什么都没看见，”欧瑞瓦重复我的话，“你错误地引导了符文，仅此而已。”

“我进行了正确的仪式，”我厉声说道，随即因嘴中满是鲜血而陷入一阵咳嗽。我转过头吐了一口，又转向欧瑞瓦。“我看到了一个图案，一个开端，我是遵照着你教给我的方法的！”

欧瑞瓦叹了一口气，在纵容一个特别有问题的学生（通常是我）时总是发出这个忍耐已久声音，他最后说道：“很好，你看的是哪？”

“一个被兽人包围的Mon-Keigh世界，”欧瑞瓦的手在离我伤口一指远的位置掠过时我颤抖着，血肉开始自行愈合。“一个名字进入了我的脑海……普瑞莱克斯……安菲特里亚……然后世界开始扭曲，然后……”

“听起来你像是失焦了，”欧瑞瓦责备我说，我又一次吐了血，伸手去抓他披甲的手腕。

“我保持了专注，主人，”我尽全力压住脾气，就像他总是告诉我的那样，强迫我冷静下来。“我看到这图像变化了，不是褪色或变得模糊……我看到它变化了。”

他肩上的某种冷峻逐渐褪去了，过了许久，他伸手抓住了头盔，伴着柔和的嘶声开启了密封，将之摘下来，漏出了一张柔和的，画满方舟符文的脸，一条黑发编成的长辫，以及深邃而锐利的灰色眼睛。

“变化？”他轻声重复。“如何变化？”

“像石块自高处落入止水，”我迷迷糊糊地嘟哝着试图回想起那个画面。“或是暴风雨中交错的闪电……就像暴洪刻下新的峡谷……就像——”

“就像是巧合，”欧瑞瓦低声说道，我怒目而视。

“没有这回事，”我的母亲终于打破了沉默，几乎是反射般的吐出这个词，她怒视着欧瑞瓦。“没有巧合，只有尚未被探明的变量，任何走在先知之道上的人都知道这一点。”

“并非如此，阿丽丝蒂拉（Aristyra），”欧瑞瓦转向我的母亲，阴森森地说。“巧合在最罕见的情况下，在极不可能的事发生乃至产生了几乎同样不可能的其他事时，是可能的，”他站起身来，抬头望向星空，像是要找寻我说的那个世界似的。“一次巧合，听起来很微小，可它或许能比银河中任何运作都要强大。”

“我不明白，”我的母亲从愤怒变成了真切的担忧。“那到底是什么意思？”

“那是个无法解答的问题，”欧瑞瓦缓缓地摇头，“无论如何，这不是我们必须自行求解的问题。”

“那是什么巧合？”我问道，欧瑞瓦对我讥讽地笑了笑，点了点头。

“它什么都可能是，”他没好气地回答道，“它可能是一颗行星，或一座楼房……它可能是彗星或恒星……可能是兽人或人类……除非我们亲自去到那个世界，否则就无法确定。“

“我看到了什么，主人？”我轻声询问道，终于还是问出了最令我恐惧的问题，我的意识似乎前所未有地旋转着。“什么……我身上发生了什么？”

他叹了口气，再次跪下来把手放到我的头上。

“你在一瞬间窥见了无穷尽，”欧瑞瓦冷冷地回答道。“巧合是脱钩的因果，这意味着，我们所有方舟世界的无上先知，同理也有诡道之主，设法避开了什么以此在命运中制造了一个盲点。”他抽开手，盯着我的眼睛，随后皱着眉头缩了回去。“至于发生在你身上的，它可能什么也不是，它可能逐渐褪色，但你瞥见了不受因果束缚的无限种可能，而这……可能使你迷失在先知之道上。”

我感到呼吸凝滞在喉咙里，而母亲的脸色比以往更加惨白。

迷失。

我太年轻了，还不能迷失。我只走过一小部分道途，工匠之道，梦境之道……迷失，在余生中被困在一条道途里实在是……

“你何以断言？”母亲以我从未听过的克制的语调问道。

“迷失于先知之道，就是执迷于未来，看到并寻求万物的规律，”欧瑞瓦严肃地解释道。“我们会看着你有多清楚，年轻的梅内萨，我会请求叶莲娜（Yelena）司战去处理这个世界和这个巧合……以此，我们会知道你是否真的是我们最新的，也是最年轻的无上先知。”

当母亲把我拉近时，我感觉自己的灵魂渐渐消失在身体的深处，我依偎在她身上，自从我还是个小孩起就没再这么做过了。她反过来搂着我，嘴唇贴着我的头冠，以她自那时起就再没有做过的方式喃喃地念着镇静的话语。

唔……母亲是对的，我本该去当个吟骨者的。

 

原文：

Pain.

It was my first and only sensory input at the moment I woke, and it eclipsed all else that may have been present.

I tried to breathe, but the pressure on my chest kept me from taking anything but the shallowest gulps of air. That was probably a bad thing and, with an effort of will, I forced my eyes open only to be met with near-total blackness.

Broken shards of Wraithbone lay all around me, entombing me in a pile of rubble. My lower half was caught in the downfall, but was apparently still intact enough that I could feel everything down there, much to my dismay since the only thing my legs seemed intent on reporting was more pain.

“Menesa!”

I could hear my name being called distantly through the muffling weight of the Wraithbone that had once been one of the training towers of Iybraesil. A tuning tower, aligned with the flows of the Empyrean, had apparently fallen on top of me at some point… but why?

My mind was muddled, and there was something coppery in my mouth.

What was I doing? Why had I… oh, yes, that’s right, I remember now.

My runestones exploded.

Actually, they may have exploded twice, which I’m not sure is physically possible. I had been looking… Seeing… but what had I been looking at? All I can recall when I think back to the moments before the explosion was a wide, empty blank space.

I had originally been looking at a world, I know that much.

A world of the bloated Mon-Keigh Imperium that was in the middle of being overrun by Orks. It had seemed like a fine enough place to practice my Seeing, identifying a few of the small and large outcomes of the war as it would affect the sector in the next few decades, but that’s all it had been… practice.

“Menesa?!”

Oh good… mother was here.

Mother never did forgive me for walking the more dangerous Path of Seeing rather than of Shaping like her. At the very least I could have had the good grace to be called to the Aspect Shrine of the Howling Banshees like my sister. 

But no, rebellious Menesa had to walk the Witch Path and get a tower dropped on her head. I would never hear the end of this unless, of course, I expired underneath all this Wraithbone which was starting to sound like a good idea.

Except… there was something I was forgetting. Something important that I needed to tell them, but I couldn’t recall what it was.

Something I had seen.

No… no, it was something I had Seen.

“Oh…” I croaked the word out, though it was more of a noise, as my sluggish and bruised mind suddenly latched onto the memory.

Blankness.

Nothingness.

I hadn’t forgotten what I’d seen at all.

“Here!” I gasped, pain shooting through my ribs as I spoke as loudly as I could. “I’m here!”

There was no response. I’d called out too late, they’d already moved on to another pile of rubble, and I couldn’t get my voice to raise above a bleating whisper. I needed them to hear me though… I needed-

A song filled the air, lilting and haunting, and I gasped as the weight pressing down on my body suddenly lessened massively. The Wraithbone flowed like molten stone, all the hard edges of the cracked psychoactive material softening until they bled away from me. 

All but the fist-sized fragment currently lodged in between my ribs.

“Menesa!”

Suddenly my vision was filled with light that quickly resolved into my mother’s face. The harsh lines of her cheeks and eyes that always seemed to be judging me for falling short were now creased with worry and panic. Her eyes, blue like an elder star, eyes we shared, with skin like the Wraithbone she sang shapes out of, and hair as black as the galaxy’s edge.

“Oh, Menesa…” she cradled my head carefully and drew me close to her, and as she did she trilled out a soft tune, making the Wraithbone in my chest shiver and flex until it was plastered over the wound. “There… that should hold til we can see you to a healer.”

“No… time,” I gasped, breathing raggedly. “Call the… warhosts…”

“What?” My mother looked stricken as she turned and called for one fo the healers from around the ruined tower. “Warhosts? Why? What did you see?”

“Nothing…” I shivered at the memory. “I looked… at the future of a Mon-Keigh world… and saw nothing… an emptiness… a black hole in… the skein of fate.”

“Impossible,” a deep, sonorous voice sounded from above and behind my mother, and I turned my eyes wearily up.

A figure stood over me like a specter of death. The leaden blue of his armor was offset by the arterial red of his helm, and even through the faded lenses of his masque, I could feel the disapproval in his gaze.

“Oreval,” I muttered the name of my master, one of the very few Farseers of Craftworld Iybraesil, and one who had taken to training the rare Eldar who wished the walk the Witch Path. “It is… possible… I saw it.”

“You were mistaken, child,” Oreval knelt and extended a hand, and suddenly my breath began to ease. “You overburnt your runes, and that you survived is miraculous.”

“No,” I snarled, “I saw it!”

“You saw nothing,” Oreval repeated my words to me, “you channeled the Rune improperly, that was all.”

“I engaged the correct ritual,” I snapped, then fell into a fit of coughing as my mouth filled with blood. I turned my head, spat, and turned back to Oreval. “I saw a pattern, a beginning, and I followed it as you taught me!”

Oreval sighed, a long-suffering sound he always made when he was indulging a particularly problematic student, which was usually me, and finally said, “very well, where did you look?”

“A world of the Mon-Keigh under siege by Orks,” I shivered as Oreval’s hand passed a fingers-width from my wound, and the flesh began to knit on its own. “A name came to my mind… Praelex… Amphitria… and then the words began to distort and…”

“It sounds as though you lost focus,” Oreval chided me, and I spat blood again and reached out to grip his armoured wrist.

“I kept my focus, Master,” I did my best to reign in my temper, as he always told me to, and forced myself to calm down. “I saw the pattern changing, not fading, or becoming indistinct… I saw it changing.”

Something of the sternness faded from the set of his shoulders and, after a long moment, he reached up and took a grip on his helm, released the seals with a soft hiss, and removed it, revealing a smooth, pale face marked with runic symbols of his craft, a long, braided tail of black hair, and dark, piercing eyes of storm-grey.

“Changing?” He echoed quietly. “Changing how?”

“Like a stone falling into a still pond from high above,” I muttered dazedly as I tried to recall the image in my mind. “Or crossing arcs of lightning in a storm… like a flash flood carving a new valley… like-”

“Like a coincidence,” Oreval breathed, and I scowled.

“There’s no such thing,” My mother spat the word almost reflexively, finally breaking her silence as she glared at Oreval. “There are no coincidences, only variables that have not been accounted for, any who tread the Path of the Seer knows this.”

“That is not quite right, Aristyra,” Oreval spoke in a haunted tone as he turned to my mother. “A coincidence is possible in the rarest of circumstances when something so unlikely occurs that it produces something else of equal impossibility.” He stood and tipped his head up to star into the sky as if trying to find the world I spoke of. “A coincidence, it sounds so small, but it has the potential to be more powerful than any working in the galaxy.”

“I don’t understand,” my mother went from indignant to truly worried. “What does that even mean?”

“That is a question that cannot be answered,” Oreval shook his head slowly, “and it is not the question we must ask ourselves, at any rate.”

“What is the coincidence?” I asked, and Oreval gave me a wry smile and a nod.

“It could be anything,” He replied sourly, “it could be a planet, or a building… it could be a comet or a star… it could be an Ork or a Human… there’s no way to know for certain unless we go to that world.”

“What did I see, Master?” I asked quietly, finally voicing the question that frightened me the most, my mind was spinning and reeling like it never had before. “What’s… what is happening to me?”

He sighed softly and knelt again to press his palm to my head.

“You saw infinity for a moment,” Oreval answered coldly. “A coincidence is a missing link of causality and it means that we, the Farseers collectively across every Craftworld and the Changer of Ways alike, managed to miss something and that in turn created a blind spot in Fate.” He pulled his hand away and peered into my eyes for a moment before grimacing and drawing back. “As for what is happening to you, it may be nothing, and it may fade, but you glimpsed infinite potential unfettered by causality and that… that may have Lost you to the Path of the Seer.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat, and my mother blanched even paler than usual.

Lost.

I was too young to be Lost. I had only walked a small handful of paths, the Artisan, the Dreamer… to be Lost, to be sealed to one Path for the rest of my life was…

“How will you know?” My mother asked in a much more subdued voice than I’d ever heard from her.

“To be Lost to the Path of the Seer is to obsess over the future, to see and seek patterns in all things,” Oreval explained grimly. “We will see how you fair, young Menesa, I will petition Auturch Yelena to attend to this world and this coincidence… and in turn, we will know if you are truly to be our newest and youngest Farseer.”

I felt my soul recede into the depths of my body as my mother pulled me close, and I nestled against her in a way that I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around me, pressing her lips to my crown and muttering calming words in a way she hadn’t in the same span of time.

Eugh… Mother was right, I should have been a Bonesinger.