BookMALANV の編集

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*題名 [#d3ef572a]
**原題 [#q809bcf9]
-【原題記述エリア】

**訳題 [#dbbcdea1]
-【訳題記述エリア】

*本文 [#f07c2a07]

**原文 [#text_en]
// 注意：訳文の部分は中括弧({と})が3つづつ。
#pre{{{
 Myths and Legends: 
 Volume 3
 by Draskal Ratden
 
-Foreword-
 
These collected volumes are the result of my travels throughout Tamriel, where I have spent my life listening to the many wonderful myths and legends that are abundant throughout our magnificent world. Though I am no adventurer, I truly do believe many of these stories are based on fact, though how much of them is true and how much the fantastical elaboration of imagination, I cannot say, for I am just another conduit through which they shall live.
 
 
--------------------------
 
 
Some of my readers may recall me mentioning an episode in my traveling where I was taken hostage by a group of bandits. Though the experience was not altogether comfortable, I did enjoy it because of the numerous stories they shared with me. 
 
One of them that I found interesting and factual enough to share with the world concerns an unfortunate young, naive man, and the dark powers of temptation and revenge. Here it is as I first heard it, mind you it is best read during a dark night while sitting around a camp fire in the vast unknown of the wilderness.
 
- The Black Axe -
 
Joran was young and full of energy, a boy that had just become a man and was ready to go out and experience life and all the adventures he assumed it would hold for him. Though he was a waiter at a small Bar and Inn in the Imperial City, he had aspirations of joining the Fighter's Guild and traveling all across Cyrodil, collecting fame and fortune on his unique adventures. 
 
One busy night a traveling merchant entered and began to converse with some other patrons of the inn. Before long, he had a group gathered around him as he told frightening tales of adventure and glory, lost treasures and horrible monsters. Finishing his shift eagerly, Joran pulled up a seat at the man's table and listened in awe as the merchant described an ancient fort filled with monsters and beasts, haunted by an evil presence which guarded some unimaginably powerful artifact. 
When the man claimed he had been to this fort in hopes of collecting the treasure, but had never had a chance to enter, the group gathered around him laughed and joked, saying he was nothing but a liar and attention monger. But the merchant, with a shrewd grin, produced a hand-drawn map from inside his shirt, and, surely enough, it had notes and scrawlings leading to a fort marked in the mountains north east of the city. 
 
Deciding this was his big chance to enter the world of adventuring, Joran offered to pay the man fifty septims, a good portion of his savings, in exchange for the map. Accepting, the merchant gave Joran his map and soon left the bar for the night, along with the rest of the patrons.
 
Requesting permission from the innkeeper, who, though he disliked Joran's naive attitude, was kind and accepting of Joran's adventurous soul, Joran procured a few days in which he could travel to the fort, hopefully returning with some ancient treasure and newfound riches. 
 
Joran was so excited and eager to get going that he set out immediately after returning to his small apartment to collect what few valuable items he had, which include the rest of his savings, a decrepit silver dagger, and an enchanted amulet passed down from his deceased father.
 
Exiting from the Imperial City from the northern gate connecting to the Market District, Joran made his way east to the water's edge, then continued north passed an old sewer grating, which had been marked on the map, that supposedly led into the Imperial Prison. Looking at his map, he noticed the next landmark was almost directly north, all he had to do was swim across the lake, something that did not bother him at all, as it would only enrich the experience in his mind.
 
After a good fifteen minutes of swimming, Joran finally made it across the dark water, disappointed that he had not been attacked by any slaughterfish, yet secretly happy he had not encountered any danger. 
 
After resting for a few moments on a rock on the beach and watching the mudcrabs scurry about, Joran continued north, crossing the road which encircled the Imperial City, and found his next landmark; the Roxey Inn. Looking at the sky, he guessed that it was now somewhere between 12 and 2 am, so he decided the least he could do was allow his body a little rest.
 
After getting a few hour's sleep and contemplating what the treasure could possibly be for the rest of the night, Joran awoke bright and early. Exiting the small Inn and leaning against a nearby tree, he looked north, noticing that the ground sloped away in a steep rise which kept ascending, forming a rather daunting mountain. 
From the angle he was at, there were two apparent gouges in the side of the mountain, both possible routes to take. Studying his map, he saw that a small line was drawn through the one on his right, so he shouldered his pack and began hiking up it.
 
After a good hour of climbing the steep hill, Joran finally found it leveled off slightly. On his map, he saw there was an odd object marked a little ways to the east of him. Searching in that area, he found a peculiar statue of some weird goddess, presumably some four-armed Daedra, that was surrounded by frightening worshipers who, when he asked them where he was, told him that he should return at night with some Nightshade if he was searching for the Webspinner's blessing. Glad it was not night time, Joran quickly consulted his map and continued onward, trying to put as much distance between the cultists and himself as possible.
 
Continuing east, he found the mountain dropped off into another small gouge-like valley and then rose again on the other side. Carefully crossing the small valley, Joran ascended the other side of the mountain, finding that it continued rising on his left, to the north, and descended with a clear, beautiful view of the White Gold Tower on his right, to the south. The map, however, pointed east for a good three hour's worth of hiking, so Joran continued on in that direction.
 
As he hiked, the sun slowly rose to it's apex in the sky, turning the sky a rich, golden blue and signifying that it was now noon. Not long after noon, Joran arrived at another drop off, where the mountain again descended into a valley, this one wider and less steep than the previous one. Here, on the edge of the mountain, there were numerous boulders strewn around the edge of the cliff, and, according to the map, this was where he should change his course, turning directly north. 
Now the trip was much more difficult, for Joran was now hiking up the mountain, and there were large rocks and boulders obscuring his path everywhere. Not long after the sun had begun its descent to the west, attributing a slight darkness to the sky, Joran passed another landmark on his map, which showed an open mouth ringed with teeth. 
 
Confused, Joran inspected the landmark more closely. Surely enough, it was a cave that seemed to resemble a large mouth, as if that of some great beast who was prepared to swallow him whole. Not wanting to find out what might live inside that great beast's maw, Joran continued passed it to the north, as his map directed.
 
Now the rise was becoming steeper and the boulders less frequent. Joran could also feel a cool and crisp mountain air blowing down from the frozen peaks, which he could see off in the distance. The tree's leaves had begun to change to yellow, making Joran feel like he was in an eternal land of autumn.
 
Just after the sun had descended beyond the mountains, the sky now dark and violet in its absence, Joran's eyes fell upon the end of his journey; a magnificent fort constructed into the side of the mountain. The ancient fortress was truly remarkable to behold, its old rocks still intact, the foundation seeming to lie in the exact spot where the ground became sleek and cold from the snow just north of the fortress.
 
Immediately forgetting his worries and fatigue from the enervating day, Joran bounded forward, entering the beautiful fortress and ready to discover the treasure which awaited him. But when he entered through the heavy door, he did not find a golden hallway leading passed countless treasure chests, but rather a cramped, bleak, echoing stone corridor. And in this damp aisle there were no treasure chests, but rather three mean looking men, who glared at him sadistically. 
Confused, Joran did not have time to draw his small dagger before the three men surrounded him, knocking him out with a heavy wooden club. When he awoke, he found they had taken everything from him but his raggedy clothes, which were torn from the men dragging him into some chamber deep under the fortress, where they had tied him up. Instantly regretting the trip, Joran screamed for help and was met with the face of the merchant who had sold him the map. Around the man's neck was his father's amulet.
 
Grinning, the man said nothing, only patted Joran on the head, which made him wince from the large bump which had resulted from the club. Joran tried to say something, to insult the cowardly man and demand his things back, to spit in his face and tear free of his ropes and strangle him to death, but all he could do was cry. 
The men left him there, bruised and beaten, tied tightly to some heavy stone to either be found by some horrible monster or die of starvation. Slipping into a miserable, malevolent stupor, Joran began to sleep, dreaming of horrible things, and in these nightmares a dark voice came to him, whispering to his deluded mind thoughts of revenge and satisfaction.
 
Joran submitted, and listened eagerly to what it had to say, telling him that he could have his vengeance and be free to take whatever else he wanted if he only allowed his madness to control him. The offer was too much for him to refuse, and Joran let his rage fill him, wanting nothing more than to slaughter the men who had taken his naive innocence from him and left him to face the cold world alone.
 
In his blind rage, the ropes that were binding him fell away, as if cut, and he ran further into the fort, guided by darkness and shadow to the deepest room in the dungeon, where he found the treasure he had come for. Grasping it in his hands, he exited the fort and stalked off into the night to find his enemies, the pale moon shining dimly in the dismal night. With his new token, an axe as black as the night itself, formed into gruesome, malignant curves, with gold symbols etched into its twisted form, Joran would get his revenge.
 
Some time later, an Imperial Ranger found the bodies of three wanted criminals somewhere north of the Imperial City lying mutilated and broken in the forests, their faces deformed in horrible screams, their blood seeping into the ground, bestowing a crimson stain onto the earth. On each of their chests, the word 'revenge' was reputedly carved in large, bloody slashes. Nobody ever saw Joran again.
 
Supposedly this fort still exists, in the exact spot Joran found it, its dark treasure still awaiting a new wielder somewhere below the shadowy fortress. Perhaps the axe feeds on negative emotions, like an evil avatar of the gods, and it seeks out those whose emotions reign supreme. Regardless, one would be foolish to seek it out, however powerful it must be.
 
 
--------------------------
 
 
Very few stories exist that speak of the Khajiit, the mysterious mer of the sands and jungles, and even fewer referencing any weapons they wielded, for they are usually thought to prefer their claws. In the jumbled city of Bravil, however, I found such a story.
 
- The Priest, the Khajiit, and the Mace -
 
The sun shone ruthlessly down upon the open sands, perpetually intensifying the harsh desert with baking heat, and a lone figure stumbled through the blinding sands. He was a young Khajiit that went by the name of Khadunm. He had ventured forth on his own into the vast unknown after being expelled from his own tribe in Elsweyr for refusing to abide by the common laws. Khadunm was an Ohmes Raht, and, as such, was mostly accepted by other men and mer, though many racial stigmas still prevailed in the region his path had led him into.
 
After a long period of traveling and seeking temporary shelters, Khadunm had finally made his way completely across the blistering desert of northern Elsweyr and had crossed the Cyrodillic border into the Imperial human region. Khadunm had no prejudice or enmity towards these frail men, and he simply sought out shelter.
 
Walking along the lonely road he was greeted by a kindly old man by the name of Glasvryn, who was a humble priest in the chapel of the nearby town of Bravil. The priest noticed the young Khajiit's rough condition and offered him shelter in his Church. Khadunm had never been to a human village and knew very little about their culture, but he appreciated the benevolent gesture all the same and accepted the offer gratefully.
 
Several weeks had passed and Khadunm was able to discuss many of the things that had happened to him and led him on his adventure to Bravil.. He had quickly become friends with the old priest and had decided he would stay and assist his new friend in the Church by doing any task he was able. In return, Glasvryn had offered to train Khadunm in the art of blunt weapons. 
 
Khadunm was very weary of this fighting style, as his race is known for using their bare claws to rip an shred, more dangerous and vicious weapons than most men could make, but he did not want to disappoint his new friend, so he accepted the kind offer.
 
Weeks went by as Glasvryn taught his student how very small weapons could be used to surprise the target. Sneaking and stealth came to Khadunm very easily, his feline physique attributing agility and speed to his movements naturally, and Khadunm quickly became very skilled at combat.
 
After Glasvryn had taught all he could to Khadunm, he presented his pupil with a gift. It was a humble mace, carved to look opulent and magnificent without the need of embellishments or finery; the perfect defensive weapon of a priest. It was light and strong, perfect for Khadunm's new fighting style, and he cherished the present from his friend as a tangible token of his own redemption.
 
Time passed and things went on as they do. The small town of Bravil had gradually started aging a bit more and had become home to many rough types of people. 
Skooma, a horribly addictive drug, had taken its hold on some of the townsfolk and crime had increased quite dramatically. Several people were hurt in fits of madness brought on by the so called moon-sugar and eventually Glasvryn attempted to evoke changes to the laws to aid his town and cleanse the populace of the rampant drug.
 
Naturally, this idea was not well received by those actually enjoying the drug, and, after a long night of indulgence, a group of ragged thugs decided they would scare the old priest into giving up his crusade against the drug so they could enjoy their precious skooma in peace.
 
Early in the dismal morning on a calm, apprehensive Fridas, the small band of skooma-laden men moved through the quiet dark towards the church. Breaking in, they made their way to Glasvryn's chambers and began their assault. Though they had only meant to warn him, the impaired men had beaten the poor priest to death in their intoxicated stupor.
 
Khadunm's chambers were directly across the hall, and, after being awoken by a loud crash and the sound of scuffling in his friend's room, he grabbed his new mace and silently entered the room, prepared for the worst.
 
Peering through the open crack of the doorway, Khadunm saw the drug-addicted thugs standing dumbly over the mangled body of Glasvryn, speaking in frantic tones to each other. In a fit of rage, Khadunm readied his mace, not thinking about what he was doing, his only thought how his poor friend had been murdered by these fools for doing the right thing.
 
Striking the nearest thug, who stood with his back to the door, directly on his head, Khadunm was on his feet and ready to fight the rest even as the first man fell to the ground with a muffled scream. As the remaining thugs backed up against the wall, their frightened faces reflecting the surprised horror of the chilling apparition they saw, that of a demonic cat creature baring a bloody mace and dagger-like fangs, Khadunm advanced.
 
The next day several bodies were found lying outside the church. Khadunm was gone and so was Glasvryn, assumed dead. Many stories of gossip filled the town that the strange Khajiit had murdered the poor priest and those men, either for gold or drugs.
 
A few search parties were organized in an attempt to find Glasvryn&#65533;s remains, but no trace was ever found. Some stories state that a guard saw a shadowy figure running into the woods, carrying something large on its back. Many believe he was simply hallucinating, as the skooma was rampant even in the town guard at that time.
 
Being the curious scholar I am, I sought out this guard and was lucky enough to meet him, though he had aged quite a bit since the events had taken place. He proceeded to tell me what he had seen that night.
 
"It was early in the morning, and I was about to be relieved by the next watch, when I was making my rounds near the main gate. Some movement out of the corner of my eye attracted my attention, and I looked over to see a dark figure run into the forest with something large and heavy on its back."
 
"It headed straight west, staying parallel to the road in the shadows of the trees, and, as the road turned south and went over the river, the figure kept on going into the forest."
 
"Rushing headlong into the forest, I was not able to catch up to the figure, despite its burden. Eventually, I came to the point of the river where it turns sharply south."
 
"I could see fresh tracks leading up the mountainside to the north, along one of the gullies, but I did not want to follow anything into that part of the woods. So I gave up, returning to the town to report my findings. It was only later, when I heard the story of the murders, that I realized exactly what I had been chasing."
 
"Now I had met that Khajiit, and, though I cant really say I knew him, he didn't seem like the criminal sort. I don't think he murdered the poor priest... I think he was carrying his body into the woods to bury him."
 
Perhaps this strange tale of redemption and the passion of the soul may seem out of place with the rest of these fantastical legends, but the mace it revolves around certainly is not. 
 
Perhaps it is still there, deep in the forest, resting either on the unfortunate body of the Khajiit... or perhaps the Khajiit realized the blood he had spilled had been unjust, even considering his reasons, and thus relinquished the mace forever, leaving it along with his friend and savior before embarking on another unknown journey, a hallowed memory of the darkness within us all.
}}}

**訳文 [#text_ja]
// 注意：訳文の部分は中括弧({と})が原文部分と異なり4つづつ。
#pre{{{{

Myths and Legends: 
 Volume 3
 by Draskal Ratden
 
-序文-
 
母なる世界は数多の素晴しき神話や伝説に満ちている。私はこれまで生涯をかけてTamriel中を巡り、それらを聞き集めて来た。ここに連なる一連の書物は、いわばその集大成である。私は冒険家ではないが、これらの物語が事実に基づいたものであると信じている。私は物語に命を吹き込む為のパイプ役でしかない。どこまでが真実でどこまでが空想の産物かなど、語るのもおこがましい事だろう。
 
 
--------------------------
 
 
とっておきのエピソードがある。旅の途中に山賊の一団に襲われ、捕まった時に聞いた話だ。人質生活は決して快適なものではなかったが、彼らの話す数多くの物語のおかげで退屈とは無縁であった。
 
その中でもとりわけ興味深く、これは世に残したい！と私に思わせたのは、ある世間知らずの不幸な若者の身に降りかかった、闇の力の誘惑と復讐劇にまつわる話である。読者諸君、ここから先は私が初めてこの話を聞いた時と同様、見知らぬ荒野で闇夜の中、焚き火にあたりながら読み進めるのを強くお薦めする。
 
- The Black Axe（宵闇の斧） -
 
彼の名はJoran。成人したばかりで世間知らず、社会に出て人生を謳歌するのはまだこれからという年頃だった。血気盛んな青年で、この世の全ての冒険は自分の為に用意されているのだと信じて疑わなかった。Imperial Cityにある小さな宿付き酒場で給仕の仕事をしながらも、いつかは戦士ギルドに加入してCyrodil中を股にかけた冒険をし、名を上げ財を成したいという強い願望を抱いていた。
 
ある慌ただしい夜のこと。一人の行商人が宿にやって来て、常連客たちと話を始めた。名誉の冒険、失われた秘宝、そして身の毛もよだつ怪物たち・・・恐ろしげな話が進むにつれ、やがて周囲には人だかりが出来ていった。気が気でないJoranは、交代時間になるが早いか行商人のテーブルに自分の椅子を引き寄せ、怪物と野獣で溢れんばかりの古代の砦の様子と、そこに跋扈する邪悪な存在によって護られた、想像を絶するほど強力なアーティファクトの話に神妙な面持ちで聞き入った。 
「お宝のために砦に行ってはみたが、どうも巡り合わせが悪くて中に入れなかったのだ！」彼はそう言い張った。周囲の者は口々に、「やはりただの目立ちたがりか」、「ほら吹きめ」と嘲り笑った。しかし行商人は不敵な笑みでシャツから手書きの地図を取り出した。見ると地図には幾許かのメモ書きと、街から北東の山中の砦まで伸びる道順の殴り書きがされている。Joranの決断の材料にはそれで十分だった。
 
これこそ冒険の世界に飛び込むチャンスだと考えたJoranは、地図と引き換えに50septimの金貨（彼の蓄えからすればかなりの大金だが）を支払おうと男に申し出た。行商人は快諾し、地図を渡すとすぐに他の客達と連れ立って夜の街に消えていった。
 
宿屋の主人の許しを得て（彼は基本的に親切な人物で、Joranの世間知らずな所は嫌っていたがその冒険心は評価していた）、Joranはその後の数日間を砦までの旅支度にあてた。古代の宝と新発見の財宝を手に無事帰還する事で頭が一杯だった。
 
Joranは早く旅立ちたくてうずうずしていた。アパートの小部屋に戻り、残り全ての蓄えと使い古しの銀の短剣、それと亡くなった祖父から受け継いだ魔法のアミュレットを手に取ると、すぐに出発した。
 
JoranはMarket Districtの北門からImperial Cityを出て、湖岸に突き当たるまで東に進んだ。次に針路を北に変え、地図にマークの有った古い下水道出口のそばまで辿り着いた。この出口は多分Imperial Prisonとつながっているのだろう。次のマークはどこだろうと地図を見ると、どうやらここから真北らしい。湖を泳いで渡らなければならなかったが、今の彼にとっては何の障害でもなかった。むしろ旅に彩りを与える趣向とさえ思えた。
 
15分ほど泳いでJoranは夜の湖を渡りきった。slaughterfishの一匹やそこら襲いかかってくれば返り討ちにしてやったのにと落胆したが、内心では密かに自身の無事に安堵していた。
 
それからしばらく浜辺の岩にもたれかかり、mudcrabのカニ走りなど眺めつつ休憩を取った後、さらに北に向かった。Imperial Cityの周囲を走る環状街道を横切ると、次の目的地Roxey Innが見えた。夜空の様子からするとおよそAM12時から2時の間くらいであったので、彼は仕方なく少しの間休息を取る事にした。
 
夜の残り数時間は宝物への妄想を巡らしながらの睡眠に当てたが、結局Joranはずいぶん早い時間に飛び起きた。宿屋を出て近くの木にもたれかかりつつ北の方角を眺め見ると、急な登り坂が続いている。これから先はずいぶん厳しい山登りになりそうだった。 
ここから見ると、山腹を進むには左右２つのルートがあるようだ。再度地図に目を凝らしてみると、右の方の道に小さく線が引いてある。彼は荷物を背負い上げると、心を決めて歩き出した。
 
小一時間ほど登り続けると、これまで急だった斜面が徐々になだらかになってきた。地図につけられた印によれば、ここから少し東に奇妙なものがあるようだ。しばらく進むと彼の目に、異形の女神像（四本腕の…おそらくDeadraだろう）の姿が飛び込んできた。像の周囲には厳めしい信者達。恐る恐る彼らに道を尋ねると、「蜘蛛の祝福を求めるならば、イヌホオズキを持ってまた夜中に来い」と言う。夜じゃなくて良かった…。Joranは内心そう呟きながら震える手で地図をめくると、足早に先へと進んでいった。可能な限り信者達の居る場所から遠くに離れたかったのだ。
 
さらに東に進むと、下り斜面にたどり着いた。眼下には小さな谷。一旦降りてまた登らなければならない。Joranは慎重に谷を渡った。左手には北方の山並みが、右手にはWhite Gold Towerの素晴しい眺めがはっきりと見えた。地図によるとまだこれから3時間ほどは東に進まなければならないようだ。Joranは歩き続けた。
 
歩みを進めて行くうちに、じりじりと日が高くなっていった。そして正午。空も深い青と黄金色で鮮やかに輝いて見える。ほどなくしてJoranまた下り斜面にたどり着いた。今度は比較的平坦で歩きやすそうだった。山の端には岩でごつごつした崖。地図の目印に従い、ここで北に進路変更した。
 
そこから先の山登りは、大小様々な岩が行く手をふさいだ為にますます困難なものとなった。太陽が西の空に傾き周囲が薄暗くなり始めた頃、ようやく次の目印に辿り着いた。それは大口を開けて（ご丁寧に歯まで生え揃えて！）Joranを待ち構えていた。
 
戸惑いながらもよく観察してみると、大きな口の正体は洞窟の入口であると分かった。さながら大形獣がJoranを丸飲みにしてやろうと大口を開けているかのように思えた。何が潜んでいるか分からない。「洞窟に入りました。ついでに野獣の胃袋にも収まってしまいました。」など冗談ではない。洞窟に背を向け、地図の示す通りに北へと進んだ。
 
勾配は徐々にきつくなっていったが、同時に邪魔な岩も減り始めた。雪を戴いた山頂から冷たい風が吹き下ろして来る。木々の葉も黄色く色づき始め、まるで常秋の国に来たかのように感じられた。
 
太陽が山向こうに沈み、空も暗紫色に変わった頃、Joranはようやく旅の終着点を視認した。山腹の堂々たる砦。石壁は無傷で、土台も雪によって冷たく固められた強固な地盤を正確に狙って建てられているようだ。実際、この古代の砦の威容は本当に目を引くものであった。
 
ここに辿り着くまで随分長い一日だったが、この先に財宝が待っていると考えると疲れも心配事も全て吹き飛んだ。Joranは矢も楯もたまらず砦に飛び込んだ。金色の大広間か？宝箱の山か？期待を胸に重い扉を開いた先に待ち受けていたのは、殺風景でやけに音の響く細くて狭苦しい回廊だけであった。宝など影も形も無く、代わりに見つけたのは3人のみすぼらしい男達。彼らは獲物をいたぶるような笑みを浮かべながらJoranを見つめた。
 
取り乱したJoranには為す術がない。懐から短剣を取り出す間もなく棍棒で打ち据えられ、そのまま昏倒してしまった。再び目を覚ました時には、ぼろぼろに破れた服以外一切の持ち物が奪われていた。男達は気を失ったJoranを勾留する為、砦奥のこの部屋まで引きずって行き、服はその時に破れたのだった。旅になんて出なければ良かった…。Joranは後悔の気持ちで一杯になり、助けを求めて大声で叫んだ。やがて彼の目の前にあの男が現れた。Joranに地図を売り付けた張本人。彼の首には大事な父のアミュレットが輝いていた。
 
男は何も喋らず、ニヤニヤしながらJoranの頭を小突いた。棍棒で殴られた場所に当たり、Joranは痛みにたじろいだ。この卑劣漢に文句を言ってやりたい！荷物を奪い返してやりたい！顔に唾を吐きかけてやりたい！ロープを引きちぎって自由になったらその首を絞め殺してやりたい！…しかし彼にはただ泣き叫ぶ事しか出来なかったのである。 
ボロボロのJoranを取り残したまま、男達は去っていった。Joranは重い石にきつく縛り付けられおり、このままでは恐ろしい怪物に見つかるか、餓死してしまうかのどちらかであった。心全てがどす黒い敵意に塗り替えられて行くのを感じながら、Joranは眠りについた。そして恐ろしい悪夢の中、闇に響く声が彼に復讐と欲望の充足の手立てを囁きかけた。
 
Joranは抗えず、熱心に耳を傾けた。声は語る。「狂気に身を任せよ。さすればお前は自由だ。復讐も望みの宝も全て思い通りだ。」今の彼に拒否など出来るはずも無かった。純真な気持ちを踏みにじり、こんな所に自分を取り残していった奴等。Joranは激しく怒りを掻き立て、彼らの殺害だけを一心に思い描いた。
 
盲目的な怒りによってか、ロープはさながら切断されたかのようにほどけた。自由になったJoranは砦の奥へ駆けて行く。闇と影に導かれながら迷宮の最深部へと進み、ついに待望の財宝を見つけた。彼はそれを握りしめたまま砦を出て、次は敵の居場所を探す為、闇の中を悠然と歩き出した。月が薄青く光る憂鬱な夜だった。彼が手にしたのは宵闇のごとく黒き刃を湛えた戦斧。それは金色のシンボルで装飾され、悪意をそのまま型取ったかのような歪んだフォルムをしていた。復讐の時は近かった。
 
それからしばらくの後、一人のImperial RangerがImperial Cityの北で3人分のバラバラ死体を見つけた。彼らは指名手配犯であったが、どの顔も恐怖の叫びに歪んでいた。地面にはさながら大地に大きな紅色の染みが着いたかのように血だまりが広がっていた。遺体の胸には全て「revenge（復讐）」の文字が大きく刻まれていた。以後、Joranを見かけた者はいない。
 
恐らくこの砦はかつてJoranが見つけた場所にそのまま現存しているのだろう。この闇の秘宝は今でも振い手を求め、暗い砦の地下で待ち受けている。多分この斧は、さながら悪しき神の化身のように持主の負の感情を糧としている。一度使用してしまうと暗い感情に支配されてしまうのだ。注意せよ、どれだけ強力な武器であっても、これを探し出そうとするのは決して賢明ではない。
 
 
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Khajiit、砂漠と密林の土地に生きるこの神秘的なmer種が武器を巧みに使うなどといった話はあまり聞かない。通常彼らは武器よりも自らの爪を好むからだ。しかし私は、Bravilの雑踏でこんな物語と出会う事が出来た。
 
- The Priest, the Khajiit, and the Mace（僧侶とKhajiitとメイスにまつわる物語） -
 
太陽が、草一つ生えない砂漠を情け容赦なく照らす。元々厳しい環境だがその焦熱によって、より過酷さを増しているようだ。目もくらむような照り返しの中、果敢にもさまよい歩く人影が一つあった。彼の名はKhadunm。年若いKhajiitであった。掟に逆らった罪で部族を追放され、見知らぬ土地への冒険の旅を余議なくされた身だった。彼の向かう先の土地では未だ人種差別が根強かったが、KhadrunmはOhmes Rahtであったので、menからもmerからも大抵は受け容れられる存在であった。
 
北Elsweyrの灼熱の砂漠を抜けCyrodiilの境界を超える長い亡命の旅の末、KhadumnはようやくImperial、menの地に辿り着く事が出来た。menは脆弱だったが、彼はそのような偏見や敵意と無縁だった。ただ単に逃げ場が必要だったのだ。
 
Khadunmが一人街道を歩いていると、Glavrynという親切そうな老人が声を掛けてきた。彼はこの近くのBravilの街にある聖堂に勤める位の低い僧侶だった。彼は目の前の若いKhajiitの窮状に気付くと、教会に来ないかと誘った。Khadunmはこれまでmenの村を訪れた事がなく、その文化についても全く知識が無かったが、その慈悲に心打たれ、甘えさせてもらう事にした。 
その後数週間経過した。その頃までにはKhadunmも、これまで彼の身に降りかかった数々の災難や、ここBravilまで逃れやって来る事になった経緯などについても話題に出来るようになり、年老いた僧侶とも友人関係を築く事が出来た。自分に出来る事なら何でもしよう、友を助けて一緒に暮らしていくのだ、Khadunmはそう心に決めた。そしてGalvrynは手伝いのお礼にと、Khadunmに打撃武器の手ほどきをするようになった。
 
正直な所、Khadunmにとって武器を用いた戦闘など、うんざりするだけの物でしかなかった。多くの人が知るように、Khajiit族ならば敵を切り刻む為に自分の爪を用いれば良いのであり、実際それは、ヒトが作り得るどんな武器よりも恐ろしいものと言えた。しかし彼は、ただ友人を落胆させたくない一心で厚意を受け入れたのである。
 
取るに足らない武器でも使い方次第でどれだけ敵を驚嘆させられるか、Glasvrinは何週間もかけて彼の生徒に教え続けた。忍び足と身隠しの技能はKhadunmに馴染んだ。動きにもネコ科独特の機敏さと素早さが加わり、すぐに熟練した戦士に成長した。
 
教えの全てを授けGlasvrynは、Khadunmに贈り物をした。それは質素なメイスであった。きらびやかな装飾こそ無いが上質で立派な品物であり、まさしく僧侶の為の自衛の武器に相応しい物であった。メイスは軽くて丈夫であり、Khadunmの新しい戦闘スタイルに完全に合致したものであった。そしてKhadunmは、この贈り物に生涯の友人に対する義務を誓ったのである。
 
そして時は流れ、世の流れも変わっていった。小さなBravilの町も徐々に古びてゆき、荒んだ人々が住み着くようになった。 恐ろしい常習性で知られるSkoomaという麻薬が住民達に蔓延し、犯罪も劇的に増加していった。moon-sugarのもたらす狂気が傷害事件に発展した事もあった。そんな中、Glasvrynはついに街の秩序回復と麻薬からの人々の救済のため立ち上がった。
 
当然、麻薬常習者たちにとってGlasvrynの考えは面白くないものだった。ある夜、Skoomaをたっぷりと楽しんだ後、賊の一団が今後もSkoomaの楽しみを邪魔されぬようにと、年老いた僧侶に抵抗を止めるように脅しつける事を思いついた。
 
静かで陰鬱なFridasの早朝、Skooma狂いの男達が教会へ続く道を進んでいた。彼らは教会に押し入ると、Glasvrynの部屋に直行して暴行を始めた。単に警告を与えるだけのつもりであったが、中毒で何も考えられなくなった男達は、暴行の末殺害してしまった。
 
Khadunmの部屋は広間のすぐ向こうだった。物が壊れる音と足音の喧噪で目を覚ました彼は、すぐさまメイスを握りしめると、最悪の事態を覚悟しながら友の待つ部屋に向かった。
 
破れたドアの隙間から覗き込むと、Skoomaに狂った悪漢たちが気違い地味た調子で騒ぎながら、Glasvrynの無残な亡骸を見下ろしていた。Khadunmは怒りのままにメイスを構えた。彼の頭には正しい道を貫いたにも関わらず殺されてしまった哀れな友人の事しかなく、他には何も考えられなかった。
 
まずドアを背に立っていた一番手近な悪漢の頭部を打ちすえると、Khadunmは立ちはだかった。あとの者たちも最初の者と同様、声も無く床に倒れ伏すだけの運命であった。壁際まで後ずさった彼らの目に映ったのは、血まみれのメイスとそれを振りかざすネコの姿。鋭利な刃を思わせる剥き出しの牙は、さながら悪魔の化身のようであった。Khadunmは間合いを詰めた。
 
次の日、数個の遺体が教会の外に放り出されているのが発見された。Khadunmの姿もGlasvrynの姿も見えず、死亡したのだと思われた。街の噂は、得体の知れないKhajiitが僧侶と男達を金か麻薬目当てで殺害したのだというものであった。
 
捜索隊が何組か組まれてGlasvrynとKhadunmの探索が行われたが手がかりは何一つ得られなかった。背中に大きな荷物を背負い森に走り去って行く人影を見た衛兵がいたとの話もあったが、当時のBravilでは衛兵にまでSkoomaが浸透していた為、おおかた幻覚でも見たのだろうと一笑に付された。
 
私は幸運にもこの衛兵を探し出し、会見する事が出来た。持ち前の好奇心の強さのおかげかも知れない。彼は当時と比べて相当に年を取っていたが、その夜自分が見た出来事について語ってくれた。
 
「早朝のことだった。わしはもうすぐ次の見張り番と交替する所だったので、正門近くを巡回していた。すると何かが視界の片隅で動くのに気付いたので、よく注意して見てみると、はっきりとは分からないが人影らしき物が何やら背中に大きくて重そうな物を担ぎ、森に向かって走り去って行くようだった。」
 
「その人影は木々を抜け、街道と並行にまっすぐ西に向かって行った。そして街道が南に曲がり川を越えたところで、その人影は森の奥にどんどん進んで行った。」
 
「大急ぎで森の中まで追いかけて行ったが、わしは追いつけなかった。あれ程の大荷物を背負っていたにも関わらずだ。やがて川の流れが急に南下する地点まで辿り着いた。」
 
「出来たばかりの足跡が、北に延びる山腹に向かって続いていくのを発見したが、森の中まで追いかけるつもりは無かったので、引き上げて報告を上げるために街に戻った。その時はまだ自分が何を追いかけていたのか自覚が無かった。殺人事件の事を知ったのはその後だったのだ。」
 
「実はわしは事件以前に、そのKhajiitに会った事があった。良く見知った仲だとは言えないが、彼が犯罪者の類とはとても思えない。わしは彼が殺人犯だとは思わない。…彼は僧侶の遺体を森に埋葬するため運んで行く所だったのではないかと思う。」
 
この奇妙な贖罪と激情の逸話を、他の幻想的な伝説と並列に語るのは場違いかも知れない。だがその中に通った想いは伝説と比べても遜色の無いものであると私は思う。
 
おそらくこのメイスは、今も森の奥深く不運なKhajiitの亡骸の傍らに眠っているのだろう。あるいは…。事情を考慮したとしても、Khadunmは自分の流した血が正義に叶うものでは無いのだという事を分かっていたのだろう。メイスは永久に彼の手を離れる事となったが、逝く前の彼の心に親友の思い出と、誰もが秘めている心の闇を照らしてくれる神聖な記憶を残したのだ。 
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*訳注 
menはヒト種、merはエルフ種を示す。 
Ohmes-rahtは、Masserが新月、Secundaが上弦という月相のとき生まれるKhajiitの一種であるが、Cyrodiilで見かけることはあまり無い。明るい色の体毛を持ち、遠目に見るとmen種と区別がつかず、他のKhajiitが猫のようにつまさき立ちで歩くのに対し、彼らはしっかりとかかとをつけて歩く。

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