題名 † 
原題 †
- 16 Accords of Madness, v. XII
訳題 †
本文 †
原文 †
<div align="center"><font face=1><br>
<br><br>Sixteen Accords of Madness<br> Volume XII<br>
<IMG src="Book/fancy_font/m_65x62.dds" width=65 height=62>alacath's Tale<br>
<div align="left"><br>In the days before the Orsinium's founding, the spurned Orc-folk were subjected to ostracism and persecutions even more numerous and harsh than their progeny are accustomed to in our own age. So it was that many champions of the Orsimer traveled, enforcing what borders they could for the proliferation of their own people. Many of these champions are spoken of yet today, among them the Cursed Legion, Gromma the Hairless, and the noble Emmeg Gro-Kayra. This latter crusader would have certainly risen to legendary status throughout Tamriel, had he not been subject to the attention of certain Daedric Princes.<br>
<br>
Emmeg Gro-Kayra was the bastard son of a young maiden who was killed in childbirth. He was raised by the shaman of his tribe, the Grilikamaug in the peaks of what we now call Normar Heights. Late in his fifteenth year, Emmeg forged by hand an ornate suit of scaled armor, a rite of ascension among his tribe. On a blustery day, he pounded the final rivet, and draping a heavy cloak over the bulky mantle, Emmeg set out from his village for the last time. Word of his exploits always returned home, whether defending merchant caravans from brigands or liberating enslaved beast folk. News of the noble Orc crusader began to grace even the lips of Bretons, often with a tinge of fear.<br>
<br>
Less than two years after ascending to maturity, Gro-Kayra was making camp when a thin voice called out from the thickening night. He was surprised to hear the language of his people spoken by a tongue that obviously did not belong to an Orc.<br>
<br>
'Lord Kayra', said the voice, 'tales of your deeds have crossed the lips of many, and have reached my ears.' Peering into the murk, Emmeg made out the silhouette of a cloaked figure, made wavy and ephemeral by the hazy campfire. From the voice alone he had thought the interloper an old hag, but he now decided that he was in the presence of a man of slight and lanky build, though he could discern no further detail.<br>
<br>
'Perhaps,' the wary Orc began, 'but I seek no glory. Who are you?' <br>
<br>
Ignoring the question, the stranger continued, 'Despite that, Orsimer, glory finds you, and I bear a gift worthy of it.' The visitor's cloak parted slightly, revealing nothing but faintly glinting buttons in the pale moonlight, and a bundle was withdrawn and tossed to the side of the fire between the two. Emmeg cautiously removed the rags in which the object was swathed, and was dazzled to discover the item to be a wide, curved blade with ornately decorated handle. The weapon had heft, and Emmeg realized on brandishing it that the elaborate pommel disguised the more practical purpose of balancing the considerable weight of the blade itself. It was nothing much to look at in its present condition, thought the Orc, but once the tarnish was cleaned away and a few missing jewels restored, it would indeed be a blade worthy of a champion ten times his own worth.<br>
<br>
'Her name is Neb-Crescen' spoke the thin stranger, seeing the appreciation lighting Gro-Kayra's face. 'I got her for a horse and a secret in warmer climes, but in my old age I'd be lucky to even lift such a weapon. It's only proper that I pass her on to one such as yourself. To possess her is to change your life, forever.' Overcoming his initial infatuation with the arc of honed steel, Emmeg turned his attention back to the visitor.<br>
<br>
'Your words are fine, old man,' Emmeg said, not masking his suspicion, 'but I'm no fool. You traded for this blade once, and you'll trade for it again tonight. What is it that you want?' The stranger's shoulders slumped, and Emmeg was glad to have unveiled the true purpose of this twilight visit. He sat with him a while, eventually offering a stack of furs, warm food, and a handful of coins in exchange for the exotic weapon. By morning, the stranger was gone.<br>
<br>
In the week following Emmeg's encounter with the stranger, Neb-Crescen had not left its scabbard. He had encountered no enemy in the woods, and his meals consisted of fowl and small game caught with bow and arrow. The peace suited him fine, but on the seventh morning, while fog still crept between the low-hanging boughs, Emmeg's ears pricked up at the telltale crunch of a nearby footfall in the dense snow and forest debris.<br>
<br>
Emmeg's nostrils flared, but he was upwind. Being unable to see or smell his guest, and knowing that the breeze carried his scent in that direction, Emmeg's guard was up, and he cautiously drew Neb-Crescen from its sheath. Emmeg himself was not entirely sure of all that happened next.<br>
<br>
The first moment of conscious memory in Emmeg Gro-Kayra's mind after drawing Neb-Crescen was the image of the curved blade sweeping through the air in front of him, spattering blood over the virginal powder coating the forest floor. The second memory was a feeling of frenzied bloodlust creeping over him, but it was then that he saw for the first time his victim, an Orc woman perhaps a few years younger than himself, her body a canvas of grisly wounds, enough to kill a strong man ten times over. <br>
<br>
Emmeg's disgust overwhelmed the madness that had overtaken him, and with all his will enlisted, he released Neb-Crescen from his grip and let the blade sail. With a discordant ringing it spun through the air and was buried in a snowdrift. Emmeg fled the scene in shame and horror, drawing the hood of his cloak up to hide himself from the judging eyes of the rising sun.<br>
<br>
The scene where Emmeg Gro-Kayra had murdered one of his own kind was a macabre one. Below the neck, the body was flayed and mutilated almost beyond recognition, but the untouched face was frozen in a permanent expression of abject terror. <br>
<br>
It was here that Sheogorath performed certain rites that summoned Malacath, and the two Daedric Lords held court in the presence of the disfigured corpse.<br>
<br>
'Why show me this, Mad One?' began Malacath, once he recovered from his initial, wordless outrage. 'Do you take such pleasure in watching me grieve the murder of my children?' His guttural voice rumbled, and the patron of the Orismer looked upon his counterpart with accusing eyes.<br>
<br>
'By birth, she was yours, brother outcast,' began Sheogorath, solemn in aspect and demeanor. 'But she was a daughter of mine by her own habits. My mourning here is no less than your own, my outrage no less great.'<br>
<br>
'I am not so sure,' grumbled Malacath, 'but rest assured that vengeance for this crime is mine to reap. I expect no contest from you. Stand aside.' As the fearsome Prince began to push past him, Lord Sheogorath spoke again.<br>
<br>
'I have no intention of standing between you and vengeance. In fact, I mean to help you. I have servants in this wilderness, and can tell you just where to find our mutual foe. I ask only that you use a weapon of my choosing. Wound the criminal with my blade, and banish him to my plane, where I can exact my own punishment. The rights of honor-killing here belong to you.'<br>
<br>
With that, Malacath agreed, took the wide blade from Sheogorath, and was gone.<br>
<br>
Malacath materialized in the path of the murderer, the cloaked figure obscured through a blizzard haze. Bellowing a curse so foul as to wilt the surrounding trees, the blade was drawn and Malacath crossed the distance more quickly than a wild fox. Frothing with rage, he swung the blade in a smooth arc which lopped the head of his foe cleanly off, then plunged the blade up to its hilt in his chest, choking off the spurts of blood into a steady, growing stain of red bubbling from beneath the scaled armor and heavy cloak.<br>
<br>
Panting from the unexpected immediacy and fury of his own kill, Malacath rested on a knee as the body before him collapsed heavily backwards and the head landed roughly upon a broad, flat stone. The next sound broke the silence like a bolt.<br>
<br>
'I - I'm sorry...' sputtered the voice of Emmeg Gro-Kayra. Malacath's eyes went wide as he looked upon the severed head, seeping blood from its wound, but somehow kept alive. Its eyes wavered about wildly, trying to focus on the aspect of Malacath before it. The once-proud eyes of the champion were choked with tears of grief, pain, and confused recognition.<br>
<br>
To his horror, Malacath recognized only now that the man he had killed was not only one of his Orismer children, but very literally a son he had blessed an Orc maiden with years hence. For achingly long moments the two looked upon each other, despondent and shocked. <br>
<br>
Then, silent as oiled steel, Sheogorath strode into the clearing. He hefted Emmeg Gro-Kayra's disembodied head and bundled it into a small, grey sack. Sheogorath reclaimed Neb-Crescen from the corpse and turned to walk away. Malacath began to stand, but kneeled again, knowing he had irreversibly damned his own offspring to the realm of Sheogorath, and mourned his failure as the sound of his son's hoarse pleas faded into the frozen horizon.
訳文 †
【訳文記述エリア】
<div align="center"><font face=1><br>
<br><br>Sixteen Accords of Madness<br> Volume XII<br>
<IMG src="Book/fancy_font/m_65x62.dds" width=65 height=62>alacath's Tale<br>
<div align="left"><br>Orsinium建国以前の時代、Orc族は忌避され排斥を余儀なくされていた。迫害は頻繁に行われ、まさに苛烈を極めた。現代においても彼の一族の末裔は我々と共に生きているが、今彼らが受けている仕打ちと比べても酷い有り様であった。それゆえOrsimerの英雄達の多くは同胞の繁栄を願い、遠征を繰り返しては国境を固持したのだ。彼ら英雄達の活躍は、今日においてさえ多くの人々に言及されている。Cursed Legion（呪われし戦士達）として知られるGromma the Hairless（禿頭のGromma）ならびに高貴なるEmmeg Gro-Kayraも、そういった英雄の一例である。とくに後者は、何も無ければ間違いなく伝説的な聖騎士としてTamriel全土に名をとどろかせたに違いない人物であった。Daedric Prince達の注意を惹きつけさえしなければ…。<br>
<br>
Emmeg Gro-Kayraは混血児であった。彼の母親はうら若き乙女であったが、出産の時に殺害された。彼は部族のシャーマンに養育され、幼年期をGrilikamaug（現代の我々には最盛期の呼び名であるNormar Heightsとして知られる都市）で過ごした。そして時は流れ、
15才になった彼は、自作のきらびやかな鱗鎧を手に成人の儀式に備えていた。それは風が吹き荒ぶ日の事であった。彼は仕上げのリベットを大柄なマントに打ちつけ、ゆったりとした重厚な布で飾り立てていた。今日は旅立ちの日。Emmegは村での最後の時間を過ごしていた。これまでの彼の活躍は、いつも村の噂であった。盗賊から隊商の警護した事もあれば、beast folk（獣人）の奴隷達を解放した事もあった。高貴なOrcの聖騎士がいるのだという噂はやがてBreton達の間でも持ち切りとなり、時に畏怖をもって受け入れられた。<br>
<br>
それは彼が成人を迎えてから2年も経たない頃に起きた。その日、Gro-Kayraが野営をしていると、更け行く夜の帳の中から彼を呼ぶ小さな声が聞こえて来た。Orcの言葉でありながら、響きからして明らかにOrcの声ではなかったので、彼は驚いた。<br>
<br>
「Kayra卿。」声の主は言う。「多くの人が貴方の事を噂しています。もちろん私も例外ではありません。」夜闇の向こうにマント姿のシルエットが浮かび上がり、焚火に照らされて儚げに揺らめいた。声だけ聞くと年老いた老女か何かだろうと思われたが、彼は思い直し、自分が対峙しているのは華奢で痩せこけてこそいるが男なのだと考えるようにした。ただ、乱入者の正体はそれ以上何も掴む事は出来なかった。<br>
<br>
「そうかも知れん。」Emmegは用心深く口を開いた。「だが俺は名誉など求めていない。大体、お前は何者なのだ？」<br>
<br>
質問を無視し、奇妙な客人は続けた。「そうはおっしゃいますが、名誉の方こそ貴方を求めて勝手に付いて来ますよ。貴方に相応しい贈り物があるのです。」そう言って訪問者は僅かにマントを開いたが、隙間からは青白い月光に照らされたボタンが微かにきらめくのが見えただけであった。そうして彼は小包を取り出すと、二人の間にある焚火の傍に向かって放り投げた。Emmegが注意深く小包の覆いのボロ布をめくると、目も眩むばかりの見事な曲刀が姿を現した。柄の飾りも豪華そのもので、ずっしりとした重みがあった。振り回してみると、なるほど柄頭の複雑な意匠は単なる伊達ではない。見た目に反し、刀身自体の重量とバランスを取るための実践的な意図にうまく合致した物であった。この剣は原石だ、Emmegはそう考えた。ひとたび刃の曇りが取り除かれ、いくつかの欠損した宝石が取り戻されさえすれば、今の彼より遥かに偉大な英雄が使っても恥ずかしくない程の逸品になるだろうと思った。<br>
<br>
「その剣の名はNeb-Crescenと申します。」まんざらでもない様子のGro-Kayraの顔色を伺いつつ、細身の客人は続けた。「私はそれを一頭の馬と温暖地方のとある秘儀と引き換えに手に入れました。しかしこの年齢ですので、このような武器はやっとの事で持ち上げられれば良い所でして。貴方のような人物に託せるならばそれが良いと考えました。この剣は貴方の人生を変えてくれる事でしょう。それも永遠にです。」Emmegはしばらく剣の輝きに目を奪われていたが、ふたたび訪問者に注意を向けなおした。<br>
<br>
「それは素晴らしい提案だな、ご老人。」Emmegは疑いの色を隠しもせず言い放った。「しかし俺だって馬鹿じゃない。お前はかつて取引によって剣を入手したのだと言う。だったら今夜もやはり何かしらの取引を期待しているのだろう？何が望みだ？」そう聞いて変質者は肩を落としてしまった。これまで謎だった訪問者の真の意図を暴く事が出来て、Emmegは内心喜んだ。それからしばしの間、彼らは腰を落ち着けて話し合い、最終的にEmmegは、毛皮の束と暖かい食事、それと一掴みの金貨をこの魅惑的な武器の代価として与えた。やがて朝になり、訪問者は去っていった。<br>
<br>
Emmegが奇妙な客人と出会った週の間、Neb-Crescenが鞘から解き放たれる事は一度も無かった。森の中では敵に遭遇しなかった上に、食事も鳥や小動物を弓矢で捕らえて賄ったためである。平和に過ぎ行く時間に彼も満足していたが、低い木の枝まで隠れてしまうほど霧深い7日目の朝、Emmegが耳をそばだてると、近くで足音が鳴る音が聞こえた。雪深い森を踏みしめる音は、Emmegの耳には隠し通せなかった。<br>
<br>
Emmegは鼻を嗅いでみたが、あいにく追い風であった。敵の姿も見えず、匂いもかげず、敵には自分の匂いが感づかれているという状態である。Emmegは身を固くすると、用心のためNeb-Crescenを鞘から抜き放った。その時のEmmegには、次に何が起きるのか全く想像できなかった。<br>
<br>
Neb-Crescenを抜いた後のEmmeg Gro-Kayraが覚えている最初のはっきりした記憶は、湾曲した刃が彼の目の前の虚空を一薙ぎし、真っ白な粉雪に覆われた森の地面の上に血液が撒き散らされる様子であった。次に覚えているのは狂乱した血の乾きが彼を覆いつくしている様子であった。しかしそれは彼が犠牲者を見た最初の時からの事であった。犠牲者は彼よりも数才若いOrcの女性であった。彼女の身体は身の毛もよだつほど傷ついていた。屈強な男でも10回は殺せるほどの傷であった。
The first moment of conscious memory in Emmeg Gro-Kayra's mind after drawing Neb-Crescen was the image of the curved blade sweeping through the air in front of him, spattering（撒き散らす） blood over the virginal（穢れていない） powder coating（粉雪に覆われた） the forest floor. The second memory was a feeling of frenzied（狂乱した） bloodlust（血に飢えたこと） creeping over him, but it was then that he saw for the first time his victim, an Orc woman perhaps a few years younger than himself, her body a canvas of grisly（身の毛もよだつ） wounds, enough to kill a strong man ten times over. <br>
<br>
Emmegの嫌悪感は既に彼を覆っていた狂気に打ち勝った。そして全理性を動員し、彼はNeb-Crescenから手を離すと、剣は転げ落ちた。周囲に不協和音が鳴り響き、剣は雪溜りに埋没した。Emmegは恥じ入る気持ちと恐怖に駆られ、現場から逃げ出した。マントのフード部分を朝日の審判の目から隠すように、上げながら。
Emmeg's disgust（嫌悪感） overwhelmed（制圧する） the madness that had overtaken（〜を上回る） him, and with all his will enlisted（支持される、得られる）, he released Neb-Crescen from his grip and let the blade sail. With a discordant（不協和音の、調和しない） ringing it spun through the air and was buried in a snowdrift（雪の吹きだまり）. Emmeg fled the scene in shame and horror, drawing the hood of his cloak up to hide himself from the judging eyes of the rising sun.<br>
<br>
The scene where Emmeg Gro-Kayra had murdered one of his own kind was a macabre one. Below the neck, the body was flayed （皮をはがれる、鞭打たれる）and mutilated（バラバラに切断される） almost beyond recognition（殆ど見分けがつかないほどに）, but the untouched face was frozen in a permanent expression of abject（絶望的な、惨めな） terror. <br>
<br>
It was here that Sheogorath performed certain rites（儀式） that summoned Malacath, and the two Daedric Lords held court（法廷を開く） in the presence of the disfigured corpse.<br>
<br>
'Why show me this, Mad One?' began Malacath, once he recovered from his initial, wordless outrage. 'Do you take such pleasure in watching me grieve（〜を悲しませる、深く悲しむ） the murder of my children?' His guttural（しわがれ声の） voice rumbled（とどろく）, and the patron of the Orismer looked upon his counterpart（相方） with accusing（告発する、非難する） eyes.<br>
<br>
'By birth, she was yours, brother outcast（見捨てられた、仲間はずれの、追放された）,' began Sheogorath, solemn（厳粛な） in aspect and demeanor（態度）. 'But she was a daughter of mine by her own habits. My mourning（深く悲しむ） here is no less than your own, my outrage no less great.'<br>
<br>
'I am not so sure,' grumbled（ブツブツ不平がましく言う） Malacath, 'but rest assured that vengeance for this crime is mine to reap（報いを受ける、手にする、利益を得る）. I expect no contest（競争） from you. Stand aside.' As the fearsome Prince began to push past（〜を押しのけて） him, Lord Sheogorath spoke again.<br>
<br>
'I have no intention of standing between you and vengeance. In fact, I mean to help you. I have servants in this wilderness（荒地）, and can tell you just where to find our mutual foe. I ask only that you use a weapon of my choosing. Wound the criminal with my blade, and banish him to my plane, where I can exact my own punishment. The rights of honor-killing here belong to you.'<br>
<br>
With that, Malacath agreed, took the wide blade from Sheogorath, and was gone.<br>
<br>
Malacath materialized in the path of the murderer, the cloaked figure obscured through a blizzard haze. Bellowing a curse so foul as to wilt（〜を枯れさせる、意気消沈させる） the surrounding trees, the blade was drawn and Malacath crossed the distance more quickly than a wild fox. Frothing（〜をあわ立たせる） with rage, he swung the blade in a smooth arc which lopped（切る） the head of his foe cleanly off, then plunged（〜を突っ込む） the blade up to its hilt in his chest, choking off（窒息させる） the spurts（噴出） of blood into a steady, growing stain of red bubbling from beneath the scaled armor and heavy cloak.<br>
<br>
Panting（ドキドキする、息を切らす） from the unexpected immediacy（緊迫感） and fury of his own kill, Malacath rested on a knee as the body before him collapsed heavily backwards and the head landed roughly upon a broad, flat stone. The next sound broke the silence like a bolt.<br>
<br>
'I - I'm sorry...' sputtered the voice of Emmeg Gro-Kayra. Malacath's eyes went wide as he looked upon the severed head, seeping（漏れ出す） blood from its wound, but somehow kept alive. Its eyes wavered（揺らぐ、ぐらつく、ためらう） about wildly, trying to focus on the aspect of Malacath before it. The once-proud eyes of the champion were choked with tears of grief, pain, and confused recognition.<br>
<br>
To his horror, Malacath recognized only now that the man he had killed was not only one of his Orismer children, but very literally a son he had blessed an Orc maiden with years hence（だから、それゆえ、今後、そのようなわけで）. For achingly（痛ましく） long moments the two looked upon each other, despondent（落胆して） and shocked. <br>
<br>
Then, silent as oiled steel, Sheogorath strode into（大股で勢いよく入っていく） the clearing. He hefted（〜を持ち上げる） Emmeg Gro-Kayra's disembodied（肉体のない） head and bundled it into a small, grey sack. Sheogorath reclaimed Neb-Crescen from the corpse and turned to walk away. Malacath began to stand, but kneeled again, knowing he had irreversibly（取り返しのつかないまでに） damned（〜を破滅させる） his own offspring（子孫） to the realm of Sheogorath, and mourned his failure as the sound of his son's hoarse（しわがれ声） pleas（嘆願・言い訳） faded into the frozen horizon.
