Внутреннее тестирование Вики/E-XV — различия между версиями

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{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|
 
{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|
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{{NavChap|[[Chapter XIV - Savagery]]|[[Chronicles of the First Crusade#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapitre XVI - Civilizations]]}}
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{{NavChap|[[Chapter XIV - Savagery]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapitre XVI - Civilizations]]}}
 
<noinclude>{{Trad
 
<noinclude>{{Trad
 
|DE=<!--Kapitel XV - Mächte-->
 
|DE=<!--Kapitel XV - Mächte-->
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|EN=Chapter XV - Powers|ENs=2
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|EN=Chapter XV - Powers|ENs=4
 
|ES=<!--Capítulo XV - Poderes-->
 
|ES=<!--Capítulo XV - Poderes-->
 
|FR=Chapitre XV - Puissances|FRs=0
 
|FR=Chapitre XV - Puissances|FRs=0
Строка 26: Строка 26:
 
Sitting comfortably on his father's rendorhide chair, elbows resting on his magnificent solid wood desk, and hands busy playing with the braid of his long mahogany beard, Belenor stared dully at the flame of the wall lantern. Even today, the memory of this brief encounter remained burning. As much as the disappointment that was associated with it. For since that time, he had never seen a Kami again. Taking his eyes off the hypnotic light source, the Fyros turned his attention back to his student's assignment. But no sooner had he frowned, detecting a gross error, than he heard a knock on the door.
 
Sitting comfortably on his father's rendorhide chair, elbows resting on his magnificent solid wood desk, and hands busy playing with the braid of his long mahogany beard, Belenor stared dully at the flame of the wall lantern. Even today, the memory of this brief encounter remained burning. As much as the disappointment that was associated with it. For since that time, he had never seen a Kami again. Taking his eyes off the hypnotic light source, the Fyros turned his attention back to his student's assignment. But no sooner had he frowned, detecting a gross error, than he heard a knock on the door.
  
−
:''"Come in", the Fyros ordered without taking his eyes off his copy.
+
:''"Come in."'' the Fyros ordered without taking his eyes off his copy.
  
 
:''"I'm sorry to bother you so early, young master, but your friends just arrived already. They are waiting for you in the lobby."
 
:''"I'm sorry to bother you so early, young master, but your friends just arrived already. They are waiting for you in the lobby."
Строка 46: Строка 46:
 
:''"So do me the favor to take a detour to the kitchen before you join your friends. And don't forget to enjoy this day, it would be a shame to pass that by. Oh, I also wanted to tell you that this braid looks great on you! When I was your age, your father wore the same braid."
 
:''"So do me the favor to take a detour to the kitchen before you join your friends. And don't forget to enjoy this day, it would be a shame to pass that by. Oh, I also wanted to tell you that this braid looks great on you! When I was your age, your father wore the same braid."
  
−
:''"So, I would have preferred to do without this compliment, Penala", Belenor grinned before returning her kiss.
+
:''"So, I would have preferred to do without this compliment, Penala."'' Belenor grinned before returning her kiss.
  
 
His nurse gave a slight laugh, kissed him one last time, then gently pushed him out of the office. Half obediently, Belenor went through the manor at the run, but headed straight for the entrance hall, without passing through the kitchen. As agreed, Xynala, Tisse and Brandille were waiting for him next to the big doors of the cave manor.
 
His nurse gave a slight laugh, kissed him one last time, then gently pushed him out of the office. Half obediently, Belenor went through the manor at the run, but headed straight for the entrance hall, without passing through the kitchen. As agreed, Xynala, Tisse and Brandille were waiting for him next to the big doors of the cave manor.
Строка 52: Строка 52:
 
The two Fyrossa, each dressed in their scarlet military uniforms, were busy looking at a large amber sculpture that decorated the entrance. Four years ago, when Melkiar and Varran had departed, they had both decided to leave the Academy and join the military full time. The trophies they had won during their teenage years, combined with the last academic rank they had earned and the fame they had gained in recent years as reservists, had allowed them to enter as officers. From then on, the two homines had become very close, forgetting all about the love fights of their adolescence. Xynala Zeseus, now a lieutenant, was in charge of one of the mobile platoons responsible for maintaining order in Fyre. As for her, Tisse Apoan, promoted to lieutenant instructor, was in charge of teaching marksmanship to the military and academics. In many ways, the exemplary careers of the two Fyrossa were emblematic of the porosity that existed between the Academy and the Imperial Army. Brandille, for her part, wearing loose, brightly colored clothes that matched her multicolored braids, stood on the tips of her boots and was monitoring the outskirts of the mansion through the screened hatch in the main door. Watching his friend from the top of the open staircase that led to the entrance hall, Belenor knew instantly that something was not quite right: Brandille was strangely motionless.
 
The two Fyrossa, each dressed in their scarlet military uniforms, were busy looking at a large amber sculpture that decorated the entrance. Four years ago, when Melkiar and Varran had departed, they had both decided to leave the Academy and join the military full time. The trophies they had won during their teenage years, combined with the last academic rank they had earned and the fame they had gained in recent years as reservists, had allowed them to enter as officers. From then on, the two homines had become very close, forgetting all about the love fights of their adolescence. Xynala Zeseus, now a lieutenant, was in charge of one of the mobile platoons responsible for maintaining order in Fyre. As for her, Tisse Apoan, promoted to lieutenant instructor, was in charge of teaching marksmanship to the military and academics. In many ways, the exemplary careers of the two Fyrossa were emblematic of the porosity that existed between the Academy and the Imperial Army. Brandille, for her part, wearing loose, brightly colored clothes that matched her multicolored braids, stood on the tips of her boots and was monitoring the outskirts of the mansion through the screened hatch in the main door. Watching his friend from the top of the open staircase that led to the entrance hall, Belenor knew instantly that something was not quite right: Brandille was strangely motionless.
  
−
:''"Hello, you three," said the Fyros as he came down the steps two at a time. Is everything all right, Brandille?"
+
:''"Hello, you three."'' said the Fyros as he came down the steps two at a time. ''"Is everything all right, Brandille?"
  
 
:''"Except for the awful smell that's been attacking my pretty little nose since this morning, you mean?"
 
:''"Except for the awful smell that's been attacking my pretty little nose since this morning, you mean?"
Строка 58: Строка 58:
 
:''"What do you mean? What smell are you talking about?"
 
:''"What do you mean? What smell are you talking about?"
  
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:''"Ah, so you don't smell anything either", exclaimed Xynala, turning around. The first thing that Brandille told us at noon, when we came to look for him with Tisse, was that we didn't smell good… Here's the mood. "
+
:''"Ah, so you don't smell anything either."'' exclaimed Xynala, turning around. ''"The first thing that Brandille told us at noon, when we came to look for him with Tisse, was that we didn't smell good… Here's the mood."
  
 
Turning around with a bounce, Brandille put her hands on her hips and looked falsely outraged.
 
Turning around with a bounce, Brandille put her hands on her hips and looked falsely outraged.
Строка 64: Строка 64:
 
:''"It is not you, specifically, who does not smell good. I can't count the number of baths we've already shared, so I can attest to the impeccable quality of your grooming. It's not you, it's on you. It's in the air, and it's settling everywhere!"
 
:''"It is not you, specifically, who does not smell good. I can't count the number of baths we've already shared, so I can attest to the impeccable quality of your grooming. It's not you, it's on you. It's in the air, and it's settling everywhere!"
  
−
:''"And what does that smell look like, Brandille?" continued the Fyros.
+
:''"And what does that smell look like, Brandille?"'' continued the Fyros.
  
 
:''"I could hardly tell you, Enor. A pungent, sickening smell. For the moment that's still light. But my little nose – and you know how reliable it is – is certain that the smell is only getting closer. Ah, by the way, it has just revealed to me that it is carried by the west winds!"
 
:''"I could hardly tell you, Enor. A pungent, sickening smell. For the moment that's still light. But my little nose – and you know how reliable it is – is certain that the smell is only getting closer. Ah, by the way, it has just revealed to me that it is carried by the west winds!"
  
−
:''"The west winds? questioned Tisse mischievously, his fingers lost in his long red hair. Ah, but that's good, we have the answer! That's Melkiar and Varran, who have returned from the depths of the Desert after four years without bathing!"
+
:''"The west winds?"'' questioned Tisse mischievously, his fingers lost in his long red hair. ''"Ah, but that's good, we have the answer! That's Melkiar and Varran, who have returned from the depths of the Desert after four years without bathing!"
  
 
At these words, Belenor and Xynala burst out laughing. Brandille rolled his big mauve eyes to the sky, opened the doors of the manor wide and pinched her nose.
 
At these words, Belenor and Xynala burst out laughing. Brandille rolled his big mauve eyes to the sky, opened the doors of the manor wide and pinched her nose.
Строка 74: Строка 74:
 
:''"You three make a fine bunch of comics. Would you like to join my troupe? I'm recruiting non-stop right now, for my new show. In fact, there's a rehearsal tonight!"
 
:''"You three make a fine bunch of comics. Would you like to join my troupe? I'm recruiting non-stop right now, for my new show. In fact, there's a rehearsal tonight!"
  
−
:''"By no mean, replied the redhead. If we're on leave today, it's not to work tonight!"
+
:''"By no mean."'' replied the redhead. ''"If we're on leave today, it's not to work tonight!"
  
−
:''"More seriously Brandille, this smell is worrying you? continued Belenor while passing the door step following Tisse and Xynala."
+
:''"More seriously Brandille, this smell is worrying you?"'' continued Belenor while passing the door step following Tisse and Xynala.
  
−
:''"Quite enough, yes. But maybe Tisse is right, and that it emanates simply from the two other weirdos. He's expected at the imperial palace, isn't he?" asked Brandille as she headed for Dyros Avenue.
+
:''"Quite enough, yes. But maybe Tisse is right, and that it emanates simply from the two other weirdos. He's expected at the imperial palace, isn't he?"'' asked Brandille as she headed for Dyros Avenue.
  
−
:''"Yes, Belenor swallowed. That's right."
+
:''"Yes."'' Belenor swallowed. ''"That's right."
−
▼ TO TRANSLATE ▼
 
−
Si l’accueil de ses amies lui avait permis d’oublier ses angoisses, au moins durant quelques instants, celles-ci venaient de ressurgir au galop. Car aujourd’hui marquait le retour de Melkiar et Varran dans la capitale fyrosse, après quatre années d’absence. Quatre années durant lesquelles peu de lettres furent échangées. Quatre années de séparation, qui remettaient peut-être en cause la profondeur de leur amitié. Bélénor se souvenait d’il y a onze ans, lorsque pour convaincre Xynala que le chagrin d’amour qu’elle ressentait allait passer, comme toutes les émotions négatives et positives qui traversaient les homins au cours de leur vie, il avait pris pour exemple l’affection que toutes et tous ressentaient les uns pour les autres.
 
  
−
« ''Un jour, nous ne serons plus amis, c’est une certitude. Les potentielles raisons sont nombreuses : divergences idéologiques, lassitude, éloignement physique, ou tout simplement la mort. Tout passe Xynala. Tout…'' »
+
If the reception of her friends had allowed him to forget her anxieties, at least during a few moments, these had just reappeared at gallop. Because today marked the return of Melkiar and Varran in the Fyros capital, after four years of absence. Four years during which few letters had been exchanged. Four years of separation, which perhaps questioned the depth of their friendship. Belenor remembered how, eleven years ago, when to convince Xynala that the heartache she felt would pass, like all the negative and positive emotions that crossed the homins during their life, he had taken as an example the affection that all of them felt for each other.
  
−
En cette heure, le Fyros espérait s’être trompé. Et si pour en avoir discuté avec ses trois amies, toutes étaient bien moins inquiètes que lui, il n’était pas parvenu à se rassurer. D’autant qu’il se sentait toujours responsable de la mort de Garius, et ce bien qu’on ait maintes fois tenté de le persuader du contraire…
+
:"One day, we won't be friends anymore, that's a certainty. The potential reasons are numerous: ideological differences, weariness, physical distance, or simply death. Everything passes Xynala. Everything…"
  
−
Durant ces quatre années, il était aussi fort probable que Melkiar et Varran aient beaucoup changé. Notamment Melkiar, dont le père s’était fait tuer sous ses yeux, sur le champ de bataille. De quoi renforcer un peu plus le lien qui l’unissait à Varran. Devenant chef de la tribu des Larmes du Dragon, Melkiar réussit l’exploit d’aller plus loin encore que son père, Tigriron, et pérennisa la coalition formée par celui-ci à l’époque de la guerre contre les Sauvages. Signant un traité de paix, les tribus de l’ancienne coalition se placèrent définitivement sous la protection des Larmes du Dragon. Mais cet événement historique ne fut que le début d’une grande série de victoires politiques. C’est ainsi que, voici quelques mois à peine, Melkiar réussit finalement à rassembler toutes les tribus du désert occidental sous sa direction. Une prouesse impensable, qui n’était pas sans rappeler la campagne militaire unificatrice que Dyros le Grand, le premier empereur du peuple fyros, avait menée plus de deux cents ans auparavant. Mais à l’inverse de Dyros, lui n’avait pas eu à faire appel aux armes. Sa bravoure, son charisme et sa grande intelligence semblaient avoir suffi. À cette pensée, Bélénor sourit intérieurement, et se remémora le discours qu’il avait prononcé le jour de leur rencontre, datant déjà de dix-huit ans :
+
At this hour, the Fyros hoped to be mistaken. And if, having discussed it with his three friends, they were all much less worried than he was, he had not managed to reassure himself. Especially since he still felt responsible for Garius' death, even though he had been tried many times to persuade him otherwise…
  
−
« ''Quand je serai grand, j’ai pour projet de réunir toutes les tribus à l’ouest du Désert, où je suis né. Là bas, la vie est bien plus difficile qu’ici. Ni armée régulière, ni aqueduc… J'aimerais pouvoir y fonder une grande cité, égale à Fyre. Bien sûr, faire la guerre aux tribus insoumises pour forcer leur coopération pourrait suffire. Mais là ne sont pas mes valeurs. Je me promets d’y arriver à ma manière : prouver ma bravoure, accomplir des exploits, gagner leur confiance.'' »
+
During these four years, it was also likely that Melkiar and Varran had changed a lot. Especially Melkiar, whose father had been killed before his eyes, on the battlefield. This strengthened the bond between him and Varran a little more. Becoming chief of the Dragon's Tears tribe, Melkiar succeeded in going even further than his father, Tigriron, and perpetuated the coalition formed by the latter at the time of the war against the Dune Riders. Signing a peace treaty, the tribes of the former coalition placed themselves definitively under the protection of the Dragon Tears. But this historic event was only the beginning of a great series of political victories. So, just a few months ago, Melkiar finally succeeded in bringing all the tribes of the Western Desert under his leadership. An unthinkable feat, reminiscent of the unifying military campaign that Dyros the Great, the first emperor of the Fyros people, had led more than two hundred years earlier. But unlike Dyros, he had not had to resort to arms. His bravery, charisma and great intelligence seemed to have been enough. At this thought, Belenor smiled inwardly, and remembered the speech he had given on the day they met, already eighteen years ago:
  
−
Aujourd’hui, le rêve de Melkiar était à portée. Car si celui que l’on surnommait Le Prodige s’était déplacé jusqu’à Fyre, c’était justement pour rencontrer l’Empereur Cerakos II, qui avait succédé à son père Krospas, décédé deux ans auparavant lors d’une traditionnelle chasse aux varinx. Pour discuter avec lui de son désir de fonder une ville qui permettrait d’accueillir convenablement les tribus qu’il fédérait désormais. Une ville qui, bâtie autour de Fort Kronk, deviendrait la grande cité impériale du désert extrême-occidental. Définitivement, Bélénor comprenait pourquoi Xynala, Tisse et lui-même s’étaient enamourés de Melkiar. Sa capacité à rassembler largement autour de lui, et à aller de l’avant – toujours plus loin – était fascinante.
+
:"When I grow up, I plan to bring all the tribes to the west of the Desert, where I was born. Life there is much harder than here. No regular army, no aqueduct… I would like to found a great city there, equal to Fyre. Of course, waging war on the rebellious tribes to force their cooperation might be enough. But that's does'nt fit my values. I promise myself to do it my way: to prove my bravery, to perform feats, to gain their trust."
  
−
« Énor, tu m’écoutes ? » s’exclama Brandille, le nez toujours pincé.
+
Today, Melkiar's dream was within reach. For if the one who was nicknamed The Prodigy had travelled to Fyre, it was precisely to meet Emperor Cerakos II, who had succeeded his father Krospas, who had died two years earlier during a traditional varinx hunt. To discuss with him his desire to found a city that would adequately accommodate the tribes he was now federating. A city that, built around Fort Kronk, would become the great imperial city of the far western desert. Belenor understood why Xynala, Tisse and himself had fallen in love with Melkiar. His ability to gather widely around him, and to move forward - ever further - was fascinating.
  
−
N’observant pas de réponse, l’acrobate bondit devant son rêveur d’ami, puis continua de sa voix nasillarde.
+
:''"Enor, you're listening to me?"'' exclaimed Brandille, her nose still pinched.
  
−
« Tu réfléchis trop, je le vois dans tes yeux. Dans ces moments-là, c’est comme si le temps se dilatait. Comme si tu mettais les conversations en pause, et prenais le temps d’écrire tes pensées entre les répliques de chacun. Pourquoi utiliser la troisième personne, d’ailleurs ? Enfin, passons… Je vais me répéter, Énor : non, ces quatre années de séparation ne suffisent pas à remettre en cause votre amitié. Oui, la vie de Melkiar a beaucoup changé : il a désormais bien plus de responsabilités qu’autrefois. Mais tu restes son ami, Énor. Sans parler du fait qu’il a lié son destin au tien, ce jour-là. Tu te souviens ? Tu es celui qui racontera son histoire. C’est ce qu’il dit à la fin de son discours. À la fin du premier chapitre de vos aventures. »
+
Not observing a response, the acrobat leaped in front of his dreamer friend then continued in his nasal voice.
  
−
Stoppé net, tant par le bond que par le monologue, Bélénor dévisagea Brandille.
+
:''"You think too much, I can see it in your eyes. In those moments, it's like time expands. Like you pause the conversations, and take the time to write your thoughts in between everyone's lines. Why use the third person, anyway? Anyway, let's move on… I'll repeat myself, Enor: no, these four years of separation are not enough to put your friendship in question. Yes, Melkiar's life has changed a lot: he now has many more responsibilities than once. But you remain his friend, Enor. Not to mention the fact that he tied his fate to yours that day. Remember? You're the one who'll tell his story. That's what he says at the end of his speech. At the end of the first chapter of your adventures."
  
−
« Brandille, je déteste quand tu fais ça…
+
Stopped short, both by the leap and the monologue, Belenor glared at Brandille.
  
−
— Quand je fais quoi, Énor ?
+
:''"Brandille, I hate it when you do that…"
  
−
— Quand tu lis dans mes pensées, Brandille.
+
:''"When I do what, Enor?"
  
−
— Je ne lis pas dans tes pensées, je te l’ai déjà dit. Je ne suis pas un Kami.
+
:''"When you read my mind, Brandille."
  
−
— Pourtant, tu…
+
:''"I don't read your mind, I've told you that. I'm not a Kami."
  
−
— Tu es simplement un véritable livre ouvert, Énor. Et je te connais comme si je t’avais écrit ! »
+
:''"Yet you…"
  
−
Le Fyros soupira, Brandille fit le clown avec son nez pincé, puis tous deux suivirent Xynala et Tisse à travers les ruelles, en direction de l'avenue Dyros. Construite dans la plus large faille de la craquelure qui accueillait Fyre, cette artère passante reliait directement le Palais Impérial au mur d’enceinte qui fermait la cité au sud. Comme attendu, l’avenue était particulièrement bondée en ce jour de marché. Arrivés par le haut de celle-ci, les quatre camarades n’étaient plus qu'à une dizaine de minutes de marche du Palais, dont ils pouvaient déjà contempler l’immense tour centrale depuis laquelle l’Empereur avait pour habitude de s’exprimer devant son peuple. À une dizaine de minutes de marche de Melkiar et de Varran, donc, qu’ils retrouveraient certainement devant le Palais, sur la place Hempios. Et si Xynala, Tisse et Brandille semblaient avoir hâte d’y être, Bélénor ralentit quant à lui la cadence, progressivement, jusqu’à s’arrêter complètement. Désormais dos à ses amies, le Fyros regardait en bas de l’avenue, vers le sud, sourcils froncés.
+
:''"You're just a real open book, Enor. And I know you like I wrote you!"
  
−
« Pas la peine de retarder l’inévitable Énor, plaisanta Brandille en se retournant.
+
The Fyros sighed, Brandille clowned with her pinched nose, then both followed Xynala and Tisse through the alleys, toward Dyros Avenue. Built in the widest crack of the fissure that hosted Fyre, this busy thoroughfare connected the Imperial Palace directly to the city wall that closed the city to the south. As expected, the avenue was particularly crowded on this market day. Arriving at the top of that avenue, the four comrades were only a ten-minute walk from the Palace, of which they could already contemplate the immense central tower from which the Emperor used to speak to his people. A ten-minute walk from Melkiar and Varran, therefore, whom they would certainly find in front of the Palace, on Hempios Square. And if Xynala, Tisse and Brandille seemed to be in a hurry to get there, Belenor slowed down the pace, progressively, until he stopped completely. Now with his back to his friends, the Fyros looked down the avenue, towards the south, frowning.
  
−
— Non Brandille, ce n’est pas ça. L’odeur dont tu parlais, je crois que je la sens. »
+
:''"No need to delay the inevitable Enor."'' Brandille joked, turning around.
  
−
Et alors qu’un air singulier se dessinait sur le visage de Brandille, les tuyères de kün-trazen, le grand beffroi au sommet duquel était fixé le cor d’alerte, résonnèrent dans tout Fyre. Instantanément, un silence de mort envahit l'avenue Dyros. La gorge nouée et le cœur serré, Bélénor s’empressa de capter le regard de Xynala et de Tisse, espérant y trouver des réponses. L’exercice annuel de simulation d’invasion avait eu lieu il y a quelques mois à peine, et toutes deux étaient officières. Elles devaient donc sûrement savoir pourquoi kün-trazen venait d’entonner son chant sinistre. Malheureusement, il ne trouva nulle réponse dans les yeux des Fyrosses. Simplement un mélange d’incompréhension et de peur. Mais pire sonorité restait à venir. Celle-là même qui s’éleva presqu'aussitôt des Portes Sud, et dont le souvenir poursuivrait l’hominité à jamais : l’épouvantable bourdonnement du déclin. Rapidement, les premiers cris retentirent au bas de l’avenue, alors que le vrombissement et l’odeur acerbe s’intensifiaient. Et puis Bélénor les aperçut dans le contre-jour : les étranges créatures ailées dont dont la silhouette leur serait à l'avenir si familière. Il n’en fallut pas moins à Xynala pour reprendre son sang-froid et décrocher le porte-voix de sa ceinture.
+
:''"No, Brandille, it's not that. The smell you were talking about, I think I smell it."
  
−
« Alerte générale ! Que les réservistes se dirigent vers la caserne la plus proche ! Quant aux autres, réfugiez-vous dans les abris et les tunnels d’évacuation ! Suivez la procédure ! »
+
And as a singular air dawned Brandille's face, the nozzles of kün-trazen, the great belfry at the top of which the warning horn was fixed, resounded throughout Fyre. Instantly, a deadly silence invaded Dyros Avenue. With a lump in her throat and a tight heart, Belenor quickly sought out the eyes of Xynala and Tisse, hoping to find some answers. The annual invasion simulation exercise had taken place only a few months earlier, and both were officers. So surely they must have known why kün-trazen had just started his sinister song. Unfortunately, he found no answer in the eyes of the Fyrossas. Simply a mixture of incomprehension and fear. But the worst sound was yet to come. The same one that rose almost immediately from the Southern Gates, and whose memory would pursue the hominity forever: the ghastly buzzing of decline. Soon, the first cries rang out at the bottom of the avenue, as the buzzing and the acrid smell intensified. And then Belenor saw them in the backlight: the strange winged creatures whose silhouette would be so familiar to them in the future. It took Xynala no less than that to regain her composure and unhook the bullhorn from her belt.
  
−
Et au même moment, alors que les premiers êtres volants filaient à toute vitesse au-dessus de la grande artère, les poumons de Bélénor s’enflammèrent. Un agressif voile toxique venait d’empoisonner l’atmosphère. Comme nombre de passants qui l’entouraient, il tomba à genoux. Certains même vomirent ou perdirent connaissance. Le visage grimaçant et les yeux plissés, le Fyros observait impuissant l'avenue balayée par un vent de panique. Au loin, on pouvait même deviner des départs d’incendie. Mais qu’était-il donc en train de se passer ? Si on excluait les tentatives de certaines tribus, à l’aube de l’ère impériale, jamais Fyre n’avait été attaquée. Et encore moins envahie. Alors quelles étaient ces étranges créatures ailées, bien plus imposantes que les plus gros volatiles jamais répertoriés jusqu’alors ? Sans nul doute les créations malfaisantes des Matis, à qui la Karavan avait, il y a bien longtemps, révélé les secrets de la manipulation génétique. Après tout, bien qu’en paix avec les Fyros depuis le Traité de Karavia, signé en 2436, le Royaume de Matia restait l’ennemi ancestral de l’Empire Fyros… Comme pour indiquer à Bélénor que l’heure n’était pas aux leçons d’Histoire, un badaud le percuta accidentellement et le fît chuter sur le flanc.
+
:''"General alert! Let the reservists head for the nearest barracks! As for the others, take refuge in the shelters and escape tunnels! Follow the procedure!"
  
−
« Énor, debout ! » siffla Brandille en l’aidant à se redresser avant que la masse des citoyens affolés ne le piétinent.
+
And at the same time, as the first flying beings sped over the main artery, Belenor's lungs burst into flames. An aggressive toxic veil had just poisoned the atmosphere. Like many of the bystanders around him, he fell to his knees. Some even vomited or lost consciousness. With a grimace on his face and squinting eyes, the Fyros watched helplessly as the avenue was swept by a wind of panic. In the distance, one could even make out startings of a fire. But what was going on? Except for the attempts of some tribes, at the dawn of the imperial era, Fyre had never been attacked. And even less invaded. So, what were these strange winged creatures, much larger than the largest birds ever recorded? Undoubtedly the evil creations of the Matis, to whom the Karavan had long ago revealed the secrets of genetic manipulation. After all, although at peace with the Fyros since the Treaty of Karavia, signed in 2436, the Kingdom of Matia remained the ancestral enemy of the Fyros Empire… As if to indicate to Belenor that this was not the time for history lessons, an onlooker accidentally hit him and made him fall on his side.
  
−
Car autour du petit groupe, des Fyros paniqués se précipitaient à toute allure en direction du Palais Impérial – le lieu le plus fortifié de la capitale –, créant au passage de dangereux mouvements de foule. Ils semblaient fuir le sud de l’avenue, obscurci par l’épaisse fumée noire produite par les systèmes anti-incendie, et où depuis quelques secondes déjà, les cris lointains avaient laissé place à de terribles hurlements.
+
"Enor, up!" hissed Brandille, helping him to his feet before the mass of crazed citizens trampled him.
  
−
« Ne paniquez pas ! Restez ordonnés ! Suivez la procédure ! » s’écria Xynala à destination de la foule terrorisée.
+
For around the little group, panicked Fyros were rushing at full speed toward the Imperial Palace – the most fortified place in the capital – creating dangerous crowd movements as they went. They seemed to be fleeing from the southern part of the avenue, obscured by the thick black smoke produced by the fire-fighting systems, and where for a few seconds already, the distant screams had given way to terrible howls.
  
−
« Tisse, là haut ! s’exclama-t-elle subitement, en levant l’une de ses massues.
+
:''"Don't panic! Stay orderly! Follow the procedure!"'' shouted Xynala to the terrorized crowd.
  
−
— Je sais, je l’ai vu, répondit calmement la rouquine. »
+
:''"Tisse, up there!"'' she suddenly exclaimed, raising one of her clubs.
  
−
Genou gauche posé au sol, Tisse avait déjà épaulé l’impressionnant fusil qui jamais ne quittait son dos. Car en l’air, à quelques dizaines de mètres seulement, l’une des mystérieuses créatures était en train de piquer sur eux. Levant la tête à son tour, espérant examiner enfin la nature de la menace, Bélénor fut instantanément saisi d’effroi. Non, un tel monstre ne pouvait pas être sorti d’un laboratoire matis… Concentrée comme jamais, Tisse ne faiblit pas devant l’horrible aspect de la bête. La tireuse d’élite retint sa respiration, attendit quelques longues secondes, puis tira. La balle fusa en direction du corps fuselé du kipesta et ricocha mollement sur sa carapace iridescente.
+
:''"I know, I saw it,"'' the redhead replied calmly.
  
−
« Tisse, les ailes ! » hurla Bélénor, dont l’échine était parcourue de frissons.
+
Left knee placed on the ground, Tisse had already shouldered the impressive rifle that never left his back. Because in the air, to some tens of meters only, one of the mysterious creatures was pricking on them. Raising his head in turn, hoping to finally examine the nature of the threat, Belenor was instantly seized with dread. No, such a monster could not have come out of a Matis laboratory… Concentrated as ever, Tisse did not falter in front of the horrible aspect of the beast. The sniper held her breathing, waited a few long seconds, then fired. The bullet shot towards the kipesta's streamlined body and ricocheted limply on its iridescent carapace.
  
−
Méthodiquement, la Fyrosse rechargea son arme, réajusta la mire et le canon, puis tira une seconde fois. La balle fusa à nouveau vers le kitin et lui arracha cette fois-ci les trois ailes droites. Alors, sans attendre, Xynala s’élança en avant puis bondit sous le monstre qui zigzaguait en couinant. Et avant même qu’il n’atteigne le fond de la faille, elle assena depuis les airs un violent coup de massue sur son crâne ovoïde, accentuant ainsi l’impact de la chute. La créature volante s’écrasa lourdement dans la poussière au moment même où la Fyrosse se réceptionnait sur le sol. Et c’est sans crainte que Xynala s’élança derechef vers la bête immonde pour terminer le travail. Armée de ses deux massues courtes fétiches, elle n’eut aucun mal à broyer complètement la tête du kipesta. Tremblant, le nez pincé, Bélénor s’avança prudemment vers le cadavre écœurant, et de sa main libre, il pointa la glande tuméfiée et la trompe suintante qui gisait sous le monstre.
+
:''"Tisse, the wings!"'' shouted Belenor, whose spine was tingling.
  
−
« Cette substance jaunâtre qu’ils produisent, elle est inflammable. Nous devons les stopper avant que les systèmes anti-incendie ne s’épuisent. Sinon, Fyre court à la catastrophe ! »
+
Methodically, the Fyrossa reloaded her weapon, readjusted the sight and barrel, then fired a second time. The bullet flew again towards the kitin and tore off this time the three right wings. Then, without waiting, Xynala dashed forward and leapt under the squealing, zigzagging monster. And even before it reached the bottom of the rift, she struck from the air a violent clubbing blow on its ovoid skull, thus accentuating the impact of the fall. The flying creature crashed heavily in the dust at the same time that the Fyrossa landed on the ground. And it is without fear that Xynala dashed again towards the foul beast to finish the job. Armed with her two fetish short clubs, she had no trouble to completely crush the head of the kipesta. Trembling, his nose pinched, Belenor cautiously walked over to the sickening corpse, and with his free hand, pointed to the swollen gland and oozing proboscis that lay beneath the monster.
  
−
Comme pour donner crédit au propos du Fyros, le sol trembla alors soudainement. Une nouvelle menace allait-elle bientôt s’ajouter à la liste ? Dérouté et terrifié, Bélénor essaya de trouver du réconfort sur les visages de ses amies, en vain. L’armée fyrosse avait beau être la plus puissante d’Atys, rien ne l'avait préparée à affronter un jour une invasion aérienne, celle-ci étant la première de toute l'Histoire homine. À ce moment précis, Bélénor espérait que les grands stratèges de l’Empire étaient en train d’élaborer un plan d’urgence. Et si certains le considéraient parfois comme l’un d'entre eux, son esprit embrumé par le stress l’empêchait pour l’heure d’y prétendre. Il fallait que quelqu’un intervienne, et vite. Une personne sage et expérimentée. Comme la générale Euriyaseus Icaron, dont la voix retentit soudain derrière lui.
+
:''"That yellowish substance they produce, it's flammable. We have to stop them before the fire suppression systems run out. Otherwise, Fyre is headed for disaster!"
  
−
« Xynala, Tisse, rendez-vous à la caserne voisine et rassemblez chacune un escadron de réservistes ! Vous êtes promues capitaines pour la journée ! Et si vous réussissez, croyez bien que vous le resterez ! Transmettez mes consignes aux officiers que vous trouverez sur place ! »
+
As if to give credence to the Fyros' words, the ground suddenly shook then. Would a new threat soon be added to the list? Unsettled and terrified, Belenor tried to find comfort on the faces of his friends, but to no avail. The Fyros army may have been the most powerful in Atys, but nothing had prepared it to face an air invasion, the first in all of homin history. At this precise moment, Belenor hoped that the great strategists of the Empire were working out an emergency plan. And while some might consider him one of them, his stress-fogged mind prevented him from that claim for the time being. Someone had to step in, and fast. A wise and experienced person. Like the general Euriyaseus Icaron, whose voice suddenly sounded behind him.
  
−
Montée sur un mektoub cuirassé jusqu'à la trompe, la vénérable Fyrosse, celle-là même qui avait arbitré le célèbre duel qui avait opposé Melkiar et Xynala durant les Jeux de l’Académie, presque quinze ans auparavant, venait d’arriver à leur niveau.. Elle avait enfilé une armure lourde et tenait en main une longue pique acérée. Au travers de sa visière, elle examina successivement les deux Fyrosses d’un air rageur. Ainsi juchée, armée et vêtue, rien hormis les nombreuses décorations qui bardaient son plastron ne pouvait laisser croire que la guerrière avait plus de soixante-dix ans. Une nouvelle fois, son âge témoignait de la longévité importante des homins, bien supérieure à celle des animaux qui peuplaient l’Écorce. Plaçant la tête de sa monture en direction du sud, la Fyrosse continua.
+
:''"Xynala, Tisse, go to the nearby barracks and assemble a squadron of reservists each! You are promoted to captains for the day! And if you succeed, you can be sure you'll stay that way! Pass on my instructions to the officers you find there!"
  
−
« Des armes de tir devront être données à chacun des soldats, et les amplificateurs de magie les plus perfectionnés iront aux mains des mages les plus doués ! Une fois équipés, vous emprunterez les monte-charges jusqu’au sommet de la Dorsale ! Votre objectif sera d’attirer ces monstres volants en dehors des failles de la cité ! Tout est bien clair ?
+
Mounted on a mektoub armored to the trunk, the venerable Fyrossa, the same one who had refereed the famous duel between Melkiar and Xynala during the Academy Games, almost fifteen years earlier, had just arrived at their level. She had donned heavy armor and held a long, sharp pike in her hand. Through her visor, she looked  in succession at the two Fyrossas with an enraged air. Thus perched, armed and clothed, nothing but the numerous decorations covering her breastplate could lead one to believe that the warrior was over seventy years old. Once again, her age testified to the great longevity of the homins, far superior to that of the animals that populated the Bark. Placing the head of her mount in the direction of the south, the Fyrossa continued.
  
−
— Oui générale ! crièrent en chœur Xynala et Tisse.
+
:''"Shooting weapons will need to be given to each soldier, and the most sophisticated magic amplifiers will go into the hands of the most skilled mages! Once equipped, you will ride the freight elevators to the top of the Backbone! Your goal is to lure these flying monsters out of the city's faults! Is everything clear?"
  
−
— Bien mes filles. Je m’en vais de ce pas aux Portes Sud ! Je compte sur vous ! »
+
:''"Yes, General!"'' shouted Xynala and Tisse in chorus.
  
−
Sans attendre, la générale Icaron fit sentir ses éperons au mektoub, qui fila à toute vitesse vers l’épaisse fumée noire. Suivies par Brandille et Bélénor, Xynala et Tisse se frayèrent un chemin jusqu’à la caserne creusée dans la paroi nord-ouest de l’avenue Dyros, là où de nombreux Fyros étaient d’ores et déjà en train de s’équiper. Obéissant aux ordres, elles enrôlèrent les officiers présents sur place et firent équiper les réservistes. Brandille et Bélénor furent ainsi gratifiés d’une armure en cuir rigide et d’une paire d’amplificateurs d’excellente qualité. Finalement, il fallut à peine dix minutes aux quatre cents Fyros regroupés pour s’équiper. Dix longues minutes durant lesquelles l’infâme bourdonnement jamais ne cessa. Durant lesquelles le sol trembla plusieurs fois. Durant lesquelles nombre des leurs, probablement, périrent sous les jets de flammes des monstres volants… Dix minutes interminables, donc, au cours desquelles Bélénor s’était évertué à ne pas laisser son inquiétude grandissante prendre le dessus. Ses amies avaient besoin de lui, il ne devait pas perdre ses moyens. Pas comme face aux Sauvages. Car la moindre erreur serait fatale. Comme elle l’avait été pour Garius, voilà six ans… Plus déterminé que jamais, le Fyros sortit en trombe de la caserne, accompagné de ses trois amies et de nombreux autres soldats.
+
:''"Good my girls. I'm off to the South Gates now! I count on you!"
  
−
Et au même moment, la Dorsale du Dragon craqua. L’onde de choc, d’une violence inouïe, projeta Bélénor et ses camarades au sol. À moitié allongé sur Brandille, le Fyros se redressa tant bien que mal. Ce qu’il vit alors l’horrifia : la secousse avait fissuré la crevasse au niveau de la caserne, et dans un grincement sinistre, un pan entier de la paroi d’écorce commençait à basculer lentement vers avant. Paniqués, les soldats s’élancèrent dans la direction opposée, n’hésitant pas à piétiner ceux des leurs restés au sol. Tisse et Xynala, occupées à aider des blessés à se relever, comptaient certainement sur les grosses racines qui retenaient encore la paroi. Malheureusement, dans un second craquement sonore, un énorme morceau d’écorce libre de tous liens se détacha soudainement du pan principal. Paralysé par la peur, Bélénor ne sentit même pas Brandille, qui, la main fermement agrippée à son épaule, tentait en vain de le tirer hors de portée du piège mortel.
+
Without delay, General Icaron gave the mektoub a whiff of her spurs and it sped off into the thick black smoke. Followed by Brandille and Belenor, Xynala and Tisse made their way to the barracks carved into the northwest wall of Dyros Avenue, where many Fyros were already equipping themselves. Obeying orders, they enlisted the officers present there and had the reservists equipped. Brandille and Belenor were given rigid leather armor and a pair of high quality amplifiers. In the end, it took the four hundred Fyros gathered there ten minutes barely to get equipped. Ten long minutes during which the infamous buzzing never stopped. During which the ground shook several times. During which many of their number probably perished under the flames of the flying monsters… Ten endless minutes, then, during which Belenor had tried hard not to let his growing anxiety get the better of him. His friends needed him, he should not lose his means. Not like in front of the Dune Riders. Because the slightest mistake would be fatal. As it had been for Garius six years ago… More determined than ever, the Fyros stormed out of the barracks, accompanied by his three friends and many other soldiers.
  
−
« Tisse, Xynala, fuyez ! Vite ! » réussit-il malgré tout à hurler.
+
And at the same moment, the Dragon's Backbone cracked. The shockwave, of unheard-of violence, threw Belenor and his comrades to the ground. Half lying on Brandille, the Fyros stood up as best he could. What he saw then horrified him: the tremor had cracked the crevasse under the barracks, and with a sinister grind, an entire section of the bark wall was beginning to tip slowly forward. Panicked, the soldiers rushed in the opposite direction, not hesitating to trample those of theirs remaining on the ground. Tisse and Xynala, busy helping the wounded to get up, were certainly relying on the large roots that were still holding the wall. Unfortunately, with a second loud crack, a huge piece of unbound bark suddenly broke away from the main wall. Paralyzed by fear, Belenor did not even feel Brandille, who, with his hand firmly clutched to his shoulder, tried in vain to pull him out of the reach of the death trap.
  
−
Le ciel s’obscurcit brutalement au moment où les deux Fyrosses tournèrent la tête vers lui. Et si la figure de Xynala transpirait la détresse, il n’en était rien pour Tisse : son visage manifestait du calme et une grande détermination. Durant d’interminables secondes, sa longue chevelure rousse ondoya. Puis, tout s’effondra.
+
:''"Tisse, Xynala, flee! Quickly!"'' he succeeded in shouting in spite of everything.
 +
 
 +
The sky darkened abruptly as the two Fyrossas turned their heads towards him. And if Xynala's face was distressed, Tisse was not: his face showed calm and great determination. For endless seconds, his long red hair waved. Then, everything collapsed.
 
{{Couillard}}
 
{{Couillard}}
−
Bélénor rouvrit les paupières, face contre écorce, la bouche pleine de suie. Malgré la violence du choc, il semblait bel et bien vivant. Vivant mais blessé, au vu de l’horrible douleur qui lui meurtrissait la jambe droite, désormais gonflée et tordue. Dirigeant mentalement la Sève qui l’irriguait vers son membre brisé, le Fyros rampa péniblement dans les décombres et le nuage de poussière. Entre les morceaux d’écorce et les cadavres. Terrifié, perdu, et incapable de voir à plus de cinq mètres, il sentit la panique l’assaillir. Autour de lui, le bourdonnement malfaisant des créatures volantes avait laissé place au silence de la désolation… Et son ouïe, tout juste habituée à l’oppressant grésillement des ailes, était devenue particulièrement sensible aux autres sons l’environnant : le plaintif grincement de l’écorce, le crépitement des flammes, les déchirantes lamentations et les cris lointains. C’est donc sans mal qu’il reconnut le timbre de voix de Xynala dans le hurlement qui retentit non loin de là. Sachant désormais où se trouvaient les deux Fyrosses, Bélénor accéléra tant bien que mal. Et s’il tenta à plusieurs reprises de répondre à son amie, il n’y parvint pas, tant sa gorge était obstruée par la suie. C’est alors que, tel un Kami, Brandille surgit du brouillard de poussière et l’aida à se redresser. L’acrobate ne semblait avoir subi aucune blessure. Ni même sa tenue aucun accroc.
+
Belenor reopened his eyelids, face against bark, mouth full of soot. Despite the violence of the shock, he seemed well and truly alive. Alive but wounded, in view of the horrible pain that bruised his right leg, now swollen and twisted. Mentally directing the Sap that was irrigating him to his broken limb, the Fyros crawled painfully in the rubble and dust cloud. Between the pieces of bark and the corpses. Terrified, lost, and unable to see more than five meters away, he felt panic assail him. Around him, the evil buzzing of the flying creatures had given way to the silence of desolation… And his hearing, just accustomed to the oppressive sizzling of the wings, had become particularly sensitive to the other sounds around him: the plaintive grinding of the bark, the crackling of the flames, the heart-rending lamentations and the distant cries. It was thus without difficulty that he recognized the tone of Xynala's voice in the howling that resounded not far from there. Knowing now where the two Fyrossas were, Belenor accelerated as best as he could. And if he tried several times to answer his friend, he did not succeed, so much his throat was obstructed by the soot. It is then that, like a Kami, Brandille appeared out of the fog of dust and helped him to stand up. The acrobat did not seem to have suffered any injury. Nor even his outfit any snag.
  
−
« Je suis là Énor. Laisse-moi t’aider. »
+
:''"I'm here, Enor. Let me help you."
  
−
Fermement appuyé sur l’épaule de Brandille, le Fyros se traîna en direction de l’endroit où le cri de Xynala avait retenti, croisant sur le chemin quelques soldats hagards et blessés qui erraient dans la brume tels des esprits. Finalement, après ce qui lui sembla être une éternité, il la vit : Xynala était agenouillée face à un gigantesque bloc d’écorce.
+
Firmly leaning on Brandille's shoulder, the Fyros dragged himself towards the place where Xynala's cry had sounded, passing on the way some haggard and wounded soldiers who were wandering in the mist like spirits. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw her: Xynala was kneeling in front of a gigantic bark block.
  
−
« Xynala, je suis là, toussa Bélénor. Où… Où est Tisse ? »
+
:''"Xynala, I'm here,"'' Belenor coughed. ''"Where... Where is Tisse?"
  
−
Pour toute réponse, Brandille saisit la main de son ami et la serra fort. Bélénor déglutit et continua.
+
For all answer, Brandille seized his friend's hand and shook it hard. Belenor swallowed and continued.
  
−
« Xynala ? »
+
:''"Xynala?"
  
−
Cette fois-ci, la Fyrosse tourna la tête. Et Bélénor recula d’un pas. Car son visage recouvert de sang était crispé de rage. Car ses yeux exorbités étaient rougis de larmes. Et car face à elle, le corps de Tisse Apoan gisait, à demi écrasé sous l’immense masse de bois.
+
This time, the Fyrossa turned her head. And Belenor took a step back. For his blood-covered face was tense with rage. For her bulging eyes were reddened with tears. And because in front of her, the body of Tisse Apoan lay, half crushed under the immense mass of wood.
  
−
« Elle… Elle m’a poussé. Je… Je n’ai pas pu la sauver », balbutia Xynala entre ses dents serrées.
+
:''"She… She pushed me. I… I couldn't save her,"'' Xynala stammered through clenched teeth.
  
−
Attrapant délicatement sa longue chevelure rousse, elle l’utilisa pour couvrir la partie dégagée du corps de son amie. Tel un linceul.
+
Gently grabbing her long red hair, she used it to cover the exposed part of her friend's body. Like a shroud.
  
−
« Je n’ai pas réussi à soulever ce bloc d’écorce. Je… Je ne suis pas assez forte… Je ne l’ai jamais été… Je hais ce corps ! Je me hais ! »
+
:''"I did not succeed in raising this block of bark. I… I'm not strong enough… I never was… I hate this body! I hate myself!"
  
−
Pleine de fureur, Xynala se mit à cogner le bloc d’écorce en poussant des hurlements de fureur. Quant à Bélénor, il manqua de s’effondrer, les jambes branlantes et les yeux embués de larmes. Mais Brandille, fidèle à son poste, l’en empêcha et l’aida à s’asseoir. Et puis, ses lèvres murmurèrent :
+
Full of fury, Xynala began to hit the block of bark with howls of fury. As for Belenor, he almost collapsed, his legs wobbling and his eyes misty with tears. But Brandille, faithful to his post, prevented him from doing so and helped him to sit down. And then his lips whispered:
  
−
« Énor, cela…
+
:''"Enor, that…
  
−
— Non Brandille, coupa Bélénor. Je t’en prie, non. Ne me dis pas que cela passera. Tout sauf ça…
+
:''"No, Brandille,"'' cut in Belenor. ''"Please don't. Don't tell me it will pass. Anything but that…"
  
−
— D’accord Énor, pardon. Relève-toi, nous devons partir. »
+
:''"Okay, Enor, sorry. Get up, we have to go."
  
−
Se relever ? Non, il ne voulait pas. Si partir ailleurs signifiait devoir assister à la fin d’autres de ses proches, alors il préférait rester dans ce champ de ruines.
+
Get up? No, he didn't want to. If going somewhere else meant having to witness the end of others close to him, then he would rather stay in this field of ruins.
  
−
« S’il te plaît Énor, relève-toi. L’odeur s’accentue, d’autres créatures seront bientôt là. »
+
:''"Please, Enor, get up. The smell is getting stronger, more creatures will be here soon."
  
−
D’autres monstres ? Parfait. Il n’aurait bientôt plus à ressentir cette douleur. Il suffisait de… Brandille le gifla.
+
More monsters? Perfect. Soon he wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore. All he had to do was… Brandille slapped him.
  
−
« Énor ! Je connais ce regard ! Ces pensées ! Tu n’as pas le droit de m’abandonner, tu m’entends ? »
+
:''"Enor! I know that look! Those thoughts! You have no right to abandon me, do you hear me?"
  
−
Oubliant quelques instants ses idées noires, le Fyros serra la main de Brandille et reporta son regard sur Xynala. Son amie était encore en train de marteler la tombe d'écorce de Tisse à coups de poing. Puis brusquement, Brandille pointa le brouillard de sa main libre. La poussière commençait doucement à retomber.
+
Forgetting his dark thoughts for a few moments, the Fyros shook Brandille's hand and returned his gaze to Xynala. His friend was still pounding the bark tomb of Tisse with his fists. Then abruptly, Brandille pointed to the fog with her free hand. The dust was slowly beginning to settle.
  
−
« Xynala, là-bas ! » siffla l’acrobate.
+
:''"Xynala, over there!"'' hissed the acrobat.
  
−
Ne faisant ni une ni deux, la Fyrosse ramassa le fusil de Tisse et tira au jugé. Le balla fusa et un ignoble couinement retentit au loin. À l’endroit même où une étrange galopade commençait à se faire entendre. Un gigantesque troupeau semblait se rapprocher des homins.
+
Without missing a beat, the Fyrossa picked up Tisse's rifle and fired a shot by guesswork. The bullet flew and an ignominious squeak sounded in the distance. At the very place where a strange gallop was beginning to be heard. A gigantic herd seemed to be approaching the homins.
  
−
« Brandille, combien sont-ils ? continua la Fyrosse en accrochant le fusil de Tisse sur son dos et en dégainant ses deux massues courtes.
+
:''"Brandille, how many of them are there?"'' continued the Fyrossa, snagging Tisse's rifle on her back and drawing her two short clubs.
  
−
— Trop Xynala. Beaucoup trop. Et elles sont différentes des autres créatures. »
+
:''"Too many, Xynala. Much too many. And they are different from the other creatures."
  
−
Le visage de la Fyrosse, déformé par la haine il y a peu encore, affichait désormais une détermination à toute épreuve. Une détermination semblable à celle que Bélénor avait lue sur le visage de Tisse avant que le bloc d’écorce ne l’écrase.
+
The Fyrossa's face, distorted by hatred just a short time ago, now showed a steely determination. A determination similar to the one Belenor had read on Tisse's face before the bark block crushed her.
  
−
« Je vais les retenir. Fuyez jusqu’aux abris.
+
:''"I'll hold them off. You run to the shelters."
  
−
— Qu… Quoi ? Qu’est-ce que tu racontes, Xynala ?
+
:''"Wha… What? What are you telling, Xynala?"
  
−
— Tu m’as bien entendu Bélénor.
+
:''"You heard me right, Belenor."
  
−
— Tu crois vraiment qu’on va te laisser te sacrifier, comme Tisse ? Tu rêves Xynala ! Tu rêves ! »
+
:''"Do you really think we'll let you sacrifice yourself, like Tisse? You're dreaming Xynala! You're dreaming!"
  
−
Le Fyros, dont la jambe blessée avait retrouvé sa vigueur, se redressa brutalement et enfila ses amplificateurs de magie. Brandille, toujours à genoux, regardait fixement en direction de là où tous s’attendaient à voir les kitins surgir. Les galops s’intensifiaient.
+
The Fyros, whose injured leg had regained its vigor, abruptly straightened up and slip on his magic amplifiers. Brandille, still on her knees, stared in the direction of where everyone expected the kitins to appear. Gallops were getting louder.
  
−
« Bélénor, c'est un ordre, je suis ta cheffe ! Mieux, j'ai même été promue capitaine par la générale !
+
:''"Belenor, that's an order, I'm your leader! Better yet, I've even been promoted to captain by the general!"
−
 
−
— Ne l’écoute pas Brandille ! Lève-toi et enfile tes amplificateurs ! Je m’occupe de soutenir Xynala avec ma magie de soin. Toi, tu t’occupes des monstres. Dès que les premiers apparaissent, tu les crames ! »
 
  
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Et comme si le fait de l’avoir mentionnée l’avait invoquée, la première créature surgit du brouillard. Cette chose n’avait, en termes d’horreur, rien à envier aux monstres volants qui avaient incendié la cité peu auparavant. Haute d’un mètre cinquante, elle ressemblait à une monstrueuse araignée de couleur bronze, dont l’abdomen dardé était arqué sous ses six pattes, et dont le crâne incurvé était muni d’une paire de crochets dentelés. Pris ensemble, les deux sections de son corps donnaient à la créature l'aspect d'une énorme mâchoire. D’une agilité folle, le kincher fusa sur le petit groupe. Puis, cinq autres jaillirent de la brume. Puis dix. Écartant les bras face à la vague naissante de kitins, Xynala infusa de la Sève dans sa gorge et poussa un rugissement surhomin, espérant concentrer l’attention de l’ennemi.
+
:''"Don't listen to her, Brandille! Get up and slip on your amplifiers! I'll take care of supporting Xynala with my healing magic. You take care of the monsters. As soon as the first ones appear, you char them!"
  
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« Bélénor, Brandille ! Fuyez !
+
And as if the mention of it had summoned it, the first creature sprang from the fog. This thing had, in terms of horror, nothing to envy to the flying monsters that had set the city on fire a short time before. Five feet tall, it resembled a monstrous bronze-colored spider, whose stinging abdomen arched under its six legs, and whose curved skull was fitted with a pair of serrated hooks. Taken together, the two sections of its body gave the creature the appearance of an enormous jaw. With mad agility, the kincher sprang at the small group. Then five more burst out of the mist. Then ten. Spreading her arms against the rising wave of kitins, Xynala infused Sap into her throat and let out a superhomin roar, hoping to focus the enemy's attention.
  
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— Jamais Xynala, Jamais ! Plutôt mourir ! Bon sang Brandille, lève-toi ! »
+
:''"Belenor, Brandille! Flee!"
  
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Brandille, étrangement immobile, contemplait la folle course des monstrueux insectes, qui convergeaient désormais vers Xynala. Mais l’heure n’était pas à la méditation. Car d’ici quelques secondes, les massues de la guerrière rencontreraient les pattes acérées des premiers kinchers. Ils se comptaient en dizaines.
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:''"Never Xynala, never! Rather die! Damn it Brandille, get up!"
  
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« Bande d’imbéciles, fuyez ! »
+
Brandille, strangely motionless, contemplated the crazy race of the monstrous insects, which were now converging on Xynala. But this was no time for meditation. Because in a few seconds, the warrior's clubs would meet the sharp legs of the first kinchers. There were dozens of them.
  
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Sans un mot de plus, la Fyrosse fonça en direction des kitins. Pleinement conscient que, un seul ou trois à se battre, ils ne parviendraient pas à s'en sortir, Bélénor tenta de capter le regard de Brandille. La personne la plus importante de sa vie. La mâchoire serrée et les yeux humides, il s’adressa à son amie une dernière fois.
+
:''"You fools, run away!"
  
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« Brandille ! Tu n’as pas le droit de m’abandonner ! Tu m’entends ? Brandille, si tu ne veux pas te battre, lève-toi et prends ma main… Je veux être avec toi, jusqu’au bout… »
+
Without another word, the Fyrox charged toward the kitins. Fully aware that, one or three fighting, they would not make it, Belenor tried to catch Brandille's gaze. The most important person in his life. His jaw clenched and his eyes moistened, he addressed his friend one last time.
  
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Et tandis que, les massues dégainées et les jambes chargées de Sève, Xynala bondissait vers une mort certaine, Brandille cambra la tête vers le ciel et hurla. Mais le son aigu qui jaillit alors de sa bouche n’était en rien comparable à un cri. Ni même à aucun autre son atysien. C’était une déflagration sonore aiguë, perçante, qui pénétra Bélénor dans tous ses niveaux d’être, et entra en résonance avec chacune des cendres draconiques qui le composaient. Un tonnerre cristallin, dont la partition fut instantanément déchiffrée par l’ensemble des cellules de son corps. Car ce cri surhomin dissimulait en lui de funestes vibrations. Un terrible présage. Un signal primitif : celui déclenchant l’apoptose, la mort cellulaire.
+
:''"Brandille! You have no right to abandon me! Do you hear me? Brandille, if you don't want to fight, get up and take my hand… I want to be with you, all the way…"
 +
And as Xynala leapt to her certain death with her clubs drawn and her legs loaded with Sap, Brandille bent her head skyward and howled. But the high-pitched sound that came from her mouth was nothing like a scream. Nor was it even  anything like any other atysian sound. It was a high-pitched, piercing blast of sound that penetrated all levels of Belenor's being, and resonated with every single draconic ash that made him up. A crystalline thunder, whose score was instantly deciphered by all the cells of his body. For this superhomin cry concealed within it some dire vibrations. A terrible omen. A primitive signal: the one that triggers apoptosis, cell death.
  
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L’onde de choc produite par le hurlement dissipa instantanément le gigantesque nuage de poussière et propulsa Bélénor plusieurs mètres en arrière. S’écrasant lourdement dans la sciure, le Fyros hurla à son tour. Le cri de Brandille était en train de lui transpercer le crâne, duquel des vagues de douleur se propageaient dans tout son corps. Était-ce cela que les Zoraïs ressentaient lorsque la pousse de leur masque n’était pas soutenue par la magie des Kamis, comme il l’avait imaginé dans l’histoire qu’il avait écrite autrefois ? Quelle que fût la réponse à cette question, jamais le Fyros n’avait subi un tel supplice. Supporter cette douleur était inconcevable. Il n’y avait aucune chance qu’il en réchappe. Ainsi donc, lui qui s’était imaginé finir dévoré par l’une de ces créatures, allait finalement être tué par son amie, ici même. La bouche distendue, les yeux révulsés et les bras écartés, Brandille n’en finissait pas de hurler. Son corps vibrait de manière irréelle, de plus en plus vite, jusqu'à ronger l’écorce qui l’entourait. Mais Bélénor n’était pas le seul à subir les foudres de son cri. Car sur plusieurs dizaines de mètres à la ronde, les kinchers tombaient comme des mouches, broyés par l’implacable cri de Brandille. Atteignant les limites de son endurance à manipuler la Sève, Bélénor sentit son cœur ralentir. Il n’était plus en mesure de régénérer ses cellules auto-détruites. Et alors qu’un voile noir commençait à brouiller sa vue, le cri cessa.
+
The shock wave produced by the scream instantly dissipated the gigantic cloud of dust and propelled Belenor several meters backwards. Crashing heavily into the sawdust, the Fyros howled in turn. Brandille's scream was piercing his skull, from which waves of pain spread throughout his body. Was this what the Zorai felt when the growth of their mask was not supported by the magic of the Kamis, as he had imagined in the story he had once written? Whatever the answer to that question, the Fyros had never suffered such torment. To endure this pain was inconceivable. There was not a chance he would escape. Thus, he who had imagined himself being devoured by one of these creatures, was finally going to be killed by his friend, right here. With his mouth distended, his eyes revolted and his arms spread wide, Brandille did not stop howling. Her body was vibrating unreal, faster and faster, until it was eating away at the bark around her. But Belenor was not the only one to suffer the wrath of his cry. For for several dozen meters around, the kinchers were falling like flies, crushed by Brandille's implacable cry. Reaching the limits of his endurance in handling the Sap, Belenor felt his heart slow down. He was no longer in position to regenerate his self-destructed cells. And as a black veil began to blur his vision, the screaming stopped.
  
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À moitié inconscient, le Fyros ne sut pas combien de temps il mit à se relever. Fiévreux, nauséeux, la bave aux lèvres et le regard vitreux, il passa une main tremblante sur son visage. Remarquant la couleur rouge de celle-ci, il comprit que du sang avait coulé en grande quantité de son nez, de ses yeux et de ses oreilles. Cela expliquait certainement l’horrible céphalée qui lui martelait le crâne. Totalement désorienté, il regarda autour de lui, profitant de la levée du brouillard pour se repérer. La monstrueuse vague d’insectes géants avait déferlé depuis le bas de l'avenue Dyros en écrasant tout sur son passage. Désormais muée en une mer morte, elle était tout juste agitée de quelques spasmes nerveux. Une mer dans laquelle Xynala s’était noyée. Si lui avait survécu au cri, il ne faisait aucun doute qu’elle aussi. Elle le devait… Titubant dans la direction supposée de la Fyrosse, il jeta un œil au cratère creusé par Brandille, dans lequel son corps avait disparu. S’il craignait pour la vie de Xynala, il savait Brandille toujours en vie, bien que très faible. Il le sentait, sans comprendre comment ni pourquoi.
+
Half unconscious, the Fyros did not know how much time it took him to get up. Feverish, nauseous, drooling and glassy-eyed, he ran a trembling hand over his face. Noticing the red color of it, he understood that blood had flowed in large quantities from his nose, his eyes and his ears. This certainly explained the horrible headache that was pounding his skull. Totally disoriented, he looked around him, taking advantage of the lifting of the fog to find his bearings. The monstrous wave of giant insects had broken from the bottom of Dyros Avenue, crushing everything in its path. Now transformed into a dead sea, it was just agitated by some nervous spasms. A sea in which Xynala had drowned. If he had survived the scream, there was no doubt that she had too. She must have… Staggering in the supposed direction of the Fyrossa, he glanced at the crater dug by Brandille, in which her body had disappeared. If he feared for Xynala's life, he knew Brandille was still alive, though very weak. He could feel it, without understanding how or why.
  
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Puis, le sol trembla. Une énième fois. Regardant vers le bas de l’avenue, Bélénor se laissa tomber à genoux. Les Portes Sud étaient en train de vomir un monstrueux essaim. Un raz-de-marée gigantesque, d’ailes, de dards et de crocs. Cette fois-ci, point de Brandille pour leur sauver la mise, seul un miracle pourrait les préserver du cataclysme à venir. Levant la tête et fermant les yeux, Bélénor dédia alors une pensée à chacun de ses proches. À Varran et à Melkiar, qu’il aurait tant voulu revoir une dernière fois. À Tisse et à Garius, qu’il rejoindrait bientôt. À Xynala et à Brandille, à ses côtés, jusqu’au bout. À Penala, évidemment, qu’il espérait être à l'abri. Même à son père et à sa mère, qu’il aimait, malgré tout. Finalement, il consacra sa dernière pensée à Messen Dyn, le vieux moine kamiste qu’il avait assidûment côtoyé ces dernières années. Ainsi, les yeux fermés et le visage rivé vers l’Astre du Jour, il se mit à prier les Kamis, et tout particulièrement le Kami Noir. Puis, il pensa au Kami Suprême, quel qu’il ait été. Après tout, qui d’autre que lui pouvait réaliser des miracles ? Plusieurs secondes passèrent ainsi, à attendre la mort en priant. Et alors, contre toute attente, Jena répondit au Fyros. Dans un grincement céleste. Au-dessus de Fyre, désormais baignée dans la pénombre, un gigantesque engin volant de la Karavan venait de faire son apparition. Bouleversé, Bélénor leva les bras vers le ciel et fondit en larmes. Jamais il n’avait oublié ce que Melkiar lui avait dit, ce jour-là, attablé dans la taverne.
+
Then the ground shook. For the umpteenth time. Looking down the avenue, Belenor let himself fall to his knees. The Southern Gates were spewing out a monstrous swarm. A gigantic tidal wave of wings, stings and fangs. This time, there was no Brandille to save them, only a miracle could guard them from the coming cataclysm. Raising her head and closing her eyes, Belenor then dedicated a thought to each of her loved ones. To Varran and Melkiar, whom he would have so much liked to see one last time. To Tisse and Garius, whom he would soon join. To Xynala and Brandille, by his side, until the end. To Penala, of course, whom he hoped would be safe. Even to his father and mother, whom he loved, despite everything. Finally, he devoted his last thought to Messen Dyn, the old Kamist monk whom he had so assiduously spent time with in recent years. So, with his eyes closed and his face fixed on the Day Star, he began to pray to the Kamis, much especially the Black Kami. Then he thought of the Supreme Kami, whoever he had been. After all, who else but him could perform miracles? Several seconds passed, waiting for death and praying. And then, against all odds, Jena answered the Fyros. With a heavenly squeak. Above Fyre, now bathed in darkness, a gigantic Karavan flying machine had just appeared. Upset, Belenor raised his arms to the sky and burst into tears. He had never forgotten what Melkiar had said to him that day while sitting in the tavern.
  
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« ''Je déteste la Karavan, autant que les Kamis… Ils se prennent pour nos maîtres... Et cela durera, tant que nous continuerons à les nommer « Puissances » ! Car aussi longtemps que les homins s’enchaîneront à eux, aussi longtemps ils resteront des esclaves à leurs yeux ! Moi, j’ai déjà fait mon choix, ce jour-là : plutôt mourir libre que de vivre asservi !'' »
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"I hate the Karavan as much as I hate the Kamis… They think they are our masters… And that will last as long as we continue to name them 'Powers'! For as long as homins chain themselves to them, so long will they remain slaves in their eyes! As for me, I have already made my choice, that day: rather to die free than to live enslaved!"
  
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Au fond de lui, et malgré la déférence qu’il témoignait aux Kamis, Bélénor comprenait la position de Melkiar. Mais que pouvaient les homins, seuls, face à tant d’horreur ? Comment pouvaient-ils se libérer de la servitude des Puissances, sans perdre tout ce qu’ils avaient acquis jusqu’alors ? Quelles que soient les réponses à ces questions, en cet instant, le Fyros avait déjà fait son propre choix : celui de la vie.}}
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Deep down inside, despite the deference he showed to the Kamis, Belenor understood Melkiar's position. But what could the homins do, alone, in the face of so much horror? How could they free themselves from the bondage of the Powers, without losing all that they had acquired so far? Whatever the answers to these questions, at that moment, the Fyros had already made his own choice: that of life.
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Шаблон:Внутреннее тестирование Вики

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