圈套

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翻译：ANK、汤镬、大學和官中
数据：主要来自UESP Books

圈套

圈套

佚名 著

我看到金币，就捡走了。其他人或许不会这么做，我知道，有时候我也会回想起我看到金币然后捡起来的那一刻。因为我饿了。这岂不讽刺。

我不怎么记得那天晚上的其他事情，除了金币与饥饿的感觉。我不记得那间酒馆、甚至那座村庄的名字，不过我想应该是在南瓦登费尔的某个地方。我没办法很肯定。有一阵子，我就只是呆呆地坐在椅子上，头脑全被胃里的痛楚占据。如果你从未真的好几天没吃东西，你无法想象那种饥饿感。你什么都没办法想。一直到我左边有个身影离开桌子去买饮料，留下一叠金币，我才猛然回神。

从这一刻起，我的记忆清晰无比。

我看着金币。我看着陌生人的背影，他正冷静地朝酒馆女侍走去。我伸手拿金币。金币在我的口袋。我从桌边起身，走出大门。就那么一刹那，我回头探看。陌生人也转身往我的方向看。他戴着兜帽，但我可以感觉到我们的视线相对。我发誓，我感觉到一丝微笑。

我来到街上，在几个大桶子后面蹲下，等着我的追兵。一辈子过着躲卫兵的好处之一，就是我很懂得该如何消失。我在那儿等了将近一个小时，饥饿感甚至比之前更强烈。因为，我现在意识清明，而且有钱可以买顿大餐。这个认知开始折磨我。等我终于站起来时，差点昏厥倒地。我的力气只够我走到村庄另一头一间破败的酒馆，然后瘫坐在桌边。我想我一定曾暂时失去意识，接着才听到女侍的声音。

“先生，你要吃点什么吗？”

我狼吞虎咽着烤肉和派，大口灌下覆有白沫的基福。等那片几乎致命的饥饿烟雾开始消散，我的视线离开盘子，迎面看到一个戴着金色面具的陌生人盯着我瞧，那面具被窗外透进来的刺眼月光照得闪闪发亮。他穿着黑色皮革护甲，体格和身形跟我偷窃的对象不同，但我感觉得出来他知道我干了什么。我很快付清餐费，然后离开。

我绕着村庄外围，穿过周边都是肮脏农舍的铺砖广场。无论是窗户或门口，居然一丝光线也没有。路上没有行人。我找不到躲藏的地方，所以我选了镇外的道路，朝野外走。从前，饥饿感曾助我不断往前，但现在我的动力却是一丝罪恶感。或者，其实是恐惧。

我匆匆走过黑暗的小径，因为不熟悉坡面和卵石的凹凸质感而跌倒了两次。我从未注意的动物叫声，如今听来突然显得异常响亮。而夜色之中还有其他东西，且正对我穷追不舍。

路旁有道矮墙，我翻过去躲起来。我知道怎么选择藏匿地点，要选择壁垒稍稍低落的地方，这样即使有人看到身形的轮廓，也会以为那是墙壁的一部分。没多久，我就听到脚步声，有人从我的藏身处跑过然后停下脚步。好一阵子，我只听到压低的交谈声，然后其中一人又跑回村子。接着，一阵寂静。

又过几分钟，我从墙后面往外偷窥。一个身穿暗褐色长袍、包着头巾且罩面纱的女性身影站在路上。道路另一边，一名身穿深色盔甲的骑士，挡住了进城的去路。他们两人的脸我都看不到。好一阵子，我只是僵在原地，不确定他们有没有看到我。

“快跑”那女人说，她的声音毫无生气。

我身后的山丘太陡，于是我翻墙出来，两大步跨过马路。我跑进夜色中的森林，口袋里的该死金币疯狂地叮当作响。我知道我发出的噪音极大，追兵一定都听到了，但现在我只想尽力拉开距离，潜匿已经不是重点了。如云的灰烬穿透月光洒落，可是依然太亮，不利于躲藏。我一直跑一直跑，直到血液直冲脑门和心脏，不得不停步为止。

我来到树林边缘，另一边有条浅溪，源头是一栋四周有围栏的破烂大房子。我身后，传来阵阵踩踏在残破灰地上的跑步声。顺溪流而下的南方，远远的，有个湿透的身影正逐步靠近。

别无选择了。我跌跌撞撞地跳进泥巴里，奋力爬上另一边的堤岸。我缩在篱笆下，然后跑过宽敞的平地往房屋而去。我猛地转头，看见围篱旁有七个幽暗的人影：遭我盗取的披风客、戴金色面具的人、戴面纱的女人、黑暗骑士，另外三名追兵则是第一次出现。看来鬼祟的人不是只有我。

月亮完全被灰烬团遮掩，只有星星在我抵达废屋敞开的门口时用它们微弱的星光协助我。我用力将门甩上并扣上门栓，但心里很明白这样的措施也无法保护我太久。我扫视室内破败的家具，寻找可供躲藏的地方，希冀有个我如果完全不动就能不被看见的角落或壁橱。

靠墙有张快要裂开的桌子似乎完全符合我的需要。我爬进桌子底下；发现那儿有东西移动，同时听见一个老人用害怕的声音说话时，我大吃一惊。

“是谁在那里？”

“没关系”我小声说。“我跟他们不是一伙的”

他皱缩且多节瘤的手从黑暗中伸过来抓住我的手臂。我立刻感觉睡意当头罩下，虽然我极力抗拒。当月亮从破窗照射进来，我看见老人恐怖的脸，那是一张饥饿死人的脸。他的枯干手指仍然抓住我，我往后倒，闻到他笼罩我周遭的死亡气味。

桌子被掀开，七名猎人以及其他的十多人站在那里。不，他们不是猎人。他们是把我从藏身处驱赶出来的猎兔犬，以专业的手法将我推进正牌掠食动物的巢穴。他已年老体衰，再也不具当年之勇，只是一部变钝的杀人机器。

“饶命啊”我只有力气如此低语。

或许追逐我的过程让他觉得很愉快，他稍稍展现慈悲。我并没有被吸干了血，我也没被变成他们，亦即这些伯尼人之一。我被留下来跟其他人一起，我们大多数都因为随时可能任由吸血鬼品尝的恐惧而老化与疯狂。我们被称为牲口。

早在好几个月之前，我就已经丧失离开这阴湿地牢的希望。即使这笔记有可能流落出去，我也无法透露足够的地点资料让人家来救我，何况有能力打败这些吸血鬼的勇士应该也不存在。我写下这些只是让我自己能保持神智清楚，并警告其他人。

有些事比饥饿更恐怖。

那就是变成食物。

Trap

Trap

By Anonymous

I saw the gold, and I took it. A different man might not have, I know that, and from time to time, I think back on the hour when I saw the gold and took it. You see, I was hungry. Isn't it ironic.

I don't remember much else about that night but the gold and the hunger. I don't remember the name of the tavern, or even the village, but I believe it was somewhere in southern Vvardenfell. I can't really be certain. For some time, I sat dumbly in my chair, my mind occupied with nothing but the pain in my stomach. If you've never been truly hungry from days of no food, you can't know what it's like. You can't concentrate on anything. It wasn't until a figure to my left got up from the table to get a drink and left a stack of gold marks behind that I snapped to awareness.

From this moment on, my memory is crystalline.

My eyes to the gold. My eyes to the stranger's back, walking calmly toward the barmaid. My hand to the gold. The gold in my pocket. I'm up from the table, and out the door. For just a moment, I look back. The stranger has turned to look my way. He wears a hood, but I can feel his eyes meet mine. I swear, I can scent a smile.

Out into the street, and behind some barrels I crouched down, waiting for my pursuer. One benefit of a lifetime running from guards, I know how to disappear. For nearly an hour, I waited there, suffering even more from hunger. You see, I was awake now and I had the means to buy myself a feast. This knowledge tortured me. When I finally got to my feet, I very nearly fainted. I had only enough energy to walk to the other edge of the village to a run-down tavern before collapsing at a table. I think I must have fallen unconscious for a moment before I heard the barmaid's voice.

"Can I get you something to eat, sera?"

I gorged myself on roasts and pies and huge frothing mugs of greef. As the fog of near fatal starvation began to lift, I looked up from my plate to see a gold-masked stranger looking at me, his vizard glowing by the blinding light of the moon through the window. He wore black leather armor and was a different physique and size from the man I had burgled, but I could tell he knew. I paid for my meal quickly and left.

I skirted the edge of the village, through a tiled central courtyard surrounded by the squalid peasant's cottages. There was not a light shining from any window or door. No one was on the streets. I could find no place to hide, so I took the road out of town, heading for the wilderness. Hunger had pushed me on in the days before, but now I felt what I imagined to be the whip of guilt. Or perhaps, even then, it was fear.

I fell twice, rushing down the dark path, unused to the slopes and pebbled texture. The sounds of animal life, which I had numbed to, were suddenly very loud in my ears. And there was something else out there in the night, something chasing me.

On the side of the road, there was a low wall, and I scrambled over it and hid. I knew enough about concealment to pick a spot where the bulwark sunk slightly so even if someone saw the outline of my figure, he would assume it to be part of the wall. It wasn't long before I heard the sound of running footsteps from more than one person pass me by and then stop. There was a moment of whispered conversation, and one of the people ran back on the path toward the village. Then, silence.

After a few more minutes, I peered out from behind the wall. A female figure in a dun gown, wimple, and veil stood in the road. On the other end of the road, blocking the way back to town, was a knight, coated in dark mail. I could see neither of their faces. For a moment, I froze, unsure whether either or both had seen me.

"Run," said the woman in a dead voice.

The hill behind me was too steep, so I leapt over the wall and across the road in two bounds. Into the night forest I ran, the maddening jingle of the accursed gold in my pocket. I knew I was making so much noise my pursuers could not help but hear me, but now I cared more for putting distance between us than in stealth. Clouds of ash filtered through the moonlight, but I still knew it was too bright to hide. I ran and ran until I felt all my blood pumping in my head and heart, begging me to stop.

I was at the edge of the wood, on the other side of a shallow stream from a vast, crumbling house encircled by a rail fence. Behind me, running footfall in the broken, dusty earth. To the south, downstream, a distinct sodden splashing of someone moving nearer.

There was no choice. I half jumped and half fell into the mud and dragged myself up the bank on the other side. I rolled under the fence and ran through the open field toward the house. Jerking my head around, I saw seven shadowy figures by the fence posts. The cloaked man I had robbed. The man in the gold mask. The veiled woman. The dark knight. Three others too who had pursued me, but I had never seen. And I thought I was the stealthy one.

The moon was entirely hidden in a swarm of ash. Only the stars offered their meager illumination as I reached the open door of the ruin. I slammed and bolted the door behind me, but I knew there could be no protection for very long. As I looked about the ravaged interior of broken furniture, I searched for someone to hide. A corner, a niche where if I stayed very still, no one would see me.

A splintered table lying against the wall looked perfect for my purposes. I crawled under it, and jumped when something moved and I heard a frightened old man's voice.

"Who's there?"

"It's all right," I whispered. "I'm not one of them."

His puckered, gnarled hand reached out from the shadow and gripped my arm. Instantly, I felt sleep fall upon me, resist it as I might. The old man's horrible face, the face of the hungry dead, emerged as the moon came out and shone through the broken window. His talon still gripping me, I fell back, smelling his death surround me.

The table was thrown back. There stood the seven hunters and a dozen more. No, hunters they weren't. They were harriers who had chased me out of every hiding place, expertly pushing me to the lair of the real predator. He was weak with age, the old man was, not as good at the chase as once he was. A blunt, killing machine.

"Please," I said. It was all I could muster.

Having enjoyed the sport I offered, he granted me mercy, of sorts. I was not bled dry. I was not cursed by being made one of them, the Berne. I was kept with others, most of us mad with fear, to be aged and tasted at the vampires' whim. We are called cattle.

I lost all hope months ago of ever leaving the dank cellar where they keep us. Even if this note finds its way to the outside world, I cannot give enough information about my whereabouts to be rescued, even if some champion were able to defeat the bloodsuckers. I only write this to keep my own sanity, and to warn others.

There is something worse than being hungry.

Being food.