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【书籍搬运】The Doors of Oblivion 湮没地狱之门

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原文地址:http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:The_Doors_of_Oblivion

中文翻译:

湮灭地狱之门

——赛义夫-伊吉·西德加(Seif-ij Hidja)

“当汝进入湮灭地狱,湮灭地狱也进入汝身。”——拿伊·提罗尔-莱尔(Nai Tyrol-Llar)

有史以来最伟大的法师就是我的先生莫利安·甄纳斯(Mo瑞亚n Zenas)。他以身为《论湮灭地狱》的作者为人所知,这本书就是所有迪德拉相关事宜的标准教科书。尽管多年来有不少恳求希望他将自己的新发现与理论更新到那本经典著作中去,他依旧拒绝这样做,因为他发现对这些领域探索得越多,能够确信的就越少。他想要的并不是推测,他想要的是事实。

在《论湮灭地狱》出版的前后数十年里,甄纳斯收集各类关于湮灭地狱,即迪德拉之家主题的资料,建成了一个庞大的个人图书馆。他的时间被分配到这项研究与增强个人魔法上边,因他假定若自己当真成功找到了进入这个同时超乎并落后于我们世界的危险时空,为在其中的黑暗路径上逛荡他也需要很多力量。

在甄纳斯开始他耗尽毕生精力来准备的旅行之前十二年,他雇我担任他的助手。我有三条属性符合他的要求:我年轻而且乐于帮他干活;我读书向来过目不忘;以及,尽管我很年轻,我已经是一名召唤大师了。

甄纳斯本人也是一名召唤大师——准确讲是各个已知或未知派系的大师——但他在进行最危险研究的时候并不希望仅仅依靠自己的能力。在他的地下密室里,他召唤迪德拉以询问他们本土的情况,为此他需要另一位召唤师以保证他们能够不出意外地前来、被缚以及被送回。

我绝不会忘记那间密室,不是为了它毫无装饰的朴素样子,而却是为了那些你看不见的东西。那里面混合了召唤生物离开之后长久残存的气味:鲜花与硫磺,性与腐败,权力与疯狂。直到现如今这些气味还在折磨着我。

为那些不知道其工作原理的门外汉做些解释,召唤系法术将施法者的思想同被召唤出来生物的思想连接在一起。这连接很脆弱,只能进行诱惑、固定与驱逐,但在大师的手里,连接的力量就能强大许多。赛伊克和锻莫能够(锻莫的情况,也许我该用“曾经能够”)同其他人进行思维连接,千里之外就能进行对话——有时这项技术被称做“心灵感应”。就我的工作来讲,甄纳斯和我就建立了这种感应。这完全是因两个强大的召唤师在距离很近的地方一起工作导致的意外,但我们都很清楚如果他能在湮灭地狱的旅行中获得成功,这种感应就是无价之宝。由于就连业余召唤师都能接触到那片土地上的居民,那么当他身在那里,我们继续交流也是可能的,这样我就能记录下他的发现。

用莫利安·甄纳斯的话讲,“湮灭地狱之门”,并不是那么容易就能找到的,而在我们最终找到了一个并握有其钥匙之前,我们基本上试光了众多可能情况。

亚蒂姆岛的赛伊克拥有一块他们称为“梦洞”的地方,据说从这里可以进入迪德拉领域并在之后返回。亚切西斯(Iachesis)、索塔·希尔、奈玛泰(Nematigh),还有许多其他人使用了这种办法都留有记录。可尽管我们多次请求教团应允,他们却一直拒绝我们。教团的首领塞拉鲁斯(Celarus)告诉我们说,为了所有人的安全,那片地方已经被完全封印起来了。

我们也曾希望使用战顶(战顶)的废墟进入湮灭地狱。尽管这个旧日的帝国战斗法师测验场本身已经在几年前杰卡·萨恩的统治期间被破坏一空,堰门(Weir Gate)却还是依旧耸立。可悲的是,在碎石碓中彻底找寻之后,我们不得不做出如下结论:在测验场被摧毁的时候,所有通向外部领域的出入口,无论是灵冢(the 灵冢)、危翳(the 危翳)还是混乱之源(the 混乱之源)都无法进入了。也许当初这样做是正确的,但还是让希望达到目的的我们很是恼火。

也许读者听说过其他的门,那他就可以相信我们试图要把它们都找出来。

其中有些只是单纯的传说,或者至少,以目前留下的信息来看无法找寻出来。传说中确实存在着对马鲁赫深渊(马鲁赫’s Abyss)、考灵顿之镜(Corryngton Mirror)、披甲十字(披甲十字)、十字路(the Crossroads)、魔口(the Mouth)、一个名叫“红锆与朝阳”的炼金公式的谜语,以及许多其他据说是门的地点和物品的书面记录,但是我们找不到实物。

而其他一些存在,却不能安全进入。在阿贝希安有个名叫“巴尔恶风暴”(the Maelstorm of Bal)的漩涡可以吞噬船只,也许是一个通向湮灭地狱的传送门,但在那片水体漂浮所受的外伤定然会杀死任何胆敢尝试的人。与之类似,虽然我们亲眼所见斯劳德在那里作出的牺牲献祭,我们还是认为从撒拉斯之柱(the Pillar of 撒拉斯)跳下风险太大不能尝试,毕竟这是一座一千英尺高的珊瑚螺旋。有些受害者因坠落而亡,但确实还有一些似乎在撞上岩石之前就消失了。就连斯劳德也不确定为什么有些祭品被取走了而另外一些没有,我们更不可能去冒被撞至粉身碎骨的风险了。

前往湮灭地狱最简单同时也是最复杂到让人发狂的方法就是在这边死去再在那边重生。纵贯历史,确实有法师似乎单纯凭意愿就能跃过我们自己的位面并前往那些领域旅行的例子。这些旅行者中的许多人都已经死去很长时间了,如果他们确实活过的话,但我们还是找到了一位依然活着的。在晨风省的扎弗贝尔湾,瓦丹非尔岛离岸处有一座塔,塔里住着一位非常年迈且非常隐居遁世的老法师,他名叫迪维斯·非尔。

要接近他并不容易,他也并不愿意与莫利安·甄纳斯分享通往湮灭地狱秘门的知识。但幸运的是,我先生的渊博知识打动了非尔,于是他就把方法传授给他了。如果我在这里写下过程步骤,那就打破了我对甄纳斯和非尔立下的誓言,所以就算我能,我也不会泄露。如果世界上存在着任何真正危险的知识的话,那就是这份知识。不过我可以透露的是,非尔的方案需要利用一系列通往不同领域的传送门,这些传送门是由一名长久失踪已被认为死亡的泰瓦尼法师创建的。尽管入口数量有限,这是不利条件,但我们权衡之后更看重这种方法的相对可靠性与通道安全性,觉得我们获得了如此讯息真是太幸运了。

莫利安·甄纳斯离开了这个世界,开始了他的探险。我留在图书馆里记录他传来的信息,并帮他进行他需要的任何研究。

“尘土。”在旅行开始的第一天他悄声对我说。尽管这个词本身就很沉闷,我却能听出他声音中的兴奋,这兴奋也在我自己的脑海中回响。“在百万灰色阴影中,我能从世界的这端看到另一端的尽头。没有天空、陆地或者空气,只有微粒,飘浮着,坠落着,围着我旋转着。我一定是通过魔法手段悬浮呼吸着的……”

甄纳斯在这片模糊云丛中探索了一段时间,见到了蒸汽态的生物与烟之宫殿。尽管他没有见到亲王本人,我们还是得出了他身处灰穴的结论。那里据说是玛拉凯斯的家,苦恼、背叛与破誓填满苦涩空气宛若灰尘。

“天空着了火。”他进入到下一个位面时我听见他说。“地面全是烂泥,但也能通行。我周围都是些染上了黑色的废墟,仿佛在久远过去这里曾经爆发了战争。空气冰冷刺骨。我明明已经使用法术在周身围上了一圈暖钢,但还是觉得冰匕首从四面八方刺中了我。”

这里自然是冷港,莫拉格·巴尔身为亲王。在甄纳斯看来那里似乎就是奈恩的未来样子,在强奸之王的统治下,荒芜而又贫瘠,处处充满苦难。我能听见莫利安·甄纳斯为其所见的景象啜泣,又在见到溅满血液与粪便的皇宫之时颤抖。

“太美丽了。”甄纳斯进入下一个位面时倒吸了一口气。“我视力半朦。我看见了鲜花与瀑布,雄伟的巨木,还有银色之城,但一切都很模糊。色彩像流水一般流淌。现在在下雨,而微风仿佛香气。这里肯定是月影,阿祖拉的居所。”

甄纳斯没有错,而且令人惊讶的是,他竟然在玫瑰宫殿中亲眼见到了晨昏女王本人。她微笑着听了他的故事,并告诉了他奈瑞瓦因即将到来的消息。我的先生觉得月影太可爱了,他很想就这样视力半朦着永远留在这里,但他知道他必须继续前进,走完自己的发现之旅。

“我在风暴之中。”他在进入下一个位面时告诉我说。他形容了那里的景色,有阴暗扭曲的树丛、哀号的灵魂,还有翻滚的浓雾。我原以为他大概是进入了莫拉恩斯·达根的死地,可随后他立刻说:“不对,我不再身处森林了。一道闪电划过,现如今我在一艘船上。桅杆破破烂烂,而船员都被杀了。波涛里有什么东西朝这边过来了……哦,诸神啊……等下,现在,我在一个阴湿的地牢里,在一间牢房中……”

他到达的并不是死地,而是泥沼,维耶米拉的噩梦领域。每隔几秒钟,就会有一道闪电划过,而现实发生变化,却总是滑向更可怕更恐惧的事物。这一时还是沉暗城堡,下一刻就变成了猛兽之巢,随后是月光下的沼泽,以及活埋了他的棺材。恐惧从我先生头脑中的一切念头里胜出,他飞快逃到下一个领域里去了。

我听见他笑出声来。“我觉得自己好像回家了。”

莫利安·甄纳斯向我描述了一个无尽的图书馆,书架向每个方向延伸,书堆上叠着书堆。书页在他感觉不到的神秘风中飞舞。每一本书都是黑色封面,没有标题。他一个人也没见到,却能察觉到鬼魂在书架间移动,觊觎着书籍,永远在寻觅。

那里是异典,赫玛乌斯-莫拉的家,在这里能找到一切禁断的知识。我的头脑一阵冷颤,但我无法分辨颤抖的是我先生的思想还是我自己的。

莫利安·甄纳斯再也没有旅行到其他我知晓的领域。

在拜访前四个领域的全程,我的先生经常同我交谈。但进入异典之后,他就变得安静了许多,仿佛被这个研究与学习的世界迷住了。毕竟这正是在奈恩就控制了他心灵的激情。我发疯般地试图叫住他,但他对我关闭了心灵。

然后他低语:“不可能是这样……”

“没人能猜到真相……”

“我必须知道更多……”

“我看见了世界,最后幻觉的一道闪烁,就在我们周围塌落……”

我朝他哭喊,哀求他告诉我究竟发生了什么,究竟他见到了什么,究竟他学到了什么。我甚至试着用召唤法术去召唤他,仿佛他自己已经变成了一个迪德拉,但他拒绝离开。莫利安·詹纳斯彻底失落了。

我最后一次听见他的低语是在六个月前。在那之前的一次是在整整五年前,而再之前则要向前再推三年。他的思想用任何语言都不再能够理解。也许他依旧身处异典,虽然失落却很幸福,掉入了一个他拒绝离开的陷阱。

但也有可能他在书架间滑出了领域,进入了希奥格拉丝的疯庭,永远失去了理智。

如果我能,我想要救他。

如果我能,我想要平息他的低语。

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The Doors of Oblivion
by Seif-ij Hidja
The chronicles of Morian Zenas' journey through the realms of Oblivion, penned by his apprentice


When thou enterest into Oblivion, Oblivion entereth into thee.
Nai Tyrol-Llar



The greatest mage who ever lived was my master Morian Zenas. You have heard of him as the author of the book 'On Oblivion,' the standard text for all on matters Daedric. Despite many entreaties over the years, he refused to update his classic book with his new discoveries and theories because he found that the more one delves into these realms, the less certain one is. He did not want conjecture, he wanted facts.



For decades before and after the publication of 'On Oblivion,' Zenas compiled a vast personal library on the subject of Oblivion, the home of the Daedra. He divided his time between this research and personal magickal growth, on the assumption that should he succeed in finding a way into the dangerous world beyond and behind ours, he would need much power to wander its dark paths.



Twelve years before Zenas began the journey he had prepared his life to make, he hired me as his assistant. I possessed the three attributes he required for the position: I was young and eager to help without question; I could read any book once and memorize its contents; and, despite my youth, I was already a Master of Conjuration.



Zenas too was a Master of Conjuration - indeed, a Master at all the known and unknown Schools - but he did not want to rely on his ability alone in the most perilous of his research. In an underground vault, he summoned Daedra to interview them on their native land, and for that he needed another Conjurer to make certain they came, were bound, and were sent away again without incident.



I will never forget that vault, not for its look which was plain and unadorned, but for what you couldn't see. There were scents that lingered long after the summoned creatures had left, flowers and sulfur, sex and decay, power and madness. They haunt me still to this very day.



Conjuration, for the layman unacquainted with its workings, connects the caster's mind with that of the summoned. It is a tenuous link, meant only to lure, hold, and dismiss, but in the hands of a Master, it can be much stronger. The Psijics and Dwemer can (in the Dwemer's case, perhaps I should say, could) connect with the minds of others, and converse miles apart - a skill that is sometimes called telepathy.



Over the course of my employment, Zenas and I developed such a link between one another. It was accidental, a result of two powerful Conjurers working closely together, but we decided that it would be invaluable should he succeed in traveling to Oblivion. Since the denizens of that land could be touched even by the skills of an amateur Conjurer, it was possible we could continue to communicate while he was there, so I could record his discoveries.



The 'Doors to Oblivion,' to use Morian Zenas's phrase, are not easily found, and we exhausted many possibilities before we found one where we held the key.



The Psijics of Artaeum have a place they call The Dreaming Cave, where it is said one can enter into the Daedric realms and return. IachesisSotha Sil, Nematigh, and many others have been recorded as using this means, but despite many entreaties to the Order, we were denied its use. Celarus, the leader of the Order, has told us it has been sealed off for the safety of all.



We had hopes of using the ruins of the Battlespire to access Oblivion. The Weir Gate still stands, though the old proving grounds of the Imperial Battlemages itself was shattered some years ago inJagar Tharn's time. Sadly, after an exhaustive search through the detritus, we had to conclude that when it was destroyed, all access to the realms beyond, the Soul Cairn, the Shade Perilous, and theHavoc Wellhead, had been broken. It was probably for the good, but it frustrated our goal.



The reader may have heard of other Doors, and he may be assured we attempted to find them all.



Some are pure legend, or at any rate, not traceable based on the information left behind. There are references in lore to Marukh's Abyss, the Corryngton Mirror, the Mantellan Crux, the Crossroads, the Mouth, a riddle of an alchemical formula called Jacinth and Rising Sun, and many other places and objects that are said to be Doors, but we could not find these.



Some exist, but cannot be entered safely. The whirlpool in the Abecean called the Maelstrom of Bal can make ships disappear, and may be a portal into Oblivion, but the trauma of riding its waters would surely slay any who tried. Likewise, we did not consider it worth the risk to leap from the Pillar of Thras, a thousand foot tall spiral of coral, though we witnessed the sacrifices the Sloadmade there. Some victims were killed by the fall, but some, indeed, seemed to vanish before being dashed on the rocks. Since the Sload did not seem certain why some were taken and some died, we did not favor the odds of the plunge.



The simplest and most maddeningly complex way to go to Oblivion was simply to cease to be here, and begin to be there. Throughout history, there are examples of mages who seemed to travel to the realms beyond ours seemingly at will. Many of these voyagers are long dead, if they ever existed, but we were able to find one still living. In a tower off Zafirbel Bay on the island of Vvardenfell in the province of Morrowind, there exists a very old, very reclusive wizard named Divayth Fyr.



He was not easy to reach, and he was reluctant to share with Morian Zenas the secret Door to Oblivion. Fortunately, my master's knowledge of lore impressed Fyr, and he taught him the way. I would be breaking my promise to Zenas and Fyr to explain the procedure here, and I would not divulge it even if I could. If there is dangerous knowledge to be had, that is it. But I do not reveal too much to say that Fyr's scheme relied on exploiting a series of portals to various realms created by aTelvanni wizard long missing and presumed dead. Against the disadvantage of this limited number of access points, we weighed the relative reliability and security of passage, and considered ourselves fortunate in our informant.



Morian Zenas then left this world to begin his exploration. I stayed at the library to transcribe his information and help him with any research he needed.



'Dust,' he whispered to me on the first day of his voyage. Despite the inherent dreariness of the word, I could hear his excitement in his voice, echoing in my mind. 'I can see from one end of the world to the other in a million shades of gray. There is no sky or ground or air, only particles, floating, falling, whirling about me. I must levitate and breathe by magickal means …'



Zenas explored the nebulous land for some time, encountering vaporous creatures and palaces of smoke. Though he never met the Prince, we concluded that he was in Ashpit, said to be the home of Malacath, where anguish, betrayal, and broken promises filled the bitter air like ash.



'The sky is on fire,' I heard him say as he moved on to the next realm. 'The ground is sludge, but traversable. I see blackened ruins all around me, like a war was fought here in the distant past. The air is freezing. I cast blooms of warmth all around me, but it still feels like daggers of ice stabbing me in all directions.'



This was Coldharbour, where Molag Bal was Prince. It appeared to Zenas as if it were a future Nirn, under the King of Rape, desolate and barren, filled with suffering. I could hear Morian Zenas weep at the images he saw, and shiver at the sight of the Imperial Palace, spattered with blood and excrement.



'Too much beauty,' Zenas gasped when he went to the next realm. 'I am half blind. I see flowers and waterfalls, majestic trees, a city of silver, but it is all a blur. The colors run like water. It's raining now, and the wind smells like perfume. This surely is Moonshadow, where Azura dwells.'



Zenas was right, and astonishingly, he even had audience with the Queen of Dusk and Dawn in her rose palace. She listened to his tale with a smile and foretold to him the coming of the Nerevarine. My master found Moonshadow so lovely, he wished to stay there, half-blind, forever, but he knew he must move on and complete his journey of discovery.



'I am in a storm,' he told me as he entered the next realm. He described the landscape of dark twisted trees, howling spirits, and billowing mist, and I thought he might have entered the Deadlandsof Mehrunes Dagon. But then he said quickly, 'No, I am no longer in a forest. There was a flash of lightning, and now I am on a ship. The mast is tattered. The crew is slaughtered. Something is coming through the waves … oh, gods … Wait, now, I am in a dank dungeon, in a cell …'



He was not in the Deadlands, but Quagmire, the nightmare realm of Vaernima. Every few minutes, there was a flash of lightning and reality shifted, always to something more horrible and horrifying. A dark castle one moment, a den of ravening beasts the next, a moonlit swamp, a coffin where he was buried alive. Fear got the better of my master, and he quickly passed to the next realm.



I heard him laugh, 'I feel like I'm home now.'



Morian Zenas described to me an endless library, shelves stretching on in every direction, stacks on top of stacks. Pages floated on a mystical wind that he could not feel. Every book had a black cover with no title. He could see no one, but felt the presence of ghosts moving through the stacks, rifling through books, ever searching.



It was Apocrypha. The home of Hermaeus-Mora, where all forbidden knowledge can be found. I felt a shudder in my mind, but I could not tell if it was my master's or mine.



Morian Zenas never traveled to another realm that I know of.



Throughout his visits to the first four realms, my master spoke to me constantly. Upon entering the Apocrypha, he became quieter, as he was lured into the world of research and study, the passions that had controlled his heart while on Nirn. I would frantically try to call to him, but he closed his mind to me.



Then he would whisper, 'This cannot be …'



'No one would ever guess the truth …'



'I must learn more …'



'I see the world, a last illusion's shimmer, it is crumbling all around us …'



I would cry back to him, begging him to tell me what was happening, what he was seeing, what he was learning. I even tried using Conjuration to summon him as if he were a Daedra himself, but he refused to leave. Morian Zenas was lost.



I last received a whisper from him six months ago. Before then, it had been five years, and three before that. His thoughts are no longer intelligible in any language. Perhaps he is still in Apocrypha, lost but happy, in a trap he refuses to escape.



Perhaps he slipped between the stacks and passed into the Madhouse of Sheogorath, losing his sanity forever.



I would save him if I could.



I would silence his whispers if I could.

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