蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第32部分

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　blade　had　failed。
Bright；　intricate　harmonies　sang　from　the　empty　air。　A　field　of　bluish　phosphorescence　sprang　up　around　her。　Within　it；　she　could　make　out　intangible　geometric　forms　revolving　around　one　another　in　plex　symmetrical　patterns。
The　cool　radiance　expressed　the　power　of　order；　of　law；　the　antithesis　of　chaos。　The　sword　that　had　bee　an　extension　of　the　demon's　will　froze　inside　it　like　an　insect　in　amber—and　the　demon　was　equally　still。　For　a　moment；　at　least。　The　creature　began　hitching　ever　so　slightly　forward；　working　itself　loose　of　the　restricting　magic。
The　Mistress　of　ArachTinilith　was　essentially　a　creature　of　chaos　as　well；　but　mortal　and　native　to　the　material　plane；　and　thus　the　spell　had　no　power　over　her。　She　wheeled　and　dashed　to　the　body　lying　in　the　doorway。　Only　the　spider　part　of　it　was　moving；　chewing　and　slurping　on　the　rest。
The　dead　girl　turned　out　to　be　Halavin　Symrywin；　who'd　had　the　surprisingly　good　sense　to　remove　all　that　gaudy；　clinking　jewelry　before　attempting　to　attack　by　surprise。　The　novice　had　managed　the　arbalest　rather　deftly；　considering　her　sore；　mutilated　hands。
Quenthel　stooped　to　pick　up　the　weapon　and　the　quiver　containing　the　rest　of　the　enchanted　quarrels。　She　moved　warily；　but　the　feasting　arachnid　paid　her　no　mind。
She　turned；　laid　a　dart　in　the　channel；　and　shot。　When　the　shaft　hit　it；　the　demon　shuddered　in　its　nearly　immobile　form；　but　didn't　die。
It　occurred　to　her　that　she　could　get　away　from　it　while　it　was　trapped；　muster　any　loyal　minions　who　hadn't　partaken　of　the　poisoned　supper；　and　fight　the　thing　at　the　head　of　a　pany；　just　as　she'd　originally　intended。　After　the　harrowing　events　of　the　past　minutes；　the　idea　had　a　certain　appeal。
But　after　what　she'd　endured；　she　wanted　to　be　the　one　to　teach　this　vermin　a　lesson　about　molesting　the　clergy　of　Lolth。　Besides；　the　appearance　of　strength　was　vital。　So　she　kept　shooting　as　fast　as　the　cocking　action　of　the　weapon　would　allow。　The　demon　inched　its　way　toward　her　as　if　it　was　made　of　halfcooled　magma。
Four　bolts　left；　then　three。　She　pulled　the　trigger；　the　dart　struck　the　demon　in　the　middle　of　its　horned；　triangular　head；　and　it　winked　out　of　existence。
She　could　still　hear　its　voice；　but　knew　that　was　just　because　it　had　shrieked　so　long　and　loudly。　She　gave　her　head　a　shake；　trying　to　quell　the　phantom　sound；　then　glimpsed　yet　another　shadow　watching　her　from　some　distance　away。
〃You〃
The　other　dark　elf　bolted。　Quenthel　gave　chase；　but　she　was　still　a　little　winded　from　the　struggle　with　the　demon；　and　her　quarry　outdistanced　her　and　disappeared。
The　Baenre　stalked　on　through　the　labyrinthine　chambers　and　corridors　until　she　rounded　a　bend　and　came　face　to　face　with　three　of　her　minions。　The　goddess　only　knew　what　their　true　sentiments　were；　but　confronted　with　her　leveled　arbalest　and　the　obvious　fact　that；　while　her　gear　was　much　the　worse　for　wear；　she　herself　was　unscathed；　they　hastily　saluted。
〃I　killed　tonight's　intruder；〃　she　said；　〃and　a　homegrown　enemy　as　well。　What　do　you　know　of　our　situation？　Is　anyone　else　dead？〃
〃No；　Mistress；〃　said　a　priestess。　The　lowered　visor　of　her　spidercrested　helmet　pletely　concealed　her　features；　but　from　her　voice；　Quenthel　recognized　Quave；　one　of　the　senior　instructors。　〃Most　of　those　who　ate　and　drank　the　tainted　meal　are　waking。　I　think　the　poisoner　only　wanted　to　render　us　unconscious；　not　kill　us。〃
〃Apparently；〃　said　Quenthel；　〃she　was　willing　to　let　the　demon　administer　the　coup　de　grace　to　me。　What　of　those　who　encountered　the　entity　before　I　did？〃
Quave　hesitated；　then　said；　〃When　they　tried　to　hinder　it；　it　hurt　them；　but　not　to　the　point　of　death。　They　should　recover　as　well。〃
〃Good；〃　Quenthel　said；　though　she　took　no　joy　in　knowing　she　was　the　unknown　enemy's　sole　target。
〃What　are　your　orders；　Mistress？〃　asked　Quave。
〃We'll　have　to　sort　out　the　living　from　the　dead；　and　deal　with　each　accordingly。　We'll　also　look　for　the　place　where　the　demon　got　in；　and　seal　it。〃
These　were　tasks　that　would　doubtless　keep　her　occupied　for　the　rest　of　the　night；　but　she　knew　she　had　to　find　a　way　to　stop　the　intrusions；　and　pull　the　fangs　of　another　crisis　as　well。
It　would　all　for　make　an　arduous　day's　labor；　with　the　oute　uncertain　enough　to　depress　even　a　high　priestess。　Still；　her　mood　lifted　slightly　when　her　vipers　began　to　stir。
*　*　*
〃I　have　a　healing　potion；〃　said　Ryld。　He　took　a　small　pewter　vial　from　his　pouch；　unstoppered　it；　and　held　it　to　Pharaun's　lips。　The　wizard　drank　the　liquid　down。
〃That　might　be　a　little　better；〃　Pharaun　said　after　a　moment。　〃But　it's　still　bad。　I'm　still　bleeding。　On　the　inside；　too；　I　think。　Do　you　have　any　more？〃
〃No。〃
〃Pity。　A　wretched　little　goblin　did　this。　I　can't　believe　it。〃
〃Can　you　walk？〃　asked　Ryld。
Pharaun　would　have　to　move　or　be　moved；　somehow。　He　couldn't　just　lie　in　the　street；　not　in　the　Braeryn；　not　on　a　night　when　the　hunt　was　out。　It　was　far　too　dangerous。
〃Possibly。〃　The　mage　strained　to　lift　himself　up　with　his　hands；　then　slumped　back　down。　〃But　apparently　not。〃
〃I'll　carry　you；〃　said　Ryld。
He　gathered　the　mage　in　his　arms；　and　bidding　Pharaun　do　the　same；　called　upon　the　magic　of　his　House　insignia。　They　floated　slowly　upward；　and　swung　onto　a　rooftop。
The　view　from　that　vantage　point　was　far　from　encouraging。　Screaming　undercreatures　ran　through　the　streets　and　alleys　of　the　Braeryn　with　whooping　riders　in　pursuit。　The　dark　elves　killed　the　goblins　with　the　thrust　of　a　lance；　the　slash　of　a　sword；　or　simply　by　trampling　them　under　the　clawed　feet　of　their　lizards。　They　tended　to　find　intimate　mayhem　more　amusing。　Some；　however；　had　no　qualms　about　loosing　a　quarrel　or　conjuring　a　blast　of　magic。
Still　other　drow　wheeled　above　the　scene　on　foulwings；　wyverns；　and　other　winged　mounts。　Ryld　saw　danger　on　every　side。
He　hauled　Pharaun　up　against　a　sort　of　gable　in　the　hope　that　it　would　provide　cover　against　the　scrutiny　of　the　flyers。
〃It's　bad；〃　the　swordsman　said。　〃A　lot　of　drow　are　hunting。　There's　no　clear　path　out　of　the　district。〃
The　wizard　didn't　reply。
〃Pharaun〃
〃Yes；〃　sighed　his　friend；　〃I'm　still　conscious。　Barely。〃
〃We'll　hide　here　until　the　hunt　ends。　I'll　cover　us　with　a　patch　of　darkness。〃
〃That　might　w—〃
Pharaun　gasped　and　thrashed。　Ryld　held　on　to　him　for　fear　that　he'd　roll　off　the　roof。
When　the　seizure　ended；　the　Mizzrym's　face　seemed　gaunt　and　drawn　in　a　way　it　hadn't　been　before。　More　blood　seeped　from　his　wounded　stomach。
〃This　isn't　going　to　work；〃　said　Ryld；　〃not　by　itself。　Unless　you　have　some　more　healing；　you're　going　to　die。〃
〃That　would　be　。。。　a　profound　tragedy　。　。　。　but　。　。　。〃
〃We　have　plenty　of　dark　elves　in　the　Braeryn　tonight。　One　of　them　surely　brought　some　restorative　magic　along。　I'll　just　have　to　take　it　from　him；　or　her。　Here's　that　darkness。〃
Ryld　touched　the　roof　and　conjured　a　shadow　that　covered　the　Master　of　Sorcere　and　not　much　else。　With　luck；　the　effect　was　localized　enough　that　no　one　would　notice　the　obscuration　itself。
The　weapons　master　rose　and　raced　away。　Whenever　possible；　he　ran　along　the　rooftops；　bounding　from　one　to　the　next。　Often　enough；　however；　the　houses　were　far　enough　apart　that　he　had　to　jump　down　to　the　ground　and　skulk　his　way　through　the　slaughter。
It　was　at　such　a　time　that　he　saw　another　hunting　party。　Unfortunately；　the　group　was　too　large　to　tackle。　He　had　to　hide　from　it　instead。　Crouched　low；　he　watched　a　mage　on　lizardback　lob　a　yellow　spark　through　the　window　of　one　of　the　houses。　Booming；　yellow　flame　exploded　through　the　room　beyond。　A　moment　after　it　died；　the　screaming　began。　Ryld　winced。　As　a　child　of　six；　he'd　survived　precisely　such　a　massacre；　and；　severely　blistered；　lain　trapped　for　hours　beneath　a　weight　of　charred；　stinking　bodies；　the　luckier　ones　dead；　the　live　ones　whimpering　and　twitching　in　their　helpless　agony。
But　it　wasn't　him　burned　nor　buried　tonight；　and　he　spat　the　unpleasant　memory　away。　He　glanced　about；　checking　to　see　if　anyone　was　looking　at　him；　then　broke　from　cover　and　floated　upward。
He　dashed　on　along　a　steeply　sloping　roof　engraved　with　web　patterns　and　defaced；　he　noticed；　with　another　slave　race　emblem。　He　sensed　something　above　and　behind　him；　and　pivoted。　His　boots　slipped；　and　he　levitated　for　an　instant　while　he　found　his　footing　amid　the　carvings。
He　looked　up　and　spied　a　huge　black　horse　galloping　through　the　air　as　easily　as　the　mon　equines　of　the　World　Above　could　run　across　a　field。　Fire　crackled　around　its　hooves　and　pulsed　from　its　nostrils。　The　dark　elf　male　on　its　back　held　a　scimitar；　but　wasn't　making　any　extraordinary　effort　to　lift　it　into　position　for　a　cut。　Apparently　he　was　counting　on　his　demonic　steed　to　make　the　kill；　and　why　not？　What　goblinoid　could　withstand　a　nightmare？
Ryld　froze　as　if　he　were　such　a　hapless　undercreature　paralyzed　with　fear。　Meanwhile；　he　timed　the　speed　of　the　nightmare's　approach。　At　the　last　possible　moment；　hoping　to　take　the　phantom　horse　and　its　master　by　surprise；　he　whipped　Splitter　out　of　its　scabbard　and　cut。
And　missed。　Somehow　the　demon　arrested　its　charge；　and　the　blade　fell　short。
Its　fiery　hooves　churning　eighteen　inches　above　the　rooftop；　the　nightmare　snorted。　Thick；　hot；　sulfurous　smoke　streamed　from　its　nostrils；　enveloping　Ryld；　stinging　and　half　blinding　him。　He　heard　more　than　saw　the　black　creature　lunging；　striking　with　its　reptilian　fangs；　and　he　retreated　a　step。　The　move　saved　him；　but　when　he　counterattacked；　the　nightmare　too　had　taken　itself　out　of　range。
Through　the　stinking　vapor；　he　glimpsed　the　infernal　horse　circling。　It　sprang　at　him　again；　this　time　rearing　to　batter　him　with　its　front　hooves。　He　crouched　and　lifted　Splitter。　The　point　took　the　steed　in　the　chest；　and　for　a　moment；　he　thought　he'd　disposed　of　it；　but；　its　legs　working　frantically；　it　flew　upward；　lifting　itself　off　the　blade　before　it　could　penetrate　too　deeply。
The　next　few　seconds　were　difficult。　Ryld　could　barely　make　out　his　foes；　while　the　nightmare　could　apparently　see　through　its　own　smoke　perfectly　well。　He　stood　and　turned　precariously　on　the　crest　of　the　roof；　in　constant　danger　of　losing　his　balance；　whereas　the　flying　horse　could　maneuver　wherever　it　pleased。　Just　to　make　life　even　more　interesting；　the　rider　started　swinging　his　curved　sword。　Fortunately；　like　most　denizens　of　the　Underdark；　he　had　little　notion　of　how　to　fight　on　horseback；　but　his　clumsy　strokes　still　posed　a　danger。
Ryld　wanted　to　end　the　confrontation　quickly；　before　someone　discovered　Pharaun's　hiding　place。　Unfortunately；　in　light　of　all　his　disadvantages；　the　weapons　master　thought　the　only　way　of　doing　that　was　to　take　a　risk。　The　next　time　the　demon　reared；　he　let　one　of　the　blazing　hooves　slam　him　in　the　chest。
His　dwarven　breastplate　rang　but　held。　The　blow　hurt　cruelly　but　didn't　break　any　ribs　or　otherwise　incapacitate　him。　He　fell　backward；　banged　down　on　the　east　pitch　of　the　roof；　and　started　to　tumble。　Kicking　and　scrabbling；　negating　his　weight；　he　managed　to　catch　himself　and　twist　around　into　a　low　fighting　stance。
The　nightmare　was　rushing　in　to　finish　him　off。　He　swung　Splitter；　and　this　time　the　demon　was　too　mitted　to　the　attack　to　halt　its　forward　momentum。　The　greatsword　slashed　through　its　neck；　nearl