蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第59部分

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Ryld　wheeled　and　oriented　on　the　conspirators。　The　rogues　shot　a　flight　of　whistling　quarrels；　and　the　Freth　warriors　responded　in　kind。　The　renegades　had　the　advantage　of　their　elevated　platform；　and　the　soldiers；　of　numerical　superiority；　but　neither　volley　dropped　more　than　a　smattering　of　its　targets。　The　batants　were　too　well　armored；　by　metal；　magic；　or　both。
Eager　to　see　if　swords　would　serve　where　the　darts　had　failed；　the　Freth　soldiers　howled　a　battle　cry　and　charged。　Most　of　them；　anyway。　In　his　deep；　booming　voice；　Welverin　ordered　some　of　the　troops　back　outside　to　find　their　way　around　to　the　entrances　the　traitors　had　used　and　attack　them　from　the　rear。　Not　a　bad　idea；　but　Pharaun　thought　the　warriors　had　a　good　chance　of　getting　lost　instead
Whirling　loose　lengths　of　chain；　eight　kytons；　each　a　match　for　a　dozen　ordinary　fighters；　leaped　down　off　the　stage　to　meet　the　oning　foe。　The　rogues　remained　on　the　platform　with　Syrzan；　where　they　started　reloading　their　crossbows　with　the　obvious　intention　of　shooting　down　into　the　melee。
Pharaun　decided　he　wouldn't　allow　that。　He　levitated　above　his　rades；　thus　obtaining　a　clear　shot　at　the　dais。
He　felt　a　twinge　in　the　center　of　his　forehead；　but　only　for　a　second。　As　he'd　expected；　Syrzan　had　attacked　first　with　a　psionic　thrust；　not　realizing　its　foe　had　warded　himself　against　such　effects　with　apposite　talismans　and　spells。
This　time；　the　Mizzrym　thought；　you'll　have　to　fight　me　charm　to　charm　and　spell　to　spell。
To　his　surprise；　he　received　an　answer；　a　telepathic　voice　grating　and　buzzing　inside　his　mind。
So　be　it；　mammal；　the　alhoon　said。　Either　way；　I'll　have　revenge　on　the　wretch　who　condemned　me　to　exile　yet　again。
Even　as　he　attended　to　Syrzan's　threat；　Pharaun　was　murmuring　an　incantation　and　manipulating　a　little　steel　tube。　A　bright　pellet　of　flame　hurtled　from　the　open　end；　expanding　into　a　skullsized　orb　as　it　flew。　It　smashed　into　one　of　the　renegades　on　the　dais；　rebounded；　and　struck　another。　It　bounced　and　slashed　back　and　forth　across　the　platform；　sowing　a　zigzag　trail　of　sparks　and　afterimage　in　its　wake；　striking　everyone。　Before　it　winked　out　of　existence；　it　killed　a　good　many　of　the　rogues　or　turned　them　into　reeling；　flailing　living　torches；　whom　their　own　allies　had　to　slay　lest　they　ignite　them　as　well。　Syrzan；　however；　was　unaffected。
Below　his　feet；　Pharaun　glimpsed　the　clash　of　stabbing；　cutting　blades　and　spinning　chains。　As　they　flailed　at　their　adversaries；　the　kytons；　who　resembled　oozing；　festering　corpses　within　their　coiled　armor　of　chains；　altered　their　features。　The　devils　had　the　capacity　to　take　on　the　appearance　of　a　deceased　intimate　from　an　enemy's　past。　Supposedly　svirfneblin　and　their　ilk　found　this　deeply　distressing；　but　it　was　only　slightly　disfiting　to　representatives　of　a　race　that　did　not　love。
Ryld　was　at　the　forefront　of　the　fighting；　sweeping　Splitter　about　with　all　his　accustomed　strength　and　skill。　Pharaun　was　glad　to　see　that　his　friend　was　only　striking　at　the　demons。
Mouth　tentacles　writhing；　bulbous　eyes　glaring；　Syrzan　lifted　its　threefingered　hands　to　conjure。　Around　it；　many　of　the　rogues　who　still　survived　jumped　off　the　dais。　Evidently　they'd　rather　fight　the　Freth　warriors　on　the　floor　than　stand　near　the　alhoon　while　Pharaun　threw　spells　at　it。
The　Master　of　Sorcere　was　surprised　that　so　few　of　the　traitors　simply　tried　to　run　away。　Certainly　loyalty—that　alien　conceit—didn't　hold　them　there。　They　must　have　known　that　with　their　schemes　thwarted；　their　conspiracy　revealed；　they　were　outlaws；　outcast　from　all　they　coveted　and　cherished。　Perhaps　their　plight　filled　them　with　such　rage　that　they　prized　vengeance　above　survival。
As　Syrzan　wove　magic；　its　dark　elf　counterpart　was　hastily　doing　the　same。　The　lich　finished　first。　A　blaze　of　lightning；　kin　to　those　still　twisting　and　forking　through　the　open　air　outside；　leaped　from　its　parched；　scaling　hand；　crackled　entirely　through　Pharaun's　torso；　and　burned　a　black　spot　on　the　ceiling。
Pharaun's　muscles　clenched；　and　his　hair　lifted　away　from　his　head；　but　his　protections　averted　any　real　harm。　Indeed；　the　attack　didn't　even　disrupt　his　own　conjuring。　On　the　final　word；　he　thrust　out　his　hand；　releasing　a　wave　of　cold；　fluttering　shadows　like　ghostly　bats。
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Screeching　and　chattering；　the　phantoms　swooped　and　whirled　about　the　alhoon；　slashing　at　it　with　their　claws。　The　mind　flayer　growled　a　word　in　some　infernal　tongue；　and　a　jagged　crack　snaked　up　one　of　the　walls。　Pharaun's　illusory　minions　vanished。
The　Mizzrym　extracted　five　glass　marbles　from　one　of　his　pockets；　rolled　them　dexterously　in　his　palm；　and　rattled　off　a　brief　tercet。　A　quintet　of　luminous　spheres　appeared　in　the　air　and　shot　toward　Syrzan；　attacking　it　with　fire；　sound；　cold；　acid；　and　lightning　simultaneously。　Surely　at　least　one　of　those　forces　would　pierce　its　defenses。
Syrzan　gave　a　rasping；　clacking　shriek　and　swept　its　hand　through　the　air。　In　an　instant；　the　orbs　reversed　their　courses；　streaking　back　at　their　source　as　fast　as　they'd　sped　away。
Caught　by　surprise；　Pharaun　nonetheless　attempted　to　dodge　in　the　only　manner　possible。　He　restored　his　weight　and　dropped　toward　the　floor　like　a　stone。　Two　of　the　radiant　projectiles　streaked　past　him　to　explode　against　the　ceiling。　Two　more　simply　vanished　when　they　came　into　contact　with　his　piwafwi。　The　fifth　ghosted　into　his　chest。
The　loudest　scream　he'd　ever　heard　shook　his　bones；　jabbed　agony　through　his　ears；　and　smashed　his　thoughts　to　pieces。　Stunned；　he　kept　plummeting　until　he　smashed　down　in　the　midst　of　the　melee。
For　a　moment　he　simply　lay　amidst　scores　of　shifting；　stamping　feet；　then　his　mind　focused；　and　he　realized　he　needed　to　get　off　the　floor　before　somebody　trampled　him。　He　started　to　scramble　up；　and　a　swinging　length　of　chain　struck　him　on　the　temple。
It　was　just　a　glancing　blow；　but　it　knocked　him　back　down。　A　kyton　loomed　over　him；　whirling　its　flexible　weapons　around　for　another　attack。　The　spirit　had　Sabal's　face。
Pharaun　pointed　his　finger　and　rattled　off　a　spell；　realizing　partway　through　that　he　couldn't　hear　himself—or　anything　else。　Seconds　before；　the　battle　had　been　a　hammering　cacophony；　but　it　had　fallen　silent。
Luckily　he　didn't　need　to　hear　his　voice　to　recite　a　spell。　Power　blazed　from　his　fingertip　into　the　devil's　body。　In　a　heartbeat；　the　kyton's　flesh　shriveled　within　its　wrapping　of　chain。　The　links　sliding　and　flopping　around　it；　the　fiend　collapsed。
A　hand　gripped　Pharaun's　shoulder　and　hauled　him　up。　He　turned　and　saw　Welverin。　The　officer's　mouth　moved；　but　the　wizard　had　no　idea　what　he　was　saying。　He　shook　his　head　and　pointed　to　his　ears；　which；　though　useless；　were　far　from　numb。　They　throbbed　and　bled。　His　insides　hurt　as　well；　and　the　pain　made　him　want　to　destroy　Syrzan　all　the　more。
Pharaun　levitated；　only　to　find　himself　mere　feet　from　something　the　illithilich　must　have　conjured　while　its　fellow　age　was　floundering　about　below。　It　was　a　huge；　phosphorescent；　disembodied　illithid　head；　with　mouth　tentacles　longer　than　the　drow　was　tall。　The　members　writhing；　the　squidlike　construct　flew　forward。　Up　close；　it　smelled　fishy。
Pharaun　snatched　a　white　leather　glove　and　a　chip　of　clear　crystal　from　his　cloak　and　menced　a　spell。　A　tapered　tentacle　tip　whipped　around　his　forearm；　tugged；　and　nearly　spoiled　the　final　manipulation；　but　he　pulled　free　and　pleted　the　pass　successfully。
An　immense　hand　made　of　ice　appeared　beside　the　mind　flayer's　head。　It　wrapped　its　fingers　around　it；　dug　its　talons　in；　and　held　the　thing　immobile。
The　only　problem　was　that　the　phantom　illithid　head　was　still　blocking　Pharaun's　view。　He　simultaneously　wove　a　spell　and　bobbed　lower　until　he　saw　Syrzan。
On　the　final　word　of　the　incantation；　white　fire　erupted　from　the　alhoon's　desiccated　flesh　。　。　。　fire　that　died　a　second　later。　The　magic　should　have　transformed　the　undead　wizard　into　an　inanimate　corpse；　but　the　only　effect　had　been　to　singe　its　shabby　robe　a　little。　Pharaun　reflected　that　despite　several　attempts；　he　had　yet　to　injure　or　even　jostle　his　adversary。　If　the　dark　elf　hadn't　known　better；　he　might　have　wondered　if　Syrzan　was　not　in　fact　the　better　arcanist。
Much　as　the　Mizzrym　disliked　handtohand　bat；　perhaps　a　change　of　tactics　was　in　order。　He　snatched　a　delicate　little　bone；　dissected　from　a　petty　demon　he'd　killed　in　a　classroom　demonstration；　and　started　to　conjure。
Syrzan　swung　its　arm　and　hurled　a　dozen　flaming　arrows。　They　missed；　bumped　off　course　by　their　target's　protective　enchantments。　Pharaun　pleted　his　incantation　and　so　inflicted　a　hundred　stabbing　pains　upon　himself。
His　body　grew　as　large　as　an　ogre's；　and　his　hide　thickened　into　scaly　armor。　His　teeth　lengthened　into　tusks；　and　his　nails　into　talons；　while　long；　curved　horns　erupted　from　his　brow。　A　hairless　tail　sprouted　from　the　base　of　his　spine；　and　a　whip　appeared　in　his　hand。
The　transformation　only　took　a　moment；　and　the　disfort　was　gone。　With　a　beat　of　his　leathery　new　wings；　Pharaun　hurled　himself　at　his　foe。
The　wizard　raised　his　monstrous　arms　high　and　bellowed　an　incantation。　Pharaun　felt　a　surge　of　churning　vertigo。　The　scene　before　him　seemed　to　spin　and　twist；　and　despite　himself；　he　veered　off　course。　He　smashed　down　on　the　dais；　and　time　skipped。　When　he　came　to　his　senses；　he'd　reverted　to　his　natural　form　and　felt　as　weak　and　sick　as　Smylla　Nathos。
The　lich　was　staring　down　at　him。
〃What　an　idiot　you　were　to　return；〃　Syrzan　said。　〃You　knew　you　were　no　match　for　me。〃
Pharaun　realized　he　could　hear　again；　albeit　through　a　jangling　in　his　ears。　He　wouldn't　die　deaf；　for　whatever　that　was　worth。
〃Stop　preening；〃　said　the　Master　of　Sorcere。　〃You　look　ridiculous。　This　isn't　your　pathetic　dream　world。　This　is　reality；　where　I'm　a　prince　of　a　great　city　and　you're　just　a　sort　of　mollusk；　and　a　dead；　putrid　one　at　that。〃
As　he　taunted　the　creature；　he　groped　for　the　strength　to　cast　a　final　spell。　No　doubt　the　attack　would　fail　like　all　the　others。
So　why；　he　thought；　bother　to　attack？　Try　something　else　instead。　Shaking　with　effort；　he　cast　a　spell　off　the　side　of　the　platform。　Blue　scintilla　of　power　glittered　briefly　in　the　air。
〃You　call　me　pathetic？〃　Syrzan　sneered。　〃What　was　that　supposed　to　be？〃
If　you　were　wearing　the　ring　you　stole；　Pharaun　thought；　you'd　know；　but　I　doubt　it　would　fit　on　your　bloated　fingers。
The　alhoon　hoisted　him　off　the　ground；　then　wrapped　dry；　flaking　tentacles　around　his　head。
You　re　still　going　to　serve　me；　Syrzan　said　directly　into　the　mage's　mind；　holding　up　one　gnarled　finger　to　reveal　the　silver　ring。　When　I　devour　your　brain；　I'll　learn　all　your　secrets。
〃Perhaps　the　infusion　would　even　cure　your　stupidity；〃　Pharaun　wheezed；　〃but　I　fear　we'll　never　know。　Look　around。〃
The　lich　turned；　and　he　felt　it　jerk　with　surprise。
The　lens　of　illusion　he'd　formed　in　front　of　the　dais　made　Syrzan　look　exactly　like　a　certain　witty　Master　of　Sorcere；　and　Pharaun　himself　resemble　yet　another　humble　ore。　Once　the　Mizzrym　created　it；　he'd　willed　the　hand　of　ice　to　release　the　illithid's　head；　and　there　came　the　construct；　swooping　straight　at　its　originator。
Syrzan　threw　Pharaun　down　and　faced　its　creation。　No　doubt　if　left　unmolested；　it　could　have　averte