蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第13部分

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dea　from　where　the　attack　would　e；　so　she　didn't　know　which　way　to　dodge　to　evade　it。　She　simply　had　to　guess；　jump　somewhere　and　not　let　blindness　and　indecision　delay　her。　She　pivoted；　and　something　struck　her　shoulder。
At　first　it　was　just　a　startling　jolt；　then　pain　burned　at　the　point　of　impact；　and　wet　blood　flowed。　Either　the　darkness　could　harden　its　members　into　claws　or　else　it　had　picked　up　a　blade　from　somewhere　in　the　chamber。
Quenthel　was　glad　her　teachers　had　taught　her　to　suffer　a　wound　without　the　shock　of　it　freezing　her　in　her　tracks；　helpless　to　avert　her　adversary's　followup　attack。　She　kept　moving；　making　herself；　she　hoped；　a　more　difficult　target。
Something　hissed。　The　source　of　the　sound　was　almost　under　her　feet。　Evidently；　dragging　the　whip　handle　behind　them；　her　vipers　had　been　slithering　about　endeavoring　to　locate　her　in　the　dark。　She　stooped；　fumbled　about　their　cool；　sinuous　lengths　for　a　moment；　achieved　the　proper　grip；　and　lifted　the　weapon。
The　serpents　reared；　hissed；　and　peered；　each　in　a　different　direction。　Quenthel　realized　they　could　see　what　she　could　not。　The　darkness　was　preparing　to　attack。
The　priestess　deepened　her　psionic　link　with　her　snakedemon　servants。　She　still　couldn't　see　where　her　adversary's　tentacles　were　poised；　but　she　had　a　sense　of　them。　That　would　have　to　do。
The　darkness　reached　for　her；　and；　turning　and　turning；　she　swung　the　whip　repeatedly。　Her　aim　was　inexact；　but　the　vipers　twisted　in　the　air　to　correct　it。
Toward　the　end；　she　was　breathing　harder；　and　her　actions　were　getting　bigger；　slower；　and　wilder；　as　any　batant's　will　if　she　performs　too　many　without　a　pause。　Then　something　long　and　pointed　plunged　into　the　back　of　her　thigh。
Quenthel　knew　at　once　from　the　flare　of　pain　and　the　gush　of　blood　that　this　puncture　wound　was　worse　than　the　gash　in　her　shoulder。　She　staggered　a　step；　and　her　leg　began　to　fold。　The　whip　vipers　hissed　in　alarm。
She　shouted　to　focus　her　will　and　quell　the　agony；　to　force　the　limb　to　obey。　Throbbing；　it　straightened。
She　spun　and　struck　at　the　tentacle　that　had　stabbed　her；　lashing　it　to　pieces　before　it　could　do　the　same　again。　At　that　same　instant；　her　serpent　familiars　detected　hands　reaching　for　her　neck。　She　spun；　destroyed　those　as　well；　and　at　last　the　shadow　stopped　attacking。
Feeling　the　blood　stream　down　her　leg　to　pool　on　the　floor；　her　mind　racing；　Quenthel　considered　her　situation。　She　must　be　causing　the　demon　pain—if　not　it　would　attack　relentlessly；　never　faltering　until　she　fell—but　that　didn't　necessarily　mean　she　was　well　on　her　way　to　killing　it。　From　what　she　knew　of　such　entities；　it　seemed　entirely　possible　that　she　would　have　to　do　more　harm　to　the　nucleus　at　the　end　of　the　tendrils　to　acplish　that。　Assuming　she　could　reach　or　even　locate　it　amid　the　obfuscating　gloom。
It　might　be　better　not　to　try；　to　take　advantage　of　this　momentary　respite　and　make　a　run　for　it；　but　she　knew　that　if　she　moved　the　demon　would　move　with　her；　which　would　mean　she'd　still　be　scurrying　sightlessly　along。　In　her　suite；　that　wasn't　an　enormous　problem—she　knew　every　inch　of　the　space　by　heart—but　outside；　she　could　easily　take　a　hard；　incapacitating　fall。　If　that　happened　or　if　her　leg　gave　out　before　she　found　help；　her　foe　would　have　little　difficulty　finishing　her　off。
No；　she　would　kill　the　cursed　thing　by　herself；　quickly；　while　she　was　still　on　her　feet。　The　only　question　was；　how？
One　of　the　weapons　in　her　hidden　closet　might　do　the　trick；　but　she　had　no　way　of　reaching　them。　The　demon　would　slay　her　while　she　fumbled　in　the　dark　to　manipulate　the　hidden　lock。　She　would　have　to　make　do　with　the　resources　in　her　hands；　which　meant　using　another　scroll　spell　and　taking　a　gamble　as　well。
The　demon　renewed　the　attack。　Quenthel　struck　and　deflected　a　tentacle　with　sawlike　teeth　on　the　edge。　Next　came　an　arm　terminating　in　a　studded　bulb　like　the　head　of　a　mace。　Poised　to　beat　her　skull　in；　that　one　was　no　use　either。　She　sidestepped　the　blow；　the　vipers　tore　into　the　limb；　and　the　living　darkness　snatched　it　back。
A　simple　tentacle；　with　no　blades　or　bludgeons　sprouting　from　its　end；　snaked　toward　her。　It　seemed　as　if　it　was　going　to　try　to　grab　and　restrain　her　weapon　arm。　She　pretended　she　didn't　notice。
The　strand　of　shadow　dipped　to　the　floor；　hooked　around　Quenthel's　ankle；　and　jerked　her　good　leg　out　from　under　her。　The　change　of　target　caught　her　by　surprise；　and　she　fell　hard　on　her　back；　banging　her　head　and　shooting　pain　through　her　wounded　limbs。
It　took　her　an　instant　to　shake　off　the　shock。　When　she　did；　she　sensed　the　fiend's　other　limbs　poised　to　slash　and　pound。　She　was　almost　out　of　time　to　recite　the　trigger　phrase。
But　not　quite。
She　rattled　off　the　three　words；　and　power　seethed　and　tingled　inside　her　flesh。　She　discharged　it　into　the　living　darkness；　an　easy　task　since　the　demon　was　holding　onto　her。　She　held　her　breath；　waiting　to　see　what　would　happen。
Like　allowing　her　adversary　to　seize　her；　this　too　was　a　part　of　the　gamble。　The　magic　she　had　just　unleashed　would　weaken　a　dark　elf　or　pretty　much　any　other　mortal　being　to　the　point　of　death。　However；　depending　on　its　precise　nature；　the　demon—or　whatever　it　was—might　simply　shrug　it　off。　It　might　even　feed　on　the　blast　of　force　and　grow　stronger　than　before。
The　ploy　worked。　The　fiend　was　susceptible；　at　least　to　some　degree。　She　knew　it　when　the　entity's　limbs　flailed　and　thrashed　in　spasms；　the　one　on　her　ankle　releasing　her　to　twist　and　flop　about。　The　ambient　darkness　blinked　out　of　existence　for　a　second　as　the　creature's　grip　on　its　surroundings　wavered。
One　instant　of　vision　was　all　Quenthel　needed　to　mark　where　her　enemy's　ragged　core　was　floating。　She　scrambled　up；　charged　it；　and　found　that　she　was　hobbling；　every　other　stride　triggering　a　jolt　of　pain。　She　didn't　let　the　disfort　slow　her　down。
The　creature　of　darkness　was　recovering。　Two　tendrils　squirmed　at　Quenthel。　She　ducked　one　and　lashed　the　other；　which　flinched　back。
After　two　more　steps；　she　judged；　hoped；　that　she'd　limped　within　striking　distance　of　the　entity's　formless　heart。　She　swung　the　whip；　and　shouted　in　satisfaction　when　she　felt　the　vipers'　fangs　rip　something　more　resistant　than　empty　air。
She　struck　as　hard　and　as　fast　as　she　could；　grunting　with　every　stroke。　Her　snakes　warned　her　of　tendrils　looping　around　behind　her；　and　she　ignored　the　threat。　If　she　left　off　attacking　the　center　of　the　darkness；　she　might　not　get　another　chance。
The　darkness　obscuring　the　room　started　rapidly　oscillating　between　presence　and　absence。　Quenthel's　motions　looked　oddly　jerky　in　the　disjointed　moments　of　vision。
Tentacles　grabbed　and　dragged　her　backward。　She　shouted　in　rage　and　frustration。　As　if　responding　to　her　cry；　the　arms　dissolved；　dumping　her　back　on　the　floor。
Quenthel　raised　her　head　and　peered　about。　There　was　no　longer　any　impediment　to　sight。　The　murderous　darkness　was　gone。　Her　last　blow　must　have　been　mortal。　It　had　just　taken　the　creature　another　second　or　two　to　succumb。
〃It's　dead〃　hissed　Hsiv。　〃What　now；　Mistress？〃
〃First　。　。　。　I'm　going　to　sit　。。。　and　tend　my　wounds；　then　we're　going　to　look　。　。　。　for　my　sentry；〃　panted　Quenthel；　attenuating　her　rapport　with　the　vipers。　In　too　deep　and　prolonged　a　munion；　shades　of　identity　could　bleed　in　one　direction　or　the　other。　〃If　she's　lucky；　she's　already　dead。〃
She　wished　she　were　as　undaunted　as　she　was　trying　to　sound；　but　it　appeared　that　demonic　assassins　were　going　to　keep　ing　for　her。　She'd　hoped　that　the　appearance　of　the　spider　demon　might　be　an　isolated　incident。　She'd　thought　that　if　any　more　such　fiends　did　appear；　the　renewed　wards　would　keep　them　out。　Plainly；　she'd　been　too　optimistic。
At　least　ArachTinilith　was　the　seat　of　her　power。　There；　she　could　deploy　a　small　army　of　retainers　and　a　hoard　of　magical　devices　in　her　own　defense；　but　those　resources　hadn't　helped　her　against　the　darkness；　and　she　couldn't　help　wondering　how　many　hostile　visitations　a　priestess　in　her　condition　could　hope　to　survive。
　
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Greyanna's　henchmen　came　floating　down　around　her。　Two　were　warriors；　one　a　wizard；　and　the　third　was　another　priestess。　All　wore　the　half　masks　of　true　seeing；　giving　them　the　deceptively　foolish　look　of　actors　in　a　pantomime。
Pharaun　tried　to　levitate；　but　the　net　was　too　heavy。　He　willed　his　animate　rapier　into　existence。　The　steel　ring　vanished　from　his　finger；　and　the　long；　slim　sword　materialized　outside　the　net。　The　blade　started　slicing　at　the　thick　ropes；　but　to　little　effect。　A　rapier　was　a　thrusting　weapon　and　not　suited　to　sawing。　Tensing　his　muscles　against　the　remorseless　pressure　of　the　tightening　web；　he　turned　the　floating　sword　around　to　threaten　his　fellow　representatives　of　House　Mizzrym。
Greyanna　laughed。　〃Is　that　one　little　bodkin　supposed　to　hold　us　all　at　bay？〃
〃Possibly　not；〃　said　Pharaun；　straining　to　work　his　fingers　closer　to　one　of　his　pockets。　〃That's　why　I　instructed　it　to　kill　you　first。〃
〃Did　you；　now？〃
His　sister　motioned　her　warriors　forward。　Twin　brothers　possessed　of　the　same　slightly　yellowish　hair　and　deeply　cleft　chin；　they　carried　pale　bone　longbows　slung　over　their　backs　in　preference　to　the　more　mon　crossbows。
Greyanna　herself　remained　on　her　mount　and　produced　a　scroll　from　within　her　piwafwi。　Thanks　to　his　remaining　ring；　Pharaun　could　see　from　the　plex　corona　of　magical　force　shining　around　the　rolled　parchment　that　it　contained；　among　others；　a　spell　to　disrupt　the　other　fellow's　magic。　Perhaps　she　intended　to　use　it　to　render　the　dancing　rapier　inert　long　enough　for　her　minions　to　break　or　immobilize　it。
The　wretched　ropes　were　digging　into　the　wizard's　flesh　like　knives。　He　would　hardly　have　been　surprised　if　they　drew　blood。　They　were　certainly　cutting　off　his　circulation　and　numbing　his　extremities。　Trembling　with　effort；　he　shifted　his　fingers　another　inch。
〃My　panion　is　Ryld　Argith；〃　he　said；　〃a　Master　of　MeleeMagthere。　He's　never　done　anything　to　you；　and　you　will　place　yourself　in　debt　to　the　warriors　of　the　pyramid　by　killing　him。〃
Entangled　as　he　was；　Pharaun　couldn't　even　turn　his　head　to　look　at　his　friend　anymore；　but　he　could　hear　Ryld　grunting　and　swearing　and　feel　him　shaking　the　net。　The　swordsman　was　plainly　trying　to　free　himself；　but　it　seemed　unlikely　that　even　his　extraordinary　strength　would　be　enough　if　he　was　unable　to　bring　one　of　his　blades　to　bear；　and　apparently　such　was　the　case。
〃I've　kept　tabs　on　you　through　the　years。〃　Greyanna　said。　〃I　know　Master　Argith　is　your　most　valued　rade。　I　don't　need　him　trying　to　liberate　or　avenge　you。　Our　mother　will　handle　MeleeMagthere。〃
On　further　inspection；　Pharaun　observed　that　the　subordinate　priestess　had　readied　a　scroll　as　well。　That　struck　him　as　vaguely　odd；　but　he　supposed　this　was　hardly　the　time　to　ponder　the　possible　significance。
The　warriors　were　approaching　steadily　but　warily；　and　not　merely；　he　suspected；　because　of　the　hovering　rapier。　Greyanna　could　neutralize　the　weapon；　but　they　feared　that　Pharaun　would　work　some　terrible　magic　that　only　required　speech；　not　gestures　or　a　focal　object。　He　was　sorry　to　disappoint　them。　He　did　have　one　or　two　such　spells　in　his　memory　but　none　that　could　annihilate　all　five　of　these　unpleasant　folk　at　a　single　stroke；　and　he　knew　that　once　he　conjured　some　devastating　attack；　they　would　abandon　any　intention　of　taking　him　alive　for　a　demise　by　torture。　They　would　strike　back　as　fast　and　murderously　as　possible；　and　immobilized　in　the　mesh；　he　would　have　little　hope　of　defending　against　their　efforts。
〃Actually；　you　ought　to　think　twice　about　harming　either　of　us；〃　he　said；　hoping　that　further　conversation　would　slow　the　fighters'　advance；　even　if　only　for　a　second。
Greyanna　chuckled。　〃Be　assured；　I've　thought　of　it　a　thousand　thousand　times。〃
〃The　archmage　won't　like　it。〃
〃I'm　acting　on　behalf　of　the　Council。　I　doubt　he'll　deem　it　politic　to　retaliate　。　。　。　any　more　than　MeleeMagthere　will。〃
〃Well；　Gromph　won't　sign　his　name　to　your　cadaver；　but　someday　。。。〃
Pharaun's　fingers　finally　jerked　into　the　pocket　and　closed　around　a　small　but　sturdy　leather　glove。　With　the　net　still　tightening　every　second；　it　was　just　as　hard　to　withdraw　the　article　as　it　had　been　to　reach　it。　He　experimented　to　see　if　he　could　possibly　fumble　it　through　the　proper　mystical　pass。
Such　a　cramped；　tiny　motion　was　neither　easy　nor　natural　for　him。　He　was　accustomed　to　conjure　with　a　certain　flair；　making　sweeping；　dramatic　gestures。　Yet　he　had　on　occasion　practiced　making　the　signs　as　small　as　possible。　It　was　good　for　his　control　and　had　a　few　times　allowed　him　to　cast　a　spell　without　an　adversary　realizing　what　he　was　about。　So　he　had　some　hope　of　properly　manipulating　the　glove。　If　only　the　web　wasn't　so　constrictive　or　his　hand　so　dead　and　awkward。
〃Excuse　me；〃　Greyanna　said；　then　suspended　the　conversation　to　read　from　her　scroll。
It　was　of　course　divine　magic；　not　arcane；　and　Pharaun　didn't　recognize　all　the　words。　The　effect；　however；　was　unmistakable。　The　rapier　jerked　and　fell　to　the　ground　with　a　clank。　The　masked　wizard　stepped　forward　and　scooped　it　up。　Pharaun　was　content　at　least　with　the　fact　that　the　rapier's　peculiar　enchantment　would　make　it　impossible　for　Greyanna's　henchman　to　turn　the　weapon　on　him—at　least　not　for　an　hour　or　so。
Pharaun　recognized　the　mage；　whose　high；　wide　forehead　and　small；　pointed　chin　were　unmistakable。　Pharaun　had　always　thought　they　made　the　other　mage's　head　look　like　an　egg。　He　was　Relonor　Vrinn；　an　able　wizard　and　longtime　Mizzrym　retainer。　He　was　still　wearing　his　silk　sash　with　the　spell　foci　tucked　inside　and　an　eightpointed　gold　brooch　securing　it。
Scimitars　in　hand；　the　warriors　approached　the　net。　Judging　from　their　smiles；　they'd　decided　there　was　nothing　to　fear　and　were　looking　forward　to　beating　the　two　prisoners　unconscious。
Pharaun　was　not　yet　satisfied　with　his　employment　of　the　glove；　but　he　was　rather　clearly　out　of　time。　He　would　just　have　to　try　the　pass　and　see　if　it　worked。　He　shifted　the　focus　one　more　time；　meanwhile　reciting　an　incantation　under　his　breath。
A　giant　hand；　radiant　and　translucent；　appeared　beneath　the　net。　The　instantaneous　addition　of　another　object　lodged　inside　jerked　the　mesh　even　tighter。　Pharaun　knew　the　jolt　was　ing；　but　he　cried　out　anyway。
The　pain　only　intensified　when；　responding　to　the　wizard's　unspoken　mand；　the　hand　hurtled　twentyfive　feet　into　the　air；　carrying　the　net　and　its　prisoners　along。　For　a　moment；　Pharaun　feared　he　would　black　out；　but　the　pressure　eased。　As　he'd　hoped；　and　despite　the　best　sliding；　bunching　efforts　of　the　web　of　ropes；　his　own　weight　was　dragging　him　free。　He　shoved　and　thrashed　to　speed　the　process　along。
When　he　was　able；　he　looked　over　at　Ryld。　The　hulking　warrior　was　wrestling　free　of　the　net　as　well；　though　he　lost　hold　of　Splitter　doing　it。　The　great　sword　fell　point　first；　narrowly　missed　plunging　through　one　of　the　Mizzrym　warriors；　and　stuck　pommel　up　in　the　smooth　stone　surface　of　the　street。
〃We　have　to　fall；〃　said　Ryld。　〃If　we　just　float　here；　they'll　shoot　and　magic　us　to　pieces。〃
〃Let's　go；〃　Pharaun　replied。
The　masters　released　their　holds　and　plummeted。　One　of　the　soldiers　hit　Ryld　with　an　arrow；　but　the　missile　failed　to　penetrate　his　armor。　A　ball　of