蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第38部分

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ad　a　shake。　Pharaun　yanked　his　new　dirk　out　of　his　belt　and　flung　himself　at　the　guard。　The　wizard　rammed　his　point　up　under　the　ugly　male's　chin　before　the　latter　had　quite　recovered　his　wits。
Pharaun　turned。　Feinting　low　and　striking　high；　Ryld　whipped　his　broadsword　through　his　opponent's　neck。　The　renegade　fell；　his　severed　head　tumbling　away。　For　a　moment；　Pharaun　felt　a　touch　of　relief；　then　he　noticed　his　friend's　grimace　and　the　blood　on　his　thigh；　and　heard　the　calls　of　other　pursuers　drawing　near。
〃It　sounds　as　if　all　the　rogues　are　hunting　us；〃　the　wizard　said。　〃What　a　gracious　pliment。〃
〃They　heard　the　fight；〃　Ryld　replied。　〃They　have　some　idea　where　we　are；　and　thanks　to　you；　this　passage　has　bee　a　culdesac。　We　have　to　move—now。〃
〃Perhaps　you　would　have　preferred　me　to　let　the　rest　of　our　attackers　swarm　all　over　us。〃
〃Just　move。〃
They　did；　with　the　prisoners　in　the　web　shouting　imprecations　after　them。　Pharaun　soon　discerned　that　Ryld　was　making　an　effort　not　to　limp　nor　show　any　sort　of　distress　but　couldn't　mask　his　pain　pletely。
The　wizard　considered　leaving　patches　of　darkness　behind　to　hinder　pursuit；　but　had　he　done　so；　he　would　have　been　marking　his　trail。　He　could　only　think　of　one　trick　he　could　use　to　evade　the　renegades；　and　hoped　it　wouldn't　be　necessary。
Twice；　the　masters　sensed　a　band　of　rogues　was　near　and　hid　in　a　room　until　they　passed。　Finally　they　found　a　staircase　leading　downward。　Pharaun　hoped　their　descent　to　the　lower　level　would　throw　off　the　pursuit　but　soon　realized　it　hadn't。　Perhaps　it　was　because　the　fugitives　were　leaving　a　trail　of　blood。　Pharaun's　little　cut　had　stopped　bleeding；　but　Ryld's　gashed　leg　had　not。
Despite　himself；　the　burly　swordsman　began　taking　uneven　strides；　one　shorter　than　the　other。　Pharaun　heard　a　murmur　of　voices　ing　from　behind　and　out　of　a　side　passage　as　well。
He　said；　〃Stay　where　you　are。　I　have　an　idea。〃
Ryld　shrugged。
The　wizard　advanced　a　few　paces　down　the　corridor。　He　lifted　his　wisp　of　cobweb　and　chanted。　Power　groaned　through　the　air；　and　crisscrossing　cables　sealed　the　corridor。　The　rogues　he'd　heard　were　on　the　other　side。　So　was　Ryld。
The　swordsman　looked　at　his　friend　through　the　interstices　and　said；　〃I　don't　understand。〃
〃And　you　a　master　tactician。　Truly；　I　regret　this；　but　I　could　either　stick　with　you　and　let　your　injuries　retard　my　progress　or　else　leave　you　behind　as　a　rear　guard　to　slow　my　pursuers。　Considering　how　vulnerable　I　currently　am；　the　choice　was　reasonably　obvious。〃
〃Damn　you　How　many　times　have　I　saved　your　life？〃
〃I've　lost　count。　At　any　rate；　this　will　make　one　more；　in　the　course　of　which　you'll　finally　be　rid　of　your　melancholy。　Goodbye；　old　friend。〃
Pharaun　turned　and　strode　away。
He　heard　a　crossbow　clack；　and　flung　himself　to　the　side。　The　quarrel　flew　past　him。　Ryld　had　needed　mendable　accuracy　to　avoid　snagging　the　missile　in　the　adhesive　mesh。
Pharaun　glanced　back　and　said；　〃Nice　shot；　but　you　might　want　to　save　your　quarrels　for　the　renegades。〃
He　skulked　on；　and　quickened　his　pace　when　someone　shouted　behind　him；　and　metal　clashed　on　metal。
Ryld　quickly　learned　that　one　of　the　rogues　was　a　wizard；　and　a　deft　one　at　that。　He　had　no　difficulty　lobbing　spells　through　the　line　his　rades　had　formed　across　the　hall；　leaving　them　unscathed　but　battering　the　weapons　master　with　one　attack　after　another。
So　far　the　flares　of　power　had　seared　and　chilled　the　Master　of　MeleeMagthere　but　done　no　serious　harm。　He　doubted　that　would　last。　He　needed　to　put　a　stop　to　the　magic　before　the　mage　slipped　an　attack　through　his　natural　resistance；　and　that　meant　breaking　through　the　line
He　faked　a　sidestep　to　the　left；　then　dodged　right。　His　wounded　leg　throbbed；　and　a　soreness；　the　residue　of　Syrzan's　attack；　twisted　through　his　mind。　The　pain　slowed　him　just　enough　to　render　the　deception　ineffective。　Urlryn；　the　longarmed；　gaptoothed　renegade　on　the　right；　another　of　Ryld's　former　students　and　a　good　one；　met　him　with　a　wicked　thrust　to　the　belly。
As　every　warrior　knows；　you　can't　retreat　at　the　same　instant　you're　advancing。　Ryld　had　no　choice　but　to　defend　with　the　blade。　He　swept　his　broadsword　across　his　body　in　a　lateral　parry。　Urlryn　tried　to　dip　his　point　beneath　the　block；　but　moved　just　a　hair　too　slowly。　Ryld　smashed　his　adversary's　blade　aside；　loosening　his　grip　in　the　bargain。
The　weapons　master　started　to　riposte　with　a　chest　cut；　then　sensed　movement　on　his　flank。　He　pivoted。　Hoping　to　take　him　unawares；　the　rogue　next　to　Urlryn　was　swinging　an　axe　at　his　knee。　It　was　how　warriors　fought　in　a　line。　You　killed　the　male　who　was　focused　on　your　neighbor。
Ryld　leaped　over　the　attack。　When　he　landed；　his　leg　screamed　with　pain　and　threatened　to　buckle　beneath　him。　Shouting；　he　made　it　hold　and　cut　at　the　axeman's　belly。　The　broadsword　crunched　through　mail；　and　the　rogue　toppled。
Ryld's　blade　was　still　buried　in　the　axeman's　guts　when　Urlryn　and　the　other　surviving　warrior　rushed　him。　The　master　floundered　backward；　dragging　the　broadsword　free。　Swords　flashed　at　him；　and　somehow；　even　offbalance；　he　dodged　them；　but　in　so　doing；　fell　on　his　rump。
The　rogues　scrambled　forward　to　finish　him。　He　surprised　the　other　stranger　with　a　boneshattering　kick　to　the　ankle；　knocking　him　reeling　backward；　then　reared　up　on　one　knee；　his　sword　raised　in　a　high　guard　for　what　he　knew　was　ing。
Urlryn's　blade　crashed　down　on　his　own；　and　he　felt　the　jolt　all　the　way　to　his　shoulder。　With　both　feet　planted　beneath　him；　the　renegade　could　bring　all　his　strength　to　bear。　Ryld　couldn't。
But　he　was　bigger　and　more　powerful　than　his　adversary　and　was　nicely　positioned　to　hamstring　other　drow。　Teeth　gritted；　he　maintained　his　defense　until　his　enemy　faltered；　then　whipped　the　broadsword　behind　the　rogue's　leg　for　a　drawing　cut。
Urlryn　let　out　a　shrill　cry　and　staggered　sideways。　Ryld　heaved　himself　up　and　turned　toward　the　wizard；　only　to　discover　he　could　no　longer　see　him。　Deprived　of　his　wall　of　warriors；　the　spellcaster　had　conjured　another　defender；　a　vaguely　bearish　thing　with　folded　bat　wings　and　luminous　crimson　eyes；　so　huge　it　nearly　filled　the　corridor。
Ryld　had　watched　Pharaun　exercise　the　famous　Mizzrym　talent　for　illusion　on　numerous　occasions；　and　his　experiences　stood　him　in　good　stead。　He　sensed；　though　he　couldn't　say　how；　that　the　demon　bear　was　just　a　phantasm。　He　limped　forward；　flicked　the　broadsword　at　it；　and　it　popped　like　a　fungus　discharging　a　cloud　of　spores。　It　was　strange　to　think　that；　had　he　believed　in　it；　it　could　have　torn　him　to　shreds。
The　rogue　mage　turned　tail。　Ryld　didn't　want　the　bastard　to　reappear　and　try　to　kill　him　again　later；　so　he　gave　chase。　His　head　and　wounded　leg　seemed　to　scream　in　unison；　and　he　had　to　stop。　The　sorcerer　scuttled　round　a　corner　and　disappeared。　
As　Ryld　waited　for　the　pain　to　subside；　he　realized　he　couldn't　survive　many　more　fights　in　his　present　condition。　He　either　had　to　escape　his　foes　posthaste　or　shed　his　disabilities。
Sadly；　he　had　just　about　e　to　the　conclusion　that　he　was　fated　to　wander　through　the　castle；　ducking　his　enemies　the　while；　until　pure　luck　led　him　to　an　exit。　That　could　take　hours。
He　had　reason　to　hope　he　wouldn't　need　nearly　as　long　to　revitalize　himself；　but　he'd　leave　himself　vulnerable　during　the　process。　He　wouldn't　be　able　to　sneak　in　the　opposite　direction　whenever　he　detected　a　party　of　hunters。　He'd　have　to　stay　in　one　place。　Still；　it　seemed　the　better　option。
He　skulked　along　the　corridor；　peering　into　doorways。　One　led　to　a　desolate　training　hall。　The　target　mannequins　looked　like　ghosts　in　their　shrouds　of　spiderweb。
Near　the　righthand　wall　were　tiers　of　seats；　from　which　spectators　could　watch　the　warriors　train。　If　Ryld　crouched　down　behind　the　structure；　no　one　would　see　him　without　making　a　careful　search　of　the　entire　room。
Besides；　the　master　thought；　going　to　ground　in　a　salle　might　bring　him　luck。　The　dark　powers　knew；　he　needed　it。
He　limped　behind　the　sculpted　seats　and　sat　down　on　the　floor　with　his　legs　crossed。　He　rested　his　hands　on　his　thighs；　closed　his　eyes；　and　menced　a　breathing　exercise。
Spellcasters　smugly　imagined　they　were　the　only　folk　who　truly　knew　how　to　meditate。　They　were　mistaken。　The　brothers　of　MeleeMagthere　had　mastered　the　practice　as　well。　It　helped　them　reach　the　highest　level　of　martial　proficiency。
Spellcasters。　The　thought　reminded　him　of　Pharaun。　It　brought　the　shock　and　anger　flooding　back。
But　at　the　moment；　those　feelings　were　an　impediment。　He　had　to　relax　and　empty　his　mind。
He　could　heal　the　wound　Syrzan　had　left　inside　his　head。　He　could　stop　his　leg　bleeding。　He　could　banish　pain　and　fatigue　and　tap　his　body's　deepest　reservoirs　of　strength。
If　only　the　enemy　gave　him　time。
Pharaun　groped　his　way　onward　for　just　a　few　more　minutes；　then　found　another　staircase；　this　one　a　narrow　spiral　leading　downward。　It　was　almost　as　if　the　mysteriously　silent　Lolth　had　returned　long　enough　to　reward　him　for　his　treachery。
If　so；　he　soon　had　cause　to　recall　that　she　was　a　fickle　and　treacherous　entity　herself。　He　reached　the　bottom　of　the　steps；　headed　down　a　hallway　with　a　high；　arched　ceiling；　and　heard　another　band　of　hunters。　It　sounded　as　if　they　were　just　about　to　round　the　corner　dead　ahead。　Pharaun　looked　around　at　the　blank　walls。　The　corridor　lacked　any　doorways　into　which　a　fugitive　might　duck。
The　wizard　could　run；　but　he　didn't　want　to　retreat　back　the　way　he'd　e。　He　could　evoke　a　curtain　of　darkness；　but　that　would　alert　the　rogues　that　someone　was　hiding　behind　it。　He　could　throw　darts　of　force；　but　it　would　exhaust　his　offensive　magic。　He　decided　to　take　a　chance。
Concentrating　on　the　stolen　House　insignia；　he　shed　his　weight　and　floated　upward　to　stretch　out　horizontally；　his　spine　pressed　against　the　crest　of　the　rounded　ceiling。
The　hunters　passed　below　him；　oblivious　to　his　presence。　He　stared　down；　looking　for　a　fellow　mage。　If　there　was　a　chance　he　could　obtain　new　spell　foci；　he　might　attack　and　the　odds　be　damned；　but　the　males　were　all　warriors。
Once　they'd　gone　by；　he　drifted　back　down　to　the　ground　and　skulked　onward。　He　got　turned　around　once　more；　then　unexpectedly　found　himself　before　a　small　service　entrance　to　a　stable　much　like　the　one　in　his　family's　castle。　Moldy　stone　troughs；　casks；　mounting　blocks；　and　rusty　ironring　hitches　defined　regular　patterns　across　the　floor；　while　musty；　rotting　tack　hung　along　the　walls。　The　aerial　steeds　were　long　gone；　stolen　by　the　conquerors；　evidently；　as　he　didn't　see　any　bones。　Two　rogues　stood　watch；　guarding　the　huge　sliding　doors。
Pharaun　smiled；　threw　his　last　darts　of　light；　and；　without　waiting　to　see　how　much　damage　they　did；　broke　from　cover　and　sprinted　toward　the　sentries。
One　renegade　coughed　blood　and　fell。　The　other　appeared　unaffected。　A　nicelooking　fellow　with　a　single　elegant　tendril　dangling　beside　each　cheek；　he　turned；　spotted　Pharaun；　and　calmly　lifted　his　crossbow。
The　wizard　threw　himself　flat；　and　the　bolt　whizzed　over　his　head。　Still　prone；　he　shot　his　own　crossbow。　The　shaft　plunged　into　the　renegade's　chest。
The　rogue　snarled；　drew　his　scimitar；　and　advanced；　but　only　for　three　steps。　He　stopped；　and　his　arm　fell；　his　sword　clattering　against　the　floor。　An　astonished　look　on　his　face；　he　dropped　to　his　knees。
Rising；　Pharaun　noticed　that　the　dying　male's　garments　were　as　tasteful　as　his　coiffure。
〃Who's　your　tailor？〃　Pharaun　asked；　but　the　renegade　merely　fell　facedown。　〃Ah；　well。〃
The　wizard　strode　on　to　one　of　the　outside　doors；　unbolted　it；　and　shoved　it　open。　Perhaps　the　casters　were　magical；　for　they　worked　as　well　as　ever。　The　panel　rolled　easily　and　quietly　aside。
On　the　other　side　was　a　sheer　drop　to　the　glowing　palaces　a　thousand　feet　below。　Silently　thanking　the　dead　guard's　House；　he　touched　the　stolen　brooch　and　sprang　over　the　edge。
　
C　h　a　p　t　e　r
　
T　　W　　E　　N　　T　　Y
T　　W　　O
Pharaun　could　float　down　a　thousand　feet；　or　he　could　fall；　relying　on　levitation　to　slow　his　descent　at　the　end。　The　latter　course　was　dangerous。　If　he　waited　too　long　to　counteract　the　pull　of　gravity；　he　would　break　bones　or　even　pulp　himself　when　he　landed。
Still；　he　chose　to　plummet；　because　of　what　he　saw　beneath　him。
He'd　lost　track　of　time　inside　the　rogues'　citadel；　but　it　was　plain　that　the　Call　had　gone　forth　around　the　black　death　of　Narbondel；　when　most　dark　elves　had　gone　home　for　the　night。　With　few　drow　about　to　contest　them　for　possession　of　the　streets；　the　undercreatures　had　erupted　from　their　kennels　to　kill；　loot；　and　destroy。　Pharaun　couldn't　make　out　individuals；　but　he　could　see　the　mobs　as　great　surging；　formless　masses　like　the　living　jellies　that　infested　certain　caverns；　and　he　could　certainly　see　the　fires　they　were　setting。　He　could　smell　the　strange；　foul　smoke　of　burning　stone；　and　he　could　hear　the　goblins　shouting。
Perhaps　the　embattled　moners　looked　to　the　noble　Houses　for　succor。　If　so；　they　waited　in　vain。　Sorcerous　power　flashed　white　and　red　from　the　windows　and　baileys　of　the　stalactite　castles　as　the　nobles　struggled　with　their　own　rebellious　slave　soldiers。　For　the　time　being；　at　least；　the　drow　were　pinned　down；　unable　to　brace　the　marauders　outside　their　own　walls。
A　house　was　growing　larger　and　larger　beneath　Pharaun's　boots。　He　made　himself　lighter　than　air　but　still　slammed　down　hard。　The　impact　knocked　the　wind　and　the　sense　out　of　him；　and　when　his　wits　returned；　he　was　bouncing　upward　again。
Restoring　a　portion　of　his　weight；　he　achieved　a　more　graceful　landing；　flattened　himself　against　the　roof；　and　peered　about。　The　goblins　weren't　running　amok　in　his　immediate　vicinity—not　yet—so　he　jumped　down　onto　the　street。　Glad　the　Bazaar　was　just　three　blocks　away；　he　dashed　in　that　direction。
He'd　almost　reached　his　destination　when　a　motley　assortment　of　scaly　little　kobolds；　pigfaced　ores；　and　shaggy；　hulking　bugbears　surged　from　an　alley。　So　far；　the　revolt　was　going　well　for　them。　They'd　manage　to　lay　their　hands　on　spears；　swords；　and　axes；　and　bloody　them；　too。
Pharaun　ran　even　faster。　A　javelin　flew　past　him；　but　the　thralls　didn't　chase　him。　Evidently　they　were　more　interested　in　other　prey。
When　the　wizard　reached　the　marketplace；　he　cursed；　for　the　riot　had　arrived　there　ahead　of　him。　Undercreatures　were　looting　and　burning　the　stalls；　creating　patches　of　dazzling　glare。　Some　of　the　merchants　had　fled。　Others　attempted　to　defend　their　wares；　unsuccessfully　if　they　relied　on　goblin　underlings　for　assistance。
Pharaun　skirted　the　edge　of　the　Bazaar；　witnessing　scenes　of　carnage　as　he　skulked　along。　Laughing；　a　goblin　flogged　his　master's　corpse　with　a　scourge。　A　bugbear　used　her　manacles　to　strangle　a　merchant。　Trapped　in　a　blazing　stone　pen；　riding　lizards　hissed　and　scuttled　back　and　forth　in　fear。
The　first　stall　Pharaun　had　hoped　to　find　intact　was　burning　merrily；　and　the　second　was　crawling　with　gnolls；　growling；　whining；　and　barking　as　they　pawed　through　the　vendor's　goods。　The　Master　of　Sorcere　knew　of　only　one　more　possibility　on　the　perimeter　of　the　Bazaar。　Should　that　one　be　lost　to　him　as　well；　he　would　either　have　to　venture　deeper　into　the　burning；　oreinfested　maze　of　stalls　or　conceive　another　plan。
Warty；　bearded　ogres　overturned　a　twelvewheeled　wagon；　dumping　out　the　dark　elves　who'd　been　making　a　stand　inside。　A　w