war of the spider queen 5 annihilation-第28部分

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　　　The　insect　reared　up；　its　massive　pincers　wide　open；　and　closed　on　him　in　a　lunge。　Gromph　hung　in　the　air　barely　within　its　reach。　The　pincers　came　down　and　came　together　over　his　already　wounded　thigh。
　　　Gromph　felt　himself　tugged　down　by　the　centipede；　then　something　gave　and　he　bobbed　back　up。　Before　taking　stock　of　his　new　wound；　he　levitated　farther　up；　dimly　aware　that　he　was　trailing　something。　He　cast　a　spell　even　as　Nauzhror　and　Prath　shouted　into　his　head。　Something　was　wrong；　but　he　needed　to　finish　the　spell　before　he　could　do　anything　else。　He　had　to　get　rid　of　the　centipede　or　it　would　eat　him　piece　by　piece　while　the　damned　lich　stood　by　safely　watching。
　　　Gromph　looked　down　and　saw　a　spray　of　blood　play　across　the　centipede's　wide；　flat　head；　then　fall　through　it　as　it　faded。　The　spell　took　full　effect；　and　the　centipede　was　gone；　but　the　blood　still　fell　in　a　grisly　rain　onto　the　floor　of　the　Bazaar　far　below。
　　　Gromph　reached　down　to　his　leg　and　felt　something　hard　and　jagged。　He　cut　his　finger　on　a　sharp　edge…the　sharp　edge　of　his　own　thigh　bone。　His　leg　was　gone。　The　centipede　had　bitten　it　off。　Gromph　clenched　his　fists　in　anger　and　looked　down。　He　could　see　his　severed　leg　lying　amid　a　shower　of　blood　that　still　rained　from　his　open　wound。
　　　Sparkles　of　light　off　to　one　side　caught　Gromph's　attention。　Nimor　threw　something；　and　Gromph　instinctively　blocked　his　face；　fearing　a　spell。　Instead；　he　saw　the　hilt　of　the　winged　assassin's　enchanted　rapier　spinning　to　the　ground　far　below。　The　trail　of　sparkling　light　was　what　was　left　of　the　freezing　blade。　Gromph's　spell　had　done　more　than　banish　the　centipede。
　　　Nimor；　to　say　the　least；　was　not　happy。
　　　As　the　assassin　launched　a　string　of　invectives　his　way；　Gromph　flexed　his　muscles　and　found　that　the　stiffening　effect　was　gone。　He　was　in　pain　but　not　as　much　as　he　would　have　imagined。　His　ring　was　already　starting　to　fight　against　the　grievous　wounds　the　archmage　had　suffered。　Gromph　knew　that　he'd　survive；　but　there　was　still　the　matter　of　the　leg。
　　　Nimor　swooped　over　him　then　disappeared　into　the　darkness。　Gromph　couldn't　see　the　lichdrow。　He　dropped　slowly　to　the　floor；　ing　to　rest　in　a　pool　of　his　own　blood。　When　weight　started　to　return　to　him；　he　staggered　and　had　to　reactivate　the　staff's　levitating　power　before　he　fell　in　a　sprawl　into　the　puddle　of　cooling　gore。　He　hadn't　thought　about　trying　to　stand　on　one　foot。　Instead；　he　let　himself　hover　an　inch　off　the　ground；　bent；　and　picked　up　his　own　leg。
　　　It　was　a　curious　feeling；　holding　his　leg　in　his　hand；　but　the　archmage　brushed　it　off。　The　assassin　and　the　lich　were　obviously　regrouping　after　Gromph's　powerful　spell　had　disjoined　the　magic　all　around　him…all　the　magic　save　his　own…but　they　would　be　back。
　　　Gromph　felt　the　bone　on　his　stump　again　and　was　pleased　that　the　skin　hadn't　yet　begun　to　grow　over　it。　He　turned　the　leg　in　his　hand　and…
　　　A　blast　of　cold　air　surrounded　him；　engulfed　him；　pushed　him　back　and　down；　grinding　him　into　the　stone　floor　of　the　Bazaar　and　dragging　him　along。　Gromph's　head　smashed　into　something　that　broke；　splintered；　and　fell　all　around　him。
　　　He　shook　his　head；　and　bits　of　giant　mushroom　stem　and　glass　fell　from　his　white　hair。　He　was　half　buried　in　a　shattered　merchant's　stall；　but　all　Gromph　could　think　about　was　how　relieved　he　was　to　still　be　holding　his　leg。　His　body　was　covered　in　a　thin　layer　of　chilling　frost　that　was　already　starting　to　melt　in　the　cool　damp　air　of　the　Bazaar。
　　　The　lich；　Nauzhror　said　into　Gromph's　mind；　was　outside　the　disjunction。
　　　I　see　that；　the　archmage　answered；　letting　a　wave　of　frustration　follow　the　thought。
　　　Gromph　looked　up　and　around。　Dyrr　was　casting；　while　Nimor　arrowed　fast　through　the　air　at　the　archmage。　He　set　another　protective　globe　around　himself；　briefly　worrying　that　the　staff's　power　was　being　too　quickly　drained。　It　couldn't　keep　protecting　him　and　levitating　him　forever。
　　　The　lich　finished　his　spell；　and　Gromph　smiled　when　a　bolt　of　blinding　yellow　lighting　crackled　from　Dyrr's　hands；　arcing　through　the　air　and　splattering　in　a　shower　of　sparks　against　Gromph's　protective　globe。　Even　as　the　lightning　spent　itself　on　his　defenses；　not　even　making　Gromph's　hair　stand　on　end；　the　archmage　cast　another　defensive　spell　on　himself。　Flames　flickered　almost　invisibly　along　his　body。
　　　I　see；　Prath　said。　It　worked　on　the　huecuva；　but。　。　。
　　　Nimor　was　upon　him；　and　Gromph　tucked　his　body　into　a　ball　against　the　assassin's　attack。　The　half…dragon's　hands　were　bigger　than　they　were　in　his　drow　guise；　and　each　of　this　fingers　ended　in　a　thick；　sharp　talon　of　jet…black　ivory。　Nimor　raked　Gromph's　shoulder　with　those　formidable　claws；　but　they　skipped　harmlessly　along　the　sparking　surface　of　the　archmage's　fire　shield。　Bright　orange　flames　blazed　up　from　Gromph's　shoulder；　covering　the　assassin's　face。　Nimor　roared　in　pain　and　beat　his　wings　once　so　hard　that　stinging　shards　of　glass　from　the　ruined　merchant's　stall　whirled　around　the　archmage。　Each　time　one　of　the　little　shards　of　glass　hit　him；　a　spark　of　fire　burst　out　in　answer。　The　spell　never　burned　Gromph；　but　for　a　few　unnerving　seconds　he　was　surrounded　in　a　cascade　of　roiling　flame。
　　　Nimor　disappeared　into　the　shadows　in　the　cavern's　vault。
　　　The　flurry　of　glass　and　fire　subsided；　and　Gromph　worked　his　way　out　of　the　wreckage　of　the　merchant's　stall。　When　his　stump　was　clear；　blood　still　oozing　from　it；　the　pain　reduced　by　his　ring　to　a　dull；　annoying　throb；　Gromph　took　a　second　to　make　sure　his　foot　was　pointing　in　the　right　direction　and　stuck　his　leg　back　on。
　　　He　held　it　in　place　and　closed　his　eyes。　His　breath　came　in　short；　sharp　gasps　as　the　dull　throb　turned　into　a　skin…quivering　shiver。　The　feel　of　the　bone　reattaching；　each　fine　blood　vessel　rejoining　its　severed　end；　nerves　blazing　back　to　life　with　a　wild　flurry　of　pain；　itching；　pleasure；　then　pain　again；　and　his　skin　drawing　itself　together　made　Gromph　gasp　and　shake。
　　　The　lich；　Nauzhror　warned。
　　　Only　then　did　Gromph　bee　aware　that　Dyrr　was　casting　another　spell。　The　response　that　came　to　Gromph's　mind　was　a　powerful　deterrent；　one　that　would　protect　him　where　the　staff's　globe　could　not。　Not　pausing　to　consider　any　greater　implications；　Gromph　drew　together　the　required　Weave　energy；　and　the　antimagic　field　was　up　in　time　to　block　a　huge　explosion　of　searing　heat　and　blinding　fire。
　　　It　also　suppressed　the　regenerative　power　of　the　ring。
　　　No　magic　was　working　anywhere　near　Gromph　Baenre；　and　his　leg　was　only　half　repaired。　He　shuddered；　clenching　his　jaw　and　eyes　tightly　shut　as　pain　roared　up　from　his　leg　to　wrap　his　whole　body　in　a　spasm　of　agony。
　　　〃Well　played；　my　young　friend；〃　the　lich　called　down　to　him；　〃but　that　field　will　e　down　eventually。　Meantime；　you'll　be　bleeding…and　I'll　be　waiting。〃
　　　Gromph　didn't　bother　to　consider　the　lich's　threat。　He　was　in　too　much　pain　to　think。
　　　
Chapter　Twenty
　　　Piet　squeezed　the　handle　of　his　axe；　hoping　that　his　sweating　palms　would　still　be　able　to　grip　it　when　the　fighting　started…and　the　fighting　would　start　soon。　He　glanced　at　his　friend　Ulo　and　could　tell　that　Ulo　was　thinking　the　same　thing。　Piet　could　even　see　Ulo's　fingers　worrying　at　the　handles　of　his　two　big　knives；　and　he　knew　that　Ulo's　hands　were　sweating　too。
　　　They　had　e　to　the　Flooded　Forest　to　do　some　logging；　make　a　couple　of　silvers；　and　mind　their　own　business。　Since　they'd　been　there　they'd　seen　ten　of　their　rades　killed。　Some　had　died　in　the　inevitable　accidents　that　one　might　expect　at　any　logging　camp；　but　most　of　them　fell　to　the　local　wildlife。　The　swamp　held　all　manner　of　arcane　threats；　from　animated　vines　that　dragged　men　down　to　a　watery　grave　to　lizardfolk　who　picked　off　stragglers　at　the　edges　of　the　clearing　seemingly　out　of　spite。　Still；　the　ring　of　torches　and　the　gods　only　knew　what　else…maybe　even　some　sort　of　swamp　etiquette…kept　the　really　dangerous　creatures　out　of　their　camp。　The　makeshift　tavern　where　the　men　spent　virtually　all　of　their　non…working　time　（and　there　wasn't　much　of　that）　seemed　like　a　safe　enough　place。
　　　Now　a　dark　elf　and　some　kind　of　huge　demon…thing　had　smashed　through　the　window；　and　all　bets　were　off。
　　　Piet　and　Ulo　faced　off　against　the　dark　elf。　Of　the　two　of　them；　he　appeared　merely　lethal；　where　the　demon…thing　might　have　really　done　terrible　things　to　someone。　Piet's　knees　were　shaking。　So　were　his　hands；　and　his　jaw　felt　tense。
　　　On　the　other　side　of　the　mon　room　four　of　the　other　loggers；　Ansen；　Kinsky；　Lint；　and　Arkam；　were　facing　down　the　huge　demon…thing。　They　were　all　armed…no　one　with　half　a　brain　went　unarmed　in　the　Flooded　Forest…but　their　weapons　looked　puny　against　the　massive　creature。　Ansen　had　grabbed　a　torch　from　a　wall　sconce；　Kinsky　had　his　axe　with　him；　Lint　was　hoping　to　keep　the　monster　at　bay　with　the　spear　he　used　to　fish　in　the　swamp；　and　Arkam　waved　a　broken　axe　handle　in　front　of　him。　They　all　looked　suitably　terrified。
　　　The　dark　elf　had　a　huge　sword…Piet　had　never　seen　a　sword　so　big…but　he　was　holding　it　in　a　loose　grip；　dangling　to　his　right；　the　tip　scraping　the　rough　wood　floor。　The　drow　was　wet　and　bleeding　from　his　face；　from　his　leg；　and　maybe　other　places　as　well。　Piet　had　never　seen　a　dark　elf　before。　He'd　actually　always　thought　they　were　a　myth；　so　it　was　impossible　for　him　to　get　a　read　on　the　creature；　but　he　seemed　to　be　weak；　exhausted；　maybe　even　dying。
　　　〃Who　are　you？〃　Piet　asked；　not　liking　at　all　the　terrified　quaver　he　heard　in　his　voice。　〃What　are　you　doing　here？　What　do　you　want？〃
　　　Difficult　as　it　was　for　Piet　to　tell　what　the　drow　was　thinking；　the　logger　was　convinced　that　the　outsider　understood　him。　The　look　he　gave　Piet　in　answer　seemed　haughty　at　first　then　wasn't　so　much　haughty　as　。。。　Piet　didn't　know　what　to　call　it。　He　thought　he　remembered　a　word：　disdainful；　but　he　wasn't　sure　he　remembered　what　that　meant。
　　　The　drow　didn't　answer。　Instead；　he　started　to　bring　his　sword　up；　and　Piet；　afraid　the　drow　was　going　to　cut　him；　chopped　down　with　his　axe。　Piet　had　spent　his　entire　adult　life…since　he　was　eleven…and…a…half…chopping　wood。　He　knew　how　to　swing　an　axe；　and　he　did　it　with　speed；　power；　and　precision。　Still；　he　didn't　e　within　an　armslength　of　the　dark　elf。
　　　Piet　barely　saw　him　move。　He　was　a　couple　of　feet　to　the　right　all　of　a　sudden；　standing　between　Piet　and　Ulo。　The　drow　had　his　sword　up；　but　it　looked　as　if　he　was　defending　himself；　not　attacking。　Ulo；　surprised　that　the　dark　elf　was　suddenly　standing　so　much　closer　to　him；　waved　his　knives　in　front　of　himself　madly…cutting　no　one…and　scrambled　backward　until　he　hit　the　wall。
　　　〃Stab　him；　Ulo！〃　Piet　shouted；　but　it　didn't　look　as　if　Ulo　even　heard　him。
　　　The　dark　elf　came　at　Piet　with　his　sword　low；　and　Piet　dodged　out　of　the　way　instinctively。　A　rush　of　adrenaline　coursed　through　him。　He'd　never　moved　so　fast　in　his　life。
　　　He　changed　his　grip　on　his　axe　and　swung　it　sideways　at　the　dark　elf；　who　leaped　back　to　let　the　axe　head　pass　a　few　inches　in　front　of　his　face。　Piet　reversed　his　grip　at　the　end　of　the　swing；　twisted　the　axe　around　and　swung　again。　He　knew　the　dark　elf　would　lean　back　again　and　was　ready　for　it。　He　actually　aimed　at　a　point　several　inches　behind　the　drow's　head。　The　only　thing　he　could　see　was　the　drow；　and　when　the　axe　came　at　the　dark　elf's　head；　Piet　closed　his　eyes；　expecting　a　splash　of　blood。
　　　The　axe　stopped；　and　hot；　thick　liquid　splashed　over　Piet's　face。　He　closed　his　eyes　tighter　to　keep　the　blood　out　of　his　eyes　and　tried　to　wrench　the　axe　out　of　the　dark　elf's　skull；　but　it　was　stuck。　The　falling　body　dragged　Piet　down　with　in　and　he　slowly　sank　to　his　knees。　Piet's　forehead　bumped　the　wall；　which　surprised　him。　He　didn't　think　he　was　that　far　forward。
　　　He　wiped　his　eyes　with　one　sleeve　as　he　said；　〃I　got　him；　Ulo！　I　split　the　black　devil's　sku…〃
　　　Piet　stopped　cold　when　he　opened　his　eyes　and　saw　exactly　whose　skull　he'd　split。　Ulo's　dead　eyes　stared　back　at　him；　glassy　and　vacant。　Piet's　axe　head　was　jammed　into　the　side　of　his　friend's　head；　and　blood　was　still　oozing　out　from　around　it。
　　　Piet's　body　shook；　wracked　by　a　spasm；　but　he　kept　himself　from　vomiting　by　pressing　a　hand　tightly　to　his　mouth；　letting　go　of　the　axe　that　was　still　stuck　in　his　friend's　head；　and　rolling　off　onto　the　floor。
　　　He　looked　up　and　saw　the　dark　elf　looking　down　at　him；　making　no　move　to　kill　him；　though　the　drow　would　have　had　an　easy　time　of　it。　Piet　met　the　black　creature's　gaze　and　got　the　sinking　feeling　that　the　drow　was　not　only　pleased　with　himself　for　getting　Piet　to　kill　Ulo　but　that　he　was　thinking　about　trying　something　like　it　again。
　　　〃Men！〃　Piet　barked；　his　voice　cracking。
　　　He　wanted　to　warn　them；　but　his　throat　was　tight；　and　he　had　trouble　forcing　the　words　out。　Looking　up　at　the　other　four　loggers；　Piet　saw　the　huge；　gray…furred　demon　rip　Arkam's　throat　out　with　one　hand；　as　if　he　were　digging　a　handful　of　shortening　out　of　a　pot。　Blood　poured　out　everywhere；　and　Arkam　was　dead　before　his　gore…soaked　body　hit　the　floor。
　　　Piet　knew　the　second　the　two　bizarre　creatures　burst　in　through　the　window　that　things　were　going　to　end　badly　for　the　logging　crew；　but　there　was　something　about　the　way　matters　were　unfolding…the　casual　manner　in　which　the　gray　demon　ripped　Arkam's　throat　out　and　the　conniving；　almost　mean…spirited　way　the　dark　elf　made　Piet　kill　his　own　friend…that　made　it　seem　too　personal；　as　if　they'd　e　there　for　that　reason。
　　　Piet's　palms　weren't　sweating　anymore。　His　jaw　was　still　tight；　but　for　a　different　reason。　His　blood　pounded　in　his　ears。　The　dark　elf　was　watching　the　demon　toy　with　Ansen；　Kinsky；　and　Lint。　He　didn't　even　think　Piet　was　dangerous　enough　to　keep　an　eye　on。
　　　That；　Piet　thought；　is　your　second　and　last　mistake；　drow。
　　　Piet　coughed　back　the　bile　that　rose　in　his　throat　when　he　put　his　heavy…booted　foot　on　his　friend　Ulo's　split…open　head　and　pushed　while　pulling　on　the　axe　handle。　The　axe　head　came　loose　with　a　nauseating　sucking　sound；　but　Piet　managed　to　ignore　it。
　　　Axe　in　hand；　Piet　stood　then　lunged　at　the　dark　elf。　The　slippery　drow　dodged　him　again；　quickly　and　easily　enough　that　Piet　thought　he　must　have　eyes　on　the　back　of　his　head。　Undaunted；　the　logger　swung　again　but　sliced　through　nothing　but　air。　The　drow　danced　back；　not　even　parrying　with　his　huge　greatsword；　just　stepping　back；　leaning　to　either　side　or　backward　as　Piet　swung　again　and　again。
　　　Piet　finally　gave　up。　His　lungs　were　burning。　He　tried　to　speak　but　couldn't。　He　wanted　to　run　but　his　legs　felt　like　twigs　ready　to　snap…he'd　already　spent　a　long　day　cutting　down　trees。　All　he　could　do　was　stand　there　and　watch　the　dark　elf　watch　the　demon…thing　kill　the　rest　of　the　men　in　the　room。
　　　The　demon　had　one　of　the　heavy　oak　tables　in　his　hands…the　larger　two　of　the　thing's　three　hands…and　was　pressing　Ansen；　Kinsky；　and　Lint　into　the　wall。　Their　weapons　were　caught　between　the　tabletop　and　their　own　bodies。　Ansen's　torch　burned　his　face；　Kinsky's　axe　handle　cracked　his　collarbone；　and　Lint's　spear　wagged　impotently　from　behind　t