war of the spider queen 5 annihilation-第6部分

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　　　Three　reasons　for　being　left　out；　Ryld　thought；　while　at　home　there　is　only　the　third。　Three　reasons　to　go　home　to　Menzoberranzan。
　　　One　reason　to　stay。
　　　In　the　past　lingering　hours　of　solitude　Ryld　had　thought　often　of　returning　to　the　Underdark。　Pharaun　and　the　others　would　have　moved　on；　continued　their　quest。　Likely　they'd　all　forgotten　about　the　Master　of　Melee…Magthere　who　had　left　the　City　of　Spiders　with　them。　Ryld　held　no　illusions　about　his　worth　to　the　likes　of　Quenthel　Baenre；　and　Pharaun　had　at　least　once　proved　that　Ryld's　life　was　less　important　than　the　wizard's　convenience；　let　alone　the　Master　of　Sorcere's　own　well…being。
　　　Pharaun；　however；　was　predictable。　Ryld　knew　the　mage　and　knew　what　to　expect…even　if　that　meant　expecting　betrayal。　Pharaun　was　a　dark　elf；　not　only　well　tuned　to；　but　prone　to　revel　in；　his　drow　nature。　Quenthel　Baenre　was　the　same；　which　was　why　they　so　irritated　one　another。　Those　two　and　the　others…even　the　laconic　Valas　Hune…were　like　spiders　too：　predictable；　efficient　survivors。　Ryld　saw　himself　in　the　same　terms；　and　being　in　like　pany　had　a　pelling　draw。
　　　Until　he　thought　of　Halisstra。
　　　In　his　years　in　Menzoberranzan；　Ryld　had　enjoyed　the　pany　of　more　than　a　handful　of　females；　but　like　any　male　in　the　City　of　Spiders　he　knew　well　enough　not　to　allow　attachments　to　run　too　deep。　He　had　known　from　time　to　time　that　he　was　a　plaything；　a　tool；　a　dalliance；　a　performer…but　never　one　of　those　surface　elf　words；　those　oddities　such　as　lover；　panion；　friend；　husband。　Those　words　had　no　meaning　until　Halisstra。
　　　Ryld　tried　and　tried；　but　he　couldn't　understand　the　hold　the　First　Daughter　of　House　Melarn　had　on　him。　He　had　even　drawn　upon　the　unique　power　of　Splitter　to　dispel　whatever　magic　she　had　cast　on　him　to　draw　him　along　with　her…but　there　was　no　magic。　She　had　cast　no　spell；　sang　no　bae'qeshel　ballad；　slipped　him　no　potion　to　wrap　herself　around　him　so　tightly。　She　hadn't；　Ryld　mused；　even　done　or　said　anything　too　different　than　things　he'd　heard　before；　though　in　the　past　such　things　were　said　in　tones　of　mockery　or　even　cold；　bitter　irony　by　those　dozen　or　more　drow　females　who　had　had　him。
　　　Halisstra　had　simply　smiled　at　him；　held　his　gaze　with　hers；　touched　him；　kissed　him；　looked　at　him　with　fear；　longing；　regret；　pain；　anger；　desperation　。　。　。　looked　at　him　with　honesty。　Ryld　had　never　seen　any　of　it　before；　not　on　the　black　face　of　a　dark　elf；　not　in　the　cool　gloom　of　the　Underdark。　He　could　feel　her　when　she　was　close；　as　if　she　gave　off　some　ripple　that　tuned　his　senses　to　her。　She　was　simply　Halisstra；　and　the　Master　of　Melee…Magthere　was　dumbfounded　to　find　that　was　enough。　Her　mere　presence　was　sufficient　to　drag　him　away　from　a　life　that　was；　and　would　continue　to　be；　as　rewarding　as　a　drow　male　could　expect。
　　　There　he　was；　putting　up　with　the　same　things；　still　the　male　whose　strong　sword　arm　would　be　called　into　service　on　a　second's　notice　but　who　would　not　dine　at　the　same　table。
　　　The　fourth　reason　that　he　was　alone　that　day　and　had　been　alone　for　much　of　the　day　before　roared　into　Ryld's　mind　then；　and　he　let　it　e；　but　only　for　a　moment。
　　　They　mean　to　kill　her；　he　thought　as　a　chill　raced　down　his　spine　and　the　whetstone　that　had　so　slowly　and　so　carefully　and　so　rhythmically　been　drawn　along　his　blade　came　to　a　sudden　stop。　They　mean　to　kill　Lolth。
　　　Ryld　closed　his　eyes　and　drew　in　a　long　breath；　calming　his　suddenly　racing　heart。
　　　It　was；　after　all；　why　Halisstra　had　been　sent　to　retrieve　the　Crescent　Blade。　It　was　why　the　Eilistraeen　priestesses　put　up　with　the　obviously　unpleasant　presence　of　the　Master　of　Melee…Magthere…at　Halisstra's　demand。　It　was　why　Halisstra　stayed　and　why　she　carried　herself　with　a　confidence　and　posure　he　hadn't　seen　。　。　。　well；　never　in　the　outcast　from　the　ruins　of　Ched　Nasad。　It　was　why　Halisstra　no　longer　trembled　in　fear。　It　was　why　she　woke　in　the　morning　and　why　she　drew　breath　during　the　day。
　　　In　Eilistraee's　name；　Halisstra　Melarn　meant　to　murder　the　Queen　of　the　Demonweb　Pits　in　her　sleep。
　　　Ryld　set　the　whetstone　in　motion　again　and　smiled。
　　　Maybe；　he　thought；　she's　more　like　a　spider　than　she　wants　to　admit。
　　　
　　　Valas　held　the　crystal　to　his　left　eye　and　scanned　the　chamber。　He　stood　in　the　deep　shadows　at　the　edge　of　where　the　tunnel…a　very　old　lava　tube…emptied　into　the　pyramidal　cavern。　The　ancient　monastery　was　obvious　to　even　his　unaided　darkvision。　Set　against　the　northern　wall　of　the　cathedral…like　space　off　to　Valas's　right　was　a　half　circle　of　stone；　perhaps　seventy…five　feet　in　radius。　The　curved　wall　rose　as　tall　as　two　hundred　feet　before　rounding　to　a　domed　roof；　with　the　apex　about　thirty　or　forty　feet　above　that。　Two　huge　slit　windows；　not　much　wider　than　Valas　was　tall　but　eighty　feet　in　length；　were　set　high　on　the　walls。　A　thief　might　have　to　climb　the　brick　wall　for　a　dangerous　hundred　feet　before　being　able　to　slip　inside。　Between　the　two　tall　windows　and　a　few　feet　below　their　bottom　edges　loomed　a　pair　of　small；　dark　holes　tall　enough　that　Valas　might　be　able　to　step　through　them　without　dipping　his　head。　Below　those　round　holes　a　drooping　oblong　opening　led　into　the　pitch…black　interior　of　the　ruin。
　　　The　windows；　the　two　round　holes；　and　the　oblong　opening　gave　the　ruined　monastery　the　look…obviously　intentional…of　a　frowning　face。
　　　Stalactites　had　formed　along　the　upper　edge　of　the　mouth　and　hung　down　to　form　ragged　fangs；　and　dripping　water　had　carried　centuries　of　sediment　onto　the　dome　so　that　a　wide　patch　of　smooth　white　flowstone　capped　the　far　end　of　the　great　head　like　some　gaily　off…kilter　hat。　What　grim　ceremonies　might　have　been　held　before　that　giant　face　Valas　didn't　bother　to　imagine。　The　centuries　that　had　passed　since　his　ancient　ancestors　had　abandoned　it　had　been　unkind　to　the　building；　but　Valas　knew　that　the　ravages　of　dripping　water；　mold；　and　earthquakes　hadn't　touched　the　gate　that　rested　inside　it。　Twice　before；　though　many　years　gone　by；　Valas　had　climbed　into　that　drooping；　melancholy　mouth　and　passed　between　two　rune…carved　pillars　to　step　two　hundred　miles　to　the　northwest　shore　of　Lake　Thalmiir；　an　easy　walk　to　Sschindylryn。
　　　Valas　knew　he　wasn't　the　only　one　who'd　used　it。
　　　A　crystal　normally　hung　on　his　vest…an　enchanted　garment　that　gave　Valas　much　of　his　nimble　footing　and　lightning　reaction…with　many　other　magical　trinkets　he'd　picked　up　over　a　lifetime　in　the　wilds　of　the　Underdark。　Through　that　crystal　the　scout　could　see　that　which　others　couldn't…most　things　rendered　invisible　by　magic　either　sorcerous　or　innate。
　　　Valas　slowly　and　carefully　scanned　the　base　of　the　great　face；　then　to　the　left　along　the　still　pool　of　black　water　that　bisected　the　round　floor　of　the　cavern。　There　was　a　cave　low　in　the　sloping　wall　across　from　him　and　a　smaller　one…another　lava　tube　of　similar　dimensions　to　the　one　Valas　had　e　through…higher　up　and　to　the　right。　The　scout　began　to　scan　the　roof　of　the　ruined　monastery　when　he　heard　Danifae　all　but　stomping　through　the　tunnel　behind　him。
　　　Valas　didn't　stop　his　slow；　methodical　examination　of　the　structure。
　　　He　knew　chat　Danifae　would　walk　past　him；　their　shoulders　close　to　touching；　and　she　would　never　see　him。　He　had　told　her　to　wait；　and　if　she　disregarded　his　warning　it　was　her　choice。
　　　Let　her　stomp　on　in；　he　thought。　Let　her…
　　　Valas　froze　when　the　crystal　revealed　the　tip　of　what　could　only　be　a　talon　resting　on　the　top　of　the　monastery。　Holding　his　breath；　the　Bregan　D'aerthe　scout　drew　his　head　back　half　an　inch　and　played　the　crystal；　still　held　close　to　his　left　eye；　along　the　domed　roof　of　the　ancient　face。
　　　The　creature　that　rested　atop　the　ruin　wasn't　too　big；　at　least　not　as　far　as　dragons　go。　No　taller　than　Valas　himself；　with　a　wingspan　maybe　twice　that；　the　beast　was　coiled　fortably　but　alert　atop　the　dome。　Though　the　crystal　tended　to　bleed　any　color　from　the　scene；　Valas　knew　the　monster　was　as　gray　in　color　as　it　appeared　to　him　through　the　magic　item。　Even　through　the　crystal　it　seemed　undefined；　blurred　as　if　it　had　been　painted　onto　the　giant　face　in　watercolors。
　　　That's　how　you　hide；　Valas　thought。　You　blend　into　the　darkness。
　　　Danifae　passed　him　and　strode　uncaring　to　the　mouth　of　the　lava　tube。　She　stood　for　a　moment；　one　hand　resting　casually　on　the　rock　wall；　gazing　out　into　the　cavern。　Valas　could　tell　she　hadn't　seen　the　dragon　on　the　top　of　the　face；　but　a　last　quick　glimpse　through　the　crystal　showed　him　that　the　dragon　had　seen　her。　It　slowly　uncoiled　itself；　drawing　up　its　wings。
　　　Valas　slipped　into　the　cavern；　relying　in　no　small　part　on　his　own　training　and　experience　but　not　too　proud　to　call　on　the　power　of　an　enchanted　ring　to　speed　his　way。　Mithral　chain　mail　hushed　any　sound　he　might　make　as　he　moved；　and　it　helped　his　toes　find　safe；　quiet　footing。　Keeping　always　in　shadow；　always　without　the　slightest　scrape　of　sole　on　stone；　without　the　faintest　reflection　of　stray　light　on　metal；　Valas　came　down　the　incline　from　the　mouth　of　the　lava　tube　and　along　the　bowl…shaped　edge　of　the　huge　space　to　the　yawning　black　cave　across。
　　　He　risked　the　occasional　glance　up　at　the　creature；　whose　outline　he　could　only　barely　discern　in　the　gloom　high　up　in　the　cavern…and　only　then　because　he　knew　it　was　there。　Valas　also　risked　a　glance　or　two　back　at　Danifae；　who　was　slowly；　and　with　surprising　grace；　making　her　way　down　into　the　bowl　of　the　cavern。　She　looked　all　around　but　not　up。　Her　eyes　never　rested　on　either　Valas　or　the　stone…gray　dragon。
　　　Danifae　walked　slowly　toward　the　edge　of　the　pool　as　Valas　drew　the　shortbow　from　his　back。　He　nocked　an　arrow　and　drew　back　the　string。
　　　The　female　was　all　but　offering　herself　on　a　silver　platter　to　the　beast；　and　though　Valas　ached　to　allow　her　to　see　her　folly　through；　he　worried　about　Quenthel。　The　high　priestess　seemed　to　have　taken　a　liking　to　the　Melarn　battle…captive；　stealing　her　away　without　a　thought　from　the　female　from　Ched　Nasad。　Valas　didn't　want　to　find　out　the　hard　way　that　he'd　let　the　battle…captive　die　when　Quenthel　had　plans　for　Danifae　beyond　their　occasional　loveplay。
　　　〃Valas？〃　the　female　called　into　the　dark；　still　cavern。
　　　Her　voice　echoed；　Valas　cringed；　and　the　dragon　took　wing。
　　　
　　　Nimor　Imphraezl　watched　from　above　as　the　duergar　engaged　the　spiders。　Drow　warriors…all　male…rode　the　enormous　arachnids　into　battle。　The　spiders　skittered　and　whirled　around　them　while　the　riders　sat　stiff　and　straight　in　their　saddles。　The　mounted　drow　carried　long　pikes…weapons　the　duergar　were　unaccustomed　to；　as　rare　as　the　long　weapons　were　in　the　confines　of　the　Underdark…and　they　skewered　one　after　another　before　the　gray　dwarves　drew　any　dark　elf　blood。
　　　The　spider　riders　were　hopelessly　outnumbered　by　the　horde　of　duergar　who　continued　to　lay　siege　to　the　slowly　crumbling　city　of　Menzoberranzan；　and　Nimor　was　content　to　lose　a　few　gray　dwarves　for　the　chance　to　watch　the　drow　fight。　They　were　good；　he　would　grant　them　that。　The　spiders　killed　as　many　duergar　as　the　pikes　did；　but　the　beasts　were　never　out　of　their　riders'　control。　All　in　all　it　was　a　beautiful；　bloody　dance。
　　　In　the　center　of　the　spider　riders　a　mounted　drow　male　wearing　armor　of　the　finest　mithral　positively　glowed　with　magic。　He　carried　a　pike　like　the　others　but　hadn't　brought　his　to　bear。　He　held　it　up；　and　from　it　a　long；　thin　banner　wafted　in　the　cool　Underdark　air。　It　took　Nimor　a　minute　or　so　to　recognize　the　sigil　emblazoned　on　the　banner。　The　riders　represented　House　Shobalar…a　lesser　House；　but　one　loyal　to　the　Baenres　and　known　throughout　the　drow…settled　Underdark　for　their　effective　and　impeccably　trained　cavalry。　The　dark　elf　with　the　banner　must　be　their　leader。
　　　One　of　the　riders　took　two　duergar　at　once；　pinning　them　together　then　using　their　weight　at　the　end　of　his　pike　to　topple　three　more　of　their　panions　onto　the　flowstone　floor。　Nimor　smiled。
　　　He　had　e　to　that　particular　tunnel　after　hearing　three　separate　times　of　unusual　activity　there。　The　duergar　had　managed　to　kill　a　Menzoberranyr　scout　only　a　day　before；　and　even　the　gruff　gray　dwarves　had　admitted　that　other　drow　had　been　there　and　gotten　away。　It　wasn't　the　most　well　defended　approach；　and　Nimor　had　been　keeping　an　eye　on　it；　certain　the　Menzoberranyr　would　be　testing　it。
　　　When　the　scout　was　killed；　Nimor　had　Crown　Prince　Horgar　send　reinforcements；　but　only　a　few。　Enough；　Nimor　hoped；　to　satisfy　the　drow　but　not　enough　to　close　the　approach。　Nimor　wanted　to　draw　them　out；　and　like　the　arrogant　aristocrats　they　were；　they'd　taken　the　bait。
　　　Nimor　hung　upside　down；　hidden　by　a　spell　of　invisibility；　his　piwafwi；　another　spell　that　prevented　anyone　using　similar　magic　from　finding　him；　and　another　that　would　draw　enemies'　attention　away　even　if　they　thought　to　look　up　at　him。　Those　things　and　the　immediate　threat　of　the　duergar　soldiers　were　enough　that　he　could　wait　and　watch　in　peace…wait　and　watch　for　the　spider　rider　captain　to　send　his　arachnid　mount　scurrying　into　the　fray；　scurrying　right　under　Nimor。
　　　With　a　touch　to　a　brooch　that　bore　the　sign　of　the　Jaezred　Chaulssin；　Nimor　dropped　slowly；　still　hidden　from　sight　by　magic。　As　he　descended；　Nimor　drew　his　dagger…a　very　special　dagger…and　when　he　came　to　rest　on　the　spider；　inches　behind　the　cavalry　leader；　he　flicked　the　blade　across　the　back　of　the　drow　warrior's　neck。　There　was　a　perfect　space　there　between　his　helm　and　his　pauldron。
　　　The　spider　rider　flinched　and　turned　in　his　saddle。　Nimor；　still　invisible；　grabbed　the　drow　around　his　neck　and　held　the　poisoned　blade　to　his　throat。
　　　The　spider　rider　couldn't　see　him；　but　he　could　hear　Nimor　whisper　in　his　ear；　〃What　is　your　name；　Shobalar？〃
　　　〃Who　are　you？〃　the　warrior　asked；　and　Nimor　cut　him　again…not　too　deeply…in　response。
　　　The　drow　grunted；　and　Nimor　could　feel　his　body　stiffen；　jerk；　and　quiver。
　　　〃Yes；〃　Nimor　hissed　into　the　slowly　dying　officer's　ear；　〃it　is　poison。　Very；　very　elegant　poison。　It　will　paralyze　you；　twist　your　throat　closed；　squeeze　the　last　gasp　of　air　from　your　lungs；　and　keep　you　from　screaming　while　you　suffocate。〃
　　　The　drow　growled　and　said；　his　voice　already　quiet　and　tight；　〃My　House　will　avenge　me。〃
　　　〃Your　House　will　burn；　Captain　。　。　。　？〃
　　　〃Vilto'sat　Shobalar；〃　the　drow　answered　even　as　his　throat　squeezed　shut；　〃of　the　Spider　Riders　of　House　Sh…〃
　　　Smiling　all　the　while；　Nimor　held　the　dying　drow　upright　in　his　saddle　as　he　suffocated。　The　Anointed　Blade　of　the　Jaezred　Chaulssin　waited　until　Captain　Vilto'sat　Shobalar　quivered　through　his　last　attempt　at　a　breath　and　his　magenta　eyes　glazed　over。　Then　Nimor　levitated　up　and　away　from　the　suddenly　uncontrolled；　feral　war…spider。
　　　The　arachnid　went　berserk；　chewing　through　duergar　after　duergar　then　turning　on　another　of　its　kind。　The　rider　of　that　spider　turned　his　attention　to　protecting　his　mount　from　the　wild　arachnid…just　long　enough　for　a　particularly　enthusiastic　duergar　footman　to　take　his　head　with　a　poleaxe。
　　　Nimor　killed　eight　more　drow　himself　over　the　next　ten　minutes　or　so；　while　the　duergar　claimed　three。