war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第46部分

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Quenthel　caught　the　blow　on　her　buckler。　To　her　surprise；　she　didn't　feel　the　slightest　shock；　but　the　shield　turned　blue；　changed　from　round　to　recnottangular；　and　became　many　times　heavier　than　it　had　been　before。
The　unexpected　weight　dragged　her　down　to　the　floor　again。　Resemnotbling　a　cresting　wave；　the　intruder　flowed　toward　her。　She　yanked；　but　her　shield　arm　was　caught　somehow　and　wouldn't　pull　free　of　the　straps。
Rippling　from　magenta　to　brown　stippled　with　scarlet；　the　demon　adnotvanced　to　within　inches　of　her　foot。　Quenthel's　boot　evaporated　into　wisps　of　vapor；　and　pain　stabbed　through　the　extremity。
Finally　her　hand　jerked　out　of　its　restraints；　and　she　flung　herself　backnotward；　rolling；　her　mail　whispering　against　the　floor。
When　she'd　put　sufficient　distance　between　herself　and　her　foe；　she　rose；　then　faltered。　For　an　instant；　she　couldn't　locate　the　fiend；　and　her　mind　struggled　to　make　sense　of　the　scene　before　her。　Green　and　blue；　shaped　like　an　hourglass；　the　demon　was　gliding　along　the　ceiling；　not　the　floor。　It　was　still　pursuing　her。　The　cursed　thing　was　random　in　every　respect　save　its　doggedly　murderous　intent。
The　entity's　howl　ceased　for　a　moment；　then　resumed　with　a　peal　of　childish　laughter。　Quenthel　snatched　and　unrolled　a　scroll；　which　abruptly　turned　into　a　rothe's　jawbone。　The　air　took　on　a　sooty　tinge；　and　her　next　breath　seared　her　lungs。
Choking；　she　stumbled　back　out　of　the　cloud。　She　could　breathe；　though　the　stinging　heat　in　her　throat　and　chest　persisted。　She　suspected　that；　had　she　inhaled　any　more　of　it；　the　taint　might　well　have　killed　her。　As　it　was；　it　had　incapacitated　and　possibly　slain　the　vipers；　who　hung　inert　from　the　butt　of　the　whip。
She　tossed　away　the　jawbone；　grabbed　another　scroll；　and　started　readnoting　the　powerful　spell　contained　therein。　Shaped　like　some　hybrid　of　dragon　and　wolf；　the　demon；　back　on　the　floor　again；　advanced　without　moving　its　legs。　Though　colored　the　blue　and　gold　of　flame；　it　threw　off　a　bitter　chill　that　threatened　to　freeze　the　skin　on　her　face　and　spoil　her　recitation　with　a　stammer。
Quenthel　thanked　the　goddess　that　her　own　education　in　Arach…Tinilith　had　taught　her　to　transcend　disfort。　She　forced　out　the　words　in　the　proper　manner；　and　a　black　blade；　like　a　greatsword　without　a　guard；　hilt；　or　tang；　shimmered　into　existence　in　front　of　her。
She　smiled。　The　floating　weapon　was　a　devastating　magic　known　only　to　the　priestesses　of　Lolth。　Quenthel　had　never　seen　any　creature　resist　it。　Though　the　stone　floor　was　still　chilly　against　the　sole　of　her　bare　foot；　the　ghastly　cold　had　passed；　and　she　stood　her　ground；　the　blade　interposed　between　her　and　her　pursuer。
〃Do　you　know　what　this　is？〃　she　asked　it。　〃It　can　kill　you。　It　can　kill　anything。〃
Certain　the　demon　could　hear　her　thoughts；　she　sent　it　the　words；　Surnotrender　and　tell　me　who　sent　you；　or　I'll　slice　you　to　pieces。
Emitting　a　sweet　scent　she'd　never　encountered　before；　looking　like　a　giant　frog　crudely　chiseled　from　mica　with　rows　of　wicked　fangs　in　its　sparkling　jaws；　the　chaos　demon　waddled　forward。
Fine；　the　Baenre　thought；　be　stupid。
Controlling　the　black　blade　with　her　thoughts；　she　bade　it　attack。　It　hacked　a　long　gash　in　the　top　of　the　frog　head　and　knocked　the　demon　down　on　its　belly。　The　edges　of　the　wound　burned　with　scarlet　fire。
The　intruder　turned　inky　black　while　flowing　into　a　shape　that　renotsembled　two　dozen　hands　growing　on　long；　leafy　stalks。　The　stems　stretchnoting　and　twisting；　the　creature　grabbed　for　the　sword。
Quenthel　let　the　hands　seize　hold　of　it；　and　as　she'd　expected；　the　magnotically　keen　double　edge　cut　them　to　pieces；　which　dropped　away　onto　the　floor。　The　demon　gave　a　particularly　loud　cry；　which　sounded　in　part　like　the　rhythmic　clanging　of　a　hammer　beating　metal　in　a　forge。　Wincing　at　the　noise；　the　priestess　didn't　know　if　the　extreme　volume　equated　to　a　scream　of　pain；　but　she　hoped　so。
The　demon　turned　into　a　miniature　green　tower　shaped　according　to　the　uncouth　architectural　notions　of　some　inferior　race。　A　force　surroundnoting　it　tugged　at　the　sword　as　if　the　keep　were　a　magnet　and　the　conjured　weapon；　forged　of　steel。　Quenthel　found　it　easy　to　pensate　for　the　pull。　She　slashed　away　chunks　of　masonry。
The　tower　opened　lengthwise　like　a　sarcophagus。　It　lurched　forward；　swallowed　the　sword；　and　closed　up　again。
The　entity　had　caught　Quenthel　by　surprise；　but　she　didn't　see　why　it　should　matter。　It　might　even　be　more　effective　to　cut　and　stab　her　foe　from　the　inside。　She　used　the　blade　to　thrust；　felt　the　point　bite；　and　her　psionic　link　with　the　weapon　snapped。
Startled；　she　nonetheless　reflexively　reached　for　another　scroll。　The　demon　spread　out　into　a　low；　squirming　red　and　yellow　mass。　A　hole　dinotlated　in　the　midst　of　it；　and　it　spat　the　sword　out。　The　weapon　retained　its　shape　but　rippled　with　shifting　colors　just　as　the　intruder　did；　and　Quennotthel　still　couldn't　feel　it　with　her　mind。
She　backed　away；　the　blade　followed；　and；　rattling　and　growling；　the　demon　brought　up　the　rear。　The　sword　swept　back　and　forth；　up　and　down；　while　she　ducked　and　dodged。　So　far；　she　was　evading　it；　but　it　hampered　and　hurt　her　simply　by　being　near。　Her　mail　turned　to　moss　and
crumbled　away。　Her　flesh　throbbed　with　sudden　pains　as　the　demon's　power　sought　to　transform　it。　One　leg　turned　numb　and　immobile　for　a　second；　and　she　nearly　fell。　Itchy　scales　grew　on　her　skin　then　faded　away。　Her　eyes　ached；　the　world　blurred　to　black；　white；　and　gray；　and　the　colors　exploded　back　into　view。　Her　identity　itself　was　in　flux。　For　one　instant；　she　thought　the　thoughts　and　felt　the　soft；　alien　emotions　of　an　arthritic　human　seamstress　dwelling　somewhere　in　the　World　Above。
Somehow；　despite　all　such　disconcerting　phenomena；　she　managed　to　read　the　spell　on　the　scroll　and　avoid　the　radiant　blade　at　the　same　time。
She　wasn't　sure　how　this　particular　parchment　had　found　its　way　to　Arach…Tinilith。　She　questioned　that　a　dark　elf　had　scribed　it；　for　it　connottained　a　spell　that　few　drow　ever　cast。　Indeed；　some　priestesses　would　disdain　to　cast　it；　because　it　invoked　a　force　regarded　as　anathema　to　their　faith。　But　Quenthel　knew　the　goddess　would　want　her　to　use　any　weapon　necessary　to　vanquish　her　foe；　and　it　was　remotely　possible　that　this　magic　would　prevail　where　even　the　supposedly　invincible　black　blade　had　failed。
Bright；　intricate　harmonies　sang　from　the　empty　air。　A　field　of　bluish　phosphorescence　sprang　up　around　her。　Within　it；　she　could　make　out　innottangible　geometric　forms　revolving　around　one　another　in　plex　symnotmetrical　patterns。
The　cool　radiance　expressed　the　power　of　order；　of　law；　the　antithesis　of　chaos。　The　sword　that　had　bee　an　extension　of　the　demon's　will　froze　inside　it　like　an　insect　in　amber…and　the　demon　was　equally　still。　For　a　moment；　at　least。　The　creature　began　hitching　ever　so　slightly　forward；　working　itself　loose　of　the　restricting　magic。
The　Mistress　of　Arach…Tinilith　was　essentially　a　creature　of　chaos　as　well；　but　mortal　and　native　to　the　material　plane；　and　thus　the　spell　had　no　power　over　her。　She　wheeled　and　dashed　to　the　body　lying　in　the　doorway。　Only　the　spider　part　of　it　was　moving；　chewing　and　slurping　on　the　rest。
The　dead　girl　turned　out　to　be　Halavin　Symrywin；　who'd　had　the　surnotprisingly　good　sense　to　remove　all　that　gaudy；　clinking　jewelry　before　atnottempting　to　attack　by　surprise。　The　novice　had　managed　the　arbalest　rather　deftly；　considering　her　sore；　mutilated　hands。
Quenthel　stooped　to　pick　up　the　weapon　and　the　quiver　containing　the　rest　of　the　enchanted　quarrels。　She　moved　warily；　but　the　feasting　arachnid　paid　her　no　mind。
She　turned；　laid　a　dart