蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第58章

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The　Archmage　frowned。　Evidently　the　imperious　bitch　had　figured　out　what　was　going　on　and　had　in　a　sense　responded　appropriately。　But　it　shouldn't　matter。　He'd　withstood　contact　with　the　ultimate　essence　of　evil；　but　he　was　the　greatest　wizard　in　the　world　and　had　taken　precautions。　Quenthel　enjoyed　neither　advantage。
In　time；　a　sublime　cruelty　twisted　her　features。　Gromph　exclaimed　in　triumph；　for　the　netherspirit　plainly　had　her　in　its　grasp。　Evidently　she　wasn't　going　to　drop　dead　of　an　aneurysm　or　mit　suicide；　but　no　matter：　she　was　doomed。　Her　personality　erased；　consumed　by　the　pulsion　to　degrade　and　destroy；　she　was　bound　to　provoke　someone　into　killing　her。
Then　she　broke　the　skinny　white　wand　in　two；　unleashing　a　magic　that　thrust　the　netherspirit　out　of　her。　Gromph；　for　all　his　knowledge；　had　never　seen　anything　quite　like　it。　Taking　on　just　a　hint　of　palpable　form；　his　agent　fled　the　scene。
The　Baenre　wizard　bolted　up　in　his　chair　and　threw　his　goblet；　smashing　it　against　the　wall。　He　cursed　foully；　and　the　malignancy　in　his　words；　hammering　through　the　black　lotusscented　air；　made　the　greenish　flames　of　the　everlasting　candles　gutter。
Struggling　for　posure；　he　told　himself　it　didn't　matter。　He'd　get　her　eventually。　He'd　throw　entity　after　entity　at　her　until　。　。　。
But　what　had　happened　to　the　netherspirit？　Constrained　by　Gromph's　mand；　it　should　have　kept　attacking　until　either　it　toppled　the　pillars　of　Quenthel's　reason　or　she　destroyed　it。　Instead；　it　had　run　away。
The　mistress's　unfamiliar　magic　had　broken　the　binding—so　much　was　clear—but　where　had　the　creature　gone？　Back　to　its　own　world？　Probably；　but　something—a　slight　acceleration　of　his　heartbeat　or　a　subtle　prickling　on　the　back　of　his　neck；　perhaps—made　Gromph　want　to　check。
The　casement　responded　to　his　will。　Framed　in　that　rectangular　space；　the　netherspirit；　still　visible；　perhaps　as　tangible　as　smoke；　half　flew；　half　bounded　down　one　of　the　labyrinthine　corridors　of　Sorcere。　A　defensive　ward　activated；　piercing　the　intruder　with　crisscrossing　shafts　of　yellow　light；　but　it　tore　itself　free　and　charged　on。　A　bluegowned　master　peered　out　the　door　of　his　sanctum；　spotted　the　wraith；　started　to　conjure；　and　the　intruder　stopped　him　with　a　sweep　of　a　shadowy　paw。　The　blow　didn't　rock　the　wizard　backward　or　leave　a　mark；　but　he　fell　like　a　block　of　stone。
Gromph　surmised　his　erstwhile　agent　was　ing　after　him。　Either　it　was　angry　over　its　forced　servitude；　or　Quenthel　had　done　more　than　merely　dissolve　his　control。　She'd　wrested　it　away　from　him　and　turned　the　entity　into　her　own　assassin。
Either　way；　the　spirit　represented　a　threat；　and　unfortunately；　Gromph　himself　didn't　know　its　full　capabilities。　Still；　he　had　no　real　reason　for　concern。　His　magic　was　more　than　a　match　for　any　such　entity；　especially　in　his　stronghold。
He　watched　the　netherspirit　flow　through　the　black　marble　door　of　his　office　like　water　through　a　sieve。　It　scrambled　over　the　white　bone　desk　and　headed　straight　for　the　hidden　access　to　his　sanctum。　Magic　crackled　purple　and　blue　around　it；　but　it　burst　through。　It　hurtled　up　the　shaft。
Gromph　smiled。　He　had　the　creature　where　he　wanted　it；　for　he'd　created　the　passage　with　defense　in　mind。　Simply　by　focusing　his　will；　he　destroyed　it。
The　shaft　wasn't　made　of　matter。　Still；　a　metallic　crashing　and　grinding　sounded　through　the　hole　in　the　middle　of　the　floor　as　the　artificial　space　folded　in　on　itself。　If　the　rebellious　spirit　screamed；　its　voice　was　lost　among　the　din。
Gromph　would　have　enjoyed　hearing　it　squeal；　but　the　important　thing　was　that　it　was　gone。　Most　likely；　the　collapse　had　crushed　it　to　nothing；　but　even　if　not；　it　had　surely　ejected　it；　maimed　and　disoriented；　in　some　remote　halfworld。　The　crisis　was　over；　and　the　archmage　was　left　only　with　the　annoyance　of　transporting　himself　in　and　out　of　his　hideaway　via　spell　until　such　time　as　he　invested　the　six　hours　necessary　to　recreate　the　passage。
However；　just　to　maintain　the　habit　of　caution　that　had　balked　a　thousand　enemies；　he　turned　back　to　the　window；　then　scowled。
The　space　still　framed　the　spirit；　and　as　far　as　Gromph　could　see；　the　shadowy　thing　was　unharmed。　Darting　and　wheeling　through　curtains　of　pale　phosphorescence；　it　was　casting　about　in　the　bent　spaces　surrounding　the　stronghold。
Gromph　didn't　see　how　the　creature　could　find　him。　Nothing　could　locate　a　refuge　hidden　in　a　haze　of　scrambled　time；　not　without　the　tenant　in　some　way　guiding　it　in。　Nonetheless；　the　wizard　hurried　into　one　of　the　protective　golden　pentacles　adorning　the　marble　floor。
An　instant　later；　a　different　window　burst　inward；　the　casements　flying　from　their　hinges。　The　spirit　flowed　through；　in　the　process　resuming　the　form　it　had　worn　before　Gromph　transformed　it　into　the　semblance　of　a　kind　of　demon。　It　somewhat　resembled　a　wingless　dragon　with　long；　taurine　horns　sweeping　from　its　head；　which　also　possessed　a　single　globular　eye。　The　Archmage　couldn't　actually　see　the　orb—it　was　one　with　the　inky　shadow　of　the　spirit's　body—but　he　could　feel　its　baleful　regard。
Slightly　anxious　and　uncertain；　and　all　the　angrier　for　it；　Gromph　shouted；　〃K'rarza'q〃
The　netherspirit　released　a　humid　stink　that　somehow　conveyed　the　essence　of　scornful　laughter；　then　it　bounded　forward。
Very　well；　Gromph　thought；　have　it　your　way。
He　thrust　the　curved　blade　of　his　ritual　dagger　into　his　belly。
As　he'd　expected；　the　creature　floundered　in　agony；　but　only　for　an　instant。　Anguish　erupted　in　the　Archmage's　own　stomach。　He　yanked　the　athame　out　of　his　flesh　an　instant　before　it　would　have　dealt　him　an　actual　wound。
K'rarza'q　lunged。　Ignoring　the　residual　pain　in　his　gut；　Gromph　recited　a　brief　incantation　and　thrust　out　his　arm。　The　air　rang　like　a　bell；　and　a　little　red　ball　of　fire　shot　from　his　hand。　It　struck　the　creature　and　。　。　。　nothing。　The　missile　winked　out　of　existence。
The　entity　reached　the　edge　of　the　pentacle。　A　barrier　of　azure　light　sprang　up　and　vanished　with　a　tortured　whine　as　the　spirit　drove　though。　The　creature　dipped　its　head　and　jerked　it　upward；　ramming　the　tip　of　one　of　its　horns　into　Gromph's　chest。
The　spirit　was　entirely　solid。　If　not　for　the　Robes　of　the　Archmage　and　his　other　protections；　the　long　blade　of　shadow　stuff　would　surely　have　impaled　Gromph。　As　it　was；　it　picked　him　up　and　tossed　him　across　the　room。　In　midair；　he　strained　to　throw　off　the　numbing　shock　and　activate　the　powers　of　levitation　in　his　House　insignia。
The　power　woke　with　a　sort　of　sickening　pang；　but　wake　it　did。　He　floated　down　as　light　as　a　wisp　of　spider　silk；　avoiding　what　might　have　been　a　boneshattering　fall。
As　soon　as　he　got　his　feet　under　him；　he　snatched　a　polished　wooden　wand　from　its　sheath　on　his　left　hip；　pointed　it；　and　murmured　the　trigger　word。　A　bubble　of　pungent　brown　acid　swelled　on　the　end；　then　hurtled　at　the　spirit。　It　plunged　into　the　being's　cyclopean　mask；　but　apparently　without　inflicting　any　harm。
The　spirit　charged。　Gromph　stood　in　place　until　his　foe　was　nearly　on　top　of　him；　then　he　spoke　a　single　word。　A　minor　teleportation　shifted　him　instantaneously　to　the　other　end　of　the　circular　room；　behind　his　attacker's　back。
K'rarza'q　skidded　to　a　halt　and　cast　about　in　confusion。　Gromph　had　bought　himself　a　second；　no　more。　He　quickly　dropped　the　wand　of　acid；　snatched　a　spiralcut　staff　of　polished　carnelian　from　its　place　on　a　rack　of　wizard's　tools；　lifted　it　over　his　head；　and　began　to　chant。　The　rod　possessed　special　virtues　against　beings　from　other　levels　of　reality。　Perhaps　with　it　in　his　hand；　he　could　finally　drive　a　spell　through　his　foe's　defenses。
The　netherspirit　heard　his　voice；　turned；　and　hurtled　toward　him。　This　time　it　charged　without　moving　its　limbs；　simply　shifting　over　the　distance　with　terrifying　speed。　Preserving　the　cadence　and　intonation　as　only　a　master　wizard　could；　Gromph　picked　up　the　pace　of　his　incantation。　He　very　much　wanted　to　finish　before　the　creature　closed　with　him　again。
He　succeeded；　though　only　barely。　K'rarza'q　was　nearly　within　arm's　reach　when　the　magic　blazed　into　existence。　A　lance　of　dazzling　glare　plunged　into　the　nether　spirit’s　eye。
The　reeking　creature　dropped　to　the　floor；　its　substance　unraveling