蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第80章

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aught　so　much　of　a　glimpse　of　them；　Pharaun　knew　Bregan　D'aerthe　was　fighting　in　concert　with　his　own　pany。　It　was　as　much　a　fort　as　anything　could　be　on　this　fierce　and　desperate　night。
Finally　the　army　from　Tier　Breche　encountered　an　equally　impressive　force　under　Matron　Baenre's　mand。　The　two　panies　united　and　marched　on　Narbondellyn；　where　several　bugbears　with　some　degree　of　martial　experience　had　striven　to　anize　thousands　of　their　fellow　undercreatures　into　a　force　capable　of　withstanding　their　masters'　wrath。
The　great　stone　pillar　of　Narbondel　shone　above　fighting　that　was　wild　and　chaotic。　Miraculously；　partway　through；　the　upper　reaches　of　the　cavern　began　to　storm；　allaying　Pharaun's　greatest　fear。　An　hour　later；　the　drow　swept　in　and　annihilated　the　opposing　force；　and　thus　they　took　their　homeland　back。
In　the　aftermath；　the　wizard　walked　through　the　downpour；　looking　this　way　and　that。　Strands　of　wet　hair　clung　to　his　forehead；　and　his　boots　squelched。　As　a　mage；　he　had　to　concede　the　storm　was　a　glorious　achievement；　to　say　nothing　of　the　salvation　of　Menzoberranzan；　but　it　was　a　pity　his　colleagues　couldn't　have　acplished　the　same　thing　without　wreaking　havoc　on　everyone's　appearance　and　chilling　them　to　the　bone。
The　Mizzrym　grinned。　Neither　Quenthel　nor　Triel　was　anywhere　around。　He'd　taken　direction　from　them　all　night；　willingly　enough；　but　he　wanted　to　mand　the　finale　of　this　extraordinary　affair　himself；　and　their　absence　gave　him　an　excuse　to　proceed　without　consulting　them。
He　cast　about　once　more　and　spied　Welverin　Freth。　The　capable　weapons　master　of　the　Nineteenth　House；　Welverin　excelled　at　bat　despite　the　seeming　impediment　of　a　prosthetic　silver　leg；　and　had　fought　in　tandem　with　Pharaun　several　times　during　the　night。　Currently　he　was　huddled　in　a　doorway　conferring　with　two　of　his　lieutenants。
〃Weapons　Master〃　Pharaun　called。
Welverin　looked　up　and　gave　him　a　nod。　〃How　can　I　help　you；　Master　Mizzrym？〃
〃How　would　you　like　to　help　me　kill　the　creature　responsible　for　this　insurrection？〃
The　warrior's　eyes　narrowed　and　he　said；　〃Is　this　another　of　your　jokes？〃
〃By　no　means。　But　if　we're　going　to　do　this；　we'd　better　do　it　quickly；　before　our　quarry　slinks　away　into　the　Underdark。　I　trust　that　you　and　your　troops　can　ride　aerial　mounts？〃
Pharaun　gestured　to　the　giant　bats；　created　by　some　enchanter；　penned　in　a　nearby　latticework　dome。　It　seemed　a　petty　miracle　they'd　survived　the　rebellion　unsuffocated　and　unburned。
〃Where　do　they　keep　the　tack？〃　Welverin　asked；　peering　at　the　cage。
　
C　h　a　p　t　e　r　　
T　　W　　E　　N　　T　　Y
F　0　U　R
Water　dripping　from　the　hem　of　his　cloak；　Pharaun　found　that　the　layout　of　the　renegades'　fortress　wasn't　quite　so　perplexing　when　he　wasn't　dodging　hunters　and　suffering　the　brainjangling　aftereffects　of　a　psionic　assault。　The　empty；　echoing　rooms　and　corridors　still　seemed　just　as　ominous；　however；　just　as　fitting　an　abode　for　wraiths　and　maledictions。
The　Mizzrym　watched　Welverin　and　the　other　warriors　of　House　Freth　to　see　if　the　place　was　unsettling　them。　It　didn't　look　like　it。　Perhaps　they　were　too　brave。　Or　perhaps　the　fresh；　butchered　corpses　littering　the　floor　turned　their　thoughts　from　shadowy　terrors　to　the　monplace　violence　that　was　their　profession。
They　found　the　bodies；　often　cut　in　two　or　more　pieces；　lying　here　and　there　about　the　castle。　Pharaun　was　astonished　at　the　quantity。　Apparently　poor　wounded　Ryld　had　had　a　nice　long　homicidal　run　of　it　before　the　conspirators　slew　him。　Perhaps　it　had　even　required　Syrzan　to　do　the　job。
In　retrospect；　Pharaun　wondered　why　the　alhoon　hadn't　joined　the　search　for　the　escaped　prisoners　right　from　the　start。　Maybe　giving　the　Call　had　temporarily　depleted　its　strength。
The　Master　of　Sorcere　led　the　soldiers　into　a　long；　spacious　hall　with　a　large　dais　at　the　far　end。　there；　no　doubt；　a　matron　mother　had　held　court　and　also　dined；　judging　by　the　benches　and　trestle　tables　stacked　in　an　alcove。　Carved　and　painted　spiders　crawled　everywhere；　a　sort　of　mask；　Pharaun　supposed；　given　that　the　former　tenants　of　the　keep　had　petitioned　other　deities　in　private。　Sheets　of　genuine　spiderweb　veiled　the　artwork。
Welverin　said；　〃Look。〃
Pharaun　turned　his　head；　then　caught　his　breath　in　surprise。　Ryld　Argith　had　just　stepped　from　the　mouth　of　a　servants'　passage　midway　up　the　lefthand　wall。
The　weapons　master's　strides　were　even　and　sure　despite　his　wounded　leg。　He　was　noticeably　thinner；　as　if　his　body　was　burning　fuel　at　a　prodigious　rate；　and　somehow　he'd　recovered　Splitter。
The　soldiers　aimed　their　crossbows。
〃No〃　Pharaun　said。　Not　yet；　anyway。
Ryld　pivoted　toward　the　newers　and　stalked　forward。　His　eyes　were　intent　yet　somehow　empty；　his　face；　expressionless；　and　he　seemed　indifferent　to　the　weapons　leveled　at　his　burly　frame。　One　warrior　muttered　uneasily；　as　if　he'd　mistaken　the　Master　of　MeleeMagthere　for　a　ghost。　Pharaun　knew　better；　he　recognized　a　deep　trance　when　he　saw　one。　Evidently　his　friend　had　utilized　some　esoteric　martial　discipline　to　keep　himself　alive。
〃Ryld　I　knew　you　could　defeat　Houndaer　and　the　rest　of　those　buffoons。　Otherwise　I　never　would　have　left　you。〃
The　he　sounded　thin　even　to　the　liar。
Certainly　it　didn't　impress　Ryld。　Perhaps　in　his　altered　statue　of　consciousness；　he　hadn't　even　heard　it　or　recognized　his　fellow　master；　either。　He　just　kept　ing。
〃Wake　up〃　the　wizard　said。　〃It's　me；　Pharaun；　your　friend。　I　came　back　to　rescue　you。　These　boys　hail　from　House　Freth；　and　they're　our　allies。〃
Ryld　took　another　gliding　swordsman's　advance；　still　directly　toward　the　Master　of　Sorcere。
I'm　sorry；　Pharaun　thought；　but　this　time　you　bring　it　on　yourself。　He　drew　breath　to　give　the　order　to　shoot；　and　shapes　surged　through　the　three　tall　arched　doorways　at　the　rear　of　the　dais。
In　the　lead　capered　several　humansized　creatures　wrapped　in　lengths　of　clattering　chain。　They　were　kytons；　malign　spirits　whom　mages　could　summon　and　control。　Behind　the　devils　strode　the　surviving　conspirators；　and　Syrzan　in　its　decaying　robes。
Ryld　wheeled　and　oriented　on　the　conspirators。　The　rogues　shot　a　flight　of　whistling　quarrels；　and　the　Freth　warriors　responded　in　kind。　The　renegades　had　the　advantage　of　their　elevated　platform；　and　the　soldiers；　of　numerical　superiority；　but　neither　volley　dropped　more　than　a　smattering　of　its　targets。　The　batants　were　too　well　armored；　by　metal；　magic；　or　both。
Eager　to　see　if　swords　would　serve　where　the　darts　had　failed；　the　Freth　soldiers　howled　a　battle　cry　and　charged。　Most　of　them；　anyway。　In　his　deep；　booming　voice；　Welverin　ordered　some　of　the　troops　back　outside　to　find　their　way　around　to　the　entrances　the　traitors　had　used　and　attack　them　from　the　rear。　Not　a　bad　idea；　but　Pharaun　thought　the　warriors　had　a　good　chance　of　getting　lost　instead
Whirling　loose　lengths　of　chain；　eight　kytons；　each　a　match　for　a　dozen　ordinary　fighters；　leaped　down　off　the　stage　to　meet　the　oning　foe。　The　rogues　remained　on　the　platform　with　Syrzan；　where　they　started　reloading　their　crossbows　with　the　obvious　intention　of　shooting　down　into　the　melee。
Pharaun　decided　he　wouldn't　allow　that。　He　levitated　above　his　rades；　thus　obtaining　a　clear　shot　at　the　dais。
He　felt　a　twinge　in　the　center　of　his　forehead；　but　only　for　a　second。　As　he'd　expected；　Syrzan　had　attacked　first　with　a　psionic　thrust；　not　realizing　its　foe　had　warded　himself　against　such　effects　with　apposite　talismans　and　spells。
This　time；　the　Mizzrym　thought；　you'll　have　to　fight　me　charm　to　charm　and　spell　to　spell。
To　his　surprise；　he　received　an　answer；　a　telepathic　voice　grating　and　buzzing　inside　his　mind。
So　be　it；　mammal；　the　alhoon　said。　Either　way；　I'll　have　revenge　on　the　wretch　who　condemned　me　to　exile　yet　again。
Even　as　he　attended　to　Syrzan's　threat；　Pharaun　was　murmuring　an　incantation　and　manipulating　a　little　steel　tube。　A　bright　pellet　of　flame　hurtled　from　the　open　end；　expanding　into　a　skullsized　orb　as　it　flew。　It　smashed　into　one　of　the　renegades　on　the　dais；　rebounded；　and　struck　another。　It　bounced　and　slashed　back　and　forth　across　the　platform；　sowing　a　zigzag　trail　of　sparks　and　afterimage　in　its　wake；　striking　everyone。　Before　it　winked　out　of　existence；　it　killed　a　good　man