蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第31部分

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tine　get；　a　Baenre　heirloom；　beneath　her　chain　mail　and　piwafwi；　and　it　was　likely　that　protective　collar　that　saved　her　life。
Still；　the　unexpected　impact　on　the　nape　of　her　neck　knocked　her　forward　and　down　onto　one　knee；　and　the　edge　of　her　enchanted　buckler　clanked　against　the　floor。
For　a　moment；　she　was　dazed。　The　whip　vipers　hissed　and　clamored　to　rouse　her；　their　outburst　clashing　with　the　jumbled　howling　of　the　advancing　chaos　demon。
She　felt　something　hanging　down　her　back　and　bade　the　serpents　pull　it　off。　Hsiv　reared　over　her　shoulder；　tugged　the　article　out　of　the　mail　links　and　cloth　with　his　jaws；　and　displayed　it　for　her　inspection。　She　recognized　it　from　the　armory。　It　was　an　enchanted　quarrel　sized　for　a　twohand　arbalest；　and　if　it；　or　one　like　it；　so　much　as　pricked　a　dark　elf's　skin；　it　would　almost　certainly　kill。
Quenthel　thought　her　assailant　had　had　just　about　enough　time　to　reload。　If　so；　the　Baenre　obviously　couldn't　trust　her　cloak　and　mail　to　protect　her—the　first　bolt　had　pierced　them　easily　enough。
Though　it　meant　turning　her　back　on　the　demon；　she　wrenched　herself　around；　remaining　on　one　knee　to　make　a　smaller　target；　and　did　her　best　to　cover　herself　with　her　tiny　shield。
Just　in　time。　A　second　quarrel　cracked　against　the　armor。　A　shadowy　but　recognizably　female　figure　ducked　back　into　an　arched　doorway；　no　doubt　to　ready　her　weapon　again。
Trapped　between　two　foes；　Quenthel　thought　that　if　she　didn't　eliminate　one　of　them　quickly；　they　were　almost　certainly　going　to　kill　her。　Judging　her　sister　dark　elf　the　easier　mark；　she　leveled　a　long；　thin　rod　at　her。
A　glob　of　seething　green　vitriol　materialized　in　the　air　before　her；　then　shot　toward　her　enemy。　Quenthel　could　just　see　the　edge　of　her　opponent's　body　in　the　recessed　space；　and　that　was　what　she　aimed　for。　Even　if　she　missed；　the　magic　ought　to　slow　the　assassin　down。
The　green　mass　clipped　her　foe's　shoulder。　It　exploded；　and　the　dark　figure　jumped。　The　stonework　around　her　was　covered　in　a　sticky　mass　of　something　like　glue。　Quenthel　smiled；　but　her　foe；　apparently　unhindered　by　the　entrapping　magic；　returned　to　the　task　of　cocking　the　crossbow。　Something；　her　innate　drow　resistance　to　hostile　magic；　perhaps；　had　shielded　her　from　harm。
Quenthel　glanced　over　her　shoulder　as　she　slipped　the　rod　back　into　her　belt。　Though　moving　at　a　leisurely　pace；　the　chaos　demon　had　already　traversed　more　than　half　of　the　lengthy　gallery；　and　of　course　its　speed　could　increase　at　any　moment；　just　as　every　other　aspect　of　its　being　altered　unpredictably　from　one　second　to　the　next。
But　if　the　Spider　Queen　favored　Quenthel　and　the　entity　didn't　accelerate；　she　might　have　time　for　another　strike　at　her　foe　of　flesh　and　blood。　Silently　directing　the　vipers　to　keep　an　eye　on　the　demon；　she　turned　back；　and　read　from　a　precious　scroll。
When　Quenthel　pronounced　the　last　syllable；　the　scroll　disappeared　in　a　puff　of　dust　and　a　brilliant　light　filled　the　chamber。　The　dark　elf　in　the　doorway　reeled　and　clutched　blindly　at　the　door　frame。　She　touched　the　slowlydripping　mass　of　glue　and　snatched　her　fingers　away；　leaving　skin　behind。
Quenthel　started　to　read　another　scroll　as　the　air　around　her　stirred；　blowing　one　direction　then　another。　Hot　one　second　and　cold　the　next；　the　gusts　wafted　countless　smells；　pleasant　and　foul　alike。　She　took　it　for　a　sign　that　the　demon　had　drawn　very　close；　and　the　vipers'　warning　confirmed　it。
Still；　she　wanted　to　finish　her　lesser　adversary　off　before　the　girl　recovered　her　sight。　She　pleted　the　spell；　the　exquisitely　inked　characters　burning　through　the　parchment　like　hot　coals。
From　the　elbow　down；　the　enemy　female's　left　arm　rippled　and　swelled；　being　an　enormous　black　spider　with　green　markings　on　its　bristling　back。　Still　attached　to　the　rest　of　her　body；　it　lunged　at　her　throat　and　plunged　its　mandibles　in。
Quenthel　spun　around。　Mauve　with　golden　spots；　then　white；　then　half　red　and　half　blue；　the　demon　loomed　over　her。　Most　of　the　time　it　looked　flat；　like　a　hole　into　some　other　luminous；　turbulent　universe；　and　an　observer　had　only　its　inconstant　outline　from　which　to　infer　its　shape。　Over　the　course　of　a　couple　seconds；　it　seemed　to　bee　an　enormous　crab　claw；　a　wagon　plete　with　driver；　and　a　whirling　dust　devil。　The　length　of　gallery　behind　it　resembled　a　tunnel　carved　from　melting　rainbowcolored　slush　except　for　one　little　stretch。　That　section　appeared　unchanged　until　Quenthel　noticed　that　the　carvings　had　flipped　upside　down。
The　high　priestess　scrambled　to　her　feet。　As　she　rooted　in　her　bag　for　another　scroll；　her　scourge　dangled　from　her　wrist。　The　vipers　writhed　and　twisted。
The　chaos　demon　blinked　from　ochre　to　a　pattern　of　black　and　white　stripes；　and　from　the　form　of　a　simple　isosceles　triangle　to　that　of　an　ogre。　Its　cry　currently　a　mix　of　roaring　and　cawing；　it　swung　its　newly　acquired　club。
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　rectangular；　and　became　many　times　heavier　than　it　had　been　before。
The　unexpected　weight　dragged　her　down　to　the　floor　again。　Resembling　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　advanced　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　backward；　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　reading　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　ArachTinilith　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；　Surrender　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　resembled　two　dozen　hands　growing　on　long；　leafy　stalks。　The　stems　stretching　and　twisting；　the　creature　grabbed　for　the　sword。
Quenthel　let　the　hands　seize　hold　of　it；　and　as　she'd　expected；　the　magically　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　fe。　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　surrounding　it　tugged　at　the　sword　as　if　the　keep　were　a　magnet　and　the　conjured　weapon；　fed　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　dilated　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　Quenthel　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　ArachTinilith。　She　questioned　that　a　dark　elf　had　scribed　it；　for　it　contained　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　phosphore