蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第54部分

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Except　that　then　he　proved　he　did。　Ryld　touched　the　vertical　surface　that　was　the　back　of　the　steps。　He　summoned　darkness；　blinding　his　foes。
Houndaer　hacked　madly；　and　sensed　Tsabrak　doing　the　same。　Darkness　or　no；　when　the　spy　lunged　forward；　they'd　cut　him　to　pieces。　Their　swords　split　nothing　but　air。
After　a　few　seconds；　Omraeth　shouted；　〃e　back　this　way〃
Houndaer　and　Tsabrak　turned　and　blundered　their　way　toward　the　sound　of　their　rade's　voice。　The　drider's　envenomed　sword　bumped　the　Tuin'TarPs　arm；　but　fortunately　without　sufficient　force　to　penetrate　his　armor　and　piwafwi。
When　Houndaer　stumbled　out　of　the　murk；　Master　Argith　was　in　the　center　of　the　salle。　Under　the　cover　of　darkness；　he'd　made　it　to　the　top　of　the　steps　and　bounded　down　the　other　side。　He　had　a　good　chance　of　reaching　the　exit　unchecked。
He　didn't　take　it；　though。　Standing　in　the　center　of　one　of　the　faintly　luminous　circles；　he　settled　into　a　fighting　stance。　He　hadn't　scrambled　over　the　steps　to　flee；　rather　to　reach　a　battleground　more　to　his　liking。
Houndaer　swallowed　away　a　dryness　in　his　mouth。　Ryld　hadn't　the　sense　to　run？　Well；　good。　Then　they'd　kill　him。
The　noble　and　drider　fanned　out　to　e　at　the　Master　of　MeleeMagthere　from　opposite　sides。　Omraeth　hung　back　and　menced　another　song。
Advancing　to　meet　his　adversaries；　Master　Argith　glided　through　the　first　of　three　moves—parry；　feint　high；　slash　low—of　one　of　the　broadsword　katas　he'd　taught　Houndaer　back　on　Tier　Breche。　The　noble　discerned　an　instant　too　late　that　the　purpose　was　to　distract　attention　from　the　crossbow　in　the　weapons　master's　other　hand。　The　dart　plunged　into　Omraeth's　throat；　ending　his　song　in　an　ugly　gurgle　and　dissipating　the　charged　heaviness　of　arcane　force　accumulating　in　the　air。　The　spellsinger　fell　backward；　and　it　was　two　to　one。
Houndaer　told　himself　it　didn't　matter。　Not　when　he　was　wielding　Ryld's　own　greatsword；　a　weapon　that　could　supposedly　shear　through　anything；　and　Tsabrak's　blade　was　dripping　poison。　They　only　needed　to　land　one　light　little　cut　to　incapacitate　their　foe。
Ryld　gave　ground　before　them。　Houndaer　assumed　he　wanted　to　put　his　back　against　the　wall；　so　neither　of　his　opponents　could　get　behind　him；　but　with　an　agility　astonishing　in　so　massive　a　fighter；　Ryld　changed　direction。　In　the　blink　of　an　eye；　he　was　driving　forward　instead　of　back；　plunging　at　the　halfspider　on　his　left。
Startled；　Houndaer　faltered；　then　scrambled　toward　Ryld　and　the　drider。　It　would　take　him　a　few　heartbeats　to　close　the　distance。
In　that　time；　Ryld　charged　in　on　Tsabrak's　right；　the　side　opposite　the　creature's　sword　arm。　A　drider's　spidery　lower　half　was　sufficiently　massive　that；　like　a　mounted　warrior；　he　had　difficulty　striking　or　parrying　across　his　torso。
Tsabrak　slashed　at　the　weapons　master's　head。　The　stroke　was　poorly　aimed；　and　Ryld　didn't　bother　to　duck　or　parry；　simply　concentrated　on　his　own　attack。
Tsabrak　made　a　desperate　effort　to　heave　himself　aside。　Still；　Ryld's　broadsword　crunched　through　the　top　of　one　of　the　drider's　chitinous　legs。　Tsabrak　cried　out　and　lurched　offbalance。
Stepping；　Ryld　whirled　his　weapon　around　for　what　would　surely　be　the　coup　de　grace。　Houndaer　shouted　a　war　cry；　ran　a　final　stride；　and　swung　the　greatsword。　He　wasn't　in　a　proper　stance；　and　the　stroke　was　a　clumsy　one；　but　it　sufficed　to　drive　the　weapons　master　back。　Ryld　knew　better　than　anyone　how　deadly　was　that　enormous　blade。
As　soon　as　the　stroke　whizzed　past；　the　master　advanced　with　a　thrust　to　the　chest。　Houndaer　wrenched　the　greatsword　around　for　a　parry。　It　should　have　been　impossible　to　bring　such　a　huge　weapon　about　so　quickly；　but　it　seemed　to　grow　as　light　as　a　roll　of　parchment　in　his　hands。　Ryld's　broadsword　caught　on　one　of　the　hooks　just　above　the　leathergirt　ricasso。
Ryld　retreated；　snatching　his　weapon　free。　Houndaer　shifted　the　greatsword　into　a　middle　guard；　and　Tsabrak　hobbled　up　beside　him。　The　drider's　face　twisted　in　pain；　and　pungent　fluid　spattered　rhythmically　from　his　wound。
Ryld　continued　to　back　away。　The　rogues　spread　out　again；　though　not　so　widely　as　before。　Tsabrak　began　to　make　a　soft　whining　sound　in　the　back　of　his　throat。
Then；　seemingly　without　any　windup；　just　a　sudden　extension　of　his　arm；　Ryld　threw　his　sword。　Though　the　weapon　wasn't　intended　for　such　an　action；　it　streaked　through　the　air　as　straight　and　sure　as　an　arrow。　The　point　plunged　into　Tsabrak's　chest。
The　drider's　eyes　widened。　He　coughed　blood；　then　flopped　forward　at　the　waist；　dropping　his　sword。　His　spider　half；　slower　to　die　than　the　upper　portion；　continued　to　limp　forward。
It　was　all　right；　though；　because　Ryld　had　no　melee　weapon　save　for　a　dagger；　which　would　surely　be　of　little　use　against　a　blade　as　long　as　the　greatsword。　Houndaer　rushed　in　to　deliver　the　finishing　stroke。
〃Tuin'Tarir　he　screamed。
His　face　still　as　blank　as　a　zombie's；　the　weapons　master　dodged　to　the　side。
Houndaer　turned；　following　the　target；　and　saw　that　Ryld　had　ducked　behind　one　of　a　row　of　wooden　mannequins。　Up　close；　the　crudely　carved　dummies　were　oddly　disquieting　figures；　smirking　identical　smiles　despite　their　countless　stigmata　of　dents　and　gashes。
Ryld　stood　poised；　waiting；　and　Houndaer　discerned　the　spy's　intent。　When　his　adversary　lunged　around　one　side　of　the　dummy；　the　master　would　circle　in　the　opposite　direction；　thus　maintaining　a　barrier　between　them。
Houndaer　saw　no　reason　to　play　that　game；　not　if　his　new　sword　was　as　keen　as　it　was　supposed　to　be。　He　brought　the　blade　around　in　a　low　arc。　It　tore　away　the　mannequin　with　scarcely　a　jolt；　depriving　Ryld　of　his　pitiful　protection。
Unfortunately；　the　weapons　master　sprang　forward　at　the　very　same　instant；　before　Houndaer　could　pull　the　greatsword　back　for　another　cut。　Ryld　slashed　at　the　noble's　throat。
Houndaer　frantically　wrenched　himself　back；　interposing　his　weapon　between　himself　and　the　spy；　before　recognizing　that　the　cut　had　been　more　of　a　feint　than　anything　else。　Ryld　had　tricked　him　into　assuming　a　pletely　defensive　attitude；　then　seized　the　opportunity　to　dash　past　him。　Houndaer　cut　at　the　master's　back　but　only　managed　to　tear　his　billowing　cloak。
The　Tuin'Tarl　gave　chase；　and　Tsabrak；　dying　or　dead　but　still　mindlessly　ambulatory；　staggered　into　his　path。　Houndaer　shouted　in　frustration　and　cut　the　drider　down。
When　the　hybrid　fell；　the　noble　could　see　what　was　happening　behind　him。　Ryld　had　reached　Tsabrak's　fallen　sword。　Heedless　of　the　venom　drying　on　the　blade；　the　teacher　slipped　his　toe　under　the　weapon；　flipped　it　into　the　air；　and　caught　it　neatly　by　the　hilt。　His　expression　as　unfathomable　as　ever；　he　came　on　guard　and　advanced。
I　can　still　kill　him；　Houndaer　thought；　I　still　have　the　reach　on　him。
Aloud；　he　shouted；　〃Here〃
Ryld　stepped　to　the　verge　of　the　distance；　then　hovered　there。　Confident　in　his　ability　to　defend；　he　wanted　Houndaer　to　strike　at　him。　A　fencer　couldn't　attack　without　opening　himself　up。
At　first；　the　noble　declined　to　oblige。　He　intended　to　wait　his　opponent　out。　Ryld　beat　his　blade。
The　clanging　impact　startled　a　response　out　of　him；　but　at　least　it　was　a　posed　attack。　Feint　to　the　chest；　feint　to　the　flank；　cut　low　and　hack　the　opponent's　legs　out　from　underneath　him。
Even　as　he　flowed　into　the　final　count；　he　remembered　Ryld　teaching　him　the　sequence；　and　sure　enough；　the　instructor　wasn't　fooled。　He　parried　the　genuine　lowline　attack；　then　riposted　to　Houndaer's　wrist。　The　broadsword　bit　through　his　gauntlet　and　into　the　flesh　beneath。
Ryld　pulled　his　weapon　free　in　a　spatter　of　gore。　He　drove　deeper；　cutting　at　Houndaer's　torso。　The　Tuin'Tarl　floundered　backward　out　of　the　distance；　meanwhile　heaving　the　greatsword　back　into　a　threatening　position。
His　bloody　wrist　throbbed；　and　the　huge　blade　trembled。　It　was　brutally　hard　to　hold　it　up；　its　enchantments　notwithstanding。　He　choked　up　on　it；　his　weakened　hand　clutching　the　ricasso；　but　that　only　helped　a　little。　He　listened　for　the　sound　of　another　party　of　rogues　rushing　to　his　aid。　He　didn't　hear　it。
〃Well　done；　Master　Argith〃　Houndaer　declared。　〃I　declare　myself　beaten。　I　yield。〃
Ryld　stalked　forward；　broadsword　at　the　ready。
〃Please〃　said　the　Tuin'Tarl。　〃We　always　got　along；　didn't　we？　I　was　one　of　your　most　dutiful　students；　and　I　can　help　you　get　out　of　here。〃
The　teacher　kept　ing；　and　Houndaer　saw　that　his　face　wasn't　empty　or　expressionless　after　all。　It　might　be　devoid　of　emotion；　but　it　revealed　a　preternatural；　almost　demonic　concentration；　focused　entirely　on　slaughter。
Houndaer　saw　his　own　inescapable　death　there；　and；　suffused　with　a　strange　calm；　he　lowered　the　greatsword。　Ryid's　blade　sheared　into　his　chest　an　instant　later。
The　echoing　metallic　crash　startled　Quenthel。　It　was　well　that　she'd　spent　a　lifetime　learning　self　control；　for　otherwise；　she　might　have　cried　out　in　dismay。
She　and　her　squad　were　patrolling　the　temple。　After　the　events　of　the　past　four　nights　it　would　have　been　mad　to　relax　their　vigilance；　but　as　the　hours　had　crept　uneventfully　by；　her　troops　began　to　speculate　that　the　siege　was　over。　After　all；　it　was　supposed　to　be。　The　bone　wand　had　supposedly　turned　the　malignancy　of　the　past　night's　sending　back　on　she　who　cast　the　curse。
Yet　Quenthel　had　found　she　wasn't　quite　ready　to　share　in　the　general　optimism。　Yes；　she'd　turned　an　attack　back　on　its　source；　but　that　didn't　necessarily　mean　her　faceless　enemy　had　succumbed　to　the　demon's　attentions。　The　spellcaster　could　have　survived；　and　if　so；　she　could　keep　right　on　dispatching　her　unearthly　assassins。
From　the　sound　of　it；　another　such　had　just　broken　in；　and　Quenthel　didn't　have　another　little　bone　wand。
For　a　moment；　the　Baenre　felt　a　surge　of　fear；　perhaps　even　despair；　and　she　swallowed　it　down。
〃Follow　me；〃　she　snapped。
Perhaps　her　subordinates　would　prove　of　some　use　for　a　change。
Their　tread　silent　in　their　enchanted　boots；　the　priestesses　trotted　in　the　direction　of　the　noise。　Greenish　torchlight　splashed　their　shadows　on　the　walls。　Parchment　rattled　as　one　novice　fumbled　open　a　scroll。　Female　voices　began　to　shout。　Power　reddened　the　air　for　an　instant　and　brushed　a　gritty；　pricking　feeling　across　the　priestesses'　skin。
〃It's　not　a　demon；〃　said　Yngoth；　twisting　up　from　the　whip　handle　to　place　his　eyes　on　a　level　with　Quenthel's　own。　Her　stride　made　his　scaly　wedge　of　a　head　bob　up　and　down。
〃No？〃　she　asked。　〃Has　my　enemy　e　to　continue　our　duel　in　person？〃
She　hoped　so。　With　her　minions　at　her　back；　Quenthel　would　have　a　good　chance　of　crushing　the　arrogant　fool。
But　alas；　it　wasn't　so。　Her　course　led　her　to　the　entry　hall　with　the　spider　statues。　The　poor　battered　valves　hung　breached　and　crooked　once　again。　This　time　the　culprit　was　a　huge；　disembodied；　luminous　hand；　floating　open　with　fingers　up　as　if　signaling　someone　to　halt。　A　lanky　male　in　a　baggy　cloak　had　taken　shelter　behind　the　translucent　manifestation　from　the　spears　and　arrows　that　several　priestesses　were　sending　his　way。
Quenthel　sighed；　because　she　knew　the　lunatic；　and　he　couldn't　possibly　be　her　unknown　foe。　By　all　accounts；　he'd　been　too　busy　down　in　the　city　the　past　few　days。
She　gestured　with　the　whip；　terminating　the　barrage　of　missiles。
〃Master　Mizzrym；〃　she　called。　〃You　pound　your　crimes　by　brea