蛛后之战(被遗忘的国度系列英文版)-第58部分

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o　get　back。
Dirty；　sore；　and　coughing；　he　eventually　made　it　home；　and　when　he　rose　to　the　top　of　the　limestone　wall；　he　saw　something　that　lifted　his　spirits；　albeit　only　a　little。
Eight　Masters　of　Sorcere　stood　in　the　open　air；　chanting；　gesturing；　attempting　a　ritual；　while　an　equal　number　of　apprentices　looked　on。　The　wizards　had　fetched　much　of　the　proper　equipment　out　of　the　tower。　That　was　something；　Gromph　supposed；　but　the　incantation　was　a　useless　mess。
The　Baenre　reached　out　and　hauled　himself　onto　solid　ground　and　his　hands　and　knees；　another　irksome　affront　to　his　dignity。
He　rose　and　shouted；　〃Enough〃
The　teachers　and　students　twisted　around　to　gawk　at　him。　The　chanting　died。
〃Archmage〃
〃I'm　sure；〃　said　Gromph；　striding　closer。　〃I　noticed　all　the　search　parties　you　sent　out　looking　for　me。〃
Guldor　hesitated。　〃Sir；　the　mistress　of　the　Academy　manded—〃
〃Shut　up；〃　said　Gromph。　He'd　e　close　enough　to　see　that　the　teachers　were　standing　in　a　plex　pentacle；　written　in　red　phosphorescence　on　the　ground。　〃Pitiful。〃
He　extended　his　index　finger　and　wrote　on　the　air。　The　magic　words　and　sigils　reshaped　themselves。
〃My　lord　Archmage；〃　said　Master　Godeep。　〃We　drew　this　circle　to　extinguish　the　fires　below。　If　you　break　it—〃
〃I'm　not　breaking　it；〃　said　Gromph；　〃I'm　fixing　it。〃　He　turned　his　gaze　on　one　of　the　apprentices；　some　moner　youth；　and　the　dolt　flinched。　〃Fetch　me　a　bit　of　fur；　an　amber　rod；　and　one　of　the　little　bronze　gongs　the　cooks　use　to　summon　us　to　supper。　Runf
〃Archmage；〃　said　Guldor；　〃you　see　we　already　have　all　the　necessary　foci　for　fire　magic。〃　He　gestured　to　a　brazier　of　ruddy　coals。　〃I'm　whispering　to　the　flames　below；　manding　them　to　dwindle。〃
〃And　making　more　smoke　in　the　process。　That's　just　what　we　need。〃　Gromph　kicked　the　brazier　over；　scattering　embers　across　the　rock。　〃Your　approach　isn't　working；　elementalist。　I　should　exile　you　to　the　Realms　that　See　the　Sun　for　a　few　decades；　then　you　might　figure　out　what　it　takes　to　extinguish　a　fire　of　this　magnitude。〃
The　male　came　sprinting　back　with　the　articles　Gromph　had　requested。　The　Baenre　whispered　a　word　of　power；　and　the　pentacle　changed　from　red　to　blue。
〃Right；　then；〃　he　said　to　the　wizards。　〃I　assume　you　can　tell　where　you're　meant　to　stand；　so　do　it　and　we'll　begin。　I'll　say　a　line；　you　repeat　it。　Copy　my　passes　if　you're　up　to　it。〃
For　a　properly　schooled　wizard；　magic　was　generally　easy。　He　relied　on　an　armamentarium　of　spells；　many　devised　by　his　predecessors；　a　few；　perhaps；　invented　by　himself。　In　either　case；　they　were　perfected　spells　that　he　thoroughly　understood。　He　knew　he　could　cast　them　properly；　and　what　would　happen　when　he　did。
An　extemporaneous　ritual　was　a　different　matter。　Relying　on　their　arcane　knowledge　and　natural　ability；　a　circle　of　mages　tried　to　generate　a　new　effect　on　the　fly。　Often；　nothing　happened。　When　it　did；　the　power　often　turned　on　those　who　had　raised　it　or　discharged　itself　in　some　other　manner　contrary　to　their　intent。　Yet　occasionally　such　a　ceremony　worked；　and　with　his　station；　his　wealth；　and　his　homeland　at　stake；　Gromph　was　resolved　to　make　this　one　of　those　times。
After　the　mages　chanted　for　fifteen　minutes；　power　began　to　whisper　and　sting　through　the　air。　The　archmage　tapped　the　beater　to　the　gong；　sounding　a　clashing；　shivering　tone。　At　once　a　vaster　note　answered　and　obscured　the　first；　a　booming；　grinding；　deafening　roar。　Gromph's　subordinates　flinched；　but　the　Baenre　smiled　in　satisfaction；　because　the　noise　was　thunder。
Perched　high　in　the　side　cavern；　the　residents　of　Sorcere　had　an　excellent　view　of　what　transpired　next。　The　air　at　the　top　of　the　great　vault；　already　thick　with　smoke；　grew　denser　still　as　masses　of　vapor　materialized。　The　shapeless　shadows　flickered　like　great　translucent　dragons　with　fire　leaping　in　their　bellies。　Following　each　flash；　they　bellowed　that　godlike　hammering　blast；　as　if　the　flames　pained　them。
Gromph　knew　that　many　of　the　folk　in　the　city　below　had　no　idea　what　was　occurring—it　was　possible　that　even　some　of　his　erudite　colleagues　didn't　know—but　whether　they　understood　or　not；　clouds；　lightning；　and　weather　were　paying　a　call　on　the　hitherto　changeless　depths　of　the　Underdark。
As　one；　the　clouds　dropped　torrents　of　water　to　fall　in　frigid　veils。　The　Baenre　could　hear　the　sizzling　sound　as　it　pounded　the　cavern　wall。
〃That's　impressive；〃　said　Guldor；　〃but　are　you　sure　it　will　put　out　the　flames？　The　fire's　magical；　after　all。〃
Gromph's　bruise　gave　him　a　twinge。
〃Yes；　instructor；〃　he　growled；　〃because　I'm　not　an　inpetent　from　a　House　of　no　account。　I'm　a　Baenre　and　the　Archmage　of　Menzoberranzan　。　。　。　and　I'm　sure。〃
Before　it　was　over；　Pharaun　lost　track　of　how　many　battles　he　and　his　rades　had　fought。　He　only　knew　they　kept　winning　them；　through　superior　tactics　more　than　anything　else；　and　that　despite　their　losses；　their　numbers　kept　growing；　swelled　by　garrisons　that　had　fought　their　way　out　of　their　castles。
Occasionally　the　ragtag　army　came　upon　a　section　of　the　city　that　had　already　been　pacified；　and　though　he　never　caught　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　th