war of the spider queen 1 dissolution-第67部分

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ke　into　a　run；　their　rapid　footsteps　drumming　on　the　ground。
Ryld　had　no　idea　why1　the　goblins　were　charging　him　and　Pharaun。　Pernothaps　the　creatures　had　mistaken　them　for　tenants　of　the　house　that　had　denied　them　entry　and　thus　appropriate　targets　for　revenge。　Maybe　they　simply　wanted　to　take　their　frustrations　out　on　someone。
Not　that　it　mattered。　The　brutes　were　no　match　for　masters　of　Tier　Breche。　The　dark　elves　would　kill　them　in　a　trice。
Ryld　drew　Splitter　from　its　scabbard　and　came　on　guard；　meanwhile　taking　in　his　assailants'　pitiful　makeshift　weaponry　and　lack　of　armor。　It　was　pathetic；　really；　so　much　so　that　the　next　few　seconds　would　almost　be　a　bore。
Two　goblins　spread　out；　trying　to　flank　him。　He　stepped　in　and　swung　Splitter　left；　then　right。　The　undercreatures　fell；　one　dropping　its　crowbar　to　clang　against　the　ground　and　the　other　keeping　hold　of　its　mallet。
The　next　two　bat…eared　creatures　hesitated。　They　should　have　turned　and　run；　because　Ryld　couldn't　stand　and　wait　for　them　to　ponder　whether　they　still　wanted　to　fight。　The　Prophet　and　the　rogues　were　getting　farther　away　by　the　second。
He　stepped　in　and　cut　downward。　A　goblin；　this　one　possessed　of　a　short　sword…a　proper　warrior's　weapon；　and　some　martial　training　to　go　with　it…lifted　the　weapon　to　parry。　It　didn't　matter。　Splitter　sheared　right　through　its　blade　and　streaked　on　into　its　torso。
Knife　in　hand；　the　fourth　goblin　dodged　behind　its　foe。　Sensing　its　lonotcation；　Ryld　kicked　backward。　His　boot　connected　solidly；　snapping　bone；　and　when　he　turned　the　creature　lay　motionless　on　the　ground；　likely　dead　of　a　broken　back。
Ryld　turned　to　survey　the　battlefield。　His　eyes　widened　in　shock　and　dismay。
Pharaun　too　was　on　the　ground。　Three　goblins　crouched　over　him　on　their　bandy　legs。　One　scabrous　creature　had　blood　on　the　iron　spike　that　served　it　as　a　poniard。
Ryld　bellowed　a　war　cry；　sprang　at　them；　and　struck　them　down　before　they　could　do　any　more　damage。　He　kneeled　beside　his　friend。　Beneath　the　elegant　piwafwi；　Pharaun's　equally　gorgeous　robe　had　two　punctures　in　it；　and　was　dark　and　wet　from　breastbone　to　thighs。
〃I　heard　them　ing　a　moment　after　you　did；〃　the　wizard　wheezed。　〃I　didn't　turn　around　fast　enough。〃
〃Don't　worry；〃　said　Ryld。　〃It's　going　to　be　all　right。〃
In　reality；　he　wasn't　at　all　sure　of　that。
〃The　goblin　thrust　through　the　gap　between　the　wings　of　my　cloak。　The　little　bastard　hurt　me　when　Greyanna　and　her　followers　couldn't。　Isn't　that　silly？〃


C　h　a　p　t　e　r

T　W　E　L　V　E
When　Quenthel　had　decided　she　must　don　armor；　she　had　performed　the　task　as　methodically　as　she　did　everything　else。　She'd　put　on　a　cunningly　crafted　adamantine　gorget；　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　fornotward　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　adnotvancing　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　two…hand　arnotbalest；　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　pronottect　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　tranotversed　more　than　half　of　the　lengthy　galle