精灵血脉四部曲-第158部分

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t　if　they　were　away　for　too　long；　they　might　return　to　find　they　had　been　replaced。

　　　They　exchanged　concerned　looks　now；　doubting　expressions　that　ever　observant　Jarlaxle　did　not　miss。

　　　Baenre's　battle　group　moved　along　on　its　slow　and　determined　way；　the　three　matron　mothers　floating　atop　their　driftdisks；　flanked　by　Baenre's　two　daughters　（dragging　the　dwarf）　and　the　illithid；　who　seemed　to　glide　rather　than　walk；　his　feet　hidden　under　his　long；　heavy　robes。　A　short　while　later；　Matron　Baenre　informed　them　that　they　would　find　an　appropriate　cavern　and　set　up　a　central　throne　room；　from　which　she　could　direct　the　continuing　fight。

　　　It　was　another　indication　that　the　war　would　be　a　long　one；　and　again　Zeerith　and　Auro'pol　exchanged　disconcerted　looks。

　　　Bladen'Kerst　Baenre　narrowed　her　eyes　at　both　of　them；　silently　threatening。

　　　Jarlaxle　caught　it　all；　every　connotation；　every　hint　of　where　Matron　Baenre　might　find　her　greatest　troubles。

　　　The　mercenary　leader　bowed　low　and　excused　himself；　explaining　that　he　would　join　up　with　his　band　and　try　to　garner　more　timely　information。

　　　Baenre　waved　her　hand；　dismissing　him　without　a　second　thought。　One　of　her　escorts　was　not　so　casual。

　　　You　and　your　mercenaries　will　flee；　came　an　unexpected　message　in　Jarlaxle's　mind。

　　　The　mercenary's　own　thoughts　whirled　in　a　jumble；　and；　caught　off　guard；　he　couldn't　avoid　sending　the　telepathic　reply　that　the　notion　of　deserting　the　war　had　indeed　crossed　his　mind。　As　close　to　desperation　as　he　had　ever　been；　Jarlaxle　looked　back　over　his　shoulder　at　the　expressionless　face　of　the　intruding　illithid。

　　　Beware　of　Baenre　should　she　return；　Methil　imparted　casually；　and　he　continued　on　his　way　with　Baenre　and　the　others。

　　　Jarlaxle　paused　for　a　long　while　when　the　group　moved　out　of　sight；　scrutinizing　the　emphasis　of　the　illithid's　last　munication。　He　came　to　realize　that　Methil　would　not　inform　Baenre　of　his　wavering　loyalty。　Somehow；　from　the　way　the　message　had　been　given；　Jarlaxle　knew　that。

　　　The　mercenary　leaned　against　a　stone　wall；　thinking　hard　about　what　his　next　move　should　be。　If　the　drow　army　stayed　together；　Baenre　would　eventually　win梩hat　much　he　did　not　doubt。　The　losses　would　be　greater　than　anticipated　（they　already　had　been）；　but　that　would　be　of　little　concern　once　Mithril　Hall　was　taken；　along　with　all　its　promised　riches。

　　　What；　then；　was　Jarlaxle　to　do？　The　disturbing　question　was　still　bouncing　about　the　mercenary's　thoughts　when　he　found　some　of　his　Bregan　D'aerthe　lieutenants；　all　bearing　news　of　the　continuing　bottleneck　near　the　lower　door；　and　information　that　even　more　dark　elves　and　slaves　were　being　killed　in　the　outer　tunnels；　falling　prey　to　roving　bands　of　dwarves　and　their　allies。

　　　The　dwarves　were　defending；　and　fighting；　well。

　　　Jarlaxle　made　his　decision　and　relayed　it　silently　to　his　lieutenants　in　the　intricate　hand　code。　Bregan　D'aerthe　would　not　desert；　not　yet。　But　neither　would　they　continue　to　spearhead　the　attack；　risking　their　forward　scouts。

　　　Avoid　all　fights；　Jarlaxle's　fingers　flashed；　and　the　gathered　soldiers　nodded　their　accord。　We　stay　out　of　the　way；　and　we　watch；　nothing　more。

　　　Until　Mithril　Hall　is　breached；　one　of　the　lieutenants　reasoned　back。

　　　Jarlaxle　nodded。　Or　until　the　war　bees　futile；　his　fingers　replied；　and　from　his　expression；　it　was　obvious　the　mercenary　leader　did　not　think　his　last　words　ridiculous。



　　　*****



　　　Pwent　and　his　band　rambled　through　tunnel　after　runnel；　growing　frustrated；　for　they　found　no　drow；　or　even　kobolds；　to　slam。

　　　〃Where　in　the　Nine　Hells　are　we？〃　the　battlerager　demanded。　No　answer　came　in　reply；　and　when　he　thought　about　it；　Pwent　really　couldn't　expect　one。　He　knew　these　tunnels　better　than　any　in　his　troupe；　and　if　he　had　no　idea　where　they　were；　then　certainly　the　others　were　lost。

　　　That　didn't　bother　Pwent　so　much。　He　and　his　furious　band　really　didn't　care　where　they　were　as　long　as　they　had　something　to　fight。　Lack　of　enemies　was　the　real　problem。

　　　〃Start　to　bangin'！〃　Pwent　roared；　and　the　Gutbusters　ran　to　the　walls　in　the　narrow　corridor　and　began　slamming　hammers　against　the　stone；　causing　such　a　motion　that　every　creature　within　two　hundred　yards　would　easily　be　able　to　figure　out　where　they　were。

　　　Poor　Bidderdoo　Harpell；　swept　up　in　the　wake　of　the　craziest　band　of　suicidal　dwarves；　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　tunnel；　using　his　glowing　gem　to　try　to　sort　through　the　few　remaining　parchments　from　his　blasted　spellbook；　looking　for　a　spell；　any　spell　（though　preferably　one　that　would　get　him　out　of　this　place！）。

　　　The　racket　went　on　for　several　minutes；　and　then；　frustrated；　Pwent　ordered　his　dwarves　to　form　up；　and　off　they　stormed。　They　went　under　a　natural　archway；　around　a　couple　of　bends　in　the　passage；　then　came　upon　a　wider　and　squarer　way；　a　tunnel　with　worked　stone　along　its　walls　and　an　even　floor。　Pwent　snapped　his　fingers；　realizing　that　they　had　struck　out　to　the　west　and　south　of　Mithril　Hall。　He　knew　this　place；　and　knew　that　he　would　find　a　dwarven　defensive　position　around　the　next　corner。　He　bobbed　around　in　the　lead；　and　scrambled　over　a　barricade　that　reached　nearly　to　the　ceiling；　hoping　to　find　some　more　allies　to　〃enlist〃　into　his　terror　group。　As　he　crested　the　wall；　Pwent　stopped　short；　his　smile　erased。

　　　Ten　dwarves　lay　dead　on　the　stone　floor；　amidst　a　pile　of　torn　goblins　and　orcs。

　　　Pwent　fell　over　the　wall；　landed　hard；　but　bounced　right　back　to　his　feet。　He　shook　his　head　as　he　walked　among　the　carnage。　This　position　was　strongly　fortified；　with　the　high　wall　behind；　and　a　lower　wall　in　front；　where　the　corridor　turned　a　sharp　corner　to　the　left。

　　　Mounted　against　that　left…hand　wall；　just　before　the　side　tunnel；　was　a　curious　contraption；　a　deadly　dwarven　side…slinger　catapult；　with　a　short；　strong　arm　that　whipped　around　to　the　side；　not　over　the　top；　as　with　conventional　catapults。　The　arm　was　pulled　back　now；　ready　to　fire；　but　Pwent　noticed　immediately　that　all　the　ammunition　was　gone；　that　the　valiant　dwarves　had　held　out　to　the　last。

　　　Pwent　could　smell　the　remnants　of　that　catapult's　missiles　and　could　see　flickering　shadows　from　the　small　fires。　He　knew　before　he　peeked　around　the　bend　that　many；　many　dead　enemies　would　line　the　corridor　beyond。

　　　〃They　died　well；〃　the　battlerager　said　to　his　minions　as　they　and　Bidderdoo　crossed　the　back　wall　and　walked　among　the　bodies。

　　　The　charge　around　the　corner　came　fast　and　silent；　a　handful　of　dark　elves　rushing　out；　swords　drawn。

　　　Had　Bidderdoo　Harpell　not　been　on　the　alert　（and　had　he　not　found　the　last　remaining　usable　page　of　his　spellbook）；　that　would　have　been　the　swift　end　of　the　Gutbuster　Brigade；　but　the　wizard　got　his　spell　off；　enacting　a　blinding　（to　the　drow）　globe　of　brilliant　light。

　　　The　surprised　dark　elves　hesitated　just　an　instant；　but　long　enough　for　the　Gutbusters　to　fall　into　battle　posture。　Suddenly　it　was　seven　dwarves　against　five　dark　elves；　the　element　of　surprise　gone。　Seven　battleragers　against　five　dark　elves；　and　what　was　worse　for　the　drow；　these　battleragers　happened　to　be　standing　among　the　bodies　of　dead　kin。

　　　They　punched　and　kicked；　jumped；　squealed　and　head…butted　with　abandon；　ignoring　any　hits；　fighting　to　make　their　most　wild　leader　proud。　They　plowed　under　two　of　the　drow；　and　one　dwarf　broke　free；　roaring　as　he　charged　around　the　bend。

　　　Pwent　got　one　drow　off　to　the　side；　caught　the　dark　elf's　swinging　sword　in　one　metal　gauntlet　and　punched　straight　out　with　the　other　before　the　drow　could　bring　his　second　sword　to　bear。

　　　The　drow's　head　verily　exploded　under　the　weight　of　the　spiked　gauntlet；　furious　Pwent　driving　his　fist　right　through　the　doomed　creature's　skull。

　　　He　hit　the　drow　again；　and　a　third　time；　then　tossed　the　broken　body　beside　the　other　four　dead　dark　elves。　Pwent　looked　around　at　his　freshly　bloodied　troops；　noticed　at　once　that　one　was　missing；　and　noticed；　too；　that　Bidderdoo　was　trembling　wildly；　his　jowls　flapping　noisily。　The　battlerager　would　have　asked　the　wizard　about　it；　but　then　the　cry　of　agony　from　down　the　side　corridor　chilled　the　marrow　in　even　sturdy　Thibbledorf　Pwent's　bones。　He　leaped　to　the　corner　and　looked　around。

　　　The　carnage　along　the　length　of　the　fifty…foot　corridor　was　even　more　tremendous　than　Pwent　had　expected。　Scores　of　humanoids　lay　dead；　and　several　small　fires　still　burned；　so　thick　was　the　pitch　from　the　catapult　missiles　along　the　floor　and　walls。

　　　Pwent　watched　as　a　large　form　entered　the　other　end　of　the　passage；　a　shadowy　form；　but　the　battlerager　knew　it　was　a　dark　elf；　though　certainly　the　biggest　he　had　ever　seen。　The　drow　carried　a　large　trident；　and　on　the　end　of　the　trident；　still　wriggling　in　the　last　moments　of　his　life；　was　Pwent's　skewered　Gutbuster。　Another　drow　came　out　behind　the　huge　weapon　master；　but　Pwent　hardly　noticed　the　second　form；　and　hardly　cared　if　a　hundred　more　were　to　follow。

　　　The　battlerager　roared　in　protest；　but　did　not　charge。　In　a　rare　moment　where　cleverness　outweighed　rage；　Pwent　hopped　back　around　the　corner。

　　　〃What　is　it；　Most　Wild　Battlerager？〃　three　of　the　Gutbusters　yelled　together。

　　　Pwent　didn't　answer。　He　jumped　into　the　basket　of　the　side…slinger　and　slashed　his　spiked　gauntlet　across　the　trigger　rope；　cutting　it　cleanly。

　　　Uthegental　Armgo　had　just　shaken　free　the　troublesome　kill　when　the　side…slinger　went　off；　shooting　the　missile　Pwent　down　the　corridor。　The　weapon　master's　eyes　went　wide；　he　screamed　as　Pwent　screamed。　Suddenly　Uthegental　wished　he　still　had　the　dead　dwarf　handy；　that　he　might　use　the　body　as　a　shield。　Purely　on　instinct；　the　warrior　drow　did　the　next　best　thing。　He　grabbed　his　drow　panion　by　the　collar　of　his　piwafwi　and　yanked　him　in　front。

　　　Pwent's　helmet　spike；　and　half　his　head；　blasted　the　unfortunate　dark　elf；　came　through　cleanly　enough　to　score　a　hit　on　Uthegental　as　well。

　　　The　mighty　weapon　master　extracted　himself　from　the　tumble　as　Pwent　tore　free　of　the　destroyed　drow。　They　came　together　in　a　fit　of　fury；　rage　against　rage；　snarl　against　snarl；　Pwent　scoring　several　hits；　but　Uthegental；　so　st