精灵血脉四部曲-第160部分

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　　　But　that　smile　did　not　e　to　Drizzt；　not　in　the　face　of　his　doubts。　Had　he　done　right　in　leading　Bruenor　out　here？　he　wondered；　not　for　the　first　time。　They　could　have　gone　back　to　the　lower　door　with　the　dwarves　they　had　met　hours　before；　the　king　of　Mithril　Hall　could　be　in　place　among　his　army。　Drizzt　did　not　underestimate　how　greatly　Bruenor's　fiery　presence　would　bolster　the　defense　of　that　lower　door；　and　the　defense　of　the　Undercity。　Every　dwarf　of　Mithril　Hall　would　sing　a　little　louder　and　fight　with　a　bit　more　heart　in　the　knowledge　that　King　Bruenor　Battlehammer　was　nearby；　joining　in　the　cause；　his　mighty　axe　leading　the　way。

　　　Drizzt's　reasoning　had　kept　Bruenor　out；　and　now　the　drow　wondered　if　his　action　had　been　selfish。　Could　they　even　find　the　enemy　leaders？　Likely　the　priestesses　who　had　led　this　army　would　be　well　hidden；　using　magic　from　afar；　directing　their　forces　with　no　more　passion　than　if　the　soldiers　were　pawns　on　a　gigantic　chess　board。

　　　The　matron　mother；　or　whoever　was　leading　this　force；　would　take　no　personal　risks；　because　that　was　the　drow　way。

　　　Suddenly；　up　there　and　crouched　on　that　ledge；　Drizzt

　　　Do'Urden　felt　very　foolish。　They　were　hunting　the　head；　as　he　had　explained　to　Bruenor；　but　that　head　would　not　be　easy　to　find。　And；　given　the　size　of　the　force　that　was　marching　along　below　them；　toward　Mithril　Hall；　Drizzt　and　Bruenor　and　their　other　panions　would　not　likely　get　anywhere　near　the　dwarven　plex　anytime　soon。

　　　The　ranger　put　his　head　down　and　blew　a　deep；　silent　breath；　posing　himself；　reminding　himself　he　had　taken　the　only　possible　route　to　winning　the　day；　that　though　that　lower　door　would　not　be　easily　breached；　it　would　eventually　e　down；　whether　or　not　Bruenor　Battlehammer　was　among　the　defenders。　But　out　here　now；　with　so　many　drow　and　so　many　tunnels；　Drizzt　began　to　appreciate　the　enormity　of　the　task　before　him。　How　could　he　ever　hope　to　find　the　leaders　of　the　drow　army？

　　　What　Drizzt　did　not　know　was　that　he　was　not　the　only　one　on　a　purposeful　hunt。



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　　　〃No　word　from　Bregan　D'aerthe。〃

　　　Matron　Baenre　sat　atop　her　driftdisk；　digesting　the　words　and　the　meaning　behind　them。　Quenthel　started　to　repeat　them；　but　a　threatening　scowl　from　her　mother　stopped　her　short。

　　　Still　the　phrase　echoed　in　Matron　Baenre's　mind。　〃No　word　from　Bregan　D'aerthe。〃

　　　Jarlaxle　was　lying　low；　Baenre　realized。　For　all　his　bravado；　the　mercenary　leader　was；　in　fact；　a　conservative　one；　very　cautious　of　any　risks　to　the　band　he　had　spent　centuries　putting　together。　Jarlaxle　hadn't　been　overly　eager　to　march　to　Mithril　Mall；　and　had；　in　fact；　e　along　only　because　he　hadn't　really　been　given　a　choice　in　the　matter。

　　　Like　Triel；　Baenre's　own　daughter　and　closest　advisor；　the　mercenary　had　hoped　for　a　quick　and　easy　conquest　and　a　fast　return　to　Menzoberranzan；　where　so　many　questions　were　still　to　be　answered。　The　fact　that　no　word　had　e　lately　from　the　Bregan　D'aerthe　scouts　could　be　coincidence；　but　Baenre　suspected　differently。　Jarlaxle　was　lying　low；　and　that　could　mean　only　that　he；　with　the　reports　that　he　was　constantly　receiving　from　the　sly　scouts　of　his　work；　believed　the　momentum　halted；　that　he；　like　Baenre　herself；　had　e　to　the　conclusion　that　Mithril　Hall　would　not　be　easily　swept　away。

　　　The　withered　old　matron　mother　accepted　the　news　stoically；　with　confidence　that　Jarlaxle　would　be　back　in　the　fold　once　the　tide　turned　again　in　the　dark　elves'　favor。　She　would　have　to　e　up　with　a　creative　punishment　for　the　mercenary　leader；　of　course；　one　that　would　let　Jarlaxle　know　the　depth　of　her　dismay　without　costing　her　a　valuable　ally。

　　　A　short　while　later；　the　air　in　the　small　chamber　Baenre　had　e　to　use　as　her　throne　room　began　to　tingle　with　the　budding　energy　of　an　enchantment。　All　in　the　room　glanced　nervously　about　and　breathed　easier　when　Methil　stepped　out　of　thin　air　into　the　midst　of　the　drow　priestesses。

　　　His　expression　revealed　nothing；　just　the　same　passive；　observant　stare　that　always　came　from　one　of　Methil's　otherworldly　race。　Baenre　considered　that　always　unreadable　face　the　most　frustrating　facet　of　dealing　with　the　illithids。　Never　did　they　give　even　the　subtlest　clue　of　their　true　intentions。

　　　Uthegental　Armgo　is　dead；　came　a　thought　in　Baenre's　mind；　a　blunt　report　from　Methil。

　　　Now　it　was　Baenre's　turn　to　put　on　a　stoic；　unrevealing　facade。　Methil　had　given　the　disturbing　thought　to　her　and　to　her　alone；　she　knew。　The　others；　particularly　Zeerith　and　Auro'pol；　who　were　being　more　and　more　skittish；　did　not　need　to　know　the　news　was　bad；　very　bad。

　　　The　march　to　Mithril　Hall　goes　well；　came　Methil's　next　telepathic　message。　The　illithid　shared　it　with　all　in　the　room；　which　Matron　Baenre　realized　by　the　suddenly　brightening　expressions。　The　tunnels　are　clear　all　the　way　to　the　lower　door；　where　the　army　gathers　and　prepares。

　　　Many　nods　and　smiles　came　back　at　the　illithid；　and　Matron　Baenre　did　not　have　any　more　trouble　than　Methil　in　reading　the　thoughts　behind　those　expressions。　The　illithid　was　working　hard　to　bolster　morale梐lways　a　tentative　thing　in　dealing　with　dark　elves。　But；　like　Quenthel's　report；　or　lack　of　report；　from　Bregan　D'aerthe；　the　first　message　the　illithid　had　given　echoed　in　Baenre's　thoughts　disconcertingly。　Uthegental　Armgo　was　dead！　What　might　the　soldiers　of　Barrison　del'Armgo；　a　significant　force　vital　to　the　cause；　do　when　they　discovered　their　leader　had　been　slain？

　　　And　what　of　Jarlaxle？　Baenre　wondered。　If　he　had　learned　of　the　brutish　weapon　master's　fall；　that　would　certainly　explain　the　silence　of　Bregan　D'aerthe。　Jarlaxle　might　be　fearing　the　loss　of　the　Barrison　del'Armgo　garrison；　a　desertion　that　would　shake　the　ranks　of　the　army　to　its　core。

　　　Jarlaxle　does　not　know；　nor　do　the　soldiers　of　the　second　house；　Methil　answered　her　telepathically；　obviously　reading　her　thoughts。

　　　Still　Baenre　managed　to　keep　up　the　cheery　（relatively　speaking）　front；　seeming　thrilled　at　the　news　of　the　army's　approach　to　the　lower　door。　She　clearly　saw　a　potential　cancer　growing　within　her　ranks；　though；　a　series　of　events　that　could　destroy　the　already　shaky　integrity　of　her　army　and　her　alliances；　and　could　cost　her　everything。　She　felt　as　though　she　were　falling　back　to　that　time　of　ultimate　chaos　in　Menzoberranzan　just　before　the　march；　when　K'yorl　seemed　to　have　the　upper　hand。

　　　The　destruction　of　House　Oblodra　had　solidified　the　situation　then；　and　Matron　Baenre　felt　she　needed　something　akin　to　that　now；　some　dramatic　victory　that　would　leave　no　doubts　in　the　minds　of　the　rank　and　file。　Foster　loyalty　with　fear。　She　thought　of　House　Oblodra　again　and　toyed　with　the　idea　of　a　similar　display　against　Mithril　Hall's　lower　door。　Baenre　quickly　dismissed　it；　realizing　that　what　had　happened　in　Menzoberranzan　had　been　a　one…time　event。　Never　before　（and　likely　never　again梐nd　certainly　not　so　soon　afterward！）　had　Lloth　e　so　gloriously　and　so　fully　to　the　Material　Plane。　On　the　occasion　of　House　Oblodra's　fall；　Matron　Baenre　had　been　the　pure　conduit　of　the　Spider　Queen's　godly　power。

　　　That　would　not　happen　again。

　　　Baenre's　thoughts　swirled　in　a　different　direction；　a　more　feasible　trail　to　follow。　Who　killed　Uthegental？　she　thought；　knowing　that　Methil　would　〃hear〃　her。

　　　The　illithid　had　no　answer；　but　understood　what　Baenre　was　implying。　Baenre　knew　what　Uthegental　had　sought；　knew　the　only　prize　that　really　mattered　to　the　mighty　weapon　master。　Perhaps　he　had　found　Drizzt　Do'Urden。

　　　If　so；　that　would　mean　Drizzt　Do'Urden　was　in　the　lower　tunnels；　not　behind　Mithril　Hall's　barricades。

　　　You　follow　a　dangerous　course；　Methil　privately　warned；　before

　　　Baenre　could　even　begin　to　plot　out　the　spells　that　would　let　her　find　the　renegade。

　　　Matron　Baenre　dismissed　that　notion　with　hardly　a　care。　She　was　the　first　matron　mother　of　Menzoberranzan；　the　conduit　of　Lloth；　possessed　of　powers　that　could　snuff　the　life　out　of　any　drow　in　the　city；　any　matron　mother；　any　wizard；　any　weapon　master；　with　hardly　an　effort。　Baenre's　course　now　was　indeed　dangerous；　she　agreed梔angerous　for　Drizzt　Do'Urden。



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　　　Most　devastating　was　the　dwarven　force　and　the　center　of　the　blocking　line；　a　great　mass　of　pounding；　singing　warriors；　mulching　goblins　and　orcs　under　their　heavy　hammers　and　axes；　leaping　in　packs　atop　towering　minotaurs；　their　sheer　weight　of　numbers　bringing　the　brutes　down。

　　　But　all　along　the　eastern　end　of　Keeper's　Dale；　the　press　was　too　great　from　every　side。　Mounted　knights　rushed　back　and　forth　across　the　barbarian　line；　bolstering　the　ranks　wherever　the　enemy　seemed　to　be　breaking　through；　and　with　their　timely　support；　the　line　held。　Even　so；　Berkthgar's　people　found　themselves　inevitably　pushed　back。

　　　The　bodies　of　kobolds　and　goblins　piled　high　in　Keeper's　Dale；　a　score　dying　for　every　defender。　But　the　drow　could　afford　those　losses；　had　expected　them；　and　Berg'inyon；　sitting　astride　his　lizard；　calmly　watching　the　continuing　battle　from　afar　along　with　the　rest　of　the　Baenre　riders；　knew　that　the　time　for　slaughter　grew　near。　The　defenders　were　growing　weary；　he　realized。　The　minutes　had　turned　into　an　hour；　and　that　into　two；　and　the　assault　did　not　diminish。

　　　Back　went　the　defending　line；　and　the　towering　eastern　walls　of　Keeper's　Dale　were　not　so　far　behind　them。　When　those　walls　halted　the　retreat；　the　drow　wizards　would　strike　hard。　Then　Berg'inyon　would　lead　the　charge；　and　Keeper's　Dale　would　run　even　thicker　with　the　blood　of　humans。



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　　　Besnell　knew　they　were　losing；　knew　that　a　dozen　dead　goblins　were　not　worth　the　price　of　an　inch　of　ground。　A　resignation　began　to　grow　within　the　elf；　tempered　only　by　the　fact　that　never　had　he　seen　his　knights　in　finer　form。　Their　tight　battle　groups　rushed　to　and　fro；　trampling　enemies；　and　though　every　man　was　breathing　so　hard　he　could　barely　sing　out　a　war　song；　and　every　horse　was　lathered　in　thick　sweat；　they　did　not　relent；　did　not　pause。

　　　Grimly　satisfied；　and　yet　terribly　worried梐nd　not　just　for　his　own　men；　for　Alustriel　had　made　no　further　appearance　on　the　field梩he　elf　turned　his　att