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onds 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 bateared 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 location； 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 geous 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 get； 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 forward 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 advancing 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 twohand arbalest； 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 protect 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 traversed more than half of the lengthy gallery； and of course its speed could increase at any moment； just as every other aspect of its being altered unpredictably from one second to the next。
But if the Spider Queen favored Quenthel and the entity didn't accelerate； she might have time for another strike at her foe of flesh and blood。 Silently directing the vipers to keep an eye on the demon； she turned back； and read from a precious scroll。
When Quenthel pronounced the last syllable； the scroll disappeared in a puff of dust and a brilliant light filled the chamber。 The dark elf in the doorway reeled and clutched blindly at the door frame。 She touched the slowlydripping mass of glue and snatched her fingers away； leaving skin behind。
Quenthel started to read another scroll as the air around her stirred； blowing one direction then another。 Hot one second and cold the next； the gusts wafted countless smells； pleasant and foul alike。 She took it for a sign that the demon had drawn very close； and the vipers' warning confirmed it。
Still； she wanted to finish her lesser adversary off before the girl recovered her sight。 She pleted the spell； the exquisitely inked characters burning through the parchment like hot coals。
From the elbow down； the enemy female's left arm rippled and swelled； being an enormous black spider with green markings on its bristling back。 Still attached to the rest of her body； it lunged at her throat and plunged its mandibles in。
Quenthel spun around。 Mauve with golden spots； then white； then half red and half blue； the demon loomed over her。 Most of the time it looked flat； like a hole into some other luminous； turbulent universe； and an observer had only its inconstant outline from which to infer its shape。 Over the course of a couple seconds； it seemed to bee an enormous crab claw； a wagon plete with driver； and a whirling dust devil。 The length of gallery behind it resembled a tunnel carved from melting rainbowcolored slush except for one little stretch。 That section appeared unchanged until Quenthel noticed that the carvings had flipped upside down。
The high priestess scrambled to her feet。 As she rooted in her bag for another scroll； her scourge dangled from her wrist。 The vipers writhed and twisted。
The chaos demon blinked from ochre to a pattern of black and white stripes； and from the form of a simple isosceles triangle to that of an ogre。 Its cry currently a mix of roaring and cawing； it swung its newly acquired club。
Quenthel caught the blow on her buckler。 To her surprise； she didn't feel the slightest shock； but the shield turned blue； changed from round to rectangular； and became many times heavier than it had been before。
The unexpected weight dragged her down to the floor again。 Resembling a cresting wave； the intruder flowed toward her。 She yanked； but her shield arm was caught somehow and wouldn't pull free of the straps。
Rippling from magenta to brown stippled with scarlet； the demon advanced to within inches of her foot。 Quenthel's boot evaporated into wisps of vapor； and pain stabbed through the extremity。
Finally her hand jerked out of its restraints； and she flung herself backward； rolling； her mail whispering against the floor。
When she'd put sufficient distance between herself and her foe； she rose； then faltered。 For an instant； she couldn't locate the fiend； and her mind struggled to make sense of the scene before her。 Green and blue； shaped like an hourglass； the demon was gliding along the ceiling； not the floor。 It was still pursuing her。 The cursed thing was random in every respect save its doggedly murderous intent。
The entity's howl ceased for a moment； then resumed with a peal of childish laughter。 Quenthel snatched and unrolled a scroll； which abruptly turned into a rothe's jawbone。 The a