war of the spider queen 4 extinction-第32部分

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　　　〃I　am　thankful；〃　he　said　aloud。
　　　His　eyes　met　Pharaun's；　making　it　clear　he　was　speaking　not　about　the　absence　of　the　weapons　master　but　of　the　presence　of　the　mage。
　　　Pharaun　nodded；　then　gave　Quenthel　a　bow　that　just　bordered　on　insolence。
　　　〃With　your　leave；　Mistress；　I　will　begin　studying　the　spells　I　need。　Then　I…then　Danifae　and　I…will　set　out　for　Zanhoriloch　and　speak　to　this　Oothoon。〃
　　　
Chapter　Sixteen
　　　Ryld　shivered　as　he　walked　through　the　forest。　Night　was　falling；　and　with　it　came　a　chill　in　the　air。　His　piwafwi　was　still　damp　from　the　rain　of　the　night　before；　and　a　full　day　of　steady　walking　hadn't　been　enough　to　dry　it。　Overhead；　above　the　branches　of　the　trees　that　crowded　Ryld　close　on　every　side；　the　cloud　cover　was　breaking　up。　The　sky　was　a　mottled　grayish　purple；　the　color　of　an　old　bruise。
　　　The　air　around　him　darkened　as　the　last　of　the　sunlight　faded；　but　after　a　time；　Ryld　noticed　it　was　getting　brighter　again。　His　dark…vision　was　giving　way　to　the　pale　gray　light　that　filled　the　surface　world　at　dusk　and　dawn…even　though　the　dawn　was　still　a　long　way　off。　Confused；　Ryld　paused；　and　looked　up　through　the　lacework　of　branches。
　　　The　full　moon　was　rising。
　　　As　it　peeked　above　the　treetops；　filling　the　air　around　him　with　a　silvery　light；　Ryld　was　suddenly　no　longer　cold。　A　flush　warmed　his　cheeks；　and　he　felt　his　blood　quicken。　The　hairs　on　his　arms　stood　erect；　as　if　he　had　just　shivered；　yet　at　the　same　time　he　felt　hot　with　fever。
　　　〃Lolth　protect　me；〃　he　whispered　in　a　strangled　voice；　glancing　down　nervously　at　the　bite　mark　on　his　wrist。　〃That　brat　did　infect　me。〃
　　　The　moonlight　continued　to　grow　brighter；　and　with　it；　Ryld's　anxiety　rose。　Flashes　of　red　swam　before　his　eyes；　and　his　pulse　pounded　in　his　ears。　Already　he　could　feel　his　control　slipping。　His　clothing　felt　tight；　constricting；　heavy。　He　pulled　it　away　from　his　throat；　barely　able　to　contain　the　urge　to　tear　it　from　his　body。　He　looked　wildly　at　the　forest　that　surrounded　him；　wanting　to　plunge　into　it　and　run　and　run　and　run。　。　。　。
　　　Struggling　to　maintain　control；　he　plunged　a　hand　into　the　breast　pocket　of　his　piwafwi　and　pulled　out　the　sprig　of　belladonna　that　Yarno's　grandfather　had　given　him。　It　had　dull　green　leaves　and　a　single；　bell…shaped　flower。　Ryld　ripped　off　a　leaf；　stuffed　it　into　his　mouth；　and　chewed。　A　bitter　taste　filled　his　mouth；　and　his　tongue　went　dry。　He　followed　it　with　another　leaf；　then　another；　then　the　flower　。　。　。　then　he　threw　the　bare　twig　away。
　　　He　waited。
　　　The　urge　he'd　felt　a　moment　before…the　urge　to　tear　off　his　clothing　and　run　away　into　the　woods…disappeared。　Ryld　felt　lightheaded。　He　tried　to　take　a　step；　stumbled；　and　nearly　fell。　At　the　last　moment　he　grabbed　a　tree　for　balance。　All　the　while；　the　forest　was　being　brighter；　the　moonlight　flooding　his　vision。　Something　was　wrong　with　his　eyes。
　　　Pulling　his　short　sword　clumsily　from　its　sheath；　he　stared　into　its　polished　surface　and　saw　that　his　pupils　had　dilated　to　the　point　where　the　red　of　the　iris　had　all　but　vanished。　Grimacing；　he　lowered　his　sword；　stood　a　moment；　then　remembered　he　hadn't　sheathed　it。　He　tried　to　shove　the　short　sword　into　its　sheath　but　missed；　instead　shoving　it　point…first　into　the　ground　as　he　stumbled。　Unable　to　catch　himself　again；　he　fell　flat　out　onto　the　soggy　ground　beside　it。　Above　him；　the　trees　seemed　to　have　turned　to　pale　gray　shadows；　wavering　back　and　forth　as　though　they　were　under　water。
　　　Lying　there；　watching　the　forest　spiral　in　circles　above　him；　Ryld　wondered　if　he　was　going　to　die。　The　belladonna　had　halted　his　transformation　into　a　werewolf；　but　at　what　cost？　His　heart　was　pounding　at　an　alarming　rate；　and　his　skin　felt　dry　and　hot。　He　tried　to　wet　his　lips；　but　even　that　effort　was　too　much　for　him。　All　he　could　do　was　lie　on　the　forest　floor；　inhaling　the　smell　of　wet　earth　and　rotting　leaf　with　each　halting　breath。
　　　His　breath。　That　was　the　one　thing　he　still　could　control。
　　　Ryld　cast　his　mind　back　to　his　training　at　Melee…Magthere。　One　of　the　tests　initiates　had　been　required　to　pass　involved　maintaining　concentration　in　times　of　physical　duress。　The　initiates　had　been　instructed　to　strip　off　their　clothing；　sit　cross…legged　on　the　floor　of　the　practice　hall　with　their　eyes　closed；　and　focus　on　their　breathing。　At　the　time；　Ryld　thought　the　test　was　designed　to　teach　them　to　ignore　the　cold　of　the　stone　floor…but　he　was　wrong。　One　of　the　masters　strolled　between　the　rows　of　meditating　pupils；　dropping　centipedes　onto　their　skin。　The　insects　were　each　as　long　as　a　finger　and　bit　immediately　when　they　landed；　injecting　a　venom　that　raced　like　fire　through　the　students'　veins。　Those　initiates　who　cried　out　or　gasped　were　given　a　sharp　rap　on　the　head。　If　they　cried　out　a　second　time　they　were　hit　harder。　A　third；　and　they　were　told　to　leave　Melee…Magthere　and　never　return。
　　　Ryld　had　been　dimly　aware　of　the　student　behind　him　gasping　a　third　time　and　listened　with　only　a　portion　of　his　mind　as　he　was　ordered　to　leave。　He　heard　the　choked　sob　he　made　as　he　obeyed。　Ryld　forced　his　mind　deeper　into　meditation；　at　the　same　time　bracing　himself　for　what　he　knew　was　ing　next。　When　the　centipede　fell　onto　his　thigh；　he　didn't　flinch。　As　the　centipede　bit　into　his　flesh　like　the　stab　of　a　fire…heated　skewer；　he　told　himself　to　remain　calm；　to　breathe　in　through　his　left　nostril；　out　through　his　right；　in　through　his　left　nostril；　out　through　his　right。　。　。
　　　Then　the　centipede　scurried　across　his　groin；　its　hundreds　of　legs　tickling；　its　head　moving　from　side　to　side　as　if　it　was　looking　for　a　second　spot　to　bite。　In　the　space　between　two　heartbeats；　Ryld　nearly　forgot　how　to　breathe。　He　felt　his　heart　begin　to　race；　while　instinct　screamed　at　him　to　leap　to　his　feet；　to　brush　the　foul　insect　away。
　　　Then　he　remembered　his　life　before　Melee…Magthere…his　life　in　the　Stenchstreets；　and　the　time；　years　before；　when　the　nobles　had　e　on　their　hunt。　He　was　only　six　years　old　then；　but　he　remembered　lying　there；　blistered　from　the　fireball　that　had　left　corpses　strewn　all　around　him。　In　order　to　survive；　he'd　been　forced　to　lie　utterly　still；　to　play　dead　while　the　hunters　claimed　their　trophies：　teeth；　ears；　and　occasionally　an　entire　head。　Ryld　had　learned　then　to　control　his　breathing；　to　make　it　shallow　and　slow；　inaudible　above　the　sawing　of　blades　through　flesh。　Thankfully；　they　did　not　deem　any　parts　of　a　small；　scrawny　boy　worth　taking。
　　　Remembering　that　trial；　he　found　the　strength　to　ignore　the　tickle　of　the　centipede　and　its　second　painful　bite。
　　　When　the　ordeal　was　over；　the　masters　nodded；　silently　acknowledging　the　fortitude　of　Ryld　and　the　other　five　students　who　had　passed　the　test。　Ryld　had　been　almost　unable　to　walk　for　an　entire　tenday　afterward。
　　　Lying　in　the　forest；　riding　the　waves　of　the　war　between　the　belladonna　and　the　disease；　Ryld　used　what　he'd　learned　that　day。　Focusing　on　his　breathing；　on　the　drawing　in　of　air；　the　slow　filling　of　his　lungs；　and　the　slow　exhalation　that　followed；　he　slowed　his　racing　pulse。　He　drove　the　heat　from　his　skin；　imagining　it　flowing　from　him　with　each　breath。　Slowly；　his　body　returned　to　normal；　and　he　shivered。
　　　His　eyes；　however；　continued　to　see　the　fantastic　images　the　belladonna　had　limned　on　the　world。　The　trees　remained　grayish…white　against　a　sky　studded　with　impossibly　bright　stars。　The　moon；　trailing　brighter　stars　in　its　wake；　hurt　to　even　glance　at。　Wavering　shadows　danced　in　the　forest。　One　of　those　shadows　stepped　out　from　the　others　and　coalesced　into　the　form　of　a　woman。
　　　〃Halisstra　。　。　。〃　Ryld　breathed；　then　he　saw　that　he　was　mistaken。
　　　The　woman　was　a　drow　but　was　not　Halisstra　Melarn。　She　was　naked；　her　white　hair　hanging　well　past　her　hips。　As　she　moved　closer　to　Ryld；　his　fevered　eyes　saw　that　her　skin　was　covered　in　evening　dew。　Drops　of　it　covered　her　body；　sparkling　in　the　moonlight　like　stars　against　the　sky…black　of　her　skin。
　　　She　stood　before　him　a　moment；　staring　down　with　eyes　that　reflected　the　light　like　twin　crescent　moons。　Then　she　touched　the　hilt　of　the　sword　he'd　a