war of the spider queen 4 extinction-第26部分

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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　accidentally　speared　into　the　earth。　Slender　fingers　traced　a　lazy　circle　around　the　leather…wrapped　hilt。　To　Ryld's　eyes　the　fingers　looked　as　if　they　were　dancing。　Her　lips　parted；　but　instead　of　speech　Ryld　heard　the　notes　of　a　flute。　Its　tune　was　somehow　both　weling　and　harsh　at　the　same　time；　as　if　the　flautist　was　of　two　minds　about　what　tune　to　play　and　was　able　to　play　both　at　once。　All　the　while；　the　woman　stared　deeply　into　Ryld's　eyes；　as　if　she　was　trying　to　see　into　his　soul。　Her　hand　closed　around　the　hilt　of　the　sword。
　　　Something　crackled　in　the　forest。　Startled；　the　woman　looked　up；　just　as　a　small　black　wolf　burst　from　the　underbrush。　Teeth　bared；　snarling；　it　leaped　for　her　chest。　When　it　struck；　the　woman　exploded　into　a　million　motes　of　starlight。　The　wolf　continued　its　leap　as　if　she　had　never　been　there。　Watching　it　disappear　into　the　forest　once　more；　Ryld　confirmed　his　earlier　thought。　It　was　all　just　an　hallucination。　The　woman；　the　wolf。　。　。　neither　were　truly　there。
　　　Something　warm　and　moist　nuzzled　his　ear。　It　was　a　nose。　Then　a　warm；　furry　body　lay　down　next　to　him。　A　tongue　licked　his　cheek；　and　dark　eyes　stared　into　his。
　　　Ryld　didn't　move　and　didn't　speak。　Instead　he　continued　to　concentrate　on　his　breathing；　forcing　the　last　of　the　belladonna's　poison　from　his　body　with　each　slow　breath。
　　　Eventually；　he　fell　into　Reverie。
　　　When　he　became　aware　of　his　surroundings　once　more；　it　was　daylight。　He　heard　a　crackling　noise　and　smelled　roasting　meat；　and　rolled　over　to　see　Yarno　squatting　beside　a　small　fire。　The　boy　was　holding　a　stick　on　which　had　been　impaled　the　body　of　a　small；　four…legged　animal。　It　had　been　gutted　and　neatly　skewered；　but　Ryld　could　identify　it　by　the　tail。　It　was　a　rat。　Yarno　lifted　the　stick　from　the　flames。
　　　〃You'll　need　strength；〃　he　said。　〃Eat。〃
　　　Ryld　sat　up；　shaking　away　the　last　of　his　lethargy。　Rising　to　his　feet；　he　moved　his　shoulders；　his　arms；　his　fingers。　All　were　in　working　order；　the　poison　was　gone　from　his　body。　He　squatted　and　accepted　the　rat。
　　　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said。　〃I　haven't　eaten　rat　since　I　was　a　child。〃
　　　Yarno　studied　him　through　narrowed　eyes。　Ryld　realized　the　boy　was　trying　to　decide　if　he　was　being　mocked。　Ryld　smiled　and　bit　into　the　fire…seared　meat；　chewing　it　with　gusto。
　　　Yarno　flicked　back　the　lock　of　black　hair　that　hung　across　his　forehead　and　smiled。
　　　〃It's　good；　isn't　it？〃　asked　the　boy。
　　　〃It　is　indeed；〃　Ryld　answered；　wiping　grease　from　the　corner　of　his　mouth　with　the　back　of　his　hand。
　　　Yarno　stood　and　scuffed　soil　over　the　fire　with　a　dirty　foot；　turning　his　back　to　the　fire　and　scraping　the　ground　like　a　dog。
　　　〃Grandfather　is　feeling　better　now；〃　he　told　Ryld。
　　　〃My　masters　taught　me　well；〃　Ryld　answered。　〃That…and　I've　had　lots　of　practice　binding　wounds。〃　He　eyed　the　smudges　of　dirt　that　covered　Yarno's　pale；　naked　body；　then　added；　〃The　first　thing　you　need　to　do　with　a　wound　is　clean　it　with　hot　water；　as　I　did　for　your　grandfather。　Then　bind　it　in　a　clean；　boiled　cloth。　Remember　that…it　could　save　your　life　someday。〃
　　　〃I'll　remember；〃　the　boy　said。
　　　Ryld　wrinkled　his　nose；　doubting　it。　Yarno　seemed　to　attract　dirt　like　a　gutter　attracted　night　soil。　And　he　had　fleas…as　Ryld　found　out　to　his　disgust　a　moment　later　when　he　felt　the　needle…sharp　twinge　of　one　of　the　vermin　biting　his　chest。　His　memory　of　the　werewolf　sleeping　beside　him　must　have　been　accurate。　How　much　else　of　the　past　night　had　also　been　real…and　how　much　hallucination？
　　　Ryld　rose　to　his　feet　and　glanced　around　at　the　forest　floor。　Aside　from　the　paw　prints　of　a　small　wolf　and　the　footprints　of　a　barefoot　boy；　he　could　see　no　other　tracks。
　　　〃Yarno；〃　he　asked；　〃when　you　found　me　last　night；　was　there　a　woman　standing　next　to　me？〃
　　　Yarno　shrugged。
　　　〃What　did　you　leap　at？〃
　　　Yarno　stared　at　the　ground。
　　　〃I　don't　remember；〃　he　answered　finally；　shrugging　again。　〃I　never　do。〃
　　　Ryld　nodded；　understanding。　Driven　into　a　frenzy　by　the　light　of　the　full　moon；