精灵血脉四部曲-第156部分

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　　　Alustriel　felt　the　chill；　moist　air　of　a　low　cloud　brush　her　face；　and　it　brought　her　back　to　consciousness。　She　moved　quickly；　trying　to　right　the　chariot；　and　felt　the　bite　of　pain　all　along　her　side。

　　　She　had　been　hit　by　spell　and　by　weapon；　and　her　burned　and　torn　robes　were　wet　with　her　own　blood。

　　　What　would　the　world　think　if　she；　the　Lady　of　Silverymoon；　died　here？　she　wondered。　To　her　haughty　colleagues；　this　was　a　minor　war；　a　battle　that　had　no　real　bearing　on　the　events　of　the　world；　a　battle；　in　their　eyes；　that　Alustriel　of　Silverymoon　should　have　avoided。

　　　Alustriel　brushed　her　long；　silvery　hair梙air　that　was　also　matted　with　blood梑ack　from　her　beautiful　face。　Anger　welled　within　her　as　she　thought　of　the　arguments　she　had　fought　over　King　Bruenor's　request　for　aid。　Not　a　single　advisor　or　councilor　in　Silverymoon；　with　the　exception　of　Fret；　wanted　to　answer　that　call；　and　Alustriel　had　to　wage　a　long；　tiresome　battle　of　words　to　get　even　the　two　hundred　Knights　in　Silver　released　to　Mithril　Hall。

　　　What　was　happening　to　her　own　city？　the　lady　wondered　now；　floating　high　above　the　disaster　of　Fourthpeak。　Silverymoon　had　earned　a　reputation　as　the　most　generous　of　places；　as　a　defender　of　the　oppressed；　champion　of　goodness。　The　knights　had　gone　off　to　war　eagerly；　but　they　weren't　the　problem；　and　had　never　been。

　　　The　problem；　the　wounded　Alustriel　came　to　realize；　was　the　fortably　entrenched　bureaucratic　class；　the　political　leaders　who　had　bee　too　secure　in　the　quality　of　their　own　lives。　That　seemed　crystal　clear　to　Alustriel　now；　wounded　and　fighting　hard　to　control　her　enchanted　chariot　in　the　cold　night　sky　above　the　battle。

　　　She　knew　the　heart　of　Bruenor　and　his　people；　she　knew　the　goodness　of　Drizzt；　and　the　value　of　the　hardy　men　of　Settlestone。　They　were　worth　defending；　Alustriel　believed。　Even　if　all　of　Silverymoon　were　consumed　in　the　war；　these　people　were　worth　defending；　because；　in　the　end；　in　the　annals　future　historians　would　pen；　that　would　be　the　measure　of　Silverymoon；　that　generosity　would　be　the　greatness　of　the　place；　would　be　what　set　Silverymoon　apart　from　so　many　other　petty　kingdoms。

　　　But　what　was　happening　to　her　city？　Alustriel　wondered；　and　she　came　to　understand　the　cancer　that　was　growing　amidst　her　own　ranks。　She　would　go　back　to　Silverymoon　and　purge　that　disease；　she　determined；　but　not　now。

　　　Now　she　needed　rest。　She　had　done　her　part；　to　the　best　of　her　abilities；　and；　perhaps　at　the　price　of　her　own　life；　she　realized　as　another　pain　shot　through　her　wounded　side。

　　　Her　colleagues　would　lament　her　death；　would　call　it　a　waste；　considering　the　minor　scale　of　this　war　for　Mithril　Hall。

　　　Alustriel　knew　better；　knew　how　she；　like　her　city；　would　be　ultimately　judged。

　　　She　managed　to　bring　the　chariot　crashing　down　to　a　wide　ledge；　and　she　tumbled　out　as　the　fiery　dweomer　dissipated　into　nothingness。

　　　The　Lady　of　Silverymoon　sat　there　against　the　stone；　in　the　cold；　looking　down　on　the　distant　scramble　far　below　her。　She　was　out　of　the　fight；　but　she　had　done　her　part。

　　　She　knew　she　could　die　with　no　guilt　weighing　on　her　heart。



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　　　Berg'inyon　Baenre　rode　through　the　ranks　of　lizard　mounted　drow；　holding　high　his　twin　bloodstained　swords。　The　dark　elves　rallied　behind　their　leader；　filtered　from　obelisk　to　obelisk；　cutting　the　battlefield　in　half　and　more。　The　mobility　and　speed　of　the　larger　horses　favored　the　knights；　but　the　dark　elves'　cunning　tactics　were　quick　to　steal　that　advantage。

　　　To　their　credit；　the　knights　were　killing　drow　at　a　ratio　of　one　to　one；　a　remarkable　feat　considering　the　larger　drow　numbers　and　the　skill　of　their　enemies。　Even　so；　the　ranks　of　knights　were　being　diminished。

　　　Hope　came　in　the　form　of　a　fat　wizard　riding　a　half…horse；　half…frog　beastie　and　leading　the　remnants　of　the　defenders　of　the　southern　face；　hundreds　of　men；　riding　and　running梖rom　battle　and　into　battle。

　　　Berg'inyon's　force　was　fast　pushed　across　the　breadth　of　Keeper's　Dale；　back　toward　the　northern　wall；　and　the　defending　knights　rode　free　once　more。

　　　But　in　came　the　pursuit　from　the　south；　the　vast　force　of　drow　and　humanoid　monsters。　In　came　those　dark　elf　wizards　who　had　survived　Alustriel's　conflagration　in　the　thick　copse。

　　　The　ranks　of　the　defenders　quickly　sorted　out；　with　Berkthgar's　hardy　warriors　rallying　behind　their　mighty　leader　and　Besnell's　knights　linking　with　the　force　that　had　stood　firm　in　Keeper's　Dale。　Likewise　did　the　Longriders　fall　into　line　behind　Regweld；　and　the　Riders　of　Nesme梑oth　of　the　survivors？joined　their　brethren　from　the　west。

　　　Magic　flashed　and　metal　clanged　and　man　and　beast　screamed　in　agony。　The　mist　thickened　with　sweat；　and　the　stone　floor　of　the　valley　darkened　with　blood。

　　　The　defenders　would　have　liked　to　form　a　solid　line　of　defense；　but　to　do　so　would　leave　them　terribly　vulnerable　to　the　wizards；　so　they　had　followed　savage　Berkthgar's　lead；　had　plunged　into　the　enemy　force　headlong；　accepting　the　sheer　chaos。

　　　Berg'inyon　ran　his　mount　halfway　up　the　northern　wall；　high　above　the　valley；　to　survey　the　glorious　carnage。　The　weapon　master　cared　nothing　for　his　dead　rades；　including　many　dark　elves；　whose　broken　bodies　littered　the　valley　floor。

　　　This　fight　would　be　won　easily；　Berg'inyon　thought；　and　the　western　door　to　Mithril　Hall　would　be　his。

　　　All　glory　for　House　Baenre。



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　　　When　Stumpet　Rakingclaw　came　up　from　the　Undercity　to　Mithril　Hall's　western　door；　she　was　dismayed梟ot　by　the　reports　of　the　vicious　fighting　out　in　Keeper's　Dale；　but　by　the　fact　that　the　dwarven　guards　had　not　gone　out　to　aid　the　valiant　defenders。

　　　Their　orders　had　been　explicit：　they　were　to　remain　inside　the　plex；　to　defend　the　tighter　tunnels；　and　then；　if　the　secret　door　was　found　by　the　enemy　and　the　defenders　were　pushed　back；　the　dwarves　were　prepared　to　drop　those　tunnels　near　the　door。　Those　orders；　given　by　General　Dagna；　Bruenor's　second　in　mand；　had　not　foreseen　the　battle　of　Keeper's　Dale。

　　　Bruenor　had　appointed　Stumpet　as　High　Cleric　of　Mithril　Hall；　and　had　done　so　publicly　and　with　much　fanfare；　so　that　there　would　be　no　confusion　concerning　rank　once　battle　was　joined。　That　decision；　that　public　ceremony；　gave　Stumpet　the　power　she　needed　now；　allowed　her　to　change　the　orders；　and　the　five　hundred　dwarves　assigned　to　guard　the　western　door；　who　had　watched　with　horror　the　carnage　from　afar；　were　all　too　happy　to　hear　the　new　mand。

　　　There　came　a　rumbling　beneath　the　ground　in　all　of　Keeper's　Dale；　the　grating　of　stone　against　stone。　On　the　northern　side　of　the　valley；　Berg'inyon　held　tight　to　his　sticky…footed　mount　and　hoped　the　thing　wouldn't　be　shaken　from　the　wall。　He　listened　closely　to　the　echoes；　discerning　the　pattern；　then　looked　to　the　southeastern　corner　of　the　valley。

　　　A　glorious；　stinging　light　flashed　there　as　the　western　door　of　Mithril　Hall　slid　open。

　　　Berg'inyon's　heart　skipped　a　beat。　The　dwarves　had　opened　the　way！

　　　Out　they　came；　hundreds　of　bearded　folk；　rushing　to　their　allies'　aid；　singing　and　banging　their　axes　and　hammers　against　their　shining　shields；　pouring　from　the　door　that　was　secret　no　more。　They　came　up　to；　and　beyond；　Berkthgar's　line；　their　tight　battle　groups　slicing　holes　in　the　ranks　of　goblin　and　kobold　and　drow　alike；　pushing　deeper　into　the　throng。

　　　〃Fools！〃　the　Baenre　weapon　master　whispered；　for　even　if　a　thousand；　or　two　thousand　dwarves　came　into　Keeper's　Dale；　the　course　of　the　battle　would　not　be　changed。　They　had　e　out　because　their　morals　demanded　it；　Berg'inyon　knew。　They　had　opened　their　door　and　abandoned　their　best　defenses　because　their　ears　could　not　tolerate　the　screams　of　men　dying　in　their　defense。

　　　How　weak　these　surface　dwellers　were；　the　sinister　drow　thought；　for　in　Menzoberranzan　courage　and　passion　were　never　confused。

　　　The　furious　dwarves　came　into　the　battle　hard；　driving　through　drow　and　goblins　with　abandon。　Stumpet　Rakingclaw；　fresh　from　her　exploits　in　the　Undercity；　led　their　charge。　She　was　out　of　light　pellets　but　called　to　her　god　now；　enacting　enchantments　to　brighten　Keeper's　Dale。　The　dark　elves　quickly　countered　every　spell；　as　the　dwarf　expected；　but　Stumpet　figured　that　every　drow　concentrating　on　a　globe　of　darkness　was　out　of　the　fight；　at　least　momentarily。　The　magic　of　Moradin；　Dumathoin；　and　Clanggedon　flowed　freely　through　the　priestess。　She　felt　as　though　she　was　a　pure　conduit；　the　connection　to　the　surface　for　the　dwarven　gods。

　　　The　dwarves　rallied　around　her　loud　prayers　as　she　screamed　to　her　gods　with　all　her　heart。　Other　defenders　rallied　around　the　dwarves；　and　suddenly　they　were　gaining　back　lost　ground。　Suddenly　the　idea　of　a　single　line　of　defense　was　not　so　ridiculous。

　　　High　on　the　wall　across　the　way；　Berg'inyon　chuckled　at　the　futility　of　it　all。　This　was　a　temporary　surge；　he　knew；　and　the　defenders　of　the　western　door　had　e　together　in　one　final；　futile　push。　All　the　defense　and　all　the　defenders；　and　Berg'inyon's　force　still　outnumbered　them　several　times　over。

　　　The　weapon　master　coaxed　his　mount　back　down　the　wall；　gathered　his　elite　troops　about　him；　and　determined　how　to　turn　back　the　momentum。　When　Keeper's　Dale　fell；　so；　too；　would　the　western　door。

　　　And　Keeper's　Dale　would　fall；　Berg'inyon　assured　his　panions　with　all　confidence；　within　the　hour。



Chapter　26

SNARL　AGAINST　SNARL



　　　The　main　corridors　leading　to　the　lower　door　of　Mithril　Hall　had　been　dropped　and　sealed；　but　that　had　been　expected　by　the　invading　army。　Even　with　the　largest　concentration　of　drow　slowed　to　a　crawl　out　in　the　tunnels　beyond　the　door；　the　dwarven　plex　was　hard　pressed。　And　although　no　reports　had　e　to　Uthegental　about　the　fighting　outside　the　mountain；　the　mighty　weapon　master　could　well　imagine　the　carnage　on　the　slopes；　with　dwarves　and　weakling　humans　dying　by　the　score。　Both　doors　of　Mithril　Hall　were　likely　breached　by　now；　Uthegental　believed；　with　Berg'inyon's　lizard　riders　flooding　the　higher　tunnels。

　　　That　notion　bothered　the　weapon　master　of　Barrison　del'Armgo　more　than　a　little。　If　Berg'inyon