war of the spider queen 4 extinction-第72部分

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　The　torso；　thankfully；　was　hidden　by　a　chain　mail　tunic；　but　the　metal　links　were　corroded　and　loose　as　though　the　armor　had　been　hurled　into　a　lake　of　acid。
　　　Halisstra　clutched　the　broken　songsword；　heart　pounding；　wishing　desperately　that　she　held　a　better　weapon。　The　ghostly　figure；　however；　made　no　threatening　moves。　Instead　it　stooped　and　reached　for　something　on　the　ground：　Halisstra's　brooch。　As　it　did；　a　medallion　that　hung　from　its　waist　by　a　metal　chain　swung　forward。　Like　the　chain　mail；　the　medallion　was　blackened　and　pitted；　but　Halisstra　could　see　a　faint　trace　of　the　design　it　once　bore：　Eilistraee's　symbol。
　　　Halisstra　glanced　at　the　corroded　sheath　at　the　figure's　hip…a　sheath　that　was　curved　like　a　crescent　moon。　Slowly；　she　lowered　her　sword。
　　　〃You're　Mathira　Melarn；〃　she　whispered。
　　　The　ghost　nodded。
　　　〃I'm　looking　for　the　Crescent　Blade；〃　Halisstra　told　the　ghost。　〃Will　you　help　me？〃
　　　Once　again　the　figure　gave　a　slow；　mournful　nod。
　　　〃Where　is　it？〃　Halisstra　asked。
　　　The　ghost　opened　its　mouth；　but　all　that　came　out　was　a　gurgling　groan。　The　tongue　was　missing；　burned　away　by　the　acid　that　had　consumed　the　rest　of　the　woman's　body。　The　wyrm　that　had　killed　her　must　have　been　a　black　dragon。　Halisstra　shuddered　at　the　thought　of　the　agonies　its　acid　spittle　must　have　wrought　upon　the　priestess　in　the　moments　just　before　her　death。
　　　Can　you　sign？　Halisstra　asked。
　　　In　answer；　the　ghost　let　Halisstra's　medallion　fall　to　the　ground　and　raised　hands　that　were　lumps　of　pitted　flesh；　the　fingers　burned　away　to　skeletal　stubs。　Then；　turning　stiffly　as　if　still　suffering　the　agonies　of　her　wounds；　she　motioned　with　one　arm　in　a　gesture　whose　meaning　was　clear　enough：　e。
　　　Halisstra　glanced　at　her　House　insignia　and　saw　that　the　ghost's　touch　had　left　it　pitted　and　blackened。　Not　wanting　to　touch　it；　Halisstra　left　the　medallion　where　it　lay　and　followed　the　ghost。
　　　
Chapter　Thirty
　　　When　Ryld　saw　the　metal　object　peeking　out　of　the　snow；　he　thought　it　was　another　bit　of　battlefield　debris。　Corroded　and　pieced　with　black　spots；　the　brooch　looked　centuries　old。　Then　the　shape　of　the　piece　caught　his　eye。　Quickly　he　stooped　to　pick　it　up；　then　winced　as　something　on　the　brooch　stung　his　hands。　Holding　the　brooch　by　the　edges；　he　sniffed；　and　caught　an　acrid　odor。　Acid？
　　　Turning　the　brooch　over　confirmed　his　guess。　Only　portions　of　it　looked　ancient。　The　clasp　on　the　back　was　undamaged；　and　sections　of　the　metal　were　still　brightly　polished。　It　was　no　battlefield　remnant。
　　　He　peered　at　it　more　closely；　trying　to　make　out　what　design　had　been　on　the　front　of　it。　When　he　at　last　confirmed　his　guess；　he　shuddered。
　　　It　was　Halisstra's　brooch…the　insignia　that　marked　her　as　a　noble　daughter　of　House　Melarn。　Something　must　have　surprised　her；　out　on　the　wind…blasted　plain。　Had　she　been　wearing　the　brooch　on　her　piwafwi？　If　so；　she　might　have　been　injured　when　whatever　had　aged　the　metal　had　struck　her。
　　　Searching　the　ground　carefully；　Ryld　saw　none　of　the　usual　signs　of　a　struggle。　Two　deep　footprints　and　a　mark　made　by　the　hem　of　a　piwafwi　showed　where　Halisstra　had　squatted　for　a　time；　and　a　confused　overlapping　of　footprints　showed　where　she　had　whirled　rapidly　around；　but　there　were　no　other　prints　in　the　snow。
　　　Had　she　been　attacked　from　above？　Ryld　imagined　a　black　dragon　swooping　down　on　Halisstra；　blasting　her　with　its　acid　breath；　and　shuddered。　But；　no；　that　didn't　seem　to　be　the　answer。　Aside　from　Halisstra's　footprints；　the　snow　was　undisturbed。　Flapping　wings　would　have　stirred　it　up　with　their　downdraft；　and　a　black　dragon's　breath　would　have　left　spray　marks　in　the　snow。
　　　It　must　have　been　a　ghost…perhaps　one　similar　to　the　officer　Ryld　had　encountered…or　some　other　noncorporeal　creature　that　had　startled　Halisstra。　Whatever　it　was；　it　seemed　to　have　done　no　more　than　destroy　her　brooch。　Halisstra　had　moved　away　at　a　walking　stride　in　a　straight　line　to　the　south。　The　trail　she'd　left　was　as　before；　normal　and　unremarkable。
　　　No　。。。　not　quite。　About　a　pace　to　the　right　of　Halisstra's　footprints　was　an　irregular　line　of　dimples　in　the　snow；　as　if　something　had　dripped　onto　it…but　not　blood；　Ryld　saw　with　relief　as　he　stooped　to　examine　them。　There　was　no　trace　of　red；　and　the　droplets　were　very　small。　Bending　closer；　he　sniffed　and　caught　the　same　faint；　acrid　odor。　Cautiously；　he　touched　a　callused　fingertip　to　one　of　the　holes；　held　it　there　a　moment；　then　jerked　it　back　when　he　felt　a　slight　sting。
　　　Acid。
　　　Wiping　his　finger；　he　considered。　If　Halisstra　had　run　into　a　malevolent　spirit；　it　certainly　had　a　strange　way　of　manifesting　itself。　Ryld　had　once　encountered　a　ghost　that　left　smears　of　blood　on　the　ground　wherever　it　walked…the　ghost　of　a　man　whose　throat　had　been　slit。　Had　the　spirit　that　confronted　Halisstra…assuming　that's　what　it　was…been　killed　by　acid？
　　　Whatever　had　made　the　droplet　trail　in　the　snow；　Halisstra　had　followed　it。　Her　footprints　overlaid　the　holes　in　several　places。　Grimly；　Ryld　followed　the　trail。
　　　It　didn't　lead　far。　After　about　five　hundred　paces；　Ryld　spotted　a　black；　gaping　hole　in　the　snowy　ground。　About　three　paces　across；　it　looked　as　though　it　had　been　punched　open　from　below。　A　scatter　of　rock　and　loose　earth　encircled　it。　Halisstra's　footprints　led　to　the　edge　of　the　hole；　paused…then　continued；　as　if　she　had　descended　into　its　depths。　The　trail　of　droplets　also　led　to　the　hole's　edge。
　　　Drawing　Splitter；　Ryld　crept　forward；　studying　the　ground。　The　hole　sloped　down　into　the　earth　at　a　gentle　angle。　Scuffs　in　the　snow　showed　where　Halisstra　had　placed　her　feet　on　the　slope；　but　the　droplets　ended　at　the　hole's　edge。　Whatever　had　led　her　to　the　hole　hadn't　gone　inside。
　　　Squatting　at　the　edge　of　the　hole；　the　weapons　master　used　the　point　of　his　sword　to　prod　the　debris　that　had　been　thrown　up　around　it。　The　soil　was　frozen　solid。　The　pit　had　been　created　some　time　ago。
　　　Cocking　an　ear　to　the　hole；　Ryld　listened；　but　if　Halisstra　was　moving　around　down　in　the　black　depths　it　was　impossible　to　near　her　above　the　moan　of　the　wind。　Snow　had　started　to　fall　again。　The　flakes　landed　feather…light　upon　his　head；　then　melted；　sending　trickles　of　icy　water　down　his　neck。　His　breastplate　was　cold　even　through　the　padded　tunic　he　wore　and　his　vambraces　creaked　each　time　he　moved　his　arms。　At　least　the　tunnel　would　provide　shelter　from　the　wind　and　snow。
　　　Clambering　over　the　lip　of　the　hole；　Ryld　cautiously　descended　the　slope。　Frost　on　the　floor　of　the　tunnel　made　the　footing　tricky　for　the　first　dozen　paces　or　so；　but　after　that　it　widened　out；　and　the　floor　was　clear。　As　his　eyesight　adjusted　to　the　darkness　inside；　he　saw　that　the　tunnel　forked。　One　path　led　off　to　the　left；　another　straight　down。
　　　Knowing　that　Halisstra's　only　means　of　levitating　had　been　her　brooch；　Ryld　chose　the　left　fork。　He　was　relieved　to　see；　after　a　pace　or　two；　six　pebbles　that　had　been　set　on　the　ground　to　form　a　triangle；　pointing　out　of　the　tunnel。　Halisstra　had　indeed　gone　that　way…and　she'd　left　a　marker　to　guide　herself　back　out。