我的美母教师 | 乡村精品合集 | 乡村活寡 | 乡村欲爱 | 乡村春潮 | 乡村花医 | 欲望乡村（未删） | 乡村艳福 | 乡村春事 | 人妻四部曲

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

nd　her　wrist。
She　yanked　her　hand　away　just　before　the　unseen　member　could　lock　around　it　and　thrashed　to　keep　her　limbs　free　of　the　other　tendrils　that　began　to　grope　after　them。　None　of　it　helped　her　breathe。
She　battered　furiously　at　the　space　around　her。　Logic　told　her　that　her　attacker　had　to　be　there；　but　her　fists　merely　swept　through　empty　space。　Her　chest　ached　with　the　need　for　air；　and　she　felt　unconsciousness　nibbling　at　her　mind。
She　did　the　only　thing　left。　She　bit　down。
At　first；　she　couldn't　penetrate　the　mass；　but　she　strained；　snarled　in　her　throat　with　effort；　and　her　teeth　sank　into　something　leathery　and　oily。
In　an　instant；　it　vanished。　It　didn't　yank　itself　free；　it　just　melted　away。
Quenthel's　teeth　snapped　together　with　a　clack。
Scrambling　to　her　knees；　she　sucked　in　a　couple　deep　breaths；　then　called；　〃Whip〃
〃Here〃
〃I　understand。〃
At　least　she　wasn't　blind。　She'd　heard　of　demons　made　of　darkness　itself；　though　she　had　never　had　occasion　to　summon　one。　They　were　said　to　be　hard　to　catch　and　even　harder　to　bind。
〃Guard〃　she　called。
This　time　she　didn't　hear　an　answer　and　wasn't　surprised。　The　invader's　presence　suggested　the　sentry　was　either　a　traitor　or　dead。
Quenthel　sensed　something　rushing　at　her。　She　flung　herself　sideways；　and　something　crashed　against　the　patch　of　wall　immediately　behind　the　space　she'd　just　vacated。　The　stone　floor　chilled　her　through　her　gauzy　wisp　of　a　chemise。
As　planned；　she　fetched　up　against　the　stand　where　she　kept　certain　small　pieces　of　her　regalia。　She　leaped　up　and　groped　about　the　rectangular　stone　tabletop。　To　her　disgust；　a　couple　items　rattled　to　the　floor；　but　then　her　fingers　closed　on　a　medallion　of　beautifully　cut　glass。
Squinting；　she　invoked　the　trinket's　power。　A　dazzling　glare　blazed　through　the　room。　Quenthel　had　to　shield　her　own　eyes；　hoping　the　terrible　light　would　destroy　a　living　darkness　altogether。
The　magic　light　and　the　equally　supernatural　darkness　made　for　a　split　second　when　the　lighting　in　the　room　was　as　it　was　before　the　creature　had　entered。　At　least　Quenthel　could　open　her　eyes。
Her　assailant；　seemingly　unaffected　by　the　light；　was　a　ragged　central　blot　with　long；　tattered　arms　snaking　throughout　the　room；　ubiquitous　as　smoke。　Drinking　in　all　the　glow；　reflecting　none；　it　was　dead　black　and　deceptively　flatlooking。　It　thrust　a　long；　thin　probe　at　the　medallion　and　Quenthel　jerked　the　token　aside。　The　shaft　of　blackness　veered；　pensating；　and　struck　the　medallion　hard　enough　to　knock　it　out　of　her　hand。　The　light　died　instantly　when　the　glass　medallion　shattered　on　the　floor。
Fortunately；　the　illumination　had　lasted　long　enough　for　her　to　note　the　locations　of　several　other　objects　on　the　stand。　She　instinctively　ducked；　the　tentacle　swept　over　her　head　and　tousled　her　hair；　and　she　grabbed　a　scroll。　As　before；　she　would　regret　expending　any　of　the　spells　contained　therein；　but　she'd　regret　dying　even　more。
Conversant　with　the　contents　of　the　parchment；　she　didn't　need　to　see　the　trigger　phrase　to　〃read〃　it。　She　recited　the　words；　and　a　shaft　of　yellow　flame　roared　down　from　the　ceiling　through　the　spot　where　the　core　of　the　demon　had　been　floating。　The　firelight　showed　that　it　was　still　there。　The　blaze　passed　right　through　it；　and　all　its　arms　and　streamers　of　murk　convulsed。
The　column　of　flame　vanished　after　a　moment；　leaving；　despite　the　care　the　drow　had　taken　to　shield　her　eyes；　a　haze　of　afterimage　bisecting　her　vision。　It　took　her　a　second　to　realize　that　dull；　wavering　stripe　was　the　only　thing　she　could　see。　The　darkness　had　survived。　It　had　clotted　its　essence　around　her　to　seal　her　eyes　once　more。
You're　a　tough　one；　she　thought；　sending　the　unspoken　words　to　the　mind　of　the　demon　as　she；　a　divine　emissary　of　Lolth；　was　trained　to　do。
There　was　no　response；　and　Quenthel　felt　no　connection　made　between　her　mind　and　the　consciousness　of　the　demon。　This　was　no　servant　of　Lolth's。
Alive　and　impossible　to　mand；　it　would　surely　grab　or　strike　at　her；　and　this　time　intuition　was　failing　her。　She　had　no　idea　from　where　the　attack　would　e；　so　she　didn't　know　which　way　to　dodge　to　evade　it。　She　simply　had　to　guess；　jump　somewhere　and　not　let　blindness　and　indecision　delay　her。　She　pivoted；　and　something　struck　her　shoulder。
At　first　it　was　just　a　startling　jolt；　then　pain　burned　at　the　point　of　impact；　and　wet　blood　flowed。　Either　the　darkness　could　harden　its　members　into　claws　or　else　it　had　picked　up　a　blade　from　somewhere　in　the　chamber。
Quenthel　was　glad　her　teachers　had　taught　her　to　suffer　a　wound　without　the　shock　of　it　freezing　her　in　her　tracks；　helpless　to　avert　her　adversary's　followup　attack。　She　kept　moving；　making　herself；　she　hoped；　a　more　difficult　target。
Something　hissed。　The　source　of　the　sound　was　almost　under　her　feet。　Evidently；　dragging　the　whip　handle　behind　them；　her　vipers　had　been　slithering　about　endeavoring　to　locate　her　in　the　dark。　She　stooped；　fumbled　about　their　cool；　sinuous　lengths　for　a　moment；　achieved　the　proper　grip；　and　lifted　the　weapon。
The　serpents　reared；　hissed；　and　peered；　each　in　a　different　direction。　Quenthel　realized　they　could　see　what　she　could　not。　The　darkness　was　preparing　to　attack。
The　priestess　deepened　her　psionic　link　with　her　snakedemon　servants。　She　still　couldn't　see　where　her　adversary's　tentacles　were　poised；　but　she　had　a　sense　of　them。　That　would　have　to　do。
The　darkness　reached　for　her；　and；　turning　and　turning；　she　swung　the　whip　repeatedly。　Her　aim　was　inexact；　but　the　vipers　twisted　in　the　air　to　correct　it。
Toward　the　end；　she　was　breathing　harder；　and　her　actions　were　getting　bigger；　slower；　and　wilder；　as　any　batant's　will　if　she　performs　too　many　without　a　pause。　Then　something　long　and　pointed　plunged　into　the　back　of　her　thigh。
Quenthel　knew　at　once　from　the　flare　of　pain　and　the　gush　of　blood　that　this　puncture　wound　was　worse　than　the　gash　in　her　shoulder。　She　staggered　a　step；　and　her　leg　began　to　fold。　The　whip　vipers　hissed　in　alarm。
She　shouted　to　focus　her　will　and　quell　the　agony；　to　force　the　limb　to　obey。　Throbbing；　it　straightened。
She　spun　and　struck　at　the　tentacle　that　had　stabbed　her；　lashing　it　to　pieces　before　it　could　do　the　same　again。　At　that　same　instant；　her　serpent　familiars　detected　hands　reaching　for　her　neck。　She　spun；　destroyed　those　as　well；　and　at　last　the　shadow　stopped　attacking。
Feeling　the　blood　stream　down　her　leg　to　pool　on　the　floor；　her　mind　racing；　Quenthel　considered　her　situation。　She　must　be　causing　the　demon　pain—if　not　it　would　attack　relentlessly；　never　faltering　until　she　fell—but　that　didn't　necessarily　mean　she　was　well　on　her　way　to　killing　it。　From　what　she　knew　of　such　entities；　it　seemed　entirely　possible　that　she　would　have　to　do　more　harm　to　the　nucleus　at　the　end　of　the　tendrils　to　acplish　that。　Assuming　she　could　reach　or　even　locate　it　amid　the　obfuscating　gloom。
It　might　be　better　not　to　try；　to　take　advantage　of　this　momentary　respite　and　make　a　run　for　it；　but　she　knew　that　if　she　moved　the　demon　would　move　with　her；　which　would　mean　she'd　still　be　scurrying　sightlessly　along。　In　her　suite；　that　wasn't　an　enormous　problem—she　knew　every　inch　of　the　space　by　heart—but　outside；　she　could　easily　take　a　hard；　incapacitating　fall。　If　that　happened　or　if　her　leg　gave　out　before　she　found　help；　her　foe　would　have　little　difficulty　finishing　her　off。
No；　she　would　kill　the　cursed　thing　by　herself；　quickly；　while　she　was　still　on　her　feet。　The　only　question　was；　how？
One　of　the　weapons　in　her　hidden　closet　might　do　the　trick；　but　she　had　no　way　of　reaching　them。　The　demon　would　slay　her　while　she　fumbled　in　the　dark　to　manipulate　the　hidden　lock。　She　would　have　to　make　do　with　the　resources　in　her　hands；　which　meant　using　another　scroll　spell　and　taking　a　gamble　as　well。
The　demon　renewed　the　attack。　Quenthel　struck　and　deflected　a　tentacle　with　sawlike　teeth　on　the　edge。　Next　came　an　arm　terminating　in　a　studded　bulb　like　the　head　of　a　mace。　Poised　to　beat　her　skull　in；　that　one　was　no　use　either。　She　sidestepped　the　blow；　the　vipers　tore　into　the　limb；　and　the　living　darkness　snatched　it　back。
A　simple　tentacle；　with　no　blades　or　bludgeons　sprouting　from　its　end；　snaked　tow