罗丝降临与离去
“Oh no,” she said again. She closed her eyes to concentrate, whispered a spell and cast it. A minor wave of healing washed over the fallen ranger.
And she opened her eyes and realized that she had done nothing of consequence.
“Oh, the Hunzrins,” she said, and silently cursed herself for dismissing them too quickly. “We must catch …” she started to say, but a slight gasp from Drizzt stopped her, turned her to him.
From the memories of Yvonnel the Eternal, this Yvonnel knew well the final rattles in the breathing of a dying person. They could not catch Charri Hunzrin and the others in time.
Yvonnel stood and paced, slapping her hands over her eyes and crying out to the Spider Queen.
“Lolth, hear me!” she begged, casting a spell of communion. “I know you care for him!”
You know nothing, child, she heard in her head, and to her horror, Yvonnel recognized Yiccardaria’s voice.
She knew then that she was doomed, that they were all doomed.
Yvonnel went to Drizzt, shoving the others aside, and cradled his head. “Would you let him die like this?”
“Would you give yourself for him?” came a disembodied and gurgling, watery voice, filling the corridor.
Wulfgar, Regis, and Entreri formed a triangle, shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-back, around the terrified Concettina. The three had their weapons out, though all sensed how futile such implements would likely prove.
“Would you give yourself for him?” the voice, Yiccardaria’s voice, said again, and then Yvonnel heard in her head, Summon me if you wish him to live.
“You ask me to die …” Yvonnel whispered.
I did not say you would die.
“You did not say I would not!” Yvonnel answered.
No, I did not, the magical voice agreed. Choose now.
Yvonnel looked to Drizzt, then to the others, and said, “Run. For your lives, be as far away as you can.”
“I’m not leaving him,” Regis said, moving behind Drizzt.
The others joined him, forming a line across the hall, and Concettina, clearly at a loss, fell in behind them.
“I have no time for …” Yvonnel started to reply.
“Do as you would,” Entreri told her. “We are not leaving him.”
With a sigh, Yvonnel rushed back up the tunnel a bit and began spellcasting, a mighty dweomer to open a gate to the Abyss.
She fell back and held her breath as the black gate flickered and filled, and Yiccardaria came through, in her natural and grotesque form, a pile of mud waving tentacles.
The handmaiden stopped there and gestured back at the portal, adding her own magic, and the black gate flickered and filled again.
And something else came through.
And she was beautiful beyond compare, mocking the trembling drow woman in front of her, who gulped and gasped and fell to her knees.
And the drow woman became a giant drider then, just for a moment, just so that the other witnesses would understand the truth and be afraid.
“We’re dead,” Entreri whispered.
Concettina fell to her knees and wept.
Regis’s dagger fell to the floor, his hand too weak to hold it. The tip of his rapier, too, scraped the stone.
“You surprise me, child,” said the Spider Queen. She seemed amused.
“I … I …”
Lolth laughed at her, then hissed and waved a hand in front of Yvonnel’s face.
Something roiled within the daughter of Gromph, rising like bile. At the very last moment, she recognized it for what it was and she spun to face Drizzt and verily vomited a spell at him, a mighty spell that washed into him and physically moved him with its sheer magical energy.
He rolled over, coughed, and leaped up—awake, healed, and facing Entreri, Regis, Wulfgar, and the sobbing woman beside him. Their expressions clued him into turning around.
Then Drizzt nearly fell over again.
“As you asked,” Lolth said to Yvonnel.
“Take me,” Yvonnel whispered.
Lolth snorted and Yvonnel was magically thrown aside, toyed with by a mere thought from the mighty Queen of the Demonweb Pits, and slammed into the wall, where she cowered.
“At long last, Drizzt Do’Urden,” the Spider Queen said.
Drizzt stood straight at her and did not blink.
“Are you not afraid?”
He didn’t blink.
“Perhaps I tire of your insolence,” Lolth said. “I demand your fealty.”
“I cannot give you that.”
“Denounce Mielikki!”
“She is not mine to denounce,” Drizzt admitted, and a crack in Lolth’s omnipotence appeared then when a cloud of confusion briefly colored her face.
“I can destroy all that you love,” Lolth warned.
“So I have come to expect,” said Drizzt.
“Do you know the pain I could give you?”
“I do,” Drizzt answered before she even finished.
“Good,” she purred.
Drizzt squared his shoulders.
“And you can avoid that, all of it,” Lolth said. “And your friends will be spared, even your precious Catti-brie.”
Drizzt winced at the mention of his beloved wife. But as soon as he swallowed that shock, he understood that anything and everything she promised or threatened was irrelevant to anything and everything he might do. Lolth was too far above him in every way. She would do as she pleased, whatever his course, and he could no more influence her actions than he could lift Faerûn out of the oceans.
“Kneel to me!” she demanded, and it carried magical weight that shoved Drizzt to his knees.
“And how dare you look upon me without my permission!” she cried, and a second blast of magic forced his gaze to the floor.
But in there, against the magical suggestion, Drizzt Do’Urden saw a single light, a candle in his memory.
He looked up at Lolth.
He moved through the magic and stood.
“So much can I take from you,” she warned. “Worship me!”
“What you ask is not mine to give,” he explained.
Lolth sneered and waved her hand, and the corridor behind Drizzt filled with thick webs, lifting his three friends and Concettina from the floor, catching them fully and holding them fast.
Drizzt glanced back at their gasps, unable to resist, and he saw them, trapped and helpless, and saw, too, the thousands of small spiders gathering on the ceiling.
“Worship me,” Lolth calmly demanded.
“How?” Drizzt asked innocently. “I cannot control that which is in my heart, and that which is in my heart is not aligned with the way of Lolth.”
Lolth growled, a most feral sound, and behind Drizzt, the clatter of spider legs increased.
And his friends began to cry out in pain, voices muffled by webs, agony obvious.
They were being eaten, every one, by tiny spiders.
“I will have you, Drizzt Do’Urden,” a grinning Lolth promised.
“No,” Drizzt said simply.
Behind him, Entreri managed to mutter between grimaces and groans, “Not what she wanted to hear,” but Drizzt barely registered it.
He found the candle in his thoughts, dropped into his meditative pose, and there found peace, removed from the scene.
Because there was nothing he could do, nothing he could even pretend to do. Long ago had Drizzt Do’Urden come to understand the truth of this “worship,” that it was not strained, that it was not even given, that, truly, it was not even accepted.
It just was, a way of heart and belief and shared joy.
It could not be created.
It could not be coerced.
It could not be altered.
It just was.
Drizzt removed himself from the pain around him, went away with his thoughts to a place where he could not hear the cries. He felt a twinge of regret, a momentary wave of guilt, but he fast suppressed it.
There was nothing he could do. This was Lolth, a goddess. Drizzt could pull Taulmaril from his belt and shoot her in the face and the arrow would not come close to hitting her—or of hurting her if it did. This was no dragon in front of him, no normal demon, not even Demogorgon. This was something all together different, something all together greater and beyond.
So Drizzt went away, and so removed from the scene was he that he was genuinely surprised when he was grabbed by the tunic and hoisted up into the air with horrifying strength and frightening ease.
The sounds behind him had greatly diminished, not a cry of agony, not a scuffling spider leg. He wasn’t sure how long he’d gone away, and he feared they were all dead behind him.
The soft sobbing of a woman—Concettina—gave him a tiny flicker of hope.
“I am not just pain,” Lolth said to him, her face very near his, and in a voice very different. “I am pleasure.”
And she kissed him, urgently, passionately, and a thousand fires of tickling electricity coursed through him, teasing him, tempting him.
She pulled him back and smiled alluringly. “On a word, it is all yours.”
But Drizzt shrugged and shook his head.
Lolth dropped him to his feet and he fell back as if struck. For a moment, in the angry eyes of Lolth, Drizzt imagined a horrible death flying for him.
But she calmed, and laughed.
“I do not just take away, Drizzt Do’Urden,” she said. “I can give as well. Call to your panther.”
Drizzt hesitated.
Lolth held out her hand and he followed the motion to look behind him. There was a pouch on the ground there, right in front of the webbing and his trapped, but very much alive, friends. His pouch, he realized, which held the onyx figurine.
“I can bring her myself,” Lolth promised, and Drizzt didn’t doubt it.
He called to Guenhwyvar and watched the mist form and coalesce. And the panther was there, and Drizzt felt his heart fall.
Guenhwyvar flopped pitifully, her body not answering her demands. She whimpered and fell over and tried to right herself, but to no avail.
Drizzt could hardly stand the sight. He thought to pull Taulmaril, not to shoot Lolth but to put Guenhwyvar out of this misery.
“Guen, be gone!” he begged.
“No,” said Lolth, and the panther did not disappear. “I’ll not allow that.”
Drizzt turned to regard her, then began to fall into his crouch once more, to go away.
But Lolth cast a spell past him, and he turned to see Guenhwyvar restored.
The panther crouched and issued a growl.
Lolth laughed at her and waved her hand, throwing Guenhwyvar back into the web, where she, too, was caught fast.
“See?” she asked when Drizzt turned back to her. “I am not without my gifts. I am much more than simple pain and torment.”
Drizzt conceded the point with a slight nod.
“Worship me,” she said. “Know my love.”
“No. I cannot, and you know I cannot.”
Lolth licked her lips, the slight wetness shining alluringly. “I can give him back to you,” she said.
Drizzt swallowed hard, suddenly afraid.
“You know that I can.”
“Zaknafein denied you,” Drizzt said, simply because he had to hear it spoken aloud. “He is not with you.”
“Would that matter?” she asked, not denying his retort. “I can give him back to you. You know that I can.”
Her grin showed Drizzt that she believed she had him then.
But she did not. Because she could not.
“I cannot give you what you want,” he said simply. “I could not worship you whatever your gifts, your pleasures, your threats. Such a thing is not to be given. I could serve you, and so I shall if that is your price, so long as that service is not at the expense of an undeserving innocent. Never that.”
He considered his own words and shrugged. “Or no, not even could I do that, I expect.”
“You would let your friends die, you would let your beloved Guenhwyvar wallow in agony, you would turn away from the thought of seeing Zaknafein, simply because you do not believe in the gods?”
“Or because I believe in something greater still,” Drizzt said. “Something that speaks to justice and that which is right.”
Lolth scoffed at him and pointedly said again, “I can restore Zaknafein to your side! All you need to do is offer your fealty to me.”
“If you ever expected anything like that from me, you would not have taken Zaknafein from me in the first place, nor the many others you have taken to your torment.”
He looked back over his shoulder, to Artemis Entreri hanging awkwardly and clearly in pain, his face red from spider bites. And despite it all, Artemis Entreri returned a smile.
“And if ever you hoped to convince me that you seek to change, to go to these places of justice and that which is right,” he said with confidence and clear strength, “then you would have restored Zaknafein to my side long ago. Without condition.”
Lolth narrowed her eyes.
“You would have me lie? To what end?” Drizzt asked. “Fear is not fealty and worry is not worship.”
Lolth’s demeanor changed again. Her laughter seemed lighthearted, which made Drizzt believe the final blade was about to fall.
But she looked to the side. “I gave to you a great gift,” she told Yvonnel.
The young woman shrugged.
“Look at her,” Lolth told Drizzt. “She is but a few years old, and yet she is imbued with the wisdom and memories of the very eldest of my children. And power! Oh, great power that comes from me. But where is Yvonnel’s gratitude, I wonder?”
Yvonnel didn’t answer, and Lolth snickered.
“You amuse me,” she told Drizzt, told them both. She grabbed Drizzt again and forced another kiss, though again, for all her magical enticements and hinted promises, he did not kiss her back.
“Drojal zhah obdoluth dorb’d streeak,” she whispered, though all in the corridor heard. “Lueth dro zhah zhaunau dorb’d ogglin.”
And she was gone, and the gate was gone, and the webs were gone, and the five captives dropped back to the floor.
“What did she say?” Regis was the first to ask.
“ ‘Existence is empty without chaos,’ ” an unnerved Yvonnel translated the first part.
“ ‘And life is boring without enemies,’ ” Artemis Entreri, who spoke fluent Drow, finished.
“What does it mean?” the halfling asked.
Drizzt and Yvonnel looked at each other but neither had any idea.
Drizzt was about to offer some comforting words to his little friend—they were alive, after all, and that seemed quite an improvement over expectations—but before he could begin to talk, a commotion of air and sparkling lights came through the tunnel wall not far from Yvonnel, who fell back defensively.
Those lights coalesced, sparkling and spinning, then seemed like a rabble of butterflies dancing on unseen current before settling to the floor. And down there, the mat of colors expanded, rose, and Grandmaster Kane stood at the fighting ready in their midst.
He looked around and relaxed, seeing no threat—though he kept a wary eye on the strange, obsidian-skinned creature farther up the hall.
“An illusion,” Yvonnel told him, nodding at her spriggan creation.
“The army of King Yarin has come, and is outside these tunnels,” Kane informed them. “The Order of the Yellow Rose stands beside them, and with a dragon beside us.” He looked at the halfling down the hall and added, “And the Kneebreakers.”
“The demon that possessed Queen Concettina is gone,” Yvonnel told him, indicating the woman who stood beside Wulfgar. “She is free.”
“We are all free,” said Drizzt, and Yvonnel nodded.
崔斯特被美坎修特SM鞭打濒死，Yvonnel试图治疗无效，然后随着Yvonnel大喊我知道你在乎他罗丝现身，救了崔斯特的罗丝，罗丝救了崔斯特，罗丝要崔斯特效忠自己，罗丝吻了崔斯特。
罗丝的利诱：先是恢复了被美坎修特摧毁形体的关海法，然后表示崔斯特你愿意效忠我我可以实现你的任何愿望，你愿意效忠我我就复活你老爹。然后吃了崔斯特冷硬横推之后，罗丝表示这个世界上没有跟邪恶对立的善良就太无聊了……好吧，其实罗丝说的是
生命中没有了混乱和敌人就太空虚无聊，原话是
Drojal zhah obdoluth dorb’d streeak,Lueth dro zhah zhaunau dorb’d ogglin，译为英语（通用语）是：
Existence is empty without chaos,And life is boring without enemies。
没把崔斯特跟背叛自己的选民Yvonnel以及其他任何人怎么样，离开。接着崔斯特老爹复活了……
罗丝其实真挺好说话的……在得她青睐的前提下
PS:
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我说……真没人看了这段原文后怀疑，当年那个崔斯特是罗丝跟扎克纳梵儿子的脑洞可能是真的么？
千言万语汇成一句卧槽
根本就是个死命宠爱崔斯特的大傲娇
只看了三部曲，但结局怎么这么......