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The weapons master rose and raced away。 Whenever possible； he ran along the rooftops； bounding from one to the next。 Often enough； however； the houses were far enough apart that he had to jump down to the ground and skulk his way through the slaughter。
It was at such a time that he saw another hunting party。 Unfortunately； the group was too large to tackle。 He had to hide from it instead。 Crouched low； he watched a mage on lizardback lob a yellow spark through the window of one of the houses。 Booming； yellow flame exploded through the room beyond。 A moment after it died； the screaming began。 Ryld winced。 As a child of six； he'd survived precisely such a massacre； and； severely blistered； lain trapped for hours beneath a weight of charred； stinking bodies； the luckier ones dead； the live ones whimpering and twitching in their helpless agony。
But it wasn't him burned nor buried tonight； and he spat the unpleasant memory away。 He glanced about； checking to see if anyone was looking at him； then broke from cover and floated upward。
He dashed on along a steeply sloping roof engraved with web patterns and defaced； he noticed； with another slave race emblem。 He sensed something above and behind him； and pivoted。 His boots slipped； and he levitated for an instant while he found his footing amid the carvings。
He looked up and spied a huge black horse galloping through the air as easily as the mon equines of the World Above could run across a field。 Fire crackled around its hooves and pulsed from its nostrils。 The dark elf male on its back held a scimitar； but wasn't making any extraordinary effort to lift it into position for a cut。 Apparently he was counting on his demonic steed to make the kill； and why not？ What goblinoid could withstand a nightmare？
Ryld froze as if he were such a hapless undercreature paralyzed with fear。 Meanwhile； he timed the speed of the nightmare's approach。 At the last possible moment； hoping to take the phantom horse and its master by surprise； he whipped Splitter out of its scabbard and cut。
And missed。 Somehow the demon arrested its charge； and the blade fell short。
Its fiery hooves churning eighteen inches above the rooftop； the nightmare snorted。 Thick； hot； sulfurous smoke streamed from its nostrils； enveloping Ryld； stinging and half blinding him。 He heard more than saw the black creature lunging； striking with its reptilian fangs； and he retreated a step。 The move saved him； but when he counterattacked； the nightmare too had taken itself out of range。
Through the stinking vapor； he glimpsed the infernal horse circling。 It sprang at him again； this time rearing to batter him with its front hooves。 He crouched and lifted Splitter。 The point took the steed in the chest； and for a moment； he thought he'd disposed of it； but； its legs working frantically； it flew upward； lifting itself off the blade before it could penetrate too deeply。
The next few seconds were difficult。 Ryld could barely make out his foes； while the nightmare could apparently see through its own smoke perfectly well。 He stood and turned precariously on the crest of the roof； in constant danger of losing his balance； whereas the flying horse could maneuver wherever it pleased。 Just to make life even more interesting； the rider started swinging his curved sword。 Fortunately； like most denizens of the Underdark； he had little notion of how to fight on horseback； but his clumsy strokes still posed a danger。
Ryld wanted to end the confrontation quickly； before someone discovered Pharaun's hiding place。 Unfortunately； in light of all his disadvantages； the weapons master thought the only way of doing that was to take a risk。 The next time the demon reared； he let one of the blazing hooves slam him in the chest。
His dwarven breastplate rang but held。 The blow hurt cruelly but didn't break any ribs or otherwise incapacitate him。 He fell backward； banged down on the east pitch of the roof； and started to tumble。 Kicking and scrabbling； negating his weight； he managed to catch himself and twist around into a low fighting stance。
The nightmare was rushing in to finish him off。 He swung Splitter； and this time the demon was too mitted to the attack to halt its forward momentum。 The greatsword slashed through its neck； nearly severing the head with its luminous scarlet eyes。 The steed toppled sideways and rolled； leaving a trail of embers。 The rider tried to jump free； but he was too slow。 The nightmare crushed him on its way to the ground。
Ryld tore open the dead male's purse； then floated down to the demon horse and checked the saddlebags。 There were no potions or any other means of mending a wound。
Why； he wondered； should he expect to find such a thing among the noble's effects？ The noble had e to the Braeryn for some lighthearted sport。 He hadn't believed the goblins couldn't hurt him or that he was in any other danger； so why bring a remedy for grievous harm to the festivities； even if he was lucky enough to possess one？
There were only five hunters who'd e there with a deadly serious purpose； prepared to cross swords with formidable foes： Greyanna and her retainers。 They were far more likely to carry healing magic than any other drow whom Ryld might opt to waylay。
Alas； they were likely to prove more trouble as well； but if he wanted to save Pharaun； he'd just have to cope。 Pharaun was a useful ally； and Ryld was unwilling to let that carefully nurtured relationship expire easily。 He skulked on； ignoring the hunters who obliviously crossed his path； until he finally spied a familiar figure on a rooftop just ahead of him。
Still masked； one of Greyanna's twin warriors was stalking along that eminence。 An arrow nocked； he peered down into the street below。
Ryld threw himself down behind a stubby little false minaret on his roof。 He peered around it； looking for the rest of the wouldbe murderers。
He didn't see them。 Maybe the band had split up； the better to look for their quarry。 They'd have to； wouldn't they； to oversee the entire district。
He ducked back； cocked his hand crossbow and laid a poisoned dart in the channel。 He and Pharaun had been reluctant to kill their pursuers； but with the wizard dying； Ryld was no longer