rh.conanthewarrior-第32节

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　　〃It's　nothing　to　me；〃　the　other　retorted。　〃I'm　a　mercenary。　I　sell　my　sword　to　the　highest　bidder。　I　never　planted　wheat　and　never　will；　so　long　as　there　are　other　harvests　to　be　reaped　with　the　sword。　But　you　Hyborians　have　expanded　as　far　as　you'll　be　allowed　to　expand。　You've　crossed　the　marches；　burned　a　few　villages；　exterminated　a　few　clans　and　pushed　back　the　frontier　to　Black　River；　but　I　doubt　if　you'll　even　be　able　to　hold　what　you've　conquered；　and　you'll　never　push　the　frontier　any　further　westward。　Your　idiotic　king　doesn't　understand　conditions　here。　He　won't　send　you　enough　reinforcements；　and　there　are　not　enough　settlers　to　withstand　the　shock　of　a　concerted　attack　from　across　the　river。〃
　　〃But　the　Picts　are　divided　into　small　clans；〃　persisted　Balthus。　〃They'll　never　unite。　We　can　whip　any　single　clan。〃
　　〃Or　any　three　or　four　clans；〃　admitted　the　slayer。　〃But　some　day　a　man　will　rise　and　unite　thirty　or　forty　clans；　just　as　was　done　among　the　Cimmerians；　when　the　Gundermen　tried　to　push　the　border　northward；　years　ago。　They　tried　to　colonize　the　southern　marches　of　Cimmeria：　destroyed　a　few　small　clans；　built　a　fort…town；　Venarium…you've　heard　the　tale。〃
　　〃So　I　have　indeed；〃　replied　Balthus；　wincing。　The　memory　of　that　red　disaster　was　a　black　blot　in　the　chronicles　of　a　proud　and　warlike　people。　〃My　uncle　was　at　Venarium　when　the　Cimmerians　swarmed　over　the　walls。　He　was　one　of　the　few　who　escaped　that　slaughter。　I've　heard　him　tell　the　tale；　many　a　time。　The　barbarians　swept　out　of　the　hills　in　a　ravening　horde；　without　warning；　and　stormed　Venarium　with　such　fury　none　could　stand　before　them。　Men；　women；　and　children　were　butchered。　Venarium　was　reduced　to　a　mass　of　charred　ruins；　as　it　is　to　this　day。　The　Aquilonians　were　driven　back　across　the　marches；　and　have　never　since　tried　to　colonize　the　Cimmerian　country。　But　you　speak　of　Venarium　familiarly。　Perhaps　you　were　there？〃
　　〃I　was；〃　grunted　the　other。　〃I　was　one　of　the　horde　that　swarmed　over　the　walls。　I　hadn't　yet　seen　fifteen　snows；　but　already　my　name　was　repeated　about　the　council　fires。〃
　　Balthus　involuntarily　recoiled；　staring。　It　seemed　incredible　that　the　man　walking　tranquilly　at　his　side　should　have　been　one　of　those　screeching；　blood…mad　devils　that　poured　over　the　walls　of　Venarium　on　that　long…gone　day　to　make　her　streets　run　crimson。
　　〃Then　you；　too；　are　a　barbarian！〃　he　exclaimed　involuntarily。
　　The　other　nodded；　without　taking　offense。
　　〃I　am　Conan；　a　Cimmerian。〃
　　〃I've　heard　of　you。〃　Fresh　interest　quickened　Balthus'　gaze。　No　wonder　the　Pict　had　fallen　victim　to　his　own　sort　of　subtlety！　The　Cimmerians　were　barbarians　as　ferocious　as　the　Picts；　and　much　more　intelligent。　Evidently　Conan　had　spent　much　time　among　civilized　men；　though　that　contact　had　obviously　not　softened　him；　nor　weakened　any　of　his　primitive　instincts。　Balthus'　apprehension　turned　to　admiration　as　he　marked　the　easy　catlike　stride；　the　effortless　silence　with　which　the　Cimmerian　moved　along　the　trail。　The　oiled　links　of　his　armor　did　not　clink；　and　Balthus　knew　Conan　could　glide　through　the　deepest　thicket　or　most　tangled　copse　as　noiselessly　as　any　naked　Pict　that　ever　lived。
　　〃You're　not　a　Gunderman？〃　It　was　more　assertion　than　question。
　　Balthus　shook　his　head。　〃I'm　from　the　Tauran。〃
　　〃I've　seen　good　woodsmen　from　the　Tauran。　But　the　Bossonians　have　sheltered　you　Aquilonians　from　the　outer　wilderness　for　too　many　centuries。　You　need　hardening。〃
　　That　was　true；　the　Bossonian　marches；　with　their　fortiied　villages　filled　with　determined　bowmen；　had　long　served　Aquilonia　as　a　buffer　against　the　outlying　barbarians。　Now　among　the　settlers　beyond　Thunder　River　here　was　growing　up　a　breed　of　forest　men　capable　of　meeting　the　barbarians　at　their　own　game；　but　their　numbers　were　still　scanty。　Most　of　the　frontiersmen　were　like　Balthus…more　of　the　settler　than　the　woodsman　type。
　　The　sun　had　not　set；　but　it　was　no　longer　in　sight；　hidden　as　it　was　behind　the　dense　forest　wall。　The　shadows　were　lengthening；　deepening　back　in　the　woods　as　the　panions　strode　on　down　the　trail。
　　〃It　will　be　dark　before　we　reach　the　fort；〃　mented　Conan　casually；　then：　〃Listen！〃
　　He　stopped　short；　half　crouching；　sword　ready；　transformed　into　a　savage　figure　of　suspicion　and　menace；　poised　to　spring　and　rend。　Balthus　had　heard　it　too…a　wild　scream　that　broke　at　its　highest　note。　It　was　the　cry　of　a　man　in　dire　fear　or　agony。
　　Conan　was　off　in　an　instant；　racing　down　the　trail；　each　stride　widening　the　distance　between　him　and　his　straining　panion。　Balthus　puffed　a　curse。　Among　the　settlements　of　the　Tauran　he　was　accounted　a　good　runner；　but　Conan　was　leaving　him　behind　with　maddening　ease。　Then　Balthus　forgot　his　exasperation　as　his　ears　were　outraged　by　the　most　frightful　cry　he　had　ever　heard。　It　was　not　human；　this　one；　it　was　a　demoniacal　caterwauling　of　hideous　triumph　that　seemed　to　exult　over　fallen　humanity　and　find　echo　in　black　gulfs　beyond　human　ken。
　　Balthus　faltered　in　his　stride；　and　clammy　sweat　beaded　his　flesh。　But　Conan　did　not　hesitate；　he　darted　around　a　bend　in　the　trail　and　disappeared；　and　Balthus；　panicky　at　finding　himself　alone　with　that　awful　scream　still　shuddering　through　the　forest　in　grisly　echoes；　put　on　an　extra　burst　of　speed　and　plunged　after　him。
　　The　Aquilonian　slid　to　a　stumbling　halt；　almost　colliding　with　the　Cimmerian　who　stood　in　the　trail　over　a　crumpled　body。　But　Conan　was　not　looking　at　the　corpse　which　lay　there　in　the　crimson…soaked　dust。　He　was　glaring　into　the　deep　woods　on　either　side　of　the　trail。
　　Balthus　muttered　a　horrified　oath。　It　was　the　body　of　a　man　which　lay　there　in　the　trail；　a　short；　fat　man；　clad　in　the　gilt…worked　boots　and　（despite　the　heat）　the　ermine…trimmed　tunic　of　a　wealthy　merchant。　His　fat；　pale　face　was　set　in　a　stare　of　frozen　horror；　his　thick　throat　had　been　slashed　from　ear　to　ear　as　if　by　a　razor…sharp　blade。　The　short　sword　still　in　its　scabbard　seemed　to　indicate　that　he　had　been　struck　down　without　a　chance　to　fight　for　his　life。
　　〃A　Pict？〃　Balthus　whispered；　as　he　turned　to　peer　into　the　deepening　shadows　of　the　forest。
　　Conan　shook　his　head　and　straightened　to　scowl　down　at　the　dead　man。
　　〃A　forest　devil。　This　is　the　fifth；　by　Crom！〃　
　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　　〃Did　you　ever　hear　of　a　Pictish　wizard　called　Zogar　Sag？〃
　　Balthus　shook　his　head　uneasily。
　　〃He　dwells　in　Gwawela；　the　nearest　village　across　the　river。　Three　months　ago　he　hid　beside　this　road　and　stole　a　string　of　pack…mules　from　a　pack…train　bound　for　the　fort…drugged　their　drivers；　somehow。　The　mules　belonged　to　this　man〃…Conan　casually　indicated　the　corpse　with　his　foot…〃Tiberias；　a　merchant　of　Velitrium。　They　were　loaded　with　ale…kegs；　and　old　Zogar　stopped　to　guzzle　before　he　got　across　the　river。　A　woodsman　named　Soractus　trailed　him；　and　led　Valannus　and　three　soldiers　to　where　he　lay　dead　drunk　in　a　thicket。　At　the　importunities　of　Tiberias；　Valannus　threw　Zogar　Sag　into　a　cell；　which　is　the　worst　insult　you　can　give　a　Pict。　He　managed　to　kill　his　guard　and　escape；　and　sent　back　word　that　he　meant　to　kill　Tiberias　and　the　five　men　who　captured　him　in　a　way　that　would　make　Aquilonians　shudder　for　centuries　to　e。
　　〃Well；　Soractus　and　the　soldiers　are　dead。　Soractus　was　killed　on　the　river；　the　soldiers　in　the　very　shadow　of　the　fort。　And　now　Tiberias　is　dead。　No　Pict　killed　any　of　them。　Each　victim…except　Tiberias；　as　you　see…lacked　his　head…which　no　doubt　is　now　ornamenting　the　altar　of　Zogar　Sag's　particular　god。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know　they　weren't　killed　by　the　Picts？〃　demanded　Balthus。
　　Conan　pointed　to　the　corpse　of　the　merchant。
　　〃You　think　that　was　done　with　a　knife　or　a　sword？　Look　closer　and　you'll　see　that　only　a　talon　could　have　made　a　gash　like　that。　The　flesh　is　ripped；　not　cut。〃
　　〃Perhaps　a　panther…〃　began　Balthus；　without　conviction。
　　Conan　shook　his　head　impatiently。
　　〃A　man　from　the　Tauran　couldn't　mistake　the　mark　of　a　panther's　claws。　No。　It's　a　forest　devil　summoned　by　Zogar　Sag　to　carry　out　his　revenge。　Tiberias　was　a　fool　to　start　for　Velitrium　alone；　and　so　close　to　dusk。　But　each　one　of　the　victims　seemed　to　be　smitten　with　madness　just　before　doom　overtook　him。　Look　here；　the　signs　are　plain　enough。　Tiberias　came　riding　along　the　trail　on　his　mule；　maybe　with　a　bundle　of　choice　otter　pelts　behind　his　saddle　to　sell　in　Velitrium；　and　the　thing　sprang　on　him　from　behind　that　bush。　See　where　the　branches　are　crushed　down。
　　〃Tiberias　gave　one　scream；　and　then　his　throat　was　torn　open　and　he　was　selling　his　otter　skins　in　Hell。　The　mule　ran　away　into　the　woods。　Listen！　Even　now　you　can　hear　him　thrashing　about　under　the　trees。　The　demon　didn't　have　time　to　take　Tiberias'　head；　it　took　fright　as　we　came　up。〃
　　〃As　you　came　up；〃　amended　Balthus。　〃It　must　not　be　a　very　terrible　creature　if　it　flees　from　one　armed　man。　But　how　do　you　know　it　was　not　a　Pict　with　some　kind　of　a　hook　that　rips　instead　of　slicing？　Did　you　see　it？〃
　　〃Tiberias　was　an　armed　man；〃　grunted　Conan。　〃If　Zogar　Sag　can　bring　demons　to　aid　him；　he　can　tell　them　which　men　to　kill　and　which　to　let　alone。　No；　I　didn't　see　it。　I　only　saw