rh.conanthewarrior-第35节

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tes　of　Velitrium…maybe　beyond！　If　we　cannot　hold　the　fort；　how　can　they　hold　the　town？
　　〃Conan；　Zogar　Sag　must　die；　if　we　are　to　hold　Conajohara。　You　have　penetrated　the　unknown　deeper　than　any　other　man　in　the　fort；　you　know　where　Gwawela　stands；　and　something　of　the　forest　trails　across　the　river。　Will　you　take　a　band　of　men　tonight　and　endeavor　to　kill　or　capture　him？　Oh；　I　know　it's　mad。　There　isn't　more　than　one　chance　in　a　thousand　that　any　of　you　will　e　back　alive。　But　if　we　don't　get　him；　it's　death　for　us　all。　You　can　take　as　many　men　as　you　wish。〃
　　〃A　dozen　men　are　better　for　a　job　like　that　than　a　regiment；〃　answered　Conan。　〃Five　hundred　men　couldn't　fight　their　way　to　Gwawela　and　back；　but　a　dozen　might　slip　in　and　out　again。　Let　me　pick　my　men。　I　don't　want　any　soldiers。〃
　　〃Let　me　go！〃　eagerly　exclaimed　Balthus。　〃I've　hunted　deer　all　my　life　on　the　Tauran。〃
　　〃All　right。　Valannus；　we'll　eat　at　the　stall　where　the　foresters　gather；　and　I'll　pick　my　men。　We'll　start　within　an　hour；　drop　down　the　river　in　a　boat　to　a　point　below　the　village　and　then　steal　upon　it　through　the　woods。　If　we　live；　we　should　be　back　by　daybreak。〃
　　
　　
　　　3。　　The　Crawlers　in　the　Dark
　　
　　The　river　was　a　vague　trace　between　walls　of　ebony。　The　paddles　that　propelled　the　long　boat　creeping　along　in　the　dense　shadow　of　the　eastern　bank　dipped　softly　into　the　water；　making　no　more　noise　than　the　beak　of　a　heron。　The　broad　shoulders　of　the　man　in　front　of　Balthus　were　a　blue　in　the　dense　gloom。　He　knew　that　not　even　the　keen　eyes　of　the　man　who　knelt　in　the　prow　would　discern　anything　more　than　a　few　feet　ahead　of　them。　Conan　was　feeling　his　way　by　instinct　and　an　intensive　familiarity　with　the　river。
　　No　one　spoke。　Balthus　had　had　a　good　look　at　his　panions　in　the　fort　before　they　slipped　out　of　the　stockade　and　down　the　bank　into　the　waiting　canoe。　They　were　of　a　new　breed　growing　up　in　the　world　on　the　raw　edge　of　the　frontier…men　whom　grim　necessity　had　taught　woodcraft。　Aquilonians　of　the　western　provinces　to　a　man；　they　had　many　points　in　mon。　They　dressed　alike…in　buckskin　boots；　leathern　breeks　and　deerskin　shirts；　with　broad　girdles　that　held　axes　and　short　swords；　and　they　were　all　gaunt　and　scarred　and　hard…eyed；　sinewy　and　taciturn。
　　They　were　wild　men；　of　a　sort；　yet　there　was　still　a　wide　gulf　between　them　and　the　Cimmerian。　They　were　sons　of　civilization；　reverted　to　a　semi…barbarism。　He　was　a　barbarian　of　a　thousand　generations　of　barbarians。　They　had　acquired　stealth　and　craft；　but　he　had　been　born　to　these　things。　He　excelled　them　even　in　lithe　economy　of　motion。　They　were　wolves；　but　he　was　a　tiger。
　　Balthus　admired　them　and　their　leader　and　felt　a　pulse　of　pride　that　he　was　admitted　into　their　pany。　He　was　proud　that　his　paddle　made　no　more　noise　than　did　theirs。　In　that　respect　at　least　he　was　their　equal；　though　woodcraft　learned　in　hunts　on　the　Tauran　could　never　equal　that　ground　into　the　souls　of　men　on　the　savage　border。
　　Below　the　fort　the　river　made　a　wide　bend。　The　lights　of　the　outpost　were　quickly　lost；　but　the　canoe　held　on　its　way　for　nearly　a　mile；　avoiding　snags　and　floating　logs　with　almost　uncanny　precision。
　　Then　a　low　grunt　from　their　leader；　and　they　swung　its　head　about　and　glided　toward　the　opposite　shore。　Emerging　from　the　black　shadows　of　the　brush　that　fringed　the　bank　and　ing　into　the　open　of　the　midstream　created　a　peculiar　illusion　of　rash　exposure。　But　the　stars　gave　little　light；　and　Balthus　knew　that　unless　one　were　watching　for　it；　it　would　be　all　but　impossible　for　the　keenest　eye　to　make　out　the　shadowy　shape　of　the　canoe　crossing　the　river。
　　They　swung　in　under　the　overhanging　bushes　of　the　western　shore　and　Balthus　groped　for　and　found　a　projecting　root　which　he　grasped。　No　word　was　spoken。　All　instructions　had　been　given　before　the　scouting…party　left　the　fort。　As　silently　as　a　great　panther；　Conan　slid　over　the　side　and　vanished　in　the　bushes。　Equally　noiseless；　nine　men　followed　him。　To　Balthus；　grasping　the　root　with　his　paddle　across　his　knee；　it　seemed　incredible　that　ten　men　should　thus　fade　into　the　tangled　forest　without　a　sound。
　　He　settled　himself　to　wait。　No　word　passed　between　him　and　the　other　man　who　had　been　left　with　him。　Somewhere；　a　mile　or　so　to　the　northwest；　Zogar　Sag's　village　stood　girdled　with　thick　woods。　Balthus　understood　his　orders；　he　and　his　panion　were　to　wait　for　the　return　of　the　raiding…party。　If　Conan　and　his　men　had　not　returned　by　the　first　tinge　of　dawn；　they　were　to　race　back　up　the　river　to　the　fort　and　report　that　the　forest　had　again　taken　its　immemorial　toll　of　the　invading　race。　The　silence　was　oppressive。　No　sound　came　from　the　black　woods；　invisible　beyond　the　ebony　masses　that　were　the　overhanging　bushes。　Balthus　no　longer　heard　the　drums。　They　had　been　silent　for　hours。　He　kept　blinking；　unconsciously　trying　to　see　through　the　deep　gloom。　The　dank　night…smells　of　the　river　and　the　damp　forest　oppressed　him。　Somewhere；　near　by；　there　was　a　sound　as　if　a　big　fish　had　flopped　and　splashed　the　water。　Balthus　thought　it　must　have　leaped　so　close　to　the　canoe　that　it　had　struck　the　side；　for　a　slight　quiver　vibrated　the　craft。　The　boat's　stern　began　to　swing；　slightly　away　from　the　shore。　The　man　behind　him　must　have　let　go　of　the　projection　he　was　gripping。　Balthus　twisted　his　head　to　hiss　a　warning；　and　could　just　make　out　the　figure　of　his　panion；　a　slightly　blacker　bulk　in　the　blackness。
　　The　man　did　not　reply。　Wondering　if　he　had　fallen　asleep；　Balthus　reached　out　and　grasped　his　shoulder。　To　his　amazement；　the　man　crumpled　under　his　touch　and　slumped　down　in　the　canoe。　Twisting　his　body　half　about；　Balthus　groped　for　him；　his　heart　shooting　into　his　throat。　His　fumbling　fingers　slid　over　the　man's　throat…only　the　youth's　convulsive　clenching　of　his　jaws　choked　back　the　cry　that　rose　to　his　lips。　His　finger　encountered　a　gaping；　oozing　wound…his　panion's　throat　had　been　cut　from　ear　to　ear。
　　In　that　instant　of　horror　and　panic　Balthus　started　up…and　then　a　muscular　arm　out　of　the　darkness　locked　fiercely　about　his　throat；　strangling　his　yell。　The　canoe　rocked　wildly。　Balthus'　knife　was　in　his　hand；　though　he　did　not　remember　jerking　it　out　of　his　boot；　and　he　stabbed　fiercely　and　blindly。　He　felt　the　blade　sink　deep；　and　a　fiendish　yell　rang　in　his　ear；　a　yell　that　was　horribly　answered。　The　darkness　seemed　to　e　to　life　about　him。　A　bestial　clamor　rose　on　all　sides；　and　other　arms　grappled　him。　Borne　under　a　mass　of　hurtling　bodies　the　canoe　rolled　sidewise；　but　before　he　went　under　with　it；　something　cracked　against　Balthus'　head　and　the　night　was　briefly　illuminated　by　a　blinding　burst　of　fire　before　it　gave　way　to　a　blackness　where　not　even　stars　shone。
　　
　　
　　　4。　　The　Beasts　of　Zogar　Sag
　　
　　Fires　dazzled　Balthus　again　as　he　slowly　recovered　his　senses。　He　blinked；　shook　his　head。　Their　glare　hurt　his　eyes。　A　confused　medley　of　sound　rose　about　him；　growing　more　distinct　as　his　senses　cleared。　He　lifted　his　head　and　stared　stupidly　about　him。　Black　figures　hemmed　him　in；　etched　against　crimson　tongues　of　flame。
　　Memory　and　understanding　came　in　a　rush。　He　was　bound　upright　to　a　post　in　an　open　space；　ringed　by　fierce　and　terrible　figures。　Beyond　that　ring　fires　burned；　tended　by　naked；　dark…skinned　women。　Beyond　the　fires　he　saw　huts　of　mud　and　wattle；　thatched　with　brush。　Beyond　the　huts　there　was　a　stockade　with　a　broad　gate。　But　he　saw　these　things　only　incidentally。　Even　the　cryptic　dark　women　with　their　curious　coiffures　were　noted　by　him　only　absently。　His　full　attention　was　fixed　in　awful　fascination　on　the　men　who　stood　glaring　at　him。
　　Short　men；　broad…shouldered；　deep…chested；　lean…hipped；　they　were　naked　except　for　scanty　loin…clouts。　The　firelight　brought　out　the　play　of　their　swelling　muscles　in　bold　relief。　Their　dark　faces　were　immobile；　but　their　narrow　eyes　glittered　with　the　fire　that　burns　in　the　eyes　of　a　stalking　tiger。　Their　tangled　manes　were　bound　back　with　bands　of　copper。　Swords　and　axes　were　in　their　hands。　Crude　bandages　banded　the　limbs　of　some；　and　smears　of　blood　were　dried　on　their　dark　skins。　There　had　been　fighting；　recent　and　deadly。
　　His　eyes　wavered　away　from　the　steady　glare　of　his　captors；　and　he　repressed　a　cry　of　horror。　A　few　feet　away　there　rose　a　low；　hideous　pyramid：　it　was　built　of　gory　human　heads。　Dead　eyes　glared　glassily　up　the　black　sky。　Numbly　he　recognized　the　countenances　which　were　turned　toward　him。　They　were　the　heads　of　the　men　who　had　followed　Conan　into　the　forest。　He　could　not　tell　if　the　Cimmerian's　head　were　among　them。　Only　a　few　faces　were　visible　to　him。　It　looked　to　him　as　if　there　must　be　ten　or　eleven　heads　at　least。　A　deadly　sickness　assailed　him。　He　fought　a　desire　to　retch。　Beyond　the　heads　lay　the　bodies　of　half　a　dozen　Picts；　and　he　was　aware　of　a　fierce　exultation　at　the　sight。　The　forest　runners　had　taken　toll；　at　least。
　　Twisting　his　head　away　from　the　ghastly　spectacle；　he　became　aware　that　another　post　stood　near　him…a　stake　painted　black　as　was　the　one　to　which　he　was　bound。　A　man　sagged　in　his　bonds　there；　naked　except　for　his　leathern　breeks；　whom　Balthus　recognized　as　one　o