rh.conanthewarrior-第37节

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still　shrank　back　against　the　huts；　and　the　shaman　still　stood　facing　the　gate　that　was　like　a　black　opening　to　let　in　the　night。
　　Cold　sweat　burst　suddenly　out　on　Balthus'　skin。　What　new　horror　would　e　through　that　gate　to　make　carrion…meat　of　his　body？　Sick　panic　assailed　him　and　he　strained　futilely　at　his　thongs。　The　night　pressed　in　very　black　and　horrible　outside　the　firelight。　The　fires　themselves　glowed　lurid　as　the　fires　of　Hell。　He　felt　the　eyes　of　the　Picts　upon　him…hundreds　of　hungry；　cruel　eyes　that　reflected　the　lust　of　souls　utterly　without　humanity　as　he　knew　it。　They　no　longer　seemed　men；　they　were　devils　of　this　black　jungle；　as　inhuman　as　the　creatures　to　which　the　fiend　in　the　nodding　plumes　screamed　through　the　darkness。
　　Zogar　sent　another　call　shuddering　through　the　night；　and　it　was　utterly　unlike　the　first　cry。　There　was　a　hideous　sibilance　in　it…Balthus　turned　cold　at　the　implication。　If　a　serpent　could　hiss　that　loud；　it　would　make　just　such　asound。
　　This　time　there　was　no　answer…only　a　period　of　breathless　silence　in　which　the　pound　of　Balthus'　heart　strangled　him；　and　then　there　sounded　a　swishing　outside　the　gate；　a　dry　rustling　that　sent　chills　down　Balthus'　spine。　Again　the　firelit　gate　held　a　hideous　occupant。
　　Again　Balthus　recognized　the　monster　from　ancient　legends。　He　saw　and　knew　the　ancient　and　evil　serpent　which　swayed　there；　its　wedge…shaped　head；　huge　as　that　of　a　horse；　as　high　as　a　tall　man's　head；　and　its　palely　gleaming　barrel　rippling　out　behind　it。　A　forked　tongue　darted　in　and　out；　and　the　firelight　glittered　on　bared　fangs。
　　Balthus　became　incapable　of　emotion。　The　horror　of　his　fate　paralyzed　him。　That　was　the　reptile　that　the　ancients　called　Ghost　Snake；　the　pale；　abominable　terror　that　of　old　glided　into　huts　by　night　to　devour　whole　families。　Like　the　python　it　crushed　its　victim；　but　unlike　other　constrictors　its　fangs　bore　venom　that　carried　madness　and　death。　It　too　had　long　been　considered　extinct。　But　Valannus　had　spoken　truly。　No　white　man　knew　what　shapes　haunted　the　great　forests　beyond　Black　River。
　　It　came　on　silently；　rippling　over　the　ground；　its　hideous　head　on　the　same　level；　its　neck　curving　back　slightly　for　the　stroke。　Balthus　gazed　with　a　glazed；　hypnotized　stare　into　that　loathsome　gullet　down　which　he　would　soon　be　engulfed；　and　he　was　aware　of　no　sensation　except　a　vague　nausea。
　　And　then　something　that　glinted　in　the　firelight　streaked　from　the　shadows　of　the　huts；　and　the　great　reptile　whipped　about　and　went　into　instant　convulsions。　As　in　a　dream　Balthus　saw　a　short　throwing…spear　transfixing　the　mighty　neck；　just　below　the　gaping　jaws；　the　shaft　protruded　from　one　side；　the　steel　head　from　the　other。
　　Knotting　and　looping　hideously；　the　maddened　reptile　rolled　into　the　circle　of　men　who　stove　back　from　him。　The　spear　had　not　severed　its　spine；　but　merely　transfixed　its　great　neck　muscles。　Its　furiously　lashing　tail　mowed　down　a　dozen　men　and　its　jaws　snapped　convulsively；　splashing　others　with　venom　that　burned　like　liquid　fire。　Howling；　cursing；　screaming；　frantic；　they　scattered　before　it；　knocking　each　other　down　in　their　flight；　trampling　the　fallen；　bursting　through　the　huts。　The　giant　snake　rolled　into　a　fire；　scattering　sparks　and　brands；　and　the　pain　lashed　it　to　more　frenzied　efforts。　A　hut　wall　buckled　under　the　ram…like　impact　of　its　flailing　tail；　disgorging　howling　people。
　　Men　stampeded　through　the　fires；　knocking　the　logs　right　and　left。　The　flames　sprang　up；　then　sank。　A　reddish　dim　glow　was　all　that　lighted　that　nightmare　scene　where　the　giant　reptile　whipped　and　rolled；　and　men　clawed　and　shrieked　in　frantic　flight。
　　Balthus　felt　something　jerk　at　his　wrists；　and　then；　miraculously；　he　was　free；　and　a　strong　hand　dragged　him　behind　the　post。　Dazedly　he　saw　Conan；　felt　the　forest　man's　iron　grip　on　his　arm。
　　There　was　blood　on　the　Cimmerian's　mail；　dried　blood　on　the　sword　in　his　right　hand；　he　loomed　dim　and　gigantic　in　the　shadowy　light。
　　〃e　on！　Before　they　get　over　their　panic！〃
　　Balthus　felt　the　haft　of　an　ax　shoved　into　his　hand。　Zogar　Sag　had　disappeared。　Conan　dragged　Balthus　after　him　until　the　youth's　numb　brain　awoke；　and　his　legs　began　to　move　of　their　own　accord。　Then　Conan　released　him　and　ran　into　the　building　where　the　skulls　hung。　Balthus　followed　him。　He　got　a　glimpse　of　a　grim　stone　altar；　faintly　lighted　by　the　glow　outside；　five　human　heads　grinned　on　that　altar；　and　there　was　a　grisly　familiarity　about　the　features　of　the　freshest；　it　was　the　head　of　the　merchant　Tiberias。　Behind　the　altar　was　an　idol；　dim；　indistinct；　bestial；　yet　vaguely　man…like　in　outline。　Then　fresh　horror　choked　Balthus　as　the　shape　heaved　up　suddenly　with　a　rattle　of　chains；　lifting　long　misshapen　arms　in　the　gloom。
　　Conan's　sword　flailed　down；　crunching　through　flesh　and　bone；　and　then　the　Cimmerian　was　dragging　Balthus　around　the　altar；　past　a　huddled　shaggy　bulk　on　the　floor；　to　a　door　at　the　back　of　the　long　hut。　Through　this　they　burst；　out　into　the　enclosure　again。　But　a　few　yards　beyond　them　loomed　the　stockade。
　　It　was　dark　behind　the　altar…hut。　The　mad　stampede　of　the　Picts　had　not　carried　them　in　that　direction。　At　the　wall　Conan　halted；　gripped　Balthus；　and　heaved　him　at　arm's　length　into　the　air　as　he　might　have　lifted　a　child。　Balthus　grasped　the　points　of　the　upright　logs　set　in　the　sun…dried　mud　and　scrambled　up　on　them；　ignoring　the　havoc　done　his　skin。　He　lowered　a　hand　to　the　Cimmerian；　when　around　a　corner　of　the　altar…hut　sprang　a　fleeing　Pict。　He　halted　short；　glimpsing　the　man　on　the　wall　in　the　faint　glow　of　the　fires。　Conan　hurled　his　ax　with　deadly　aim；　but　the　warrior's　mouth　was　already　open　for　a　yell　of　warning；　and　it　rang　loud　above　the　din；　cut　short　as　he　dropped　with　a　shattered　skull。
　　Blinding　terror　had　not　submerged　all　ingrained　instincts。　As　that　wild　yell　rose　above　the　clamor；　there　was　an　instant's　lull；　and　then　a　hundred　throats　bayed　ferocious　answer　and　warriors　came　leaping　to　repel　the　attack　presaged　by　the　warning。
　　Conan　leaped　high；　caught；　not　Balthus'　hand　but　his　arm　near　the　shoulder；　and　swung　himself　up。　Balthus　set　his　teeth　against　the　strain；　and　then　the　Cimmerian　was　on　the　wall　beside　him；　and　the　fugitives　dropped　down　on　the　other　side。
　　
　　
　　　5。　　The　Children　of　Jhebbal　Sag
　　
　　〃Which　way　is　the　river？〃　Balthus　was　confused。
　　〃We　don't　dare　try　for　the　river　now；〃　grunted　Conan。　〃The　woods　between　the　village　and　the　river　are　swarming　with　warriors。　e　on！　We'll　head　in　the　last　direction　they'll　expect　us　to　go…west！〃
　　Looking　back　as　they　entered　the　thick　growth；　Balthus　beheld　the　wall　dotted　with　black　heads　as　the　savages　peered　over。　The　Picts　were　bewildered。　They　had　not　gained　the　wall　in　time　to　see　the　fugitives　take　cover。　They　had　rushed　to　the　wall　expecting　to　repel　an　attack　in　force。　They　had　seen　the　body　of　the　dead　warrior。　But　no　enemy　was　in　sight。
　　Balthus　realized　that　they　did　not　yet　know　their　prisoner　had　escaped。　From　other　sounds　he　believed　that　the　warriors；　directed　by　the　shrill　voice　of　Zogar　Sag；　were　destroying　the　wounded　serpent　with　arrows。　The　monster　was　out　of　the　shaman's　control。　A　moment　later　the　quality　of　the　yells　was　altered。　Screeches　of　rage　rose　in　the　night。
　　Conan　laughed　grimly。　He　was　leading　Balthus　along　a　narrow　trail　that　ran　west　under　the　black　branches；　stepping　as　swiftly　and　surely　as　if　he　trod　a　well…lighted　thoroughfare。　Balthus　stumbled　after　him；　guiding　himself　by　feeling　the　dense　wall　on　either　hand。
　　〃They'll　be　after　us　now。　Zogar's　discovered　you're　gone；　and　he　knows　my　head　wasn't　in　the　pile　before　the　altar…hut。　The　dog！　If　I'd　had　another　spear　I'd　have　thrown　it　through　him　before　I　struck　the　snake。　Keep　to　the　trail。　They　can't　track　us　by　torchlight；　and　there　are　a　score　of　paths　leading　from　the　village。　They'll　follow　those　leading　to　the　river　first…throw　a　cordon　of　warriors　for　miles　along　the　bank；　expecting　us　to　try　to　break　through。　We　won't　take　to　the　woods　until　we　have　to。　We　can　make　better　time　on　this　trail。　Now　buckle　down　to　it　and　run　was　you　never　ran　before。〃
　　〃They　got　over　their　panic　cursed　quick！〃　panted　Balthus；　plying　with　a　fresh　burst　of　speed。
　　〃They're　not　afraid　of　anything；　very　long；〃　grunted　Conan。
　　For　a　space　nothing　was　said　between　them。　The　fugitives　devoted　all　their　attention　to　covering　distance。　They　were　plunging　deeper　and　deeper　into　the　wilderness　and　getting　farther　away　from　civilization　at　every　step；　but　Balthus　did　not　question　Conan〃s　wisdom。　The　Cimmerian　presently　took　time　to　grunt：　〃When　we're　far　enough　away　from　the　village　we'll　swing　back　to　the　river　in　a　big　circle。　No　other　village　within　miles　of　Gwawela。　All　the　Picts　are　gathered　in　that　vicinity。　We'll　circle　wide　around　them。　They　can't　track　us　until　daylight。　They'll　pick　up　our　path　then；　but　before　dawn　we'll　leave　the　trail　and　take　to　the　woods。〃
　　They　plunged　on。　The　yells　died　out　behind　them。　Balthus'　breath　was　whistling　through　his　teeth。　He　felt　a　pain　in　his　side；　and　running　became　torture。　He　blundered　against　the　bushes　on　each　side　of　the　trai