rh.conanthewarrior-第1部分

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　　　Red　Nails
　　　Jewels　of　Gwahlur
　　　Beyond　the　Black　River
　　
　　
　　　RED　NAILS
　　
　　
　　For　some　two　years；　as　captain　of　the　Wastrel；　Conan　continues　a　highly　successful　career　as　a　freebooter。　However；　the　other　Zingaran　pirates；　jealous　of　the　outlander　in　their　midst；　at　last　bring　him　down　off　the　coast　of　Shem。　Escaping　inland　and　hearing　that　wars　are　in　the　offing　along　the　borders　of　Stygia；　Conan　joins　the　Free　panions；　a　band　of　condottieri　under　the　mand　of　one　Zarallo。　Instead　of　rich　plunder；　however；　he　finds　himself　engaged　in　uneventful　guard　duty　in　the　border　post　of　Sukhmet；　on　the　frontier　of　the　black　kingdoms。　The　wine　is　sour　and　the　pickings　poor；　and　Conan　soon　gets　tired　of　black　women。　His　boredom　ends　with　the　appearance　in　Sukhmet　of　Valeria　of　the　Red　Brotherhood；　a　woman　pirate　whom　he　had　known　in　his　Barachan　days。　When　she　takes　drastic　measures　to　repulse　a　Stygian　officer；　Conan　follows　her　south　into　the　lands　of　the　blacks。
　　
　　
　　
　　　1。　　The　Skull　on　the　Crag
　　
　　The　woman　on　the　horse　reined　in　her　weary　steed。　It　stood　with　its　legs　wide…braced；　its　head　drooping；　as　if　it　found　even　the　weight　of　the　gold…tassled；　red…leather　bridle　too　heavy。　The　woman　drew　a　booted　foot　out　of　the　silver　stirrup　and　swung　down　from　the　gilt…worked　saddle。　She　made　the　reins　fast　to　the　fork　of　a　sapling；　and　turned　about；　hands　on　her　hips；　to　survey　her　surroundings。
　　They　were　not　inviting。　Giant　trees　hemmed　in　the　small　pool　where　her　horse　had　just　drunk。　Clumps　of　undergrowth　limited　the　vision　that　quested　under　the　somber　twilight　of　the　lofty　arches　formed　by　intertwining　branches。　The　woman　shivered　with　a　twitch　of　her　magnificent　shoulders；　and　then　cursed。
　　She　was　tall；　full…bosomed；　and　large…limbed；　with　pact　shoulders。　Her　whole　figure　reflected　an　unusual　strength；　without　detracting　from　the　femininity　of　her　appearance。　She　was　all　woman；　in　spite　of　her　bearing　and　her　garments。　The　latter　were　incongruous；　in　view　of　her　present　environs。　Instead　of　a　skirt　she　wore　short；　wide…legged　silk　breeches；　which　ceased　a　hand's　breadth　short　of　her　knees；　and　were　upheld　by　a　wide　silken　sash　worn　as　a　girdle。　Flaring…topped　boots　of　soft　leather　came　almost　to　her　knees；　and　a　low…necked；　wide…collared；　wide…sleeved　silk　shirt　pleted　her　costume。　One　one　shapely　hip　she　wore　a　straight　double…edged　sword；　and　on　the　other　a　long　dirk。　Her　unruly　golden　hair；　cut　square　at　her　shoulders；　was　confined　by　a　band　of　crimson　satin。
　　Against　the　background　of　somber；　primitive　forest　she　posed　with　an　unconscious　picturesqueness；　bizarre　and　out　of　place。　She　should　have　been　posed　against　a　background　of　sea　clouds；　painted　masts；　and　wheeling　gulls。　There　was　the　color　of　the　sea　in　her　wide　eyes。　And　that　was　at　it　should　have　been；　because　this　was　Valeria　of　the　Red　Brotherhood；　whose　deeds　are　celebrated　in　song　and　ballad　wherever　seafarers　gather。
　　She　strove　to　pierce　the　sullen　green　roof　of　the　arched　branches　and　see　the　sky　which　presumably　lay　above　it；　but　presently　gave　it　up　with　a　muttered　oath。
　　Leaving　her　horse　tied；　she　strode　off　toward　the　east；　glancing　back　toward　the　pool　from　time　to　time　in　order　to　fix　her　route　in　her　mind。　The　silence　of　the　forest　depressed　her。　No　birds　sang　in　the　lofty　boughs；　nor　did　any　rustling　in　the　bushes　indicate　the　presence　of　small　animals。　For　leagues　she　had　traveled　in　a　realm　of　brooding　stillness；　broken　only　by　the　sounds　of　her　own　flight。
　　She　had　slaked　her　thirst　at　the　pool；　but　now　felt　the　gnawing　of　hunger　and　began　looking　about　for　some　of　the　fruit　on　which　she　had　sustained　herself　since　exhausting　the　food　originally　in　her　saddlebags。
　　Ahead　of　her；　presently；　she　saw　an　outcropping　of　dark；　flint…like　rock　that　sloped　upward　into　what　looked　like　a　rugged　crag　rising　among　the　trees。　Its　summit　was　lost　to　view　amidst　a　cloud　of　encircling　leaves。　Perhaps　its　peak　rose　above　the　treetops；　and　from　it　she　could　see　what　lay　beyond…if；　indeed；　anything　lay　beyond　but　more　of　this　apparently　illimitable　forest　through　which　she　had　ridden　for　so　many　days。
　　A　narrow　ridge　formed　a　natural　ramp　that　led　up　the　steep　face　of　the　crag。　After　she　had　ascended　some　fifty　feet；　she　came　to　the　belt　of　leaves　that　surrounded　the　rock。　The　trunks　of　the　trees　did　not　crowd　close　to　the　crag；　but　the　ends　of　their　lower　branches　extended　about　it；　veiling　it　with　their　foliage。　She　groped　on　in　leafy　obscurity；　not　able　to　see　either　above　or　below　her；　but　presently　she　glimpsed　blue　sky；　and　a　moment　later　came　out　in　the　clear；　hot　sunlight　and　saw　the　forest　roof　stretching　away　under　her　feet。
　　She　was　standing　on　a　broad　shelf　which　was　about　even　with　the　treetops；　and　from　it　rose　a　spire…like　jut　that　was　the　ultimate　peak　of　the　crag　she　had　climbed。　But　something　else　caught　her　attention　at　the　moment。　Her　foot　had　struck　something　in　the　litter　of　blown　dead　leaves　which　carpeted　the　shelf。　She　kicked　them　aside　and　looked　down　on　the　skeleton　of　a　man。　She　ran　an　experienced　eye　over　the　bleached　frame；　but　saw　no　broken　bones　nor　any　sign　of　violence。　The　man　must　have　died　a　natural　death；　though　why　he　should　have　climbed　a　tall　crag　to　die　she　could　not　imagine。
　　She　scrambled　up　to　the　summit　of　the　spire　and　looked　toward　the　horizons。　The　forest　roof…which　looked　like　a　floor　from　her　vantage　point…was　just　as　impenetrable　as　from　below。　She　could　not　even　see　the　pool　by　which　she　had　left　her　horse。　She　glanced　northward；　in　the　direction　from　which　she　had　e。　She　saw　only　the　rolling　green　ocean　stretching　away　and　away；　with　just　a　vague　blue　line　in　the　distance　to　hint　of　the　hill　range　she　had　crossed　days　before；　to　plunge　into　this　leafy　waste。
　　West　and　east　the　view　was　the　same；　though　the　blue　hill…line　was　lacking　in　those　directions。　But　when　she　turned　her　eyes　southward　she　stiffened　and　caught　her　breath。　A　mile　away　in　that　direction　the　forest　thinned　out　and　ceased　abruptly；　giving　way　to　a　cactus…dotted　plain。　And　in　the　midst　of　that　plain　rose　the　walls　and　towers　of　a　city。　Valeria　swore　in　amazement。　This　passed　belief。　She　would　not　have　been　surprised　to　sight　human　habitations　of　another　sort…the　beehive…shaped　huts　of　the　black　people；　or　the　cliff…dwellings　of　the　mysterious　brown　race　which　legends　declared　inhabited　some　country　of　this　unexplored　region。　But　it　was　a　startling　experience　to　e　upon　a　walled　city　here　so　many　long　weeks'　march　from　the　nearest　outposts　of　any　sort　of　civilization。
　　Her　hands　tiring　from　clinging　to　the　spirelike　pinnacle；　she　let　herself　down　on　the　shelf；　frowning　in　indecision。　She　had　e　far…from　the　camp　of　the　mercenaries　by　the　border　town　of　Sukhmet　amidst　the　level　grasslands；　where　desperate　adventurers　of　many　races　guard　the　Stygian　frontier　against　the　raids　that　e　up　like　a　red　wave　from　Darfar。　Her　flight　had　been　blind；　into　a　country　of　which　she　was　wholly　ignorant。　And　now　she　wavered　between　an　urge　to　ride　directly　to　that　city　in　the　plain；　and　the　instinct　of　caution　which　prompted　her　to　skirt　it　widely　and　continue　her　solitary　flight。
　　Her　thoughts　were　scattered　by　the　rustling　of　the　leaves　below　her。　She　wheeled　catlike；　snatched　at　her　sword；　and　then　she　froze　motionless；　staring　wide…eyed　at　the　man　before　her。
　　He　was　almost　a　giant　in　stature；　muscles　rippling　smoothly　under　his　skin；　which　the　sun　had　burned　brown。　His　garb　was　similar　to　hers；　except　that　he　wore　a　broad　leather　belt　instead　of　a　girdle。　Broadsword　and　poniard　hung　from　his　belt。
　　〃Conan；　the　Cimmerian！〃　ejaculated　the　woman。　〃What　are　you　doing　on　my　trail？〃
　　He　grinned　hardly；　and　his　fierce　blue　eyes　burned　with　a　light　any　woman　could　understand　as　they　ran　over　her　magnificent　figure；　lingering　on　the　swell　of　her　splendid　breasts　beneath　the　light　shirt；　and　the　clear　white　flesh　displayed　between　breeches　and　boot…tops。
　　〃Don't　you　know？〃　he　laughed。　〃Haven't　I　made　my　admiration　for　you　plain　ever　since　I　first　saw　you？〃
　　〃A　stallion　could　have　made　it　no　plainer；〃　she　answered　disdainfully。　〃But　I　never　expected　to　encounter　you　so　far　from　the　ale　barrels　and　meatpots　of　Sukhmet。　Did　you　really　follow　me　from　Zarallo's　camp；　or　were　you　whipped　forth　for　a　rogue？〃
　　He　laughed　at　her　insolence　and　flexed　his　mighty　biceps。
　　〃You　know　Zarallo　didn't　have　enough　knaves　to　whip　me　out　of　camp；〃　he　grinned。　〃Of　course　I　followed　you。　Lucky　thing　for　you；　too；　wench！　When　you　knifed　that　Stygian　officer；　you　forfeited　Zarallo's　favor；　and　protection；　and　you　outlawed　yourself　with　the　Stygians。〃
　　〃I　know　it；〃　she　replied　sullenly。　〃But　what　else　could　I　do？　You　know　what　my　provocation　was。〃
　　〃Sure；〃　he　agreed。　〃If　I'd　been　there；　I'd　have　knifed　him　myself。　But　if　a　woman　must　live　in　the　war　camps　of　men；　she　can　expect　such　things。〃
　　Valeria　stamped　her　booted　foot　and　swore。
　　〃Why　won't　men　let　me　life　a　man's　life？〃
　　〃That's　obvious！〃　Again　his　eager　eyes　devoured　her。　〃But　you　were　wise　to　run　away。　The　Stygians　would　have　had　you　skinned。　That　officer's　brother　followed　you；　faster　than　you　thought；　I　don't　doubt。　He　wasn't　far　behind　you　when　I　caught　up　with　him。　His　horse　was　better　than　yours。　He'd　have　caught　you　and　cut　your　throat　within　a　few　more　miles。〃
　　〃Well？〃　she　demanded。
　　〃Well　what？〃　He　seemed　puzzled。
　　〃What　of　the　Stygian？〃
　　〃Why；　what　do　you　suppose？〃　he　returned　impatiently。　〃I　killed　him；　of　course；　and　left　his　carcass　for　the　vultures。　That　delayed　me；　though；　and　I　almost　lost　your　trail　when　you　crossed　the　rocky　spurs　of　the　hills。　Otherwise　I'd　have　caught　up　with　you　long　ago。〃
　　〃And　now　you　think　you'll　drag　me　back　to　Zarallo's　camp？〃　she　sneered。
　　〃Don't　talk　like　a　fool；〃　he　grunted。　〃e；　girl；　don't　be　such　a　spitfire。　I'm　not　like　that　Stygian　you　knifed；　and　you　know　it。〃
　　〃A　penniless　vagabond；〃　she　taunted。
　　He　laughed　at　her。
　　〃What　do　you　call　yourself？　You　haven't　enough　money　to　buy　a　new　seat　for　your　breeches。　Your　disdain　doesn't　deceive　me。　You　know　I've　manded　bigger　ships　and　more　men　than　you　ever　did　in　your　lif