rh.conanthewarrior-第39部分

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ide　the　trail。　He　shot　three　arrows　and　threw　the　bow　away。　As　if　sensing　his　plight；　they　came　on；　not　yelling　now；　but　in　deadly　silence　except　for　a　swift　pad　of　many　feet。
　　He　fiercely　hugged　the　head　of　the　great　dog　growling　at　his　side；　muttered：　〃All　right；　boy；　give　'em　hell！〃　and　sprang　to　his　feet；　drawing　his　ax。　Then　the　dark　figures　flooded　over　the　breastworks　and　closed　in　a　storm　of　flailing　axes；　stabbing　knives　and　ripping　fangs。
　　
　　
　　　7。　　The　Devil　in　the　Fire
　　
　　When　Conan　turned　from　the　Velitrium　road；　he　expected　a　run　of　some　nine　miles　and　set　himself　to　the　task。　But　he　had　not　gone　four　when　he　heard　the　sounds　of　a　party　of　men　ahead　of　him。　From　the　noise　they　were　making　in　their　progress　he　knew　they　were　not　Picts。　He　hailed　them。
　　〃Who's　there？〃　challenged　a　harsh　voice。　〃Stand　where　you　are　until　we　know　you；　or　you'll　get　an　arrow　through　you。〃
　　〃You　couldn't　hit　an　elephant　in　this　darkness；〃　answered　Conan　impatiently。　〃e　on；　fool；　it's　I…Conan。　The　Picts　are　over　the　river。〃
　　〃We　suspected　as　much；〃　answered　the　leader　of　the　men；　as　they　strode　forward…tall；　rangy　men；　stern…faced；　with　bows　in　their　hands。　〃One　of　our　party　wounded　an　antelope　and　tracked　it　nearly　to　Black　River。　He　heard　them　yelling　down　the　river　and　ran　back　to　our　camp。　We　left　the　salt　and　the　wagons；　turned　the　oxen　loose；　and　came　as　swiftly　as　we　could。　If　the　Picts　are　besieging　the　fort；　war…parties　will　be　ranging　up　the　road　toward　our　cabins。〃
　　〃Your　families　are　safe；〃　grunted　Conan。　〃My　panion　went　ahead　to　take　them　to　Velitrium。　If　we　go　back　to　the　main　road　we　may　run　into　the　whole　horde。　We'll　strike　southeast；　through　the　timber。　Go　ahead。　I'll　scout　behind。〃
　　A　few　moments　later　the　whole　band　was　hurrying　southeastward。　Conan　followed　more　slowly；　keeping　just　within　ear…shot。　He　cursed　the　noise　they　were　making；　that　many　Picts　or　Cimmerians　would　have　moved　through　the　woods　with　no　more　noise　than　the　wind　makes　as　it　blows　through　the　black　branches。　He　had　just　crossed　a　small　glade　when　he　wheeled；　answering　the　conviction　of　his　primitive　instincts　that　he　was　being　followed。　Standing　motionless　among　the　bushes　he　heard　the　sounds　of　the　retreating　settlers　fade　away。　Then　a　voice　called　faintly　back　along　the　way　he　had　e：　〃Conan！　Conan！　Wait　for　me；　Conan！〃
　　〃Balthus！〃　he　swore　bewilderedly。　Cautiously　he　called：　〃Here　I　am！〃
　　〃Wait　for　me；　Conan！〃　the　voice　came　more　distinctly。　
　　Conan　moved　out　of　the　shadows；　scowling。　〃What　the　devil　are　you　doing　here？…Crom！〃
　　He　half　crouched；　the　flesh　prickling　along　his　spine。　It　was　not　Balthus　who　was　emerging　from　the　other　side　of　the　glade。　A　weird　glow　burned　through　the　trees。　It　moved　toward　him；　shimmering　weirdly…a　green　witchfire　that　moved　with　purpose　and　intent。
　　It　halted　some　feet　away　and　Conan　glared　at　it；　trying　to　distinguish　its　fire…misted　outlines。　The　quivering　flame　had　a　solid　core；　the　flame　was　but　a　green　garment　that　masked　some　animate　and　evil　entity；　but　the　Cimmerian　was　unable　to　make　out　its　shape　or　likeness。　Then；　shockingly；　a　voice　spoke　to　him　from　amidst　the　fiery　column。
　　〃Why　do　you　stand　like　a　sheep　waiting　for　the　butcher；　Conan？〃
　　The　voice　was　human　but　carried　strange　vibrations　that　were　not　human。
　　〃Sheep？〃　Conan's　wrath　got　the　best　of　his　momentary　awe。　〃Do　you　think　I'm　afraid　of　a　damned　Pictish　swamp　devil？　A　friend　called　me。〃
　　〃I　called　in　his　voice；〃　answered　the　other。　〃The　men　you　follow　belong　to　my　brother；　I　would　not　rob　his　knife　of　their　blood。　But　you　are　mine。　O　fool；　you　have　e　from　the　far　gray　hills　of　Cimmeria　to　meet　your　doom　in　the　forests　of　Conajohara。〃
　　〃You've　had　your　chance　at　me　before　now；〃　snorted　Conan。　〃Why　didn't　you　kill　me　then；　if　you　could？〃
　　〃My　brother　had　not　painted　a　skull　black　for　you　and　hurled　it　into　the　fire　that　burns　for　ever　on　Gullah's　black　altar。　He　had　not　whispered　your　name　to　the　black　ghosts　that　haunt　the　uplands　of　the　Dark　Land。　But　a　bat　has　flown　over　the　Mountains　of　the　Dead　and　drawn　your　image　in　blood　on　the　white　tiger's　hide　that　hangs　before　the　long　hut　where　sleep　the　Four　Brothers　of　the　Night。　The　great　serpents　coil　about　their　feet　and　the　stars　burn　like　fireflies　in　their　hair。〃
　　〃Why　have　the　gods　of　darkness　doomed　me　to　death？〃　growled　Conan。
　　Something…a　hand；　foot　or　talon；　he　could　not　tell　which；　thrust　out　from　the　fire　and　marked　swiftly　on　the　mold。　A　symbol　blazed　there；　marked　with　fire；　and　faded；　but　not　before　he　recognized　it。
　　〃You　dared　make　the　sign　which　only　a　priest　of　Jhebbal　Sag　dare　make。　Thunder　rumbled　through　the　black　Mountain　of　the　Dead　and　the　altar…hut　of　Gullah　was　thrown　down　by　a　wind　from　the　Gulf　of　Ghosts。　The　loon　which　is　messenger　to　the　Four　Brothers　of　the　Night　flew　swiftly　and　whispered　your　name　in　my　ear。　Your　race　is　run。　You　are　a　dead　man　already。　Your　head　will　hang　in　the　altar…hut　of　my　brother。　Your　body　will　be　eaten　by　the　black…winged；　sharp…beaked　Children　of　Jhil。〃
　　〃Who　the　devil　is　your　brother？〃　demanded　Conan。　His　sword　was　naked　in　his　hand；　and　he　was　subtly　loosening　the　ax　in　his　belt。
　　〃Zogar　Sag；　a　child　of　Jhebbal　Sag　who　still　visits　his　sacred　groves　at　times。　A　woman　of　Gwawela　slept　in　a　grove　holy　to　Jhebbal　Sag。　Her　babe　was　Zogar　Sag。　I　too　am　a　son　of　Jhebbal　Sag；　out　of　a　fire…being　from　a　far　realm。　Zogar　Sag　summoned　me　out　of　the　Misty　Lands。　With　incantations　and　sorcery　and　his　own　blood　he　materialized　me　in　the　flesh　of　his　own　planet。　We　are　one；　tied　together　by　invisible　threads。　His　thoughts　are　my　thoughts；　if　he　is　struck；　I　am　bruised。　If　I　am　cut；　he　bleeds。　But　I　have　talked　enough。　Soon　your　ghost　will　talk　with　the　ghosts　of　the　Dark　Land；　and　they　will　tell　you　of　the　old　gods　which　are　not　dead；　but　sleep　in　the　outer　abysses；　and　from　time　to　time　awake。〃
　　〃I'd　like　to　see　what　you　look　like；〃　muttered　Conan；　working　his　ax　free；　〃you　who　leave　a　track　like　a　bird；　who　burn　like　a　flame　and　yet　speak　with　a　human　voice。〃
　　〃You　shall　see；〃　answered　the　voice　from　the　flame；　〃see；　and　carry　the　knowledge　with　you　into　the　Dark　Land。〃
　　The　flames　leaped　and　sank；　dwindling　and　dimming。　A　face　began　to　take　shadowy　form。　At　first　Conan　thought　it　was　Zogar　Sag　himself　who　stood　wrapped　in　green　fire。　But　the　face　was　higher　than　his　own；　and　there　was　a　demoniac　aspect　about　it…Conan　had　noted　various　abnormalities　about　Zogar　Sag's　features…an　obliqueness　of　the　eyes；　a　sharpness　of　the　ears；　a　wolfish　thinness　of　the　lips：　these　peculiarities　were　exaggerated　in　the　apparition　which　swayed　before　him。　The　eyes　were　red　as　coals　of　living　fire。
　　More　details　came　into　view：　a　slender　torso；　covered　with　snaky　scales；　which　was　yet　man…like　in　shape；　with　man　like　arms；　from　the　waist　upward；　below；　long　crane…like　legs　ended　in　splay；　three…toed　feet　like　those　of　huge　bird。　Along　the　monstrous　limbs　the　blue　fire　fluttered　and　ran。　He　saw　it　as　through　a　glistening　mist。
　　Then　suddenly　it　was　towering　over　him；　though　he　had　not　seen　it　move　toward　him。　A　long　arm；　which　for　the　first　time　he　noticed　was　armed　with　curving；　sickle…like　talons；　swung　high　and　swept　down　at　his　neck。　With　a　fierce　cry　he　broke　the　spell　and　bounded　aside；　hurling　his　ax。　The　demon　avoided　the　cast　with　an　unbelievably　quick　movement　of　its　narrow　head　and　was　on　him　again　with　a　hissing　rush　of　leaping　flames。　
　　But　fear　had　fought　for　it　when　it　slew　its　other　victims　and　Conan　was　not　afraid。　He　knew　that　any　being　clothed　in　material　flesh　can　be　slain　by　material　weapons；　however　grisly　its　form　may　be。
　　One　flailing　talon…armed　limb　knocked　his　helmet　from　his　head。　A　little　lower　and　it　would　have　decapitated　him。　But　fierce　joy　surged　through　him　as　his　savagely　driven　sword　sank　deep　in　the　monster's　groin。　He　bounded　backward　from　a　flailing　stroke；　tearing　his　sword　free　as　he　leaped。　The　talons　raked　his　breast；　ripping　through　mail…links　as　if　they　had　been　cloth。　But　his　return　spring　was　like　that　of　a　starving　wolf。　He　was　inside　the　lashing　arms　and　driving　his　sword　deep　in　the　monster's　belly…felt　the　arms　lock　about　him　and　the　talons　ripping　the　mail　from　his　back　as　they　sought　his　vitals…he　was　lapped　and　dazzled　by　blue　flame　that　was　chill　as　ice…then　he　had　torn　fiercely　away　from　the　weakening　arms　and　his　sword　cut　the　air　in　a　tremendous　swipe。
　　The　demon　staggered　and　fell　sprawling　sidewise；　its　head　hanging　only　by　a　shred　of　flesh。　The　fires　that　veiled　it　leaped　fiercely　upward；　now　red　as　gushing　blood；　hiding　the　figure　from　view。　A　scent　of　burning　flesh　filled　Conan's　nostrils。　Shaking　the　blood　and　sweat　from　his　eyes；　he　wheeled　and　ran　staggering　through　the　woods。　Blood　trickled　down　his　limbs。　Somewhere；　miles　to　the　south；　he　saw　the　faint　glow　of　flames　that　might　mark　a　burning　cabin。　Behind　him；　toward　the　road；　rose　a　distant　howling　that　spurred　him　to　greater　efforts。
　　
　　
　　　8。　　Conajohara　No　More
　　
　　There　had　been　fighting　on　Thunder　River；　fierce　fighting　before　the　walls　of　Velitrium；　ax　and　torch　had　been　plied　up　and　down　the　bank；　and　many　a　settler's　cabin　lay　in　ashes　before　the　painted　horde　was　rolled　back。
　　A　strange　quiet　followed　the　storm；　in　which　people　gathered　and　talked　in　hushed　voices；　and　men　with　red…stained　bandages　drank　their　ale　silently　in　the　taverns　along　the　river　bank。
　　There；　to　Conan　the　Cimmerian；　moodily　quaffing　from　a　great　wine…glass；　came　a　gaunt　forester　with　a　bandage　about　his　head　and　his　arm　in　a　sling。　He　was　the　one　survivor　of　Fort　Tuscelan。
　　〃You　went　with　the　soldiers　to　the　ruins　of　the　fort？〃
　　Conan　nodded。
　　〃I　wasn't　able；〃　murmured　the　other。　〃There　was　no　fighting？〃
　　〃The　Picts　had　fallen　back　across　Black　River。　Something　must　have　broken　their　nerve；　though　only　the　devil　who　made　them　knows　what。〃
　　The　woodsman　glanced　at　his　bandaged　arm　and　sighed。
　　〃They　say　there　were　no　bodies　worth　disposing　of。〃　
　　Conan　shook　his　head。　〃Ashes。　The　Picts　had　piled　them　in　the　fort　and　set　fire　to　the　fort　before　they　crossed　the　river。　Their　own　dead　and　the　men