rh.conanthewarrior-第44部分

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　　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　of　Valannus。〃
　　〃Valannus　was　killed　among　the　last…in　the　hand…to…hand　fighting　when　they　broke　the　barriers。　They　tried　to　take　him　alive；　but　he　made　them　kill　him。　They　took　ten　of　the　rest　of　us　prisoners　when　we　were　so　weak　from　fighting　we　could　fight　no　more。　They　butchered　nine　of　us　then　and　there。　It　was　when　Zogar　Sag　died　that　I　got　my　chance　to　break　free　and　run　for　it。〃
　　〃Zogar　Sag's　dead？〃　ejaculated　Conan。
　　〃Aye。　I　saw　him　die　That's　why　the　Picts　didn't　press　the　fight　against　Velitrium　as　fiercely　as　they　did　against　the　fort。　It　was　strange。　He　took　no　wounds　in　battle。　He　was　dancing　among　the　slain；　waving　an　ax　with　which　he'd　just　brained　the　last　of　my　rades。　He　came　at　me；　howling　like　a　wolf…and　then　he　staggered　and　dropped　the　ax；　and　began　to　reel　in　a　circle　screaming　as　I　never　heard　a　man　or　beast　scream　before。　He　fell　between　me　and　the　fire　they'd　built　to　roast　me；　gaging　and　frothing　at　the　mouth；　and　all　at　once　he　went　rigid　and　the　Picts　shouted　that　he　was　dead。　It　was　during　the　confusion　that　I　slipped　my　cords　and　ran　for　the　woods。
　　〃I　saw　him　lying　in　the　firelight。　No　weapon　had　touched　him。　Yet　there　were　red　marks　like　the　wounds　of　a　sword　in　the　groin；　belly；　and　neck…the　last　as　if　his　head　had　been　almost　severed　from　his　body。　What　do　you　make　of　that？〃
　　Conan　made　no　reply；　and　the　forester；　aware　of　the　reticence　of　barbarians　on　certain　matters；　continued：　〃He　lived　by　magic；　and　somehow；　he　died　by　magic。　It　was　the　mystery　of　his　death　that　took　the　heart　out　of　the　Picts。　Not　a　man　who　saw　it　was　in　the　fighting　before　Velitrium。　They　hurried　back　across　Black　River。　Those　that　struck　Thunder　River　were　warriors　who　had　e　on　before　Zogar　Sag　died。　They　were　not　enough　to　take　the　city　by　themselves。
　　〃I　came　along　the　road；　behind　their　main　force；　and　I　know　none　followed　me　from　the　fort。　I　sneaked　through　their　lines　and　got　into　the　town。　You　brought　the　settlers　through　all　right；　but　their　women　and　children　got　into　Velitrium　just　ahead　of　those　painted　devils。　If　the　youth　Balthus　and　old　Slasher　hadn't　held　them　up　awhile；　they'd　have　butchered　every　woman　and　child　in　Conajohara。　I　passed　the　place　where　Balthus　and　the　dog　made　their　last　stand。　They　were　lying　amid　a　heap　of　dead　Picts…I　counted　seven；　brained　by　his　ax；　or　disemboweled　by　the　dog's　fangs；　and　there　were　others　in　the　road　with　arrows　sticking　in　them。　Gods；　what　a　fight　that　must　have　been！〃
　　〃He　was　a　man；〃　said　Conan。　〃I　drink　to　his　shade；　and　to　the　shade　of　the　dog；　who　knew　no　fear。〃　He　quaffed　part　of　the　wine；　then　emptied　the　rest　upon　the　floor；　with　a　curious　heathen　gesture；　and　smashed　the　goblet。　〃The　heads　of　ten　Picts　shall　pay　for　his；　and　seven　heads　for　the　dog；　who　was　a　better　warrior　than　many　a　man。〃
　　And　the　forester；　staring　into　the　moody；　smoldering　blue　eyes；　knew　the　barbaric　oath　would　be　kept。
　　〃They'll　not　rebuild　the　fort？〃
　　〃No；　Conajohara　is　lost　to　Aquilonia。　The　frontier　has　been　pushed　back。　Thunder　River　will　be　the　new　border。〃
　　The　woodsman　sighed　and　stared　at　his　calloused　hand；　worn　from　contact　with　ax…haft　and　sword…hilt。　Conan　reached　his　long　arm　for　the　wine…jug。　The　forester　stared　at　him；　paring　him　with　the　men　about　them；　the　men　who　had　died　along　the　lost　river；　paring　him　with　those　other　wild　men　over　that　river。　Conan　did　not　seem　aware　of　his　gaze。
　　〃Barbarism　is　the　natural　state　of　mankind；〃　the　borderer　said；　still　staring　somberly　at　the　Cimmerian。　〃Civilization　is　unnatural。　It　is　a　whim　of　circumstance。　And　barbarism　must　always　ultimately　triumph。〃



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