rh.conanthewarrior-第39部分

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branch　deflected　its　flight。　I'm　not　going　out　of　my　way　looking　for　devils；　but　I　wouldn't　step　out　of　my　path　to　let　one　go　by。〃
　　Valannus　lifted　his　head　and　met　Conan's　gaze　squarely。
　　〃Conan；　more　depends　on　you　than　you　realize。　You　know　the　weakness　of　this　province…a　slender　wedge　thrust　into　the　untamed　wilderness。　You　know　that　the　lives　of　all　the　people　west　of　the　marches　depend　on　this　fort。　Were　it　to　fall；　red　axes　would　be　splintering　the　gates　of　Velitrium　before　a　horseman　could　cross　the　marches。　His　Majesty；　or　his　Majesty's　advisers；　have　ignored　my　plea　that　more　troops　be　sent　to　hold　the　frontier。　　They　know　nothing　of　border　conditions；　and　are　averse　to　expending　any　more　money　in　this　direction。　The　fate　of　the　frontier　depends　upon　the　men　who　now　hold　it。
　　〃You　know　that　most　of　the　army　which　conquered　Conajohara　has　been　withdrawn。　You　know　the　force　left　is　inadequate；　especially　since　that　devil　Zogar　Sag　managed　to　poison　our　water　supply；　and　forty　men　died　in　one　day。　Many　of　the　others　are　sick；　or　have　been　bitten　by　serpents　or　mauled　by　wild　beasts　which　seem　to　swarm　in　increasing　numbers　in　the　vicinity　of　the　fort。　The　soldiers　believe　Zogar's　boast　that　he　could　summon　the　forest　beasts　to　slay　his　enemies。
　　〃I　have　three　hundred　pikemen；　four　hundred　Bossonian　archers；　and　perhaps　fifty　men　who；　like　yourself；　are　skilled　in　woodcraft。　They　are　worth　ten　times　their　number　of　soldiers；　but　there　are　so　few　of　them。　Frankly；　Conan；　my　situation　is　being　precarious。　The　soldiers　whisper　of　desertion；　they　are　low…spirited；　believing　Zogar　Sag　has　loosed　devils　on　us。　They　fear　the　black　plague　with　which　he　threatened　us…the　terrible　black　death　of　the　swamplands。　When　I　see　a　sick　soldier　I　sweat　with　fear　of　seeing　him　turn　black　and　shrivel　and　die　before　my　eyes。
　　〃Conan；　if　the　plague　is　loosed　upon　us；　the　soldiers　will　desert　in　a　body！　The　border　will　be　left　unguarded　and　nothing　will　check　the　sweep　of　the　dark…skinned　hordes　to　the　very　gates　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'　k