Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 46

The boar would appear from the bushes, going along his old tracks. He would see the hare, stop, and begin to tear it to pieces. Varkan would throw his spear and kill the boar…

It was all quite understandable. But what were Lida and Artem supposed to do all this time? Varkan explained that too: he pointed to a tall tree and motioned that they were to climb it and stay there. Artem immediately responded with an indignant grimace: wasn’t he going to take direct part in the hunt? Was he just to climb that tree and watch, nothing more?! What had they been given the swords then for? But Varkan kept pointing unremittingly at the tree, his face going stern. He gave a final gesture and then turned his attention to the sounds of the forest.

Artem also began to discern some peculiar noises: a large animal was moving heavily through the bushes, breathing sonorously, trampling the underbush and leaves.

There was no time to lose; Artem helped Lida up a tree, getting the girl onto a bough almost completely obscured from the ground by the pinkish-yellow leaves. In a few seconds, Artem climbed another tree, perching himself on a branch almost directly above the boar’s tracks with the hare lying across them. Varkan and the other Scythian hid themselves too; it took Artem some time to locate Varkan behind a thick tree trunk, ready to put his spear into action.

The heavy breathing and noise of snapping twigs drew closer, but the beast was not in a hurry; neither was he careful to conceal his movements; evidently, he did not expect any enemies on his way. Artem then recalled reading that boars were the masters of the forests as they were very powerful animals, no less dangerous than larger predators. So the hunt would surely be all the more exciting for the danger!

Artem’s grip on the sword’s hilt grew tighter and tighter; his eyes turned in the direction the ominous sounds were coming from. If only he had a gun with him now! He’d have demonstrated his marksmanship! But he did not have one, so, there was nothing for him to do but observe what would take place on the ground.

Finally, the boar appeared, pushing his elongated reddish snout through the undergrowth; the head had beady red eyes, and long, curving yellowish tusks sticking out of the lower jaw. The boar began sniffing loudly at something, and looking around worriedly. Did he sense some danger or did he smell something that made him look around?

Artem’s eyes were glued to the boar: what a magnificent specimen he was! The powerful body with bulging muscles was about five feet long; it was covered rather sparsely with long coarse hairs, but the head had short thick bristle all over. The boar continued making growling, discontented sounds.

“Ah, if only I had a gun!” Artem whose dormant hunter’s instinct had been suddenly roused, murmured to himself.

The boar saw the hare, stopped and began making even more menacing sounds as he sniffed at it. The decisive moment came.

Without turning his head, from the corner of his eye, Artem saw Varkan slip from behind the tree like a ghost, the spear poised high in the air. Varkan was taking a good aim to make sure the throw would be lethal. But when his hand had already began its forward movement, Varkan lost his footing on the slippery ground. The spear flew from Varkan’s hand, turned in the air, and grazed the boar on the head.

Varkan tried to keep his balance, flailing his arms, but the enraged beast had already seen his enemy and rushed at Varkan, immediately knocking him down.

“Oh, Varkan!” Lida screamed. “Help him, somebody! The boar’ll kill him!”

Artem saw the huge reddish body of the boar almost directly below, and Varkan making unsuccessful attempts to get to his feet. Another moment and the boar would be at Varkan’s chest with his deadly tusks. A strange, gurgling sound came from Artem’s throat, and without any further deliberation, casting all other considerations aside, he drew his sword and jumped down from the tree.

Later, Artem would not have been able to give a detailed account of what followed. He did not know how he managed to stay on his feet after he landed, but anyway, he found himself standing on the damp, swampy ground, his sword raised high, and the wide powerful bristly back of the boar in front of him. Without choosing where to hit, Artem brought down the sword with all his strength on its back. Blood spurted in all directions and the boar leaped into the air, letting out a terrible roar. In another moment, the boar turned to his new adversary, and Artem saw the red beady eyes, blazing with fury and pain, staring at him, and the tusks protruding from the open mouth, ready to be brought into action against him. The boar lowered himself a little on his hind legs, about to dash at his new enemy.

Artem still had time to think: Now he’ll get at me all right. If only I could hit him again on the head.

The sword flashed in the air, but Artem had no chance to use it again as the boar, in one massive leap knocked Artem to the ground. A sharp pain shot through his leg. After a giddy moment, he found himself lying on his back staring at the yellow-pink leaves moving peacefully in the breeze above him. And he heard sounds of the extreme fury coming from the boar. Then these sounds suddenly stopped, and a gurgling sound like water pouring from a narrow bottleneck could be heard instead. Then everything became very still and quiet…

The stillness was broken by Lida’s voice, filled with anxiety:

“Oh, my dear Artem, are you all right? Can you get up? Artem!”

Another voice joined Lida’s, saying something. It was definitely Varkan’s voice. He was still alive then! The boar hadn’t ripped him open then!

Somebody’s careful hands helped him to a sitting position.

“Artem, my dear, are you badly hurt? Tell me!”

“No, not much harm’s been done, as far as I can tell… only my leg hurts a little,” Artem at last gained sufficient control of his speach to utter a few words. His field of vision had widened to include Lida, who was holding his head, her face full of concern; Varkan, his clothes torn, helmetless, also looking at him with great concern; and another Scythian holding a leather helmet with water dripping from it.

“Hey, what’s wrong? It’s not my funeral yet!” Artem said. “I’m safe and sound. The boar’s just sort of fallen on me that’s all… There’s only a little pa… ouch!”

Artem groaned as a sharp pain shot through his leg. Varkan came up to him, knelt before him, took Artem’s hand into both his hands and put it to his forehead.

“What are you doing, Varkan! Quit it!” Artem exclaimed.

Still holding Artem’s hand against his forehead, the Scythian looked straight into Artem’s eye, his gaze full of sincere gratitude. So, the Scythian must be thanking Artem, in his own way, for saving his life. But the way he was doing it was somewhat embarrassing as far as Artem was concerned.

“It’s a great shame we can’t communicate properly,” Artem said with a sigh. “Then I’d explain to you, my friend, that there’s nothing in particular to thank me for. Could I have done otherwise? Wouldn’t you have done the same had you been in my place? Only it’s too bad I didn’t have a gun. A gun, you know, is a thing that gives you a much better chance than a spear, even if you can throw it as well as you do.”

Meanwhile, Varkan, scooping out water from the leather helmet with deft movements, began washing the wound on Artem’s leg. Fortunately, it wasn’t very deep: the boar’s tusk had torn through the skin and upper layers of the muscles. Then Varkan dressed the wound with the same expertise, putting some fragrant leaves on it. Afterwards, he slapped Artem encouragingly on the back, and smiling broadly, helped the young man to his feet. The pain in the leg had miraculously subsided. Perhaps the leaves had helped?

“Do you hurt, Artem?” Lida asked, peering anxiously into the young man’s face. She was eager to be useful in some way.

“When I think about it, it hurts, but when I take my mind off it, I can easily forget about it. It’s probably the leaves that help soothe the pain.”

Artem walked over to the dead boar, limping. The boar’s body was stretched to its impressive full length on the ground; thick red blood was still oozing from the open mouth.

There was a bloody cut on the boar’s back inflicted by the sword, evidently Artem’s blow. There was also a gash which could not have been caused by Artem — a very powerful blow indeed that had laid bare the back clear to the spine. The third blow on the boar’s head bashed it in, breaking it almost in two. Who had inflicted these two devastating blows?

“Lida, did you see how it all happened?”

“How you jumped down from that tree?”

“That far I can recollect well enough. What I want to hear about is these last two blows. My blow could not have killed the boar, it just wasn’t powerful enough.”

“The other Scythian did the rest. When we began climbing up the trees, Varkan said something to him and he ran back to where our horses were. Then I saw him run back here, just as you were jumping down. When you fell, Varkan was still on the ground, and this other man struck the boar with his sword first on the head, then on the back. The boar collapsed, kicking and wheezing. But you were lying motionless, and I was so frightened for you. I thought you’d been… that you’ve been…”

“Oh, there, there, I’m all right,” Artem said, somewhat ill at ease at this expression of concern. “Now, everything’s clear, and we can close the subject. I can’t stand it when girls show too much anxiety over trifling matters. Now, look, Varkan is going to dress the boar so we can take it with us!”