Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 60

Varkan shouted, his voice rising above the din:

“Ratman! Ratman!”

And all the other riders shouted with him:

“Ratman! Ratman!”

The word rang in the air; Varkan, meeting the anxious gazes of Dmitro Borisovich and Artem, pointed to the riderless horses with an expressive gesture as if to say: hop on! The other riders held the priests at bay to keep them from preventing the strangers’ escape. And above all the deafening clamor hung the battle-cry of Varkan’s party:

“Ratman! Ratman!”

But why did the warriors and hunters not budge and rush to the aid of the priests? Only a very short while before.

Dorbatay and his henchmen had enjoyed the support of the Scythians in their move to seize the strangers; it had seemed that all the Scythians were ill-disposed toward the strange magicians. And now Varkan and a handful of his friends were fighting in an audacious attempt to rescue the strangers in full view of the armed crowd, and not a single Scythian made the slightest move to assist the priests in repelling the attack. What could have influenced the mood of the crowd? Varkan, in spite of all his audacity and daring, could not have done anything against such odds if it were not for the unexpected tacit non-interference of the crowd; by their staying away and passively observing, the Scythian warriors inadvertently helped Varkan’s cause. But why should they want to do it?

“Ratman! Ratman!”

Artem looked at Ivan Semenovich questioningly; the geologist nodded, giving the go-ahead, and in a moment, Artem was straddling the horse nearest him. Grabbing reins, he shouted:

“Lida! Dmitro Borisovich! Get on the horses! Get on the horses!”

The archeologist was standing closest to him; without much ado, Artem grabbed him by the coat and helped him onto a horse with a single powerful jerk. Dmitro Borisovich found himself clinging to the horse’s neck, holding on desperately. Now Lida and Ivan Semenovich had to be helped onto the horses. But why were they taking so long? Besides they were not so helpless with horses as Dmitro Borisovich was and did not need too much assistance.

“Get on the horses!” Artem yelled once again.

His voice could hardly be heard in the deafening uproar that had engulfed the place. When the initial consternation had worn off, the priests rallied to attack Varkan’s riders. In spite of very unfavorable odds, the riders defended themselves rather successfully by striking out at the priests with the flats of their swords; for some reason or other they did not want to use the cutting edge against the priests who, when they realized this, began pressing much harder. Then Dorbatay’s imperious and piercing voice could be heard, evidently giving fresh orders. The old soothsayer had again proved his agility by getting so quickly from the dais to the scene of the clash!

In the wavering light of the torches, Artem saw a noose tighten over Ivan Semenovich’s upper arms; a moment later, another lasso was thrown around Lida. The sight made Artem’s blood run cold — the priests had used their advantage in numbers, cut off Lida and Ivan Semenovich from Varkan’s riders and bound them!

“Ivan Semenovich! Lida!” Artem cried out to them, trying to get through the cordon of priests. But he could not: the priests had formed a veritable human wall around them. Some of the priests rushed at Artem and grabbed hold of the reins; a hot pain shot through his leg from a sudden blow. A lasso swished past his face, missing him by a couple of inches. A moment later he was almost dragged from his horse.

“Diana! Diana!” he yelled.

The dog immediately rushed to the rescue, her barking almost completely drowned by the din. Diana attacked one priest after another, biting them, knocking them down. And yet, none of them dared to strike her. They dashed out of her way, tripped and fell, or were knocked down by the dog, scrambled back to their feet and rushed to their positions around the strangers. Artem saw Yarkan look around in alarm. Then he grabbed the reins of the archeologist’s horse and called out to his followers. He made his horse rear and charged the priests. But he was heading in the direction opposite from where Lida and Ivan Semenovich were being held captive!

“Varkan! Wait!” Artem shrieked after him.

Varkan looked back and jerked his head which could only mean one thing: “We’re getting out of here!”

“Hey, what about the rest?”

Varkan, ignoring Artem’s pleas, made his way through the crowd, not letting go the reins of the archeologist’s horse. Two of his men were locked in a pitched battle with the priests who were trying to drag Artem from his horse. He was completely at a loss as to what he should do next: Ivan Semenovich and Lida were in the enemy hands; Varkan and Dmitro Borisovich were fleeing. What was he to do? It was beyond his power to rescue his captured friends, and any attempt to do so would surely end in his being seized as well. Another lasso was thrown and would have caught Artem for sure if one of Varkan’s men had not intercepted it in the air and thrown it to the ground. Through the uproar, Artem heard the muffled voice of Ivan Semenovich:

“Artem… run away at once… it’s our only chance… come back to rescue us…”

Even then the young man could not quite make up his mind to escape: his friends were in mortal danger. How could he run away?!

“Run, Artem, escape! Escape! I order you: escape!”

Now it was an order, so he had to obey. Artem jerked the reins and the horse reared, sending one of his attackers sprawling. Artern’s horse came down on the priests in front of him.

“Ah, you deserved it! Forward, forward!”

But this was easier said than done. He felt a hand grab him firmly by the leg. The next moment, in the flickering light of the torches, he saw a spear rise into the air, and it was definitely aimed at him. Then the sound of metal striking metal was heard — one of Varkan’s men near Artem struck at the spear with his sword.

“Thank you! And now, I’m off!” Artem cried, spurring his horse to a gallop. A moment later the priests were far behind him. Some distance ahead, Artem made out the dark shape of a man on horseback moving away quickly — or perhaps there were two riders galloping close together — Varkan and Dmitro Borisovich no doubt. But would the archeologist be able to sustain such a gallop for long?

Looking back, Artem saw two more riders gaining on him. Hopefully, they were Varkan’s men, so everything should be all right. But what was happening to Lida and Ivan Semenovich now? Artem still could discern the raving voice of Dorbatay through the clatter of the hooves: it was very easy to identify: rasping and yet somehow high-pitched. Artem also seemed to hear among the shouts and Diana’s barking, the voice of Ivan Semenovich, calling out:

“Take Diana with you, Artem… Take Diana…!”,

Without slowing down, Artem gave a piercing whistle, then again and again. But he realized it would be futile to look back to see whether the dog was following him, because the darkness around him was impenetrable.

The two of Varkan’s men had caught up with Artem and were riding alongside him. One of them suddenly stretched out his hand and pushed Artem closer to the horse’s neck.

At almost that very moment, a spear whizzed through the air just above his head, disappearing into the darkness ahead of him.

Thank you so much, my friend, Artem thought, realizing what had happened and appreciating what the man had done for him. It was as if the Scythians could see in the dark!

Artem looked back: what if there were further dangers lurking behind him in the dark? He saw the glow of the burning torches; in the distant glare, he thought he could make out a group of horsemen galloping after him. Had they been dispatched in pursuit? Or was his imagination running wild in the darkness? He also thought he heard Diana running to catch up with him.

No, these were not the tricks of his imagination: there she was, following him, and the clatter of the hooves and shouts of the Scythians in hot pursuit could be clearly heard now.

They were being chased!

He Hi *

Artem had no idea where he was headed with Varkan and his men. But he didn’t care either. The most important thing now was to shake off their pursuers, who were surely priests dispatched by Dorbatay.

Artem bent closer to the horse’s neck; the air whistled in his ears, hitting him hard in the face. His horse was galloping at top speed. They stayed in a close group, no one getting ahead or falling behind. He could also see Diana running alongside.

I wonder how Dmitro Borisovich is doing, Artem thought in trepidation. It’ll be nothing short of a miracle if he hasn’t fallen off his horse yet!

True, Varkan was riding by the archeologist’s side and would always be ready to help. Artem was somewhat worried whether he and Varkan’s men were moving in the right direction: it’d be terrible to lose Varkan now in this total darkness. But Artem’s horse seemed to know where he was going, and Varkan’s men knew the way.

Frenzied shouting came from behind. Varkan’s men urged their horses to race even faster, and Artem did the same. Since their pursuers were numerous, much depended on the speed of their horses. The enraged priests would probably kill the lot of them immediately!

What if my horse stumbles and falls? Artem wondered, but soon chased away this futile thought. He had to concentrate on escaping. Judging by the clatter of hooves, their pursuers didn’t seem to be gaining on them. But he wasn’t sure how many of them there were altogether.