Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 81

The shouting increased in volume and turned into a general din. The song stopped, drowned in a powerful wave of shouts, frantic and fierce. The slaves had started the uprising!

“Forward! Forward!” Artem shouted at the top of his voice.

“Forward!” Dmitro Borisovich joined him in the shout.

Getting to their feet at the same moment, they started running toward the grave. No matter how fast they tried to run, Varkan’s men were faster, surging ahead of them. Artem could see only their backs appearing and disappearing among the trees. He kept racing after them, brandishing his sword and shouting:

“Forward! Forward!”

Dmitro Borisovich followed as fast as he could; he had completely forgotten that for the sake of archeology it would have been best to remain an impartial observer. In a moment, he turned with his usual impetuosity into an intrepid soldier. He also shouted something but Artem’s mind did not register what it was.

In a few moments they were out of the grove, running full speed across the field. Then they slowed down somewhat as it took considerable effort to wade through the tall pink grass that seemed to be growing everywhere. Artem saw Varkan’s men in front of him and heard the sounds of clashing weapons and shouts coming from somewhere very near. The gaping hole of the grave was just a short distance away. Would they be lucky enough to meet the enemy and get to the captives without having an arrow shot or spear hurled at them? Had Ronis and his men managed to engage the forces of the chiefs and priests so intensely they weren’t paying any attention to anything else around?

Women and children, badly frightened by the sudden eruption of fighting, scattered in panic in all directions. As no one tried to attack them, they made way for Varkan’s men who kept running at full speed. Every moment they were getting closer and closer to the grave. The closer the attackers got to it, the bigger their chances were of taking Dorbatay by surprise and preventing him from rallying his forces for resistance.

A moment later, Artem saw the attackers reach the enemy lines in front of the grave. The battle had begun. Amidst the clanging of swords, the enemy bellowed a terrible war- cry, trying to raise their own courage for a stiff resistance. The priests, armed with swords and daggers, began pouring out of the grave pit. Urged on by sharp commands from Dorbatay, they threw themselves into battle and checked the advance of the attackers. Swords were brought into play with added fierceness. Both sides were fighting on foot, with no horse soldiers to help. The greatest danger for the attackers had passed: the enemy had not had time to use their bows and meet the sudden thrust from the grove with a deadly hail of well-aimed arrows. It was from the very start hand- to-hand fighting in which the victory goes to the one who is stronger, quicker, more experienced; it was a battle fought with swords and axes, a battle at close quarters. Varkan’s soldiers made their way to the grave without losing a single man!

Diana made her presence known to Artem by growling at his side. Diana! How could he have forgotten about her! Without even turning his head to her, he shouted:

“Forward, forrr-ward, Diana! To our friends! To Lida!”

The battle raged on. But where was Varkan? Aha, over there. He was fighting against three enemies who tried to overcome him by sheer number. He needed help!

But before Artem had time to rush to Varkan’s aid, the foes, besetting him, were attacked by his bold warriors. Two of them were brought down, and the third was killed by Varkan’s sword.

On all sides there was clanging of weapons, groaning of the wounded, and shouting of the combatants. Varkan’s men kept pressing the enemy who were lacking in courage and intrepidity. Besides, the forest insurgents had a clear and noble goal; they knew perfectly well what they were fighting for and what they wanted to achieve. Hartak’s soldiers and the priests felt very differently, taken by surprise, dumb founded by the sudden attack. And they began to retreat in spite of the frenzied incitements from the furious Dorbatay.

But where were Lida and Ivan Semenovich?

The main fighting now began moving sideways from the grave. The enemy, hard pressed and slowly falling back, opened the way to the grave on one of its flanks. It made Artem wonder: weren’t the priests giving way much too easily? Did they have a reliable rearguard to fall back on? Had something gone wrong with the attack? Artem knew the slaves, burning with hatred, must be attacking, the enemy from the other side, from the rear. Had something stopped or delayed them? But it was impossible to make out anything in the turmoil of battle, in the terrible din of voices and weapons. If only he knew where to look for Lida and Ivan Semenovich! Moments before the attack had begun, he had seen them standing close to the grave. Had they been dragged away by the retreating priests?

Artem rushed forward, arriving at the edge of the pit a few paces away from the spot where the ground sloped to provide easy access to it. Some distance away, he could see the wagons, among them the scarlet bier in which the body of Skolot had been carried… Lida and the geologist must be somewhere around… He must get there quickly!

Something buzzed past Artem’s head… Then again… and again…

“Ouch!” Dmitro Borisovich cried out, as an arrow hit his helmeted head.

“Keep moving!” Artem shouted without stopping.

Behind one of the mounds of earth stood a group of priests with bows in their hands. Among them Artem glimpsed the red cloak of Dorbatay. Were Lida and the geologist somewhere there, too? The priests were slowly retreating into the pit. The next moment, Artem heard the ringing voice of Lida:

“Diana! Diana! Come here! Come here to me!”

Both Artem and Diana stopped dead in their tracks. The dog, trembling with impatience, her ears pricked, looked at Artem, as though asking for permission to run to the girl.

“Of course! Right away! Hurry! Run to Lida, Diana! To Lida! Quick!”

Diana would show the way! She would take Artem to Lida! Artem began shouting at the top of his voice after Diana. She spurted toward the priests, making giant leaps every few steps. “Poskina! Poskina!” he shouted.

He knew what he was doing. With these shouts he let the priests know that the dread poskina was on her way. It would strike fear into them even before the dog arrived! It would also, in all likelihood, scare them badly enough to make them think only of fleeing rather than of aiming their spears and arrows at the sacred animal.

Diana, meanwhile, had already reached the earth mound behind which the priests were hiding. So Lida and Ivan Semenovich must be there, too! Artem started running toward the mound.

“Forward!” Artem shouted again as he ran. Dmitro Borisovich followed. Now Artem was afraid of neither arrows nor spears; he knew that nothing could stop him! The Scythians would make a bolt for it at the sight of the dread poskina! Their fear of poskina would protect Artem!

As Artem ran, he saw Diana reach the priests who stood undecided, not daring to use their weapons against the dog. Diana, without stopping, leapt into the air and closed her jaws on the neck of one of the priests, knocking him to the ground. Then the dog turned and immediately attacked another priest. The priests, utterly terrified, turned and ran! Dorbatay was the first to go, getting far ahead of the routed priests. As he ran, stumbling on the hem of his long scarlet robe, he pulled it up every so often to allow for freer movement, but never stopped for a moment. A little behind him limped a man looking clownish in his sumptuous clothes: it was Hartak!

But Artem did not care to watch the scene: with immense joy he saw a graceful girl run out from behind the mound, her golden hair streaming in the air, her arms stretched toward Artem. Behind her ran Ivan Semenovich. The priests had left the captives behind as they scurried away in panic!

“Lida! Lida! My dear!”

A moment later Lida’s arms were flung around Artem’s neck and he was kissed hotly on the mouth.

“Artem, dear! My love!”

“Lida!”

“We must get back quickly to the rocks at the foot of cliffs! Quick!” Ivan Semenovich said in his cool and commanding voice. “We don’t have a second to lose! Just turn around and have a look over there!”

From where they stood, they could see the battlefield in detail. The slaves were pressing the priests and Hartak’s soldiers hard. With the slaves were many poor Scythian hunters and herdsmen who had joined the uprising the way Varkan had predicted they would. But the enemy were retreating toward the grave — all other escape routes had been cut off — thus creating a dangerous situation for the explorers.

Artem assessed the situation in an instant: he and Dmitro Borisovich, in their haste to free their friends, had gotten too far from Varkan’s men, and now the enemy, in their retreat, had cut them completely off from the friendly troops. Dorbatay and Hartak had stopped running away and were in the midst of their troops, moving slowly toward the outlanders. In a moment several arrows whizzed past the explorers. It was a lucky thing for them that the priests were not as good with their bows as the regular Scythian warriors were.

“Diana!” Ivan Semenovich shouted. “Come here!”

There was nothing else to do but retreat to the cliffs. If some of Varkan’s men, or maybe even Varkan himself, saw the plight of the outlanders they would attack the enemy, forcing them to halt, and thus allowing them to escape before they were captured again. But the chance seemed rather slim: Varkan and his men were too much involved in bloody fighting to pay attention to anything around.