The river was a vague trace between walls of ebony. The paddles thatpropelled the long boat creeping along in the dense shadow of theeastern bank dipped softly into the water, making no more noise than thebeak of a heron. The broad shoulders of the man in front of Balthus werea blur in the dense gloom. He knew that not even the keen eyes of theman who knelt in the prow would discern anything more than a few feetahead of them. Conan was feeling his way by instinct and an intensivefamiliarity with the river.
No one spoke. Balthus had had a good look at his companions in the fortbefore they slipped out of the stockade and down the bank into thewaiting canoe. They were of a new breed growing up in the world on theraw edge of the frontier--men whom grim necessity had taught woodcraft.Aquilonians of the western provinces to a man, they had many points incommon. They dressed alike--in buckskin boots, leathern breeks anddeerskin shirts, with broad girdles that held axes and short swords; andthey 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 betweenthem and the Cimmerian. They were sons of civilization, reverted to asemi-barbarism. He was a barbarian of a thousand generations ofbarbarians. They had acquired stealth and craft, but he had been born tothese things. He excelled them even in lithe economy of motion. Theywere wolves, but he was a tiger.
Balthus admired them and their leader and felt a pulse of pride that hewas admitted into their company. He was proud that his paddle made nomore noise than did theirs. In that respect at least he was their equal,though woodcraft learned in hunts on the Tauran could never equal thatground into the souls of men on the savage border.
Below the fort the river made a wide bend. The lights of the outpostwere 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 andglided toward the opposite shore. Emerging from the black shadows of thebrush that fringed the bank and coming into the open of the midstreamcreated a peculiar illusion of rash exposure. But the stars gave littlelight, and Balthus knew that unless one were watching for it, it wouldbe all but impossible for the keenest eye to make out the shadowy shapeof the canoe crossing the river.
They swung in under the overhanging bushes of the western shore andBalthus groped for and found a projecting root which he grasped. No wordwas spoken. All instructions had been given before the scouting-partyleft the fort. As silently as a great panther Conan slid over the sideand vanished in the bushes. Equally noiseless, nine men followed him. ToBalthus, grasping the root with his paddle across his knee, it seemedincredible that ten men should thus fade into the tangled forest withouta sound.
He settled himself to wait. No word passed between him and the other manwho had been left with him. Somewhere, a mile or so to the northwest,Zogar Sag's village stood girdled with thick woods. Balthus understoodhis orders; he and his companion were to wait for the return of theraiding-party. If Conan and his men had not returned by the first tingeof dawn, they were to race back up the river to the fort and report thatthe forest had again taken its immemorial toll of the invading race. Thesilence was oppressive. No sound came from the black woods, invisiblebeyond the ebony masses that were the overhanging bushes. Balthus nolonger heard the drums. They had been silent for hours. He keptblinking, unconsciously trying to see through the deep gloom. The danknight-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 thewater. Balthus thought it must have leaped so close to the canoe that ithad struck the side, for a slight quiver vibrated the craft. The boat'sstern began to swing, slightly away from the shore. The man behind himmust have let go of the projection he was gripping. Balthus twisted hishead to hiss a warning, and could just make out the figure of hiscompanion, a slightly blacker bulk in the blackness.
The man did not reply. Wondering if he had fallen asleep, Balthusreached out and grasped his shoulder. To his amazement, the man crumpledunder his touch and slumped down in the canoe. Twisting his body halfabout, Balthus groped for him, his heart shooting into his throat. Hisfumbling fingers slid over the man's throat--only the youth's convulsiveclenching of his jaws choked back the cry that rose to his lips. Hisfingers encountered a gaping, oozing wound--his companion's throat hadbeen cut from ear to ear.
In that instant of horror and panic Balthus started up--and then amuscular arm out of the darkness locked fiercely about his throat,strangling his yell. The canoe rocked wildly. Balthus' knife was in hishand, though he did not remember jerking it out of his boot, and hestabbed fiercely and blindly. He felt the blade sink deep, and afiendish yell rang in his ear, a yell that was horribly answered. Thedarkness seemed to come to life about him. A bestial clamor rose on allsides, and other arms grappled him. Borne under a mass of hurtlingbodies the canoe rolled sidewise, but before he went under with it,something cracked against Balthus' head and the night was brieflyilluminated by a blinding burst of fire before it gave way to ablackness where not even stars shone.