Almuric by Robert E. Howard (dark academia books to read .txt) 📖

Chapter 12

Runners were sent to the cities, to give word of what went forward.

Southward we marched, four thousand men of Koth, five thousand of

Khor. We moved in separate columns, for I deemed it wise to keep the

tribes apart until the sight of their oppressors should again drown

tribal feelings.

 

Our pace was much swifter than that of an equal body of Earth

soldiers. We had no supply trains. We lived off the land through which

we passed. Each man bore his own armament—carbine, sword, dagger,

canteen, and ammunition pouch. But I chafed at every mile. Sailing

through the air on the back of a captive Yaga had spoiled me for

marching. It took us days to cover ground the flying men had passed

over in hours. Yet we progressed, and some three weeks from the time

we began the march, we entered the forest beyond which lay the Purple

River and the desert that borders the land of Yagg.

 

We had seen no Yagas, but we went cautiously now. Leaving the bulk

of our force encamped deep in the forest, I went forward with thirty

men, timing our march so that we reached the bank of the Purple River

a short time after midnight, just before the setting of the Moon. My

purpose was to find a way to prevent the tower guard from carrying the

news of our coming to Yugga, so that we might cross the desert without

being attacked in the open, where the numbers and tactics of the Yagas

would weigh most heavily against us.

 

Khossuth suggested that we lie in wait among the trees along the

bank, and pick the watchers off at long range at dawn, but this I knew

to be impossible. There was no cover along the water’s edge, and the

river lay between. The men in the tower were out of our range. We

might creep near enough to pick off one or two, but it was imperative

that all should perish, since the escape of one would be enough to

ruin our plans.

 

So we stole through the woods until we reached a point a mile

upstream, opposite a jutting tongue of rock, toward which, I believed,

a current set in from the center of the stream. There we placed in the

water a heavy, strong catamaran we had constructed, with a long

powerful rope. I got upon the craft with four of the best marksmen of

the combined horde—Thab the Swift, Skel the Hawk, and two warriors of

Khor. Each of us bore two carbines, strapped to our backs.

 

We bent to work with crude oars, though our efforts seemed

ludicrously futile in the teeth of that flood. But the raft was long

enough and heavy enough not to be spun by every whirlpool we crossed,

and by dint of herculean effort we worked out toward the middle of the

stream. The men on shore paid out the rope, and it acted as a sort of

brace, swinging us around in a wide arc that would have eventually

brought us back to the bank we had left, had not the current we hoped

for suddenly caught us and hurled us at dizzy speed toward the

projecting tongue of rock. The raft reeled and pitched, driving its

nose under repeatedly, until sometimes we were fully submerged. But

our ammunition was waterproof, and we had lashed ourselves to the

logs; so we hung on like drowned rats, until our craft was dashed

against the rocky point.

 

It hung there for a breathless instant, in which time it was touch

and go. We slashed ourselves loose, jumped into the water which

swirled arm-pit deep about us, and fought our way along the point,

clinging tooth and nail to every niche or projection, while the

foaming current threatened momentarily to tear us away and send us

after our raft which had slid off the ledge and was dancing away down

the river.

 

We did make it, though, and hauled ourselves upon the shore at last,

half dead from buffeting and exhaustion But we could not stop to rest,

for the most delicate part of our scheme was before us. It was

necessary that we should not be discovered before dawn gave us light

enough to see the sights of our carbines, for the best marksman in the

world is erratic by starlight. But I trusted to the chance that the

Yagas would be watching the river, and paying scant heed to the desert

behind them.

 

So in the darkness that precedes dawn, we stole around in a wide

circle, and the first hint of light found us lying in a depression we

had scraped in the sand not over four hundred yards to the south of

the tower.

 

It was tense waiting, while the dawn lifted slowly over the land,

and objects became more and more distinct. The roar of the water over

the Bridge of Rocks reached us plainly, and at last we were aware of

another sound. The clash of steel reached us faintly through the water

tumult. Ghor and others were advancing to the river bank, according to

my instructions. We could not see any Yagas on the tower; only hints

of movement along the turrets. But suddenly one whirled up into the

morning sky and started south at headlong speed. Skel’s carbine

cracked and the winged man, with a loud cry, pitched sideways and

tumbled to earth.

 

There followed an instant of silence; then five winged shapes darted

into the air, soaring high. The Yagas sensed what was occurring, and

were chancing all on a desperate rush, hoping that at least one might

get through. We all fired, but I scored a complete miss, and Thab only

slightly wounded his man. But the others brought down the man I had

missed, while Thab’s second shot dropped the wounded Yaga. We reloaded

hastily, but no more came from the tower. Six men watched there,

Yasmeena had said. She had spoken the truth.

 

We cast the bodies into the river. I crossed the Bridge of Rocks,

leaping from boulder to boulder, and told Ghor to take his men back

into the forest, and to bring up the host. They were to camp just

within the fringe of woods, out of sight from the sky. I did not

intend to start across the desert until nightfall.

 

Then I returned to the tower and attempted to gain entrance, but

found no doors, only a few small barred windows. The Yagas had entered

it from the top. It was too tall and smooth to be climbed, so we did

the only thing left to do. We dug pits in the sand and covered them

with branches, over which we scattered dust. In these pits we

concealed our best marksmen, who lay all day, patiently scanning the

sky. Only one Yaga came winging across the desert. No human was in

sight, and he was not suspicious until he poised directly over the

tower. Then, when he saw no watchmen, he became alarmed, but before he

could race away, the reports of half a dozen carbines brought him

tumbling to the earth in a whirl of limbs and wings.

 

As the sun sank, we brought the warriors across the Bridge of Rocks,

an accomplishment which required some time. But at last they all stood

on the Yaga side of the river, and with our canteens well filled, we

started at quick pace across the narrow desert. Before dawn we were

within striking distance of the river.

 

Having crossed the desert under cover of darkness, I was not

surprised that we were able to approach the river without being

discovered. If any had been watching from the citadel, alert for

anything suspicious, they would have discerned our dark mass moving

across the sands under the dim starlight. But I knew that in Yugga no

such watch was ever kept, secure as the winged people felt in the

protection of the Purple River, of the watchmen in the tower, and of

the fact that for centuries no Gura raid had dared the bloody doom of

former invaders. Nights were spent in frenzied debauchery, followed by

sodden sleep. As for the men of Akka, these slow-witted drudges were

too habitually drowsy to constitute much menace against our approach,

though I knew that once roused they would fight like animals.

 

So three hundred yards from the river we halted, and eight thousand

men under Khossuth took cover in the irrigation ditches that traversed

the fields of fruit. The waving fronds of the squat trees likewise

aided in their concealment. This was done in almost complete silence.

Far above us towered the somber rock Yuthla. A faint breeze sprang up,

forerunner of dawn. I led the remaining thousand warriors toward the

river bank. Halting them a short distance from it, I wriggled forward

on my belly until my hands were at the water’s edge. I thanked the

Fates that had given me such men to lead. Where civilized men would

have floundered and blundered, the Guras moved as easily and

noiselessly as stalking panthers.

 

Across from me rose the wall, sheer from the steep bank, that

guarded Akka. It would be hard to climb in the teeth of spears. At the

first crack of dawn, the bridge, which towered gauntly against the

stars, would be lowered so that Akkas might go into the fields to

work. But before then the rising light would betray our forces.

 

With a word to Ghor, who lay at my side, I slid into the water and

struck out for the farther shore, he following. Reaching a point

directly below the bridge, we hung in the water, clutching the

slippery wall, and looked about for some way of climbing it. There the

water, near the bank, was almost as deep as in midstream. At last Ghor

found a crevice in the masonry, wide enough to give him a grip for his

hands. Then bracing himself, he held fast while I clambered on his

shoulders. Standing thus I managed to reach the lower part of the

lifted bridge, and an instant later I drew myself up. The erected

bridge closed the gap in the wall. I had to clamber over the barrier.