Volodimir Vladko - Descendants of the Scythians

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.

The explorers ran toward the cliffs. A group of priests and soldiers rushed after them in hot pursuit, probably with express orders to capture them again or simply kill them to get rid of them for good. The main body of the enemy forces was still engaged in bitter fighting with the slaves under the leadership of Ronis, but the group detached to capture the strangers was big enough to do the job without any difficulty. It was a grave situation in which the explorers stood no chances if they tried to resist.

Then something made Artem look back. Varkan and a dozen young soldiers appeared on the priests’ right flank! The valorous Scythian had not forgotten about his blood brother and his friends, even in the heat of battle! When he saw them, he immediately realized that they were in danger. So he had fought his way through, and now he was running with some of his men, toward them to help.

“Varkan’ll be here in a minute!” Artem cried out cheerfully. “We don’t have to worry now!”

They stopped to wait for Varkan and his men. Holding his blood-stained sword in one hand, the Scythian gesticulated with the other, pointing to the cliffs; as he spoke he had to stop a couple of times to gasp for air because he was still short of breath after the break-neck run:

“We must get there quickly! And wait until the enemy is broken from the rear! They are trying to resist. That’s why they’ve pulled together all their forces and are moving this way. But they still have no chance of winning.”

As soon as these words were translated, Ivan Semenovich, Lida and Dmitro Borisovich started running toward the cliffs. Varkan, his men, and Artem covered their retreat. Artem was now in full control of himself: his dear friends had been saved; Varkan had joined them, everything was all right. Every few steps Artem stopped, as some of the Scyithians in Varkan’s party did, and taking a good aim, shot an arrow at the enemy; he had picked up both the bow and the quiver full of arrows running through the battlefield some time earlier. His shots, no doubt, were not as effective as the archery of the Scythians, but the young man was eager to do something to help slow down the advance of the enemy.

Isn’t it a piece of bad luck! he thought as he released his arrows. To find ourselves right in the path of retreat of these damned priests and Hartak’s soldiers … All right, they don’t have any other way to retreat … that’s why they are pursuing us … ah, good, here’s the grove at last! I’ll make my stand here, shoot a few more arrows and then dash into the trees!

Artem again saw the scarlet cloak of Dorbatay among the priests; he also saw the pathetic figure of Hartak. He would have given a great deal to be able to hit any one of them with his arrow! But, alas, the distance was too great. Artem’s arms, despite his intensive training, were not as strong as those of the Scythian warriors; neither was his aim too sure.