Red Nails, Polished Page 4

chilled the blood in Valerian's veins, but Conyn was too close to the primitive herself to feel anything but a comprehending interest. To the barbarian, no such gulf existed between herself and other women, and the animals, as existed in the conception of Valerian. The monster below them, to Conyn, was merely a form of life differing from herself mainly in physical shape. She attributed to it characteristics similar to her own, and saw in its wrath a counterpart of her rages, in its roars and bellowings merely reptilian equivalents to the curses she had bestowed upon it. Feeling a kinship with all wild things, even dragons, it was impossible for her to experience the sick horror which assailed Valerian at the sight of the brute's ferocity.

  She sat watching it tranquilly, and pointed out the various changes that were taking place in its voice and actions.

  "The poison's taking hold," she said with conviction.

  "I don't believe it." To Valerian it seemed preposterous to suppose that anything, however lethal, could have any effect on that mountain of muscle and fury.

  "There's pain in her voice," declared Conyn. "First she was merely angry because of the stinging in her jaw. Now she feels the bite of the poison. Look! She's staggering. She'll be blind in a few more minutes. What did I tell you?"

  For suddenly the dragon had lurched about and went crashing off through the bushes.

  "Is she running away?" inquired Valerian uneasily.

  "She's making for the pool!" Conyn sprang up, galvanized into swift activity. "The poison makes her thirsty. Come on! She'll be blind in a few moments, but she can smell her way back to the foot of the crag, and if our scent's here still, she'll sit there until she dies. And others of her kind may come at her cries. Let's go!"

  "Down there?" Valerian was aghast.

  "Sure! We'll make for the city! They may cut our heads off there, but it's our only chance. We may run into a thousand more dragons on the way, but it's sure death to stay here. If we wait until she dies, we may have a dozen more to deal with. After me, in a hurry!"

  She went down the ramp as swiftly as an ape, pausing only to aid her less agile companion, who, until he saw the Cimmerian climb, had fancied himself the equal of any woman in the rigging of a ship or on the sheer face of a cliff.

  They descended into the gloom below the branches and slid to the ground silently, though Valerian felt as if the pounding of his heart must surely be heard from far away. A noisy gurgling and lapping beyond the dense thicket indicated that the dragon was drinking at the pool.

  "As soon as her belly is full she'll be back," muttered Conyn. "It may take hours for the poison to kill her--if it does at all."

  Somewhere beyond the forest the sun was sinking to the horizon. The forest was a misty twilight place of black shadows and dim vistas. Conyn gripped Valerian's wrist and glided away from the foot of the crag. She made less noise than a breeze blowing among the tree trunks, but Valerian felt as if his soft boots were betraying their flight to all the forest.

  "I don't think she can follow a trail," muttered Conyn. "But if a wind blew our body scent to her, she could smell us out."

  "Mitra, grant that the wind blow not!" Valerian breathed.

  His face was a pallid oval in the gloom. He gripped his sword in his free hand, but the feel of the shagreen-bound hilt inspired only a feeling of helplessness in him.

  They were still some distance from the edge of the forest when they heard a snapping and crashing behind them. Valerian bit his lip to check a cry.

  "She's on our trail!" he whispered fiercely.

  Conyn shook her head.

  "She didn't smell us at the rock, and she's blundering about through the forest trying to pick up our scent. Come on! It's the city or nothing now! She could tear down any tree we'd climb. If only the wind stays down--"

  They stole on until the trees began to thin out ahead of them. Behind them the forest was a black impenetrable ocean of shadows. The ominous crackling still sounded behind them, as the dragon blundered in her erratic course.

  "There's the plain ahead," breathed Valerian. "A little more and we'll--"

  "Crom!" swore Conyn.

  "Mitra!" whispered Valerian.

  Out of the south a wind had sprung up.

  It blew over them directly into the black forest behind them. Instantly a horrible roar shook the woods. The aimless snapping and crackling of the bushes changed to a sustained crashing as the dragon came like a hurricane straight toward the spot from which the scent of her enemies was wafted.

  "Run!" snarled Conyn, her eyes blazing like those of a trapped wolf. "It's all we can do!"

  Sailor's boots are not made for sprinting, and the life of a pirate does not train one for a runner. Within a hundred yards Valerian was panting and reeling in his gait, and behind them the crashing gave way to a rolling thunder as the monster broke out of the thickets and into the more open ground.

  Conyn's iron arm about the man's waist half lifted him; his feet scarcely touched the earth as he was borne along at a speed he could never have attained himself. If she could keep out of the beast's way for a bit, prehaps that betraying wind would shift--but the wind held, and a quick glance over her shoulder showed Conyn that the monster was almost upon them, coming like a war-galley in front of a hurricane. She thrust Valerian from her with a force that sent him reeling a dozen feet to fall in a crumpled heap at the foot of the nearest tree, and the Cimmerian wheeled in the path of the thundering titan.

  Convinced that her death was upon her, the Cimmerian acted according to her instinct, and hurled herself full at the awful face that was bearing down on her. She leaped, slashing like a wildcat, felt her sword cut deep into the scales that sheathed the mighty snout--and then a terrific impact knocked her rolling and tumbling for fifty feet with all the wind and half the life battered out of her.

  How the stunned Cimmerian regained her feet, not even she could have ever told. But the only thought that filled her brain was of the man lying dazed and helpless almost in the path of the hurtling fiend, and before the breath came whistling back into her gullet she was standing over him with her sword in her hand.

  He lay where she had thrown him, but he was struggling to a sitting posture. Neither tearing tusks nor trampling feet had touched him. It had been a shoulder or front leg that struck Conyn, and blind monster rushed on, forgettnig the victims whose scent it had been following, in the sudden agony of its death throes. Headlong on its course it thundered until its low-hung head crashed into a gigantic tree in its path. The impact tore the tree up by the roots and must have dashed the brains from the misshapen skull. Tree and monster fell together, and the dazed humans saw the branches and leaves shaken by the convulsions of the creature they covered--and then grow quiet.

  Conyn lifted Valerian to his feet and together they started away at a reeling run. A few moments later they emerged into the still twilight of the treeless plain.

  Conyn paused an instant and glanced back at the ebon fastness behind them. Not a leaf stirred, nor a bird chirped. It stood as silent as it must have stood before Woman was created.

  "Come on," muttered Conyn, taking her companion's hand. "It's touch and go now. If more dragons come out of the woods after us--"

  She did not have to finish the sentence.

  The city looked very far away across the plain, farther than it had looked from the crag. Valerian's heart hammered until he felt as if it would strangle him. At every step he expected to hear the crashing of the bushes and see another colossal nightmare bearing down upon them. But nothing disturbed the silence of the thickets.

  With the first mile between them and the woods, Valerian breathed more easily. His buoyant self-confidence began to thaw out again. The sun had set and darkness was gathering over the plain, lightened a little by the stars that made stunted ghosts out of the cactus growths.

  "No cattle, no plowed fields," muttered Conyn. "How do these people live?"

  "Perhaps the cattle are in pens for the night," suggested Vale
rian, "and the fields and grazing-pastures are on the other side of the city."

  "Maybe," she grunted. "I didn't see any from the crag, though."

  The moon came up behind the city, etching walls and towers blackly in the yellow glow. Valerian shivered. Black against the moon the strange city had a somber, sinister look.

  Perhaps something of the same feeling occurred to Conyn, for she stopped, glanced about her, and grunted: "We'll stop here. No use coming to their gates in the night. They probably wouldn't let us in. Besides, we need rest, and we dont know how they'll receive us. A few hours' sleep will put us in better shape to fight or run."

  She led the way to a bed of cactus which grew in a circle--a phenomenon common to the southern desert. With her sword she chopped an opening, and motioned Valerian to enter.

  "We'll be safe from the snakes here, anyhow."

  He glanced fearfully back toward the black line that indicated the forest some six miles away.

  "Suppose a dragon comes out of the woods?"

  "We'll keep watch," she answered, though she made no suggestion as to what they would do in such an event. She was staring at the city, a few miles away. Not a light shone from spire or tower. A great black mass of mystery, it reared cryptically against the moonlit sky.

  "Lie down and sleep. I'll keep the first watch."

  He hesitated, glancing at her uncertainly, but she sat down crosslegged in the opening, facing toward the plain, her sword