The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Год: 1968
- Язык: английский
- Год: Lancer Books
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate». Краткое содержание книги:
Dragon is probably closest in mood to de Camp's fantasy novels, while Bronze God and Arrows are closer to his science fiction, with their description of engineering problems, and personality clashes among researchers and engineers. Dragon also reflects de Camp's then-recent acquaintance with the Conan stories and other works of Robert E. Howard. Bessas, the huge Persian nobleman, is not only a close match for Conan in physique, but his mood swings, fixation on his mother, and tendency to toss of verses, seems a reflection of Howard himself. (Fortunately, his poems reflect de Camp's verbal dexterity and wit, not Howard's melancholy.)
"I must pause to repair my harness," said Skhâ. in a terrified squeak. "Go on, gentles; I shall overtake you."
"You'll stay with us if you know what is good for you," said Bessas sharply.
Clutching his amulets, Skhâ obeyed. As the travelers neared the Tower of the Snail, their horses' hooves made wet sounds in the marshy soil. The beasts themselves acted skittish and uneasy. Bessas pulled up in front of the south entrance to the tomb and bellowed:
"Ho there, Kothar bar-Malko!"
The shout died away. Silence reigned, save for the rustle of lizards, the chirp of crickets, the hum of mosquitoes, and the eager munching of the horses and mules on the herbage. The red sun, wreathed in streamers of scarlet and purple, touched the steel edge of the horizon. Bessas repeated his outcry.
"Who calls?" came a voice from the tomb.
Myron felt a stir in the roots of his hair, so much was it like having a ghost answer out of a grave. Rational and skeptical though he was about things supernatural, he would have been happy to be elsewhere at that moment. Beside him, Skhâ jerked his horse around in a moment of panic, but at a bark from Bessas quickly recovered and reined back.
"Come out and see," said Bessas.
A man seated himself cross-legged in the entrance to the tomb. Between the failing light and the man's posture, Myron found it hard to tell much about him. But he got an impression of a lean, pale face. The man wore a long robe and a tall spiral Syrian hat, both of dark blue.
"Hail, mortals!" said Kothar bar-Malko.
"Mortal yourself," responded Bessas. "Why did you not answer the first time?"
"Because I was not here. My body was, but my spirit was far away. And who are you?"
Bessas gave his name and told of the expedition. "Now," he said, "do you want a job as a guide?"
Kothar sat silently for an instant. Then he said: "I must consult certain intelligences known to me ere deciding. Meanwhile, tell me more of your plans. You may come up here to rest yourselves." He lowered a light wooden ladder, which reached from the tomb entrance to the ground. "Have a care, Lord Bessas, as my ladder was not built for one of your poundage."
"Hold the beasts, Skhâ," said Bessas, sliding off his horse.
"Watch your heads," said Kothar as Bessas and Myron came up the ladder.
Myron began exploring like a hound on the scent. Behind him, he heard Bessas order Skhâ to hand up some of their weapons.
In the center of the tower, "the passage opened out into the sepulchral chamber. Another low passage led from this chamber to the entrance on the east side of the tower. Carved into the sides of the burial chamber were two tiers of niches for bodies, but all traces of the original occupants had disappeared. Instead, Kothar's gear, including a pile of old manuscripts, was stowed in these niches. Another grave yawned in the center of the floor.
A stairway, running around two of the four walls, led up to the ruined pyramid on the roof. Darkening blue sky showed through the gaps in the masonry.
When Myron had seen all there was to see of the inside of the tower, he returned to the south entrance, where Kothar and Bessas sat facing each other.
Kothar did not look at all like his brother Daniel. He was a tall man, lean and round-shouldered, with a sallow skin and a long pointed, projecting, and slightly hooked nose. This nose, together with the way he thrust his head forward, gave him the look of a bird of prey. His face was shaven save for a small tuft of a beard on the point of his chin. His large, dark, deepset eyes gazed upon Bessas with a luminous, unwinking stare. He spoke in a low, strangely vibrant voice:
"... if you think half a shekel a day exorbitant, good Captain Bessas, that is your privilege. But I am not desperate for work. In fact, you come when I am in the midst of my great operation, which I shall have to set aside to guide you."
"What's your great operation?" growled Bessas.
"It is an experiment in the spiritual sciences. I fear you would find an explanation tedious."
"Science or no, I can get plenty of competent guides for threepence a day. So if that is your final word—"
"Ay!" came a sudden shout from Skhâ. "We are beset!"
There came a yammer of voices, sounds of animal footfalls, the squeals and gurgles of camels, and the whizz of an arrow. The missile passed between Bessas and Kothar, missed Myron by a digit, and clattered against the walls of the burial chamber.
With a thunderous curse, Bessas leaped up and struck his head on the low roof of the passage. He fell back against the side wall, blinking and gasping. Myron pulled him back to get a clear view of the entrance. Kothar sat with his mouth open.
Myron had a glimpse of Skhâ. on his pony, leading the other two horses and two mules away from the tower at a gallop towards Marath. Then they passed out of sight around the corner of the tomb.
Thirty paces away and swiftly approaching were a score of Arabs on dromedaries. Some were stripped down to loin-cloths; others wore voluminous wrap-around skirts, leaving their upper bodies bare. In their midst rode an older man in a robe and head shawl. This man directed the attack, pointing with his crop. Most of the Arabs were archers, though some bore lances or javelins. More arrows struck the stone-work.
Myron hesitated. He had his sword. Two spears lay on the floor of the entrance, and Bessas' bow case lay beside the fallen giant. Bessas sprawled against the wall, still half stunned. Which weapon should Myron use? The Arabs came closer and the arrows flew more thickly; one whistled past Myron's ear.
The ladder! Standing in front of the south entrance to the Tower of the Snail, it was open invitation to the attackers to swarm up. Swiftly Myron reached down and began to haul the ladder up.
"Help me, Kothar!" he cried.
But Kothar did not seem to understand. He gazed vaguely at the scene as if he had gone into another trance. He got in the way, so that when Myron tried to thrust the ladder back into the passage, the upper end struck Kothar.
"To the afterworld with you, god-detested fool!" shouted Myron. "Either help me with this thing or get out of the way!"
When Kothar finally responded, he proved so clumsy and weak in the arms that he was no help. However, they finally got the ladder pulled back into the tower.
Then Myron scrambled for Bessas' bow case. He got the bow out and an arrow nocked just as the" Arabs swarmed up to the entrance. On their camels they could look right in. One loosed an arrow at point-blank range; Myron heard a yelp from Kothar as the shot found a mark.
Trying to remember all that Bessas had taught him about archery, Myron drew and loosed. He winced as the bowstring lashed his unprotected left wrist, but was pleased to hear a scream from the attackers. "Eleleleu!" he shouted, reaching for another arrow.
"Give me the bow, little man," said a familiar growl behind him. "Take a spear and guard the other entrance."
Myron handed the bow to Bessas and brushed past Kothar, who clutched at an arrow wound in his left arm. Myron went around to the other entrance. He arrived as a long-haired Arab, holding a spear, began to climb from the back of his dromedary into the portal.
Myron rushed at the Arab, gripping his spear in both hands. The man saw him coming. Unable, in his awkward position, to defend himself, he threw himself backwards and fell to the ground before Myron reached him.
Outside, more Arabs whirled about on their mounts. All shouted orders and advice at once. Arrows struck the stone-work and whizzed into the entrance; Myron flattened himself against the wall to avoid them. It occurred to him that the archers were loosing blind. In the twilight the entrances would look to those outside like featureless pits of blackness, in which they could not make out the defenders of the tower.
"Out of the way," said Bessas' voice behind him.