wilbursmith_warlock-第119章
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Nefer handed the reins to Meren； who steered in close to the dividing fence to give Nefer the best shot。 The first target came up fast； and Nefer braced himself on the bouncing swerving footplate。
'Nile！' He gave the mand and instantly Dov and Krus changed their gait into that wonderful gliding motion。 The chariot steadied under him and he rode the easy movement with his legs and he threw。 There was never a doubt from the moment the javelin left his hand； its velocity accelerated by the whip of the thong…he had allowed for the wind。 It flew fifty paces swinging across the wind into the heart of the red circle； and from the corner of his eye Nefer saw Shabako wave the red flag to acknowledge the strike。 He snatched another javelin from the bin； and wound the thong。 He felt a supreme almost godlike confidence： he knew that the next four darts would fly as true as the first。 He watched the second target e up； and he threw again。 It was another perfect throw。 He did not even have to glance at the flag； and beside him Meren shouted； 'Bak…her； brother！' and steered for the third。
They were running in close； and the thorn fence flew by the off…wheel in a blur。 Nefer lined up and whipped his right arm into the throw； and at exactly that moment the wheel touched the fence and the chariot swerved violently and hung for a moment on the verge of capsizing。 The horses pulled it straight with their bined weight； but the javelin was already in flight。 With despair in his heart Nefer saw it fly wide； missing the target pletely； and the yellow flag went up。
'It was me；' Meren gritted。 'I ran too fine。'
'Hold her true now；' Nefer snapped at him。 'We need two more reds。'
The fourth target came up but Nefer felt the altered motion under him。 Krus was leading with the wrong foot； the collision with the fence had unbalanced him。
'Ho； Krus；' Meren called； and tried to steady him with the touch of reins。 Then Dov leaned lightly against him and he felt her rhythm and picked up the step from her just as the fourth target came up。
Nefer threw and beside him Meren called； 'Red！ A clean hit。 You have done it。'
'Not yet；' Nefer told him； and snatched the last javelin from the bin。 'One more to go。'
They came down fast on the last target； and the men were tense as drawn bow stocks； every muscle rigid and every nerve stretched tautly。 Krus sensed it； felt it in the reins from Meren's right hand； with his right eye he saw the target e up； knew precisely the instant at which Nefer would throw and instinctively fell into his wicked old habit and broke step。 The carriage lurched and swayed just as Nefer released。 Even then it might have scored； were it not for the wind。 A hot gust swept over them； strong enough to flog the heavy hair braids on the flag staffs。 The javelin was already slightly off…line； but the wind aggravated the error。 It drifted even further to the right and missed the red inner by the width of two fingers and quivered in the outer ring。 Shabako held raised the black flag high above his head and waved it from side to side so that folds of cloth volleyed and flogged loudly； the signal of failure。
Their first run had been disqualified。 They must retrieve the javelins and run the butts again。
Grimly silent； Nefer snatched the reins back from Meren and spun the chariot into a tight turn around the end of the thorn fence and they started back。 He pushed the horses to the top of their speed…there was no thought of husbanding their strength now。 For all Nefer knew； one of the fighting cocks was already slain and ten chariots had begun the chase。
They flew back along the line of targets； passing them so closely that Meren was able to pluck the javelins from the packed straw bodies without having to bring the chariot to a plete stop。 The fourth javelin that had missed the target pletely lay in the open； but even from a distance Nefer saw that the impact with the rocky ground had snapped the shaft in two。 They were left with only four missiles to score four red flags。 A single miss would mean that they would have to make their stand here； two against ten picked warriors： they would have to capitulate or fight to the death。
With only four javelins in the bin； they reached the start of the line and Nefer halted the chariot and jumped down to the ground。 He ran to Krus' head and stroked his forehead。 'Run true now； my darling。
Don't fail me again。'
From a great distance came the sound of a long； sustained cheering。
This time it did not fade away。
'One of the birds is dead！' Meren called。 The chase has begun。' Nefer knew it was true。 One of the cocks had succumbed and the chasers were released to follow them。 They had lost their starting advantage。 The pursuing chariots did not have to run the test of the javelins。 They would race past the butts without a check。 Even if this time they managed a clean pass of the butts with four red flags； ahead of Nefer and Meren waited the wrestlers。
* * *
Mintaka and Merykara stood side by side； looking down into the cockpit。 Though stools had been placed for them they could not sit for their blood was afire with anxiety as they watched the closing stages of the bloody conflict below them。
The two fighting cocks had been carefully matched； veterans of many epic battles； both had proved their courage and stamina。 They were long…legged but their thighs were pact and balled with muscle。 They could drive their wicked black spurs deeply through flesh to an adversary's bone。 With serpentine necks and massive hooked beaks they could reach out to rip away feathers and flesh； and when they had bled and weakened their opponent； they would seize the death…hold； pinning him while they stabbed into his vitals。
The older bird had feathers of gold and copper； bright as the sunrise。 His tail was a proud cascade shot with sapphire lights。 The other bird was black； but lustrous sparkling black； and his bare head was purple red。
They circled each other now。 They had fought hard and long； loose feathers strewed the sand and drifted in the hot puffs of the west wind。 Both birds were bleeding； fat heavy drops that sparkled on their plumage。 Their strength was draining away； and they were slightly unsteady on their feet。 However； their eyes were bright and fierce as they had been at the beginning of the conflict。
'Please； adored and worshipful Hathor； give them both strength to survive；' whispered Merykara； as she clung tightly to Mintaka's hand。 'Let them fight until the setting of the sun。' Even she knew how vain was her appeal。 'And keep Meren and Nefer from harm。'
Suddenly the black bird flew up head high； and then with a powerful wingbeat shot forward with both legs fully extended。 The red bird rose to meet him； but he was almost exhausted and his riposte lacked fire。 He was slow to lift his legs to counter the thrust。 They collided in a burst of feathers； rolled together and when they separated the red cock was dragging a wing。 It was very close to the end now。
Merykara sobbed aloud； 'Oh； Hathor； do not let him die！' She seized Mintaka's arm and sank her fingernails into the flesh； leaving bright red half…moons on the skin； but Mintaka hardly felt it。 She was watching with horror as the red bird staggered weakly and the crowd howled savagely。
The black bird knew he had won； and his strength revived。 He went high again； springing on those long； hard legs； his wings wide and brightly glittering。 He dropped and hit the red cock before he could recover his balance and knocked him flat and fluttering。 He pecked murderously for the eye； caught a fold of the wattled cheek and hung on。
The red bird regained his feet； but the black was locked into him。 The red bird ran painfully； carrying his opponent's weight； and the girls screamed in the uproar： 'Let him go； black shade of Seth。 Let him live！'
A full circuit of the cockpit the red carried him； but every stride was weaker； and at last he collapsed just below where they stood at the barrier
