horses â¦â
And at that moment they emerged from all directions, like shadows coming from the Sea of the Dead. There were about twenty of them, mounted on huge animals that were half-bull, half-deer, with steaming nostrils. Seeing them, Malva and Philomena turned pale and clung to one another.
In spite of the cold, the mounted men wore plain tunics open wide to show their hairy chests. Their faces were hidden by black hoods that made them look like ghosts. What terrified Malva most, however, was the sight of the necklaces hangingaround their throats: leather thongs with rows of human teeth strung on them.
Philomena suddenly fell on her knees in the snow. She wept and sobbed, begging these spectral warriors not to kill them. They did not react, but their circle was perceptibly closing in on the two travellers.
Malva dismounted the mule. Her legs and arms and the muscles of her face were numb with cold. She joined Philomena on the ground and began weeping too.
This is the end, she thought with infinite sadness. We shall die here and never see Elgolia.
She felt warm, moist breath on the back of her neck. Looking up, she saw that one of those monstrous beasts was snuffling at it. Its slimy nostrils were touching her skin! Without stopping to think, Malva tapped its flat muzzle smartly.
âGo away!â she shouted.
The animal gave a low growl and rapidly straightened up, almost throwing its rider. Then sudden panic overcame the whole troop. The masked warriors uttered cries as they brandished metal weapons in their hands: crescent-shaped axes with shining blades.
At first Malva thought her gesture had aroused the warriorsâ wrath, but suddenly she saw an army of men on horseback making straight for them. They would distract the warriorsâ attention. This was their chance! She tugged Philomenaâs sleeve hard.
âCome on!â
They ran, stumbled, then crawled through the snow to take shelter behind an overturned cart. From this vantage point, they watched the fight between the hooded warriors and the army of horsemen. The latter greatly outnumbered their opponents.They fought valiantly with swords and whips, and seemed to be obeying the orders of a single leader, a strong young man wearing a fur cap and standing erect on his horseâs back. Arms raised above his head, he was commanding his troops with astonishing elegance of movement.
âMy goodness,â Philomena murmured. âIâve never seen anyone so agile!â
Watching this exceptionally skilful horseman, she almost forgot her fears. It was as if pure beauty had visited the battlefield: swords clashed, the crescent-shaped axes shone, whips cracked, and the hooves of the animals pounded the snow, as if it were some kind of extraordinary ballet. Malva did not seem moved by the spectacle. She couldnât take her eyes off the strings of teeth hanging around the necks of the hooded warriors, and the sight chilled her to the bone.
Soon, however, the warriors began to falter. Some were wounded, others disarmed, and they turned to flee westwards, uttering furious cries and digging their heels into the bellies of their bull-deer mounts.
When they were far enough away and silence fell over the mountains again, the leader of the horsemen jumped down and knelt beside the fire. He threw handfuls of snow on the blackened skeletons, reciting incomprehensible words. His guttural voice rose from the depths of his throat, and he swayed back and forth as he took in the terrible sight of the charred horses. The other horsemen remained motionless around him, their eyes fixed on the scene, while the plumes of black smoke dispersed in the sky.
At last the man straightened up, and walked towards the cart with a supple step. When he saw the two girls huddled in it, shivering, he bowed to them and threw his whip on the snow as a sign of peace.
Without realising it, Malva and Philomena had just been rescued by the Baighur people, and the man
And at that moment they emerged from all directions, like shadows coming from the Sea of the Dead. There were about twenty of them, mounted on huge animals that were half-bull, half-deer, with steaming nostrils. Seeing them, Malva and Philomena turned pale and clung to one another.
In spite of the cold, the mounted men wore plain tunics open wide to show their hairy chests. Their faces were hidden by black hoods that made them look like ghosts. What terrified Malva most, however, was the sight of the necklaces hangingaround their throats: leather thongs with rows of human teeth strung on them.
Philomena suddenly fell on her knees in the snow. She wept and sobbed, begging these spectral warriors not to kill them. They did not react, but their circle was perceptibly closing in on the two travellers.
Malva dismounted the mule. Her legs and arms and the muscles of her face were numb with cold. She joined Philomena on the ground and began weeping too.
This is the end, she thought with infinite sadness. We shall die here and never see Elgolia.
She felt warm, moist breath on the back of her neck. Looking up, she saw that one of those monstrous beasts was snuffling at it. Its slimy nostrils were touching her skin! Without stopping to think, Malva tapped its flat muzzle smartly.
âGo away!â she shouted.
The animal gave a low growl and rapidly straightened up, almost throwing its rider. Then sudden panic overcame the whole troop. The masked warriors uttered cries as they brandished metal weapons in their hands: crescent-shaped axes with shining blades.
At first Malva thought her gesture had aroused the warriorsâ wrath, but suddenly she saw an army of men on horseback making straight for them. They would distract the warriorsâ attention. This was their chance! She tugged Philomenaâs sleeve hard.
âCome on!â
They ran, stumbled, then crawled through the snow to take shelter behind an overturned cart. From this vantage point, they watched the fight between the hooded warriors and the army of horsemen. The latter greatly outnumbered their opponents.They fought valiantly with swords and whips, and seemed to be obeying the orders of a single leader, a strong young man wearing a fur cap and standing erect on his horseâs back. Arms raised above his head, he was commanding his troops with astonishing elegance of movement.
âMy goodness,â Philomena murmured. âIâve never seen anyone so agile!â
Watching this exceptionally skilful horseman, she almost forgot her fears. It was as if pure beauty had visited the battlefield: swords clashed, the crescent-shaped axes shone, whips cracked, and the hooves of the animals pounded the snow, as if it were some kind of extraordinary ballet. Malva did not seem moved by the spectacle. She couldnât take her eyes off the strings of teeth hanging around the necks of the hooded warriors, and the sight chilled her to the bone.
Soon, however, the warriors began to falter. Some were wounded, others disarmed, and they turned to flee westwards, uttering furious cries and digging their heels into the bellies of their bull-deer mounts.
When they were far enough away and silence fell over the mountains again, the leader of the horsemen jumped down and knelt beside the fire. He threw handfuls of snow on the blackened skeletons, reciting incomprehensible words. His guttural voice rose from the depths of his throat, and he swayed back and forth as he took in the terrible sight of the charred horses. The other horsemen remained motionless around him, their eyes fixed on the scene, while the plumes of black smoke dispersed in the sky.
At last the man straightened up, and walked towards the cart with a supple step. When he saw the two girls huddled in it, shivering, he bowed to them and threw his whip on the snow as a sign of peace.
Without realising it, Malva and Philomena had just been rescued by the Baighur people, and the man
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