With his arms raised high into the air, the soothsayer began slowly advancing toward Skolot, glancing emphatically upward at the black cloud. The chieftain held his ground, standing motionless, clenching his fingers ever tighter on the hilt of the sword, his eyes riveted on the old man.
Lida caught a glimpse of the misshapen Scythian’s eyes flashing with joy and malice, but a moment later, all signs of emotion disappeared, as though this man had a special ability to sense someone’s gaze on him. He gave the strangers a quick side glance and immediately turned away, feigning complete indifference to everything around him. What a disgusting, revolting person, Lida thought. There was something of a spider in him. It was strange that she should feel such revulsion toward him, for she did not have anything in particular against him; he had not done her any harm; on the contrary, she caught him looking at her benignly, even with some interest. So, why should she be so disgusted at the proximity of this person? And Artem experienced a similar revulsion toward him, perhaps even stronger. There must have been some reason for it! Both Artem and Lida felt subconsciously that the misshapen Scythian was an enemy, perfidious and wily.
Without lowering his arms, the soothsayer launched into another harangue. His voice sounded threateningly; he began demanding something, pointing to the huge black cloud overhead. Then he stopped, craftily making a pause, like a skilled orator or actor. And in the silence, another clap of thunder resounded — this time much closer. The soothsayer seemed to have been waiting for precisely this. He started screaming something at the top of his lungs. Then he turned to the crowd, addressing it rather than Skolot. Discordant shouts of approval came from the mass of people milling about.
The old soothsayer made an expressive gesture, symbolically removing the strangers from Skolot’s side and handing them over to the crowd. Then he pointed no less expressively to the ominous cloud straight overhead. His hands were in constant motion, as though he were tearing something that hindered and resisted him, apart; his every movement drew a clamorous response from the frantic, overwrought crowd.
Skolot shook his head, stretching out his arms as though in defense of the strangers. But the soothsayer made another step forward, yelling a long imprecation. Whether he had finished speaking or stopped at the right moment was impossible to say, but the blinding lightning lit up the scene, putting a frightening emphasis on his last words. The crowd was scared into immediate silence, and this unnatural, terrifying silence was filled with an ear-shredding clap of thunder, rolling from one end of the sky to the other.
Artem saw the dismayed, shocked faces of the Scythians. He saw the gray old men tremble with fear, scared out of their wits by the lightning, the thunder and soothsayer’s malediction. There was only one thing missing to complete the picture — rocks raining from the sky as Varkan said they would… There was little doubt that such powerful bolts could, in fact, dislodge large rocks from their places higher up in the surrounding mountains and send them rolling down. This thought made Artem look up, but he saw only the seething cloud that seemed almost to be touching his head. The old soothsayer could not have chosen a better moment to get hold of the strangers.
Meanwhile the old man began speaking again, his voice even more menacing. He moved toward the strangers, flailing his arms. He walked straight ahead, ignoring both the chieftain and the warriors around. The frantic crowd followed him. Lida shuddered and grabbed Artem’s hand — it was a terribly frightening picture indeed.
Skolot made a move to protect his guests. As he began pulling his sword out of the scabbard, Varkan and some other warriors leaned forward to him, begging him to stop, pointing to the mass of frenzied people. The misshapen Scythian was observing all this with a detached curiosity as though he were watching a play.
“There’s nothing left for us to do but defend ourselves,” Dmitro Borisovich cried out in desperation, swinging his pickaxe at the approaching Scythians. But in a moment dozens of hands wrenched the pickaxes from them and took hold of the explorers themselves. Artem was heaved into the very thick of the crowd. Then he acted from desperation: there was only one recourse left him.
“Diana! Come here! Quick!” he cried out, wriggling like an eel in the hands of the strong Scythians who were holding him.
The big, tawny body of the dog zoomed through the air in the dusk. Growling fiercely, the dog leaped over the heads of the Scythians. Landing with all her weight on the two men standing closest to Artem, she knocked them to the ground. The next moment she had sunk her sharp teeth into the hand of the Scythian who was holding Artem. From all sides came the frightened cries:
“Poskina!… Poskina,!… Poskina!…”
Diana was running in circles around Artem, baring her fangs, and darting at this or that Scythian. Some free space was cleared around Artem, who became the center of a magic circle into which the Scythians were loath to step for fear of the terrible creature, the poskina, that darted back and forth intrepidly within it. Diana struck such fear into the Scythians that none of them thought of using arms against her. The one who had been bitten ran away, and the rest began retreating little by little, close to panic. The soothsayer had apparently overlooked the fact that the Scythians feared poskina more than the thunder and lightning.
“Aha, that’s good,” Artem said contentedly, “that’s good. Now, let’s move over to the rest of our company. Diana, my dear poskina, let’s go!”
The dog was all too eager to rush to the rescue of the others. A shrewd and intrepid fighter, the dog either bared her fangs to scare somebody away or leaped forward, scattering those who tried to block their passage, or dashed back to check for a possible attack from behind, or stayed at Artem’s side to let him keep pace with her. None of the Scythians so much as tried to do anything to put the dog out of action, overwhelmed as they were with fear and awe. Some of the Scythians thought it wise to be as far as possible from the dread beast, and they retreated hurriedly.
“Diana!” Lida called in her ringing, cheerful voice.
“Here we are, Lida,” Artem called back.
All four explorers were again reunited, four surrounded unarmed people, facing a continuous human wall of infuriated Scythians armed with bows, spears and swords. The explorers had only a dog to defend them, and yet the Scythians did not attack. But if they were afraid to come close to the beast, why didn’t they shoot the strangers and their dog with their arrows? It could be done so easily!
This thought was on the minds of the four explorers. Then Dmitro Borisovich spoke, as though in response to the general anxiety:
“The old soothsayer seems to have ordered them to capture us alive…”
Ivan Semenovich nodded his head in agreement. And then he took a decision that had been unwittingly suggested by the archeologist.
“We must surrender, no more resistance,” he said in a voice of authority that precluded any arguments. “The soothsayer could easily change his mind and command the Scythians to use their spears and arrows. In that case, Diana won’t be of any help to us.”
“You mean we should give ourselves up?”
“Cool down, Artem. I know what I’m talking about. I’m quite sure the old soothsayer does not intend to kill us now. He has some other plans for us at the moment. Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here quietly, discussing all this. Do you agree?”