warnor [ˈwɔ: nə], assault [əˈsɔ: lt], undoubtedly [ʌnˈdautɪdlɪ]

"A short chase like this they'd yell every step of the way. No. They've gone back. I thought I heard somebody yelling behind them a few seconds before the noise began to get dimmer. They've been recalled. And that's good for us, but damned bad for the men in the fort. It means the warriors are being summoned out of the woods for the attack. Those men we ran into were warnors from a tribe down the river. They were undoubtedly headed for Gwawela to join in the assault on the fort. Damn it, we're farther away than ever, now. We've got to get across the river."

Turning east he hurried through the thickets with no attempt at concealment (повернув на восток, он поспешил через заросли без попытки = не пытаясь, скрываться). Balthus followed him, for the first time feeling the sting of lacerations on his breast and shoulder where the Pict's savage teeth had scored him (Балтус последовал за ним, в первый раз почувствовав острую боль на /его/ груди и плече, где свирепые зубы пикта оставили глубокие следы /на нем/). He was pushing through the thick bushes that hinged the bank when Conan pulled him back (он пробивался сквозь густые кусты, которые нависали над берегом, когда Конан потащил его назад). Then he heard a rhythmic splashing (затем он услышал ритмичный плеск), and peering through the leaves (и, глядя сквозь листья; to peer — вглядываться, вперять взгляд), saw a dugout canoe coming up the river (увидел каноэ-долбленку, идущую вверх по реке; to dig — копать, рыть), its single occupant paddling hard against the current (ее единственный обитатель упорно греб против течения). He was a strongly built Pict with a white heron feather (он был крепкосложенным пиктом с белым пером цапли) thrust in a copper band (вставленным в медную ленту) that confined his square- cut mane (которая охватывала его прямоугольно постриженную гриву).

rhythmic [ˈrɪðmɪk], current [ˈkʌrənt], heron [ˈherən]

Turning east he hurried through the thickets with no attempt at concealment. Balthus followed him, for the first time feeling the sting of lacerations on his breast and shoulder where the Pict's savage teeth had scored him. He was pushing through the thick bushes that hinged the bank when Conan pulled him back. Then he heard a rhythmic splashing, and peering through the leaves, saw a dugout canoe coming up the river, its single occupant paddling hard against the current. He was a strongly built Pict with a white heron feather thrust in a copper band that confined his square-cut mane.