incessant [ɪnˈsesnt], survivor [səˈvaɪvə], triumph [ˈtraɪəmf]
An incessant hail of arrows rained against the stockade from the woods and the river. The deep twanging of the bowstrings rose above the howling. Yelling like wolves, several hundred naked warriors with axes in their hands ran from under the trees and raced toward the eastern gate. They were within a hundred and fifty yards of their objective when a withering blast of arrows from the wall littered the ground with corpses and sent the survivors fleeing back to the trees. The men in the canoes rushed their boats toward the river-wall, and were met by another shower of clothyard shafts and a volley from the small ballistae mounted on towers on that side of the stockade. Stones and logs whirled through the air and splintered and sank half a dozen canoes, killing their occupants, and the other boats drew back out of range. A deep roar of triumph rose from the walls of the fort, answered by bestial howling from all quarters.
"Shall we try to break through?" asked Balthus, trembling with eagerness (мы попробуем прорваться? — спросил Балтус, дрожа с =
Conan shook his head (Конан покачал /своей/ головой). He stood with his arms folded, his head slightly bent (он стоял, скрестив руки на груди, слегка склонив голову: «с его руками скрещенными, его голова слегка склоненная»), a somber and brooding figure (мрачная и погруженная в размышления фигура). "The fort's doomed (форт обречен;
eagerness [ˈi: ɡənɪs], figure [ˈfɪɡə], with [wɪð]
"Shall we try to break through?" asked Balthus, trembling with eagerness. Conan shook his head. He stood with his arms folded, his head slightly bent, a somber and brooding figure.
"The fort's doomed. The Picts are blood-mad, and won't stop until they're all killed. And there are too many of them for the men in the fort to kill. We couldn't break through, and if we did, we could do nothing but die with Valannus."