Conan The Indomitable (4 page)

Soon we shall have him, the Harskeel told itself. Already a score of our men
prepare to ride. No matter how many must die, we
will
have that blade…
and the blood of its bearer! Certainly a pleasant thought.

The newly fallen snow enfolded the village like a white shroud,
a
pristine blanket that sparkled under an icy-blue sky. The storm had passed,
leaving peace in its wake.

The sun had already completed a major portion of its morning’s journey when
Conan and Elashi emerged from the inn. They had breakfasted well; additionally,
the innkeeper had supplied them with snowshoes so they might more easily
traverse the knee-deep snows that had covered the road.

“We shall take the shorter route mentioned by the innkeeper,”
Conan said.

Elashi shook her head. “Did not you hear also the tale of the
watchbeast that sometimes prowls that shorter path?”

“Aye.
And Conan of Cimmeria is not prepared
to
march for an additional five days merely to avoid some escaped dog that
sometimes prowls a path.” He patted his sword. “A blade that has
slain a dire-wolf will certainly serve to dispatch some mangy cur should it
trouble us.”

“I did not hear the innkeeper say that the beast was a dog.”

“What else? Perhaps the watchbeast is instead a goose. So much the
better—then we shall dine in high style—should it honk threateningly at
us.” He laughed, amused by the image.

For once Elashi was quiet. Conan silently thanked Crom for not-so-small a
favor.

So the pair marched away from the small village, high-stepping on their
bentwood-and-gut snowshoes, hearing the dry powder beneath their feet squeak
with each step. The day was bracing, if cold, and Conan felt rested from his
sleep and belly-warm with his breakfast. Another two days would see them clear
of the Karpash
mountains
and out of Corinthia, onto
the Zamoran plateau. It was but another half-moon’s walk to Shadizar, so he had
been told. Less if he could steal a pair of horses. Once there, Elashi would
continue southward and he could be about the business of enriching himself through
serious thievery. He looked forward to that with interest.

The twenty riders struggled to control their mounts. The breath of men and
animals made fog in the freezing air as the horses shifted nervously about.

Then the Harskeel itself entered the courtyard astride its stallion. From
its throat the deep voice boomed out over the gathered riders. “I want the
man and his sword.
A bag of gold coins to the one who
delivers them together.
And a swift and painful death
to any man who is the cause of their loss.
Is that perfectly
clear?”

There came a murmur of assent from the riders.

“Good. We ride for the village.
Now!”

The thunder of hooves shook the morning as the Harskeel and its minions
departed the manse’s courtyard.

Three hours out of the village, Conan and Elashi paused to lunch upon strips
of lamb jerky purchased at the inn. The meat was dry and chewy, but fortunately
the innkeeper had also supplied the couple with a leather flask of mild wine,
and they used this to wash down the jerky. Later, when they camped for the
night, Conan could set snares for rabbits or ringtails, which they could roast
over the evening’s fire. With luck, they could be through the pass and over the
mountain road’s highest elevation by darkfall.

Wikkell, the hunchbacked cyclops, moved through narrow corridors of wet
stone, splashing through puddles of limed water that sometimes bubbled with
inner effervescence. There were a dozen ways to reach the Northern Chambers,
this tunnel being one of the wider ones, albeit not the shortest. It would not
do to be stuck in one of the narrow tubes whilst on Katamay Rey’s business. The
master held no interest in excuses, and he was not gentle with those who failed
him. Wikkell’s predecessor as first assistant had angered the wizard, and as a
result, had spent his final moment of life turning into a puddle of putrid ooze
upon Rey’s chamber floor. Wikkell’s first chore as new assistant had been to
clean up the remains of his predecessor, an unpleasant task that ever cautioned
him to take extreme care in dealing with the wizard who ruled half of the cave
system.

Recalling that incident served to hurry Wikkell’s splayed feet as he moved
toward his goal. Should he fail in his assigned task, ‘twould be better not to
return to these parts at all; certainly it was an option he would keep in mind,
but one he would rather not exercise. He increased his pace yet more.

Deek slithered along a twisting tunnel, moving quite fast for a being
without appendages. The belly plates upon which he traveled had evolved to suit
rock, and he slid forward more like a snake than a worm, winding from side to
side, head slightly raised above the slimed floor of the cave.

As he crawled along, Deek formulated his plans for communication with the
other sentient species that inhabited the Grotterium Negrotus. The Blood-bats
lived to eat and procreate, and they always needed more room. He could offer
them one of the giant caverns to the west of the cave complex as a breeding
ground. Chuntha had kept them empty for reasons of her own, and the bats would
do anything to occupy such a vast space.

The Webspinners, on the other coil, were permanently
stationary,
and grown thin from lack of proper food. Could Deek assure them of a steady
food supply, they would be more than willing to aid the witch in any way they
could.

And the Blind Whites?
Well, they were quite another
matter. Those obscene, apelike creatures were friendly with the
cyclopes
and unlikely to want anything Chuntha could supply.
Like as not, they would pull rock daggers on any worm foolish enough to
approach them, stabbing first and asking each other stupid questions as they
ingested the remains. Best to avoid those vermin altogether.

Deek had not seen Chuntha so agitated since the worms had brought her that
man traveler a few months past. She had practically danced then; unfortunately,
the poor traveler had not lasted very long under the witch’s ministrations, a
single episode in her bed being enough to finish him. But the remains had been
quite tasty, as Deek recalled. Perhaps the witch would allow them to have her
leavings again once this new traveler had served his purpose. But first they
had to catch him. Deek increased his coiling, moving faster. It would not do to
miss this person.
Not at all.
Deek had no desire to
serve as fodder for the lime pits, a fate very likely to be the result of
failing to please Chuntha.

Conan and Elashi rounded the trail’s turning as the sun began to sink behind
the tallest peak to the west. The trek had been monotonous thus far. They had
seen no one save an occasional curious mountain goat peering down at them.
Another hour or so and they could stop for the night, Conan figured.

Then, just ahead, from the hard shadow of a sharp-edged spire of rock, a monster
stepped into their path.

Conan and Elashi stopped and stared at the beast. Big it was, as large as a
draft horse, but save that it stood on four legs, altogether unlike any horse
they had ever seen. The beast looked to have been assembled by some mad god
intent on blending dog, cat, and rat. The head was mostly canine but with
catlike jowls and teeth; the body wore striped fur, much like a domestic
tabby’s, but in contour it was more like a hunting hound. The tail was long and
pink, naked of hair, and properly belonged on a giant rat. The feet were also
ratlike, with four toes on each foot, and each toe was tipped with a black
claw. The thing growled and emitted a short bark, sounding like a great
grizzled bear.

Without taking her startled gaze from the monster, Elashi spoke. “Some
mangy stray dog, you said? Or perhaps a fat goose upon which we could dine, eh?
Once again you astound me with your predictive powers, Conan.”

“Better you should use your blade than your mouth,” Conan said,
starting to reach for his own sword.

The thing gave another bearlike bark and sniffed the air. Conan froze,
leaving his sword in place. The wind was at the watchbeast’s back, as the
outlander could tell from the stench reaching his nostrils. Perhaps it could
not see particularly well, for it made no move toward them.

“It seems unsure of us,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Perhaps if we remain still, it will lose interest.”

“We might stand here until we starve,” Elashi said, her voice also
low.

“I am open to suggestion.”

“Why do you always say that at such times as this?” Her voice grew
somewhat louder.

“Why not yell, to better attract its attention?”

That shut her up. They stared at the composite beast.

For its part, the watchbeast did seem somewhat confused. It cocked its head
from side to side, quizzically staring in Conan and Elashi’s direction. Had it
any sight at all, it seemed impossible that it would miss them, the distance
being less than perhaps thirty spans; it sniffed the frosty air unmoving.

Conan’s hand itched to pull his sword, but he remained still. Better to wait
a few moments at least, to see what the thing would do. If it came at them, he
would have plenty of time to draw his weapon, although fighting such a monster
hardly seemed a pleasant pursuit.

The horseman touched the track in the snow,
then
turned to face the Harskeel and the other riders.
“Very
fresh, m’lord.
The snow has kept the impression of the footwear’s
strings. They can be no more than a very few minutes ahead of us.”

The Harskeel flashed its ambiguous smile. “Good. Forward!”

“Have you gods we can call upon?” Elashi whispered.

“None but Crom,” Conan said. “And Crom rarely listens to
prayers. He gives a man strength and cunning in certain measure at birth,
then
allows him to make his own way in the world.”

“A harsh god,” Elashi said.

“Aye.
He rules over a harsh land, he could be
little else.”

“My own gods tend to be good for finding water or helping with the
hunt,” she said. “I don’t think we have any god for dealing with the
likes of that.” She gestured at the beast with a glance. The thing had by
this time sat upon its haunches, still staring in the direction of the two
unmoving people.

“I cannot understand why it does not merely approach closer to see what
we are,” Conan said.

“Let us not give it any ideas in that direction, Conan.”

“We cannot stay here forever,” he said. “Perhaps we can
utilize the same trick we played upon the Harskeel. I shall run aslant to it
and when it chases me, you can attack it from the rear.”

“A good idea,” she said quickly.

Conan could not suppress a small chuckle. She did not hurry to volunteer to
draw this beast’s attention, he noted.

“Of course, once I move, it might notice us both,” Conan said.
“And mayhap choose to take the stationary meal instead.”

Elashi considered this for all of three seconds. “On second thought, I
think perhaps your plan lacks merit. Let us both draw our blades and run
directly at it.”

“Aye, better than to die a frozen statue.
Ready?”

“As I shall ever be.”

“Your sword, then.”

As Conan and Elashi unsheathed their weapons, the watching monster came to
its feet. Its striped fur bristled and it uttered several more barks, followed
by a rumbling growl. The two were starting to run, when they heard another
sound.

“There they are!”

Conan glanced over his shoulder to see a horde of horsemen bearing down upon
them.

“Crom!
What is this?”

Elashi did not question her fortunes, however. She merely took off at a
right angle to the trail, diving behind a clump of scraggly brush. Conan
understood. He duplicated the desert woman’s dive and crouched down behind the
weedy cover in time to see the watchbeast go sprinting past, heading straight
for the approaching horsemen.

The bearlike cries and growls joined the yells of startled men and the
whinny of terrified horses.

The watchbeast leaped, knocked three riders from their mounts and began to
claw and chew the downed men, rending them as easily as a wolf does a hare. The
other men began throwing pikes, some of which struck the monster, injuring and
enraging it.

Conan saw at the rear of the pack of men and animals none other than the
Harskeel itself, gesturing and screaming at its men.

“I think it best that we depart,” Conan said, pointing at the
fracas.

“For once I agree.”

Quickly, the two of them hurried away from the fight.

Ten minutes away from the battle behind them, Conan and Elashi slowed their
pace somewhat. “I think the Harskeel will have its hands full binding
wounds,” he said. “Besides, they will not be able to follow us in the
dark. Nightfall is only moment away. We are safe for now.”

Elashi nodded. “The Harskeel must indeed consider you a prime candidate
for its magic.”

“Aye, but… who knows? Mayhap it considers
you
a candidate as
well. You also bear a sword.”

That thought made her stop and think for a moment.

“We shall continue walking through the night,” Conan said.
“By morning we should be clear of the mountain and able to take any
direction we choose on the plateau. They won’t be able to follow us if we take
pains to cover our trail.”

“Then you feel we are in no danger?”

“I have no doubt of it,” Conan said, smiling. Just then the ground
opened beneath them, swallowing them like the maw of some giant creature.