Conan The Fearless (24 page)

Kinna panted noisily, and followed her inhalation with a question: “What of the hooded ones?”

“Listen,” Conan commanded.

The sound of heavy forms dropping onto the flagstones reached his ears.

“I hear nothing-” Kinna began.

“Wait.”

After a time the cloud of dust began to settle and dissipate; as it did, the silent forms of the hooded lizards took shape upon the floor. Among them, too, lay the bodies of Djuvula the Witch, who had wanted Conan’s heart for some foul spell, and near her a naked man was sprawled on his back, gutted.

“What-?”

“A poison,” Conan explained. “I have seen it work before. Vitarius shook the mountain and the witch dropped the vial, destroying herself.”

“Who was the man’?”

“Lemparius. And he was also a panther. Now he is neither. Come, we have your sister to rescue, and her siblings. And Sovartus must be stopped, or that thing on the plain will rule us all.”

The blue streak broke against the castle, and Sovartus nearly pitched out through the window as the building shook from the impact. He clutched at the facing and managed to thrust himself back into the tower. The magician glared at the unseen figure on Dodligia Plain, and his face lit with hatred. He might have died in the fall had he not been quick. To control such as the Thing of Power and then to die from some base stupidity would be a cruel irony indeed.

Sovartus drew himself up to his full height and smiled. Time to end this farce with his old classmate. The master of the Black Square regarded his creation, which in turn stared back with unblinking eyes of fire.

“Go,” Sovartus commanded, “and swat me that bothersome insect!” The magician waved his hand in a casting motion.

The Thing of Power, built of the Four Elements, turned away from Castle Slott, moving more quickly than it seemed possible. Walking on legs made from tornadoes, it took gigantic strides across the plain.

A line of blue shot from the seemingly empty plain toward the Thing of Power, and a small spot on its earthy body blackened and smoked, but the creature slowed not.

Sovartus grinned, looking to see if any of the children noticed. None had, for each of the captives seemed to be in a stupor, eyes closed, breath coming slowly.

No matter, the mage thought. It is enough that I see it!

Another line of blue fire scored the Thing of Power, but this time the flash was dimmer, and the beam passed harmlessly through one of the arms of spinning wind.

In a few moments the Thing of Power had dwindled, so that it seemed no larger than a man seen across a wide street. A third blue flame arrowed up from the ground and struck the creature, who was almost upon the source.

As Sovartus watched, the awesome Thing of Power bent and raised one of its arms. The arm came down hard, and the force of the blow shook the ground, even into the castle, so that Sovartus felt the strike through the soles of his boots.

That blow meant much to Sovartus, ah, yes. He knew then that Vitarius, pupil to Hogistum, and his enemy, was no more. He had been snuffed out with no more effort needed than to command it.

Nothing could stand in his way now, Sovartus knew, for there was no power capable of withstanding the creature he had created and was master of, no power on Earth. Not since the sinking of Atlantis had such forces been under the direction of men; his triumph was as awesome as the Thing of Power itself. It would live as long as he lived, and he could live forever!

Sovartus continued to stare at the Thing of Power as it marched back toward him. Soon the nations of the world would bow to him and offer him all manner of tribute. Soon he would destroy cities, lay waste to whole countrysides, slaughter armies, did not the people offer him his due. Soon he would rule the world, and it would function to his whim-or it would function not at all!

The thought of it filled Sovartus with black joy.

The passageway opened into an antechamber. Conan saw the backs of two more of the hooded lizard-men as he stepped into the antechamber. The lizard-men’s attention lay elsewhere, and when Conan looked beyond them, he saw what held their gazes: a thin man with black hair and a pointed beard, dressed in a woven-hair robe, looking through a window.

“Sovartus,” Kinna whispered next to Conan.

“At last,” Conan said. He raised his sword.

Something must have alerted the two lizard-men, for they turned, as one, to stare at Conan and Kinna. They raised their pikes.

“I’ll take the one on the left!” Kinna said.

Conan hesitated not at all, but leaped to do battle with the hooded figures. Sovartus glanced in his direction, then turned back to his contemplation of whatever lay outside the window, as if he had not the smallest of worries.

Knowing the lizard-men’s speed and power gave Conan an advantage; he did not try to fence, but rather went around the jabbing pike. A single two-handed cut with his sword, braced for the shock, and Conan batted his foe down. He spun just as Kinna jabbed her pike into her opponent’s hood, bringing forth a militant hiss from the reptilian creature. Conan whipped his blade around and chopped into the thing’s head; it went down in silence. The big Cimmerian leaped into the tower room.

Eldia lay chained under a window; indeed, there were three others pent in the same manner, and all looked to be either in deep sleep or in the arms of death. Conan snarled his anger and took two steps toward Sovartus.

The magician turned away from the window and waved one hand at Conan, twirling his fingers as he did so.

Conan’s sword handle suddenly grew hot, too hot to hold, even through the thick leather wrapping the haft. He switched the sword to his opposite hand, but the heat increased; the leather began to smoke, then burst into flame. Conan dropped the sword. The blade flashed into redness, then blue-white so bright that the Cimmerian had to look away. There came a clap of noise, and when he looked back, the sword was gone, leaving only a black mark upon the floor.

Behind him, Kinna yelled, then followed the clunk! of her pike hitting the floor. There came another flash and thunderclap, and he knew her weapon had been destroyed.

Undaunted, Conan sprang again, drawing the curved knife that had killed Lemparius. It wore a spell, perhaps such was proof against Sovartus.

The knife pulled itself from Conan’s grasp and spun away, to stick up in a table nearby. Deviltry!

Conan growled in fury. He still had his hands, by Crom! The big Cimmerian lunged, seeking to smash the thin man with his hammerlike fists.

An invisible boot slammed into Conan’s belly. His corded stomach absorbed the blow, but it knocked him backward and off his feet.

Sovartus smiled and raised his hand. Another blow struck Conan, this one from the side. He swept his hands about, looking for an opponent with whom to grapple; there existed none, and yet a third blow crashed into his head, dazing him.

Kinna tried to reach Conan, but some magic beset her as well, for she fell back, gasping for breath. Conan came to his hands and knees, then to his feet.

Sovartus laughed and raised his hand again. “Fool! You cannot contend with me! I am your new god! Bow to me, and I shall spare you, as my first worshipper!”

“Never!” Conan said.

The invisible boot caught Conan under the chin, knocking him onto his back. He groaned involuntarily, sat up, and shook his head, struggling to rise.

Sovartus looked on, still apparently amused.

Behind Sovartus, chained to the wall, Eldia awoke. Her eyes flickered open. She blinked and looked at Conan, then at Sovartus.

Conan shook his head, this time in warning to Eldia to remain still. The Cimmerian managed to get to one knee and one foot.

Eldia stared at Sovartus. She raised one hand and reached toward the magician’s strange robe. Sovartus must have heard something, for he started to turn toward the girl.

Conan drew a deep breath and spat at the wizard. The man jerked his attention back toward Conan. “For that, you will die, fool!” He started to bring his hand down.

Suddenly, the back of Sovartus’s robe erupted into flame. The wizard spun. “What-?” But the robe only flared out, fanning the blaze higher. Sovartus cursed and tore the robe from his body. His attention left the massive youth.

Conan managed to regain his feet. He gathered his strength into his legs and jumped. This time he reached his object: He locked his hands like clamps upon Sovartus’s throat. The two men fell, rolling through the fiery robe upon the floor. Sovartus brought his own hands into a grip upon Conan’s neck. Though thin, the wizard had great strength, and he was driven by desperation. Conan felt fingers like steel bars dig into his flesh. He tightened his neck muscles and his grip, and screamed in savage rage.

Sovartus’s grip slackened. The wizard’s face went dark red, shading to purple; his eyes bulged from their sockets and blood ran from his nose; his lips drew back from his too-white teeth.

After what seemed the lifetime of a god, Sovartus’s hands left Conan’s neck, and he went limp.

A terrible sound broke over the castle, a wordless cry of rage and agony that vibrated Conan to his depth. He stood and looked out through the window.

The massive monster on the plain shook violently, waving its arms. It screamed again, and a landslide rumbled along its body, dropping a shower of dirt away from the torso. Its eyes flashed with living fire, and lightning broke from its mouth as it screamed a third time. The monster started toward the castle.

Conan found a pike. He thrust the weapon between the metal links holding Eldia to the wail. He took a deep breath, and tore the chains from their mounting. He turned toward Kinna. “Help her, and wake the others if you can! The monster on the plain comes!”

Conan moved quickly around the chamber, breaking the chains that bound the children, shaking the sleeping forms, trying to awaken them. The three came to, but were still groggy.

The floor began to shake as the monster drew nearer. Conan risked a glance at the plain again. The creature trembled and gyrated, and seemed on the verge of collapse; great chunks of its body broke off and tumbled away; the eyes of fire roared forth along with the lightnings, and the winds of its limbs waxed and waned.

“Up!” Conan yelled. He snatched up a still-bleary-eyed girl and pointed at the room’s exit. “Out, fast! We do not want to be here when that thing arrives!”

Kinna led, half-towing one of the boys. Eldia followed, being the most alert, and Conan carried and dragged two of the children. They ran as if a hellish beast followed, as indeed it did.

When they neared the place where the witch and werepanther had died, Conan called a halt. “Slowly,” he commanded, “lest we stir up the killing-dust.”

Conan led the way. As he stepped over the body of one of the lizard-men, he paused. A large pack was strapped upon its back, and from one corner protruded the point of a sword. Conan bent and carefully opened the pack. Inside, he found clothing-his clothing!-and his broadsword. He managed a small smile. This one had been the witch’s thrall, he guessed. He removed the sword and clothing, being careful to keep the poison dust from stirring.

“Move,” Conan said when his belongings were reclaimed.

The group followed the winding aisles downward, occasionally passing the inert forms of lizard-men. These bodies bore no wounds, but Conan guessed that the death of their master must have doomed them as well.

The Cimmerian led Kinna and the children from the constructed portion of the castle and into the bowels of the mountain. A violent shudder hit the rock, so strong that the fleeing band found itself shaken from their feet to the floor.

“The monster has come home,” Conan said. “I think it means to take the castle with it when it goes.”

The six stood and ran.

The journey seemed to take forever. Several times, the floor shifted so much that footing was impossible. Once, a huge section of stone ceiling broke loose and fell, crashing down with a roar, barely missing the runners.

Finally, they reached the base of the mountain and the tunnel exit. “This way,” Conan yelled over the rumbling of the earth. “There are horses, if they still live.”

While the monster battering at the castle stood partway around the mountain, the winds created by the tornadoes it bore as limbs raised dust and leaves all around Conan as he ran. Past the grove of trees he found the horses panicky, but still pent. With the thunder of the thing tearing at the mountain all around them, Conan managed to get the children and Kinna mounted before climbing onto a horse himself.

“Now, ride!” Conan commanded.

They rode, and fast.

Conan called a halt. The group turned to stare at the mountain-castle they had recently left. The elemental monster tore at the mountain, though the top of the castle itself was no more. Great chunks of granite flew high into the air, some smaller bits flying even past where Conan and the others sat upon their horses.

“Look!” Kinna said.

The thing reared and came down with both arms. It smashed into the solid rock. The main part of the mountain shattered. With it went the monster, dissolving into a massive cloud of rock dust and stone wind.

For a time no one said anything. Finally, Conan broke the silence: “It is done. Over.”

Riding back along the Dodligian road, Conan spotted a figure in the distance, waving. He drew his sword. But as they moved closer he grinned and sheathed his blade. No threat here, in this familiar figure.

Eldia recognized the man then, and called out: “Vitarius!”

“Aye, Vitarius,” the old man said as the riders drew nearer. “No one thought to bring a horse for me, eh? Well, no matter, I can ride double with Eldia, I suppose.”

“We thought you might be …” Kinna began.

“Dead? Aye, Sovartus would have had it so. He lent the Thing of Power to squash me. I lanced it a few times, but I was as a gnat to a bullock. When it got too close, I chose to be elsewhere.”

Conan looked around the bare plain. “That must have been some trick.”

“I would take credit for it,” Vitarius said, “but it was hardly anything to brag about. I slipped into the entrance to one of the whelves’ tunnels and scuttled as deep as I could get. What the thing smashed was merely a simple illusion. Those are what I do best.”