Conan Compilation - The Conquering Sword of Conan Part 34

A narrow ridge formed a natural ramp that led upward. After she had ascended some fifty feet she could no longer see the ground because of the intervening leaves. The trunks of the trees did not crowd close to the crag, but their smaller branches extended about it, veiling it with their foliage. She climbed on awhile in leafy obscurity, neither able to see above or below her, but presently the leaves thinned, and she came out on a flat shelf-like summit and saw the forest roof stretching away under her feet. That roof which looked like a floor from her vantage-point was as impenetrable from above as from below. She glanced westward, in the direction from which she had come. She saw only the rolling green ocean stretching away and away, with only a vague blue line in the distance to hint of the hill-range she had crossed days before, to plunge into this leafy waste.

North and south the view was the same, though the blue hill-line was lacking in those direction.

She looked eastward, and stiffened suddenly, as her foot struck something in the litter of fallen leaves which carpeted the low shelf. She kicked some of the leaves aside and looked down on the skeleton of a man. She ran an experienced eye over the bleached frame, but saw no broken bones or any sign of violence. The man seemed to have died a natural death, though why he should have climbed to this difficult pinnacle to die, she could not imagine.

She mounted to the peak and looked eastward. She stiffened. Off to the east, within a few miles, the forest thinned out and ceased abruptly, giving way to a bare plain, where only a few stunted trees grew. And in the midst of that plain rose the walls and towers of a man-made city.

The girl swore in amazement. This pa.s.sed belief. She would not have been surprized to have sighted human habitations of another sort the beehive-shaped huts of the black people, or the cliff-dwellings of the mysterious brown race which legend declared inhabited some country of this unexplored region. But it was a startling surprize to see a walled city here so many long weeks marches from the nearest outposts of any sort of civilization.

Her thoughts were scattered by the rustling of the leaves below her. She wheeled like a cat, catching at her hilt; and then she froze motionless, staring wide-eyed at the man before her.

He was a tall, powerfully-built man, almost a giant in size. His garb was similar to hers, except that he wore a broad leather belt instead of a girdle. Broadsword and poniard hung from this belt.

"Conan, the Cimmerian!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the woman. "What are you doing on my trail?"

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He grinned hardly, and his fierce blue eyes burned with a light any woman could understand as they ran over her magnificent figure, lingering on the swell of her splendid b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the light shirt, and the clear white flesh displayed between breeches and boot-tops.

"Why, h.e.l.l, girl," he laughed, "don't you know? Haven't I made my admiration for you clear ever since I first saw you?"

"A stallion could have made it no clearer," she answered disdainfully. "But I never expected to encounter you so far from the ale-barrels and meat pots. Did you really follow me from Zarallo's camp, or were you whipped forth?"

He laughed at her scorn and flexed his mighty biceps.

"You know Zarallo didn't have enough knaves to whip me out of camp," he grinned. "Of course I followed you. Lucky thing for you, too, wench! When you knifed that fellow, you lost Zarallo's friendship, and you earned his brother's hatred."

"I know it," she replied sullenly. "But what else could I do? You know what my provocation was."

"Sure," he agreed. "If I'd been there, I'd have knifed him myself. But if a woman must live a man's life, she must expect such things."

Valeria stamped her booted foot and swore.

"Why will not men let me live a man's life?"

Again Conan's eager eyes roved her.

"h.e.l.l, girl, that's obvious! But you were wise to flee the camp. Zarallo would have had you skinned. The fellow's brother followed you; faster than you thought. He was not far behind you when I caught up with him. His horse was better than yours. He'd have caught you and cut your throat within a few more miles."

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well what?" he seemed puzzled.

"What of him?"

"Why, what do you suppose?" he demanded. "I killed him, of course, and left his carca.s.s for 304.

the vultures. That delayed me, though, and I almost lost your trail when you crossed the rocky spurs of the hills. Otherwise I'd have caught up with you long ago."

"And now you think you'll drag me back to Zarallo's camp?" she sneered.

"You know better than that," he retorted. "Come, girl, don't be such a spitfire. I'm not like that fellow you knifed, and you know it."

"A penniless vagabond," she taunted.

He laughed at her.

"What are you? You haven't enough money to buy a new seat for your breeches. You're not fooling me with your disdain. You know my reputation. You know I've commanded bigger ships and more men than you ever did. As for being penniless h.e.l.l, what rover isn't at times?

I've been rich a thousand times in my life, and I'll roll in plunder again. I've squandered enough gold in the sea-ports of the world to fill a galleon. You know that, too."

"Where are the fine ships and the bold lads you commanded, now?" she sneered.

"At the bottom of the sea, and in h.e.l.l, mostly," he replied cheerfully. "The Zingaran royal squadron sank my last ship off Toragis I burned the town of Valadelad, but they caught me before I could reach the Barachas. I was the only man on board who escaped with his life.

That's why I joined Zarallo's Free Companions. But the gold is scanty and the wine is poor and I don't like black women. And that's all who came to our camp on the Darfar border rings in their ears and their teeth filed bah!

"Why did you join Zarallo?"

"Red Ortho killed the captain I was sailing with, and took our ship," she answered sullenly.

"The dog wanted me for his mistress. I jumped overboard one night and swam ash.o.r.e when we were anch.o.r.ed off the Kus.h.i.te coast. Off Zabhela it was. There I met a Shemite trader who was also a recruiting agent for Zarallo. He told me that Zarallo had brought his Free Companies south to guard the Darfar border for the Stygians. I joined an east-bound caravan and eventually came to the camp."

"And now we've both left Zarallo to shift for himself," commented Conan. "It was madness to plunge into the south as you did but wise, too, for Zarallo's patrols never thought to look for you in this direction. Only the brother of the man you killed came this way, and struck your trail."

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"And now what do you intend doing?" she demanded.

"Turn west through the forest," he answered. "I've been this far south, but not this far east.

Many days' travelling to the west will bring us to the open savannahs, where the black tribes live. I have friends among them. We'll get to the coast and find a ship. I'm sick of the jungle myself."

"Then be on your way," she advised. "I have other plans."

"Don't be a fool," he answered, showing irritation for the first time. "You can't survive in this forest."

"I have for more than a week."

"But what do you intend doing?"

"That's none of your affair," she snapped.

"Yes, it is," he answered calmly. "I've followed you this far, do you think I'll turn around and ride back empty handed? Be sensible, wench; I'm not going to harm you."

He stepped toward her, and she sprang back, whipping out her sword.

"Keep back, you barbarian dog! I'll spit you like a roast pig!"

He halted, reluctantly.

"Do you want me to take that toy away from you and spank you with it?" he demanded.

"Words!" she mocked, lights like the sun on blue water dancing in her reckless eyes, and he knew it was the truth. No living man could disarm Valeria of the Brotherhood with his bare hands. He scowled; his feelings were a chaotic mixture of conflicting emotions. He was angry, yet he was amused and full of admiration. He was itching with eagerness to seize that splendid figure and crush it in his iron arms, yet he greatly desired not to hurt the girl. He was torn between a desire to shake her, and a desire to caress her. He knew if he came nearer her sword would be sheathed in his heart. He had seen Valeria kill too many men to have any illusions about her. He knew she was as quick and ferocious in attack as a she-tiger. He could draw his broadsword and disarm her, beat the blade out of her hand, but the thought of drawing a sword on a woman, even without intent of injury, was extremely repugnant to him.

"Blast your soul, you hussy," he exclaimed in exasperation. "I'm going to take your " He 306.

started toward her, his anger making him reckless, and she poised herself for a thrust when a startling interruption came.

"What's that?"

Both of them started, and Conan wheeled like a cat, his great sword flashing into his hand.

Valeria recoiled, even as she poised for her thrust. Back in the forest had risen a hideous medley of screams the screams of terrified or agonized horses. Mingled plainly with their screams came the snap of breaking bones.

"Lions are slaying the horses!" cried Valeria.

"Lions, h.e.l.l!" snorted Conan, his eyes blazing. "Did you hear a lion roar? Neither did I! Listen at those bones snap not even a lion could make that much noise killing a horse. Follow me but keep behind me."

He hurried down the natural ramp and she followed, their personal feud forgotten in the code of the adventurers, the instinct to unite against common peril.

They descended into the screen of leaves and worked their way downward through the green veil. Silence had fallen again over the forest.

"I found your horse tied by the pool back there," he muttered, treading so noiselessly that she no longer wondered how he had surprized her on the crag. "I tied mine beside it and followed the tracks of your boots. Watch, now!"

They had emerged from the belt of leaves and stared down into the lower reaches of the forest.

Above them the green roof spread its dusky canopy. Below them the sunlight filtered in just enough to make a grey twilight. The giant trunks of trees less than a hundred yards away looked dim and ghostly.

"The horses should be beyond that thicket," whispered Conan, making no more sound than a breeze moving through the branches. "Listen!"

Valeria had already heard, and a chill crept through her veins so she unconsciously laid her white hand on her companion's muscular brown arm. From beyond that thicket came the noisy crunching of bones and the loud rending of flesh.

"Lions wouldn't make that noise," whispered Conan. "Something's eating our horses, but it's not a lion look there!"

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The noise stopped suddenly, and Conan swore softly. A suddenly risen breeze was blowing from them directly toward the spot where the unknown monster was hidden.

The thicket was suddenly agitated and Valeria clutched Conan's arm hard. Ignorant of jungle- lore, she yet knew that no animal she had ever seen could have shaken the thicket like that.

"An elephant wouldn't make that much disturbance," muttered Conan, echoing her thought.

"What the devil " his voice trailed away in the stunned silence of incredulous amazement.

Through the thicket was thrust the head of nightmare and horror. Grinning jaws bared rows of dripping yellow tusks; above the yawning mouth wrinkled a saurian-like snout. Huge eyes, like those of a cobra a thousand times magnified, stared unwinkingly at the petrified humans clinging to the rock. Blood smeared the scaly, flabby lips and dripped from the huge mouth.

The head was farther extended, on a long, scaled neck, and after it, crushing down the briars and saplings, waddled a t.i.tan's body, a gigantic reptilian torso on absurdly short legs. The whitish belly almost raked the ground, while the serrated back-bone rose higher than Conan could have reached on tip-toe. A dragon-like tail trailed out behind the monstrosity.

"Back up the crag, quick!" snapped Conan, thrusting the girl behind him. "That devil can't climb, I hope, but he can stand on his hind-legs and reach us "

With a snapping and crashing of underbrush and small trees the dragon charging and even as Conan predicted, reared up fearsomely on his short, ma.s.sive hinder legs to fall with his front feet on the crag with a violence that made the rock vibrate. Hardly had the fugitives pa.s.sed through the leafy screen than the huge head was darted through, and the mighty jaws snapped with a resounding clash of giant fangs. But they were out of its reach, and they stared down at the nightmare visage framed among the green leaves. Then the head was withdrawn, and a moment later, peering down through the branches that sc.r.a.ped against the rock, they saw it squatting on its haunches, staring unblinkingly up at them.

Valeria shuddered, unnerved.

"How long do you suppose he'll squat there?"

Conan kicked the skull on the leaf-strewn shelf.

"This fellow must have climbed up here to escape him, or one like him. He died here of starvation. That thing never will leave here until we're both dead. I've heard legends of these things from the black people, but I never believed them before."

Valeria looked at him blankly, her resentment forgotten. She fought down a surge of panic. She 308.

had proved her reckless courage a thousand times in wild battles on sea and land, on the blood- slippery decks of war-ships, in the storming of walled cities, and on the trampled sandy beaches where the desperate men of the Red Brotherhood bathed their knives in each other's blood in their struggles for supremacy. She had not faltered in her long flight southward from the camp on the Darfar border, over the rolling gra.s.slands and through the hostile forests. But the prospect now confronting her congealed her blood. A cutla.s.s stroke in the heat of battle was nothing; but to sit idle and helpless on a bare rock until starvation slew her, besieged by a monstrous survival of an elder age the thought sent panic throbbing through her brain.

"He must leave to eat and drink," she said helplessly.

"He won't have to go far to do either," Conan pointed out. "He can run like a deer; besides, he's just gorged on our horses, and like a real snake, he can go for a long time without eating or drinking. But he doesn't sleep like a real snake."

Conan spoke imperturbably. He was a barbarian and the terrible patience of the wilderness and its children was a part of his soul. He could endure a situation like this as no civilized person could endure it.

"Can't we get into the trees and get away, travelling through the branches?" she asked desperately.

He shook his head. "I thought of that. The branches sc.r.a.pe the crag down there, but they're too light. Branches too light for spear handles and vines no thicker than cords. They'd break with our weight. Besides, I've got an idea that devil could tear up any tree around here by its roots."

"Well, are we to sit here on our rumps until we starve?" she cried furiously. "I won't do it! I'll go down there and cut his d.a.m.ned head off "

Conan had seated himself tranquilly on a rocky projection. He looked up admiringly at her blazing eyes and tense, quivering figure, but realizing that she was in just the mood for any madness, he let none of his admiration sound in his voice.

"Sit down," he grunted, catching her by her wrist and pulling her down on his knee. Without meeting any resistance he took her sword away from her and shoved it back in its sheath. "Sit still and calm down. You'd only break your steel on his scales. We'll get out of this jam some way. But we won't do it by getting chewed up and swallowed."

She made no reply, nor did she offer any resistance to his arm about her waist. She was frightened, and the sensation was new to Valeria of the Red Brotherhood. So she sat on her companion or captor's knee with a docility that would have amazed Count Zarallo who had 309.

atrophised her as a she-devil out of h.e.l.l's seraglio.

Conan played idly with her curly yellow locks, seemingly intent only upon his conquest.

Neither the skeleton at his feet nor the monster crouching below him disturbed his mind in the slightest.

The girl's restless eyes, roving the leaves below them, rested on the darkly crimson fruit she had noticed when she first climbed the crag. They were similar to fruit she had found in the forest and eaten during her flight from Zarallo's camp. She was aware of both thirst and hunger, though neither had bothered her until she knew she could not descend from the crag to find food and water.

"We need not starve," she said. "There is fruit."

Conan glanced where she pointed.

"If we ate that we wouldn't need the bite of a dragon," he grunted. "That's what the black people of Kush call The Apples of Derketa. Derketa is the Queen of the Dead. Drink a little of the juice, or spill it on your flesh, and you'd be dead before you could climb to the foot of this crag."

"Oh!" She lapsed into dismayed silence. There seemed no way out of their predicament. She thought of something and called Conan's attention to the view eastward. He stood on the pinnacle and stared out over the forest roof.