Conan the Fearless Part 11

In the privacy of the shed, that which was a cat growled as it began to stretch joints and ligaments unnaturally, altering itself from a beast that walked on four legs to one of those who, moments earlier, had been its prey.

Conan had no fear of storms, but once again he lay awake, gripping his sword tightly. This time a sound in the corridor outside his room was apparent even over the tempest raging outside the inn. A soft footstep upon a loose board.

The barbarian came lightly to his feet and moved quickly toward the door. He threw the simple latch up, jerked the door open, and, in a single bound, leaped into the hall, sword held ready to strike.

Conan found himself facing a single figure wrapped in a thin blanket.

Kinna.

Conan lowered the sword, staring at the young woman. The blanket she wore covered much of her, but allowed most of her long legs freedom in the night air. Most shapely legs, Conan saw, with an underlying muscle he found instantly attractive.

Kinna seemed to note Conan's interest and tried to move the blanket to cover her limbs; this action allowed more of her upper body an air bath, however, including a glimpse of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s before she hurriedly recovered them.

Conan grinned. "Why are you about at this hour?"

"I-I heard a noise at my window. A strange sound."

"We are three floors from the ground," Conan said. "It is less than likely anything could be playing at your shutters. The wind, no doubt."

Kinna nodded, sending a ripple through her long black hair. "So I thought. Once awake, I could not find sleep again. So I came out here to . . ." She trailed off and looked embarra.s.sed.

"To what?" Conan asked, curious.

Kinna glanced down the hallway toward the night chamber, colored briefly, but spoke not.

Conan followed her gaze, then understood. Ah, women. To be embarra.s.sed by such a thing as a visit to the night chamber was a thing he had never understood. Everyone had the same natural need; why should it bother anyone?

The silence between them grew, stretching to awkwardness. Conan felt no need to fill the quiet with words; still, he was awake and fully alert.

So he said, "This noise did not disturb your sister or Vitarius?"

"No. She sleeps the sleep of the innocent, and he rests as though practicing for his Final Slumber."

"Ah. Since I am up, perhaps you would like me to examine your window for the source of this noise?"

Conan saw sudden relief in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a more cynical glint. "Nay. Do not trouble yourself on our account. I would not delay your journey to Nemedia." She sounded angry.

Conan shrugged. "As you wish." He turned to go back into his room.

"Wait," Kinna said, touching his shoulder with one hand. Her touch was warm against his skin. "Forgive me. I offer rudeness where none is deserved. Eldia told me how you saved her from the a.s.sa.s.sin in this place earlier, and I myself saw you stand between her and the demon. I cannot blame you for wishing to go about your own life instead of continuing to risk it for our sakes."

Conan looked at her. She was a most attractive woman; she also kept her hand on his arm.

"I would like you to inspect my window after all." She smiled. "And, perhaps, afterward, we might also inspect the shutters in . . . your room?"

For a moment Conan failed to understand. He nearly blurted out that nothing was wrong with his shutters. Then he saw Kinna's smile, and he understood. He returned her grin. "Aye," he said.

Conan stepped lightly over the rec.u.mbent form of Eldia and around that of Vitarius, using the light of the taper Kinna held. He reached the shuttered window and looked at it. Nothing amiss there. He turned toward Kinna, already antic.i.p.ating the short trip across the hall to his room. "Shield the flame," he commanded in a whisper. With that, Conan opened the shutters and stared into the rainy night.

Lightning flared twice in quick succession, driving away the darkness and giving the barbarian a good view of the walls and lower rooftops nearby. Save the storm, the night was empty as far as he could tell. He started to close the slatted wood strips.

The inn began to rattle, as might a wall under a barrage of rocks by small boys; Conan felt his hands and arms pelted, and he muttered a quick oath.

Startled, Kinna said, "What-?"

"Hail," Conan answered. "As big as grapes."

The clatter increased, and a sudden fierce blast of wind and ice tore the shutters from Conan's loose grasp. "Bel's eyes!" Conan leaned out and reached for the free-swinging shutters, receiving a pounding of hailstones for his trouble. He managed to snare one of the shutters and was reaching for the second when the wind slackened and the hail stopped. The rain continued to fall in heavy sheets, and there came a sound, louder because of the relative silence following the stoppage of hail. At first Conan thought the new sound thunder, but he quickly discarded that notion; the noise was continuous.

Kinna joined the Cimmerian at the window. "What is that?"

Conan shook his head. "I know not-" he began. Then the lightning flashed again and revealed the source of the rumble: A tornado approached, twisting through the city, destroying everything in its path. The rampaging funnel looked to be heading directly toward the inn.

Someone moved behind Conan. Vitarius's voice cut through the wind and rain. "What do you see out there?"

Conan pointed wordlessly. The lightning seemed to have stopped for the moment, but there was no need of it; within the funnel of the tornado discharges played almost continuously, giving the twirling wind a bluish-yellow glow of its own, a ghostly, eerie luminescence unlike anything Conan had ever observed. "Crom," Conan said softly, "a devilwind."

Vitarius took in the sight. "Of that you may be certain, but it is no natural thing. Watch how it moves in a straight line along its path; no ordinary spinner does that. What you see before you is Sovartus's doing. He unleashes the power of Air against us. Fire will not stop it.

We must flee, or when the storm leaves, it will bear us with it!"

Kinna leaped to rouse Eldia while Vitarius gathered up his pack containing his magical gear. Conan continued to watch the tornado cut an arrow's line toward the inn.

"We need a cellar or sewer," Conan said.

"Not for this storm," Vitarius said, shouldering his pack. "It will simply stand and dig us out like moles. Our only hope is to get behind it; even Sovartus and his control of Air cannot reverse the direction of a storm so easily. We must move at angles to the wind and then into it before the funnel can tack to find us."

The four made their way down the dark stairs and into the main room of the inn. A pair of guttering fat lamps cast their luminous flux over the dank walls, giving enough light for Conan to see the exit. "This way," he commanded.

At that instant the door opened and a half-dozen men burst into the room. Each was armed either with a sword or long dagger; several of the rough lot bore ropes as well. The man leading wore an eyepatch, but there was nothing wrong with his remaining eye, for he jerked to a halt and pointed at Conan. "There he be, boys. Come to save us a climb, I reckons. "

Blades flashed in the faint lamplight as the six men moved apart from one another and toward Conan. The Cimmerian never paused to wonder at the cause of this new danger; he merely drew his own broadsword and moved to meet it.

"Time, Conan, we do not have time!" Vitarius waved his hands vaguely in the air.

Conan grinned tightly, but did not look away from his adversaries. "I shall hurry as best I can."

Two of the men blocked the exit; the rest fanned out, trying to encircle Conan. The barbarian grinned. This was his kind of fight, steel and muscle, not magic. He picked a target, a wolf-faced man bearing a short sword. Conan hesitated not an instant, but sprang with feral grace at the man, swinging the broadsword in a two-handed sweep across his body. Wolf-face raised his blade, but too slowly; Conan's cut tore a furrow across the man's throat which showed for an instant the villain's spine. The man gurgled and fell backward.

A second man attacked Conan from the rear, swinging his sword overhead in a body-splitter strike. Conan turned and blocked, tensing the sinews of his thick arm. Steel kissed steel, and the two blades sang together; Conan's arm moved not at all, and the man lost his balance as he recovered from the failed stroke. Conan slid forward, the point of his weapon leading, and skewered the back-striker just under the breastbone. Conan raised one foot and shoved the falling body from his blade with his boot. He spun, to face two more attackers moving in together. Conan set himself to spring; better to attack before they could gather their wits to coordinate themselves-four was the most dangerous number of opponents.

The inn shook then, as if swatted by a giant's hand.

"Conan! The devil-wind!" That from Kinna.

"Ow, I'm cut!" one of the men guarding the door screamed in pain, drawing the attention of the pair set to attack Conan.

The Cimmerian looked that way, to see little Eldia hacking away at the man with her weapon. Her speed was dazzling, and the man bore only a long dagger, with which he was ineffectually trying to protect his legs. Even as Conan watched, the girl darted in and sliced the man's leg again.

"Brat!" the man yelled, but he backed away from the door, nearly b.u.mping into his fellow.