Conan the Fearless Part 23

Later, both men swore they had neither been drinking nor smoking hemp when they saw the panther. Such a beast was a great rarity in these parts, but not altogether unheard of, and none could fault them for having failed to stop it, as unexpected as it was. What both men failed to report was the sight of a long cut along one of the beast's forelegs, a gash that seemed nearly healed-and bound shut with sutures.

Upon sincere reflection, the sentries had decided that particular portion of their tale might be best left unsaid.

In the Corinthian night, under the stars and fading moon, the panther who had once been a man ran, moving in a manner that might be called dogged had he been canine instead of feline. He had a goal, this panther, and he moved through his element, the darkness, with only one thought in his more-than-cat mind: murderous revenge upon Conan of Cimmeria.

Chapter Fifteen.

Conan awoke to see Vitarius grinning down at him. Or, rather, at them, for Kinna was still wrapped within the folds of the Cimmerian's cloak, asleep next to him.

"Morning," the old mage said. "Best we ride early, to clear the forest before nightfall. It is a hard day's journey under the best of conditions."

Conan nudged Kinna, who smiled in her sleep. "Later," she mumbled, "I'm tired."

Eldia peered from around Vitarius and laughed.

Conan felt a sense of unease, seeing the girl staring at her sleeping sister. Not precisely embarra.s.sment, but something kin to it. "Wake, Kinna," he said gruffly.

Kinna rubbed at her eyes, smiled at Conan, then saw the magician and her sister watching her. She blinked, and came totally from the land of dreams. "What are you two staring at?" she said. "You're old enough to have seen men and women asleep together, Vitarius. And as for you, sister, I have no need to explain anything to one raised on a farm, do I?".

"No, Kinna," Eldia said, giggling. "No need at all."

"Then be away and allow me to dress!"

Eldia giggled again, but moved off to tend to her horse. Vitarius began packing his blankets.

Conan and Kinna looked at each other briefly, and each smiled.

There was a dankness within the embrace of the forest, a smell of mold and vegetation that seemed to have lain rotting for a thousand years.

The fir trees which were the mainstay of the forest were tall and barked with rough brown slabs like roof shingles; thick mats of brown needles graced the bases of these monsters, keeping the underbrush at bay. Bramble thickets filled the sunnier spots, though few areas were directly touched by the sun. Instead of the freshness Conan usually a.s.sociated with greenery, a heavy atmosphere of rankness lay about them. No birds sang; no insects buzzed; no small animals darted about.

Conan could well see why Vitarius disliked the place, and said so.

"Ah, this is only the fringe," Vitarius said. "Deeper into the wood, things truly seem foul."

Conan suppressed a shudder. It seemed his life was filled with unnatural things of late. He did not like it.

The only sounds were the horses' hooves upon the packed dirt road, and those seemed half-swallowed by the thickening vegetation. The light grew dimmer as the trees closed on the road.

Conan thought he saw a flash of red through the trees, as if something darted between them and then behind a ma.s.sive trunk thirty paces away.

He stared intently, but saw nothing else. His imagination? He was tempted to ride into the wood to look, but decided against it. He would rather clear the forest on the other end by nightfall.

They stopped at midday to rest the horses, eat, and stretch their saddle-weary bodies. The still air was dark, the sunlight prevented from reaching the forest floor by the canopy of thick branches. It was an eerie sensation to know the sun shone brightly at its zenith, but even so could scarcely penetrate the heavy foliage.

Conan's sense of being watched had not abated. "Stay near," he ordered the others.

"If my memory serves correctly," Vitarius said, "there is a stream not far ahead. We must ford it, as the water crosses our path. It should be no problem this time of year. Earlier, in the spring, it would be a torrent, impossible to cross."

Conan did not speak. He had again caught a glimpse of red darting among the trees. Enough of this, he decided. He drew his sword.

"What are you about, Conan?" This from Kinna, scratching a spot behind her horse's ear.

"Someone flits along our path," he said. "Hidden now in the wood. I would know who he is, and why he follows us."

Vitarius raised one gnarled hand. "Put away your blade, Conan. You shall likely see many strange shapes dancing in these woods. For the most part, the inhabitants offer no harm, only curiosity. It would be better to avoid antagonizing them."

Conan lowered the point of his blade. Perhaps the old man was right. It cost him nothing to allow the wood-dwellers to watch him, so long as they kept their distance. And they would reach the plain by nightfall.

They came to the stream Vitarius remembered within an hour. Fording the rill would be another matter, however. A huge tree had fallen across the path leading to the brook, very near the edge of the water's flux.

A man could clamber over the thick-boled trunk easily enough, but a horse could not. They could go around the great length of the tree, of course, but that, too, presented problems.

"This is the only shallow spot for a mile in either direction,"

Vitarius said. "From deposits built up by the bank's curve. A dozen feet on either side, the bank drops sharply. We shall lose time by detouring."

"Can't we cut through the tree?" Eldia said.

Conan laughed. "Aye, little sister, we could-if we had axes or long saws. Even so, it would take two strong men the better part of a day to move enough wood for a horse's pa.s.sage. With my sword I might manage it in a month."

"I could burn it," Eldia said.

Conan looked at the girl, then at the old wizard.

The old man shook his head. "Nay. A natural fire would take days to burn this much wood. And were we to use enough of the Power to do it faster, we might draw unwanted attention to ourselves. There are things attracted to high energies, things I would rather not meet in these woods."

"What shall we do, then?"

"Go around," Conan said. "Unless you are willing to trust the swimming abilities of these horses, which I am loath to do. If we are only a mile from another crossing, we can return to the path opposite the stream within an hour or two, even allowing for the slower going in the woods."

"That means we must spend the night in the forest," Vitarius said.

Conan shrugged. There was nothing to be done. But as they pa.s.sed the root ball of the fallen tree, he noticed the freshness of the moist soil still clinging to the roots. The giant tree had fallen but recently. That seemed somewhat odd, since there had been no storms since they'd left Mornstadinos. .

A thirty-minute ride brought the group to a spot where a sandbar could be seen stretching across the stream. The bed was wide, but the water flowed no faster than at the ford by the downed tree. "Here," Conan said. He directed his horse toward the water's edge.

"Conan, wait," Vitarius said. He pointed across the river at a tree that grew near the bank.

Conan looked at the tree. It was oddly shaped, looking more like a thorn bush than a tree for all that it was ten times the height of a man. And the thorns were fair-sized as well. There was some kind of litter on the ground around its base. The Cimmerian squinted, and saw what the litter was: bones. The skeletons of at least half a score animals ranging in size from muskrats to something as large as a big dog. What-?

Vitarius dismounted and removed an empty wineskin from his gear. He waddled to the water's edge and immersed the skin in the flowing stream. Bubbles rose to the surface.

"What are you doing'?" Conan asked.

Vitarius rose and capped the skin. He had trouble holding the heavy bag up. "Can you throw this across the stream to the base of the tree?"

The Cimmerian dismounted and hefted the water-filled bag. "I think so,"

Conan said. "Why?"

"Do it, and see."