Conan and the Manhunters Read online

  'I think we should split up,' Osman said, 'each to go his own way. That way, we will avoid pursuit the better. Then, when all alarm has died down, we can gather here once more, with pack animals to bear away our share.'

  'No!' Ubo shouted. 'You say that because you want to sneak back here aforetime and take more than your fair share, you greedy cur! I say we all stay together until we return. I'll not trust a one of you out of my sight until our loot is divided fairly!' Many growled assent at these words.

  'Well, it is not the safest, but perhaps it is the best,' Conan allowed. 'That leaves the problem of where to go. Torgut Khan will have patrols out in all directions, but they will be thinnest in the desert. I say we head for the Iranistan border. We can lie low there for a while, then come back. It should be no great wait. Before long, the king must learn of the theft of his treasure, and then heads shall roll, Torgut Khan's and Sagobal's first among them. A single moon should do it, then we can return from Iranistan with transport for the gold. Does that suit you rogues?' His lion gaze swept them all, taking in the whole group. They met his eyes, resignedly or truculently, but there was no rebellion.

  'Iranistan it is, then,' said Ubo.

  'I shall return to my home,' said Volvolicus, 'there to await you. I shall claim no part of the treasure until you see to its division.'

  'No, you shall come with us!' Chamik said. 'You are one of us for the nonce, wizard. You know where we have cached our treasure, wherefore should we trust you any more than one of our number?'

  'Take care, bandit!' the mage said haughtily. 'I may have played the outlaw these past days, but I am still a sorcerer of power. Do you doubt that I can smite you with fell curses for your insolence?'

  Some of the bandits fell back, terrified by the power of magic, but not the more hard-bitten ones.

  'Curse as you will, wizard,' said Mamos. 'I have survived worse than your spells.' He indicated the rope scar encircling his neck. 'You and the wench ride with us. You get your share when we do.'

  'Aye,' said Ubo. 'It's all together or none, and we settle it right here.' Once again, hands went to hilts, swords were half-drawn.

  'Do not trouble yourself with them, Father,' Layla said. 'Let us accompany them to Iranistan. Your guardian-spells will protect our house while we are away, and you may employ the time conferring with your colleagues in that land.'

  'Who knows?' said Osman with a grin. 'You may find there a new rock, completely unknown to you!'

  The bandits roared with mirth at what was, to them, penetrating wit. Swords were slammed home in their sheaths and good humour was restored all around. They mounted and rode from the canyon by way of the southernmost escape route. As they rode, they passed the wineskins from hand to hand and sang or told ancient tales. Out of immediate danger, they knew themselves to be rich men. What was the turning of a single moon, more or less? They even passed the wineskins to Volvolicus and Layla, regarding them now as a part of the hand.

  'Is it always thus with such men?' Layla asked Conan when the two of them rode a little ahead of the others. 'Challenge and fight and rollicking good-fellowship all at once?'

  'Aye, I have told you the sort of men they are. They lack the social graces, but all are good, reliable fighting-men when the blades are out. You saw how they acted back in Shahpur. Each man performed his task though his life were forfeit. It is only between operations that I must watch out for them.'

  'And you have always lived among such men?' she asked.

  'Not always, but in many places I have known their like: pirates, Kozaki, mercenaries between hires, outlaws of all sorts. They are much alike.'

  'You are not just an outlaw, then, but a professional adventurer?'

  'Aye. I am a wandering man, and never can I abide in one place for long, but must always be up and seeking another land. For me, all sights, however wonderful, pall in time and I must search out new ones.'

  'A man who would live beyond all law must make his own,' she said, musing. Near her, the wizard nodded in his saddle, asleep. She held his reins in her right hand.

  'That is the way of it. Also, he must be strong and quick, or he does not live long.' He turned and gazed to the north-west, as if his blue eyes could pierce thousands of miles and years of time. 'My folk, the Cimmerians, are a people of clan and custom, and always have been so. I was near grown, and already a wanderer, before I ever heard of laws and judges, of courts, juries and prisons. These things seemed a great foolishness to me, so I enjoyed the hospitality of many a magistrate in whose jurisdiction I transgressed.'

  The Cimmerian smiled ruefully. 'In time I came to understand why the common run of men need these things, so that dwellers in cities may do their work and go about their lives in peace, but always I have chafed beneath the yoke of law.

  Most of all, I am enraged by foolish tyrants like Torgut Khan and their hyena lackeys, like Sagobal.'

  'So now you have put paid to those two?' she asked.

  'That remains to be seen. Let us say that the task is well begun.'

  Two days of hard riding brought them to the River Ilbars. Turan claimed the land north of the river, and Iranistan claimed that to the south, although neither nation maintained any sort of significant military presence within several days' travel to either side. The claims were mere legal fictions, since all land had to be claimed by somebody, and no king was ever slow to claim land that did not have someone else's troops and forts upon it. The petty lords of the border usually acknowledged one king or the other as their sovereign, although generations might pass before they were required to render feudal service. The borderlands were more a haven for bandits, raiders and rebels than they were taxpaying provinces.

  'Wizard!' cried Osman as he rode his mount down the gentle bank to the slow-flowing river. 'Can you part these waters, so that we may cross without getting wet?'

  Volvolicus was much recovered from his exertions now. 'Water in its liquid state lacks a crystalline structure. If you will freeze it to ice, I will move it for you.'

  The bandits laughed in appreciation of this sally.

  'It would be a crime offensive to all the gods to deny you men the chance for a bath,' Layla said. The men roared even louder.

  'Into the water, hounds!' Conan shouted as he galloped down the bank and into the stream, his horse's hooves raising a great spray. Whooping and cheering, the rest followed. The river was not deep, and the horses had to swim only a short distance. Upon the other side, they wrung the water from their clothes and dried their weapons.

  'You wanted to see Iranistan, Chief,' Osman said, oiling the blade of his dagger. 'Well, here you are. What think you of it?'

  'It looks like more of Turan, so far,' Conan said, surveying the monotonous, green-brown landscape. The land along lie river was verdant, but it grew arid just a few hundred paces from the water, and the low hills surrounding were cloaked in brown grass upon which occasional flocks of sheep and goats grazed, proclaiming that the land was not entirely uninhabited.

  This borderland was a narrow, green strip of cultivation between near-deserts, capable of sustaining only scattered herdsmen and villages of subsistence farmers. The people of the land were mostly peasants who spoke a dialect of Turanian mixed with much Iranistani. They were short folk with the look of much inbreeding. They wore black robes despite the prevailing heat, and they wound coils of copper wire through the piercings in their noses. They looked upon the heavily armed strangers with suspicion, but Conan knew that to be the custom of peasants the world over.

  'Are there any towns near here?' Conan asked the band at large.

  'Aye,' said Ubo. 'We've time to pass and a little money to spend, so let us find a place where there is more than sour-faced dirt grubbers to take our silver from us!'

  'South-east of here,' Auda said, 'a day's ride from the river, there is an oasis town called Green Water. It is where several caravan roads cross. It is not large, but it has a fine bazaar and many taverns.'

  'That sounds a good destinati
on,' said Conan. 'A town that earns its keep providing entertainment for travellers is just what we need. Lead on, Auda.' With the desert man in the lead, the band rode off south-east, bright and cheerful at the prospect of some excitement and pleasure at last.

  A few hours later, another band of men rode to the crossing point. First to arrive were a Hyrkanian and a man of Koth. Quickly, they were joined by others, among them an Aquilonian.

  'They crossed here, Chief,' said Urdos. 'Shall we ride after?'

  'No, we ride back to Shahpur,' Berytus said.

  'Why?' asked Barca the Shemite. 'We can catch them in another day or two.'

  'Aye, and then what? They do not have the treasure with them, and that is what we truly need. We are low on supplies and our mounts are half-lame from this hard riding. We can resupply, remount and be back here within five days. Getting here was slow, because we were tracking. A straight ride by' the shortest route will take but a fraction of the time.' With that, he wheeled and rode back north. Casting glances in the direction of the fleeing prey, the others did likewise.

  Beneath the altar of Ahriman, the priests met in conclave within the crypt. Tragthan and Shosq stood over a coffin-like sepulchre of stone. Within it lay purple-faced Nikas, his body nearly halved by Sagobal's sword blow, yet still alive. The huge wound oozed blood, along with less recognizable fluids, and the flesh at his waist, where the great slash ended, showed signs of healing.

  'What is our situation?' Nikas asked, his lips barely moving, his voice as thin as a ghost's.

  'Unknown and perilous,' replied Tragthan. His cowl was pushed back, revealing a face more reptilian than human. His skin was yellowish, and scaly around the eyes and the lipless mouth. The eyes themselves were yellow, and his pupils were narrow rectangles with rounded ends. 'At this time of all times, the men of the outer world have been playing their games of greed and lust. They have profaned our temple and brought worldly magic into our crypt, upsetting the delicate balance of our conjurations. We could face catastrophe.'

  'It was a grave error to allow the satrap to keep his foul gold in this holy place,' Shosq hissed.

  'What would you have me do?' Tragthan demanded. 'It was necessary to allow this in order to get the corrupt swine's cooperation in building Ahriman's temple. I did not guess that Sagobal was using it as bait to catch the robbers, who would come hither amid bloodshed, before we were ready to summon our lord with blood and souls.' He looked around them, his yellow eyes piercing the outer gloom.

  'How fares Umos?' Nikas whispered.

  'Between worlds,' said Shosq. 'Residing neither in our lord's world nor in this.'

  Tragthan and Shosq walked to one of the walls, the wall against which the bandits had forced their hostages to stand. It was utterly black, a black that was not merely absence of colour, but that seemed to suck all colour and light into itself. The surface was almost flat, but in several places it bore irregularities. Upon close examination, some of these resembled human faces writhing in agony and terror. A larger irregularity was in the shape of a man. At first glance, it seemed to be a human form carved in high relief, but closer examination revealed a more ghastly sight: It was as if a man were on the other side of a black membrane, striving to break through into the real world. His face was that of the priest Umos.

  'Umos, can you hear us?' Tragthan called. For a long time, there was no answer, then came words as from a great distance.

  'I hoar you, Brother!' said the distant, wailing voice. 'Our dark lord consumes his sacrifices, the wretched mortals cast in here with me. He hungers for more. Get me out, or find him others that he may sate his hunger upon their souls!'

  'This is an ill thing,' Shosq said. 'It was not the time. We were to draw our lord closer to his worldly altar before feeding him the souls of his victims. He grows stronger and draws nigh in power before we have the time to assure the alignment of planets and stars, before we perform the rites and cast the spells to restore him to his proper self-knowledge.' The priest spoke the words in a rapid, panic-stricken chatter, and he turned to Tragthan with terror shining from his eyes.

  'Tragthan,' he said, 'we could draw into this world a thing that is both mindless and all-powerful!'

  'And if we do that, is it so bad a thing?' said the reptilian priest.

  'What can you mean?' asked Shosq.

  'Are we children to perceive our god as a loving father? Great Ahriman is the lord of destruction, the shatterer of worlds. Even the contemptible cult of Ormazd recognizes that Ahriman must accomplish his act of annihilation, so that kindly Ormazd may rebuild the world, shining and bright. We know that destruction is an end in itself. Destruction is the glory of Ahriman!'

  'But this is not the procedure of ages!' Shosq protested. 'The magic-working of that wizard drew our lord's attention as a lodestone draws iron filings. He took the mortals pressed against his wall for sacrifices. This time...' The priest's voice trembled. 'This time, we may be destroyed as well!'

  'If that be the will and glory of Ahriman,' said Tragthan, 'then so be it!'

  VII

  The bandits crested a line of low hills and rode along the dirt road toward the town that lay in the midst of orchards fringing a spring-fed lake. The place had low walls, now ruinous, but once grand. Obviously, it had been a town of some importance... long ago. Now it was simply a pleasant stop for caravans going from one place to another. Several caravans had their camels, horses, mules and oxen corralled near the trees, where they could benefit from the shade and the water while their owners did their business and their carousing in the town.

  As they rode, the bandits sang, anticipating a fine time for themselves. One by one the voices faltered, and the song died out as each of them realized that something was wrong with the fine vista before them.

  'What is that?' said Osman, pointing. 'That is no caravan.' The sight that gave them pause was an enclosure where more than a hundred horses were secured to picket ropes in straight lines. A number of men stood guard near the beasts,

  and sunlight gleamed from their burnished helmets, their lance-points and their round shields.

  'An army patrol, by Set!' swore Ubo. 'Has Sagobal got here ahead of us?'

  'Even from here, I can see that those men do not wear his livery,' Conan said, 'nor any sort of Turanian uniform. This may be but a patrol of the Iranistani army, perhaps a governor's guard.'

  'An accursed strong patrol,' Chamik said. 'That is half a cavalry wing. And look there!' On the far side of the town, a line of horsemen approached, their banners flying. They passed out of sight behind the walls.

  'There must be another such camp on the other side,' Layla said. 'This place is occupied by an army.'

  'What do we do now, Chief?' Osman asked.

  'Are any of you wanted in this land?' Conan queried. The men looked at each other, shrugging and spreading their hands.

  'It looks as if no ropes await us here, Conan,' said Ubo.

  'Then we ride on in like the innocent little lambs we are. We cannot pretend to be merchants, but if any ask, we will say we are mercenaries looking for work and I am your captain.'

  'What sort of mercenaries?' asked Osman.

  'Irregular cavalry,' Conan told him.

  'They will believe you,' Layla said. 'You cannot ask for cavalry more irregular than this lot.'

  'If we are mercenaries,' Ubo said, 'then who is she?' He jerked his head in Layla's direction.

  Conan grinned broadly. 'Why, she is my mistress. Captains are permitted one.' The men laughed and hooted as they rode toward the town.

  'I'll play the part in public, but not in private, Cimmerian!' Layla announced, to yet more derision.

  First they rode to the lake and dismounted, letting their horses drink, walking them, then letting them drink some more. Nearby, a stone enclosure had been built out into the lake. In it, women and young girls, dressed only in thin shifts, washed laundry, soaking and scrubbing it in stone tubs, then throwing it onto long, low stone tables and beating it with
flat wooden paddles. Some of the bandits began sauntering toward the enclosure, but Conan called them back.

  'Those are someone's wives and daughters,' he said. 'We want to rest here a long time, and we need no disputes with the townsmen. There will be professional ladies in the town to see to your wants. Come, let's find what this place has to offer.'

  They remounted and rode down a paved road lined with tall palms. At its end was a splendid stone gate that stood proudly, although the wall all around and above it was much dilapidated. As soon as they passed through it, they could hear loud music coming from somewhere near the centre of the town.

  'That is more like it!' Conan said. 'Merriment is in progress. Let's go get a share of it!' They rode through the narrow streets and attracted only idle glances from the townsmen. Strangers, even heavily armed ones, were nothing new to them, for travellers were the town's lifeblood.

  Everywhere they looked there were soldiers; men in pointed steel helms with spreading neck-guards of lacquered splints laced with silken cord, wearing short cuirasses of similar construction and steel-plated boots. They walked with the bow-legged lurch of born cavalrymen. Their garments were of padded silk dyed in bright colours, but they had fierce, predatory faces. Most of them appeared to be either drunk or working hard to get that way.

  'These look a bad lot to pick a fight with,' Osman said.

  'Aye,' Conan affirmed. 'For once, I should have little trouble convincing my rogues to step lightly.'

  Like most cities of the arid lands, Green Water was built in the form of a rough square with an open plaza in its centre that served as marketplace, centre of government, and gathering and socializing area for the town, its inhabitants and visitors. As the bandits rode into the plaza of Green Water, they

  saw that it was far grander than they would have expected of so small a town.

  Not only was it broad, but in its centre was a fine fountain whose central spume rose high into the air, to fall back and fill a broad, circular bowl, from which in turn the water cascaded into a rectangular pond in which bright-coloured fish frolicked. Several taverns fronted the plaza, each with an outdoor garden for eating and drinking, and before these were platforms whereon dancers performed to the music of skirling flutes and thumping tambours. Here and there, tall stately palms shaded the colourful tiles that paved the square.