Conan the Rebel

by Poul Anderson

  X

  A Night in Khemi

  Falco sat up in bed with a start. The big man who had shaken his shoulder let go and loomed over him. Light from candles sconced in the hall came dimly through open doors; Conan's eyes, catching it, burned like blue torches. 'On your feet, lad,' the Cimmerian said. 'We're bound out of here.'

  'But – but – what -' Falco stuttered.

  'I'll tell you later, if we outlive the next few hours. We've got a dead guard on this floor, but we'll need to make more as we go along.'

  Falco hunched away. 'No,' he protested. 'This is lunacy. Have you forgotten what the lady Senufer promised?'

  Conan spat. 'I will explain what her promises are worth, when I get the chance. Now come, for Crom's uncaring sake! We don't have time to jabber.'

  Resolution congealed in the Ophirite. He sat straight amidst the sheets and said, 'No. Do what you like, and I will wish you well though I doubt if anything can save you. But I am not leaving Senufer whom I love and trust.'

  Conan glowered. 'Why, you white-livered pup! What is your I oath worth, that you gave to your king? You are the one who can t bring him warning of what Mentuphera. plots against him. The rest of us would scarcely be let into his court, let alone believed. Stay, then, and be a lapdog.'

  Falco doubled his fists and bit his lip till blood ran. In a I convulsive motion, he swung feet to floor and rose. 'I am sorry,' he said in a voice that wavered. 'You are right about my duty to – to try.'

  'Much better. Get dressed. Quickly!'

  Falco drew on tunic and foot gear. 'Do you actually imagine we I can break free? How in the world?'

  'By what I have used thus far, surprise and speed. I paid attention while they brought me here. Did you not?'

  Falco made no answer. Staring beyond his companion, he whispered, 'I will return to you, Senufer, if I live – return to you bringing peace between our nations, O my darling.'

  Conan snorted and led the way forth, to unlock Jehanan's door. The Shemite slept restlessly, tossing and muttering in nightmare. When Conan shook him awake, he gasped and flailed about.

  'Easy, fellow,' the Cimmerian said. 'Save that for the Stygians.'

  Jehanan sat up. 'You are loose, you two?' he marvelled without gladness. 'What will you do?'

  'Get you and me back to Bêlit, for a start. I told you earlier I have a boat tucked away, and the traitor who knew where she lies is dog meat. We shall have to fight clear of this kennel first, but -'

  Jehanan slumped. He shook his head. 'What is the use?' he mumbled.

  'Name of Ymir!' Conan exploded. 'What gutless wonders I am among, that I must talk them into seizing their freedom? If nothing else, man, don't you want to kill Stygians?'

  Jehanan's back stiffened. 'There is that left in life,' he said slowly. 'Very well.'

  'Dress, then.' It wrung Conan's heart to see how the other must fight agony with every movement as he got out of bed. 'Come over here, Falco,' the barbarian directed, turning his back and taking the youth's elbow. 'We should decide what equipment we can improvise.'

  Remembering Bêlit, he took a glass decanter, smashed the bottom against a table, and gave the Ophirite the jagged remnant to hold by the neck. Muscles stood forth in his limbs, cable-thick, when he wrenched a leg from the same heavy piece of furniture. He tucked that club under an arm, loosened his sword belt, and handed the metal weapon to a now-clad Jehanan. 'You Shemites favour sword blades,' he remarked. 'You ought to do right well.'

  Sombre anticipation touched the ruined countenance, and the scarred frame moved more smoothly after having been used a little. 'Let us be off,' said Bêlit's brother.

  'We have the girl left,' Conan reminded. 'If nothing else, she

  deserves a chance to dare this, too.'

  Daris of Taia must have roused when the key turned in the lock on her door. As the Cimmerian entered, she came bounding into; the main room from her bedchamber. Her naked form was' leopard-lithe; the dark hair rippled behind at her speed. She saw him, stopped in mid-career, and reached out. Eyes blazed, teeth flashed. 'Have you broken loose?' she cried. 'O Mitra, oh, wonder!' 'We are on our way.' Even now, Conan found himself admiring the sight before him. She seemed quite unaware of her nudity. 'If you wish to come along, get dressed fast.'

  'Not in a gown meant for a rich man's plaything,' she scoffed.! 'Let me go to – yes, to your place, Falco, and find a proper tunic. I. won't be a minute.'

  She was as good as her word. Returning, she still revealed shapeliness of leg, for the garment was a trifle short on her, and the hard-soled feet were still bare. She had also found a leather belt with a heavy bronze buckle. 'I shall have a use for this,' she said almost merrily.

  Conan grinned back at her. 'A soldier and three tavern brawlers, I eh? I thought you might use yonder crossbow, though.' They had emerged in the hall, and he pointed toward the corpse.

  'For a single shot, if you like. But thereafter we shall be in a melee, true?' Daris did pause to retrieve and make ready the bow, while she observed: 'Suddenly you speak Stygian. Much that is strange has happened this night, and I think much more will yet.' ' 'Silence,' Conan warned, and led the way to a stairwell. Progress down the murky stone flights was slow, for caution. At each landing the barbarian stopped, listened, finally peered down, before he waved his followers on. The first two floors below appeared empty, perhaps because nobody else was currently detained under the conditions granted him. Farther down, -however, was considerable activity, both penitential and military night watches would not consist of a single man. Twice Conan gestured his party to a halt and let feet go by. Given such care, the escapees at last reached ground level undetected.

  The stairway debouched on a hall. No person was in sight, but a few sounds drifted through its hollowness. On the right, Conan remembered, it led to a large anteroom where guards stood at the main door. He could not be sure how many they numbered at this hour, but he had counted ten when he came by earlier, and doubtless plenty more were in earshot. What was to his left, he had MO idea. He might find a safer exit, or he might get lost in a labyrinth or otherwise come to grief.

  He needed but a second to abide by the provisional decision he had already made. Crom favoured, if he did not actually help, the bold. Conan turned right. He broke into a noiseless run.

  At the ends of the passage, he did not pause to look everywhere around, nor did he waste breath in a shout. He continued his charge, on across bare stones to the squad, whose helmets, cuirasses, and pike heads glimmered. The vaulted ceiling outranged the light of scattered lamps, but bats darted in and out of the shadows up there. From the muraled walls, beast-headed gods and the Great Serpent himself cast menacing looks. Acrid incense burned below them.

  The sentries were indeed ten, Conan saw, At glimpse of him, they called out and moved into tight formation, swords and shields in front of pikemen. From behind Conan, the crossbow went snap. Daris's aim was true; a Stygian clanged to the pavement, the bolt standing deep in his face. Daris whooped.

  Conan reached the nine foemen who were left. Pikes thrust at him. He swung his club through a whirring arc that battered one aside, knocked the point of the other down against the floor and splintered its shaft. Then he was too close to be speared, hard against the short sword wielders. A man stabbed from around a shield – and screamed as the club broke his arm. Conan struck the helmet beside it so that metal rang. The user staggered back. That exposed a leg for Conan to break.

  The formation dissolved in chaos. Jehanan's blade rattled on another. Armoured, the Stygian forced the Shemite to give ground. Daris' belt flew, the buckle took the soldier across the eyes, he let his defence slip aside and Jehanan pierced his throat. Falco bounded about, too swift to hit, darted in whenever he saw a chance, and used his glass to frightful effect. Conan raged everywhere, cracked the neck of the pikeman, snatched the weapon for himself, employed butt and point alike. Blood made slippery? the floor.

  More guards came into view from the archways at either end of th
e anteroom. Conan had hoped they would not arrive so soon, in I such numbers. 'Get that door open, you!' he roared.

  Side by side, he and Jehanan held off the survivors of the squad while Falco, his glass now shattered, and Daris struggled with a ponderous, chain-secured latch. The newly arrived Stygians milled about in the background. Most were unarmoured and all were astounded. Their confusion would not endure past a minute or two. Conan smote, Bêlit's brother thrust, forgetful of pain in his battle ardour.

  The portal creaked. A breath of night screamed through to the foetor inside. 'Out!' Conan bawled. He stood fast while his- comrades left. An officer cried, 'Kill him!' and led a band in attack. The Cimmerian hurled his pike and skewered the man. A lamp flickered on a stand nearby. The barbarian flung that and its! burning oil on the next Stygian who headed a party. Both charges! faltered. Conan slipped through the door and caught up to his own folk.

  The moon had risen high enough to drench the street in cold brilliance. Conan thought that nonetheless he could outrun pursuit until he was lost to sight. He might have done that, and Daris' beside him, but they soon realized that Falco and Jehanan could I not match them. By unspoken agreement, they slowed. A glance rearward showed a swarm of guardsmen following.

  Conan thought of ducking into some black, tortuous lane such as met the avenue here and there, and shaking off the enemy in the ' warren beyond. But no. Neither he nor any of his band knew this I accursed town to speak of. They would blunder about lost while the Stygians spread out a human net that must inevitably close on them.

  The waterfront offered a slight chance, maybe. He had seen a little of it when he entered. 'This way,' he rasped.

  Stone sphinxes and inscribed stelae glimmered on either hand, unreal in the moonlight. A few times a belated passer-by saw the chase and fled.

  Stateliness yielded to bulky warehouses, deserted at sundown, between which rats scuttered. Ahead, Conan glimpsed masts aloft from wharfs and moon-glimmers deceptively lovely on he stream. Lanterns bobbed, carried by a squad of harbour police. Conan eased his pace. Now it might be possible to elude the enemy by darkened ways.

  Behind him, a trumpet clamoured. The notes were not music, hey were long and short blasts of varied pitch. 'Stygian army code,' Daris panted. 'Surely they warn all warders hereabouts against us.'

  'We shall be surrounded,' Falco groaned.

  'At least we can find a spot to make a stand that will cost them,' Conan said.

  'No,' Jehanan replied, through his heavy breath and the thud of his trotting feet. 'If we can get by them at this end before they cordon us off, I know where we can shake them.'

  'Huh?' Conan grunted. Hope crackled anew in his breast.

  'The old tombs and quarries below the Grand Pyramid,' Jehanan said. 'They are a jumble, and feared. None go there save slaves like me, by day, who dig what limestone is left to take. I have come to know them a bit, trudging across them to my toil.'

  The hope froze in Conan. A prickling went along his spine, and the sweat of his efforts felt suddenly chill. 'Are they not haunted, those?' he muttered.

  Falco showed cheer. 'Better the risk of a ghoul than the certainty of being caught,' he said. Action had roused his natural boyish exuberance, and for the time being set aside obsession with his love. She was doubtless denied to him anyway, after what had happened, unless and until he returned in some official capacity. Moreover, as a literate aristocrat of a civilized, practical-minded region, he bore scant awe of the supernatural.

  Daris, half-barbarian, had herself been taken aback. She rallied and said dauntlessly, 'If that is the road home, so be it.'

  Yes, Conan thought, if he must fight through graveyard horrors to regain Bêlit, he would. The lanterns of the harbour police were drawing nearer and their bearers heeded the trumpet. Arms and armour sheened visible. Dark under moonlight, the soldiers from

  the keep likewise approached at a flagging but dogged run.

  'Lead on,' Conan ordered, around a tightness in his gullet. Jehanan nodded and spurted ahead.

  At an alley, which two buildings walled in blackness, he turned. The party linked hands to follow. He brought them, surely more by sense of direction than knowledge, through several tangled passages and out by a watchtower at the edge of the flanking wall. Moonlight flooded them again. Stones clattered, sand gritted under their feet. They were beyond the city. It sheered sable above them. Jehanan ran slantwise over ground which sloped sharply from those ramparts toward the broad, gliding, moon-polished River Styx. The Grand Pyramid's mass hove in view, ghostly in that luminance, seeming almost to float under a sky where a few-stars gleamed.

  A brazen tone clove the night silence. Conan looked over his. shoulder. Lanterns gleamed firefly-like. Had his group been seen from the tower maybe? More lanterns came from behind the half- wall..

  The terrain across which he sped grew rough, treacherous,! pocked and skeleton-white. Pits yawned on every hand. Shadows cast by huge, tumbled blocks made them hard to identify before I one fell over an edge. Jehanan skipped like a mountain goat; somehow he had mastered the ceaseless torment that would have crippled most men altogether. Daris fared still more nimbly. Conan saw Falco trip again and again, often nearly going into a hole. He joined the Ophirite and lent a guiding clasp. A remote part of him felt glad that this added trouble kept him too busy to dread demons.

  Halloos lifted. Stygians had reached the rugged stretch. They ventured forward slowly and clumsily, but their officers screamed commands that did send them onward.

  Jehanan beckoned. An excavation was at his feet, wide enough for moonbeams to reach its depth. He went on all fours and groped his way down a rough slope. His friends came along. Stones tumbled free, a sound like dry bones. Conan fought not to shudder. I At the bottom, Jehanan scouted among boulders and sharp ridges I until he found what he sought and vanished. His followers crawled over the same barrier as he had done, and saw before them a low, oblong structure of chiselled blocks. Its entrance gaped open on murk. Conan clenched his teeth and crept into the ancient tomb with the rest.

  After his pupils had dilated, he found that barely sufficient light was reflected that he was not altogether blind. 'To me,' echoed Conan's hoarse whisper. The Shemite stood, a blot of darkness, in the centre of some object. When he got there, touch more than sight told Conan what it must be – a lidless sarcophagus, plundered ages since.

  The four crawled into it and lay huddled close. The barbarian felt something hard against his ribs. His fingers traced a curve, Moles, teeth: a human skull. The olden owner's? Scarcely, after millennia. Besides, he brushed shreds of flesh. Some creature had brought the head here to devour, be-like from a recent grave elsewhere. What kind of beast or being?

  Voices called back and forth, feet scrambled, metal clanked. The Stygians had attained to this area and were casting about in search. Conan thrust aside his qualms and made a warrior's calculation. Ichanan's sword and Daris' belt were the last weapons left to his hand, but the tomb was highly defensible and plenty of rocks lay around to throw or to weight a fist.

  The noise faded away. The enemy had not made as thorough a search as they might have. No doubt dazzling moonlight and inky shadows, in this ripped-up, barren patch of wilderness, confused their vision. But no doubt, also, they were not eager to stay.

  When they were gone, Jehanan said, 'We move again. If we go carefully, mostly creeping, they won't see us. They will come hunting in force at sunrise, I suppose, but by then we can be in a place I know where they cannot find us in less than a month.'

  'A month, waterless?' Conan muttered.

  'If we can endure till tomorrow night, I will lead you out toward the hinterland,' Jehanan promised. 'Then you can guide us to your boat.'

  XI

  The Vessel of the Serpent

  The refuge was a niche or shallow cave near the top of a bluff screened from sight below by a ledge. Sand had blown in to soften the floor a trifle. As night wore on, air grew chill; sleepers huddled together for warmth.
None were free of frequent dreams that made them struggle, moan, and waken aghast. Dawn was infinitely welcome.

  Conan was first to grow quite conscious. He gently disengaged the arms Daris had cast about him in slumber, and slipped outside. Prone on the ledge, he squinted over its rim. The sun, clearing the river, turned stream and eastern sky silver. Black Khemi and dull-hued Grand Pyramid loomed athwart western blueness. Underneath him, the limestone wreckage was pale yellowish and purple-shadowed. He saw troopers clamber about down there in quest of him. Though light winked off their metal, at their distance they resembled ants, and he heard no breach of the stillness around.

  He drew a deep breath and felt memory of nightmares slipping I away. Whatever had brewed them must have slunk back into the tombs. He and his people could get well rested during the day, recover strength in spite of thirst and hunger, and after dark depart. No doubt the Stygians would try to ring this area in, but no doubt there would be gaps in their lines ample for an athletic, determined, I knowledgeably guided party to get through unobserved. If need be, the escapees could crawl for two or three miles over the farmlands beyond, until distance veiled them. Thereafter it would be no long walk to the gig, nor an extremely long sail to Akhbet isle, Tigress, I Bêlit. Conan stretched cramped muscles and smiled.

  Suddenly he tensed. An oath cracked from his lips.

  Out of the harbour, spidery-oared, slipped a war galley. Another followed, and another, and another... In midstream they raised sail, caught a westerly breeze but continued rowing against the tide, and moved off between the headlands enclosing the bay, seaward bound.

  Conan counted them. 'Why, that must be nearly the whole flaming fleet!' he exclaimed.

  His companions, roused by the noise, crowded about him. Where are they going?' Falco cried. 'Has the war on Ophir started?'

  'I much doubt that,' said Conan grimly. 'No, likeliest it is us they arc after.'