'1 thought that Ascalante and Gromel could together thwart the insurgents’ eflForts to eross the Alimane; and so they could have, were not Conan in command. Now I must find an abler general for the Border Legion. This needs some thinking on. Count Ulric of Raman has the Army of the North in Gunder-land, watching the Cimmerians. An able conmiander, he; but the moon must wax and wane ere he receives an order and rides the length of Aquilonia. Prince Numitor lies closer on the Pictish frontier, but— "
Hsiao’s tactful knock echoed like a tiny brazen bell. Entering, he said: “A pigeon-borne dispatch from Messantia, Master, newly received by Vibius Latro." Bowing, he handed the small scroll to the wizard.
Thulandra Thuu rose and held the scroll close to one of the huge candles, and reading, pressed his lips together until his mouth became a thin sHt in his dusky face. At last he said:
“Well, Mistress Alcina, it seems the gods of my
SWORDS ACROSS THE ALIMANE
far distant island are careless of the welfare of their favored child.”
“What has befallen now?” asked Alcina, rising to her feet.
“Prince Cassio, quoth Fadius, has sent a messenger from the Rabirian Mountains back to his sire in Messantia. Conan, it seems, fully recovered from an illness that struck him down, has crossed the Alimane and, with the aid of Poitanian lords and peasants, has utterly destroyed the Border Legion. Senior Captain Gromel and his men have deserted to the rebels; Ascalante may have fled, for neither he nor his exanimate body can be found.”
The wizard crumpled the missive and glared at Alcina; and the eyes he fixed upon her burned red with a rage such as she had never seen in any Uving eyes. He snarled: “Betimes you tempt me, wench, to snuff out your miserable life, as a man extinguishes a Hghted candle. I have a silent spell that turns mine enemy into a petty pile of ashes, with never a flame nor a plume of smoke— “
Alcina shrank away and crossed her arms upon her breast, but there was no escape from the sorcerers hypnotic stare. Her body burned as from the Hcking tongues of flame that lapped the open door of a furnace. The magical emanations pierced her inmost being, and she closed her eyes as if to shut out the cruel radiations. When she opened them once more, she threw up her hands to ward off a blow and shrieked hysterically.
Where the sorcerer had stood, now reared a monstrous serpent From its upraised head, swaying on a level with her own, sUt-pupiled eyes poured maleficent rays into her soul, while a reptihan stench inflamed her nostrils. The scaly jaws gaped wide, revealing a pair of dagger-pointed fangs as the great head lunged toward her. Flinching, she blinked again;
and when she ventured to open her eyes, it was Thulandra Thuu who stood before her.
With a crooked smile on his narrow face, the wizard said: “Fear not, girl; I do not wantonly blunt my tools whilst they still possess a cutting edge.”
Still shuddering, Alcina recovered herself enough to ask: “Did—did you in truth take the form of a serpent, Master, or did you but cast an image of reality upon me?”
Thulandra Thuu evaded her question. "I did but remind you which of us is master here and which apprentice.”
Alcina was content to change the subject. Pointing to the crumpled parchment, she asked: “How came Fadius by Prince Cassio’s information?”
“Milo of Argos declared a public celebration, and the reason was no secret. It is plain which side the old fool favors. And one item more: Milo ordered that clodpate Quesado banished from his kingdom, and our would-be diplomat was last seen traveling with an escort of Milo’s household guard along the road to Aquilonia. I shall urge Vibius Latro to set the fellow working as a collector of offal; he is good for nothing else.
“And now, perhaps, our meddlesome mad king will leave affairs of state to me and confine himself to his besotted pleasures. I must ponder my next move in this board game with Fate, wherein a kingdom is the prize. And so, Alcina, you have my leave to go. Hsiao will provide you with food, drink, a much-needed bath, and woman s raiment.”
The league-long glittering river that was the Army of Liberation wound around tree-crowned hills, past fields and steads, and up to the gates of Culario. Conan, in the lead, reined in his black stallion at the sight of the gaping opening. From the gate towers flapped flags bearing the crimson leopards of Poitain;
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SWORDS ACROSS THE ALIMANE
but the black heraldic eagle of Aquilonia was nowhere to be seen. Inside the city walls people lined both sides of the narrow street. In Conan’s agile mind stirred the barbarian’s suspicion of the trickery of civilized men.
Turning to Trocero, who rode a white gelding at his side, Conan muttered: “You re certain it’s not a royahst trap they’ve set for us?”
“My head on iti” replied the count fervently. “I know my people well.”
Conan studied the scene before him and rasped: '‘Methinks I’d best not look too much the conqueror. Wait a Uttle.”
Conon’s Helmet
He unbuckled the chin strap of his helmet, pulled off the headpiece, and hung it on the pommel of his saddle. Then he dismounted with a clank of armor and strode toward the gate on foot, leading his horse.
Thus entered unpretentiously into Culario, nodding gravely to the citizens ranked
CONAN THE LIBERATOH
on either side. Petals of fragrant flowers showered upon him; cheers resounded down the winding corridor. Following him on horseback, Prospero pulled to Trocero and whispered in his comrade’s ear: “Were we not fools the other night to wonder who should succeed Numedides?”
Count Trocero rephed with a wry smile and a shrug of his iron-clad shoulders as he raised a hand in salutation to his fond and loyal subjects.
In his sanctum, Thulandra Thuu bent over a map, unrolled upon a taboret with weights of precious metals holding its edges down. He addressed himself to Alcina, now well-rested from her journey and resplendent in a flowing robe of yellow satin, which climg to her fine-molded body and glorified her raven
“One of Latro’s spies reports that Conan and his army are in Culario, resting from their battle and forced march. In time they will strike north, following the Khorotas to Tarantia.” He pointed with a long, well-pared fingernail “The place to stop them is at the Imirian Escarpment in Poitain, which Hes athwart their path. The only force that has both weight and time enough to accomplish such a task is Prince Numitor’s Royal Frontiersmen, based at Fort Thandara in the Westermarck of Bossonia.”
Alcina peered at the map and said: “Then should you not order Prince Numitor to march southeast with all dispatch, taking all but a small garrison?"
The wizard chuckled drily. “We shall make a general of you yet, good wench. The rider bearing that message in his pouch set off ere dawn.” Thulandra Thuu then measured off distances with his fibgers, rotating his hand as if it were a draftsman’s compass. “But, as you see, if Conan marches within the next two days, Numitor can in no way yeach the escarpment in advance of him. We must cause him to delay.”
SWORDS ACROSS THE ALIMANE
'Yes, Master, but how?'
"I am not unacquainted with weather magic and can control the spirits of the air. I shall contrive a scheme to hold the Cimmerian in Culario. Fetch hither yonder powders and potions, girl, and we shall test the power of my wizardry.”
Conan stood on the city wall beside the newly elected mayor of Culario. The day had been fair when they began their promenade; but now they gazed at an indigo sky across which clouds of leaden gray rolled in endless procession.
“I like it not, sir,” said the mayor. "The summer has been wet, and this looks like the start of another spell. Too much rain can be as bad for the crops as none at all. And here it comesl” he finished, wiping a large drop from his forehead.
As the two men descended the spiral stair that wound around the tower, an agitated Prospero confronted them. ”General!” he cried. “You sHpped away from your bodyguard again!”
“By Crom, I like to get off
by myself sometimes!" growled Conan. "I need no nursemaid looking after me.
"It is the price of power, General,” said Prospero. “More than our leader, you ve become our symbol and our inspiration. We must guard you as we would our banner or another sacred relic; for if the enemy could strike you down, his fight were three-fourths won. I assure you, spies of Vibius Latro lurk in Culario, watching for a chance to slip a poison into your wine or a poniard between your ribs.”
“Those vermin!” snorted Conan.
"Aye, but you can die from such a creatiu'e's sting as readily as any common man. Thus, General, we have no choice but to cosset you as carefully as a newborn prince. These trifling inconveniences you must learn to endure.”
CX)NAN THE LIBERATOR
Conan heaved a gusty sigh. "There's much to be said for the hfe of a footloose wanderer, such as once I was. Let’s back to the governors palace ere this cloudburst wash us all away."
Conan and Prosper© strode swiftly over the cobblestones, the stout mayor panting to keep pace. Overhead, a meandering crack of violet hght cleft the sky, and thunder crashed like the roll of a thousand drums. The rain came down in sheets.
I
THE IRON STALLION
While Poitain writhed beneath the lash of the most violent storm in the memory of Hving men, a benign sun smiled on fair Tarantia. Standing in its salubrious rays on a palace balcony, Thulandra Thuu, attended by Alcina and Hsiao, looked out across the gently rolling fields of central Aquilonia, where simimer wheat was ripening into spears of gold. To the dancer, now young and beautiful once more, with jewels atwinkle in her night-black hair and a gown of clinging satin sheathing her shapely form, the wizard said:
“The wheel of heaven reveals to me that the spirits of the air have served me well. My storm progresses apace; and after it subsides, the southern roads and every ford will be impassable. Numitor hastens from the Westermarck, and I must forth to join him.”
Alcina stared. "You mean to travel to the field of battle. Master? Ishtarl That’s not your wont May I ask why?”
"Numitor will be outnimibered by the rebel forces; and despite forced marches, Uhic of Raman cannot reach Poitain until at least a fortnight after the prince arrives. Moreover, Prince Numitor is but an honest blockhead—doubtless the reason why our knavish king has let his cousin live when he has slain
or exiled all his other kin. Nay, I cannot trust the , prince to hold the Imirian Escarpment until Count ' Ulric arrives. He will require the assistance of my arcane arts.”
The sorcerer turned to his servant, the inscrutable sht-eyed one who had followed him from lands beyond the seas. "Hsiao, prepare my chariot and gather the necessaries for our joimiey. We shall depart upon the morrow.”
Bowing, the man withdrew. Turning to Alcina, Thulandra Thuu continued “Since the spirits of the air have well obeyed me, I shall discover what the j spirits of the earth will do to aid my cause. And you, ^ good wench, I leave here as my deputy."
“Me? No, Master; I lack the skills to take your place.”
“I will instruct you. First, you will learn to use the Mirror of Ptahmesu to commime with me.”
“But we are without the necessary talisman!”
“I can project images by the propellant power of iny mind, though you could not Come, we have no time to waste.”
From the royal paddocks Hsiao led out the single horse that drew his master s carriage. To a casual ^ observer, the animal appeared to be a large black stallion; but a closer inspection of its hide revealed a strange, metallic sheen. The beast, moreover, neither pawed the ground nor lashed its tail at flies. In fact, no flies alighted on it, although the stable yard buzzed with their myriad wings. The stallion stood quiescent until Hsiao uttered a command unintelligible to any who might hear it; then the creature obeyed him instantly.
Hsaio now led the ebon stallion to the carriage house and backed it into the stall where stood Thulandra's chariot When a careless hoof struck
THE IRON STAIXION
Thulondra’t Chariot
against one of the lowered carriage shafts, a metallic ring reverberated through the silent air.
The vehicle, a boxlike two-wheeled cart, lacquered in vermiUion and emblazed with a frieze of writhing serpents worked in gold, was furnished with a seat across the back. A pair of carven posts, upthrust on either side, supported an arched wooden frame, covered with canvas. No ordinary cover this; it was embroidered with strange symbols beyond the ken of all who gazed upon it, save that the astute among them might discern the likeness of the moon and the major constellations of the southern hemisphere.
Into the chest beneath the seat of this singular vehicle, Hsiao placed all manner of supplies, and on the broad expanse above, he piled silken cushions in profusion. And as he worked, he hmnmed a plaintive song of Khitai, full of curious quarter-tones.
Conan and Trocero watched the sheeting rain from the governors mansion. At length Conan
growled: “I knew not that your country lay at the bottom of an inland sea, my lord.”
The count shook his head. "Never in half a century of Hving have I seen a storm of such intensity. Naught but sorcery could account for it Think you Thulandra Thuu— “
Conan clapped his companion of the shoulder. “TTou Aquilonians see magic lurking in every passing shadow! If you stub your toe, it’s Thulandra’s doing. In my dealings with these wizards, IVe seldom found them so formidable as they would wish us to believe… . Aye, Prospero?” he added, as the officer bustled in.
'The scouts have returned. General, and report all roads are utterly impassable. Even the smaUest creeks are bursting into raging torrents. It were useless to send the column forward; they’d not advance a league beyond the city.”
Conan cursed. '^our suspicion of that he-witch in Tarantia begins to carry weight, Trocero.’'
"And we have visitors,'’ continued Prospero. "The northern barons, who set out for home before we reached Culario, have been overtaken by the storm and forced to return hither.”
A smile illumined Conan’s dark, scarred face. "rhank Crom, good news at last! Show them in.”
Prospero ushered in five men in damp wooUen traveling garments of good quality, mud-splattered from top to booted toe. Trocero presented the Baron Roaldo of Imirus, whose demesne lay in northern Poitain. A former officer in the royal army, this hardy, gray-haired noble had guided the other barons and their escorts to Culario and now introduced them to the Cimmerian.
Conan judged the lordlings to be men of divers characters: one stout, red-faced, and full of boisterous good humor; another slim and elegant; still another fat and obviously privy to the pleasures of the table
THE IRON STALLION
and the jug; and two of somber mein and given to few words. Differing though they did among themselves, all heartily supported the rebellion; for their tempers were rubbed raw by Numedides’ grasping tax collectors, and their ancient pride affronted by the royal troops stationed on their demesnes to wrest a yearly tribute from landowner and peasant. They avidly desired the downfall of the tyrant, and their questing gaze sought to discover Numedides' successor, so they might court their future monarch’s favor.
After the barons had rested and donned fresh raiment, Conan and his friends heard their tally of complaints and drew out their hidden hopes. Conan promised Httle, but his sympathetic demeanor left each with the impression that, in a new regime, he would occupy a position of importance.
"Be warned, my lords,” said Conan, “Ulric, Count of Raman, will move his troops across your lands as he travels south to confront our rebel army."
"Vhat troops does that graybeard count command?” snorted Baron Roaldo. "A ragtail lot, ITl warrant. The Cimmerian frontier has long been peaceful and needs but a weak force to keep it safe.’'
"Not so," replied the Count of Poitain. "I am informed that the Army of the North is nearly up to strength and boasts veterans of many a border clash. Indeed, Raman himself is a master strategist who escaped fro
m the sack of Venarium, many years ago."
Conan smiled grimly. As a stripling, he had joined the wild Cimmerian horde that plundered Fort Venarium, but of this he made no mention. Instead, he told the northern barons:
“Numedides will, I doubt not, send troops from the Westermarck; and being nearer, they will arrive the sooner. You must harry these northern contingents in a delaying action, at least until we rout the Bossonian royalists."
Count Trocero eyed the barons keenly. '‘Canst
raise a fighting force without alerting the king’s men stationed amongst you?”
Said Baron Anmiian of Ronda: “Those human grasshoppers swarm only at harvest time to consume the fruit of our labors. They’ll not arrive, the gods willing, for another month or two/'
“But,’' argued the fat Baron Justin of Armavir, “such a conflict, waged on our lands, will ruin both our purses and our people. Perchance we can delay Sir Ulric, but only till he bums our fields, scatters oiu: foUc, and wrecks vengeance on our persons.”
"If General Conan fail to take Tarantia, we are beggared in any case,” countered the hard-featured Roaldo. “Word will soon reach the tyrant’s spies that we have joined the rebel cause. Better to game for a golden eagle than for a copper penny.”
“He speaks sooth,” said Ammian of Ronda. “Unless we topple the tyrant, we shall all have our necks either lengthened or shortened, no matter what we do. So let us dare the hazard, and from encompassing dangers boldly pluck our safetyl”
At last the five agreed, some with enthusiasm, others doubtfully. And so it was decided that, as soon as the weather cleared, the barons would hasten northward to their baronies, like chaff blown before an oncoming storm, to harass Count Uhic’s Army of the North when it sought passage through their property.
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