The Conan Compendium

by Various Authors

  The running selkie pulled the pouch from his belt and tied it securely around his neck. The pouch bounced on his chest, cracking away more mud, but the weight of the Seed within was the important thing.

  Kleg leaped the line of fire, felt it scorch his legs, and came down not on flat ground but on a piece of red-hot iron, some kind of brace from the dock. He was not prepared for the misstep, and his left ankle twisted. He heard a pop in his ankle and knew he had done some damage.

  His next step told the tale. When he put his left foot to the ground again, he fell. Some ligament had torn and his ankle would not support his weight.

  Behind him, the barrel of pitch exploded, slinging globs of fire out in a fountain. One bit of pitch landed on Kleg's right boot. Desperately he pulled the boot off and flung it away as he managed to come up to a one-legged stance on that same foot.

  The water was only a few spans away. He hopped.

  A river of burning pitch flowed toward the selkie. He glanced backward and saw more barrels of the stuff starting to burn. If they all went up at once, he would be bathed in the boiling tar!

  Kleg hopped for all he was worth.

  The barrels blew apart behind him, but he was already diving into the cool safety of the lake when the sheet of deadly pitch arced toward him. When the tar splashed into the water, Kleg was half a span deep and still diving.

  He began the Change, and in a matter of moments, he had no more worries about what dangers the land might offer. He was long, sleek, and deadly, and aside from a sore fin on his left side, had never felt better in his life.

  That which had been manlike bared its teeth in a fearsome grin and swam once again in the waters of its birth.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  Conan rowed the small boat to the sloping edge of the weed. When the bow struck the plant, it was as if they had hit solid ground.

  The four of them climbed out of the boat onto the mat, and Conan found that indeed the substance seemed very solid. The leaves he saw lay curled tightly against the vinelike runners. Those finger-thick strands of the material, easily visible in the light of the burning village, ran back and forth in a kind of tight weave that supported Conan's weight with a spongy consistency much like damp forest ground covered with leaves and humus. The plant had a distinctly sour, almost fishy odor.

  Several boats in the water still moved toward the Sargasso, but none came near where Conan and his friends stood. There might have been other survivors already on the strange weed, but the surface was uneven, rising up into small hillocks here and there, forming shallow trenches in other places, and he did not see anybody else. What an odd thing this Sargasso was.

  Conan turned back toward the village, which was now engulfed in its entirety in raging fire. Even where the flame stopped short of the water, the heat must be of killing intensity, to judge from the hot wind that reached him here, hundreds of spans away. If anything still lived within the confines of what had been the village of Karatas, surely it would soon be charred beyond recognition.

  As he watched, a great spinning column of fire formed and twisted across the beach, twirling and sending sparks high into the air.

  Aye, they had been blessed with good fortune. Many had not been so swift or so lucky.

  After a few moments observing the conflagration, Conan turned to Cheen. "It would seem that our quest has ended. If your magical talisman was there"-he pointed at the village"then surely it is destroyed. I am sorry."

  Cheen turned away from the fire, and for an instant Conan mistook her action for grief.

  "No," she said. "The Seed is not destroyed."

  Conan looked at her, puzzled.

  She turned slightly to her right, then her left. She glanced downward. "At least one thief must have escaped. I can feel the presence of the Seed yet," she said, "but it is moving away. There." She pointed at the Sargasso beneath them.

  Conan's hand stole quickly to the hilt of his sword, then stopped when its master realized there was no threat. "In the weed?"

  "Underneath it. The selkies must still have it. One of them swims away from the fire with it. There."

  Conan nodded. This was some kind of magic, Cheen's ability to know such things, and he liked it not. Still, he believed that she spoke the truth.

  The Cimmerian turned toward Tair. "Your sister says the Seed survives. If we are to retrieve it still, we shall have to cross this weed after it."

  Tair nodded. "Aye. Well, never let it be said that Tair was frightened of a treacherous plantscape and its denizens, not to mention the evil wizard who controls them. I shall follow the thieves to the earth's bowels if need be."

  "And I too," the boy added.

  Conan looked at the vast expanse of Sargasso, lit here by the flickering orange of the dying village, but invisible farther out into the lake and night. Well. He had come this far; another day or two would hardly matter.

  "I am with you," he said.

  Tair grinned. "Good. Between the two of us, the Mist Mage's beasts will be as nothing."

  Conan could not repress his own grin. He was glad Tair thought so, though his own experiences had taught him to be more cautious in making such statements; still, you could not fault the man's bravery.

  "I think perhaps we should wait until daylight before beginning our trek," Conan said.

  "Aye," Cheen said. "You are wise."

  Conan smiled again. Wise? Hardly. A wise man would likely never have begun this quest. Then again, he had never claimed wisdom. Plenty of time to develop that when his hair turned the color of high mountain snow, his eyes grew dim, and his ears became dulled like an old and rusted blade.

  If he lived that long.

  The Queen of the Pili and her young trooper left their small boat and began immediately looking for a place to conceal themselves. Blad, as usual, did not comprehend the reasons for their actions, and Thayla was beginning to tire of explaining things to him.

  "We are alone, you have lost your spear, and we have nothing to protect ourselves save our knives. Suppose for an instant that you are one of the residents of that torched village yon, huddled here with others of your kind. You did see the other boats?"

  "Aye, mistress, but I fail to see-"

  "You are no doubt most miserable," she continued over his interruption, "and having lost everything you own, might be feeling more than a little anger along with your sorrow. So you see two unarmed Pili, one of whom is a beautiful female; what might you consider doing to them in your sorrow and rage, were you a man among a group of men?"

  She watched as the thought worked its way through Blad's mind. Slowly.

  "Ah," he said. "I see."

  "Good that you-,do. Now find us a place of concealment until we can determine who else inhabits this stinking weed."

  Blad cautiously led his queen toward a flat-topped hill not far from where they had landed the boat. As they rounded the tangle of growth, they saw a figure crouched in the shadows next to the hill's base. Blad drew his knife.

  "Thayla? Is that you?"

  The voice was unmistakable, the figure impossible to deny even in the darkness, and Thayla's shock was great and her thoughts near panic. So it was that the Queen of the Pili found her husband, the King of the Pili.

  Blad put away his knife. "Milord!"

  Thayla ground her teeth as the young fool looked from Rayk back at her, his guilt at having lain with her shining forth from his face like a torch. She had told him that Rayk was most likely dead.

  "What are you doing here?" Rayk moved into what starlight the patchy clouds allowed to pass and looked at his wife.

  "My lord husband! How happy I am to see you

  Thayla pushed past the openmouthed Blad and embraced her husband, pressing herself tightly against his body and working her fingers against the muscles of his back.

  "Thayla . . . ?"

  She dropped her hands lower and pressed his hips toward her own, moving suggestively. "My husband, I thought perhaps you had perished!"

&nb
sp; "I very nearly did. But-but-how-why . . . ?"

  Thayla's mind worked quickly. She pulled back from her embrace, but kept her hands on her husband's shoulders, gazing lovingly-she hoped it appeared so-into his face. She had to spin a believable tale, and in a hurry.

  "A band of Tree Folk attacked our home," she said, glancing peripherally at Blad.

  The young Pili stood there, openmouthed still.

  "They had with them several barbarian warriors, the like of which I have never known." Well, that was partially true. She had never been with anyone like Conan before.

  "We fought them off and pursued them."

  "You did? Yourself?"

  She drew herself upright. "You did not marry a weakling, Rayk."

  He nodded. "How true."

  "We chased them as far as the Tongue River, and there we saw bodies, fishmen and Pili."

  "Yes, yes, we slew them as we crossed the river. Many of our own were lost in the fight."

  "I was so concerned that I had to find you," she said. "I feared for your safety, husband."

  She watched his face as he assimilated her tale. He nodded, and Thayla breathed a small sigh of relief.

  "We have had our own troubles," he said. "A monster attacked us, we lost the fishman with the talisman-I think he still had it-and then the fire . . ."

  "Where is the rest of your troop?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "Who knows? I found myself alone in a boat at the water's edge, then here. I have seen no more of them. What of your own group?"

  "Only Blad here remains." She nodded at the young Pili. "He has been most brave in defending me."

  Rayk looked at Blad, who had finally managed to close his mouth. "I shall see him rewarded once we return home."

  She was safe! Likely as not, Conan was dead, cooked to a crisp in the blazing village. If he had survived the fire somehow, he was out here somewhere. Once they headed back to the desert, they would never see him again.

  "Then as soon as the fire dies down, we can go?"

  He frowned at her. "No, of course not. We have not recovered the magical talisman. I am sure the fishmen have taken it to the wizard's castle, in the center of the lake. We must go there and see."

  "Are you mad? The smoke magician will turn us into jelly! We cannot face that!"

  Rayk shook his head, and his face bore that insufferably stubborn look she had grown to hate over the years. "Most of our men have died. We must have the talisman to survive, now more than ever. Do you not recall what you said on the matter?"

  "But . . . that was then. It is different now-"

  "No," he said, cutting her off. "It is the same. We must find a way to reap some profit from this disastrous venture. Our numbers are too small to survive without help."

  Thayla stared at him, aghast. Oh, no! If Conan were out on this weed somewhere, there was still a chance they might meet! And even if they did not, to face the Mist Mage was suicide!

  As her mind scrabbled to find a way out of this new danger, Rayk smiled and pulled her against him. "I have missed you greatly," he said. "Come and let us find a comfortable spot to lie down." He handed his spear to Blad. "Stand watch," he ordered. "The queen and I have things to, ah . . . discuss privately."

  Thayla felt his hand at the small of her back, urging her away from Blad, who now glared at his king with sudden jealousy and hatred. Rayk did not notice Blad's expression, however, intent as he was on other things.

  By all the Gods, were all males so stupid the world over?

  Thayla looked over one shoulder at Blad and raised her finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. The young Pili turned away in anger.

  How wonderful the world was. One more problem she did not need.

  Kleg swam, full of power, through the dark waters, along familiar tunnels through the thick roots of the Sargasso. Light from the moon and stars and even the sun itself never penetrated to this place, but he could see and sense his way quite easily. Uncounted numbers of tiny plants lined the sides of the tunnels, plants glowing with a cold inner fire that produced a pale bluish green light. And even had the plants not done so, a Changed selkie had organs that allowed a kind of vision in almost total darkness. Kleg could not have said how this sense worked, but it gave him an awareness of anything living for nearly the same distance as he could see on land under the stars. The larger the creature, the more aware of it Kleg became.

  At the moment Kleg was most glad to have such a sensing mechanism, because he was aware of something following him. Something very large indeed, larger than he in his Changed form was, and not far behind. Fast as he was and traveling at top speed, Kleg could not outswim his pursuer, and that worried him greatly. He had a suspicion as to what the thing was following him. The same beast that he had seen in the village. Whatever its intentions, the selkie was not enthralled with the idea of allowing the thing to catch him.

  Kleg knew he could not maintain his current speed for long, that he would tire and have to slow. Whether the thing behind him had to do likewise was another question he did not care to risk his life upon. So-what was he to do? He could continue to swim until exhausted, a thing that would happen long before he reached the safety of the castle. He could turn and fight, and despite his present powerful form, he had few doubts about how that would end. He could try to talk to the monster. Ho, what a choice that was!

  So, what was to be done?

  The glimmering of a fourth idea began to shine inside the selkie's head. His injured foot had been greatly healed by his Change-small wounds were usually cured completely by the process for some reason-and were he to return to his manlike form, the ankle would hardly trouble him at all.

  He could not outswim the beast in the water, but perhaps he could outrun it on the weed? Big as the thing was, it would find the going harder on the Sargasso than would a man, surely. There were places where the weed was as treacherous as a swamp, full of danger, but perhaps Kleg could use that to his advantage. Certainly there were more places to hide than in a narrow tunnel. All in all, being on top of the weed seemed at least marginally safer than swimming under it, at least at the moment.

  Yes. There were places where the tunnel sent side branches toward the surface. Kleg would find one of them and use it, and perhaps leave his pursuer behind. Mayhap it was not the best thing to do, but it seemed to be the least dangerous option he had at the moment.

  The Prime selkie swam onward, searching for his escape.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  Dimma floated about his throne room, angry, but not uncontrollably so. His selkies should have returned by now. They must have met with some difficulties; like as not, that fire on the far shore had something to do with them. He resisted the idea he had formed earlier, to send more of the lake's thralls to search for Kleg and his brethren. The eels and the sirens would keep any intruders from water and weed, and the Kralix would find the Prime selkie, alive or dead. He did not worry over the safety of the sexless monster. It would take a mighty warrior to disable the beast, much less kill it.

  So, what was to be done?

  Nothing more than he had already initiated. To send forth an army of lake creatures would serve no purpose. Did Kleg survive, he would return, and if he did not live still, the Kralix would find whatever was left and bring it back. Simple enough.

  Over the centuries, Dimma had learned patience, though he had done so grudgingly. Once he attained the flesh again permanently, he could indulge himself. Until then the most reasonable course was simply to wait.

  Though it was the wisest way, Dimma did not have to like it, however. Best that his Prime selkie have a very good excuse for being tardy when he did arrive. A very good excuse indeed.

  Came the dawn, and the fire still burned upon the hapless village, though much diminished in intensity. What remained standing of Karatas was little: a few stone chimneys had survived the heat, but little else.

  Conan had arisen with the coming of daylight, and he and his three companions saw clustered on the wee
d others who had survived the fire's wrath. Knots of men, women, and children gathered here and there, most still watching the burning of what had been their homes.

  "Ho, look there!" Tair said, pointing.

  Two men came toward them, and Conan's sharp blue eyes recognized them as Tree Folk from Tair's group. Of those who had accompanied Cheen, there seemed to be none left.

  Cheen and Tair went to greet the two survivors. Hok moved to where Conan stood. "Are we going to the wizard's castle, Conan?"

  "Aye, so we are."

  "Will there be danger?"

  "Likely."

  The boy appeared to consider this for a moment. "Well, probably he does not eat people."

  Aye, Conan thought, but his experience with wizards had shown him that those who dabbled in magic could, and often did, do worse than simply eating people. He did not speak this aloud, however. No point in worrying the boy further.

  Tair and Cheen returned with the two men of their tribe.

  Tair said, "Ah, such tales these tell. They speak of a giant beast who seems part frog, a beautiful lizard woman, and they claim also to have seen one of the selkies. Such boasting!"

  Coming from Tair, the accusation of braggadocio was amusing. But Conan fastened upon the sighting of the lizard woman. He asked the men about it.

  "Aye, a blue-skinned beauty she was," one of them said. He was short, stubby, and darkskinned. Conan recalled his name as Stead. The other man, taller and more fair, was named Jube.

  Stead continued. "Had another with her, a male, young looking, but full-grown. We would have followed them, but the fire drove us in different directions."

  Conan considered this news. The Pili woman was most likely the same one he had met in the caves. It had not been an unpleasant experience overall, but he did not think she was here to thank him for it. No, if Pili women were like those of his own kind, they did not take kindly to being left abruptly without warning or explanation. Like as not, she and her companion had perished in the fire-Conan had seen no signs of any Pili on the weed after their arrivalbut a man could never be faulted for vigilance. He would stay alert.