The Conan Compendium

by Various Authors

  There was a tangled hillock nearby, and Conan took his leave and approached the growth. Climbing it was not much different from climbing a normal hill covered with thick underbrush. Once he attained the top, he stood and looked around.

  The vantage point gave Conan clear sight for some distance in the early-dawn light. The castle was a low, sprawling affair rather than one weighted with high towers, and he judged he could walk there in a few hours, had it been over level ground. Given the terrain, however, it was hard to say how long it would require to attain the structure. It might take the better part of a day; much depended upon what dangers might lay hidden in the Sargasso, ready to prey upon an unsuspecting traveler.

  In other directions, Conan espied more folk from the destroyed village. He did not see any Pili or selkies, nor did he see any froglike monsters. That was a point in their favor, at least.

  The Cimmerian descended from the hillock and returned to his companions.

  Stead and Jube had not only managed to outrace the fire, but had looted a vendor's stall on the way, and they thus had in their possession a long row of linked sausages, several oiled-paper packets of jerked beef, and even a few loaves of crusty bread. It was to this meal that the six sat before starting their journey. At least they would travel with full bellies, Conan thought, and that was another point in their favor. A hungry man sometimes made mistakes, and he had the idea that to make a mistake in the wizard's domain might well be fatal.

  Conan chewed on a bite of bread and wished he had a cup of good wine to wash it down. He was not afraid of what might lie ahead. After all, he had recently survived a confrontation with Crom Himself-what could be more dangerous than that?

  Thayla's breakfast was a raw fish, taken by Blad's spear. Well, actually, it had been Rayk's spear, but it was now wielded by the younger Pili. The flavor of the fish was not unpleasant, though she would have risked a fire to cook it had it been up to her. The king would have none of that, however, and she had to admit he had a point. He was not altogether stupid when it came to matters of strategy and tactics.

  When the king moved to a clump of weed nearby to relieve himself, Thayla took the opportunity to speak to Blad.

  "What is it?" he asked. His voice was surly.

  "Do not act so foolishly, Blad! He is my husband."

  "So I heard all through the night."

  "It is not him I desire."

  "Oh? You gave a good imitation of it!"

  "Fool! I had to so that he would not suspect that it is you I want for a husband."

  Blad turned to face her, surprise on his features. "Really?"

  So young. And so stupid. Aloud, Thayla said. "Of course. He is old and weak. You are young and strong. How could anyone not prefer you to him?"

  Blad practically preened as he swelled with pride.

  Gods, males were so easy to manipulate. "This is a dangerous undertaking," she continued, "and perhaps the king will not survive it. When we return to our home, I shall choose a new consort." She laid one hand on his shoulder and stroked him briefly. "Whom do you think my new consort will be?"

  "Milady, forgive my stupidity-"

  "Shh. The king returns. We shall speak more of this later. Only know that I am yours, Blad my stalwart."

  As Rayk made his way back from the call of nature, Thayla turned to smile at him. She had both males where she wished them to be. Her sated husband suspected nothing about her and Blad, much less Conan, and if he lived to return with her to the caves, then she would casually mention that Blad had made improper advances toward her during their earlier adventures. Poor Blad would sprout a forest of spears before he could open his foolish mouth.

  Then again, did the king meet with some mishap, Thayla would need a companion to protect her until she could reach safety. Blad would do until then.

  In any event Blad would eventually have to die. He knew she had lied to her husband about the attack on the caves, and of course, he had a much larger secret in his possession, their illicit coupling. Even with the king dead, Blad would know that the queen had been willing to lie with other than her husband, and he could hardly forget that,. even were they to marry. He would always be suspicious that what she had done once she might do again. And rightly so, she knew. So, in any case, Blad could not be allowed to live once Thayla was in a place of safety again. At the moment, however, she preferred to have two devoted males protecting her instead of one.

  "We shall depart immediately," Rayk said.

  "Of course, my lord," she said.

  When the king turned away, Thayla winked at Blad, who smiled and nodded in return.

  The thing dogging Kleg had not slackened in its pursuit, and the selkie was growing tired. He would have to find an exit soon-Abruptly Kleg's senses detected something ahead of him. It danced at the edges of his perception for a moment before he recognized it for what it was. Or, rather, what they were: eels!

  Kleg felt a stab of fear. The eels almost always stayed far down in the lake's depths, where they were no danger to anyone save those bottom fish unfortunate to be touched by them.

  He had touched one of the eels once while in his water form, and the sensation had not been pleasant. The brief contact had caused his muscles to quiver uncontrollably, and had sent a flutter through him that had been hot and cold, a burning, freezing paralysis. A single eel was not a killing danger to a full-grown selkie, but were his senses correct, there were half a dozen at least in his path, and that many did pose a deadly threat. Once an eel had discharged its power, it was helpless for a time; the one that had touched Kleg long ago had found itself bitten in twain as soon as the selkie had recovered sufficiently to do so. But six at once, that was another matter.

  The monster chased him and the eels lay ahead. Had Kleg any doubts about leaving the water for the surface, those doubts were now extinguished like a candle in a windstorm.

  The weed above the swimming selkie was thin, though there were no openings apparent in it. He could wait no longer. In a few heartbeats, there would be a tangle of eels, selkie, and monster, and Kleg did not wish to enjoy that particular gathering.

  Kleg reached deep within himself and found a bit of fear-inspired strength. Using all the power he possessed, he increased his speed to its utmost. He guided himself to the very bottom of the tunnel, so that his ventral fins skimmed the weed. Then Kleg pointed his nose toward the roof of the tunnel and drove for all his worth straight up.

  He hit the roof like a blunt spear, hard.

  The thin weed could not withstand the force of Kleg's impact. The driving selkie tore through the material as a needle pierces cloth.

  Such was his speed and force that Kleg passed through the weed and more than his own body length into the air. He fell back and flopped onto the Sargasso much like a beached fish.

  Quickly, the selkie assumed his man form. He was safe from the eels, at least, and mayhap they would give the monster something to worry over.

  The leather sack and strap had survived the impact and still hung safely around his neck. He was naked otherwise, his clothes having been shredded and lost when last he had Changed, but that did not matter. The air was warm above the weed and he needed no protection from the weather. That was the least of his worries.

  The Prime selkie trotted away from the hole he had torn in the weed, hurrying in the direction of his master's abode. Perhaps the eels would kill the thing chasing him. Perhaps not, but in either case, he was not waiting to see.

  Chapter TWENTY

  Conan led the five Tree Folk across the matted Sargasso, moving cautiously. There were many places where the uneven surface dipped or rose enough to block the Cimmerian's view for any distance, and he avoided these spots as much as possible. Additionally, he had several times put one foot down on patches of weed that started to give under his weight. Only his quick reflexes saved him from falling through the weed into whatever might be waiting in the water beneath.

  They were skirting a wide patch of this thin weed when Chee
n stopped and closed her eyes.

  "The Seed," she said softly. Then, louder, "It is no longer under the water. It is ahead of us, there!"

  She pointed straight ahead.

  Before Conan could stop him, Jube lunged forward. "Where? I will retrieve it!"

  The man only managed three steps before he sank from sight through the weed. "Aahh!" Water sloshed up through the hole he had made.

  Conan moved to the edge of the broken weed and dropped onto his belly to spread his weight. He reached down into the gap. "My arm, take my arm!"

  Jube came up sputtering, thrashing at the water, and shot a panicked hand upward. By some good fortune, he managed to clasp his hand around Conan's wrist.

  Conan had him now. He began to edge backward from the hole, using his feet and free arm. This was a danger averted Suddenly Conan felt sensation grip him, a feeling unlike any he had ever known. It was somewhat like the way his hair sometimes stood on end on a cold and dry day, but that was as close as he could come. His body tingled with a cold fire, his muscles felt as if they belonged to another man, and he convulsed in a spasm that jerked his entire frame, flinging him backward and away from the hole.

  Jube's grip was broken, and well that it was so, for the man's fingers had become with the tingling as powerful as a wooden clamp. The sensation stopped when contact ended.

  Jube screamed, and his body contorted, his arms shaking. For only an instant his shriek lasted, then he slid back into the hole, and the black water covered him.

  Conan was paralyzed; he could not seem to gather his strength to rise. A strange, buzzing sound came from the hole in the weed. After a moment, it stopped.

  Cheen and Tair rushed to help Conan to his feet. Brushing them aside, he arose on his own, feeling shaken but otherwise undamaged.

  "Crom, what was that?"

  He moved back to the hole, carefully, and peered down into it. As he watched, Jube's body floated up to the surface. Tair would have reached for it, but Conan held him back.

  "Nay, hold a moment."

  "He will drown!"

  "Touch him and you may die also. Here, let me have your spear."

  Tair tendered his weapon. Gingerly, Conan prodded the body with the wooden butt of the spear. The sensation he had felt was either gone or did not travel through the wood. He pushed the end of the haft under Jube's leather belt, heaved, and managed to lift the man half out of the water. Another tug, and Jube was clear, lying on the weed.

  Conan released the spear and reached out to touch Jube with one finger, very carefully. Nothing amiss now. He rolled the body over onto its back.

  "He is dead," Cheen said, saying aloud what Conan already knew."

  "Aye."

  "There is not a mark on him, no wound, nothing. How could this be?"

  The man's face was contorted into a grimace that indicated he had died in great pain.

  "He looks just like old Kine did after the lightning hit him," Tair said. "Only his face is not black."

  "Lightning does not strike underwater," Cheen said.

  "Perhaps it does in the wizard's domain," Tair said.

  Conan, meanwhile, had edged back to the hole and now peered into the water. Something was moving under the surface. He raised the spear and suddenly jabbed downward. The point struck something, and Conan flipped it up into the air, slinging it free of the spear. For the brief time that the spear had been in contact with the thing, he felt another of those shivery cold fires dance in his hands, but considerably weaker than before.

  The thing fell onto the weed, and Conan went to examine it, followed by the others.

  "What is it, a snake? Was he bit?" That from the boy.

  Conan squatted next to the wriggling creature, being careful to avoid touching it. It was as long as his arm, and the thickness of his wrist. "Not a snake. An eel."

  In truth, while the thing looked more like such a beast than anything else, it was not exactly like any eels Conan had seen before. Still, the name was as good as any.

  "I have never heard of an eel with poison," Cheen said.

  "I have," Conan said. "But I do not think Jube was bitten. This thing contains some power. Kin to the lightning, perhaps. I think that just touching it is worth your life."

  The eel's wiggling slowed and grew less, until finally it stopped altogether.

  "Well," Conan said, "magic or not, it can be killed. But we had best be certain to avoid falling into the water."

  They all turned to look at the unfortunate Jube.

  Blad led the way, testing the weed with his spear and hesitant steps. Rayk followed, and Thayla was behind him.

  "Husband, I would not have you think me critical-"

  "Hah! "

  "-but," she continued, ignoring his interruption, "what is it you think we are going to do when we arrive at yon castle?"

  "I shall think of something," Rayk replied.

  "That would be a first."

  "Hold your tongue!"

  "Do you perhaps think that you and Blad and I are going to storm the place and wrest from a wizard something he so obviously wants? The three of us?"

  "You try my patience!"

  "Nay, I merely seek answers. I concede the value of the Tree Folk's talisman, but trying to beard the lion in his own den seems less than wise."

  "I said that I will think of something. We must first get there and see the lay of the situation. I shall speak of it no more. And neither shall you."

  He turned away from her, and Thayla stared at his back. By all the Gods, he was a bigger fool than even she had thought. He seemed intent on getting them all killed. Well, that would not do. More and more, it seemed as if Blad was a better choice. When the opportunity arose, she would speak to the young Pili. Convincing him to put a spear into Ray k's back should be easy enough. Then the two of them could turn around and go home. With Rayk dead, things would be a lot easier to manage. He had gotten more arrogant of late, and a more tractable mate was definitely in order. A shame it could not be Blad, since he was already hers, body and soul, but she could hardly trust a male who knew too much, which Blad certainly did.

  Ah, well. There was no help for it. If she wanted to survive, she would simply have to make some hard choices. One could not have everything, though one could certainly try.

  From ahead, there came an eerie wailing sound. It was the cry of some creature, and there was something about it that both attracted and repelled at the same time. Thayla could not recall ever having heard the like. If she had been made to describe it, she would have said the sound seemed to be a lonely creature who was part wolf, part human woman, and part swamp loon. It was not so much a howl as a song, and it made her skin crawl.

  The three Pili stopped.

  "What is that?" Thayla asked.

  "How should I know? You have spent as much time on this smelly plant as have L"

  "Should we investigate?" Blad said.

  Rayk and Thayla spoke together as one:

  "No," she said.

  "Yes," he said.

  "It might be useful to us," the king allowed.

  "And it might have us as its next meal," the queen countered.

  "I feel drawn to see what makes the sound." It was Rayk who said this, but Blad nodded his agreement.

  "Aye, I also feel the attraction," Thayla said, "and that is reason enough to avoid it."

  The two Pili males looked at her as if she had sprouted wings and might fly away at any moment.

  "It sounds like some kind of lure," she said, trying to be patient.

  "How can you know this?" Rayk demanded.

  "I cannot. But I thought you wanted to go to the mage's castle and retrieve the talisman?"

  "Aye, that is true."

  "Then you must decide which it will be. Would you collect the magical device or go chasing off in the weed after some unknown sound that might be deadly?"

  She watched Rayk and Blad look at each other. The sound called louder to them than it did to her, that was apparent. Males
were prey to drives that did not seem to afflict females, and this soulful song dragged insistently at them.

  The king turned to look in the direction of the sound, and Thayla pointed at Blad, catching his attention. She shook her head from side to side, indicating that she did not want to seek the source of the mournful tune calling to them.

  Blad, dull as he was, understood. When the king turned back toward Thayla and her lover, she nodded at the younger Pili male.

  He found his tongue. "Ah, perhaps the queen is right, Majesty. Our goal is the talisman. We could investigate the sound on our way back."

  The king glared at Blad, then at Thayla. He nodded, somewhat reluctantly, the queen thought. "Very well. First we fetch the talisman."

  The three turned away from the sound and proceeded toward the unseen castle in the distance.

  Thayla's brief moment of triumph and satisfaction faded quickly. Going from one unknown danger to another was hardly a thing to inspire a feeling of victory.

  Though better at home in the water, Kleg had spent more than a small portion of his life above it upon the surface of the Sargasso. He knew many of the dangers it held and how to avoid them, and he used that knowledge now as he ran across the living mat. He stayed well away from the large tangles of vegetation, especially those with large gaps in the weave. Those mounds sometimes contained predators, ranging from a ratlike scavenger the size of a dog to cattle-sized crustaceans that could snip a land selkie's arm off with one snap of a pincer.

  Too, there were patches of trap weed scattered here and there, though a careful eye could detect those from the slight change in coloration from the normal surface.

  Whatever it was that dogged his trail was indeed slower upon the weed than under it, and Kleg steadily gained ground upon the thing. He would be tired when he arrived at the safety of the castle, but if things continued as they were, he would arrive there well ahead of his chaser. Kleg managed a smile. This entire affair had been more than he had anticipated, but at last it was nearing the end.

  A distant call reached him, a seductive song that flowed over the running selkie like warm honey.