The Conan Compendium

by Various Authors

  Inside the palace proper, Kleg moved along the wide torch-lit corridor. He Who Creates would not likely be found here; torches offering a stirring of the air, that also did not please the master.

  Not far along the corridor, however, there was a peculiar beast sleeping upon a tattered rug. This creature, another of the master's creations, appeared to be kin to wolf and ape, having the body of the former and the head of the latter. He Who Creates had named these things vunds. It was not very intelligent, the vund, but it was fast on its feet and it could repeat simple messages entrusted to it.

  Kleg kicked the vund. It jerked awake with a start and stared at him.

  "Go and find the master of the palace and say to Him, 'Your Prime has returned.' Do you understand this?

  The vund blinked.

  "Say it."

  The thing's voice was near a growl, but understandable enough: "Yur Prime 'as return'd."

  "Good. Go. Hurry."

  The vund loped off down the corridor, half again as fast as a selkie could run. Wherever He Who Creates might be in the castle, the vund would find Him. The palace was huge, but the vund would search until it located the master of it and everything else within the walls.

  Kleg himself headed toward the special room in which certain magical devices had been placed. Once He Who Creates got the message he had sent, it was a certainty that that was where Kleg would find him.

  The torches on the walls burned steadily, disturbed only by the wind of his passage as Kleg went to meet his master.

  Simple-minded as it was, The Kralix held steadfastly to its one goal. It had been given a task, and its entire being was focused on that chore. Find the One. Bring the One. Allow nothing to stand in your way.

  It was hungry but it did not pause to eat. The One was still ahead of it somewhere; the Kralix could feel the One as it could feel the weed under its feet and the air on its skin, and it had to get to the One and bring it.

  Dimly the Kralix realized that its position was such that it would not have far to go once it caught the One. The One was going in the right direction on its own, and that was good, but the Kralix had not been instructed about that. It had been told three things only: find the One. Bring the One. Allow nothing to stand in your way.

  Tirelessly, the Kralix lumbered on, fulfilling its mission.

  Night had cast its net of stars into the sky when Conan and his party arrived next to the castle on the Sargasso.

  To their left and a hundred spans distant, a pair of guttering torches lit a wide double door set in the flat wall between the torches. The flickering lights also showed two selkies standing guard.

  Hidden by the cloak of night, Conan and the three Tree Folk were invisible to the selkies, but even so, the Cimmerian motioned for the others to crouch low, and when he spoke, his voice was nearly a whisper.

  "We have arrived," he said.

  "Aye," Tair said. "Now what?"

  Conan considered. A direct attack was possible, the odds being three 'to two in their favor, but he did not know but that the guards could call for quick help. Having a score of fishmen pour forth from the door might well be possible, and he did not like those odds.

  They could perhaps work some sort of trick on the guards. Conan could draw their attention to one side, say, while Tair and Cheen circled around behind. Could they lure the fishmen away from the door, that would keep them from seeking help.

  Or perhaps they could steal close enough in the darkness to spit the pair with two wellthrown spears. Cheen was certainly adept with hers, and Conan had no reason to believe that Tair was any less skilled.

  But as he pondered these things, the burden of choice was lifted from them.

  A monster stalked out of the night and charged the two selkies.

  Tair saw it first. "By the Green Goddess, look at that!"

  Conan did not need to be told again.

  The thing was easily twice the size of an ox, wide-legged, and its smooth, mottled skin glistened under the torches. It looked to be some kind of water beast, Conan thought, but with claws and fangs like that of a bear of mayhap a direwolf. It thumped heavily across the weed directly at the door.

  The two selkies leaped forth and attacked, jabbing with their lances, but they were as wasps stinging a man. One of the selkies ventured too close, and those massive jaws crunched him with a sound loud in the night. Conan shook his head. A quick death, at least.

  The second selkie hurled his lance and the long point of it sank deeply into the monster. The creature spat out the first selkie, and paused long enough to pluck the lance from its side with one forepaw, flicking the weapon away as might a man brushing dust from his cloak. Then it lunged, fast for so large a beast, and used the same paw to claw at the second selkie. The fishman was opened from chest to groin by the swipe, and fell backward, mortally wounded.

  The monster paid the dead and dying selkies no more mind, but turned toward the door and hurled itself at the portal. The stout wood cracked and splintered under the impact. The thing opened that hideous mouth and attacked the shattered door with those pointed fangs, chewing through the wood.

  "It eats the door," Hok said incredulously.

  Indeed it was so, Conan saw. The three of them watched in astonishment as the monster devoured enough of the door to gain passage. Once it moved from sight, save for the hindmost part of it, there came another crash as something inside fell prey to the thing's teeth.

  "Must be an inner door," Conan said.

  After a few moments, the monster disappeared completely, not without more sounds of destruction.

  The night grew very quiet after that.

  Tair and Cheen and Hok looked at Conan, wonder in their faces.

  "I do not know what it is," he said, in answer to their unasked questions, "but it has provided us with an entrance. If you are still interested in going inside to find your Seed?"

  Thayla's fear was high in her now, and not without reason. There had been no opportunity to speak alone with Blad, and her husband seemed preternaturally alert, so that using her obsidian blade on him had been impossible.

  Now he had led the trio to the castle itself, and they moved parallel to the long wall, searching for an entrance.

  "Hold!" Rayk whispered hoarsely, waving at her and Blad to get down.

  Thayla obeyed and, in a moment, saw the cause of her husband's caution.

  Oh, no! It was Conan, and some of the Tree Folk!

  The big man led two adults and a child across a short stretch of open weed toward the castle. Following their path with her gaze, Thayla saw what lay ahead of the four, and it was an amazing and grisly sight.

  Two of the fishmen lay sprawled on the weed, mangled corpses both. The remains of a shattered door hung on the wall, lit by a single torch that hung loosely above and to one side of it.

  "What-?" Thayla began.

  "The beast in the village," Rayk answered before she could finish her question. "I have seen its work before."

  "What is it doing here?"

  Rayk shook his head. "I know not, nor do I care. It has given us a way inside, we should be thankful to it."

  "What if it waits within?" Blad asked.

  "What of it? It will dine on those four before we attempt to enter."

  Thayla watched Conan steal across the ground, his sword lifted and ready. "And if it is still hungry when we get there?"

  "Then we shall wait until it leaves."

  "Rayk, I think this has gone far enough."

  He turned to face her. "I am king, Thayla, and it matters not what you think."

  She stared at him as he turned back to watch the four men cautiously enter the castle through the shattered doorway. Truly he had lost his reason. She reached for the knife at her belt. Best to stab him now and flee.

  But Rayk was up and moving toward the castle. Thayla glanced at Blad.

  "Come along!" Rayk ordered.

  Before she could speak, Blad stood and followed.

  Fools! All males
were fools! They would get her killed yet!

  "Thayla!"

  Reluctantly the Queen of the Pili stood and hurried after her husband. She had no wish to remain alone and unprotected out here. Besides, Conan still lived, and if the thing that had torn its way into the castle had moved on, the big man would likely continue to live. If he and Rayk chanced to speak before she could prevent it, things would become very tricky and dangerous indeed. Best she be next to Rayk to prevent such a thing from happening.

  Silently, the three Pili followed the four humans into the wizard's domain.

  Dimma hung quietly in his sleeping chamber, trying to close his mind and rest. The chamber had been designated for sleeping because it was the stillest in all the palace. Surrounded on all sides by other rooms and with the doors closed, it was as dark as new pitch and unstirred by even the faintest wind. Like a cave in the bowels of the earth, the silence here was almost a tangible thing.

  Sleep was not forthcoming for Dimma, however; his mind darted birdlike from perch to perch, too agitated for rest.

  Came a knock at the door.

  Despite his unrest, Dimma did not allow himself to be disturbed while in this chamber, not for any reason. Whoever did so courted a quick and messy death, and Dimma willed himself toward the floor so that he might better see the fool he was about to slay.

  "Who dares?" he called out.

  "M-m-my l-lord?"

  It was the voice of his sub-Prime - selkie.

  "Enter and meet your doom!"

  The door opened, very slowly, so as not to stir the air in the room, and the selkie stood there. One of the vunds sat near his feet.

  "Have you a final word before you die?"

  "M-m-my lord, the v-vend, it h-has a m-m-message."

  "Then it shall die as well." Dimma raised one foggy arm and prepared to cast a spell of burning at the two. He could do that much on his own, at least.

  "S-speak!" the selkie said to the vund.

  The vund stood and took a deep breath. Its last, Dimma thought and he cocked his hand to throw the spell.

  "Yur Prime 'as return'd."

  Dimma held his hand. "What?"

  The vund repeated the message.

  Such joy shot through Dimma that he instantly dropped his hand, the burning spell forgotten. Could it be true? After all the centuries?

  "What is this beast's station?"

  "The s-southwest d-d-door, my lord."

  Dimma laughed. It was some distance away, that entrance, but even so, his Prime would be halfway to the strong room by now. "Away with you!" he ordered. "To the strong room!"

  The sub-Prime and the vund hurried away, and Dimma willed himself after them. The end of his torment was near!

  Moving as fast as he could, the Mist Mage floated through his palace toward his redemption.

  Chapter TWENTY-THREE

  When Kleg arrived at the strong room where all but one of the elements of a particular magic spell were stored, he was met by the master of the realm, the Abet Blasa, Dimma the Mist Mage.

  He Who Creates floated half a span from the floor.

  "My Prime. Do you have that which I dispatched you to fetch?"

  Still naked save for the pouch around his neck, Kleg nodded. He fished the Seed from the bag. "Aye, my lord."

  Kleg felt the wizard's joy almost as a tangible thing, a blast of heat from an open hearth. Then, "What took you so long?"

  Kleg began to explain. "The journey was fraught with deadly peril, my lord. Pili and monsters and-"

  "Never mind, never mind, it matters not. What is important is that you have the talisman. Quickly, place it in the niche!"

  The selkie hurried to obey. Within the strong room, guarded ever by four of his brothers, Kleg saw the other elements of the spell set in their places. Here stood the skull of a longextinct big cat; there in a wooden case was the cloak of a witch; over there, a wax-stoppered bottle filled with a black liquid that had once been the blood of a minor demon. There were more than a dozen such exhibits, and the only one lacking was the Seed that Kleg even now placed with great care into a sconce set near one wall.

  "Everyone out," He Who Creates ordered.

  Kleg scurried to obey, along with the two guards who had been with him.

  "Close the door."

  One of the guards pulled the door shut, carefully, so as not to stir the air, and looked at Kleg. "What happens now, Prime?"

  "He Who Creates will work a spell," Kleg replied. "And in so doing, he will create a new self."

  Kleg turned back toward the closed door. His master had not exactly been effusive in his praise. On the other hand, Kleg still lived, and considering how long it had taken him to accomplish his task, that was not something at which to sneer. After the spell was done, perhaps He Who Creates would be feeling more generous. Kleg intended to wait right here and find out.

  The Prime selkie's intention was thwarted, however, when he heard heavy footfalls approaching down one of the long corridors and caught a fetid odor he recognized immediately.

  The monster! It still pursued him!

  Kleg's thoughts jumbled upon themselves. How could this be? If that thing could follow him here, into his master's domain, what did it mean? What could he do?

  Full of sudden fear, the Prime selkie started to knock at the closed door, to ask He Who Creates for help-then he stopped. To disturb his master now would likely be worth death. Better he should lead the thing away. He could outrun it easily enough, he knew that, and if the beast outrun it easily enough, he knew that, and if the beast caused He Who Creates distress while He was performing His spell, that would likely bring swift death as well.

  Kleg said, "A thing will pass here in a moment, seeking me. Stay out of its way. Allow no one else to disturb our master!"

  With that, Kleg turned and ran off down the corridor.

  Dimma's pleasure was unbounded. The ingredients he had spent most of his lifetime collecting were all finally assembled. The spell itself required nothing more now save that he pronounce it aloud, something he could do easily even in his present form. There were three short verses to the incantation. He had spoken them in practice so many times they were as familiar to him as his own name.

  The Mist Mage drifted over the floor to the center of the strong room. He took a deep breath and began to intone the words of the spell that would make him whole at last.

  No one had challenged Conan and the three Tree Folk as they moved through the long corridors. They had seen no more guards, nor anyone, for that matter. Conan found it odd.

  "Certainly is still," Tair said. "The place feels dead."

  Indeed, the air was motionless. The torches on the walls burned steadily, sending their smoke straight up to paint dark the high ceiling with nearly perfectly round pools of soot.

  "I do not like it in here," Hok announced.

  With that Conan agreed, though he did not voice it aloud. Instead he said, "Cheen?"

  She pointed down the left branch of a corridor that forked just ahead of them. "The Seed is that way."

  The four of them made the turning.

  Conan's plan for retrieving the talisman was somewhat vague, but direct in intent at least. They would find a way to steal it, were it unguarded, and if it was protected, they would slay the guards, take the magical Seed, and flee. He preferred simple plans, and this one seemed basic enough. If possible, they would avoid the wizard. If he could not be avoided, then they would slay him and then depart. Simple.

  Thayla allowed her husband to move away from her, slowing her pace so that she dropped back far enough to whisper to Blad without being heard. She had to keep her voice very low indeed, so quiet was the corridor.

  "Milady?"

  "The king is mad," she said. "He will cause the death of us all."

  "But what is to be done? He is the king."

  "riot if he is dead." She reached out and touched the shaft of Blad's spear meaningfully.

  "Milady!"

  "Hear me, Blad my
stalwart. If he dies, then you will become king and my consort."

  The young Pili's eyes widened. If he had any spark of ambition at all, this ought to fan it into a flame.

  "Thayla! Blad! Why are you tarrying?"

  The king had stopped and was looking back at them.

  Thayla stopped and bent. "A stone in my boot, Rayk." To Blad she said, "Hold still, that I may lean against you." She pulled her boot from her foot and made as if to empty the nonexistent stone from it onto the flagstone floor. As she leaned against Blad, she allowed her hand to stroke a sensitive area of his body, unseen by the king.

  Blad gasped at her touch.

  "What is it?" the king asked.

  "Uh ... uh ..." Blad said, obviously at a loss.

  "The point of my dagger has accidentally pricked him," Thayla said hurriedly.

  "Well, put your boot back on, withdraw your blade, and let us continue."

  Rayk turned away from them, and Thayla gave Blad a hot look. The youth had the spear. She hoped he would use it, and soon.

  Kleg knew the corridors of the palace as well as anyone, and he dodged through them now, leading the thing behind him on another chase. Had it been sent by some rival wizard? What was it? Would He Who Creates bother to deal with it, once He had finished His spell?

  Too many questions and not enough answers.

  As Kleg ran, he took care to double back on his trail every so often so as not to get too far away from the strong room in which his master worked His spell. He had not eaten or rested for what seemed a long time, and he was tiring. Best he be close when his master finished His current chore so that He Who Creates could take care of this thing chasing him.

  Conan sensed someone around the corridor's next turning, and he waved his companions to a halt as he went to see who-or what-it might be.

  The Cimmerian crouched low and slowly moved to peer around the edge of the wall. A quick glimpse was all he needed. Just around the corner stood four selkies, each armed with a spear, bracketing a wooden door inset into the wall.

  He moved back behind his cover. Whispering quietly, Conan said to the others, "I think we have found your Seed. There are selkies ahead, guarding a door."