Conan and the Manhunters

by John Maddox Roberts

  Suddenly, Conan became aware that he had been struggling amid a great silence. He shook the stars from before his eyes and looked around him, discovering that he was in the centre of a great circle of rebel riders who sat their horses, gaping at him. Volvolicus was among them, looking tired but happy. Layla was enraged.

  'I tried to get them to put some arrows in that pig, but they would not listen!' she cried.

  'Arrows?' Idris said, scandalized. 'I'd not have missed a spectacle like that had it meant giving up my throne!'

  'If only Akhba had been with them,' said Dunas, the pretender's cousin.

  'His king will give him what he deserves,' said Eltis with satisfaction. 'When he reports that not only did he fail to destroy us, but he lost his general and half a wing of cavalry to boot—' he paused to smile with satisfaction, savouring the image '—well, he had better hope that Xarxas is in a good mood and merely crucifies him.'

  'How came you here so timely?' Conan asked, blotting up the blood that ran from his nose.

  'We rode out last night on a patrol in strength,' said Eltis. 'The men were elated with bagging Mahac's troop, and we were hoping to catch another. We found two troopers who got separated from this lot yesterday in a sandstorm. They said that they had been chasing you and that Katchka was in personal command of a small force.'

  'We calculated that you would try to lose them in the badlands near here,' Hosta said, 'and that if we rode hard, we might catch them somewhere near this spot, for their horses had to be tired. Lucky for you we got here before they caught the three of you.'

  'You will notice that your men are not here with us,' said Eltis. 'They seem to have deserted our cause.'

  'They are probably just drunk in a tavern some place,' Conan said. 'Good, loyal soldiers like them do not desert.'

  'If they found a tavern,' said the commander, 'then I suspect it must be many miles north of the river.'

  'Who cares about them?' said Idris, smiling as one of his soldiers tied General Katchka's head to the pommel of his saddle. 'The people of the north will flock to my cause now, for I have defeated one of Xarxas's generals in open battle. I have the proof right here!' He patted the ugly head. 'Conan, ride with me and I will make you commander over all my cavalry.'

  Conan saw the glowering expressions the senior officers bent in his direction. 'I fear I must decline, Your Majesty. Urgent business calls me to Turan.'

  'This northerner is a mighty warrior, my king,' said Eltis. 'But I fear he would be a most uncomfortable man to have around when you assume your rightful throne. His men deserted, but he has done you good service, and we saved his neck just now. Let us call it even and allow him to depart. To keep him would be dangerous, and to slay him would be the act of an ingrate.'

  The boy looked sullen, unhappy at losing his new hero. 'Oh, very well. Conan, ride on with my thanks. In the future, should your path lead to Iranistan, know that the king of this nation holds himself in debt to you.'

  They were kingly words to come from a boy surrounded by ragged soldiers, but Conan knew better than to laugh. Instead, he bowed from his saddle.

  'Your Majesty does me great honour. And now, I take my leave of you. Good fortune in your struggle to regain your rightful throne.'

  The pretender inclined his head graciously and the Cimmerian rode from the circle of rebels, closely followed by his two companions.

  The river-crossing was an easy one, and Conan paused almost in mid-stream. Hanging his weapon-belt on his pommel, he took off his boots and dismounted, plunging beneath the water to rinse the blood, dust and sweat from his body and his clothes. He stood up and began to wring the water from his thick black hair. As he did this, he noticed that Layla had followed suit. She stood wringing out her own tresses, and the water caused her dress to cling to her like a coat of dye, revealing not only that her body was as beautiful as her face, but that she wore nothing beneath the silken shift.

  'You should join us, Father,' she said.

  'I shall wait until we reach proper bathing facilities,' he replied with dignity.

  Already, Conan felt like a new man. He was recovering quickly from the fatigue of the previous day and night, and of the morning's brief but furious combat. His nose did not seem to be broken, although it and his face would pain him for days to come. His only regret was that Volvolicus was present, for he had a great urge to seize Layla and carry her to an inviting, shady spot on the riverbank.

  Lacking the opportunity at the moment, he resolved to seek one out in the near future. He remounted and rode dripping from the river. The others rode with him.

  'Considering what you did for him,' Layla said, 'the young pretender should have rewarded you richly.' She revelled in the coolness of her damp gown as the morning breeze dried it upon her body.

  Conan could only laugh. 'That stripling will be doing well if he can provide breeches for his riders in the years to come. He is a penniless claimant, raising a rebellion in the poorest part of Iranistan. Barring lucky accident, he'll be nothing but a defiant baron, prospering only because he pays no taxes to his king. If some courtiers close to the seat of power think that they can better themselves by doing away with Xarxas and elevating this royal bastard to the throne—' he shrugged

  '—then things will be very different. I think the life of a king can be as chancy as that of a wandering warrior.'

  They rode to the edge of the grassy land, and there Conan ordered a halt.

  'We need sleep,' he announced. 'More important, these fine beasts need rest. Let them crop grass peacefully for the remainder of the day. We will ride on tonight when it is cool.'

  'That suits me well,' Layla said, dismounting. 'There is shade here, and I am too tired even to be hungry.'

  Conan unsaddled and curried the horses while Layla spread a blanket upon the grass beneath a tree, to which her father lowered himself stiffly. Soon he was snoring and his daughter lay curled up next to him.

  Satisfied that the animals had plenty of forage and were soundly hobbled, the Cimmerian walked off to find a promising shade-tree beneath which to sleep. They enjoyed a good view in all directions. He would wake in plenty of time should strangers approach. Finding a likely spot, he spread his cloak upon a cushion of shaded grass and tugged off his boots. With weapons laid close to his hand, he drew the light material of his desert cloak over himself and allowed his weary muscles to relax.

  He was almost asleep when something tugged at his cloak. Layla slipped beneath it, and it was clear that she had left her gown elsewhere. 'My father is a very sound sleeper,' was all that she said before rolling into the circle of his waiting arms.

  The next day they rode into a small town of some prosperity, not the usual market village, but a mining community where men toiled to wrest tin ore from a great open pit. The town had no gate or guard, so Conan addressed a fruit-seller whose stall, a flimsy shelter of cloth supported by thin poles, was set up at the outskirts of the village.

  'Where is the lowest tavern in town?' he asked. 'The one where all the rogues gather.'

  'You want the Craven Warrior,' the old man said. 'It is down this street, near the public latrine. The smell will tell you when you are near. Would you like to buy some oranges? They were-picked fresh this morning.'

  Layla bargained for fruit while Conan and Volvolicus rode on. They went past the centre of town until they found a low, mud-walled building. Its façade had been whitewashed and upon it was crudely painted in garish colours the figure of an armed man sprinting for safety, closely pursued by a cloud of arrows, spears, axes and other missiles. As predicted, the smell from the public facility fouled the air chokingly.

  'If I know my rogues,' Conan said, 'they'll be in this place.'

  Leaving their horses tethered to a stone trough, they entered the dive through a curtain of hanging beads, which did little to keep out the swarms of flies that buzzed busily all over the area.

  'Chief!' Ubo cried happily. 'You are back! And I see you have the wizard as well. Come
join us.' The one-eyed Turanian was dicing with Chamik, while Auda snored on the floor. Between them was a pot of ale in which floated several drowned flies.

  Conan took a seat. 'Where are the rest?'

  'Mamos is in the back room with a harlot desperate enough even for him,' Chamik reported. 'As for Osman, we've not seen him since the night before last.'

  'He's probably taken up with some woman whose husband spends his days in the mine,' Ubo said. 'He is a smooth talker, that one.' He slammed the leather cup on the table and lifted it to reveal a disastrous line-up of images. Crowing, Chamik scooped up the silver coins. 'Did you get the wench as well?'

  'She is with us,' Conan said. 'Has all been quiet?'

  'None have molested us,' said Chamik, 'since we have money to spend. But a story has come to our ears that we find disturbing.'

  'What is this tale?' Conan asked.

  'There has been a party of men riding the river,' Ubo told

  him, 'men of many nations. The townsmen say they do not look like soldiers, but they are well armed and fierce. Their leader is a hulking brute of an Aquilonian, and they were asking questions.'

  Conan felt a tingle of alarm. 'What sort of questions?'

  'They were asking about a band of men that sounded very much like ours,' Chamik said, 'save that the band they seek is more numerous, and is led by a big, black-haired northerner. Since we were only five men with no such foreigner among us, we were not to be confused with this band.'

  'I can easily believe that men are looking for us,' Volvolicus put forth. 'But why a mixed group of foreigners? Why not Sagobal's guardsmen, or constables in the livery of Torgut Khan?'

  'This Aquilonian leader,' Conan said. 'Had he a name?'

  'He did not noise it about,' said Ubo, 'but a camel-seller told me he heard one of the men address him as Berytus.'

  Conan hissed a curse, his hand slapping the tabletop.

  'Do you know him?' asked the wizard.

  'By reputation only. He is a man-hunter. It is his living and his sport. He hunts down wanted men and runaway slaves for the reward. What ill luck brought him here just when Sagobal had need of such?'

  'You think him more dangerous than Sagobal himself?' Volvolicus asked.

  'I'll warrant he and his men are far more dangerous than any Sagobal has. Man-hunting is a duty and a task for soldiers and constables. Some are good at it, most are not. But Berytus's band will be made up of picked men, each of them an expert. How many of them are there?'

  'The first time they came through here, not long after we left Shahpur,' said Ubo, 'there were a score of them. The second time, just two days before our arrival, there were seventeen.'

  The wizard looked at Conan. 'My house! A few days ago, I sensed it when my wards were roused. I would wager that

  was when this Berytus lost his men. And they must truly be formidable, if only three of them were killed.'

  'Seventeen are too many for us, Chief,' Chamik said quietly, 'even if they were just ordinary soldiers.'

  'Aye, we are in no condition for a stand-up fight with them. And this is not a good place for us.'

  'Where shall we go?' Ubo asked.

  'I counsel we ride back to our loot,' said Chamik. 'Each man to take as much as he can carry and all of us to flee in different directions.'

  'That might just lead them straight to the treasure,' Conan warned. 'No, we need a few more days, during which time Torgut Khan will be recalled by the king, and Sagobal executed in disgrace. Then the land will be unsettled enough to allow us to go back and get it all. I will also need time to spy out this band of man-hunters and decide how to deal with them.'

  'Where to, then?' asked Chamik.

  'To the wizard's house,' Conan said. 'They have already been there. He has wards and ways of knowing when any approach. What think you, Volvolicus? Can you conceal us safely for but a few days?'

  'I can,' he agreed with some reluctance. 'It will not be convenient, but it can be done.' In truth, he had a pressing need to get back to his books, his instruments and his place of power.

  Conan stood. 'Then round up the rest and let's be away. Some townsman could be leading those man-hunters back here right now.'

  An hour later, Conan, the wizard, Layla and four of the bandits were gathered and ready to ride, but Osman was still nowhere to be found.

  'I knew it!' said Mamos, his scarred and branded face twisted into ah expression of surpassing ugliness. 'That little schemer has fled back to the treasure!'

  'What of it?' Ubo said. 'How much can he take? Will he lead his own caravan thither?'

  'I am more concerned that he will lead the hunters there,' Conan said. 'I will ride after him. The rest of you go to the wizard's house.'

  'Wait!' said Mamos. 'How do we know you do not plan to take it for yourself? The agreement was that we were to stay together until the sharing-out!'

  'Be still, fool,' said Ubo. 'As for staying together, Osman has taken care of that. And for all we know, he is down a dry well with his throat slit or his head bashed in. It is a common fate for thieves and men who trifle with other men's wives. I trust our chief, although I'll warrant that I'd trust none of the rest of you.'

  'I cannot say that I like the idea of having them live near me for days without you to keep them in line,' Layla said, 'but if it must be, it must be.'

  'Woman,' Chamik said, 'we know better than to mistreat a wizard's daughter in the wizard's own house. He could turn us into scorpions.'

  'In that case, your disposition would not change,' she said, 'although you would be prettier to look upon.' At this sally, the men laughed heartily, their good humour restored.

  'I will be with you in a few days,' Conan said. He wheeled and rode away to the west. The others took a more northerly direction, toward the house of Volvolicus.

  XI

  'Three of them crossed the river here, Chief,' said Bahdur. The squat, slant-eyed man leaned from his saddle and studied the marks left in the soft ground of the bank.

  'Is it certain?' Berytus asked.

  'They were all shod by the same smith who shoes Sagobal's horses,' the Hyrkanian reported.

  'But only three?' Berytus said, perplexed.

  'Only three,' Bahdur affirmed.

  The Aquilonian saw two of his men riding across the shallow water of the river bight. Urdos and Ambula rode up the bank and across to their leader.

  'There was a good-sized fight over there yesterday,' the huge Kothian told him. 'Plenty of blood on the ground, but no smallest bit of armour, weapons or horses. Whoever won left nothing behind but marks.'

  'Perhaps that is why there were only three,' Bahdur speculated. 'Maybe the rest were killed in that fight.'

  'It is possible,' Berytus mused. He longed to be after the

  three fleeing northward, but he knew that he had to learn something of the situation across the river.

  'Ambula, Barca, you two ride after the three who left their prints here. Find them, but keep your distance. They may be the ones we seek, or they may all be dead in Iranistan, and three others on the horses they stole from Sagobal. I am riding over there to ask some questions.'

  Followed by fourteen men, Berytus of Aquilonia rode into the water. The two detached men rode northward.

  Conan rode westward, making broad zigzags, seeking to pick up Osman's trail. But the desert in this area was stony, and even a tracker of Conan's skill was put to the test trying to find a single man's spoor. Eventually, he decided that he was wasting time. He rode straight for the hideout, timing his approach so that he would arrive there after dark.

  He hobbled his horse a half-mile from the canyon and went the rest of the way on foot. Just before sunrise, he was crouching outside the cave wherein the treasure was hidden. All the way there, he had heard nothing but the sounds of night animals and insects. He smelled no hint of smoke upon the air. This was puzzling. The city-bred Osman had no special skills of elusiveness in the wild. More than likely, the Cimmerian thought, the man had simply g
otten lost trying to find the place.

  The sun rose and Conan, satisfied that he was alone, moved some rocks aside and went into the cave. The light streaming through the entrance revealed that the treasure was exactly as they had left it. He went back out and re-closed the cave.

  Next he went to the water, where he startled a pair of desert oryx drinking. The beautiful creatures bounded away and he looked over the ground. Instantly, he saw that a number of horsemen had ridden through the canyon several days previously. They were not Sagobal's men, for their horses were not shod in the Turanian fashion. These, he knew, must be the man-hunters.

  A quick examination of the various side-canyons proved that the hunters had not conducted a systematic search of the area, but had ridden off in the same direction the fleeing bandits had taken. So they had been here looking for the bandits, not for the treasure. But where was Osman?

  The Cimmerian all but groaned at the thought of the task that lay before him, but it was necessary. He began walking back toward the cave.

  'Where is it?' Torgut Khan screamed. 'Where is my treasure?'

  'My men are combing the countryside for it,' Sagobal said. 'I have a score of search parties turning over every rock between here and the Iranistan border.'

  'Your men are worthless!' Torgut Khan bellowed. 'As you are worthless, scum!'

  Sagobal had had enough. He strode up to his superior and Torgut Khan fell back a pace, knowing he had gone too far.

  'Do not take such a tone with me, you toad!' Sagobal thundered. 'The king's silken noose lies around your neck, and nothing will happen to me that will not fall upon you a thousandfold. I have stood your insolence and insults and even your blows for long enough! I am your only hope, Tor-gut Khan. Only I can save you from a hideous death in deepest disgrace. So you can cease your bombastic ravings now!'