Conan and the Manhunters

by John Maddox Roberts

  'What would you have?' Tragthan demanded.

  'Your aid, priest,' Sagobal answered.

  'After what you did to this temple and to us, you would come begging our help?'

  'I do not come begging, priest,' Sagobal spat, angered but still shaken at the sight of Nikas whole again. 'I come to offer you a chance to revenge yourselves upon the wizard who profaned your crypt.'

  'Speak on,' said Tragthan.

  'In an oasis not far from here, the sorcerer Volvolicus has his house. It is there that he has stored the treasure stolen from your crypt.'

  'Then why do you not hie yourself thither and fetch it?' Shosq demanded. 'Why do you come to us, whom you have most grievously wronged?'

  'The wizard has guardian-spells of power. Additionally, he may well be back in residence, and the remains of the scummy robber-band with him. I want counter-spells to neutralize the mage, so that I may enter that house and reclaim Hie treasure for my king.'

  They stared at him for long minutes. 'Why do you think priests of a great god want something so petty as revenge?'

  At this, Berytus laughed. 'What man of spirit does not crave revenge? Granted, you are not precisely men, but you have all the markings of great pride. The bandits and their wizard insulted you, and they likewise insulted your god! You must burn for vengeance, for all your pose of superiority. Your god will not thank you for letting such a deed go unpunished.'

  'What say you to that?' Sagobal demanded.

  Once again, minutes passed while the priests were silent, seeming to communicate on a level impenetrable to ordinary humans. Finally, Tragthan spoke.

  'Very well, we will help you. One of us will accompany you to this wizard's house and will combat his spells while your men invade.'

  'One?' Sagobal said indignantly. 'Why not all three?'

  'Certain matters detain us here in Shahpur. Our dread lord was most unsettled by the sacrilege committed within the sacred precincts of his temple. He must be propitiated.'

  'Does he require sacrifice?' Sagobal asked. 'If so, we have apprehended most of the felons who escaped in the chaos on the day of the festival. You may have them.'

  'That is not the sort of propitiation our lord requires,' Tragthan said. 'But it will take great effort to settle the unrest on the supernatural plane. One of us accompanying you shall suffice for your purposes.'

  'Excellent. We ride at first light. Have your representative ready for the journey.' Seeing no need for further pleasantries, the commander whirled and stalked away, closely followed by Osman and Berytus. At their approach, the gate raised like an opening mouth, and it lowered behind them, seemingly without any human effort.

  As they strode across the square, the eyes still watched them, but they were not followed, for it was the temple that occupied their observers' attention. As the three men left the square, a short, round figure swathed in robes approached a taller, more austere man whose face was covered with a veil.

  'What think you this portends, venerable one?' asked the Vendhyan, his turban glowing subtly in the flower-scented night.

  'More evil afoot, I've no doubt,' said the Khitain master. 'Those three had nothing of the magical about them, but if they had business with those within, it probably portends another stage in their efforts to bring Ahriman back into this world. We must watch them and stay alert.'

  'Aye, Master,' said the Vendhyan, who was himself a sorcerer of the First Rank.

  As dawn light stained the horizon, a line of horsemen rode to the gate of the city. At their head was Sagobal, and behind him rode Berytus and the man-hunters. Last of all was the priest Shosq, awkward in his unaccustomed saddle.

  An hour after their passing, a tall man swathed in desert robes strode from the caravan camp-ground nearest the gate. He was veiled to the eyes, which were unusually blue for a desert tribesman. At the gate, he paused beside a guard.

  'I have dispatches for Sagobal, commander of the guard,' announced the desert dweller. 'Do you know if he is in the city?'

  'You just missed him,' said the guard. 'He rode out but an hour ago, with that pack of foreign scavengers and some others.'

  'Scavengers? Mean you the Aquilonian of whom I have heard? The man-hunter?'

  'Aye. They have been combing the territory since the festival, seeking the bandits. I suppose it was a good thing they

  were on hand when the trouble happened, for our own men have done little good.'

  'You mean they were in the city before the great festival?'

  'Aye,' said the guard. 'And that was passing strange.' The man was clearly bored with his duty and wished to talk. 'For some days before the festival, those hard-looking men rode into town through this gate. That same day, they rode out again. But rumour has it that late that same night, an officer came and took charge of the gate for an hour, and someone claims to have seen those same men ride back in. After that, here was no sign of them in the city until the robbers came to steal the king's revenues, when those same men were upon the roofs, lying in ambush along with the viceroy's guards.'

  'That is indeed passing strange. Have you any word of whither they rode?'

  'Nay, but wherever it was, Sagobal does not trust his own men to go there, for there was. not a man of the viceroy's guard in his company, just the foreigners. And, although I can hardly credit this, I could swear that I saw one of the priests of the accursed temple riding with them, attempting to conceal himself in a swathing desert robe like your own. But it was no desert man, for he rode wretchedly, and those unholy priests do not move like natural men. The city would be well rid of them, aye, and their disgusting temple as well.'

  Conan bade the talkative guard farewell and walked back toward the oasis. He had known that his desert garb would probably keep him safe from detection, but he had not dared to ride one of Sagobal's stolen horses into the city. He had thought to carry out a discreet assassination, perhaps to catch Berytus and his employer together and eliminate them both at once. Such, it seemed, was not to be. Now his mind spun with the implications of what he had just heard.

  The man-hunters had been in the town for days prior to the assault upon the temple! That had to mean that Sagobal had planned the operation far in advance. It strained credulity that the foreign band should just happen to be in the city exactly when they were needed. So Sagobal had used him to bring all the bandits into the city!

  By the pool of the oasis, he sat to think, unmindful of the shouting caravaneers and their complaining, foul-smelling camels. Since the frenzied action of the raid, he had been continuously fighting or fleeing and he had not paused to think things through. All this just to bag the bandits? It could not be. Sagobal and Berytus between them, with so much preparation, should have been able to catch them all, not just half, permitting the others to flee.

  'Crom curse me for a fool!' he said aloud, startling a desert boy who held the reins of a drinking horse. The Cimmerian leapt to his feet. Sagobal had no intention of bringing that treasure back to Torgut Khan and the king. He was out to take it for himself! Now many small events of the past days began to fall into place, making sense where there had been none before.

  Those guards, who had stood outside the window of his cell, so conveniently discussing the upcoming festival and the depositing there of the district's royal revenues—that conversation had been part of Sagobal's plan, the men probably hired actors.

  Then the greatest piece of the puzzle fell into place. 'Osman!' he shouted, further alarming the boy who was watering the horse. Of course! That sneaking little thief had just happened to have the cell next to' his own, whence he could speak to the Cimmerian through the hole in the wall. He had been certain that he could lift the heavy anvil. And the anvil, with its hammer and chisel, had been left at the top of the stair instead of in the guardroom, where such things were usually kept.

  The guard commander had gone to such lengths to arrest and secure Conan, the one felon he knew could fight his way out of the dungeon to go back to the outlaw band and pl
an the temple crypt robbery. But how had he been so certain that the Cimmerian would find a way to get the treasure safely away?

  He remembered the evening at the hideout, when they had discussed the plan. The problem of moving the great weight had come up and then... Osman again! It had been he who had suggested Volvolicus as a solution to their quandary. Not only had Sagobal had an agent in Conan's own camp, the guard commander had masterminded the whole plan! Almost in spite of himself, Conan found himself admiring the man's brazen cunning. He must have spent years plotting this, planning to make himself fabulously wealthy at Torgut Khan's expense. The new temple with its crypt and the presence of the formidable Cimmerian bandit in the district had provided the perfect foils.

  The one thing Sagobal could not control was the exact route the treasure would take. For that, he needed Osman to tell him. But the bandits had been watching each other like hawks since the theft and Osman had had little opportunity to escape. He was trusted even less than the others, because he had not been a part of the band prior to the raid on the temple.

  Even as these thoughts passed through his mind, the Cimmerian was in the saddle and riding. No wonder Osman had worn that conspicuous golden turban! He had been worried that he might be killed by mistake in the confusion, so he had made himself unmistakable. Conan remembered the arrow that had passed so close by the turban. That must have been to make it look realistic. He remembered the one that had thunked into his own saddle. Had that been a ruse as well? Had Sagobal wanted him to get away alive, so that he could get the rest of the band, including Osman, to the place where the treasure was hidden?

  That was the past. For now, there was an even more pressing question: Where had Sagobal gone? Was Osman with him? If so, was the little thief even now leading him to the cave where the gold was concealed? It was all too likely, for the guard commander was riding without any of his guard, only his hirelings. Naturally, he would not risk any man loyal to Torgut Khan learning of the treasure's whereabouts.

  But why the priest from the new temple? Conan could make nothing of that. Perhaps the gate guard had been mistaken. He knew one thing clearly: He had to get to the wizard's house and find his surviving men, as well as the wizard, and ride with them to the hideout. There was a chance they would catch Sagobal and his men as they were removing the treasure.

  He was certain it would be a desperate fight, for his band was greatly outnumbered and the men of Berytus were undoubtedly better fighters than his own men. On the other hand, he knew without undue modesty that he himself could make up for a sizeable part of the enemy's numerical advantage. If the wizard could assist them with his deadly spells, it would tip the balance. Using sorcery to win was a repellent manoeuvre to the Cimmerian, but matters had grown too serious to allow his personal scruples to weaken their position in any way.

  He rode on long into the evening; near the site of the house of Volvolicus, he beheld an uncanny spectacle.

  XII

  'Stop here,' Berytus said. They were in a draw below a high, rocky ridge of ground. Just beyond the ridge lay the house of Volvolicus.

  'Why so far away?' Osman demanded. 'We can ride much closer yet than this.'

  'We must leave the horses here,' said Berytus. 'The wizard's wards are terrifying enough to men. For horses, they are even worse. When we made our retreat from this place some days ago, many of us were nigh unable to mount, so panicked were the beasts.'

  'He exaggerates,' -Osman said.

  'Nonetheless,' said Sagobal, 'his advice is sound. I have lost too many of my own horses of late, and would as lief lose no more. If we should be left without horses in this place, it would mean a long, long walk back to Shahpur.'

  The men dismounted and Berytus detailed a lean, predatory-looking Poinciana to stay with the beasts. They 'continued on foot. With Berytus in the lead, they climbed the ridge, all of them moving swiftly and silently, even the reptilian priest, who was far more agile on his own feet than on horseback. At the crest, they lay against the slope and peered over the ridge.

  Below them lay the tree-fringed pool of water, shimmering in the light of the rising moon. From the small windows of the house shone lights of shifting colour. There were horses tethered near the water, and from the roof of the house drifted a plume of white smoke.

  'It seems they are back,' said Sagobal, satisfaction oozing from his words.

  'Aye,' said Berytus. 'Before, we contended only with wards the mage left behind to guard the place in his absence. Now he is in residence, and who knows what sort of demons he can call up.'

  'We accomplish nothing here,' Sagobal said. 'Aquilonian, you know how best to employ your men. Make us a way into that house.'

  'Aye, I know how to use them, and your other dogs as well.' He turned to Shosq. 'Priest, can you tell whether the wizard has detected us, or has spells ready to receive us?'

  'Think you that these things shine through the air, to be descried like signal fires burning upon hilltops?'

  'I care not, but you are supposed to be with us for some reason. Thus far all you have done is slow our progress with your wretched horsemanship. We should have been here an hour ago.'

  'When Volvolicus seeks to use his spells, fool, then you shall be joyful that I am with you.'

  'See that you are of service then, priest,' Berytus warned. 'It appears that you must lead this assault,' Osman said to the Aquilonian. 'For such a swordsman as you, it should prove no great task.'

  'No, that I shall not. You shall go in first, Shangaran.' 'I?' Osman said, alarmed. 'I make no claim to be a great fighter or a hero!'

  'And well should you not. No, you shall approach the door openly, calling out the names of your companions, for you

  have been lost in the wilderness. One as treacherous as you should have no difficulty with betraying the same companions twice.'

  'But they will kill me!' Osman protested.

  'Then it will be a test of your smooth, lying tongue. In years to come, you will preen yourself upon such a performance.'

  Osman turned to Sagobal. 'Master, I accepted your service in the capacity of spy and secret agent. It is this foreign thug who undertook to serve you as swordsman and hired bravo! Tell him to cease his cowardly prating and get on with the attack.'

  'It will do no harm if we can persuade them to lower their guard. Go in, Osman. We shall be close behind you, keeping out of sight just within the trees.'

  'But—'

  'Go!' Sagobal growled.

  Fearfully, the small man rose and went over the crest of the hill. The others did likewise, following a few steps behind him. They descended the slope on the oasis side, the scree loose beneath their feet. Berytus and his men walked over this unstable footing in perfect silence, with the skill of hunters. The priest Shosq was likewise silent, not with the appearance of great skill but as if from his own nature, for he seemed more serpent than man. Osman's progress was a loud shuffle by comparison. Last came Sagobal, his keen eyes keeping them all under observation, his ears picking up every faintest sound. As near as he could tell, they had achieved complete surprise.

  'Conan!' Osman called out as he neared the house. 'Ubo! Auda! Are you in there, my friends?' A few paces from the door, he halted. 'Revered Volvolicus! Beauteous Lay la! Are you in your home?'

  The portal opened and a bulky form appeared in the door, naked steel in hand. It was Chamik, his great belly bulging over his scarlet sash, his eyes squinting into the darkness. 'What man is that? Osman, is it you?'

  'Chamik, my friend! I have been wandering for days in the desert, suffering as one damned. Is our chief here?' He took a few tentative steps toward the house.

  'Not so fast,' the bandit cautioned. 'Why did you disappear from the village while we were carousing?' Ubo appeared behind Chamik and peered over his shoulder with a single, suspicious eye.

  'Ah, my friends, you know my habit of getting into trouble over women. The wife of the overseer of the mine was comely and found me likewise attractive. Her husband spent
his days at the mine, leaving us free for dalliance. But he came home untimely, and I was forced to flee through a back window. He chased me for many miles through the wilderness. When finally I lost him, I found that I had lost myself as well. By the time I had found a nomad camp and stolen a horse and regained my bearings, I dared not return to the village, so I made my way hither, knowing that you would rendezvous at the wizard's house.'

  'Here?' said Ubo. 'We deemed it more likely a sneaking jackal like you would go to—'

  Osman's hand had been inching toward the breast of his tunic. Now it darted inside and emerged as swiftly, coming up over his shoulder, snapping forward and down. Even as something spun glittering through the air, Chamik, swift as a cat for all his bulk, bounded back and swung the door shut. Osman's dagger struck the door and hung there quivering for a moment, then glowed red. It brightened from sullen crimson to searing orange, then erupted in a shower of white sparks.

  In the trees, someone screamed. Sagobal jerked around to see one of the man-hunters enveloped by a huge serpent, thick as a man's thigh. Something manlike and hairy dropped from a palm onto another man, tearing with teeth and claws.

  'They are in the trees!' Berytus shouted. 'Get out from under them!'

  'Do something, priest!' Sagobal commanded. But Shosq was already chanting, his voice pitched so low that the men in the suddenly chaotic oasis could barely hear it, yet it caused the very stones and trees to vibrate. The designs on the door began to glow and shimmer, and the edges of it began to smoke.

  The shutters of the windows opened violently, slamming back against the walls, causing chips of mud plaster to fly. Brilliant beams of light shot forth from the apertures, luridly coloured in hues that shifted rapidly, even as the beams darted from place to place with a speed that had nothing in it of human operation. Blue light changed to yellow with no gradations of shading, while green transformed to scarlet and then to violet, rapidly yet subtly. Some took on hues that were not natural, colours that confused the eye and made the scene even more surreal than it already was.