Conan and the Manhunters

by John Maddox Roberts

  'The Ahriman of the Ormazd cult is no more than a memory of the true god,' Feng-Yoon explained. 'The struggle between the gods of light and dark is cosmic, ongoing and eternal. Forever, the creators battle the destroyers. Greatest of the destroyers was Ahriman, who was so evil that even the gods of Stygia contended against him. In time, so long ago that few legends survive, the priest-kings of Stygia, aided by their god Set, drove Ahriman from the world, destroying his temples, killing his worshippers and his priesthood. He was thought to be banished forever and his priests eliminated.'

  'But nothing is forever,' said the Vendhyan. 'Nothing is truly eliminated from the world. Some things only wait.'

  'Just so,' said Feng-Yoon. 'This year some unknown force, perhaps some alignment of the stars and planets of which even we are ignorant, roused several of the priests of Ahriman, long entombed beneath their ancient shrines, to wakefulness. Even the most learned of the Stygian mages were astounded to learn that this had happened. These unclean priests, who are of an unholy race long thought extinct, half reptile and half human, homed unerringly upon this town of Shahpur.'

  'What brought them here?' Conan asked.

  'I have studied this place since my arrival two days ago,' said the Nemedian. 'I am Pyatar of Aghrapur, and like all my countrymen, I had thought Shahpur to be a mere caravan town and district capital like a half-score of other cities in Nemedia. Now I know it to be an unthinkably ancient city. That which most of us see is but the topmost layer of settlement, no more than a thousand years old, built upon the ruins of ages past. And the most ancient part of it is that temple.' He pointed at the sinister house of Ahriman.

  'Rather,' Pyatar went on, 'the foundation is unbelievably old. And-at its centre is an altar and a crypt, and to these things no words of age apply, for they do not truly exist in this world.'

  Conan did not like the sound of this. 'Do not exist? But we beheld the altar! We went into the crypt and stole from it Torgut Khan's treasure!'

  'I said they do not exist in this world. They belong to another plane entirely, and it is most uncanny that the altar is visible at all. Is it not hard to look upon?'

  'It twists the gaze and the mind,' Conan acknowledged.

  'And,' said Feng-Yoon, 'did you truly see the crypt, or did you just behold the treasure you sought?'

  'We went down the stair,' Conan said. 'We held the priest and the others at sword's-point while Volvolicus raised the gold. Chamik, did you not force them back to stand against the wall?'

  'I did, Chief! I brandished my blade in their faces and they backed away, carrying that priest you laid out with the flat of your sword.'

  'Then you saw the wall?' Pyatar asked. The bandit pondered. 'Well... I cannot say I actually saw it. It was naught but a great darkness down there. The candles were set only around the treasure. The hostages began to make sounds of terror, but I was soon distracted by all the excitement when we made our escape.'

  'Ah!' said Feng-Yoon. 'This explains much! If mortals actually touched the walls of that crypt...' He let his words trail off as if he were in a reverie. 'My friends, that crypt is the belly of Ahriman!'

  'So I suspected when I descended therein,' said Volvolicus. 'It is no natural place of true stone, and the altar is something totally other. It is not a natural substance.' 'The belly of Ahriman!' Conan exclaimed. 'Aye,' said Feng-Yoon. 'When the Stygians sought to eliminate the god from this world, he left himself a means to return. In order to do so, he must have a way to absorb strength, as a man must eat to live. In a manner of speaking, that crypt is his stomach in this world, wherein sacrifices are to be made to Ahriman that he may gain the power to re-enter this world from which he was driven so long ago.'

  The Khitain slapped his long-nailed hands upon his knees. 'Now much becomes clear. Volvolicus, when you practised your art within the crypt, you stimulated the god and aroused him from his slumber of aeons. This much you described to me yesterday. But so absorbed were you in your magicks that you did not notice the hostages being herded against the walls! That was like throwing scraps to a famished lion. Now the god rages with hunger!'

  'It was just a robbery like any other,' Chamik protested. 'How were we to know?'

  'These priests had planned their ritual carefully,' the Khitain continued. 'They waited for the correct alignment of the stars, the planets, and probably of other forces unknown to the scholars of this age. When all was ready, they would have worked their dread sacrifices, performed their rites, and brought their lord triumphantly back. But when you wrought your magic within the crypt and gave Ahriman his untimely sacrifice, you destroyed the delicate balance of their schedule. This means there is an opportunity to frustrate their plans utterly.'

  For the first time, the Khitain's face showed expression. His sewn-together lips bent into a ghastly parody of a smile and he seemingly looked around at them. 'My companions, I had thought that tonight's actions would be undertaken in the direst desperation. Now I feel that there is cause for genuine hope!'

  'You wanted us to throw our lives away out of your own desperation?' Conan said hotly.

  'That was not even to be considered,' said the mage. 'Either we succeed, or all die. I wish to devise the best way out of this, the one cheapest in lives and in expenditure of wizardly power. Count yourselves fortunate that it is I who am in charge here. Thoth-amon. wanted to undertake this, and he would not hesitate to sacrifice whole populations for a slight advantage.'

  'Learned Feng-Yoon,' Volvolicus said, 'you have spoken of the crypt. What have you now deduced about that hellish altar? Even the dullest of the workmen who toiled on this temple could not bear to look upon it.'

  'It is a thing of awesome power,' said Feng-Yoon, 'as well it should be, for as the crypt is the belly of Ahriman, so the altar is his head.'

  'His head.' Conan said. 'I will warrant you the thing is disgusting, but it is only a great bundle of stone snakes!'

  'It is not stone,' said Volvolicus. 'I have told you that.'

  'I use the word 'head' in the most symbolic sense,' said the Khitain. 'But as the crypt was left behind to receive the sacrifices to restore the god's strength in this world, so the altar stands ready to receive his intelligence, that he may work his will upon the world of mortals.'

  'This much is clear, after a fashion,' Conan said. 'What is not clear is this: Just what is it that you expect us to do?' He gestured toward his men, all of whom leaned forward attentively, with expressions of fear and dismay. 'We are but ordinary bandits. We are not wizards, to contend with the very gods. We are men who use our wits and our skill and our weapons to earn a living. Judges and the soft folk of the cities think our ways evil, and the peasants of the countryside and the caravaneers consider us a sore plague, but none thinks us unnatural. Who are we to undertake such work?'

  'Having violated the sanctuary of the god,' said the Vendhyan, 'the dreadful sacrificial maw, so to speak, you men have acquired a certain power superior to that of others. It is a principle well known in the study of magic that contact with things sorcerous bestows upon one a certain affinity for the supernatural.'

  'Perhaps that explains,' Conan said ruefully, 'why I always seem to fall afoul of wizardry, as hard as I try to avoid it.'

  'That may well be,' said the Vendhyan, nodding happily.

  'You are to enter the temple,' Feng-Yoon said, answering Conan's question at last. 'And you are to slay the priests.'

  There was silence for a moment, then Conan spoke. 'I see. We are to walk in there,' he pointed at the portal, its portcullis less inviting than the mouth of a dragon, and shut as tightly. 'We are to slay creatures that are not true men at all, that all the sorcery of the Stygian priest-kings could not kill. These creatures have lain alive in their tombs for thousands of years and you expect us to kill them?' Conan's voice rose through this recitation until he was shouting the last words.

  'Tell him, Chief,' Ubo said approvingly. 'Aye, I want none of this,' Chamik agreed. 'In truth,' Asoka said, 'nothing can truly slay thes
e evil priests save their own god. It follows, therefore, that you must induce their god to kill them.'

  'How is that to be done?' Layla asked. Alone among them, she seemed to be taking this in her stride.

  'There were four of these priests until the day of the festival,' Feng-Yoon said. 'Since then, only three have been seen. The one called Umos has disappeared, and that is the one you forced into contact with the wall of the crypt. His god has eaten him. That is how you must destroy the others.' 'You are the wizards,' said Ubo. 'Why do you not do these things?'

  'We could,' said Pyatar of Aghrapur. 'But they would know us the instant we set foot within the temple, and they would have opportunity to prepare. It is imperative that you, experts that you are, break into the temple and slay the priests before they can begin to work their sorcery.'

  'And what will you be doing, wizard?' Mamos asked bitterly.

  'We will be dealing with their god,' said Feng-Yoon. 'And if we refuse?' Conan asked.

  'You cannot,' Feng-Yoon replied. 'You will go willingly or you will go under compulsion, but go you will. You will perform better if you have full command of your limbs and your wits.'

  'You leave us no choice, then?' Conan said.

  'None.'

  'You have heard them,' the Cimmerian said to his followers. 'You know that they make no idle threats.'

  'It looks as if we must go, then,' said Ubo indignantly. 'But it vexes me sorely that we must pull a dangerous break-in with no prospect of gold to steal!'

  'Can you raise the portcullis for us?' Conan asked.

  'Easily,' said Asoka, 'but that would tip our hand untimely.'

  'I have looked the place over,' Conan said, 'and I could find no other access.'

  'There is a way in,' said Pyatar. 'You must enter through the roof. There are portals in the clerestory.'

  'What is a clerestory?' Mamos asked.

  'In large buildings,' Volvolicus explained, 'light is often admitted through a row of windows running around the building just under the roof. That is the clerestory.'

  'Oh,' Mamos said. 'I have broken in through many of those. I never knew what they were called.'

  'In this temple,' said Feng-Yoon, 'the clerestory consists of a series of circular windows, made of a thick substance that is not true glass. These windows flood the interior with ' a scarlet radiance, but it is not the natural light of this world. The magical glass brings light from a faraway red star, which may be the place where the race of the priests of Ahriman had their origin.'

  'You men would never be able to shift one of these windows,' Asoka said. 'But the esteemed Volvolicus, master of all things composed of crystal, can accomplish this. He shall accompany you to the roof and he shall extract one of the windows from its setting. Then you shall descend and carry out your task.'

  'We will need rope,' Conan said. Now that the decision had been reached, he wasted no time with complaint and recrimination. 'We will need a very long rope.'

  'I happen to have such a rope,' said the Vendhyan, his turban glowing gently in the dark night.

  'Then let us be about it,' Conan said, standing.

  'A man of firm purpose,' said Feng-Yoon. 'This is something of which I approve.'

  'Just be ready to deal with Ahriman,' said the Cimmerian. 'If we are to descend into the belly of the god of darkness, I want you standing by to lop off his head.'

  Conan, Volvolicus, Layla and the three bandits walked in the direction of the temple. The wizards faded into the surrounding darkness except for Asoka, who accompanied them.

  'There is little light upon the western side,' Conan said. 'We will go up there.' They walked around to that side, which was faced only by the blank, windowless wall of a law court, and halted midway along its length. 'Where is your rope, Asoka?'

  'Here,' said the Vendhyan. He reached within his robe and withdrew a huge coil of rope, far too large to have been so concealed. This he dropped upon the ground.

  'I will not ask you how you did that,' said Conan. 'I will ask you if you can produce a grapple.'

  'No need,' Asoka said, smiling. 'This is an old Vendhyan speciality.' He bowed his head over steepled hands and sang in a quiet voice, his song a succession of sour, quavering whines fit to set the teeth on edge. Slowly, an end of the rope rose from the centre of the coil and began to ascend.

  'I saw this trick once,' Ubo said, striving to sound unimpressed. 'It was in the bazaar of Shadizar.'

  'Silence!' Layla hissed. With deadly action imminent, even she seemed nervous.

  When the Vendhyan's song ceased, Conan stepped to the rope and tugged at it. It felt not so much like a tight-stretched rope as it did a bar of iron.

  'Volvolicus,' said the Cimmerian, 'when the rest of us are up, we will hold the rope and Asoka can return it to its natural state. Tie an end around your waist and we will haul you up.'

  'I was about to suggest as much,' said the wizard. 'I am no young athlete and will need all my energy when I attack that portal.'

  'What about you?' Conan asked Layla. 'I know you can ride. Can you climb as well?'

  In lieu of an answer, she kicked off her boots and jumped at the rope. With the rope grasped in her hands and between her toes, she swarmed up it as nimbly as a monkey. A minute later she scrambled over the parapet and disappeared. Then she reappeared, waving.

  'All clear up there,' Conan said. He took the rope and began to pull himself up. When his feet were clear of the ground, he braced them against the wall and half-climbed, half-walked up to the roof. Once over the parapet, he surveyed their prospect while Mamos began his ascent. The roof was flat, made of white stone dotted here and there with statues of strange creatures. A few paces from the parapet, the clerestory rose a further seven or eight feet, with the round windows set into its surface. The roof suffered from the same strange malady as the façade, for the sculptures were worn down as if by the rains and winters of centuries.

  Within ten minutes the three bandits lay on the roof, puffing and wheezing from their exertions. Since they were going to be useless for a while, Conan took hold of the rope and waved to Asoka. The rope went limp and Volvolicus fastened it about his waist, then signalled that he was ready. With one foot on the roof and the other braced against the parapet, Conan began hauling the wizard up, the great muscles of his arms, back and shoulders rolling powerfully beneath his bronzed skin. Layla watched him admiringly.

  When the wizard was on the roof and freed from the rope, they crossed to the clerestory and crouched by one of the windows. From this side, it appeared to be an opaque, black disk. Volvolicus ran his fingers over its surface while Ubo recoiled the rope. Conan pointed to a nearby sculpture, and the bandit made one end of the rope fast to it.

  'Secure your weapons,' Conan cautioned in a low voice. 'One dagger dropping to that floor as we climb down might as well be an alarm gong.'

  The wizard chanted slowly, his eyes closed, his fingertips tracing invisible designs upon the surface of the glass. There came a faint grating noise, and gritty dust fell from around the edges of the window. Then, very slowly, like a cork being withdrawn reluctantly from the neck of a bottle, the window began to back out of its setting.

  As it slowly came out, a thin circle of red light defined its periphery. The red line transformed into a definite band, and beams of red light shot from the interior. The glass proved to be as thick as a man's forearm was long. Its outer edge was inky black, its centre a sullen fed. From the rim that pointed inward to the interior of the temple there flared a beam of lurid scarlet.

  'Mitra!' said Ubo. 'What kind of unholy thing is this?'

  Torgut Khan sat sleepless in his chambers. He was frantic with fear and frustration. The officials of the royal treasury had been due for two days, and his continued existence was probably owing only to contrary winds on the Vilayet causing them delay. His luck could not hold. As he brooded, he tore frantically at his hair, knowing that the king's torturers would not be far behind the treasury officials. Where was his treasure?
How could it happen that a pack of scruffy bandits could elude his forces for so long?

  Looking up through his window as if for inspiration, something caught his eye. It was a trifling thing, a mere flash of colour, but so desperate was Torgut Khan for distraction from his troubles that his attention fastened upon it. What could it be? Then he saw it again, like a flash of summer heat-lightning, but coining from the wrong direction, and red instead of white. He got up and went out onto his terrace for a better look.

  Amid the silence and the fragrance of flowering plants, he walked to the balustrade surrounding the terrace and leaned upon it. There! The flash came again, brightening steadily, until a great beam of red light shot into the sky. He shivered involuntarily at the uncanny sight. What could it be? What was its source? Then he saw that it came from the roof of the accursed Temple of Ahriman.

  He had never been satisfied with the tale of how a wizard had gone within the crypt, accompanied by the most flea-bitten pack of unhung rogues ever to plague the territory, and simply levitated the treasure out into the open air. Flown it away, like a hawk from the wrist of a falconer! A suspicion formed in his mind. Suppose the treasure had never left the temple? Suppose the whole spectacle of the flying chests and sacks had been mere illusion?

  Once the idea was in his brain, it fastened there as tenaciously as a leech, strengthened by his desperate need. Yes! He was sure of it now. The priests had stolen his treasure! His salvation lay in the Temple of Ahriman!

  The red light was no longer visible, and he knew that he must act immediately. He ran from the terrace, grasped the handle of his door and swung it wide.

  'Guards!' he bellowed. 'Sagobal! Come to me! We must invade the Temple of Ahriman!'

  'Cover it!' Volvolicus said urgently. The thick window rested on the roof upon its black side, casting a brilliant beam straight overhead. Had there been any clouds above, it would have made a bloody spot upon their undersides. Ubo cast his black cloak over the pane. The light came through weakly, so that it glowed sullenly as a low-burning coal. At least it no longer shot its rays abroad for all to see.