With an inhuman cry Conan caught up his fallen sword and leaped into the path of the hurtling horror. But even as his sword went up, the forefeet of the black beast smote him like a thunderbolt and sent him hurtling a score of feet away, dazed and bruised. Yasmela’s cry came hauntingly to his stunned ears as the chariot roared by.
A yell that had nothing of the human in its timbre rang from his lips as Conan rebounded from the bloody earth and seized the rein of a riderless horse that raced past him, throwing himself into the saddle without bringing the charger to a halt. With mad abandon he raced after the rapidly receding chariot. He struck the levels flying, and passed like a whirlwind through the Shemite camp. Into the desert he fled, passing clumps of his own riders, and hard-spurring desert horsemen.
On flew the chariot, and on raced Conan, though his horse began to reel beneath him. Now the open desert lay all about them, bathed in the lurid desolate splendor of sunset. Before him rose up the ancient ruins, and with a shriek that froze the blood in Conan’s veins, the unhuman charioteer cast Natohk and the girl from him. They rolled on the sand, and to Conan’s dazed gaze, the chariot and its steed altered awfully. Great wings spread from a black horror that in no way resembled a camel, and it rushed upward into the sky, bearing in its wake a shape of blinding flame, in which a black man-like shape gibbered in ghastly triumph. So quickly it passed, that it was like the rush of a nightmare through a horror-haunted dream.
Natohk sprang up, cast a swift look at his grim pursuer, who had not halted but came riding hard, with sword swinging low and spattering red drops; and the sorcerer caught up the fainting girl and ran with her into the ruins.
Conan leaped from his horse and plunged after them. He came into a room that glowed with unholy radiance, though outside dusk was falling swiftly. On a black jade altar lay Yasmela, her naked body gleaming like ivory in the weird light. Her garments lay strewn on the floor, as if ripped from her in brutal haste. Natohk faced the Cimmerian – inhumanly tall and lean, clad in shimmering green silk. He tossed back his veil, and Conan looked into the features he had seen depicted on the Zugite coin.
'Aye, blench, dog!' the voice was like the hiss of a giant serpent. 'I am Thugra Khotan! Long I lay in my tomb, awaiting the day of awakening and release. The arts which saved me from the barbarians long ago likewise imprisoned me, but I knew one would come in time – and he came, to fulfil his destiny, and to die as no man has died in three thousand years!
'Fool, do you think you have conquered because my people are scattered? Because I have been betrayed and deserted by the demon I enslaved? I am Thugra Khotan, who shall rule the world despite your paltry gods! The desert is filled with my people; the demons of the earth shall do my bidding, as the reptiles of the earth obey me. Lust for a woman weakened my sorcery. Now the woman is mine, and feasting on her soul, I shall be unconquerable! Back, fool! You have not conquered Thugra Khotan!'
He cast his staff and it fell at the feet of Conan, who recoiled with an involuntary cry. For as it fell it altered horribly; its outline melted and writhed, and a hooded cobra reared up hissing before the horrified Cimmerian. With a furious oath Conan struck, and his sword sheared the horrid shape in half. And there at his feet lay only the two pieces of a severed ebon staff. Thugra Khotan laughed awfully, and wheeling, caught up something that crawled loathsomely in the dust of the floor.
In his extended hand something alive writhed and slavered. No tricks of shadows this time. In his naked hand Thugra Khotan gripped a black scorpion, more than a foot in length, the deadliest creature of the desert, the stroke of whose spiked tail was instant death. Thugra Khotan’s skull-like countenance split in a mummy-like grin. Conan hesitated; then without warning he threw his sword.
Caught off guard, Thugra Khotan had no time to avoid the cast. The point struck beneath his heart and stood out a foot behind his shoulders. He went down, crushing the poisonous monster in his grasp as he fell.
Conan strode to the altar, lifting Yasmela in his blood-stained arms. She threw her white arms convulsively about his mailed neck, sobbing hysterically, and would not let him go.
'Crom’s devils, girl!' he grunted. 'Loose me! Fifty thousand men have perished today, and there is work for me to do –'
'No!' she gasped, clinging with convulsive strength, as barbaric for the instant as he in her fear and passion. 'I will not let you go! I am yours, by fire and steel and blood! You are mine! Back there, I belong to others – here I am mine – and yours! You shall not go!'
He hesitated, his own brain reeling with the fierce upsurging of his violent passions. The lurid unearthly glow still hovered in the shadowy chamber, lighting ghostlily the dead face of Thugra Khotan, which seemed to grin mirthlessly and cavernously at them. Out on the desert, in the hills among the oceans of dead, men were dying, were howling with wounds and thirst and madness, and kingdoms were staggering. Then all was swept away by the crimson tide that rode madly in Conan’s soul, as he crushed fiercely in his iron arms the slim white body that shimmered like a witch-fire of madness before him.
Shadows in the Dark
L. Sprague de Camp & Lin Carter
In the Street of Magicians in the Shemitish city of Eruk, practitioners of the arcane arts put away their paraphernalia and began to close their shops. The scryers wrapped up their crystal balls in lambs' wool; the pyromancers extinguished the flames in which they saw their visions; and the sorcerers mopped pentacles from the worn tiles of their floors.
Rhazes the astrologer was likewise busied with the closing of his stall when an Eruki in kaftan and turban approached him, saying:
'Do not close just yet, friend Rhazes! The king has bid me get a final word from you ere you set out for Khoraja.'
Rhazes, a large, stout man, grunted his displeasure, then hid his feelings behind a suave smile. 'Step in, step in, most eminent Dathan. What would His Majesty at this late hour?'
'He fain would know what the stars foretell about the
fates of neighbouring kings and kingdoms.'
'You have brought my proper fee in silver?' asked the astrologer.
'Certainly, good sir. The king has found your prognostications worthy, and hence is loath to lose you.'
'Were he so loath, why did he not do somewhat to abate :! the envy of my Eruki colleagues toward a foreigner and curb their harassments? But it is now too late for that; I'm off for Khoraja at dawn.'
'Will naught persuade you otherwise?'
'Naught; for a greater prise awaits me there than this small city-state affords.'
Dathan frowned. 'Odd. Travellers say that Khoraja is much impoverished by the vanquishing of Natohk, may he fry in Hell.'
Rhazes ignored this comment. 'Now let's consult the stars. Pray, sit.'
Dathan took a chair. Rhazes set before him a boxlike brazen object with slip rings and dials upon its vertical faces. Through apertures along its sides, a multitude of brass gear wheels were plain for all to see.
The astrologer made adjustments, then slowly turned a silver knob affixed to the outer end of a protruding shaft. He watched the dials intently until they reached a setting of his choosing. At length he spoke:
'I see portentous changes. The star of Mitra will soon conjoin with the star of Nergal, which is in the ascendancy. Aye, changes there shall be in Khoraja.
'I see three persons, all royal, either now, or formerly, or yet in times to come. One is a beautiful woman, caught in a web like unto a spider's. Another is a young man of high estate surrounded by walls of massive stone.
'The third is a mighty man, older than the other but still youthful, and of vast and sanguinary prowess. The woman urges him to join her in the web, but he destroys it utterly. Meanwhile the young man beats his fists in vain against the wall.
'Now strange shapes move upon the astral plane. Witches ride the clouds by the light of a gibbous moon, and the
ghosts of drowned men bubble up from stagnant swamps. And the Great Worm tunnels beneath the earth to seek the graves o
f kings.'
Rhazes shook his head as if emerging from a trance. 'So tell your master that changes portend in Khoraja and in the land of Koth. Now pray excuse me; I must finish my preparations for the coming journey. Farewell, and may your stars prove auspicious!'
Through the halls of the royal palace of Khoraja, on marble floors beneath vaults and domes of lapis lazuli, strode Conan the Cimmerian. With a thud of boot heels and a jingle of spurs, he came to the private apartments of Yasmela, princess-regent of the kingdom of Khoraja.
'Vateesa!' he roared. 'Where is your lady?'
A dark-eyed lady-in-waiting parted the draperies. 'General Conan,' she said. 'The princess prepares to receive the envoy from Shumir and cannot give you audience now.'
'To the devil with the envoy from Shumir! I haven't seen Princess Yasmela alone since the last new moon, and that she knows full well. If she can afford time for some smooth-talking horse-thief from one of these piddling city-states, she can afford the time for me.'
'Is aught amiss with the army?'
'Nay, little one. Most of the troublemakers who resented serving under a barbarian general fell at Shamla. Now I hear naught but the usual peacetime grumbles over scanty pay and slow promotion. But I want to see your lady, and by Crom, I'll-'
'Vatessa!' called a gentle voice. 'Permit him entry. The envoy can await me for a while.'
Conan marched into the chamber where Princess Yasmela sat before her dressing table in the full splendour of her royal habiliments. Two tiring-women assisted in her preparations; one delicately tinting her soft lips, while another settled a glittering tiara on her night-black hair.
When she had dismissed her handmaidens, she rose and faced the giant Cimmerian. Conan held out his brawny arms, but Yasmela stepped back with a minatory gesture.
'Not now, my love!' she breathed. 'You'd crumple my courtly raiment.'
'Good gods, woman!' growled the Cimmerian. 'When can I have you to myself? I like you better, anyhow, without that frippery about you.'
'Conan dear, I say again that which I said before. Much as I love you, I belong to the people of Khoraja. My enemies wait like birds of prey to take advantage of my least misjudgement. 'T'was folly, what we did in that ruined temple. If I gave myself to you again and the word took wings, the throne would rock beneath me - and worse did I conceive a child by you. Besides, so busied am I with affairs of state that at the close of day I am too weary even for love.'
'Then come with me before your high priest of Ishtar and let him make us one.'
Yasmela sighed and shook her head. 'That cannot be, my love, so long as I am regent. Were my brother free, something might be arranged, even though marriage with a foreigner is much against our customs.'
'You mean if I can loose King Khossus from Moranthes' prison cell, he would take over all this mummery that uses up your life and keeps you from me?'
Yasmela raised her hands, palms upward. 'Surely the King would resume his daily tasks. Whether he would permit our union, I do not know. Methinks I could persuade him.'
'And the kingdom cannot pay the ransom demanded by Moranthes?' asked Conan.
'Nay. Before the war with Natohk, we raised a sum that he would have then accepted. But Ophir's price has risen, whilst our treasury is depleted. And now I fear Moranthes will sell my brother to the King of Koth. Would that we had a wizard to conjure poor Khossus out of his prison cell! Now I must go, my dear. Promptness was ever the courtesy of kings, and I must uphold the traditions of my house.'
Yasmela rang a little silver bell, and the two servants returned to give the final touches to the princess's attire. Conan bowed his way out; then at the door he paused and said: 'Princess, your words have given me a thought.'
'What thought, my General?'
'I'll tell you when you have the time to listen. Farewell for now.'
Taurus the chancellor brushed back the white hair above a face lined with the cares of many years. He looked intently at Conan, sitting across from him in his cabinet of state. He said:
'You ask what would befall if Khossus were slain? Why then, the council would choose his successor. As he has no legitimate heir, his sister is the likely choice, since the Princess Yasmela is popular and conscientious.'
'If she declined the honour?' said Conan.
'The succession would pass to her next of kin, her uncle Bardes. If, good Conan, you think to grasp the crown yourself, dismiss the thought. We Khorajis are a clannish folk; none would accept a foreigner like you. I mean no offence; I do but utter facts.'
Conan waved away Taurus' apology. 'I like an honest man. But what if a ninny came to sit upon the throne?'
'Better one ninny on whom all agree, than two able princes wasting the land in a struggle for power. But you came not to discuss the rule of kings but to advance some proposal, did you not?'
'I thought if I went secretly to Ophir and smuggled Khossus out, the kingdom would greatly profit, would it not?'
Experienced statesman though he was, Taurus' eyes widened. 'Amazing that you voice this proposition! Only a few days since, a soothsayer broached a like suggestion. The stars foretold, he said, that Conan would embark on this adventure and carry it to success. Thinking naught of magic, I dismissed the matter. But perchance the undertaking might happily go forward.'
'What mage was this?' asked Conan in surprise.
'Rhazes, a Corinthian, lately come from Eruk.'
'I know him not.' said Conan. 'Something the princess said gave me the notion.'
Taurus looked shrewdly at the barbarian general. He had heard rumours of the passion between Conan and Yasmela but thought it wiser not to mention the affair. The idea of a
union between his adored princess and a rough barbarian mercenary made Taurus shudder. Still, despite his pride of class and ancestry, he tried to be fair-minded toward the saviour of Khoraja. He said:
'Tis but a forlorn hope, this rescue of the king, yet we must act upon it soon or not at all. Since we cannot pay Moranthes the ransom he demands, I fear he will deliver our young king to Strabonus of Koth, who offers Ophir an advantageous treaty. Once the Kothian gets Khossus in his clutches, he'll doubtless torture him until he signs an abdication in Strabonus' favour, making him ruler of our land. We'll fight, for certain; but a bitter end is foreordained.'
'We beat Natohk's army,' said Conan.
'Aye, thanks to you. But Strabonus commands in great numbers sound, well-disciplined troops, unlike Natohk's motley hordes.'
'And if I free the king, what reward is mine?' asked Conan.
Taurus gave a wry smile. 'You come straight to the point, do you not, General? Do you not hope to enjoy more of the princess's company, once her brother regains the throne?'
'What if I do ?' growled Conan.
'No offence, no offence. But would not that reward suffice you?'
'It would not. If I am to win respect among your perfumed nobles, I shall need more than an officer's pay. I will accept half the sum you offered Moranthes for the king's return, ere he raised his price.'
With another, Taurus would have bargained; but he judged Conan too shrewdly to think that he could gain by chaffering with him. The unpredictable Cimmerian might roar with laughter, or fly into a rage, storm out, and leave Khoraja just when the kingdom needed him.
'Very well,' said Taurus. 'At least, the money will stay within the kingdom. I'll send for this Rhazes, and we shall plan your expedition.'
Conan strode in on Yasmela, Taurus, and another - a large, stout man of middle years, wearing a gauzy robe and a
sleepy expression. At Conan's heels came a small and furtive man, skeletally thin, in ragged garments.
'Hail, Princess!' said Conan. 'And hail, Chancellor. And good day to you, whoever you may be.'
Taurus cleared his throat. 'General Conan, I present Master Rhazes of Limnae, the eminent astrologer. And who is the gentleman who accompanies you?'
Conan gave a bark of laughter. 'Know, friends, that this is no gentleman but Pronto, t
he most skilful thief in all your kingdom. I found him in a reeking dive last night when all you honest folk were sleeping.'
Pronto bowed low, while Taurus controlled his feelings of distaste.
'A thief?' said the chancellor. 'What need have we for such a one in this enterprise?'
'Being one myself, once, I know something of thievish ways,' said Conan quietly. 'When I was in the trade, though, I never learned the art of picking locks. My fingers were too large and clumsy. But for our purposes now, we may need a lock-picker, and there is none more adroit at this than Pronto. I inquired among some other thieves I know.'
'You have the most amazing acquaintance,' said Taurus dryly. 'But - but how can you rely upon persons of his character?'
Conan grinned. 'Pronto has his reasons for helping us. Tell them, Pronto.'
In a soft Ophirean accent, the thief spoke for the first time: 'Know, good sirs and lady, that I have my own score to settle with King Moranthes of Ophir. I am, if not of noble blood, at least from a station in life higher than that wherein you see me. I am the only son of Hermion, in his time the foremost architect of Ophir.
'Some years ago, when Moranthes, then a stripling youth, came to the throne of Ophir, he chose to build a new and larger palace in Ianthe. For this task he hired my father. The king decreed that there should be a secret passage from the interior of the palace complex to a point outside the city walls, whereby he could escape a sudden uprising of the people or the destruction of his city by a foe.
'When the palace was complete, secret passage and all, the. king ordered that the builders of the passageway be slain, so none should spread the secret. My father he did not slay. Deeming himself merciful, Moranthes merely had him blinded.
'The hideous injury broke my father's health. He died within the month. But ere he passed away, he revealed to me the secret of the passage whereby I can lead the general into the palace. And since the passage opens into the dungeons and I can pick the lock of any door, we have a gambler's chance of rescuing the king.'
The Conan Chronology Page 307