Conan and his men were encamped on their homeward ride when the rest of the Cambres caught up to them. A huntsman came running up to Conan's fire to give him the news, and the Cimmerian stood to receive them. He knew that the news was not good when he saw the inert form across Siggeir's saddle. He helped the lad down and saw the wounds on head and chest. His practised eye told him that the boy had taken these wounds while on his feet facing a bigger man.
Conan looked at Siggeir and Rerin. 'Totila?' he asked.
Siggeir nodded. He reported to Conan on the day's doings while Rerin got out his herbs and began tending to the young man's wounds. Conan shook his head when the recitation was done.
'To mass for an attack against a shield-wall was a wise move,' Conan said. 'But to dismount to fight— especially against a man like Totila—that was foolish.'
'What would you have a man of good blood do?' demanded Siggeir. 'He saw Totila standing there before his men like a true king. Could he in honour do less than meet Totila on even terms?'
The other Cambres nodded and agreed. They wanted a warrior king and if Leovigild was willing to-risk certain death to live up to their ideal of such a man, they honoured him for it.
Conan smiled at their grim faces. 'Northerners. What headstrong fools you all are. Well, I am a northerner, too.' He looked down at Leovigild's recumbent form. 'He'll make you a good king, if he lives.'
Rerin looked up at them. 'His wounds are grave, but I can heal them if we can get him back to the garth. In my hut I can do far more for him than I can here.'
Conan summoned a party of the huntsmen and ordered them to fashion a litter. 'They can carry him through these woods far faster man a horse-drawn litter,' he told Rerin. 'The rest of us will ride after, staying between you and the enemy.'
'How fared you against Odoac?' Siggeir asked.
'We killed many,' Conan told him. 'We struck them five times before they took to making a shield-wall and trying to spear the horses. But Odoac stayed in the midst of his men; we had no chance to kill him.'
'That is unfortunate,' Siggeir said. 'Perhaps we've whittled them down enough to make a good fight of it when it comes to the siege.'
Conan nodded, but held his counsel.
Alcuina saw the man being carried on the litter, and her heart sank. Since the men had ridden to war, she had spent most of every day here on the wall above the gate, waiting for word of what was happening out in the forest. Her greatest fear was that they would bring Conan or Leovigild back dead. She knew that she needed both of them if her people were to survive, and she was sure that this was one of them now. If it was,
which did she want it to be? She pushed that question aside as she ordered the gate to be opened and ran out to meet the little party.
She released a long sigh when she saw that it was Leovigild's pale face above a mass of bandages. She felt a great relief, and she was not certain if it was because it was not Conan, or because Leovigild was not dead.
'We must get him to my hut,' Rerin said from the back of his horse.
Alcuina gave orders to the thralls, and Leovigild was carried inside to Rerin's hut, where the old wizard dismounted stiffly.
'Bring him inside,' he ordered curtly. While Rerin tended to Leovigild's hurts, he reported to Alcuina. 'We were successful,' he said when the report was finished. 'But I do not think we hurt them as badly as Conan had hoped.'
'And now poor Leovigild is out of the fight,' she said.
'His value was not as a warrior,' Rerin said, 'but as a leader. In that he did well. Any who had doubts about the lad lost them when they saw him fighting the Tormanna and taking on Totila man-to-man. They'll fight as fiercely for him now as they would were he fighting in the forefront of them.'
'Do you think he would be a good king?'
'An excellent one,' Rerin assured her.
She nodded. 'Then that is what he shall be.'
Conan and the others rode in as the sun was setting. Wearily they dismounted and turned their horses over to the thralls. The wounded went to Rerin's hut for treatment. Alcuina came from the hall and crossed the yard so Conan.
'How many did we lose?' she asked.
'A score, and as many wounded, although few are sorely hurt. We cost them three times that many. Most of the men we lost were in the first assault. In the second and third, our men knew better what they were doing. After that the enemy learned how to defend themselves.'
'Was it enough?'
'Perhaps. We shall know soon. At any rate, we're in a better position than we were a few days ago. How is the lad?'
'Speak more respectfully of the future king of the Cambres. Rerin says he will recover, although it shall be many weeks before he is fully fit.'
'I rejoice to hear that he will be well and that your tongue has lost none of its edge.'
For once, she smiled at him. 'It does no good to let a liege man grow too familiar, even a black-haired outlander who craves to head south for the hot climes and the sweet wine. Come, Leovigild has been demanding that you be brought to him as soon as you arrive here.'
'Picked up kingly ways already, has he?' Conan pretended to grumble. Indeed, he was happy to know that the boy would live.
They went into the hall, where a huge meal was being prepared for the returning warriors. Behind the arras at the end of the hall they found Leovigild on a bed of bearskins and other furs. His head and chest were heavily swathed in bandages, and his face was pale, but he managed a weak smile of welcome when he saw Conan.
'I fear I did not do well on my first command, champion. I hope you fared better.'
'You were a purblind idiot to try to fight Totila,' Conan said, earning a venomous glare from Alcuina. 'But aside from that you did well. Your men will have no cause to regret that you lead them in battle. You'll have some fine scars to show for it, too.'
'Do you think the men hold me the lesser man because I could not defeat Totila?'
'If any say so,' Alcuina hissed, 'I'll have the hide off their—'
'No,' Conan interrupted, 'only a fool would expect a young man on his first blade-wetting to slay a man like Totila, no matter how high his blood. You did well, Leovigild, and your hair is not decorating his cloak.'
Rerin came in to check on his patient. 'You must not tire him. He needs rest.'
Conan grinned crookedly. 'Physicians are the same everywhere. We'll speak tomorrow, Leovigild. Your shield may guard my right side in any battle.' He made to go but turned back at a last word from Leovigild.
'Conan, you must slay Totila. You are the only man in the North who has a chance.' His eyes grew haunted. 'It was like fighting a mountain.'
Conan's face became most grim. 'He'll not have my hair either.'
After the feast, where each man had had his chance to boast of his feats in the late fighting, Conan sat working a few nicks out of his sword with a whetstone. He looked up to see Rerin standing by his side.
'How goes it, Rerin?'
The old man sat on the bench beside him, shaking his head. 'I am most apprehensive. It is three battles we face.'
Conan raised his sword and sighted along one edge. 'Why three?'
'There will be a battle of armies, and a battle of kings, and a battle of wizards. To survive, we must win all three.'
Conan turned the sword over and checked the other edge. 'Do you think we will not?'
'My greatest fears are for the wizard-duel. I know my craft, as you have seen, but Lilma has traffic with powers I dare not even contact. They must destroy him in the end, but until he is overwhelmed by the fruits of his ambition, he may wield powers far in excess of any I command.'
Conan put the sword back in its sheath and hung it from its peg. 'Few things are worse for an army than too much talk of defeat before battle can even be joined. Thus, you are defeated ere you fight. If you have already lost in your own mind, Lilma need do nothing at all.'
'That may be true of warriors, but I can make a ready evaluation of my strength and his, using neither
optimism nor despair. As of now, he has the upper hand.'
'So much for now. The fighting will begin tomorrow or perhaps the next day. How may we arrange matters more to our advantage in the meantime?'
Rerin smiled slightly. 'You are not merely the simple warrior you seem.'
Conan lifted his horn and swallowed a heavy draught of ale. 'When it comes to fighting, I prefer to meet my foe man-to-man and sword-to-sword. Wizardry is different. I have no liking for it, and if I must endure it, I want to have every advantage I can get. Now, what is
your suggestion? You did not come here to exchange idle talk.'
'Be sure of it. Do you think that you can defeat Totila?'
Conan shrugged. 'I have met no man yet who was my match. That means nothing. Totila is a great warrior, by all accounts. When we meet we shall know which of us is the greater.'
'Odoac is of no account as a man,' Rerin said. 'How the Thungians fight shall depend upon who kills Odoac first, we or Totila. They will probably join his slayer for lack of a king. The deciding factor must be Lilma, and he is in bad odour with Totila now.'
'How so?' asked Conan.
'He has failed a number of times, despite all his powers. His walking dead men could not defeat us; his demon-abductors failed to bring him Alcuina; even my poor snowstorms prevented his magpies from helping them on the march. By now he will be desperate to regain favour with Totila. In this desperation we may find his fatal weakness.'
'Say on,' urged Conan, intrigued.. Wizard and champion talked long into the night.
XIII
Demon Birds
A section of the great hall had been curtained off as an infirmary for the men sorely wounded in the late fighting. With the stoicism of the North they made light of their wounds, although they knew mat some of them would not live to see the coming of spring. Leovigild was in such pain that even breathing was an agony, but he felt that he was fortunate to be among such men, and did his best to pretend that he was not suffering.
His game of knucklebones with a man who had lost an eye and two fingers was interrupted when an arras stitched with the deeds of a warrior dead two hundred years was pushed aside, admitting a small group of the senior warriors, along with Alcuina, Rerin, and Conan.
'I trust you are on the mend, Leovigild,' Alcuina said.
'I have seldom felt better,' he said bravely, fooling no one, 'and I hope to raise my sword in your cause soon.'
Alcuina smiled, and such was her beauty that he found Atalia slowly vanishing from his memory. Indeed, the fantastic day and night he had spent in the little valley now seemed as insubstantial as a dream, and was fading from his memory as a dream fades upon waking.
'I'll not call upon your sword arm until you are fully fit,' Alcuina said. 'However, there is a bold plan afoot to weaken Totila somewhat, and I deemed it meet that you should have a part in our counsels.'
'I am honoured that you so value my counsel, my lady,' he said. He managed a weak smile at Conan. 'And I warrant that, if there is a bold plan brewing, this great, black-haired rogue is in the midst of it.'
Unceremoniously Conan propped a foot on the edge of Leovigild's rude cot and leaned forward, crossing his arms upon his knee. 'We grow weary of Totila's tame spell-caster, Lilma. Our good Rerin, here, thinks he knows a good way to strike at him.'
'That would be a fine deed,' Leovigild said. 'But how may a plain warrior deal with one who has dark powers in his hands?'
'Rerin,' said Alcuina, 'tell Leovigild and these warriors what you told me this evening.'
The old man stood forth and stroked his grey beard. 'I have now observed much of this man, Lilma, far more than I ever wished. His form of wizardry is something far, far different from my own. I seek to use the properties of the plants, stones, and beasts of our land to aid my queen for the good of us all. I use my spells to gain the help of the gods and spirits of the forest and the streams. These supernatural beings are not hostile to men if they are given the proper respect, and by my spells they may be persuaded to help us by moderating the cold and snows of winter, making the beasts of the forest plentiful to the hunters, and causing the streams to teem with fish for the nets of fishermen. They cause the cattle, sheep, swine, and horses to be fruitful and bear many young. Others of these benevolent spirits help me to stop the onset of pestilence and speed the healing of the injured, such as these warriors, whose honourable wounds have brought them to this place.' He waved a hand gracefully to include all the bloodied, bandaged, but uncomplaining men who occupied the cots and the pallets in the straw.
'Lilma, the Hyperborean, is a different breed of wizard.' His mien became solemn and baleful. 'He does not seek to help men to prosper amid the dangers of nature. He seeks power for himself. He knows, though, that knowledge and skill may gain him only so much. True power over men is wielded by the arms of warriors, and for this reason he has attached himself to a king—a rising battle chief—who must give Lilma much of the credit for his ascent to power.
'For such power as this wizard wishes to control, the small gods and spirits are of little use. Some time, long ago, Lilma struck a dreadful bargain. He trafficked with the great powers of the worlds beyond ours. Until recently these were worlds I had only glimpsed in trance state. The beings of these worlds can grant great puissance to a mortal man, but at a terrible price. His mind, his very soul, are forever changed. When such a dark bargain is struck, there is an exchange. The wizard of this world gives some part of himself, some crucial part of his soul that is forever accursed. In return he receives one or more spirit helpers, familiars that greatly expand his powers and act as go-betweens in his dealings with the other worlds.'
'The magpies!' Leovigild said.
'Exactly,' said Rerin solemnly. 'Of course, they are not true magpies. They are demons of another world, but they could not maintain their true form in this world, nor would they want to, for one of the tasks of such familiars is to spy and bring knowledge back to their master, and it is best for them not to attract attention. In all the lore I have studied, birds or bats have been the favoured forms that familiars take. This gives them wide-ranging powers, all the great sky as their field so that they can bring back to their master whatever he needs to know. Of all birds, the scavenger birds such as magpies, crows, and ravens are most favoured, for whoever takes notice of them? A hawk or eagle always draws attention. A wren or sparrow looks out of place in certain areas, and owls are not seen in the day. But the scavengers are everywhere.'
Conan broke into the lengthy recitation. 'Tonight, I go on a magpie hunt.'
'If Lilma is deprived of his familiars,' Rerin said, 'he must lose much of his power.'
'I hold,' Alcuina said, 'that Conan should take other warriors with him. It is not meet that one man should venture into such peril alone.'
'Some of us are willing to go with him,' said Siggeir. But there was a hesitation in his voice that said that his heart would not be in such a venture.
'Nay,' said Conan, 'if it were a fight with men, the more the better, but I go against two birds and a wizard. There is no advantage in numbers in such a fight. Besides, it will be done at night, and none here except me have any skill at night fighting.'
'We fought the liches at night,' Siggeir said, 'although it is true that we built up fires so we could see to ply our weapons. What manner of men choose to fight at night, when one cannot tell friend from foe, and no one can witness the deeds of the valiant?'
'Picts,' said Conan with a grim smile.
'Picts?' Leovigild said. 'Who are they?'
'They are a folk who love to fight at all hours,' said the Cimmerian. 'And they have a rare skill at night-battle. There are others who are good in the dark— Afghulis, Himelian hillmen, the pygmies of southern Rush—but the Picts are the best. I have fought them and lived among them.'
'It is no manner for men to fight,' said Siggeir haughtily.
'Nonetheless,' Alcuina said quietly, 'someone must carry out this task, and it is Conan who has thi
s skill. And if it is to be done, my champion is the one who deserves that honour.'
'I wish you well, Conan,' Leovigild said. 'If any can defeat Lilma's familiars, it must be you.'
The sliver of a crescent moon was rising over the hills to the east when Conan betook himself to the walk atop the palisade. The small band gathered atop the wall stared in wonder at the Cimmerian's bizarre appearance. He was dressed all in black wolfskins, and he had blackened his face and arms with a mixture of wax and soot. The buckles and metal fittings on his swordbelt had been wrapped in dark cloth to hide them and to muffle any sound they might make. A strip of leather about his brow held his shoulder-length hair in place.
'It is time,' he said.
'Father Ymir watch over you,' Rerin said.
Conan grinned without mirth. 'Crom is my god. It is said that he and Ymir are not on the best of terms. When the fighting begins, I trust to my sword arm.'
'The huntsmen say they are not far,' said Alcuina, with her sure grasp of practicalities, 'but moving slowly, as you predicted. Good fortune, Cimmerian, but use caution. This is but a sally to weaken Lilma. The true battle is yet to come, and I shall have need of your services at that time.'
'Fear not, Alcuina,' said Conan, 'I'll not deprive you of my services untimely.' He sprang to the top of the palisade, hesitated for a moment, then leaped outward, ignoring the rope that had been hung from a post. There was always a possibility that Totila had sent a scout to watch the gate, so it had been decided that Conan should leave from the opposite wall.
He landed lightly, taking the shock on bent knees, with the assurance of perfect balance. The faint moonlight transformed the snow-covered field into a mantle of cloth of silver. In the distance, he could barely discern the standing stones.
The huntsmen had said that Totila's force was coming through the eastern uplands. Conan set off in that direction, travelling at a mile-eating trot that he could maintain all night. Within minutes he was in the forest, and he moved amid the pines with as much assurance as he had upon the plain, his eyes as keen as an owl's in the dimness.
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