The Conan Chronology

by J. R. Karlsson

  On the far side of the stream a narrow road passed before the fort. He watched as a plume of dust appeared in the distance down the road and neared the fort. The fort itself was not imposing, a mere mud-walled enclosure large enough for a garrison of perhaps three hundred. The walls were no more than fifteen feet high, and there was no moat. It was not meant as a strong defensive position, but only as a stronghold for sending out mounted patrols.

  The plume of dust soon resolved itself into a force of men on horseback, riding with no haste or urgency. He counted fifty, all of them heavy lancers in gilded armour and with colourful plumes. They rode into the fort and the gate swung shut behind them.

  Conan was about to return to his men when he saw another plume of dust, this one small, coming from the road,in the direction opposite that of the cavalry's approach. This he could well see was a single horse, hard-ridden. It had to be a messenger bringing urgent news to the fort. He meant to find out what that news might be.

  Backing away, still on his belly, Conan rose only when he was well below the crest of the hill and sprang into his saddle. His men were too far away for him to

  hail, so he left them gaping as he spurred along the flank of the hill and down onto the flat land. By staying along the base of the high ground, he remained out of sight of the fort. When he judged that he was far enough from the garrison to escape detection, he rode over the short spur of hill that remained and down its other side. The stream flowed along the base of the hill and he waded his mount across it without difficulty. The beast wanted to stop and drink, but he forced it on until he was upon the road. A few hundred paces away, the messenger was still coming at a gallop. The man waved something overhead, above his multiple yellow plumes. He caught sight of Conan, who had taken up his position in the centre of the road.

  'Make way for the messenger of the prince!' the rider shouted as, perforce, he slowed his horse. 'Stand aside, fellow, or feel the wrath of the prince's justice. It is death to interfere with the prince's messenger!'

  Then the man's eyes went wide as he realised he was facing a foreign warrior, one equipped with the great bow favoured by the nomads. Setting spurs to horse, he sought to ride around Conan, for the road was on flat ground, with nothing to stop a horseman.

  As the messenger rode past him, Conan wheeled and gave chase. He caught up quickly, for the messenger's horse was tired. From his saddle he took the rope with which he had been practising and shook out a wide noose. He rode up within three spear lengths of the fleeing man, whirled the noose a few times and snapped it out underhanded as Guyak had taught him. True as an arrow, the noose dropped over the man's head and settled around his chest and upper arms. Conan pulled the rope tight and rode off at an angle, tugging hard.

  The messenger sailed over the rump of his horse and landed in the dirt with a bone-jarring thump. The horse

  ran on for a few dozen paces and then, with no one spurring it, slowed and halted, its sides heaving. Conan rode over to the fallen man, who was quite unconscious but did not seem to be badly hurt. From the messenger's belt he took a cylindrical case of gold-washed bronze. This was what the man had been waving overhead.

  From the case Conan took a rolled parchment. Unrolling it, he saw that it bore a script that he could not read. Cursing, he replaced the parchment in its case, remounted, and caught the messenger's horse. He threw the man across the horse's back and rode to join his men, horse and messenger in tow.

  When Conan was within sight of his force, Rustuf rode out to him grinning with relief. 'I am glad to see you, Conan. The Hyrkanians were most puzzled to see you rush off like that. They thought you might have deserted the Kagan to go warn the Sogarians. Things might have gone ill for Fawd and me.'

  'I should be satisfied to have obedience when I am present,' Conan said. 'Love and loyalty are too much to expect when I am absent.'

  'What have you brought us? A prisoner?'

  'A messenger,' Conan said. 'But I cannot read what his message says.''

  'Oh, we shall have answers out of him, never fear,' Rustuf assured him.

  The Hyrkanians were equally delighted to see the prisoner, and anticipated some good sport. 'First we will see whether the man will talk without coercion,' Conan ordered. 'No harm is to come to him if he cooperates.'

  The Hyrkanians were puzzled by such unaccustomed delicacy, but they were willing to humour their commander. After a few minutes, the messenger began to

  revive. He sat up and looked about and fear spread across his countenance as he saw the fierce steppe hawks who sat in a circle surrounding him.

  'Sogarian,' said Conan, 'you are my prisoner. I-wish some answers from you. Speak freely and truthfully and you shall come to no harm. Refuse to speak, or speak falsely, and I must let my men try to persuade you. They are most proficient at the business of loosening tongues.'

  The man swallowed hard. 'Ask what you will. The little I know cannot aid you much.'

  Conan grinned. 'I shall be the judge of that. Know you the content of the message you carried?'

  'It is a warning to the commander of the garrison at Khulm. He is warned that the steppe nomads are descending upon Sogaria. This can hardly be news to you.'

  'As you say. Were there special instructions for the commander?'

  'Just that he is to hold his fort bravely and die where he stands rather than yield an inch of Sogarian soil.'

  'They all say that,' Rustuf said with a barking laugh. 'What soldier is so foolish as to take such orders seriously?'

  Something puzzled Conan. 'How long has the prince of Sogaria known that the nomads are coming?'

  'Three days ago the city began to prepare for siege. I was sent forth yesterday morning to warn the three royal forts on my route. Khulm is the last.'

  It seemed, Conan thought, that the Hyrkanians were not quite as swift and invisible as they thought. Or perhaps there was a traitor within the Kagan's following who had warned the city. A traitor who knew that

  Sogaria was to be the first city attacked. He kept his suspicions to himself.

  'How many men garrison Khulm?' the Cimmerian asked.

  'Why, the same as any royal border fort, of course. A quarter-wing of cavalry, two hundred fifty men.'

  Conan knew well the ways in which a frightened man would strive to salve his pride. This one was pretending that since it was common knowledge how many the forts garrisoned, he was giving away nothing.

  'Is the commander an experienced warrior?' Conan asked

  'He is the son of some courtier, like most of the officers in our army.' The man acted as if this, too, were common knowledge.

  'Bind him,' Conan said. 'I may want to question him further.' The messenger wore a look of intense relief as he was tied securely.

  Conan scanned the landscape. At the place the stream wound around the left side of the hill, there was a stand of small trees. He pointed to the trees and addressed his men. 'Go to yonder stand and cut many short poles and gather bundles of reeds. Be careful not to advance past the cover of the hill lest you be seen by the fort. Be quick, now.' Mystified, the men obeyed. Surely, they thought once again, their foreign captain was mad.

  As the sun was passing its zenith, Conan and his fifty rode around the hill and across the stream. In a few minutes they closed the distance to the fort, and there was much blowing of horns and beating of drums as the gates were shut and barred. Fearlessly the horsemen rode to within a few dozen paces of the walls.

  'Commander of the fort!' Conan called. 'Come out and parley!'

  After a short while, during which time the wall grew

  crowded with men, a man in elaborate plumes and gold-chased armour mounted the wall. 'Who are you?' he shouted. 'And what does this mean?'

  'I bring you greetings from Bartatua, lord of the Ashkuz and rightful king of all the world,' Conan cried in a loud voice. 'My lord has come to take his sovereign place as ruler of Sogaria and all the other cities of the caravan route. I am General Conan, formerly of Cimmeria, and I
am here to accept the surrender of this trifling stronghold. Accept my terms and you shall live.'

  In the silence, an archer atop the wall, too poorly disciplined to wait for orders, drew his bow and aimed at Conan. Rustuf spoke a word and his ten shot as one man. The Sogarian archer toppled from the wall and landed with a dust-raising thud in full view of the defenders. At such short range, the ten arrows had smashed through the man's heavy scale armour as if it were no more than parchment. All ten arrows stood in a space that could be covered by a man's palm, directly over the heart.

  Conan acted as if nothing had happened. 'I await your answer.'

  'Can you be serious?' the commander blustered. 'You call yourself a general, yet I see you at the head of less than fifty riders. How can you expect me to surrender to so inconsiderable a force?'

  Conan smiled grimly, knowing that he had won. The commander had not said that he would not surrender, only that he would not give in to a force so small.

  'This is merely my personal bodyguard,' Conan said. 'I came ahead of my troops so that you would have the opportunity to surrender to someone of suitable rank. There is my army!'

  The Cimmerian swept his arm upward and to one side in a grand gesture. The heads of the men atop the

  wall turned to see where he was pointing. On the ridge cresting the low hill from which Conan had spied upon the fort, a file of horsemen could be seen clearly. They rode up the low spur to the left, walked their mounts along the high ridge and descended the right-hand spur, disappearing from view in the clump of reeds and small trees where the stream wrapped around the base of the hill.

  Conan saw the lips of the men on the wall move as hey sought to count the enemy's strength. There seemed to be no end to the troops, and as they vanished into the reeds and trees, more of them ascended the spur to the

  'They go to water their mounts and set up camp in that convenient spot by the stream. I tell you that to save time should you wish to come out and fight us in 'lie open, before the siege engines arrive with the sappers. I see that you are too proud to surrender and would rather die nobly in defence of your prince's honour, although your lord did not see fit to warn you of your danger. A quick fight now will spare us several hours of tedious work in the morning, storming your little fort.'

  'Be not so hasty, good General Conan!' said the commander of Fort Khulm. 'In truth, this is not a true stronghold of war but a mere barracks from which we may chase the scurvy bandits of the wasteland. Our real duty is the defence of Sogaria. If you will allow us to march away from here to rejoin our lord in his city, I will listen to your terms.'

  'Excellent,' Conan said. 'All of you are to lay down your arms at once. All horses, arms and armour are to be left in the fort. All valuables as well. Each man may keep one tunic, one pair of trousers and a pair of boots. Each will be searched, so I warn you not to try to hide anything on your persons. I also remind you that I could leave you with a good deal less, including bodily parts. My men, for instance, are fond of collecting men's—'

  'I accept your generous terms, good General Conan!' the commander gushed. 'We comply at once!'

  The defenders rushed from the walls, tearing at the laces and straps of their armour even before they could reach the stairways. Within minutes the gates were opened and the unarmed men began filing out. Conan detailed a ten to search them, while the rest of his men sat their horses with bows at the ready.

  'You have had a cheap victory, General,' said the commander as his men began their long, weary trek toward Sogaria. 'Do not expect to have it so easy in the future. Sogaria is strong, and its walls are vast beyond the comprehension of you steppe savages. We found it inconvenient to give you battle today, but you will never take Sogaria!'

  'With such defenders as you,' Conan said, 'I anticipate a spirited and enjoyable fight. Good evening to you, Commander. If you hurry, you and your men may make it into the city before the gates are closed against refugees.' Head bowed, the commander trudged wearily off toward his city.

  When the former defenders were but dwindling spots on the distant road, Conan nodded to Fawd and the Turanian blew a long note on his silver hunting horn. A few minutes later Guyak came riding in, wearing a', broad grin and leading some of the remounts. Others chivvied the beasts along, each horse bearing a dumm; of wooden poles, reed-stuffed clothes and stick weapons. Guyak had been leading them in an endless precession, circling between the crest of the hill and its base turning Conan's force of fifty into an army of thousands.

  'It worked, captain!' Guyak shouted gleefully.

  'Not captain,' said a jubilant bowman, 'but general! He named himself so!' The men of the fifty were dancing about and singing in exuberance.

  'Come,' Conan ordered, 'let us see what we've won.'

  Inside the fort they found heaps of armour, many stabled mounts, stores of food, and sacks of personal belongings tied at the foot of each soldier's bunk. In the commander's quarters there were rich furnishings and hangings. He had left behind a table service of gold plate and a great deal of jewellery. 'Take all of it into the courtyard,' Conan ordered.

  By torchlight they packed everything on captured horses. 'The Kagan will divide the spoils,' Conan reminded them. 'We may take only food and drink. Any man who is caught trying to keep something back for himself is to be executed immediately.'

  By midnight all was in marching order. 'Captain,' said Guyak, 'we have captured much wine. May we have some in celebration of this fine victory?'

  'We'll not encounter enemies as we ride to join the horde,' Conan said. 'Give each man a skin of wine to drink on the march back. But any who gets so drunk that he falls off his horse is to lie where he drops and make his way back on foot.'

  He knew that the thought of walking would so horrify his men that they would moderate their drinking. He had neither the manpower nor the tools with which to demolish the fort, and so he had the gate soaked with oil and they rode away as it burned brightly behind them.

  Conan's force was the first to return to report its mission accomplished. The Kagan's camp was marching

  upon Sogaria, herding the slaves before it. About half of the total strength of the army was with the Kagan, and news of Conan's feat spread through the ranks like a steppe fire. The camp rocked with laughter as the men sat about their fires after the day's trek.

  Bartatua was vastly amused. 'Would that all my officers showed such imagination!' he said. 'A fort taken with all its loot and we lost nothing at all?'

  'One of the captured armours was damaged when we had to kill an archer,' Conan corrected. 'And Rustuf's ten had three broken arrows.'

  'Seldom,' said Bartatua, 'has any man gone from fifty-commander to five hundred-commander so swiftly.'

  'Not to mention possessor of a siege train and sappers,' added a grizzled officer whose face was tattooed with a stylized eagle. All the Hyrkanians thought this cheap victory won by cunning and deception was a fine thing. They did not have western concepts of chivalry, and they judged courage and honour by different standards.

  Bartatua let the merriment die down and then became serious. 'Your next assignment, Conan, will not be so easy. Tonight your men rest. On the morrow you will take them and ride southeast. The prince of Sogaria has appealed to his fellow ruler, the satrap of Bukhrosha, for reinforcements. He has asked for a large force of horsemen, and there is little doubt that the satrap shall comply. You are to lie in wait upon the Great Road and destroy this column of reinforcements. This time you shall, of course, have five hundred men.'

  'How many should I expect to meet?' Conan asked.

  'The satrap will not send less than a wing, about one thousand heavy cavalry.'

  Conan nodded. Two to one was not bad odds when leading warriors of such calibre. 'It shall be done Kagan.'

  As he walked from the tent, he encountered the black-draped woman who had picked him for the fights. fie knew now that her name was Lakhme and that she was the Kagan's concubine. She stood before him as if she wanted to speak, and he
saluted her respectfully.

  'A good evening to you, my lady.'

  'You have risen high in a very short time, foreigner,' she said.

  'The Kagan appreciates ability when he encounters it' Conan said, 'and he rewards loyal service generously. I shall not fail his confidence.'

  'See that you do not. I am not so easy to please. The Kagan is a trusting man who does not realise that treachery can lurk behind a smile and that loyal service is often a stepping-stone to treason.'

  Conan felt the hot blood rising to his face and he reined his temper. 'Should any prove treacherous to the Kagan,' he said, keeping his voice steady, 'I shall kill Mm. Or her.'

  She hissed like a Stygian serpent, and he saw that his barb had sunk into oversensitive flesh. The woman swept around him in a swirl of black robes, and he caught the heady scent of her perfume. It was not only at the civilised courts, he knew, that those closest to the ruler had their daggers ever sharpened for one another.

  VIII

  Do not trust him, my lord,' Lakhme said.

  'I trust the man to perform his duty on the battlefield,' the Kagan told her. 'No more than that. What has he to gain by serving me ill? Who can reward him more greatly than I? How can he rise higher than in my service? And surely he cannot hope to seize my power and become Ushi-Kagan?' He laughed at the idea. 'My vassal chiefs may nurse such hopes, but not Conan. He knows well that the Hyrkanians will accept only a ' king of their own blood.'

  Lakhme knew that well also, and it was for this reason that the wizard, Khondemir, must resort to so perilous a spell in order to seize control of the Kagan. She knew, too, that it was time to turn her lord's thoughts from logical paths and play upon his passions instead. She crossed to the table before Bartatua and poured him' a cup of wine. A more worldly king might have seen calculation in her pose, but the Hyrkanian saw only her white, statuesque body, draped in jewels and nothing else.