“No! Stay with us!” Achilea cried, but the Cimmerian was already spurring toward me attackers.
Cursing, she seized the bridle of one of the tall camels and signaled the dwarf to do the same with the other. They began to ride toward the high ground while the Hyrkanians formed a screen between them and the raiders. The mercenaries spurred their horses into curving and zigzagging maneuvers as they plied their bows, for Hyrkanians never fought standing still.
The distance was closing fast, but as he rode, Conan made a quick evaluation of the raiders. There were perhaps a score of them, most wearing the garb of Kothian plainsmen, but even among these, he recognized the distinctive robes and headdresses of several tribes. There were Khorajans and Khauranians, and he saw at least one man in the armor of a Zamoran light-cavalryman. Outlaws, outcasts and deserters, he thought, not a warrior tribe.
The nearest rider lowered his lance point toward Conan and spurred his horse to greater speed.
With the shaft tucked tightly beneath his arm, he leaned well to the right, his shield of beaten steel held high to ward against a counter blow. His face was twisted with the exultant glee of an easy kill, for he could see that his opponent had no lance.
Conan did not spur his mount to higher speed, for it was not a trained warhorse. Instead, he drew his sword and kept his eyes on the advancing lance point. As it approached within a few feet, he bent low. The instant the sharp steel passed over him, he straightened, raising the wooden shaft and creating a wide opening beneath the raised shield. Gripping his sword in both hands, he brought the blade across horizontally, shearing through the raider’s light breastplate, crunching past the ribs, biting into the vitals.
His sword came free in a spray of blood as he rode past and looked for another victim.
Even as he scanned the raiders, two of them toppled from their mounts, felled by Hyrkanian arrows.
The rest were clearly astonished. Their supposed victims were not going to be the easy meat they had anticipated. The two nearest him swerved aside, but Conan swerved along with one of mem. As he spurred within arm’s length, the man looked back over his shoulder and had only a moment to stare in horror as Conan’s blade descended, chopping through his spine like a woodman’s ax through a sapling.
The wretch toppled from his saddle and the Cimmerian turned his attention to the rest. They were keeping their distance from this alarming, black-haired horseman and were charging the knoll instead.
There Conan saw what he had expected to see. Achilea, the twins and the rest had just gained the top of the small rise―to find that they were not the only ones there.
“Foolish, arrogant wench!” Conan muttered as he reined his horse toward the knoll and kicked it to a full gallop.
Atop the mound, the riders had been surprised by another band of outlaws, these lying in wait in the
gully that ran around the base of the tittle rise. Sixteen men, mounted upon small, swift horses, charged from the gully toward the knot of riders on the high ground With lances leveled, they made straight for the two camels.
Achilea and her followers stayed close to the tall beasts. The three savage women plied their bows, while Achilea and the dwarf engaged any who drew too near. The queen’s sword flashed, parting flesh with every stroke. Jeyba’s bludgeon rose and fell, smashing bones, scattering brains. The Hyrkanians, who disliked hand-to-hand fighting, dispersed, keeping well out of lance-range and sending in their deadly arrows at every opportunity.
Then Conan came storming up the rise, his blade whirling like a great steel windmill. A bandit spurred toward one of the camels, adroitly evading Achilea’s slashing sword. Just as his hand grasped the curtain of Yolanthe’s shelter, the Cimmerian’s sword flashed down, severing the hand at the wrist. The man turned, gaping, only to see the blade descend once more, this time to split his skull.
The raiders had had enough. With howls of frustration, the survivors wheeled and fled, the Hyrkanians close upon their heels, happily firing arrows at the exposed backs.
“Stop and come back here!” Achilea cried. The Hyrkanians either did not hear her or simply ignored her order.
“Have we lost any?” Conan asked, wiping his blade.
Achilea looked at her women and the dwarf, who likewise cleaned bloodied weapons. “I’ve lost none, and you seem to be in one piece, I’ll not speak for the Hyrkanians until they return, the mutinous dogs.”
“The Hyrkanians have a saying,” Conan said with a smile. ‘ “There is no fairer sight beneath the Everlasting Sky than a foeman’s back within arrow-range.’ “
Yolanthe pushed her curtain aside, ignoring the bandit’s severed hand, which still gripped it next to her face. “Is all well?” Her expression was perfectly serene, her voice as tranquil as ever.
“We told you that we would protect you,” Achilea said, her face still furious.
“And yet,” Monandas added, thrusting his head through his curtains, “just before the assault, you were exchanging words of a certain pertinence. Conan, did you not tell Achilea that riding to this knoll was a mistake?”
“I did,” Conan averred.
“And wherefore said you that?” Yolanthe said sweetly.
“We are twelve armed guards,” Conan said. “Any could see that no more than a score rode toward us. Scum like that want at least three-to-one odds before they attack. When they attack you without such odds, on open ground, with high ground or an escape route near at hand, you know that you are being herded into an ambush.”
Achilea’s face flamed. “Are you such a great captain, then? I have done my share of raiding, Cimmerian!”
“Aye, but you are accustomed to being the raider, not the defender. I have captained in a score of armies, and I have served as guard on twoscore caravans. I have been 3 reaver and a pirate as well, so I know the habits of these scavengers.”
“Then tell us, Conan,” Jeyba said, “why these scum struck us at all. You yourself said that they would avoid an alert and well-armed party bearing no obvious wealth. They knew they must lose many and gain little, yet they attacked. How came this about?”
“Aye!” Achilea said, clearly relieved to have attention distracted from her tactical blunder. “They rode straight for the camels! Yet the beasts bear no panniers that might contain treasure.”
The question vexed Conan as well, but he was too irritated at the woman to take her part.
“Is it not obvious?” said Monandas.
“Not at all,” replied Achilea, her eyes fierce beneath lowering brows.
“Are these not splendid beasts?” Yolanthe asked, stroking the white neck of her own mount. “And
are these not wonderful hangings?” Idly, she plucked the severed hand from the curtain and tossed it to the ground, then stroked the fine silk.
“Who would have such animals and such traveling tents save wealthy folk? No doubt they thought us to be persons of substance-―the family of a local chieftain, or perhaps members of a priestly order.
Are these brigands not in the habit of kidnapping such persons and holding diem for ransom?”
Conan nodded his black mane. “Aye, they do that.”
“Then it is explained,” Yolanthe said. “Let us proceed.” She looked at Achilea. “I still favor you as captain of our guard. No doubt you will be more wary henceforth.” Sister aid brother drew back into their tents and closed the curtains.
Achilea sat upon her saddle pad, scarlet-faced and quivering with rage. Conan could see that she had been deeply wounded in her warrior pride. Yolanthe’s mild words had been as a lash across her back.
At this moment, the Hyrkanians returned, yipping in tri-triumph, waving the scalps of the slain bandits, still dripping blood,
“Aiee!” Kye-Dee cried as they reined in. “That was more enjoyable than riding after hares!”
“Why did you not return when I bade you?” Achilea shouted. “For aught we knew, both attacks might have been ruses, intended to draw us away from those we are pledged to protec
t!”
Conan hid his amusement at this face-saving bluster. Kye-Dee was not intimidated.
“Did you call us back? We did not hear you. When we saw the backs of our enemies, we lost interest in all else. It was a gift from the Everlasting Sky, and it is a great error to spurn divine gifts. We Hyrkanians have a saying; “There is no fairer sight beneath the Everlasting Sky than―’ “
“I have heard it!” Achilea barked. She wheeled her horse and rode off, closely followed by her women and her dwarf.
“Aiee!” Kye-Dee said, chuckling. “Someone has slipped a burr between the warrior woman’s saddle and her bottom!”
“Best keep your distance from her for a while,” Conan advised. “Sooner or later, we’ll encounter another fight and she’ll have a chance to redeem herself. Let her toll a few rogues, then her good humor will be restored.”
Leaving the dead bandits behind them, they proceeded on their way south. Already, the wolves and buzzards were gathering for the feast.
The district through which they rode was not rich in towns. The few villages were little more than cattle markets where beasts were bought and sold on the hoof, or else were hauled away in great wagons in the form of beef, hides and tallow. The stench of these places proved sufficient to cause the travelers to avoid them. Conan and the rest of the guards were by no means finicky, but the twins found the odor and the swarming flies unendurable.
On the other hand, progress was swifter here because they did not have to hunt. Since so many cattle were slaughtered for hides, a whole steer carcass could be purchased for a copper or two, and they feasted mightily every evening on fresh beef.
“Best to fatten ourselves while we may,” Conan said one evening as they sat around their fire, tearing at the savory flesh with their teeth and tossing the stripped bones into the flame, “In the deserts south of here, we’ll have no such plentiful fare.”
“Truly, you Cimmerians are a gloomy lot,” Achilea said. She still nursed a grudge in his presence.
“Why worry about what tomorrow brings? We may not live out the night”
“Aye,” said Kye-Dee. “Life is a chancy and mutable thing.”
“I was once as thoughtless as you,” Conan said, “but when I became a captain and a leader of men, I was forced to take thought of consequences and to make careful preparations. This is fat, easy land despite the bandits. The desert will be different. When we near the border, or perhaps in Khauran, I will have to make inquiries about conditions to the south.”
“What do you mean?” Achilea asked suspiciously, disliking the way the Cimmerian was once again taking charge.
“The desert seems unchanging, but it is not,” Conan went on. “Water holes will dry up overnight for no reason any man understands. New tribes will move into an area that has been uninhabited for centuries. Just keeping alive in the desert can be a difficult thing. Any surprise can be fatal. We may be forced to take steps distasteful to us.”
“Such as?” Kye-Dee asked, biting into a smoking joint “If recent years have been exceptionally dry, we may have to trade off the horses and ride camels.”
“Never!” Achilea cried, springing to her feet. Automatically, her followers did the same, their hands going to their bits. “I ride no stinking, lurching, ugly camel!” In disgust at Ac very thought, she hurled her half-gnawed beef rib into the outer darkness. Immediately, scavengers began to fight over it.
“Surely we will not be so desperate, Conan!” said Kye-Dee. less angry but clearly shocked, “Camels are the beasts of merchants and contemptible villagers, not the mounts of honorable men of arms who ride free beneath the Everlasting Sky!”
“We may not have much choice,” Conan pronounced. “Horses cannot live in places where water sources are too far apart, and we cannot carry enough water with us to satisfy a horse. It may be all we can do to carry enough for ourselves. A camel can go for days without drinking. It can live on forage so poor that a horse would starve to death eating it. If we must cross deep sand, a horse’s hooves will sink in and it will founder. Camels have broad foot-pads to distribute their weight.
“And the tribes of the desert are not so picky about their mounts. They ride and fight from camels.”
Achilea snorted, resuming her seat. “Who can fight effectively from such a lumbering beast?”
“You know only the two-humped, high-desert and mountain camels of your homeland,” Conan pointed out. “The one-humped camels of the southern desert are smaller and much swifter, although I’ll warrant they are no prettier. And a man mounted on one sits a yard higher than a horseman. It can be a great advantage in a sword-fight.”
“Camels,” Achilea said with a shudder of distaste. “I hope that I am never brought so low!”
At least, Conan noted, she was giving him no more argument. “If it’s that or walk,” he said, “you’ll ride a camel.” Kye-Dee carved strips of roasted meat with his curved dagger. “Our employers”― he jerked his head toward their tents ―”I took them some meat, but they refused it as they always do, saying that they would eat from their own supplies, I ask you: What sort of people refuse good, fresh meat, preferring wretched dry fare?”
“The world is full of odd sects,” Conan said, shrugging. “Many of them require that their followers eat only certain things, deeming all other fare unlawful. Some will eat no flesh, others will eat naught else.
I have encountered wild holy men who live on insects and honey. Some will eat animals only if the beasts have been killed in a prescribed fashion. It is all a great foolishness as far as I am concerned, but I have never made it my business to tell others what gods they should worship or what commandments they should follow.”
“That is the best course,” Kye-Dee said. “People you cannot kill, you should leave alone.”
After the others had rolled into their blankets, Conan assumed the first watch. He brooded upon the fire, his eyes seeing demon-shapes within me writhing flames. Despite his words, he was troubled. His employers, the twins, had many enigmatic qualities. Not least among them was the fact that he had never seen them eat or drink.
More perplexing was the question of the raiders. The twins’ speculation that they had been the target of kidnappers who merely wanted hostages for ransom was plausible, but somehow Conan was not convinced. The men had shown spirit and determination beyond what he expected of such scavengers. They had planned well, and pressed their attack even after taking severe casualties.
Ordinarily, they should have broken off action as soon as one or two were killed. Their actions had been those of men who expected great rewards.
The twins had said that they expected assaults from others who also searched for the fabulous city
of Janagar, Yet they seemed reluctant to attribute the attack to their rivals, and why was that? The Cimmerian did not like it when vexing, perplexing questions intruded upon an otherwise routine mission.
One thing was certain: He would have to watch the enigmatic pair more closely than ever.
At last they came to a sizable town. It was called Zardas, md it was located at the crossing of two roads just north of the border between Koth and Khauran, on a small river. It. loo, was a large cattle market, but the town had wisely situated its stockyards and pens two miles downstream from the city.
Thus the environs were kept reasonably healthy and no more noisome than the average settlement of human beings. Just without the walls were corrals for the animals of travelers, and here a number of small caravans were encamped. An official in charge of the campsite spoke with the twins and assigned them a pen for their horses and the two camels. He accepted their pen, grazing and watering fees and directed diem to the town’s best inn.
A few caravaneers approached to admire the two white camels. Some of them had never seen the shaggy, two-humped breed of northern camel, and never had they seen any so fine. Monandas turned down several generous offers to buy the beasts, pleading that he and his sister would be heartbroken and desolate to part with th
eir beloved mounts. When all was secure, they walked through the gates and into the town proper.
It proved to be a colorful place; most of the buildings were made of brick or local stone, bright with paint and striped cloth awnings. The streets were lined with the stalls of small merchants, some of them local, others itinerant
“My sister and I go to the inn,” said Monandas. **Who will go with us?”
Conan glanced at the angle of the sun. There are two hours of daylight yet,” he said. ‘1 think I will have a look around. I have never visited this place in all my travels. I’ll rejoin you this evening.” The other guards decided to sample whatever delights the town had to offer before repairing to the inn as well, so that the twins walked off alone.
“Is this wise?” said Kye-Dee when they were gone. “We undertook to protect them, and they are as open to attack here as out upon the plain.”
Achilea shrugged her heavy shoulders. “We promised to guard them on the march. Nothing was said about towns.”
“Aye,” said Conan. “And after that business at the northern border, I am not convinced that they require much protection at all.”
And so they meandered aimlessly through narrow streets. Conan and the Hyrkanians attracted little notice in the town, where wandering bravos of every sort were a common sight. Achilea and her followers were a different story. Nothing quite like them had ever before been seen in the district. People gaped at the savage, painted women and their beautiful giantess of a queen and her squat, sardonic dwarf. As a result, they were constantly being engaged in conversation by the curious, while the Cimmerian wandered farther and farmer away from them.
In time, the Hyrkanians found a booth devoted to a gambling game common to their homeland and for which they had a passionate fondness. Conan left them behind there and went on alone. He came to a small bazaar where weapons and armor were on display. As always, his interest was drawn by the toots of his profession. They were entering the part of me world where the favored defenses were shirts of supple mail, light, well-forged helmets and small, round shields. The broiling sun of the southern lands forbade the heavier armor of the north and west. In consequence, the weapons were lighter gracefully curved swords, slender lances, and vicious tittle axes with whiplash hafts of springy rhinoceros born.
The Conan Compendium Page 501