Conan the Indomitable Part 8

What Wikkell heard when the queen spoke was the voice of a female cyclops, honey-smooth and filled with promise of all manner of conjugal delights, almost irresistibly offered. Almost. Deek's hearing apparatus, upon receipt of the same voice, construed the sound as that of a female of his species, gravid with a thousand eggs and desiring a big, strong worm such as himself to fertilize them at his earliest pleasure. Guaranteed pleasure, vermis-mine...

Both cyclops and worm knew that the voice was specific to whatever kind of creature that heard it: males heard females and females heard males, generally, and only those with strong minds or experience with the plants could resist the siren song they sang.

"Come closer," the queen of the plants urged, "that we might discuss this without having to strain ourselves by yelling." Surely no cyclopian female had ever sounded so sweet and so willing to do anything Wikkell might desire. Anything at all, would he simply come a bit closer...

"Nay, sister," Wikkell said. His voice held no rancor; he understood the mechanisms the plants used and begrudged them not, for everybody wanted to survive. "What we wish to discuss involves a long-term arrangement rather than a quick meal upon Deek here or myself."

"Long term?" Deek heard the gravid female's soothing tones in the high pitch that his kind used, sounds quite inaudible to human or cyclopian ears but hot music to his own. Even knowing what she was, the call tempted him.

"Aye," Wikkell continued. "A large supply of food, s.p.a.ced over a long period."

"How much? Over how long?" The sweet tones vanished abruptly and the queen's suddenly alien raspheld no promise of anything either Wikkell or Deek or anything interested in staying alive would find intriguing. The big plant was now all business.

Wikkell spared a quick grin and whisper for Deek. "That got her attention."

Softly, Deek sc.r.a.ped back, "I-i-indeed."

Louder, Wikkell said, "We need water transportation. You can spin a boat of your webbing, can you not?"

"Certainly," came her reply. The tone was full of arrogance and disdain. "There is little we cannot create of the Magic Cord."

"In return for supplying my friend Deek and me with such a conveyance, we would be willing to offer you, oh, say half a dozen each of Whites and bats to be placed within range of your... ah... supply lines."

"Twenty each," the queen said. "And your boat shall be a thing crafted with the utmost loving care.

Wikkell grinned down at Deek. He whispered, "I think we can bargain her down to half that."

"W-whatever. B-be q-q-quick t-though."

Wikkell addressed the queen again. "The boat need merely float, my leafy queen, not win a contest of beauty. Eight each."

"Even so, such labor requires much skill, mobile one. Sixteen."

In the end they settled on a dozen bats and ten Whites as the price for the craft. To be delivered as soon as Wikkell and Deek finished a small errand they had to accomplish. The queen would rather have eaten something immediately of course, but she knew a good bargain when she had one, and she and her sisters could survive for a long while without eating did they need to.

"Would this errand have anything to do with three small mobile ones who float upon the waters?"

Wikkell blinked his great eye. "You know of them, Majesty?"

"I can speak to all of my sisters via the deep .roots we share. The three move away from here, toward the Great Ambit Cave."

"Ah. Well, yes, as it happens, those are the ones we seek."

"If my sisters and I should help you snare these, might not there be an additional price tendered for such a service? We are not all planted here, you know."

Wikkell and Deek regarded each other. They had been given great leeway by their master and mistress, respectively, and they had used more time than originally intended. To fail was to die. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Something could certainly be arranged in that direction."

"Another two dozen each, white walkers and dark fliers," the queen said. Wikkell grinned. He loved to bargain, and had little chance to do so. "Two dozen? For a mere three? I had thought to offer, oh, say five each."

Even as the smiling cyclops and giant webspin-ning queen continued their deal, the other plants began spinning an oval, watertight bowl large enough to hold a dozen men.

The night pa.s.sed quietly for Conan and his friends. He relieved Tull after a few hours, and Elas.h.i.+ chose to sit with him as the older man fell into slumber. She and Conan did not spend all of their time watching the water; indeed, a portion of that evening found them far more intent on each other, and the pleasure thereby derived was both refres.h.i.+ng and tiring at the same time.

In the morning-for lack of a better term-the three remounted the dead fish and paddled away.

Perhaps two hours later, the walls of the cave narrowed considerably, so that the overhanging ledges on both sides could very nearly be touched with one of the paddles. They continued onward with such surroundings for another ten minutes; then the cavern expanded again to thrice larger proportions. Just ahead, however, the waters split in twain as a bifurcation appeared in the rock. One river ran to the left, another of equal size went to the right.

"Which way?" Tull called as he paddled.

"One is as good as the other," Conan replied. "To the right."

Elas.h.i.+ looked agitated at this. Conan refrained from smiling. He had a sudden revelation. "You would rather we went the other way?"

"Did I say that?" she asked.

"No. To the right, then."

"It looks darker that way."

"To the left, then," Conan said, playing his hunch.

"It looks narrower that way," she said.

Conan grinned to himself. He was, he realized, finally beginning to understand how her mind worked.

She did not want to make a decision, but she would almost always oppose any that he made. Therefore, to go to the left, he must be adamant about going the other way.

"The right fork is definitely the better way to go," he said. He waited for a heartbeat, and was not disappointed.

"I think it would be better to travel the other fork," Elas.h.i.+ said.

Ah, ha! He was right. But the trick lay in not agreeing too readily. He had to agree without seeming to agree. Complex creatures, women; they would rather argue than do almost anything else.

Conan shrugged. "Very well. I think the right branch would be better, but perhaps you are correct." "Of course I am."

He turned his head away so she would not see him smile. It worked, this time. Of course one snowflake did not a blizzard make, but at least it was a beginning. Perhaps he might come to understand the ways of women after all.

They paddled the fish into the left branch of the split.

The Harskeel was more than a little tired and much more than a little irritated. What should have taken but a short while had turned into a major imbroglio. All these sundry beasts darting and flittering about to obscure what should be a simple quest. It did not ask for much, the Harskeel-merely to be less than the sum of its parts once again. Was that too much? One brave man and his sword was small compensation for the reversal of its unnatural joining; why could not the fates and the G.o.ds tender such a miniscule request? But no. Nothing, nothing,nothing was ever easy. Instead of a clean capture and subsequent sundering back into its natural and rightful selves, the Harskeel was forced to grub around under the ground Ijke some ilysudaen snake! It was all too much.

Well, when it finally captured this Conan fellow, the man would be made to know some of the Harskeel's own torment. After the sword was blooded, perhaps some slow torture would repay the barbarian for the effort expended to retrieve him.

It seemed only fair.

The Harskeel's tracker returned. "We found a tunnel that goes around that bat cave and gets us back on the trail again, m'lord."

"Good. Let us move foward. Mind you keep your pikes at the ready." This last command was hardly needed as the four remaining men had yet to to lower their weapojis since the slaughter in the bat cave; still, a leader had to remind its followers who did what every now and again.

The Harskeel smoothed an eyebrow and patted its hair,-somewhat to its own disgust, as well as a sense of lightness-and followed the tracker along the new trail.

Rey now rode in the sedan chair, rocking comfortably with the walking rhythm of its two bearers. The wizard looked around. It had been too long since he had ventured out to observe his domain, far too long. What was the point in ruling if one could not go out and lord it over the realm now and then? He resolved that once this man was dispatched to the Gray Lands and That b.i.t.c.h dealt her just reward, he would get out more often.

The drone of the marching Cyclopes, keeping step together, lulled the wizard into a comfortable somnambulance. He leaned back against the chair, his head lolling to one side as he dozed and daydreamed of future glories.

The undulations of the worm clasped within her spread thighs gently s.h.i.+fted Chuntha back and forth likea waving frond in an alternating breeze. The rasp of belly plates over the damp rock was almost melodic: sc.r.a.pe, scr-a-a-p-e -a short beat followed by a longer one as the coils slid the creature forward. A pleasant way to travel, although she could easily think of several ways that would increase the pleasure.

But another time; the stalemate between herself and the wizard needed to be put to rest; that concerned her now more than her immediate pleasure. Settle with him once and for all. After that she could perhaps expand her activities to take in a portion of the world above the caves. A more ready supply of men existed there, of course, and one could never have too many of them around. They went so fast.

Rocking with pleasure, Chuntha dreamed of future glories.

Ten.

The silken vessel was most interesting, Deek and Wikkell agreed. It was light enough for Wikkell to lift with one hand, and yet banging it accidentally against a wall produced no apparent damage. The craft would easily hold them and perhaps two more pa.s.sengers as large as they, and the plants had thoughtfully provided a floor inside for added support and comfort.

Once the cyclops and worm reached the sea, the wondrous boat rode high in the water with nary a leak.

Utilizing a large sculling oar produced by the plants-at no extra charge-Wikkell saw Deek safely aboard, locked the oar into place, then hopped into the vessel and rapidly propelled the boat away from the sh.o.r.e.

While Deek had no hands, he was able to use the tip of his tail to a.s.sist Wikkell with the sculling. The gleaming, silvery craft sped over the smooth water at a pace both occupants found quite amazing.

"I doubt that I could run this quickly," Wikkell observed.

Deek made no audible reply, the bottom of the boat being too smooth for his vocal apparatus to engage, but he was of a like mind. The plants built well, no arguing that. Something to keep in mind for the future.

One could construct a number of things from this remarkable webbing.

"Surely the prey we pursue cannot travel half so fast," Wikkell said. "We should catch them in short order."

If we do not take a wrong turning, Deek thought.

"That is, if we do not take a wrong turning," Wikkell said. "But we have help from the plants, after all."

Deek could not speak but he lifted his head and waved it up and down in a gesture that he hoped would pa.s.s for a nod.

Wikkell caught the motion and smiled, showing his square and st.u.r.dy teeth. "Yes, indeed. I begin to have hopes that this venture might well turn out in our favor after all, Deek old son."

Deek nodded again. The boat skimmed along the water, carrying them after their quarry. Perhaps, Deek thought, he might yet escape the lime pits and come out of this with some kind of victory. A shame he was going to have to flatten Wikkell, though. He was beginning to grow fond of the cyclops. Perhaps there was another way to get the people without killing his new friend. He could explore that idea, certainly; it was the least he could do.

A single cruising bat spied the Harskeel's man sitting alone on the rock next to the sea, and apparently decided that such a meal was simply too good to bypa.s.s. The bat dived, already extruding his pointed feeding tube to skewer the unsuspecting delicacy.

Unfortunately for the bat, the man was not alone, and merely acting as bait for just such an attack. The flying rodent had no sooner lit upon the man than he was set upon and captured by three other men who had lain hidden nearby, under the direction of the Harskeel. The bat thrashed and fluttered, but the touch of cold and sharp iron at his throat brought the struggle to a fast end.

"I would speak with you," the Harskeel said.

The bat made no reply.

"Ah, you do not understand civilized speech. A pity. Kill it," the Harskeel ordered.

"Wait!" the bat called out. His voice was high and the accent made the word almost unintelligible, but the Harskeel grinned at the sound of it.

"Hold," it commanded.

The Harskeel's men stayed their pikes.

"Now," the Harskeel said, "how are you called?"

The bat gnashed sharp teeth. When he spoke, his voice was haughty. "I am Crimson So Strong, High Flier and Drinker of Life."

"Crimson?"

"Named for the beautiful splash of that same color upon the fur of my back."

"Fine. 'Red' will do for a name. Now, Red, I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition? We do not deal with those who hold us captive."

"Let him go."

The Harskeel's men released the bat, who gathered himself for a fast escape.

"Before you leave, Red, you should at least hear my proposition. Not that I think you shall get very far, you understand. Zate over there can skewer you before you rise more than this high." The Harskeel held up its thumb and forefinger, separated by the thickness of a boot heel.

Red turned slightly to look at the man called Zate. That worthy grinned brightly and hefted his pike meaningfully.

"I was merely stretching my cramped wings," Red observed. "Certainly I should be most interested to hear your proposition." "Your kind drinks blood for sustenance, do they not?"

"I feel that you already know that," Red answered.

"As it happens, I have dabbled in magic now and again," the Harskeel said.

Behind the Harskeel, one of its men snickered. The Harskeel did not pause, nor did it turn. As soon as all of this was done, that man was as good as dead, one could bet one's fortune on that.

The Harskeel continued smoothly. "And, as it also happens, I am in possession of a spell that will produce fresh blood in a large quant.i.ty."