Conan the Hunter Part 27

"Who are you?" the disoriented Cimmerian asked, still gripping his weapon firmly.

"Derana.s.sib of Pelishtia," the man answered. "Pierce his heart! Slay him as I did!"

"Who am I to slay, and how? I have no amulet, no silver spike. Where is Kailash, who was here with me?"

This time the old man did not respond. He pointed southward with his spike, turned his back toward Conan, and walked away, prattling on. As he walked, the flesh on his body faded until there was naught but bleached white bone. The skeleton receded, then sank into the sand, disappearing from Conan's field of vision. The perplexed barbarian made no effort to follow. The sun was in his eyes again; it filled the sky and expanded toward him, crus.h.i.+ng, burning, searing...

Conan woke up bellowing, grasping his sword-hilt and leaping nimbly to his feet. The sky was still dark; he had been dreaming. Cursing, he kicked at the sand and let his racing pulse slow down. A few paces away, Kailash stirred and yawned, then got up.

"Did you say something?" he asked in a sleep-muddled voice.

"Nay," Conan replied, thinking it best not to share the strange, unsettling dream with his companion. "We must move on. I think that Lamici did not stop to rest."

"You should have left me," the hillman said, hanging his head in shame.

"My weakness may have cost us dearly. What time I have lost, I will make up for today. Onward!"

Wasting no more breath, Kailash set off at a rapid pace. The wind had not blown while they slept; the sand clearly showed Lamici's footprints. Under the light of the moon, they followed without pausing.

Conan easily matched the hillman's long strides, and by sunrise, they were close enough to see the eunuch from afar.

He was nearing the broken walls of an ancient structure. The walls rose unexpectedly out of the desert before them, and beyond them stood a forbidding tower. As Kailash saw the eunuch stagger toward the structure's ruined gate, he uttered a stream of profanities that would have made an Argossean sailor flinch. "Run!" he called hoa.r.s.ely to Conan. "We must catch him before he goes within!"

Drawing on reservoirs of inner strength, they dashed pell-mell toward the wall. Conan wondered whose doom was at hand: Lamici's or theirs?

Putting aside his misgivings, he sprinted over the sand. He pa.s.sed Kailash and rapidly closed the distance to the limping, faltering eunuch. He did not know that within the fortress, from the highest tower, soot-black eyes were coldly watching him.

Lamici looked over his shoulder and nearly screamed in terror when he saw the barbarian coming within a few hundred paces of him. The eunuch had no voice left with which to scream, and his blistered lips had swollen and split grotesquely. His gaunt, skull-like face was a peeling mask of cracked and sunburnt tissue, hanging in dozens of strips. The rest of his body was in similar dishevelment; his dust-soiled blue robes hung in shredded disarray about his stick-like body.

Most shocking of all were his eyes. For days he had stared into the sun, fascinated by its brightness. The orb had given them the color and texture of congealed, milky-white potato soup. He was almost blind. In spite of his hampered vision, he knew which way to go, guided by some unseen pathfinder. He no longer remembered why he walked, or even what his own name was. His world consisted of very few objects: the sun, the fortress, and the amulet. They were all somehow important.

He stumbled through an opening in the outer wall, falling over but managing to stagger to his feet and continue. Behind him, the Cimmerian bolted madly toward the gate, less than a dozen paces away. He raised his sword before him, and its point was mere paces from the eunuch's back. The unseen, dark-eyed watcher within the fortress observed every step. As Lamici pa.s.sed through the wall, the watcher spoke his first word in many silent centuries.

"Kapatmak-kutuk!"

The syllables rolled echoingly from Skauraul's throat, setting powerful forces in motion.

"Augh!" Conan bellowed in surprise as he slammed into the hardened iron of the gate, where there had been only empty air moments before. His blade went flying, and he rebounded backward into the sand. Reeling from the unexpected collision, he groped for his weapon and rose unsteadily.

"What witchery is this?" Kailash asked, skidding to a halt several feet in front of the gate. "Look!" With his sword, he pointed toward the walls on either side of the gate. They were no longer crumbling, cracked ribs of stone jutting up from the stand. Now they stood restored, unblemished and impervious.

"We must climb over," grumbled Conan. "We can still catch him!"

Both he and the hillman were skilled climbers. They scaled the gate, which provided more footholds and grips than did the smooth walls.

Conan hoisted himself up to the top of the gate and looked over it.

Lamici was halfway to the steps that led to the fortress's door. The Cimmerian swung over the gate and climbed part of the way down, then dropped to the ground below. Kailash followed him, rolling as he fell upon the soft sand. The eunuch was only a few hundred feet away. He had just reached the steps that led up to the fortress door.

"Delmek-keskin!"

Once again Skauraul spoke boomingly from the tower.

Conan drew his broad-bladed dagger as he darted toward the faltering eunuch. Behind him, Kailash let out a roar of surprise and pain. Conan glanced over his shoulder, nearly dropping the dagger in astonishment.

A long, wickedly barbed spike had suddenly thrust up from the sand. Its iron shaft was nearly as thick as the Cimmerian's wrist. The spike had narrowly missed the hillman, grazing his left side and ripping away a piece of his worn cloak. Conan felt a slight tickle by his right foot and instinctively dived to one side. His lightning-fast reflexes saved him; another iron spike pierced the air where he had been only an instant before. It rose in the air, a head taller than Conan, before stopping.

The sandy patch of ground between the two men and the fortress had become a nightmarish death trap. Conan and Kailash frantically dodged the lethal spikes, which were sprouting from the ground around them like deadly iron weeds. Occasionally a spike would retract back into the ground; the sand would fill the hole that had been made, leaving little trace of the evil presence.

Conan and Kailash continued their frenzied dance around the spikes, inching closer to the fortress. Both men bled from numerous close calls, and their cloaks were ripped and torn in countless places. The Cimmerian, already winded from the foot-race, knew he would be skewered if he let his concentration slip for even a moment. Trusting to luck, he plunged ahead heedlessly, closing his eyes and running at full clip toward the door of the fortress.

When he opened his eyes again, he stood at the base of the steps, beyond the reach of the harrowing spikes. A nasty gash had opened along his right leg; the barbs from one spike had slashed his flesh brutally.

He was otherwise intact.

Imitating Conan's crazed rush for the steps, Kailash hurled himself forward. He had nearly made it when a pole came up forcefully, ripping through his left foot and continuing upward. Howling in agony, Kailash fell to the ground.

Conan latched hold of the spike and wrenched at it with all his might.

The thick iron pole bent, then snapped off. Its barbs bit deeply into his palms, but he ignored the blood that flowed. Kailash pulled his foot free from the stem. In spite of his dehydration, a few tiny droplets beaded from his eyes, drawn out by the pain. Grimacing, he tore a loose strip from his cloak and bound his injured foot, knotting the cloth tightly and hobbling forward. Thick blood oozed slowly into the wrapping.

Gripping the spike like a makes.h.i.+ft spear, Conan drew his arm back.

"Die, dog of h.e.l.l!"

He hurled the deadly shaft toward Lamici, who had been struggling weakly with the fortress's heavy door. Even for one of Conan's skill, the emaciated eunuch made a poor target. The point buried itself in the eunuch's right shoulder, pa.s.sing through with enough force to push the door open. The momentum of Conan's throw propelled Lamici inside.

Conan retrieved his dropped dagger and bounded up the steps. Kailash limped stubbornly after him, wincing. They reached the door minutes later and dived inside.

A gruesome sight awaited them in the fortress's cobwebby antechamber.

Several hairy, bloated spiders surrounded the eunuch's p.r.o.ne form and were busily feasting upon it. Conan's stomach heaved in revulsion at the hideous slurping and rending noises. Wielding his sword, he quickly dispatched the carnivorous arachnids.

Kailash fought off others that had dropped down from the chamber's high ceiling, while Conan wrenched a small leather pouch from the dead eunuch's scrawny waist. Inside, he found nothing but a small, heavy, cloth-bound object. He tore off the wrappings and triumphantly held up Madesus's amulet.

Kailash looked down at his injured foot. "You must leave, Conan! Take the amulet and flee. Give it to a priest with the power to wield it against the priestess. You must go, now!" He thrust the bag of provisions at the Cimmerian.

Conan was spared the decision.

"Kapatmak-kapi!" Skauraul had spoken for a third time, sealing the human maggots in his tower. The iron door clanged shut. Conan made a vain effort to pull the spear from Lamici's corpse and block the door, but he was too late.

Leaving the lofty observation room, Skauraul began the long climb down the winding stairs.

Twenty.

Exitium -------.

Conan and Kailash stared at the stone portal. Kailash tried his strength, but the door stubbornly refused to open. "There are three other doors," the burly hillman observed after his eyes had adjusted to the chamber's almost indiscernible light.

Conan eyed the doors with suspicion. Leering gargoyles crouched menacingly above them, and his instincts told him that traps lay just beyond.

"Four doors," Conan said, moving to the large stone door that had slammed behind them. He made several efforts to force it open, but the stout portal would have withstood a dozen men with a metal-shod battering ram. Kailash and Conan combined their strength in a final, superhuman push. The thick stone refused to yield; it stood before them, silently mocking their strength. Panting from exertion, they gave up and slumped against the wall.

"Why did it close?" Kailash wondered aloud. "By Mitra, the traps in this accursed place are timed with inhuman precision! Do the very doors obey the witch's commands?"