Conan the Relentless Part 10

"You just told me that," Decius said, letting impatience creep into his voice. "If some of your men, as well as mine, can walk, we shall be able to carry all the packs."

"And the wounded?" It was the Cimmerian who spoke, in a voice like a grindstone sharpening a war ax.

"They can wait until I reach a castle that has men to spare. There are several on the-"

"No," Conan said, more politely than before. "Raihna, if Decius insists, I will stay behind with the wounded. Otherwise, Syzambry will be sending men back to cut their throats or to torture knowledge from them."

Decius decided that the Cimmerian had pa.s.sed the test. The man could have proposed that the packs stay behind, perhaps with himself as guard. Or he could have been careless of the wounded.

He had done neither. He had not only his wits about him, but some notions of honor. Raihna had not brought a cuckoo or, still worse, a serpent, into the Border realm. Too many men had come wearing fairer guises than the Cimmerian and left red ruin behind them.

"If most of us walk, your wounded can ride as well," Decius said. "This will mean camping tonight rather than reaching a castle."

"I am sworn to my men and they to me," Raihna said firmly.

"And I am sworn to Captain Raihna," Conan added.

Decius would have given a good sword to know by what oaths the two were sworn to each other. No look had pa.s.sed between them to hint that they were lovers, but the captain-general would have wagered the same sword that they were. This displeased him, although he could not have said why.

Conan and Raihna walked in the rear of the united bands when they marched out well before noon.

"King Eloikas made no bad choice when he gave Decius his banner," Conan said.

"You think so?" Raihna replied. "When his eyes were on me as they were?"

"A man can be a good captain and also a good judge of women," Conan told her. He did not quite touch her. "Otherwise, where were we last night?" he added softly.

Raihna colored briefly, then laughed. "I stand rebuked. But truthfully, King Eloikas must have made some bad choices-or else had bad luck-to be afflicted with folk like Count Syzambry."

"Had you heard of him before you came north?"

Raihna colored again, and this time her calm did not quickly return.

"I-we were eager to start. Eager to make our name. We were told that...

that the Border Kingdom had powerful robber lords. But we did not think... we did not think that they were more than what is commonly found in wild lands."

Conan saw pain and shame on Raihna's face. She would not make that error again. Besides, he wanted no more rebukes for telling her how to do her work.

"If I make no mistake, Syzambry is one who fears neither G.o.d nor man nor King Eloikas," Conan said. "That sort is less common, and always worse."

Raihna's face twisted briefly into a mask that might have frightened children into fits. Or the mask of a child who had been that frightened-by what, Conan did not care to ask.

He knew that Raihna had left Bossonia in haste for reasons of which she did not care to speak. He had met her when she served as bodyguard to the sorceress Illyana on their quest for the Jewels of Kurag. What she had done between leaving Bossonia and taking service with Illyana was a mystery that she chose to leave dark.

So be it. Raihna was bedmate, battle comrade, and captain fit to follow. That was enough to tell Conan that whatever happened to her had not turned her wits. More than that he would not ask of man, woman, or G.o.d.

But he would ask a few questions of King Eloikas, or of someone close enough to him to know the answers. As long as he was sworn to Raihna, Conan cold not return to the road south. He was bound to the Border Kingdom, and if need be, to the fight against Count Syzambry.

Such a fight was always chancy, more so than a pitched battle by daylight against an open foe. Out of such a fight, though, a shrewd man might s.n.a.t.c.h something worth having.

Conan knew that he could rise again in the south if he entered the southern realms as a beggar. He would rise faster if he entered with a clinking purse.

Chapter 5.

The coming of Princess Chienna to the Pougoi village did not awaken Aybas. He had been unable to sleep since he had seen the Star Brothers preparing for a sacrifice to their beast.

He lacked the courage to ask if they intended to sacrifice the princess herself. He told himself that even if he possessed the courage, it would make no difference in the end. He had made clear Count Syzambry's wishes many times over. If the Star Brothers ignored both him and the count, there was nothing to do but bear word to the count.

Bear word to the count, and then swiftly take himself out of Syzambry's reach. The little lord would not thank the bearer of bad news any more than would most ambitious men.

Gongs, drums, and that hideous wooden trumpet signaled the coming of the warriors. The common battle trumpet of the Border Kingdom was an offense to the ears. What the warriors of the Pougoi used was beyond Aybas's powers to describe.

Would he ever hear an Argossean flute-girl or a Nemedian lyre-maid again? Would he even hear the wailing pipes and thudding drums beating for the march of the Aquilonian foot on a bright autumn day? He doubted it.

He also doubted that he would accomplish much by feeling sorry for himself, save to fuddle his wits at a time when he needed them clear.

Taking a deep breath, Aybas pulled his cloak about him and stepped into the village street.

Heads were thrusting out of doors all the way down to the valley. A few folk even stood in their doorways, staring into the darkness. Aybas saw some of these make gestures of aversion as he pa.s.sed. He wondered if the gestures were against him, against the Star Brothers, or simply against whatever ill luck might come to the Pougoi through meddling in the affairs of kings and counts.

Aybas had long since realized that these hill folk were more longheaded than Count Syzambry realized. No amount of gold could silence their tongues or blind their eyes. If the count gained what he sought, he would have a reckoning with the Pougoi as well as with the other hill tribes they had preyed on for a generation to feed their wizards' pet.

A stand of spiceberry hid Aybas, as it had hidden Wylla and her father two nights before. From within it, he stared out across the rocky fields of barley as distant fireflies grew into crimson-hued torches.

The pungent reek of the herbs the Pougoi used in steeping their reed torches made Aybas sneeze.

This drew no attention. The warriors of the Pougoi marched up to the wizards, and the leader raised his spear crosswise in both hands.

"Hail, Brothers of the Stars. We bring what we have sought. Bless us now."

It did not sound like a suppliant coming before a priest. It sounded more like a captain commanding something he would take if it were not given freely.

Aybas would not pray that the Star Brothers take offense and quarrel with the warriors. Such a brawl would end Count Syzambry's hopes by ending the life of the princess, if indeed it was she within the covered litter. Aybas's reward would die with her, and so might he.

The fall of the Star Brothers might also unleash the beast. The creature might rampage through the hills, devouring all in its path, with neither men nor magic able to bind or slay it.

One by one, the Star Brothers nodded. As the last bearded head bobbed on the last thin neck, the princ.i.p.al Brother raised his hands. A globe of fire, vermilion flecked with gold, sprang into being between them.

It turned wizards and warriors alike into figures of blood and shadow.

The Brother with the globe raised his hands higher. The other Brothers began a chant that Aybas had never heard, and he liked it even less than the rest of the wizards' music.

The globe leaped into the air and rose higher than the top of the dam, higher than the uppermost pinnacle on the tower of the greatest temple in Aquilonia. It screamed as it soared, a scream that seemed to come from a living throat, a scream that the beast echoed.

Then the globe was no more, and fire was raining down on the warriors.

Gold and vermilion mingled in the fire, and the warriors raised their faces and weapons to it.

The fire descended upon the warriors. It turned their eyes and mouths to pools of fire. To Aybas, it seemed that the Pougoi warriors were now some man-shaped breed with cat or dragon blood, or both.

Their weapons did not turn to fire. They rose from their wielders'

hands, as gently as soap bubbles, glowing softly. Aybas watched, breathless, as they ascended, rising almost as high as the globe of fire had done.