Conan the Relentless Part 21

The Cimmerian realized that what his eyes could not provide, his ears might. Cautiously he stood upright, unslung the bow, and nocked an arrow. Drawing back to the ear, he sent the shaft whistling toward the Guards' barracks.

Five arrows drew enough noise to tell Conan that the count still had men watching the barracks. The Guards must yet be there, or perhaps had left so cunningly that the count's men had not heard them.

The count was also moving men toward Conan's right. Had fresh men joined him, or was he drawing men from before the barracks, or both? In either case, the count's men would not likely be thinking of attacking, but of keeping up with their comrades.

Now would be a good time to surprise them, and surprise could be half of victory.

Conan waved Raihna and the under-captain who'd brought Decius's message over to where they could hear the faintest of whispers. They listened to him in silence, although doubt showed on the man's face even in the darkness.

"What of Syzambry coming behind us, between us and Decius?" he asked when Conan was done.

Conan decided that he had thought worse of the man than he deserved.

"You should return to Decius and warn-"

The under-captain shook his head. "One of your men can take the message as well. I will not run from this fight. Also, I know where we are to meet Decius and the royal party, if we both win free of the palace."

Conan was certain now that he had doubted the man's courage without cause. "Very well, then. But if you want to test your steel against the count's, then tell me and Raihna of the meeting place. Then you can go to the G.o.ds leaving everything behind you fine and tidy!"

The under-captain grinned as Conan tossed down his bow and quiver, then followed them in a panther-like leap.

Count Syzambry cursed the unknown archer, but did so silently. More silently than his men had endured the arrows plunging among them, at any rate. Two men had died screaming, and the unhurt were more than a trifle shaken.

Useless to tell them that the dead were unlucky, victims of a man who could no more see his hand in front of his face than they could. Too much sorcery wielded by friend and foe alike had unsettled his men.

Nothing but a hard, close fight with honest steel against opponents of flesh and blood would bring them back to their manhood-

A whisper crept along the ranks of the count's men, to reach the count where he crouched behind the crest of the earthen bank.

"The king's men are moving. They know we are coming. They are setting a trap. If we advance, it will be to our death."

Count Syzambry replied with a whispered threat of horrible punishment for cowards.

Silence fell on his ranks. The count turned his eyes to the front. The palace lay before him, a maze of shadows that might conceal anything and certainly hid a determined foe. His men would need torches to shed light as they fought their way into the palace.

The maze of shadows seemed to be even more tangled now. Indeed, some of the shadows were- moving?

"Steel Hand! Cry!" The count kept his voice from screeching like a woman's. But he had to take a deep breath before he could shout again.

"Up! Up and on guard! They're coming out!"

The enemy's giving the alarm did not slow Conan. Nor did recognizing Count Syzambry's voice. The Cimmerian had time for a brief thought that the count must be almost within reach if his words came so clear.

Then chaos erupted again.

Half of Conan's men were not as battle-seasoned as the Cimmerian. Some stood gaping, others cried out, a few began to run. Altogether, they brought the advance to a noisy halt.

At the same time, fire arrows began to plummet onto the Guards' huts.

The uppermost layers of the thatch were as dry as tinder and took fire as readily as straw. In moments, flames were creeping across the roofs of half the huts that had survived the shaking of the earth.

Somewhere among the count's men was a captain who wanted light at all costs. He was gaining it, but the cost included revealing his own men to Conan and the archers at his command.

These archers needed no orders to begin shooting at the men who menaced their comrades. They shot, in fact, with such zeal and so little aim that they were as great a menace to friend as to foe.

Conan left to Raihna the task of bringing the archers to order. He sought to form his men into a solid band that could strike a shrewd blow. The light from the burning huts had shown him what he hardly dared believe: the count at the near end of the earthen bank, with barely a handful of men about him.

"Haroooo!"

It was the under-captain shouting as he plunged forward up the bank. He continued his wordless cries until he was almost within sword's reach of Count Syzambry. Then his steel blazed in the firelight.

"I am Mikus, son of Kiyom, and I am death to traitors and rebels against King Eloikas Fifth of- aarrgghh!"

The count had stood as death closed with him. Not so one of his guards with a short lance slung across his back. Its blade sparkled in the firelight, vanished into Mikus's belly, then burst forth b.l.o.o.d.y from his back.

Ere the sword fell from Mikus's limp fingers, Conan was charging up the slope. Before he reached the top, the count vanished, and in his place stood a dozen of his men. They made a wall of steel, armor and blades alike, between Conan and Syzambry.

Still, Conan hacked three of them out of the fight, two dying on the ground and the third withdrawing with a useless arm and dragging leg.

But the others were hemming him in, and arrows began to fly as the count's archers found a target.

The archers did not cease shooting as Conan plunged downhill. Indeed, they did not cease shooting after Conan reached safety and the count's men came downhill in pursuit of the Cimmerian. The archers made better practice against their friends than against their foe, or perhaps the nine men made a larger target than a single Cimmerian.

Regardless, it seemed for a while that the next battle would be between the count's archers and the count's men-at-arms. While the count's captains sought order, Conan was doing the same among his own men. Only then could he study his intended battlefield.

The huts were now well ablaze, and the count's men who had watched them were now falling back on their comrades. From the far end of the huts, figures darted off into the darkness, the last of the Guards taking to their heels.

Conan cursed, not much caring who or what heard him. If the Guards had not been fleeing, they could have given him the strength for an attack.

As it was, by the time the Guards rallied and returned to the attack, Syzambry's men would be in the palace.

The Cimmerian cursed again, this time softly. He was cursing himself more than anything else. Decius might well have had the right of it, and Mikus had shown both sense and courage. Compared to them, Captain Conan of the Second Company had not made such a great name tonight!

Little to be done about it, either. If only the united strength of King Eloikas could face Syzambry, then best unite that strength as quickly as possible. The palace could always be retaken once Syzambry's host was gone. If the king lost his fighting men, however, he lost everything.

"Where now, Conan?" It was Raihna, and for a moment the Cimmerian's tongue could not shape itself to the only sensible words.

"To the meeting place with Decius. He may not thank us for this night's work, but we'll be there for him to say so!"

"As the G.o.ds will. Who takes the lead?"

"I'll take the rear. My night sight's the keenest and we'll need it against pursuers."

Raihna loped off toward the front of the line. Conan waited until the last man was past the midpoint of the huts before he rose from his hiding place to join the retreat.

As he did so, he heard the rumble and crash of falling masonry from well within the palace. A moment later he heard shouts and screams.

He did not know if the commotion was due to one of the traps or merely to a careless warrior leaning against a weakened wall. It did not matter. Every one of Syzambry's men who found a grave inside the palace would be one less to fight the next time battle was joined.

The scream from within the palace echoed in Syzambry's mind. He wanted to echo it.