The Conan Chronology

by J. R. Karlsson

  'We shall be surrounded,' Falco groaned.

  'At least we can find a spot to make a stand that will cost them,' Conan said.

  'No,' Jehanan replied, through his heavy breath and the thud of his trotting feet. 'If we can get by them at this end before they cordon us off, I know where we can shake them.'

  'Huh?' Conan grunted. Hope crackled anew in his breast.

  'The old tombs and quarries below the Grand Pyramid,' Jehanan said. 'They are a jumble, and feared. None go there save slaves like me, by day, who dig what limestone is left to take. I have come to know them a bit, trudging across them to my toil.'

  The hope froze in Conan. A prickling went along his spine, and the sweat of his efforts felt suddenly chill. 'Are they not haunted, those?' he muttered.

  Falco showed cheer. 'Better the risk of a ghoul than the certainty of being caught,' he said. Action had roused his natural boyish exuberance, and for the time being set aside obsession with his love. She was doubtless denied to him anyway, after what had happened, unless and until he returned in some official capacity. Moreover, as a literate aristocrat of a civilised, practical-minded region, he bore scant awe of the supernatural.

  Daris, half-barbarian, had herself been taken aback. She rallied and said dauntlessly, 'If that is the road home, so be it.'

  Yes, Conan thought, if he must fight through graveyard horrors to regain Bêlit, he would. The lanterns of the harbour police were drawing nearer and their bearers heeded the trumpet. Arms and armour sheened visible. Dark under moonlight, the soldiers from

  the keep likewise approached at a flagging but dogged run.

  'Lead on,' Conan ordered, around a tightness in his gullet. Jehanan nodded and spurted ahead.

  At an alley, which two buildings walled in blackness, he turned. The party linked hands to follow. He brought them, surely more by sense of direction than knowledge, through several tangled passages and out by a watchtower at the edge of the flanking wall. Moonlight flooded them again. Stones clattered, sand gritted under their feet. They were beyond the city. It sheered sable above them. Jehanan ran slantwise over ground which sloped sharply from those ramparts toward the broad, gliding, moon-polished River Styx. The Grand Pyramid's mass hove in view, ghostly in that luminance, seeming almost to float under a sky where a few-stars gleamed.

  A brazen tone clove the night silence. Conan looked over his. shoulder. Lanterns gleamed firefly-like. Had his group been seen from the tower maybe? More lanterns came from behind the half- wall..

  The terrain across which he sped grew rough, treacherous,! pocked and skeleton-white. Pits yawned on every hand. Shadows cast by huge, tumbled blocks made them hard to identify before I one fell over an edge. Jehanan skipped like a mountain goat; somehow he had mastered the ceaseless torment that would have crippled most men altogether. Daris fared still more nimbly. Conan saw Falco trip again and again, often nearly going into a hole. He joined the Ophirite and lent a guiding clasp. A remote part of him felt glad that this added trouble kept him too busy to dread demons.

  Halloos lifted. Stygians had reached the rugged stretch. They ventured forward slowly and clumsily, but their officers screamed commands that did send them onward.

  Jehanan beckoned. An excavation was at his feet, wide enough for moonbeams to reach its depth. He went on all fours and groped his way down a rough slope. His friends came along. Stones tumbled free, a sound like dry bones. Conan fought not to shudder. I At the bottom, Jehanan scouted among boulders and sharp ridges I until he found what he sought and vanished. His followers crawled

  over the same barrier as he had done, and saw before them a low, oblong structure of chiselled blocks. Its entrance gaped open on murk. Conan clenched his teeth and crept into the ancient tomb with the rest.

  After his pupils had dilated, he found that barely sufficient light was reflected that he was not altogether blind. 'To me,' echoed Conan's hoarse whisper. The Shemite stood, a blot of darkness, in the centre of some object. When he got there, touch more than sight told Conan what it must be - a lidless sarcophagus, plundered ages since.

  The four crawled into it and lay huddled close. The barbarian felt something hard against his ribs. His fingers traced a curve, Moles, teeth: a human skull. The olden owner's? Scarcely, after millennia. Besides, he brushed shreds of flesh. Some creature had brought the head here to devour, be-like from a recent grave elsewhere. What kind of beast or being?

  Voices called back and forth, feet scrambled, metal clanked. The Stygians had attained to this area and were casting about in search. Conan thrust aside his qualms and made a warrior's calculation. Ichanan's sword and Daris' belt were the last weapons left to his hand, but the tomb was highly defensible and plenty of rocks lay around to throw or to weight a fist.

  The noise faded away. The enemy had not made as thorough a search as they might have. No doubt dazzling moonlight and inky shadows, in this ripped-up, barren patch of wilderness, confused their vision. But no doubt, also, they were not eager to stay.

  When they were gone, Jehanan said, 'We move again. If we go carefully, mostly creeping, they won't see us. They will come hunting in force at sunrise, I suppose, but by then we can be in a place I know where they cannot find us in less than a month.'

  'A month, waterless?' Conan muttered.

  'If we can endure till tomorrow night, I will lead you out toward the hinterland,' Jehanan promised. 'Then you can guide us to your boat.'

  XI

  The Vessel of the Serpent

  The refuge was a niche or shallow cave near the top of a bluff screened from sight below by a ledge. Sand had blown in to soften the floor a trifle. As night wore on, air grew chill; sleepers huddled together for warmth. None were free of frequent dreams that made them struggle, moan, and waken aghast. Dawn was infinitely welcome.

  Conan was first to grow quite conscious. He gently disengaged the arms Daris had cast about him in slumber, and slipped outside. Prone on the ledge, he squinted over its rim. The sun, clearing the river, turned stream and eastern sky silver. Black Khemi and dull-hued Grand Pyramid loomed athwart western blueness. Underneath him, the limestone wreckage was pale yellowish and purple-shadowed. He saw troopers clamber about down there in quest of him. Though light winked off their metal, at their distance they resembled ants, and he heard no breach of the stillness around.

  He drew a deep breath and felt memory of nightmares slipping I away. Whatever had brewed them must have slunk back into the tombs. He and his people could get well rested during the day, recover strength in spite of thirst and hunger, and after dark depart. No doubt the Stygians would try to ring this area in, but no doubt there would be gaps in their lines ample for an athletic, determined, I knowledgeably guided party to get through unobserved. If need be, the escapees could crawl for two or three miles over the farmlands beyond, until distance veiled them. Thereafter it would be no long walk to the gig, nor an extremely long sail to Akhbet isle, Tigress, I Bêlit. Conan stretched cramped muscles and smiled.

  Suddenly he tensed. An oath cracked from his lips.

  Out of the harbour, spidery-oared, slipped a war galley. Another followed, and another, and another ... In midstream they raised sail, caught a westerly breeze but continued rowing against the tide, and moved off between the headlands enclosing the bay, seaward bound.

  Conan counted them. 'Why, that must be nearly the whole flaming fleet!' he exclaimed.

  His companions, roused by the noise, crowded about him. Where are they going?' Falco cried. 'Has the war on Ophir started?'

  'I much doubt that,' said Conan grimly. 'No, likeliest it is us they arc after.'

  'Four runaways, causing that small armada to go forth?' Daris .sounded incredulous.

  'I know not why, but plain it is to see that we matter greatly to Mime powerful persons,' Conan answered. 'I seem to be right in my guess that the wretch who trapped me never thought to tell his masters where we had hidden the boat. Why should he? Nor did I ell you yesterday, in case we were being spied on
. Else they need but plant an ambush there. They know, however, that the craft cannot he far off. Thus they have no great stretch to blockade, and are -certain of intercepting us if we sail.' He shrugged. 'They cannot expect to be out for more than a few days. Meanwhile the sailors get exercised.'

  'I told you we might lie hidden for a month,' said Jehanan in a dead voice.' Of course, we would wither well before then. Let us plan how sally forth so that we are sure to die fighting.'

  Daris shook her dark head violently. 'No! If we can reach the hinterland as you claimed, we can seek a way to - to Taia.'

  'Scant hope in that,' Falco replied. 'We would be better off trying for Kush, due south, though the odds against us will still be overwhelming.'

  'Why not north, across the river and into Shem?' Conan inquired. 'Even in the parts tributary to Stygia, we should find hiding places and helpers.'

  The rest regarded him in surprise. 'Did you not know?' Daris said. 'West of the Taian highlands, the Styx is death to swimmers. Those who try fall mortally ill within a day or two. Even wading across at one of the few fords is dangerous; you must wash tainted water off your skin with fresh, immediately afterward.'

  'Well, can we not steal a boat to ferry us over?' Conan snapped.

  doubly alert against any such attempt,' Jehanan warned.

  Daris leapt to her feet. 'The wingboat .''she shouted.

  Conan seized her and hauled her down. 'Keep low,' he growled. 'You might be seen from afar, standing on this brink.'

  Her suppleness shivered in his arms, her eyes looked straight into his, and she said in a rush of sweet breath: 'The magical boat that carried me here, I remember where it lies docked - it is lightly guarded and - and kept supplied, and can outrun everything else -'

  Conan gripped her till she winced. He eased his hold, but not the excitement that soared aloft in him. 'Can you handle that thing?'

  She nodded. 'I paid heed on the way, just to keep my mind from breaking apart in despair.'

  'I too!' Falco shrilled. 'The spell is very simple, and you need not be a magician. Ordinary acolytes did the piloting.'

  Conan released Daris. A while he crouched, chin in fist, and stared into heaven. A hawk soared there. Finally he nodded, 'Aye, this seems our best hope by far,' he rumbled. 'Unless we can head straight to sea - failing that, we fare to Taia and seek the rebels. We three outlanders get help from them to start us on our treks. Overland to Ophir, thence Jehanan and I onward to Argos, where we will take a boat for a rendezvous with Bêlit.'

  'I have a better thought still,' Falco urged. 'Outpacing any word from Khemi, we can stop at Luxur and take refuge in Lord Zarus' embassy. Warned of what I have discovered, he will go home on the first excuse he can contrive. We board his ship in disguise, and he lets you two off at the isle. Daris, of course, can take the wingboat east. Maybe her people will find it useful in their cause.'

  'We shall think that over once we have our transportation,' Conan declared. 'For now, we should rest, yes, get some decent sleep.'

  Admiration filled the gaze Daris laid upon him. 'As you will,' she murmured. 'You are he who brought us thus far. How?'

  Never reluctant to shine before an attractive woman, Conan took his party back into the cave and settled down to relate past events. They heard him breathlessly, though Jehanan showed renewed pain and Falco flushed.

  At the end the Shemite nodded. 'Yes,' he said in a sick man's voice, 'everyone in Khemi has heard of Nehekba and how she is hand

  I

  in glove with Tothapis, the wizard priest of Set. I did not imagine it ;it the time, but, yes, she must have been my cruel Heterka - and your Senufer, Falco.'

  'No!' the youth cried. 'Impossible! If - if you but met her for a single time, you would understand.'

  'What have these women looked like?' Daris asked shrewdly.

  Her idea failed, because none of her companions had much ability in describe a person in unmistakable words. From their attempts emerged little more than a vague picture of a Stygian female aristocrat, typical except for her beauty. The mirror talisman was a revealing detail.

  'But she never wore any such thing, did my Senufer,' Falco said triumphantly. 'There, are you satisfied?'

  The Cimmerian gave up. He could not see that it made any difference at present; and the Ophirite would presumably gain a minim of wisdom before time gave him a chance to seek his paramour again. What mattered immediately was to keep this band united. While the plan did hold promise, Conan hardly expected that theft of the black magicians' sacred craft would prove safe or easy.

  They left before moonrise. A dry and foodless day had not unduly diminished either strength or alertness in them. All had keen senses and had often stalked game in wild country. The early part of their passage went fast. Later they inched along. By the time the moon cleared the hazes that at first reddened it, the last Stygian picket was behind them and they stood in shadow under a rampart.

  'The wingboat has a roofed dock of its own on a short canal that must have been dug for it, west of the city,' Daris had explained. 'A double row of monoliths guards the path to a sally port; I read upon them terrible curses against trespassers when I was marched away. Otherwise I saw only four sentinels.'

  Conan had dismissed unease about those curses. Anybody could write a threat on a stone, and the Stygians were utterly subservient to the hierarchy. Were the necromancers really worried about their vessel they would have fenced that path with flames or adders or something else deadly. This he must believe, and otherwise put his trust in ... in Mitra?

  Now he led the way south, since he dared not cross through the harbour area. Locked gates, a ban on land traffic, ought to keep them unnoticed if they hugged the base as they rounded three fortified sides. The moon was too bright for his liking, but the western ground would be shaded from it.

  Halfway along the first wall, a portcullis stood lowered. Conan did not expect sentries at the foot of it after dark. Too valuable to endanger needlessly, they would be aloft in the towers flanking the gate and, if they actually paid much attention to anything, would keep eyes on the horizon. Yet he signalled for redoubled caution as he started past.

  A hiss brought him leaping about. Moonlight glistened on the scales of an enormous snake, which undulated forth between the bars. It moved toward him, mouth agape, tongue aflicker. Lidless eyes gleamed in a head raised man-high.

  Jehanan drew blade. Daris whispered shakenly, 'A python of Set, after prey. We can run faster than it can crawl.'

  'No, both of you,' Conan murmured back. 'Either way, we would make too much noise. Hold off - against the wall - keep silent!'

  He poised motionless, as if he were a Stygian who would meekly accept being choked and engulfed. The serpent hissed again and drew nigh. Thunderbolt swift, it struck to seize him in its fangs and throw coils about his body.

  Conan's fist met the snout in mid-air. The thud was soft but the pain to that sensitive spot great. The snake went backward in waves. Hope that it would flee broke asunder, for in twisting about it spied f Daris. The man-thick length surged toward her.

  Conan sprang. He cast himself on the cold neck, just behind the head, the one place where no rib-crushing loop could reach him. His legs clamped tight. His arms came around the head, his hands gripped the lower jaw and heaved downward. The reptile thrashed in maelstrom violence, but otherwise the struggle was silent, an icy I flowing beneath the moon.

  A crack resounded. Conan had ripped the forward part of the mandible free. He clung the tighter to the wildly lashing body, while he brought the bleeding piece above the skull. With all the might that was in him, he smashed its teeth downward. The blow drove

  them through the scales and bone into the brain.

  Barely did he cast himself free of loops that still churned about. He struck the ground, rolled over, and bounced to his feet, gasping. Let the dead monster flop until sunrise quieted it, if that saying about reptiles was true. The guards above would not come down to see why.

&nb
sp; Conan's wind returned, and he sought the others. They pressed close. Fingers and eyes asked mutely, pleadingly, how he fared. He gave a curt nod for reply and set forth afresh.

  South-east corner, south wall, south-west corner, and northward.

  Shadow cloaked the west side of Khemi, out to where farmland stretched grey-white in the moonbeams. The boat canal was closer than that. Conan kept his glance well away from the illuminated ground and let his night vision sharpen. Crouched above the deeply cut channel, by starlight he saw water like a ribbon of tarnished silver. At its end stood a dock and a roof built out on slanting poles, all in silhouette. Likewise featureless were the menhirs whose double line marked a path from the bank to a gate in the city wall.

  He drew his companions into a huddle. 'We must either be quiet about this, or quick, or both if we can,' he muttered, 'for any racket will surely draw men from yon towers. Follow me, but do not act unless I tell you to.'

  'Oh ... you, alone?' Anguish pulsed in Daris' voice. Her fingers clutched his wrist.

  'No, us together,' he answered, 'but being sensible about it. Heed me! Come!'

  He avoided the stairway down the bank and, like a prowling tiger, slipped over the earth toward the pier. Soon he made out the vessel berthed there, long, metallic, figure headed by some beaked reptile. Bent nearly double, he glided close. Four sentinels were on duty. Two stood, spears grounded against the planks; two rested on a bench close by. While young and burly, they were not soldiers, but shaven-pated, garbed in black tunics - acolytes.

  Conan padded up behind the seated pair. He rose. His great hands seized both heads and dashed them together. There was a cracking sound, and the bodies went limp.

  The guards afoot whirled about. Conan leapt over the bench. A

  Stygian tried to bring spear against him. Conan was too quick. The edge of his right hand chopped past the shaft, into the neck behind. The guard lurched and crumpled. The Cimmerian caught him before he could splash into the water and lowered him with care. !

  That took a brief time, though. Yet the fourth warder had not ' yelled for help. Conan looked and saw why. Daris had laid a knee in the small of his back, slipped her belt around his throat, and hauled it tight. She lacked the power to strangle him, but she kept him dumb, and his sandals made scant noise as he struggled. Jehanan arrived, sword in hand, to finish him.