'Ha!' Conan started up, feeling for his sword, his blue eyes ablaze.
'Lead me to him!'
'Take care!' cried Vinashko. 'He has forty armoured Turanians and has been joined by Dayuki and a hundred and fifty Hyrkanians. How many warriors have you, lord?'
Conan munched silently, scowling. With such a disparity of numbers, he could not afford to give Artaban any advantages. In the months since he had become a pirate captain, he had beaten and bullied his crew into an effective force, but it was still an instrument that had to be used with care. By themselves they were reckless and improvident; well led, they could do much, but without wise leadership they would throw away their lives on a whim.
Vinashko said: 'If you will come with me, kozak, I will show you what no man save a Yuetshi has seen for a thousand years!'
'Whaf's that?'
'A road of death for our enemies!'
Conan took a step, then halted. 'Wait; here come the red brothers. Hear the dogs swear!'
'Send them back with the food,' whispered Vinashko as half a dozen pirates swaggered out of the cleft to gape at the cavern. Conan faced them with a grand gesture.
'Lug this stuff back to the spring,' he said. 'I told you I should find food.'
'And what of you?' demanded Ivanos.
'Don't fret about me! I have words with Vinashko. Go back to camp and gorge yourselves, may the fiends bite you!'
As the pirates' footsteps faded away down the cleft, Conan gave Vinashko a clap on the back that staggered him. 'Let's go,' he said.
The Yuetshi led the way up the circular stairway carved in the rock wall. Above the last tier of tombs, it ended at the tunnel's mouth.
Conan found that he could stand upright in the tunnel.
'If you follow this tunnel,' said Vinashko, 'you will come out behind the castle of the Zaporoskan, Gleg, that overlooks Akrim.'
'What good will that do?' grunted Conan, feeling his way behind the Yuetshi.
'Testerday when the slaying began, I strove for a while against the Hyrkanian dogs. When my comrades had all been cut down I fled the valley, running up to the Gorge of Diva. I had run into the gorge when I found myself among strange warriors, who knocked me down and bound me, wishing to ask me what went on in the valley. They were sailors of the king's Vilayet squadron and called their leader Artaban.
'While they questioned me, a girl came riding like mad with the Hyrkanians after her. When she sprang from her horse and begged aid of Artaban, I recognised her as the Zamorian dancing girl who dwells in Gleg's castle. A volley of arrows scattered the Hyrkanians, and then Artaban talked with the girl, forgetting about me. For three years Gleg has held a captive. I know, because I have taken grain and sheep to the castle, to be paid in the Zaporoskan fashion, with curses and blows.
Kozak, the prisoner is Teyaspa, brother of King Yildiz!'
Conan grunted in surprise.
'The girl, Roxana, disclosed this to Artaban, and he swore to aid her in freeing the prince. As they talked, the Hyrkanians returned and halted at a distance, vengeful but cautious. Artaban hailed them and had speech with Dayuki, the new chief since Kumsh Khan was slain. At last the Hyrkanian came over the wall of rocks and shared bread and salt with Artaban. And the three plotted to rescue Prince Teyaspa and put him on the throne.
'Roxana had discovered the secret way to the castle. Today, just before sunset, the Hyrkanians are to attack the castle from the front. While they thus attract the attention of the Zaporoskans, Artaban and his men are to come to the castle by a secret way. Roxana will open the door for them, and they will take the prince and flee into the hills to recruit warriors. As they talked, night fell, and I gnawed through my cords and slipped away.
'You wish vengeance. I'll show you how to trap Artaban. Slay the lot―all but Teyaspa. You can either extort a mighty price from Khushia for her son, or from Yildiz for killing him, or if you prefer you can try to be kingmaker yourself.'
'Show me,' said Conan, eyes agleam with eagerness.
The smooth floor of the tunnel, in which three horses might have been ridden abreast, slanted downward. From time to time short flights of steps gave on to lower levels. For a while Conan could not see anything in the darkness. Then a faint glow ahead relieved it. The glow became a silvery sheen, and the sound of falling water filled the tunnel.
They stood in the mouth of the tunnel, which was masked by a sheet of water rushing over the cliff above. From the pool that foamed at the foot of the falls, a narrow stream raced away down the gorge. Vinashko pointed out a ledge that ran from the cavern mouth, skirting the pool.
Conan followed him. Plunging through the thin edge of the falls, he found himself in a gorge like a knife cut through the hills. Nowhere was it more than fifty paces wide, with sheer cliffs on both sides. No vegetation grew anywhere except for a fringe along the stream. The stream meandered down the canyon floor to plunge through a narrow crack in the opposite cliff.
Conan followed Vinashko up the twisting gorge. Within three hundred paces, they lost sight of the waterfall. The floor slanted upward.
Shortly the Yuetshi drew back, clutching his companion's arm. A stunted tree grew at an angle in the rock wall, and behind this Vinashko crouched, pointing.
Beyond the angle, the gorge ran on for eighty paces and ended in an impasse. On their left the cliff seemed curiously altered, and Conan stared for an instant before he realised that he was looking at a man-made wall. They were almost behind a castle built in a notch in the cliffs. Its wall rose sheer from the edge of a deep crevice. No bridge spanned this chasm, and the only apparent entrance in the wall was a heavy, iron-braced door halfway up the wall. Opposite to it, a narrow ledge ran along the opposite side of the gorge, and this had been improved so that it could be reached on foot from where they stood.
'By this path the girl Roxana escaped,' said Vinashko. 'This gorge runs almost parallel to the Akrim. It narrows to the west and finally comes into the valley through a narrow notch, where the stream flows through.
The Zaporoskans have blocked the entrance with stones so that the path cannot be seen from the outer valley unless one knows of it. They seldom use this road and know nothing of the tunnel behind the waterfall.'
Conan rubbed his shaven chin. He yearned to loot the castle himself but saw no way to come to it. 'By Crom, Vinashko, I should like to look on this noted valley.'
The Yuetshi glanced at Conan's bulk and shook his head. 'There is a way we call the Eagle's Road, but it is not for such as you.'
'Ymir! Is a skin-clad savage a better climber than a Cimmerian hillman?
Lead on!'
Vinashko shrugged and led the way back down the gorge until, within sight of the waterfall, he stopped at what looked like a shallow groove corroded in the higher cliff-wall. Looking closely, Conan saw a series of shallow handholds notched into the solid rock.
'I'd have deepened these pockmarks,' grumbled Conan, but started up nevertheless after Vinashko, clinging to the shallow pits by toes and fingers. At last they reached the top of the ridge forming the southern side of the gorge and sat down with their feet hanging over the edge.
The gorge twisted like a snake's track beneath them. Conan looked out over the opposite and lower wall of the gorge into the valley of the Akrim.
On his right, the morning sun stood high over the glittering Sea of Vilayet; on his left rose the white-hooded peaks of the Colchians.
Behind him he could see down into the tangle of gorges among which he knew his crew to be encamped.
Smoke still floated lazily up from the blackened patches that had been villages. Down the valley, on the left bank of the river, were pitched a number of tents of hide. Conan saw men swarming like ants around these tents. These were the Hyrkanians, Vinashko said, and pointed up the valley to the mouth of a narrow canyon where the Turanians were encamped. But the castle drew Conan's interest.
It was solidly set in a notch in the cliffs between the gorge beneath them and the valley beyond. The cas
tle faced the valley, entirely surrounded by a massive twenty-foot wall. A ponderous gate flanked by towers pierced with slits for arrows commanded the outer slope. This slope was not too steep to be climbed or even ridden up, but afforded no cover.
'It would take a devil to storm that castle,' growled Conan. 'How are we to come at the king's brother in that pile of rock? Lead us to Artaban, so I can take his head back to the Zaporoska.'
'Be wary if you wish to wear your own,' answered Vinashko. 'What do you see in the gorge?'
'A lot of bare stone with a fringe of green along the stream.'
The Yuetshi grinned wolflike. 'And do you notice that the fringe is denser on the right bank, where it is also higher? Listen! From behind the waterfall we can watch until the Turanians come up the gorge. Then, while they are busy at Cleg's castle, we'll hide among the bushes along the stream and waylay them as they return. We'll kill all but Teyaspa, whom we will take captive. Then we'll go back through the tunnel. Have you a ship to escape in?'
'Aye,' said Conan, rising and stretching. 'Vinashko, is there any way down from this knife edge you have us balanced on except that shaft we came up by?'
'There is a trail that leads east along the ridge and then down into those gullies where your men camp. Let me show you. Do you see that rock that looks like an old woman? Well, you turn right there…'
Conan listened attentively to the directions, but the substance of them was that this perilous path, more suitable for ibex or chamois than for men, did not provide access to the gorge beneath them.
In the midst of his explanation, Vinashko turned and stiffened. 'What's this?' he said.
Men were galloping out of the distant Hyrkanian camp and lashing their horses across the shallow river.
The sun struck glints from lance points. On the castle walls helmets began to sparkle.
'The attack!' cried Vinashko. 'Khosatral Khel! They've changed their plans; they were not going to attack until evening! Quickly! We must get down before the Turanians arrive!'
They levered their bodies into the shallow groove and crept down, step by step.
At last they stood in the gorge and hastened toward the waterfall. They reached the pool, crossed the ledge, and plunged through the fall. As they came into the dimness beyond, Vinashko gripped Conan's mailed arm.
Above the rush of water the Cimmerian heard the clink of steel on rock.
He looked out through the silver-shimmering screen that made everything ghostly and unreal, but which hid them from the eyes of anyone outside.
They had not gained their refuge any too soon.
A band of men was coming along the gorge―tall men in mail hauberks and turban-bound helmets. At their head strode one taller than the rest, with black-bearded, hawklike features. Conan sighed and gripped his sword hilt, moving forward a trifle, but Vinashko caught him.
'In the gods' names, kozak,' he whispered frantically 'don't throw away our lives! We have them trapped, but if you rush out now―'
'Don't worry, little man,' said Conan with a somber grin. 'I am not so simple as to spoil a good vengeance by a thoughtless impulse.'
The Turanians were crossing the narrow stream. On the farther bank they halted in an attitude of listening. Presently, above the rush of the waters, the men in the cave-mouth heard the distant shouting of many men.
'The attack!' whispered Vinashko.
As if it were a signal, the Turanians started swiftly up the gorge.
Vinashko touched the Cimmerian's arm.
'Bide here and watch. I'll hasten back and bring your pirates.'
'Hurry, then,' said Conan. 'It will be touch and go if you can get them here in time.' And Vinashko slipped away like a shadow.
In a broad chamber luxuriant with gold-worked tapestries, silken divans, and velvet cushions, the prince Teyaspa reclined. He seemed the picture of voluptuous idleness as he lounged in silks and satins, a crystal jar of wine at his elbow. His dark eyes were those of a dreamer whose dreams are tinted with wine and drugs. His gaze rested on Roxana, who tensely gripped the bars of a casement, peering out, but his expression was placid and faraway. He seemed unaware of the yells and clamor that raged without.
Roxana moved restlessly, glancing at the prince over her slim shoulder.
She had fought like a tigress to keep Teyaspa from falling into the gulf of degeneracy and resignation that his captors had prepared.
Roxana, no fatalist, had stung him into life and ambition.
'It is time,' she breathed, turning. 'The sun hangs at the zenith. The Hyrkanians ride up the slope, lashing their steeds and loosing their arrows vainly against the walls. The Zaporoskans pour arrows and stones down upon them, until bodies litter the slope, but they come on again like madmen. I must hasten. You shall yet sit on the golden throne, my lover!'
She prostrated herself and kissed his slippers in an ecstasy of adoration, then rose and hurried out of the room, through another where ten great black mutes kept guard night and day. She traversed a corridor to the outer court that lay between the castle and the postern wall. Though Teyaspa was not allowed unguarded out of his chamber, she was free to come and go as she liked.
Crossing the court, she approached the door that led into the gorge.
One warrior leaned there, disgruntled because he could not take part in the fighting. Though the rear of the castle seemed invulnerable, the cautious Gleg had posted a sentry there anyway. The man on guard was a Sogdian, his felt cap perched on the side of his head. He leaned on a pike, scowling, as Roxana approached him. 'What do you here, woman?'
'I am afraid. The cries and shouts frighten me, lord. The prince is drugged with lotus juice, and there is none to soothe my fears.'
She would have fired the heart of a corpse as she stood in an attitude of fear and supplication. The Sogdian plucked his thick beard.
'Nay, fear not, little gazelle,' he said. 'I'll soothe you.' He laid a black-nailed hand on her shoulder and drew her close. 'None shall touch a lock of your hair. I―ahhh!'
Snuggling in his arms, Roxana had slipped a dagger from her sash and thrust it through his thick throat. One of the Sogdian's hands clutched at his beard while the other fumbled for the hilt in his girdle. He reeled and fell heavily. Roxana snatched a bunch of keys from his girdle and ran to the door. She swung it open and gave a low cry of joy at the sight of Artaban and his Turanians on the ledge across the chasm.
A heavy plank, used as a bridge, lay inside the gate, but it was far too heavy for her to handle. Chance had enabled her to use it for her previous escape, when rare carelessness had left it in place across the chasm and unguarded for a few minutes. Artaban tossed her the end of a rope, which she made fast to the hinges of the door. The other end was gripped by half a dozen strong men, and three Turanians crossed the crevice, swinging hand over hand. They spanned the chasm with the plank for the rest to cross.
'Twenty men guard the bridge,' snapped Artaban. 'The rest follow me.'
The sea wolves drew their steel and followed their chief. Artaban led them swiftly after the light-footed girl. As they entered the castle, a servitor sprang up and gaped at them. Before he could cry out, Dayuki's razor-edged yataghan sliced through his throat, and the band rushed into the chamber where the ten mutes sprang up, gripping scimitars.
There was a flurry of fierce, silent fighting, noiseless except for the hiss and rasp of steel and the gasps of the wounded. Three Turanians died, and the rest strode into the inner chamber over the mangled bodies of the blacks.
Teyaspa rose, his quiet eyes gleaming with old fire, as Artaban dramatically knelt before him and lifted the hilt of his bloody scimitar.
'These are the warriors who shall set you on your throne!' cried Roxana.
'Let us go quickly, before the Zaporoskan dogs are aware of us,' said Artaban.
He drew up his men in a clump around Teyaspa.
Swiftly they traversed the chambers, crossed the court, and approached the gate. But the clang of steel had been heard. Eve
n as the raiders were crossing the bridge, savage yells rose behind them. Across the courtyard rushed a stocky, powerful figure in silk and steely followed by fifty helmeted archers and swordsmen.
'Gleg!' screamed Roxana.
'Cast down the plank!' roared Artaban, springing to the bridgehead.
On each side of the chasm bows twanged until the air over the plank was clouded with shafts whistling in both directions. Several Zaporoskans fell, but so did the two Turanians who stooped to lift the plank, and across the bridge rushed Gleg, his cold grey eyes blazing under his spired helmet. Artaban met him breast to breast. In a glittering whirl of steel the Turanian's scimitar grated around Gleg's blade, and the keen edge cut through the camail and the thick muscles of the Zaporoskan's neck. Gleg staggered and, with a wild cry, pitched off into the chasm.
In an instant the Turanians had cast the bridge after him. On the far side, the Zaporoskans halted with furious yells and began shooting their thick horn bows as fast as they could draw and nock. Before the Turanians, running down the ledge, could get out of range, three more had been brought down and a couple of others had received minor wounds from the vicious arrow storm. Artaban cursed at his losses.
'All but six of you go forward to see that the way is clear,' he ordered. 'I follow with the prince. My lord, I could not bring a horse up this defile, but I will have the dogs make you a litter of spears―'
'The gods forbid that I ride on my deliverers' shoulders!' cried Teyaspa. 'Again I am a man! I shall never forget this day!'
'The gods be praised!' whispered Roxana.
They came within sight of the waterfall. All but the small group in the rear had crossed the stream and were straggling down the left bank, when there came a multiple snap of bowstrings, as though a hand had swept across the strings of a muted harp. A sheet of arrows hissed across the stream into their ranks, and then another and another. The foremost Turanians went down like wheat under the scythe and the rest gave back, shouting alarm.
'Dog!' shouted Artaban, turning on Dayuki. 'This is your work.'
'Do I order my men to shoot at me?' squalled the Hyrkanian, his dark face pale. 'This is some new enemy!'
The Conan Chronology Page 352
