The Conan Compendium

by Robert E. Howard

  Well, the worm thought, it was not their concern. He lowered himself back into the boat and used his tail to once again help Wikkell with the oar.

  The openings into the craggy rock wall were easily attained. Tull gathered several clumps of the glow-fungus into a matted ball, in case the tunnels might be devoid of the plant light, and the three ascended the rocky wall and entered the largest of the three openings. Conan felt better almost immediately. There seemed little likelihood of anyone being able to follow them here, not with all, of the possible exits from the giant caverns of the Sunless Sea.

  Tull's precautions regarding the light seemed sound, as the walls of the new tunnel were mostly dark. The diameter of the tube was perhaps that of a small room, tall enough to stand and walk, but either side being easily reached in a step or two. With Tull holding the ball of fungus high, the three of them started off down the tunnel.

  Conan halted suddenly, listening intently.

  "What is it?" Elashi asked, her voice a whisper.

  Conan strained to hear, but the faint noise he had heard was gone. He shook his head. "Nothing. Let us depart."

  They moved off.

  The Harskeel's caution in dispatching a scout bat ahead paid dividends. The solitary flier returned and alighted upon the raft. It was Red, and he gave his report gleefully. The three they sought were just ahead! They had entered a tunnel only a few moments' distance. No, they had not seen him, of that Red was certain.

  The Harskeel grinned. Finally!

  Deek suddenly became agitated, and Wikkell had no notion of what the cause might be. The giant worm thrashed about in the boat.

  "What is it?" Wikkell asked. "Do you want to say something?"

  The worm did what the cyclops had come to recognize as a nod.

  "Very well. I shall put ashore so that you may find a patch of rock."

  Wikkell did just that, and moments later Deek was able to produce that scratching and hesitant voice of his.

  "Th-the f-f-fish!"

  "What about it? Just a dead creature."

  It was difficult for Deek to speak at great length, given the method he had to use. How best to explain that their quarry could not possibly have had a boat, nor any means of constructing one when they had first arrived at the Sunless Sea? And that some of the gouges on the body of the dead fish were, in retrospect, hardly likely to have been made by others of its kind? Best get right to the point: "Th-their b-b-boat!"

  Wikkell, for all his size, was not in the least stupid. Despite Katamay Rey's thoughts to the contrary, one did not rise to become first assistant to a wizard by being less than adept. He understood Deek's reference immediately.

  "You think so?"

  The more Deek thought about it, the more certain he was. "Y-y-yes."

  Wikkell digested this unpleasant tidbit, then nodded. "Aye, it would make a certain kind of sense. We should at least check out the possibility, should we not?"

  "I-i-indeed."

  Wikkell altered his stroke with the oar and the light craft turned quickly. In a moment they were heading back the way they had come. Clever humans, if they could use a dead fish for a raft. Mayhap more clever and therefore more dangerous than they had been given credit for. It might be wise to take extreme care when at last they were approached. It would be foolish to worry about Rey's anger only to be skewered by some sword-wielding human.

  On the Sunless Sea, the wizard Katamay Rey was carried over a never-ending dock, accompanied by his thralls the cyclopes. Ahead, the bridge appeared… behind, it vanished… and it was as if they moved across the most solid of ground.

  Chuntha's raft of living worms churned through the water, driven by the magicked screw, keeping far enough behind the wizard to avoid being seen but close enough so that he was but a few moments ahead at any given time.

  "There," Red said, flapping a membranous wing toward three openings on the face of the cliff set back slightly from the edge of the water. "The center hole."

  "You are certain?" the Harskeel asked.

  "Without a doubt."

  "Good. Then let us proceed apace."

  "Uh, I feel that our bargain has been completed," Red said. "We provided transportation upon the water, and now that journey is at an end."

  "But we have not yet captured our prey."

  "Your prey," Red observed.

  The Harskeel considered its options. Did it need the bats any further? Well, who could tell? Better to have them and not need them than to be without and require their assistance. "I feel that my concentration is too poor to perform the bloodspell transfer at the moment."

  Red looked dubious, as dubious as it is possible for a monkey-sized bat to look. "Oh? And what would aid your concentration? No, allow me to guess: capture of the three tasties?"

  "How astute you are."

  Red nodded. "I see."

  "Barrels of blood in infinite supply," the Harskeel said. "It would be a shame to perhaps mislearn the spell and ruin it, would it not?"

  This statement took Red a bit longer to think about. "Very well. We shall accompany you."

  "A bat after my own heart."

  "Not a bad idea at all."

  "Pardon?"

  "Nothing. Let us hurry and catch them."

  "What in the world is that?" Elashi asked, pointing.

  Just ahead of them the narrow cave widened into a large chamber. Centered in the room were several tall and spiky-looking, thick-stalked plants. Glow-fungus grew thick upon the walls here, and the plants were easy to see. Upon the floor, surrounding the plants, lay what appeared to be a shimmery carpet that covered the rocks with a soft blanket. Conan had seen that material somewhere before, and it only took an instant for the youthful Cimmerian to recall where: the boat in which the cyclops and worm had ridden seemed most similar.

  "Uh-oh,"Tull said.

  "I do not like the sound of that," Conan said. "What is the problem?"

  "These be Webspinners," Tull said.

  "So?" Elashi said.

  "I know little about them save that they are best avoided, can the Whites and the bats be believed.'"

  At that moment Conan heard someone call him.

  Conan.

  He looked around. There was no one here save the three of them.

  Conan of Cimmeria. Strong, handsome, manly Conan.

  The voice was female, laden with honey and desire, and Conan felt a great puzzlement. Where was the woman who called? He would very much like to know, since it seemed as if she would be well worth getting to know better. A lot better.

  Here, Conan. Behind the beautiful plants just ahead of you. Come to me and I shall fulfill your every desire. Pleasure beyond any you have ever known.

  Conan blinked. So brazen! He had never known even a trull who so blatantly offered herself to him.

  The big Cimmerian glanced at Elashi. No doubt she would not find this woman's call so appealing, and Conan expected to hear of her displeasure quickly and in full measure. But no, Elashi seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts, staring off at the plants as if she could not hear the woman calling to them. Even as he watched, Elashi took a step toward the Webspinners.

  Then, next to him, Tull also started forward.

  Abruptly, Conan felt a sense of wrongness about that voice.

  Fear not,mighty warrior, came the soft tones. Do not concern yourself with these two. They will not come between us. It is you I want, and you whom I shall serve in any manner you desire.

  Elashi and Tull walked toward the pale carpet, ignoring each other.

  "Hold a moment," Conan called to his friends.

  Neither slowed, and Conan knew that the shadow of danger lay upon them. That voice―he had not heard it with his ears, but within his head! It was a trap of some kind.

  Conan drew his blued-iron sword and leaped forward.

  "Tull! Elashi! Stop!"

  The Harskeel and its men and bats moved through the narrow corridor. They were of necessity strung out some distance since the bats co
uld not fly were they bunched too close together. If Red's information held true, they would shortly come upon Conan and his friends.

  It was all the Harskeel could do to keep from laughing. It urged its men to greater speed.

  "There," Wikkell said, pointing to the shore.

  The dead fish bobbed slightly as it slowly spun along the edge of the waterway. Now that he looked closer, Wikkell could see the indentations that must have been carved by something other than the teeth of a predator.

  The cyclops rowed the boat ashore. He and Deek exited the craft. "There is almost no current in the water. They must be around here somewhere."

  "B-b-back th-the w-w-way w-we c-c-came?" Deek suggested.

  "That makes sense. We did not pass them beyond. Let us return to the water. We can move much faster that way."

  "A-a-agreed."

  Conan's protective reaction was somewhat shortsighted. He leaped past his friends and turned to face them. "Hold!" he ordered, his voice echoing in the quiet cave. But… what if they did not? What was he to do, cut them down?

  Fortunately, both Elashi and Tull seemed stunned by the force of Conan's shout. They stopped moving just as they reached the floor covering and shook their heads, as if awakening from a dream.

  Conan, pay these two no mind! I am waiting for you.

  The heretofore velvet-toned voice seemed somewhat terse and irritated in Conan's mind.

  "Move back," Conan said. He looked down and noted that he now stood on the strange overlay upon the stone floor.

  Elashi screamed. "Conan! Behind you!"

  The big Cimmerian spun, sword raised, in time to see a pale and thick green-tinted rope hurtling toward him. The cable flew true, but as it would have draped itself over Conan's shoulder, he swung the sharp iron and hit the thing solidly. The hawser seemed as solid as wood, but the force of Conan's shoulders and arms drove the razor-edged sword; the rope sheared cleanly on impact. The severed section brushed past, touching Conan's wrist and tearing away a patch of skin as it fell. He felt something sticky on his hand where the rope had touched.

  Elashi had drawn her own sword, and Tull his dagger, and all three strove to move away from the danger. Another rope was launched―from a hole in the trunk of the nearest plant, Conan saw―and then a third and a fourth.

  "Quick, it's some kind of web!" Conan said, scrambling to attain the bare rock, as did Elashi, but Tull slipped on the smooth coating over the floor and fell. As he did, one of the cast lines landed on him. The rope adhered to Tull's tunic as if a part of it, and the slack in the cable vanished. Tull began to slide toward the plants.

  Conan sprang toward the captured man and hewed downward with his blade, catching the rope. It took two cuts to sever it.

  In his mind, Conan heard: Sisters! Aid me! These are the ones worth months' of food. There was no seduction in that voice, only menace.

  Five, six, a dozen more sticky ropes jetted toward the trio. Tull scrabbled to his hands and knees and ran doglike away from the plants. Two of the ropes flew past, missing him and Conan, and the Cimmerian realized that the floor covering was of the same material as the lines and, as well, a measure of the extent of the lines' reach. He darted past Tull, scooped him up with one arm, and leaped for the closest patch of bare rock. One of the ropes tore a leather scrap from his boot, but then they were out of range.

  "Gods all!" Elashi said.

  The three stared at the plants.

  Wait, came that too-sweet voice to Conan again. This is all a mistake. Come to me and feel the depths of pleasure.

  Conan looked at Elashi. "Do you hear that?"

  She nodded. "The powerful voice of a desert chief," she said. "Asking me to be his bride and firstwife."

  Conan glanced at Tull. "And what do you hear?"

  "A wench who would render me unconscious with her lusts," Tull said.

  Conan nodded. He understood it now. The plants emitted some kind of lure to attract victims. Those so attracted would no doubt become sustenance for the plants in short order.

  No, came the voice. You are not to be eaten. Believe us.

  "I think not," Conan said. He turned back to his friends. "Best we go back and find another route."

  But as the trio turned to go back the way they had come, a bat chittered and swooped out of the tunnel toward them. After a moment more bats followed, and there came the cries of men.

  Conan shook his head and raised his sword. Was there no end to this madness?

  * * *

  Thirteen

  It was Deek who spotted the exits from the cavern. Wikkell angled in toward the shore, beached the craft, and he and Deek alighted.

  "Th-they m-m-must h-have g-g-gone th-there."

  "What makes you so certain?"

  "L-l-look."

  Wikkell quickly noted what the worm was indicating. The shore, such that it was, virtually disappeared a short distance past the three holes in the rock above them, leaving a sheer cliff face dropping straight into the water. They would have to have the agility of flies to stick to that wall. If their prey had truly come this way, the only method left to them would be to swim a considerable dis tance, and Wikkell did not think that likely. They had not gotten this far by being particularly stupid.

  "Aye. But which hole?"

  "O-o-one i-is a-as g-g-good a-a-as a-another."

  Wikkell nodded. "The one to the right, then?"

  "W-w-why n-not?"

  The climb was fairly easy for Wikkell, but it took a bit longer for Deek. When they finally attained the orifice, Wikkell noted that it was rather dark within.

  "I shall go back down and scrape up some glow-fungus."

  "N-n-no n-need. I c-c-can s-s-see w-w-well e-enough."

  "I shall follow your lead, then."

  The two of them entered the passage.

  Bad luck rode the wings of the first four bats to swoop at Conan. The first attacker became two half bats as he was split lengthwise by the Cimmerian's blade. The second and third bats pulled out of their dives to avoid the deadly sword, but in so doing, they flew within range of the plants and their sticky lines; the plants wasted no time in snaring the hapless bats in their ropes. The fourth bat managed a tight turn, grinning as he avoided a line cast by the Webspinners. The grin disappeared as Conan slashed again, removing the bat's head from its shoulders. The hurtling body sailed into the first pikeman to arrive, knocking him flat.

  Elashi and Tull cut with their own weapons. Conan had time to see Tull open the belly of a bat and Elashi's steel take the wing and leg of another.

  The racket smote Conan's ears: screaming bats, yelling men, the hiss of plant ropes thrown through the dank air. Even so, he grinned. This was something he could deal with, a direct threat, and it was far better to meet an enemy face-on than to continue skulking about in these blasted caves forever.

  With that, Conan stepped forward and whipped his blade back and forth at the next wave of bats.

  One of the pikemen charged toward Tull and Elashi, pike extended to impale them. Conan smiled as he saw his two friends leap aside, except that Tull stuck his foot out and tripped the attacker. The unfortunate man stumbled and managed to keep his footing but only after he had run a good dozen overbalanced paces onto the silken floor covering. A pair of sticky ropes flew and connected with the pikeman. Plant food he was, and nobody's fault save his own.

  No time to think about that. Back to the business at hand!

  The Harskeel was altogether enraged: two of its men were down; the other two hopped around like dancers, failing to engage the barbarian and his friends; and the bats were dropping like cut wheat. The Harskeel had drawn its own blade, but it felt no confidence in its men or the bumbling bats. Time for magic, it decided, and quickly!

  In the Harskeel's belt pouch were two glass vials: one was of shroud powder, the other of sundust. Tossed against a hard surface, the former would explode into pitch blackness, the latter into brilliant light. Were the Harskeel to use the sundust here in the cave,
that brightness would certainly blind any who gazed upon it. Conan and the other two would be easier to deal with were they sightless.

  The Harskeel pulled the vial from its belt and raised it for the throw. They must be looking in its direction for the magic to work, so attention must be paid.

  "Conan!" the Harskeel screamed.

  Hearing his name, the barbarian glanced away from the bat he had just cut down. The sound of its voice calling Conan also drew looks from the man and woman next to him. Good!

  The Harskeel threw the vial.

  On the Sunless Sea, Katamay Rey felt a disturbance in the air. It was a distance ahead, but he was certain that it concerned his quest. To his bearers he said, "Faster! Your best speed!"

  The twp cyclopes who carried him complied. Because the dock created never-ending extensions of itself at whatever the speed of its occupants, the party began to move at a run, a pace considerably faster than any man could manage.

  Chuntha stopped her living raft at a turning in the waterway and stepped ashore. She moved to the cover of a boulder half eaten away by water dripping from the far ceiling, and peeped around the rock to see how far ahead Rey's party had moved. She expected to see him no more than a short distance away, but she was surprised. The wizard had gained considerably; more, he and his one-eyed trolls now moved at more than twice the speed he had been traveling at earlier. Sensha curse him! What was he up to now?

  The witch ran back to her raft and increased the turning of the screw that powered her craft. Whatever he had in mind, she would not be left behind!

  The raft of worms churned out into the waterway and moved rapidly around the turning.

  "M-m-may all th-the g-gods D-d-damn!"

  "What is it?"

  The giant worm halted his slither and spoke to Wikkell. "I-it's a-a d-d-dead e-end," he said. "Th-the p-p-passage n-n-narrows j-just a-a-ahead."

  "Is there no alternate passage?"

  "N-n-none."

  "Well, Misha curse it. We will have to go back and try the next passage."