The Conan Compendium

by Robert E. Howard

"Which way?" the Harskeel inquired.

  "Follow me," Red said.

  Conan and Tull had been waiting at the rendevouz point but a few moments when Elashi and Lalo arrived, each bearing two bulging sacks.

  "Amazing," Lalo said. "I thought it certain you two would have become lost and never found this spot."

  Tull ground his teeth, but Conan only smiled. "I see your venture was successful."

  "Enough gems to buy a kingdom," Elashi said. "And I shall allow you to carry my share." She thrust the two leather sacks at Conan.

  The big Cimmerian smiled and shook his head. "I would rather keep my sword arm free," he said. "Just perchance I should need it." He took one of the sacks from her and hefted it. Unfortunately, the rotted leather, unable to withstand this movement, chose that moment to burst, spilling jewels in a glittering torrent upon the rocky floor.

  "Now look what you have done!" Elashi said.

  Conan did not bother to respond verbally. He merely squatted and gathered up a large handful of the fallen stones and tucked them into his belt pouch. Then he stood.

  "What of the rest?" Tull asked, gesturing at the valuable gems strewn over the floor.

  "I have all I can comfortably carry," Conan said.

  "As Elashi has pointed out to me endlessly, there is no point in being greedy, if such makes one stupid."

  "But all that wealth―"

  "―will be worthless unless we escape these caves. Should I be attacked, I would not have my abilities impeded by wealth or anything else."

  "Look," Lalo said, pointing. "One of the bats."

  Conan glanced at the creature which quickly flitted back the way it had come and out of sight. "One is no threat but there may be others," he said. "Best we depart." With that, he turned and started off.

  Tull, Elashi, and Lalo stared at the fallen gems for a moment, then reluctantly followed the outlander. Elashi bent and retrieved a particularly large emerald-cut stone that glittered up at her. Catching up to Conan, she offered him the gem. "This one seemed too good to leave," she said.

  Conan looked at the stone. Aye, it was a fine specimen. He took the jewel from her. For a moment it seemed to tingle in his fingers with a kind of subtle vibration. He tucked it into his pbuch and thought no more about it.

  The witch's ensorceled insect returned to her, bearing the news that the wizard moved in the opposite direction and at a goodly speed. This did not appeal to Chuntha in the least. Blast him! Both he and her prey seemed to have a head start that might well prove too great for her to make up, given the top speed of her worm raft.

  Well, no problem was insurmountable. In this case, there was a way, albeit a somewhat dangerous one, to gain an advantage. Chuntha had held back on utilizing the method earlier, since the risk to her was considerable, but now it seemed the time had come for different measures. Already more dangerous conditions had arisen in the caves than ever she had faced before, and she might as well try something risky to salvage whatever she could ere there was nothing left to save.

  Chuntha caused her living raft to move to a gently sloping shore with such speed that it partially beached itself. Utilizing her magic, she dissolved the spell holding the worm assemblage together, freeing her thralls into individuals once again.

  "Return to my chambers as best and as quickly as you can," she ordered them.

  When the worms had moved off, searching for connective tunnels that might lead them home, the witch removed from her packet of spells one she had used but once in the last two hundred years. The parchment upon which the spell was inked had been made from the scaled skin of a flying reptile thought long extinct from the world of men. This creature had been one of the last of its kind, discovered in a hidden valley deep in the fetid jungles east of Xuchotl, in the Black Kingdoms far to the south. The wingspan of such a beast dwarfed that of the largest known bird, save that of the roc; the toothed head resembled that of a crocodile; and the curved, black talons on its feet were like unto knife blades.

  When the spell's words were properly uttered, the parchment would become a cloak; this cloak, when wrapped around one, metamorphically changed the wearer into a near-exact replica of that toothed and winged reptile. Fearsome and fierce, this soaring monster need fear no earthly nemesis; unfortunately, the spell had a major flaw that was its danger: one could not know how long the magical cloak would remain in effect. It might stay complete until the wearer shrugged it off hours, or even days, later; too, the cloak could fail abruptly after a few minutes and its hapless occupant might find him-or herself high above the ground, but suddenly having lost the ability to fly. Such a hazard required judicious use of the spell; failure at a sufficient height would occur but once.

  Despite her varied repertoire of magics, Chuntha had only this one spell that would allow her to fly. She could not effect a means of slowing her descent should the cloak suddenly lose its effectiveness. There was one rather complex conjuration that would lighten her body to featherweight, but by the time she could intone the first few words of it, she would likely be a bloody mush upon the ground. Still, it was better to die trying as not.

  The witch selected a high, rocky spire and began to climb it, carrying only the reptilian parchment with her. The ancient beings had flown and soared beyond compare, they had not done so well on ascent from the ground, so Chuntha deemed it best that she begin her flight from a high glide.

  At the top of the spire she squatted and unrolled the scaled parchment, then began to read aloud the magic words.

  Katamay Rey could not say that he was totally pleased with his situation, but he felt a certain confidence. A report from one of his search wasps had given him the knowledge that the witch floated on her worm raft far behind him. By the time she understood her error, both Rey and their mutual quarry should be far outside her grasp.

  Only moments later, however, a strange shadow passed over the wizard. He glanced up, but the air under the high ceiling appeared empty. No, wait… there, ahead… what was that? Before he could do more than wonder, the shadowy figure was gone, leaving the wizard to surmise.

  "What was that?" he said aloud.

  The nearest cyclops, who had noted his master's attention and looked up, shrugged. "A bat, perhaps?"

  "'Twould be the largest one ever," Rey said. "I think not." But, he thought to himself, if not a bat, then what?

  Perhaps the apparition meant nothing. Perhaps it held no threat to him. Or perhaps it was merely a figment of his imagination. But deep in his black heart, Rey felt another dagger-stab of worry.

  Deek and Wikkell were feeling very pleased with themselves. The first part of the plan had gone as smoothly as a baby worm's topside. The two of them now had tucked away in Wikkell's belt a magical implement from the witch's armory. At the first clear patch of rock far enough from Chuntha's quarters to avoid arousing undue interest, the pair halted and Deek explained its operation.

  The device looked like nothing so much as a thick chunk of wood the size of a human's playing card with a tiny hole in one end and a small lever on its side.

  "P-p-point i-it a-at th-the w-w-wall o-over th-there and p-p-push th-the l-lever," Deek said.

  Wikkell did so, and the thing spat a fine strand of white thread into the still air. The thread's end touched the wall, and more and more of the silky line followed, assembling itself into a bizarre tangle that formed a cobwebby net. Wikkell moved the lever back to its original position and the flow ceased abruptly, breaking contact with the magical object.

  Wikkell was not altogether impressed. "So? It makes a spider's web. That is hardly much help to us.

  "T-t-try to m-m-move th-through i-i-it."

  Wikkell did so and quickly became entangled. His struggles only entrapped him more, until after a moment he could hardly move at all.

  "All right, I am impressed. How do I get out of this?"

  "R-r-reverse th-the l-l-lever."

  Wikkell managed to do so. The spidery mess began to flow back into the little block of wo
od. Within a few moments the stuff had all disappeared, leaving the cyclops free to move again.

  "I-it i-is n-n-not th-the m-m-most p-powerful sp-spell," Deek said, "b-but a-an-anyone c-can o-operate it, i-it r-requires n-no sp-special kn-know-ledge."

  "A distinct advantage," Wikkell observed. "Can we do so well at the wizard's quarters, I should think we could mount a powerful argument to our people."

  "Th-then l-l-let u-us pr-proceed."

  The two of them did just that.

  The Harskeel could smell success. One of the bats had only just returned with the information that those whom it sought were but a few moments' walk ahead. The temptation was to hurry, but the Harskeel did not wish anything to spoil its chances. Better to proceed carefully, then attack at the most propitious moment.

  As the Harskeel crossed a wide patch of rocky floor, it chanced to glance down at the pebbles that littered the area. Odd, how they glittered in this cursed green light. It bent and fetched up one of the stones.

  Surprised, the Harskeel stopped and stared at the rock. Aye, rock it was, but hardly one that should be casually found upon a cavern floor. Unless it missed its guess―unlikely, since the Harskeel had some knowledge of gemology―this jewel, easily the size of its little fingertip, was nothing less than a finely cut ruby.

  Further examination showed that the majority of the stones scattered at its feet were also various gems of no small value. Never one to pass up wealth for little work, the Harskeel allowed that it could pause in its chase long enough to collect the valuable minerals. His prey must have dropped them unknowingly, for certainly no one would deliberately leave such objects behind. It would take but a moment or two, and surely the Harskeel could spare that much time.

  High in the vaults of the dark cave, a giant creature soared on leathery wings, flying with great speed and grace, hurrying to arrive at its destina tion before the magic that kept it aloft ceased working.

  Inside the cloak, Chuntha felt the power of the thing whose kind had ruled the air millions of years before men lived on the earth. It was most seductive, the feeling of flight… the sensual nature of it could easily become addictive. The risk, however, outweighed the thrill for her. There were better ways to achieve warm feelings than to chance the final dance with death.

  As soon as she collected her barbarian, the witch thought, she would show one of those ways to him. True, he would not survive the encounter, but ah, he would enjoy his final moments of ecstasy…

  * * *

  Twenty

  As Conan led his friends down a winding tunnel with a high ceiling, something most strange happened. Behind him, Lalo said, "I fear yon lout leads us to certain doom."

  This insult was but one of a more or less constant stream of similar comments, and Conan had begun to learn how to ignore them. Only this time there came another sentence almost immediately upon the heels of the statement, as if it were an echo: But would that I were Conan and ready to face whatever might come with no more than a sword and his courage.

  Conan paused and turned to Lalo. "What was that?"

  "Pray what is the matter, Conan? Are your ears plugged, so that you are now deaf as well as harebrained?"

  And again the voice softly followed: Would that I could speak my admiration of you, Conan, and not be forced to vilify you with every passing moment.

  It came to Conan then that the voice he heard, which was most definitely that of Lalo, had not reached him through his hearing but had arisen from within his head, much as the voice of the Webspinner had done earlier.

  "Nothing, never mind," Conan said, turning back to the path ahead. What sorcery was this? He had heard Lalo speak, but he was certain that the speech within his head was in fact what the grinning man was truly thinking when he had made the rude comment.

  Something was definitely amiss were that the case, but Conan thought it prudent to avoid mentioning it; perhaps he was simply imagining things.

  A few moments later, as Elashi negotiated a steep spot on the cavern floor, she slipped and fell, landing solidly but unhurt upon her ample backside. Her cloak and undershift slid well back, revealing her slim legs almost to their juncture. Conan admired the view.

  Elashi looked up and saw Conan smiling at her. "Goat," she said. "Can you think of nothing else?"

  But following her speech came that eerie voice in Conan's mind again: Ah, would that we had a few moments to be alone together, Conan, my ram. All of this excitement has stirred my lusts.

  Conan blinked, certain that the others must have heard her, but it seemed apparent from their de meaner that neither Tull nor Lalo had caught the second portion of Elashi's speech. Or, Conan was convinced, her thoughts.

  How could he hear these things? Had some kind of spell been cast upon him?

  Upon reflection, that made no sense he could discern. What would be the purpose of such a geas? Certainly it was to his advantage, not to that of any of his opponents. To know what a man or a woman thought, whatever they might say, was a powerful tool.

  Well. That it had happened seemed the important thing. Worry about how or why could be left for when there was more time to ponder upon the cause. If you were tethered by a thick rope and a man handed you a sharp blade, you did not bother yourself with the origin of the iron or the name of the smith who had made it; you cut yourself free.

  Conan was nothing if not pragmatic.

  And perhaps it would be better not to mention this new talent to the others just yet.

  "They are just ahead," Red said to the Harskeel. "All four of them, around that next turning."

  "Are your fellows ready to attack?"

  "We would have an end to this and receive our promised bloodspell. Yes, we are ready."

  "Good. Then let us finish this unpleasant business."

  The Harskeel increased its speed toward the turning, not more than twenty paces distant.

  Still draped in the mantle of the flying repti e, Chuntha alighted in front of her quarters and the two startled guard worms.

  They shied away, until she removed the magic al cloak long enough to show them who she was.

  The worms looked vastly relieved. The leader reported their encounter with the barbarian. "H-he m-m-must b-be a d-demon! He s-s-slew C-c-cook and T-t-tuma!"

  She waved the two worms to silence. The loss of two guards was nothing; the important thing Was that the barbarian was nearby. No time to stop and rest, then.

  She did not ask of further matters.

  The witch climbed onto the tail of the larger guard. "When I change back into the winged creature, you are to use your muscles to hurl me inio the air, that way," she said, pointing. Without waiting for a reply, Chuntha donned the scaled garment and once again assumed the form of its former owner.

  The startled guard, no less so for having been told this would happen, lashed his tail sharply, catapulting the ensorceled witch into the air like a rock hurled from a sling. The leathery wings fluttered and snapped out, and Chuntha sailed down the long corridor.

  There were several ways the barbarian could have taken, but she knew at least one that he had not and others that were less than likely. She Was near, she felt it, and she would have him soon!

  Katamay Rey had long since attained the shore, and now his cyclopian carriers bore him in a jolt ing run down the most direct corridor toward home. He had the distinct feeling of being late to the party, and tardiness in this case might well be his undoing. "Hurry, you useless lumps, hurry!"

  If anything, the continuation of Wikkell and Deek's plan went smoother than had the beginning. The pair of Cyclopes who guarded Rey's chambers knew better than to impede Wikkell's comings and goings; apparently the wizard had not bothered to enlighten them as to Wikkell's current status, an oversight that the cyclops had counted upon. The wizard thought they were all morons, and seldom bothered to inform the Cyclops of anything that did not directly concern them. Wikkell knew that Rey also thought that little, if any, of his business concerned anyone save himself, so
the fear that the guards would attempt to stop Wikkell had been a small worry at best.

  With Deek slithering along behind him on the leash, the two of them entered the wizard's chambers.

  As they had done in the witch's quarters, the rogue cyclops and renegade worm quickly selected a talisman and departed. Once away from the general vicinity of the guards, it was Wikkell's turn to demonstrate to Deek the instrument they had just stolen.

  It seemed to Deek that the small graystone jar was innocuous enough. From it Wikkell removed a pinch of pale powder and cast it in a glittery shower upon the floor before the worm.

  "Wh-what d-d-does i-it d-d-do?"

  "Crawl over it and see."

  Had he shoulders, Deek would have shrugged; lacking them, he twisted his body slightly and started to slither over the fine power. Quickly the worm found that he could not gain any purchase on the floor. He could move his own body by contracting his muscles, but there was no friction between his body and the underlying rock. It was as if the solid stone had turned to air for all the resistance it offered.

  Wikkell grinned down at his friend. "A special lubricant," he said. "You cannot move upon a surface coated with it, nor can anybody do anything but slip and slide upon it. Here."

  With that, Wikkell leaned toward Deek and gave him a gentle shove. Deek slid across the rock more easily than had their web boat over the surface of the water. He hit a patch of normal rock half a body length behind, and hastened to inch himself back onto it.

  "Im-im-impressive," Deek said. "I-is i-it p-p-permanent?"

  "No. It lasts but an hour or so, then vanishes. Still, with these two items to show our brethren, perhaps we can generate more support."

  "Un-un-d-doubtedly."

  "Then let us waste no more time. My folk or yours?"

  "M-m-mine a-a-are cl-closer."

  "Then lead on, friend."

  Conan's sharp hearing caught the high-pitched sound of the cluttering bats before his companions noted their approach. The Cimmerian wheeled about, drawing his sword and frightening the others with the suddenness of his movement.