The Conan Compendium

by Robert E. Howard

  "Nay," Hugin said, "I would have heard had they come to this valley."

  "That is unfortunate," Leovigild said, disappointment etched upon his brow.

  The shaggy brows flapped once more. "It sounds important to you, the whereabouts of this beautiful queen."

  "In truth, I would give much to know where she is, if she still lives. It is important to our peoples."

  "And to you, as well," Hugin said with a rasping chuckle. "I take you to one who may be able to tell you about your lost queen, and it may be about much else besides. Just follow old Hugin."

  "Whom do you lead me to?" Leovigild asked. But Hugin would say no more.

  As they trekked northward, the valley widened and trees grew larger. Without warning, they came to a small clearing, and Leovigild saw his packhorse standing at the base of a large oak, placidly cropping dry, brown grass. Then he saw that the beast was tethered to a sapling.

  "Who has caught the animal and tethered it?" he asked.

  "You'll see soon enough." The small man waddled to the base of the tree, where an untidy bundle of objects rested by the trunk. Leovigild examined the bundle and confirmed that it contained all his belongings that the packhorse had carried. At least he was no longer quite so destitute.

  "Who have you brought me, Hugin?" Leovigild looked around, seeking the source of the voice. He was growing mighty weary of disembodied voices. "Up here," said the voice. It was a woman's voice, and it came from the tree-above him. He leaned back to scan the tree over his head.

  In the thick lower branches a hut perched on a small platform. Thin smoke rose from a fire-hearth he could not see. Of the speaker he could discern nothing.

  "Show yourself," Leovigild called.

  "Come to my house if you would see me, youth."

  He thought he caught a thin edge of amusement in

  the voice. That was all to the good because he would otherwise have suspected treachery to lurk in such an invitation. Among his people, a man coming to another's home stood in plain view and announced himself loudly if his intent was honest. The house holder was then expected to come outside and greet the visitor, unarmed or at least with hands well away from his weapons. The inhabitants of this valley lived by odd customs, or so it seemed. He was comforted by the fact that it was a woman's voice, a consequence of his youth and inexperience.

  A series of limb stubs jutted from the trunk at heights convenient for climbing. Despite the awkwardness of the sword at his waist, Leovigild climbed nimbly to the little bower. One who hunted boar and bear in the northern woods had to be adept at scrambling swiftly into trees. When he saw the woman who sat cross-legged in the doorway of the tree-hut, he nearly lost his hold on the tiny platform before her. Only a quick scramble saved him from a bad fall and worse loss of dignity.

  He had half expected a female version of the gnarled, ugly little Hugin. What he saw instead was a young woman of great beauty. Not only was she not clad in the rough garments of the Niblung, she was clad in nothing at all. Confusion warred with excitement in his somewhat disordered mind.

  "Come sit with me," said the woman, now sounding even more amused than before.

  Leovigild complied, unable despite his strongest efforts to keep his eyes from staring at the woman. Aside from her state of nudity she was a woman such as he had never before seen. Her hair was raven-wing black, a great rarity in the North, but her skin was fair to the point of near translucency. Her face was triangular, with wide cheekbones and large, tilted eyes the color of emeralds. Her body was small and slender, but her breasts were full and firm, and her hips swelled ripely below her tiny waist.

  He had to swallow a few times before he regained control of his voice. "I, ah, thank you for your kind invitation, my, ah, lady."

  Never in his life had he felt so foolish. It occurred to him to wonder how she kept from freezing. True, the valley was somewhat warmer than the forests outside, but it was nonetheless cold enough that even a tough-ened northerner felt the need of a heavy cloak.

  "You seem to be ill at ease," she said.

  "I fear so, my lady. In my homeland one does not often come upon unclothed women." The art of gal-lantry was little practiced in the North.

  "Oh, I see. Have no fear, my kind are not bothered by the cold, as are you."

  Leovigild felt a violent urge to change the subject. "Hugin told me that you might be able to help me with certain questions that trouble me. I do not wish to impose upon you, but I would be most grateful for any assistance you might afford me."

  "And what form might this gratitude take?" Her green eyes were unfathomable. He knew not whether she made sport of him or meant her words seriously. Her expression was grave, but that might easily hide mockery.

  "As you can see, I possess little," he said, "but what I have you may ask of me."

  "Fear not," she said. "I shall ask nothing you would be loath to give."

  She took some shreds of bark from a withy basket at her side and cast them upon the coals that glowed upon

  CONAN THE CHAMPIOKl

  the small stone hearth before her. A cloud of fragrant smoke ascended and hung before them both. She inhaled deeply.

  Leovigild was aware of a stinging in his nostrils as he breathed the smoke, then an unaccustomed dizziness assailed him. He blinked smoke-tears from his eyes and saw the woman with a new sharpness and clarity, as if the light had somehow grown stronger.

  "What is your name?" he asked bluntly.

  She had closed her eyes, but now the lids rose, and her emerald gaze had a distant look. "My true name you may not know, for it would give you power over me. You may call me Atalia. I come of a race as ancient as Hugin's. Where his folk are of earth and water, mine are of air and fire. Secrets of past and future are disclosed to us. Ask me now what you would know."

  Leovigild had heard of witch-women and spaewives who told fortunes and performed small magics, but he had always been half convinced that most of them were mere posers or deluded half-wits. This woman was different. Though her face and form were as beautiful as any he had ever imagined, she was as alien to him as the dwarfish Hugin. She might truly have the gift of prophecy. But what could he ask her? He was curious about the future, but the tales and poems of his people were full of heroes and kings who received some prophecy of doom and did all in their power to circumvent catastrophe. Inevitably the actions they took to avoid doom were precisely those that brought it about.

  The gods, then, did not like for mortal men to know too much about the future. The past did not concern him. There was much that was confusing about the present, though. Perhaps Father Ymir and the lesser gods would not resent his arming himself with some knowledge of how things went outside this little valley.

  "Where is Queen Alcuina of the Cambres?" he asked.

  Atalia's eyelids drooped, and she breathed deeply of the smoke. After a long silence she began speaking, very slowly and in a voice somehow more hollow than that with which she had spoken earlier.

  "She is in a place that is neither this valley nor the world you know."

  This was a disappointment. The woman spoke in riddles, like the dragons of old tales. "Are you saying that she is dead?"

  "No. There areother places. Some of them are open only to sorcerers, others may not be entered by mortals at all. She has been taken to one of those places by the working of dark forces."

  "lilma," he half whispered. "Is she alone?"

  "My sight cannot penetrate to the other worlds, but she was followed by two men who crossed over close after her. One was an old man, a wizard. The other a huge man with hair as black as mine. He is no ordinary man, but one with the mark of a strange destiny upon him. He is a sojourner, for his fate lies not in these northern forests."

  "Those will be her wizard, Rerin, and her foreign champion, whose name I know not. It may be that her plight is not wholly desperate, then. And what of her people, the Cambres?"

  After another pause, she said, "They are leaderless and despondent. Shoul
d they be set upon now, they would fall easy prey, for the heart is gone from them."

  He chose his next words with great care. "I do not ask what I should do, nor whether I shall die upon the

  morrow or many years hence. But where would lie my wisest choice of action?"

  She smiled. "You are cautious. That is good, for cautious men frequently live longer than rash ones. I give you advice, then, not prediction. Go to the Cambres and their queen. For good or ill your fate lies with them, and no man does well by striving to avoid his fate."

  "The Cambres it is, then."

  Leovigild felt as if a great burden had been lifted from him. A decision had been reached, and he need trouble his mind no further. When he left here he would climb from the valley and make his way to Alcuina's holding in the field of great stones. Even that uncanny place would seem familiar after his strange day in the valley.

  "There is still the matter of my payment," Atalia said, and now her green eyes glowed with a different light.

  "And what might it be?" Leovigild asked.

  She rose from where she sat and seemed to flow into his arms. Even through his clothing he felt the heat of her naked body, warmer than was natural to any human woman. "As I told you," she gasped, "it is a fee you will not be sorry to pay." Slowly she drew him back into her hut.

  It was a frosty morning, and Siggeir was on watch. As he often had these last few weeks, he kept especial watch upon the stone circle out on the plain, in futile hope that he would see Alcuina returning from the place where she had disappeared so mysteriously. He had tried to urge the others to make an expedition against Totila, to slay that king and seize his wizard lilma. Like most of them, Siggeir was certain that Alcuina's disappearance was the work of the wizard, and he felt that lilma might be persuaded to return their queen to them. A few had wanted to go, but most were too fearful of both Totila and lilma, and Siggeir's urgings had come to naught.

  It was with some interest that he saw the lone figure mounted upon a small horse approaching from the west. Few were the travelers upon the ways at this season. Was it a messenger, or perhaps a wandering bard come to sing for a few meals and a night's lodging? He saw as the man drew near that it was a handsome youth in fine clothing.

  "Who might you be?" Siggeir called down.

  The young man looked up and grinned at him. "I am Leovigild, once a prince of the Thungians, now an exile. Who is in charge here in the absence of Queen Alcuina? I have some words that may be of interest to her people."

  King Totila was bored. Winter life was a weary round of eating, sleeping, gaming, and trying to pass the long, dark hours until the return of spring. Then would re-same the exciting pastimes of fighting, hunting, and raiding, which were the proper amusements for a man cf good blood. The rare winter hunts helped, but now rtoey were past the great midwinter feast, and game was icarce. Unless his huntsmen turned up an incautious sag or boar, they would be reduced to smoked meat iad dried fish until spring brought the beasts from their winter dens.

  h could be worse. He had seen winters when he and iks warriors had had to subsist on cheese and porridge, jtst like the thralls. He shuddered at the thought. A

  clean death in battle was better than a life such as that. He had heard of the great kings of the South, where the land enjoyed spring all year round, where there was always sparkling wine instead of sour beer that had been in the cask too long. That was the way for a king to live, and that was how he intended to live as soon as he had settled with his neighbors. Then he would push his borders southward and establish a southern capital near the Zamoran border.

  That was for the future, though. The problem now was how best to subdue those neighbors. He had come to depend upon the wizard lilma. He was not sure that this was a good thing, but what else could he do? A king needed a counselor, for a king's true vocation lay in war-leadership.

  As if on signal, lilma came rattling into the hall. A few of the warriors looked up from their game boards, but they gave the mage no more than passing attention. He was a common sight, and in winter men developed the ability to ponder their moves in a game with awe-some intensity and patience.

  "I bring you news, my liege," said lilma.

  "I could use diversion," Totila said. "I trust that it is about Alcuina. Have you come to tell me that your vaunted allies in the spirit world have delivered her to me?"

  "It is not that, my liege. As I have told you, time in the spirit world is not the same as time here. While many long weeks have passed among us, no more than a day or two may have passed there."

  The wizard was uncomfortable with this questioning. What lilma said was true in general, but he knew that something must have gone seriously wrong in the spirit world. He could not imagine what factor might have been introduced to throw his plans awry. He was not sure how much longer he could keep Totila waiting. Now, though, he had a distraction.

  "The burden of my news concerns your neighbors, the Thungians and the Cambres."

  "Say on." Now Totila's interest was aroused. Idly the king picked up his helmet and turned it in his hands, admiring its workmanship. Like all the northern warriors, he loved fine metal work.

  "I have found that King Odoac has driven forth his heir, young Leovigild. He rode from the king's hall some days ago, and no man knows where he has gone."

  Totila barked a short laugh. "That makes a clean sweep of the family, then. That foolish pig Odoac rushes to his own doom. With no heir of their own blood, the Thungians shall be all the more willing to acknowledge me their king when I have slain him."

  "You have no heir either, my liege," said the wizard.

  Totila glanced at him from beneath lowered brows. "I shall have, as soon as you produce Alcuina for me. Besides, I am far younger than Odoac, and no man doubts my ability to produce an heir. And I am a proven war-leader. am of royal blood. Thus, Alcuina's people as well as Odoac's can have no objection to my overlordship. Once I have wed Alcuina, who comes of an ancient line, our son must be an heir satisfactory to all concerned. Is that not so, wizard?"

  "That is so, my liege. It is also of the Cambres that I bear news. Since Alcuina's abduction by my allies, they have been shut up within their garth on the plain of the Giants' Stones. I have found out that Odoac plans to take advantage of their leaderless state and attack them within a few days."

  "A winter hosting!" said Totila eagerly. "Who would

  have thought that old Odoac would show such enterprise? It is more like him to doze away the winter in a drunken stupor." He fell to pondering, and his shrewd mind turned over the various ramifications of this stun-ning news. "But, yes, I see now what his thinking is. He has exiled his heir. Now he must quickly prove that he is still a good war-leader, lest his own men slay him and send to young Leovigild to return and be their king. He dare not attack me, but the Cambres are a tempting target."

  lilma nodded at these words. Once again he knew that he had chosen well in picking Totila to groom as a mighty king. The man had a quick mind as well as a strong arm and a ruthless will.

  "So tempting are they in fact, that I think I shall go conquer them myself," said Totila. "I shall swallow up both peoples at once. Such an opportunity must not escape me. Warriors!" He bellowed the last word at the top of his rafter-shaking command voice. "Gather your gear and summon your kin! Prepare for a winter hosting!"

  A mighty cheer greeted these words, and another northern nation prepared for war.

  ￡iei>en

  fl Bunfer Comes

  flre you certain that you know where we are going, old man?" asked Conan. He forged ahead of the other two, his eyes alert for solid, fightable enemies, while Rerin kept his senses open for sorcerous danger.

  "As certain as one may be in this place, which is not all that certain. A gate lies in our path somewhere up ahead, and it is one through which we may return to our world, somewhere near where we left it. Beyond that, I know little."

  They were traversing a forest of towering trees, the ground almost d
evoid of underbrush. Great winged forms were to be discerned from time to time, soaring above the treetops, but creatures on the ground were for the most part small and shy, avoiding the approaching humans.

  "I pray to Ymir we get there soon," said Alcuina.

  She now wore Conan's tunic and trews, which she had roughly altered to fit her smaller form. The Cimmerian retained his wolfskin overtunic and leg-

  gings. Alcuina had fashioned crude boots from the excess of Conan's fur cloak. The relatively mild climate here made these makeshift garments adequate.

  They had not eaten that day and had only had the carcass of a small beast slain by Conan to share among themselves the day before. Still, they were northerners and used to extended periods of deprivation.

  "Black Erlik's throne, but I hope we find some game soon," said Conan, his stomach growling loudly.

  "Wait," interjected Rerin.

  "What is it?" Conan asked.

  "I feelI am not sure. Something has come near us, and it is charged with the evil of this world."

  "Know you anything of its nature?" asked Alcuina.

  "I cannot say. It is nothing I have ever seen in the spirit-trance. It is not like the folk of the castle, nor is it like the demons who bore you hither. More than that I cannot say."

  "I hope it is not another of those scorpion things," Conan said. "One of those was enough."

  "No," Rerin said, "I think not, but" Then he looked upward, beyond Conan. "Look!"

  The others followed his pointing finger. Far ahead, on a high ridge of ground beyond the trees, was a mounted figure. Its long cloak billowed in the wind as it stared down at them. Its features were masked by a shining, silver helm, but a baleful red glow shone from within its vision-slots. Of its arms they could tell nothing from so great a distance, but its warlike aspect was nonetheless apparent. Conan was minded of what the demon he had questioned about Alcuina had told him: "A hunter comes."

  "If it's a man," Conan said, "then it's a bigger man on a bigger horse than the common run. And I think it means us no good."