Conan the Hunter Part 28

Conan responded with a vague grunt and mumbled a few curses. He was looking around the chamber for another way out and noticed that the light within had somehow improved. As he scanned the walls and ceiling, he was startled to find that the priest's amulet was s.h.i.+ning. It gave off an increasingly bright blue glow. He held it aloft, allowing it to illuminate the room.

"Look here! Tracks, in the dust!" Conan called to Kailash, pointing at boot-marks in the thin layer of dust on the floor before one of the doors.

Kailash stared questioningly at the amulet, but Conan only shrugged in response. Then the hillman studied the tracks and carefully eyed the door. "Locked or bolted, I'll warrant." He tried the handle, letting out a murmur of surprise when the portal pushed open with ease.

Conan put a restraining hand on Kailash's shoulder. "Wait," he said curtly. "I'll go first, to light the way." With his sword, he pointed to the blood-soaked wrap around the hillman's injured foot. "Step carefully! More traps may lie ahead."

Kailash nodded, s.h.i.+fting his grip on his hilt. With the toe of one sandal, Conan shoved the door all the way open. The amulet shone into the large, semicircular room beyond. It was empty but for a half-dozen or so statues. In the center of the room, a wrought-iron spiral stair wound upward, disappearing into the high ceiling some twenty or thirty feet above. Conan stepped guardedly, motioning for Kailash to follow.

The Kezankian paused to wrap a new strip of cloth around his foot, then limped in after Conan.

Seven statues stood opposite the door, s.p.a.ced evenly apart, taking up the entire wall. They resembled the repugnant gargoyles that perched above the doors in the outer chamber, but they were larger and did not grip orbs, as their smaller counterparts did. Conan had no wish to walk within their reach. He strode catlike toward the twisting stair of iron in the room's center.

Kailash picked up the barbed spike still gleaming wetly with Lamici's blood. To prevent the door from closing behind them, he wedged the spike against the jamb and set its point securely into the door.

When Conan placed his foot on the bottom step of the iron stair, he heard a loud crack from the antechamber. Whirling, he jumped off the step toward the door, landing beside Kailash, who reacted more slowly.

The crack was followed by a stony thump, and a cloud of gray dust billowed in from the doorway. Conan shoved the amulet forward, hoping to see what was happening in the outer chamber.

When the dust settled, both men cursed and backed into the room.

Standing in the doorway was the hideous, crouching form of a gargoyle.

Its skin had changed from pitted gray stone to dark, reptilian green, and its eyes flickered redly in the shadowy chamber. Before either man could react, the leering beast tossed its...o...b..at them.

Conan's blade lashed out and rang against the milky-white sphere with a burst of blue sparks. Deflected, the orb fell to the floor a few feet away from the Cimmerian, sputtering faintly. Wisps of noxious white smoke rose from it, fouling the air. Conan advanced and raised his sword to strike the gargoyle.

The scaly beast moved rapidly. It grabbed the spike that Kailash had jammed into the doorway and shoved the point menacingly at Conan. The Cimmerian sidestepped the deadly weapon, twisting and bending his head.

With a bloodcurdling cry, he swung his sword at the beast's exposed side. The blade bit deeply into the creature's vitals, shearing off a leathery chunk of flesh that fell to the floor with a meaty thump.

The gargoyle jumped back, grasping the door handle and pulling the door firmly shut, blocking Conan's next attack. The wounded beast slid the spike through the handle, barring the portal, as grayish-yellow ichor gushed from the gaping wound in its side. Moments later, the beast froze and turned to stone, its hands still locked onto the spike.

Inside the chamber, Conan threw himself against the thick door, but could only rattle it. Kailash yelled a warning to Conan, who turned from the door to face the hillman. The ashen-faced Kezankian stood a few feet away, staring in horror at the statues along the wall. All seven had begun to advance slowly toward them. Like the gargoyles above the doors, their flesh had taken on a scaly, green appearance, and to Conan they looked even more formidable than their smaller, orb-bearing cousins.

Further, his eyes were watering from the acrid smoke of the cracked orb. The fumes tore at his lungs like daggers; every breath he drew brought fresh twinges of pain from within his chest.

The statue in the center flapped its leathery wings and soared into the air, while the two nearest to Conan began closing in. Cut off from Conan, Kailash hobbled over to the iron stair, gritting his teeth as four of the sharp-taloned beasts moved closer, surrounding him.

Conan set his back to the door and prepared to meet the flying gargoyle's attack. It dived right at the Cimmerian, talons and fangs bristling and leathery wings flapping. The barbarian held his position until the fearsome talons were inches from his face. With a yell, he dodged to one side and rolled to his feet, swinging his blade with enough vigor to fell a tree. The gargoyle slammed into the door with stunning force; a loud crack of snapping bones filled the room.

The edge of Conan's blade tore through the beast's wings, ripping them from its back. They lay on the floor, still beating weakly. The gargoyle left a nasty smear on the door as it slid down, twitching spasmodically. Seconds later, its crumpled carca.s.s had turned back to stone. Undaunted, the other two gargoyles closed the distance to Conan, stepping near enough to strike.

In the center of the chamber, Kailash fought desperately. His punctured foot ruined his balance and kept him on the defensive. A few gargoyles sported minor wounds from the hill-man's efforts, but the Kezankian himself bled from b.l.o.o.d.y scratches. One gargoyle had gotten close enough to rip a furrow along Kailash's jaw. Step by step, they forced the sweating hillman to retreat up the iron stair. He had already climbed a dozen feet above the floor, but from this position, he could no longer see Conan.

Slowly, he backed up the stair, struggling to keep his balance. At least now only one beast at a time could attack him. As he neared the top of the stair, he was eye-level with the chamber there. A small but st.u.r.dy-looking wooden door was the only exit. Before Kailash could put his back to this door, two gargoyles raced into the chamber and blocked the exit. A few more crept up the stairs, barring his return to the room below. The hillman turned to face the beasts closest to him, hoping to cut them down and reach the door. Their sharp talons slashed at him, tearing deep, crimson furrows into his sword-arm. Blood welled from dozens of cuts.

Keeping his composure, the hillman surprised his unearthly foes by rus.h.i.+ng straight for them, then falling to the floor. Rolling smoothly between two of the gargoyles, Kailash lunged for the door. His injured foot shot arrows of pain up his leg, but he gritted his teeth and wrenched at the doorhandle, praying silently to Mitra that the door would open. Mitra was listening. The unlocked door opened easily, and he fell into the room beyond, narrowly evading the grasping talons of the gargoyles pursuing him.

Darkness shrouded the chamber he had entered. The bright light from the amulet had faded gradually as Kailash had moved upstairs away from the Cimmerian.

Groping for the door-handle, he slammed the portal shut. Seconds later, it rattled in its frame as a gargoyle rammed into it. Fumbling along the door frame, Kailash found the bolt and shot it home with a rea.s.suring iron clank. The door looked solid enough to keep the beasts at bay for at least a while. He slumped against the door to brace it, catching his breath and automatically a.s.sessing his position. His eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, still could not discern any of the room's secrets.

As he tightened the shreds of cloth around his wounded foot, he heard a strange sound from somewhere in the chamber. He froze, listening intently, but the din made by the gargoyles battering the door drowned out nearly everything else. His hillman instincts took over; he readied his sword and felt along the wall, hoping to find a defensible corner in the room. During a pause in the noise from outside, he heard the sound again. It was a soft rustling, like leather rubbed against smooth stone. The sound had grown louder. His left hand found the end of the wall, and he stood up straight in a fighting stance. How much longer would the door hold? He suspected that the gargoyles could see in the dark. If they broke in, his doom was at hand.

An eerie sensation from his foot wiped all thoughts of the door from his mind. Some... thing was probing lightly at his injured foot. His skin crawled as he felt the thing touch him. Moments later, he felt new pain as something small and sharp thrust into the open wound. A revolting sucking noise ensued.

Kailash jerked his foot away in disgust, kicking to dislodge the thing that clung to it. The creature hissed wetly in anger as he shook it off. He heard it fall softly to the floor, sputtering. Its body had been soft, bulbous, and leathery. From what pit had this horror crawled? He swung blindly in the direction of the hissing. His sword rang against the stone floor with a shower of tiny sparks. He had missed, and the sparks had died too quickly for him to get a glimpse of the creature.

As he aimed another swing, a dim, orange glow filled the room. His nose twitched at a strange, smoky odor. He could now see that the room was small. In an open doorway on the opposite wall, a narrow stair led up into the tower. There was no furniture or features save the door he had bolted a few minutes earlier. He was not alone in the chamber. A few feet away, a large spider was dragging itself across the floor toward him. Its pale eyes glowered at him with rage, suggesting that it had far more intelligence than any of its smaller kin. By luck, he had wounded it. A few of its severed legs lay on the floor near it. Mitra had surely guided his desperate sword-stroke. Fresh red blood, leeched from his foot, smeared the spider's loathsome fangs. He fought a sudden urge to retch and looked up, away from the spider.

Kailash sucked in a breath of air, gasping in surprise. He saw the source of the glow, and of the smoke. A woman was coming down the narrow stairs. In one hand she carried a dark stone bowl. Wisps of smoke rose from the bowl, which gave off a dull, orange-red glow. The fumes concealed her face and other features from him, but he was certain that he was confronted by the Mutare priestess. She carried no weapons that he could see, but Madesus had told him that against her, a sword was useless.

She reached the bottom stair and stepped into the room, setting the stone bowl on the floor. The smoke parted around her, and he could see that she wore no garments. The light cast a h.e.l.lish red glow on her smooth skin and tinted her shoulder-length, s.h.i.+ny black hair. Wantonly, she ran her fingers through her tresses, stroked her neck, then her perfect body. She moved her hands over the generous globes of her exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and past them to her belly. Her stomach was not flat, as he would have expected. It bowed outward, as though she were with child. The skin above her navel pulsed obscenely, like a beating heart.

He tore his gaze from her, repulsed.

She laughed, a sound that chilled his bones and froze the hot blood in his veins. "Welcome, hillman!" She paused, seeing that his eyes were downcast. "You cannot bear to look upon true beauty? Am I too much for your eyes?"

Against his will, Kailash felt his gaze being drawn to her. Invisible fingers gripped his head, turning it toward her. He clenched his lids shut, sensing that he could not-must not-look into her eyes.

She laughed again, more cruelly than before. "It matters not. I am with child. My scion grows quickly within me. Before the waning of this moon, the first of a new race of Mutare will be born. Your miserable body and its warm red blood will satisfy the hunger of my child. With a simple gesture, I could stop your heart. Instead, I shall relish your cries of agony as I feast upon your living flesh. For a human, you are strong. You will live for some time, until I rip the beating heart from your body and drink its juices. Look upon me, upon the beautiful face of death!"

With a choking gasp, Kailash's eyes opened wide and stared at Azora.

Her eyes were wide, red-black pools that drew him in. He was powerless to pry his gaze from them. His slashed, bleeding jaw hung slackly open.

His limbs were leaden, immovable. He fell dumbly to the floor, still conscious and still struggling. He gripped his sword so tightly that it stayed clenched in his paralyzed fist. His eyes, wide with terror, were still riveted to Azora's face.

The priestess's crimson lips drew back over rows of daggerlike black teeth. With inhuman strength, she shredded his mail vest as if it were gauze. Her malevolent eyes bored into his eyes as she tore a strip of flesh from his exposed chest and brought it to her mouth. Kailash could not even move his lips and throat to scream.

As Azora reached for his chest again, Kailash heard a loud, angry hiss from behind her. The priestess whirled, momentarily breaking her eye contact with the hillman. The wounded spider had locked its fangs around her ankle.

"Man-blood you told Xim," it wheezed angrily through its fangs. "Now you take from Xim! Blood is for Xim!"

Shrieking in fury, the priestess directed her gaze at the hideous spider and made a short, violent motion with her right hand. The spider flattened instantly, as if struck by an immense mallet. Azora kicked the pulpy remains away with her foot.

Kailash, released from her gaze, realized that he had regained control of his limbs. Shocked, but reacting with instincts that had pulled him through countless deadly border wars, the hillman adjusted his grip on the heavy-bladed sword and rammed it into the nearest target-Azora's distended, pulsing belly. His strength and fury drove the wide blade through, until its sharpened steel point protruded from her spine. A violent shudder shook her body.

Kailash's heart raced. Had he slain her? How could it be possible? His brief, wild hope was dashed as she moved slowly, drawing the three-foot length of steel from the ghastly ruins of her abdomen. Kailash jerked the blade through her fingers, dismayed to see that she did not bleed.

A foul-smelling ichor dripped from her belly, but she took no notice of it. Backing into the corner, Kailash raised his sword and waited.

Azora felt her belly, then screamed with rage. "The child is destroyed!" She turned her face toward him, her eyes burning hot and red like the very fires of h.e.l.l. "Sc.u.m! Your pitiful blade is less to me than the sting of a mosquito. You will suffer as no human wretch has! With every drop of blood I draw from you, I will wring more agony than any human has endured!"

Kailash again felt his body freeze. She gestured, and the blade jumped from his grasp, rising into the air. With a flick of her wrist, the darkly stained length of steel plunged downward through the hillman's side. An unseen hand of incredible strength pushed it through him, burying the sword deep into the stone floor under him. Kailash's brain pounded with agony; his muscles, denied by their paralysis, could not even recoil from the blow. Sweat poured from his body as blood spurted from the wound.

"No vital organs were pierced," the priestess told him mockingly. "Your death will take days, like the death of a rabbit in a hunter's trap."

Maliciously, she gestured at the sword-hilt, rocking it back and forth and fraying the wound. Reaching down, she placed her hand on the ugly gash. Her palm burst out in flames, and she seared the wound shut around the blade. The sickening odor of charred flesh and blood filled the room. Kailash felt his mind disconnecting from his body, retreating from the scene in the room that had become a grisly torture chamber.

When the door burst open, finally succ.u.mbing to the pounding of the gargoyles outside, he was scarcely aware of it. In his dreamlike state, he could see but neither smell, taste, hear, nor feel. Three gargoyles rushed in past the smashed door, moved to the corner, and surrounded Azora and the p.r.o.ne hillman. To Kailash's surprise, they attacked the priestess.

Kailash would not have been thus surprised had he but known of the gargoyles' true origin and purpose. They were ancient creatures, born of an age predating the Mutare. The serpent-people of Valusia had bred the gargoyles to serve as guardians. From a sorcerer in Stygia, Skauraul had wrung secrets of mastery and used them to control the beasts. Azora knew nothing of these secrets, nor was she aware that her spells had no power over the gargoyles. Their simple minds lacked the human and animal emotions that much of Azora's sorcery depended on.

Eyes blazing, Azora faced the onrus.h.i.+ng gargoyles, gesturing wildly with her hands. She cursed when the beasts continued to press her. They knew only that she was an intruder. Hundreds of years before, Skauraul had ordered them to destroy all intruders. Before Azora could react, they carried out this order relentlessly. In a frenzy of thras.h.i.+ng claws and gnas.h.i.+ng fangs, they seized the priestess and tore her to pieces. She had no blood, but the substance of her body was pulled apart by their vicious onslaught. Regaining control of his body, Kailash turned away from the carnage.

He knew that his situation was hopeless. Azora had pinned him like an insect to the stone floor. Yet when he looked for his blade, he saw that it was lying beside him. Had it been an illusion? The chest wounds were real enough. Blood still trickled from the ugly gashes she had torn in his flesh, but his side was unmarked. The gargoyles would be after him next. Lurching painfully to his feet, the hillman brandished his sword and prepared for their attack.