Conan and the Gods of the Mountain Part 33

He had not expected to learn the answer by being part of such a battle himself.

Geyrus seemed to struggle with the urge not to strike Chabano dead on the spot, and mastered it. His tone was still harsh when he replied.

"Oh. Am I worthy of the knowledge of what cause you claim for lying to the Speakers to the Living Wind?"

"Yes. There are those in your caves on Thunder Mountain whose eyes and ears serve our enemies. It is best we find ways of speaking the truth to each other without their hearing it."

To Wobeku, that made perfect sense. To Geyrus, however, it seemed to be an insult almost past bearing. Wobeku gripped his spear until his knuckles grew pale in fear of what he saw on the First Speaker's face.

Yet nothing pa.s.sed the man's lips. At least not until the rage left his countenance. His shoulders sagged then, and he seemed to age ten years before Wobeku's eyes.

"Do you trust your own folk?" he asked, as one might ask the price of a goat.

"Yes," Chabano replied. One could almost see his chest swell with pride at the loyalty of the Kwanyi.

"Then let us go to your nearest village, and there we will see to this speaking of the truth. If there have been lies told-"

"Silence!" Chabano roared. Geyrus did not take offense; he seemed to realize, as did Wobeku, that the order was not aimed at him. It was aimed at the warriors around Chabano. Several of them were from that "nearest village," and their faces said plainly that they did not care to host G.o.d-Men.

Chabano's power, it seemed, was not without limits.

"Great Chief-" one warrior began.

Chabano turned and struck the man across the face with an open hand.

Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed the man's spear from his grip, broke it across his knee, and pointed at the ground. The man flung his s.h.i.+eld on the jungle floor and prostrated himself on it.

Chabano did not lift a weapon. Instead, he brought one heavy foot down hard on the man's back, several times. Each time the breath huffed out of the man, and Wobeku saw him biting his lip until it bled.

"Be grateful for my mercy," Chabano said. "You will carry a spear again for the war, but avoid my sight until then."

The warrior rose, unaided, for his comrades drew back from him as if he carried pox on his skin. Bent and stumbling like one sick or aged, he lurched down the path and out of sight.

Wobeku did not watch him go. His instincts told him that this clash was not yet done, and that the heart of the matter was still Geyrus's will.

He did not dare watch the First Speaker too closely, but he tried to follow the man's eyes from one warrior to another. If Geyrus raised his staff, or if his eyes lingered on one man longer than on the others...

Neither staff nor eyes gave Wobeku a clue. But he was fortunate nonetheless. He was well out to the left of Chabano and so could see the men behind the chief without appearing to look at them. There were three of them, and now one of them was breathing with unnatural slowness. His eyes seemed to have turned crimson and sapphire. His spear was rising into throwing position, as if drawing his arms with it.

Then suddenly the spear leaped up. The warrior leaped with it-or rather, his death-grip on the weapon drew him with it until his feet no longer touched the ground.

Those who saw the spectacle were mute from surprise, or perhaps from magic. All except Wobeku.

"Chief! Behind you!" he screamed. The warning did its work. Chabano whirled, flinging up his s.h.i.+eld and thrusting with his spear.

The chief's spear only stabbed air. Wobeku, with more time to aim, struck home. His spear sank into the warrior's side, halfway up his rib cage. The man reeled, turned halfway toward Wobeku, and seemed about to laugh at the sight of the Ichiribu warrior cringing away.

Wobeku could not help it. The other's eyes were now pools of crimson-and-sapphire fire, and a faint mist in the same hues seemed to cling to both his weapon and his hands. Then the crimson of the G.o.d-Men's magic gave way to the crimson of blood, pouring from the man's side and mouth. He choked, reeled again, and fell with the spear still protruding from his side.

Wobeku knew that the man would shortly have company in death: Chabano and all his companions. Nor would Chabano seek to escape that fate by fleeing. It would be futile. Geyrus would have his life, no matter where he fled.

Wobeko himself also had fled once before. It was not in him to do so again, any more than he could have slain the bidui boys.

He was so concerned with meeting a warrior's death that he did not see Chabano step forward, perhaps with the same thought in his mind. The chief had his spear raised, and the muscles of his right arm tautened as he made ready to hurl it into Geyrus's throat.

Wobeku saw the First Speaker raise his staff in both hands, holding it out in front of him. He saw Chabano's spear stop as if it had encountered the rock of a mountain. He saw the iron point begin to smoke-and a chill hand seemed to grip his heart and bowels as he saw that the smoke was crimson and blue.

Then he saw the Silent Brother stride up, swing his staff high in both hands like a woman swinging a mortar, and bring it down across the First Speaker's staff.

Wobeku knew in the next moment that death had come for him. Flames shot up from the First Speaker's staff. They also rose from the Speaker himself, as if his body were a pile of straw. They were of all colors and no colors, without smoke but not without heat.

The leaves above the First Speaker turned brown and would have burned had they not been sodden with rain. Common, lawful smoke rose from the jungle floor where the heat seared the mat of dead leaves and vines.

Somehow the color of the smoke consoled Wobeku for his coming death. He would not die in a place abandoned by the G.o.ds.

Then a moment came when he began to think that he might not die after all. Chabano staggered back, dropping his spear with its half-melted point but seeming otherwise unharmed. He stumbled over Wobeku's victim and nearly fell, but two of his warriors caught him.

Three others, Wobeku among them, saw that the flames enveloped the two staves and the First Speaker, but not the Silent Brother. They also saw that this did not please the other Speakers. Indeed, they were staring with their pale eyes at the spectacle as if it went against all they had been taught was possible.

It very likely was. Wobeku s.n.a.t.c.hed a spear from a warrior too gape-jawed and wide-eyed to tell one end of it from another, raised the weapon, and threw it.

This time he took his victim, the Speaker just to the right of Geyrus, in the throat. The man dropped his staff, went to his knees, clawed at his torn throat and the spear in it, then bent so far forward that his headdress fell off. As it struck the jungle floor, so did he, toppling onto his side and kicking out what remained of his life.

Wobeku's swiftness seemed to restore life to the other warriors-that, and a few sharp words from Chabano in the tone that meant disobedience could yield death. In moments, the remaining Speakers were surrounded by warriors holding spear-points at their throats or stomachs. The warriors kept them motionless until the First Speaker was only ashes on the jungle floor.

The Silent Brother gathered the staves from the surviving Speakers'

unresisting hands, then spoke to them in a tongue Wobeku did not understand. He only sensed in the voice age beyond anything he had dreamed of. It held echoes of times before Atlantis, of times even before the G.o.ds had judged that men, not beasts, should rule the earth.

This done, the Silent Brother turned and knelt to Chabano. It seemed to Wobeku that he would have prostrated himself had that not meant setting down his armful of staves or turning his eyes from the Speakers. The Ichiribu renegade also noticed for the first time that the Silent Brother's eyes had the pallid hue of a full Speaker's.

Chabano looked from Wobeku to the Silent Brother and nodded. Respect for a chief was all very well, yet keeping those Speakers bound by fear, never mind of what, was more needed now.

"I am Ryku," the Silent Brother said. Understanding came to Wobeku.

Such a name had come to his ears without his knowing what it meant. So had tales of Chabano's spy on Thunder Mountain, although these were whispered. Ryku and the spy, it seemed, were one and the same.

"Hail, Ryku, friend to the Kwanyi," Wobeku said. It seemed the least foolish thing he could say.

"You are not of the Kwanyi," Ryku said. "Are you the eyes and ears of Chabano among the Ichiribu?"

"Before I answer that question," Chabano said with dangerous mildness, "you must answer one."

"Ask, my chief."

Chabano seemed to take the words at their value and to ignore Ryku's tone. "What did you say to your comrades?"

"I told them that if they did not swear obedience to me in all matters concerning aid to the Kwanyi, I would allow your warriors to slay them here and now."

"And did they swear?" Chabano waved a hand, and warriors' hands tightened on spear-shafts.

Whatever the Speakers swore, they swore it fervently and at length.

Before the oath was half over, Ryku bade the Kwanyi warriors to lower their spears. When it was done, he spoke a sharp word and the Speakers scurried off up the trail as fast as their aged legs could carry them.