Conan the Freelance Part 35

"What if it waits within?" Blad asked.

"What of it? It will dine on those four before we attempt to enter."

Thayla watched Conan steal across the ground, his sword lifted and ready. "And if it is still hungry when we get there?"

"Then we shall wait until it leaves."

"Rayk, I think this has gone far enough."

He turned to face her. "I am king, Thayla, and it matters not what you think."

She stared at him as he turned back to watch the four men cautiously enter the castle through the shattered doorway. Truly he had lost his reason. She reached for the knife at her belt. Best to stab him now and flee.

But Rayk was up and moving toward the castle. Thayla glanced at Blad.

"Come along!" Rayk ordered.

Before she could speak, Blad stood and followed.

Fools! All males were fools! They would get her killed yet!

"Thayla!"

Reluctantly the Queen of the Pili stood and hurried after her husband. She had no wish to remain alone and unprotected out here. Besides, Conan still lived, and if the thing that had torn its way into the castle had moved on, the big man would likely continue to live. If he and Rayk chanced to speak before she could prevent it, things would become very tricky and dangerous indeed. Best she be next to Rayk to prevent such a thing from happening.

Silently, the three Pili followed the four humans into the wizard's domain.

Dimma hung quietly in his sleeping chamber, trying to close his mind and rest. The chamber had been designated for sleeping because it was the stillest in all the palace. Surrounded on all sides by other rooms and with the doors closed, it was as dark as new pitch and unstirred by even the faintest wind. Like a cave in the bowels of the earth, the silence here was almost a tangible thing.

Sleep was not forthcoming for Dimma, however; his mind darted birdlike from perch to perch, too agitated for rest.

Came a knock at the door.

Despite his unrest, Dimma did not allow himself to be disturbed while in this chamber, not for any reason. Whoever did so courted a quick and messy death, and Dimma willed himself toward the floor so that he might better see the fool he was about to slay.

"Who dares?" he called out.

"M-m-my l-lord?"

It was the voice of his sub-Prime - selkie.

"Enter and meet your doom!"

The door opened, very slowly, so as not to stir the air in the room, and the selkie stood there. One of the vunds sat near his feet.

"Have you a final word before you die?"

"M-m-my lord, the v-vend, it h-has a m-m-message."

"Then it shall die as well." Dimma raised one foggy arm and prepared to cast a spell of burning at the two. He could do that much on his own, at least.

"S-speak!" the selkie said to the vund.

The vund stood and took a deep breath. Its last, Dimma thought and he c.o.c.ked his hand to throw the spell.

"Yur Prime 'as return'd."

Dimma held his hand. "What?"

The vund repeated the message.

Such joy shot through Dimma that he instantly dropped his hand, the burning spell forgotten. Could it be true? After all the centuries?

"What is this beast's station?"

"The s-southwest d-d-door, my lord."

Dimma laughed. It was some distance away, that entrance, but even so, his Prime would be halfway to the strong room by now. "Away with you!" he ordered. "To the strong room!"

The sub-Prime and the vund hurried away, and Dimma willed himself after them. The end of his torment was near!

Moving as fast as he could, the Mist Mage floated through his palace toward his redemption.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE.

When Kleg arrived at the strong room where all but one of the elements of a particular magic spell were stored, he was met by the master of the realm, the Abet Blasa, Dimma the Mist Mage.

He Who Creates floated half a span from the floor.

"My Prime. Do you have that which I dispatched you to fetch?"

Still naked save for the pouch around his neck, Kleg nodded. He fished the Seed from the bag. "Aye, my lord."

Kleg felt the wizard's joy almost as a tangible thing, a blast of heat from an open hearth. Then, "What took you so long?"

Kleg began to explain. "The journey was fraught with deadly peril, my lord. Pili and monsters and-"

"Never mind, never mind, it matters not. What is important is that you have the talisman. Quickly, place it in the niche!"

The selkie hurried to obey. Within the strong room, guarded ever by four of his brothers, Kleg saw the other elements of the spell set in their places. Here stood the skull of a longextinct big cat; there in a wooden case was the cloak of a witch; over there, a wax-stoppered bottle filled with a black liquid that had once been the blood of a minor demon. There were more than a dozen such exhibits, and the only one lacking was the Seed that Kleg even now placed with great care into a sconce set near one wall.

"Everyone out," He Who Creates ordered.

Kleg scurried to obey, along with the two guards who had been with him.

"Close the door."