Part 19 (2/2)
”Again we meet, wizard!” he grinned savagely.
”Keep off!” screamed Tsotha like a blood-mad jackal. ”I'll blast the flesh from your bones!
You can not conquer me if you hack me in pieces, the bits of flesh and bone will reunite and haunt you to your doom! I see the hand of Pelias in this, but I defy ye both! I am Tsotha, son of ”.
Conan rushed, sword gleaming, eyes slits of wariness. Tsotha's right hand came back and forward, and the king ducked quickly. Something pa.s.sed by his helmeted head and exploded behind him, searing the very sands with a flash of h.e.l.lish fire. Before Tsotha could toss the globe in his left hand, Conan's sword sheared through his lean neck. The wizard's head shot from his shoulders on an arching fount of blood, and the robed figure staggered and crumpled drunkenly. Yet the mad black eyes glared up at Conan with no dimming of their feral light, the lips writhed awfully, and the hands groped, as if searching for the severed head. Then with a swift rush of wings, something swooped from the sky the eagle which had attacked Tsotha's horse. In its mighty talons it s.n.a.t.c.hed up the dripping head and soared skyward, and Conan stood struck dumb, for from the eagle's throat boomed human laughter, in the voice of Pelias
119.the sorcerer.
Then a hideous thing came to pa.s.s, for the headless body reared up from the sand, and staggered away in awful flight on stiffening legs, hands blindly outstretched toward the dot speeding and dwindling in the dusky sky. Conan stood like one turned to stone, watching until the swift reeling figure faded in the dusk that purpled the meadows.
”Crom!” his mighty shoulders twitched. ”A murrain on these wizardly feuds! Pelias has dealt well with me, but I care not if I see him no more. Give me a clean sword and a clean foe to flesh it in. d.a.m.nation! What would I not give for a flagon of wine!”
120.
Queen of the Black Coast
Queen of the Black Coast
CONAN JOINS THE PIRATES.
Believe green buds awaken in the spring, That autumn paints the leaves with somber fire;Believe I held my heart inviolate To lavish on one man my hot desire. The Song of Belit.
Hoofs drummed down the street that sloped to the wharfs. The folk that yelled and scattered had only a fleeting glimpse of a mailed figure on a black stallion, a wide scarlet cloak flowing out on the wind. Far up the street came the shout and clatter of pursuit, but the horseman did not look back. He swept out onto the wharfs and jerked the plunging stallion back on its haunches at the very lip of the pier. Seamen gaped up at him, as they stood to the sweep and striped sail of a high-prowed, broad-waisted galley. The master, st.u.r.dy and black-bearded, stood in the bows, easing her away from the piles with a boat-hook. He yelled angrily as the horseman sprang from the saddle and with a long leap landed squarely on the mid-deck.
”Who invited you aboard?”
”Get under way!” roared the intruder with a fierce gesture that spattered red drops from his broadsword.
”But we're bound for the coasts of Cus.h.!.+” expostulated the master.
”Then I'm for Cus.h.!.+ Push off, I tell you!” The other cast a quick glance up the street, along which a squad of hors.e.m.e.n were galloping; far behind them toiled a group of archers, crossbows on their shoulders.
”Can you pay for your pa.s.sage?” demanded the master.
121.
”I pay my way with steel!” roared the man in armor, brandis.h.i.+ng the great sword that glittered bluely in the sun. ”By Crom, man, if you don't get under way, I'll drench this galley in the blood of its crew!”
The s.h.i.+pmaster was a good judge of men. One glance at the dark scarred face of the swordsman, hardened with pa.s.sion, and he shouted a quick order, thrusting strongly against the piles. The galley wallowed out into clear water, the oars began to clack rhythmically; then a puff of wind filled the s.h.i.+mmering sail, the light s.h.i.+p heeled to the gust, then took her course like a swan, gathering headway as she skimmed along.
On the wharfs the riders were shaking their swords and shouting threats and commands that the s.h.i.+p put about, and yelling for the bowmen to hasten before the craft was out of arbalest range.
”Let them rave,” grinned the swordsman hardly. ”Do you keep her on her course, master steersman.”
The master descended from the small deck between the bows, made his way between the rows of oarsmen, and mounted the mid-deck. The stranger stood there with his back to the mast, eyes narrowed alertly, sword ready. The s.h.i.+pman eyed him steadily, careful not to make any move toward the long knife in his belt. He saw a tall powerfully built figure in a black scale- mail hauberk, burnished greaves and a blue-steel helmet from which jutted bull's horns highly polished. From the mailed shoulders fell the scarlet cloak, blowing in the sea-wind. A broad s.h.a.green belt with a golden buckle held the scabbard of the broadsword he bore. Under the horned helmet a square-cut black mane contrasted with smoldering blue eyes.
”If we must travel together,” said the master, ”we may as well be at peace with each other. My name is t.i.to, licensed master-s.h.i.+pman of the ports of Argos. I am bound for Cush, to trade beads and silks and sugar and bra.s.s-hilted swords to the black kings for ivory, copra, copper ore, slaves and pearls.”
The swordsman glanced back at the rapidly receding docks, where the figures still gesticulated helplessly, evidently having trouble in finding a boat swift enough to overhaul the fast-sailing galley.
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