Part 13 (2/2)

They told me you had escaped,” he said. ”A Yuets.h.i.+ fisher told me you were hiding here. What is your name?”

”Octavia,” she gasped mechanically. Then words came in a rush. She caught at him with desperate fingers. ”Oh Mitral what nightmare is this? The people-the dark-skinned people-one of them caught me in the forest and brought me here. They carried me to-to that-that thing. He told me-he said-am I mad? Is this a dream?”

He glanced at the door which bulged inward as if from the impact of a battering-ram.

”No,” he said; ”it's no dream. That hinge is giving way. Strange that a devil has to break down a door like a common man; but after all, his strength itself is a diabolism.”

”Can you not kill him?” she panted. ”You are strong.”

Conan was too honest to lie to her. ”If a mortal man could kill him, he'd be dead now,” he answered. ”I nicked my blade on his belly.”

Her eyes dulled. ”Then you must die, and I must-oh, Mitra!” she screamed in sudden frenzy, and Conan caught her hands, fearing that she would harm herself. ”He told me what he was going to do to me!” she panted. ”Kill me! Kill me with your sword before he bursts the door!”

Conan looked at her, and shook his head.

”I'll do what I can,” he said. ”That won't be much, but it'll give you a chance to get past him down the stair. Then run for the cliffs. I have a boat tied at the foot of the steps. If you can get out of the palace, you may escape him yet. The people of this city are all asleep.”

She dropped her head in her hands. Conan took up his scimitar and moved over to stand before the echoing door. One watching him would not have realized that he was waiting for a death he regarded as inevitable. His eyes smoldered more vividly; his muscular hand knotted harder on his hilt; that was all.

The hinges had given under the giant's terrible a.s.sault, and the door rocked crazily, held only by the bolts. And these solid steel bars were buckling, bending, bulging out of their sockets. Conan watched in an almost impersonal fascination, envying the monster his inhuman strength.

Then, without warning, the bombardment ceased. In the stillness, Conan heard other noises on the landing outside-the beat of wings, and a muttering voice that was like the whining of wind through midnight branches. Then presently there was silence, but there was a new feel in the air. Only the whetted instincts of barbarism could have sensed it, but Conan knew, without seeing or hearing him leave, that the master of Dagon no longer stood outside the door.

He glared through a crack that had been started in the steel of the portal. The landing was empty. He drew the warped bolts and cautiously pulled aside the sagging door. Khosatral was not on the stair, but far below he heard the clang of a metal door. He did not know whether the giant was plotting new deviltries or had been summoned away by that muttering voice, but he wasted no time in conjectures.

He called to Octavia, and the new note in his voice brought her up to her feet and to his side almost without her conscious volition.

”What is it?” she gasped.

”Don't stop to talk!” He caught her wrist ”Come on!” The chance for action had transformed him; his eyes blazed, his voice crackled. ”The knife!” he muttered, while almost dragging the girl down the stair in his fierce haste. ”The magic Yuets.h.i.+ blade! He left it in the dome!

I--” his voice died suddenly as a clear mental picture sprang up before him. That dome adjoined the great room where stood the copper throne-sweat started out on his body. The only way to that dome was through that room with its copper throne and the foul thing that slumbered in it.

But he did not hesitate. Swiftly they descended the stair, crossed the chamber, descended the next stair, and came into the great dim hall with its mysterious hangings. They had seen no sign of the colossus.

Halting before the great bronze-valved door, Conan caught Octavia by her shoulders and shook her in his intensity.

Listen!” he snapped. ”I'm going into the room and fasten the door.

Stand here and listen; if Khosatral comes, call to me. If you hear me cry out for you to go, ran as though the Devil were on your heels-which he probably will be. Make for that door at the other end of the halt because I'll be past helping you. I'm going for the Yuets.h.i.+ knife!”

Before she could voice the protest her lips were framing, he had slid through the valves and shut them behind him. He lowered the bolt cautiously, not noticing that it could be worked from the outside. In the dim twilight his gaze sought that grim copper throne; yes, the scary brute was still there, filling the throne with its loathsome coils. He saw a door behind the throne and knew that it led into the dome. But to reach it he must mount the dais, a few feet from the throne itself.

A wind blowing across the green floor would have made more noise than Conan's slinking feet. Eyes glued on the sleeping reptile he reached the dais and mounted the gla.s.s steps. The snake had not moved. He was reaching for the door...

The bolt on the bronze portal clanged and Conan stifled an awful oath as he saw Octavia come into the room. She stared about, uncertain in the deeper gloom, and he stood frozen, not daring to shout a warning.

Then she saw his shadowy figure and ran toward the dais, crying: ”I want to go with you! I'm afraid to stay alone-oh! She threw up her hands with a terrible scream as for the first time she saw the occupant of the throne. The wedge-shaped head had lifted from its coils and thrust out toward her on a yard of s.h.i.+ning neck.

Then with a smooth, flowing motion, it began to ooze from the throne, coil by coil, its ugly head bobbing in the direction of the paralyzed girl.

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