Part 21 (2/2)

Somewhere among the count's men was a captain who wanted light at all costs. He was gaining it, but the cost included revealing his own men to Conan and the archers at his command.

These archers needed no orders to begin shooting at the men who menaced their comrades. They shot, in fact, with such zeal and so little aim that they were as great a menace to friend as to foe.

Conan left to Raihna the task of bringing the archers to order. He sought to form his men into a solid band that could strike a shrewd blow. The light from the burning huts had shown him what he hardly dared believe: the count at the near end of the earthen bank, with barely a handful of men about him.

”Haroooo!”

It was the under-captain shouting as he plunged forward up the bank. He continued his wordless cries until he was almost within sword's reach of Count Syzambry. Then his steel blazed in the firelight.

”I am Mikus, son of Kiyom, and I am death to traitors and rebels against King Eloikas Fifth of- aarrgghh!”

The count had stood as death closed with him. Not so one of his guards with a short lance slung across his back. Its blade sparkled in the firelight, vanished into Mikus's belly, then burst forth b.l.o.o.d.y from his back.

Ere the sword fell from Mikus's limp fingers, Conan was charging up the slope. Before he reached the top, the count vanished, and in his place stood a dozen of his men. They made a wall of steel, armor and blades alike, between Conan and Syzambry.

Still, Conan hacked three of them out of the fight, two dying on the ground and the third withdrawing with a useless arm and dragging leg.

But the others were hemming him in, and arrows began to fly as the count's archers found a target.

The archers did not cease shooting as Conan plunged downhill. Indeed, they did not cease shooting after Conan reached safety and the count's men came downhill in pursuit of the Cimmerian. The archers made better practice against their friends than against their foe, or perhaps the nine men made a larger target than a single Cimmerian.

Regardless, it seemed for a while that the next battle would be between the count's archers and the count's men-at-arms. While the count's captains sought order, Conan was doing the same among his own men. Only then could he study his intended battlefield.

The huts were now well ablaze, and the count's men who had watched them were now falling back on their comrades. From the far end of the huts, figures darted off into the darkness, the last of the Guards taking to their heels.

Conan cursed, not much caring who or what heard him. If the Guards had not been fleeing, they could have given him the strength for an attack.

As it was, by the time the Guards rallied and returned to the attack, Syzambry's men would be in the palace.

The Cimmerian cursed again, this time softly. He was cursing himself more than anything else. Decius might well have had the right of it, and Mikus had shown both sense and courage. Compared to them, Captain Conan of the Second Company had not made such a great name tonight!

Little to be done about it, either. If only the united strength of King Eloikas could face Syzambry, then best unite that strength as quickly as possible. The palace could always be retaken once Syzambry's host was gone. If the king lost his fighting men, however, he lost everything.

”Where now, Conan?” It was Raihna, and for a moment the Cimmerian's tongue could not shape itself to the only sensible words.

”To the meeting place with Decius. He may not thank us for this night's work, but we'll be there for him to say so!”

”As the G.o.ds will. Who takes the lead?”

”I'll take the rear. My night sight's the keenest and we'll need it against pursuers.”

Raihna loped off toward the front of the line. Conan waited until the last man was past the midpoint of the huts before he rose from his hiding place to join the retreat.

As he did so, he heard the rumble and crash of falling masonry from well within the palace. A moment later he heard shouts and screams.

He did not know if the commotion was due to one of the traps or merely to a careless warrior leaning against a weakened wall. It did not matter. Every one of Syzambry's men who found a grave inside the palace would be one less to fight the next time battle was joined.

The scream from within the palace echoed in Syzambry's mind. He wanted to echo it.

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