Conan The Freelance (18 page)

By all the Gods, were all males so stupid the world over?

Thayla looked over one shoulder at Blad and raised her finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. The young Pili turned away in anger.

How wonderful the world was. One more problem she did not need.

Kleg swam, full of power, through the dark waters, along familiar tunnels through the thick roots of the Sargasso. Light from the moon and stars and even the sun itself never penetrated to this place, but he could see and sense his way quite easily. Uncounted numbers of tiny plants lined the sides of the tunnels, plants glowing with a cold inner fire that produced a pale bluish green light. And even had the plants not done so, a Changed selkie had organs that allowed a kind of vision in almost total darkness. Kleg could not have said how this sense worked, but it gave him an awareness of anything living for nearly the same distance as he could see on land under the stars. The larger the creature, the more aware of it Kleg became.

At the moment Kleg was most glad to have such a sensing mechanism, because he was aware of something following him. Something very large indeed, larger than he in his Changed form was, and not far behind. Fast as he was and traveling at top speed, Kleg could not outswim his pursuer, and that worried him greatly. He had a suspicion as to what the thing was following him. The same beast that he had seen in the village. Whatever its intentions, the selkie was not enthralled with the idea of allowing the thing to catch him.

Kleg knew he could not maintain his current speed for long, that he would tire and have to slow. Whether the thing behind him had to do likewise was another question he did not care to risk his life upon. So-what was he to do? He could continue to swim until exhausted, a thing that would happen long before he reached the safety of the castle. He could turn and fight, and despite his present powerful form, he had few doubts about how that would end. He could try to talk to the monster. Ho, what a choice that was!

So, what was to be done?

The glimmering of a fourth idea began to shine inside the selkie’s head. His injured foot had been greatly healed by his Change-small wounds were usually cured completely by the process for some reason-and were he to return to his manlike form, the ankle would hardly trouble him at all.

He could not outswim the beast in the water, but perhaps he could outrun it on the weed? Big as the thing was, it would find the going harder on the Sargasso than would a man, surely. There were places where the weed was as treacherous as a swamp, full of danger, but perhaps Kleg could use that to his advantage. Certainly there were more places to hide than in a narrow tunnel. All in all, being on top of the weed seemed at least marginally safer than swimming under it, at least at the moment.

Yes. There were places where the tunnel sent side branches toward the surface. Kleg would find one of them and use it, and perhaps leave his pursuer behind. Mayhap it was not the best thing to do, but it seemed to be the least dangerous option he had at the moment.

The Prime selkie swam onward, searching for his escape.

Dimma floated about his throne room, angry, but not uncontrollably so. His selkies should have returned by now. They must have met with some difficulties; like as not, that fire on the far shore had something to do with them. He resisted the idea he had formed earlier, to send more of the lake’s thralls to search for Kleg and his brethren. The eels and the sirens would keep any intruders from water and weed, and the Kralix would find the Prime selkie, alive or dead. He did not worry over the safety of the sexless monster. It would take a mighty warrior to disable the beast, much less kill it.

So, what was to be done?

Nothing more than he had already initiated. To send forth an army of lake creatures would serve no purpose. Did Kleg survive, he would return, and if he did not live still, the Kralix would find whatever was left and bring it back. Simple enough.

Over the centuries, Dimma had learned patience, though he had done so grudgingly. Once he attained the flesh again permanently, he could indulge himself. Until then the most reasonable course was simply to wait.

Though it was the wisest way, Dimma did not have to like it, however. Best that his Prime selkie have a very good excuse for being tardy when he did arrive. A very good excuse indeed.

Came the dawn, and the fire still burned upon the hapless village, though much diminished in intensity. What remained standing of Karatas was little: a few stone chimneys had survived the heat, but little else.

Conan had arisen with the coming of daylight, and he and his three companions saw clustered on the weed others who had survived the fire’s wrath. Knots of men, women, and children gathered here and there, most still watching the burning of what had been their homes.

“Ho, look there!” Tair said, pointing.

Two men came toward them, and Conan’s sharp blue eyes recognized them as Tree Folk from Tair’s group. Of those who had accompanied Cheen, there seemed to be none left.

Cheen and Tair went to greet the two survivors. Hok moved to where Conan stood. “Are we going to the wizard’s castle, Conan?”

“Aye, so we are.”

“Will there be danger?”

“Likely.”

The boy appeared to consider this for a moment. “Well, probably he does not eat people.”

Aye, Conan thought, but his experience with wizards had shown him that those who dabbled in magic could, and often did, do worse than simply eating people. He did not speak this aloud, however. No point in worrying the boy further.

Tair and Cheen returned with the two men of their tribe.

Tair said, “Ah, such tales these tell. They speak of a giant beast who seems part frog, a beautiful lizard woman, and they claim also to have seen one of the selkies. Such boasting!”

Coming from Tair, the accusation of braggadocio was amusing. But Conan fastened upon the sighting of the lizard woman. He asked the men about it.

“Aye, a blue-skinned beauty she was,” one of them said. He was short, stubby, and darkskinned. Conan recalled his name as Stead. The other man, taller and more fair, was named Jube.

Stead continued. “Had another with her, a male, young looking, but full-grown. We would have followed them, but the fire drove us in different directions.”

Conan considered this news. The Pili woman was most likely the same one he had met in the caves. It had not been an unpleasant experience overall, but he did not think she was here to thank him for it. No, if Pili women were like those of his own kind, they did not take kindly to being left abruptly without warning or explanation. Like as not, she and her companion had perished in the fire-Conan had seen no signs of any Pili on the weed after their arrivalbut a man could never be faulted for vigilance. He would stay alert.

There was a tangled hillock nearby, and Conan took his leave and approached the growth. Climbing it was not much different from climbing a normal hill covered with thick underbrush. Once he attained the top, he stood and looked around.

The vantage point gave Conan clear sight for some distance in the early-dawn light. The castle was a low, sprawling affair rather than one weighted with high towers, and he judged he could walk there in a few hours, had it been over level ground. Given the terrain, however, it was hard to say how long it would require to attain the structure. It might take the better part of a day; much depended upon what dangers might lay hidden in the Sargasso, ready to prey upon an unsuspecting traveler.

In other directions, Conan espied more folk from the destroyed village. He did not see any Pili or selkies, nor did he see any froglike monsters. That was a point in their favor, at least.

The Cimmerian descended from the hillock and returned to his companions.

Stead and Jube had not only managed to outrace the fire, but had looted a vendor’s stall on the way, and they thus had in their possession a long row of linked sausages, several oiled-paper packets of jerked beef, and even a few loaves of crusty bread. It was to this meal that the six sat before starting their journey. At least they would travel with full bellies, Conan thought, and that was another point in their favor. A hungry man sometimes made mistakes, and he had the idea that to make a mistake in the wizard’s domain might well be fatal.

Conan chewed on a bite of bread and wished he had a cup of good wine to wash it down. He was not afraid of what might lie ahead. After all, he had recently survived a confrontation with Crom Himself-what could be more dangerous than that?

Thayla’s breakfast was a raw fish, taken by Blad’s spear. Well, actually, it had been Rayk’s spear, but it was now wielded by the younger Pili. The flavor of the fish was not unpleasant, though she would have risked a fire to cook it had it been up to her. The king would have none of that, however, and she had to admit he had a point. He was not altogether stupid when it came to matters of strategy and tactics.

When the king moved to a clump of weed nearby to relieve himself, Thayla took the opportunity to speak to Blad.

“What is it?” he asked. His voice was surly.

“Do not act so foolishly, Blad! He is my husband.”

“So I heard all through the night.”

“It is not him I desire.”

“Oh? You gave a good imitation of it!”

“Fool! I had to so that he would not suspect that it is you I want for a husband.”

Blad turned to face her, surprise on his features. “Really?”

So young. And so stupid. Aloud, Thayla said. “Of course. He is old and weak. You are young and strong. How could anyone not prefer you to him?”

Blad practically preened as he swelled with pride.

Gods, males were so easy to manipulate. “This is a dangerous undertaking,” she continued, “and perhaps the king will not survive it. When we return to our home, I shall choose a new consort.” She laid one hand on his shoulder and stroked him briefly. “Whom do you think my new consort will be?”

“Milady, forgive my stupidity-“

“Shh. The king returns. We shall speak more of this later. Only know that I am yours, Blad my stalwart.”

As Rayk made his way back from the call of nature, Thayla turned to smile at him. She had both males where she wished them to be. Her sated husband suspected nothing about her and Blad, much less Conan, and if he lived to return with her to the caves, then she would casually mention that Blad had made improper advances toward her during their earlier adventures. Poor Blad would sprout a forest of spears before he could open his foolish mouth.

Then again, did the king meet with some mishap, Thayla would need a companion to protect her until she could reach safety. Blad would do until then.

In any event Blad would eventually have to die. He knew she had lied to her husband about the attack on the caves, and of course, he had a much larger secret in his possession, their illicit coupling. Even with the king dead, Blad would know that the queen had been willing to lie with other than her husband, and he could hardly forget that,. even were they to marry. He would always be suspicious that what she had done once she might do again. And rightly so, she knew. So, in any case, Blad could not be allowed to live once Thayla was in a place of safety again. At the moment, however, she preferred to have two devoted males protecting her instead of one.

“We shall depart immediately,” Rayk said.

“Of course, my lord,” she said.

When the king turned away, Thayla winked at Blad, who smiled and nodded in return.

The thing dogging Kleg had not slackened in its pursuit, and the selkie was growing tired. He would have to find an exit soon—

Abruptly Kleg’s senses detected something ahead of him. It danced at the edges of his perception for a moment before he recognized it for what it was. Or, rather, what they were: eels!

Kleg felt a stab of fear. The eels almost always stayed far down in the lake’s depths, where they were no danger to anyone save those bottom fish unfortunate to be touched by them.

He had touched one of the eels once while in his water form, and the sensation had not been pleasant. The brief contact had caused his muscles to quiver uncontrollably, and had sent a flutter through him that had been hot and cold, a burning, freezing paralysis. A single eel was not a killing danger to a full-grown selkie, but were his senses correct, there were half a dozen at least in his path, and that many did pose a deadly threat. Once an eel had discharged its power, it was helpless for a time; the one that had touched Kleg long ago had found itself bitten in twain as soon as the selkie had recovered sufficiently to do so. But six at once, that was another matter.

The monster chased him and the eels lay ahead. Had Kleg any doubts about leaving the water for the surface, those doubts were now extinguished like a candle in a windstorm.

The weed above the swimming selkie was thin, though there were no openings apparent in it. He could wait no longer. In a few heartbeats, there would be a tangle of eels, selkie, and monster, and Kleg did not wish to enjoy that particular gathering.

Kleg reached deep within himself and found a bit of fear-inspired strength. Using all the power he possessed, he increased his speed to its utmost. He guided himself to the very bottom of the tunnel, so that his ventral fins skimmed the weed. Then Kleg pointed his nose toward the roof of the tunnel and drove for all his worth straight up.

He hit the roof like a blunt spear, hard.

The thin weed could not withstand the force of Kleg’s impact. The driving selkie tore through the material as a needle pierces cloth.

Such was his speed and force that Kleg passed through the weed and more than his own body length into the air. He fell back and flopped onto the Sargasso much like a beached fish.

Quickly, the selkie assumed his man form. He was safe from the eels, at least, and mayhap they would give the monster something to worry over.

The leather sack and strap had survived the impact and still hung safely around his neck. He was naked otherwise, his clothes having been shredded and lost when last he had Changed, but that did not matter. The air was warm above the weed and he needed no protection from the weather. That was the least of his worries.