Conan stepped out from among the boulders and faced them, sword in hand. They gave back with yells of menace and surprize; then halted uncertainly to glare at this figure which had appeared so suddenly from the rocks. There were some seventy of them, a wild horde made up of men from many nations: Kothians, Zamorians, Brythunians, Corinthians, Shemites. Their features reflected the wildness of their natures. Many bore the scars of the lash or the branding-iron. There were cropped ears, slit noses, gaping eye-sockets, stumps of wrists--marks of the hangman as well as scars of battle. Most of them were half naked, but the garments they wore were fine; gold-braided jackets, satin girdles, silken breeches, tattered, stained with tar and blood, vied with pieces of silver-chased armor. Jewels glittered in nose-rings and earrings, and in the hilts of their daggers. Over against this bizarre mob stood the tall Cimmerian in strong contrast with his hard bronzed limbs and clean-cut vital features. Who are you? they roared. Conan the Cimmerian! His voice was like the deep challenge of a lion. One of the Free Companions. I mean to try my luck with the Red Brotherhood. Whos your chief? I, by Ishtar! bellowed a bull-like voice, as a huge figure swaggered forward: a giant, naked to the waist, where his capacious belly was girdled by a wide sash that upheld voluminous silken pantaloons. His head was shaven except for a scalplock, his mustaches dropped over a rat-trap mouth. Green Shemitish slippers with upturned toes were on his feet, a long straight sword in his hand. Conan stared and glared. Sergius of Khrosha, by Crom! Aye, by Ishtar! boomed the giant, his small black eyes glittering with hate. Did you think I had forgot? Ha! Sergius never forgets an enemy. Now Ill hang you up by the heels and skin you alive. At him, lads! Aye, send your dogs at me, big-belly, sneered Conan with bitter scorn, You were always a coward, you Kothic cur. Coward! To me? The broad face turned black with passion. On guard, you northern dog! Ill cut out your heart! In an instant the pirates had formed a circle about the rivals, their eyes blazing, their breath sucking between their teeth in bloodthirsty enjoyment. High up among the crags Olivia watched, sinking her nails into her palms in her painful excitement. Without formality the combatants engaged, Sergius coming in with a rush, quick on his feet as a giant cat, for all his bulk. Curses hissed between his clenched teeth as he lustily swung and parried. Conan fought in silence, his eyes slits of blue bale-fire. The Kothian ceased his oaths to save his breath. The only sounds were the quick scuff of feet on the sward, the panting of the pirate, the ring and clash of steel. The swords flashed like white fire in the early sun, wheeling and circling. They seemed to recoil from each others contact, then leap together again instantly. Sergius was giving back; only his superlative skill had saved him thus far from the blinding speed of the Cimmerians onslaught. A louder clash of steel, a sliding rasp, a choking cry from the pirate horde a fierce yell split the morning as Conans sword plunged through their captains massive body. The point quivered an instant from between Sergiuss shoulders, a hands breadth of white fire in the sunlight; then the Cimmerian wrenched back his steel and the pirate chief fell heavily, face down, and lay in a widening pool of blood, his broad hands twitching for an instant. Conan wheeled toward the gaping corsairs. Well, you dogs! he roared. Ive sent your chief to hell. What says the law of the Red Brotherhood? Iron Shadows in the Moon
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 23:35:26 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015