Read Online Conan the Barbarian by L. Sprague de Camp, Lin Carter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L. Sprague de Camp, Lin Carter
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phosphorescent in the firelight, were fixed upon him. “From the north, they said.. a man of great strength. A conqueror, a humbler of kings, who would one day seize a throne for himself and hold it against the red tides of war and treachery. One who would crush the serpents of the earth beneath his sandalled feet...
“Serpents? Did you say serpents?” Conan’s voice was razor-sharp, and his glance was keen upon her.
She returned look for look. “What seek you in the south, barbarian? Speak truth, now.”
“A standard... on a shield, perhaps, or on a banner. There are two serpents, face to face; yet they are one, joined at the tail.” He clenched his fists, remembering.
“Upholding a black sun, with ebon rays,” the woman added, nodding.
“You know whereof I speak?” Conan moved forward, grasping the woman by her upper arms. She slid out of his grasp, her shadow not quite keeping up with her.
“I know. But there is a price, barbarian.”
“Name it,” growled the Cimmerian.
A smile curved her full lips as, arms spread wide, she moved towards him. Conan’s blood surged within him as he took her into the circle of his arms and felt her breasts and thighs pressed against him. She fumbled in her excitement to loosen her garments and his; and, all thoughts of resistance vanquished, he gave himself over to the ecstasy of her passion.
Their naked bodies glistened in the firelight, as she writhed against him, her breath hot with desire; Conan responded in an impassioned blend of need and pain. All thought vanished in the intensity of his emotion. He felt her fingers clawing at his back and stroking his unruly hair, but his passion absorbed him utterly. As he neared his climax, a faint moan sounded in the woman’s throat. She whispered a message, no less ferocious than her love-making.
“In Shadizar of Zamora, the crossroads of the world, you will find that which you seek. But you would be a fool to go.... Only fools seek their own death....”
Then, convulsed in a violent orgasm, she took her ultimate pleasure of him, and he of her.
Something, he did not know what, caused him to open his eyes a heartbeat later. A revulsion of horror replaced the passion of the earlier moment.
“Crom!” he breathed.
For, even as he watched the woman in his arms, her white teeth lengthened into fangs, like those of a wolf. Her lips and nipples turned an iridescent blue, and the fingers that clutched his shoulders became flesh-searing claws, like the talons of some monstrous, predatory bird. A dark smoke rose in serpentine wisps from nostrils set in a burgeoning snout, and the tongue that darted out was the forked tongue of a serpent.
Conan, still locked in an embrace of love, found himself enveloped in the unrelenting arms of death. He struggled to free himself from the hideous thing that wound limbs of iron about him, like the coils of a giant snake. And when her eyelids lifted, he found himself confronting the slit-pupiled orbs of no earthly woman. All his strength, he realized, could not free him from the fate that awaited him.
Then he remembered his training in the Pit and the wrestling tricks Uldin had taught him. While the demon-woman clutched him closer, Conan ceased to struggle. Suddenly, he twisted and rolled with her toward the fire, thrusting her scaled, inhuman back against the burning coals. Her long locks, which seemed to have developed a serpentine life of their own, hissed as they burst into flame.
Shrieking, the monster strove to rise from the dancing flames; then it shrank and blackened while jets of coloured lire exploded into whirling sparks. From the incinerated body, a weightless fireball arose and spun around the chamber, shedding a momentary radiance on the hanging hides and skulls of animals. The door burst open, as if from the pressure of an unseen hand, and the fireball careened out into the darkness. A dwindling spark, like a shooting star, quickly vanished into the distance. With it a
“Serpents? Did you say serpents?” Conan’s voice was razor-sharp, and his glance was keen upon her.
She returned look for look. “What seek you in the south, barbarian? Speak truth, now.”
“A standard... on a shield, perhaps, or on a banner. There are two serpents, face to face; yet they are one, joined at the tail.” He clenched his fists, remembering.
“Upholding a black sun, with ebon rays,” the woman added, nodding.
“You know whereof I speak?” Conan moved forward, grasping the woman by her upper arms. She slid out of his grasp, her shadow not quite keeping up with her.
“I know. But there is a price, barbarian.”
“Name it,” growled the Cimmerian.
A smile curved her full lips as, arms spread wide, she moved towards him. Conan’s blood surged within him as he took her into the circle of his arms and felt her breasts and thighs pressed against him. She fumbled in her excitement to loosen her garments and his; and, all thoughts of resistance vanquished, he gave himself over to the ecstasy of her passion.
Their naked bodies glistened in the firelight, as she writhed against him, her breath hot with desire; Conan responded in an impassioned blend of need and pain. All thought vanished in the intensity of his emotion. He felt her fingers clawing at his back and stroking his unruly hair, but his passion absorbed him utterly. As he neared his climax, a faint moan sounded in the woman’s throat. She whispered a message, no less ferocious than her love-making.
“In Shadizar of Zamora, the crossroads of the world, you will find that which you seek. But you would be a fool to go.... Only fools seek their own death....”
Then, convulsed in a violent orgasm, she took her ultimate pleasure of him, and he of her.
Something, he did not know what, caused him to open his eyes a heartbeat later. A revulsion of horror replaced the passion of the earlier moment.
“Crom!” he breathed.
For, even as he watched the woman in his arms, her white teeth lengthened into fangs, like those of a wolf. Her lips and nipples turned an iridescent blue, and the fingers that clutched his shoulders became flesh-searing claws, like the talons of some monstrous, predatory bird. A dark smoke rose in serpentine wisps from nostrils set in a burgeoning snout, and the tongue that darted out was the forked tongue of a serpent.
Conan, still locked in an embrace of love, found himself enveloped in the unrelenting arms of death. He struggled to free himself from the hideous thing that wound limbs of iron about him, like the coils of a giant snake. And when her eyelids lifted, he found himself confronting the slit-pupiled orbs of no earthly woman. All his strength, he realized, could not free him from the fate that awaited him.
Then he remembered his training in the Pit and the wrestling tricks Uldin had taught him. While the demon-woman clutched him closer, Conan ceased to struggle. Suddenly, he twisted and rolled with her toward the fire, thrusting her scaled, inhuman back against the burning coals. Her long locks, which seemed to have developed a serpentine life of their own, hissed as they burst into flame.
Shrieking, the monster strove to rise from the dancing flames; then it shrank and blackened while jets of coloured lire exploded into whirling sparks. From the incinerated body, a weightless fireball arose and spun around the chamber, shedding a momentary radiance on the hanging hides and skulls of animals. The door burst open, as if from the pressure of an unseen hand, and the fireball careened out into the darkness. A dwindling spark, like a shooting star, quickly vanished into the distance. With it a
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