Read Online Conan The Destroyer by Robert Jordan - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Jordan
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glowed redder, brighter, ever brighter. The fierce sanguine light split and coalesced and split again, casting his bloody shadow on every surface of the room till it seemed as if a score of men were there, fifty men, a hundred. And still he chanted, and brighter still grew the piercing light.
A sense of urgency built in Conan, intensifying with his horse’s every stride toward the towering Karpash range, so near, now. So near. He must turn aside to find Akiro, he told himself, but the rejoinder came that time was desperately short. Every hour spent seeking the rotund wizard was an hour less available to search out the key, somewhere in the mountains ahead, an hour less to find the treasure and return to Shadizar. Each hour’s delay was the risk of being an hour late, the risk that Valeria would not be reborn. The necessity of finding Akiro faded gradually to insignificance; the need to reach the mountains became paramount. Above all else, he must take Jehnna to the mountains.
“Here, Conan.”
The Cimmerian turned his head at Malak’s words, but he did not slow his mount.
“Akiro,” Malak said. He gestured with the hand holding the lead rope of the spare horse. “We must turn south here. That is, we were going to
… I thought we … .“With a shaky laugh, he shook his head.”Maybe it isn’t important after all.”
Doubtfully Conan reined in. Frowning, he gazed toward the mountains, then to the south, then once more to the mountains. Akiro was important; speed was of the essence, delay intolerable.
Bombatta and Jehnna drew their horses up beside the two mis-matched thieves. Strands of the girl’s raven hair stuck to her flushed face, and her gaze was fixed on the gray heights filling the horizon.
The black-armored warrior scowled through his sweat. “Why have you stopped, barbar?”
Conan’s jaw tightened, but he made no answer. Irritably he twitched the halter rope of the pack mule. Time, he thought. Time. He knew that he wasted time sitting his horse there, neither seeking out the old mage nor riding for the mountains. But which was the correct decision?
“Erlik curse you, barbar, we must keep moving. We are almost to the mountains. We must reach the Heart—the key, we must reach the key quickly!”
Malak broke in on Bombatta’s tirade. “What about Akiro, Cimmerian? Do we find him, or not? By Ogun’s Toenails, I no longer know what to do.”
A strangled curse erupted from the scarred man’s throat. “Another, barbar? You would add still another to our number? Taramis may say you are essential, but I say you endanger us all! One more in our party may be enough to rupture the prophecy! Or do you care for that at all? Do you just seek delay, fearing to face what lies before us? Do you, you stinking, northland coward?” He ended on a shout, with a handbreadth of sword bared and bloodlust eager on his face.
Conan stared back with glacial eyes. Rage, beyond his strength to control, burst into white heat. His words were flat and hard. “Draw your sword, Zamoran. Draw it and die. I can take Jehnna to the key just as easily without you.”
Abruptly Jehnna rode her horse between the two glaring men. To the surprise of both, her large brown eyes snapped with fire. “Cease this, both of you!” she commanded sharply. “You are to escort me to the key. How can you do that if you squabble like two dogs in an alley?”
Conan blinked in disbelief. Had a mouse attacked a cat he could not have been more taken aback.
Bombatta’s jaw had dropped open as she spoke. Now he snapped it shut, but he sheathed his steel as well. “We go to the mountains,” he told her gruffly.
Ruthlessly Conan quenched the anger that threatened to flare again, controlled his emotions as tightly as the leather wrappings of his swordhilt. Outwardly calm, he turned his horse south.
“You cannot!” Jehnna protested. A small fist pounded on the pommel of her saddle in frustration. The imperious air was gone like gossamer on
A sense of urgency built in Conan, intensifying with his horse’s every stride toward the towering Karpash range, so near, now. So near. He must turn aside to find Akiro, he told himself, but the rejoinder came that time was desperately short. Every hour spent seeking the rotund wizard was an hour less available to search out the key, somewhere in the mountains ahead, an hour less to find the treasure and return to Shadizar. Each hour’s delay was the risk of being an hour late, the risk that Valeria would not be reborn. The necessity of finding Akiro faded gradually to insignificance; the need to reach the mountains became paramount. Above all else, he must take Jehnna to the mountains.
“Here, Conan.”
The Cimmerian turned his head at Malak’s words, but he did not slow his mount.
“Akiro,” Malak said. He gestured with the hand holding the lead rope of the spare horse. “We must turn south here. That is, we were going to
… I thought we … .“With a shaky laugh, he shook his head.”Maybe it isn’t important after all.”
Doubtfully Conan reined in. Frowning, he gazed toward the mountains, then to the south, then once more to the mountains. Akiro was important; speed was of the essence, delay intolerable.
Bombatta and Jehnna drew their horses up beside the two mis-matched thieves. Strands of the girl’s raven hair stuck to her flushed face, and her gaze was fixed on the gray heights filling the horizon.
The black-armored warrior scowled through his sweat. “Why have you stopped, barbar?”
Conan’s jaw tightened, but he made no answer. Irritably he twitched the halter rope of the pack mule. Time, he thought. Time. He knew that he wasted time sitting his horse there, neither seeking out the old mage nor riding for the mountains. But which was the correct decision?
“Erlik curse you, barbar, we must keep moving. We are almost to the mountains. We must reach the Heart—the key, we must reach the key quickly!”
Malak broke in on Bombatta’s tirade. “What about Akiro, Cimmerian? Do we find him, or not? By Ogun’s Toenails, I no longer know what to do.”
A strangled curse erupted from the scarred man’s throat. “Another, barbar? You would add still another to our number? Taramis may say you are essential, but I say you endanger us all! One more in our party may be enough to rupture the prophecy! Or do you care for that at all? Do you just seek delay, fearing to face what lies before us? Do you, you stinking, northland coward?” He ended on a shout, with a handbreadth of sword bared and bloodlust eager on his face.
Conan stared back with glacial eyes. Rage, beyond his strength to control, burst into white heat. His words were flat and hard. “Draw your sword, Zamoran. Draw it and die. I can take Jehnna to the key just as easily without you.”
Abruptly Jehnna rode her horse between the two glaring men. To the surprise of both, her large brown eyes snapped with fire. “Cease this, both of you!” she commanded sharply. “You are to escort me to the key. How can you do that if you squabble like two dogs in an alley?”
Conan blinked in disbelief. Had a mouse attacked a cat he could not have been more taken aback.
Bombatta’s jaw had dropped open as she spoke. Now he snapped it shut, but he sheathed his steel as well. “We go to the mountains,” he told her gruffly.
Ruthlessly Conan quenched the anger that threatened to flare again, controlled his emotions as tightly as the leather wrappings of his swordhilt. Outwardly calm, he turned his horse south.
“You cannot!” Jehnna protested. A small fist pounded on the pommel of her saddle in frustration. The imperious air was gone like gossamer on
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