Conan The Fearless by Perry Steve

Author:Perry, Steve [Perry, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780812500967
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1984-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Conan swam up from the depths of a pulsing red mist; as the mists grew thinner, so his brain grew clearer. When he opened his eyes, the Cimmerian’s awareness was full. He lay in utter blackness, surrounded by dank air and some foul stench. For a moment he could not imagine how he had come to such a place; memory returned, however, and the sight of Lemparius swinging the heavy bag of gold came to him.

He took stock. His head throbbed, but allowed him to sit up; his arm bore a small cut, nothing to worry about; his leg was still a bit sore. Carefully, he slid from the hard bench upon which he sat to stand barefooted upon a cold floor. His sword was gone, as was most of his clothing. He wore brief underbreeks, and above that his belt and purse, nothing more. Conan opened the flap of his purse and reached inside. Empty-no, wait, there was something … a stone it felt like, trapped in a fold of his pouch. He retrieved the stone and held it close to his face. There was no glimmer of light to sparkle from its contours, but from its shape Conan knew what it was: One of the emeralds must have fallen from the sack he had taken. Whoever had pent him in this Stygian pit had missed the hidden stone when he removed the contents of Conan’s pouch.

He returned the emerald to its hiding place and closed the leathern flap again. If he escaped, the jewel would be useful; until then, a sword, dagger, or even a stick would be of more interest.

Exploration of the chamber in which he found himself took but a few moments. Roughly square, the room extended no more than three armspans in either direction. There stood on one end a massive wooden door, bound with strips of rusted iron, judging by touch, securely bolted from without. He found no hinges; therefore, the door opened outward. He set his bare feet as solidly as was possible upon the damp flagstones, and put his big hands against the rough wood. Using all his strength, the powerful Cimmerian shoved.

The door might as well have been the side of a mountain for all it yielded. He backed away so that only the fingertips of one hand remained in contact with the door. He gathered his energies and jumped, slamming into the wooden barrier with his tensed shoulder, itself seeming no softer than the door when he connected. The door remained firm.

Conan took a deep breath, and his fists knotted unbidden into hammers. He was truly captured. He wanted to rage and pound upon the door for release, but he held his temper. Such a display would be foolish, and a waste of strength.

Instead, the brawny Cimmerian walked back to the platform upon which he had but recently awakened. He moved easily now in the darkness, as the dimensions of the cell were graven upon his consciousness. He sat upon the platform and leaned back against the wall, to wait.

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