Conan The Magnificant by Robert Jordan

Author:Robert Jordan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Conan (Fictitious character), Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780812500998
Published: 2011-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Djinar followed with a grim smile and climbed into the high-pommeled saddle. Carefully he walked hismount around the side of the hill, toward the camp atop the next stony rise. The rattle of unshod hooveson rock did not disturb him, not now. He guided his horse upslope. To the core of him he was convincedthe Zamorans would not rouse. The ancient gods were with him. He and the others were one with thedark. He could make out a sentry, leaning on his spear, unseeing, unaware of one more shadow thatdrifted closer. Djinar loosed his tulwar from its scabbard. The true gods might walk the camp before him,but there was another presence as well. Death. He could smell it. Death for many men. Death forFarouz.

Smiling, Djinar dug in his heels; his mount sprang forward. The sentry had time to widen his eyes inshock; then the curved blade with the strength of Djinar's arm and the weight of the charging horsebehind it took the man's head from his shoulders. Djinar's cry rent the darkness. "By the will of the truegods, slay them! No quarter!" Screaming hillmen slashed out of the night with thirsty steel.

Conan's eyes slitted open, where he lay wrapped in his cloak and the night beneath the sky. After herbehavior he had chosen not to go to Jondra's tent, despite the lamps that remained invitingly lit even now.It had not been thoughts of the silken body that had wakened him, though, but a sound out of place. Hecould hear the breathing of the sentry nearest him, a breathing too deeply regular for a man alert. Thefools would not hear his advice, he thought. They listened, but would not hear. There were other thingsthey did not hear, as well. The sentry's half-snore was overlaid by another sound; stones slid and clickedon the hillside. On all sides of the hill.

"Crom!" he muttered. In a continuous motion he threw aside hit black cloak, rose to his feet and drewsteel. His mouth opened to shout the alarm, and in that instant there was need no longer.

On the heels of the hollow 'thunk' of a blade striking flesh came, "By the will of the true gods, slay them!No quarter!"

Chaos clawed its way out of the dark, hillmen appearing on every side screaming for the blood ofunbelievers, hunters scrambling from their tents crying prayers to their gods for another dawn.

The big Cimmerian ran toward the sentry he had listened to. Shocked to wakefulness the hunter tried tolower his long-pointed spear, but a slashing stroke across the face from a tulwar spun him shrieking to theground.

"Crom!" Conan roared.

The hillman jerked at his reins, spun his shaggy mount above the downed sentry toward the huge manwho loomed out of the night. "The true gods will it!" he yelled. Waving his bloody blade above his turban,he booted his shaggy mount into a charge.

For the space of a heartbeat Conan halted, planted his feet as if preparing to take the charge. Suddenlyhe sprang forward, ducking under the whistling crescent of steel, his own blade lancing into the hillman'smiddle.

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