Savage Tales Short Fiction--Conan by John C. Hocking

Author:John C. Hocking [Hocking, John C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags:  
Publisher: Titan

The man had short dark hair gone much to gray, rudely and unevenly cut. His features bore the dusky cast and sharp cheekbones common to Stygian nobility, but his face, his much-creased brow, were broad and bespoke Shemitish blood as well. His eyes were bright, animate and more youthful than the rest of his face. They held the distinct sparkle of mockery.

“So, you use my own dwelling to reach out to me. I wouldn’t have expected you to know proximal magic, milady.” The voice was startling—a deep, liquid tone suffused with gloating menace that did not match the face in any way.

“You will find that I am full of surprises,” said Zelandra.

“No,” said the face in the pool. “No, I think not. You are doomed in any contingency. How long can you survive even if you sup deeply of the emerald lotus? Even if you allowed yourself to pour it down your throat, to immerse yourself in it, as you so very much desire to do.”

“Why must you harass us? You know by now you can’t take what you want by force.”

The face raised thick eyebrows and parted its lips in a mocking parody of surprise.

Conan felt his belly clench in atavistic abhorrence. There was something essentially alien about whomever or whatever they conversed with here.

“Oh, milady, I know no such thing. You have something I want—that I have great use for. If you leave the emerald lotus here on the ground and depart at once then I will allow you to go in peace.”

Zelandra grimaced and opened her mouth to speak, but the face in the pool wouldn’t let her interrupt.

“Now, don’t be selfish, milady. Your death is unavoidable but that of your friends is not. And be assured, my children will deliver to them a death most painful, prolonged and humiliating. Nubar told me about the wizard who came to him, selling the lost emerald lotus. That the fellow had success selling it to two wizards of Akkharia. One was yourself, milady, so I was gratified to see you approach Quenah to deliver yourself to my care. Where is the other wizard now, Zelandra? I’m told the agony of going without the lotus drove him to cut his own throat. Do you vainly believe that you can avoid his fate? Weak Nubar, fledgling wizard and accomplished fool, wouldn’t purchase the greatest boon ever created for sorcerers, but you, Zelandra, you paid for it and now have delivered it to my very door.”

Zelandra’s eyes narrowed and her mouth drew into a hard line. “You’re not Lord Nubar, and this is not your house! Who are you? What have you done with Nubar?”

“Poor simple Nubar? Why he’s right here…” As the four travelers looked on the face changed, lost its arrogance and its strength as well. It seemed almost to collapse in on itself, transforming into the horrified visage of an enfeebled old man.

“I didn’t want it!” cried the face in another voice—weaker, desperate, afraid. “It made me! I can

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