Robert E. Howard by Hawks Over Shem

Author:Hawks Over Shem [Shem, Hawks Over]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-12T08:45:42+00:00

And a shapeless mass of cloudy something, hitherto unnoticed in the gloom, swept forward and fastened itself on Imbalayo’s back. Imbalayo screamed like a man being roasted alive. He kicked and squirmed and tried to reach back with his sword. But the luminous eyes glowed over his shoulder and the smoky substance lapped around him, drawing him slowly backwards.

Conan reeled back from the sight, his barbarian’s fears of the supernatural rising like a choking lump in his throat.

Imbalayo’s shrieks ceased. The black body slid to the ground with a soft, squashy sound. The cloudy thing was gone.

Conan advanced cautiously. Imbalayo’s body had a curiously pallid, collapsed appearance, as if the demon had extracted all the bones and blood, leaving only a man-shaped bag of skin with a few organs inside it. The Cimmerian shuddered.

A sob from the divan called his attention to Rufia. With two strides he reached her and cut her bonds. She sat up, weeping silently, when a voice shouted:

“Imbalayo! In the name of all the fiends, where are you? It’s time to mount and ride! I saw you run in here!”

A mailed and helmeted figure dashed into the chamber. Mazdak recoiled at the sight of the bodies and cried: “Oh, you cursed savage, why must you slay Imbalayo at this time? The city has risen. The Anakim are fighting the Kushites, who had their hands full already. I ride with my men to aid the Kushites. As for you—I still owe you my life, but there’s a limit to all things! Get out of this city and never let me see you again!”

Conan grinned. “It wasn’t I who killed him, but one of Zeriti’s demons after he slew the witch. Look at his body if you don’t believe me.” As Mazdak bent to see, Conan added: “And have you no greeting for your old friend Rufia?”

Rufia had been cowering behind Conan. Mazdak plucked at his mustache. “Good. I’ll take her back to my house; we have—”

The distant roaring of the mob became louder.

“No,” said Mazdak distractedly. “I must go to put down the sedition. But how can I leave her to wander the streets naked?”

Conan said: “Why not throw in your lot with the Anakim, who will be as glad to get rid of this mad king as are the Asgalunim? With Imbalayo and Othbaal dead, you’re the only general alive in Asgalun. Become leader of the revolt, put down the crazy Akhirom, and set some feeble cousin or nephew in his place. Then you’ll be the real ruler of Pelishtia!”

Mazdak, listening like a man in a dream, gave a sudden shout of laughter. “Done!” he cried. “To horse! Take Rufia to my house, then join the Hyrkanians in battle. Tomorrow I shall rule Pelishtia, and you may ask of me what you will. Farewell for now!”

Off went the Hyrkanian with a swirl of his cloak. Conan turned to Rufia. “Get some clothes, wench.”

“Who are you? I heard Imbalayo call you Amra

“

“Don’t say that name in Shem! I am Conan, a Cimmerian.

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