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"id": "00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd",
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"url": "http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42188.txt.utf-8",
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"text": " The story begins when a female lovely named Olivia, having fled captivity from the city of Akif, is chased down and cornered in a marsh, on the edge of the Vilayet Sea. Her pursuer and former master is a sadistic rogue named Shah Amurath. But before he can lay hands on her, a figure rises from the reeds. The newcomer has seen all his friends betrayed and treacherously cut down to a man before escaping into the marshes. There he has hidden out for so long he is nearly mad. The newcomer quickly dispatches Shah Amurath, then he and Olivia hop in a boat and decide to lie low for a little while. Only then does the newcomer identify himself: Conan the Cimmerian.\nConan and Olivia find their way to a dark and apparently deserted island, where they spend the night sleeping in ancient ruins decorated with remarkably lifelike statues. Olivia has a dream in which she sees a band of men turned into those statues and wakes convinced they will come to life in the moonlight. Conan is less than convinced of Olivia's fears; he is more concerned by whatever it is lurking in the jungle, lobbing giant boulders at the two fugitives.\nA pirate ship makes port on the island. Leaving Olivia hidden in the brush, Conan challenges their captain, an old rival. He slays the pirate captain, but is knocked unconscious by a stone from a sling. The pirates bind him and take him with them to the ruins where they discuss his fate, until they pass out drunk. Olivia meanwhile, narrowly escapes from a massive and dark figure that pursues her up to the ruins.\nOlivia sneaks past the drunken and sleeping pirates and frees Conan. Conan then slays the dark figure that pursued Olivia, a giant man-ape, which had also been hurling the boulders at them. As Conan recovers from his battle with the man-ape, they hear the beginning of a horrific slaughter back at the ruins.\nThe two quickly head back to the deserted pirate ship. As Conan prepares the ship to sail, a band of beaten and bedraggled pirates comes and asks to come aboard and leave the \"devil island.\" Conan challenges them and they accept him as their captain. At the end Olivia begs Conan to allow her to stay with him, and he, laughing, accepts, saying he will make her \"Queen of the Blue Sea.\"",
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"url": "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadows_in_the_Moonlight_(story)",
"title": "Shadows in the Moonlight (story)"
},
"text": "The Project Gutenberg EBook of Shadows in the Moonlight, by Robert E. Howard\n\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\n\n\nTitle: Shadows in the Moonlight\n\nAuthor: Robert E. Howard\n\nRelease Date: February 24, 2013 [EBook #42188]\n\nLanguage: English\n\n\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT\n\n By Robert E. Howard\n\n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was first published in Weird Tales\n April 1934. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the\n U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n\n\n\n\n1\n\n\nA swift crashing of horses through the tall reeds; a heavy fall, a\ndespairing cry. From the dying steed there staggered up its rider, a\nslender girl in sandals and girdled tunic. Her dark hair fell over her\nwhite shoulders, her eyes were those of a trapped animal. She did not\nlook at the jungle of reeds that hemmed in the little clearing, nor at\nthe blue waters that lapped the low shore behind her. Her wide-eyed gaze\nwas fixed in agonized intensity on the horseman who pushed through the\nreedy screen and dismounted before her.\n\nHe was a tall man, slender, but hard as steel. From head to heel he was\nclad in light silvered mesh-mail that fitted his supple form like a\nglove. From under the dome-shaped, gold-chased helmet his brown eyes\nregarded her mockingly.\n\n'Stand back!' her voice shrilled with terror. 'Touch me not, Shah\nAmurath, or I will throw myself into the water and drown!'\n\nHe laughed, and his laughter was like the purr of a sword sliding from a\nsilken sheath.\n\n'No, you will not drown, Olivia, daughter of confusion, for the marge is\ntoo shallow, and I can catch you before you can reach the deeps. You\ngave me a merry chase, by the gods, and all my men are far behind us.\nBut there is no horse west of Vilayet that can distance Irem for long.'\nHe nodded at the tall, slender-legged desert stallion behind him.\n\n'Let me go!' begged the girl, tears of despair staining her face. 'Have\nI not suffered enough? Is there any humiliation, pain or degradation you\nhave not heaped on me? How long must my torment last?'\n\n'As long as I find pleasure in your whimperings, your pleas, tears and\nwrithings,' he answered with a smile that would have seemed gentle to a\nstranger. 'You are strangely virile, Olivia. I wonder if I shall ever\nweary of you, as I have always wearied of women before. You are ever\nfresh and unsullied, in spite of me. Each new day with you brings a new\ndelight.\n\n'But come--let us return to Akif, where the people are still feting the\nconqueror of the miserable _kozaki_; while he, the conqueror, is engaged\nin recapturing a wretched fugitive, a foolish, lovely, idiotic runaway!'\n\n'No!' She recoiled, turning toward the waters lapping bluely among the\nreeds.\n\n'Yes!' His flash of open anger was like a spark struck from flint. With\na quickness her tender limbs could not approximate, he caught her wrist,\ntwisting it in pure wanton cruelty until she screamed and sank to her\nknees.\n\n'Slut! I should drag you back to Akif at my horse's tail, but I will be\nmerciful and carry you on my saddle-bow, for which favor you shall\nhumbly thank me, while--'\n\nHe released her with a startled oath and sprang back, his saber flashing\nout, as a terrible apparition burst from the reedy jungle sounding an\ninarticulate cry of hate.\n\nOlivia, staring up from the ground, saw what she took to be either a\nsavage or a madman advancing on Shah Amurath in an attitude of deadly\nmenace. He was powerfully built, naked but for a girdled loincloth,\nwhich was stained with blood and crusted with dried mire. His black mane\nwas matted with mud and clotted blood; there were streaks of dried blood\non his chest and limbs, dried blood on the long straight sword he\ngripped in his right hand. From under the tangle of his locks, bloodshot\neyes glared like coals of blue fire.\n\n'You Hyrkanian dog!' mouthed this apparition in a barbarous accent. 'The\ndevils of vengeance have brought you here!'\n\n'_Kozak!_' ejaculated Shah Amurath, recoiling. 'I did not know a dog of\nyou escaped! I thought you all lay stiff on the steppe, by Ilbars\nRiver.'\n\n'All but me, damn you!' cried the other. 'Oh, I've dreamed of such a\nmeeting as this, while I crawled on my belly through the brambles, or\nlay under rocks while the ants gnawed my flesh, or crouched in the mire\nup to my mouth--I dreamed, but never hoped it would come to pass. Oh,\ngods of Hell, how I have yearned for this!'\n\nThe stranger's bloodthirsty joy was terrible to behold. His jaws champed\nspasmodically, froth appeared on his blackened lips.\n\n'Keep back!' ordered Shah Amurath, watching him narrowly.\n\n'Ha!' It was like the bark of a timber wolf. 'Shah Amurath, the great\nLord of Akif! Oh, damn you, how I love the sight of you--you, who fed my\ncomrades to the vultures, who tore them between wild horses, blinded and\nmaimed and mutilated them--_ai_, you dog, you filthy dog!' His voice\nrose to a maddened scream, and he charged.\n\nIn spite of the terror of his wild appearance, Olivia looked to see him\nfall at the first crossing of the blades. Madman or savage, what could\nhe do, naked, against the mailed chief of Akif?\n\nThere was an instant when the blades flamed and licked, seeming barely\nto touch each other and leap apart; then the broadsword flashed past the\nsaber and descended terrifically on Shah Amurath's shoulder. Olivia\ncried out at the fury of that stroke. Above the crunch of the rending\nmail, she distinctly heard the snap of the shoulder-bone. The Hyrkanian\nreeled back, suddenly ashen, blood spurting over the links of his\nhauberk; his saber slipped from his nerveless fingers.\n\n'Quarter!' he gasped.\n\n'Quarter?' There was a quiver of frenzy in the stranger's voice.\n'Quarter such as you gave us, you swine!'\n\nOlivia closed her eyes. This was no longer battle, but butchery,\nfrantic, bloody, impelled by an hysteria of fury and hate, in which\nculminated the sufferings of battle, massacre, torture, and fear-ridden,\nthirst-maddened, hunger-haunted flight. Though Olivia knew that Shah\nAmurath deserved no mercy or pity from any living creature, yet she\nclosed her eyes and pressed her hands over her ears, to shut out the\nsight of that dripping sword that rose and fell with the sound of a\nbutcher's cleaver, and the gurgling cries that dwindled away and ceased.\n\nShe opened her eyes, to see the stranger turning away from a gory\ntravesty that only vaguely resembled a human being. The man's breast\nheaved with exhaustion or passion; his brow was beaded with sweat; his\nright hand was splashed with blood.\n\nHe did not speak to her, or even glance toward her. She saw him stride\nthrough the reeds that grew at the water's edge, stoop, and tug at\nsomething. A boat wallowed out of its hiding-place among the stalks.\nThen she divined his intention, and was galvanized into action.\n\n'Oh, wait!' she wailed, staggering up and running toward him. 'Do not\nleave me! Take me with you!'\n\nHe wheeled and stared at her. There was a difference in his bearing. His\nbloodshot eyes were sane. It was as if the blood he had just shed had\nquenched the fire of his frenzy.\n\n'Who are you?' he demanded.\n\n'I am called Olivia. I was _his_ captive. I ran away. He followed me.\nThat's why he came here. Oh, do not leave me here! His warriors are not\nfar behind him. They will find his corpse--they will find me near\nit--oh!' She moaned in her terror and wrung her white hands.\n\nHe stared at her in perplexity.\n\n'Would you be better off with me?' he demanded. 'I am a barbarian, and I\nknow from your looks that you fear me.'\n\n'Yes, I fear you,' she replied, too distracted to dissemble. 'My flesh\ncrawls at the horror of your aspect. But I fear the Hyrkanians more. Oh,\nlet me go with you! They will put me to the torture if they find me\nbeside their dead lord.'\n\n'Come, then.' He drew aside, and she stepped quickly into the boat,\nshrinking from contact with him. She seated herself in the bow, and he\nstepped into the boat, pushed off with an oar, and using it as a paddle,\nworked his way tortuously among the tall stalks until they glided out\ninto open water. Then he set to work with both oars, rowing with great,\nsmooth, even strokes, the heavy muscles of arms and shoulders and back\nrippling in rhythm to his exertions.\n\nThere was silence for some time, the girl crouching in the bows, the man\ntugging at the oars. She watched him with timorous fascination. It was\nevident that he was not an Hyrkanian, and he did not resemble the\nHyborian races. There was a wolfish hardness about him that marked the\nbarbarian. His features, allowing for the strains and stains of battle\nand his hiding in the marshes, reflected that same untamed wildness, but\nthey were neither evil nor degenerate.\n\n'Who are you?' she asked. 'Shah Amurath called you a _kozak_; were you\nof that band?'\n\n'I am Conan, of Cimmeria,' he grunted. 'I was with the _kozaki_, as the\nHyrkanian dogs called us.'\n\nShe knew vaguely that the land he named lay far to the northwest, beyond\nthe farthest boundaries of the different kingdoms of her race.\n\n'I am a daughter of the King of Ophir,' she said. 'My father sold me to\na Shemite chief, because I would not marry a prince of Koth.'\n\nThe Cimmerian grunted in surprize.\n\nHer lips twisted in a bitter smile. 'Aye, civilized men sell their\nchildren as slaves to savages, sometimes. They call your race barbaric,\nConan of Cimmeria.'\n\n'We do not sell our children,' he growled, his chin jutting truculently.\n\n'Well--I was sold. But the desert man did not misuse me. He wished to\nbuy the good will of Shah Amurath, and I was among the gifts he brought\nto Akif of the purple gardens. Then--' She shuddered and hid her face in\nher hands.\n\n'I should be lost to all shame,' she said presently. 'Yet each memory\nstings me like a slaver's whip. I abode in Shah Amurath's palace, until\nsome weeks agone he rode out with his hosts to do battle with a band of\ninvaders who were ravaging the borders of Turan. Yesterday he returned\nin triumph, and a great fete was made to honor him. In the drunkenness\nand rejoicing, I found an opportunity to steal out of the city on a\nstolen horse. I had thought to escape--but he followed, and about midday\ncame up with me. I outran his vassals, but him I could not escape. Then\nyou came.'\n\n'I was lying hid in the reeds,' grunted the barbarian. 'I was one of\nthose dissolute rogues, the Free Companions, who burned and looted along\nthe borders. There were five thousand of us, from a score of races and\ntribes. We had been serving as mercenaries for a rebel prince in eastern\nKoth, most of us, and when he made peace with his cursed sovereign, we\nwere out of employment; so we took to plundering the outlying dominions\nof Koth, Zamora and Turan impartially. A week ago Shah Amurath trapped\nus near the banks of Ilbars with fifteen thousand men. Mitra! The skies\nwere black with vultures. When the lines broke, after a whole day of\nfighting, some tried to break through to the north, some to the west. I\ndoubt if any escaped. The steppes were covered with horsemen riding down\nthe fugitives. I broke for the east, and finally reached the edge of the\nmarshes that border this part of Vilayet.\n\n'I've been hiding in the morasses ever since. Only the day before\nyesterday the riders ceased beating up the reed-brakes, searching for\njust such fugitives as I. I've squirmed and burrowed and hidden like a\nsnake, feasting on musk-rats I caught and ate raw, for lack of fire to\ncook them. This dawn I found this boat hidden among the reeds. I hadn't\nintended going out on the sea until night, but after I killed Shah\nAmurath, I knew his mailed dogs would be close at hand.'\n\n'And what now?'\n\n'We shall doubtless be pursued. If they fail to see the marks left by\nthe boat, which I covered as well as I could, they'll guess anyway that\nwe took to sea, after they fail to find us among the marshes. But we\nhave a start, and I'm going to haul at these oars until we reach a safe\nplace.'\n\n'Where shall we find that?' she asked hopelessly. 'Vilayet is an\nHyrkanian pond.'\n\n'Some folk don't think so,' grinned Conan grimly; 'notably the slaves\nthat have escaped from galleys and become pirates.'\n\n'But what are your plans?'\n\n'The southwestern shore is held by the Hyrkanians for hundreds of miles.\nWe still have a long way to go before we pass beyond their northern\nboundaries. I intend to go northward until I think we have passed them.\nThen we'll turn westward, and try to land on the shore bordered by the\nuninhabited steppes.'\n\n'Suppose we meet pirates, or a storm?' she asked. 'And we shall starve\non the steppes.'\n\n'Well,' he reminded her, 'I didn't ask you to come with me.'\n\n'I am sorry.' She bowed her shapely dark head. 'Pirates, storms,\nstarvation--they are all kinder than the people of Turan.'\n\n'Aye.' His dark face grew somber. 'I haven't done with them yet. Be at\nease, girl. Storms are rare on Vilayet at this time of year. If we make\nthe steppes, we shall not starve. I was reared in a naked land. It was\nthose cursed marshes, with their stench and stinging flies, that nigh\nunmanned me. I am at home in the high lands. As for pirates--' He\ngrinned enigmatically, and bent to the oars.\n\nThe sun sank like a dull-glowing copper ball into a lake of fire. The\nblue of the sea merged with the blue of the sky, and both turned to soft\ndark velvet, clustered with stars and the mirrors of stars. Olivia\nreclined in the bows of the gently rocking boat, in a state dreamy and\nunreal. She experienced an illusion that she was floating in midair,\nstars beneath her as well as above. Her silent companion was etched\nvaguely against the softer darkness. There was no break or falter in the\nrhythm of his oars; he might have been a fantasmal oarsman, rowing her\nacross the dark lake of Death. But the edge of her fear was dulled, and,\nlulled by the monotony of motion, she passed into a quiet slumber.\n\nDawn was in her eyes when she awakened, aware of a ravenous hunger. It\nwas a change in the motion of the boat that had roused her; Conan was\nresting on his oars, gazing beyond her. She realized that he had rowed\nall night without pause, and marvelled at his iron endurance. She\ntwisted about to follow his stare, and saw a green wall of trees and\nshrubbery rising from the water's edge and sweeping away in a wide\ncurve, enclosing a small bay whose waters lay still as blue glass.\n\n'This is one of the many islands that dot this inland sea,' said Conan.\n'They are supposed to be uninhabited. I've heard the Hyrkanians seldom\nvisit them. Besides, they generally hug the shores in their galleys, and\nwe have come a long way. Before sunset we were out of sight of the\nmainland.'\n\nWith a few strokes he brought the boat in to shore and made the painter\nfast to the arching root of a tree which rose from the water's edge.\nStepping ashore, he reached out a hand to help Olivia. She took it,\nwincing slightly at the bloodstains upon it, feeling a hint of the\ndynamic strength that lurked in the barbarian's thews.\n\nA dreamy quiet lay over the woods that bordered the blue bay. Then\nsomewhere, far back among the trees, a bird lifted its morning song. A\nbreeze whispered through the leaves, and set them to murmuring. Olivia\nfound herself listening intently for something, she knew not what. What\nmight be lurking amid those nameless woodlands?\n\nAs she peered timidly into the shadows between the trees, something\nswept into the sunlight with a swift whirl of wings: a great parrot\nwhich dropped on to a leafy branch and swayed there, a gleaming image\nof jade and crimson. It turned its crested head sidewise and regarded\nthe invaders with glittering eyes of jet.\n\n'Crom!' muttered the Cimmerian. 'Here is the grandfather of all parrots.\nHe must be a thousand years old! Look at the evil wisdom of his eyes.\nWhat mysteries do you guard, Wise Devil?'\n\nAbruptly the bird spread its flaming wings and, soaring from its perch,\ncried out harshly: '_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_' and with a wild\nscreech of horribly human laughter, rushed away through the trees to\nvanish in the opalescent shadows.\n\nOlivia stared after it, feeling the cold hand of nameless foreboding\ntouch her supple spine.\n\n'What did it say?' she whispered.\n\n'Human words, I'll swear,' answered Conan; 'but in what tongue I can't\nsay.'\n\n'Nor I,' returned the girl. 'Yet it must have learned them from human\nlips. Human, or--' she gazed into the leafy fastness and shuddered\nslightly, without knowing why.\n\n'Crom, I'm hungry!' grunted the Cimmerian. 'I could eat a whole buffalo.\nWe'll look for fruit; but first I'm going to cleanse myself of this\ndried mud and blood. Hiding in marshes is foul business.'\n\nSo saying, he laid aside his sword, and wading out shoulder-deep into\nthe blue water, went about his ablutions. When he emerged, his clean-cut\nbronze limbs shone, his streaming black mane was no longer matted. His\nblue eyes, though they smoldered with unquenchable fire, were no longer\nmurky or bloodshot. But the tigerish suppleness of limb and the\ndangerous aspect of feature were not altered.\n\nStrapping on his sword once more, he motioned the girl to follow him,\nand they left the shore, passing under the leafy arches of the great\nbranches. Underfoot lay a short green sward which cushioned their tread.\nBetween the trunks of the trees they caught glimpses of faery-like\nvistas.\n\nPresently Conan grunted in pleasure at the sight of golden and russet\nglobes hanging in clusters among the leaves. Indicating that the girl\nshould seat herself on a fallen tree, he filled her lap with the exotic\ndelicacies, and then himself fell to with unconcealed gusto.\n\n'Ishtar!' said he, between mouthfuls. 'Since Ilbars I have lived on\nrats, and roots I dug out of the stinking mud. This is sweet to the\npalate, though not very filling. Still, it will serve if we eat enough.'\n\nOlivia was too busy to reply. The sharp edge of the Cimmerian's hunger\nblunted, he began to gaze at his fair companion with more interest than\npreviously, noting the lustrous clusters of her dark hair, the\npeach-bloom tints of her dainty skin, and the rounded contours of her\nlithe figure which the scanty silk tunic displayed to full advantage.\n\nFinishing her meal, the object of his scrutiny looked up, and meeting\nhis burning, slit-eyed gaze, she changed color and the remnants of the\nfruit slipped from her fingers.\n\nWithout comment, he indicated with a gesture that they should continue\ntheir explorations, and rising, she followed him out of the trees and\ninto a glade, the farther end of which was bounded by a dense thicket.\nAs they stepped into the open there was a ripping crash in this thicket,\nand Conan, bounding aside and carrying the girl with him, narrowly saved\nthem from something that rushed through the air and struck a tree-trunk\nwith a thunderous impact.\n\nWhipping out his sword, Conan bounded across the glade and plunged into\nthe thicket. Silence ensued, while Olivia crouched on the sward,\nterrified and bewildered. Presently Conan emerged, a puzzled scowl on\nhis face.\n\n'Nothing in that thicket,' he growled. 'But there was something--'\n\nHe studied the missile that had so narrowly missed them, and grunted\nincredulously, as if unable to credit his own senses. It was a huge\nblock of greenish stone which lay on the sward at the foot of the tree,\nwhose wood its impact had splintered.\n\n'A strange stone to find on an uninhabited island,' growled Conan.\n\nOlivia's lovely eyes dilated in wonder. The stone was a symmetrical\nblock, indisputably cut and shaped by human hands. And it was\nastonishingly massive. The Cimmerian grasped it with both hands, and\nwith legs braced and the muscles standing out on his arms and back in\nstraining knots, he heaved it above his head and cast it from him,\nexerting every ounce of nerve and sinew. It fell a few feet in front of\nhim. Conan swore.\n\n'No man living could throw that rock across this glade. It's a task for\nsiege engines. Yet here there are no mangonels or ballistas.'\n\n'Perhaps it was thrown by some such engine from afar,' she suggested.\n\nHe shook his head. 'It didn't fall from above. It came from yonder\nthicket. See how the twigs are broken? It was thrown as a man might\nthrow a pebble. But who? What? Come!'\n\nShe hesitantly followed him into the thicket. Inside the outer ring of\nleafy brush, the undergrowth was less dense. Utter silence brooded over\nall. The springy sward gave no sign of footprint. Yet from this\nmysterious thicket had hurtled that boulder, swift and deadly. Conan\nbent closer to the sward, where the grass was crushed down here and\nthere. He shook his head angrily. Even to his keen eyes it gave no clue\nas to what had stood or trodden there. His gaze roved to the green roof\nabove their heads, a solid ceiling of thick leaves and interwoven\narches. And he froze suddenly.\n\nThen rising, sword in hand, he began to back away, thrusting Olivia\nbehind him.\n\n'Out of here, quick!' he urged in a whisper that congealed the girl's\nblood.\n\n'What is it? What do you see?'\n\n'Nothing,' he answered guardedly, not halting his wary retreat.\n\n'But what is it, then? What lurks in this thicket?'\n\n'Death!' he answered, his gaze still fixed on the brooding jade arches\nthat shut out the sky.\n\nOnce out of the thicket, he took her hand and led her swiftly through\nthe thinning trees, until they mounted a grassy slope, sparsely treed,\nand emerged upon a low plateau, where the grass grew taller and the\ntrees were few and scattered. And in the midst of that plateau rose a\nlong broad structure of crumbling greenish stone.\n\nThey gazed in wonder. No legends named such a building on any island of\nVilayet. They approached it warily, seeing that moss and lichen crawled\nover the stones, and the broken roof gaped to the sky. On all sides lay\nbits and shards of masonry, half hidden in the waving grass, giving the\nimpression that once many buildings rose there, perhaps a whole town.\nBut now only the long hall-like structure rose against the sky, and its\nwalls leaned drunkenly among the crawling vines.\n\nWhatever doors had once guarded its portals had long rotted away. Conan\nand his companion stood in the broad entrance and stared inside.\nSunlight streamed in through gaps in the walls and roof, making the\ninterior a dim weave of light and shadow. Grasping his sword firmly,\nConan entered, with the slouching gait of a hunting panther, sunken head\nand noiseless feet. Olivia tiptoed after him.\n\nOnce within, Conan grunted in surprize, and Olivia stifled a scream.\n\n'Look! Oh, look!'\n\n'I see,' he answered. 'Nothing to fear. They are statues.'\n\n'But how life-like--and how evil!' she whispered, drawing close to him.\n\nThey stood in a great hall, whose floor was of polished stone, littered\nwith dust and broken stones, which had fallen from the ceiling. Vines,\ngrowing between the stones, masked the apertures. The lofty roof, flat\nand undomed, was upheld by thick columns, marching in rows down the\nsides of the walls. And in each space between these columns stood a\nstrange figure.\n\nThey were statues, apparently of iron, black and shining as if\ncontinually polished. They were life-sized, depicting tall, lithely\npowerful men, with cruel hawk-like faces. They were naked, and every\nswell, depression and contour of joint and sinew was represented with\nincredible realism. But the most life-like feature was their proud,\nintolerant faces. These features were not cast in the same mold. Each\nface possessed its own individual characteristics, though there was a\ntribal likeness between them all. There was none of the monotonous\nuniformity of decorative art, in the faces at least.\n\n'They seem to be listening--and waiting!' whispered the girl uneasily.\n\nConan rang his hilt against one of the images.\n\n'Iron,' he pronounced. 'But Crom! In what molds were they cast?'\n\nHe shook his head and shrugged his massive shoulders in puzzlement.\n\nOlivia glanced timidly about the great silent hall. Only the ivy-grown\nstones, the tendril-clasped pillars, with the dark figures brooding\nbetween them, met her gaze. She shifted uneasily and wished to be gone,\nbut the images held a strange fascination for her companion. He examined\nthem in detail, and barbarian-like, tried to break off their limbs. But\ntheir material resisted his best efforts. He could neither disfigure nor\ndislodge from its niche a single image. At last he desisted, swearing in\nhis wonder.\n\n'What manner of men were these copied from?' he inquired of the world at\nlarge. 'These figures are black, yet they are not like negroes. I have\nnever seen their like.'\n\n'Let us go into the sunlight,' urged Olivia, and he nodded, with a\nbaffled glance at the brooding shapes along the walls.\n\nSo they passed out of the dusky hall into the clear blaze of the summer\nsun. She was surprized to note its position in the sky; they had spent\nmore time in the ruins than she had guessed.\n\n'Let us take to the boat again,' she suggested. 'I am afraid here. It is\na strange evil place. We do not know when we may be attacked by whatever\ncast the rock.'\n\n'I think we're safe as long as we're not under the trees,' he answered.\n'Come.'\n\nThe plateau, whose sides fell away toward the wooded shores on the east,\nwest and south, sloped upward toward the north to abut on a tangle of\nrocky cliffs, the highest point of the island. Thither Conan took his\nway, suiting his long stride to his companion's gait. From time to time\nhis glance rested inscrutably upon her, and she was aware of it.\n\nThey reached the northern extremity of the plateau, and stood gazing up\nthe steep pitch of the cliffs. Trees grew thickly along the rim of the\nplateau east and west of the cliffs, and clung to the precipitous\nincline. Conan glanced at these trees suspiciously, but he began the\nascent, helping his companion on the climb. The slope was not sheer, and\nwas broken by ledges and boulders. The Cimmerian, born in a hill\ncountry, could have run up it like a cat, but Olivia found the going\ndifficult. Again and again she felt herself lifted lightly off her feet\nand over some obstacle that would have taxed her strength to surmount,\nand her wonder grew at the sheer physical power of the man. She no\nlonger found his touch repugnant. There was a promise of protection in\nhis iron clasp.\n\nAt last they stood on the ultimate pinnacle, their hair stirring in the\nsea wind. From their feet the cliffs fell away sheerly three or four\nhundred feet to a narrow tangle of woodlands bordering the beach.\nLooking southward they saw the whole island lying like a great oval\nmirror, its bevelled edges sloping down swiftly into a rim of green,\nexcept where it broke in the pitch of the cliffs. As far as they could\nsee, on all sides stretched the blue waters, still, placid, fading into\ndreamy hazes of distance.\n\n'The sea is still,' sighed Olivia. 'Why should we not take up our\njourney again?'\n\nConan, poised like a bronze statue on the cliffs, pointed northward.\nStraining her eyes, Olivia saw a white fleck that seemed to hang\nsuspended in the aching haze.\n\n'What is it?'\n\n'A sail.'\n\n'Hyrkanians?'\n\n'Who can tell, at this distance?'\n\n'They will anchor here--search the island for us!' she cried in quick\npanic.\n\n'I doubt it. They come from the north, so they can not be searching for\nus. They may stop for some other reason, in which case we'll have to\nhide as best we can. But I believe it's either pirate, or an Hyrkanian\ngalley returning from some northern raid. In the latter case they are\nnot likely to anchor here. But we can't put to sea until they've gone\nout of sight, for they're coming from the direction in which we must go.\nDoubtless they'll pass the island tonight, and at dawn we can go on our\nway.'\n\n'Then we must spend the night here?' she shivered.\n\n'It's safest.'\n\n'Then let us sleep here, on the crags,' she urged.\n\nHe shook his head, glancing at the stunted trees, at the marching woods\nbelow, a green mass which seemed to send out tendrils straggling up the\nsides of the cliffs.\n\n'Here are too many trees. We'll sleep in the ruins.'\n\nShe cried out in protest.\n\n'Nothing will harm you there,' he soothed. 'Whatever threw the stone at\nus did not follow us out of the woods. There was nothing to show that\nany wild thing lairs in the ruins. Besides, you are soft-skinned, and\nused to shelter and dainties. I could sleep naked in the snow and feel\nno discomfort, but the dew would give you cramps, were we to sleep in\nthe open.'\n\nOlivia helplessly acquiesced, and they descended the cliffs, crossed the\nplateau and once more approached the gloomy, age-haunted ruins. By this\ntime the sun was sinking below the plateau rim. They had found fruit in\nthe trees near the cliffs, and these formed their supper, both food and\ndrink.\n\nThe southern night swept down quickly, littering the dark blue sky with\ngreat white stars, and Conan entered the shadowy ruins, drawing the\nreluctant Olivia after him. She shivered at the sight of those tense\nblack shadows in their niches along the walls. In the darkness that the\nstarlight only faintly touched, she could not make out their outlines;\nshe could only sense their attitude of waiting--waiting as they had\nwaited for untold centuries.\n\nConan had brought a great armful of tender branches, well leafed. These\nhe heaped to make a couch for her, and she lay upon it, with a curious\nsensation as of one lying down to sleep in a serpent's lair.\n\nWhatever her forebodings, Conan did not share them. The Cimmerian sat\ndown near her, his back against a pillar, his sword across his knees.\nHis eyes gleamed like a panther's in the dusk.\n\n'Sleep, girl,' said he. 'My slumber is light as a wolf's. Nothing can\nenter this hall without awaking me.'\n\nOlivia did not reply. From her bed of leaves she watched the immobile\nfigure, indistinct in the soft darkness. How strange, to move in\nfellowship with a barbarian, to be cared for and protected by one of a\nrace, tales of which had frightened her as a child! He came of a people\nbloody, grim and ferocious. His kinship to the wild was apparent in his\nevery action; it burned in his smoldering eyes. Yet he had not harmed\nher, and her worst oppressor had been a man the world called civilized.\nAs a delicious languor stole over her relaxing limbs and she sank into\nfoamy billows of slumber, her last waking thought was a drowsy\nrecollection of the firm touch of Conan's fingers on her soft flesh.\n\n\n\n\n2\n\n\nOlivia dreamed, and through her dreams crawled a suggestion of lurking\nevil, like a black serpent writhing through flower gardens. Her dreams\nwere fragmentary and colorful, exotic shards of a broken, unknown\npattern, until they crystalized into a scene of horror and madness,\netched against a background of cyclopean stones and pillars.\n\nShe saw a great hall, whose lofty ceiling was upheld by stone columns\nmarching in even rows along the massive walls. Among these pillars\nfluttered great green and scarlet parrots, and the hall was thronged\nwith black-skinned, hawk-faced warriors. They were not negroes. Neither\nthey nor their garments nor weapons resembled anything of the world the\ndreamer knew.\n\nThey were pressing about one bound to a pillar: a slender white-skinned\nyouth, with a cluster of golden curls about his alabaster brow. His\nbeauty was not altogether human--like the dream of a god, chiseled out\nof living marble.\n\nThe black warriors laughed at him, jeered and taunted in a strange\ntongue. The lithe naked form writhed beneath their cruel hands. Blood\ntrickled down the ivory thighs to spatter on the polished floor. The\nscreams of the victim echoed through the hall; then lifting his head\ntoward the ceiling and the skies beyond, he cried out a name in an awful\nvoice. A dagger in an ebon hand cut short his cry, and the golden head\nrolled on the ivory breast.\n\nAs if in answer to that desperate cry, there was a rolling thunder as of\ncelestial chariot-wheels, and a figure stood before the slayers, as if\nmaterialized out of empty air. The form was of a man, but no mortal man\never wore such an aspect of inhuman beauty. There was an unmistakable\nresemblance between him and the youth who dropped lifeless in his\nchains, but the alloy of humanity that softened the godliness of the\nyouth was lacking in the features of the stranger, awful and immobile in\ntheir beauty.\n\nThe blacks shrank back before him, their eyes slits of fire. Lifting a\nhand, he spoke, and his tones echoed through the silent halls in deep\nrich waves of sound. Like men in a trance the black warriors fell back\nuntil they were ranged along the walls in regular lines. Then from the\nstranger's chiseled lips rang a terrible invocation and command:\n'_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_'\n\nAt the blast of that awful cry, the black figures stiffened and froze.\nOver their limbs crept a curious rigidity, an unnatural petrification.\nThe stranger touched the limp body of the youth, and the chains fell\naway from it. He lifted the corpse in his arms; then ere he turned away,\nhis tranquil gaze swept again over the silent rows of ebony figures, and\nhe pointed to the moon, which gleamed in through the casements. And they\nunderstood, those tense, waiting statues that had been men....\n\nOlivia awoke, starting up on her couch of branches, a cold sweat beading\nher skin. Her heart pounded loud in the silence. She glanced wildly\nabout. Conan slept against his pillar, his head fallen upon his massive\nbreast. The silvery radiance of the late moon crept through the gaping\nroof, throwing long white lines along the dusty floor. She could see the\nimages dimly, black, tense--waiting. Fighting down a rising hysteria,\nshe saw the moonbeams rest lightly on the pillars and the shapes\nbetween.\n\nWhat was that? A tremor among the shadows where the moonlight fell. A\nparalysis of horror gripped her, for where there should have been the\nimmobility of death, there was movement: a slow twitching, a flexing and\nwrithing of ebon limbs--an awful scream burst from her lips as she broke\nthe bonds that held her mute and motionless. At her shriek Conan shot\nerect, teeth gleaming, sword lifted.\n\n'The statues! The statues!--_Oh my God, the statues are coming to\nlife!_'\n\nAnd with the cry she sprang through a crevice in the wall, burst madly\nthrough the hindering vines, and ran, ran, ran--blind, screaming,\nwitless--until a grasp on her arm brought her up short and she shrieked\nand fought against the arms that caught her, until a familiar voice\npenetrated the mists of her terror, and she saw Conan's face, a mask of\nbewilderment in the moonlight.\n\n'What in Crom's name, girl? Did you have a nightmare?' His voice sounded\nstrange and far away. With a sobbing gasp she threw her arms about his\nthick neck and clung to him convulsively, crying in panting catches.\n\n'Where are they? Did they follow us?'\n\n'Nobody followed us,' he answered.\n\nShe sat up, still clinging to him, and looked fearfully about. Her blind\nflight had carried her to the southern edge of the plateau. Just below\nthem was the slope, its foot masked in the thick shadows of the woods.\nBehind them she saw the ruins looming in the high-swinging moon.\n\n'Did you not see them?--The statues, moving, lifting their hands, their\neyes glaring in the shadows?'\n\n'I saw nothing,' answered the barbarian uneasily. 'I slept more soundly\nthan usual, because it has been so long since I have slumbered the night\nthrough; yet I don't think anything could have entered the hall without\nwaking me.'\n\n'Nothing entered,' a laugh of hysteria escaped her. 'It was something\nthere already. Ah, Mitra, we lay down to sleep among them, like sheep\nmaking their bed in the shambles!'\n\n'What are you talking about?' he demanded. 'I woke at your cry, but\nbefore I had time to look about me, I saw you rush out through the crack\nin the wall. I pursued you, lest you come to harm. I thought you had a\nnightmare.'\n\n'So I did!' she shivered. 'But the reality was more grisly than the\ndream. Listen!' And she narrated all that she had dreamed and thought\nto see.\n\nConan listened attentively. The natural skepticism of the sophisticated\nman was not his. His mythology contained ghouls, goblins, and\nnecromancers. After she had finished, he sat silent, absently toying\nwith his sword.\n\n'The youth they tortured was like the tall man who came?' he asked at\nlast.\n\n'As like as son to father,' she answered, and hesitantly: 'If the mind\ncould conceive of the offspring of a union of divinity with humanity, it\nwould picture that youth. The gods of old times mated sometimes with\nmortal women, our legends tell us.'\n\n'What gods?' he muttered.\n\n'The nameless, forgotten ones. Who knows? They have gone back into the\nstill waters of the lakes, the quiet hearts of the hills, the gulfs\nbeyond the stars. Gods are no more stable than men.'\n\n'But if these shapes were men, blasted into iron images by some god or\ndevil, how can they come to life?'\n\n'There is witchcraft in the moon,' she shuddered. '_He_ pointed at the\nmoon; while the moon shines on them, they live. So I believe.'\n\n'But we were not pursued,' muttered Conan, glancing toward the brooding\nruins. 'You might have dreamed they moved. I am of a mind to return and\nsee.'\n\n'No, no!' she cried, clutching him desperately. 'Perhaps the spell upon\nthem holds them in the hall. Do not go back! They will rend you limb\nfrom limb! Oh, Conan, let us go into our boat and flee this awful\nisland! Surely the Hyrkanian ship has passed us now! Let us go!'\n\nSo frantic was her pleading that Conan was impressed. His curiosity in\nregard to the images was balanced by his superstition. Foes of flesh and\nblood he did not fear, however great the odds, but any hint of the\nsupernatural roused all the dim monstrous instincts of fear that are the\nheritage of the barbarian.\n\nHe took the girl's hand and they went down the slope and plunged into\nthe dense woods, where the leaves whispered, and nameless night-birds\nmurmured drowsily. Under the trees the shadows clustered thick, and\nConan swerved to avoid the denser patches. His eyes roved continuously\nfrom side to side, and often flitted into the branches above them. He\nwent quickly yet warily, his arm girdling the girl's waist so strongly\nthat she felt as if she were being carried rather than guided. Neither\nspoke. The only sound was the girl's quick nervous panting, the rustle\nof her small feet in the grass. So they came through the trees to the\nedge of the water, shimmering like molten silver in the moonlight.\n\n'We should have brought fruit for food,' muttered Conan; 'but doubtless\nwe'll find other islands. As well leave now as later; it's but a few\nhours till dawn--'\n\nHis voice trailed away. The painter was still made fast to the looping\nroot. But at the other end was only a smashed and shattered ruin, half\nsubmerged in the shallow water.\n\nA stifled cry escaped Olivia. Conan wheeled and faced the dense shadows,\na crouching image of menace. The noise of the night-birds was suddenly\nsilent. A brooding stillness reigned over the woods. No breeze moved the\nbranches, yet somewhere the leaves stirred faintly.\n\nQuick as a great cat Conan caught up Olivia and ran. Through the shadows\nhe raced like a phantom, while somewhere above and behind them sounded a\ncurious rushing among the leaves, that implacably drew closer and\ncloser. Then the moonlight burst full upon their faces, and they were\nspeeding up the slope of the plateau.\n\nAt the crest Conan laid Olivia down, and turned to glare back at the\ngulf of shadows they had just quitted. The leaves shook in a sudden\nbreeze; that was all. He shook his mane with an angry growl. Olivia\ncrept to his feet like a frightened child. Her eyes looked up at him,\ndark wells of horror.\n\n'What are we to do, Conan?' she whispered.\n\nHe looked at the ruins, stared again into the woods below.\n\n'We'll go to the cliffs,' he declared, lifting her to her feet.\n'Tomorrow I'll make a raft, and we'll trust our luck to the sea again.'\n\n'It was not--not _they_ that destroyed our boat?' It was half question,\nhalf assertion.\n\nHe shook his head, grimly taciturn.\n\nEvery step of the way across that moon-haunted plateau was a sweating\nterror for Olivia, but no black shapes stole subtly from the looming\nruins, and at last they reached the foot of the crags, which rose stark\nand gloomily majestic above them. There Conan halted in some\nuncertainty, at last selecting a place sheltered by a broad ledge,\nnowhere near any trees.\n\n'Lie down and sleep if you can, Olivia,' he said. 'I'll keep watch.'\n\nBut no sleep came to Olivia, and she lay watching the distant ruins and\nthe wooded rim until the stars paled, the east whitened, and dawn in\nrose and gold struck fire from the dew on the grass-blades.\n\nShe rose stiffly, her mind reverting to all the happenings of the night.\nIn the morning light some of its terrors seemed like figments of an\noverwrought imagination. Conan strode over to her, and his words\nelectrified her.\n\n'Just before dawn I heard the creak of timbers and the rasp and clack of\ncordage and oars. A ship has put in and anchored at the beach not far\naway--probably the ship whose sail we saw yesterday. We'll go up the\ncliffs and spy on her.'\n\nUp they went, and lying on their bellies among the boulders, saw a\npainted mast jutting up beyond the trees to the west.\n\n'An Hyrkanian craft, from the cut of her rigging,' muttered Conan. 'I\nwonder if the crew--'\n\nA distant medley of voices reached their ears, and creeping to the\nsouthern edge of the cliffs, they saw a motley horde emerge from the\nfringe of trees along the western rim of the plateau, and stand there a\nspace in debate. There was much flourishing of arms, brandishing of\nswords, and loud rough argument. Then the whole band started across the\nplateau toward the ruins, at a slant that would take them close by the\nfoot of the cliffs.\n\n'Pirates!' whispered Conan, a grim smile on his thin lips. 'It's an\nHyrkanian galley they've captured. Here--crawl among these rocks.\n\n'Don't show yourself unless I call to you,' he instructed, having\nsecreted her to his satisfaction among a tangle of boulders along the\ncrest of the cliffs. 'I'm going to meet these dogs. If I succeed in my\nplan, all will be well, and we'll sail away with them. If I don't\nsucceed--well, hide yourself in the rocks until they're gone, for no\ndevils on this island are as cruel as these sea-wolves.'\n\nAnd tearing himself from her reluctant grasp, he swung quickly down the\ncliffs.\n\nLooking fearfully from her eyrie, Olivia saw the band had neared the\nfoot of the cliffs. Even as she looked, Conan stepped out from among the\nboulders and faced them, sword in hand. They gave back with yells of\nmenace and surprize; then halted uncertainly to glare at this figure\nwhich had appeared so suddenly from the rocks. There were some seventy\nof them, a wild horde made up of men from many nations: Kothians,\nZamorians, Brythunians, Corinthians, Shemites. Their features reflected\nthe wildness of their natures. Many bore the scars of the lash or the\nbranding-iron. There were cropped ears, slit noses, gaping eye-sockets,\nstumps of wrists--marks of the hangman as well as scars of battle. Most\nof them were half naked, but the garments they wore were fine;\ngold-braided jackets, satin girdles, silken breeches, tattered, stained\nwith tar and blood, vied with pieces of silver-chased armor. Jewels\nglittered in nose-rings and ear-rings, and in the hilts of their\ndaggers.\n\nOver against this bizarre mob stood the tall Cimmerian in strong\ncontrast with his hard bronzed limbs and clean-cut vital features.\n\n'Who are you?' they roared.\n\n'Conan the Cimmerian!' His voice was like the deep challenge of a lion.\n'One of the Free Companions. I mean to try my luck with the Red\nBrotherhood. Who's your chief?'\n\n'I, by Ishtar!' bellowed a bull-like voice, as a huge figure swaggered\nforward: a giant, naked to the waist, where his capacious belly was\ngirdled by a wide sash that upheld voluminous silken pantaloons. His\nhead was shaven except for a scalp-lock, his mustaches dropped over a\nrat-trap mouth. Green Shemitish slippers with upturned toes were on his\nfeet, a long straight sword in his hand.\n\nConan stared and glared.\n\n'Sergius of Khrosha, by Crom!'\n\n'Aye, by Ishtar!' boomed the giant, his small black eyes glittering with\nhate. 'Did you think I had forgot? Ha! Sergius never forgets an enemy.\nNow I'll hang you up by the heels and skin you alive. At him, lads!'\n\n'Aye, send your dogs at me, big-belly,' sneered Conan with bitter scorn.\n'You were always a coward, you Kothic cur.'\n\n'Coward! To me?' The broad face turned black with passion. 'On guard,\nyou northern dog! I'll cut out your heart!'\n\nIn an instant the pirates had formed a circle about the rivals, their\neyes blazing, their breath sucking between their teeth in bloodthirsty\nenjoyment. High up among the crags Olivia watched, sinking her nails\ninto her palms in her painful excitement.\n\nWithout formality the combatants engaged, Sergius coming in with a rush,\nquick on his feet as a giant cat, for all his bulk. Curses hissed\nbetween his clenched teeth as he lustily swung and parried. Conan fought\nin silence, his eyes slits of blue bale-fire.\n\nThe Kothian ceased his oaths to save his breath. The only sounds were\nthe quick scuff of feet on the sward, the panting of the pirate, the\nring and clash of steel. The swords flashed like white fire in the early\nsun, wheeling and circling. They seemed to recoil from each other's\ncontact, then leap together again instantly. Sergius was giving back;\nonly his superlative skill had saved him thus far from the blinding\nspeed of the Cimmerian's onslaught. A louder clash of steel, a sliding\nrasp, a choking cry--from the pirate horde a fierce yell split the\nmorning as Conan's sword plunged through their captain's massive body.\nThe point quivered an instant from between Sergius's shoulders, a hand's\nbreadth of white fire in the sunlight; then the Cimmerian wrenched back\nhis steel and the pirate chief fell heavily, face down, and lay in a\nwidening pool of blood, his broad hands twitching for an instant.\n\nConan wheeled toward the gaping corsairs.\n\n'Well, you dogs!' he roared. 'I've sent your chief to hell. What says\nthe law of the Red Brotherhood?'\n\nBefore any could answer, a rat-faced Brythunian, standing behind his\nfellows, whirled a sling swiftly and deadly. Straight as an arrow sped\nthe stone to its mark, and Conan reeled and fell as a tall tree falls to\nthe woodsman's ax. Up on the cliff Olivia caught at the boulders for\nsupport. The scene swam dizzily before her eyes; all she could see was\nthe Cimmerian lying limply on the sward, blood oozing from his head.\n\nThe rat-faced one yelped in triumph and ran to stab the prostrate man,\nbut a lean Corinthian thrust him back.\n\n'What, Aratus, would you break the law of the Brotherhood, you dog?'\n\n'No law is broken,' snarled the Brythunian.\n\n'No law? Why, you dog, this man you have just struck down is by just\nrights our captain!'\n\n'Nay!' shouted Aratus. 'He was not of our band, but an outsider. He had\nnot been admitted to fellowship. Slaying Sergius does not make him\ncaptain, as would have been the case had one of us killed him.'\n\n'But he wished to join us,' retorted the Corinthian. 'He said so.'\n\nAt that a great clamor arose, some siding with Aratus, some with the\nCorinthian, whom they called Ivanos. Oaths flew thick, challenges were\npassed, hands fumbled at sword-hilts.\n\nAt last a Shemite spoke up above the clamor: 'Why do you argue over a\ndead man?'\n\n'He's not dead,' answered the Corinthian, rising from beside the\nprostrate Cimmerian. 'It was a glancing blow; he's only stunned.'\n\nAt that the clamor rose anew, Aratus trying to get at the senseless man\nand Ivanos finally bestriding him, sword in hand, and defying all and\nsundry. Olivia sensed that it was not so much in defense of Conan that\nthe Corinthian took his stand, but in opposition to Aratus. Evidently\nthese men had been Sergius's lieutenants, and there was no love lost\nbetween them. After more arguments, it was decided to bind Conan and\ntake him along with them, his fate to be voted on later.\n\nThe Cimmerian, who was beginning to regain consciousness, was bound with\nleather girdles, and then four pirates lifted him, and with many\ncomplaints and curses, carried him along with the band, which took up\nits journey across the plateau once more. The body of Sergius was left\nwhere it had fallen; a sprawling, unlovely shape on the sun-washed\nsward.\n\nUp among the rocks, Olivia lay stunned by the disaster. She was\nincapable of speech or action, and could only lie there and stare with\nhorrified eyes as the brutal horde dragged her protector away.\n\nHow long she lay there, she did not know. Across the plateau she saw the\npirates reach the ruins and enter, dragging their captive. She saw them\nswarming in and out of the doors and crevices, prodding into the heaps\nof debris, and clambering about the walls. After awhile a score of them\ncame back across the plateau and vanished among the trees on the western\nrim, dragging the body of Sergius after them, presumably to cast into\nthe sea. About the ruins the others were cutting down trees and securing\nmaterial for a fire. Olivia heard their shouts, unintelligible in the\ndistance, and she heard the voices of those who had gone into the woods,\nechoing among the trees. Presently they came back into sight, bearing\ncasks of liquor and leathern sacks of food. They headed for the ruins,\ncursing lustily under their burdens.\n\nOf all this Olivia was but mechanically cognizant. Her overwrought brain\nwas almost ready to collapse. Left alone and unprotected, she realized\nhow much the protection of the Cimmerian had meant to her. There\nintruded vaguely a wonderment at the mad pranks of Fate, that could make\nthe daughter of a king the companion of a red-handed barbarian. With it\ncame a revulsion toward her own kind. Her father, and Shah Amurath, they\nwere civilized men. And from them she had had only suffering. She had\nnever encountered any civilized man who treated her with kindness unless\nthere was an ulterior motive behind his actions. Conan had shielded her,\nprotected her, and--so far--demanded nothing in return. Laying her head\nin her rounded arms she wept, until distant shouts of ribald revelry\nroused her to her own danger.\n\nShe glanced from the dark ruins about which the fantastic figures, small\nin the distance, weaved and staggered, to the dusky depths of the green\nforest. Even if her terrors in the ruins the night before had been only\ndreams, the menace that lurked in those green leafy depths below was no\nfigment of nightmare. Were Conan slain or carried away captive, her only\nchoice would lie between giving herself up to the human wolves of the\nsea, or remaining alone on that devil-haunted island.\n\nAs the full horror of her situation swept over her, she fell forward in\na swoon.\n\n\n\n\n3\n\n\nThe sun was hanging low when Olivia regained her senses. A faint wind\nwafted to her ears distant shouts and snatches of ribald song. Rising\ncautiously, she looked out across the plateau. She saw the pirates\nclustered about a great fire outside the ruins, and her heart leaped as\na group emerged from the interior dragging some object she knew was\nConan. They propped him against the wall, still evidently bound fast,\nand there ensued a long discussion, with much brandishing of weapons. At\nlast they dragged him back into the hall, and took up anew the business\nof ale-guzzling. Olivia sighed; at least she knew that the Cimmerian\nstill lived. Fresh determination steeled her. As soon as night fell, she\nwould steal to those grim ruins and free him or be taken herself in the\nattempt. And she knew it was not selfish interest alone which prompted\nher decision.\n\nWith this in mind she ventured to creep from her refuge to pluck and eat\nnuts which grew sparsely near at hand. She had not eaten since the day\nbefore. It was while so occupied that she was troubled by a sensation of\nbeing watched. She scanned the rocks nervously, then, with a shuddering\nsuspicion, crept to the north edge of the cliff and gazed down into the\nwaving green mass below, already dusky with the sunset. She saw nothing;\nit was impossible that she could be seen, when not on the cliff's edge,\nby anything lurking in those woods. Yet she distinctly felt the glare of\nhidden eyes, and felt that _something_ animate and sentient was aware of\nher presence and her hiding-place.\n\nStealing back to her rocky eyrie, she lay watching the distant ruins\nuntil the dusk of night masked them, and she marked their position by\nthe flickering flames about which black figures leaped and cavorted\ngroggily.\n\nThen she rose. It was time to make her attempt. But first she stole back\nto the northern edge of the cliffs, and looked down into the woods that\nbordered the beach. And as she strained her eyes in the dim starlight,\nshe stiffened, and an icy hand touched her heart.\n\nFar below her something moved. It was as if a black shadow detached\nitself from the gulf of shadows below her. It moved slowly up the sheer\nface of the cliff--a vague bulk, shapeless in the semi-darkness. Panic\ncaught Olivia by the throat, and she struggled with the scream that\ntugged at her lips. Turning, she fled down the southern slope.\n\nThat flight down the shadowed cliffs was a nightmare in which she slid\nand scrambled, catching at jagged rocks with cold fingers. As she tore\nher tender skin and bruised her soft limbs on the rugged boulders over\nwhich Conan had so lightly lifted her, she realized again her dependence\non the iron-thewed barbarian. But this thought was but one in a\nfluttering maelstrom of dizzy fright.\n\nThe descent seemed endless, but at last her feet struck the grassy\nlevels, and in a very frenzy of eagerness she sped away toward the fire\nthat burned like the red heart of night. Behind her, as she fled, she\nheard a shower of stones rattle down the steep slope, and the sound lent\nwings to her heels. What grisly climber dislodged those stones she dared\nnot try to think.\n\nStrenuous physical action dissipated her blind terror somewhat and\nbefore she had reached the ruin, her mind was clear, her reasoning\nfaculties alert, though her limbs trembled from her efforts.\n\nShe dropped to the sward and wriggled along on her belly until, from\nbehind a small tree that had escaped the axes of the pirates, she\nwatched her enemies. They had completed their supper, but were still\ndrinking, dipping pewter mugs or jewelled goblets into the broken heads\nof the wine-casks. Some were already snoring drunkenly on the grass,\nwhile others had staggered into the ruins. Of Conan she saw nothing. She\nlay there, while the dew formed on the grass about her and the leaves\noverhead, and the men about the fire cursed, gambled and argued. There\nwere only a few about the fire; most of them had gone into the ruins to\nsleep.\n\nShe lay watching them, her nerves taut with the strain of waiting, the\nflesh crawling between her shoulders at the thought of what might be\nwatching her in turn--of what might be stealing up behind her. Time\ndragged on leaden feet. One by one the revellers sank down in drunken\nslumber, until all were stretched senseless beside the dying fire.\n\nOlivia hesitated--then was galvanized by a distant glow rising through\nthe trees. The moon was rising!\n\nWith a gasp she rose and hurried toward the ruins. Her flesh crawled as\nshe tiptoed among the drunken shapes that sprawled beside the gaping\nportal. Inside were many more; they shifted and mumbled in their\nbesotted dreams, but none awakened as she glided among them. A sob of\njoy rose to her lips as she saw Conan. The Cimmerian was wide awake,\nbound upright to a pillar, his eyes gleaming in the faint reflection of\nthe waning fire outside.\n\nPicking her way among the sleepers, she approached him. Lightly as she\nhad come, he had heard her; had seen her when first framed in the\nportal. A faint grin touched his hard lips.\n\nShe reached him and clung to him an instant. He felt the quick beating\nof her heart against his breast. Through a broad crevice in the wall\nstole a beam of moonlight, and the air was instantly supercharged with\nsubtle tension. Conan felt it and stiffened. Olivia felt it and gasped.\nThe sleepers snored on. Bending quickly, she drew a dagger from its\nsenseless owner's belt, and set to work on Conan's bonds. They were sail\ncords, thick and heavy, and tied with the craft of a sailor. She toiled\ndesperately, while the tide of moonlight crept slowly across the floor\ntoward the feet of the crouching black figures between the pillars.\n\nHer breath came in gasps; Conan's wrists were free, but his elbows and\nlegs were still bound fast. She glanced fleetingly at the figures along\nthe walls--waiting, waiting. They seemed to watch her with the awful\npatience of the undead. The drunkards beneath her feet began to stir and\ngroan in their sleep. The moonlight crept down the hall, touching the\nblack feet. The cords fell from Conan's arms, and taking the dagger\nfrom her, he ripped the bonds from his legs with a single quick slash.\nHe stepped out from the pillar, flexing his limbs, stoically enduring\nthe agony of returning circulation. Olivia crouched against him, shaking\nlike a leaf. Was it some trick of the moonlight that touched the eyes of\nthe black figures with fire, so that they glimmered redly in the\nshadows?\n\nConan moved with the abruptness of a jungle cat. Catching up his sword\nfrom where it lay in a stack of weapons near by, he lifted Olivia\nlightly from her feet and glided through an opening that gaped in the\nivy-grown wall.\n\nNo word passed between them. Lifting her in his arms he set off swiftly\nacross the moon-bathed sward. Her arms about his iron neck, the Ophirean\nclosed her eyes, cradling her dark curly head against his massive\nshoulder. A delicious sense of security stole over her.\n\nIn spite of his burden, the Cimmerian crossed the plateau swiftly, and\nOlivia, opening her eyes, saw that they were passing under the shadow of\nthe cliffs.\n\n'Something climbed the cliffs,' she whispered. 'I heard it scrambling\nbehind me as I came down.'\n\n'We'll have to chance it,' he grunted.\n\n'I am not afraid--now,' she sighed.\n\n'You were not afraid when you came to free me, either,' he answered.\n'Crom, what a day it has been! Such haggling and wrangling I never\nheard. I'm nearly deaf. Aratus wished to cut out my heart, and Ivanos\nrefused, to spite Aratus, whom he hates. All day long they snarled and\nspat at one another, and the crew quickly grew too drunk to vote either\nway--'\n\nHe halted suddenly, an image of bronze in the moonlight. With a quick\ngesture he tossed the girl lightly to one side and behind him. Rising to\nher knees on the soft sward, she screamed at what she saw.\n\nOut of the shadows of the cliffs moved a monstrous shambling bulk--an\nanthropomorphic horror, a grotesque travesty of creation.\n\nIn general outline it was not unlike a man. But its face, limned in the\nbright moonlight, was bestial, with close-set ears, flaring nostrils,\nand a great flabby-lipped mouth in which gleamed white tusk-like fangs.\nIt was covered with shaggy grayish hair, shot with silver which shone in\nthe moonlight, and its great misshapen paws hung nearly to the earth.\nIts bulk was tremendous; as it stood on its short bowed legs, its\nbullet-head rose above that of the man who faced it; the sweep of the\nhairy breast and giant shoulders was breathtaking; the huge arms were\nlike knotted trees.\n\nThe moonlight scene swam, to Olivia's sight. This, then, was the end of\nthe trail--for what human being could withstand the fury of that hairy\nmountain of thews and ferocity? Yet as she stared in wide-eyed horror at\nthe bronzed figure facing the monster, she sensed a kinship in the\nantagonists that was almost appalling. This was less a struggle between\nman and beast than a conflict between two creatures of the wild, equally\nmerciless and ferocious. With a flash of white tusks, the monster\ncharged.\n\nThe mighty arms spread wide as the beast plunged, stupefyingly quick for\nall his vast bulk and stunted legs.\n\nConan's action was a blur of speed Olivia's eye could not follow. She\nonly saw that he evaded that deadly grasp, and his sword, flashing like\na jet of white lightning, sheared through one of those massive arms\nbetween shoulder and elbow. A great spout of blood deluged the sward as\nthe severed member fell, twitching horribly, but even as the sword bit\nthrough, the other malformed hand locked in Conan's black mane.\n\nOnly the iron neck-muscles of the Cimmerian saved him from a broken neck\nthat instant. His left hand darted out to clamp on the beast's squat\nthroat, his left knee was jammed hard against the brute's hairy belly.\nThen began a terrific struggle, which lasted only seconds, but which\nseemed like ages to the paralyzed girl.\n\nThe ape maintained his grasp in Conan's hair, dragging him toward the\ntusks that glistened in the moonlight. The Cimmerian resisted this\neffort, with his left arm rigid as iron, while the sword in his right\nhand, wielded like a butcher-knife, sank again and again into the groin,\nbreast and belly of his captor. The beast took its punishment in awful\nsilence, apparently unweakened by the blood that gushed from its ghastly\nwounds. Swiftly the terrible strength of the anthropoid overcame the\nleverage of braced arm and knee. Inexorably Conan's arm bent under the\nstrain; nearer and nearer he was drawn to the slavering jaws that gaped\nfor his life. Now the blazing eyes of the barbarian glared into the\nbloodshot eyes of the ape. But as Conan tugged vainly at his sword,\nwedged deep in the hairy body, the frothing jaws snapped spasmodically\nshut, an inch from the Cimmerian's face, and he was hurled to the sward\nby the dying convulsions of the monster.\n\nOlivia, half fainting, saw the ape heaving, thrashing and writhing,\ngripping, man-like, the hilt that jutted from its body. A sickening\ninstant of this, then the great bulk quivered and lay still.\n\nConan rose and limped over to the corpse. The Cimmerian breathed\nheavily, and walked like a man whose joints and muscles have been\nwrenched and twisted almost to their limit of endurance. He felt his\nbloody scalp and swore at the sight of the long black red-stained\nstrands still grasped in the monster's shaggy hand.\n\n'Crom!' he panted. 'I feel as if I'd been racked! I'd rather fight a\ndozen men. Another instant and he'd have bitten off my head. Blast him,\nhe's torn a handful of my hair out by the roots.'\n\nGripping his hilt with both hands he tugged and worked it free. Olivia\nstole close to clasp his arm and stare down wide-eyed at the sprawling\nmonster.\n\n'What--what is it?' she whispered.\n\n'A gray man-ape,' he grunted. 'Dumb, and man-eating. They dwell in the\nhills that border the eastern shore of this sea. How this one got to\nthis island, I can't say. Maybe he floated here on driftwood, blown out\nfrom the mainland in a storm.'\n\n'And it was he that threw the stone?'\n\n'Yes; I suspected what it was when we stood in the thicket and I saw the\nboughs bending over our heads. These creatures always lurk in the\ndeepest woods they can find, and seldom emerge. What brought him into\nthe open, I can't say, but it was lucky for us; I'd have had no chance\nwith him among the trees.'\n\n'It followed me,' she shivered. 'I saw it climbing the cliffs.'\n\n'And following his instinct, he lurked in the shadow of the cliff,\ninstead of following you out across the plateau. His kind are creatures\nof darkness and the silent places, haters of sun and moon.'\n\n'Do you suppose there are others?'\n\n'No, else the pirates had been attacked when they went through the\nwoods. The gray ape is wary, for all his strength, as shown by his\nhesitancy in falling upon us in the thicket. His lust for you must have\nbeen great, to have driven him to attack us finally in the open. What--'\n\nHe started and wheeled back toward the way they had come. The night had\nbeen split by an awful scream. It came from the ruins.\n\nInstantly there followed a mad medley of yells, shrieks and cries of\nblasphemous agony. Though accompanied by a ringing of steel, the sounds\nwere of massacre rather than battle.\n\nConan stood frozen, the girl clinging to him in a frenzy of terror. The\nclamor rose to a crescendo of madness, and then the Cimmerian turned and\nwent swiftly toward the rim of the plateau, with its fringe of\nmoon-limned trees. Olivia's legs were trembling so that she could not\nwalk; so he carried her, and her heart calmed its frantic pounding as\nshe nestled into his cradling arms.\n\nThey passed under the shadowy forest, but the clusters of blackness held\nno terrors, the rifts of silver discovered no grisly shape. Night-birds\nmurmured slumberously. The yells of slaughter dwindled behind them,\nmasked in the distance to a confused jumble of sound. Somewhere a parrot\ncalled, like an eery echo: '_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_' So they came\nto the tree-fringed water's edge and saw the galley lying at anchor,\nher sail shining white in the moonlight. Already the stars were paling\nfor dawn.\n\n\n\n\n4\n\n\nIn the ghastly whiteness of dawn a handful of tattered, blood-stained\nfigures staggered through the trees and out on to the narrow beach.\nThere were forty-four of them, and they were a cowed and demoralized\nband. With panting haste they plunged into the water and began to wade\ntoward the galley, when a stern challenge brought them up standing.\n\nEtched against the whitening sky they saw Conan the Cimmerian standing\nin the bows, sword in hand, his black mane tossing in the dawn wind.\n\n'Stand!' he ordered. 'Come no nearer. What would you have, dogs?'\n\n'Let us come aboard!' croaked a hairy rogue fingering a bloody stump of\near. 'We'd be gone from this devil's island.'\n\n'The first man who tries to climb over the side, I'll split his skull,'\npromised Conan.\n\nThey were forty-four to one, but he held the whip-hand. The fight had\nbeen hammered out of them.\n\n'Let us come aboard, good Conan,' whined a red-sashed Zamorian, glancing\nfearfully over his shoulder at the silent woods. 'We have been so\nmauled, bitten, scratched and rended, and are so weary from fighting and\nrunning, that not one of us can lift a sword.'\n\n'Where is that dog Aratus?' demanded Conan.\n\n'Dead, with the others! It was devils fell upon us! They were rending us\nto pieces before we could awake--a dozen good rovers died in their\nsleep. The ruins were full of flame-eyed shadows, with tearing fangs and\nsharp talons.'\n\n'Aye!' put in another corsair. 'They were the demons of the isle, which\ntook the forms of molten images, to befool us. Ishtar! We lay down to\nsleep among them. We are no cowards. We fought them as long as mortal\nman may strive against the powers of darkness. Then we broke away and\nleft them tearing at the corpses like jackals. But surely they'll pursue\nus.'\n\n'Aye, let us come aboard!' clamored a lean Shemite. 'Let us come in\npeace, or we must come sword in hand, and though we be so weary you will\ndoubtless slay many of us, yet you can not prevail against us many.'\n\n'Then I'll knock a hole in the planks and sink her,' answered Conan\ngrimly. A frantic chorus of expostulation rose, which Conan silenced\nwith a lion-like roar.\n\n'Dogs! Must I aid my enemies? Shall I let you come aboard and cut out my\nheart?'\n\n'Nay, nay!' they cried eagerly. 'Friends--friends, Conan. We are thy\ncomrades! We be all lusty rogues together. We hate the king of Turan,\nnot each other.'\n\nTheir gaze hung on his brown, frowning face.\n\n'Then if I am one of the Brotherhood,' he grunted, 'the laws of the\nTrade apply to me; and since I killed your chief in fair fight, then I\nam your captain!'\n\nThere was no dissent. The pirates were too cowed and battered to have\nany thought except a desire to get away from that island of fear.\nConan's gaze sought out the blood-stained figure of the Corinthian.\n\n'How, Ivanos!' he challenged. 'You took my part, once. Will you uphold\nmy claims again?'\n\n'Aye, by Mitra!' The pirate, sensing the trend of feeling, was eager to\ningratiate himself with the Cimmerian. 'He is right, lads; he is our\nlawful captain!'\n\nA medley of acquiescence rose, lacking enthusiasm perhaps, but with\nsincerity accentuated by the feel of the silent woods behind them which\nmight mask creeping ebony devils with red eyes and dripping talons.\n\n'Swear by the hilt,' Conan demanded.\n\nForty-four sword-hilts were lifted toward him, and forty-four voices\nblended in the corsair's oath of allegiance.\n\nConan grinned and sheathed his sword. 'Come aboard, my bold\nswashbucklers, and take the oars.'\n\nHe turned and lifted Olivia to her feet, from where she had crouched\nshielded by the gunwales.\n\n'And what of me, sir?' she asked.\n\n'What would you?' he countered, watching her narrowly.\n\n'To go with you, wherever your path may lie!' she cried, throwing her\nwhite arms about his bronzed neck.\n\nThe pirates, clambering over the rail, gasped in amazement.\n\n'To sail a road of blood and slaughter?' he questioned. 'This keel will\nstain the blue waves crimson wherever it plows.'\n\n'Aye, to sail with you on blue seas or red,' she answered passionately.\n'You are a barbarian, and I am an outcast, denied by my people. We are\nboth pariahs, wanderers of earth. Oh, take me with you!'\n\nWith a gusty laugh he lifted her to his fierce lips.\n\n'I'll make you Queen of the Blue Sea! Cast off there, dogs! We'll scorch\nKing Yildiz's pantaloons yet, by Crom!'\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Shadows in the Moonlight, by Robert E. Howard\n\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT ***\n\n***** This file should be named 42188.txt or 42188.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\n http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/8/42188/\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\n\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties. 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"url": "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadows_in_the_Moonlight_(story)",
"title": "Shadows in the Moonlight (story)"
},
"text": "The Project Gutenberg EBook of Shadows in the Moonlight, by Robert E. Howard\n\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\n\n\nTitle: Shadows in the Moonlight\n\nAuthor: Robert E. Howard\n\nRelease Date: February 24, 2013 [EBook #42188]\n\nLanguage: English\n\n\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT ***\n\n\n\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT\n\n By Robert E. Howard\n\n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was first published in Weird Tales\n April 1934. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the\n U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n\n\n\n\n1\n\n\nA swift crashing of horses through the tall reeds; a heavy fall, a\ndespairing cry. From the dying steed there staggered up its rider, a\nslender girl in sandals and girdled tunic. Her dark hair fell over her\nwhite shoulders, her eyes were those of a trapped animal. She did not\nlook at the jungle of reeds that hemmed in the little clearing, nor at\nthe blue waters that lapped the low shore behind her. Her wide-eyed gaze\nwas fixed in agonized intensity on the horseman who pushed through the\nreedy screen and dismounted before her.\n\nHe was a tall man, slender, but hard as steel. From head to heel he was\nclad in light silvered mesh-mail that fitted his supple form like a\nglove. From under the dome-shaped, gold-chased helmet his brown eyes\nregarded her mockingly.\n\n'Stand back!' her voice shrilled with terror. 'Touch me not, Shah\nAmurath, or I will throw myself into the water and drown!'\n\nHe laughed, and his laughter was like the purr of a sword sliding from a\nsilken sheath.\n\n'No, you will not drown, Olivia, daughter of confusion, for the marge is\ntoo shallow, and I can catch you before you can reach the deeps. You\ngave me a merry chase, by the gods, and all my men are far behind us.\nBut there is no horse west of Vilayet that can distance Irem for long.'\nHe nodded at the tall, slender-legged desert stallion behind him.\n\n'Let me go!' begged the girl, tears of despair staining her face. 'Have\nI not suffered enough? Is there any humiliation, pain or degradation you\nhave not heaped on me? How long must my torment last?'\n\n'As long as I find pleasure in your whimperings, your pleas, tears and\nwrithings,' he answered with a smile that would have seemed gentle to a\nstranger. 'You are strangely virile, Olivia. I wonder if I shall ever\nweary of you, as I have always wearied of women before. You are ever\nfresh and unsullied, in spite of me. Each new day with you brings a new\ndelight.\n\n'But come--let us return to Akif, where the people are still feting the\nconqueror of the miserable _kozaki_; while he, the conqueror, is engaged\nin recapturing a wretched fugitive, a foolish, lovely, idiotic runaway!'\n\n'No!' She recoiled, turning toward the waters lapping bluely among the\nreeds.\n\n'Yes!' His flash of open anger was like a spark struck from flint. With\na quickness her tender limbs could not approximate, he caught her wrist,\ntwisting it in pure wanton cruelty until she screamed and sank to her\nknees.\n\n'Slut! I should drag you back to Akif at my horse's tail, but I will be\nmerciful and carry you on my saddle-bow, for which favor you shall\nhumbly thank me, while--'\n\nHe released her with a startled oath and sprang back, his saber flashing\nout, as a terrible apparition burst from the reedy jungle sounding an\ninarticulate cry of hate.\n\nOlivia, staring up from the ground, saw what she took to be either a\nsavage or a madman advancing on Shah Amurath in an attitude of deadly\nmenace. He was powerfully built, naked but for a girdled loincloth,\nwhich was stained with blood and crusted with dried mire. His black mane\nwas matted with mud and clotted blood; there were streaks of dried blood\non his chest and limbs, dried blood on the long straight sword he\ngripped in his right hand. From under the tangle of his locks, bloodshot\neyes glared like coals of blue fire.\n\n'You Hyrkanian dog!' mouthed this apparition in a barbarous accent. 'The\ndevils of vengeance have brought you here!'\n\n'_Kozak!_' ejaculated Shah Amurath, recoiling. 'I did not know a dog of\nyou escaped! I thought you all lay stiff on the steppe, by Ilbars\nRiver.'\n\n'All but me, damn you!' cried the other. 'Oh, I've dreamed of such a\nmeeting as this, while I crawled on my belly through the brambles, or\nlay under rocks while the ants gnawed my flesh, or crouched in the mire\nup to my mouth--I dreamed, but never hoped it would come to pass. Oh,\ngods of Hell, how I have yearned for this!'\n\nThe stranger's bloodthirsty joy was terrible to behold. His jaws champed\nspasmodically, froth appeared on his blackened lips.\n\n'Keep back!' ordered Shah Amurath, watching him narrowly.\n\n'Ha!' It was like the bark of a timber wolf. 'Shah Amurath, the great\nLord of Akif! Oh, damn you, how I love the sight of you--you, who fed my\ncomrades to the vultures, who tore them between wild horses, blinded and\nmaimed and mutilated them--_ai_, you dog, you filthy dog!' His voice\nrose to a maddened scream, and he charged.\n\nIn spite of the terror of his wild appearance, Olivia looked to see him\nfall at the first crossing of the blades. Madman or savage, what could\nhe do, naked, against the mailed chief of Akif?\n\nThere was an instant when the blades flamed and licked, seeming barely\nto touch each other and leap apart; then the broadsword flashed past the\nsaber and descended terrifically on Shah Amurath's shoulder. Olivia\ncried out at the fury of that stroke. Above the crunch of the rending\nmail, she distinctly heard the snap of the shoulder-bone. The Hyrkanian\nreeled back, suddenly ashen, blood spurting over the links of his\nhauberk; his saber slipped from his nerveless fingers.\n\n'Quarter!' he gasped.\n\n'Quarter?' There was a quiver of frenzy in the stranger's voice.\n'Quarter such as you gave us, you swine!'\n\nOlivia closed her eyes. This was no longer battle, but butchery,\nfrantic, bloody, impelled by an hysteria of fury and hate, in which\nculminated the sufferings of battle, massacre, torture, and fear-ridden,\nthirst-maddened, hunger-haunted flight. Though Olivia knew that Shah\nAmurath deserved no mercy or pity from any living creature, yet she\nclosed her eyes and pressed her hands over her ears, to shut out the\nsight of that dripping sword that rose and fell with the sound of a\nbutcher's cleaver, and the gurgling cries that dwindled away and ceased.\n\nShe opened her eyes, to see the stranger turning away from a gory\ntravesty that only vaguely resembled a human being. The man's breast\nheaved with exhaustion or passion; his brow was beaded with sweat; his\nright hand was splashed with blood.\n\nHe did not speak to her, or even glance toward her. She saw him stride\nthrough the reeds that grew at the water's edge, stoop, and tug at\nsomething. A boat wallowed out of its hiding-place among the stalks.\nThen she divined his intention, and was galvanized into action.\n\n'Oh, wait!' she wailed, staggering up and running toward him. 'Do not\nleave me! Take me with you!'\n\nHe wheeled and stared at her. There was a difference in his bearing. His\nbloodshot eyes were sane. It was as if the blood he had just shed had\nquenched the fire of his frenzy.\n\n'Who are you?' he demanded.\n\n'I am called Olivia. I was _his_ captive. I ran away. He followed me.\nThat's why he came here. Oh, do not leave me here! His warriors are not\nfar behind him. They will find his corpse--they will find me near\nit--oh!' She moaned in her terror and wrung her white hands.\n\nHe stared at her in perplexity.\n\n'Would you be better off with me?' he demanded. 'I am a barbarian, and I\nknow from your looks that you fear me.'\n\n'Yes, I fear you,' she replied, too distracted to dissemble. 'My flesh\ncrawls at the horror of your aspect. But I fear the Hyrkanians more. Oh,\nlet me go with you! They will put me to the torture if they find me\nbeside their dead lord.'\n\n'Come, then.' He drew aside, and she stepped quickly into the boat,\nshrinking from contact with him. She seated herself in the bow, and he\nstepped into the boat, pushed off with an oar, and using it as a paddle,\nworked his way tortuously among the tall stalks until they glided out\ninto open water. Then he set to work with both oars, rowing with great,\nsmooth, even strokes, the heavy muscles of arms and shoulders and back\nrippling in rhythm to his exertions.\n\nThere was silence for some time, the girl crouching in the bows, the man\ntugging at the oars. She watched him with timorous fascination. It was\nevident that he was not an Hyrkanian, and he did not resemble the\nHyborian races. There was a wolfish hardness about him that marked the\nbarbarian. His features, allowing for the strains and stains of battle\nand his hiding in the marshes, reflected that same untamed wildness, but\nthey were neither evil nor degenerate.\n\n'Who are you?' she asked. 'Shah Amurath called you a _kozak_; were you\nof that band?'\n\n'I am Conan, of Cimmeria,' he grunted. 'I was with the _kozaki_, as the\nHyrkanian dogs called us.'\n\nShe knew vaguely that the land he named lay far to the northwest, beyond\nthe farthest boundaries of the different kingdoms of her race.\n\n'I am a daughter of the King of Ophir,' she said. 'My father sold me to\na Shemite chief, because I would not marry a prince of Koth.'\n\nThe Cimmerian grunted in surprize.\n\nHer lips twisted in a bitter smile. 'Aye, civilized men sell their\nchildren as slaves to savages, sometimes. They call your race barbaric,\nConan of Cimmeria.'\n\n'We do not sell our children,' he growled, his chin jutting truculently.\n\n'Well--I was sold. But the desert man did not misuse me. He wished to\nbuy the good will of Shah Amurath, and I was among the gifts he brought\nto Akif of the purple gardens. Then--' She shuddered and hid her face in\nher hands.\n\n'I should be lost to all shame,' she said presently. 'Yet each memory\nstings me like a slaver's whip. I abode in Shah Amurath's palace, until\nsome weeks agone he rode out with his hosts to do battle with a band of\ninvaders who were ravaging the borders of Turan. Yesterday he returned\nin triumph, and a great fete was made to honor him. In the drunkenness\nand rejoicing, I found an opportunity to steal out of the city on a\nstolen horse. I had thought to escape--but he followed, and about midday\ncame up with me. I outran his vassals, but him I could not escape. Then\nyou came.'\n\n'I was lying hid in the reeds,' grunted the barbarian. 'I was one of\nthose dissolute rogues, the Free Companions, who burned and looted along\nthe borders. There were five thousand of us, from a score of races and\ntribes. We had been serving as mercenaries for a rebel prince in eastern\nKoth, most of us, and when he made peace with his cursed sovereign, we\nwere out of employment; so we took to plundering the outlying dominions\nof Koth, Zamora and Turan impartially. A week ago Shah Amurath trapped\nus near the banks of Ilbars with fifteen thousand men. Mitra! The skies\nwere black with vultures. When the lines broke, after a whole day of\nfighting, some tried to break through to the north, some to the west. I\ndoubt if any escaped. The steppes were covered with horsemen riding down\nthe fugitives. I broke for the east, and finally reached the edge of the\nmarshes that border this part of Vilayet.\n\n'I've been hiding in the morasses ever since. Only the day before\nyesterday the riders ceased beating up the reed-brakes, searching for\njust such fugitives as I. I've squirmed and burrowed and hidden like a\nsnake, feasting on musk-rats I caught and ate raw, for lack of fire to\ncook them. This dawn I found this boat hidden among the reeds. I hadn't\nintended going out on the sea until night, but after I killed Shah\nAmurath, I knew his mailed dogs would be close at hand.'\n\n'And what now?'\n\n'We shall doubtless be pursued. If they fail to see the marks left by\nthe boat, which I covered as well as I could, they'll guess anyway that\nwe took to sea, after they fail to find us among the marshes. But we\nhave a start, and I'm going to haul at these oars until we reach a safe\nplace.'\n\n'Where shall we find that?' she asked hopelessly. 'Vilayet is an\nHyrkanian pond.'\n\n'Some folk don't think so,' grinned Conan grimly; 'notably the slaves\nthat have escaped from galleys and become pirates.'\n\n'But what are your plans?'\n\n'The southwestern shore is held by the Hyrkanians for hundreds of miles.\nWe still have a long way to go before we pass beyond their northern\nboundaries. I intend to go northward until I think we have passed them.\nThen we'll turn westward, and try to land on the shore bordered by the\nuninhabited steppes.'\n\n'Suppose we meet pirates, or a storm?' she asked. 'And we shall starve\non the steppes.'\n\n'Well,' he reminded her, 'I didn't ask you to come with me.'\n\n'I am sorry.' She bowed her shapely dark head. 'Pirates, storms,\nstarvation--they are all kinder than the people of Turan.'\n\n'Aye.' His dark face grew somber. 'I haven't done with them yet. Be at\nease, girl. Storms are rare on Vilayet at this time of year. If we make\nthe steppes, we shall not starve. I was reared in a naked land. It was\nthose cursed marshes, with their stench and stinging flies, that nigh\nunmanned me. I am at home in the high lands. As for pirates--' He\ngrinned enigmatically, and bent to the oars.\n\nThe sun sank like a dull-glowing copper ball into a lake of fire. The\nblue of the sea merged with the blue of the sky, and both turned to soft\ndark velvet, clustered with stars and the mirrors of stars. Olivia\nreclined in the bows of the gently rocking boat, in a state dreamy and\nunreal. She experienced an illusion that she was floating in midair,\nstars beneath her as well as above. Her silent companion was etched\nvaguely against the softer darkness. There was no break or falter in the\nrhythm of his oars; he might have been a fantasmal oarsman, rowing her\nacross the dark lake of Death. But the edge of her fear was dulled, and,\nlulled by the monotony of motion, she passed into a quiet slumber.\n\nDawn was in her eyes when she awakened, aware of a ravenous hunger. It\nwas a change in the motion of the boat that had roused her; Conan was\nresting on his oars, gazing beyond her. She realized that he had rowed\nall night without pause, and marvelled at his iron endurance. She\ntwisted about to follow his stare, and saw a green wall of trees and\nshrubbery rising from the water's edge and sweeping away in a wide\ncurve, enclosing a small bay whose waters lay still as blue glass.\n\n'This is one of the many islands that dot this inland sea,' said Conan.\n'They are supposed to be uninhabited. I've heard the Hyrkanians seldom\nvisit them. Besides, they generally hug the shores in their galleys, and\nwe have come a long way. Before sunset we were out of sight of the\nmainland.'\n\nWith a few strokes he brought the boat in to shore and made the painter\nfast to the arching root of a tree which rose from the water's edge.\nStepping ashore, he reached out a hand to help Olivia. She took it,\nwincing slightly at the bloodstains upon it, feeling a hint of the\ndynamic strength that lurked in the barbarian's thews.\n\nA dreamy quiet lay over the woods that bordered the blue bay. Then\nsomewhere, far back among the trees, a bird lifted its morning song. A\nbreeze whispered through the leaves, and set them to murmuring. Olivia\nfound herself listening intently for something, she knew not what. What\nmight be lurking amid those nameless woodlands?\n\nAs she peered timidly into the shadows between the trees, something\nswept into the sunlight with a swift whirl of wings: a great parrot\nwhich dropped on to a leafy branch and swayed there, a gleaming image\nof jade and crimson. It turned its crested head sidewise and regarded\nthe invaders with glittering eyes of jet.\n\n'Crom!' muttered the Cimmerian. 'Here is the grandfather of all parrots.\nHe must be a thousand years old! Look at the evil wisdom of his eyes.\nWhat mysteries do you guard, Wise Devil?'\n\nAbruptly the bird spread its flaming wings and, soaring from its perch,\ncried out harshly: '_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_' and with a wild\nscreech of horribly human laughter, rushed away through the trees to\nvanish in the opalescent shadows.\n\nOlivia stared after it, feeling the cold hand of nameless foreboding\ntouch her supple spine.\n\n'What did it say?' she whispered.\n\n'Human words, I'll swear,' answered Conan; 'but in what tongue I can't\nsay.'\n\n'Nor I,' returned the girl. 'Yet it must have learned them from human\nlips. Human, or--' she gazed into the leafy fastness and shuddered\nslightly, without knowing why.\n\n'Crom, I'm hungry!' grunted the Cimmerian. 'I could eat a whole buffalo.\nWe'll look for fruit; but first I'm going to cleanse myself of this\ndried mud and blood. Hiding in marshes is foul business.'\n\nSo saying, he laid aside his sword, and wading out shoulder-deep into\nthe blue water, went about his ablutions. When he emerged, his clean-cut\nbronze limbs shone, his streaming black mane was no longer matted. His\nblue eyes, though they smoldered with unquenchable fire, were no longer\nmurky or bloodshot. But the tigerish suppleness of limb and the\ndangerous aspect of feature were not altered.\n\nStrapping on his sword once more, he motioned the girl to follow him,\nand they left the shore, passing under the leafy arches of the great\nbranches. Underfoot lay a short green sward which cushioned their tread.\nBetween the trunks of the trees they caught glimpses of faery-like\nvistas.\n\nPresently Conan grunted in pleasure at the sight of golden and russet\nglobes hanging in clusters among the leaves. Indicating that the girl\nshould seat herself on a fallen tree, he filled her lap with the exotic\ndelicacies, and then himself fell to with unconcealed gusto.\n\n'Ishtar!' said he, between mouthfuls. 'Since Ilbars I have lived on\nrats, and roots I dug out of the stinking mud. This is sweet to the\npalate, though not very filling. Still, it will serve if we eat enough.'\n\nOlivia was too busy to reply. The sharp edge of the Cimmerian's hunger\nblunted, he began to gaze at his fair companion with more interest than\npreviously, noting the lustrous clusters of her dark hair, the\npeach-bloom tints of her dainty skin, and the rounded contours of her\nlithe figure which the scanty silk tunic displayed to full advantage.\n\nFinishing her meal, the object of his scrutiny looked up, and meeting\nhis burning, slit-eyed gaze, she changed color and the remnants of the\nfruit slipped from her fingers.\n\nWithout comment, he indicated with a gesture that they should continue\ntheir explorations, and rising, she followed him out of the trees and\ninto a glade, the farther end of which was bounded by a dense thicket.\nAs they stepped into the open there was a ripping crash in this thicket,\nand Conan, bounding aside and carrying the girl with him, narrowly saved\nthem from something that rushed through the air and struck a tree-trunk\nwith a thunderous impact.\n\nWhipping out his sword, Conan bounded across the glade and plunged into\nthe thicket. Silence ensued, while Olivia crouched on the sward,\nterrified and bewildered. Presently Conan emerged, a puzzled scowl on\nhis face.\n\n'Nothing in that thicket,' he growled. 'But there was something--'\n\nHe studied the missile that had so narrowly missed them, and grunted\nincredulously, as if unable to credit his own senses. It was a huge\nblock of greenish stone which lay on the sward at the foot of the tree,\nwhose wood its impact had splintered.\n\n'A strange stone to find on an uninhabited island,' growled Conan.\n\nOlivia's lovely eyes dilated in wonder. The stone was a symmetrical\nblock, indisputably cut and shaped by human hands. And it was\nastonishingly massive. The Cimmerian grasped it with both hands, and\nwith legs braced and the muscles standing out on his arms and back in\nstraining knots, he heaved it above his head and cast it from him,\nexerting every ounce of nerve and sinew. It fell a few feet in front of\nhim. Conan swore.\n\n'No man living could throw that rock across this glade. It's a task for\nsiege engines. Yet here there are no mangonels or ballistas.'\n\n'Perhaps it was thrown by some such engine from afar,' she suggested.\n\nHe shook his head. 'It didn't fall from above. It came from yonder\nthicket. See how the twigs are broken? It was thrown as a man might\nthrow a pebble. But who? What? Come!'\n\nShe hesitantly followed him into the thicket. Inside the outer ring of\nleafy brush, the undergrowth was less dense. Utter silence brooded over\nall. The springy sward gave no sign of footprint. Yet from this\nmysterious thicket had hurtled that boulder, swift and deadly. Conan\nbent closer to the sward, where the grass was crushed down here and\nthere. He shook his head angrily. Even to his keen eyes it gave no clue\nas to what had stood or trodden there. His gaze roved to the green roof\nabove their heads, a solid ceiling of thick leaves and interwoven\narches. And he froze suddenly.\n\nThen rising, sword in hand, he began to back away, thrusting Olivia\nbehind him.\n\n'Out of here, quick!' he urged in a whisper that congealed the girl's\nblood.\n\n'What is it? What do you see?'\n\n'Nothing,' he answered guardedly, not halting his wary retreat.\n\n'But what is it, then? What lurks in this thicket?'\n\n'Death!' he answered, his gaze still fixed on the brooding jade arches\nthat shut out the sky.\n\nOnce out of the thicket, he took her hand and led her swiftly through\nthe thinning trees, until they mounted a grassy slope, sparsely treed,\nand emerged upon a low plateau, where the grass grew taller and the\ntrees were few and scattered. And in the midst of that plateau rose a\nlong broad structure of crumbling greenish stone.\n\nThey gazed in wonder. No legends named such a building on any island of\nVilayet. They approached it warily, seeing that moss and lichen crawled\nover the stones, and the broken roof gaped to the sky. On all sides lay\nbits and shards of masonry, half hidden in the waving grass, giving the\nimpression that once many buildings rose there, perhaps a whole town.\nBut now only the long hall-like structure rose against the sky, and its\nwalls leaned drunkenly among the crawling vines.\n\nWhatever doors had once guarded its portals had long rotted away. Conan\nand his companion stood in the broad entrance and stared inside.\nSunlight streamed in through gaps in the walls and roof, making the\ninterior a dim weave of light and shadow. Grasping his sword firmly,\nConan entered, with the slouching gait of a hunting panther, sunken head\nand noiseless feet. Olivia tiptoed after him.\n\nOnce within, Conan grunted in surprize, and Olivia stifled a scream.\n\n'Look! Oh, look!'\n\n'I see,' he answered. 'Nothing to fear. They are statues.'\n\n'But how life-like--and how evil!' she whispered, drawing close to him.\n\nThey stood in a great hall, whose floor was of polished stone, littered\nwith dust and broken stones, which had fallen from the ceiling. Vines,\ngrowing between the stones, masked the apertures. The lofty roof, flat\nand undomed, was upheld by thick columns, marching in rows down the\nsides of the walls. And in each space between these columns stood a\nstrange figure.\n\nThey were statues, apparently of iron, black and shining as if\ncontinually polished. They were life-sized, depicting tall, lithely\npowerful men, with cruel hawk-like faces. They were naked, and every\nswell, depression and contour of joint and sinew was represented with\nincredible realism. But the most life-like feature was their proud,\nintolerant faces. These features were not cast in the same mold. Each\nface possessed its own individual characteristics, though there was a\ntribal likeness between them all. There was none of the monotonous\nuniformity of decorative art, in the faces at least.\n\n'They seem to be listening--and waiting!' whispered the girl uneasily.\n\nConan rang his hilt against one of the images.\n\n'Iron,' he pronounced. 'But Crom! In what molds were they cast?'\n\nHe shook his head and shrugged his massive shoulders in puzzlement.\n\nOlivia glanced timidly about the great silent hall. Only the ivy-grown\nstones, the tendril-clasped pillars, with the dark figures brooding\nbetween them, met her gaze. She shifted uneasily and wished to be gone,\nbut the images held a strange fascination for her companion. He examined\nthem in detail, and barbarian-like, tried to break off their limbs. But\ntheir material resisted his best efforts. He could neither disfigure nor\ndislodge from its niche a single image. At last he desisted, swearing in\nhis wonder.\n\n'What manner of men were these copied from?' he inquired of the world at\nlarge. 'These figures are black, yet they are not like negroes. I have\nnever seen their like.'\n\n'Let us go into the sunlight,' urged Olivia, and he nodded, with a\nbaffled glance at the brooding shapes along the walls.\n\nSo they passed out of the dusky hall into the clear blaze of the summer\nsun. She was surprized to note its position in the sky; they had spent\nmore time in the ruins than she had guessed.\n\n'Let us take to the boat again,' she suggested. 'I am afraid here. It is\na strange evil place. We do not know when we may be attacked by whatever\ncast the rock.'\n\n'I think we're safe as long as we're not under the trees,' he answered.\n'Come.'\n\nThe plateau, whose sides fell away toward the wooded shores on the east,\nwest and south, sloped upward toward the north to abut on a tangle of\nrocky cliffs, the highest point of the island. Thither Conan took his\nway, suiting his long stride to his companion's gait. From time to time\nhis glance rested inscrutably upon her, and she was aware of it.\n\nThey reached the northern extremity of the plateau, and stood gazing up\nthe steep pitch of the cliffs. Trees grew thickly along the rim of the\nplateau east and west of the cliffs, and clung to the precipitous\nincline. Conan glanced at these trees suspiciously, but he began the\nascent, helping his companion on the climb. The slope was not sheer, and\nwas broken by ledges and boulders. The Cimmerian, born in a hill\ncountry, could have run up it like a cat, but Olivia found the going\ndifficult. Again and again she felt herself lifted lightly off her feet\nand over some obstacle that would have taxed her strength to surmount,\nand her wonder grew at the sheer physical power of the man. She no\nlonger found his touch repugnant. There was a promise of protection in\nhis iron clasp.\n\nAt last they stood on the ultimate pinnacle, their hair stirring in the\nsea wind. From their feet the cliffs fell away sheerly three or four\nhundred feet to a narrow tangle of woodlands bordering the beach.\nLooking southward they saw the whole island lying like a great oval\nmirror, its bevelled edges sloping down swiftly into a rim of green,\nexcept where it broke in the pitch of the cliffs. As far as they could\nsee, on all sides stretched the blue waters, still, placid, fading into\ndreamy hazes of distance.\n\n'The sea is still,' sighed Olivia. 'Why should we not take up our\njourney again?'\n\nConan, poised like a bronze statue on the cliffs, pointed northward.\nStraining her eyes, Olivia saw a white fleck that seemed to hang\nsuspended in the aching haze.\n\n'What is it?'\n\n'A sail.'\n\n'Hyrkanians?'\n\n'Who can tell, at this distance?'\n\n'They will anchor here--search the island for us!' she cried in quick\npanic.\n\n'I doubt it. They come from the north, so they can not be searching for\nus. They may stop for some other reason, in which case we'll have to\nhide as best we can. But I believe it's either pirate, or an Hyrkanian\ngalley returning from some northern raid. In the latter case they are\nnot likely to anchor here. But we can't put to sea until they've gone\nout of sight, for they're coming from the direction in which we must go.\nDoubtless they'll pass the island tonight, and at dawn we can go on our\nway.'\n\n'Then we must spend the night here?' she shivered.\n\n'It's safest.'\n\n'Then let us sleep here, on the crags,' she urged.\n\nHe shook his head, glancing at the stunted trees, at the marching woods\nbelow, a green mass which seemed to send out tendrils straggling up the\nsides of the cliffs.\n\n'Here are too many trees. We'll sleep in the ruins.'\n\nShe cried out in protest.\n\n'Nothing will harm you there,' he soothed. 'Whatever threw the stone at\nus did not follow us out of the woods. There was nothing to show that\nany wild thing lairs in the ruins. Besides, you are soft-skinned, and\nused to shelter and dainties. I could sleep naked in the snow and feel\nno discomfort, but the dew would give you cramps, were we to sleep in\nthe open.'\n\nOlivia helplessly acquiesced, and they descended the cliffs, crossed the\nplateau and once more approached the gloomy, age-haunted ruins. By this\ntime the sun was sinking below the plateau rim. They had found fruit in\nthe trees near the cliffs, and these formed their supper, both food and\ndrink.\n\nThe southern night swept down quickly, littering the dark blue sky with\ngreat white stars, and Conan entered the shadowy ruins, drawing the\nreluctant Olivia after him. She shivered at the sight of those tense\nblack shadows in their niches along the walls. In the darkness that the\nstarlight only faintly touched, she could not make out their outlines;\nshe could only sense their attitude of waiting--waiting as they had\nwaited for untold centuries.\n\nConan had brought a great armful of tender branches, well leafed. These\nhe heaped to make a couch for her, and she lay upon it, with a curious\nsensation as of one lying down to sleep in a serpent's lair.\n\nWhatever her forebodings, Conan did not share them. The Cimmerian sat\ndown near her, his back against a pillar, his sword across his knees.\nHis eyes gleamed like a panther's in the dusk.\n\n'Sleep, girl,' said he. 'My slumber is light as a wolf's. Nothing can\nenter this hall without awaking me.'\n\nOlivia did not reply. From her bed of leaves she watched the immobile\nfigure, indistinct in the soft darkness. How strange, to move in\nfellowship with a barbarian, to be cared for and protected by one of a\nrace, tales of which had frightened her as a child! He came of a people\nbloody, grim and ferocious. His kinship to the wild was apparent in his\nevery action; it burned in his smoldering eyes. Yet he had not harmed\nher, and her worst oppressor had been a man the world called civilized.\nAs a delicious languor stole over her relaxing limbs and she sank into\nfoamy billows of slumber, her last waking thought was a drowsy\nrecollection of the firm touch of Conan's fingers on her soft flesh.\n\n\n\n\n2\n\n\nOlivia dreamed, and through her dreams crawled a suggestion of lurking\nevil, like a black serpent writhing through flower gardens. Her dreams\nwere fragmentary and colorful, exotic shards of a broken, unknown\npattern, until they crystalized into a scene of horror and madness,\netched against a background of cyclopean stones and pillars.\n\nShe saw a great hall, whose lofty ceiling was upheld by stone columns\nmarching in even rows along the massive walls. Among these pillars\nfluttered great green and scarlet parrots, and the hall was thronged\nwith black-skinned, hawk-faced warriors. They were not negroes. Neither\nthey nor their garments nor weapons resembled anything of the world the\ndreamer knew.\n\nThey were pressing about one bound to a pillar: a slender white-skinned\nyouth, with a cluster of golden curls about his alabaster brow. His\nbeauty was not altogether human--like the dream of a god, chiseled out\nof living marble.\n\nThe black warriors laughed at him, jeered and taunted in a strange\ntongue. The lithe naked form writhed beneath their cruel hands. Blood\ntrickled down the ivory thighs to spatter on the polished floor. The\nscreams of the victim echoed through the hall; then lifting his head\ntoward the ceiling and the skies beyond, he cried out a name in an awful\nvoice. A dagger in an ebon hand cut short his cry, and the golden head\nrolled on the ivory breast.\n\nAs if in answer to that desperate cry, there was a rolling thunder as of\ncelestial chariot-wheels, and a figure stood before the slayers, as if\nmaterialized out of empty air. The form was of a man, but no mortal man\never wore such an aspect of inhuman beauty. There was an unmistakable\nresemblance between him and the youth who dropped lifeless in his\nchains, but the alloy of humanity that softened the godliness of the\nyouth was lacking in the features of the stranger, awful and immobile in\ntheir beauty.\n\nThe blacks shrank back before him, their eyes slits of fire. Lifting a\nhand, he spoke, and his tones echoed through the silent halls in deep\nrich waves of sound. Like men in a trance the black warriors fell back\nuntil they were ranged along the walls in regular lines. Then from the\nstranger's chiseled lips rang a terrible invocation and command:\n'_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_'\n\nAt the blast of that awful cry, the black figures stiffened and froze.\nOver their limbs crept a curious rigidity, an unnatural petrification.\nThe stranger touched the limp body of the youth, and the chains fell\naway from it. He lifted the corpse in his arms; then ere he turned away,\nhis tranquil gaze swept again over the silent rows of ebony figures, and\nhe pointed to the moon, which gleamed in through the casements. And they\nunderstood, those tense, waiting statues that had been men....\n\nOlivia awoke, starting up on her couch of branches, a cold sweat beading\nher skin. Her heart pounded loud in the silence. She glanced wildly\nabout. Conan slept against his pillar, his head fallen upon his massive\nbreast. The silvery radiance of the late moon crept through the gaping\nroof, throwing long white lines along the dusty floor. She could see the\nimages dimly, black, tense--waiting. Fighting down a rising hysteria,\nshe saw the moonbeams rest lightly on the pillars and the shapes\nbetween.\n\nWhat was that? A tremor among the shadows where the moonlight fell. A\nparalysis of horror gripped her, for where there should have been the\nimmobility of death, there was movement: a slow twitching, a flexing and\nwrithing of ebon limbs--an awful scream burst from her lips as she broke\nthe bonds that held her mute and motionless. At her shriek Conan shot\nerect, teeth gleaming, sword lifted.\n\n'The statues! The statues!--_Oh my God, the statues are coming to\nlife!_'\n\nAnd with the cry she sprang through a crevice in the wall, burst madly\nthrough the hindering vines, and ran, ran, ran--blind, screaming,\nwitless--until a grasp on her arm brought her up short and she shrieked\nand fought against the arms that caught her, until a familiar voice\npenetrated the mists of her terror, and she saw Conan's face, a mask of\nbewilderment in the moonlight.\n\n'What in Crom's name, girl? Did you have a nightmare?' His voice sounded\nstrange and far away. With a sobbing gasp she threw her arms about his\nthick neck and clung to him convulsively, crying in panting catches.\n\n'Where are they? Did they follow us?'\n\n'Nobody followed us,' he answered.\n\nShe sat up, still clinging to him, and looked fearfully about. Her blind\nflight had carried her to the southern edge of the plateau. Just below\nthem was the slope, its foot masked in the thick shadows of the woods.\nBehind them she saw the ruins looming in the high-swinging moon.\n\n'Did you not see them?--The statues, moving, lifting their hands, their\neyes glaring in the shadows?'\n\n'I saw nothing,' answered the barbarian uneasily. 'I slept more soundly\nthan usual, because it has been so long since I have slumbered the night\nthrough; yet I don't think anything could have entered the hall without\nwaking me.'\n\n'Nothing entered,' a laugh of hysteria escaped her. 'It was something\nthere already. Ah, Mitra, we lay down to sleep among them, like sheep\nmaking their bed in the shambles!'\n\n'What are you talking about?' he demanded. 'I woke at your cry, but\nbefore I had time to look about me, I saw you rush out through the crack\nin the wall. I pursued you, lest you come to harm. I thought you had a\nnightmare.'\n\n'So I did!' she shivered. 'But the reality was more grisly than the\ndream. Listen!' And she narrated all that she had dreamed and thought\nto see.\n\nConan listened attentively. The natural skepticism of the sophisticated\nman was not his. His mythology contained ghouls, goblins, and\nnecromancers. After she had finished, he sat silent, absently toying\nwith his sword.\n\n'The youth they tortured was like the tall man who came?' he asked at\nlast.\n\n'As like as son to father,' she answered, and hesitantly: 'If the mind\ncould conceive of the offspring of a union of divinity with humanity, it\nwould picture that youth. The gods of old times mated sometimes with\nmortal women, our legends tell us.'\n\n'What gods?' he muttered.\n\n'The nameless, forgotten ones. Who knows? They have gone back into the\nstill waters of the lakes, the quiet hearts of the hills, the gulfs\nbeyond the stars. Gods are no more stable than men.'\n\n'But if these shapes were men, blasted into iron images by some god or\ndevil, how can they come to life?'\n\n'There is witchcraft in the moon,' she shuddered. '_He_ pointed at the\nmoon; while the moon shines on them, they live. So I believe.'\n\n'But we were not pursued,' muttered Conan, glancing toward the brooding\nruins. 'You might have dreamed they moved. I am of a mind to return and\nsee.'\n\n'No, no!' she cried, clutching him desperately. 'Perhaps the spell upon\nthem holds them in the hall. Do not go back! They will rend you limb\nfrom limb! Oh, Conan, let us go into our boat and flee this awful\nisland! Surely the Hyrkanian ship has passed us now! Let us go!'\n\nSo frantic was her pleading that Conan was impressed. His curiosity in\nregard to the images was balanced by his superstition. Foes of flesh and\nblood he did not fear, however great the odds, but any hint of the\nsupernatural roused all the dim monstrous instincts of fear that are the\nheritage of the barbarian.\n\nHe took the girl's hand and they went down the slope and plunged into\nthe dense woods, where the leaves whispered, and nameless night-birds\nmurmured drowsily. Under the trees the shadows clustered thick, and\nConan swerved to avoid the denser patches. His eyes roved continuously\nfrom side to side, and often flitted into the branches above them. He\nwent quickly yet warily, his arm girdling the girl's waist so strongly\nthat she felt as if she were being carried rather than guided. Neither\nspoke. The only sound was the girl's quick nervous panting, the rustle\nof her small feet in the grass. So they came through the trees to the\nedge of the water, shimmering like molten silver in the moonlight.\n\n'We should have brought fruit for food,' muttered Conan; 'but doubtless\nwe'll find other islands. As well leave now as later; it's but a few\nhours till dawn--'\n\nHis voice trailed away. The painter was still made fast to the looping\nroot. But at the other end was only a smashed and shattered ruin, half\nsubmerged in the shallow water.\n\nA stifled cry escaped Olivia. Conan wheeled and faced the dense shadows,\na crouching image of menace. The noise of the night-birds was suddenly\nsilent. A brooding stillness reigned over the woods. No breeze moved the\nbranches, yet somewhere the leaves stirred faintly.\n\nQuick as a great cat Conan caught up Olivia and ran. Through the shadows\nhe raced like a phantom, while somewhere above and behind them sounded a\ncurious rushing among the leaves, that implacably drew closer and\ncloser. Then the moonlight burst full upon their faces, and they were\nspeeding up the slope of the plateau.\n\nAt the crest Conan laid Olivia down, and turned to glare back at the\ngulf of shadows they had just quitted. The leaves shook in a sudden\nbreeze; that was all. He shook his mane with an angry growl. Olivia\ncrept to his feet like a frightened child. Her eyes looked up at him,\ndark wells of horror.\n\n'What are we to do, Conan?' she whispered.\n\nHe looked at the ruins, stared again into the woods below.\n\n'We'll go to the cliffs,' he declared, lifting her to her feet.\n'Tomorrow I'll make a raft, and we'll trust our luck to the sea again.'\n\n'It was not--not _they_ that destroyed our boat?' It was half question,\nhalf assertion.\n\nHe shook his head, grimly taciturn.\n\nEvery step of the way across that moon-haunted plateau was a sweating\nterror for Olivia, but no black shapes stole subtly from the looming\nruins, and at last they reached the foot of the crags, which rose stark\nand gloomily majestic above them. There Conan halted in some\nuncertainty, at last selecting a place sheltered by a broad ledge,\nnowhere near any trees.\n\n'Lie down and sleep if you can, Olivia,' he said. 'I'll keep watch.'\n\nBut no sleep came to Olivia, and she lay watching the distant ruins and\nthe wooded rim until the stars paled, the east whitened, and dawn in\nrose and gold struck fire from the dew on the grass-blades.\n\nShe rose stiffly, her mind reverting to all the happenings of the night.\nIn the morning light some of its terrors seemed like figments of an\noverwrought imagination. Conan strode over to her, and his words\nelectrified her.\n\n'Just before dawn I heard the creak of timbers and the rasp and clack of\ncordage and oars. A ship has put in and anchored at the beach not far\naway--probably the ship whose sail we saw yesterday. We'll go up the\ncliffs and spy on her.'\n\nUp they went, and lying on their bellies among the boulders, saw a\npainted mast jutting up beyond the trees to the west.\n\n'An Hyrkanian craft, from the cut of her rigging,' muttered Conan. 'I\nwonder if the crew--'\n\nA distant medley of voices reached their ears, and creeping to the\nsouthern edge of the cliffs, they saw a motley horde emerge from the\nfringe of trees along the western rim of the plateau, and stand there a\nspace in debate. There was much flourishing of arms, brandishing of\nswords, and loud rough argument. Then the whole band started across the\nplateau toward the ruins, at a slant that would take them close by the\nfoot of the cliffs.\n\n'Pirates!' whispered Conan, a grim smile on his thin lips. 'It's an\nHyrkanian galley they've captured. Here--crawl among these rocks.\n\n'Don't show yourself unless I call to you,' he instructed, having\nsecreted her to his satisfaction among a tangle of boulders along the\ncrest of the cliffs. 'I'm going to meet these dogs. If I succeed in my\nplan, all will be well, and we'll sail away with them. If I don't\nsucceed--well, hide yourself in the rocks until they're gone, for no\ndevils on this island are as cruel as these sea-wolves.'\n\nAnd tearing himself from her reluctant grasp, he swung quickly down the\ncliffs.\n\nLooking fearfully from her eyrie, Olivia saw the band had neared the\nfoot of the cliffs. Even as she looked, Conan stepped out from among the\nboulders and faced them, sword in hand. They gave back with yells of\nmenace and surprize; then halted uncertainly to glare at this figure\nwhich had appeared so suddenly from the rocks. There were some seventy\nof them, a wild horde made up of men from many nations: Kothians,\nZamorians, Brythunians, Corinthians, Shemites. Their features reflected\nthe wildness of their natures. Many bore the scars of the lash or the\nbranding-iron. There were cropped ears, slit noses, gaping eye-sockets,\nstumps of wrists--marks of the hangman as well as scars of battle. Most\nof them were half naked, but the garments they wore were fine;\ngold-braided jackets, satin girdles, silken breeches, tattered, stained\nwith tar and blood, vied with pieces of silver-chased armor. Jewels\nglittered in nose-rings and ear-rings, and in the hilts of their\ndaggers.\n\nOver against this bizarre mob stood the tall Cimmerian in strong\ncontrast with his hard bronzed limbs and clean-cut vital features.\n\n'Who are you?' they roared.\n\n'Conan the Cimmerian!' His voice was like the deep challenge of a lion.\n'One of the Free Companions. I mean to try my luck with the Red\nBrotherhood. Who's your chief?'\n\n'I, by Ishtar!' bellowed a bull-like voice, as a huge figure swaggered\nforward: a giant, naked to the waist, where his capacious belly was\ngirdled by a wide sash that upheld voluminous silken pantaloons. His\nhead was shaven except for a scalp-lock, his mustaches dropped over a\nrat-trap mouth. Green Shemitish slippers with upturned toes were on his\nfeet, a long straight sword in his hand.\n\nConan stared and glared.\n\n'Sergius of Khrosha, by Crom!'\n\n'Aye, by Ishtar!' boomed the giant, his small black eyes glittering with\nhate. 'Did you think I had forgot? Ha! Sergius never forgets an enemy.\nNow I'll hang you up by the heels and skin you alive. At him, lads!'\n\n'Aye, send your dogs at me, big-belly,' sneered Conan with bitter scorn.\n'You were always a coward, you Kothic cur.'\n\n'Coward! To me?' The broad face turned black with passion. 'On guard,\nyou northern dog! I'll cut out your heart!'\n\nIn an instant the pirates had formed a circle about the rivals, their\neyes blazing, their breath sucking between their teeth in bloodthirsty\nenjoyment. High up among the crags Olivia watched, sinking her nails\ninto her palms in her painful excitement.\n\nWithout formality the combatants engaged, Sergius coming in with a rush,\nquick on his feet as a giant cat, for all his bulk. Curses hissed\nbetween his clenched teeth as he lustily swung and parried. Conan fought\nin silence, his eyes slits of blue bale-fire.\n\nThe Kothian ceased his oaths to save his breath. The only sounds were\nthe quick scuff of feet on the sward, the panting of the pirate, the\nring and clash of steel. The swords flashed like white fire in the early\nsun, wheeling and circling. They seemed to recoil from each other's\ncontact, then leap together again instantly. Sergius was giving back;\nonly his superlative skill had saved him thus far from the blinding\nspeed of the Cimmerian's onslaught. A louder clash of steel, a sliding\nrasp, a choking cry--from the pirate horde a fierce yell split the\nmorning as Conan's sword plunged through their captain's massive body.\nThe point quivered an instant from between Sergius's shoulders, a hand's\nbreadth of white fire in the sunlight; then the Cimmerian wrenched back\nhis steel and the pirate chief fell heavily, face down, and lay in a\nwidening pool of blood, his broad hands twitching for an instant.\n\nConan wheeled toward the gaping corsairs.\n\n'Well, you dogs!' he roared. 'I've sent your chief to hell. What says\nthe law of the Red Brotherhood?'\n\nBefore any could answer, a rat-faced Brythunian, standing behind his\nfellows, whirled a sling swiftly and deadly. Straight as an arrow sped\nthe stone to its mark, and Conan reeled and fell as a tall tree falls to\nthe woodsman's ax. Up on the cliff Olivia caught at the boulders for\nsupport. The scene swam dizzily before her eyes; all she could see was\nthe Cimmerian lying limply on the sward, blood oozing from his head.\n\nThe rat-faced one yelped in triumph and ran to stab the prostrate man,\nbut a lean Corinthian thrust him back.\n\n'What, Aratus, would you break the law of the Brotherhood, you dog?'\n\n'No law is broken,' snarled the Brythunian.\n\n'No law? Why, you dog, this man you have just struck down is by just\nrights our captain!'\n\n'Nay!' shouted Aratus. 'He was not of our band, but an outsider. He had\nnot been admitted to fellowship. Slaying Sergius does not make him\ncaptain, as would have been the case had one of us killed him.'\n\n'But he wished to join us,' retorted the Corinthian. 'He said so.'\n\nAt that a great clamor arose, some siding with Aratus, some with the\nCorinthian, whom they called Ivanos. Oaths flew thick, challenges were\npassed, hands fumbled at sword-hilts.\n\nAt last a Shemite spoke up above the clamor: 'Why do you argue over a\ndead man?'\n\n'He's not dead,' answered the Corinthian, rising from beside the\nprostrate Cimmerian. 'It was a glancing blow; he's only stunned.'\n\nAt that the clamor rose anew, Aratus trying to get at the senseless man\nand Ivanos finally bestriding him, sword in hand, and defying all and\nsundry. Olivia sensed that it was not so much in defense of Conan that\nthe Corinthian took his stand, but in opposition to Aratus. Evidently\nthese men had been Sergius's lieutenants, and there was no love lost\nbetween them. After more arguments, it was decided to bind Conan and\ntake him along with them, his fate to be voted on later.\n\nThe Cimmerian, who was beginning to regain consciousness, was bound with\nleather girdles, and then four pirates lifted him, and with many\ncomplaints and curses, carried him along with the band, which took up\nits journey across the plateau once more. The body of Sergius was left\nwhere it had fallen; a sprawling, unlovely shape on the sun-washed\nsward.\n\nUp among the rocks, Olivia lay stunned by the disaster. She was\nincapable of speech or action, and could only lie there and stare with\nhorrified eyes as the brutal horde dragged her protector away.\n\nHow long she lay there, she did not know. Across the plateau she saw the\npirates reach the ruins and enter, dragging their captive. She saw them\nswarming in and out of the doors and crevices, prodding into the heaps\nof debris, and clambering about the walls. After awhile a score of them\ncame back across the plateau and vanished among the trees on the western\nrim, dragging the body of Sergius after them, presumably to cast into\nthe sea. About the ruins the others were cutting down trees and securing\nmaterial for a fire. Olivia heard their shouts, unintelligible in the\ndistance, and she heard the voices of those who had gone into the woods,\nechoing among the trees. Presently they came back into sight, bearing\ncasks of liquor and leathern sacks of food. They headed for the ruins,\ncursing lustily under their burdens.\n\nOf all this Olivia was but mechanically cognizant. Her overwrought brain\nwas almost ready to collapse. Left alone and unprotected, she realized\nhow much the protection of the Cimmerian had meant to her. There\nintruded vaguely a wonderment at the mad pranks of Fate, that could make\nthe daughter of a king the companion of a red-handed barbarian. With it\ncame a revulsion toward her own kind. Her father, and Shah Amurath, they\nwere civilized men. And from them she had had only suffering. She had\nnever encountered any civilized man who treated her with kindness unless\nthere was an ulterior motive behind his actions. Conan had shielded her,\nprotected her, and--so far--demanded nothing in return. Laying her head\nin her rounded arms she wept, until distant shouts of ribald revelry\nroused her to her own danger.\n\nShe glanced from the dark ruins about which the fantastic figures, small\nin the distance, weaved and staggered, to the dusky depths of the green\nforest. Even if her terrors in the ruins the night before had been only\ndreams, the menace that lurked in those green leafy depths below was no\nfigment of nightmare. Were Conan slain or carried away captive, her only\nchoice would lie between giving herself up to the human wolves of the\nsea, or remaining alone on that devil-haunted island.\n\nAs the full horror of her situation swept over her, she fell forward in\na swoon.\n\n\n\n\n3\n\n\nThe sun was hanging low when Olivia regained her senses. A faint wind\nwafted to her ears distant shouts and snatches of ribald song. Rising\ncautiously, she looked out across the plateau. She saw the pirates\nclustered about a great fire outside the ruins, and her heart leaped as\na group emerged from the interior dragging some object she knew was\nConan. They propped him against the wall, still evidently bound fast,\nand there ensued a long discussion, with much brandishing of weapons. At\nlast they dragged him back into the hall, and took up anew the business\nof ale-guzzling. Olivia sighed; at least she knew that the Cimmerian\nstill lived. Fresh determination steeled her. As soon as night fell, she\nwould steal to those grim ruins and free him or be taken herself in the\nattempt. And she knew it was not selfish interest alone which prompted\nher decision.\n\nWith this in mind she ventured to creep from her refuge to pluck and eat\nnuts which grew sparsely near at hand. She had not eaten since the day\nbefore. It was while so occupied that she was troubled by a sensation of\nbeing watched. She scanned the rocks nervously, then, with a shuddering\nsuspicion, crept to the north edge of the cliff and gazed down into the\nwaving green mass below, already dusky with the sunset. She saw nothing;\nit was impossible that she could be seen, when not on the cliff's edge,\nby anything lurking in those woods. Yet she distinctly felt the glare of\nhidden eyes, and felt that _something_ animate and sentient was aware of\nher presence and her hiding-place.\n\nStealing back to her rocky eyrie, she lay watching the distant ruins\nuntil the dusk of night masked them, and she marked their position by\nthe flickering flames about which black figures leaped and cavorted\ngroggily.\n\nThen she rose. It was time to make her attempt. But first she stole back\nto the northern edge of the cliffs, and looked down into the woods that\nbordered the beach. And as she strained her eyes in the dim starlight,\nshe stiffened, and an icy hand touched her heart.\n\nFar below her something moved. It was as if a black shadow detached\nitself from the gulf of shadows below her. It moved slowly up the sheer\nface of the cliff--a vague bulk, shapeless in the semi-darkness. Panic\ncaught Olivia by the throat, and she struggled with the scream that\ntugged at her lips. Turning, she fled down the southern slope.\n\nThat flight down the shadowed cliffs was a nightmare in which she slid\nand scrambled, catching at jagged rocks with cold fingers. As she tore\nher tender skin and bruised her soft limbs on the rugged boulders over\nwhich Conan had so lightly lifted her, she realized again her dependence\non the iron-thewed barbarian. But this thought was but one in a\nfluttering maelstrom of dizzy fright.\n\nThe descent seemed endless, but at last her feet struck the grassy\nlevels, and in a very frenzy of eagerness she sped away toward the fire\nthat burned like the red heart of night. Behind her, as she fled, she\nheard a shower of stones rattle down the steep slope, and the sound lent\nwings to her heels. What grisly climber dislodged those stones she dared\nnot try to think.\n\nStrenuous physical action dissipated her blind terror somewhat and\nbefore she had reached the ruin, her mind was clear, her reasoning\nfaculties alert, though her limbs trembled from her efforts.\n\nShe dropped to the sward and wriggled along on her belly until, from\nbehind a small tree that had escaped the axes of the pirates, she\nwatched her enemies. They had completed their supper, but were still\ndrinking, dipping pewter mugs or jewelled goblets into the broken heads\nof the wine-casks. Some were already snoring drunkenly on the grass,\nwhile others had staggered into the ruins. Of Conan she saw nothing. She\nlay there, while the dew formed on the grass about her and the leaves\noverhead, and the men about the fire cursed, gambled and argued. There\nwere only a few about the fire; most of them had gone into the ruins to\nsleep.\n\nShe lay watching them, her nerves taut with the strain of waiting, the\nflesh crawling between her shoulders at the thought of what might be\nwatching her in turn--of what might be stealing up behind her. Time\ndragged on leaden feet. One by one the revellers sank down in drunken\nslumber, until all were stretched senseless beside the dying fire.\n\nOlivia hesitated--then was galvanized by a distant glow rising through\nthe trees. The moon was rising!\n\nWith a gasp she rose and hurried toward the ruins. Her flesh crawled as\nshe tiptoed among the drunken shapes that sprawled beside the gaping\nportal. Inside were many more; they shifted and mumbled in their\nbesotted dreams, but none awakened as she glided among them. A sob of\njoy rose to her lips as she saw Conan. The Cimmerian was wide awake,\nbound upright to a pillar, his eyes gleaming in the faint reflection of\nthe waning fire outside.\n\nPicking her way among the sleepers, she approached him. Lightly as she\nhad come, he had heard her; had seen her when first framed in the\nportal. A faint grin touched his hard lips.\n\nShe reached him and clung to him an instant. He felt the quick beating\nof her heart against his breast. Through a broad crevice in the wall\nstole a beam of moonlight, and the air was instantly supercharged with\nsubtle tension. Conan felt it and stiffened. Olivia felt it and gasped.\nThe sleepers snored on. Bending quickly, she drew a dagger from its\nsenseless owner's belt, and set to work on Conan's bonds. They were sail\ncords, thick and heavy, and tied with the craft of a sailor. She toiled\ndesperately, while the tide of moonlight crept slowly across the floor\ntoward the feet of the crouching black figures between the pillars.\n\nHer breath came in gasps; Conan's wrists were free, but his elbows and\nlegs were still bound fast. She glanced fleetingly at the figures along\nthe walls--waiting, waiting. They seemed to watch her with the awful\npatience of the undead. The drunkards beneath her feet began to stir and\ngroan in their sleep. The moonlight crept down the hall, touching the\nblack feet. The cords fell from Conan's arms, and taking the dagger\nfrom her, he ripped the bonds from his legs with a single quick slash.\nHe stepped out from the pillar, flexing his limbs, stoically enduring\nthe agony of returning circulation. Olivia crouched against him, shaking\nlike a leaf. Was it some trick of the moonlight that touched the eyes of\nthe black figures with fire, so that they glimmered redly in the\nshadows?\n\nConan moved with the abruptness of a jungle cat. Catching up his sword\nfrom where it lay in a stack of weapons near by, he lifted Olivia\nlightly from her feet and glided through an opening that gaped in the\nivy-grown wall.\n\nNo word passed between them. Lifting her in his arms he set off swiftly\nacross the moon-bathed sward. Her arms about his iron neck, the Ophirean\nclosed her eyes, cradling her dark curly head against his massive\nshoulder. A delicious sense of security stole over her.\n\nIn spite of his burden, the Cimmerian crossed the plateau swiftly, and\nOlivia, opening her eyes, saw that they were passing under the shadow of\nthe cliffs.\n\n'Something climbed the cliffs,' she whispered. 'I heard it scrambling\nbehind me as I came down.'\n\n'We'll have to chance it,' he grunted.\n\n'I am not afraid--now,' she sighed.\n\n'You were not afraid when you came to free me, either,' he answered.\n'Crom, what a day it has been! Such haggling and wrangling I never\nheard. I'm nearly deaf. Aratus wished to cut out my heart, and Ivanos\nrefused, to spite Aratus, whom he hates. All day long they snarled and\nspat at one another, and the crew quickly grew too drunk to vote either\nway--'\n\nHe halted suddenly, an image of bronze in the moonlight. With a quick\ngesture he tossed the girl lightly to one side and behind him. Rising to\nher knees on the soft sward, she screamed at what she saw.\n\nOut of the shadows of the cliffs moved a monstrous shambling bulk--an\nanthropomorphic horror, a grotesque travesty of creation.\n\nIn general outline it was not unlike a man. But its face, limned in the\nbright moonlight, was bestial, with close-set ears, flaring nostrils,\nand a great flabby-lipped mouth in which gleamed white tusk-like fangs.\nIt was covered with shaggy grayish hair, shot with silver which shone in\nthe moonlight, and its great misshapen paws hung nearly to the earth.\nIts bulk was tremendous; as it stood on its short bowed legs, its\nbullet-head rose above that of the man who faced it; the sweep of the\nhairy breast and giant shoulders was breathtaking; the huge arms were\nlike knotted trees.\n\nThe moonlight scene swam, to Olivia's sight. This, then, was the end of\nthe trail--for what human being could withstand the fury of that hairy\nmountain of thews and ferocity? Yet as she stared in wide-eyed horror at\nthe bronzed figure facing the monster, she sensed a kinship in the\nantagonists that was almost appalling. This was less a struggle between\nman and beast than a conflict between two creatures of the wild, equally\nmerciless and ferocious. With a flash of white tusks, the monster\ncharged.\n\nThe mighty arms spread wide as the beast plunged, stupefyingly quick for\nall his vast bulk and stunted legs.\n\nConan's action was a blur of speed Olivia's eye could not follow. She\nonly saw that he evaded that deadly grasp, and his sword, flashing like\na jet of white lightning, sheared through one of those massive arms\nbetween shoulder and elbow. A great spout of blood deluged the sward as\nthe severed member fell, twitching horribly, but even as the sword bit\nthrough, the other malformed hand locked in Conan's black mane.\n\nOnly the iron neck-muscles of the Cimmerian saved him from a broken neck\nthat instant. His left hand darted out to clamp on the beast's squat\nthroat, his left knee was jammed hard against the brute's hairy belly.\nThen began a terrific struggle, which lasted only seconds, but which\nseemed like ages to the paralyzed girl.\n\nThe ape maintained his grasp in Conan's hair, dragging him toward the\ntusks that glistened in the moonlight. The Cimmerian resisted this\neffort, with his left arm rigid as iron, while the sword in his right\nhand, wielded like a butcher-knife, sank again and again into the groin,\nbreast and belly of his captor. The beast took its punishment in awful\nsilence, apparently unweakened by the blood that gushed from its ghastly\nwounds. Swiftly the terrible strength of the anthropoid overcame the\nleverage of braced arm and knee. Inexorably Conan's arm bent under the\nstrain; nearer and nearer he was drawn to the slavering jaws that gaped\nfor his life. Now the blazing eyes of the barbarian glared into the\nbloodshot eyes of the ape. But as Conan tugged vainly at his sword,\nwedged deep in the hairy body, the frothing jaws snapped spasmodically\nshut, an inch from the Cimmerian's face, and he was hurled to the sward\nby the dying convulsions of the monster.\n\nOlivia, half fainting, saw the ape heaving, thrashing and writhing,\ngripping, man-like, the hilt that jutted from its body. A sickening\ninstant of this, then the great bulk quivered and lay still.\n\nConan rose and limped over to the corpse. The Cimmerian breathed\nheavily, and walked like a man whose joints and muscles have been\nwrenched and twisted almost to their limit of endurance. He felt his\nbloody scalp and swore at the sight of the long black red-stained\nstrands still grasped in the monster's shaggy hand.\n\n'Crom!' he panted. 'I feel as if I'd been racked! I'd rather fight a\ndozen men. Another instant and he'd have bitten off my head. Blast him,\nhe's torn a handful of my hair out by the roots.'\n\nGripping his hilt with both hands he tugged and worked it free. Olivia\nstole close to clasp his arm and stare down wide-eyed at the sprawling\nmonster.\n\n'What--what is it?' she whispered.\n\n'A gray man-ape,' he grunted. 'Dumb, and man-eating. They dwell in the\nhills that border the eastern shore of this sea. How this one got to\nthis island, I can't say. Maybe he floated here on driftwood, blown out\nfrom the mainland in a storm.'\n\n'And it was he that threw the stone?'\n\n'Yes; I suspected what it was when we stood in the thicket and I saw the\nboughs bending over our heads. These creatures always lurk in the\ndeepest woods they can find, and seldom emerge. What brought him into\nthe open, I can't say, but it was lucky for us; I'd have had no chance\nwith him among the trees.'\n\n'It followed me,' she shivered. 'I saw it climbing the cliffs.'\n\n'And following his instinct, he lurked in the shadow of the cliff,\ninstead of following you out across the plateau. His kind are creatures\nof darkness and the silent places, haters of sun and moon.'\n\n'Do you suppose there are others?'\n\n'No, else the pirates had been attacked when they went through the\nwoods. The gray ape is wary, for all his strength, as shown by his\nhesitancy in falling upon us in the thicket. His lust for you must have\nbeen great, to have driven him to attack us finally in the open. What--'\n\nHe started and wheeled back toward the way they had come. The night had\nbeen split by an awful scream. It came from the ruins.\n\nInstantly there followed a mad medley of yells, shrieks and cries of\nblasphemous agony. Though accompanied by a ringing of steel, the sounds\nwere of massacre rather than battle.\n\nConan stood frozen, the girl clinging to him in a frenzy of terror. The\nclamor rose to a crescendo of madness, and then the Cimmerian turned and\nwent swiftly toward the rim of the plateau, with its fringe of\nmoon-limned trees. Olivia's legs were trembling so that she could not\nwalk; so he carried her, and her heart calmed its frantic pounding as\nshe nestled into his cradling arms.\n\nThey passed under the shadowy forest, but the clusters of blackness held\nno terrors, the rifts of silver discovered no grisly shape. Night-birds\nmurmured slumberously. The yells of slaughter dwindled behind them,\nmasked in the distance to a confused jumble of sound. Somewhere a parrot\ncalled, like an eery echo: '_Yagkoolan yok tha, xuthalla!_' So they came\nto the tree-fringed water's edge and saw the galley lying at anchor,\nher sail shining white in the moonlight. Already the stars were paling\nfor dawn.\n\n\n\n\n4\n\n\nIn the ghastly whiteness of dawn a handful of tattered, blood-stained\nfigures staggered through the trees and out on to the narrow beach.\nThere were forty-four of them, and they were a cowed and demoralized\nband. With panting haste they plunged into the water and began to wade\ntoward the galley, when a stern challenge brought them up standing.\n\nEtched against the whitening sky they saw Conan the Cimmerian standing\nin the bows, sword in hand, his black mane tossing in the dawn wind.\n\n'Stand!' he ordered. 'Come no nearer. What would you have, dogs?'\n\n'Let us come aboard!' croaked a hairy rogue fingering a bloody stump of\near. 'We'd be gone from this devil's island.'\n\n'The first man who tries to climb over the side, I'll split his skull,'\npromised Conan.\n\nThey were forty-four to one, but he held the whip-hand. The fight had\nbeen hammered out of them.\n\n'Let us come aboard, good Conan,' whined a red-sashed Zamorian, glancing\nfearfully over his shoulder at the silent woods. 'We have been so\nmauled, bitten, scratched and rended, and are so weary from fighting and\nrunning, that not one of us can lift a sword.'\n\n'Where is that dog Aratus?' demanded Conan.\n\n'Dead, with the others! It was devils fell upon us! They were rending us\nto pieces before we could awake--a dozen good rovers died in their\nsleep. The ruins were full of flame-eyed shadows, with tearing fangs and\nsharp talons.'\n\n'Aye!' put in another corsair. 'They were the demons of the isle, which\ntook the forms of molten images, to befool us. Ishtar! We lay down to\nsleep among them. We are no cowards. We fought them as long as mortal\nman may strive against the powers of darkness. Then we broke away and\nleft them tearing at the corpses like jackals. But surely they'll pursue\nus.'\n\n'Aye, let us come aboard!' clamored a lean Shemite. 'Let us come in\npeace, or we must come sword in hand, and though we be so weary you will\ndoubtless slay many of us, yet you can not prevail against us many.'\n\n'Then I'll knock a hole in the planks and sink her,' answered Conan\ngrimly. A frantic chorus of expostulation rose, which Conan silenced\nwith a lion-like roar.\n\n'Dogs! Must I aid my enemies? Shall I let you come aboard and cut out my\nheart?'\n\n'Nay, nay!' they cried eagerly. 'Friends--friends, Conan. We are thy\ncomrades! We be all lusty rogues together. We hate the king of Turan,\nnot each other.'\n\nTheir gaze hung on his brown, frowning face.\n\n'Then if I am one of the Brotherhood,' he grunted, 'the laws of the\nTrade apply to me; and since I killed your chief in fair fight, then I\nam your captain!'\n\nThere was no dissent. The pirates were too cowed and battered to have\nany thought except a desire to get away from that island of fear.\nConan's gaze sought out the blood-stained figure of the Corinthian.\n\n'How, Ivanos!' he challenged. 'You took my part, once. Will you uphold\nmy claims again?'\n\n'Aye, by Mitra!' The pirate, sensing the trend of feeling, was eager to\ningratiate himself with the Cimmerian. 'He is right, lads; he is our\nlawful captain!'\n\nA medley of acquiescence rose, lacking enthusiasm perhaps, but with\nsincerity accentuated by the feel of the silent woods behind them which\nmight mask creeping ebony devils with red eyes and dripping talons.\n\n'Swear by the hilt,' Conan demanded.\n\nForty-four sword-hilts were lifted toward him, and forty-four voices\nblended in the corsair's oath of allegiance.\n\nConan grinned and sheathed his sword. 'Come aboard, my bold\nswashbucklers, and take the oars.'\n\nHe turned and lifted Olivia to her feet, from where she had crouched\nshielded by the gunwales.\n\n'And what of me, sir?' she asked.\n\n'What would you?' he countered, watching her narrowly.\n\n'To go with you, wherever your path may lie!' she cried, throwing her\nwhite arms about his bronzed neck.\n\nThe pirates, clambering over the rail, gasped in amazement.\n\n'To sail a road of blood and slaughter?' he questioned. 'This keel will\nstain the blue waves crimson wherever it plows.'\n\n'Aye, to sail with you on blue seas or red,' she answered passionately.\n'You are a barbarian, and I am an outcast, denied by my people. We are\nboth pariahs, wanderers of earth. Oh, take me with you!'\n\nWith a gusty laugh he lifted her to his fierce lips.\n\n'I'll make you Queen of the Blue Sea! Cast off there, dogs! We'll scorch\nKing Yildiz's pantaloons yet, by Crom!'\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Shadows in the Moonlight, by Robert E. Howard\n\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT ***\n\n***** This file should be named 42188.txt or 42188.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\n http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/8/42188/\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\n\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties. 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}
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{
"text": "What were the ancient ruins decorated with on the deserted island where Conan and Olivia slept?",
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[
{
"text": "Statues",
"tokens": [
"Statues"
]
},
{
"text": "Lifelike statues.",
"tokens": [
"Lifelike",
"statues",
"."
]
}
] |
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"Who frees Conan from the pirates who knocked him unconscious?","tokens":["Who","frees","Con(...TRUNCATED)
|
[
{
"text": "Olivia",
"tokens": [
"Olivia"
]
},
{
"text": "Olivia",
"tokens": [
"Olivia"
]
}
] |
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"What is the name of the city Olivia is escaping from?","tokens":["What","is","the","name","(...TRUNCATED)
|
[
{
"text": "Akif",
"tokens": [
"Akif"
]
},
{
"text": "Akif",
"tokens": [
"Akif"
]
}
] |
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"What do Conan and Olivia use to flee the deserted island?","tokens":["What","do","Conan","a(...TRUNCATED)
| [{"text":"Pirate ship","tokens":["Pirate","ship"]},{"text":"They use the pirates own ship.","tokens"(...TRUNCATED)
|
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"What happens to the Captain of the pirate ship that docks on the deserted island?","tokens"(...TRUNCATED)
| [{"text":"Conan slays him.","tokens":["Conan","slays","him","."]},{"text":"Conan challenges and kill(...TRUNCATED)
|
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"As they leave the island, what does Conan say he will make Olivia?","tokens":["As","they","(...TRUNCATED)
| [{"text":"Queen of the Blue Sea","tokens":["Queen","of","the","Blue","Sea"]},{"text":"Queen of the B(...TRUNCATED)
|
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"Who else is on the the ship as Conan and Olivia depart the deserted island?","tokens":["Who(...TRUNCATED)
| [{"text":"pirates from the ship","tokens":["pirates","from","the","ship"]},{"text":"A giant man ape (...TRUNCATED)
|
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"Where was Conan hiding out when he found Olivia?","tokens":["Where","was","Conan","hiding",(...TRUNCATED)
|
[
{
"text": "Marshes",
"tokens": [
"Marshes"
]
},
{
"text": "In the reeds",
"tokens": [
"In",
"the",
"reeds"
]
}
] |
{"id":"00950a3641e6a28b04a6fabf6334140e2deaa9fd","kind":"gutenberg","url":"http://www.gutenberg.org/(...TRUNCATED)
| {"text":"What do the pirates nickname the island?","tokens":["What","do","the","pirates","nickname",(...TRUNCATED)
| [{"text":"\"Devil Island\"","tokens":["Devil","Island"]},{"text":"the Devil Island","tokens":["the",(...TRUNCATED)
|
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