Conan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction, American
She reached down with her left hand and gripped his long hair, forcing
his head back so that his white teeth and rolling eyes gleamed up at
her. The tall Xotalanc cried out fiercely and leaped in, smiting with
all the fury of his arm. Awkwardly she parried the stroke, and it beat
the flat of her blade down on her head so that she saw sparks flash
before her eyes, and staggered. Up went the sword again, with a low,
beast-like cry of triumph--and then a giant form loomed behind the
Xotalanc and steel flashed like a jet of blue lightning. The cry of the
warrior broke short and he went down like an ox beneath the pole-ax, his
brains gushing from his skull that had been split to the throat.
"Conan!" gasped Valeria. In a gust of passion she turned on the Xotalanc
whose long hair she still gripped in her left hand. "Dog of hell!" Her
blade swished as it cut the air in an upswinging arc with a blur in the
middle, and the headless body slumped down, spurting blood. She hurled
the severed head across the room.
"What the devil's going on here?" Conan bestrode the corpse of the man
he had killed, broadsword in hand, glaring about him in amazement.
Techotl was rising from the twitching figure of the last Xotalanc,
shaking red drops from his dagger. He was bleeding from the stab deep in
the thigh. He stared at Conan with dilated eyes.
"What is all this?" Conan demanded again, not yet recovered from the
stunning surprise of finding Valeria engaged in a savage battle with
these fantastic figures in a city he had thought empty and uninhabited.
Returning from an aimless exploration of the upper chambers to find
Valeria missing from the room where he had left her, he had followed the
sounds of strife that burst on his dumbfounded ears.
"Five dead dogs!" exclaimed Techotl, his flaming eyes reflecting a
ghastly exultation. "Five slain! Five crimson nails for the black
pillar! The gods of blood be thanked!"
He lifted quivering hands on high, and then, with the face of a fiend,
he spat on the corpses and stamped on their faces, dancing in his
ghoulish glee. His recent allies eyed him in amazement, and Conan asked,
in the Aquilonian tongue: "Who is this madman?"
Valeria shrugged her shoulders.
"He says his name's Techotl. From his babblings I gather that his people
live at one end of this crazy city, and these others at the other end.
Maybe we'd better go with him. He seems friendly, and it's easy to see
that the other clan isn't."
* * * * *
Techotl had ceased his dancing and was listening again, his head tilted
sidewise, dog-like, triumph struggling with fear in his repellent
countenance.
"Come away, now!" he whispered. "We have done enough! Five dead dogs! My
people will welcome you! They will honor you! But come! It is far to
Tecuhltli. At any moment the Xotalancas may come on us in numbers too
great even for your swords."
"Lead the way," grunted Conan.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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