The Project Gutenberg eBook of Red Nails, by Robert E. Howard (2024)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Red Nails, by Robert E. Howard

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Title: Red Nails

Author: Robert E. Howard

Release Date: June 9, 2010 [eBook #32759]
[Most recently updated: July 21, 2021]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

Produced by: Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED NAILS ***

By ROBERT E. HOWARD

One of the strangest stories ever written—the tale of a barbarianadventurer, a woman pirate, and a weird roofed city inhabited by themost peculiar race of men ever spawned

1. The Skull on the Crag

The woman on the horse reined inher weary steed. It stood with itslegs wide-braced, its head drooping,as if it found even the weight of thegold-tasseled, red-leather bridle too heavy.The woman drew a booted foot out of thesilver stirrup and swung down from thegilt-worked saddle. She made the reinsfast to the fork of a sapling, and turnedabout, hands on her hips, to survey hersurroundings.

Nearly four years ago, WEIRDTALES published a story called "ThePhoenix on the Sword," built arounda barbarian adventurer named Conan,who had become king of a countryby sheer force of valor and brutestrength. The author of that storywas Robert E. Howard, who was alreadya favorite with the readers ofthis magazine for his stories of SolomonKane, the dour English Puritanand redresser of wrongs. The storiesabout Conan were speedily acclaimedby our readers, and the barbarian'sweird adventures becameimmensely popular. The story presentedherewith is one of the mostpowerful and eery weird tales yetwritten about Conan. We commendthis story to you, for we know youwill enjoy it through and through.

They were not inviting. Giant treeshemmed in the small pool where herhorse had just drunk. Clumps of undergrowthlimited the vision that questedunder the somber twilight of the loftyarches formed by intertwining branches.The woman shivered with a twitch of hermagnificent shoulders, and then cursed.

She was tall, full-bosomed and large-limbed,with compact shoulders. Herwhole figure reflected an unusual strength,without detracting from the femininity ofher appearance. She was all woman, inspite of her bearing and her garments.The latter were incongruous, in view ofher present environs. Instead of a skirtshe wore short, wide-legged silk breeches,which ceased a hand's breadth shortof her knees, and were upheld by a widesilken sash worn as a girdle. Flaring-toppedboots of soft leather came almostto her knees, and a low-necked,wide-collared, wide-sleeved silk shirt completedher costume. On one shapely hip shewore a straight double-edged sword, andon the other a long dirk. Her unrulygolden hair, cut square at her shoulders,was confined by a band of crimson satin.

Against the background of somber,primitive forest she posed with an unconsciouspicturesqueness, bizarre and out ofplace. She should have been posed againsta background of sea-clouds, painted mastsand wheeling gulls. There was the colorof the sea in her wide eyes. And that wasas it should have been, because this wasValeria of the Red Brotherhood, whosedeeds are celebrated in song and balladwherever seafarers gather.

She strove to pierce the sullen greenroof of the arched branches and see thesky which presumably lay about it, butpresently gave it up with a muttered oath.

Leaving her horse tied she strode offtoward the east, glancing back toward thepool from time to time in order to fix herroute in her mind. The silence of theforest depressed her. No birds sang inthe lofty boughs, nor did any rustling inthe bushes indicate the presence of anysmall animals. For leagues she had traveledin a realm of brooding stillness,broken only by the sounds of her ownflight.

She had slaked her thirst at the pool,but she felt the gnawings of hunger andbegan looking about for some of the fruiton which she had sustained herself sinceexhausting the food she had brought inher saddle-bags.

Ahead of her, presently, she saw anoutcropping of dark, flint-like rock thatsloped upward into what looked like arugged crag rising among the trees. Itssummit was lost to view amidst a cloudof encircling leaves. Perhaps its peakrose above the tree-tops, and from it shecould see what lay beyond—if, indeed,anything lay beyond but more of thisapparently illimitable forest through whichshe had ridden for so many days.

A narrow ridge formed a natural rampthat led up the steep face of the crag.After she had ascended some fifty feet shecame to the belt of leaves that surroundedthe rock. The trunks of the trees did notcrowd close to the crag, but the ends oftheir lower branches extended about it,veiling it with their foliage. She gropedon in leafy obscurity, not able to see eitherabove or below her; but presently sheglimpsed blue sky, and a moment latercame out in the clear, hot sunlight andsaw the forest roof stretching away underher feet.

"Convinced that his death was upon him, the Cimmerian acted according to his instinct."

She was standing on a broad shelfwhich was about even with the tree-tops,and from it rose a spire-like jut that wasthe ultimate peak of the crag she hadclimbed. But something else caught herattention at the moment. Her foot hadstruck something in the litter of blowndead leaves which carpeted the shelf. Shekicked them aside and looked down onthe skeleton of a man. She ran an experiencedeye over the bleached frame, butsaw no broken bones nor any sign ofviolence. The man must have died anatural death; though why he should haveclimbed a tall crag to die she could notimagine.

She scrambled up to the summit ofthe spire and looked toward thehorizons. The forest roof—which lookedlike a floor from her vantage-point—wasjust as impenetrable as from below. Shecould not even see the pool by whichshe had left her horse. She glanced northward,in the direction from which she hadcome. She saw only the rolling greenocean stretching away and away, withonly a vague blue line in the distance tohint of the hill-range she had crossed daysbefore, to plunge into this leafy waste.

West and east the view was the same;though the blue hill-line was lacking inthose directions. But when she turnedher eyes southward she stiffened andcaught her breath. A mile away in thatdirection the forest thinned out andceased abruptly, giving way to acactus-dotted plain. And in the midst of thatplain rose the walls and towers of a city.Valeria swore in amazement. This passedbelief. She would not have been surprisedto sight human habitations of anothersort—the beehive-shaped huts ofthe black people, or the cliff-dwellings ofthe mysterious brown race which legendsdeclared inhabited some country of thisunexplored region. But it was a startlingexperience to come upon a walled cityhere so many long weeks' march from thenearest outposts of any sort of civilization.

Her hands tiring from clinging to thespire-like pinnacle, she let herself downon the shelf, frowning in indecision. Shehad come far—from the camp of themercenaries by the border town ofSukhmet amidst the level grasslands, wheredesperate adventurers of many races guardthe Stygian frontier against the raids thatcome up like a red wave from Darfar.Her flight had been blind, into a countryof which she was wholly ignorant. Andnow she wavered between an urge to ridedirectly to that city in the plain, and theinstinct of caution which prompted her toskirt it widely and continue her solitaryflight.

Her thoughts were scattered by therustling of the leaves below her. She wheeledcat-like, snatched at her sword; and thenshe froze motionless, staring wide-eyed atthe man before her.

He was almost a giant in stature, musclesrippling smoothly under his skinwhich the sun had burned brown. Hisgarb was similar to hers, except that hewore a broad leather belt instead of agirdle. Broadsword and poniard hungfrom this belt.

"Conan, the Cimmerian!" ejacul*tedthe woman. "What are you doing on mytrail?"

He grinned hardly, and his fierce blueeyes burned with a light any womancould understand as they ran over hermagnificent figure, lingering on the swellof her splendid breasts beneath the lightshirt, and the clear white flesh displayedbetween breeches and boot-tops.

"Don't you know?" he laughed."Haven't I made my admiration for youplain ever since I first saw you?"

"A stallion could have made it noplainer," she answered disdainfully. "ButI never expected to encounter you so farfrom the ale-barrels and meat-pots ofSukhmet. Did you really follow me fromZarallo's camp, or were you whippedforth for a rogue?"

He laughed at her insolence and flexedhis mighty biceps.

"You know Zarallo didn't have enoughknaves to whip me out of camp," hegrinned. "Of course I followed you.Lucky thing for you, too, wench! Whenyou knifed that Stygian officer, you forfeitedZarallo's favor and protection, andyou outlawed yourself with the Stygians."

"I know it," she replied sullenly. "Butwhat else could I do? You know whatmy provocation was."

"Sure," he agreed. "If I'd been there,I'd have knifed him myself. But if awoman must live in the war-camps ofmen, she can expect such things."

Valeria stamped her booted foot andswore.

"Why won't men let me live a man'slife?"

"That's obvious!" Again his eager eyesdevoured her. "But you were wise to runaway. The Stygians would have had youskinned. That officer's brother followedyou; faster than you thought, I don'tdoubt. He wasn't far behind you whenI caught up with him. His horse wasbetter than yours. He'd have caught youand cut your throat within a few moremiles."

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well what?" He seemed puzzled.

"What of the Stygian?"

"Why, what do you suppose?" he returnedimpatiently. "I killed him, ofcourse, and left his carcass for the vultures.That delayed me, though, and Ialmost lost your trail when you crossedthe rocky spurs of the hills. OtherwiseI'd have caught up with you long ago."

"And now you think you'll drag meback to Zarallo's camp?" she sneered.

"Don't talk like a fool," he grunted."Come, girl, don't be such a spitfire. I'mnot like that Stygian you knifed, and youknow it."

"A penniless vagabond," she taunted.

He laughed at her.

"What do you call yourself? Youhaven't enough money to buy a new seatfor your breeches. Your disdain doesn'tdeceive me. You know I've commandedbigger ships and more men than you everdid in your life. As for being penniless—whatrover isn't, most of the time? I'vesquandered enough gold in the sea-portsof the world to fill a galleon. You knowthat, too."

"Where are the fine ships and the boldlads you commanded, now?" she sneered.

"At the bottom of the sea, mostly," he repliedcheerfully. "The Zingarans sank mylast ship off the Shemite shore—that's whyI joined Zarallo's Free Companions. ButI saw I'd been stung when we marched tothe Darfar border. The pay was poorand the wine was sour, and I don't likeblack women. And that's the only kindthat came to our camp at Sukhmet—ringsin their noses and their teeth filed—bah!Why did you join Zarallo? Sukhmet's along way from salt water."

"Red Ortho wanted to make me hismistress," she answered sullenly. "Ijumped overboard one night and swamashore when we were anchored off theKush*te coast. Off Zabhela, it was. Therea Shemite trader told me that Zarallo hadbrought his Free Companies south toguard the Darfar border. No better employmentoffered. I joined an east-boundcaravan and eventually came to Sukhmet."

"It was madness to plunge southwardas you did," commented Conan, "butit was wise, too, for Zarallo's patrolsnever thought to look for you in this direction.Only the brother of the man youkilled happened to strike your trail."

"And now what do you intend doing?"she demanded.

"Turn west," he answered. "I've beenthis far south, but not this far east. Manydays' traveling to the west will bring usto the open savannas, where the blacktribes graze their cattle. I have friendsamong them. We'll get to the coast andfind a ship. I'm sick of the jungle."

"Then be on your way," she advised."I have other plans."

"Don't be a fool!" He showed irritationfor the first time. "You can't keepon wandering through this forest."

"I can if I choose."

"But what do you intend doing?"

"That's none of your affair," shesnapped.

"Yes, it is," he answered calmly. "Doyou think I've followed you this far, toturn around and ride off empty-handed?Be sensible, wench. I'm not going toharm you."

He stepped toward her, and she sprangback, whipping out her sword.

"Keep back, you barbarian dog! I'llspit you like a roast pig!"

He halted, reluctantly, and demanded:"Do you want me to take that toy awayfrom you and spank you with it?"

"Words! Nothing but words!" shemocked, lights like the gleam of the sunon blue water dancing in her recklesseyes.

He knew it was the truth. No livingman could disarm Valeria of the Brotherhoodwith his bare hands. He scowled,his sensations a tangle of conflicting emotions.He was angry, yet he was amusedand filled with admiration for her spirit.He burned with eagerness to seize thatsplendid figure and crush it in his ironarms, yet he greatly desired not to hurtthe girl. He was torn between a desire toshake her soundly, and a desire to caressher. He knew if he came any nearer hersword would be sheathed in his heart.He had seen Valeria kill too many menin border forays and tavern brawls to haveany illusions about her. He knew shewas as quick and ferocious as a tigress.He could draw his broadsword and disarmher, beat the blade out of her hand,but the thought of drawing a sword on awoman, even without intent of injury,was extremely repugnant to him.

"Blast your soul, you hussy!" he exclaimedin exasperation. "I'm going totake off your——"

He started toward her, his angry passionmaking him reckless, and she poisedherself for a deadly thrust. Then camea startling interruption to a scene at onceludicrous and perilous.

"What's that?"

It was Valeria who exclaimed, but theyboth started violently, and Conan wheeledlike a cat, his great sword flashing intohis hand. Back in the forest had burstforth an appalling medley of screams—thescreams of horses in terror and agony.Mingled with their screams there camethe snap of splintering bones.

"Lions are slaying the horses!" criedValeria.

"Lions, nothing!" snorted Conan, hiseyes blazing. "Did you hear a lion roar?Neither did I! Listen at those bones snap—noteven a lion could make that muchnoise killing a horse."

He hurried down the natural rampand she followed, their personalfeud forgotten in the adventurers' instinctto unite against common peril. Thescreams had ceased when they workedtheir way downward through the greenveil of leaves that brushed the rock.

"I found your horse tied by the poolback there," he muttered, treading sonoiselessly that she no longer wonderedhow he had surprised her on the crag."I tied mine beside it and followed thetracks of your boots. Watch, now!"

They had emerged from the belt ofleaves, and stared down into the lowerreaches of the forest. Above them thegreen roof spread its dusky canopy. Belowthem the sunlight filtered in justenough to make a jade-tinted twilight.The giant trunks of trees less than a hundredyards away looked dim and ghostly.

"The horses should be beyond thatthicket, over there," whispered Conan,and his voice might have been a breezemoving through the branches. "Listen!"

Valeria had already heard, and a chillcrept through her veins; so she unconsciouslylaid her white hand on her companion'smuscular brown arm. From beyondthe thicket came the noisy crunchingof bones and the loud rending of flesh,together with the grinding, slobberingsounds of a horrible feast.

"Lions wouldn't make that noise,"whispered Conan. "Something's eatingour horses, but it's not a lion—Crom!"

The noise stopped suddenly, and Conanswore softly. A suddenly risen breezewas blowing from them directly towardthe spot where the unseen slayer was hidden.

"Here it comes!" muttered Conan, halflifting his sword.

The thicket was violently agitated, andValeria clutched Conan's arm hard. Ignorantof jungle-lore, she yet knew that noanimal she had ever seen could haveshaken the tall brush like that.

"It must be as big as an elephant,"muttered Conan, echoing her thought."What the devil——" His voice trailedaway in stunned silence.

Through the thicket was thrust a headof nightmare and lunacy. Grinning jawsbared rows of dripping yellow tusks;above the yawning mouth wrinkled a saurian-likesnout. Huge eyes, like those ofa python a thousand times magnified,stared unwinkingly at the petrified humansclinging to the rock above it. Bloodsmeared the scaly, flabby lips and drippedfrom the huge mouth.

The head, bigger than that of a crocodile,was further extended on a longscaled neck on which stood up rows ofserrated spikes, and after it, crushingdown the briars and saplings, waddled thebody of a titan, a gigantic, barrel-belliedtorso on absurdly short legs. The whitishbelly almost raked the ground, whilethe serrated back-bone rose higher thanConan could have reached on tiptoe. Along spiked tail, like that of a gargantuanscorpion, trailed out behind.

"Back up the crag, quick!" snappedConan, thrusting the girl behind him. "Idon't think he can climb, but he can standon his hind-legs and reach us——"

With a snapping and rending of bushesand saplings the monster came hurtlingthrough the thickets, and they fled up therock before him like leaves blown beforea wind. As Valeria plunged into theleafy screen a backward glance showedher the titan rearing up fearsomely onhis massive hind-legs, even as Conanhad predicted. The sight sent panic racingthrough her. As he reared, the beastseemed more gigantic than ever; hissnouted head towered among the trees.Then Conan's iron hand closed on herwrist and she was jerked headlong intothe blinding welter of the leaves, and outagain into the hot sunshine above, just asthe monster fell forward with his frontfeet on the crag with an impact that madethe rock vibrate.

Behind the fugitives the huge headcrashed through the twigs, and theylooked down for a horrifying instant atthe nightmare visage framed among thegreen leaves, eyes flaming, jaws gaping.Then the giant tusks clashed together futilely,and after that the head was withdrawn,vanishing from their sight as if ithad sunk in a pool.

Peering down through broken branchesthat scraped the rock, they saw it squattingon its haunches at the foot of the crag,staring unblinkingly up at them.

Valeria shuddered.

"How long do you suppose he'll crouchthere?"

Conan kicked the skull on the leaf-strewnshelf.

"That fellow must have climbed uphere to escape him, or one like him. Hemust have died of starvation. There areno bones broken. That thing must be adragon, such as the black people speakof in their legends. If so, it won't leavehere until we're both dead."

Valeria looked at him blankly, her resentmentforgotten. She fought down asurging of panic. She had proved herreckless courage a thousand times in wildbattles on sea and land, on the blood-slipperydecks of burning war-ships, inthe storming of walled cities, and on thetrampled sandy beaches where the desperatemen of the Red Brotherhood bathedtheir knives in one another's blood intheir fights for leadership. But the prospectnow confronting her congealed herblood. A cutlas-stroke in the heat ofbattle was nothing; but to sit idle andhelpless on a bare rock until she perishedof starvation, besieged by a monstrous survivalof an elder age—the thought sentpanic throbbing through her brain.

"He must leave to eat and drink," shesaid helplessly.

"He won't have to go far to do either,"Conan pointed out. "He's just gorgedon horse-meat, and like a real snake, hecan go for a long time without eating ordrinking again. But he doesn't sleepafter eating, like a real snake, it seems.Anyway, he can't climb this crag."

Conan spoke imperturbably. He wasa barbarian, and the terrible patience ofthe wilderness and its children was asmuch a part of him as his lusts and rages.He could endure a situation like this witha coolness impossible to a civilized person.

"Can't we get into the trees and getaway, traveling like apes through thebranches?" she asked desperately.

He shook his head. "I thought of that.The branches that touch the crag downthere are too light. They'd break withour weight. Besides, I have an idea thatdevil could tear up any tree around hereby its roots."

"Well, are we going to sit here on ourrumps until we starve, like that?" shecried furiously, kicking the skull clatteringacross the ledge. "I won't do it! I'llgo down there and cut his damned headoff——"

Conan had seated himself on a rockyprojection at the foot of the spire. Helooked up with a glint of admiration ather blazing eyes and tense, quivering figure,but, realizing that she was in just themood for any madness, he let none of hisadmiration sound in his voice.

"Sit down," he grunted, catching herby her wrist and pulling her down on hisknee. She was too surprised to resist ashe took her sword from her hand andshoved it back in its sheath. "Sit stilland calm down. You'd only break yoursteel on his scales. He'd gobble you upat one gulp, or smash you like an eggwith that spiked tail of his. We'll get outof this jam some way, but we shan't doit by getting chewed up and swallowed."

She made no reply, nor did she seek torepulse his arm from about her waist.She was frightened, and the sensation wasnew to Valeria of the Red Brotherhood.So she sat on her companion's—or captor's—kneewith a docility that wouldhave amazed Zarallo, who had anathematizedher as a she-devil out of hell'sseraglio.

Conan played idly with her curly yellowlocks, seemingly intent only uponhis conquest. Neither the skeleton athis feet nor the monster crouching belowdisturbed his mind or dulled the edge ofhis interest.

The girl's restless eyes, roving theleaves below them, discovered splashes ofcolor among the green. It was fruit,large, darkly crimson globes suspendedfrom the boughs of a tree whose broadleaves were a peculiarly rich and vividgreen. She became aware of both thirstand hunger, though thirst had not assailedher until she knew she could notdescend from the crag to find food andwater.

"We need not starve," she said."There is fruit we can reach."

Conan glanced where she pointed.

"If we ate that we wouldn't need thebite of a dragon," he grunted. "That'swhat the black people of Kush call theApples of Derketa. Derketa is the Queenof the Dead. Drink a little of the juice,or spill it on your flesh, and you'd bedead before you could tumble to the footof this crag."

"Oh!"

She lapsed into dismayed silence.There seemed no way out of their predicament,she reflected gloomily. She sawno way of escape, and Conan seemed tobe concerned only with her supple waistand curly tresses. If he was trying toformulate a plan of escape, he did notshow it.

"If you'll take your hands off me longenough to climb up on that peak," shesaid presently, "you'll see something thatwill surprise you."

He cast her a questioning glance, thenobeyed with a shrug of his massive shoulders.Clinging to the spire-like pinnacle,he stared out over the forest roof.

He stood a long moment in silence,posed like a bronze statue on therock.

"It's a walled city, right enough," hemuttered presently. "Was that where youwere going, when you tried to send meoff alone to the coast?"

"I saw it before you came. I knewnothing of it when I left Sukhmet."

"Who'd have thought to find a cityhere? I don't believe the Stygians everpenetrated this far. Could black peoplebuild a city like that? I see no herds onthe plain, no signs of cultivation, or peoplemoving about."

"How could you hope to see all that,at this distance?" she demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders anddropped down on the shelf.

"Well, the folk of the city can't helpus just now. And they might not, if theycould. The people of the Black Countriesare generally hostile to strangers.Probably stick us full of spears——"

He stopped short and stood silent, as ifhe had forgotten what he was saying,frowning down at the crimson spheresgleaming among the leaves.

"Spears!" he muttered. "What a blastedfool I am not to have thought of thatbefore! That shows what a pretty womandoes to a man's mind."

"What are you talking about?" she inquired.

Without answering her question, hedescended to the belt of leaves andlooked down through them. The greatbrute squatted below, watching the cragwith the frightful patience of the reptilefolk. So might one of his breed haveglared up at their troglodyte ancestors,treed on a high-flung rock, in the dimdawn ages. Conan cursed him withoutheat, and began cutting branches, reachingout and severing them as far fromthe end as he could reach. The agitationof the leaves made the monster restless.He rose from his haunches and lashed hishideous tail, snapping off saplings as ifthey had been toothpicks. Conan watchedhim warily from the corner of his eye,and just as Valeria believed the dragonwas about to hurl himself up the cragagain, the Cimmerian drew back andclimbed up to the ledge with the brancheshe had cut. There were three of these,slender shafts about seven feet long, butnot larger than his thumb. He had alsocut several strands of tough, thin vine.

"Branches too light for spear-hafts, andcreepers no thicker than cords," he remarked,indicating the foliage about thecrag. "It won't hold our weight—butthere's strength in union. That's whatthe Aquilonian renegades used to tell usCimmerians when they came into the hillsto raise an army to invade their owncountry. But we always fight by clans andtribes."

"What the devil has that got to dowith those sticks?" she demanded.

"You wait and see."

Gathering the sticks in a compact bundle,he wedged his poniard hilt betweenthem at one end. Then with the vines hebound them together, and when he hadcompleted his task, he had a spear of nosmall strength, with a sturdy shaft sevenfeet in length.

"What good will that do?" she demanded."You told me that a bladecouldn't pierce his scales——"

"He hasn't got scales all over him,"answered Conan. "There's more than oneway of skinning a panther."

Moving down to the edge of the leaves,he reached the spear up and carefullythrust the blade through one of the Applesof Derketa, drawing aside to avoidthe darkly purple drops that drippedfrom the pierced fruit. Presently hewithdrew the blade and showed her theblue steel stained a dull purplish crimson.

"I don't know whether it will do thejob or not," quoth he. "There's enoughpoison there to kill an elephant, but—well,we'll see."

Valeria was close behind him as helet himself down among the leaves.Cautiously holding the poisoned pikeaway from him, he thrust his headthrough the branches and addressed themonster.

"What are you waiting down therefor, you misbegotten offspring of questionableparents?" was one of his moreprintable queries. "Stick your ugly headup here again, you long-necked brute—ordo you want me to come down there andkick you loose from your illegitimatespine?"

There was more of it—some of itcouched in eloquence that made Valeriastare, in spite of her profane educationamong the seafarers. And it had its effecton the monster. Just as the incessantyapping of a dog worries and enragesmore constitutionally silent animals,so the clamorous voice of a man rousesfear in some bestial bosoms and insanerage in others. Suddenly and with appallingquickness, the mastodonic brutereared up on its mighty hind legs andelongated its neck and body in a furiouseffort to reach this vociferous pigmywhose clamor was disturbing the primevalsilence of its ancient realm.

But Conan had judged his distancewith precision. Some five feet below himthe mighty head crashed terribly butfutilely through the leaves. And as themonstrous mouth gaped like that of agreat snake, Conan drove his spear intothe red angle of the jaw-bone hinge. Hestruck downward with all the strength ofboth arms, driving the long poniardblade to the hilt in flesh, sinew and bone.

Instantly the jaws clashed convulsivelytogether, severing the triple-piecedshaft and almost precipitating Conanfrom his perch. He would have fallenbut for the girl behind him, who caughthis sword-belt in a desperate grasp. Heclutched at a rocky projection, andgrinned his thanks back at her.

Down on the ground the monster waswallowing like a dog with pepper in itseyes. He shook his head from side toside, pawed at it, and opened his mouthrepeatedly to its widest extent. Presentlyhe got a huge front foot on the stump ofthe shaft and managed to tear the bladeout. Then he threw up his head, jawswide and spouting blood, and glared upat the crag with such concentrated andintelligent fury that Valeria trembledand drew her sword. The scales alonghis back and flanks turned from rustybrown to a dull lurid red. Most horriblythe monster's silence was broken. Thesounds that issued from his blood-streamingjaws did not sound like anythingthat could have been produced byan earthly creation.

With harsh, grating roars, the dragonhurled himself at the crag that was thecitadel of his enemies. Again and againhis mighty head crashed upward throughthe branches, snapping vainly on emptyair. He hurled his full ponderous weightagainst the rock until it vibrated frombase to crest. And rearing upright hegripped it with his front legs like a manand tried to tear it up by the roots, as ifit had been a tree.

This exhibition of primordial furychilled the blood in Valeria's veins, butConan was too close to the primitive himselfto feel anything but a comprehendinginterest. To the barbarian, no such gulfexisted between himself and other men,and the animals, as existed in the conceptionof Valeria. The monster below them,to Conan, was merely a form of life differingfrom himself mainly in physicalshape. He attributed to it characteristicssimilar to his own, and saw in its wrath acounterpart of his rages, in its roars andbellowings merely reptilian equivalents tothe curses he had bestowed upon it.Feeling a kinship with all wild things,even dragons, it was impossible for himto experience the sick horror which assailedValeria at the sight of the brute'sferocity.

He sat watching it tranquilly, andpointed out the various changes that weretaking place in its voice and actions.

"The poison's taking hold," he saidwith conviction.

"I don't believe it." To Valeria itseemed preposterous to suppose that anything,however lethal, could have anyeffect on that mountain of muscle andfury.

"There's pain in his voice," declaredConan. "First he was merely angry becauseof the stinging in his jaw. Now hefeels the bite of the poison. Look! He'sstaggering. He'll be blind in a few moreminutes. What did I tell you?"

For suddenly the dragon had lurchedabout and went crashing off through thebushes.

"Is he running away?" inquiredValeria uneasily.

"He's making for the pool!" Conansprang up, galvanized into swift activity."The poison makes him thirsty. Comeon! He'll be blind in a few moments,but he can smell his way back to the footof the crag, and if our scent's here still,he'll sit there until he dies. And othersof his kind may come at his cries. Let'sgo!"

"Down there?" Valeria was aghast.

"Sure! We'll make for the city! Theymay cut our heads off there, but it's ouronly chance. We may run into a thousandmore dragons on the way, but it'ssure death to stay here. If we wait untilhe dies, we may have a dozen more todeal with. After me, in a hurry!"

He went down the ramp as swiftly asan ape, pausing only to aid his less agilecompanion, who, until she saw the Cimmerianclimb, had fancied herself theequal of any man in the rigging of a shipor on the sheer face of a cliff.

They descended into the gloom belowthe branches and slid to the groundsilently, though Valeria felt as if thepounding of her heart must surely beheard from far away. A noisy gurglingand lapping beyond the dense thicket indicatedthat the dragon was drinking atthe pool.

"As soon as his belly is full he'll beback," muttered Conan. "It may takehours for the poison to kill him—if itdoes at all."

Somewhere beyond the forest the sunwas sinking to the horizon. The forestwas a misty twilight place of black shadowsand dim vistas. Conan grippedValeria's wrist and glided away from thefoot of the crag. He made less noise thana breeze blowing among the tree-trunks,but Valeria felt as if her soft boots werebetraying their flight to all the forest.

"I don't think he can follow a trail,"muttered Conan. "But if a wind blewour body-scent to him, he could smell usout."

"Mitra grant that the wind blow not!"Valeria breathed.

Her face was a pallid oval in thegloom. She gripped her sword in herfree hand, but the feel of the shagreen-boundhilt inspired only a feeling ofhelplessness in her.

They were still some distance from theedge of the forest when they heard asnapping and crashing behind them.Valeria bit her lip to check a cry.

"He's on our trail!" she whisperedfiercely.

Conan shook his head.

"He didn't smell us at the rock, andhe's blundering about through the foresttrying to pick up our scent. Come on!It's the city or nothing now! He couldtear down any tree we'd climb. If onlythe wind stays down——"

They stole on until the trees began tothin out ahead of them. Behind themthe forest was a black impenetrable oceanof shadows. The ominous crackling stillsounded behind them, as the dragonblundered in his erratic course.

"There's the plain ahead," breathedValeria. "A little more and we'll——"

"Crom!" swore Conan.

"Mitra!" whispered Valeria.

Out of the south a wind had sprung up.

It blew over them directly into theblack forest behind them. Instantly ahorrible roar shook the woods. The aimlesssnapping and crackling of the busheschanged to a sustained crashing as thedragon came like a hurricane straighttoward the spot from which the scent ofhis enemies was wafted.

"Run!" snarled Conan, his eyes blazinglike those of a trapped wolf. "It's all wecan do!"

Sailor's boots are not made for sprinting,and the life of a pirate does nottrain one for a runner. Within a hundredyards Valeria was panting and reeling inher gait, and behind them the crashinggave way to a rolling thunder as themonster broke out of the thickets and intothe more open ground.

Conan's iron arm about the woman'swaist half lifted her; her feet scarcelytouched the earth as she was borne alongat a speed she could never have attainedherself. If he could keep out of thebeast's way for a bit, perhaps that betrayingwind would shift—but the windheld, and a quick glance over his shouldershowed Conan that the monster was almostupon them, coming like a war-galleyin front of a hurricane. He thrustValeria from him with a force that senther reeling a dozen feet to fall in acrumpled heap at the foot of the nearesttree, and the Cimmerian wheeled in thepath of the thundering titan.

Convinced that his death was uponhim, the Cimmerian acted according tohis instinct, and hurled himself full at theawful face that was bearing down onhim. He leaped, slashing like a wildcat,felt his sword cut deep into the scalesthat sheathed the mighty snout—and thena terrific impact knocked him rolling andtumbling for fifty feet with all the windand half the life battered out of him.

How the stunned Cimmerian regainedhis feet, not even he could have ever told.But the only thought that filled his brainwas of the woman lying dazed and helplessalmost in the path of the hurtlingfiend, and before the breath came whistlingback into his gullet he was standingover her with his sword in his hand.

She lay where he had thrown her, butshe was struggling to a sitting posture.Neither tearing tusks nor trampling feethad touched her. It had been a shoulderor front leg that struck Conan, and theblind monster rushed on, forgetting thevictims whose scent it had been following,in the sudden agony of its deaththroes. Headlong on its course it thundereduntil its low-hung head crashedinto a gigantic tree in its path. The impacttore the tree up by the roots andmust have dashed the brains from themisshapen skull. Tree and monster felltogether, and the dazed humans saw thebranches and leaves shaken by the convulsionsof the creature they covered—andthen grow quiet.

Conan lifted Valeria to her feet andtogether they started away at a reelingrun. A few moments later they emergedinto the still twilight of the treeless plain.

Conan paused an instant and glancedback at the ebon fastness behindthem. Not a leaf stirred, nor a birdchirped. It stood as silent as it must havestood before Man was created.

"Come on," muttered Conan, takinghis companion's hand. "It's touch andgo now. If more dragons come out ofthe woods after us——"

He did not have to finish the sentence.

The city looked very far away acrossthe plain, farther than it had looked fromthe crag. Valeria's heart hammered untilshe felt as if it would strangle her. Atevery step she expected to hear the crashingof the bushes and see another colossalnightmare bearing down upon them. Butnothing disturbed the silence of the thickets.

With the first mile between them andthe woods, Valeria breathed more easily.Her buoyant self-confidence began tothaw out again. The sun had set anddarkness was gathering over the plain,lightened a little by the stars that madestunted ghosts out of the cactus growths.

"No cattle, no plowed fields," mutteredConan. "How do these people live?"

"Perhaps the cattle are in pens for thenight," suggested Valeria, "and the fieldsand grazing-pastures are on the other sideof the city."

"Maybe," he grunted. "I didn't seeany from the crag, though."

The moon came up behind the city,etching walls and towers blackly in theyellow glow. Valeria shivered. Blackagainst the moon the strange city had asomber, sinister look.

Perhaps something of the same feelingoccurred to Conan, for he stopped,glanced about him, and grunted: "Westop here. No use coming to their gatesin the night. They probably wouldn'tlet us in. Besides, we need rest, and wedon't know how they'll receive us. Afew hours' sleep will put us in bettershape to fight or run."

He led the way to a bed of cactus whichgrew in a circle—a phenomenon commonto the southern desert. With his swordhe chopped an opening, and motionedValeria to enter.

"We'll be safe from snakes here, anyhow."

She glanced fearfully back toward theblack line that indicated the forest somesix miles away.

"Suppose a dragon comes out of thewoods?"

"We'll keep watch," he answered,though he made no suggestion as to whatthey would do in such an event. He wasstaring at the city, a few miles away. Nota light shone from spire or tower. Agreat black mass of mystery, it rearedcryptically against the moonlit sky.

"Lie down and sleep. I'll keep the firstwatch."

She hesitated, glancing at him uncertainly,but he sat down cross-legged in theopening, facing toward the plain, hissword across his knees, his back to her.Without further comment she lay downon the sand inside the spiky circle.

"Wake me when the moon is at itszenith," she directed.

He did not reply nor look toward her.Her last impression, as she sank intoslumber, was of his muscular figure, immobileas a statue hewn out of bronze,outlined against the low-hanging stars.

2. By the Blaze of the Fire-Jewels

Valeria awoke with a start, to the realizationthat a gray dawn was stealingover the plain.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Conansquatted beside the cactus, cutting off thethick pears and dexterously twitching outthe spikes.

"You didn't awake me," she accused."You let me sleep all night!"

"You were tired," he answered. "Yourposterior must have been sore, too, afterthat long ride. You pirates aren't used tohorseback."

"What about yourself?" she retorted.

"I was a kozak before I was a pirate,"he answered. "They live in the saddle.I snatch naps like a panther watching besidethe trail for a deer to come by. Myears keep watch while my eyes sleep."

And indeed the giant barbarian seemedas much refreshed as if he had slept thewhole night on a golden bed. Having removedthe thorns, and peeled off thetough skin, he handed the girl a thick,juicy cactus leaf.

"Skin your teeth in that pear. It's foodand drink to a desert man. I was a chiefof the Zuagirs once—desert men who liveby plundering the caravans."

"Is there anything you haven't been?"inquired the girl, half in derision and halfin fascination.

"I've never been king of an Hyboriankingdom," he grinned, taking an enormousmouthful of cactus. "But I'vedreamed of being even that. I may betoo, some day. Why shouldn't I?"

She shook her head in wonder at hiscalm audacity, and fell to devouring herpear. She found it not unpleasing to thepalate, and full of cool and thirst-satisfyingjuice. Finishing his meal, Conanwiped his hands in the sand, rose, ranhis fingers through his thick black mane,hitched at his sword-belt and said:

"Well, let's go. If the people in thatcity are going to cut our throats they mayas well do it now, before the heat of theday begins."

His grim humor was unconscious, butValeria reflected that it might be prophetic.She too hitched her sword-beltas she rose. Her terrors of the nightwere past. The roaring dragons of thedistant forest were like a dim dream.There was a swagger in her stride as shemoved off beside the Cimmerian. Whateverperils lay ahead of them, their foeswould be men. And Valeria of the RedBrotherhood had never seen the face ofthe man she feared.

Conan glanced down at her as shestrode along beside him with her swingingstride that matched his own.

"You walk more like a hillman than asailor," he said. "You must be an Aquilonian.The suns of Darfar never burntyour white skin brown. Many a princesswould envy you."

"I am from Aquilonia," she replied.His compliments no longer irritated her.His evident admiration pleased her. Foranother man to have kept her watch whileshe slept would have angered her; shehad always fiercely resented any man'sattempting to shield or protect her becauseof her sex. But she found a secretpleasure in the fact that this man haddone so. And he had not taken advantageof her fright and the weakness resultingfrom it. After all, she reflected,her companion was no common man.

The sun rose behind the city, turningthe towers to a sinister crimson.

"Black last night against the moon,"grunted Conan, his eyes clouding withthe abysmal superstition of the barbarian."Blood-red as a threat of blood againstthe sun this dawn. I do not like thiscity."

But they went on, and as they wentConan pointed out the fact that no roadran to the city from the north.

"No cattle have trampled the plain onthis side of the city," said he. "No plowsharehas touched the earth for years,maybe centuries. But look: once this plainwas cultivated."

Valeria saw the ancient irrigationditches he indicated, half filled in places,and overgrown with cactus. She frownedwith perplexity as her eyes swept over theplain that stretched on all sides of thecity to the forest edge, which marched ina vast, dim ring. Vision did not extendbeyond that ring.

She looked uneasily at the city. Nohelmets or spear-heads gleamed on battlements,no trumpets sounded, no challengerang from the towers. A silence as absoluteas that of the forest brooded over thewalls and minarets.

The sun was high above the easternhorizon when they stood before the greatgate in the northern wall, in the shadowof the lofty rampart. Rust flecked theiron bracings of the mighty bronze portal.Spiderwebs glistened thickly on hingeand sill and bolted panel.

"It hasn't been opened for years!" exclaimedValeria.

"A dead city," grunted Conan. "That'swhy the ditches were broken and the plainuntouched."

"But who built it? Who dwelt here?Where did they go? Why did they abandonit?"

"Who can say? Maybe an exiled clanof Stygians built it. Maybe not. It doesn'tlook like Stygian architecture. Maybe thepeople were wiped out by enemies, or aplague exterminated them."

"In that case their treasures may stillbe gathering dust and cobwebs in there,"suggested Valeria, the acquisitive instinctsof her profession waking in her; prodded,too, by feminine curiosity. "Can we openthe gate? Let's go in and explore a bit."

Conan eyed the heavy portal dubiously,but placed his massive shoulder againstit and thrust with all the power of hismuscular calves and thighs. With a raspingscreech of rusty hinges the gate movedponderously inward, and Conan straightenedand drew his sword. Valeria staredover his shoulder, and made a soundindicative of surprise.

They were not looking into an openstreet or court as one would have expected.The opened gate, or door, gavedirectly into a long, broad hall whichran away and away until its vista grewindistinct in the distance. It was of heroicproportions, and the floor of a curiousred stone, cut in square tiles, that seemedto smolder as if with the reflection offlames. The walls were of a shiny greenmaterial.

"Jade, or I'm a Shemite!" swore Conan.

"Not in such quantity!" protested Valeria.

"I've looted enough from the Khitancaravans to know what I'm talkingabout," he asserted. "That's jade!"

The vaulted ceiling was of lapis lazuli,adorned with clusters of great greenstones that gleamed with a poisonous radiance.

"Green fire-stones," growled Conan."That's what the people of Punt callthem. They're supposed to be the petrifiedeyes of those prehistoric snakes theancients called Golden Serpents. Theyglow like a cat's eyes in the dark. At nightthis hall would be lighted by them, butit would be a hellishly weird illumination.Let's look around. We might find a cacheof jewels."

"Shut the door," advised Valeria. "I'dhate to have to outrun a dragon down thishall."

Conan grinned, and replied: "I don'tbelieve the dragons ever leave the forest."

But he complied, and pointed out thebroken bolt on the inner side.

"I thought I heard something snapwhen I shoved against it. That bolt'sfreshly broken. Rust has eaten nearlythrough it. If the people ran away, whyshould it have been bolted on the inside?"

"They undoubtedly left by anotherdoor," suggested Valeria.

She wondered how many centuries hadpassed since the light of outer day hadfiltered into that great hall through theopen door. Sunlight was finding its waysomehow into the hall, and they quicklysaw the source. High up in the vaultedceiling skylights were set in slot-like openings—translucentsheets of some crystallinesubstance. In the splotches of shadowbetween them, the green jewelswinked like the eyes of angry cats. Beneaththeir feet the dully lurid floor smolderedwith changing hues and colors offlame. It was like treading the floors ofhell with evil stars blinking overhead.

Three balustraded galleries ran alongon each side of the hall, one above theother.

"A four-storied house," grunted Conan,"and this hall extends to the roof.It's long as a street. I seem to see a doorat the other end."

Valeria shrugged her white shoulders.

"Your eyes are better than mine, then,though I'm accounted sharp-eyed amongthe sea-rovers."

They turned into an open door at random,and traversed a series of emptychambers, floored like the hall, and withwalls of the same green jade, or of marbleor ivory or chalcedony, adorned withfriezes of bronze, gold or silver. In theceilings the green fire-gems were set, andtheir light was as ghostly and illusive asConan had predicted. Under the witch-fireglow the intruders moved likespecters.

Some of the chambers lacked this illumination,and their doorways showedblack as the mouth of the Pit. These Conanand Valeria avoided, keeping alwaysto the lighted chambers.

Cobwebs hung in the corners, but therewas no perceptible accumulation of duston the floor, or on the tables and seatsof marble, jade or carnelian which occupiedthe chambers. Here and there wererugs of that silk known as Khitan whichis practically indestructible. Nowhere didthey find any windows, or doors openinginto streets or courts. Each door merelyopened into another chamber or hall.

"Why don't we come to a street?"grumbled Valeria. "This place or whateverwe're in must be as big as the kingof Turan's seraglio."

"They must not have perished ofplague," said Conan, meditating upon themystery of the empty city. "Otherwisewe'd find skeletons. Maybe it becamehaunted, and everybody got up and left.Maybe——"

"Maybe, hell!" broke in Valeria rudely."We'll never know. Look at these friezes.They portray men. What race do theybelong to?"

Conan scanned them and shook hishead.

"I never saw people exactly like them.But there's the smack of the East aboutthem—Vendhya, maybe, or Kosala."

"Were you a king in Kosala?" sheasked, masking her keen curiosity withderision.

"No. But I was a war-chief of theAfghulis who live in the Himelian mountainsabove the borders of Vendhya.These people favor the Kosalans. Butwhy should Kosalans be building a citythis far to west?"

The figures portrayed were those ofslender, olive-skinned men and women,with finely chiseled, exotic features. Theywore filmy robes and many delicate jeweledornaments, and were depicted mostlyin attitudes of feasting, dancing or love-making.

"Easterners, all right," grunted Conan,"but from where I don't know. Theymust have lived a disgustingly peacefullife, though, or they'd have scenes of warsand fights. Let's go up that stair."

It was an ivory spiral that wound upfrom the chamber in which they werestanding. They mounted three flights andcame into a broad chamber on the fourthfloor, which seemed to be the highest tierin the building. Skylights in the ceilingilluminated the room, in which light thefire-gems winked pallidly. Glancingthrough the doors they saw, except on oneside, a series of similarly lighted chambers.This other door opened upon a balustradedgallery that overhung a hallmuch smaller than the one they had recentlyexplored on the lower floor.

"Hell!" Valeria sat down disgustedlyon a jade bench. "The people who desertedthis city must have taken all theirtreasures with them. I'm tired of wanderingthrough these bare rooms at random."

"All these upper chambers seem to belighted," said Conan. "I wish we couldfind a window that overlooked the city.Let's have a look through that door overthere."

"You have a look," advised Valeria."I'm going to sit here and rest my feet."

Conan disappeared through the dooropposite that one opening upon thegallery, and Valeria leaned back with herhands clasped behind her head, and thrusther booted legs out in front of her. Thesesilent rooms and halls with their gleaminggreen clusters of ornaments and burningcrimson floors were beginning to depressher. She wished they could findtheir way out of the maze into which theyhad wandered and emerge into a street.She wondered idly what furtive, dark feethad glided over those flaming floors inpast centuries, how many deeds of crueltyand mystery those winking ceiling-gemshad blazed down upon.

It was a faint noise that brought herout of her reflections. She was on herfeet with her sword in her hand beforeshe realized what had disturbed her. Conanhad not returned, and she knew itwas not he that she had heard.

The sound had come from somewherebeyond the door that opened on to thegallery. Soundlessly in her soft leatherboots she glided through it, crept acrossthe balcony and peered down between theheavy balustrades.

A man was stealing along the hall.

The sight of a human being in thissupposedly deserted city was a startlingshock. Crouching down behind the stonebalusters, with every nerve tingling, Valeriaglared down at the stealthy figure.

The man in no way resembled the figuresdepicted on the friezes. He wasslightly above middle height, very dark,though not negroid. He was naked butfor a scanty silk clout that only partlycovered his muscular hips, and a leathergirdle, a hand's breadth broad, about hislean waist. His long black hair hung inlank strands about his shoulders, givinghim a wild appearance. He was gaunt,but knots and cords of muscles stood outon his arms and legs, without that fleshypadding that presents a pleasing symmetryof contour. He was built with aneconomy that was almost repellent.

Yet it was not so much his physical appearanceas his attitude that impressed thewoman who watched him. He slunkalong, stooped in a semi-crouch, his headturning from side to side. He grasped awide-tipped blade in his right hand, andshe saw it shake with the intensity of theemotion that gripped him. He was afraid,trembling in the grip of some dire terror.When he turned his head she caught theblaze of wild eyes among the lank strandsof black hair.

He did not see her. On tiptoe he glidedacross the hall and vanished throughan open door. A moment later she hearda choking cry, and then silence fell again.

Consumed with curiosity, Valeria glidedalong the gallery until she came to adoor above the one through which theman had passed. It opened into another,smaller gallery that encircled a largechamber.

This chamber was on the third floor,and its ceiling was not so high as thatof the hall. It was lighted only by thefire-stones, and their weird green glowleft the spaces under the balcony in shadows.

Valeria's eyes widened. The man shehad seen was still in the chamber.

He lay face down on a dark crimsoncarpet in the middle of the room. Hisbody was limp, his arms spread wide.His curved sword lay near him.

She wondered why he should lie thereso motionless. Then her eyes narrowedas she stared down at the rug on whichhe lay. Beneath and about him the fabricshowed a slightly different color, a deeper,brighter crimson.

Shivering slightly, she crouched downcloser behind the balustrade, intently scanningthe shadows under the overhanginggallery. They gave up no secret.

Suddenly another figure entered thegrim drama. He was a man similar tothe first, and he came in by a door oppositethat which gave upon the hall.

His eyes glared at the sight of the manon the floor, and he spoke something ina staccato voice that sounded like "Chicmec!"The other did not move.

The man stepped quickly across thefloor, bent, gripped the fallen man'sshoulder and turned him over. A chokingcry escaped him as the head fell backlimply, disclosing a throat that had beensevered from ear to ear.

The man let the corpse fall back uponthe blood-stained carpet, and sprang tohis feet, shaking like a wind-blown leaf.His face was an ashy mask of fear. Butwith one knee flexed for flight, he frozesuddenly, became as immobile as animage, staring across the chamber withdilated eyes.

In the shadows beneath the balcony aghostly light began to glow and grow,a light that was not part of the fire-stonegleam. Valeria felt her hair stir as shewatched it; for, dimly visible in thethrobbing radiance, there floated a humanskull, and it was from this skull—humanyet appallingly misshapen—that thespectral light seemed to emanate. It hungthere like a disembodied head, conjuredout of night and the shadows, growingmore and more distinct; human, and yetnot human as she knew humanity.

The man stood motionless, an embodimentof paralyzed horror, staring fixedlyat the apparition. The thing moved outfrom the wall and a grotesque shadowmoved with it. Slowly the shadow becamevisible as a man-like figure whosenaked torso and limbs shone whitely, withthe hue of bleached bones. The bareskull on its shoulders grinned eyelessly, inthe midst of its unholy nimbus, and theman confronting it seemed unable to takehis eyes from it. He stood still, hissword dangling from nerveless fingers,on his face the expression of a man boundby the spells of a mesmerist.

Valeria realized that it was not fearalone that paralyzed him. Some hellishquality of that throbbing glow hadrobbed him of his power to think andact. She herself, safely above the scene,felt the subtle impact of a namelessemanation that was a threat to sanity.

The horror swept toward its victim andhe moved at last, but only to drop hissword and sink to his knees, covering hiseyes with his hands. Dumbly he awaitedthe stroke of the blade that now gleamedin the apparition's hand as it rearedabove him like Death triumphant overmankind.

Valeria acted according to the first impulseof her wayward nature. With onetigerish movement she was over the balustradeand dropping to the floor behindthe awful shape. It wheeled at the thudof her soft boots on the floor, but even asit turned, her keen blade lashed down,and a fierce exultation swept her as shefelt the edge cleave solid flesh and mortalbone.

The apparition cried out gurglinglyand went down, severed through shoulder,breast-bone and spine, and as it fellthe burning skull rolled clear, revealinga lank mop of black hair and a dark facetwisted in the convulsions of death. Beneaththe horrific masquerade there was ahuman being, a man similar to the onekneeling supinely on the floor.

The latter looked up at the sound ofthe blow and the cry, and now he glaredin wild-eyed amazement at the white-skinnedwoman who stood over the corpsewith a dripping sword in her hand.

He staggered up, yammering as if thesight had almost unseated his reason. Shewas amazed to realize that she understoodhim. He was gibbering in the Stygiantongue, though in a dialect unfamiliarto her.

"Who are you? Whence come you?What do you in Xuchotl?" Then rushingon, without waiting for her to reply:"But you are a friend—goddess or devil,it makes no difference! You have slainthe Burning Skull! It was but a man beneathit, after all! We deemed it a demonthey conjured up out of the catacombs!Listen!"

He stopped short in his ravings andstiffened, straining his ears with painfulintensity. The girl heard nothing.

"We must hasten!" he whispered."They are west of the Great Hall! Theymay be all around us here! They may becreeping upon us even now!"

He seized her wrist in a convulsivegrasp she found hard to break.

"Whom do you mean by 'they'?" shedemanded.

He stared at her uncomprehendinglyfor an instant, as if he found her ignorancehard to understand.

"They?" he stammered vaguely. "Why—why,the people of Xotalanc! Theclan of the man you slew. They whodwell by the eastern gate."

"You mean to say this city is inhabited?"she exclaimed.

"Aye! Aye!" He was writhing in theimpatience of apprehension. "Comeaway! Come quick! We must return toTecuhltli!"

"Where is that?" she demanded.

"The quarter by the western gate!" Hehad her wrist again and was pulling hertoward the door through which he hadfirst come. Great beads of perspirationdripped from his dark forehead, and hiseyes blazed with terror.

"Wait a minute!" she growled, flingingoff his hand. "Keep your hands offme, or I'll split your skull. What's allthis about? Who are you? Where wouldyou take me?"

He took a firm grip on himself, castingglances to all sides, and began speaking sofast his words tripped over each other.

"My name is Techotl. I am of Tecuhltli.I and this man who lies with his throatcut came into the Halls of Science to tryand ambush some of the Xotalancas. Butwe became separated and I returned hereto find him with his gullet slit. The BurningSkull did it, I know, just as he wouldhave slain me had you not killed him.But perhaps he was not alone. Othersmay be stealing from Xotalanc! The godsthemselves blench at the fate of thosethey take alive!"

At the thought he shook as with anague and his dark skin grew ashy.Valeria frowned puzzledly at him. Shesensed intelligence behind this rigmarole,but it was meaningless to her.

She turned toward the skull, whichstill glowed and pulsed on the floor, andwas reaching a booted toe tentatively towardit, when the man who called himselfTechotl sprang forward with a cry.

"Do not touch it! Do not even lookat it! Madness and death lurk in it. Thewizards of Xotalanc understand its secret—theyfound it in the catacombs, wherelie the bones of terrible kings who ruledin Xuchotl in the black centuries of thepast. To gaze upon it freezes the bloodand withers the brain of a man whounderstands not its mystery. To touch itcauses madness and destruction."

She scowled at him uncertainly. Hewas not a reassuring figure, with his lean,muscle-knotted frame, and snaky locks.In his eyes, behind the glow of terror,lurked a weird light she had never seenin the eyes of a man wholly sane. Yet heseemed sincere in his protestations.

"Come!" he begged, reaching for herhand, and then recoiling as he rememberedher warning, "You are a stranger.How you came here I do not know, butif you were a goddess or a demon, cometo aid Tecuhltli, you would know all thethings you have asked me. You must befrom beyond the great forest, whence ourancestors came. But you are our friend, oryou would not have slain my enemy.Come quickly, before the Xotalancas findus and slay us!"

From his repellent, impassioned faceshe glanced to the sinister skull, smolderingand glowing on the floor near thedead man. It was like a skull seen in adream, undeniably human, yet with disturbingdistortions and malformations ofcontour and outline. In life the wearer ofthat skull must have presented an alienand monstrous aspect. Life? It seemedto possess some sort of life of its own. Itsjaws yawned at her and snapped together.Its radiance grew brighter, more vivid,yet the impression of nightmare grewtoo; it was a dream; all life was a dream—itwas Techotl's urgent voice whichsnapped Valeria back from the dim gulfswhither she was drifting.

"Do not look at the skull! Do not lookat the skull!" It was a far cry from acrossunreckoned voids.

Valeria shook herself like a lion shakinghis mane. Her vision cleared. Techotlwas chattering: "In life it housed theawful brain of a king of magicians! Itholds still the life and fire of magicdrawn from outer spaces!"

With a curse Valeria leaped, lithe asa panther, and the skull crashed toflaming bits under her swinging sword.Somewhere in the room, or in the void, orin the dim reaches of her consciousness,an inhuman voice cried out in pain andrage.

Techotl's hand was plucking at herarm and he was gibbering: "You havebroken it! You have destroyed it! Notall the black arts of Xotalanc can rebuildit! Come away! Come away quickly,now!"

"But I can't go," she protested. "Ihave a friend somewhere near by——"

The flare of his eyes cut her short as hestared past her with an expression grownghastly. She wheeled just as four menrushed through as many doors, convergingon the pair in the center of thechamber.

They were like the others she had seen,the same knotted muscles bulging onotherwise gaunt limbs, the same lankblue-black hair, the same mad glare intheir wide eyes. They were armed andclad like Techotl, but on the breast ofeach was painted a white skull.

There were no challenges or war-cries.Like blood-mad tigers the men ofXotalanc sprang at the throats of theirenemies. Techotl met them with thefury of desperation, ducked the swipe ofa wide-headed blade, and grappled withthe wielder, and bore him to the floorwhere they rolled and wrestled in murderoussilence.

"You can never reach the coast. There is no escape from Xuchotl."

The other three swarmed on Valeria,their weird eyes red as the eyes of maddogs.

She killed the first who came withinreach before he could strike a blow,her long straight blade splitting his skulleven as his own sword lifted for a stroke.She side-stepped a thrust, even as sheparried a slash. Her eyes danced and herlips smiled without mercy. Again shewas Valeria of the Red Brotherhood, andthe hum of her steel was like a bridalsong in her ears.

Her sword darted past a blade thatsought to parry, and sheathed six inchesof its point in a leather-guarded midriff.The man gasped agonizedly and went tohis knees, but his tall mate lunged in, inferocious silence, raining blow on blowso furiously that Valeria had no opportunityto counter. She stepped back coolly,parrying the strokes and watching for herchance to thrust home. He could not longkeep up that flailing whirlwind. His armwould tire, his wind would fail; he wouldweaken, falter, and then her blade wouldslide smoothly into his heart. A sidelongglance showed her Techotl kneeling onthe breast of his antagonist and strivingto break the other's hold on his wrist andto drive home a dagger.

Sweat beaded the forehead of the manfacing her, and his eyes were like burningcoals. Smite as he would, he could notbreak past nor beat down her guard. Hisbreath came in gusty gulps, his blowsbegan to fall erratically. She steppedback to draw him out—and felt herthighs locked in an iron grip. She hadforgotten the wounded man on the floor.

Crouching on his knees, he held herwith both arms locked about her legs,and his mate croaked in triumph and beganworking his way around to come ather from the left side. Valeria wrenchedand tore savagely, but in vain. She couldfree herself of this clinging menace witha downward flick of her sword, but inthat instant the curved blade of the tallwarrior would crash through her skull.The wounded man began to worry at herbare thigh with his teeth like a wild beast.

She reached down with her left handand gripped his long hair, forcing hishead back so that his white teeth and rollingeyes gleamed up at her. The tallXotalanc cried out fiercely and leaped in,smiting with all the fury of his arm. Awkwardlyshe parried the stroke, and it beatthe flat of her blade down on her head sothat she saw sparks flash before her eyes,and staggered. Up went the sword again,with a low, beast-like cry of triumph—andthen a giant form loomed behind theXotalanc and steel flashed like a jet ofblue lightning. The cry of the warriorbroke short and he went down like an oxbeneath the pole-ax, his brains gushingfrom his skull that had been split to thethroat.

"Conan!" gasped Valeria. In a gustof passion she turned on the Xotalancwhose long hair she still gripped in herleft hand. "Dog of hell!" Her bladeswished as it cut the air in an upswingingarc with a blur in the middle, and theheadless body slumped down, spurtingblood. She hurled the severed head acrossthe room.

"What the devil's going on here?" Conanbestrode the corpse of the man hehad killed, broadsword in hand, glaringabout him in amazement.

Techotl was rising from the twitchingfigure of the last Xotalanc, shaking reddrops from his dagger. He was bleedingfrom the stab deep in the thigh. He staredat Conan with dilated eyes.

"What is all this?" Conan demandedagain, not yet recovered from the stunningsurprise of finding Valeria engagedin a savage battle with these fantastic figuresin a city he had thought empty anduninhabited. Returning from an aimlessexploration of the upper chambers to findValeria missing from the room where hehad left her, he had followed the soundsof strife that burst on his dumbfoundedears.

"Five dead dogs!" exclaimed Techotl,his flaming eyes reflecting a ghastly exultation."Five slain! Five crimson nailsfor the black pillar! The gods of bloodbe thanked!"

He lifted quivering hands on high, andthen, with the face of a fiend, he spat onthe corpses and stamped on their faces,dancing in his ghoulish glee. His recentallies eyed him in amazement, and Conanasked, in the Aquilonian tongue: "Whois this madman?"

Valeria shrugged her shoulders.

"He says his name's Techotl. Fromhis babblings I gather that his people liveat one end of this crazy city, and theseothers at the other end. Maybe we'd bettergo with him. He seems friendly, andit's easy to see that the other clan isn't."

Techotl had ceased his dancing andwas listening again, his head tiltedsidewise, dog-like, triumph strugglingwith fear in his repellent countenance.

"Come away, now!" he whispered."We have done enough! Five dead dogs!My people will welcome you! They willhonor you! But come! It is far to Tecuhltli.At any moment the Xotalancas maycome on us in numbers too great even foryour swords."

"Lead the way," grunted Conan.

Techotl instantly mounted a stair leadingup to the gallery, beckoning them tofollow him, which they did, moving rapidlyto keep on his heels. Having reachedthe gallery, he plunged into a door thatopened toward the west, and hurriedthrough chamber after chamber, eachlighted by skylights or green fire-jewels.

"What sort of a place can this be?"muttered Valeria under her breath.

"Crom knows!" answered Conan. "I'veseen his kind before, though. They liveon the shores of Lake Zuad, near the borderof Kush. They're a sort of mongrelStygians, mixed with another race thatwandered into Stygia from the east somecenturies ago and were absorbed by them.They're called Tlazitlans. I'm willing tobet it wasn't they who built this city,though."

Techotl's fear did not seem to diminishas they drew away from the chamberwhere the dead men lay. He kept twistinghis head on his shoulder to listen forsounds of pursuit, and stared with burningintensity into every doorway theypassed.

Valeria shivered in spite of herself.She feared no man. But the weird floorbeneath her feet, the uncanny jewels overher head, dividing the lurking shadowsamong them, the stealth and terror oftheir guide, impressed her with a namelessapprehension, a sensation of lurking,inhuman peril.

"They may be between us and Tecuhltli!"he whispered once. "We must bewarelest they be lying in wait!"

"Why don't we get out of this infernalpalace, and take to the streets?" demandedValeria.

"There are no streets in Xuchotl," heanswered. "No squares nor open courts.The whole city is built like one giant palaceunder one great roof. The nearestapproach to a street is the Great Hallwhich traverses the city from the northgate to the south gate. The only doorsopening into the outer world are the citygates, through which no living man haspassed for fifty years."

"How long have you dwelt here?"asked Conan.

"I was born in the castle of Tecuhltlithirty-five years ago. I have never setfoot outside the city. For the love of thegods, let us go silently! These halls maybe full of lurking devils. Olmec shall tellyou all when we reach Tecuhltli."

So in silence they glided on with thegreen fire-stones blinking overhead andthe flaming floors smoldering under theirfeet, and it seemed to Valeria as if theyfled through hell, guided by a dark-faced,lank-haired goblin.

Yet it was Conan who halted them asthey were crossing an unusually widechamber. His wilderness-bred ears werekeener even than the ears of Techotl,whetted though these were by a lifetimeof warfare in those silent corridors.

"You think some of your enemies maybe ahead of us, lying in ambush?"

"They prowl through these rooms atall hours," answered Techotl, "as do we.The halls and chambers between Tecuhltliand Xotalanc are a disputed region,owned by no man. We call it the Hallsof Silence. Why do you ask?"

"Because men are in the chambersahead of us," answered Conan. "I heardsteel clink against stone."

Again a shaking seized Techotl, and heclenched his teeth to keep them fromchattering.

"Perhaps they are your friends," suggestedValeria.

"We dare not chance it," he panted,and moved with frenzied activity. Heturned aside and glided through a doorwayon the left which led into a chamberfrom which an ivory staircase wounddown into darkness.

"This leads to an unlighted corridorbelow us!" he hissed, great beads of perspirationstanding out on his brow. "Theymay be lurking there, too. It may all bea trick to draw us into it. But we musttake the chance that they have laid theirambush in the rooms above. Come swiftly,now!"

Softly as phantoms they descendedthe stair and came to the mouth ofa corridor black as night. They crouchedthere for a moment, listening, and thenmelted into it. As they moved along,Valeria's flesh crawled between her shouldersin momentary expectation of a sword-thrustin the dark. But for Conan's ironfingers gripping her arm she had no physicalcognizance of her companions. Neithermade as much noise as a cat wouldhave made. The darkness was absolute.One hand, outstretched, touched a wall,and occasionally she felt a door underher fingers. The hallway seemed interminable.

Suddenly they were galvanized by asound behind them. Valeria's fleshcrawled anew, for she recognized it asthe soft opening of a door. Men hadcome into the corridor behind them. Evenwith the thought she stumbled over somethingthat felt like a human skull. Itrolled across the floor with an appallingclatter.

"Run!" yelped Techotl, a note of hysteriain his voice, and was away down thecorridor like a flying ghost.

Again Valeria felt Conan's hand bearingher up and sweeping her along asthey raced after their guide. Conancould see in the dark no better than she,but he possessed a sort of instinct thatmade his course unerring. Without hissupport and guidance she would have fallenor stumbled against the wall. Downthe corridor they sped, while the swiftpatter of flying feet drew closer and closer,and then suddenly Techotl panted: "Hereis the stair! After me, quick! Oh, quick!"

His hand came out of the dark andcaught Valeria's wrist as she stumbledblindly on the steps. She felt herself halfdragged, half lifted up the winding stair,while Conan released her and turned onthe steps, his ears and instincts telling himtheir foes were hard at their backs. Andthe sounds were not all those of humanfeet.

Something came writhing up the steps,something that slithered and rustledand brought a chill in the air with it.Conan lashed down with his great swordand felt the blade shear through somethingthat might have been flesh andbone, and cut deep into the stair beneath.Something touched his foot that chilledlike the touch of frost, and then the darknessbeneath him was disturbed by afrightful thrashing and lashing, and aman cried out in agony.

The next moment Conan was racingup the winding staircase, and through adoor that stood open at the head.

Valeria and Techotl were alreadythrough, and Techotl slammed the doorand shot a bolt across it—the first Conanhad seen since they left the outer gate.

Then he turned and ran across thewell-lighted chamber into which they hadcome, and as they passed through thefarther door, Conan glanced back andsaw the door groaning and straining underheavy pressure violently applied fromthe other side.

Though Techotl did not abate eitherhis speed or his caution, he seemed moreconfident now. He had the air of a manwho has come into familiar territory,within call of friends.

But Conan renewed his terror by asking:"What was that thing that I foughton the stair?"

"The men of Xotalanc," answeredTechotl, without looking back. "I toldyou the halls were full of them."

"This wasn't a man," grunted Conan."It was something that crawled, and itwas as cold as ice to the touch. I thinkI cut it asunder. It fell back on the menwho were following us, and must havekilled one of them in its death throes."

Techotl's head jerked back, his faceashy again. Convulsively he quickenedhis pace.

"It was the Crawler! A monster theyhave brought out of the catacombs to aidthem! What it is, we do not know, butwe have found our people hideouslyslain by it. In Set's name, hasten! If theyput it on our trail, it will follow us tothe very doors of Tecuhltli!"

"I doubt it," grunted Conan. "Thatwas a shrewd cut I dealt it on the stair."

"Hasten! Hasten!" groaned Techotl.

They ran through a series of green-litchambers, traversed a broad hall, andhalted before a giant bronze door.

Techotl said: "This is Tecuhltli!"

3. The People of the Feud

Techotl smote on the bronze doorwith his clenched hand, and thenturned sidewise, so that he could watchback along the hall.

"Men have been smitten down beforethis door, when they thought they weresafe," he said.

"Why don't they open the door?"asked Conan.

"They are looking at us through theEye," answered Techotl. "They are puzzledat the sight of you." He lifted hisvoice and called: "Open the door, Xecelan!It is I, Techotl, with friends from thegreat world beyond the forest!—Theywill open," he assured his allies.

"They'd better do it in a hurry, then,"said Conan grimly. "I hear somethingcrawling along the floor beyond the hall."

Techotl went ashy again and attackedthe door with his fists, screaming: "Open,you fools, open! The Crawler is at ourheels!"

Even as he beat and shouted, the greatbronze door swung noiselessly back, revealinga heavy chain across the entrance,over which spear-heads bristled and fiercecountenances regarded them intently foran instant. Then the chain was droppedand Techotl grasped the arms of hisfriends in a nervous frenzy and fairlydragged them over the threshold. Aglance over his shoulder just as the doorwas closing showed Conan the long dimvista of the hall, and dimly framed atthe other end an ophidian shape thatwrithed slowly and painfully into view,flowing in a dull-hued length from achamber door, its hideous blood-stainedhead wagging drunkenly. Then the closingdoor shut off the view.

Inside the square chamber into whichthey had come heavy bolts were drawnacross the door, and the chain locked intoplace. The door was made to stand thebattering of a siege. Four men stood onguard, of the same lank-haired, dark-skinnedbreed as Techotl, with spears intheir hands and swords at their hips. Inthe wall near the door there was a complicatedcontrivance of mirrors which Conanguessed was the Eye Techotl hadmentioned, so arranged that a narrow,crystal-paned slot in the wall could belooked through from within without beingdiscernible from without. The fourguardsmen stared at the strangers withwonder, but asked no question, nor didTechotl vouchsafe any information. Hemoved with easy confidence now, as if hehad shed his cloak of indecision and fearthe instant he crossed the threshold.

"Come!" he urged his new-foundfriends, but Conan glanced toward thedoor.

"What about those fellows who werefollowing us? Won't they try to stormthat door?"

Techotl shook his head.

"They know they cannot break downthe Door of the Eagle. They will fleeback to Xotalanc, with their crawlingfiend. Come! I will take you to the rulersof Tecuhltli."

One of the four guards opened thedoor opposite the one by which theyhad entered, and they passed through intoa hallway which, like most of the roomson that level, was lighted by both theslot-like skylights and the clusters ofwinking fire-gems. But unlike the otherrooms they had traversed, this hall showedevidences of occupation. Velvet tapestriesadorned the glossy jade walls, rich rugswere on the crimson floors, and the ivoryseats, benches and divans were litteredwith satin cushions.

The hall ended in an ornate door, beforewhich stood no guard. Without ceremonyTechotl thrust the door open andushered his friends into a broad chamber,where some thirty dark-skinned men andwomen lounging on satin-covered couchessprang up with exclamations of amazement.

The men, all except one, were of thesame type as Techotl, and the womenwere equally dark and strange-eyed,though not unbeautiful in a weird darkway. They wore sandals, golden breast-plates,and scanty silk skirts supported bygem-crusted girdles, and their blackmanes, cut square at their naked shoulders,were bound with silver circlets.

On a wide ivory seat on a jade daissat a man and a woman who differedsubtly from the others. He was a giant,with an enormous sweep of breast andthe shoulders of a bull. Unlike the others,he was bearded, with a thick, blue-blackbeard which fell almost to his broadgirdle. He wore a robe of purple silkwhich reflected changing sheens of colorwith his every movement, and one widesleeve, drawn back to his elbow, revealeda forearm massive with corded muscles.The band which confined his blue-blacklocks was set with glittering jewels.

The woman beside him sprang to herfeet with a startled exclamation as thestrangers entered, and her eyes, passingover Conan, fixed themselves with burningintensity on Valeria. She was tall andlithe, by far the most beautiful womanin the room. She was clad more scantilyeven than the others; for instead of a skirtshe wore merely a broad strip of gilt-workedpurple cloth fastened to the middleof her girdle which fell below herknees. Another strip at the back of hergirdle completed that part of her costume,which she wore with a cynical indifference.Her breast-plates and the circletabout her temples were adorned withgems. In her eyes alone of all the dark-skinnedpeople there lurked no broodinggleam of madness. She spoke no wordafter her first exclamation; she stoodtensely, her hands clenched, staring atValeria.

The man on the ivory seat had notrisen.

"Prince Olmec," spoke Techotl, bowinglow, with arms outspread and thepalms of his hands turned upward, "Ibring allies from the world beyond theforest. In the Chamber of Tezcoti theBurning Skull slew Chicmec, my companion——"

"The Burning Skull!" It was a shudderingwhisper of fear from the peopleof Tecuhltli.

"Aye! Then came I, and found Chicmeclying with his throat cut. Before Icould flee, the Burning Skull came uponme, and when I looked upon it my bloodbecame as ice and the marrow of mybones melted. I could neither fight norrun. I could only await the stroke. Thencame this white-skinned woman andstruck him down with her sword; and lo,it was only a dog of Xotalanc with whitepaint upon his skin and the living skullof an ancient wizard upon his head! Nowthat skull lies in many pieces, and the dogwho wore it is a dead man!"

An indescribably fierce exultation edgedthe last sentence, and was echoed in thelow, savage exclamations from the crowdinglisteners.

"But wait!" exclaimed Techotl. "Thereis more! While I talked with the woman,four Xotalancas came upon us! One Islew—there is the stab in my thigh toprove how desperate was the fight. Twothe woman killed. But we were hardpressed when this man came into the frayand split the skull of the fourth! Aye!Five crimson nails there are to be driveninto the pillar of vengeance!"

He pointed at a black column of ebonywhich stood behind the dais. Hundredsof red dots scarred its polished surface—thebright scarlet heads of heavy coppernails driven into the black wood.

"Five red nails for five Xotalancalives!" exulted Techotl, and the horribleexultation in the faces of the listenersmade them inhuman.

"Who are these people?" asked Olmec,and his voice was like the low, deeprumble of a distant bull. None of the peopleof Xuchotl spoke loudly. It was as if theyhad absorbed into their souls the silenceof the empty halls and deserted chambers.

"I am Conan, a Cimmerian," answeredthe barbarian briefly. "This woman is Valeriaof the Red Brotherhood, an Aquilonianpirate. We are deserters from anarmy on the Darfar border, far to thenorth, and are trying to reach the coast."

The woman on the dais spoke loudly,her words tripping in her haste.

"You can never reach the coast! Thereis no escape from Xuchotl! You willspend the rest of your lives in this city!"

"What do you mean?" growled Conan,clapping his hand to his hilt and steppingabout so as to face both the dais and therest of the room. "Are you telling uswe're prisoners?"

"She did not mean that," interposedOlmec. "We are your friends. We wouldnot restrain you against your will. But Ifear other circ*mstances will make it impossiblefor you to leave Xuchotl."

His eyes flickered to Valeria, and helowered them quickly.

"This woman is Tascela," he said. "Sheis a princess of Tecuhltli. But let foodand drink be brought our guests. Doubtlessthey are hungry, and weary from theirlong travels."

He indicated an ivory table, and afteran exchange of glances, the adventurersseated themselves. The Cimmerian wassuspicious. His fierce blue eyes rovedabout the chamber, and he kept his swordclose to his hand. But an invitation to eatand drink never found him backward.His eyes kept wandering to Tascela, butthe princess had eyes only for his white-skinnedcompanion.

Techotl, who had bound a strip ofsilk about his wounded thigh, placedhimself at the table to attend to the wantsof his friends, seeming to consider it aprivilege and honor to see after theirneeds. He inspected the food and drinkthe others brought in gold vessels anddishes, and tasted each before he placedit before his guests. While they ate, Olmecsat in silence on his ivory seat, watchingthem from under his broad blackbrows. Tascela sat beside him, chin cuppedin her hands and her elbows resting onher knees. Her dark, enigmatic eyes, burningwith a mysterious light, never left Valeria'ssupple figure. Behind her seat asullen handsome girl waved an ostrich-plumefan with a slow rhythm.

The food was fruit of an exotic kindunfamiliar to the wanderers, but very palatable,and the drink was a light crimsonwine that carried a heady tang.

"You have come from afar," said Olmecat last. "I have read the books ofour fathers. Aquilonia lies beyond thelands of the Stygians and the Shemites,beyond Argos and Zingara; and Cimmerialies beyond Aquilonia."

"We have each a roving foot," answeredConan carelessly.

"How you won through the forest is awonder to me," quoth Olmec. "In bygonedays a thousand fighting-men scarcelywere able to carve a road through itsperils."

"We encountered a bench-legged monstrosityabout the size of a mastodon,"said Conan casually, holding out his winegoblet which Techotl filled with evidentpleasure. "But when we'd killed it wehad no further trouble."

The wine vessel slipped from Techotl'shand to crash on the floor. His dusky skinwent ashy. Olmec started to his feet, animage of stunned amazement, and a lowgasp of awe or terror breathed up fromthe others. Some slipped to their knees asif their legs would not support them. OnlyTascela seemed not to have heard. Conanglared about him bewilderedly.

"What's the matter? What are yougaping about?"

"You—you slew the dragon-god?"

"God? I killed a dragon. Why not? Itwas trying to gobble us up."

"But dragons are immortal!" exclaimedOlmec. "They slay each other, but no manever killed a dragon! The thousand fighting-menof our ancestors who fought theirway to Xuchotl could not prevail againstthem! Their swords broke like twigsagainst their scales!"

"If your ancestors had thought to diptheir spears in the poisonous juice of Derketa'sApples," quoth Conan, with hismouth full, "and jab them in the eyes ormouth or somewhere like that, they'dhave seen that dragons are not moreimmortal than any other chunk of beef. Thecarcass lies at the edge of the trees, justwithin the forest. If you don't believe me,go and look for yourself."

Olmec shook his head, not in disbeliefbut in wonder.

"It was because of the dragons that ourancestors took refuge in Xuchotl," said he."They dared not pass through the plainand plunge into the forest beyond. Scoresof them were seized and devoured by themonsters before they could reach the city."

"Then your ancestors didn't build Xuchotl?"asked Valeria.

"It was ancient when they first cameinto the land. How long it had stood here,not even its degenerate inhabitants knew."

"Your people came from Lake Zuad?"questioned Conan.

"Aye. More than half a century ago atribe of the Tlazitlans rebelled against theStygian king, and, being defeated in battle,fled southward. For many weeks theywandered over grasslands, desert andhills, and at last they came into the greatforest, a thousand fighting-men with theirwomen and children.

"It was in the forest that the dragonsfell upon them, and tore many to pieces;so the people fled in a frenzy of fear beforethem, and at last came into the plainand saw the city of Xuchotl in the midstof it.

"They camped before the city, not daringto leave the plain, for the night wasmade hideous with the noise of the battlingmonsters throughout the forest.They made war incessantly upon one another.Yet they came not into the plain.

"The people of the city shut their gatesand shot arrows at our people from thewalls. The Tlazitlans were imprisonedon the plain, as if the ring of the foresthad been a great wall; for to venture intothe woods would have been madness.

"That night there came secretly to theircamp a slave from the city, one of theirown blood, who with a band of exploringsoldiers had wandered into the forest longbefore, when he was a young man. Thedragons had devoured all his companions,but he had been taken into the city todwell in servitude. His name was Tolkemec."A flame lighted the dark eyes atmention of the name, and some of thepeople muttered obscenely and spat. "Hepromised to open the gates to the warriors.He asked only that all captives taken bedelivered into his hands.

"At dawn he opened the gates. Thewarriors swarmed in and the halls of Xuchotlran red. Only a few hundred folkdwelt there, decaying remnants of a oncegreat race. Tolkemec said they came fromthe east, long ago, from Old Kosala, whenthe ancestors of those who now dwell inKosala came up from the south and droveforth the original inhabitants of the land.They wandered far westward and finallyfound this forest-girdled plain, inhabitedthen by a tribe of black people.

"These they enslaved and set to buildinga city. From the hills to the east theybrought jade and marble and lapis lazuli,and gold, silver and copper. Herds of elephantsprovided them with ivory. Whentheir city was completed, they slew all theblack slaves. And their magicians madea terrible magic to guard the city; for bytheir necromantic arts they re-created thedragons which had once dwelt in this lostland, and whose monstrous bones theyfound in the forest. Those bones theyclothed in flesh and life, and the livingbeasts walked the earth as they walked itwhen Time was young. But the wizardswove a spell that kept them in the forestand they came not into the plain.

"So for many centuries the people ofXuchotl dwelt in their city, cultivatingthe fertile plain, until their wise menlearned how to grow fruit within the city—fruitwhich is not planted in soil, butobtains its nourishment out of the air—andthen they let the irrigation ditchesrun dry, and dwelt more and more in luxurioussloth, until decay seized them. Theywere a dying race when our ancestorsbroke through the forest and came intothe plain. Their wizards had died, andthe people had forgot their ancient necromancy.They could fight neither by sorcerynor the sword.

"Well, our fathers slew the people ofXuchotl, all except a hundred which weregiven living into the hands of Tolkemec,who had been their slave; and for manydays and nights the halls re-echoed to theirscreams under the agony of his tortures.

"So the Tlazitlans dwelt here, for awhile in peace, ruled by the brothers Tecuhltliand Xotalanc, and by Tolkemec.Tolkemec took a girl of the tribe to wife,and because he had opened the gates, andbecause he knew many of the arts of theXuchotlans, he shared the rule of the tribewith the brothers who had led the rebellionand the flight.

"For a few years, then, they dwelt atpeace within the city, doing little but eating,drinking and making love, and raisingchildren. There was no necessity to tillthe plain, for Tolkemec taught them howto cultivate the air-devouring fruits. Besides,the slaying of the Xuchotlans brokethe spell that held the dragons in the forest,and they came nightly and bellowedabout the gates of the city. The plain ranred with the blood of their eternal warfare,and it was then that——" He bithis tongue in the midst of the sentence,then presently continued, but Valeria andConan felt that he had checked an admissionhe had considered unwise.

"Five years they dwelt in peace. Then"—Olmec'seyes rested briefly on the silentwoman at his side—"Xotalanc took a womanto wife, a woman whom both Tecuhltliand old Tolkemec desired. In his madness,Tecuhltli stole her from her husband.Aye, she went willingly enough.Tolkemec, to spite Xotalanc, aided Tecuhltli.Xotalanc demanded that she begiven back to him, and the council of thetribe decided that the matter should beleft to the woman. She chose to remainwith Tecuhltli. In wrath Xotalanc soughtto take her back by force, and the retainersof the brothers came to blows in theGreat Hall.

"There was much bitterness. Bloodwas shed on both sides. The quarrel becamea feud, the feud an open war. Fromthe welter three factions emerged—Tecuhltli,Xotalanc, and Tolkemec. Already,in the days of peace, they had divided thecity between them. Tecuhltli dwelt in thewestern quarter of the city, Xotalanc inthe eastern, and Tolkemec with his familyby the southern gate.

"Anger and resentment and jealousyblossomed into bloodshed and rape andmurder. Once the sword was drawn therewas no turning back; for blood called forblood, and vengeance followed swift onthe heels of atrocity. Tecuhltli foughtwith Xotalanc, and Tolkemec aided firstone and then the other, betraying eachfaction as it fitted his purposes. Tecuhltliand his people withdrew into the quarterof the western gate, where we now sit.Xuchotl is built in the shape of an oval.Tecuhltli, which took its name from itsprince, occupies the western end of theoval. The people blocked up all doorsconnecting the quarter with the rest of thecity, except one on each floor, which couldbe defended easily. They went into thepits below the city and built a wall cuttingoff the western end of the catacombs,where lie the bodies of the ancient Xuchotlans,and of those Tlazitlans slain inthe feud. They dwelt as in a besiegedcastle, making sorties and forays on theirenemies.

"The people of Xotalanc likewise fortifiedthe eastern quarter of the city, andTolkemec did likewise with the quarter bythe southern gate. The central part of thecity was left bare and uninhabited. Thoseempty halls and chambers became a battleground,and a region of brooding terror.

"Tolkemec warred on both clans. Hewas a fiend in the form of a human, worsethan Xotalanc. He knew many secrets ofthe city he never told the others. Fromthe crypts of the catacombs he plunderedthe dead of their grisly secrets—secrets ofancient kings and wizards, long forgottenby the degenerate Xuchotlans our ancestorsslew. But all his magic did not aidhim the night we of Tecuhltli stormed hiscastle and butchered all his people. Tolkemecwe tortured for many days."

His voice sank to a caressing slur, anda far-away look grew in his eyes, as if helooked back over the years to a scenewhich caused him intense pleasure.

"Aye, we kept the life in him until hescreamed for death as for a bride. Atlast we took him living from the torturechamber and cast him into a dungeon forthe rats to gnaw as he died. From thatdungeon, somehow, he managed to escape,and dragged himself into the catacombs.There without doubt he died, for the onlyway out of the catacombs beneath Tecuhltliis through Tecuhltli, and he neveremerged by that way. His bones werenever found, and the superstitious amongour people swear that his ghost haunts thecrypts to this day, wailing among thebones of the dead. Twelve years ago webutchered the people of Tolkemec, butthe feud raged on between Tecuhltli andXotalanc, as it will rage until the lastman, the last woman is dead.

"It was fifty years ago that Tecuhltlistole the wife of Xotalanc. Half a centurythe feud has endured. I was born in it.All in this chamber, except Tascela, wereborn in it. We expect to die in it.

"We are a dying race, even as thoseXuchotlans our ancestors slew. When thefeud began there were hundreds in eachfaction. Now we of Tecuhltli numberonly these you see before you, and themen who guard the four doors: forty inall. How many Xotalancas there are wedo not know, but I doubt if they are muchmore numerous than we. For fifteen yearsno children have been born to us, and wehave seen none among the Xotalancas.

"We are dying, but before we die wewill slay as many of the men of Xotalancas the gods permit."

And with his weird eyes blazing, Olmecspoke long of that grisly feud, foughtout in silent chambers and dim halls underthe blaze of the green fire-jewels, onfloors smoldering with the flames of helland splashed with deeper crimson fromsevered veins. In that long butchery awhole generation had perished. Xotalancwas dead, long ago, slain in a grim battleon an ivory stair. Tecuhltli was dead,flayed alive by the maddened Xotalancaswho had captured him.

Without emotion Olmec told of hideousbattles fought in black corridors, ofambushes on twisting stairs, and redbutcheries. With a redder, more abysmalgleam in his deep dark eyes he told ofmen and women flayed alive, mutilatedand dismembered, of captives howlingunder tortures so ghastly that even thebarbarous Cimmerian grunted. No wonderTechotl had trembled with the terrorof capture. Yet he had gone forth to slayif he could, driven by hate that wasstronger than his fear. Olmec spoke further,of dark and mysterious matters, ofblack magic and wizardry conjured out ofthe black night of the catacombs, of weirdcreatures invoked out of darkness for horribleallies. In these things the Xotalancashad the advantage, for it was in the easterncatacombs where lay the bones of thegreatest wizards of the ancient Xuchotlans,with their immemorial secrets.

Valeria listened with morbid fascination.The feud had become a terribleelemental power driving the peopleof Xuchotl inexorably on to doom and extinction.It filled their whole lives. Theywere born in it, and they expected to diein it. They never left their barricadedcastle except to steal forth into the Hallsof Silence that lay between the opposingfortresses, to slay and be slain. Sometimesthe raiders returned with frantic captives,or with grim tokens of victory in fight.Sometimes they did not return at all, orreturned only as severed limbs cast downbefore the bolted bronze doors. It was aghastly, unreal nightmare existence thesepeople lived, shut off from the rest of theworld, caught together like rabid rats inthe same trap, butchering one anotherthrough the years, crouching and creepingthrough the sunless corridors to maim andtorture and murder.

While Olmec talked, Valeria felt theblazing eyes of Tascela fixed upon her.The princess seemed not to hear what Olmecwas saying. Her expression, as henarrated victories or defeats, did not mirrorthe wild rage or fiendish exultationthat alternated on the faces of the otherTecuhltli. The feud that was an obsessionto her clansmen seemed meaningless toher. Valeria found her indifferent callousnessmore repugnant than Olmec'snaked ferocity.

"And we can never leave the city," saidOlmec. "For fifty years no one has leftit except those——" Again he checkedhimself.

"Even without the peril of the dragons,"he continued, "we who were bornand raised in the city would not dare leaveit. We have never set foot outside thewalls. We are not accustomed to the opensky and the naked sun. No; we wereborn in Xuchotl, and in Xuchotl we shalldie."

"Well," said Conan, "with your leavewe'll take our chances with the dragons.This feud is none of our business. Ifyou'll show us to the west gate, we'll beon our way."

Tascela's hands clenched, and she startedto speak, but Olmec interrupted her:"It is nearly nightfall. If you wanderforth into the plain by night, you will certainlyfall prey to the dragons."

"We crossed it last night, and slept inthe open without seeing any," returnedConan.

Tascela smiled mirthlessly. "You darenot leave Xuchotl!"

Conan glared at her with instinctive antagonism;she was not looking at him, butat the woman opposite him.

"I think they dare," retorted Olmec."But look you, Conan and Valeria, thegods must have sent you to us, to cast victoryinto the laps of the Tecuhltli! Youare professional fighters—why not fightfor us? We have wealth in abundance—preciousjewels are as common in Xuchotlas cobblestones are in the cities of theworld. Some the Xuchotlans broughtwith them from Kosala. Some, like thefire-stones, they found in the hills to theeast. Aid us to wipe out the Xotalancas,and we will give you all the jewels youcan carry."

"And will you help us destroy thedragons?" asked Valeria. "With bowsand poisoned arrows thirty men couldslay all the dragons in the forest."

"Aye!" replied Olmec promptly. "Wehave forgotten the use of the bow, inyears of hand-to-hand fighting, but we canlearn again."

"What do you say?" Valeria inquiredof Conan.

"We're both penniless vagabonds," hegrinned hardily. "I'd as soon kill Xotalancasas anybody."

"Then you agree?" exclaimed Olmec,while Techotl fairly hugged himself withdelight.

"Aye. And now suppose you show uschambers where we can sleep, so we canbe fresh tomorrow for the beginning ofthe slaying."

Olmec nodded, and waved a hand, andTechotl and a woman led the adventurersinto a corridor which led through a dooroff to the left of the jade dais. A glanceback showed Valeria Olmec sitting on histhrone, chin on knotted fist, staring afterthem. His eyes burned with a weirdflame. Tascela leaned back in her seat,whispering to the sullen-faced maid, Yasala,who leaned over her shoulder, herear to the princess' moving lips.

The hallway was not so broad as mostthey had traversed, but it was long.Presently the woman halted, opened adoor, and drew aside for Valeria to enter.

"Wait a minute," growled Conan."Where do I sleep?"

Techotl pointed to a chamber acrossthe hallway, but one door farther down.Conan hesitated, and seemed inclined toraise an objection, but Valeria smiledspitefully at him and shut the door in hisface. He muttered something uncomplimentaryabout women in general, andstrode off down the corridor after Techotl.

In the ornate chamber where he was tosleep, he glanced up at the slot-like skylights.Some were wide enough to admitthe body of a slender man, supposing theglass were broken.

"Why don't the Xotalancas come overthe roofs and shatter those skylights?" heasked.

"They cannot be broken," answeredTechotl. "Besides, the roofs would behard to clamber over. They are mostlyspires and domes and steep ridges."

He volunteered more informationabout the "castle" of Tecuhltli. Like therest of the city it contained four stories,or tiers of chambers, with towers juttingup from the roof. Each tier was named;indeed, the people of Xuchotl had a namefor each chamber, hall and stair in the city,as people of more normal cities designatestreets and quarters. In Tecuhltli thefloors were named The Eagle's Tier, TheApe's Tier, The Tiger's Tier and TheSerpent's Tier, in the order as enumerated,The Eagle's Tier being the highest, orfourth, floor.

"Who is Tascela?" asked Conan. "Olmec'swife?"

Techotl shuddered and glanced furtivelyabout him before answering.

"No. She is—Tascela! She was thewife of Xotalanc—the woman Tecuhltlistole, to start the feud."

"What are you talking about?" demandedConan. "That woman is beautifuland young. Are you trying to tell methat she was a wife fifty years ago?"

"Aye! I swear it! She was a full-grownwoman when the Tlazitlans journeyedfrom Lake Zuad. It was because the kingof Stygia desired her for a concubine thatXotalanc and his brother rebelled andfled into the wilderness. She is a witch,who possesses the secret of perpetualyouth."

"What's that?" asked Conan.

Techotl shuddered again.

"Ask me not! I dare not speak. It istoo grisly, even for Xuchotl!"

And touching his finger to his lips, heglided from the chamber.

4. Scent of Black Lotus

Valeria unbuckled her sword-belt andlaid it with the sheathed weapon onthe couch where she meant to sleep. Shenoted that the doors were supplied withbolts, and asked where they led.

"Those lead into adjoining chambers,"answered the woman, indicating the doorson right and left. "That one"—pointingto a copper-bound door opposite thatwhich opened into the corridor—"leads toa corridor which runs to a stair thatdescends into the catacombs. Do not fear;naught can harm you here."

"Who spoke of fear?" snapped Valeria."I just like to know what sort of harborI'm dropping anchor in. No, I don't wantyou to sleep at the foot of my couch. I'mnot accustomed to being waited on—notby women, anyway. You have my leaveto go."

Alone in the room, the pirate shot thebolts on all the doors, kicked off her bootsand stretched luxuriously out on thecouch. She imagined Conan similarlysituated across the corridor, but her femininevanity prompted her to visualize him asscowling and muttering with chagrin ashe cast himself on his solitary couch, andshe grinned with gleeful malice as sheprepared herself for slumber.

Outside, night had fallen. In the hallsof Xuchotl the green fire-jewels blazedlike the eyes of prehistoric cats. Somewhereamong the dark towers a nightwind moaned like a restless spirit.Through the dim passages stealthy figuresbegan stealing, like disembodied shadows.

Valeria awoke suddenly on her couch.In the dusky emerald glow of the fire-gemsshe saw a shadowy figure bendingover her. For a bemused instant the apparitionseemed part of the dream shehad been dreaming. She had seemed tolie on the couch in the chamber as she wasactually lying, while over her pulsed andthrobbed a gigantic black blossom so enormousthat it hid the ceiling. Its exoticperfume pervaded her being, inducing adelicious, sensuous languor that was somethingmore and less than sleep. She wassinking into scented billows of insensiblebliss, when something touched her face.So supersensitive were her drugged senses,that the light touch was like a dislocatingimpact, jolting her rudely into full wakefulness.Then it was that she saw, not agargantuan blossom, but a dark-skinnedwoman standing above her.

With the realization came anger and instantaction. The woman turned lithely,but before she could run Valeria was onher feet and had caught her arm. Shefought like a wildcat for an instant, andthen subsided as she felt herself crushedby the superior strength of her captor.The pirate wrenched the woman aroundto face her, caught her chin with her freehand and forced her captive to meet hergaze. It was the sullen Yasala, Tascela'smaid.

"What the devil were you doing bendingover me? What's that in your hand?"

The woman made no reply, but soughtto cast away the object. Valeria twistedher arm around in front of her, and thething fell to the floor—a great black exoticblossom on a jade-green stem, largeas a woman's head, to be sure, but tinybeside the exaggerated vision she had seen.

"The black lotus!" said Valeria betweenher teeth. "The blossom whose scentbrings deep sleep. You were trying todrug me! If you hadn't accidentallytouched my face with the petals, you'dhave—why did you do it? What's yourgame?"

Yasala maintained a sulky silence, andwith an oath Valeria whirled her around,forced her to her knees and twisted herarm up behind her back.

"Tell me, or I'll tear your arm out ofits socket!"

Yasala squirmed in anguish as her armwas forced excruciatingly up between hershoulder-blades, but a violent shaking ofher head was the only answer she made.

"slu*t!" Valeria cast her from her tosprawl on the floor. The pirate glared atthe prostrate figure with blazing eyes.Fear and the memory of Tascela's burningeyes stirred in her, rousing all hertigerish instincts of self-preservation.These people were decadent; any sort ofperversity might be expected to be encounteredamong them. But Valeriasensed here something that moved behindthe scenes, some secret terror fouler thancommon degeneracy. Fear and revulsionof this weird city swept her. These peoplewere neither sane nor normal; she beganto doubt if they were even human.Madness smoldered in the eyes of themall—all except the cruel, cryptic eyes ofTascela, which held secrets and mysteriesmore abysmal than madness.

She lifted her head and listened intently.The halls of Xuchotl were assilent as if it were in reality a dead city.The green jewels bathed the chamber ina nightmare glow, in which the eyes ofthe woman on the floor glittered eerilyup at her. A thrill of panic throbbedthrough Valeria, driving the last vestigeof mercy from her fierce soul.

"Why did you try to drug me?" shemuttered, grasping the woman's blackhair, and forcing her head back to glareinto her sullen, long-lashed eyes. "DidTascela send you?"

No answer. Valeria cursed venomouslyand slapped the woman first on onecheek and then the other. The blows resoundedthrough the room, but Yasalamade no outcry.

"Why don't you scream?" demandedValeria savagely. "Do you fear someonewill hear you? Whom do you fear?Tascela? Olmec? Conan?"

Yasala made no reply. She crouched,watching her captor with eyes balefulas those of a basilisk. Stubborn silencealways fans anger. Valeria turnedand tore a handful of cords from a near-byhanging.

"You sulky slu*t!" she said between herteeth. "I'm going to strip you stark nakedand tie you across that couch and whipyou until you tell me what you were doinghere, and who sent you!"

Yasala made no verbal protest, nor didshe offer any resistance, as Valeria carriedout the first part of her threat with a furythat her captive's obstinacy only sharpened.Then for a space there was nosound in the chamber except the whistleand crackle of hard-woven silken cordson naked flesh. Yasala could not moveher fast-bound hands or feet. Her bodywrithed and quivered under the chastisem*nt,her head swayed from side to sidein rhythm with the blows. Her teethwere sunk into her lower lip and a trickleof blood began as the punishment continued.But she did not cry out.

The pliant cords made no great soundas they encountered the quivering bodyof the captive; only a sharp cracklingsnap, but each cord left a red streakacross Yasala's dark flesh. Valeria inflictedthe punishment with all thestrength of her war-hardened arm, withall the mercilessness acquired during alife where pain and torment were dailyhappenings, and with all the cynical ingenuitywhich only a woman displays towarda woman. Yasala suffered more,physically and mentally, than she wouldhave suffered under a lash wielded by aman, however strong.

It was the application of this femininecynicism which at last tamed Yasala.

A low whimper escaped from her lips,and Valeria paused, arm lifted, and rakedback a damp yellow lock. "Well, are yougoing to talk?" she demanded. "I cankeep this up all night, if necessary!"

"Mercy!" whispered the woman. "Iwill tell."

Valeria cut the cords from her wristsand ankles, and pulled her to her feet.Yasala sank down on the couch, half recliningon one bare hip, supportingherself on her arm, and writhing at the contactof her smarting flesh with the couch.She was trembling in every limb.

"Wine!" she begged, dry-lipped, indicatingwith a quivering hand a goldvessel on an ivory table. "Let me drink. Iam weak with pain. Then I will tell youall."

Valeria picked up the vessel, and Yasalarose unsteadily to receive it. Shetook it, raised it toward her lips—thendashed the contents full into the Aquilonian'sface. Valeria reeled backward,shaking and clawing the stinging liquidout of her eyes. Through a smartingmist she saw Yasala dart across the room,fling back a bolt, throw open the copper-bounddoor and run down the hall. Thepirate was after her instantly, sword outand murder in her heart.

But Yasala had the start, and she ranwith the nervous agility of a woman whohas just been whipped to the point ofhysterical frenzy. She rounded a cornerin the corridor, yards ahead of Valeria,and when the pirate turned it, she sawonly an empty hall, and at the other enda door that gaped blackly. A dampmoldy scent reeked up from it, and Valeriashivered. That must be the doorthat led to the catacombs. Yasala hadtaken refuge among the dead.

Valeria advanced to the door andlooked down a flight of stone steps thatvanished quickly into utter blackness.Evidently it was a shaft that led straightto the pits below the city, without openingupon any of the lower floors. Sheshivered slightly at the thought of thethousands of corpses lying in their stonecrypts down there, wrapped in theirmoldering cloths. She had no intentionof groping her way down those stonesteps. Yasala doubtless knew every turnand twist of the subterranean tunnels.

She was turning back, baffled and furious,when a sobbing cry welled up fromthe blackness. It seemed to come from agreat depth, but human words were faintlydistinguishable, and the voice was thatof a woman. "Oh, help! Help, in Set'sname! Ahhh!" It trailed away, and Valeriathought she caught the echo of aghostly tittering.

Valeria felt her skin crawl. What hadhappened to Yasala down there in thethick blackness? There was no doubt thatit had been she who had cried out. Butwhat peril could have befallen her? Wasa Xotalanca lurking down there? Olmechad assured them that the catacombsbelow Tecuhltli were walled off from therest, too securely for their enemies tobreak through. Besides, that tittering hadnot sounded like a human being at all.

Valeria hurried back down the corridor,not stopping to close the door thatopened on the stair. Regaining her chamber,she closed the door and shot the boltbehind her. She pulled on her boots andbuckled her sword-belt about her. Shewas determined to make her way to Conan'sroom and urge him, if he still lived,to join her in an attempt to fight theirway out of that city of devils.

But even as she reached the door thatopened into the corridor, a long-drawnscream of agony rang through the halls,followed by the stamp of running feetand the loud clangor of swords.

5. Twenty Red Nails

Two warriors lounged in the guardroomon the floor known as the Tierof the Eagle. Their attitude was casual,though habitually alert. An attack onthe great bronze door from without wasalways a possibility, but for many yearsno such assault had been attempted oneither side.

"The strangers are strong allies," saidone. "Olmec will move against theenemy tomorrow, I believe."

He spoke as a soldier in a war mighthave spoken. In the miniature world ofXuchotl each handful of feudists was anarmy, and the empty halls between thecastles was the country over which theycampaigned.

"Even as he shifted, he hurled the knife."

The other meditated for a space.

"Suppose with their aid we destroyXotalanc," he said. "What then,Xatmec?"

"Why," returned Xatmec, "we willdrive red nails for them all. The captiveswe will burn and flay and quarter."

"But afterward?" pursued the other."After we have slain them all? Will itnot seem strange, to have no foes tofight? All my life I have fought andhated the Xotalancas. With the feudended, what is left?"

Xatmec shrugged his shoulders. Histhoughts had never gone beyond thedestruction of their foes. They could notgo beyond that.

Suddenly both men stiffened at a noiseoutside the door.

"To the door, Xatmec!" hissed thelast speaker. "I shall look through theEye——"

Xatmec, sword in hand, leaned againstthe bronze door, straining his ear to hearthrough the metal. His mate looked intothe mirror. He started convulsively. Menwere clustered thickly outside the door;grim, dark-faced men with swordsgripped in their teeth—and their fingersthrust into their ears. One who wore afeathered head-dress had a set of pipeswhich he set to his lips, and even asthe Tecuhltli started to shout a warning,the pipes began to skirl.

The cry died in the guard's throat asthe thin, weird piping penetrated themetal door and smote on his ears. Xatmecleaned frozen against the door, as ifparalyzed in that position. His face wasthat of a wooden image, his expressionone of horrified listening. The otherguard, farther removed from the sourceof the sound, yet sensed the horror ofwhat was taking place, the grisly threatthat lay in that demoniac fifing. Hefelt the weird strains plucking like unseenfingers at the tissues of his brain,filling him with alien emotions and impulsesof madness. But with a soul-tearingeffort he broke the spell, andshrieked a warning in a voice he did notrecognize as his own.

But even as he cried out, the musicchanged to an unbearable shrilling thatwas like a knife in the ear-drums. Xatmecscreamed in sudden agony, and all thesanity went out of his face like a flameblown out in a wind. Like a madman heripped loose the chain, tore open the doorand rushed out into the hall, sword liftedbefore his mate could stop him. A dozenblades struck him down, and over hismangled body the Xotalancas surged intothe guardroom, with a long-drawn,blood-mad yell that sent the unwontedechoes reverberating.

His brain reeling from the shock ofit all, the remaining guard leaped to meetthem with goring spear. The horror ofthe sorcery he had just witnessed wassubmerged in the stunning realizationthat the enemy were in Tecuhltli. Andas his spearhead ripped through a dark-skinnedbelly he knew no more, for aswinging sword crushed his skull, even aswild-eyed warriors came pouring in fromthe chambers behind the guardroom.

It was the yelling of men and theclanging of steel that brought Conanbounding from his couch, wide awakeand broadsword in hand. In an instanthe had reached the door and flung itopen, and was glaring out into the corridorjust as Techotl rushed up it, eyesblazing madly.

"The Xotalancas!" he screamed, in avoice hardly human, "They are withinthe door!"

Conan ran down the corridor, even asValeria emerged from her chamber.

"What the devil is it?" she called.

"Techotl says the Xotalancas are in,"he answered hurriedly. "That racketsounds like it."

With the Tecuhltli on their heelsthey burst into the throne room andwere confronted by a scene beyond themost frantic dream of blood and fury.Twenty men and women, their black hairstreaming, and the white skulls gleamingon their breasts, were locked in combatwith the people of Tecuhltli. The womenon both sides fought as madly as the men,and already the room and the hall beyondwere strewn with corpses.

Olmec, naked but for a breech-clout,was fighting before his throne, and as theadventurers entered, Tascela ran from aninner chamber with a sword in her hand.

Xatmec and his mate were dead, sothere was none to tell the Tecuhltli howtheir foes had found their way into theircitadel. Nor was there any to say whathad prompted that mad attempt. But thelosses of the Xotalancas had been greater,their position more desperate, than theTecuhltli had known. The maiming oftheir scaly ally, the destruction of theBurning Skull, and the news, gasped bya dying man, that mysterious white-skinallies had joined their enemies, haddriven them to the frenzy of desperationand the wild determination to die dealingdeath to their ancient foes.

The Tecuhltli, recovering from the firststunning shock of the surprise that hadswept them back into the throne roomand littered the floor with their corpses,fought back with an equally desperatefury, while the door-guards from thelower floors came racing to hurl themselvesinto the fray. It was the death-fightof rabid wolves, blind, panting,merciless. Back and forth it surged, fromdoor to dais, blades whickering and strikinginto flesh, blood spurting, feet stampingthe crimson floor where redder poolswere forming. Ivory tables crashed over,seats were splintered, velvet hangingstorn down were stained red. It was thebloody climax of a bloody half-century,and every man there sensed it.

But the conclusion was inevitable. TheTecuhltli outnumbered the invaders almosttwo to one, and they were heartenedby that fact and by the entrance into themêlée of their light-skinned allies.

These crashed into the fray with thedevastating effect of a hurricane plowingthrough a grove of saplings. In sheerstrength no three Tlazitlans were a matchfor Conan, and in spite of his weight hewas quicker on his feet than any ofthem. He moved through the whirling,eddying mass with the surety and destructivenessof a gray wolf amidst a packof alley curs, and he strode over a wakeof crumpled figures.

Valeria fought beside him, her lipssmiling and her eyes blazing. She wasstronger than the average man, and farquicker and more ferocious. Her swordwas like a living thing in her hand.Where Conan beat down opposition bythe sheer weight and power of his blows,breaking spears, splitting skulls and cleavingbosoms to the breast-bone, Valeriabrought into action a finesse of sword-playthat dazzled and bewildered her antagonistsbefore it slew them. Again andagain a warrior, heaving high his heavyblade, found her point in his jugular beforehe could strike. Conan, toweringabove the field, strode through the weltersmiting right and left, but Valeriamoved like an illusive phantom, constantlyshifting, and thrusting and slashingas she shifted. Swords missed heragain and again as the wielders flailedthe empty air and died with her point intheir hearts or throats, and her mockinglaughter in their ears.

Neither sex nor condition was consideredby the maddened combatants. Thefive women of the Xotalancas were downwith their throats cut before Conan andValeria entered the fray, and when a manor woman went down under the stampingfeet, there was always a knife ready forthe helpless throat, or a sandaled footeager to crush the prostrate skull.

From wall to wall, from door to doorrolled the waves of combat, spilling overinto adjoining chambers. And presentlyonly Tecuhltli and their white-skinnedallies stood upright in the great throne room.The survivors stared bleakly andblankly at each other, like survivors afterJudgment Day or the destruction of theworld. On legs wide-braced, hands grippingnotched and dripping swords, bloodtrickling down their arms, they stared atone another across the mangled corpsesof friends and foes. They had no breathleft to shout, but a bestial mad howlingrose from their lips. It was not a humancry of triumph. It was the howling of arabid wolf-pack stalking among the bodiesof its victims.

Conan caught Valeria's arm and turnedher about.

"You've got a stab in the calf of yourleg," he growled.

She glanced down, for the first timeaware of a stinging in the muscles of herleg. Some dying man on the floor hadfleshed his dagger with his last effort.

"You look like a butcher yourself," shelaughed.

He shook a red shower from his hands.

"Not mine. Oh, a scratch here andthere. Nothing to bother about. But thatcalf ought to be bandaged."

Olmec came through the litter, lookinglike a ghoul with his naked massiveshoulders splashed with blood, andhis black beard dabbled in crimson. Hiseyes were red, like the reflection of flameon black water.

"We have won!" he croaked dazedly."The feud is ended! The dogs of Xotalanclie dead! Oh, for a captive to flayalive! Yet it is good to look upon theirdead faces. Twenty dead dogs! Twentyred nails for the black column!"

"You'd best see to your wounded,"grunted Conan, turning away from him."Here, girl, let me see that leg."

"Wait a minute!" she shook him offimpatiently. The fire of fighting stillburned brightly in her soul. "How dowe know these are all of them? Thesemight have come on a raid of their own."

"They would not split the clan on aforay like this," said Olmec, shaking hishead, and regaining some of his ordinaryintelligence. Without his purple robe theman seemed less like a prince than somerepellent beast of prey. "I will stake myhead upon it that we have slain them all.There were less of them than I dreamed,and they must have been desperate. Buthow came they in Tecuhltli?"

Tascela came forward, wiping hersword on her naked thigh, and holdingin her other hand an object she had takenfrom the body of the feathered leader ofthe Xotalancas.

"The pipes of madness," she said. "Awarrior tells me that Xatmec opened thedoor to the Xotalancas and was cut downas they stormed into the guardroom. Thiswarrior came to the guardroom from theinner hall just in time to see it happenand to hear the last of a weird strain ofmusic which froze his very soul. Tolkemecused to talk of these pipes, which theXuchotlans swore were hidden somewherein the catacombs with the bonesof the ancient wizard who used them inhis lifetime. Somehow the dogs of Xotalancfound them and learned their secret."

"Somebody ought to go to Xotalancand see if any remain alive," said Conan."I'll go if somebody will guide me."

Olmec glanced at the remnants of hispeople. There were only twenty leftalive, and of these several lay groaningon the floor. Tascela was the only one ofthe Tecuhltli who had escaped withouta wound. The princess was untouched,though she had fought as savagely as any.

"Who will go with Conan to Xotalanc?"asked Olmec.

Techotl limped forward. The woundin his thigh had started bleeding afresh,and he had another gash across his ribs.

"I will go!"

"No, you won't," vetoed Conan. "Andyou're not going either, Valeria. In a littlewhile that leg will be getting stiff."

"I will go," volunteered a warrior, whowas knotting a bandage about a slashedforearm.

"Very well, Yanath. Go with theCimmerian. And you, too, Topal." Olmecindicated another man whose injurieswere slight. "But first aid us to lift thebadly wounded on these couches wherewe may bandage their hurts."

This was done quickly. As they stoopedto pick up a woman who had beenstunned by a war-club, Olmec's beardbrushed Topal's ear. Conan thought theprince muttered something to the warrior,but he could not be sure. A fewmoments later he was leading his companionsdown the hall.

Conan glanced back as he went out thedoor, at that shambles where the deadlay on the smoldering floor, blood-staineddark limbs knotted in attitudes of fiercemuscular effort, dark faces frozen inmasks of hate, glassy eyes glaring up atthe green fire-jewels which bathed theghastly scene in a dusky emerald witch-light.Among the dead the living movedaimlessly, like people moving in a trance.Conan heard Olmec call a woman and directher to bandage Valeria's leg. Thepirate followed the woman into an adjoiningchamber, already beginning tolimp slightly.

Warily the two Tecuhltli led Conanalong the hall beyond the bronzedoor, and through chamber after chambershimmering in the green fire. Theysaw no one, heard no sound. After theycrossed the Great Hall which bisected thecity from north to south, their cautionwas increased by the realization of theirnearness to enemy territory. But chambersand halls lay empty to their warygaze, and they came at last along a broaddim hallway and halted before a bronzedoor similar to the Eagle Door of Tecuhltli.Gingerly they tried it, and it openedsilently under their fingers. Awed, theystared into the green-lit chambers beyond.For fifty years no Tecuhltli had enteredthose halls save as a prisoner going to ahideous doom. To go to Xotalanc hadbeen the ultimate horror that could befalla man of the western castle. The terrorof it had stalked through their dreamssince earliest childhood. To Yanath andTopal that bronze door was like the portalof hell.

They cringed back, unreasoning horrorin their eyes, and Conan pushed pastthem and strode into Xotalanc.

Timidly they followed him. As eachman set foot over the threshold he staredand glared wildly about him. But onlytheir quick, hurried breathing disturbedthe silence.

They had come into a square guardroom,like that behind the Eagle Door ofTecuhltli, and, similarly, a hall ran awayfrom it to a broad chamber that was acounterpart of Olmec's throne room.

Conan glanced down the hall with itsrugs and divans and hangings, and stoodlistening intently. He heard no noise, andthe rooms had an empty feel. He did notbelieve there were any Xotalancas leftalive in Xuchotl.

"Come on," he muttered, and starteddown the hall.

He had not gone far when he wasaware that only Yanath was followinghim. He wheeled back to see Topalstanding in an attitude of horror, one armout as if to fend off some threateningperil, his distended eyes fixed with hypnoticintensity on something protrudingfrom behind a divan.

"What the devil?" Then Conan sawwhat Topal was staring at, and he felt afaint twitching of the skin between hisgiant shoulders. A monstrous head protrudedfrom behind the divan, a reptilianhead, broad as the head of a crocodile,with down-curving fangs that projectedover the lower jaw. But there was an unnaturallimpness about the thing, and thehideous eyes were glazed.

Conan peered behind the couch. Itwas a great serpent which lay there limpin death, but such a serpent as he hadnever seen in his wanderings. The reekand chill of the deep black earth wereabout it, and its color was an indeterminablehue which changed with each newangle from which he surveyed it. A greatwound in the neck showed what hadcaused its death.

"It is the Crawler!" whispered Yanath.

"It's the thing I slashed on the stair,"grunted Conan. "After it trailed us tothe Eagle Door, it dragged itself here todie. How could the Xotalancas controlsuch a brute?"

The Tecuhltli shivered and shook theirheads.

"They brought it up from the blacktunnels below the catacombs. They discoveredsecrets unknown to Tecuhltli."

"Well, it's dead, and if they'd had anymore of them, they'd have brought themalong when they came to Tecuhltli. Comeon."

They crowded close at his heels as hestrode down the hall and thrust on thesilver-worked door at the other end.

"If we don't find anybody on thisfloor," he said, "we'll descend into thelower floors. We'll explore Xotalancfrom the roof to the catacombs. If Xotalancis like Tecuhltli, all the rooms andhalls in this tier will be lighted—whatthe devil!"

They had come into the broad throne chamber,so similar to that one inTecuhltli. There were the same jade daisand ivory seat, the same divans, rugs andhangings on the walls. No black, red-scarredcolumn stood behind the throne-dais,but evidences of the grim feud werenot lacking.

Ranged along the wall behind the daiswere rows of glass-covered shelves. Andon those shelves hundreds of humanheads, perfectly preserved, stared at thestartled watchers with emotionless eyes, asthey had stared for only the gods knewhow many months and years.

Topal muttered a curse, but Yanathstood silent, the mad light growingin his wide eyes. Conan frowned, knowingthat Tlazitlan sanity was hung on ahair-trigger.

Suddenly Yanath pointed to the ghastlyrelics with a twitching finger.

"There is my brother's head!" he murmured."And there is my father's youngerbrother! And there beyond them is mysister's eldest son!"

Suddenly he began to weep, dry-eyed,with harsh, loud sobs that shook hisframe. He did not take his eyes from theheads. His sobs grew shriller, changed tofrightful, high-pitched laughter, and thatin turn became an unbearable screaming.Yanath was stark mad.

Conan laid a hand on his shoulder, andas if the touch had released all the frenzyin his soul, Yanath screamed and whirled,striking at the Cimmerian with his sword.Conan parried the blow, and Topal triedto catch Yanath's arm. But the madmanavoided him and with froth flying fromhis lips, he drove his sword deep intoTopal's body. Topal sank down with agroan, and Yanath whirled for an instantlike a crazy dervish; then he ran at theshelves and began hacking at the glasswith his sword, screeching blasphemously.

Conan sprang at him from behind, tryingto catch him unaware and disarm him,but the madman wheeled and lunged athim, screaming like a lost soul. Realizingthat the warrior was hopelessly insane, theCimmerian side-stepped, and as the maniacwent past, he swung a cut thatsevered the shoulder-bone and breast, anddropped the man dead beside his dyingvictim.

Conan bent over Topal, seeing that theman was at his last gasp. It was uselessto seek to stanch the blood gushing fromthe horrible wound.

"You're done for, Topal," grunted Conan."Any word you want to send toyour people?"

"Bend closer," gasped Topal, and Conancomplied—and an instant latercaught the man's wrist as Topal struckat his breast with a dagger.

"Crom!" swore Conan. "Are you mad,too?"

"Olmec ordered it!" gasped the dyingman. "I know not why. As we lifted thewounded upon the couches he whisperedto me, bidding me to slay you as wereturned to Tecuhltli——" And with thename of his clan on his lips, Topal died.

Conan scowled down at him in puzzlement.This whole affair had an aspectof lunacy. Was Olmec mad, too? Wereall the Tecuhltli madder than he had realized?With a shrug of his shoulders hestrode down the hall and out of thebronze door, leaving the dead Tecuhltlilying before the staring dead eyes of theirkinsmen's heads.

Conan needed no guide back throughthe labyrinth they had traversed. Hisprimitive instinct of direction led him unerringlyalong the route they had come.He traversed it as warily as he had before,his sword in his hand, and his eyesfiercely searching each shadowed nookand corner; for it was his former allieshe feared now, not the ghosts of the slainXotalancas.

He had crossed the Great Hall and enteredthe chambers beyond when he heardsomething moving ahead of him—somethingwhich gasped and panted, andmoved with a strange, floundering, scramblingnoise. A moment later Conan sawa man crawling over the flaming floor towardhim—a man whose progress left abroad bloody smear on the smolderingsurface. It was Techotl and his eyes werealready glazing; from a deep gash in hisbreast blood gushed steadily between thefingers of his clutching hand. With theother he clawed and hitched himselfalong.

"Conan," he cried chokingly, "Conan!Olmec has taken the yellow-hairedwoman!"

"So that's why he told Topal to killme!" murmured Conan, dropping to hisknee beside the man, who his experiencedeye told him was dying. "Olmec isn't somad as I thought."

Techotl's groping fingers plucked atConan's arm. In the cold, loveless andaltogether hideous life of the Tecuhltlihis admiration and affection for the invadersfrom the outer world formed awarm, human oasis, constituted a tie thatconnected him with a more natural humanitythat was totally lacking in his fellows,whose only emotions were hate, lustand the urge of sad*stic cruelty.

"I sought to oppose him," gurgledTechotl, blood bubbling frothily to hislips. "But he struck me down. Hethought he had slain me, but I crawledaway. Ah, Set, how far I have crawledin my own blood! Beware, Conan! Olmecmay have set an ambush for your return!Slay Olmec! He is a beast. TakeValeria and flee! Fear not to traverse theforest. Olmec and Tascela lied about thedragons. They slew each other years ago,all save the strongest. For a dozen yearsthere has been only one dragon. If youhave slain him, there is naught in the forestto harm you. He was the god Olmecworshipped; and Olmec fed human sacrificesto him, the very old and the veryyoung, bound and hurled from the wall.Hasten! Olmec has taken Valeria to theChamber of the——"

His head slumped down and he wasdead before it came to rest on the floor.

Conan sprang up, his eyes like livecoals. So that was Olmec's game,having first used the strangers to destroyhis foes! He should have known thatsomething of the sort would be going onin that black-bearded degenerate's mind.

The Cimmerian started toward Tecuhltliwith reckless speed. Rapidly he reckonedthe numbers of his former allies.Only twenty-one, counting Olmec, hadsurvived that fiendish battle in the throne room.Three had died since, which leftseventeen enemies with which to reckon.In his rage Conan felt capable of accountingfor the whole clan single-handed.

But the innate craft of the wildernessrose to guide his berserk rage. He rememberedTechotl's warning of an ambush.It was quite probable that theprince would make such provisions, onthe chance that Topal might have failedto carry out his order. Olmec would beexpecting him to return by the same routehe had followed in going to Xotalanc.

Conan glanced up at a skylight underwhich he was passing and caught theblurred glimmer of stars. They had notyet begun to pale for dawn. The eventsof the night had been crowded into acomparatively short space of time.

He turned aside from his direct courseand descended a winding staircase to thefloor below. He did not know where thedoor was to be found that let into thecastle on that level, but he knew he couldfind it. How he was to force the locks hedid not know; he believed that the doorsof Tecuhltli would all be locked andbolted, if for no other reason than thehabits of half a century. But there wasnothing else but to attempt it.

Sword in hand, he hurried noiselessly onthrough a maze of green-lit or shadowyrooms and halls. He knew he must benear Tecuhltli, when a sound broughthim up short. He recognized it for whatit was—a human being trying to cry outthrough a stifling gag. It came fromsomewhere ahead of him, and to the left.In those deathly-still chambers a smallsound carried a long way.

Conan turned aside and went seekingafter the sound, which continued to be repeated.Presently he was glaring througha doorway upon a weird scene. In theroom into which he was looking a lowrack-like frame of iron lay on the floor,and a giant figure was bound prostrateupon it. His head rested on a bed ofiron spikes, which were already crimson-pointedwith blood where they hadpierced his scalp. A peculiar harness-likecontrivance was fastened about his head,though in such a manner that the leatherband did not protect his scalp from thespikes. This harness was connected by aslender chain to the mechanism that uphelda huge iron ball which wassuspended above the captive's hairy breast.As long as the man could force himselfto remain motionless the iron ball hungin its place. But when the pain of theiron points caused him to lift his head,the ball lurched downward a few inches.Presently his aching neck muscles wouldno longer support his head in its unnaturalposition and it would fall back on thespikes again. It was obvious that eventuallythe ball would crush him to a pulp,slowly and inexorably. The victim wasgagged, and above the gag his great blackox-eyes rolled wildly toward the man inthe doorway, who stood in silent amazement.The man on the rack was Olmec,prince of Tecuhltli.

6. The Eyes of Tascela

"Why did you bring me into thischamber to bandage my legs?"demanded Valeria. "Couldn't you havedone it just as well in the throne room?"

She sat on a couch with her woundedleg extended upon it, and the Tecuhltliwoman had just bound it with silk bandages.Valeria's red-stained sword lay onthe couch beside her.

She frowned as she spoke. The womanhad done her task silently and efficiently,but Valeria liked neither the lingering,caressing touch of her slim fingers northe expression in her eyes.

"They have taken the rest of thewounded into the other chambers," answeredthe woman in the soft speech ofthe Tecuhltli women, which somehow didnot suggest either softness or gentlenessin the speakers. A little while before, Valeriahad seen this same woman stab aXotalanca woman through the breast andstamp the eyeballs out of a woundedXotalanca man.

"They will be carrying the corpses ofthe dead down into the catacombs," sheadded, "lest the ghosts escape into thechambers and dwell there."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" asked Valeria.

"I know the ghost of Tolkemec dwellsin the catacombs," she answered with ashiver. "Once I saw it, as I crouched ina crypt among the bones of a dead queen.It passed by in the form of an ancientman with flowing white beard and locks,and luminous eyes that blazed in thedarkness. It was Tolkemec; I saw himliving when I was a child and he was beingtortured."

Her voice sank to a fearful whisper:"Olmec laughs, but I know Tolkemec'sghost dwells in the catacombs! They sayit is rats which gnaw the flesh from thebones of the newly dead—but ghosts eatflesh. Who knows but that——"

She glanced up quickly as a shadowfell across the couch. Valeria looked upto see Olmec gazing down at her. Theprince had cleansed his hands, torso andbeard of the blood that had splashedthem; but he had not donned his robe,and his great dark-skinned hairless bodyand limbs renewed the impression ofstrength bestial in its nature. His deepblack eyes burned with a more elementallight, and there was the suggestion of atwitching in the fingers that tugged at histhick blue-black beard.

He stared fixedly at the woman, andshe rose and glided from the chamber.As she passed through the door she casta look over her shoulder at Valeria, aglance full of cynical derision and obscenemockery.

"She has done a clumsy job," criticizedthe prince, coming to the divan and bendingover the bandage. "Let me see——"

With a quickness amazing in one ofhis bulk he snatched her sword and threwit across the chamber. His next move wasto catch her in his giant arms.

Quick and unexpected as the move was,she almost matched it; for even as hegrabbed her, her dirk was in her hand andshe stabbed murderously at his throat.More by luck than skill he caught herwrist, and then began a savage wrestling-match.She fought him with fists, feet,knees, teeth and nails, with all thestrength of her magnificent body and allthe knowledge of hand-to-hand fightingshe had acquired in her years of rovingand fighting on sea and land. It availedher nothing against his brute strength.She lost her dirk in the first moment ofcontact, and thereafter found herselfpowerless to inflict any appreciable painon her giant attacker.

The blaze in his weird black eyes didnot alter, and their expression filled herwith fury, fanned by the sardonic smilethat seemed carved upon his bearded lips.Those eyes and that smile contained allthe cruel cynicism that seethes below thesurface of a sophisticated and degeneraterace, and for the first time in her life Valeriaexperienced fear of a man. It waslike struggling against some huge elementalforce; his iron arms thwarted her effortswith an ease that sent panic racingthrough her limbs. He seemed imperviousto any pain she could inflict. Onlyonce, when she sank her white teeth savagelyinto his wrist so that the bloodstarted, did he react. And that was tobuffet her brutally upon the side of thehead with his open hand, so that starsflashed before her eyes and her headrolled on her shoulders.

Her shirt had been torn open in thestruggle, and with cynical cruelty herasped his thick beard across her barebreasts, bringing the blood to suffuse thefair skin, and fetching a cry of pain andoutraged fury from her. Her convulsiveresistance was useless; she was crusheddown on a couch, disarmed and panting,her eyes blazing up at him like the eyesof a trapped tigress.

A moment later he was hurrying fromthe chamber, carrying her in his arms.She made no resistance, but the smolderingof her eyes showed that she was unconqueredin spirit, at least. She had notcried out. She knew that Conan was notwithin call, and it did not occur to herthat any in Tecuhltli would oppose theirprince. But she noticed that Olmec wentstealthily, with his head on one side as iflistening for sounds of pursuit, and hedid not return to the throne chamber. Hecarried her through a door that stood oppositethat through which he had entered,crossed another room and began stealingdown a hall. As she became convincedthat he feared some opposition to the abduction,she threw back her head andscreamed at the top of her lusty voice.

She was rewarded by a slap that halfstunned her, and Olmec quickened hispace to a shambling run.

But her cry had been echoed, and twistingher head about, Valeria, through thetears and stars that partly blinded her,saw Techotl limping after them.

Olmec turned with a snarl, shifting thewoman to an uncomfortable and certainlyundignified position under one huge arm,where he held her writhing and kickingvainly, like a child.

"Olmec!" protested Techotl. "You cannotbe such a dog as to do this thing! Sheis Conan's woman! She helped us slaythe Xotalancas, and——"

Without a word Olmec balled hisfree hand into a huge fist andstretched the wounded warrior senselessat his feet. Stooping, and hindered notat all by the struggles and imprecationsof his captive, he drew Techotl's swordfrom its sheath and stabbed the warriorin the breast. Then casting aside the weaponhe fled on along the corridor. Hedid not see a woman's dark face peer cautiouslyafter him from behind a hanging.It vanished, and presently Techotlgroaned and stirred, rose dazedly andstaggered drunkenly away, calling Conan'sname.

Olmec hurried on down the corridor,and descended a winding ivory staircase.He crossed several corridors and halted atlast in a broad chamber whose doors wereveiled with heavy tapestries, with one exception—aheavy bronze door similar tothe Door of the Eagle on the upper floor.

He was moved to rumble, pointing toit: "That is one of the outer doors ofTecuhltli. For the first time in fifty yearsit is unguarded. We need not guard itnow, for Xotalanc is no more."

"Thanks to Conan and me, you bloodyrogue!" sneered Valeria, trembling withfury and the shame of physical coercion."You treacherous dog! Conan will cutyour throat for this!"

Olmec did not bother to voice his beliefthat Conan's own gullet had alreadybeen severed according to his whisperedcommand. He was too utterly cynical tobe at all interested in her thoughts oropinions. His flame-lit eyes devoured her,dwelling burningly on the generous expansesof clear white flesh exposed whereher shirt and breeches had been torn inthe struggle.

"Forget Conan," he said thickly. "Olmecis lord of Xuchotl. Xotalanc is nomore. There will be no more fighting.We shall spend our lives in drinking andlove-making. First let us drink!"

He seated himself on an ivory tableand pulled her down on his knees, like adark-skinned satyr with a white nymph inhis arms. Ignoring her un-nymphlike profanity,he held her helpless with onegreat arm about her waist while the otherreached across the table and secured avessel of wine.

"Drink!" he commanded, forcing it toher lips, as she writhed her head away.

The liquor slopped over, stinging herlips, splashing down on her naked breasts.

"Your guest does not like your wine,Olmec," spoke a cool, sardonic voice.

Olmec stiffened; fear grew in his flamingeyes. Slowly he swung his great headabout and stared at Tascela who posednegligently in the curtained doorway,one hand on her smooth hip. Valeriatwisted herself about in his iron grip, andwhen she met the burning eyes of Tascela,a chill tingled along her supplespine. New experiences were floodingValeria's proud soul that night. Recentlyshe had learned to fear a man; now sheknew what it was to fear a woman.

Olmec sat motionless, a gray pallorgrowing under his swarthy skin. Tascelabrought her other hand from behind herand displayed a small gold vessel.

"I feared she would not like your wine,Olmec," purred the princess, "so Ibrought some of mine, some I broughtwith me long ago from the shores of LakeZuad—do you understand, Olmec?"

Beads of sweat stood out suddenly onOlmec's brow. His muscles relaxed, andValeria broke away and put the table betweenthem. But though reason told herto dart from the room, some fascinationshe could not understand held her rigid,watching the scene.

Tascela came toward the seated princewith a swaying, undulating walk that wasmockery in itself. Her voice was soft,slurringly caressing, but her eyes gleamed.Her slim fingers stroked his beard lightly.

"You are selfish, Olmec," she crooned,smiling. "You would keep our handsomeguest to yourself, though you knewI wished to entertain her. You are muchat fault, Olmec!"

The mask dropped for an instant; hereyes flashed, her face was contorted andwith an appalling show of strength herhand locked convulsively in his beard andtore out a great handful. This evidenceof unnatural strength was no more terrifyingthan the momentary baring of thehellish fury that raged under her blandexterior.

Olmec lurched up with a roar, andstood swaying like a bear, his mightyhands clenching and unclenching.

"slu*t!" His booming voice filled theroom. "Witch! She-devil! Tecuhltlishould have slain you fifty years ago! Begone!I have endured too much from you!This white-skinned wench is mine! Gethence before I slay you!"

The princess laughed and dashed theblood-stained strands into his face. Herlaughter was less merciful than the ringof flint on steel.

"Once you spoke otherwise, Olmec,"she taunted. "Once, in your youth, youspoke words of love. Aye, you were mylover once, years ago, and because youloved me, you slept in my arms beneaththe enchanted lotus—and thereby put intomy hands the chains that enslaved you.You know you cannot withstand me. Youknow I have but to gaze into your eyes,with the mystic power a priest of Stygiataught me, long ago, and you are powerless.You remember the night beneaththe black lotus that waved above us,stirred by no worldly breeze; you scentagain the unearthly perfumes that stoleand rose like a cloud about you to enslaveyou. You cannot fight against me. Youare my slave as you were that night—asyou shall be so long as you shall live,Olmec of Xuchotl!"

Her voice had sunk to a murmur likethe rippling of a stream runningthrough starlit darkness. She leaned closeto the prince and spread her long taperingfingers upon his giant breast. Hiseyes glazed, his great hands fell limplyto his sides.

With a smile of cruel malice, Tascelalifted the vessel and placed it to his lips.

"Drink!"

Mechanically the prince obeyed. Andinstantly the glaze passed from his eyesand they were flooded with fury, comprehensionand an awful fear. His mouthgaped, but no sound issued. For an instanthe reeled on buckling knees, andthen fell in a sodden heap on the floor.

His fall jolted Valeria out of her paralysis.She turned and sprang toward thedoor, but with a movement that wouldhave shamed a leaping panther, Tascelawas before her. Valeria struck at her withher clenched fist, and all the power of hersupple body behind the blow. It wouldhave stretched a man senseless on thefloor. But with a lithe twist of her torso,Tascela avoided the blow and caught thepirate's wrist. The next instant Valeria'sleft hand was imprisoned, and holdingher wrists together with one hand, Tascelacalmly bound them with a cord shedrew from her girdle. Valeria thoughtshe had tasted the ultimate in humiliationalready that night, but her shame atbeing manhandled by Olmec was nothingto the sensations that now shook her suppleframe. Valeria had always been inclinedto despise the other members ofher sex; and it was overwhelming to encounteranother woman who could handleher like a child. She scarcely resisted atall when Tascela forced her into a chairand drawing her bound wrists down betweenher knees, fastened them to thechair.

Casually stepping over Olmec, Tascelawalked to the bronze door and shot thebolt and threw it open, revealing a hallwaywithout.

"Opening upon this hall," she remarked,speaking to her feminine captivefor the first time, "there is a chamberwhich in old times was used as a tortureroom. When we retired into Tecuhltli,we brought most of the apparatus withus, but there was one piece too heavy tomove. It is still in working order. I thinkit will be quite convenient now."

An understanding flame of terror rosein Olmec's eyes. Tascela strode back tohim, bent and gripped him by the hair.

"He is only paralyzed temporarily,"she remarked conversationally. "He canhear, think, and feel—aye, he can feelvery well indeed!"

With which sinister observation shestarted toward the door, dragging thegiant bulk with an ease that made thepirate's eyes dilate. She passed into thehall and moved down it without hesitation,presently disappearing with her captiveinto a chamber that opened into it,and whence shortly thereafter issued theclank of iron.

Valeria swore softly and tugged vainly,with her legs braced against the chair.The cords that confined her were apparentlyunbreakable.

Tascela presently returned alone; behindher a muffled groaning issued fromthe chamber. She closed the door but didnot bolt it. Tascela was beyond the gripof habit, as she was beyond the touch ofother human instincts and emotions.

Valeria sat dumbly, watching the womanin whose slim hands, the piraterealized, her destiny now rested.

Tascela grasped her yellow locks andforced back her head, looking impersonallydown into her face. But the glitterin her dark eyes was not impersonal.

"I have chosen you for a great honor,"she said. "You shall restore the youth ofTascela. Oh, you stare at that! My appearanceis that of youth, but throughmy veins creeps the sluggish chill of approachingage, as I have felt it a thousandtimes before. I am old, so old I do notremember my childhood. But I was agirl once, and a priest of Stygia loved me,and gave me the secret of immortalityand youth everlasting. He died, then—somesaid by poison. But I dwelt in mypalace by the shores of Lake Zuad andthe passing years touched me not. So atlast a king of Stygia desired me, and mypeople rebelled and brought me to thisland. Olmec called me a princess. I amnot of royal blood. I am greater than aprincess. I am Tascela, whose youth yourown glorious youth shall restore."

Valeria's tongue clove to the roof ofher mouth. She sensed here a mysterydarker than the degeneracy she had anticipated.

The taller woman unbound the Aquilonian'swrists and pulled her to her feet.It was not fear of the dominant strengththat lurked in the princess' limbs thatmade Valeria a helpless, quivering captivein her hands. It was the burning,hypnotic, terrible eyes of Tascela.

7. He Comes from the Dark

"Well, I'm a Kush*te!"

Conan glared down at the manon the iron rack.

"What the devil are you doing on thatthing?"

Incoherent sounds issued from behindthe gag and Conan bent and tore it away,evoking a bellow of fear from the captive;for his action caused the iron ballto lurch down until it nearly touched thebroad breast.

"Be careful, for Set's sake!" beggedOlmec.

"What for?" demanded Conan. "Doyou think I care what happens to you? Ionly wish I had time to stay here andwatch that chunk of iron grind your gutsout. But I'm in a hurry. Where's Valeria?"

"Loose me!" urged Olmec, "I willtell you all!"

"Tell me first."

"Never!" The prince's heavy jaws setstubbornly.

"All right." Conan seated himself ona near-by bench. "I'll find her myself,after you've been reduced to a jelly. Ibelieve I can speed up that process bytwisting my sword-point around in yourear," he added, extending the weaponexperimentally.

"Wait!" Words came in a rush fromthe captive's ashy lips. "Tascela took herfrom me. I've never been anything buta puppet in Tascela's hands."

"Tascela?" snorted Conan, and spat."Why, the filthy——"

"No, no!" panted Olmec. "It's worsethan you think. Tascela is old—centuriesold. She renews her life and her youthby the sacrifice of beautiful young women.That's one thing that has reducedthe clan to its present state. She willdraw the essence of Valeria's life into herown body, and bloom with fresh vigorand beauty."

"Are the doors locked?" asked Conan,thumbing his sword edge.

"Aye! But I know a way to get intoTecuhltli. Only Tascela and I know, andshe thinks me helpless and you slain.Free me and I swear I will help you rescueValeria. Without my help you cannotwin into Tecuhltli; for even if youtortured me into revealing the secret, youcouldn't work it. Let me go, and we willsteal on Tascela and kill her before shecan work magic—before she can fix hereyes on us. A knife thrown from behindwill do the work. I should have killedher thus long ago, but I feared that withouther to aid us the Xotalancas wouldovercome us. She needed my help, too;that's the only reason she let me live thislong. Now neither needs the other, andone must die. I swear that when wehave slain the witch, you and Valeriashall go free without harm. My peoplewill obey me when Tascela is dead."

Conan stooped and cut the ropes thatheld the prince, and Olmec slid cautiouslyfrom under the great ball and rose,shaking his head like a bull and mutteringimprecations as he fingered his laceratedscalp. Standing shoulder to shoulderthe two men presented a formidablepicture of primitive power. Olmec wasas tall as Conan, and heavier; but therewas something repellent about the Tlazitlan,something abysmal and monstrousthat contrasted unfavorably with theclean-cut, compact hardness of the Cimmerian.Conan had discarded the remnantsof his tattered, blood-soaked shirt,and stood with his remarkable musculardevelopment impressively revealed. Hisgreat shoulders were as broad as those ofOlmec, and more cleanly outlined, andhis huge breast arched with a more impressivesweep to a hard waist thatlacked the paunchy thickness of Olmec'smidsection. He might have been an imageof primal strength cut out of bronze.Olmec was darker, but not from theburning of the sun. If Conan was a figureout of the dawn of Time, Olmec wasa shambling, somber shape from thedarkness of Time's pre-dawn.

"Lead on," demanded Conan. "Andkeep ahead of me. I don't trust you anyfarther than I can throw a bull by thetail."

Olmec turned and stalked on ahead ofhim, one hand twitching slightly as itplucked at his matted beard.

Olmec did not lead Conan back tothe bronze door, which the princenaturally supposed Tascela had locked,but to a certain chamber on the borderof Tecuhltli.

"This secret has been guarded for halfa century," he said. "Not even our ownclan knew of it, and the Xotalancas neverlearned. Tecuhltli himself built this secretentrance, afterward slaying the slaveswho did the work; for he feared that hemight find himself locked out of his ownkingdom some day because of the spiteof Tascela, whose passion for him soonchanged to hate. But she discovered thesecret, and barred the hidden door againsthim one day as he fled back from an unsuccessfulraid, and the Xotalancas tookhim and flayed him. But once, spyingupon her, I saw her enter Tecuhltli bythis route, and so learned the secret."

He pressed upon a gold ornament inthe wall, and a panel swung inward, disclosingan ivory stair leading upward.

"This stair is built within the wall,"said Olmec. "It leads up to a tower uponthe roof, and thence other stairs winddown to the various chambers. Hasten!"

"After you, comrade!" retorted Conansatirically, swaying his broadsword as hespoke, and Olmec shrugged his shouldersand stepped onto the staircase. Conan instantlyfollowed him, and the door shutbehind them. Far above a cluster of fire-jewelsmade the staircase a well of duskydragon-light.

They mounted until Conan estimatedthat they were above the level of thefourth floor, and then came out into acylindrical tower, in the domed roof ofwhich was set the bunch of fire-jewelsthat lighted the stair. Through gold-barredwindows, set with unbreakablecrystal panes, the first windows he hadseen in Xuchotl, Conan got a glimpse ofhigh ridges, domes and more towers,looming darkly against the stars. He waslooking across the roofs of Xuchotl.

Olmec did not look through the windows.He hurried down one of the severalstairs that wound down from thetower, and when they had descended afew feet, this stair changed into a narrowcorridor that wound tortuously on forsome distance. It ceased at a steep flightof steps leading downward. There Olmecpaused.

Up from below, muffled, but unmistakable,welled a woman's scream, edgedwith fright, fury and shame. And Conanrecognized Valeria's voice.

In the swift rage roused by that cry,and the amazement of wondering whatperil could wring such a shriek fromValeria's reckless lips, Conan forgot Olmec.He pushed past the prince and starteddown the stair. Awakening instinctbrought him about again, just as Olmecstruck with his great mallet-like fist. Theblow, fierce and silent, was aimed at thebase of Conan's brain. But the Cimmerianwheeled in time to receive thebuffet on the side of his neck instead.The impact would have snapped the vertebræof a lesser man. As it was, Conanswayed backward, but even as he reeledhe dropped his sword, useless at suchclose quarters, and grasped Olmec's extendedarm, dragging the prince with himas he fell. Headlong they went down thesteps together, in a revolving whirl oflimbs and heads and bodies. And as theywent Conan's iron fingers found andlocked in Olmec's bull-throat.

The barbarian's neck and shoulder feltnumb from the sledge-like impact of Olmec'shuge fist, which had carried all thestrength of the massive forearm, thicktriceps and great shoulder. But this didnot affect his ferocity to any appreciableextent. Like a bulldog he hung on grimly,shaken and battered and beaten againstthe steps as they rolled, until at last theystruck an ivory panel-door at the bottomwith such an impact that they splintered it downits full length and crashed through itsruins. But Olmec was already dead, forthose iron fingers had crushed out his lifeand broken his neck as they fell.

Conan rose, shaking the splintersfrom his great shoulder, blinkingblood and dust out of his eyes.

He was in the great throne room. Therewere fifteen people in that room besideshimself. The first person he saw wasValeria. A curious black altar stood beforethe throne-dais. Ranged about it,seven black candles in golden candlestickssent up oozing spirals of thick greensmoke, disturbingly scented. These spiralsunited in a cloud near the ceiling,forming a smoky arch above the altar.On that altar lay Valeria, stark naked, herwhite flesh gleaming in shocking contrastto the glistening ebon stone. She was notbound. She lay at full length, her armsstretched out above her head to their fullestextent. At the head of the altar knelta young man, holding her wrists firmly.A young woman knelt at the other end ofthe altar, grasping her ankles. Betweenthem she could neither rise nor move.

Eleven men and women of Tecuhltliknelt dumbly in a semicircle, watchingthe scene with hot, lustful eyes.

On the ivory throne-seat Tascela lolled.Bronze bowls of incense rolled theirspirals about her; the wisps of smokecurled about her naked limbs like caressingfingers. She could not sit still; shesquirmed and shifted about with sensuousabandon, as if finding pleasure in thecontact of the smooth ivory with her sleekflesh.

The crash of the door as it broke beneaththe impact of the hurtling bodiescaused no change in the scene. The kneelingmen and women merely glanced incuriouslyat the corpse of their prince andat the man who rose from the ruins ofthe door, then swung their eyes greedilyback to the writhing white shape on theblack altar. Tascela looked insolently athim, and sprawled back on her seat,laughing mockingly.

"slu*t!" Conan saw red. His handsclenched into iron hammers as he startedfor her. With his first step somethingclanged loudly and steel bit savagely intohis leg. He stumbled and almost fell,checked in his headlong stride. The jawsof an iron trap had closed on his leg,with teeth that sank deep and held. Onlythe ridged muscles of his calf saved thebone from being splintered. The accursedthing had sprung out of thesmoldering floor without warning. Hesaw the slots now, in the floor where thejaws had lain, perfectly camouflaged.

"Fool!" laughed Tascela. "Did youthink I would not guard against yourpossible return? Every door in this chamberis guarded by such traps. Stand thereand watch now, while I fulfill the destinyof your handsome friend! Then I will decideyour own."

Conan's hand instinctively sought hisbelt, only to encounter an empty scabbard.His sword was on the stair behindhim. His poniard was lying back in theforest, where the dragon had torn it fromhis jaw. The steel teeth in his leg werelike burning coals, but the pain was notas savage as the fury that seethed in hissoul. He was trapped, like a wolf. If hehad had his sword he would have hewnoff his leg and crawled across the floor toslay Tascela. Valeria's eyes rolled towardhim with mute appeal, and his own helplessnesssent red waves of madness surgingthrough his brain.

Dropping on the knee of his free leg,he strove to get his fingers between thejaws of the trap, to tear them apart bysheer strength. Blood started from beneathhis finger nails, but the jaws fittedclose about his leg in a circle whose segmentsjointed perfectly, contracted untilthere was no space between his mangledflesh and the fanged iron. The sight ofValeria's naked body added flame to thefire of his rage.

Tascela ignored him. Rising languidlyfrom her seat she swept the ranks of hersubjects with a searching glance, andasked: "Where are Xamec, Zlanath andTachic?"

"They did not return from the catacombs,princess," answered a man. "Likethe rest of us, they bore the bodies of theslain into the crypts, but they have notreturned. Perhaps the ghost of Tolkemectook them."

"Be silent, fool!" she ordered harshly."The ghost is a myth."

She came down from her dais, playingwith a thin gold-hilted dagger. Her eyesburned like nothing on the hither side ofhell. She paused beside the altar andspoke in the tense stillness.

"Your life shall make me young, whitewoman!" she said. "I shall lean uponyour bosom and place my lips over yours,and slowly—ah, slowly!—sink this bladethrough your heart, so that your life, fleeingyour stiffening body, shall enter mine,making me bloom again with youth andwith life everlasting!"

Slowly, like a serpent arching towardits victim, she bent down through thewrithing smoke, closer and closer over thenow motionless woman who stared upinto her glowing dark eyes—eyes thatgrew larger and deeper, blazing like blackmoons in the swirling smoke.

The kneeling people gripped theirhands and held their breath, tense for thebloody climax, and the only sound wasConan's fierce panting as he strove to tearhis leg from the trap.

All eyes were glued on the altar andthe white figure there; the crash of athunderbolt could hardly have brokenthe spell, yet it was only a low cry thatshattered the fixity of the scene andbrought all whirling about—a low cry,yet one to make the hair stand up stifflyon the scalp. They looked, and they saw.

Framed in the door to the left of thedais stood a nightmare figure. It was aman, with a tangle of white hair and amatted white beard that fell over hisbreast. Rags only partly covered his gauntframe, revealing half-naked limbsstrangely unnatural in appearance. Theskin was not like that of a normal human.There was a suggestion of scaliness aboutit, as if the owner had dwelt long underconditions almost antithetical to thoseconditions under which human life ordinarilythrives. And there was nothingat all human about the eyes that blazedfrom the tangle of white hair. They weregreat gleaming disks that stared unwinkingly,luminous, whitish, and withouta hint of normal emotion or sanity.The mouth gaped, but no coherent wordsissued—only a high-pitched tittering.

"Tolkemec!" whispered Tascela,livid, while the others crouched inspeechless horror. "No myth, then, noghost! Set! You have dwelt for twelveyears in darkness! Twelve years amongthe bones of the dead! What grisly fooddid you find? What mad travesty of lifedid you live, in the stark blackness ofthat eternal night? I see now why Xamecand Zlanath and Tachic did not returnfrom the catacombs—and never will return.But why have you waited so longto strike? Were you seeking something,in the pits? Some secret weapon youknew was hidden there? And have youfound it at last?"

That hideous tittering was Tolkemec'sonly reply, as he bounded into the roomwith a long leap that carried him overthe secret trap before the door—bychance, or by some faint recollection ofthe ways of Xuchotl. He was not mad,as a man is mad. He had dwelt apartfrom humanity so long that he was nolonger human. Only an unbroken threadof memory embodied in hate and theurge for vengeance had connected himwith the humanity from which he hadbeen cut off, and held him lurking nearthe people he hated. Only that thinstring had kept him from racing andprancing off for ever into the blackcorridors and realms of the subterraneanworld he had discovered, long ago.

"You sought something hidden!" whisperedTascela, cringing back. "And youhave found it! You remember the feud!After all these years of blackness, youremember!"

For in the lean hand of Tolkemec nowwaved a curious jade-hued wand, on theend of which glowed a knob of crimsonshaped like a pomegranate. She sprangaside as he thrust it out like a spear, anda beam of crimson fire lanced from thepomegranate. It missed Tascela, but thewoman holding Valeria's ankles was inthe way. It smote between her shoulders.There was a sharp crackling sound andthe ray of fire flashed from her bosomand struck the black altar, with a snappingof blue sparks. The woman toppledsidewise, shriveling and witheringlike a mummy even as she fell.

Valeria rolled from the altar on theother side, and started for the oppositewall on all fours. For hell had burstloose in the throne room of dead Olmec.

The man who had held Valeria's handswas the next to die. He turned to run,but before he had taken half a dozensteps, Tolkemec, with an agility appallingin such a frame, bounded around to aposition that placed the man between himand the altar. Again the red fire-beamflashed and the Tecuhltli rolled lifelessto the floor, as the beam completed itscourse with a burst of blue sparks againstthe altar.

Then began slaughter. Screaming insanelythe people rushed about the chamber,caroming from one another, stumblingand falling. And among themTolkemec capered and pranced, dealingdeath. They could not escape by thedoors; for apparently the metal of theportals served like the metal-veined stonealtar to complete the circuit for whateverhellish power flashed like thunderboltsfrom the witch-wand the ancient wavedin his hand. When he caught a man or awoman between him and a door or thealtar, that one died instantly. He choseno special victim. He took them as theycame, with his rags flapping about hiswildly gyrating limbs, and the gustyechoes of his tittering sweeping the roomabove the screams. And bodies fell likefalling leaves about the altar and at thedoors. One warrior in desperation rushedat him, lifting a dagger, only to fall beforehe could strike. But the rest werelike crazed cattle, with no thought for resistance,and no chance of escape.

The last Tecuhltli except Tascelahad fallen when the princess reachedthe Cimmerian and the girl who hadtaken refuge beside him. Tascela bentand touched the floor, pressing a designupon it. Instantly the iron jaws releasedthe bleeding limb and sank back into thefloor.

"Slay him if you can!" she panted, andpressed a heavy knife into his hand. "Ihave no magic to withstand him!"

With a grunt he sprang before thewomen, not heeding his lacerated leg inthe heat of the fighting-lust. Tolkemecwas coming toward him, his weird eyesablaze, but he hesitated at the gleam ofthe knife in Conan's hand. Then began agrim game, as Tolkemec sought to circleabout Conan and get the barbarian betweenhim and the altar or a metal door,while Conan sought to avoid this anddrive home his knife. The womenwatched tensely, holding their breath.

There was no sound except the rustleand scrape of quick-shifting feet. Tolkemecpranced and capered no more. Herealized that grimmer game confrontedhim than the people who had diedscreaming and fleeing. In the elementalblaze of the barbarian's eyes he read anintent deadly as his own. Back and forththey weaved, and when one moved theother moved as if invisible threads boundthem together. But all the time Conanwas getting closer and closer to hisenemy. Already the coiled muscles of histhighs were beginning to flex for aspring, when Valeria cried out. For afleeting instant a bronze door was in linewith Conan's moving body. The red lineleaped, searing Conan's flank as he twistedaside, and even as he shifted he hurledthe knife. Old Tolkemec went down,truly slain at last, the hilt vibrating on hisbreast.

Tascela sprang—not toward Conan,but toward the wand where it shimmeredlike a live thing on the floor. Butas she leaped, so did Valeria, with a daggersnatched from a dead man, and theblade, driven with all the power of thepirate's muscles, impaled the princess ofTecuhltli so that the point stood out betweenher breasts. Tascela screamed onceand fell dead, and Valeria spurned thebody with her heel as it fell.

"I had to do that much, for my ownself-respect!" panted Valeria, facing Conanacross the limp corpse.

"Well, this cleans up the feud," hegrunted. "It's been a hell of a night!Where did these people keep their food?I'm hungry."

"You need a bandage on that leg."Valeria ripped a length of silk from ahanging and knotted it about her waist,then tore off some smaller strips whichshe bound efficiently about the barbarian'slacerated limb.

"I can walk on it," he assured her."Let's begone. It's dawn, outside thisinfernal city. I've had enough ofXuchotl. It's well the breed exterminateditself. I don't want any of their accursedjewels. They might be haunted."

"There is enough clean loot in theworld for you and me," she said,straightening to stand tall and splendidbefore him.

The old blaze came back in his eyes,and this time she did not resist as hecaught her fiercely in his arms.

"It's a long way to the coast," she saidpresently, withdrawing her lips from his.

"What matter?" he laughed. "There'snothing we can't conquer. We'll haveour feet on a ship's deck before theStygians open their ports for the tradingseason. And then we'll show the worldwhat plundering means!"

[THE END]

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED NAILS ***