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The sun was hanging low when Olivia regained her senses. A faint windwafted to her ears distant shouts and snatches of ribald song. Risingcautiously, she looked out across the plateau. She saw the piratesclustered about a great fire outside the ruins, and her heart leaped asa group emerged from the interior dragging some object she knew wasConan. They propped him against the wall, still evidently bound fast,and there ensued a long discussion, with much brandishing of weapons. Atlast they dragged him back into the hall, and took up anew the businessof ale-guzzling. Olivia sighed; at least she knew that the Cimmerianstill lived. Fresh determination steeled her. As soon as night fell, shewould steal to those grim ruins and free him or be taken herself in theattempt. And she knew it was not selfish interest alone which promptedher decision.
With this in mind she ventured to creep from her refuge to pluck and eatnuts which grew sparsely near at hand. She had not eaten since the daybefore. It was while so occupied that she was troubled by a sensation ofbeing watched. She scanned the rocks nervously, then, with a shudderingsuspicion, crept to the north edge of the cliff and gazed down into thewaving green mass below, already dusky with the sunset. She saw nothing;it was impossible that she could be seen, when not on the cliff's edge,by anything lurking in those woods. Yet she distinctly felt the glare ofhidden eyes, and felt that _something_ animate and sentient was aware ofher presence and her hiding-place.
Stealing back to her rocky eyrie, she lay watching the distant ruinsuntil the dusk of night masked them, and she marked their position bythe flickering flames about which black figures leaped and cavortedgroggily.
Then she rose. It was time to make her attempt. But first she stole backto the northern edge of the cliffs, and looked down into the woods thatbordered the beach. And as she strained her eyes in the dim starlight,she stiffened, and an icy hand touched her heart.
Far below her something moved. It was as if a black shadow detacheditself from the gulf of shadows below her. It moved slowly up the sheerface of the cliff--a vague bulk, shapeless in the semi-darkness. Paniccaught Olivia by the throat, and she struggled with the scream thattugged at her lips. Turning, she fled down the southern slope.
That flight down the shadowed cliffs was a nightmare in which she slidand scrambled, catching at jagged rocks with cold fingers. As she toreher tender skin and bruised her soft limbs on the rugged boulders overwhich Conan had so lightly lifted her, she realized again her dependenceon the iron-thewed barbarian. But this thought was but one in afluttering maelstrom of dizzy fright.
The descent seemed endless, but at last her feet struck the grassylevels, and in a very frenzy of eagerness she sped away toward the firethat burned like the red heart of night. Behind her, as she fled, sheheard a shower of stones rattle down the steep slope, and the sound lentwings to her heels. What grisly climber dislodged those stones she darednot try to think.
Strenuous physical action dissipated her blind terror somewhat andbefore she had reached the ruin, her mind was clear, her reasoningfaculties alert, though her limbs trembled from her efforts.
She dropped to the sward and wriggled along on her belly until, frombehind a small tree that had escaped the axes of the pirates, shewatched her enemies. They had completed their supper, but were stilldrinking, dipping pewter mugs or jewelled goblets into the broken headsof the wine-casks. Some were already snoring drunkenly on the grass,while others had staggered into the ruins. Of Conan she saw nothing. Shelay there, while the dew formed on the grass about her and the leavesoverhead, and the men about the fire cursed, gambled and argued. Therewere only a few about the fire; most of them had gone into the ruins tosleep.
She lay watching them, her nerves taut with the strain of waiting, theflesh crawling between her shoulders at the thought of what might bewatching her in turn--of what might be stealing up behind her. Timedragged on leaden feet. One by one the revellers sank down in drunkenslumber, until all were stretched senseless beside the dying fire.
Olivia hesitated--then was galvanized by a distant glow rising throughthe trees. The moon was rising!
With a gasp she rose and hurried toward the ruins. Her flesh crawled asshe tiptoed among the drunken shapes that sprawled beside the gapingportal. Inside were many more; they shifted and mumbled in theirbesotted dreams, but none awakened as she glided among them. A sob ofjoy rose to her lips as she saw Conan. The Cimmerian was wide awake,bound upright to a pillar, his eyes gleaming in the faint reflection ofthe waning fire outside.
Picking her way among the sleepers, she approached him. Lightly as shehad come, he had heard her; had seen her when first framed in theportal. A faint grin touched his hard lips.
She reached him and clung to him an instant. He felt the quick beatingof her heart against his breast. Through a broad crevice in the wallstole a beam of moonlight, and the air was instantly supercharged withsubtle tension. Conan felt it and stiffened. Olivia felt it and gasped.The sleepers snored on. Bending quickly, she drew a dagger from itssenseless owner's belt, and set to work on Conan's bonds. They were sailcords, thick and heavy, and tied with the craft of a sailor. She toileddesperately, while the tide of moonlight crept slowly across the floortoward the feet of the crouching black figures between the pillars.
Her breath came in gasps; Conan's wrists were free, but his elbows andlegs were still bound fast. She glanced fleetingly at the figures alongthe walls--waiting, waiting. They seemed to watch her with the awfulpatience of the undead. The drunkards beneath her feet began to stir andgroan in their sleep. The moonlight crept down the hall, touching theblack feet. The cords fell from Conan's arms, and taking the daggerfrom her, he ripped the bonds from his legs with a single quick slash.He stepped out from the pillar, flexing his limbs, stoically enduringthe agony of returning circulation. Olivia crouched against him, shakinglike a leaf. Was it some trick of the moonlight that touched the eyes ofthe black figures with fire, so that they glimmered redly in theshadows?
Conan moved with the abruptness of a jungle cat. Catching up his swordfrom where it lay in a stack of weapons near by, he lifted Olivialightly from her feet and glided through an opening that gaped in theivy-grown wall.
No word passed between them. Lifting her in his arms he set off swiftlyacross the moon-bathed sward. Her arms about his iron neck, the Ophireanclosed her eyes, cradling her dark curly head against his massiveshoulder. A delicious sense of security stole over her.
In spite of his burden, the Cimmerian crossed the plateau swiftly, andOlivia, opening her eyes, saw that they were passing under the shadow ofthe cliffs.
'Something climbed the cliffs,' she whispered. 'I heard it scramblingbehind me as I came down.'
'We'll have to chance it,' he grunted.
'I am not afraid--now,' she sighed.
'You were not afraid when you came to free me, either,' he answered.'Crom, what a day it has been! Such haggling and wrangling I neverheard. I'm nearly deaf. Aratus wished to cut out my heart, and Ivanosrefused, to spite Aratus, whom he hates. All day long they snarled andspat at one another, and the crew quickly grew too drunk to vote eitherway--'
He halted suddenly, an image of bronze in the moonlight. With a quickgesture he tossed the girl lightly to one side and behind him. Rising toher knees on the soft sward, she screamed at what she saw.
Out of the shadows of the cliffs moved a monstrous shambling bulk--ananthropomorphic horror, a grotesque travesty of creation.
In general outline it was not unlike a man. But its face, limned in thebright moonlight, was bestial, with close-set ears, flaring nostrils,and a great flabby-lipped mouth in which gleamed white tusk-like fangs.It was covered with shaggy grayish hair, shot with silver which shone inthe moonlight, and its great misshapen paws hung nearly to the earth.Its bulk was tremendous; as it stood on its short bowed legs, itsbullet-head rose above that of the man who faced it; the sweep of thehairy breast and giant shoulders was breathtaking; the huge arms werelike knotted trees.
The moonlight scene swam, to Olivia's sight. This
, then, was the end ofthe trail--for what human being could withstand the fury of that hairymountain of thews and ferocity? Yet as she stared in wide-eyed horror atthe bronzed figure facing the monster, she sensed a kinship in theantagonists that was almost appalling. This was less a struggle betweenman and beast than a conflict between two creatures of the wild, equallymerciless and ferocious. With a flash of white tusks, the monstercharged.
The mighty arms spread wide as the beast plunged, stupefyingly quick forall his vast bulk and stunted legs.
Conan's action was a blur of speed Olivia's eye could not follow. Sheonly saw that he evaded that deadly grasp, and his sword, flashing likea jet of white lightning, sheared through one of those massive armsbetween shoulder and elbow. A great spout of blood deluged the sward asthe severed member fell, twitching horribly, but even as the sword bitthrough, the other malformed hand locked in Conan's black mane.
Only the iron neck-muscles of the Cimmerian saved him