The sword stroke released more magickal energy, which shook the ruins to their heart. Lava splashed below, overrunning what had been the river’s banks. Stones fell. Terraces collapsed. A huge boulder tumbled down and smashed the bridge’s first span to flinders.
Conan stood and hauled Tamara up from the hole. He held tightly for a moment, then retrieved his father’s sword. Together, they tested the planking on the remaining span, but soon gave this up as pointless since falling rocks posed more of a threat to the bridge than breaking boards did to them. At the far side they had to cut back toward the platform as collapsing terraces cut them off from the opening they’d seen.
They burst from the cavern mouth and Conan immediately moved Tamara behind him for cover. While most of Khalar Zym’s troops were fleeing back toward Khor Kalba, two companies had remained. The man-god’s elite guard stood poised with swords drawn to oppose Conan, while fresh recruits huddled in their shadows much as Tamara sheltered in Conan’s.
Conan shook his head. “Your master is dead. His dreams are lost. How many of you wish to die for promises that will never be kept?”
The elite guards’ captain took a step forward. “Some of us fight for duty and honor, not plunder or power.”
A soldier who had lurked behind him stepped halfway around, then pressed a dagger to the throat of Khalar Zym’s man. “And some of us, Captain, fight for our friends.” Behind him, the other recruits similarly threatened Khalar Zym’s last company.
Conan roared with laughter. “Artus! What are you doing here? You were supposed to be warning the world about Khalar Zym.”
“I whispered in the ear of one Shemite merchant, so the rumor is halfway round the world by now.” The Zingaran shrugged. “We actually hadn’t intended on fighting, you see . . . We just wanted to let you know we sail for Hyrkania with the tide, and didn’t want you to be late.”
EPILOGUE
CONAN STOOD ON a hill overlooking a desolate Hyrkanian plain. Tamara stood beside him and Artus waited at the base with the horses. The sun beat down mercilessly, and heat made the land shimmer—though the Cimmerian was certain that the shimmer was not from heat alone.
Tamara smiled. “Yes, Conan, the monastery is out there. I can feel it. I can find my way through the wards.”
“So you will go.”
She reached up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I have considered what you suggested, but I feel I must.”
He nodded. “You are very loyal to your master.”
“It’s not just him.” Tamara took his hands in hers and turned them over, exposing the chain scars. “Master Fassir told me about Khalar Zym in a roundabout way. He said that there were madmen in the world who saw patterns as portents in almost anything. Those sorts of men were the kind who kidnap children and make other children orphans. He left the monastery to save me from the consequences of such a madman. His burden passed to you. And now I must accept it from you. Somewhere, out there, will be a child who is sought as I was sought. As Master Fassir saved me, so I shall be able to save that child.”
“That child will be very lucky.” Conan smiled. “And the world as well, for your effort.”
Tamara squeezed his hands and looked up into his eyes. “You could come with me.”
“I do not need saving, Tamara Amaliat Jorvi Karushan.”
“The monastery is a place where you can find peace, Conan.”
The Cimmerian pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss, then released her and took a step back. “I was not born for peace, Tamara. I am a Cimmerian. I have a sword at my side, a horse to carry me to conquest, and enemies who need to be slain. It is my life, my friend, and I could never know any greater joy.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHAEL A. STACKPOLE is an award-winning novelist, screenwriter, podcaster, game designer, computer game designer, editor, and graphic novelist who is best known for his New York Times bestselling novels I, Jedi and Rogue Squadron. This novel is his forty-fourth to be published. He is currently finishing work on Of Limited Loyalty, the second in the Crown Colonies series. You can learn more about him and his work at his website: www.stormwolf.com.
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Corin (Conan’s father) teaching Young Conan about steel.
Young Conan in the woods, encountering Khalar’s army as they storm toward the village.
Hyrkanian archers from Khalar Zym’s army attacking Conan’s village.
Khalar’s henchmen Remo and Akhoun in Corin’s forge.
Ela Shan and Conan captured.
Fassir telling his vision of a warrior crossing paths with Tamara.
Khalar using his master sword skills during attack on monastery.
Marique tasting the monks’ blood, in search for the Acheronian bloodline.
Conan, now a young man, in pursuit of Remo.
Khalar and the Mask of Acheron.
Tamara attacked by a Sand Warrior at the Shaipur Outpost.
Ukafa and Conan in a wild fight.
Artus and Tamara on the Hornet.
Tamara’s blood reviving the Mask of Acheron.
Marique in her ceremonial garb, searching for Tamara among the Acheronian ruins.
Khalar Zym and Conan facing off in the final battle.