Conan The Indomitable by Steve Perry Page A

would be refreshing.
    Striding purposefully ahead of the Cyclopes, the wizard marched off to
attend to business.
     
    Chuntha’s saddle was cinched into place on the back of one of the larger
worms, a torpid-thinking vermis called Soriusu. Behind her mount, two dozen
more of the giant worms twitched, awaiting the witch’s command to move.
Chuntha’s saddlebags, made from fresh Blind White leather, rested in front of
her spread legs. Her erotics, potions, dreaming jewels, and assorted wands lay
within, and thin bags of hallucinogenic spore powder nestled along the edge of
her saddle within easy reach. She was ready.
    “Go!” Chuntha commanded.
    Here at the exit to her personal chamber, the light-emitting fungus was
particularly strong, and her naked skin, warmed as always by her inner fires,
glowed viridly as she moved under the verdant glow. Chuntha smiled to herself.
This would be a great adventure, ending in what she
was certain would turn out to be a magnificent copulatory episode.
    The delicious thought warmed her even more.
    ----

Nine
    Conan, Elashi, and Tull floated along the Sunless Sea for the best part of a day
without major incident. Things did sometimes swirl in the waters around them,
sending ripples or an occasional splash their way, but Conan’s keen eyes found
no source for these actions. Once something large bumped the raft fish from
underneath, rocking the three riders, but whatever it was, it troubled them
only the one time. Perhaps it had taken a mouthful of their boat and been
satisfied.
    Near what Conan judged to be evening—who could tell in this land of
eternally glowing walls?—they paddled the raft into a quiet cove and wedged it
against a rocky shore. It was darker here than in many other places, the
light-fungus being rather scantly distributed along the walls of the cove’s
grotto, and if anybody or anything happened to pass by upon the water, it might
well be that they would miss seeing the trio and their make-do boat.
    All three of the voyagers were covered with a sticky and smelly fish
effluvia, and none had any desire to sleep upon the dead creature could it be
avoided. A series of ledges stair-stepped its way up the wall away from the
water, and a particularly wide one was an easy two minutes’ climb. Perched
here, the three shared more of the “cooked” fish. Tull gathered some
lichen that was edible, if not deliciously so, and they also chewed on that as
they rested.
    “I wish we could build a fire,” Elashi said. “It is so damp
in here.”
    Conan glanced at the woman, but said nothing.
    “I know, I know,” she said. “Might as well
wish for a kingdom. It was only a thought.”
    “How far do you reckon we come?” Tull asked.
    Conan shrugged. “Miles. Hard to say on the
water.”
    “Aye. Reckon we lost any followers. Kinda hard to track in water.”
    Conan chewed on a mouthful of the lichen. It had a sour taste but was a
change from the fish. Earlier in the day the fish had been the best food he had
eaten in a long time; after consuming the pale, bloodless flesh several times
since, it had lost much of its appeal.
    Likely Tull was right about pursuers, but he would sleep with one hand on
his sword. This place was run by a wizard and a witch, and although his
experience with magic was slim, he wanted no more part of it. Such things were
dangerous and unclean. Give him a fanged beast to face, or berserker swordsmen,
and he could hold his own as well as any man. Some spell-spewing necromancer
was another thing altogether. Honest men stayed away from such things, and
Conan wanted no truck with wizards or witches or any of their ilk .
    “I’ll stand the first watch,” Tull said.
    Conan nodded. He looked at Elashi. “We have no fire, but we can share
our own warmth.”
    “Aye,” she said, smiling.
    The pair of them found a particularly dark recess on the ledge, leaving Tull
sitting near the edge, watching the ice-smooth Sunless Sea .
     
    The Webspinner Plants could not