Conan
The Legend of the Death Bird 4
****************** Asunder *******************
Evening had come to the lands of the hill tribes of Cimmeria, and there was a young man, a guardian of one of its villages, sitting before a fire in somber contemplation of what had happened that day.
Conan and several others had been placed in the responsible role of safeguarding the tribe, of seeing that the village was secure against attack, however this day his village had been invaded. Not by southern hordes mind you...nor enemies from the west, but rather by someone who had traveled through the snows as a servant to a god that his people did not even consider their own.
Ple-ato Moon had taken the spoils which had been laid before him, and then he and his servant had vanished into the forest of the Cimmerian wilderness. They had also acquired a horse and cart to help them with the transport of their spoils.
The young Cimmerian was not happy. He just sat gazing into the fire, his eyes burning with a kindling of loathing. Even at sixteen Conan was aware of loyalty and honor, and a man's duty to keep his home safe, his clans-folk protected. Keep them from being robbed. Still, what would his father think when he returned from guarding their south border? Returned home to find that many of the tribesmen he'd forged steel for had given the means of their protection away to the god Annaki.
No, Conan was not pleased. He just sat there, blue eyes affixed to the flame, the light of the fire illuminating his face to show the scowl of his contempt. Others had joined him, clan-brothers Tork and Vars. Two young Cimmerians who had only known sixteen summers as well. Conan however, was in no mood for any talk this night, nor was he in the mood to drink berry juice. He was too occupied feeding the fames of his anger. He too had been stolen from. The beast of which he had hunted earlier in the day had been stripped of its finest meats, and then those had been given away. There had still remained enough food to feed his family, but Conan's idea had been also to share some of the prize with the girl he hoped someday to take as his mate. That had not happened.
Anyway, the young tribesman did not turn his head to look in any direction but rather only at the flame before him. Each of his friends sat quietly also, gazing at the light as it flickered this way and that, knowing too that they had all been tasked with guarding the camp. Now they looked into the fire as if they were looking for it to tell them their future.
Conan was sitting on a timber of logs, which had been placed around the pit, and in a short moment he heard the sound of something approaching him from behind. He turned quickly, as swift as a snow panther, blade in his hand flashing in the light of a living pyre.
"Hold...stay thy hand my young tribesman," came the voice of Acht Finger. The old clan chief stood there, just outside the brightness of the firelight, his expression obscured by the darkness of the night.
"Come here Conan, come to me," he quested of the young guardian of his tribe's village. Conan was hesitant for a moment, he had not been in the mood to talk to his friend's so what made the chief of his village think he wished to do other with him? The young Cimmerian, after a moment, did make his way to the clan's leader, and for a time he just stood before him, studying his emotions, his mannerisms.
Acht's eyes were the color of a mountain lake, and even with his age they were as blue as Conan's. The younger Cimmerian looked into those pools, his eyes searching for answers. Answers as to why his chief would give in to a priest of Annaki, rather stand his ground and fight? The chief began to speak.
"My young tribesman, I know that you are ill with me now, but I am here to tell you that there will be a time when the fortunes men like Ple-ato Moon will be no more. That there will come a moment to bring Annaki down, and all of the clergy that follow and serve the winged god as well, but this was not that day. Still it will come soon, and your hands will be a part of it."
Conan stood confused, his eyes staring into those of the chief's. The elder always talked in riddles instead of speaking his thoughts or intentions directly, it was one of the reasons why Conan held little regard for Acht's words. They could be the words of Ple-ato Moon for all he was concerned. If a man did not speak plainly, if his words were chosen in such a manner as to be obscure, or as to be the like of waters of a murky hill pond, then what lie beneath? Maybe it was the words of someone who had lived too long, maybe they had learned how to disguise their speech, hide it in the cloak of deception, like the snow panther hides itself in the cloak of a snowbank before it pounces. Conan listened as his chief elder spoke...but only slightly.
"I remember the day that you were born. Your mother baring you on a battlefield...our peoples were under siege that day, our camp attacked, yet she had the strength to bring forth a child...,"
Acht paused here and looked deeply into the young warrior's eyes. "You should always honor your parents Conan. Do their will as much as you can. I saw a new star in the dark nighttime sky the day that you were born, and it spoke to me. It told me that what lay ahead for you were many adventures, and that one day you would be king. As to what kingdom you may rule, I have not the knowledge, I only now that it will happen. I too know that you've seen ill of me this day...for what you assume is me bending the knee to the lord Annaki. However I will say to you that you are wrong and I hope that as you see more summers you also see the wisdom in what I'm telling you."
Acht looked at his young tribesman's face. He wasn't sure if Conan was listening, but he knew before the night was over that this eager young clansman would meet with a challenge that would change him, would change his way of thinking before acting too quickly, too irrationally. The elder of Conan's tribe stopped his sermon there, and then swiveled to return to his hut.
Conan didn't know, but Acht had seen something in the stars that night, and it had spoken to him like the stars he had witnessed that first night after Conan's birth. Maybe the young Cimmerian should have listened to the words of his elder after all.
*************** The Challenge **************
After Acht had returned to his hut Conan had returned to the fire. Tork and Vars were still there, however, they had been joined by Glista. As Conan returned to his place on the log by the fire he gripped the leather string around his neck to hide the three remaining pieces of gold which remained on the strap.
It had been his plan, his idea to give the gold to her, whenever he had deemed it time to choose his mate, only it had been his desire to award her with ten pieces of the shiny metal rather than just six, and now he had only three. If the priest of Annaki had been there, standing right before him at that moment, the young Cimmerian would have choked the life out of him...but of course Ple-ato Moon wasn't standing in front of him.
Anyway, this would delay his intentions a little. Glista was only one summer younger than Conan, and the hill folk of the mountains averaged their marriages at fourteen summers, rather then what the so-called civilized folk of the southern regains considered proper age. Crom, Conan's parents had been even younger than that.
Conan felt old not having a wife at this time, one with a fat belly with his lineage stowed inside. However, he had been waiting until he could praise her with a gift, a present of which part had been stolen from him just that day. He looked at Glista and found her looking back at him.
"My mother and father tell me that you should not be so mad with the elder chief of our tribe Conan. That Acht Finger is a wise man and knows what is best for the clan, he is legend," she said to her fellow tribesman.
"Aye, and one day I will be legend too," Conan spoke.
Tork and Vars laughed...
"Yes," Tork spoke, "and one day I will wear my mother's fur under clothe." He said this in a humorous manner.
Then the three, other than Conan, bellowed loudly their laughter into the night sky.
However, Conan recalled Acht's words about him one day being king.
"One day I will be king, you will see."
His three kinsmen continued to laugh, although it was more due to the image of Tork wearing his mother's underthings rather that the idea of Conan becoming a king.
After a while as the humor abated Glista looked over at the man she knew had a desire for her.
"Well, if you are wanting to prove your kingship, how about you start tonight," she said.
All three boys fell quiet and looked at her.
"My brother tells me that he knows where the lair of Annaki lies. That he has been told that it is way up in the mountains only a horse's short ride from here. He has told me of its true location."
"Snow panther's dung, (bullshit)" Vars said.
"Ney," Glista retorted, "and I know where it is."
"Let us go," Tork spoke all excited, "what better way to renew our honor than to steal back from Annaki what was stolen from us?"
Conan had not spoken at this point, but his eyes had turned into the bright pitch of a clear blue sky. Glista turned to look at him.
"...What better way to turn the scow on your face to one of the joy of a mountain leopard after its first kill? Can you see Acht Finger's face in the morning after he leaves his hut and sees the furs and spoils of what was stolen from his tribe the day before back in camp? It may cause his eyes to fall from his head and into the snow at his sandals."
Conan looked at the girl that he had chosen from an early age to be his mate. Glista was an adventurous soul, almost as adventurous as he was, and he liked that about her. A smile spread across his lips.
"I may become legend before the night turns into the light of a new morning," he spoke. It was the jest of a braggart, of someone whom held confidence in themselves as much as a mountain yak stands on a pinnacle and bellows its dominance over the world. But did any of them really know what was coming?
END PART 4
