Conan
Annaki: Legend of the Death Bird 9: Into the Deep
Author's note: Young Conan finds himself venturing into the Death Bird's lair, and, he finds something strange.
************** The Frozen Home of a God **************
It could have been days, or it could have been only moments. Conan didn't know how long he'd lain there, at the base of the shaft leading into the Annaki's domain. What he did know was that he could feel himself breathing, and he could taste blood and sand in his mouth. He was not fully conscious, however, with each passing breath his mind was becoming sharper, his senses more keen.
Conan remembered that he had fallen. He remembered that he had entered the lair of the beast which had been ravishing the hill lands of Cimmeria for as long as he could remember. He had entered and then had begun a descent down into the winged god's mountain, but there was a question. Why, why was he still alive? Why had he not been swallowed by the Beast or charred alive by Annaki as he lay helpless in the burnt sand?
The youthful Cimmerian began to open his eyes. He could see that it was dark, almost Stygian. But he also noticed that the walls of the shaft were lit with an amber hue, a small glow of light captured by some of the gritty stone which lined the walls.
Had he been another man, a civilized being, then he would have never detected this light, so dim was its illumination. However the young barbarian was no ordinary soul, no common human. He was from the clans of the north, the wild north, and it was said that his kind were more like animals than human. It was a description that the civilized folk of the warmer climates and regions had given them. This is what those people did when they did not understand a different culture, or another way of living.
"Barbarians, animals", he and his tribes' folk embraced the description rather than deny it. The beasts of the wild were ravenous creatures. They hunted and they hungered, but they killed for survival, not for pleasure or profit. Being thought of in this manner was not seen by the clans of the north as an insult.
Conan raised his head and turned a little. He could see that the glow of red light was coming from around a bend in a tunnel. He began to push himself up, onto his knees. And he could feel the ache in his muscles and the burn across his back.
He had been seared with the fire of the winged beast but not badly. Maybe the creature had thought him dead, or scared away, and had not taken a moment to view its handiwork?
Conan thought for a moment that he should thank Crom that he was still alive, but then considered "why"? Why should he do that? What had the Cimmerian Lord ever done for him?
The young barbarian gathered himself to his feet. He swayed a little but caught his balance against the wall. His eyes, at this level, could gather in more light. He could feel dried blood in his hair and also where it had streamed down onto his face, but it was not an injury that the young mountain climber had not suffered before. He looked around he could see that there was but only one way out. Unless he possessed a desire to climb back up, retrace his descent, which he did not.
Conan searched for his weapon. Evidently it had broken free from him during his fall. He found it lying in the soft gritty dirt of the shaft, its point buried near a foot deep into the earth. He grabbed it by the hilt. Maybe Crom WAS speaking to him after all, telling him at that he would soon be needing it.
Conan then turned to face the opening to the adjacent tunnel, his grip growing even tighter around the handle of his weapon. The muscles in his thick arms flexing like those of the a coiled serpent. He strolled into the opening not know what he would find. Whether beast, demon or god, or maybe a combination of all, he was ready.
****************** Secrets Found ****************
As Conan rounded the bend in the tunnel he was faced with a sight that he was not expecting. There was no sight of dragon, no creature with wings that spread across the width of ten horses. Nay, what he was faced with was the tools of human trade, tools such as those wielded by his father, tools of a "smith", only bigger.
There, in the center of a hollowed cavern was a round stone pit. It stood about waist high to the Cimmerian, and inside was the glow of still warm amber coals, evidence of its use some point ago. The radiant pulsing of its glowing fuel was the source for the light in the cavern and also the adjoining shaft. However, what gathered the barbarian's attention the most was the bellows. The air-blower of which was well known to the youth. It was identical to the one his father used to forge the weapons for his clan. However this bellows was thrice the size, and there was a wooden wheel with cogs and a handle fashioned to it, for turning.
This thing had been constructed by man, and it was being used to melt metal, lots of it. Conan was sure of what he'd found but he wasn't sure of its purpose way up here in the mountains?
On the floor of the cavern he could see the remnants of melted iron, and too, yellow material.
"Gold," Conan whispered to himself. What need of Annaki for a furnace to melt gold when the hot fire of his own breath could do the task? And what need of a god to be melting treasure anyway? There were questions. Still, no answers would come until he found the beast. And maybe even then he would not get all of what he wanted.
Looking around Conan could see a stack of segmented wood piled against the wall. The stack was taller than his head, and exploring the chamber further he could see a stone table, and upon its surface were hollowed out holes. This looked to be a place where melted iron, or the like, could be poured. It could be flowed into molds to form solid bricks, curious. Glancing around again Conan could see that there were two exits on the opposite side wall.
He could taste fresh air coming from each of these tunnels, and at that moment he became fearful. Not for the reason that, should he come across the Demon god he would shy away, but rather, would he ever be able to even find this devil? Was this some kind of trick? Was one of these paths the way to the Beast while the other, the route into a deep, dark labyrinth? A confusing honeycomb of tunnels etched into Annaki's lair?
For certain there had been intruders here before, transgressors whose evidence lay strewn across the cave floor. Could one of these tunnels be leading downward? Spiraling into the heart of the mountain so that a soul could become lost? Lost forever to spend an eternity searching for the creature?
Conan set his jaw. He would travel down one of these corridors. He was just hoping that he picked the right one.
"Crom help me choose the right path," Conan uttered a silent prayer. But then immediately cursed himself after making the request. The young barbarian was of the mindset that, for every favor asked, the Cimmerian Deity would want something in return.
Well, by Crom he could have it, have it all. What use to a god was gold, or riches, or treasure? What use were these things to a dragon? Conan knew not the answer. He cared not. Their reasons were their own. Just as long as his quest restored the light to the eyes of the woman that he had fallen in love with. As long as it brought back the life that she once knew. He wanted to see Glista open her eyes again, and call his name. And too, he wanted to see her smile.
Conan would give Crom a river of gold if it meant that he would see that again. He chose the path left.
END PART 9
