Chapter 5

"How?" Amala wondered aloud, as she and Conan hurried to the elevator.

"I reckon they heard the beast's screams that we killed outside the rift. The raiders must have been close to have located us so quickly."

"We have the card now," Amala said, holding it up. "We put it in the control panel and it takes us to the bottom floor where they can't get us."

"Don't underestimate their intelligence Amala. The tube's outer control box is probably meant to call the carriage back up or down from outside. They'll figure that out and then have us cornered."

Conan slid the elevator door open and ushered Amala inside. He closed the door shut behind him.

"I'm afraid we'll have to meet them head on. There's no other way."

Amala shook her head in confusion. "No, there's twelve of them and two of us. I'm not much of a fighter and you're seriously wounded. We've got to outrun them."

The barbarian crossed his arms and mulled over the situation. "I know the type of men these are. They aren't simple brigands. They won't just give up for easier marks. They're trained killers. Desperate to capture you for ransom. Or, they work for someone that will exact a high price for failure. Whatever the case, they will run us down if we allow it. We'll make a stand at the chamber."

Conan pressed the panel's down arrow button until the chamber was highlighted. Luckily, it didn't require a card. The tube shot downward. Amala bit her lower lip, her eyes misting over. She forced back a scowl glare and clenched her fists together. "We're just so outnumbered," she muttered.

Conan put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But not outmatched."

Amala looked at him as if to silently ask, "What do you mean?"

The elevator slowed to a crawl as it reached its destination. Upon exiting, the Cimmerian unsheathed his broadsword and pointed to the vines growing through the chamber's cracks. "First, we'll start with those..."

Two suits of armor lied flat on the ground and trained their rifles on the chamber's entrance doors. Tied to each gun's trigger were rope vines. Conan and Amala kneeled behind the elevator tube, holding the vines tight.

"Shame those suits didn't fit our sizes," Amala said.

"As far as the enemy's concerned, they did," Conan replied. "Remember the plan?"

"I'll trigger the trap up there," Amala began, pointing to a bed sheet scavenged from the sick bay.

It was shaped into a sack and filled with the broken parts of the robotic fencer, then suspended over the entryway by a rope of bedsheets tied together. The rope fit through a metal loop that had been bolted on the wall for long forgotten purpose and reached downward to just under Amala's kneecap. When she was ready, she would move it, causing the bag to free fall onto the unsuspecting enemy.

"Then pull the vines, causing our dummy soldiers to shoot the light throwers at the enemy," Conan continued.

"And once they realize they're decoys, we'll throw them those..." Amala's voiced trailed off, forgetting Conan's term.

"Smokers," he explained, pulling a couple of hand held metal orbs from Amala's bag. "One turn of their dials and they emit a thick fog instantly. Perfect for screening our movements."

"That's when we'll move to the armory and toss out the—"

"Blast orbs," Conan finished.

"How did you figure out what those things did anyway?"

Conan grinned. "While you were positioning the armor suits, I went into the study and picked through those record devices. One of them had a gauntlet on it, I took it for a military symbol. When I activated the tape, it showed a warrior demonstrating how to use the orbs. Good thing I didn't fool with the blasting ones before I knew how to operate them..."

"My, that was quite wise of you. I'd almost take you for someone civilized," Amala gibed, tongue firmly in cheek.

Conan took the joke; the situation called for some humor. "Glad to see you haven't lost your wit in all this."

"So what happens after the blasters?" Amala asked.

"That's when we improvise. If it gets too rough, you know what to do. Take shelter in the tube. If anything happens to me, go to the bottom most level and run as far as you can. Don't stop for anything."

A moment of silence came between them. Beats of sweat formed over Conan's brow, partly from the tension and partly from the stubborn aches and pains he sustained during the fighting. Amala was the first to speak. "Conan?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me about Crom..."

"He's a vengeful, reclusive god. Keeps to himself in his home of ice and frost under the mountains. At birth, he breathes courage and strength into you and sends you on your way. The wise don't pray to him, it would only gain his ire. But in your darkest hour, if you face your dangers fearlessly, Crom may just favor you."

Amala frowned at the grim description of the Cimmerian diety. "No offense, but I'm glad I don't worship him."

"And who does your family worship?"

"Ibis, the god of magic, knowledge and protection. His followers are scholarly and inquisitive. Some day, we'll join him in his great crypt and pore over its tomes of wisdom unto eternity."

"Hmph," Conan grunted. "I'll stick to Crom. But at least Ibis opposes Set. Never cared for that Stygian god and his cult of serpent lovers."

Amala was impressed by the lore Conan spoke of. "Didn't imagine you knew much theology."

"I've trod with plenty of holy men in my day, you pick things up."

Amala nodded. Their conversation was cut short as the entrance doors whirred open.

Without needing to be told, Amala released the rope pinned under her knee. The loaded bag fell onto the first raider's head, knocking him out cold.

The eleven others poured through the entrance. Conan assessed their strength. They wore brown leather cuirasses over red silk shirts and pants, iron skull caps and black boots and gloves. They wielded a variety of weapons, including sabers, short swords, maces and one held a pollaxe. At the same time Conan studied his opponents, he and Amala pulled their vine ropes, remotely shooting the light throwers.

One beam caught a raider unawares, as he skirted the fallen sack trap. It seared through his helmet, knocking him dead. Another beam winged a raider in his arm, but not enough to take him out. With effort, Conan and Amala could animate the armor with the vines, giving the illusion someone was actually in them. The raiders fell to the ground, shouting orders and taking cover where they could.

Eventually, the ruse was up. The disciplined raiders kept calm and realized the armor was being manipulated by the vines. Due to the armor's limited motion, the bolts were shot in a predictable direction and rate, making it easy for the raiders to avoid. Conan peered around the tube, seeing a raider grab a throwing axe from his backpack. He chucked it hard at Conan's vine, snapping it in half.

The pollaxe raider boldly charged Amala's armor, easily dodging the liner path of the beams and smashing the light thrower to pieces.

"Smokers!" Conan exclaimed.

"Right," she replied, dropping the vine for a smoke orb.

The raiders formed up and approached their position. Conan and Amala turned the orbs' dials and rolled them across the floor. Each one spewed thick clouds of white smoke. Fearing it was toxic, some of the raiders shied away and covered their faces. "The armory," Conan whispered.

Moving behind the smokescreen, they sneaked into the armory room and grabbed the blast orbs. In about a minute, the smoke dissipated. Conan slid the door open a crack to see outside. The raiders frantically searched for their targets. They went door to door, attempting to knock down those that were locked but their weapons were too weak.

Not wanting to bunch everyone up, the raiders' apparent leader split everyone into smaller groups. They divided into three teams of three and one group of two. One of the three man teams headed for the armory. Conan nodded to Amala. They primed their blast orbs to go off too quickly for the enemy to react. Once ready, Conan opened the door fully and he and Amala tossed the orbs. They bounced across the floor and stopped at the feet of the raiders.

Conan slammed shut the door, hearing the dulled report of the explosion behind its thick metal and the resulting screams. "Eight left, one wounded," Conan thought.

"Now they know where we are," Amala pointed out.

"There might be more useable weapons, search around."

They rummaged through the stores, looking for whatever they could to maintain their advantage. Most of the weapons were inoperable from disrepair. The raiders should have been at the door by now, Conan grew suspicious.

"Amala, can you see what's happening out there?"

The girl steeled her resolve and dared to crack the door open to peer outside.

"Looks like they've surrounded us from a distance. Maybe they're afraid of more blasters. Wait, one of them is lighting a torch. I think they'll try to smoke us out!"

"Or cook us inside the armory. Something tells me fire and these weapons won't mix."

Realizing they were being watched, one of the raiders threw a hand axe at the door. Amala shut it just in time, hearing the axe ping against the metal. Conan's thoughts raced to think of something that could bail them out. That's when he spotted an old dusty sheet covering a large object. He pulled it off to reveal a giant light thrower, about the size and shape of a thick tree limb. It supported itself on a tripod. Conan went prone, grabbed the mounted light thrower's twin handles and trained it on the doorway.

"Open it," Conan said.

Amala did so and got out of the way. The closest raider almost hurled the torch into the armory, when Conan shot the large light thrower. A thick, almost blinding beam of light burst from the thrower's barrel, causing it to recoil in Conan's hands. It consumed the torch bearer in a flash, engulfing him in flames. He screamed and ran around helplessly until crumpling to the floor in a blackened heap.

Most men would flee such a horrific scene, but the raiders were determined against all odds. The leader barked more orders. In response, the survivors scoured the chamber for large pieces of junk, scrap metal and crates to form a barrier between themselves and the armory. They worked with incredible speed, and within a minute, assembled an improvised, waist high wall. It appeared the battle reached a stalemate. The six raiders knelt behind the barrier, attempting to wait out Conan and Amala.

"What do we do know?" Amala asked.

"We charge them."