The Conan Chronology, page 319
Expecting no more resistance from the populace than from a mass of frightened sheep, Korst's vanguard instead encountered savage beasts. These were no helpless law-abiding citizens, accustomed to respond blindly to the commands of authority. The people of the Pit were rogues and hardened criminals, heavily armed men to whom violence was a fact of life-who hated the king's laws only less than they hated those who enforced them. Korst's men had not penetrated very far into the narrow streets, before they found their way blocked by barricades and mobs of desperate men and women. Arrows and stones struck invisibly into their ordered ranks, as the walls of the overhanging buildings gave protection to snipers within. The soldiers bogged down upon their own dead and wounded, unable to progress along the close confines of the tunnel-like streets. Retreating as best they could, they sent word to Korst that any ordered advance was impossible. Korst, unimpressed, attacked with fresh troops.
Into this impasse, Conan and his companions fought their way. The perimeter secured, Korst's soldiers battled without success to force an entrance into the Pit. Within, a state of siege existed-as the denizens of the Pit united to defend their city from an invader whose triumph would surely mean their extinction. Fires raged out of control along the periphery-threatening to spread conflagration throughout Kordava. Men and women raced through the streets, I carrying weapons and material to barricade all pas- I sages that gave entrance into the Pit. Behind the barricades and in the cramped alleyways, a grim and ugly
struggle to the death flung up new barriers of butchered flesh.
They had almost reached Mordermi's stronghold, when Conan caught sight of the outlaw leader mounted amidst a circle of his men. Mordermi's face was flushed with excitement, but he gave no evidence of panic as he deliberately gave orders for the defence of his realm. His lips made a quick smile, as he answered Conan's hail.
'There's a Cimmerian for you!' Mordermi laughed. 'While some of my bold rogues talk of fleeing, Conan comes rushing back looking for a fight. What did you find out?'
'Korst has the Pit surrounded . . .' Conan began.
'Tell me something I don't know. We'll give Korst a belly full! We're holding our own against his assault, and Santiddio has the White Rose up in arms to man the barricades. Korst's attack won far more recruits for their people's army than ever did their long-winded speeches. If we hold the barricades, Korst can't dig us out without tearing down most of Kordava, and not even Rimanendo will give him leave to go that far.'
Mordermi nodded toward Callidios. 'I meant, what did you find out about our self-announced kingmaker? Did he show you anything worth mentioning, or did you just go chasing after yellow lotus?'
'Ask Sandokazi,' Conan snorted, in no mood to talk of sorcery when the smell of battle was in his nostrils. 'Where do you want me?'
'Take command of the barricades at Eel Street, and send Sifino to report back to me,' Mordermi told him, touching his bandaged left shoulder with a scowl. 'Korst is concentrating his forces there, and if he makes a breakthrough he can penetrate the Pit in strength. I'll coordinate the defence from here-with this shoulder I'm not worth a damn in close fighting -and we'll fall back to my stronghold if we have to.
It will be better for us if we can keep Korst out of the Pit.'
'Now tell me something I don't know,' Conan returned. 'And give me one of those horses, or I'll miss the fight before I can push through the mob.'
One of Mordermi's men dismounted and tossed his reins to Conan. The Cimmerian swung onto the saddle and wheeled the horse toward Eel Street-anxious to clear his brain of Callidios' schemes and sorceries by plunging headlong into red battle. Man against man, steel against steel-Conan asked for no more subtle game than this.
Mordermi grinned as he watched the Cimmerian ride through the press. 'Mitra! Give me a hundred such men, and Zingara will have a new king!'
He felt Callidios' gaze upon him. 'Well, Stygian?' he asked curtly.
'Conan rides to battle, as a good pawn should,' Callidios smiled. 'Such pawns are useful to win battles, and such battles to win wars-but the man who knows how to make use of his pawns and his victories is the man who follows the road of kings. I think it is time, Mordermi, for the two of us to talk further upon such matters.'
X
White Heat
Eel Street-again the pun was typical of Zingaran humour-was as close an approximation to a main thoroughfare as the Pit could boast. In the days of old Kordava, the avenue had borne another name- now forgotten-and had been a wide, straight passage between proud buildings. This day-when most streets within the Pit would scarcely pass two carts abreast- Eel Street offered Korst his best point of assault, and, as his advance faltered elsewhere, the king's general concentrated his attack here.
'Conan!' A familiar voice hailed; Mm from a group of wounded. 'You're a welcome sight! Santiddio said you'd gone fishing.'
Carico was tying a dirty bandage about one massive thigh. 'Bastard just got a nip out of me below my hauberk,' he half apologized, as Conan dismounted. 'But then, he's not complaining about where I scattered his brains.'
'Where is Santiddio?' Conan asked the smith.
'Lit out the back door,' Carico said, trying his weight on his wounded leg. 'Going to try to rally the new city to our fight. Been better if I'd gone to talk to them, but this sort of work here takes more meat than Santiddio has on his bones.'
'Mordermi wanted me to take over the defence here,' Conan told him. 'Where's Sifino?' Down the
Gambeson and Hauberk
smoke-filled street, the sounds of combat sounded like rolling thunder.
'Dead, most likely,' Carico said. 'He was at the first barricade, and that's fallen. Korst is throwing all he'd got at us. You'll need some mail. Take mine. My forge is close by, and I'll send a boy for my other coat of mail, while I staunch this damned scratch. Not many men of our build you can pick from.' He nodded toward a row of the slain.
Conan muttered a hasty thanks and dragged Carico's padded gambeson and hauberk over his torso. The stocky blacksmith was shorter than Conan, but his shoulders and girth gave away nothing to the hulking Cimmerian. Carico's gift was no casual gesture: with-
out mail no warrior could long survive this close infighting, and Conan would have had little chance of finding mail large enough to fit his huge frame.
Daylight poured through from the mouth of Eel Street, to some extent obscured by a collapsed pile of masonry and smouldering rubble, where one of the topside buildings had crumpled in flame. This afforded the defenders a moment's respite, while Korst's soldiers were driven back by the heat. Close to the burning rubble, men dragged bodies away from a barricade- overrun, to judge from the burgundy and gold clad bodies that lay between it and a second barricade farther within the Pit. Conan paused here briefly, watched the frantic efforts to strengthen the makeshift fortifications: carts, doors, timbers and large pieces of furniture formed a bulwark from wall to wall, pavement to ceiling. Unlike any ordinary barricade, there was no climbing over one such as this; the invaders would have to smash through it. A gap hi the second barricade let men pass through to the fallen one.
'Carry some of this forward,' Conan ordered. 'We can man the first barricade while Korst regroups, then fall back here if we're driven back. No sense in giving up any more ground to the bastards than we have to. And start a third barricade farther back. Archers-take up positions where you can rake their front as they advance, then fall back to the next barricade and be ready to cover our retreat if they break through.'
The defenders here-Conan guessed their number to be several hundreds-were most of them ordinary citizens, with the remainder partly from Mordermi's band and the rest members of the White Rose who had come here with Carico. If any of them wondered at taking orders from the young Cimmerian, none grumbled aloud. Conan was well liked and respected by those who knew him by acquaintance or reputation; to the others, the mailed giant with the broadsword posed too formidable a figure to tempt any to question his leadership.
Conan retrieved a steel burgonet from a heap of the slain, and pulled it down over his head. Casting about, he scavenged a serviceable buckler from the same source. Men hastened to shore up the outermost of the barricades-flinging the dead onto the bulwark. This was like fighting in a cavern, Conan reflected- gloomy and cramped. It would be a brutal, inelegant combat-scarcely the stuff of romantic ballads. Notwithstanding, a certain calmness dominated his thoughts. The mores and motives of his civilised friends might baffle Conan, but when civilisation shed its sophistication and sought to settle the issue through force of arms, Conan was in his element.
Beyond the smouldering barrier of the collapsed building, Conan could see Zingaran soldiers working to douse the flames and clear a path through the rubble. Those of their fellows who had been cut off by the cave-in had fallen to the regrouping defenders. Probably Korst's men would otherwise have succeeded in making their breakthrough here.
As figures took shape through the smoke-filled passage, rebel archers loosed their bows. Advancing behind their shields, Korst's men stumbled and wavered beneath the punishing barrage-deadly at point-blank range. But more soldiers forced past the bodies of their comrades, crossing the short space between the two sides to rush the first barricade. Now the quarters were too close for archery to be effective, as the attackers took cover below the loopholes, and the barricade became a wall of clawing bodies and stabbing steel.
Conan crouched in the cover of an overturned cart. The planks shuddered as several bodies struck against it, straining to shove it aside. A face flashed across one of the openings through which the archers had shot. Conan jabbed clumsily with his broadsword, missed the throat and tore the point through the man's mouth. A spear thrust past the opening, as Co-nan lunged away. The man next to Conan caught the shaft and hauled inward. A fist clutched the haft, and,
before the soldier could withdraw, Conan's blade severed wrist and spear together. Conan's companion fell away, still grasping the sundered spear. Conan glanced to see why the man did not return, and saw an arrow protruding from his face.
Another arrow bit into Conan's buckler. Korst had archers, too, and they were aiming at any opening in the barricade-seeking to pin down the defenders. More of the soldiers advanced behind makeshift mantlets, hurling themselves against the barricade. Swordblades, spears, and pole arms thrust and tore through the barrier from both sides, as the rebels fought to drive back the king's soldiers before they could dismantle this hastily thrown-up bulwark. Axes thudded against timber. Conan waited until a plank was wrenched from the wagonbed, then thrust his swordpoint through the axe wielder's armpit. The broadsword was not suited for thrusting, but it worked well enough hi a pinch, and the watered steel blade only rang from a counterstroke that would have snapped a lighter blade.
A halbard stabbed at him from an opening Co-nan had not seen appear. Its awl snagged his mail and crushed into the padded gambeson-inflicting no damage as Conan flung himself backward with the force of the blow. Carico's gift had saved his life. Conan did not waste his edge on the steel-guarded halbard shaft. Carico was a good smith, his political philosophies notwithstanding. Conan slammed the buckler behind the axe blade, lodged it there, hauled back sharply. The links in the mail were tight and solid, had held against the point of the awl when most mail would have parted. The halbard's owner was flung against the wagonbed, as he sought to retain his grip on the haft. Conan's blade gutted him through the broken planks.
There were too many soldiers, Conan realised as the fight wore on. This barricade, quickly rebuilt after it had once before fallen, was being overwhelmed yet again. Korst's men had hit upon the tactic of tying ropes to portions of the barricade, dragging whole sections free-out of reach of the rebels' weapons. Conan knew they must fall back to the next barricade-and hope that it had been thrown together more substantially. It had been a mistake to keep the archers back, very probably; they might have picked men off the ropes. Conan made a mental note.
Just behind the barricade, a figure lurched from the doorway of a wineshop. Conan whirled to meet him, halted his sword stroke as he recognised Sifino's black-bearded face beneath a bloody bandage. Mordermi's lieutenant reeked of wine, and he stumbled from more than the blow to his skull. He blinked at Conan in some confusion.
'Crawled under the counter when the barricade fell,' he muttered. 'Must have passed out. Where's Carico? And how did we retake this barricade?'
'Carico's getting his leg patched up,' Conan told him curtly. 'Mordermi wants you. Take my horse and tell him our situation here. And tell bun I'm going to have to fall back to our second line. I need more men to hold.'
To reinforce the urgency of his words, a large section of the barricade toppled outward. Conan shoved Sifino back into the doorway, as a massive ambry tumbled inward from the shifting pile. Almost instantly a pair of soldiers clambered into the breach. Conan cut down the first man, as Sifino brained the other with a table leg. Together they heaved the huge ambry back into the gap. Arrows thudded against its boards, as they rammed it into place.
Conan swore. 'Can't hold this line. Well burn it. That should give us time to regroup.'
Sifino nodded, lurched back into the wineshop. He was back immediately with a half depleted wineskin and a full jar of lamp oil.
'This will set it burning right,' he said, and began to slosh the oil onto the pile.
Conan flung a torch, and a splash of yellow flame
licked across the tottering barricade. In a moment the wooden barrier was a mass of flame-driving attacker and defender back from the searing heat and suffocating smoke. A party of Zingaran soldiers, who had been tunnelling beneath the barricade, rose up from the blazing pyre, danced crazily as the flames engulfed them.
Conan tore the wineskin from Sifino's grasp, drank greedily. 'Tell Mordermi,' he growled.
Carico joined him at the second barricade. The burly smith was reaccoutred and armed with a heavy double-bitted axe. His wounded leg was stiff beneath thick bandages, but nimble footwork was not required this day.
'Any news?' Conan asked grimly.
'We seem to be holding our own still.' Carico gave his shoulder to the side of an ox cart, as Conan grasped a wheel. The stout wagonbed tilted, went over with a crash to fill the narrow gap in the barricade through which Conan's men had retreated. Heat from the blazing barrier they had quitted scorched their faces, as they shored the cart into position with heavy timbers.
'Korst's attack has bogged down,' Carico continued. 'It remains whether he'll keep on trying to force a major breakthrough, or launch an all-fronts assault down every airshaft and rathole that enters the Pit.'
'Korst can't get in. We can't get out.' Conan spat. 'Well, he won't go away, and we can't keep retreating behind burning barricades.'
'Our best hope is to fall back to where we can establish a stable line of defence,' Carico said with optimism. 'We've food and water enough to withstand a siege. Once the city sees that the free men of the Pit can stand firm against the tyrant's army, they'll rise against Rimanendo and we'll crush Korst's butchers in a vice.'
'To our victory,' Conan sourly toasted, and
passed the wineskin to Carico. His own assessment of their situation was a gloomier one, but Carico's fervour was hard to resist. 'When does our counterattack begin?'
'Santiddio is rallying the common folk of Kordava to our cause. Awinti has taken a portion of our loot to tempt certain ambitious lords to lend us their support. All that remains is for the Pit to hold firm against Korst's army. Rimanendo rules through fear. When the people see that his power can be defied, then they will cease to fear-and remember only their hatred.'
'What's this about Awinti?' Conan blurted, not interested in Carico's oratory. 'When did this happen? Mordermi couldn't have been fool enough to trust that silken jackanapes!'
'I'm no admirer of Awinti,' Carico put in, 'but the man would never be a traitor to the White Rose. Awinti has highborn friends and other such connections that make him invaluable to our cause. He left before dawn on a mission to ply the golden key, as they say.'
'Before dawn?' Conan's suspicion only deepened. 'Did Awinti have wind of Korst's plans?'
'Oh, Korst's attack wasn't entirely unexpected,' Carico reminded him. 'Callidios predicted such a move, and it was obvious that we should lose no tune in setting our plans in motion.'
'But if Mordermi suspected that Korst would attack in force, why didn't we just take the loot and all of us clear out when Awinti made his break?' Conan demanded. 'Korst would have marched into the Pit without resistance, found we'd fled with the gold -and there'd have been no battle.'
'No battle, no war.' Carico explained the obvious. 'We needed just this sort of bloody confrontation with Rimanendo's forces to solidify the people of Zingara behind our revolution.'
Something in Conan's face warned him. Carico
quickly amended: 'All this is hindsight, of course. How could any of us have guessed that Korst would mount a full scale assault on the Pit?'
Conan remained silent, scowling moodily at the blazing wreckage of the outermost barricade. The draft had pulled most of the smoke outward, driving the king's soldiers back along Eel Street and out of the Pit. The interlude in the fighting had given the defenders tune to draw breath and shore up their fortifications. It also gave Conan time to wonder whether his friends were fools or madmen.
Sifino returned before the blaze had entirely subsided.
'What did Mordermi say?' Conan asked him.
'Couldn't talk to Mordermi,' Sifino swore. 'He and that damn Stygian are in deep dark council -just the two of them-and they were not to be disturbed. I didn't wait around. Left word with Sandokazi, and beat it back here with all the men I could find.'
