Date: Mon, 28 Oct 2013 01:55:10 -0700
From: J M <ecclectic_soul@hotmail.com>
Subject: Conan, Ch. 2

C    O    N    A    N

C H A P T E R   T W O  :  T H E   A S K H A U R I A N


       My dreams were veiled, twisting things...creatures long forgotten
coiling in the dark, waiting to feed. I tried to escape the blackness
staring at me, drawing me in. It was in my struggle that I heard a voice,
like warm tides on the Vendhyan shore. Soothing me, the voice whispered
something I did not understand but the words massaged into my thrashing
mind and I fell back into a peaceful rest.
	I awoke suddenly, disoriented as I sat up in bed. It took me a
moment to remember where I was, but it was hard to forget with that pulsing
sting emanating from my ass. I glanced over to see if Conan of Cimmeria had
stayed, but all traces of him were gone except for the lingering musk that
clung to the bed sheets. I felt that I knew he would depart, but there was
a small part of me that had held out hope. I shook my head, rejecting the
thought instantly. I had more important things to worry about.
       Spurred by the knowledge that the inn servants could come in at any
time to find me sleeping in our most expensive room, I quickly hopped out
of bed and got dressed. I made the bed haphazardly and threw some dried
incense leaves on top of the throw, then turned to leave. But before I
could throw the latch on the door, a glinting object caught my eye. Slowly
walking over to a lantern-stand in the southwest corner of the room, I
looked down in confusion.
       An ornately forged dagger was lying on its side, catching the
morning light on its blade. I had spent some time in my uncle's Vendhyan
forgery, watching every type of metal crafted into fearsome weapons. The
workmanship of this rune-engraved blade was exquisite, sharpened to a
hairline edge and slightly curved. Gilded vines wrapped around the top and
bottom of the hilt with the finest leather binding its handle. A dagger of
this caliber would drive traders to kill each other and kings to take the
company of the lowest townsman in possession of its beauty. I reached out
to take it, but hesitated as my fingers grazed its golden leaves. It would
be dangerous to carry such a thing in broad daylight, so instead I placed
it in a small drawer beneath the stand for safe-keeping and headed out.
       It was unusually quiet for the midmorning meal as I walked down the
hallway. The hustle of traders and sailors along the Messantian docks in
the morning had always been an inescapable sound, but a heavy silence
lingered on the air this day...as if the gods themselves were holding their
breath. The hairs on the back of my neck twitched anxiously as I turned the
corner to the larger corridor leading to the main hall. Before I made it to
the main dining area, I suddenly heard sharp voices from the direction of
the bar. It sounded like they were arguing. I stifled my
nervousness—Bronick the barkeep was probably telling some poor drunken
sap that mead was not part of the breakfast menu. Turning the corner
without a second thought, apprehension became horror as I silently cursed
my unwillingness to trust my instincts.
       Two Koth guardsmen and an Askhaurian mercenary stood in the middle
of the room next to a fourth man kneeling with his head pushed to the
ground. Fear ricocheted through my gut as I glimpsed their familiar
attire. They all had faces accustomed to the carnage of battle, their faces
smeared with dirt and red war paint. They were clothed in barbed silver
armor and black leather smeared with the dried blood of human
sacrifices. The Askhaurian, recognizable by a head shaved of all except a
long black ponytail, leaned down and grabbed a handful of the kneeling
victim's hair—as he pulled up his head, I recognized Bronick. His face
was badly bruised with blood dripping from his lips. The warriors had not
noticed me but as Bronick looked across the room and our eyes met, worry
flashed unbidden across his features. Curious at his change of expression,
the man who had grabbed Bronick's hair turned and looked at me.
       "Well, well, well...look what decided to crawl from beneath the
floorboards." His voice was a deep rasp, one that I knew all too
well. "Thelios of Vendhya, son of Dulith and former slave to my cock. My,
how I have missed that pretty little mouth..."
       The guardsmen grinned, their yellow teeth cracked and jagged. I
glared at the man who had spared my life in exchange for my body, a service
I had rendered for two years of my life before finally escaping. "Aku
Raith, have mercy. What could you possibly want from him? I live here now,
and I work for him. He is a good man."
       Raith clenched his jaw in irritation. "The Elders blessed with you
safe passage out of my domain once, but they will not interfere again. You
are mine. Now come over here."
       I tried to move, but I was too afraid to do anything except stand
there. My heartbeat stabbed the base of my throat and beads of sweat ran
down the side of my face, as I fought the paralysis that held me still. Too
many terrible memories screamed at me to run the other way and not look
back. Looking down at Bronick with an unspoken apology trembling on my
lips, I saw him smile gently and nod to let me know that it was okay.
       Raith's two henchmen growled at my hesitation, stepping forward with
gnarled hands grabbing for their sabers. Raith hissed at them to stop, and
then turned to me with a smile...the smile I hated because only pain could
follow from an expression that terrifying. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong
foot..."
       "Wait, I—"
       Pulling Bronick's head up, Raith swiftly pulled a rusted dagger from
a small scabbard on his thigh, and shoved the dirty blade up through the
back of his chin. He held the barkeep's head up for a moment, savoring the
way blood and spit dribbled out of his mouth, before dropping him to the
floor. I looked away, disgust and regret washing over me as more flashbacks
of his cruelty threatened to break me. But after those two years of being
chained to Raith's desire and witnessing the depravity of his excursions
into the Pictish Wilderness, my will to survive had awoken strength in me
that I had never known before. I turned back to him, and spit in his
direction.
       "You have no hold on me, durkanh. Killing an innocent man will not
change that." His eyes widened in anger at my use of the Pictish slang for
pig droppings. He sprang across the room and locked one of his huge hands
on my neck, shoving me hard up against the cold wood of the hallway
wall. As he moved his face closer with teeth gritted in fury, he stopped
suddenly and sniffed at my neck. Sneering, he gripped my face with his
other hand and squeezed until I cried out in pain.
       "My little Vendhyan slut has been busy, eh? I can smell him on
you...who was it? Does he know you're here with me? Does he even care?"
Raith snickered, licking the side of my face. He reeked of death and
torture but when I tried to pull away from him, it only made his grip
around my neck tighten more. "But why should he care, eh? Everyone knows
the only thing you're good for is servicing cock...and now you're going to
show me just how good you've gotten."
       Tears threatened to unveil my hopelessness as I struggled to breathe
around Raith's fingers. I secretly prayed that the Cimmerian would suddenly
appear and make it all stop, but I could not bring myself to believe
it. Fate looked at me then and as the tears spread across my eyes, all I
could see through my slowly blurring vision was that warm face laughing in
the soft light of a lantern. And when he looked down at me, the
war-hardened line of his jaw softened and those blue eyes pierced into
something deeper than skin and bone and blood...far within to a place that
I had thought never existed. As the realization that I would never see that
face again struck me, I finally let my tears fall.




       **Thank you so much to whoever is reading my story, and I hope
you're enjoying it so far! I'm currently almost finished with the third
chapter (I originally had it connected with this one, but it was too
long). But I want to make sure the writing is really polished because it
will mark an important shift in the plotline. And don't worry—there will
be plenty of hot sex scenes to make up for the lack of one on this chapter!
Haha I wanted to use this chapter to introduce the villain. So anyway, stay
tuned and I'll have the third part up by the end of the week!**



This story is based on the trademark writings of Robert E. Howard, and
posits no influence or commentary on the original storyline.