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03 - Jewels of Gwahlur by Robert E. Howard · Jewels of Gwahlur

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  Speaker 1: Chapter three of Jewels of Guallor by Robert Howard. This
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter three, The
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  Speaker 1: Return of the Oracle. Conan wheeled suppily, sweeping the shadows
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  Speaker 1: with a fiercely questing stare. There was no sign of
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  Speaker 1: the murdered man's body. Only under the tall, lush grass
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  Speaker 1: was trampled and broken down, and the sward was dabbled
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  Speaker 1: darkly and wetly. Conan stood scarcely breathing as he strained
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  Speaker 1: his ears into the silence. The trees and bushes, with
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  Speaker 1: their great pallid blossoms, stood dark still and sinister, etched
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  Speaker 1: against the deepening dusk. Primitive fears whispered at the back
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  Speaker 1: of Conan's mind. Was this the work of the priests
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  Speaker 1: of Kishan? If so, where were they? Was it Tzarghiba,
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  Speaker 1: after all, who had struck the gong again? There rose
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  Speaker 1: the memory of bit Yakin and his mysterious servants. Bit
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  Speaker 1: Yakin was dead, shriveled to a hulk of wrinkled leather,
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  Speaker 1: and bound in his hollowed crypt to greet the rising
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  Speaker 1: sun forever. But the servants of beat Yakin were unaccounted for.
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  Speaker 1: There was no proof they had ever left the valley.
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  Speaker 1: Koonan thought of the girl Muriella, alone and unguarded in
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  Speaker 1: that great, shadowy palace. He wheeled and ran back down
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  Speaker 1: the shadowed avenue. And he ran as a suspicious panther, runs,
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  Speaker 1: poised even in full stride, to whirl right or left
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  Speaker 1: and strike death blows. The palace loomed through the trees,
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  Speaker 1: and he saw something else, the glow of fire reflecting
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  Speaker 1: redly from the polished marble. He melted into the bushes
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  Speaker 1: that lined the broken street, glided through the dense growth,
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  Speaker 1: and reached the edge of the open space. Before the
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  Speaker 1: portico voices reached him. Torches bobbed and their flare shone
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  Speaker 1: on glossy ebbon shoulders. The priests of Kishon had come.
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  Speaker 1: They had not advanced up the wide, overgrown avenue as
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  Speaker 1: Zoghiba had expected them to do. Obviously, there was more
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  Speaker 1: than one secret way into the valley of Alcmnon. They
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  Speaker 1: were filing up the broad marble steps, holding their torches high.
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  Speaker 1: He saw Garulga at the head of the parade, a
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  Speaker 1: profile chiseled out of copper, etched in the torch glare.
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  Speaker 1: The rest were acolytes giant black men, from whose skins
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  Speaker 1: the torches struck highlights. At the end of the procession,
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  Speaker 1: there stalked a huge negro with an unusually wicked cast
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  Speaker 1: of countenance, in the sight of whom Conan scowled. That
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  Speaker 1: was Warunga, whom Mariella had named as the man who
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  Speaker 1: had revealed the secret of the pool entrance to Tzarghiba.
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  Speaker 1: Conan wondered how deeply the man was in the intrigues
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  Speaker 1: of the stygion. He hurried toward the portico, circling the
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  Speaker 1: open space to keep in the fringing shadows. They left
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  Speaker 1: no one to guard the entrance. The torches streamed steadily
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  Speaker 1: down the long, dark hall. Before they reached the double
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  Speaker 1: valved door at the other end. Conan had mounted the
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  Speaker 1: other steps and was in the hall behind them, Slinking
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  Speaker 1: swiftly along the column lined wall, he reached the great door.
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  Speaker 1: As they crossed the huge throne room, their torches driving
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  Speaker 1: back the shadows, they did not look back in single file,
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  Speaker 1: their ostrich plumes nodding, their leopard skin tunics contrasting curiously
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  Speaker 1: with the marble and the Arabesque metal of the ancient palace.
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  Speaker 1: They moved across the wide room and halted momentarily at
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  Speaker 1: the golden door to the left of the throne. Dais
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  Speaker 1: Goruga's voice boomed eerily and hollowly in the great empty space,
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  Speaker 1: framed in sonorous phrases, unintelligible to the lurking listener. Then
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  Speaker 1: the High Priest thrust open the golden door and entered,
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  Speaker 1: bowing repeatedly from his waist, and behind him. The torches
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  Speaker 1: sank and rose, showering flakes of flame. As the worshippers
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  Speaker 1: imitated their master. The gold door closed behind them, shutting
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  Speaker 1: out sound and sight, and Koonan darted across the throne
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  Speaker 1: chamber and into the alcove behind the throne. He made
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  Speaker 1: less sound than a wind blowing across the chamber. Tiny
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  Speaker 1: beams of light streamed through the apertures in the wall
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  Speaker 1: as he pried opened the secret panel, gliding into the
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  Speaker 1: niche he peered through. Muriella sat upright on the Dais,
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  Speaker 1: her arms folded, her head leaning back against the wall.
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  Speaker 1: Within a few inches of his eyes. The delicate perfume
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  Speaker 1: of her foamy hair was in his nostrils. He could
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  Speaker 1: not see her face, of course, but her attitude was
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  Speaker 1: as if she gazed tranquility into some far gulf of space,
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  Speaker 1: over and beyond the shaven heads of the black giants
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  Speaker 1: who knelt before her. Conan grinned with appreciation the little
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  Speaker 1: sluts and actress. He told himself he knew she was
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  Speaker 1: shriveling with terror, but she showed no sign. In the
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  Speaker 1: uncertain flare of the torches, she looked exactly like the
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  Speaker 1: goddess he had seen lying on that same dais, if
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  Speaker 1: one could imagine that goddess imbued with vibrant life. Gorulga
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  Speaker 1: was booming forth some kind of a chant, in an
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  Speaker 1: accent unfamiliar to Conan, and which was probably some invocation
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  Speaker 1: in the ancient tongue of Alcmenon, handed down from generation
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  Speaker 1: to generation of high priests. It seemed interminable. Conan grew restless.
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  Speaker 1: The longer the thing lasted, the more terrific would be
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  Speaker 1: the strain on Moriella. If she snapped. He hitched his
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  Speaker 1: sword and dagger forward. He could not see the little
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  Speaker 1: trollop tortured and slain by these men. But the chant, deep,
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  Speaker 1: low pitched, and indescribably ominous, came to a conclusion at last,
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  Speaker 1: and a shouted acclaim from the acolytes marked its period,
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  Speaker 1: lifting his head and raising his arms toward the silent
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  Speaker 1: form on the dais. Gorulga cried in the deep, rich
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  Speaker 1: resonance that was the natural attribute of the Kashani priest. Oh,
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  Speaker 1: great goddess, dweller with the great one of darkness, Let
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  Speaker 1: thy heart be melted, thy lips opened for the ears
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  Speaker 1: of thy slave, whose head is in the dust beneath
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  Speaker 1: thy feet. Speak, Great Goddess of the holy valley, Thou
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  Speaker 1: knowest the paths before us, the darkness that vexes us
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  Speaker 1: is as the light of the midday sun to thee,
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  Speaker 1: shed the radiance of thy wisdom on the paths of
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  Speaker 1: thy servants. Tell us, o mouthpiece of the gods, what
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  Speaker 1: is their will concerning that mercri the stygion, the high piled,
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  Speaker 1: burnished mass of hair that caught the torchlight in dull
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  Speaker 1: bronze gleams quivered slightly. A gusty sigh rose from the blacks,
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  Speaker 1: half in awe, half in fear. Muriella's voice came plainly
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  Speaker 1: to Conan's ears and the breathless silence, and it seemed cold, detached, impersonal,
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  Speaker 1: though the Samerian winced at the Corinthian accent. It is
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  Speaker 1: the will of the gods that the Stygian and his
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  Speaker 1: Shemitish dogs be driven from Kishan. She was repeating his
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  Speaker 1: exact words. They are thieves and traitors who plot to
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  Speaker 1: rob the gods. Let the teeth of Agualor be placed
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  Speaker 1: in the care of the General Conan. Let him lead
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  Speaker 1: the armies of Kishan. He is beloved of the gods.
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  Speaker 1: There was a quiver in her voice as she ended,
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  Speaker 1: and Conan began to sweat, believing she was on the
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  Speaker 1: point of an hysterical collapse. But the Blacks did not
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  Speaker 1: notice any more than they identified the Corinthian accent, of
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  Speaker 1: which they knew nothing. They smote their palms softly together
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  Speaker 1: and murmur of wonder, and all rose from them. Gorulga's
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  Speaker 1: eyes glittered fanatically in the tarch light. Yeliah has spoken,
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  Speaker 1: he cried in an exalted voice. It is the will
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  Speaker 1: of the gods. Long ago, in the days of our ancestors,
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  Speaker 1: they were made taboo and hidden at the command of
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  Speaker 1: the gods, who wrenched them from the awful jaws of Gwalor,
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  Speaker 1: the king of darkness, in the birth of the world,
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  Speaker 1: at the command of the gods, the teeth of a
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  Speaker 1: Gwalor were hidden. At their command, they shall be brought
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  Speaker 1: forth again, Oh starborn goddess, give us your leave to
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  Speaker 1: go to the secret hiding place of the teeth, to
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  Speaker 1: secure them for him whom the gods love. You have
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  Speaker 1: my leave to go, answered the false goddess with an
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  Speaker 1: curious gesture of dismissal that set Conan grinning again, and
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  Speaker 1: the priests backed out, ostrich plumes and torches rising and
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  Speaker 1: falling with the rhythm of their genuflections. The gold door closed,
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  Speaker 1: and with the moan, the goddess fell back limply on
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  Speaker 1: the Dais Conanan. She whimpered faintly. Conan sh He hissed
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  Speaker 1: through the apertures, and turning, glided from the niche and
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  Speaker 1: closed the panel. A glimpse past the jamb of the
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  Speaker 1: carven door showed him the torches receding across the Great
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  Speaker 1: Throne room, but he was at the same time aware
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  Speaker 1: of a radiance that did not emanate from the torches.
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  Speaker 1: He was startled, but the solution presented itself instantly. An
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  Speaker 1: early moon had risen and its light slanted through the
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  Speaker 1: pierced dome, which by some curious workmanship intensified the light.
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  Speaker 1: The shining dome of alc Minon was no fable then,
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  Speaker 1: perhaps its interior was of the curious, whitely flaming crystal
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  Speaker 1: found only in the hills of the Black countries. The
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  Speaker 1: light flooded the throne room and seeped into the chambers
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  Speaker 1: immediately adjoining. But as Conan made toward the door that
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  Speaker 1: led into the throne room, he was brought around suddenly
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  Speaker 1: by a noise that seemed to emanate from the passage
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  Speaker 1: that led off into the alcove. He crouched at the mouth,
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  Speaker 1: staring into it, remembering the clangor of the gong that
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  Speaker 1: had echoed from it to lure him into a snare.
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  Speaker 1: The light from the dome filtered only a little way
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  Speaker 1: into that narrow corridor and showed him only empty space.
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  Speaker 1: Yet he could have sworn that he had heard the
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  Speaker 1: furtive pad of a foot somewhere down it. While he hesitated,
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  Speaker 1: he was electrified by a woman's strangled cry from behind him.
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  Speaker 1: Bounding through the door behind the throne, he saw an
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  Speaker 1: unexpected spectacle in the crystal light. The torches of the
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  Speaker 1: priest had vanished from the great hall outside, but one
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  Speaker 1: priest was still in the palace Guarunga. His wicked features
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  Speaker 1: were convulsed with fury, and he grasped the terrified Muriella
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  Speaker 1: by the throat, choking her efforts to scream and plead,
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  Speaker 1: shaking her brutally traitorous between his thick red lips. His
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  Speaker 1: voice hissed like a cobra. What games are you playing?
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  Speaker 1: Did not Zughiba tell you what to say? Aye? Tho?
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  Speaker 1: Mercrey told me. Are you betraying your master? Or is
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  Speaker 1: he betraying his friends through you? Slut? I'll twist off
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  Speaker 1: your false head, but first I'll a widening of his
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  Speaker 1: captive's love eyes as she stared over his shoulder, worn
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  Speaker 1: the huge black, he released her and wheeled just as
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  Speaker 1: Conan's sword lashed down. The impact of the stroke knocked
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  Speaker 1: his headlong backward to the marble floor, where he lay twitching,
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  Speaker 1: blood oozing from a ragged gash in his scalp. Conan
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  Speaker 1: started toward him to finish the job, for he knew
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  Speaker 1: that the priest's sudden movement had caused the blade to
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  Speaker 1: strike flat, but Muriella threw her arms convulsively about him.
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  Speaker 1: I've done as you ordered, she gasped hysterically. Take me away, Oh,
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  Speaker 1: please take me away. We can't go yet, he grunted.
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  Speaker 1: I want to follow the priests and see where they
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  Speaker 1: get the jewels. There may be more loot hidden there,
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  Speaker 1: but you can go with me. Where's the gem you
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  Speaker 1: wore in your hair? It must have fallen out on
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  Speaker 1: the dais, she stammered, feeling for it. I I was
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  Speaker 1: so frightened when the priest left me. I ran out
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  Speaker 1: to find you, and this big brute had stayed behind
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  Speaker 1: and he grabbed me. Well go get it while I
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  Speaker 1: dispose of this carcass, he commanded. Go on, That gem
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  Speaker 1: is worth a fortune itself. She hesitated, as if loath
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  Speaker 1: to return to that cryptic chamber. Then, as he grasped
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  Speaker 1: Warunga's girdle and dragged him into the alcove, she turned
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  Speaker 1: and entered the oracle room. Knan dumped the senseless black
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  Speaker 1: on the floor and lifted his sword. The Samarian had
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  Speaker 1: lived too long in the wild places of the world
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  Speaker 1: to have any illusions about mercy. The only safe enemy
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  Speaker 1: was a headless enemy. But before he could strike, a
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  Speaker 1: startling scream checked the lifted blade. It came from the
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  Speaker 1: oracle chamber, Conan, Conan, she's come back. The shriek ended
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  Speaker 1: in a gurgle and a scraping scuffle with an oath.
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  Speaker 1: Conan dashed out of the alcove, across the throne Dais,
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  Speaker 1: and into the oracle chamber, almost before the sound had ceased.
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  Speaker 1: There he halted, glaring bewilderedly. To all appearances, Moriella lay
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  Speaker 1: placidly on the Dais's, eyes closed as in slumber. What
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  Speaker 1: in thunder are you doing? He demanded acidly? Is this
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  Speaker 1: any time to be playing jokes? His voice trailed away,
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  Speaker 1: His gaze ran along the ivory thigh molded in the
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  Speaker 1: close fitting silk skirt. That skirt should gape from girdle
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  Speaker 1: to him. He knew, because it had been his own
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  Speaker 1: hand that tore it as he ruthlessly stripped the garment
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  Speaker 1: from the dancer's writhing body, But the skirt showed no rent.
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  Speaker 1: A single stride brought him to the dais, and he
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  Speaker 1: laid his hand on the ivory body, snatched it away
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  Speaker 1: as if it had encountered hot iron instead of the
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  Speaker 1: cold immobility of death. Grum, he muttered, his eyes suddenly
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  Speaker 1: slits of bale fire. It's not Moriella. It's Elijah. He
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  Speaker 1: understood now that frantic scream that had burst from Moriella's
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  Speaker 1: lips when she entered the chamber. The goddess had returned.
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  Speaker 1: The body had been stripped by Azorghiba to furnish the
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  Speaker 1: accouterments for the pretender. Yet now it was clad in
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  Speaker 1: silken jewels as Conan had first seen it. A peculiar
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  Speaker 1: prickling made itself manifest among the sharp hairs at the
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  Speaker 1: base of Conan's scalp. Moriiella, he shouted, suddenly, Moriella, where
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  Speaker 1: the devil are you? The walls threw back his voice mockingly.
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  Speaker 1: There was no entrance that he could see except the
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  Speaker 1: golden door, and none could have entered or deported through
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  Speaker 1: that without his knowledge. This much was indisputable. Yelijah had
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  Speaker 1: been replaced on the dais within the few minutes that
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  Speaker 1: had elapsed since Moriella had first left the chamber to
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  Speaker 1: be seized by Garunga. His ears were still tingling with
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  Speaker 1: the echoes of Moriella's scream, Yet the Corinthian girl had vanished,
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  Speaker 1: as if into thin air. There was but one explanation
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  Speaker 1: that offered itself to the Sumerian if he rejected the
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  Speaker 1: darker speculation that suggested the supernatural. Somewhere in the chamber
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  Speaker 1: there was a secret door, And even as a thought
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  Speaker 1: crossed his mind, he saw it. In what had seemed
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  Speaker 1: a curtain of solid marble, a thin perpendicular crack showed,
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  Speaker 1: and in the crack hung a wisp of silk. In
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  Speaker 1: an instant, he was bending over it. That shred was
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  Speaker 1: from Moriella's top or skirt. The implication was unmistakable. It
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  Speaker 1: had been caught in the closing door and torn off
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  Speaker 1: as she was borne through the opening by whatever grim
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  Speaker 1: beings were her captors. The bit of clothing had prevented
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  Speaker 1: the door from fitting perfectly into its frame. Thrusting his
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  Speaker 1: dagger point into the crack, Conan exerted leverage from a
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  Speaker 1: corded forearm. The blade bent, but it was of unbreakable
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  Speaker 1: acpitolent steel. The marble door opened. Conan's sword was lifted
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  Speaker 1: as he peered into the aperture beyond, but he saw
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  Speaker 1: no shape of menace. Light filtering into the oracle chamber
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  Speaker 1: revealed a short flight of steps cut out of marble,
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  Speaker 1: pulling the door back to its fullest extent. He drove
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  Speaker 1: his dagger into a crack in the floor, propping it open.
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  Speaker 1: Then he went down the steps without hesitation. He saw nothing,
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  Speaker 1: heard nothing. A dozen steps down the stair ended in
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  Speaker 1: a narrow corridor which ran straight away into the gloom.
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  Speaker 1: He halted suddenly, poised like a statue at the foot
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  Speaker 1: of the stair, staring at the paintings which frescoed the walls,
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  Speaker 1: half hidden in the dim light which filtered down from above.
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  Speaker 1: The art was unmistakably polished him. He had seen frescoes
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  Speaker 1: of identical characteristics on the walls of oscolun, but the
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  Speaker 1: scenes depicted had no connection with anything polished him, except
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  Speaker 1: for one human figure frequently recurrent, a lean, white, bearded
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  Speaker 1: old man whose racial characteristics were unmistakable. They seemed to
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  Speaker 1: represent various sections of the palace above. Several scenes showed
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  Speaker 1: a chamber he recognized as the oracle chamber, with the
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  Speaker 1: figure of Yeliah stretched upon the ivory day, and huge
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  Speaker 1: black men kneeling before it. And there were other figures too,
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  Speaker 1: figures that moved through the deserted palace, did the bidding
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  Speaker 1: of the polishtim and dragged unnameable things out of the
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  Speaker 1: subterranean river. In a few seconds, Konan stood frozen hitherto
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  Speaker 1: unintelligible phrases in the parchment manuscript blazed in his brain
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  Speaker 1: with chilling clarity. The loose bits of the pattern clicked
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  Speaker 1: into place. The mystery of beat Yakin was a mystery
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  Speaker 1: no longer gnar the riddle of beat Yakin's servants. Konan
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  Speaker 1: turned and peered into the darkness, an icy finger crawling
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  Speaker 1: along his spine. Then he went along the corridor, cat
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  Speaker 1: footed and without hesitation, moving deeper and deeper into the darkness.
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  Speaker 1: As he drew farther away from the stair, the air
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  Speaker 1: hung heavy with the odor he had scented in the
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  Speaker 1: court of the Gong. Now in utter blackness, he heard
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  Speaker 1: a sound ahead of him, the shuffle of bare feet
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  Speaker 1: or the swish of loose garments against stone. He could
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  Speaker 1: not tell which, But an instant later, his outstretched hand
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  Speaker 1: encountered a barrier, which he identified as a massive door
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  Speaker 1: of carbon metal. He pushed against it fruitlessly, and his
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  Speaker 1: sword point sought vainly for a crack. It fitted into
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  Speaker 1: the sill and jambs, as if molded. There. He exerted
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  Speaker 1: all his strength, his feet straining against the door, the
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  Speaker 1: veins nodding in his temples. It was useless. A charge
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  Speaker 1: of elephants would scarcely have shaken that Titanic portal. As
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  Speaker 1: he leaned there, he caught a sound on the other
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  Speaker 1: side that his ears instantly identified. It was the creak
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  Speaker 1: of rusty eyes, like a lever scraping in its slot. Instinctively,
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  Speaker 1: action followed recognition so spontaneously that sound, impulse and action
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  Speaker 1: were practically simultaneous. And as his prodigious bound carried him backward,
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  Speaker 1: there was the rush of a great bulk from above,
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  Speaker 1: and a thunderous crash filled the tunnel with deafening vibrations.
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  Speaker 1: Bits of flying splinter struck him. A huge block of stone,
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  Speaker 1: he knew from the sound, dropped on the spot he
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  Speaker 1: had just quitted an instant's slower thought or action, and
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  Speaker 1: it would have crushed him like an ant. Knan fell
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  Speaker 1: back somewhere on the other side of that metal door.
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  Speaker 1: Muriella was a captive if she still lived. But he
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  Speaker 1: could not pass that door, and if he remained in
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  Speaker 1: the tunnel, another block might fall, and he might not
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  Speaker 1: be so lucky. It would do the girl no good
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  Speaker 1: for him to be crushed into a purple pulp. He
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  Speaker 1: could not continue his search in that direction. He must
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  Speaker 1: get above ground and look for some other avenue of approach.
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  Speaker 1: He turned and hurried toward the stair, sighing as he
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  Speaker 1: emerged into comparative radiance. And as he set foot on
• 23:22
  Speaker 1: the first step, the light was blotted out, and above
• 23:26
  Speaker 1: him the marble door rushed shut with a resounding reverberation
• 23:32
  Speaker 1: something like panic. Seas the Samaran then trapped in that
• 23:36
  Speaker 1: black tunnel, And he wheeled on the stair, lifting his
• 23:39
  Speaker 1: sword and glaring murderously into the darkness behind him, expecting
• 23:44
  Speaker 1: a rush of ghoulish assailants. But there was no sound
• 23:48
  Speaker 1: or movement down the tunnel. Did the men be on
• 23:51
  Speaker 1: the door? If they were men, believe that he had
• 23:55
  Speaker 1: been disposed of by the fall of the stone from
• 23:58
  Speaker 1: the roof, which had undone been released by some sort
• 24:01
  Speaker 1: of machinery, then why had the door been shut above him?
• 24:06
  Speaker 1: Abandoning speculation, Conan groped his way up the steps, his
• 24:11
  Speaker 1: skin crawling in anticipation of a knife in his back
• 24:15
  Speaker 1: at every stride, yearning to drown his semi panic in
• 24:20
  Speaker 1: a barbarous burst of blood letting. He thrust against the
• 24:26
  Speaker 1: door at the top and cursed soulfully to find that
• 24:29
  Speaker 1: it did not give to his efforts. Then, as he
• 24:33
  Speaker 1: lifted his sword with his right hand to hew at
• 24:36
  Speaker 1: the marble, his groping left encountered a metal bolt that
• 24:40
  Speaker 1: evidently slipped into place at the closing of the door.
• 24:43
  Speaker 1: In an instant he had drawn this bolt, and then
• 24:46
  Speaker 1: the door gave to his shove. He bounded into the
• 24:50
  Speaker 1: chamber like a slid eyed, snarling incarnation of fury, furiously
• 24:56
  Speaker 1: desirous to come to grips with whatever enemy was him.
• 25:01
  Speaker 1: The dagger was gone from the floor. The chamber was empty,
• 25:05
  Speaker 1: and so was the dais. Yalayah had again vanished by crumb.
• 25:12
  Speaker 1: Muttered the Samerian is she alive? After all? He strode
• 25:16
  Speaker 1: out into the throne room, baffled, and then, struck by
• 25:20
  Speaker 1: a sudden thought, stepped behind the throne and peered into
• 25:24
  Speaker 1: the alcove. There was blood on the smooth marble where
• 25:28
  Speaker 1: he had cast down the senseless body of Waroonga. That
• 25:32
  Speaker 1: was all. The black man had vanished as completely as Yelayah.
• 25:40
  Speaker 1: End of chapter three