Here’s the next chapter in the fanfiction I set in the world of Conan the Barbarian — exclusively for you!
In case you missed it, here’s a link to the first chapter!
And now, on to Chapter Three!
“Well, that looks like an out-and-out revolt,” Abdibaal said in his usual sneer.
He spent most of his time at Koth’s royal court in Koshemish. There he could wear expensive silk clothing and sit upon plush sofas while gorgeous women of all racial persuasions performed his every carnal need.
Maintaining that lifestyle depended on, but two things: keeping King Strabonus’s favor and ensuring the Kothan slave trade continued without interruption.
If things went tits up in the Red Pit, poster child for the Koth slave trade, Abdibaal would have to work double the time to keep the king happy. Unfortunately, the slave trade — particularly the slave girls — kept him happy.
And now, three of them led a slave revolt right under his nose.
Actually, the revolt occurred right under the nose of the Pelishtim mercenary commander whom he’d put in charge of the pit — Shiruk-Nashur. Abdibaal turned to him now, his eyes piercing with accusation.
“I gave you my best man in Nazarus,” Abdibaal said. “And yet you squander his great talents by leaving him in the filth instead of having him up here directing things.”
“I’m up here directing things,” Shiruk said curtly as he looked down into the pit.
Abdibaal laughed.
“Directing them into the ground! The Koshemish marketplace has less chaos!”
Shiruk inhaled deeply but wisely held his tongue. He kept his words for the Pelishtim mercenaries on the ground level with them.
“Archers!” he said.
Three mercenaries with bows stepped forward.
“Fire at anything down there that moves!” Shiruk commanded.
As the archers took up positions from which to fire, Abdibaal said, “Nazarus and his men are in that fray, you know.”
“Yes, but if he’s as good as you say, he’ll be wise enough to dodge the arrows.”
Shiruk glanced over his shoulder at Abdibaal.
Abdibaal let the man have his jibe.
A Stygian man with broad shoulders and a worried expression approached Abdibaal. “Sir,” he began, “what should we do with that?”
The man motioned to a metal box just larger than a horse carrier that stood a distance behind him. It had holes in each of its sides for aeration.
“It will take some doing to hitch it up for transport,” the Stygian said.
Abdibaal studied the box, then looked down at the mass of warring bodies below.
“Stand by,” he said. “We may need it if things get too out of hand.”
Down in the pit, Asthara turned to Nefera. “Go to the slaves between us and the ladders,” she said. “If they will not fight for us, make sure they at least stay out of the way!”
Nefera stared at Asthara. Though she wanted this, the young girl had no idea the escape would unfold in such chaos. Her body remained rigid as her eyes took in the horror.
“Go!” Asthara yelled. “Or you will die in this pit of doom!”
That shook Nefera awake.
But instead of doing as told, the girl fell to her knees, crying in despair.
Asthara cursed her luck, then thought of all the girl had endured at so young an age. That the girl had not fallen apart before this was a gift from Mitra.
She scanned the scene for her companions.
Runi and Kesisa battled one of the trustees. A slave rushed to aid them. Other slaves had also taken arms against the trustees.
Beyond them, Nazarus stood atop his table, his whip in hand, ready to engage any of the mob who dared come for him.
The corner of Asthara’s lips curled into a smile.
Kesisa grappled a third trustee by the neck and pulled him to the ground.
Runi moved on him with her awl hammer but slammed stone instead of flesh. The nearby slave kicked the downed man, but his weak frame did no more damage to the trustee than a mosquito.
Across the way, Nazarus stepped down from the table. Cracking his whip, he snared one of the slaves by the throat. With a hard pull on his whip, Nazarus broke the man’s neck. With a flick of his wrist, the whip snaked free, ready to do damage once more.
Asthara’s smile melted into a grim sneer as she watched Nazarus’s atrocity. She grabbed a truncheon and strode toward the brute.
A trustee dared to come between her and her target. Asthara thrust the truncheon’s end into his stomach. A slave ran over and slammed his manacles into the back of the trustee’s head, knocking him unconscious.
Asthara gave the slave a hearty slap on his shoulder and a beaming smile as a reward.
Runi held down the trustee while Kesisa broke his neck. The women then took in the battlefield. Five trustees remained, all of them occupied with the revolting slaves.
However, Nazarus had entered the field, having already murdered one slave.
“We can get the hell out of here, or we can get Nazarus,” Kesisa said.
Runi glanced at Asthara. She moved for the slave overseer. “It appears Asthara has decided for us.”
Nazarus seemed more than ready to accept Asthara’s challenge.
Asthara had just enough time to push the slave she had just congratulated away as another trustee came at her. She parried his truncheon with her own.
Too late, she realized the attack but a distraction.
Asthara brought up her truncheon to block the overseer’s whip. Instead, the whip knocked the weapon from her hand. A second crack and the whip bound itself around her neck.
The Argossean woman gasped as the whip cut short her breath.
Before they could aid their companion, Runi and Kesisa heard a scream from behind them.
Turning, they saw Nefera fall to the ground, an arrow protruding from her back.
More arrows cluttered the area around her.
Looking up, the women saw Pelishtim archers preparing another volley.
To be continued…
That’s it for this one! I’m looking at releasing the chapters monthly, but the story’s all done so it’s not a big thing to get them out sooner.
To tide you over until the next chapter, check out some of my other fanfiction.
Or swing over to the Merch From the Shed page. Catch the sale of Two Sisters, the first eBook in the new launch of my “Shadowdance” action/ urban fantasy saga, or get a free eBook from the saga.
Until next time!
