Conqueror
Axe met saber in a glittering dance of steel against steel, of east against west. Roaring battle cries and screams of mutilation echoed across the windswept plains of Dalacia. Here on this unnamed barren stretch of earth, the hosts of the mighty Khan Chagadai clashed with the unwashed horde of barbarous Kyderians. Vying for supremacy over the expansive territories of the North.
Never before had any people given such worthy resistance to the all conquering armies of Gol-Kerem.
The great Khan recognized a worthy foe when he saw one. The barbarian chief standing before him was such a foe, but his name was unknown to the Khan, as were his deeds. For if the great Khan knew who it was that he faced, his tactics may have been very different.
Again, the hulking form swung his battle axe in an arc of iron might and again the Khan met the blow with his iron shield. His arm shuddered with the impact and he was forced backward, on the defensive.
Was it his age? Had he grown soft drinking western wines and enjoying the many civilized pleasures of Xang Shai?
No.
The Khan had conquered too much and too many had fallen to his unquenchable blade.
Rage coursed through him, and the Khan brought his saber across, slicing the barbarian’s muscular flank. The Khan smiled; it was a good hit. His opponent should then weaken, and his victory would be assured.
The roving horde of Kyderians would break without their leader.
Except the man came on yet again, blood streaming from his side, charging with berserker madness and the ferocity of a wounded tiger.
Each battle scar only seemed to make him stronger.
Each drop of blood pushed his indomitable arms faster.
The Khan strained against the hammer blows pushed by the barbarian's mighty thews.
Long did their strife last, but the Khan tired while his foe did not. Still her persisted.
Until the gleaming blade of the great axe bit deep, crunching through the bronze scales of the Khan’s armor and sinking to the haft in his heaving chest. Skin and muscle split, pouring streams of crimson life. Bone shattered driving pain throughout his entire soul.
Khan Chagadai fell then, his heavy body laying back against his fallen mount. A shadow enveloped him, blocking the radiant orange glow of the sun setting to the west.
The shadow knelt before him, grasping the haft of that mighty axe.
Before he could pull it free and open the tide of the Khan’s lifeblood, the victorious barbarian met his gaze with the practiced eyes of a hunter.
Of a warrior.
Of a conqueror.
“Know that your death is at the hands of Kuld of Kyderia.” Kuld spoke in a deep voice full of strength and life.
Here was the mighty Kuld, victor of a thousand combats, slayer of giants and dragons, renowned warrior of the north and fearless in the face of death.
Killer of Khans.
Chagadai smiled then, knowing his death was a good one and that songs would be sung of their combat.
I was reading some Conan the Barbarian comics and wanted to do a short “Pulp” style adventure throwback to the days of swords and sorcery. For more information on the Pulps see my article: 3 Modern Pulp Fiction Book Recommendations and be sure to check out Edgar Rice Burroughs the King of Pulp.
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