Thongor and the Wizard of Lemuria Read Free

shaft of rosy light was almost gone. The cell was gradually filling up with darkness, and Thongor thought it likely the fat jailer would not see the handful of chains. He yelled out again…and then his alert senses detected swift, light footsteps approaching down the corridor. The clank of a key in the lock, and the door screeched open. The cell was so dark by now that Thongor could not even see the jailer’s face as the man entered the cell; therefore his ruse would doubtless work.
    He watched the dark figure as it glided near, and along his deep chest and broad shoulders, giant thews swelled and tensed, ready to crush the guard’s skull to gory ruin with one terrific blow from the dangling length of heavy chain that hung in his hands.
    “ Thongor? ”
    The Valkarthan grunted in astonishment.
    “Is that you, against the wall? Thongor? It is I—Aid Turmis.”
    The bronzed giant relaxed. “Gorm Almighty, I had broken your skull in another instant, had you not spoken when you did! What in the name of a thousand devils are you doing here?”
    His friend chuckled softly. “Did you think I would let these Thurdan swine send you to the galleys without lifting a hand? Besides, it’s far from being the first time we’ve helped one another break out of jail—remember Zangabal, and the house Athmar Phong? But here, we’re wasting time with words. I took the key and brought along your sword. Quickly!”
    Thongor grinned. Aid Turmis—although a thin-blooded Thurdan like all the rest and filled with Southlander sentiments about peace and comfort—was every inch a fighting man. He remembered their first meeting some eight months agone—also in a prison cell, in Zangabal across the Patangan Gulf from here. Down on his luck, Thongor had turned thief, and a scheming priest had cajoled him into robbing the house of a mighty Ptarthan sorcerer. What the priest had not told him was that he was not the first to enter the wizard’s house on burglar’s business. Thus had he come upon his woeful predecessor, Aid Turmis, languishing in chains. Together they had fled, after a night of horror and doom wherein the house of the Ptarthan sorcerer was transformed into a blazing inferno. And they had been together ever since, fighting comrades in the mercenary legions of Phal Thurid, Sark of Thurdis. And to think that Thongor had come within a hair’s breadth of bashing in his best friend’s skull with a length of chain!
    These memories flashed through the giant barbarian’s mind as the lithe young Thurdan busied himself with the lock. Now it occurred to him to ask, “How did you come by the key to my chains?”
    Aid Turmis smiled—a flash of white teeth in the gloom. “The jailer, in his present condition, had no conceivable use for them, so I borrowed them for a time.”
    “Well, I hope it was not needful to slay the fat oaf. He fed me well; I’ll give him that.”
    His friend laughed. “Just like a Northlander barbarian—always thinking of your belly! Nay, fear not; the fellow is merely enjoying an unexpected nap at the moment, from which he will awaken with a bad headache, I fear, but at least he will awaken. Damn lock…ah, there!”
    He straightened up as the chains rang loosely on the stone-paved floor of the cell. Thongor felt his heart lift within him— free !—and he grinned tigerishly, exulting in his freedom. He stepped from the wall, flexing his mighty limbs appreciatively. Untamed savage that he was, he hated being caged and fettered as much as any other wild beast.
    Aid Turmis handed him the great broadsword. “Here’s your uncouth Valkarthan blade, and a dark cloak to hide your ugly face in. Now hurry! Barand Thon’s men will be here in a moment to drag you off, and we must be gone.”
    Thongor sheathed his sword and wrapped the cloak about his wide shoulders. It fell to his heels, covering his mercenary’s leather loincloth and harness, and its cowl hid his features.
    They slipped from the cell, down the dark