Reversal of Fortune

When the tough get caught, it's a rough time going

The scimitar rested against his neck. The blade was cold, but he did not feel the of shed blood. Not yet.

"I told you," he said. "The woman came to me as a slave and lives as such."

The sword's pressure increased slightly.

The sultan stepped forward calmly, placing his hand on the arm of his guard. The guard removed the sword from the captive's neck.

"Conan," he said softly, savoring the word thoughtfully. "Conan of Cimeria, of such colorful reputation...and yet taken unawares by only two men and brought here without a struggle."

Conan stared back and said nothing. He sensed this man was much more dangerous than the guard's sword. He felt he could break these bonds, but he was exactly where he wanted to be: inside the city.

"Who is the girl?" the sultan snapped, startling the barbarian.

"She...she is my slave."

The sultan, a fat little man with brown skin, his head bare of his ceremonial covering, reached out like a snake and slapped the huge prisoner across the face. "Stop lying to me! I know you travel with a princess, Cimerian! Do not test my patience."

Conan noticed the small dagger. He strikes like lightning! Still, he was not afraid. He would escape this situation; he had a plan.

The sultan shrieked, "What have you done to her, animal?!"

This loss of temper was the signal his partner was waiting for; she would be over the wall like a Hambrian nightfighter any moment.

Then his face paled, and his confidence drained away.

His "partner," dressed in gauzy royal robes, strolled out of the keep and stood next to the sultan. Smiling wickedly and crooned in his ear loud enough for Conan to hear.

"Let me tell you what this terrible man put me through, father..."

(Word Count: 300)