Conan wished he was in Argos, or perhaps even Kush. Anywhere warm. Cimmeria was no place to spend the winter. Cold, gray, bleak. And direly lacking in plentiful meat and drink.
So he found himself pushing through a howling blizzard, scarce able to see five feet before him, and that only thanks to a strange globe of illumination. At least the carcass slung across his shoulders offered some warmth in addition to the strange light guiding his way.
The hut at which he’d taken shelter for the bitter Yuletide appeared, a dim solidity in a universe of white. Firelight glinted at the edges of the door. Conan booted it open. The crone who occupied the hut greeted him with a toothless smile.
“See,” she cackled triumphantly. “Crom provides.”
Conan tossed the small caribou onto the hard packed dirt floor, its antlers hitting with an almost musical ring. He drew his broadsword and hacked off the head, terminating the red glow that had been persistently casting an almost lamplike glow from the animal’s nose.
“Crom provides? Bah!” Conan scoffed. “I provided. And ‘twas no easy feat. The beast moved so swiftly, as if dancing on air. I could not deliver a decent slash. I was forced to thrust and stab until I’d fairly riddled it with steel.”
Apologies to Robert E. Howard and Robert L. May.
I hope you all enjoyed Christmas. If you are still looking for gifts, why not audiobooks?