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. Behind him, toward the road, rose a distant howling that spurred him to greater efforts.
8. Conajohara No More
There had been fighting on Thunder River; fierce fighting before the walls of Velitrium; ax and torch had been plied up and down the bank, and many a settler's cabin lay in ashes before the painted horde was rolled back.
A strange quiet followed the storm, in which people gathered and talked in hushed voices, and men with red-stained bandages drank their ale silently in the taverns along the river bank.
There, to Conan the Cimmerian, moodily quaffing from a great wine-glass, came a gaunt forester with a bandage about his head and his arm in a sling. He was the one survivor of Fort Tuscelan.
"You went with the soldiers to the ruins of the fort?"
Conan nodded.
"I wasn't able," murmured the other. "There was no fighting?"
"The Picts had fallen back across Black River. Something must have broken their nerve, though only the devil who made them knows what."
The woodsman glanced at his bandaged arm and sighed.
"They say there were no bodies worth disposing of."
Conan shook his head. "Ashes. The Picts had piled them in the fort and set fire to the fort before they crossed the river. Their own dead and the men of Valannus."
"Valannus was killed among the last -- in the hand-to-hand fighting when they broke the barriers. They tried to take him alive, but he made them kill him
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