“Are you still mad? You’re still mad. I can tell. I’m a people person,” Clint Barton, Hawkeye, said as he followed Conan the Cimmerian through the crowded streets, his bow held across his shoulders. The Cimmerian whirled, blue eyes flashing, teeth bared, one hand reaching for his sword.

“Mad? MAD? Aye, I’m mad, archer! Why do you still follow me?” he snarled. Hawkeye took a step back, his smile never slipping.

“We’re still pals, aren’t we?”

“We were never ‘pals’!” Conan thundered.

“Not even a little bit?”

“No!”

“Shame, because a pal would have been able to warn you about those two guys who just stole your coin-pouch.”

“What? Crom!” Conan turned, groping for his missing coin-pouch. Hawkeye gestured.

“They went thataway.”

“You-” Conan began, then, with a growl, he turned away and bulled through the crowd, ploughing after the thieves. Hawkeye followed more sedately, whistling, a bulging coin-pouch bouncing on his palm.

It was a dirty trick to pull, but it gave him a little time to think. He needed Conan to take him to this ‘Nybastes’. Hawkeye frowned. Granted, there was no reason for Conan to do so now, especially considering that Zelda had made off with Ka Stone. In fact, he was surprised that the Cimmerian hadn’t attempted to kill him then and there. Just went to show you that despite looking like Wonderman on steroids, the big lug wasn’t as barbaric as he played at.

“Or I must have one heck of a winning smile,” Clint murmured. From what little he knew of history, the Sphinx had acquired the stone late into one of Egyptian dynasties. And where they were now, when they were, Egypt didn’t even exist. But, it was too much of a coincidence. And despite considering himself one of the luckiest sonnuvaguns in existence, Hawkeye didn’t believe in coincidence. Especially where the bad guys were concerned.

He had a hunch. A little one. A smidgen, even. But it was better than nothing. And that hunch was that he and Zelda weren’t the only time travelers around in this era. It was the only thing that made sense.

According to the Fantastic Four, the Ka Stone had supposedly landed on Earth in Egypt, only a few centuries before the Sphinx had found it. And by the look of things in this time, it probably wasn’t due to arrive for a while. Which meant it couldn’t be here, unless the Sphinx was too.
Or, it meant that Reed Richards had, for once in his life, been wrong about something.

Still thinking about that, he stopped short, only inches from slamming into Conan’s back.

“Are you sure they went this way, archer?” Conan growled, shaggy head twisting this way and that, eyes narrowed as if to dissect the teeming crowd with his gaze. “I see none of the usual thieves markings-”

“No worries, chuckles. I got your wallet,” Hawkeye said, tossing the coin pouch towards Conan. “Found it back there.” The Cimmerian caught the pouch and examined it suspiciously.

“Aye?”

“Oh aye,” Hawkeye said. “They must have tossed it when they saw you coming after them.”

“Hh,” Conan grunted, re-attaching the pouch to his belt. “I doubt that. I doubt many things when it comes to you, archer…”

“Look big guy, all I want to do is get home,” Hawkeye said. “And right now, the best way to do that is by finding Zelda and getting that stone back. So we-”

“We?” Conan said, one eyebrow raised.

“Yep. Thee and me, pal.”

“For the last time, I am NOT your-”

“You want that ruby back, right?” Hawkeye said. “It’s the only way you’re going to get paid, right?”

“Aye,” Conan said, rubbing his chin. Hawkeye clapped his hands together.

“Then here’s the new deal, same as the old deal. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“I see what you mean,” Conan said. He slapped his sword and gave a bark of what might have been laughter. Still grinning, he gave Hawkeye a shrewd look. “So, what do you recommend?”

“Simple. When in doubt, we start at the beginning.”

“Nybastes? Why?”

“Simple. I don’t think your buddy Nybastes was being entirely honest with you about that rock,” Hawkeye said. “Do you?”

“What merchant is ever honest about his wares?” Conan said, with a shrug.

“Think we can convince him otherwise?”

“Aye, I believe so,” Conan said, pulling his sword slightly from its sheath, then slamming it back down.

---

Elsewhere.

Zelda Dubois, Princess Python, was, in spite of everything, afraid. The scarlet gem clutched in her hands pulsed and whined as reality changed and shifted around her. Despite her intentions, she wasn’t that far away from where she had left the others. The power flowing through her was too much for her senses to bear. For anyone to bear.

Red light flowed out of her pores and she knelt in a puddle of glass which had once been sand. Images from a hundred eras flooded her mind, showing her memories not her own.

“God-I-GOD!” she screamed, and a bloody light exploded from her mouth, streaking into the sky. Glaucon hissed and tried to coil protectively around her, but the heat sweating off of her huddled form prevented him. Insomuch as a reptile could feel worry, the augmented python did for his mistress. He hissed in agitation, cutting trails in the sand.

Zelda beat her fists into the ground, energy sparking with every blow. It hurt. Everything hurt. Inside and out. She was afraid. She wanted to run but it was everywhere. The stone wanted something, but not her. She wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t the right person-

“No, you are not.”

She turned, her eyes glowing. “Who-”

A tall figure, clad in concealing, ratty robes, stretched out a shriveled, gray hand. “You have something which belongs to me, woman. Return it…or suffer,” the Sphinx said.

“No! I need it!” Zelda said, flinging out a hand. Red lightning crackled from her fingers and crawled across the figure, who shuddered. The hood fell back, revealing a cavernous face, hollow cheeked and with eyes like dull embers. He was emaciated. Shrivelled. But a lingering vitality kept him standing. A hunger for life.

“As do I, woman,” the Sphinx rasped. “My survival depends on it!”

“Then you’re out of luck, whoever you are!” Zelda said, standing. Fury filled her and she extended her hands. Energy writhed between her fingers as she took a step towards the gray man, and the ground turned to ash beneath her foot.

“I do not believe in luck, only in opportunity,” the Sphinx said, lunging for her, hands outstretched. “I have followed the scent of this power across the sands of this desert. And I will have it!”

Fat, bloody sparks jumped between them as the Sphinx tackled her, reaching for the stone. Zelda screamed as the power overwhelmed her. And in that instant, everything happened at once. Images flooded her mind like shards of broken glass-

-the Sphinx and another man, dressed as a pharaoh-

-an ambush, demons-

-two stones, side by side, but one was not-

And finally, what the stone had been trying to tell her all along.

“Ahhh!” Zelda was flung aside, smoke coming off of her. She rolled to a stop, her limbs unresponsive, her mind burning. The Sphinx lay a few feet away, looking less emaciated, but equally ill.

“What-what-” the Sphinx said, pulling himself up. “What have you done?”

“I-” Zelda sat up. “I don’t-” Her fingers drifted upwards of their own accord, hesitantly touching the slender facet of the Ka Stone that protruded ever so slightly from the center of her forehead. “Oh.”

“Foolish,” the Sphinx said. He sounded weary. “You do not know what you have done.”

“I can’t-I can’t use it to go home,” Zelda said. “Can I?”

“No, the stone has many powers, but time travel is not one of them. At least not unassisted time travel.”

“I can see everything,” Zelda said, examining her hands. “Everything.” She looked up. “This isn’t right. It-you-shouldn’t be here.”

“An anomaly,” the Sphinx said, hands draped over his knees. “When the Ka Stone fell to earth, it came not from the stars but from a higher reality. It shattered upon contact with ours and its shards were scattered throughout time. That is one such shard.” He indicated the gem in her head. “There are others, spread throughout the web of reality.”

“You came here to claim it,” she said. The Sphinx smiled.
“Of course. I accomplished wonders with one shard. With two, I could create a reality more to my liking than ours currently is…”

Zelda stood, Glaucon slithering up beside her. She absently stroked the python’s head, her gaze turned inward. The Sphinx got to his feet, watching her warily.

“This shard, at least, seems to have accepted you,” he said.

“I was so afraid,” Zelda said, softly. “But now…” She turned to him.

“Where is your stone?”

“In the hands of demons,” the Sphinx said, crossing his arms.

“Then we will reclaim it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Zelda said, her fingers touching the warm facets of the stone. “I’m tired of running.”

---

Meroe.

“Nybastes!” Conan roared, hammering on the thick wooden door. “Open up, you fat pig of a merchant!”

“Insults. The Cimmerian way to win friends and influence people.” Hawkeye leaned on his bow and plucked the string. Conan turned slightly, and tossed him a glare.

“Quiet, archer.”

The door swung open. A trembling servant bowed low, her form bundled in thick robes. She swept an arm out, indicating that they should enter. Conan stomped past, hand on the hilt of his sword. Hawkeye followed more slowly, his eyes lingering on the servant. There was something-
Her eyes met his. Hawkeye’s widened.

“Oh hell,” he said. He turned. “Co-”

Red Sonja’s sword sprang from beneath her robes and she lunged, the tip of her blade darting for Hawkeye’s chest. He stumbled back, his bow smashing into the blade, knocking it aside, even as he fell.

Conan whirled, drawing his own sword even as he let loose with a vile oath. Red Sonja was already moving over Hawkeye, her crimson hair flying, teeth bared in a grin. Their swords met with a resounding clang.

“Ha! Am I so slight in your memory, Cimmerian, that you walk past me without even a flicker of recognition?”

“Am I such in yours, that you’d match blades with me?” Conan growled, forcing her back. Sonja hopped over Hawkeye, disengaging.

“The clink of gold ever made tatters of my affections,” Sonja said, laughing. She gestured with her blade. “However, you brought this upon yourself, Cimmerian.”

Out of the shadows, a quartet of bravos emerged, wielding diverse weapons. One, a tall, thin Stygian, gestured with a khopesh. “These are the dogs Nybastes wishes dead?”

“Would I have attacked them otherwise?” Sonja said. “Hie to it, alley-dogs!”

The bravos charged forward. Hawkeye flipped upright and slid an arrow from his quiver. With a twang, he fired it into the hand of the closest man, a red-bearded, barrel-chested thug, who screamed hoarsely and dropped the axe he’d been wielding. In the next instant, the string snapped. Hawkeye cursed and shook his hand. A whisper of sound made him spin.

“Wrong place, wrong time, archer,” Sonja said, bringing her sword down. Hawkeye threw himself out of the way, even as the sword cut through the air where he’d been to crash into the floor.

“Story of my life, lady,” Hawkeye said, coming smoothly to his feet.

Conan twisted out of the way of the Stygian’s khopesh, and gutted the hawk-faced man in return. As the Stygian fell, Conan turned, his raised sword meeting the blade of a heavy bodied Gunderman clad in rust-riddled chain mail. The Cimmerian’s booted foot shot out, crashing down on the other man’s sandled instep.

The Gunderman howled, and Conan slugged him, sending him flailing backwards. Befor he could finish him, the wounded red-beard crashed into him, grappling with him awkwardly. Conan snarled and brought the pommel of his sword down on the man’s skull, crushing it. As he strove to untangle himself, the fourth killer darted in, a thin-bladed dirk in his hand.

The blade skittered across Conan’s side, eliciting a howl from the Cimmerian. He swung blindly and his sword slashed down, chopping through the skull of the bravo. Clutching at his side, Conan jerked his sword free, and turned to face the last man. The Gunderman snarled groggily, his nose flat and pumping blood. He staggered forward. Conan swatted his blade aside and hit him again. The Gunderman fell to his knees, his sword clattering away. He clawed at the Cimmerian’s shirt for a moment. Conan brought his knee up, smashing it into the man’s jaw. The man fell backwards, insensate.

“These are finished. Need help, archer?” Conan said, smiling grimly.

“No, no, I’m cool. Copacetic as a cucumber,” Hawkeye said, jabbing at Sonja with his bow. Sonja swatted it down with her sword and thrust at his neck. Hawkeye dropped his bow and slapped his palms together on the blade, catching it mere micro-inches from his throat.

“Whoof,” he said. “That was harder than it looked.”

“Release my blade!” Red Sonja said. “Now!”

“Nope!”

Sonja suddenly stepped back, releasing the sword. Hawkeye stumbled forward, off balance. She swung behind him, a dirk appearing in her hand as if by magic. She laid the tip of the blade to his throat.

“Time to die,”

“For one of us, aye,” Conan said, tapping her shoulder with his sword. Sonja froze, as did Hawkeye.

“Have I ever mentioned that I hate Mexican stand-offs?” Hawkeye said.

“What’s a Mexican?” Red Sonja said.

“It doesn’t matter,” another voice said. All three turned. Nybastes stood, looking down at the bodies of his slain men. He looked up, mournfully.

“Nothing matters anymore, I’m afraid.”

“Nybastes,” Conan said. “I should slit your fat throat, merchant. Is this how you repay me?”

“I am sorry, Cimmerian. I truly am. But needs must, when the devil drives,” Nybastes said, spreading his hands. “Where is my stone?”

“Gone,” Conan grunted.

“Gone?” Nybastes’ eyes widened.

“Gone. Stolen.”

“But-”

“Who does it belong to really?” Hawkeye said, suddenly. “The stone, I mean. Actually, wrong question. I know who it belongs to. And you ain’t him-”

“Silence!” Sonja said.

“You as well,” Conan grunted.

“All of you, be quiet!” Nybastes suddenly shrilled. Trembling, he stared at them. “Where is it? The stone. Where is it?”

“No clue,” Hawkeye said. “Why not ask your boss if he has any ideas?”

“I-” Nybastes staggered. His head cocked. “You heard?”

Yesss.

“Crom,” Conan whispered. “What-”

Shadows boiled up out of the floor, seeping into the pores of the bodies of the bravos. Nybastes too was wreathed in them, his skin seemingly bulging and rippling in spots. He glared at them, his eyes suddenly glowing red.

“Why couldn’t you have just done as you were told?” he hissed, plaintively. Before Conan could answer, Nybastes threw back his head and screamed. He clawed at his own flesh, ripping it away in strips, revealing a blocky, scale-covered shape beneath. A similar transformation had taken hold of the bodies on the ground as well, and within moments, they rose up, four clawed and fanged nightmares-serpents with the bodies of men!

The Nybastes serpent stepped forward, eyes glinting. It opened its mouth and hissed. As one, the quintet of beasts charged!

---

Stygia.

Thoth-Amon staggered as his magics took effect. He reflexively rubbed the ring on his finger. “The Cimmerian lost it.”

“What?” the Dwarf looked up, his cherubic face twisted in incomprehension. “What, what?”

“The stone. It’s gone.”

“Well, that’s a pickle,” the Dwarf said, rubbing his chin. “My, oh my. What are you going to do about it?”

“I have already handled it.”

“So you say.”

“I-AHH!” Thoth-Amon shrieked, as the stone on his finger flared. The Dwarf turned away, covering his eyes. Thoth-Amon staggered, clutching his hand. “It fights me! Something is happening-”

“What?” the Dwarf looked at him. Then at the crystal encased form of Rama-Tut. The Dwarf’s eyes widened. “Oh shi-”

The crystal exploded.

Rama-Tut fell to his hands and knees amidst the debris, his face contorted in anger, his muscles screaming. He looked at them.

“You,” he said.

“Kill him!” Thoth-Amon screamed. Temple guards charged forward, curved swords slicing towards the time-traveler. Rama-Tut leapt forward to meet them. His strength was greater than that of a normal man, though not by much. Still, it was enough. The first guardsman fell, and Tut scooped up his scimitar, slashing the next man across the gut.

“Vengeance!” Rama-Tut said. “I am a Time-Lord! A Master of the Chronal Silences! And you thought to imprison me?”

“Yep. We did a pretty good job of it too!” the Dwarf said, his form twisting as he jumped towards the time-traveler. Something horrible grappled with Rama-Tut and cackled in the Dwarf’s high-pitched voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” it said. “No, I need you too much for that!”

“Glad to-ah-hear it,” Rama-Tut hissed.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t deal with you though!” the Dwarf-the thing that had been the Dwarf-cackled. Dark talons lifted the struggling pharaoh, and then hurled him into one of the temple’s immense columns. Rama-Tut slumped to the ground.

The Dwarf shrank back to his normal form and grinned at Thoth-Amon, who glared at him, shaken.

“And that, as they say, is how you do that. Now, let’s see about getting that other stone…"

---

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

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Next issue: Confusion reigns in the 21st Century! Things happen! Be here in thirty for ‘BEDLAM’!

 

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