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- Herausgeber: Titan Books
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
Wounded, thirsty and stranded in the desert after a job gone bad, Conan is desperate. To make it out alive, he bands together with his fellow surviving mercenaries. Conan trusts none of them, and the feeling is mutual. Fine. Everyone knows where they stand. But when a cursed treasure is discovered, distrust turns to suspicion. Conan knows enough about dark magic to leave well enough alone, but will greed get the better of his new 'friends'?
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Seitenzahl: 44
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Leave us a Review
Copyright
Map
Conan: Marked for Death
Chapter 1
About the Author
MARKED FOR DEATH
TIM WAGGONER
TITAN BOOKS
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Conan: Marked for Death
E-book edition ISBN: 9781835416884
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
www.titanbooks.com
First edition: January 2026
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
© 2026 Conan Properties International (“CPI”). CONAN, CONAN THE BARBARIAN, CONAN THE CIMMERIAN, HYBORIA, THE SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN and related logos, names and character likenesses thereof are trademarks or registered trademarks of CPI. ROBERT E. HOWARD is a trademark or registered trademark of Robert E. Howard Properties LLC. Heroic Signatures is a trademark of Cabinet Licensing LLC.
Tim Waggoner asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
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CONAN:MARKEDFOR DEATH
TIM WAGGONER
Conan stood, feet planted firmly on sun-hardened ground, broadsword gripped in both hands, blade slick with blood. Around him surged the chaos of battle—the thunder of horses’ hooves, the frightened cries of camels, the clang and crash of sword against sword, and the voices of men and women… the battle cries of warriors, the screams of the newly wounded, the moans of the dying. He had been born amid such tumult, and it was only here, surrounded by it, that he truly felt at home.
On the ground around him lay the bodies of three Zuagir raiders, each felled by his sword. The tribesmen’s white robes were stained crimson with fresh blood, the one-handed curved blades their people favored still gripped in their dead hands. Their steel had Conan’s blood on it, but his mail shirt had protected him from the worst of the Zuagirs’ strikes, and the wounds he’d incurred—cuts to his arms and legs—weren’t deep, and thus he ignored them.
He remembered something his father had said to him when he was young.
The only bleeding to be concerned about is bleeding you cannot stop.
The Cimmerian grunted at the memory and then focused the entirety of his attention on a pair of raiders coming toward him on horseback, swords raised to attack. Their heads were covered by turbans, their faces by white scarves, but even in the predawn light, Conan could see the hatred burning in their eyes.
“Taste my steel, dogs!” he bellowed, then charged to meet his attackers with the power, grace, and savagery of a male lion in its prime.
He knew from both sides—attacking and defending—how devastating a sword blow from the back of a moving horse could be, with the animal’s weight and momentum added to its rider’s blow. But he didn’t intend to let the Zuagirs strike first. The raider on his right was slightly ahead of his companion, so Conan prepared to meet his attack. The man held his blade in his left hand, so Conan moved to his left to keep the horse between himself and the raider. The man would have to either slow to strike at him or bring his mount around, which would cost him precious time and delay his blow. The Cimmerian wasn’t about to give the Zuagir the chance to do either.
When the raider was close enough, Conan swung his broad-sword at the horse’s neck. He felt the impact as steel collided with animal flesh, but he was strong enough to absorb the shock and maintain his footing. His blade slashed through the mount’s throat, nearly decapitating the beast, and its blood sprayed the air in a fountain of red. The horse’s front legs buckled, and the animal pitched forward and slammed into the hard ground. The rider flung himself out of the saddle as the horse collapsed, and whether by intention or lucky accident, the raider flew toward Conan. The Cimmerian was not in the habit of thanking gods for whatever good fortune came his way, but if he had been a devout man, he would’ve given thanks to any god that might be listening.
To his credit, the raider attempted to strike at Conan as he came down, but the Cimmerian stepped forward, brought his
