by Paula Guran
Swords Against Darkness
Edited by Paula Guran
Copyright © 2017 Paula Guran.
Cover art by Rodrigo Ramos.
Cover design by Sherin Nicole.
Ebook design by Neil Clarke.
ISBN: 978-1-60701-486-7 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-60701-485-0 (trade paperback)
PRIME BOOKS
Germantown, MD
www.prime-books.com
No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.
For more information, contact Prime Books at [email protected].
All stories are copyrighted to their respective authors, and used here with their permission.
Special thanks to John O’Neill of Black Gate (blackgate.com).
Stories are copyrighted to their respective authors and used here by permission.
“Where Virtue Lives” © 2009 Saladin Ahmed. First published: Beneath Ceaseless Skies, 2 February 2009. | “The Swords of Her Heart” © 2017 John Balestra. Original to this volume. | “The Ghost Makers” © 2013 Elizabeth Bear. First published: Fearsome Journeys, ed. Jonathan Strahan (Solaris). | “Black Amazon of Mars” by Leigh Brackett. First published: Planet Stories, March 1951. | “A Thief in Korianth” © 1981 C. J. Cherryh. First published: Flashing Swords! #5: Demons and Daggers, ed. Lin Carter. | Samuel R. Delany, “The Tale of Dragons and Dreamers” © 1979, 1988 Samuel R. Delany. First published: Tales of Nevèrÿon (Bantam, 1979). Used here by permission of the author and his agent, Henry Morrison, Inc. | “Payment Deferred” © 2013 James Enge. First published: Black Gate, Fall 2005. | “Goats of Glory” © 2010 Steven Erikson. First published: Swords & Dark Magic: The New Sword and Sorcery, eds. Jonathan Strahan & Lou Anders. | “The Tower of the Elephant” by Robert E. Howard, First published: Weird Tales, March 1933. |“The Plague Givers” © 2016 Kameron Hurley. First published through Kameron Hurley’s Patreon. | “Swords Against the Marluk” © 1977 Katherine Kurtz. First published: Flashing Swords #4: Barbarians and Black Magic, ed. Lin Carter (Dell/Nelson Doubleday, 1977). | “Out of the Deep” © 2004 Mercedes Lackey. First published: Masters of Fantasy, eds. Brian Thomsen & Bill Fawcett (Baen, 2004). | “Hero at the Gates” © 1979 Tanith Lee. First Publication: Shayol #3, Summer 1979. | “Ill Met in Lankhmar” © 1970 Fritz Leiber. First published: The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, April 1970. | “The Effigy Engine: A Tale of the Red Hats” © 2013 Scott Lynch. First publication: Fearsome Journeys, ed. Jonathan Strahan (Solaris). | “First Blood” © 2014 Elizabeth Moon. First Published: Shattered Shields, eds. Bryan Thomas Schmidt & Jennifer Brozek. (Baen) Reprinted by permission of Elizabeth Moon and her agents, JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc., 49 West 45th Street, New York, NY 10036-4603 | “While the Gods Laugh” © 1961 Michael Moorcock. First published: Science Fantasy, October 1961. | “Hellsgarde” © 1939 C. L. Moore. First published: Weird Tales, April 1939. | “Bluestocking” © 1967 Joanna Russ. First published: (as “The Adventuress”) Orbit 2, ed. Damon Knight. | “Epistle from Lebanoi” © 2012 Michael Shea. First published: The Sword & Sorcery Anthology, eds. Jacob Weisman & David G. Hartwell (Tachyon). | “The Dark Eidolon” © 1935 Clark Ashton Smith. First published: Weird Tales, January 1935. |“Liane the Wayfarer” © 1950 John Vance. First published: The Dying Earth (Hillman, 1950). | “Undertow” © 1977 Karl Edward Wagner. First published Whispers #10, August 1977. Published by permission of The Karl Edward Wagner Literary Group.
Contents
Paula Guran — Knowledge Takes Precedence Over Death
Forging & Shaping
Robert E. Howard — The Tower of the Elephant
C. L. Moore — Hellsgarde
Clark Ashton Smith — The Dark Eidolon
Jack Vance — Liane the Wayfarer
Leigh Brackett — Black Amazon of Mars
Fritz Leiber — Ill Met in Lankhmar
Michael Moorcock — While the Gods Laugh
Normalizing & Annealing
Tanith Lee — A Hero at the Gates
C. J. Cherryh — A Thief in Korianth
Karl Edward Wagner — Undertow
Katherine Kurtz — Swords Against the Marluk
Mercedes Lackey — Out of the Deep
Michael Shea — Epistle from Lebanoi
James Enge — Payment Deferred
John Balestra — The Swords of Her Heart
Tempering & Sharpening
Joanna Russ — Bluestocking
Samuel R. Delany — The Tale of Dragons and Dreamers
Elizabeth Moon — First Blood
Saladin Ahmed — Where Virtue Lives
Scott Lynch — The Effigy Engine: A Tale of the Red Hats
Steven Erikson — Goats of Glory
Elizabeth Bear — The Ghost Makers
Kameron Hurley — The Plague Givers
Introduction:
Knowledge Takes Precedence Over Death
Paula Guran
(“Sword and sorcery” is sometimes used as a derogatory term for “bad fantasy” or a specific type of bad fantasy. We shall acknowledge but otherwise ignore this usage.)
So. What is “sword-and-sorcery” fantasy?
Lin Carter, in his introduction to L. Sprague de Camp’s Literary Swordsmen and Sorcerers: The Makers of Heroic Fantasy (1976) wrote, among other things, that sword and sorcery “is written primarily to entertain.” That’s certainly part of it.
Among the many who have defined it one way or another, Darrell Schweitzer described sword-and-sorcery fantasy this way: “In the broadest sense, a sword-and-sorcery story is one about heroic adventures, in a primitive or imaginary-world setting, with supernatural elements.” He continues, explaining the definition is both too general and too specific and wonders if “sword and sorcery ever exist[ed] in the first place, or was it merely a subset of fantasy defined by its cliché?”
Schweitzer goes on to note (and this is why I chose his definition):
Much of what was retrospectively lumped together into the “genre” had little in common before that point: Howard’s Conan. Clark Ashton Smith’s tales of Hyperborea and Zothique. Jack Vance’s Dying Earth. Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, de Camp’s Poseidonis and Jorian adventures, Moorcock’s Elric, Charles Saunders’s Imaro, and so on. Those stories have some elements in common, but their merits, we suggest, have more to do with their differences. It is precisely because Leiber’s or Moorcock’s or de Camp’s work constitutes an original vision, and is not a retread of Howard, that it is of interest.
It’s an interesting theory. Does retaining some tropes, but turning others on their heads keep S&S vital, relevant, and entertaining? Maybe the best S&S is not just evolutionary but revolutionary.
All fantasy, including sword and sorcery, has its ancient antecedents in myth and legend. At the least, what came to be known as both the genre and the marketing category of fantasy builds on the past but constantly progresses.
Genres—or subgenres—arise due to public demand. What I mean is: there may be appreciation and critical notice of a literary genre, even a quantity of readers, but it takes sufficient public demand for a particular type of fiction for it to become a marketing category. In order to successfully market a type of fiction, publishers have to produce predictable fiction that the public recognizes as what it wants. Genrification. Yes, lots of formulaic garbage results, but the non-garbage is apt to survive and be recognized as something more than the surrounding refuse.
I am briefly looking at the gentrification of fantasy and, specifically sword-and-sorcery fantasy, here. Categories begat opportunities for writers to create. Writers may then subvert or defy the very boundaries that give them o
pportunity; great originality, even great art may result. (Or not.)
[Note: This introduction and I owe a great deal to “The Making of the American Fantasy Genre” by David Hartwell from The Secret History of Fantasy, edited by Peter S. Beagle (Tachyon Publications, 2010). I wish David were still with us for many reasons, the least of which is so I could have picked his brain on the subject.]
In the mid-nineteenth century, fantasy was set apart from adult literature and deemed suitable only for children. In the 1920s and 1930s, pulp magazines were about the only venues through which fantasy (and science fiction) could reach a reading public.
The progenitor of what later came to be known as sword-and-sorcery fantasy was Robert E. Howard (1906-1936). He created the character of Conan the Cimmerian, a barbarian warrior whose adventures first began appearing in Weird Tales in 1932. The stories were popular and there was a demand for similar tales. Other writers added their own flavors to the not-yet-seen-as S&S mix.
Aided by the slow death of the pulp magazines in the 1940s, sword and sorcery overall fell out of favor with the reading public. It hadn’t disappeared, mind you—in fact, some of the best managed to get published, sometimes lightly disguised as science fiction, during the period—but without enough readers clamoring for it, few opportunities existed.
The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (1892-1973) was published in three volumes in 1954 and 1955. Not as fantasy, but as general fiction. Critically acclaimed, it was no bestseller but sold well enough in hardcover. Then, mass-market paperback editions—as fantasy—appeared in 1965; it became a publishing phenomenon. A commercial market for fantasy was born.
Publishers, naturally wanting to repeat such sales success, started publishing fantasy of many types. Surprisingly (and to the dismay of many) only the Lancer editions that reprinted Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories sold anywhere close to the numbers of Tolkien. Sales for direct imitators of Conan and other more innovative sword-and-sorcery authors—including Fritz Leiber and Michael Moorcock—were also healthy enough to make publishers happy. Sword & sorcery thrived.
By the start of the seventies, only the sword and sorcery category—or heroic fantasy as it was also called—was selling as well as Tolkien.
There were fewer periodical markets, but what magazines there were published some short S&S fiction. Sword-and-sorcery comics became popular. Reprint anthologies compiling previously published stories appeared, as did original-fiction anthology series with titles like Flashing Swords, Swords Against Darkness, and Sword and Sorceress.
A film, Conan the Barbarian (1982), which had little to do with Howard’s creation, was successful enough to be followed by even worse movies of the ilk. Sword and sorcery’s rep, already weighed down with too much trash, got worse.
Meanwhile, publishers figured out that readers wanted books that were not only fantasy, but close imitations of Tolkien. Backed by canny marketing, The Sword of Shannara, an epic fantasy novel by Terry Brooks become a major bestseller in 1977. The general public had found the next “big thing”: big commercial fantasy. Fantasy in general was further codified. (Briefly: virtuous male protagonist aided by mentor overcomes evil. Add magic and top-dollar cover art.) In time, this commercial epic fantasy more or less subsumed sword and sorcery, but S&S was also along for the ride by its own name.
(Generic fantasy that made money meant that higher quality fantasy got published, even though low sales were expected. Publishing still works this way.)
Eventually, the pubic was overwhelmed by too much epic fantasy from the same mold, too much of it of low quality. Publishers became more selective. The number of titles and series were reduced. Other subgenres of fantasy became popular. Generic epic fantasy—some good, some bad—continues to sell well in the twenty-first century, but it doesn’t dominate completely. There are still many earlier series being read today even as newer authors are making their mark.
As for S&S, the masses found it in other places. Like gaming. The role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons was influenced by many sources. But it owes a considerable debt—as do many games since—to the fiction of Robert E. Howard, Fritz Leiber, Michael Moorcock, and other S&S authors. Even if gamers never heard of such authors, without them video game consoles might never have existed. (And, in turn, gaming has influenced fiction writers.)
Video games are far more popular than books these days. So are films and television—other media often inspired, sometimes unknowingly, by S&S. (And, in turn, film and TV influences fiction writers.) HBO’s success with George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire epic fantasy series has brought attention—and thus opportunity for creators.
There is, of course, differences between epic fantasy and S&S. Exceptions are often the rule, but epic fantasy usually has grand scale, vast armies, global stakes, and lots of characters. Sword and sorcery tends to involve action and only a few characters concerned with more personal, immediate stakes. But many modern epic fantasy authors are using S&S elements and flavors in their fiction. And the “old masters” of S&S are still read and discovered by new readers. An author or a book or a series of books can become a cultural phenomenon if the general public becomes enthralled in a movie or television series or digital video content series. Screen versions of S&S classics are often rumored.
There are those who want S&S to remain as is once was, or kept within a strict definition. That’s their prerogative, but they also often wonder why others don’t appreciate or even read the “good old stuff.” The answer is easy: if you cannot wade through a style of writing or look past elements of racism, sexism, misogyny, and the like or find little to identify with and/or escape into—you are no longer being entertained. You don’t read it.
Even though I could not include all the authors I wanted to—particularly Andre Norton, Jennifer Roberson, and Charles R. Saunders—this anthology has examples of many styles and voices of S&S, all of which were published or labeled (by someone or someones other than me) as sword and sorcery. You may find some of the stories not to your liking. If so, you will, I hope, find others that you do enjoy. It is a big book!
The idea is to present a broad range of entertaining stories that can be seen as sword and sorcery. Despite the brief introductions I provide for each story, the aim is not to supply any sort of outline/history of S&S, just information and context.
I’ve divided the stories into three sections:
1. Forging and Shaping: the seminal authors
2. Normalizing and Annealing: those who followed and shaped
3. Tempering and Sharpening: those who bring something new to the genre
I can debate some of my own categorizations, but the intent is to simply organize and present—not provide profound interpretations or unassailable rules.
The title of this introduction? It is from “Adept’s Gambit,” a Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser story by Fritz Leiber.
Paula Guran
Forging & Shaping
Robert E. Howard (1906–1936) is best known as the creator of Conan the Cimmerian (or “Barbarian”) and, inadvertently, the father of what came to be known as sword and sorcery. Howard’s first Conan story, “The Phoenix and the Sword,” was published in Weird Tales in December 1932. To quote David Drake: “Conan created S&S as a publishing category as surely as Stephen King created horror as a publishing category . . . virtually all of the S&S which appeared after December 1932 was written in some degree with reference to Conan.” The literary merit of Howard’s work is a matter of debate. His influence on other writers of fantasy and the field itself is, however, indisputable. “The Tower of the Elephant” appeared in Weird Tales, March 1933, the third of eighteen Conan stories to be published during Howard’s lifetime.
The Tower of the Elephant
Robert E. Howard
Chapter 1
Torches flared murkily on the revels in the Maul, where the thieves of the east held carnival by night. In the Maul they could carouse and roar as they liked, for honest people shunned the
quarters, and watchmen, well paid with stained coins, did not interfere with their sport. Along the crooked, unpaved streets with their heaps of refuse and sloppy puddles, drunken roisterers staggered, roaring. Steel glinted in the shadows where wolf preyed on wolf, and from the darkness rose the shrill laughter of women, and the sounds of scufflings and strugglings. Torchlight licked luridly from broken windows and wide-thrown doors, and out of those doors, stale smells of wine and rank sweaty bodies, clamor of drinking-jacks and fists hammered on rough tables, snatches of obscene songs, rushed like a blow in the face.
In one of these dens merriment thundered to the low smoke-stained roof, where rascals gathered in every stage of rags and tatters—furtive cut-purses, leering kidnappers, quick-fingered thieves, swaggering bravos with their wenches, strident-voiced women clad in tawdry finery. Native rogues were the dominant element—dark-skinned, dark-eyed Zamorians, with daggers at their girdles and guile in their hearts. But there were wolves of half a dozen outland nations there as well. There was a giant Hyperborean renegade, taciturn, dangerous, with a broadsword strapped to his great gaunt frame—for men wore steel openly in the Maul. There was a Shemitish counterfeiter, with his hook nose and curled blue-black beard. There was a bold-eyed Brythunian wench, sitting on the knee of a tawny-haired Gunderman—a wandering mercenary soldier, a deserter from some defeated army. And the fat gross rogue whose bawdy jests were causing all the shouts of mirth was a professional kidnapper come up from distant Koth to teach woman-stealing to Zamorians who were born with more knowledge of the art than he could ever attain.
This man halted in his description of an intended victim’s charms, and thrust his muzzle into a huge tankard of frothing ale. Then blowing the foam from his fat lips, he said, “By Bel, god of all thieves, I’ll show them how to steal wenches: I’ll have her over the Zamorian border before dawn, and there’ll be a caravan waiting to receive her. Three hundred pieces of silver, a count of Ophir promised me for a sleek young Brythunian of the better class. It took me weeks, wandering among the border cities as a beggar, to find one I knew would suit. And is she a pretty baggage!”