The Best of Robert E. Howard: Crimson Shadows (Volume 1)

by Robert E. Howard

  Table of Contents

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  TWO-GUN MUSKETEER: ROBERT E. HOWARD’S WEIRD TALES

  SPEAR AND FANG

  IN THE FOREST OFŠVILLEFORE

  WOLFSHEAD

  THE LOST RACE

  THE SONG OF THE BATS

  THE RIDE OF FALUME

  THE RIDERS OF BABYLON

  THE DREAM SNAKE

  THE HYENA

  REMEMBRANCE

  SEA CURSE

  THE GATES OF NINEVEH

  RED SHADOWS

  THE HARP OF ALFRED

  EASTER ISLAND

  SKULLS IN THE STARS

  CRETE

  MOON MOCKERY

  RATTLE OF BONES

  FORBIDDEN MAGIC

  THE SHADOW KINGDOM

  THE MIRRORS OFŠTUZUNŠTHUNE

  THE MOOR GHOST

  RED THUNDER

  SHADOW KINGDOMS: The Weird Works of Robert E. Howard, Volume 1

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Copyright © 2004 by Paul Herman.

  Introduction copyright © 2004 by Mark Finn.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by:

  Wildside Press

  www.wildsidepress.com

  TWO-GUN MUSKETEER: ROBERT E. HOWARD’S WEIRD TALES

  The history of Weird Tales magazine is written not by the editors, but by the authors who appeared in its pages. Of all the celebrated authors that have seen print in “The Unique Magazine” “. . . That Refuses to Die,” the most influential and important writers to call Weird Tales their literary home were the “Three Musketeers:” H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and Robert E. Howard.

  The youngest of the trio, and also the last one to break into Weird Tales, Howard brought his own strengths to the magazine’s pool of talent. Smith was already gaining popularity as a poet of some renown. Lovecraft’s work, even prior to “The Call of Cthulhu,” wasn’t like anything else being done at the time; imaginative and thought provoking.

  Howard was full of clever and interesting ideas, and he was himself an accomplished poet; it would be easy to say that he was a kind of amalgamation of the two authors. However, Howard turned those traits on the axis of something that would become a trademark of his writing: his flair for action. No one could write stirring, visceral action like Howard, whether it was two men fighting a duel of honor or rival armies clashing for glory. His deftly penned prose and poetry made him one of the most popular writers in the magazine.

  And it’s no wonder, considering that Howard created his most famous characters and brought them to life for the Weird Tales audience: Solomon Kane, King Kull, Bran Mak Morn, and later, the most famous of them all, Conan the Cimmerian. Howard invented the sword and sorcery tale as we define it with his genre-breaking Solomon Kane, and he continued to refine his idea of a good story — fast action, supernatural goings-on, and compelling characters to hang his plots on — with each new manuscript, each new series.

  “You gave me my start in the racket by buying my first story — ‘Spear and Fang,’” wrote Howard to editor Farnsworth Wright in 1931. “I was eighteen years old at the time.” He sold the story to Wright in 1924, but it didn’t see print until the following year. Howard kept trying to write for other markets, but no one was willing to take a chance on the young, unknown writer from Texas. Wright, however, kept buying Howard’s work, and wrote encouraging things to him. Soon, Howard had three stories scheduled to appear in the magazine — but no money to show for it, as Weird Tales paid on publication, not acceptance.

  Howard grudgingly returned to college in nearby Brownwood, seeking a diploma in bookkeeping. While at Howard Payne University, he cranked out several humorous sketches for the college newspaper, The Yellow Jacket. He also wrote numerous poems and the occasional story, many of which were submitted to Weird Tales and other pulps. During the time Howard attended college, his stories and poems were finally appearing in print. Encouraged, he started working on the stories that would later catapult him to the top of Wright’s stable of writers — stories of Solomon Kane and King Kull.

  With the publication of “Red Shadows” in 1928, Howard became a literary force to be reckoned with. Who was this Solomon Kane, anyway? A sword-wielding Puritan, fighting pirates and witch doctors in the 17th century? Such a story had never been done before. Horror stories were cheap and plentiful in Weird Tales. Wright reprinted classics from the likes of Poe, in addition to buying new stories from authors writing contemporary horrors. And the historical adventure was certainly nothing new, either. The historical romance was alive and well in the 1920’s, both in classic literature and more modern fare, and even at the movies.

  Howard invented sword and sorcery (or if you prefer, heroic fantasy) by combining the two genres. It seems simple and elementary now, but at the time, Howard was stepping out into uncharted territory by taking his love of history (a love shared by Farnsworth Wright) and sprinkling in strange and unexplained events with the intent of having them directly engage the characters. The results were dynamite. Howard had a hit on his hands.

  As well liked as the stories were, Wright didn’t publish all of the Solomon Kane yarns that Howard sent him. A capricious editor, he rejected Howard’s offerings as often as he accepted them. Rather than be discouraged by this, Howard took it in stride and reworked the stories and submitted to different pulps. If they came back again, Howard simply changed tactics and wrote about new characters.

  Taking the sword and sorcery concept one step further, Howard then created King Kull in the story, “The Shadow Kingdom.” This time, he completely removed any semblance of the world we know and set the tales so far in the past that Atlantis was alive and kicking (and a tribal, barbaric continent, to boot). Kull is himself an Atlantean, and a usurper of the throne of Valusia. With a detailed, if fictitious setting and a strong, savage character, Howard crafted several stories of court intrigue, wizardry, and breathtaking action. Even fewer Kull stories were printed in Weird Tales, but they are a vital link to the Conan stories that followed.

  Weird Tales was the mainstay of Howard’s career, a place where he could experiment with new story forms and ideas. Howard frequently crossed genres, and because of the magazine’s loosely defined theme and generous reader comments in every issue, he was able to get a sense of what worked and what didn’t. Many of those readers who commented about Howard’s work were fellow authors, and the ringleader of these Weird Tales writers was H. P. Lovecraft. A recluse living in Providence, Rhode Island, he kept a voluminous correspondence with authors, poets, and fans, and through this correspondence was a tremendous influence on a generation of writers, including Robert E. Howard.

  Their correspondence and friendship is legendary. Through the initial fan letter that Lovecraft sent Howard, Howard was able to meet and correspond with Clark Ashton Smith, August Derleth, and other members of what would eventually be known as “The Lovecraft Circle.” They traded poetry and drawings, shared stories with one another, and talked about the craft of writing, when they weren’t arguing politics or recommending books. These isolated authors in other states became Howard’s peers and friends, praising his work and encouraging him to do more of it. They were as influential on Howard as Howard was on them.

  The book in your hands is the first of a ten-volume set that collects the fantasy, horror, weird and sword-and-sorcery stories that Howard published in Weird Tales and elsewhere, in the order that they appeared. While not strictly in the order that Howard wrote them, they are valuable in that it gives us a picture of how quickly he improved. Each story builds on the last one, bringing with it whatev
er worked from the previous endeavor. “Spear and Fang,” for example, is a straightforward action piece. Howard kept the fast action in “In the Forest of Villfere,” changed the historical setting and turned it into a traditional supernatural story. This worked so well that one of the characters in “Villefere” makes a return appearance in “Wolfshead,” a tightly plotted period piece with action aplenty and the first story to net Howard the coveted cover art for that issue. The historical setting would soon reappear in the aforementioned “Red Shadows,” along with a sword-wielding hero, supernatural happenings, and a spectacular fight at the end. With “Red Shadows,” Howard had all of the makings of his signature style in place; a driving plot, memorable characters, brisk action, and poetically rendered prose that leapt off of the page.

  Many readers overlook Howard’s poetry and they do so at their own peril. Howard was an excellent poet; he wrote poetry throughout his career, in a variety of styles. Supernatural, macabre, and otherworldly, Howard’s poems all tell fascinating stories. They are especially effective if read aloud. One of the keys to Howard’s effectiveness as a writer was his use of poetical structures in his prose fiction. Repetitive sounds, cadenced rhythms, and succinct word choices are all a part of Howard’s easy-to-recognize, impossible-to-duplicate style.

  Even a casual reader will be amazed at how quickly Howard developed as a writer of fiction. You will witness a miraculous transformation as you read these stories, just as the first ever Robert E. Howard fans got to read them. I can just imagine someone reading King Kull for the first time and thinking, “Boy, this is as good as it gets!” and then reading the first Conan story, “The Phoenix on the Sword” three years later. And Howard got better after that. Incredible.

  Weird Tales was Howard’s literary home. He felt comfortable enough within its hallowed pages to break new ground and try new things. Howard found colleagues and friends in the other Weird Tales writers who shared his interests and stimulated his creativity. He received encouragement and feedback from Farnsworth Wright, the fans, and his fellow authors. Weird Tales was the anvil on which Howard forged the sword of his literary legacy. These stories are that legacy. Enjoy!

  — Mark Finn

  July, 2004

  Austin, Texas

  SPEAR AND FANG

  Weird Tales, July 1925

  A-aea crouched close to the cave mouth, watching Ga-nor with wondering eyes. Ga-nor’s occupation interested her, as well as Ga-nor himself. As for Ga-nor, he was too occupied with his work to notice her. A torch stuck in a niche in the cave wall dimly illuminated the roomy cavern, and by its light Ga-nor was laboriously tracing figures on the wall. With a piece of flint he scratched the outline and then with a twig dipped in ocher paint completed the figure. The result was crude, but grave evidence of real artistic genius, struggling for expression.

  It was a mammoth that he sought to depict, and little A-aea’s eyes widened with wonder and admiration. Wonderful! What though the beast lacked a leg and had no tail? It was tribesmen, just struggling out of utter barbarism, who were the critics, and to them Ga-nor was a past master.

  However, it was not to watch the reproduction of a mammoth that A-aea hid among the scanty bushes by Ga-nor’s cave. The admiration for the painting paled beside the look of positive adoration with which she favored the artist. Indeed, Ga-nor was not unpleasing to the eye. Tall he was, towering well over six feet, leanly built, with mighty shoulders and narrow hips, the build of a fighting man. Both his hands and his feet were long and slim; and his features, thrown into bold profile by the flickering torch-light, were intelligent, with a high, broad forehead, topped by a mane of sandy hair.

  A-aea herself was very easy to look upon. Her hair, as well as her eyes, was black and fell about her slim shoulders in a rippling wave. No ocher tattooing tinted her cheek, for she was still unmated.

  Both the girl and the youth were perfect specimens of the great Cro-Magnon race which came from no man knows where and announced and enforced their supremacy over beast and beast-man.

  A-aea glanced about nervously. All ideas to the contrary, customs and taboos are much more narrow and vigorously enforced among savage peoples.

  The more primitive a race, the more intolerant their customs. Vice and licentiousness may be the rule, but the appearance of vice is shunned and condemned. So if A-aea had been discovered, hiding near the cave of an unattached young man, denunciation as a shameless woman would have been her lot, and doubtless a public whipping.

  To be proper, A-aea should have played the modest, demure maiden, perhaps skillfully arousing the young artist’s interest without seeming to do so. Then, if the youth was pleased, would have followed public wooing by means of crude love-songs and music from reed pipes. Then barter with her parents and then — marriage. Or no wooing at all, if the lover was wealthy.

  But little A-aea was herself a mark of progress. Covert glances had failed to attract the attention of the young man who seemed engrossed with his artistry, so she had taken to the unconventional way of spying upon him, in hopes of finding some way to win him.

  Ga-nor turned from his completed work, stretched and glanced toward the cave mouth. Like a frightened rabbit, little A-aea ducked and darted away.

  When Ga-nor emerged from the cave, he was puzzled by the sight of a small, slender footprint in the soft loam outside the cave.

  A-aea walked primly toward her own cave, which was, with most of the others, at some distance from Ga-nor’s cave. As she did so, she noticed a group of warriors talking excitedly in front of the chief’s cave.

  A mere girl might not intrude upon the councils of men, but such was A-aea’s curiosity, that she dared a scolding by slipping nearer. She heard the words “footprint” and “gur-na” (man-ape).

  The footprints of a gur-na had been found in the forest, not far from the caves.

  “Gur-na” was a word of hatred and horror to the people of the caves, for creatures whom the tribesmen called “gur-na”, or man-apes, were the hairy monsters of another age, the brutish men of the Neandertal. More feared than mammoth or tiger, they had ruled the forests until the Cro-Magnon men had come and waged savage warfare against them. Of mighty power and little mind, savage, bestial and cannibalistic, they inspired the tribesmen with loathing and horror — a horror transmitted through the ages in tales of ogres and goblins, of werewolves and beast-men.

  They were fewer and more cunning, now. No longer they rushed roaring to battle, but cunning and frightful, they slunk about the forests, the terror of all beasts, brooding in their brutish minds with hatred for the men who had driven them from the best hunting grounds.

  And ever the Cro-Magnon men trailed them down and slaughtered them, until sullenly they had withdrawn far into the deep forests. But the fear of them remained with the tribesmen, and no woman went into the jungle alone.

  Sometimes children went, and sometimes they returned not; and searchers found but signs of a ghastly feast, with tracks that were not the tracks of beasts, nor yet the tracks of men.

  And so a hunting party would go forth and hunt the monster down. Sometimes it gave battle and was slain, and sometimes it fled before them and escaped into the depths of the forest, where they dared not follow. Once a hunting party, reckless with the chase, had pursued a fleeing gur-na into the deep forest and there, in a deep ravine, where overhanging limbs shut out the sunlight, numbers of the Neandertalers had come upon them.

  So no more entered the forests.

  A-aea turned away, with a glance at the forest. Somewhere in its depths lurked the beast-man, piggish eyes glinting crafty hate, malevolent, frightful.

  Someone stepped across her path. It was Ka-nanu, the son of a councilor of the chief.

  She drew away with a shrug of her shoulders. She did not like Ka-nanu and she was afraid of him. He wooed her with a mocking air, as if he did it merely for amusement and would take her whenever he wished, anyway. He seized her by the wrist.

  “Turn not away, fair maiden,” said
he. “It is your slave, Ka-nanu.”

  “Let me go,” she answered. “I must go to the spring for water.”

  “Then I will go with you, moon of delight, so that no beast may harm you.”

  And accompany her he did, in spite of her protests.

  “There is a gur-na abroad,” he told her sternly. “It is lawful for a man to accompany even an unmated maiden, for protection. And I am Ka-nanu,” he added, in a different tone; “do not resist me too far, or I will teach you obedience.”

  A-aea knew somewhat of the man’s ruthless nature. Many of the tribal girls looked with favor on Ka-nanu, for he was bigger and taller even than Ga-nor, and more handsome in a reckless, cruel way. But A-aea loved Ga-nor and she was afraid of Ka-nanu. Her very fear of him kept her from resisting his approaches too much. Ga-nor was known to be gentle with women, if careless of them, while Ka-nanu, thereby showing himself to be another mark of progress, was proud or his success with women and used his power over them in no gentle fashion.

  A-aea found Ka-nanu was to be feared more than a beast, for at the spring just out of sight of the caves, he seized her in his arms.

  “A-aea,” he whispered, “my little antelope, I have you at last. You shall not escape me.”

  In vain she struggled and pleaded with him. Lifting her in his mighty arms he strode away into the forest.

  Frantically she strove to escape, to dissuade him.

  “I am not powerful enough to resist you,” she said, “but I will accuse you before the tribe.”

  “You will never accuse me, little antelope,” he said, and she read another, even more sinister intention in his cruel countenance.

  On and on into the forest he carried her, and in the midst of a glade he paused, his hunter’s instinct alert.

  From the trees in front of them dropped a hideous monster, a hairy, misshapen, frightful thing.

  A-aea’s scream re-echoed through the forest, as the thing approached. Ka-nanu, white-lipped and horrified, dropped A-aea to the ground and told her to run. Then, drawing knife and ax, he advanced.