Conan Story Excerpt

 Here is a short excerpt from a Conan the Barbarian story that appears in my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness.

The Scroll of Anoch

THE dour-looking landlord kept a grim watch over his tavern. Here, in this particular section of the City of Thieves, could be found the most wretched collection of thieves and cutthroats in all of Zamora, and maybe even the world. What caused the landlord the most distress, the reason he always appeared on edge, was that he never knew when a fight might break out. Even though he had a strict rule that prohibited weapons, these types of patrons did not need steel to kill one another or to break his heavy wooden tables and chairs. More than once, a customer had been beaten to death with a broken table leg. That is why he kept a close eye on everyone in the place and was ready to stop a fight before it began. Under the bar, he kept his peacekeeper just in case of trouble. The peacekeeper was a long-handle, heavy wooden mallet.

The ones that concerned him tonight were three loud men at a table in the middle of the place. They were an unlikely trio. One was a handsome, well-bred Corinthian who took pride in his appearance; another was a tall, dark Kothian with a hawk nose and ringleted beard, and the third was a tough-looking Nemedian.

The three came in and took over a table from two other patrons. They were boisterous and overbearing and did not shy away from intimidating and mocking anyone in the place.

As much as the landlord was concerned about these three, he was more concerned about a young barbarian who had come in and sat by himself in a dark corner of the tavern. The barbarian had ordered nothing, though he gazed about the room like a hungry wolf.

“Here’s to the end of Yara!” the Nemedian said, holding up his leather drinking jack.

His two companions joined in the toast, banging their jacks together and spilling their drinks onto the table.

“Good riddance to that black priest,” said the Kothian.

“I hear he was a wizard,” said the handsome Corinthian.     

“Wizard or priest, he was evil and good riddance, I say,” said the Nemedian.

“What became of his tower?” said the bearded Kothian.

“It vanished overnight,” the Corinthian said, gesturing with his hands.

“That was strange,” the Nemedian said, soberly.

“They say Yara had a fabulous fortune of jewels in that tower,” said the Kothian, his eyes gleaming greedily.

“Not to mention the Heart of the Elephant,” added the Corinthian.

“What do you think happened to all that wealth?” asked the Kothian.

The Corinthian made his hand gesture again. “Disappeared.”

“The rumor is that Taurus the Prince of Thieves was there that night,” the Kothian said. “He was a countryman of yours, wasn’t he?”

The Nemedian nodded slowly. “I did not know him, but I knew of him. Only the Prince of Thieves would dare such a feat. Now, he has disappeared as well.”

“I have heard it mentioned that a northern barbarian was arrested by the authorities for being involved in the tower, somehow,” said the Corinthian.

“Bah!” said the Nemedian with derision, and spat out a few profanities. “Probably some brainless lout from the north lying through his teeth to make himself more important than he is! Hang the braggart! He was trying to get by on Tauras’s reputation. No barbarian could ever hold a candle to Taurus or any Nemedian. I wish that barbarian were here now. I’d prove him a liar and a coward!”

As if by some sorcery, a young barbarian stood silently beside their table. All three were taken by surprise. It was as if there was no one there, then suddenly the younger man was standing amidst them. He was lean-waisted and broad-shouldered. His muscled body was bronzed by the sun. He was naked save for a breechcloth belted at his waist and his high-strapped sandals.

“I can tell you what happened to Yara and his tower,” the man said. He spoke in a low voice. His blue eyes regarded the men at the table carefully as if looking for weaknesses.

“And who the hell are you?” the Nemedian asked.

“My name is Conan and I am from Cimmeria.”

“Are you the man who was arrested by the authorities?” the Corinthian asked.

Conan nodded.

“All right, Cimmerian,” the Kothian said, stroking his beard. “Tell us what happened.”

“I would not object to you buying me a drink first,” Conan said.

The table burst into laughter.

“When I was arrested, they took everything I had, even my sword,” Conan explained. “I have not eaten nor had a decent drink of any kind, not even clean water.”

The Nemedian stood up smiling. “Certainly. I’ll get you a drink, Cimmerian. Here, you can have mine!” The man threw the contents of his drinking-jack into Conan’s face.

The three men laughed again. In a flash, Conan gave the Kothian a strong backhand blow that knocked the man out of his chair. Conan lunged at the Nemedian, and the two locked together in combat. Blows were exchanged, and the Corinthian grabbed Conan from behind. The Kothian was now on his feet and joined in the fray.

The Cimmerian was unusually strong, but was not strong enough to take on these three. Soon, the Kothian and the Corinthian held Conan’s arms, and the Nemedian was pummelling him with terrific blows.  

Just then, the large landlord stood behind the Nemedian. The landlord brought his wooden peacekeeper down on the head of the Nemedian, who crumpled to the floor.

“Three against one is hardly fair,” the landlord said. “Turn him loose.”

When the two men released Conan, he instantly turned on them, but the landlord used his persuader on the young Cimmerian. Conan dropped to the floor.

“Now you two, pick up your friend and get out,” the landlord said, brandishing his peacekeeper.

They picked up the Nemedian and carried him out.

The landlord looked at the Cimmerian. He bent down, grabbed the unconscious youth by the foot, and dragged him out of the tavern and left him in the street. The landlord’s attention was caught by a man across the street who appeared to be watching the landlord. He was a large, bald man who did not move or say a word. The landlord moved to go back into his tavern. He stopped at the door and looked again at the bald man. Was the bald man watching him, or was he watching the Cimmerian?

3 Blades Against Darkness also comes in a non-graphic edition entitled Three Blades Against Darkness.

Look for them and all of Stephen Gaspar's books on Amazon!

Conan Quotes

 I decided to post some quotes from my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness, a collection of action-packed fantasy tales featuring Conan, Solomon Kane, and King Kull as they battle supernatural threats, face ancient wizards, and embark on dangerous quests.

Here are some quotes from everyone's favourite Cimmerian. 

Conan

"The only time a Cimmerian is at peace is when he's at war."

\

"Conan, what do you know of the Gods?"     
"That there are too many of them."

"So, when it comes to greed and breaking the law, there isn't much of a difference between a barbarian and a civilized man, but the civilized man needs a barbarian to get the job done."

"...I do not repay kindness with treachery."

"What is the first thing you will buy? A woman?"
Conan shrugged. "Sword first, a woman second."

"Come and die, you hellhounds!"

"I don't know how I will die, or where. I don't think about it. I don't see any point to it."

"Keep that helmet on your head."
"And you keep your sword sharp."

"What do you want of me?" Conan demanded
"I think you know."
Conan nodded. "Revenge." It was an act and motivation he fully understood.

He had faced wizards before, and he knew enough not to underestimate them.

In a flash, the Cimmerian gave the Kothian a backhand blow that knocked the man out of his chair.

(Regarding the gods)
"I don't interfere in their business, and I trust they don't interfere in mine."

"The only time a barbarian is at peace is when he's at war."
"Is that an old Cimmerian expression?"
"No. I heard a crooked senator from Aquinlonia say that once." 

Here are a few quotes from my Kull stories.

Kull

"On your knees, you traitorous dogs!"

"Sometimes, I find this crown... heavy," the king said with tired sadness.
"That is because the entire nation rests upon it," said Brule.

Kull turned to his men. "If any of you are willing to give their lives for Valusia, if any of you would choose a brave death over a life of ignominy, or believe that fighting beside your king is the height of nobility and honor - then follow me!"

Finally, here are a few quotes from my Solomon Kane stories.

Solomon Kane

If evil wanted a confrontation, it would always find Solomon Kane ready.

 

Solomon Kane was not a vain man, but he would not tolerate anyone challenging his bravery.

 

"At your convenience, sir!" Kane said, stolidly throwing down the glove.

 

"I am sure these men are not so dishonorable as to lay a snare for me, wounded as I am."

 

"The Good Lord gave us each two legs. We walk."

 

So much evil, Kane thought. The world seemed full of evil.

 

Solomon Kane stood looking like the angel of death, all in black, his weapons drawn and his eyes almost ablaze.

All of Stephen Gaspar's Books Are Available on Amazon!

Robert E. Howard's Wanderlust Heroes

 It is interesting that Robert E. Howard, who spent most of his life in Cross Plains, Texas, and who indeed seldom left the state, would write about characters who left their home to find fantastic adventures in foreign lands.

Kirby O’Donnell would end up in Afghanistan, as did Francis X. Gordon after he travelled the world. Sailor Steve Costigan roamed the Asiatic Seas, and Cormac Fitzgeoffrey fought in the Crusades.

Conan of Cimmeria left his native land at a young age, and for all we know, never returned. Kull acted in defiance of tribal law and was exiled from Atlantis, never to return. Solomon Kane had few tales in his native England, but most of his adventures took place in Africa. Kane sometimes referred to himself as a landless wanderer. Whereas Conan or Kull never went home again, Kane's homecoming was commemorated in a poem.

Of these three popular Howard characters, Conan stands out for several reasons; he travelled the most, experiencing the many lands and cultures. Wherever Conan was, he often adopted native dress, language, and weapons, sometimes forsaking his broadsword for a tulwar, scimitar, or cutlass. In some stories, he spoke disdainfully of civilized culture, sometimes criticizing it next to his own. It is perplexing that if Conan felt that way about civilized culture, he did not return to Cimmeria. He must have realized that other cultures possessed more loot and that it was easier to pillage them. 

With Solomon Kane, the Puritan was always dressed in black and was never without his rapier; he was known to use a brace of pistols if they were handy. His only ‘native’ weapon was the Staff of Solomon, given to him by the ancient African shaman, N’longa. Kane only used the staff in Africa. Wherever Kane went, he was always himself, for his life was rooted in God.

As king of Valusia, Kull often struggled to adapt to their ways and laws, even though he had lived there for years. In a famous scene in By This Axe I Rule, Kull smashes a stone tablet of ancient Valusian laws and declares that as king, he will set the laws. This echoes back to the harsh tribal law that Kull opposed on Atlantis. He believed burning a woman at the stake because of whom she married was harsh and unjust. This idea of justice was something Kull carried with him regardless of where he lived.

Both Kirby O’Donnell and Francis X. Gordon could blend into Eastern cultures. O’Donnell often used the disguise of a Kurdish merchant. These two remind me a bit of Lawrence of Arabia. 

It takes a special kind of man to leave his homeland and journey to some far-off place. Definitely, many of Howard’s characters had wanderlust. They were risk-takers and explorers, the kind of men who needed new experiences and had the desire to learn just what they were made of, something like an existential quest. These were not the type of men to do 9-to-5 jobs and valued family life. These men would live a life alone. I wonder if that type of person would ever truly feel at home anywhere. But that is the price for adventure.

I think down deep, Robert E. Howard would have loved to travel to other countries and seek adventure, but something held him back. Many of us who are tied to our families and our 9-to-5 jobs will forever be grateful for that.

Stephen Gaspar's books are available on Amazon!

Robert E. Howard, Kipling, and the Picts

                                                                                                                                                               

Robert E. Howard wrote a good deal about the Picts. He mentioned them in his tales ofConan, Kull, and, naturally, Bran Mak Morn. The Picts are also mentioned in several short stories where they do not play a large role. He may have been enamoured with them for personal reasons, believing he was connected by blood. Howard’s interest in Picts may also have been spurred on by the poem A Pict Song by Rudyard Kipling. Kipling was a favorite of Howard and probably influenced the El Borak stories. It looks like A Pict Song also influenced Howard’s The Song of a Mad Minstrel, particularly the first two stanzas.

A Pict Song

By Rudyard Kipling

Rome never looks where she treads.   

   Always her heavy hooves fall   

On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;   

   And Rome never heeds when we bawl.   

Her sentries pass on—that is all,

   And we gather behind them in hordes,   

And plot to reconquer the Wall,

   With only our tongues for our swords.

We are the Little Folk—we!

   Too little to love or to hate.   

Leave us alone and you’ll see

   How we can drag down the State!

We are the worm in the wood!

   We are the rot at the root!   

We are the taint in the blood!

   We are the thorn in the foot!

Mistletoe killing an oak—

   Rats gnawing cables in two—

Moths making holes in a cloak—

   How they must love what they do!   

Yes—and we Little Folk too,

   We are busy as they—

Working our works out of view—

   Watch, and you’ll see it some day!

No indeed! We are not strong,

   But we know Peoples that are.   

Yes, and we’ll guide them along

   To smash and destroy you in War!

We shall be slaves just the same?

   Yes, we have always been slaves,

But you—you will die of the shame,

   And then we shall dance on your graves!

       We are the Little Folk, we, etc.

Rudyard Kipling

The Song of the Mad Minstrel

I am the thorn in the foot, I am the blur in the sight;
I am the worm at the root, I am the thief in the night.
I am the rat in the wall, the leper that leers at the gate;
I am the ghost in the hall, herald of horror and hate.

I am the rust on the corn, I am the smut on the wheat,
Laughing man's labor to scorn, weaving a web for his feet.
I am canker and mildew and blight, danger and death and decay;
The rot of the rain by night, the blast of the sun by day.

I warp and wither with drouth, I work in the swamp's foul yeast;
I bring the black plague from the south and the leprosy in from the east.
I rend from the hemlock boughs wine steeped in the petals of dooms;
Where the fat black serpents drowse I gather the Upas blooms.

I have plumbed the northern ice for a spell like Frozen lead;
In lost grey fields of rice, I have learned from Mongol dead.
Where a bleak black mountainstands I have looted grisly caves;
I have digged in the desert sands to plunder terrible graves.

Never the sun goes forth, never the moon glows red,
But out of the south or the north, I come with the slavering dead.
I come with hideous spells, black chants and ghastly tunes;
I have looted the hideen hells amd plundered the lost black moons.

There was never a king or priest to cheer me by word or look,
There was never a man or beast in the blood-black ways I took.
There were crimson gulfs unplumbed, there were black wings over a sea,
There were pits where mad things drummed, and foaming blasphemy.

There were vast ungodly tombs where slimy monsters dreamed;
There were clouds like blood-drenched plumes where unborn demons screamed.
There were ages dead to Time, and lands lost out of Space;
There were adders in the slime, and a dim unholy Face.

Oh, the heart in my breast turned stone, and the brain froze in my skull--
But I won through, I alone, and poured my chalice full
Of horrors and dooms and spells, black buds and bitter roots--
From the hells beneath the hells, I bring you my deathly fruits.

Poem by Robert E. Howard

Robert E. Howard

All Stephen Gaspar's Books can be found on Amazon!