Short Fiction by Robert E. Howard (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) ๐
Description
Conan, the Cimmerian barbarian, romps across the pages of Robert E. Howardโs Hyborian adventures, slicing down enemy after enemy and trying not to fall too hard for a succession of ladies in need of rescue. Although very much a product of the pulp fantasy magazines of the 1930s, Conan has surpassed his contemporaries to become the quintessential barbarian of the fantasy genre: the muscle-bound and instinct-led hero, always willing to fight his way out of any fix.
Collected here are Howardโs public domain short stories, including ten Conan short stories and the history of Hyboria that Howard wrote as a guide for himself to write from. Gods of the North originally was a Conan story, but after being rejected by the first publisher was rewritten slightly to a character called Amra; it was later republished as The Frost-Giantโs Daughter with the name changed back. The stories were serialised (with a couple of exceptions) in Weird Tales magazine between 1925 and 1936, and have gone on to spawn multiple licensed and unlicensed sequels, comics, films and games.
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- Author: Robert E. Howard
Read book online ยซShort Fiction by Robert E. Howard (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) ๐ยป. Author - Robert E. Howard
His mouth gaped and only the whites of his eyes showed as the tale reached its climax.
โJu ju!โ he whispered fearsomely. โFetish man!โ
Suddenly an idea came to me. I had heard vague tales, little more than hints of legends, of the devilish leopard cult that existed on the West Coast. No white man had ever seen one of its votaries, but Dom Vincente had told us tales of beast-men, disguised in skins of leopards, who stole through the midnight jungle and slew and devoured. A ghastly thrill traveled up and down my spine, and in an instant I had Gola in a grasp which made him yell.
โWas that a leopard-man?โ I hissed, shaking him viciously.
โMassa, massa!โ he gasped. โMe good boy! Ju ju man get! More besser no tell!โ
โYouโll tell me!โ I gritted, renewing my endeavors, until, his hands waving feeble protests, he promised to tell me what he knew.
โNo leopard-man!โ he whispered, and his eyes grew big with supernatural fear. โMoon, he full, woodcutter find, him heap clawed. Find โnother woodcutter. Big Massa (Dom Vincente) say, โleopard.โ No leopard. But leopard-man, he come to kill. Something kill leopard-man! Heap claw! Hai, hai! Moon full again. Something come in, lonely hut; claw um woman, claw um pickโnin. Man find um claw up. Big Massa say โleopard.โ Full moon again, and woodcutter find, heap clawed. Now come in castle. No leopard. But always footmarks of a man.โ
I gave a startled, incredulous exclamation.
It was true, Gola averred. Always the footprints of a man led away from the scene of the murder. Then why did the natives not tell the Big Massa that he might hunt down the fiend? Here Gola assumed a crafty expression and whispered in my ear, โThe footprints were of a man who wore shoes!โ
Even assuming that Gola was lying, I felt a thrill of unexplainable horror. Who, then, did the natives believe was doing these frightful murders?
And he answered: Dom Vincente!
By this time, Messieurs, my mind was in a whirl.
What was the meaning of all this? Who slew the German and sought to ravish Marcita? And as I reviewed the crime, it appeared to me that murder rather than rape was the object of the attack.
Why did de Montour warn us, and then appear to have knowledge of the crime, telling us that Desmarte was innocent and then proving it?
It was all beyond me.
The tale of the slaughter got among the natives, in spite of all we could do, and they appeared restless and nervous, and thrice that day Dom Vincente had a black lashed for insolence. A brooding atmosphere pervaded the castle.
I considered going to Dom Vincente with Golaโs tale, but decided to wait awhile.
The women kept their chambers that day, the men were restless and moody. Dom Vincente announced that the sentries would be doubled and some would patrol the corridors of the castle itself. I found myself musing cynically that if Golaโs suspicions were true, sentries would be of little good.
I am not, Messieurs, a man to brook such a situation with patience. And I was young then. So as we drank before retiring, I flung my goblet on the table and angrily announced that in spite of man, beast or devil, I slept that night with doors flung wide. And I tramped angrily to my chamber.
Again, as on the first night, de Montour came. And his face was as a man who has looked into the gaping gates of hell.
โI have come,โ he said, โto ask youโ โnay, Monsieur, to implore you to reconsider your rash determination.โ
I shook my head impatiently.
โYou are resolved? Yes? Then I ask you do to this for me, that after I enter my chamber, you will bolt my doors from the outside.โ
I did as he asked, and then made my way back to my chamber, my mind in a maze of wonderment. I had sent Gola to the slave quarters, and I laid rapier and dagger close at hand. Nor did I go to bed, but crouched in a great chair, in the darkness. Then I had much ado to keep from sleeping. To keep myself awake, I fell to musing on the strange words of de Montour. He seemed to be laboring under great excitement; his eyes hinted of ghastly mysteries known to him alone. And yet his face was not that of a wicked man.
Suddenly the notion took me to go to his chamber and talk with him.
Walking those dark passages was a shuddersome task, but eventually I stood before de Montourโs door. I called softly. Silence. I reached out a hand and felt splintered fragments of wood. Hastily I struck flint and steel which I carried, and the flaming tinder showed the great oaken door sagging on its mighty hinges; showed a door smashed and splintered from the inside. And the chamber of de Montour was unoccupied.
Some instinct prompted me to hurry back to my room, swiftly but silently, shoeless feet treading softly. And as I neared the door, I was aware of something in the darkness before me. Something which crept in from a side corridor and glided stealthily along.
In a wild panic of fear I leaped, striking wildly and aimlessly in the darkness. My clenched fist encountered a human head, and something went down with a crash. Again I struck a light; a man lay senseless on the floor, and he was de Montour.
I thrust a candle into a niche in the wall, and just then de Montourโs eyes opened and he rose uncertainly.
โYou!โ I exclaimed, hardly knowing what I said. โYou, of all men!โ
He merely nodded.
โYou killed von Schiller?โ
โYes.โ
I recoiled with a gasp of horror.
โListen.โ He raised his hand. โTake your rapier and run me through. No man will touch you.โ
โNo,โ I exclaimed. โI cannot.โ
โThen, quick,โ he said hurriedly, โget into your chamber and
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