The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard by Robert E. Howard (English) Paperback B

Description: The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard by Robert E. Howard "For stark, living fear . . . what other writer is even in the running?"-H. P. Lovecraft "[Behind Howards stories] lurks a dark poetry and the timeless truth of dreams."-Robert Bloch"""Howard had a gritty, vibrant style-broadsword writing that cut its way to the heart, with heroes who are truly larger than life."-David Gemmell "Howards writing seems so highly charged with energy that it nearly gives off sparks."-Stephen King FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Joins the successful Del Rey library of Robert E. Howards classic works, of which there are now 230,000 copies in print. These fully-illustrated volumes of original Robert E. Howard stories have been some of the most eagerly received Howard editions in decades.Here are Robert E. Howards greatest horror tales, all in their original, definitive versions.Some of Howards best-known characters-Solomon Kane, Bran Mak Morn, and sailor Steve Costigan among them-roam the forbidding locales of the authors fevered imagination, from the swamps and bayous of the Deep South to the fiend-haunted woods outside Paris to remote jungles in Africa.The collection includes Howards masterpiece "Pigeons from Hell," which Stephen King calls "one of the finest horror stories of the twentieth century," a tale of two travelers who stumble upon the ruins of a Southern plantation-and into the maw of its fatal secret. In "Black Canaan" even the best warrior has little chance of taking down the evil voodoo man with unholy powers-and none at all against his wily mistress, the diabolical High Priestess of Damballah. In these and other lavishly illustrated classics, such as the revenge nightmare "Worms of the Earth" and "The Cairn on the Headland," Howard spins tales of unrelenting terror, the legacy of one of the worlds great masters of the macabre. Author Biography Robert E. Howard, renowned creator of Conan the Barbarian, was also a master at conjuring tales of hair-raising horror. In a career spanning only twelve years, Howard wrote more than a hundred stories, with his most celebrated work appearing in Weird Tales, the preeminent pulp magazine of the era. Review "For stark, living fear . . . what other writer is even in the running?"–H. P. Lovecraft"[Behind Howards stories] lurks a dark poetry and the timeless truth of dreams." –Robert Bloch"Howard had a gritty, vibrant style–broadsword writing that cut its way to the heart, with heroes who are truly larger than life."–David Gemmell"Howards writing seems so highly charged with energy that it nearly gives off sparks."–Stephen King Review Quote "For stark, living fear . . . what other writer is even in the running?" H. P. Lovecraft "[Behind Howards stories] lurks a dark poetry and the timeless truth of dreams." Robert Bloch "Howard had a gritty, vibrant stylebroadsword writing that cut its way to the heart, with heroes who are truly larger than life." David Gemmell "Howards writing seems so highly charged with energy that it nearly gives off sparks." Stephen King Excerpt from Book In the Forest of Villefère The sun had set. The great shadows came striding over the forest. In the weird twilight of a late summer day, I saw the path ahead glide on among the mighty trees and disappear. And I shuddered and glanced fearfully over my shoulder. Miles behind lay the nearest village miles ahead the next. I looked to left and to right as I strode on, and anon I looked behind me. And anon I stopped short, grasping my rapier, as a breaking twig betokened the going of some small beast. Or was it a beast? But the path led on and I followed, because, forsooth, I had naught else to do. As I went I bethought me, "My own thoughts will rout me, if I be not aware. What is there in this forest, except perhaps the creatures that roam it, deer and the like? Tush, the foolish legends of those villagers!" And so I went and the twilight faded into dusk. Stars began to blink and the leaves of the trees murmured in the faint breeze. And then I stopped short, my sword leaping to my hand, for just ahead, around a curve of the path, someone was singing. The words I could not distinguish, but the accent was strange, almost barbaric. I stepped behind a great tree, and the cold sweat beaded my forehead. Then the singer came in sight, a tall, thin man, vague in the twilight. I shrugged my shoulders. A man I did not fear. I sprang out, my point raised. "Stand!" He showed no surprize. "I prithee, handle thy blade with care, friend," he said. Somewhat ashamed, I lowered my sword. "I am new to this forest," I quoth, apologetically. "I heard talk of bandits. I crave pardon. Where lies the road to Villefère?" "Corbleu, youve missed it," he answered. "You should have branched off to the right some distance back. I am going there myself. If you may abide my company, I will direct you." I hesitated. Yet why should I hesitate? "Why, certainly. My name is de Montour, of Normandy." "And I am Carolus le Loup." "No!" I started back. He looked at me in astonishment. "Pardon," said I; "the name is strange. Does not loup mean wolf?" "My family were always great hunters," he answered. He did not offer his hand. "You will pardon my staring," said I as we walked down the path, "but I can hardly see your face in the dusk." I sensed that he was laughing, though he made no sound. "It is little to look upon," he answered. I stepped closer and then leaped away, my hair bristling. "A mask!" I exclaimed. "Why do you wear a mask, msieu?" "It is a vow," he explained. "In fleeing a pack of hounds I vowed that if I escaped I would wear a mask for a certain time." "Hounds, msieu?" "Wolves," he answered quickly; "I said wolves." We walked in silence for a while and then my companion said, "I am surprized that you walk these woods by night. Few people come these ways even in the day." "I am in haste to reach the border," I answered. "A treaty has been signed with the English, and the Duke of Burgundy should know of it. The people at the village sought to dissuade me. They spoke of a wolf that was purported to roam these woods." "Here the path branches to Villefère," said he, and I saw a narrow, crooked path that I had not seen when I passed it before. It led in amid the darkness of the trees. I shuddered. "You wish to return to the village?" "No!" I exclaimed. "No, no! Lead on." So narrow was the path that we walked single file, he leading. I looked well at him. He was taller, much taller than I, and thin, wiry. He was dressed in a costume that smacked of Spain. A long rapier swung at his hip. He walked with long easy strides, noiselessly. Then he began to talk of travel and adventure. He spoke of many lands and seas he had seen and many strange things. So we talked and went farther and farther into the forest. I presumed that he was French, and yet he had a very strange accent, that was neither French nor Spanish nor English, not like any language I had ever heard. Some words he slurred strangely and some he could not pronounce at all. "This path is not often used, is it?" I asked. "Not by many," he answered and laughed silently. I shuddered. It was very dark and the leaves whispered together among the branches. "A fiend haunts this forest," I said. "So the peasants say," he answered, "but I have roamed it oft and have never seen his face." Then he began to speak of strange creatures of darkness, and the moon rose and shadows glided among the trees. He looked up at the moon. "Haste!" said he. "We must reach our destination before the moon reaches her zenith." We hurried along the trail. "They say," said I, "that a werewolf haunts these woodlands." "It might be," said he, and we argued much upon the subject. "The old women say," said he, "that if a werewolf is slain while a wolf, then he is slain, but if he is slain as a man, then his half- soul will haunt his slayer forever. But haste thee, the moon nears her zenith." We came into a small moonlit glade and the stranger stopped. "Let us pause a while," said he. "Nay, let us be gone," I urged; "I like not this place." He laughed without sound. "Why," said he, "this is a fair glade. As good as a banquet hall it is, and many times have I feasted here. Ha, ha, ha! Look ye, I will show you a dance." And he began bounding here and there, anon flinging back his head and laughing silently. Thought I, the man is mad. As he danced his weird dance I looked about me. The trail went not on but stopped in the glade. "Come," said I, "we must on. Do you not smell the rank, hairy scent that hovers about the glade? Wolves den here. Perhaps they are about us and are gliding upon us even now." He dropped upon all fours, bounded higher than my head, and came toward me with a strange slinking motion. "That dance is called the Dance of the Wolf," said he, and my hair bristled. "Keep off!" I stepped back, and with a screech that set the echoes shuddering he leaped for me, and though a sword hung at his belt he did not draw it. My rapier was half out when he grasped my arm and flung me headlong. I dragged him with me and we struck the ground together. Wrenching a hand free I jerked off the mask. A shriek of horror broke from my lips. Beast eyes glittered beneath that mask, white fangs flashed in the moonlight. The face was that of a wolf. In an instant those fangs were at my throat. Taloned hands tore the sword from my grasp. I beat at that horrible face with my clenched fists, but his jaws were fastened on my shoulder, his talons tore at my throat. Then I was on my back. The world was fading. Blindly I struck out. My hand dropped, then closed automatically about the hilt of my dagger, which I had been unable to get at. I drew and stabbed. A terrible, half-bestial bellowing screech. Then I reeled to my feet, free. At my feet lay the werewolf. I stooped, raised the dagger, then paused, looked up. The moon hovered close to her zenith. If I slew the thing as a man its frightful spirit would haunt me forever. I sat down waiting. The thing watched me with flaming wolf eyes. The long wiry limbs seemed to shrink, to crook; hair seemed to grow upon them. Fearing madness, I snatched up the things own sword and hacked it to pieces. Then I flung the sword away and fled. Wolfshead Fear? Your pardon, Messieurs, but the meaning of fear you do not know. No, I hold to my statement. You are soldiers, adventurers. You have known the charges of regiments of dragoons, the frenzy of wind- lashed seas. But fear, real hair-raising, horror-crawling fear, you have not known. I myself have known such fear; but until the legions of darkness swirl from hells gate and the world flames to ruin, will never such fear again be known to men. Hark, I will tell you the ta≤ for it was many years ago and half across the world, and none of you will ever see the man of whom I tell you, or seeing, know. Return, then, with me across the years to a day when I, a reckless young cavalier, stepped from the small boat that had landed me from the ship floating in the harbor, cursed the mud that littered the crude wharf, and strode up the landing toward the castle, in answer to the invitation of an old friend, Dom Vincente da Lusto. Dom Vincente was a strange, far-sighted man a strong man, one who saw visions beyond the ken of his time. In his veins, perhaps, ran the blood of those old Phoenicians who, the priests tell us, ruled the seas and built cities in far lands, in the dim ages. His plan of fortune was strange and yet successful; few men would have thought of it; fewer could have succeeded. For his estate was upon the w Details ISBN0345490207 Author Robert E. Howard Short Title HORROR STORIES OF ROBERT E HOW Language English Illustrator Greg Staples ISBN-10 0345490207 ISBN-13 9780345490209 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Illustrations Yes Year 2008 Imprint Del Rey Books Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Death 1936 Residence US DOI 10.1604/9780345490209 UK Release Date 2008-10-28 AU Release Date 2008-10-28 NZ Release Date 2008-10-28 US Release Date 2008-10-28 Birth 1930 Affiliation University of Memphis Position Author/Illustrator Qualifications M.D. Pages 560 Publisher Random House USA Inc Publication Date 2008-10-28 Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:145099880;

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