Conan - Shadows in Zamboula

Shadows in Zamboula

 A Drum Begins
"Peril hides in the house of Aram Baksh!"

The speaker's voice quivered with earnestness and his lean, black-nailed fingers clawed at Conan's mightily-muscled arm as he croaked his warning. He was a wiry, sunburnt man with a straggling black beard, and his ragged garments prolcaimed him a nomad. He looked smaller and meaner than ever in contrast to the giant Cimmerian with his black brows, broad chest, and powerful limbs. They stood in a corner of the Sword Makers' Bazaar, and on either side of them flowed past the many-tongued, many-colored stream of the Zamboulan streets, which are exotic, hybrid, flamboyant, and clamorous.

The Feud Buster (Breckinridge Elkins)

WesternBreckinridge Elkins
The Feud Buster

These here derned lies which is being circulated around is making me sick and tired. If this slander don't stop I'm liable to lose my temper, and anybody in the Humbolts can tell you when I loses my temper the effect on the population is wuss'n fire, earthquake, and cyclone.

First-off, it's a lie that I rode a hundred miles to mix into a feud which wasn't none of my business. I never heard of the Hopkins-Barlow war before I come in the Mezquital country. I hear tell the Barlows is talking about suing me for destroying their property. Well, they ought to build their cabins solider if they don't want 'em tore down. And they're all liars when they says the Hopkinses hired me to exterminate 'em at five dollars a sculp. I don't believe even a Hopkins would pay five dollars for one of their mangy sculps. Anyway, I don't fight for hire for nobody. And the Hopkinses needn't bellyache about me turning on 'em and trying to massacre the entire clan. All I wanted to do was kind of disable 'em so they couldn't interfere with my business. And my business, from first to last, was defending the family honor. If I had to wipe up the earth with a couple of feuding clans whilst so doing, I can't help it. Folks which is particular of their hides ought to stay out of the way of tornadoes, wild bulls, devastating torrents, and a insulted Elkins.

In the Forest of Villefore

Horror StoryIn the Forest of Villefore

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?

The Sowers of the Thunder

HiswtorischThe Sowers of the Thunder

                 Iron winds and ruin and flame.
And a Horseman shaking with giant mirth;
                                Over the corpse-strewn, blackened earth
                                                        Death, stalking naked, came
                                  Like a storm-cloud shattering the ships;
                                                            Yet the Rider seated high.
                                         Paled at the smile on a dead king's lips.
                                                     As the tall white horse went by

   --The Ballad of Baibars

The idlers in the tavern glanced up at the figure framed in the doorway. It was a tall broad man who stood there, with the torch-lit shadows and the clamor of the bazaars at his back. His garments were simple tunic, and short breeches of leather; a camel's-hair mantle hung from his broad shoulders and sandals were on his feet. But belying the garb of the peaceful traveler, a short straight stabbing sword hung at his girdle. One massive arm, ridged with muscles, was outstretched, the brawny hand gripping a pilgrim's staff, as the man stood, powerful legs wide braced, in the doorway. His bare legs were hairy, knotted like tree trunks. His coarse red locks were confined by a single band of blue cloth, and from his square dark face, his strange blue eyes blazed with a kind of reckless and wayward mirth, reflected by the half-smile that curved his thin lips.

The Day that I Die

The Day that I Die


The day that I die shall the sky be clear

And the east sea-wind blow free,

Sweeping along with its rover's song

To bear my soul to sea.


They will carry me out of the bamboo hut

To the driftwood piled on the lea,

And ye that name me in after years,

This shall ye say of me:

Marching Song of Connacht

Marching Song of Connacht


The men of the East are decked in steel,

They march with a trumpet's din,

They glitter with silks and golden scales,

And high kings boast their kin-

We of the West wear the hides of wolves,

But our hearts are steel within.

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