The Best of Robert E. Howard, Volume 1: The Shadow Kingdom

Overview

Robert E. Howard is one of the most famous and influential pulp authors of the twentieth century. Though largely known as the man who invented the sword-and-sorcery genre–and for his iconic hero Conan the Cimmerian–Howard also wrote horror tales, desert adventures, detective yarns, epic poetry, and more. This spectacular volume, gorgeously illustrated by Jim and Ruth Keegan, includes some of his best and most popular works.

Inside, readers will discover (or rediscover) such gems...

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The Best of Robert E. Howard, Volume 1: The Shadow Kingdom

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Overview

Robert E. Howard is one of the most famous and influential pulp authors of the twentieth century. Though largely known as the man who invented the sword-and-sorcery genre–and for his iconic hero Conan the Cimmerian–Howard also wrote horror tales, desert adventures, detective yarns, epic poetry, and more. This spectacular volume, gorgeously illustrated by Jim and Ruth Keegan, includes some of his best and most popular works.

Inside, readers will discover (or rediscover) such gems as “The Shadow Kingdom,” featuring Kull of Atlantis and considered by many to be the first sword-and-sorcery story; “The Fightin’est Pair,” part of one of Howard’s most successful series, chronicling the travails of Steve Costigan, a merchant seaman with fists of steel and a head of wood; “The Grey God Passes,” a haunting tale about the passing of an age, told against the backdrop of Irish history and legend; “Worms of the Earth,” a brooding narrative featuring Bran Mak Morn, about which H. P. Lovecraft said, “Few readers will ever forget the hideous and compelling power of [this] macabre masterpiece”; a historical poem relating a momentous battle between Cimbri and the legions of Rome; and “Sharp’s Gun Serenade,” one of the last and funniest of the Breckinridge Elkins tales.

These thrilling, eerie, compelling, swashbuckling stories and poems have been restored to their original form, presented just as the author intended. There is little doubt that after more than seven decades the voice of Robert E. Howard continues to resonate with readers around the world.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Stories such as ‘The People of the Black Circle’ glow with the fierce and eldritch light of [Howard’s] frenzied intensity.”
–Stephen King

“Robert E. Howard was a true storyteller–one of the first, and certainly among the best, you’ll find in heroic fantasy. If you’ve never read him before, you’re in for a real treat.”
–Charles de Lint

“In this, I think, the art of Robert E. Howard was hard to surpass: vigor, speed, vividness. And always there is that furious, galloping narrative pace.”
–Poul Anderson

“For headlong, nonstop adventure and for vivid, even florid, scenery, no one comes close to Howard.”
–Harry Turtledove

Library Journal

Immortalized for creating Conan the Barbarian, Howard was one of the many early pulp writers who worked in several genres. This volume collects a variety of his stories featuring both favorite characters like Kull of Atlantis (his sword-and-sorcery stuff, which some claim he invented, seems to have clicked more with readers) and the forgotten, tough-as-nails seaman Steve Costigan. Howard still has a following, so give this a shot. For an illustrated book of this length, the price isn't bad either.


—Michael Rogers
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345490186
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 8/14/2007
  • Series: Best of Robert E. Howard Series , #1
  • Pages: 528
  • Sales rank: 786,764
  • Product dimensions: 6.10 (w) x 9.15 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

Robert Howard
Robert E. Howard's (1906–1936) tales of heroic and supernatural fantasy won him a huge audience across the world and influenced a whole generation of writers, from Robert Jordan to Raymond E. Feist.
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Read an Excerpt

The Shadow Kingdom  
A King Comes Riding  

The blare of the trumpets grew louder, like a deep golden tide surge, like the soft booming of the evening tides against the silver beaches of Valusia. The throng shouted, women flung roses from the roofs as the rhythmic chiming of silver hoofs came clearer and the first of the mighty array swung into view in the broad white street that curved round the golden-spired Tower of Splendor.  

First came the trumpeters, slim youths, clad in scarlet, riding with a flourish of long, slender golden trumpets; next the bowmen, tall men from the mountains; and behind these the heavily armed footmen, their broad shields clashing in unison, their long spears swaying in perfect rhythm to their stride. Behind them came the mightiest soldiery in all the world, the Red Slayers, horsemen, splendidly mounted, armed in red from helmet to spur. Proudly they sat their steeds, looking neither to right nor to left, but aware of the shouting for all that. Like bronze statues they were, and there was never a waver in the forest of spears that reared above them.  

Behind those proud and terrible ranks came the motley files of the mercenaries, fierce, wild-looking warriors, men of Mu and of Kaa-u and of the hills of the east and the isles of the west. They bore spears and heavy swords, and a compact group that marched somewhat apart were the bowmen of Lemuria. Then came the light foot of the nation, and more trumpeters brought up the rear.  

A brave sight, and a sight which aroused a fierce thrill in the soul of Kull, king of Valusia. Not on the Topaz Throne at the front of the regal Tower of Splendor sat Kull, but in the saddle, mounted on a great stallion, a true warrior king. His mighty arm swung up in reply to the salutes as the hosts passed. His fierce eyes passed the gorgeous trumpeters with a casual glance, rested longer on the following soldiery; they blazed with a ferocious light as the Red Slayers halted in front of him with a clang of arms and a rearing of steeds, and tendered him the crown salute. They narrowed slightly as the mercenaries strode by. They saluted no one, the mercenaries. They walked with shoulders flung back, eyeing Kull boldly and straightly, albeit with a certain appreciation; fierce eyes, unblinking; savage eyes, staring from beneath shaggy manes and heavy brows.  

And Kull gave back a like stare. He granted much to brave men, and there were no braver in all the world, not even among the wild tribesmen who now disowned him. But Kull was too much the savage to have any great love for these. There were too many feuds. Many were age-old enemies of Kull's nation, and though the name of Kull was now a word accursed among the mountains and valleys of his people, and though Kull had put them from his mind, yet the old hates, the ancient passions still lingered. For Kull was no Valusian but an Atlantean.  

The armies swung out of sight around the gem-blazing shoulders of the Tower of Splendor and Kull reined his stallion about and started toward the palace at an easy gait, discussing the review with the commanders that rode with him, using not many words, but saying much.  

"The army is like a sword," said Kull, "and must not be allowed to rust." So down the street they rode, and Kull gave no heed to any of the whispers that reached his hearing from the throngs that still swarmed the streets.  

"That is Kull, see! Valka! But what a king! And what a man! Look at his arms! His shoulders!"  

And an undertone of more sinister whisperings: "Kull! Ha, accursed usurper from the pagan isles" - "Aye, shame to Valusia that a barbarian sits on the Throne of Kings." . . .  

Little did Kull heed. Heavy-handed had he seized the decaying throne of ancient Valusia and with a heavier hand did he hold it, a man against a nation.  

After the council chamber, the social palace where Kull replied to the formal and laudatory phrases of the lords and ladies, with carefully hidden, grim amusement at such frivolities; then the lords and ladies took their formal departure and Kull leaned back upon the ermine throne and contemplated matters of state until an attendant requested permission from the great king to speak, and announced an emissary from the Pictish embassy.  

Kull brought his mind back from the dim mazes of Valusian statecraft where it had been wandering, and gazed upon the Pict with little favor. The man gave back the gaze of the king without flinching. He was a lean-hipped, massive-chested warrior of middle height, dark, like all his race, and strongly built. From strong, immobile features gazed dauntless and inscrutable eyes.  

"The chief of the Councilors, Ka-nu of the tribe, right hand of the king of Pictdom, sends greetings and says: 'There is a throne at the feast of the rising moon for Kull, king of kings, lord of lords, emperor of Valusia.' "  

"Good," answered Kull. "Say to Ka-nu the Ancient, ambassador of the western isles, that the king of Valusia will quaff wine with him when the moon floats over the hills of Zalgara."  

Still the Pict lingered. "I have a word for the king, not" - with a contemptuous flirt of his hand - "for these slaves."  

Kull dismissed the attendants with a word, watching the Pict warily.  

The man stepped nearer, and lowered his voice: "Come alone to feast tonight, lord king. Such was the word of my chief."  

The king's eyes narrowed, gleaming like gray sword steel, coldly.  

"Alone?"  

"Aye."  

They eyed each other silently, their mutual tribal enmity seething beneath their cloak of formality. Their mouths spoke the cultured speech, the conventional court phrases of a highly polished race, a race not their own, but from their eyes gleamed the primal traditions of the elemental savage. Kull might be the king of Valusia and the Pict might be an emissary to her courts, but there in the throne hall of kings, two tribesmen glowered at each other, fierce and wary, while ghosts of wild wars and world-ancient feuds whispered to each.  

To the king was the advantage and he enjoyed it to its fullest extent. Jaw resting on hand, he eyed the Pict, who stood like an image of bronze, head flung back, eyes unflinching.  

Across Kull's lips stole a smile that was more a sneer.  

"And so I am to come - alone?" Civilization had taught him to speak by innuendo and the Pict's dark eyes glittered, though he made no reply. "How am I to know that you come from Ka-nu?"  

"I have spoken," was the sullen response.  

"And when did a Pict speak truth?" sneered Kull, fully aware that the Picts never lied, but using this means to enrage the man.  

"I see your plan, king," the Pict answered imperturbably. "You wish to anger me. By Valka, you need go no further! I am angry enough. And I challenge you to meet me in single battle, spear, sword or dagger, mounted or afoot. Are you king or man?"  

Kull's eyes glinted with the grudging admiration a warrior must needs give a bold foeman, but he did not fail to use the chance of further annoying his antagonist.  

"A king does not accept the challenge of a nameless savage," he sneered, "nor does the emperor of Valusia break the Truce of Ambassadors. You have leave to go. Say to Ka-nu I will come alone."  

The Pict's eyes flashed murderously. He fairly shook in the grasp of the primitive blood-lust; then, turning his back squarely upon the king of Valusia, he strode across the Hall of Society and vanished through the great door.  

Again Kull leaned back upon the ermine throne and meditated.  

So the chief of the Council of Picts wished him to come alone? But for what reason? Treachery? Grimly Kull touched the hilt of his great sword. But scarcely. The Picts valued too greatly the alliance with Valusia to break it for any feudal reason. Kull might be a warrior of Atlantis and hereditary enemy of all Picts, but too, he was king of Valusia, the most potent ally of the Men of the West.  

Kull reflected long upon the strange state of affairs that made him ally of ancient foes and foe of ancient friends. He rose and paced restlessly across the hall, with the quick, noiseless tread of a lion. Chains of friendship, tribe and tradition had he broken to satisfy his ambition. And, by Valka, god of the sea and the land, he had realized that ambition! He was king of Valusia - a fading, degenerate Valusia, a Valusia living mostly in dreams of bygone glory, but still a mighty land and the greatest of the Seven Empires. Valusia - Land of Dreams, the tribesmen named it, and sometimes it seemed to Kull that he moved in a dream. Strange to him were the intrigues of court and palace, army and people. All was like a masquerade, where men and women hid their real thoughts with a smooth mask. Yet the seizing of the throne had been easy - a bold snatching of opportunity, the swift whirl of swords, the slaying of a tyrant of whom men had wearied unto death, short, crafty plotting with ambitious statesmen out of favor at court - and Kull, wandering adventurer, Atlantean exile, had swept up to the dizzy heights of his dreams: he was lord of Valusia, king of kings. Yet now it seemed that the seizing was far easier than the keeping. The sight of the Pict had brought back youthful associations to his mind, the free, wild savagery of his boyhood. And now a strange feeling of dim unrest, of unreality, stole over him as of late it had been doing. Who was he, a straightforward man of the seas and the mountain, to rule a race strangely and terribly wise with the mysticisms of antiquity? An ancient race -  

"I am Kull!" said he, flinging back his head as a lion flings back his mane. "I am Kull!"  

His falcon gaze swept the ancient hall. His self-confidence flowed back. . . . And in a dim nook of the hall a tapestry moved - slightly.

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Table of Contents


Foreword     xiii
Introduction     xv
The Shadow Kingdom     1
The Ghost Kings     27
The Curse of the Golden Skull     29
Red Shadows     33
The One Black Stain     59
The Dark Man     63
The Marching Song of Connacht     85
Kings of the Night     87
Recompense     119
The Black Stone     121
The Song of a Mad Minstrel     137
The Fightin'est Pair     139
The Grey God Passes     153
The Song of the Last Briton     183
Worms of the Earth     185
An Echo from the Iron Harp     213
Lord of the Dead     217
Untitled     247
"For the Love of Barbara Allen     249
The Tide     257
The Valley of the Worm     259
The Dust Dance: Selections, Version II     279
The People of the Black Circle     283
Beyond the Black River     353
A Word front the Outer Dark     403
Hawk of the Hills     405
Sharp's Gun Serenade     453
Lines Written in the Realization That I Must Die     469
Appendices
Robert E. Howard: Twentieth-Century Mythmaker     473
A Short Biography of Robert E. Howard     485
Notes on the Original Howard Texts     497
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 17 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 10, 2010

    If this is the best of, I don't want to know what the worst is like...

    This book is more than a disappointment. It was not the gripping adventure stories that other reviews promised, it was however very racist. Boring and offensive, not the best combination for a book.

    0 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 8, 2009

    robert howards writing style puts you there in the action

    Robert Howard could describe any scene from majestic mountains to swamplands, all involve ancient peaples,demons, animals and mans triumph over lifes punches.

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  • Posted November 21, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    THE BEST OF THE BEST OF ROBERT E. HOWARD!!

    Robert E. Howard was an extra-ordindary creative writer and poet who in my opinion was the best! His vision, talent, creative writing and poetry, and action packed stories can and will never be replicated! To learn more about this unique man read Blood & Thunder, The Life and Art of Robert E. Howard by Mark Finn. Also, read the Best of Robert E. Howard 2. Number two has my favorites Red Nails, Beyond The Black River, and scariest story EVER Pigeons From Hell! Be sure to read it at night with plenty of light. Volume 1 is a must have and so is vol 2. Please read One Who Walked Alone by Novalyn Price, The Dark Barbarian & The Barbaric Triumph by Don Herron, Two-Gun Bob, The Never Ending Hunt, All Weird Works, and The Last of The Trunk by Paul Herman, Collected Letters of REH by Rob Roehm, Dark Horse Conan, Solomon Kane, Kull, and Marvel Magazines Savage Sword of and Conan Saga, Roy Thomas Conan Hardcover, Chronicles of, Marvel comics, and Conan Phenom, Horror Stories of REH, The Star Rover by Jack London, Bran Mak Morn, H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, Glenn Lord, and everyone else who has kept REH legacy alive and well. Tell others about him.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2008

    A reviewer

    Robert E. Howard was an extra-ordindary creative writer who in my opinion was the best! His vision, talent, creative writing, and action packed stories can and will never be replicated! To learn more about this unique man read Blood & Thunder, The Life and Art of Robert E. Howard by Mark Finn. Also, read the Best of Robert E. Howard 2. Number two has my favorites Red Nails, Beyond The Black River, and scariest story EVER Pigeons From Hell! Be sure to read it at night with plenty of light. Volume 1 is a must have and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Must have Volumes 1 & 2.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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