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THE SOLOMON KANE SERIES - Complete Fantasy & Action-Adventure Collection Premium Collection of Sword and Sorcery Stories Featuring the Tudor-period Puritan Adventurer, Wandering across Europe and Africa von Howard, Robert E. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 01.11.2016
  • Verlag: e-artnow
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THE SOLOMON KANE SERIES - Complete Fantasy & Action-Adventure Collection

This carefully crafted ebook: 'THE SOLOMON KANE SERIES - Complete Fantasy & Action-Adventure Collection' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Solomon Kane is a late 16th-early 17th century Puritan, who is a somber-looking man who wanders the world with no apparent goal other than to vanquish evil in all its forms. His adventures, often take him from Europe to the jungles of Africa and back. Howard described him as a tall, gloomy man of pale skin, gaunt face and cold eyes, all of it shadowed by a slouch hat. He is dressed entirely in black and his weaponry usually consists of a rapier, a dirk, and a brace of flintlock pistols. Robert Ervin Howard (1906-1936) was an American author who wrote pulp fiction in a diverse range of genres. He is well known for his character Conan the Barbarian and is regarded as the father of the sword and sorcery subgenre. Table of Contents: Red Shadows Skulls In The Stars Rattle Of Bones The Moon Of Skulls The Hills Of The Dead The Footfalls Within Wings In The Night Solomon Kane's Homecoming - A Poem

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 179
    Erscheinungsdatum: 01.11.2016
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026869771
    Verlag: e-artnow
    Größe: 460 kBytes
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THE SOLOMON KANE SERIES - Complete Fantasy & Action-Adventure Collection

IV. - THE BLACK GOD

Table of Contents
THRUM, THRUM, THRUM! Somewhere, with deadening monotony, a cadence was repeated, over and over, bearing out the same theme: "Fool-fool- fool!" Now it was far away, now he could stretch out his hand and almost reach it. Now it merged with the throbbing in his head until the two vibrations were as one: "Fool-fool-fool-fool-"

The fogs faded and vanished. Kane sought to raise his hand to his head, but found that he was bound hand and foot. He lay on the floor of a hut- alone? He twisted about to view the place. No, two eyes glimmered at him from the darkness. Now a form took shape, and Kane, still mazed, believed that he looked on the man who had struck him unconscious. Yet no; this man could never strike such a blow. He was lean, withered and wrinkled. The only thing that seemed alive about him were his eyes, and they seemed like the eyes of a snake.

The man squatted on the floor of the hut, near the doorway, naked save for a loin-cloth and the usual paraphernalia of bracelets, anklets and armlets. Weird fetishes of ivory, bone and hide, animal and human, adorned his arms and legs. Suddenly and unexpectedly he spoke in English.

"Ha, you wake, white man? Why you come here, eh?"

Kane asked the inevitable question, following the habit of the Caucasian.

"You speak my language-how is that?"

The black man grinned.

"I slave-long time, me boy. Me, N'Longa, ju-ju man, me, great fetish. No black man like me! You white man, you hunt brother?"

Kane snarled. "I! Brother! I seek a man, yes."

The Negro nodded. "Maybe so you find um, eh?"

"He dies!"

Again the Negro grinned. "Me pow'rful ju-ju man," he announced apropos of nothing. He bent closer. "White man you hunt, eyes like a leopard, eh? Yes? Ha! ha! ha! ha! Listen, white man: man-with-eyes-of-a-leopard, he and Chief Songa make pow'rful palaver; they blood brothers now. Say nothing, I help you; you help me, eh?"

"Why should you help me?" asked Kane suspiciously.

The ju-ju man bent closer and whispered, "White man Songa's right-hand man; Songa more pow'rful than N'Longa. White man mighty ju-ju! N'Longa's white brother kill man-with-eyes-of-a-leopard, be blood brother to N'Longa, N'Longa be more pow'rful than Songa; palaver set."

And like a dusky ghost he floated out of the hut so swiftly that Kane was not sure but that the whole affair was a dream.

Without, Kane could see the flare of fires. The drums were still booming, but close at hand the tones merged and mingled, and the impulse-producing vibrations were lost. All seemed a barbaric clamor without rhyme or reason, yet there was an undertone of mockery there, savage and gloating. "Lies," thought Kane, his mind still swimming, "jungle lies like jungle women that lure a man to his doom."

Two warriors entered the hut-black giants, hideous with paint and armed with crude spears. They lifted the white man and carried him out of the hut. They bore him across an open space, leaned him upright against a post and bound him there. About him, behind him and to the side, a great semicircle of black faces leered and faded in the firelight as the flames leaped and sank. There in front of him loomed a shape hideous and obscene-a black, formless thing, a grotesque parody of the human. Still, brooding, bloodstained, like the formless soul of Africa, the horror, the Black God.

And in front and to each side, upon roughly carven thrones of teakwood, sat two men. He who sat upon the right was a black man, huge, ungainly, a gigantic and unlovely mass of dusky flesh and muscles. Small, hoglike eyes blinked out over sin-marked cheeks; huge, flabby red lips pursed in fleshly haughtiness.

The other-

"Ah, Monsieur , we meet again." The speaker was far from being the debonair villain who had taunted Kane in the cavern among the mountains. His clothes wer

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