Robert E : 1478 books

The death of Bunda Chand, King of Vendhya, via a curse channeled to his soul through a lock of his hair leads to the ascension of his sister, Devi Yasmina, who vows to get revenge on his killers, the Black Seers of Yimsha. Conan, meanwhile, has become chief of a tribe of Afghuli hillmen. Seven of...

The king of Vendhya was dying. Through the hot, stifling night the temple gongs boomed and the conchs roared. Their clamor was a faint echo in the gold–domed chamber where Bunda Chand struggled on the velvet–cushioned dais. Beads of sweat glistened on his dark skin; his fingers twisted the gold–worked...

”I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom’s realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls of the Nordheimer’s Valhalla. I know not, nor do...

In this exciting story Conan is a mercenary soldier searching for the the treasure of a lost city. After fighting and overcoming several perils, both natural and supernatural, he finds that some things are more valuable than a casket of jewels.

In this action-packed novella, Conan the Cimmerian (also known by the name Conan the Barbarian) travels to the country of Keshan to help train the country's army. After he arrives, a number of warring factions advance into the country, and the famed marauder gets drawn in by the promise of finding the famed jewels of Gwalhur, which are said to be located in the area.

I hear a gang of buffalo hunters got together recently in a saloon in Dodge City to discuss ways and means of keeping their sculps onto their heads whilst collecting pelts, and purty soon one of 'em riz and said, "You mavericks make me sick. For the last hour you been chawin' wind about the soldiers...

Kull was born in pre-cataclysmic Atlantis c. 100,000 B C, but his tribe were destroyed by a flood while Kull was still a toddler, leaving the young Kull to live as a feral child for many years, before being captured eventually adopted by the Sea-Mountain tribe...

The clangor of the swords had died away, the shouting of the slaughter was hushed; silence lay on the red-stained snow. The bleak pale sun that glittered so blindingly from the ice-fields and the snow-covered plains struck sheens of silver from rent corselet and broken blade, where the dead lay as...

The stillness of the forest trail was so primeval that the tread of a soft–booted foot was a startling disturbance. At least it seemed so to the ears of the wayfarer, though he was moving along the path with the caution that must be practised by any man who ventures beyond Thunder River. He was...

The silence of the pine woods lay like a brooding cloak about the soul of Bristol McGrath. The black shadows seemed fixed, immovable as the weight of superstition that overhung this forgotten back-country. Vague ancestral dreads stirred at the back of McGrath’s mind; for he was born in the pine woods, and sixteen years of roaming about the world had not erased their shadows.

'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, sun-burnt man with a straggling black beard, and his ragged garments proclaimed him a...

'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, sun-burnt man with a straggling black beard, and his ragged garments proclaimed him a nomad. He...

Taramis, queen of Khauran, awakened from a dream-haunted slumber to a silence that seemed more like the stillness of nighted catacombs than the normal quiet of a sleeping place. She lay staring into the darkness, wondering why the candles in their golden candelabra had gone out. A flecking of stars...

Taramis, queen of Khauran, awakened from a dream-haunted slumber to a silence that seemed more like the stillness of nighted catacombs than the normal quiet of a sleeping place. She lay staring into the darkness, wondering why the candles in their golden candelabra had gone out. A flecking of stars...