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- Herausgeber: Titan Books
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: The Heroic Legends Series
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Capturing the electric short fiction energy that led Robert E. Howard to be one of the top fantasy writers of the century, with exclusive serialized eBook stories starring Conan, Solomon Kane, and more by many of today's top writers in fantasy and sword-and-sorcery. Sailing together on the Tigress, Conan and Bêlit hijack and plunder a ship. Victorious but with a damaged ship to show for it, the pirates return to their secret island haven. They arrive to find their village under attack, not by men, but hideous things—part men, part aquatic creatures. Powerful but ungainly, these bloodthirsty frog-men are faster and even more formidable in the water. Conan, Bêlit and her crew watch helplessly as the abominations abscond with the women of their village. Unable to give chase due to their damaged ship, Conan and Bêlit swear vengeance on these monstrosities.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Leave us a Review
Copyright
Map
Conan: Terror from the Abyss
About the Author
TERROR FROM THE ABYSS
HENRY HERZ
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CONAN: TERROR FROM THE ABYSS
E-book edition ISBN: 9781803366487
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP
www.titanbooks.com
First edition: May 2024
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
© 2024 Conan Properties International (“CPI”). CONAN, CONAN THE BARBARIAN, CONAN THE CIMMERIAN, HYBORIA, THE SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN and related logos, names and character likenesses thereof are trademarks or registered trademarks of CPI. ROBERT E. HOWARD is a trademark or registered trademark of Robert E. Howard Properties LLC. Heroic Signatures is a trademark of Cabinet Licensing LLC.
Henry Herz asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
CONAN:TERROR FROMTHE ABYSS
HENRY HERZ
An easterly breeze ruffling its silken sail, the slender bireme Tigress sliced through the spindrift like a barracuda. Scowling eyes, painted on each side of the backward-curving prow, menaced unblinkingly. From below the waterline, at the galley’s bow jutted an iron-reinforced ram. The two rows of twenty oars on each side moved to the deep, resonant beat of a drum. A long crimson pennon fluttered from the masthead, meant to evoke panic in any who spied the reaver.
On a raised platform strode Bêlit, Queen of the Black Coast. She was slender, yet formed like a goddess—at once lithe and voluptuous. Her raven locks, black as a Stygian night, fell in rippling burnished clusters down the ivory skin of her supple back. She wore a loose aquamarine shirt and broad silken girdle, the bottoms of her leather breeches tucked into high black boots. Bêlit: wild as a desert wind, lithe and dangerous as a panther.
“Do you see anything, Conan?”
At the bow stood a giant of a man, his thews steeled and his nerves whetted by the hardness of his life in the world’s wastelands. He was quick to laugh, she knew, yet quick and terrible too in his wrath. Young in years, he was tempered by warfare and wandering, and his apparel evinced his sojourns in many lands. A horned helmet from Nordheim crowned his head. Over a hauberk of Nemedian ring-mail, the battle-scarred warrior wore a finely crafted cuirass, gorget, and pauldrons from Koth. A great Aquilonian broadsword hung from a tooled leather belt.
With a thick, calloused hand, Conan the Cimmerian shaded his eyes from the fierce midday sun, scanning the horizon. “Single-masted cog,” he announced. “Broad on the port bow, low in the water.”
“Good.” Bêlit’s eyes glittered. “A full hold means more plunder. Run them down.”
“Helmsman, make your rudder three points to port!” Conan bellowed. “Oarsmen, full speed!”
In time with the drummer’s steady beat, two banks of black-skinned pirates on both sides of the galley grunted as they rowed. Their muscles coiled and knotted, and sweat glistened on their skin. The Tigress’ timbers creaked and groaned as the eighty oarsmen drove her through opalescent waters.
Despite fleeing downwind, the wide-waisted merchantman, fully laden with cargo, slogged as though she dragged an anchor astern.
The Tigress charged across the intervening distance like its namesake hunting a fatted goat.
