Swords & Dark Magic
The New Sword and Sorcery
Edited by
Jonathan Strahan and Lou Anders
For
ROBERT E HOWARD,
FRITZ LEIBER,
and
MICHAEL MOORCOCK,
the great literary swordsmen who made it possible
Contents
Introduction: Check Your Dark Lord at the Door
Lou Anders & Jonathan Strahan
Goats of Glory
Steven Erikson
Tides Elba: A Tale of the Black Company
Glen Cook
Bloodsport
Gene Wolfe
The Singing Spear
James Enge
A Wizard in Wiscezan
C. J. Cherryh
A Rich Full Week
K. J. Parker
A Suitable Present for a Sorcerous Puppet
Garth Nix
Red Pearls: An Elric Story
Michael Moorcock
The Deification of Dal Bamore: A Tale from Echo City
Tim Lebbon
Dark Times at the Midnight Market
Robert Silverberg
The Undefiled
Greg Keyes
Hew the Tintmaster
Michael Shea
In the Stacks
Scott Lynch
Two Lions, a Witch, and the War-Robe
Tanith Lee
The Sea Troll’s Daughter
Caitlin R. Kiernan
Thieves of Daring
Bill Willingham
The Fool Jobs
Joe Abercrombie
Acknowledgments
About the Editors
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHECK YOUR DARK LORD AT THE DOOR
Sword and sorcery. The name says it all. Action meets magic. If high fantasy is about vast armies divided along the lines of obvious good versus ultimate evil, epic struggles to vanquish dark lords bent on world domination, then sword and sorcery is its antithesis. Smaller-scale character pieces, often starring morally compromised protagonists, whose heroism involves little more than trying to save their own skins from a trap they themselves blundered into in search of spoils. Sword and sorcery is where fantasy fiction meets the western, with its emphasis on traveling swordsmen wandering into an exotic setting and finding themselves thrust into unanticipated conflicts there. As high fantasy concerns itself with warring nations and final battles, sword and sorcery focuses on personal battles, fought in the back alleys of exotic cities, in the secret chambers of strange temples, in the depths of dark dungeons. If high fantasy is a child of The Iliad, then sword and sorcery is a product of The Odyssey.
J. R. R. Tolkien is the undisputed father of high, or epic, fantasy.* His Lord of the Rings drew on Norse mythologies, his personal experiences in World War I, and, arguably, Wagner’s The Ring of the Nibelung (though he denied this vehemently). The story of a titanic struggle for the fate of nations, it single-handedly led to the creation of the fantasy genre as a recognized genre, and spawned a thousand imitators. Famous names such as Terry Brooks, Terry Goodkind, Robert Jordan, Roger Zelazny, Stephen R. Donaldson all owe an immeasurable debt to the Oxford professor. But the earlier form of sword and sorcery fantasy owes its genesis to Texan-born Robert E. Howard, who drew upon his Irish ancestry and a lifetime of tall tales of the American West to create stories of adventure that were, in contrast to his contemporaries, laced with a grim pessimism and an edge of violent realism. A boxer who stood six feet two inches, known for his stamina and for rarely losing a fight, Howard brought to his imagined conflicts a reality backed up by experience. It was in the pages of Weird Tales that he, a popular writer who wrote for scores of classic pulp magazines, would debut his greatest and most influential creation, Conan the Cimmerian. Like Tolkien’s Middle Earth, Howard set Conan’s adventures in an imagined prehistoric land, Hyperborea, which existed between the fall of Atlantis and the time of recorded history. From out of the barbaric north, Conan came, “a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet.” As he detailed Conan’s exploits, Howard pioneered a new kind of fantasy, one that owed as much to the swashbuckling tales of Alexandre Dumas and Rafael Sabatini as it did to the outlaws and renegades of the American West.
Like the gunslingers whose exaggerated exploits form the bedrock of Howard’s childhood entertainments, Conan was an opportunist, a self-serving fortune seeker with a fatalistic outlook, albeit a man loyal to his friends, often given to penetrating psychological insights. Between 1933 and his death in 1936, Howard placed eighteen stories of Conan in the pages of Weird Tales. An instant success, the character’s most immediate influences were writers C. L. Moore and Fritz Leiber. The former introduced Jirel of Joiry in 1934, the year after Conan’s debut. Notable for being the first female protagonist in sword and sorcery, Jirel was the monarch of an imagined medieval French province, known for relying on her wits over her fists, albeit not shy of taking up a sword and shield. Moore penned six tales between 1934 and 1939, beginning with the classic “Black God’s Kiss.”† For his part, Fritz Leiber (in conjunction with his friend Harry Otto Fischer) conceived of the first S&S buddy duo, Fafhrd the Barbarian and his friend and accomplice, the diminutive thief known as the Gray Mouser. Appearing first in 1939 in the pages of Unknown, Fafhrd and the Mouser are notable in that their adventures continued until 1991 and ended with the heroes settling down into married life. Unlike Howard, Tolkien, and Moore, Leiber chose to set their adventures in a purely invented, secondary world, the world of Nehwon, rather than a lost past or fantastical version of our own history. This was not fantasy’s first foray into alternative constructed worlds but it was certainly one of the most influential.‡
Furthermore, Howard’s contemporary Clark Ashton Smith is notable for his own contribution to the genre, not the least of which were his own Hyperborean tales, set, like Howard’s, in a lost mythical age. In this case, though, his Hyperborea was an Arctic continent, the last gasps of a civilization facing the encroachment of an Ice Age. By peopling them with sorcerers and strange deities, Smith seemed to merge the worlds of Robert E. Howard with that of the third great writer from this era of Weird Tales, their friend H. P. Lovecraft.
Come the 1960s, however, the sword and sorcery genre, with the exception of Leiber’s Fafhrd and Gray Mouser tales, had waned in popularity, until writer Lin Carter crafted the first successful ongoing series in imitation of Howard’s Conan. Carter’s Thongor series, beginning with The Wizard of Lemuria in 1965, blended Howard’s barbarian with the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Set across the lost continent of Lemuria, they featured magic, flying machines, and mankind’s attempts to throw off the shackles of a serpentine race of “Dragon Kings.” Carter’s Thongor tales diminished, however, when he was recruited by L. Sprague de Camp to assist in a Conan revival.
De Camp had contributed his own notable sword and sorcery in the 1950s. His Pusadian series was an attempt to write in a Hyperborean setting that paid more attention to what was then known about the geology of the earth. But beginning in the 1950s, though primarily in the 1960s, de Camp began to work to republish the existing Conan tales, as well as to publish the many Howard-penned Conan stories unpublished in the author’s lifetime. In the aforementioned collaboration with Lin Carter, he worked to popularize Howard and bring him back into print. Adding their own contributions to the mythos, de Camp and Carter rewrote many of Howard’s unpublished non-Conan tales as new exploits of the Cimmerian. This led to a boom in Conan’s popularity, with the character spilling out into new novels, comic books, and
even film, though a 1983 biography of Howard, penned by de Camp and titled Dark Valley Destiny: the Life of Robert E. Howard, had the unintended consequence of refocusing attention on Howard’s undiluted Conan, with de Camp and Carter’s additions and alterations dwindling in public favor.
Sword and sorcery wouldn’t officially be labeled as its own subgenre until 1961, however, when Michael Moorcock published a letter in the fanzine Amra, demanding that the type of swashbuckling adventure story pioneered by Howard be given a name. Ironically, Moorcock originally proposed the term “epic fantasy,” a label that has since come to be applied to the other side of the coin, that of J. R. R. Tolkien and his successors. But Fritz Leiber christened the subgenre when he wrote in the July 1961 issue of Amra, “I feel more certain than ever that this field should be called the sword-and-sorcery story. This accurately describes the points of culture-level and supernatural element and also immediately distinguishes it from the cloak-and-sword (historical adventure) story—and (quite incidentally) from the cloak-and-dagger (international espionage) story too!”
In this same year, Moorcock would pen The Dreaming City, the first tale of his antihero Elric of Melniboné, arguably the only sword and sorcery protagonist to reach Howard’s level of influence. Conceived as an anti-Conan—or, rather, Conan as an angst-ridden teenager—Elric was a sickly, drug-taking albino who relied upon an evil, soul-sucking black sword to feed him the stolen energies to both maintain his life and increase his vitality. Simply put, Moorcock’s contribution to fantasy literature cannot be overstated. The New Wave movement that he later pioneered forever changed the face of science fiction, just as his concept of the “multiverse” would as well, even spilling out of the pages of imaginary tales to grace the lips of our contemporary physicists, but for our purposes here, it might be his alteration of the battle of Good versus Evil into that of Law versus Chaos (with disastrous consequences implied if either side ultimately triumphed over the other) that made the most significant contribution to fantasy literature. His heroes, whether Elric of Melniboné, or Dorian Hawkmoon, or the rock and roll assassin Jerry Cornelius, were all manifestations of the Eternal Champion, a soul doomed to forever maintain the “Cosmic Balance” by lending weight to one side of the scales or the other. Moorcock’s influence is colossal, his shadow cast everywhere from role-playing games (and thus, subsequently, all third-person computer and console gaming) to rock and roll to literature. The alignment wheel of Dungeons & Dragons is nothing short of his Law vs. Chaos and Good vs. Evil plotted on an X-Y axis, and it is no surprise that Michael Chabon’s foray into fantastical swashbuckling, Gentleman of the Road, is dedicated to the fantasy grand master. But it is Moorcock’s character of Elric the Albino that came to define the sword and sorcery subgenre as much as Howard’s creation.
Also of note is Andre Norton, whose long-running Witch World stories, beginning with Witch World in 1963 and continuing up through this century, were both seminal sword and sorcery works (albeit rather heavy on the sorcery), as well as seminal romantic fantasy works.
During the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, led by Lin Carter, the Swordsmen and Sorcerers’ Guild of America promoted the interests of the subgenre. From 1973 to 1981, SAGA produced five anthologies, edited by Carter and featuring the contributions of their members, under the series title Flashing Swords! The year 1974 saw the debut of Charles R. Saunders’s Imaro tales, which appeared first in the fanzine Dark Fantasy but, by way of Lin Carter’s Year’s Best Fantasy Stories (DAW Books, 1975), eventually found their way to publisher Donald A. Wolheim, who urged Saunders to publish them as a novel in 1981. Imaro was followed by The Quest for Cush (1984) and The Trail of Bohu (1985).§ The stories are notable for being the first sword and sorcery penned by a black author and starring a black protagonist. The title character, Imaro, inhabited the “black continent” of Nyumbani, an “alternate Africa” that existed thousands of years ago, perhaps contemporaneously with Robert E. Howard’s Hyperborea.
Then, in 1984, Marion Zimmer Bradley made a significant contribution to the field with her Sword and Sorceress anthology series. Feeling that, C. L. Moore excepted, the subgenre was dominated by men and typified by some fairly reprehensible attitudes toward and depictions of women, she produced twenty volumes (two published posthumously) of adventure tales featuring strong female protagonists and promoting such notable authors as Bradley herself, Glen Cook, Emma Bull, Charles R. Saunders, Charles de Lint, Pat Murphy, C. J. Cherryh, Jennifer Roberson, Mercedes Lackey, and many more. After Bradley’s death in 1999, the anthology series continued in a new volume edited by Diana L. Paxson (Sword and Sorceress XXI, DAW, 2004) and, recently, in two volumes from editor Elisabeth Waters (Norilana Books, 2007).
But, generally speaking, the last few decades was a time when sword and sorcery fiction was once again out of favor. The 1982 film Conan the Barbarian, which made Arnold Schwarzenegger a household name, spawned a sea of poorly executed sequels and imitations that had the effect of stigmatizing the subgenre’s image. Though its practitioners never entirely went away, the fantasy genre came to be dominated by the post-Tolkien variety of epic fantasy. At the short form, sword and sorcery fiction fell out of favor with the larger magazine venues, and the type of adventure fantasy that Robert E. Howard once epitomized was relegated to the domain of the small press (most notably, Black Gate magazine, which has been the definitive source for sword and sorcery short-form works since its launch in 2000). But recently, sword and sorcery has been making a comeback. In the wake of George R. R. Martin, whose Song of Ice and Fire series is notable for bringing a moral ambiguity and gritty realism to the fantasy epic, a host of younger writers have emerged to bring a “sword and sorcery sensibility” back to the epic subgenre. Writers like Steven Erikson, Joe Abercrombie, Scott Lynch, Tom Lloyd, David Anthony Durham, Brian Ruckley, James Enge, Brent Weeks, and Patrick Rothfuss are pioneering a new kind of fantasy, one that blends epic struggles with a gritty realism, where good and evil mixes into realistic characters fraught with moral ambiguities, and struggles between nations are not so one-sided as they are colored by a new, politically savvy understanding. These hard-hitting tales are reinvigorating the fantasy genre, while at the same time its classic forebears are finding new readers. For the first time in many years, Robert E. Howard’s and Michael Moorcock’s original stories are available again, in new, lavishly illustrated editions that restore their original texts, complete with copious historical notes. Leiber’s full saga of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser is back on shelves, just as C. L. Moore’s oeuvre is out in a complete collection. The MMORG Age of Conan is a huge success, and both Conan and Elric movies are currently in development. While Howard, sadly, left us in 1936, Moorcock has recently been writing new tales of the Melnibonéan, one of which appears in this volume. With all the excitement surrounding this new cadre of writers, combined with the recent celebration of their historic roots, there is no better time for a definitive look at the new fantasy. Here, then, are seventeen original tales of sword and sorcery, penned by masters old and new. What follows are stories of small stakes but high action, grim humor mixed with gritty violence, dry fatalism in the face of strange magics, fierce monsters and fabulous treasures, and, as ever, lots and lots of swordplay. Enjoy!
Lou Anders & Jonathan Strahan
Alabama & Australia
* * *
STEVEN ERIKSON is the pseudonym of Canadian novelist Steve Rune Lundin, best known for his ongoing fantasy series Malazan Book of the Fallen, beginning in 1999 with Gardens of the Moon. Trained as an archaeologist and anthropologist, Erikson is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and is a World Fantasy Award–nominated author. SF Site has called the series “the most significant work of epic fantasy since Donaldson’s Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.” Known for his portrayal of multidimensional characters, he said in an interview conducted by suite101.com, “It’s often commented that my stuff is all shades of gray rather than black and white, but that’s not the same as saying every character i
s similarly gray—the effect is an overall one rather than a specific one. Most of the characters I come up with have pretty fixed notions of right and wrong, they have a moral center, in other words, whether consciously recognized or not. But in coming at something from more than one side, the reader is left free to choose which one they’ll favor.” Erikson now lives in Cornwall, England.
* * *
GOATS OF GLORY
Steven Erikson
Five riders drew rein in the pass. Slumped in their saddles, they studied the valley sprawled out below them. A narrow river cut a jagged scar down the middle of a broad floodplain. A weathered wooden bridge sagged across the narrow span, and beyond it squatted a score of buildings, gray as the dust hovering above the dirt tracks wending between them.
A short distance upriver, on the same side as the hamlet, was a large, unnatural hill, on which stood a gray-stoned keep. The edifice looked abandoned, lifeless, no banners flying, the garden terraces ringing the hillsides overgrown with weeds, the few windows in the square towers gaping black as caves.
The riders rode battered, beaten-down horses. The beasts’ heads drooped with exhaustion, their chests speckled and streaked with dried lather. The two men and three women did not look any better. Armor in tatters, blood-splashed, and all roughly bandaged here and there to mark a battle somewhere behind them. Each wore a silver brooch clasping their charcoal-gray cloaks over their hearts, a ram’s head in profile.
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