Ebooki fantastyczne i horror

The speaker wrapped his purple cloak closer about his powerful frame and settled back into his official chair, much as he might have settled back in his seat at the Circus Maximus to enjoy the clash of gladiatorial swords. Realization of power colored his every move. Whetted pride was necessary to Roman satisfaction, and Titus Sulla was justly proud; for he was military governor of Eboracum and answerable only to the emperor of Rome.

Torches flared murkily on the revels in the Maul, where the thieves of the east held carnival by night. In the Maul they could carouse and roar as they liked, for honest people shunned the quarters, and watchmen, well paid with stained coins, did not interfere with their sport. Along the crooked, unpaved streets with their heaps of refuse and sloppy puddles, drunken roisterers staggered, roaring. Steel glinted in the shadows where wolf preyed on wolf, and from the darkness ...

A great black shadow lay across the land, cleaving the red flame of the red sunset. To the man who toiled up the jungle trail it loomed like a symbol of death and horror, a menace brooding and terrible, like the shadow of a stealthy assassin flung upon some candle-lit wall.

The tales of James Allison take place both in modern times and in the far past, in that time after the Hyborian kingdoms of Conan. Allison is a crippled Texan who lost a leg when his horse fell on him. To escape boredom and sadness he ventures into the past, exploring his previous lives as mighty warriors. All these ancestors were members of a migration of Aryans as they traveled the world in search of a homeland.

Over shadowy spires and gleaming towers lay the ghostly darkness and silence that runs before dawn. Into a dim alley, one of a veritable labyrinth of mysterious winding ways, four masked figures came hurriedly from a door which a dusky hand furtively opened. They spoke not but went swiftly into the gloom, cloaks wrapped closely about them; as silently as the ghosts of murdered men they disappeared in the darkness.

The roar of battle had died away; the shout of victory mingled with the cries of the dying. Like gay-hued leaves after an autumn storm, the fallen littered the plain; the sinking sun shimmered on burnished helmets, gilt-worked mail, silver breastplates, broken swords and the heavy regal folds of silken standards, overthrown in pools of curdling crimson. In silent heaps lay war- horses and their steel-clad riders, flowing manes and blowing plumes stained alike in the red tid...

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 Bhunda Chand struggled on the velvet-cushioned dais. Beads of sweat glistened on his dark skin; his fingers twisted the gold-worked fabric beneath him. He was young; no spear had touched him, no poison lurked in his wine.

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 hosts 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.

Robert Ervin Howard (January 22, 1906 – June 11, 1936) was an American author who wrote pulp fiction in a diverse range of genres. In a meteoric career that spanned a mere twelve years, Robert E. Howard single-handedly invented the sword and sorcery genre. From his fertile imagination sprang some of fiction’s most enduring heroes. Yet while Conan is indisputably Howard’s greatest creation, it was in his earlier sequence of tales featuring Kull, a fearless warrior with the b...

The Pool of the Black One is one of the original short stories starring the sword and sorcery hero Conan the Cimmerian, written by American author Robert E. Howard. It is set in the pseudo-historical Hyborian Age and concerns Conan becoming the captain of a pirate vessel and encountering a remote island with a mysterious pool that has powers of transmutation.

In a world ruled by piracy, stalked by vampires, peopled by cities of the inhuman, he stood tall amid the terrors of the Dark Continent. Kane, a man of savage and unconquerable courage, strode deep into the jungles, forever slashing his diamond-edged rapier as evil guided the creatures of the night toward him. Wicked whispers of death touched him. Haunted horrors of the world beyond life reached for him. But Kane never halted his march, for he would never rest until the fin...

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.

...Shipwrecked on a mysterious island, two sailors find traces of a lost civilization – and memories of their own impossible part in it! ...The „last words” of an operatic tenor bring the music of hell to the man who destroyed him....Turlogh O’Brien, mighty Gaelic warrior who serves no master but gold and blood, battles for a kingdom against the fearful ancient gods of Bal-Sagoth. All together for the first time in The Gods of Bal-Sagoth.

The fisherman loosened his knife in its scabbard. The gesture was instinctive, for what he feared was nothing a knife could slay, not even the saw-edged crescent blade of the Yuetshi that could disembowel a man with an upward stroke. Neither man nor beast threatened him in the solitude which brooded over the castellated isle of Xapur.

The long tapers flickered, sending the black shadows wavering along the walls, and the velvet tapestries rippled. Yet there was no wind in the chamber. Four men stood about the ebony table on which lay the green sarcophagus that gleamed like carven jade. In the upraised right hand of each man a curious black candle burned with a weird greenish light. Outside was night and a lost wind moaning among the black trees.

The Black Stranger"is one of the stories byRobert E. HowardaboutConan the Cimmerian. It was written in the 1930s but not published in his lifetime. When the original Conan version of the story failed to find a publisher, Howard rewrote „The Black Stranger” into a piraticalTerence Vulmeastory entitled „Swords of the Red Brotherhood.”

Before Robert E. Howard wrote of „Conan the Cimmerian”, he wrote of the swashbuckler Solomon Kane. „The Adventures of Solomon Kane” takes you through Howard’s horrific and fantastic world of swords and sorcery, the world of ancient secrets and the monsters that live in the jungles of Africa where Kane vanquishes evil. Here are shudder-inducing tales of vengeful ghosts and bloodthirsty demons, of dark sorceries wielded by evil men and women, all opposed by a grim avenger arm...

This collection contains all of Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Cimmerian stories published during his lifetime, contextualized with biographical details of their author. His Conan stories feature a young barbarian warrior who carves himself a kingdom and rules with a degree of wisdom and justice. Neither supernatural fiends nor demonic sorcery could oppose the warrior as he wielded his mighty sword and dispatched his enemies to a bloody doom on the battlefields of the legenda...

Iluzja wymarła przed czterystu laty. Przypadkowy incydent w kolonii Minacory uruchamia machinę zdarzeń, które burzą uporządkowane życie Tayany – czeladniczki garncarskiej. Splot wydarzeń sprawia, że dziewczyna przystaje do Syndykatu – potężnej organizacji przestępczej, dążącej do odrodzenia iluzji. Decydując się na współpracę z kartelem, Tayana wyrusza w niebezpieczną misję w poszukiwaniu zaginionego Miasta Pogan, mając za towarzysza jedynie zdrajcę, którego słowom nie ...

Pod koniec XX wieku na murze budynku, gdzie znajdowały się laboratoria znanego fizyka Noela Dorgeroux — poczęły się ukazywać niezwykłe ożywione obrazy przedstawiające zarówno sceny z epoki współczesnej jak wypadki z lat minionych. Dziwne te wizje poprzedzało zawsze pojawienie się trojga dziwacznych, niesamowitych oczu, rozmieszczonych z niezmienną, geometryczną dokładnością w trzech kątach trójkąta.  Siostrzeniec starego uczonego Wiktoryn Beaugrand, który dopiero ...

Książka w dwóch wersjach językowych: polskiej i angielskiej. A dual Polish-English language edition. Dziennikarz Neville St. Clair w poniedziałek rano udał się do Londynu wcześniej niż zwykle, oświadczając, że ma do załatwienia dwie ważne sprawy i obiecując przywieźć zabawki dla dzieci. Następnie jego żona dostała telegraficzną wiadomość, że może odebrać oczekiwaną przesyłkę w poczcie nad Tamizą. Załatwiwszy sprawunki podczas drogi powrotnej przypadkiem mijała...

Nameless Cults: The Cthulhu Mythos Fiction of Robert E. Howard is a collection of Cthulhu Mythos short stories by Robert E. Howard. It was first published in the US in 2001 by Chaosium Press. All of these stories had been published previously, between 1929 and 1985, in Weird Tales, From Beyond the Dark Gateway, Strange Tales, Weirdbook, Fantasy Crosswinds, Coven, Fantasy Book, Dark Things, and The Fantasy Magazine. The collection includes an introduction by Robert M. Price ...

Five incredible stories of the wild west, from the supremely creative mind of Robert E. Howard: „"Golden Hope” Christmas”, „Riders of the Sunset”, „Boot-Hill Payoff”, „Vultures’ Sanctuary”, „The Vultures of Wahpeton”. The serious, hardcore western stories in this collection fit the writing style of Howard like a glove. Like his horror stories, historical fiction, straight adventure like El Borak does. The stories collected here show a West stripped down to essentials, where...

The horror first took concrete form amid that most unconcrete of all things–a hashish dream. I was off on a timeless, spaceless journey through the strange lands that belong to this state of being, a million miles away from earth and all things earthly; yet I became cognizant that something was reaching across the unknown voids–something that tore ruthlessly at the separating curtains of my illusions and intruded itself into my visions.