Continuing my Conan reread for Cimmerian September, the third published Conan story is The Tower of the Elephant, which arrived in the March 1933 issue of Weird Tales magazine.

This is definitely one of my favorite Conan stories, and probably one of my favorite sword & sorcery stories in general, so I’ve read it many times and know the events almost beat for beat. That said, another reading is always welcome and I find new things to enjoy each time that I do.

Unlike the previous two published stories, in this one Conan is young, brash, and ill at ease with the civilized world. This was readers first glimpse at Conan in this formative period as a thief and both his attitude and the caper that unfolds hits the mark in establishing a character and world that will become iconic.

Our introduction to the Cimmerian makes it clear that he is the same man as before, but also emphasizes how different he is from the locals in Zingara:

He saw a tall, strongly made youth standing beside him. This person was as much out of place in that den as a gray wolf among mangy rats of the gutters. His cheap tunic could not conceal the hard, rangy lines of his powerful frame, the broad heavy shoulders, the massive chest, lean waist and heavy arms. His skin was brown from outland suns, his eyes blue and smoldering; a shock of tousled black hair crowned his broad forehead. From his girdle hung a sword in a worn leather scabbard.

A cocky cutpurse talks up his capabilities and mentions the ‘Elephant Tower’ and our hero wants to know why no one has broken in and taken its rumored treasure. When the robber insults Conan, we’re given a sly sentence that deftly plays with Robert E. Howard’s ‘civilization vs savagery’ theme:

Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.

I’ve seen that quote laid over many a Conan meme over the years.

The god “Crom” has been muttered and yelled by Conan multiple times in his previous pair of tales, but here in The Tower of the Elephant we get more information on how the Cimmerian faith functions:

His gods were simple and understandable; Crom was their chief, and he lived on a great mountain, whence he sent forth dooms and death. It was useless to call on Crom, because he was a gloomy, savage god, and he hated weaklings. But he gave a man courage at birth, and the will and might to kill his enemies, which, in the Cimmerian’s mind, was all any god should be expected to do.

The description of the tower itself does a wonderful job at setting the scene, making it both alluring and imposing:

It was round, a slim perfect cylinder, a hundred and fifty feet in height, and its rim glittered in the starlight with the great jewels which crusted it. The tower stood among the waving exotic trees of a garden raised high above the general level of the city. A high wall enclosed this garden, and outside the wall was a lower level, likewise enclosed by a wall. No lights shone forth; there seemed to be no windows in the tower—at least not above the level of the inner wall. Only the gems high above sparkled frostily in the starlight.

In The Phoenix on the Sword there’s a conversation where King Conan discusses geography and in The Scarlet Citadel there’s a whole section around geopolitical power and regions near Aquilonia that are effective in making the Hyborian Age feel like it stretches out far past the page. In a similar way, this story includes references to distant lands and items that characters have acquired on other adventures:

‘They died without a sound!’ muttered the Cimmerian. ‘Taurus, what was that powder?’

‘It was made from the black lotus, whose blossoms wave in the lost jungles of Khitai…Those blossoms strike dead any who smell of them.’

On the heist are a series of encounters that, in modern nerdy context, feel 100% like a Dungeons & Dragons adventure – patrolling guards, a random encounter with wild beasts, a trap-laden treasure room and a giant poisonous spider. You can tell Gary Gygax was deeply influenced by Howard’s writing, and for good reason.

The eponymously-named ‘Elephant’ is an alien being called Yag-kosha, another example of cosmic creatures thrust into Conan’s world. I think there might be more eldritch horrors than nubile women in canon Conan stories, shifting the stereotype generated by countless covers filled with lovely ladies. The point being that Conan doesn’t even know what an elephant looks like:

He had never seen an elephant, but he vaguely understood that it was a monstrous animal, with a tail in front as well as behind. This a wandering Shemite had told him, swearing that he had seen such beasts by the thousands in the country of the Hyrkanians; but all men knew what liars were the men of Shem. At any rate, there were no elephants in Zamora.

And so the depictions of Yag-kosha as an actual elephant-headed man is a mistake that endlessly perpetuates thanks to illustrations, including the one that accompanied the original printing of this story. Yag-kosha may have some kind of trunk, tusks, and elephant-esque features, but he should also be quite alien in appearance:

Conan stared aghast; the image had the body of a man, naked, and green in color; but the head was one of nightmare and madness. Too large for the human body, it had no attributes of humanity. Conan stared at the wide flaring ears, the curling proboscis, on either side of which stood white tusks tipped with round golden balls.

From scene to scene, there’s a wonderful sense of rising adventure that leads to a surprisingly touching sacrifice and then an inevitable spark of vengeance carried forth by our hero. In just over 9700 words Howard drives the plot with action aplenty while still finding room for pathos and wonderment. It’s an absolute classic of the genre, and deservedly so.

The Tower of the Elephant has been adapted multiple times in comics over the years, but in my opinion the best one is in Savage Sword of Conan #24 from 1977. John Buscema’s line work is enhanced by Alfredo Alcala’s stunning inks and it hits every beat with aplomb.

If you haven’t read the original Conan prose stories, I recommend the Del Rey 3-book set, which has each story unedited and essays that add context around their publication.

Continuing my Conan reread for Cimmerian September, the second published Conan story is The Scarlet Citadel, which arrived in the January 1933 issue of Weird Tales magazine.

As with The Phoenix on the Sword, Robert E. Howard uses additional fictional text at the opening of each chapter to make the story feel even more far-reaching and impactful, like we’re glimpsing events from a grand history instead of just a singular tale. In this case, the story opens with a ballad about the epic conflict to come.

They trapped the Lion on Shamu’s plain;
They weighted his limbs with an iron chain;
They cried aloud in the trumpet-blast,
They cried, ‘The Lion is caged at last.’
Woe to the cities of river and plain
If ever the Lion stalks again!
—Old Ballad

King Conan is introduced in the midst of a losing battle this time, but the way he defies his attackers makes him a towering presence despite his imminent defeat.

Before the savage blue eyes blazing murderously from beneath the crested, dented helmet, the boldest shrank. Conan’s dark scarred face was darker yet with passion; his black armor was hacked to tatters and splashed with blood; his great sword red to the crosspiece. In this stress all the veneer of civilization had faded; it was a barbarian who faced his conquerors.

It’s important to note that in the best Conan stories, the Cimmerian is tough as nails and a legendary fighter, but is still human and can be taken down. Pop culture has built up the icon of the “unstoppable barbarian”, but the source material says otherwise.

There’s some impressive lyrical writing in this story and it really feels like Howard has a head of steam on this one.

For example, during a key scene Conan utters one of my favorite threats-

“Free my hands and I’ll varnish this floor with your brains!”

And the description of the giant snake Satha’s arrival is particularly inspired-

An icy hand stroked his spine. It was the unmistakable sound of pliant scales slithering softly over stone. Cold sweat beaded his skin, as beyond the ring of dim light he saw a vague and colossal form, awful even in its indistinctness. It reared upright, swaying slightly, and yellow eyes burned icily on him from the shadows. Slowly a huge, hideous, wedge-shaped head took form before his dilated eyes, and from the darkness oozed, in flowing scaly coils, the ultimate horror of reptilian development.

It was a snake that dwarfed all Conan’s previous ideas of snakes. Eighty feet it stretched from its pointed tail to its triangular head, which was bigger than that of a horse. In the dim light its scales glistened coldly, white as hoar-frost. Surely this reptile was one born and grown in darkness, yet its eyes were full of evil and sure sight.

It’s also a moment made all the more famous by legendary illustrator Frank Frazetta in his Conan the Usurper cover painting.

When Conan gets revenge on one of his captors, the description of violence paints its own picture.

With a terrible curse Conan struck as a cobra strikes; the great blade hissed between the bars and Shukeli’s laughter broke in a death-scream. The fat eunuch bent at the middle, as if bowing to his killer, and crumpled like tallow, his pudgy hands clutching vainly at his spilling entrails.

In 15,600 words spread over five chapters, we move from betrayal on the battlefield, to a tense show trial, imprisonment in a horrific dungeon, unlikely escape thanks to strange supernatural forces, a sprawling account of the chaos that grips the kingdom in Conan’s absence, and then the king’s blood-soaked return and routing evil, with an amusing finish as vengeance is served in an unexpected way.

Like almost all of the original Conan prose stories, The Scarlet Citadel clips along at an impressive rate, with only chapter 4 feeling a bit unfocused as it breathlessly blitzes through a timeline of anarchy across Aquilonia.

If you haven’t read the original Conan prose stories, I recommend the Del Rey 3-book set, which has each story unedited and essays that add context around their publication.

Yesterday, to kick off Cimmerian September, I reread The Phoenix on the Sword, the first Conan story published in Weird Tales magazine. The prose crackles and action is visceral. It’s easy to see why it made a strong impression on readers in 1932.

All but one of the canon Conan stories are short fiction, and can be read in one or two sittings. The Phoenix on the Sword is just over 9000 words. Punchy, pulpy and potent. There are 21 Conan stories, 5 fragments of unfinished work, a poem, and an essay. Definitely readable in September.

The sense of a huge world brimming with adventure and an existing march of history is deftly built right from the start with a quote from “The Nemedian Chronicles”, a fictional historical text that lends the story you’re about to read an air of importance.

“Know, oh prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars—Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen- eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet.” —The Nemedian Chronicles

Then, the reader is thrust into the middle of tension – a plan to kill King Conan built on political machinations, bitter grievances, and jealousy.

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.

That’s right – in the first Conan story he is already King of Aquilonia! The canon Conan tales jump around the timeline, showcasing different periods of his life, building thematically rather than chronologically (Which is why I move around in the new comic series as well).

Playing against every stereotype of the lunkhead barbarian that clings to Conan’s pop culture legacy, he is introduced at a writing table, discussing the wider world — geography, history, politics, poetry, some of the experiences that led to his kingship and a wistful desire to charge into action like he did in his youth.

Behind an ivory, gold- inlaid writing-table sat a man whose broad shoulders and sun-browned skin seemed out of place among those luxuriant surroundings. He seemed more a part of the sun and winds and high places of the outlands. His slightest movement spoke of steel-spring muscles knit to a keen brain with the co-ordination of a born fighting-man. There was nothing deliberate or measured about his actions. Either he was perfectly at rest—still as a bronze statue—or else he was in motion, not with the jerky quickness of over-tense nerves, but with a cat-like speed that blurred the sight which tried to follow him.

That said, The Phoenix on the Sword doesn’t drag and there’s plenty of action once the conspirators kick off their assassination attempt. Approximately 2000 of those 9000 words are an extended action sequence that is bombastically bloody and brutal.

As he sprang from the wall his ax dropped an outlaw with a severed shoulder, and the terrible back-hand return crushed the skull of another. Swords whined venomously about him, but death passed him by breathless margins. The Cimmerian moved in, a blur of blinding speed. He was like a tiger among baboons as he leaped, side-stepped and spun, offering an ever-moving target, while his ax wove a shining wheel of death about him.

There’s also a distinct thrust of cosmic horror, a quality baked into Conan’s adventures right from the start. Creatures exist outside the physical world. Magic is mysterious, terrifying, and never under complete control.

The slavering jaws closed on the arm Conan flung up to guard his throat, but the monster made no effort to secure a death-grip. Over his mangled arm it glared fiendishly into the king’s eyes, in which there began to be mirrored a likeness of the horror which stared from the dead eyes of Ascalante. Conan felt his soul shrivel and begin to be drawn out of his body, to drown in the yellow wells of cosmic horror which glimmered spectrally in the formless chaos that was growing about him and engulfing all life and sanity. Those eyes grew and became gigantic, and in them the Cimmerian glimpsed the reality of all the abysmal and blasphemous horrors that lurk in the outer darkness of formless voids and nighted gulfs. He opened his bloody lips to shriek his hate and loathing, but only a dry rattle burst from his throat.

I’m reading for pleasure, but since I write Conan professionally it’s also research, so I keep a pad of paper close by to jot down specific words or turns of a phrase that strike a chord so I can effectively craft narration that carries similar qualities without copying word-for-word.

If you haven’t read the original Conan prose stories, I recommend the Del Rey 3-book set, which has each story unedited and essays that add context around their publication.

CONAN THE BARBARIAN Vol.2: THRICE MARKED FOR DEATH is now available in bookstores and comic shops everywhere fine books are sold!

Conan the Barbarian (2023) Vol. 2: Thrice Marked for Death (issues #5-8) Conan is approached by a Thieves Guild to act as muscle for a heist in Shadizar, the barbarian agrees, hoping some mindless wanton violence will drown his pain after the death of his beloved Belit. Despite the mission being a success, the gang inadvertently unleash a trio of vengeful, dark and deadly spirits who guarded the treasure.

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• Amazon: “Are we absolutely sure there isn’t a secret story fragment they uncovered from Robert E. Howard that is fueling these comics? Because that’s how they feel”

• Comic Book.com: “Zub really finds a great rhythm here once he gets going. It’s paced much more efficiently than most of that first arc, with the heist element making things even faster as it goes along.”

• Comical Opinions: “-a pitch-perfect example of a classic Conan adventure. Zub combines brutal action with supernatural evil for a rousing tale. Likewise, Braithwaite’s artistic style suits the Cimmerian and his exploits to a tee.”

• Comicon: “Conan the Barbarian harkens back to the golden age of adventurers and captures the spirit of the Sword & Sorcery genre so completely that I feel transported back to the days of reading pulp books under the covers well past my bedtime.”

• League of Comic Geeks: “I am consistently shocked by how much this series I never planned to pull or expected to love so much is one of the best indies I’ve been reading.”

• Lord Samper: “A quick read that left me a little bit in awe of how much it was able to pack into not a lot of space…‘Thrice Marked for Death’ ended up being the gift that just kept on giving then and I loved going on that journey.”

• Negromancer: “This second arc, Thrice Marked for Death, is downright murderous and is unremittingly dark. And I like it. I like that Conan is also vulnerable and lost in a kind of grief that is as unrelenting aggressive as he is.”

• Pop Cult HQ: “Thrice Marked for Death checked every box for me as a comics reader. Lifelong fans of Conan the Barbarian will eat this story up, and newcomers will enjoy it, too. The writing, the art, and the colors were all fantastic.”

• Pop Culture Philosophers: “The enthusiasm for Conan and his world and the meticulous nature in which it’s presented here absolutely rocks. This book has been so much fun. This book feels literary. This book feels exciting. This book feels like exactly what we need in comics right now!…Jump in if you haven’t already.”

• Rough Edges: “Jim Zub’s script is fast-paced and packed with action, and more importantly, he writes a version of Conan that is recognizably REH’s character. Really, that’s what you’re looking for in a Conan pastiche. Doug Braithwaite’s art is excellent, with good storytelling and a gritty quality that really works well with the story.”

• Set The Tape: “[Zub’s] collaboration with artists Doug Braithwaite and Diego Rodriguez feels like a return to the golden age of Conan Comics, and it has to be hoped that Titan Comics realize what a phenomenal title they currently have on their hands.”

• Stygian Dogs: “Overall, it’s a great reproduction of the illustrations and colors that were found in the original issues…Ultimately, this is a must-have collection of an outstanding series.”

• Wakizashi’s Teahouse: “I couldn’t stop reading it! It was so, so good…This is one of the best series being published. It’s a huge recommend!”