Elak of Atlantis -The Complete Saga by Henry Kuttner

Book Details

After the suicide of Robert E. Howard in 1936, readers were left wanting more stories of swords and sorcery similar to the Conan stories. Henry Kuttner (1915-1958) responded with the Elak of Atlantis stories. Vikings, Druids, goddesses, dark magic and sword fights aplenty fill the adventures of the Atlantean prince that walked away from his throne.

Thunder in the Dawn Part 1 (1938) – A story to stir the pulses—a tale of warlock and wizard and valiant men of might in the far-off olden time—a gripping tale of Elak of Atlantis

1. Magic of the Druid
2. Northmen in Cyrena
3. Through the Black Forest
4. Power of the Warlock
5. The Dwellers on the Isle
6. The Night of Gods
7. Solonala—and Mider

Thunder in the Dawn Part 2 (1938)

8. They Come to Cyrena
9. The Chiefs in Sharan
10. In the Valley of Skulls
11. How Granicor Died
12. Warlock and Druid

Spawn of Dagon (1938) – An eldritch, fearsome tale of the worship of the fish-god in the ancient world, and the prowess of a doughty swordsman in old Atlantis

Beyond the Phoenix (1938) – A tale of Elak of Atlantis, and an evil priest who was more than human and who worshiped a foul god—a tale of perilous sorcery and thrilling action

1. A King Dies
2. The Opening of the Gates
3. Duel of Gods

Dragon Moon (1941) – Out of the dark—out of the unknown—came Karkora . . . rotting the souls of the kings of Cyrena. For Karkora, the Pallid One, was a creature more loathsome than anything on earth. It was beyond good or evil, a Presence from the Outside—a shadow of which the “altar fires had whispered.”

1. Elak of Atlantis
2. Dragon Throne
3. The Gates of Dream
4. The Ship Sails North
5. Aynger of Amenalk
6. Mayana
7. Karkora
8. The Dragon’s Throne
9. The Hammer of Aynger
10. The Black Vision

Elak of Atlantis – The Complete Saga has 10 illustrations.

Files:

1. Kuttner-ElakOfAtlantis.epub

Elak of Atlantis – The Complete Saga is also available on Barnes & Noble and Amazon

Excerpt: Beyond the Phoenix

1. A King Dies

And the torchlight touched the pale hair
Where silver clouded gold,
And the frame of his face was made of cords,
And a young lord turned among the lords
And said: “The King is old.”
—G. K. Chesterton.

“I  WON’T kill you quickly,” said Lycon, a fierce grin of satisfaction on his round face. “No. I’ve suffered your insults too long. I must bring an offering each day to the altar of your stinking god, eh? An ear for that!”

He brought down his sword in a vicious sweep.

“Good! Now your nose, Xandar— you’ve sniffed out too many victims with it already. Thus—” Again steel flashed.

“And an eye, Xandar—see? I remove it with the point. Very carefully. For a copper coin I’d make you eat it.”

“Drunken little fool,” Elak said, coming over to the table. “Leave that roasted pig alone. It won’t be fit to eat after you’ve finished carving it.”

Lycon looked down at the succulent brown carcass on the great wooden platter. “I’ve not hurt it,” he said sullenly.

“You’ll be having us swinging by our necks if you keep yelling threats against Xandar. I don’t like him any more than you do. But—under the king—he rules Sarhaddon.”

This, unhappily, was true. Since the two adventurers had come to Sarhaddon, a little-known city in western Atlantis, they had risen high in the service of King Phrygior, eventually attaining posts in his personal bodyguard. But they had more than once incurred the dislike of the high priest, Xandar, perhaps because they were outlanders who had come from the seaport city of Poseidonia. At any rate, Xandar disliked the two, and took pains to make this clear. It was within his power to levy tribute from any citizen, and therefore Lycon’s purse was usually empty. He stole as much as was safe from Elak, but the latter had lately become suspicious.

“I don’t like this,” Elak said now, his dark wolf-face set in harsh lines. “We’re supposed to be with the king now. Always, when he’s asleep, his men guard him. Yet the captain sends us down here to the kitchen to wait for — eh? A message, he said.”

“This is as good a place as any,” Lycon observed, draining a huge drinking-horn. “What foul mead! Twelve cups and I can still walk. It was not like this in Poseidonia.”

Elak turned away in disgust. He went to a mullioned window and stared down at the lights of the city, spreading over Sarhaddon Valley. Gaunt granite cliffs rose all about them, and a silver tracery nearby marked the course of Syra Paver. It flowed under the castle, to disappear, so the tales went, into the Gates of the Phoenix, a place in which Elak did not believe, but in which every other inhabitant of the city did. He knew, of course, the traditional death-ceremony of the kings. Their bodies were placed aboard a royal barge, and set adrift on Syra—and returned, as the tavern stories went—to the land of their fathers beyond the Phoenix Gates.

Excerpt From: Henry Kuttner. “Elak of Atlantis The Complete Saga.”