Sword of Sorcery #5

“I feel evil seeping into my bones.” –The Gray Mouser

Humankind has an enduring fascination with lost civilizations.

Of particular interest are those that are believed to have been swallowed by the ocean, for reasons that we can only guess at. The most famous of these is, of course, Atlantis, about which stories too numerous to list have been written. Others, including Lemuria, Mu, and Ys, have found their way into fiction, as well. (Mu, in particular, was a favorite of H. P. Lovecraft.) The idea that an entire continent could have just vanished from the face of the planet is undeniably intriguing, especially if we also subscribe to the idea that its human inhabitants differed from us in significant ways and that creatures beyond imagining walked its forests and shores.

This fascination is certainly connected to the belief that we, as a race, have lost something important. Perhaps the suffering and injustice in the world can be explained away by some document penned by a sage thousands of years ago, and if we could only access its wisdom peace could be restored. We were never meant to lose connection with our ancestors; they possessed fundamental knowledge that had been passed down since the beginning. Alas, those voices were forever silenced, and the cataclysmic severing of that connection is why we find it impossible to function in the world today.   

For the less idealistic and more avaricious, there is also the notion that untold riches, imprisoned in decaying coffers, lie at the bottom of some unfathomable undersea trench. The value we place on gold and jewels is, of course, related to their rarity. Could this rarity be the result of treasures’ having been excavated throughout untold millennia and then being lost beneath the waves? While there will always be more “regular” rocks than precious stones, it’s possible that the latter were once more abundant and easier and cheaper to obtain. Anyone canny enough to devise a way to retrieve those lost riches would be a king among men.

Sword of Sorcery #5 is, sadly, the final issue in the series, but it goes out on a high note. Like its predecessor, it contains two stories, the first being a joint adventure, the second a solo one.

Things open up with “The Sunken Land,” which finds our heroes, Fafhrd and the Mouser, at sea once again. Fafhrd is in the process of trying to subdue a giant squid, as his companion stands by, an arrow nocked in his bow. While it initially appears that the barbarian is struggling, it soon becomes clear that he is merely toying with the thing and that the pair is planning to make lunch out of it (the Mouser claims to have a good recipe). I guess when you’re miles from anywhere in open water you take whatever you can get.

When he cuts the beast open, Fafhrd finds a strange ring with an emerald key attached. The Mouser recognizes its symbols as originating from Simorgya, a legendary land populated with evil wizards that sank beneath the ocean. He advises his companion to rid himself of the thing before it brings them bad luck. Fafhrd, in his typically skeptical manner, refuses, and immediately the sky darkens and the sea begins to churn. The barbarian loses his balance and plunges into the water, and by the time he surfaces, the boat is nowhere in sight.

Fortunately, he spots another boat and calls out to the crew to let him aboard. The reply comes in the form of a paddle to the head. He manages to flip the oarsman off the boat, however, and climbs onto the deck. There, he encounters a brace of armored men, who, despite the barbarian’s goading, do not speak. When he has dispatched them, an old man apprises him that the ship belongs to Lavas Laerk, who seeks the riches of Simorgya. He has forced his men to take a vow of silence (in reverence, I assume) until they reach it. Laerk appears and, noticing the ring on Fafhrd’s finger, declares the barbarian a spy and orders the crew to attack. Though he fights valiantly, the hero succumbs to the overwhelming numbers and is hung from the yardarm to serve as an example to others.

Laerk is angered when one of his men speaks but soon realizes that the fabled Simorgya has emerged from the waves beneath the boat. Traversing the island, they find a door in a hillside, and, predictably, the key on Fafhrd’s ring opens it. Inside, illuminated by preternatural light, a stunning array of treasures greets them. Fafhrd, having been tossed aside, is working at freeing himself when he spots the Mouser, who had followed Laerk’s vessel. The barbarian grabs an axe from the hoard, and the companions engage the villains.

It is at this point that they notice that seawater is filling the chamber. Deciding that the fight is not worth it, Fafhrd and the Mouser head for the egress, and Laerk orders his men to give chase. When the heroes pause for breath, however, they notice strange forms rising from the shadows. They appear to be cloaks, but there are no visible men occupying them. The phantasms seize Laerk, sending him to a watery grave, as the cursed island again disappears beneath the waves and the heroes return to their boat. Fafhrd, wisely, heeds his companion’s advice, tossing his purloined weapon into the sea.

In Sword of Sorcery #4, we are given a glimpse into Fafhrd’s youth in the frozen north in the backup story. In this issue, we are treated to a Mouser solo tale, taking place during the time when he was a wizard’s apprentice and titled, appropriately enough, “The Mouse Alone.”

His master has sent him on an errand to the city of Bathaal. Weary from the journey and eager to get things over with, he demands to see the king, to whom he offers his service. Finding his diminutive stature amusing, the king asks what the young Mouser can possibly do for him. He insists that his fighting skills are worthy, but after being given a sword and facing one of the guards, he is merely humbled. The king orders Shendai the Deft, a master of daggers, to take the Mouser away and feed him.

On the way, they are beset by brigands, but Shendai succeeds in easily killing both. The Mouser offers to reward him for protecting his master’s gold, but when he reaches for his purse he finds it gone. He is left alone in the marketplace, realizing that he learned an important if costly lesson.

Unless I missed something, it’s never made clear exactly what the Mouser is supposed to be doing there. Was he supposed to have purchased something? Why did he seek audience with the king?

Howard Chaykin’s art, which graced the pages of the first four issues, is nowhere to be found here. The main story is illustrated by Walt Simonson, who provided the art for the Fafhrd backup story in issue #4, and the backup is by Jim Starlin. Both are inked, to great effect, by Al Milgrom. Starlin, of course, is best known as the creator of Thanos and the force behind the most memorable runs of Captain Marvel and Strange Tales (featuring Adam Warlock). He has also written and illustrated several creator-owned series, including Dreadstar, ‘Breed, and Cosmic Guard. Simonson has worked on just about everything (most notably Thor, Batman, and X-Factor) and is currently involved in various projects for Marvel (he just completed an excellent three-issue run on Indestructible Hulk).

Looking back, Sword of Sorcery is a book that featured the all-stars of Bronze-Age comic art, and if it hadn’t been canceled there’s no telling how great it could’ve become. Sword & sorcery fans will definitely want to collect all five issues, which can be accomplished relatively inexpensively (under thirty bucks, depending on condition).

Sword of Sorcery #4

“This city has become unliveable. A man can’t even be cold and miserable in peace.” –Fafhrd

Sometimes we forget just how much influence the work of H. P. Lovecraft has had on fantasy literature.

Usually associated with the horror genre, his Cthulhu Mythos introduced readers to the notion that there are things out there that are beyond the ken of mere mortals, things with indescribable forms, things with grotesque anatomies that defy any kind of logic with which we are familiar.

Why does that creature have tentacles on its face? What purpose could those sorts of appendages possibly serve?

It has been suggested that the legendary kraken, the origins of which go all the way back to the thirteenth century, was an inspiration for Cthulhu, which is reasonable enough. Throughout history, humankind has devised explanations for both observable phenomena and for things that cannot otherwise be explained.

Why, for example, do ships disappear during ocean voyages? Sea monsters. Yeah, let’s go with that.

Lovecraft took that idea and applied it to things that humankind didn’t even realize needed explaining. In fact, in his work, too much knowledge can be a bad thing. Ancient civilizations (prior to the emergence of philosophy as a respectable discipline) were primarily interested in figuring out the underlying mechanics of why things happen, and they probably never entertained the idea that finding out the truth could rob a person of his or her sanity.

Many of the gods described in the various mythologies of the world are either anthropomorphic or, at the very least, have human body parts and generally possess humanoid forms. This is likely attributable to the fact that we tend to imagine things in relatable forms. The ancient Greeks are well known for having regarded the human body as the most perfect thing in the whole of creation, which is why their gods look just like regular (albeit beautiful) people. It’s just as likely, though, that they envisioned their deities that way because it was impossible for them to think of them in any other fashion.

In Lovecraft’s fiction, we find that ageless beings such as Cthulhu are frequently worshipped. In “The Call of Cthulhu,” the narrator discovers that the eponymous creature’s cults exist all over the globe. Why anyone would worship a monster is indeed a perplexing question, but it’s probably ultimately related to the acceptance of its overarching power and the hope that revering it might somehow mollify one’s fate. They are, in essence, motivated entirely by fear.

The Cthulhu Mythos is frequently referred to as “cosmic horror,” due to the fact that his godlike monsters originate from deep space, so we might be inclined to associate his work with science fiction, but it’s actually much closer to fantasy, as there is little in the way of actual science involved.

Lovecraft and Conan creator Robert E. Howard maintained a friendly correspondence, and, in various ways, many of the tropes introduced in the former’s work found their way into the latter’s. This “marriage” provides the foundation for sword & sorcery’s relationship with the trappings of Lovecraft’s fiction. Lovecraft, whose writing was virtually unknown outside the pages of Weird Tales and its ilk, passed away in 1937 (one year after Howard), but thanks to the efforts of August Derleth, et al., his work became a major force in speculative fiction.

Unlike the first three issues in the series, Sword of Sorcery #4 contains two stories. The above exposition relates to the first.

As “The Cloud of Hate” opens, Fafhrd and the Mouser are attempting to warm themselves by a small brazier in the streets of their native Lankhmar. The Mouser remarks that he hears swords being drawn, and they are soon set upon by two thieves who mistakenly believe that Fafhrd and his companion have any money. This “fool’s errand,” as Fafhrd calls it, ends with their attackers’ deaths.

Things take a strange turn when fog descends on one of the thieves and snatches his dagger with a tendril. Curiosity getting the better of them, they follow the dagger over the rooftops and out of the city, where it makes a beeline for a small merchant camp. It picks up a young woman and then casts her to the ground, killing her instantly. Incensed by this, the pair continues to follow as it makes its way into the surrounding woods.

They encounter a man who warns them that a fire-breathing dragon dwells in the forest. Finding his behavior unnerving, Fafhrd punches him in the face. Noticing the fog’s entering a nearby cave, the adventurers sneak inside.

There they find something that almost defies description.

An enormous “cloud of hate” fills the chamber, surrounded by worshippers, imploring it to spread violence, pain, and war and to destroy everything good in the world. As the pair observes the shocking scene, a guard attacks them, followed by the host of mad devotees. To make things worse, many of the cloud’s tendrils hold weapons. Fafhrd and the Mouser fight valiantly, but the odds are clearly overwhelming, and they begin to wonder if they will, for the first time, not emerge victorious.

They realize that their only chance is to stab the cloud in its giant eye, which is too high up for either of them to reach. Fafhrd hands his dagger to his companion and, praying to his Northern gods, gives him a boost. The Mouser’s strike hits home, and the fog instantly disperses. Once again, they lament going away empty handed, but know that they can find solace in good wine and fair maidens.

The idea of a god (or whatever it is) composed of fog, with none of the things we associate with sentience other than a huge eyeball, is very Lovecraft-esque. No attempt whatsoever is made to give the thing humanoid features. While it appears insubstantial, Fafhrd’s blade does manage to sever some of its tendrils, although doing so doesn’t help the situation much. The sheer weirdness of it is an excellent example of how sword & sorcery has borrowed from Lovecraft’s ideas.

(The Illithids, or Mind Flayers, from Dungeons & Dragsons, while certainly more humanoid, also come to mind, but we’ll save that for a future article.)

The second story, “The Prophecy,” takes place during young Fafhrd’s fifteenth year.

Out for a walk on a snowy mountain trail with his beloved Aynsa, Fafhrd discounts the words of an old man who warns them that a “snow serpent” lurks nearby. He advises them to at least take heed of a prophecy: “Where fails a blade, however true—that work an ordinary song may do.” To Fafhrd’s ears, it’s pure “gibberish.”

As they continue on their way, the young barbarian pulls out a lute and begins singing her praises, unaware that the serpent is poised to strike. It seizes Aynsa, and Fafhrd unsheathes his sword.

Despite his best efforts, the blade cannot penetrate the monster’s scales, and when he attempts to stab it in the head, it bites his weapon in half and knocks him into the mountainside with its tail. The great beast spreads its wings and flies off toward its cave, leaving a dejected Fafhrd in its wake. Unable to rescue his beau, he decides to honor her with a song of mourning.

As the music emanates from his throat and instrument, loose icicles on the roof of the cave break loose. They plummet downward and embed themselves in the serpent’s head. The lovers reunite and pick things up where they left off.

Overall, Sword of Sorcery #4 is a decent issue, if a fairly unremarkable one. Howard Chaykin’s art is, once again, quite good, and the surprise addition of Walt Simonson in the second story is a nice treat (his work here prefigures his groundbreaking run on Thor in the early ‘80s). I don’t mind that two-story format, but it does make the stories feel a bit rushed (the second one, in particular, seems to end as soon as it gets going).

This is the sort of title that appeals greatly to hardcore sword & sorcery fans but leaves other readers cold, which is probably why it was canceled so soon. This being said, it’s a must-have in my book.

Sword of Sorcery #3

“I’m considered an expert at silencing braggarts who mock my compactness.” –The Gray Mouser 

Sword & sorcery and pirates have had a long association (“The Pool of the Black One,” one of Robert E. Howard’s original Conan stories, comes to mind). After all, the swashbuckling action, carousing, treasure-hunting, and roguish behavior endemic to corsair tales are also the trappings of sword & sorcery. Because of their similarities, the two genres mix extremely well, and, as we have seen again and again, the briny deep (with its own species of monsters, brigands, and inclement weather) can prove just as perilous as dry land, if not more so.   

It’s no surprise, then, that Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser would mix up with some pirates sooner or later. 

Passengers aboard Smantha, the towering barbarian and his diminutive companion are in the process of relieving the crew of their coin via the former’s feats of strength when a ship bearing the flag of Overlord Glipkerio approaches. Expecting good tidings, the crew is caught off guard when the sailors from the other vessel, under the command of one Captain Dugim, begin slaughtering them. His objective: to kidnap Princess Shada, whose presence had been unknown to Fafhrd and the Mouser until the attack. 

Having murdered everyone onboard (save Fafhrd and the Mouser, who were knocked out during the battle by a falling yardarm), Dugim instructs his men to sink Smantha. His head reeling as the vessel disappears beneath the waves, Fafhrd grabs his unconscious companion and leaps into the sea. Miles from anywhere and lacking food or potable water, the adventurers drift on the open sea, clinging for dear life to Smantha’s debris. Days later, they are picked up by a slave ship, on which they are forced to perform menial tasks. When the vessel arrives in Lankhmar, their home port, Fafhrd returns the slavemaster’s hospitality by tying him up and forcing a length of rope down his gullet. 

They decide to pay Overlord Glipkerio a visit to find out why he had the sailors killed and the princess abducted. After a brief fracas with the overlord’s guards, the companions find that Glipkerio had nothing to do with the attack and that Dugim had acted on his own, having rebelled against his boss. He seeks ransom for the princess from her father, but King Strumbol is a notorious cheapskate who values his riches more than his daughter. Glipkerio offers to hire them to rescue her, and they agree.

The overlord takes them to see his wizard, Kohn, who gives them an airship and a deck of mysterious playing cards, which, he promises, will prove useful if they find themselves besieged by overwhelming odds. As a guide, he provides Lissa, a mute woman cursed with avian attributes. (He has been trying to cure her for decades.) She leads them over open water (much to their chagrin) to an island lousy with buccaneers, who fire burning pitch at the airship and manage to knock it out of the sky. Escaping unscathed, Fafhrd and the Mouser find the pirates inebriated (and, therefore, easily dispatched) and make their way to a tent. There they find Dugim seated on a throne with the princess in his lap. 

Fafhrd and the Mouser set upon Dugim’s men, but they fall into a trap. They wind up tied to poles where they are simply going to be murdered by Crassus, a big man with an axe. (No frills here.) Lissa vanishes into the sky, and the pair believes she has abandoned them. In truth, she flies into a cloud to collect the rainwater required to “activate” the magical playing cards and, having done so, dumps the liquid onto the deck.  

Immediately, the fearsome figures pictured on the cards spring to life and attack the pirates.  

With Dugim’s men occupied, the Mouser confronts the pirate captain and drives his sword through the man’s torso. Shada, incensed by this, bashes the cloaked hero in the head with a drinking vessel, proclaiming that she and Dugim had just married and that they had interrupted the after-party. She raises a sword to slay him, but Lissa, intervening, is the unfortunate recipient of the killing blow. Shada flees into the jungle as the Mouser, grief-stricken, collapses beside Lissa’s body. 

This otherwise lighthearted story ends with the Mouser carrying her away for burial. Despite their all-too-brief association, he had apparently developed feelings for her (or, at the very least, appreciated how she had helped them and admired her courage in the face of hardship). Fafhrd plops down on a precipice and tells his friend to take as long as he needs.

Although we aren’t told a lot about Lissa, other than the fact that she was transformed by her jealous necromancer husband, her plight is striking, to an even greater degree when we discover late in the story that Shada is not the damsel in distress we took her for. The real victim here is Lissa, and she acts valiantly even though she is profoundly unhappy. She puts her own troubles aside to help Fafhrd and the Mouser and ultimately sacrifices herself to save the Mouser. Her death proves to be the only escape from her condition, and to some degree she probably welcomes it. In this way, she becomes a tragic heroine and is deserving of our admiration.  

 

Another worthy issue in the Sword of Sorcery series, “Betrayal,” by Denny O’Neil and Howard Chaykin, is bursting with beautifully rendered high-seas adventure, captivating swordplay, and breathtaking vistas. It’s unclear whether or not this story was adapted from one of Fritz Leiber’s; in fact, strangely enough, I couldn’t find any credits in the book and had to rely on a secondary source. Three issues in, Chaykin had developed a strong grasp on the characters, and his remarkable figure-work imbued Fafhrd, the Mouser, and the various bit players with grandeur.

Sword of Sorcery #2

If there really is such a thing as “honor among thieves,” it certainly doesn’t exist in Lankhmar, the home city of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, at least if the events in Sword of Sorcery #2 are any indication. 

Continuing the adventures of Fritz Leiber’s sword & sorcery duo, the second issue of this dynamic series finds our heroes at odds with the Thieves’ Guild, as well as a ghostly triumvirate threatening vengeance if a certain purloined item is not returned to them. Denny O’Neil and Howard Chaykin again take the reins as the crimson-haired barbarian and his cloaked companion become ensnared in a morass of skulduggery. 

“Revenge of the Skull of Jewels,” adapted from Leiber’s story “Thieves’ House,” opens in the expansive and malodorous tomb of Votishal. We are thrown right into the middle of the action as Fafhrd attempts to keep some sort of humanoid-lizard guardian at bay while the Mouser picks at a difficult lock and an impatient, corpulent man named Fissif stands nearby.  

As the Mouser gets the lock open and Fafhrd defeats the monster, it becomes clear that Fissif is the mastermind behind the raid, having hired the pair for their reputation. Opening a coffer, he retrieves a skull with ruby eyes and diamond teeth and a pair of skeletal hands with pearl fingernails. He has promised to share the riches, but he outwits Fafhrd and the Mouser by giving them drugged wine: a simple ploy, but an effective one. 

When they awaken, they head to the Thieves’ House to find Fissif and make him pay for cheating them. Inside, they find the leader of the thieves and a red-headed wench admiring the jeweled skull and hands. Without warning, the woman takes the treasures and disappears through a door that cannot be opened from their side. When they attempt to question the leader, they discover that he has been strangled. Hearing footsteps, they duck behind a tapestry. 

Fissif enters with a man named Sleyvas and two other members of the guild. The fat thief tells Sleyvas that the leader was murdered by the skeletal hands and that the skull flew away. Of course, Sleyvas rejects this absurd tale, insisting that Fissif convinced Fafhrd and his companion to steal the treasures for him. While this heated exchange is going on, one of the thieves spots Fafhrd’s shoes beneath the drapery, and a swordfight ensues.  

Fissif bashes the barbarian on the head with a vase, but thanks to the Mouser’s quick thinking they escape. They duck down a dark passage, and Fafhrd manages to hit his head again on a low-hanging beam. The Mouser exits through a window before realizing that he has left his friend behind. By this point, the barbarian’s brains are effectively scrambled, and as he staggers down the hallway he stumbles into a hidden chamber. 

There, he encounters three ghosts who know of the theft of the skull and hands and demand that they be returned to them within a day, or else they will drain the very life from his body. While weighing his options, Fafhrd is ambushed and captured by the thieves. They have also discovered the Mouser’s whereabouts and send him a message, stating that if he does not return the skull and hands to them they will take it out on the barbarian. 

Disguising himself as a fortune-telling hag, the Mouser gains admittance to the apartment of the woman, known as Ivlis, who stole the treasures, having figured out its location based on its proximity to the Thieves’ House. He ties her up, reclaims the skeletal treasures, and returns to the den of thievery. Pretending to be the spirit of the dead man whose skull and hands were made into valuables, the Mouser succeeds in freeing Fafhrd. The thieves attack the interlopers just as Ivlis appears, having been freed by her housekeeper.  

Realizing they are outnumbered, Fafhrd resolves to take as many of them with him as he can. Just then, the skull’s eyes begin to glow, and its jaw begins to move. This terrifies Fissif, but Sleyvas becomes enraged, insisting that the fat man is again acting foolishly. He strikes the skull with his blade, causing the ghosts to materialize. He suffers the brunt of their vengeance, and they squeeze the life out of him. The other thieves flee in horror, leaving Fafhrd, the Mouser, and Ivlis alone. 

The Mouser rues the fact that they failed to profit in any way from this venture. Fafhrd suggests that they drown their sorrows, as they usually do, with wine. 

The art is in this issue, as in its predecessor, is a cut above what was found in most comics of the time. Sword of Sorcery was Chaykin’s first major assignment, having been recommended to DC’s editors by Neal Adams, and considering the strength of the illustration it really is hard to understand why it was canceled so quickly. It’s entirely possible that it just got swallowed up in the racks by the numerous other comics that were coming out around the same time. (Recall that the Seventies was a period of major expansion for Marvel, DC, and others.) Despite this initial hiccup, Chaykin would go on to do groundbreaking work in the following years (American Flagg!, Black Kiss, features in Star*Reach and Heavy Metal).

 

Definitely deserves a slot in every sword & sorcery fan’s longbox.