Release date: May 1, 2020
Subgenre: Sword and Sorcery
About The Thing from the Dread Swamp:
While travelling through the Dread Swamp, Thurvok, the sellsword, and his friends, Meldom, thief, cutpurse and occasional assassin, Meldom’s sweetheart Lysha and the sorceress Sharenna come across an overturned wagon and the terrified merchant Polyxo who babbles that a monster has taken his daughter Cerissa. Because they are heroes – and because Polyxo has offered them a sizeable reward – the quartet of adventurers offers to rescue Cerissa from the thing that lives in the Dread Swamp.
This is a short story of 5300 words or 19 print pages in the Thurvok sword and sorcery series, but may be read as a standalone. Includes an introduction and afterword.
Excerpt:
The road to the seaport city of Neamene led through the so-called Dread Swamp. And never was a swamp more aptly named, for it was truly a dreadful and dismal patch of land, a wasteland of green and grey, of brackish bogs and stunted trees, trailing vines and deadly creatures, that stretched along the great river Tereine as it made its way to Neamene and the sea.
The road itself was high and dry enough, built long ago by slave labourers, prisoners captured during one of the wars the coastal cities kept waging against each other. But take even one step off the road and you ran the risk of stepping into a boghole. If you were lucky, you’d only sink in to your thighs or waist or even neck and you’d soil your clothes and lose your boots, once you were pulled out. If you were unlucky, the swamp would swallow you whole.
But bogholes were not the only danger that lurked in the Dread Swamp. For the swamp was beset by deadly water snakes and venom-fanged lizards, clouds of bloodsucking insects and dancing ghost lights that lured unwary travellers to their doom. There were also rumours about even worse things living deep in the swamp, but no one had ever seen any of them and lived to tell the tale.
Four travellers, two men and two women, trudged along the lone dry road through the Dread Swamp. One of the men was tall and muscular, with long black hair and the bronze skin of the nomads of the Eastern Steppes. On his hip, he wore a mighty sword. This was Thurvok, the sellsword.
The other man was shorter and lither, wiry rather than muscular. He had black hair and grey eyes, a dashing moustache and a devil may care attitude. His attire was completely black with the only relief offered by a silver amulet at his throat and a silver dagger at his waist. This was Meldom, cutpurse, thief, occasional assassin and habitual adventurer.
One of the women was tall and statuesque. She was swathed in a moss green cloak. Tresses of flame coloured hair escaped from underneath the hood. This was Sharenna the sorceress.
The second woman was slight and almost waifish, with long dark hair and large eyes, which seemed perpetually terrified. She was dressed in men’s clothes and carried a slingshot on her waist. This was Lysha, the daughter of a wealthy silk merchant turned fugitive from justice and Meldom’s beloved besides.
The four of them were travelling to Neamene in search of employment and adventure. And as with all travellers approaching Neamene by land, they first had to cross the Dread Swamp. It had been a weary two day trudge with nothing but the grey, green and brown swamp on either side of the road. Even making camp was difficult, for there was scarcely enough dry land beside the road to build a fire. And even if you could have found a spot for a camp fire, you’d never have found enough dry firewood.
And so all four of them were weary and miserable, but none more so than Thurvok, for the blood sucking swamp flies had taken a liking to his hot barbarian blood. Another one had just landed on his mighty biceps. Thurvok swatted it away, but it was already too late, for the tell-tale itch told him that the fly had already taken its road toll in the form of a droplet of blood.
“Accursed insects,” Thurvok swore, “Give me a dragon or a monster to slay any day. Cause anything is better than these demonic fiends that no blade can harm.”
“You should cover up, my friend,” Meldom, who up to now had remained remarkably unmolested by insects, said, “Those mighty muscles of yours may impress the ladies, but they also attract swamp flies.”
“Or you could rub your skin with my special blend of insect-repelling herbal oil,” Sharenna suggested, “It’s keeping Lysha and me unmolested by swamp flies and other pests.”
“I am a son of the Eastern steppes,” Thurvok growled, “We do not cover our arms nor use perfume like a woman.”
Meldom shrugged. “Have it your way then and suffer.” He turned to Sharenna. “Might I perchance borrow some of that herbal tincture of yours?”
In response, Sharenna dug into her bag and pulled out a small bottle. But before she could give it to Meldom, an obstacle on the road ahead attracted her attention.
“Say, isn’t that the coach that passed us earlier?” she wanted to know.
Meldom squinted into the distance and nodded. “Looks like it. And it seems to have suffered a broken wheel, too.”
“No surprise, considering they were driving as if a flock of demons were after them.” Thurvok swatted away another swamp fly intent on drinking his blood.
Meldom grinned. “Poetic justice, I’d say.”
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About Richard Blakemore:
Richard Blakemore (1900 – 1994) was a prolific writer of pulp
fiction. Nowadays, he is best remembered for creating the Silencer, a masked
vigilante in the vein of the Shadow or the Spider, during the hero pulp boom of
the 1930s. But Richard Blakemore also wrote in many other genres, including an
early sword and sorcery series about the adventures of a sellsword named
Thurvok and his companions.
Richard Blakemore's private life was almost as exciting as his fiction.
He was a veteran of World War I and II as well as a skilled sportsman and
adventurer who travelled the world during the 1920s. He may also have been the
person behind the mask of the real life Silencer who prowled New York City
between 1933 and 1942, fighting crime, protecting the innocent and punishing
the guilty, though nothing has ever been proven.
Richard Blakemore was married for more than fifty years to Constance Allen Blakemore and the couple had four children.
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About Cora Buhlert:
Cora Buhlert was
born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time
spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA
degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently
working towards her PhD.
Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.
When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey. Cora is a finalist for the 2020 Hugo Award.
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