Search Results for: forests-of-the-night

The 20 short stories in this collection explore the forests of the imagination and the creatures that dwell there – the wolves and vampires; tigers and unicorns; dwarves, demons and enchanters.

The continent lay before them, vast areas of it unexplored, its forests, plains, jungle and mountains teeming with forms of life unknown to modern man.

Here the witch-doctors reigned supreme, using their inexplicable and remarkable powers on men and beasts.

The purpose of the safari was mysterious, its members an oddly assorted group of people unlikely to have any sane objective in common . . .

In the Forest of Dean, Pierre Colet joins an esoteric community preparing its members for the collapse of urban civilisation. The experiment is financed by Simeon Marrin, who allows it to be thought that he has the secrets of alchemy. He is also an accomplished diver, who explores the bed of the Severn at night.

One night Colet joins him – and barely escapes with his life. With the growing suspicion that Marrin is secretly mining a hoard of buried treasure to finance his commune, Colet, whom his adversary believes dead, hides out in the forest and shadows Marrin’s every move.

Shon knew that the Taken must die. Death had touched them, and the evil spirits which issued from Death’s Place to the east beyond the valley Took away the souls of the living. It was the law of Shon’s people, who seldom ventured far from their simple huthouses in Pine Walk, except to hunt boar in the forest. And even the forest was not completely safe, for across the river at its eastern edge lay Crow Mork, Death’s Place, and in the stories Crow himself, who was Death, rode there with Crow’s People, Death’s children, on strange four-legged beasts shod with white metal and swift as the wind.

Lost in the dark forest, Shon encountered Death’s Children. ‘Don’t go home,’ the dead girl told him – he was almost sure it was a girl, though her face was a black void in the night. But there was nowhere else to go. They would kill him, of course; being Taken, they would have to.

Yet Shon escaped that death – though he was to meet Death in Death’s Place, and learn the extraordinary truth about it.

‘Welcome to Heaven’, said the voice. ‘The acquisition programme is entirely for females; but the occasional enterprising male does not displease us.’

Berry, Chief of his clan, knew his people could survive the dangers of the forest; and when winter came he made them build barricades against raiders from other clans. But no barricades were strong enough to hold against the Night Comers – huge silver beings of horrifying strength who carried away the womenfolk and were drastically lowering the human population.

Were the Night Comers men, monsters or gods? Berry believed they were men; and when the inevitable night came when the women of his clan were seized, he managed to follow. He followed them to a huge tapering column of metal, which took him away from the world he had known to an island in the sky called ‘heaven’.

And there Berry realised that he had to defeat the Lords of Heaven if the people on Earth were to survive.

A collection of Silverberg’s best short fiction, as selected by the author.

The 1950s: The Road to Nightfall, The Macauley Circuit, Sunrise on Mercury, Warm Man.

The 1960s: To See the Invisible Man, Flies, Passengers, Nightwings, Sundance.

The 1970s: Good News from the Vatican, Capricorn Games, Born with the Dead, Schwartz Between the Galaxies.

The 1980s: The Far Side of the Bell-Shaped Curve, The Pope of the Chimps, Needle in a Timestack, Sailing to Byzantium, Enter a Soldier. Later, Enter Another.

The 1990s: Hunters in the Forest, Death Do Us Part, Beauty in the Night.

The 2000s: The Millennium Express, With Caesar in the Underworld.

The Collected Stories Volume 8: Hot Times in Magma City (1990 – 1995)

Winner of multiple Hugo and Nebula Awards, Robert Silverberg is one of the all time greats of science fiction. A professional writer for more than half a century, his short story output has been prolific and exceptional in quality.

This series of nine volumes will collect all of the short stories and novella-length that SF Grand Master Silverberg wants to take their place on the permanent shelf.

Each volume will be roughly 150,000-200,000 words, with classics and lesser known gems alike. The author has also graced us with a lengthy introduction and extensive story notes for each tale.

Contents:
In the Clone Zone
Hunters in the Forest
A Long Night’s Vigil at the Temple
Thebes of the Hundred Gates
It Comes and Goes
Looking for the Fountain
The Way to Spook City
The Red Blaze is the Morning
Death Do Us Part
The Martian Invasion Journals of Henry James
Crossing into the Empire
The Second Shield
Hot Times in Magma City

The dense forests and forbidding jungles of Africa harbour innumerable uncanny mysteries, dangers and horrors.

Among these, often reported though little known, is a secret society of Leopard Men. By day and night they are the terror of the vast domain they frequent. Their orgies, their rites, their ruthless power form the basis of this series of adventures, of which Tarzan of the Apes is the central figure.

Adding to the suspense, an absorbing detail of interest is the mysterious quest of a beautiful American girl braving the dangers of the Dark Continent alone; while nonetheless interesting are two luckless and poverty-stricken white ivory poachers, whose trails cross those of both the Lord of the Jungle and the lone girl – trails that lead three of them to the forbidden precincts of the Holy of Holies of the Leopard Men, where no white man has ever been and returned alive.

“I’ll need your help. Come night and the Oracle again, I’m going to try the final couplet.”
“Jinian,” Murzy breathed while Dodie looked white-eyed at me. “Dangerous.”
“And fatal not to,” I said, still smiling at them all…

I wove by forest and meadow, branch and leaf. I wove by stream and pool, by river and fall. I wove by cloud and air, by thunder and sunset glow. I wove by depths of the earth, rock and gem, glittering ores and crystals blooming in the dark, old bone and new. Beside me the others wove as well…

“And all within sound of my voice or reach of the wind,” I cried, thrusting my voice like a Sending, like a magic spear, driving it upward. “And all within sound of my voice or lick of the wave, or all within sound of my voice or stretch of the soil, or all within sound of my voice where green grows and leaf springs up. Named or unnamed, silent or speaking. Let this message be brought,

By the Eye of the Star,
Where Old Gods Are!”