C is for Crom (Conan / Hyborian Age) #AtoZChallenge2021

#AtoZChallenge2021

C is for Crom from the Conan / Hyborian Age setting.

I think my entry today will be from Conan of Cimmeria from 1969 (Robert E. Howard, L. Sprague de Camp, and Lin Carter).

The cold light struck icy fire from the jewels in Bêlit's clustered black locks as she stretched her lithe form on a leopard skin thrown on the deck. Supported on her elbows, her chin resting on her slim hands, she gazed up into the face of Conan, who lounged beside her, his black mane stirring in the faint breeze. Bêlit's eyes were dark jewels burning in the moonlight.

"Mystery and terror are about us, Conan, and we glide into the realm of horror and death," she said. "Are you afraid?"

A shrug of his mailed shoulders was his only answer.

"Im not afraid either," she said meditatively. "I was never afraid. I have looked into the naked fangs of Death too often. Conan, do you fear the gods?"

"I would not tread on their shadow," answered the barbarian conseevatively. "Some gods are strong to harm, others, to aid; at least so say their priests. Mitra of the Hyborians must have a strong god, because his people have builded cities over the world. But even the Hyborians fear Set. And Bel, god of thieves, is a good god. When I was a thief in Zamora I learned of him."

"What of your own gods? I have never heard you call on them."

"Their chief is Crom. He dwells on a great mountain. What use to call on him? Little he cares if men live or die. Better to be silent than to call his attention to you; he will send you dooms, not fortune! He is grim and loveless, but at birth he breathes power to strive and slay into a man's soul. What else shall men ask of their gods?"

"But what of the worlds beyond the river of Death?" she persisted.

"There is no hope here or hereafter in the cult of my people, answered Conan. "In this world men struggle and suffer vainly, finding pleasure only in the bright madness of battle; dying, their souls enter a gray, misty realm of clouds and icy winds, to wander cheerlessly throughout eternity."

Bêlit shuddered. "Life, bad as it is, is better than such a destiny. What do you believe, Conan?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaultrd halls of the Nordheimer's Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know tge rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my plate, the hot embrace of arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is an illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content."

The story Queen of the Black Coast (where the quote above is from) was originally published in 1934 in Weird Tales magazine. 

P.S. Here's a great site for some more information on Crom and the Hyborian Age.

https://hyboria.xoth.net/gods/crom.htm