Skulls in the Stars

Skulls in the Stars by Robert E. Howard

A Solomon Kane Story
First published in Weird Tales, January 1929

He told how murders walk the earth
I
There are two roads to Torkertown. One, the shorter and more direct
route, leads across a barren upland moor, and the other, which is much
longer, winds its tortuous way in and out among the hummocks and
quagmires of the swamps, skirting the low hills to the east. It was a
dangerous and tedious trail; so Solomon Kane halted in amazement
when a breathless youth from the village he had just left, overtook him
and implored him for God's sake to take the swamp road.
"The swamp road!" Kane stared at the boy. He was a tall, gaunt man,
was Solomon Kane, his darkly pallid face and deep brooding eyes,
made more sombre by the drab Puritanical garb he affected.
"Yes, sir, 'tis far safer," the youngster answered to his surprised
exclamation.
"Then the moor road must be haunted by Satan himself, for your
townsmen warned me against traversing the other."
"Because of the quagmires, sir, that you might not see in the dark. You
had better return to the village and continue your journey in the
morning, sir."
"Taking the swamp road?"

"Yes, sir."
Kane shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
"The moon rises almost as soon as twilight dies. By its light I can reach
Torkertown in a few hours, across the moor."
"Sir, you had better not. No one ever goes that way. There are no
houses at all upon the moor, while in the swamp there is the house of
old Ezra who lives there all alone since his maniac cousin, Gideon,
wandered off and died in the swamp and was never found--and old
Ezra though a miser would not refuse you lodging should you decide to
stop until morning. Since you must go, you had better go the swamp
road."
Kane eyed the boy piercingly. The lad squirmed and shuffled his feet.
"Since this moor road is so dour to wayfarers," said the Puritan, "why
did not the villagers tell me the whole tale, instead of vague
mouthings?"
"Men like not to talk of it, sir. We hoped that you would take the
swamp road after the men advised you to, but when we watched and
saw that you turned not at the forks, they sent me to run after you and
beg you to reconsider."
"Name of the Devil!" exclaimed Kane sharply, the unaccustomed oath
showing his irritation; "the swamp road and the moor road--what is it
that threatens me and why should I go miles out of my way and risk the
bogs and mires?"
Sir," said the boy, dropping his voice and drawing closer, "we be
simple villagers who like not to talk of such things lest foul fortune
befall us, but the moor road is a way accurst and hath not been
traversed by any of the countryside for a year or more. It is death to
walk those moors by night, as hath been found by some score of
unfortunates. Some foul horror haunts the way and claims men for his
victims."

"So? And what is this thing like?" "No man knows. None has ever seen,
it and lived, but late-farers have heard terrible laughter far out on the
fen and men have heard the horrid shrieks of its victims. Sir, in God's
name return to the village, there pass the night, and tomorrow take the
swamp trail to Torkertown."
Far back in Kane's gloomy eyes a scintillant light had begun to glimmer,
like a witch's torch glinting under fathoms of cold grey ice. His blood
quickened. Adventure! The lure of life-risk and drama! Not that Kane
recognized his sensations as such. He sincerely considered that he
voiced his real feelings when he said:
"These things be deeds of some power of evil. The lords of darkness
have laid a curse upon the country. A strong man is needed to combat
Satan and his might. Therefore I go, who have defied him many a
time."
"Sir," the boy began, then closed his mouth as he saw the futility of
argument. He only added
"The corpses of the victims are bruised and torn, sir."
He stood there at the crossroads, sighing; regretfully as he watched the
tall, rangy figure swinging up the road that led toward the moors.
The sun was setting as Kane came over the brow of the low hill which
debouched into the upland fen. Huge and blood-red it sank down
behind the sullen horizon of the moors, seeming to touch the rank grass
with fire; so for a moment the watcher seemed to be gazing out across a
sea of blood. Then the dark shadows came gliding from the