The Staff of Seven Serpents: A Tale of the 2nd Atlantean War

By Clyde Auburn Stanley

A tale of sword and sorcery, cast in the classic 'Pulp' style of original masters like Clark Ashton Smith, C.L. Moore, and R.E.Howard. The heroes are brawny and forceful, the women beautiful, and the perils hideous and abhuman.

With snakes, lots of big snakes.

In an antediluvian age, the dread cult of the Demon Serpent, Set, is a whispered legend, shrouded in dread. The terrible Serpent was cast down, but his agents lurk still, in the shadows, scheming for his apocalyptic return and the downfall of man.

In the proud city of Mantessua the Serpentkin sorcerer, Zhaaman Bhol weaves a web of the blackest evil, snaring the courageous corsair Gorvak and the beauteous and cunning thief, 'The Cat's Shadow' in its slimy coils.

Did I mention the snakes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clyde Auburn Stanley
• Release date: Jan 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370600571

Book preview

The Staff of Seven Serpents

A Tale of the 2nd Atlantean War

The accursed eidolon of Set the Demon Serpent towered in the lofty darkness of his temple; hidden and secret amidst the mazey catacombs beneath Mantessua. His cruelly fanged jaws stretched agape and a great brazier was set there, spewing flames that provided no warmth, Beneath that ghastly maw, in the cool and incense-scented air, three young woman swayed and gyrated.

There was no music, no zither, flute, or drum, but the three moved in perfect and uncanny synchronicity: each flowing movement in one, echoed and mirrored in the other two. The trio were naked, their supple skin shone with a sheen of oil. Their faces were blankly serene, their gaze anchored firmly on the idol under which they danced.

They were of course ensorcelled; bereft of will or thought, save for enthralled obedience to the Demon Serpent and his priests. From right to left they were Leutha, daughter of a common cobbler who sold his wares in the Square of the Roc; Shallyma, young wife of the tax collector Drumun Gath; and lastly a novitiate of the Sisters of the Gold Rose, Sister Abyna.

But the life they led, outside of the Temple of Set, was a faded dream. Wearing only the sacred unguent, the Oil of Kareema, they danced, their flowing motions an obeisance to the dread god that had claimed them. As their bodies moved, enslaved to an alien rhythm that they heard with a sense other than hearing, characters appeared, shimmering in the oil that covered their silken flesh, pulsed, and faded, an ephemeral, demonic gospel being written upon their swaying bodies: Aklo, the language of the deeper chthonic gods that Set in turn served,

Zhaaman Bhol watched intently, as his master's will was slowly spelled out, on belly, breast, and thigh. The Chosen of Set danced, and the Demon Serpent's Grand Magi, from their Citadel Temple at Styx, sent out their instructions, to shine with lambent fire, on the oil-slicked flesh of the mindlessly dancing trio.

Zhaaman Bhol hissed. Here, in the security of the Temple, he had thrown off the illusion that allowed him to pass as human among the teeming streets of Mantessua. Here he was revealed as one of the Serpentkin, a true Son of Set, a snake that walked. He sprawled on the rough low throne that sat at the base of Great Set's idol, the flickering light from the brazier casting a thousand highlights upon the mail-like scales that covered his body.

The three stopped abruptly, and stood patiently before the altar and throne.

Zhaaman Bhol considered the message he had received. What he was being asked was bold, but it could be done, and if he succeeded he would be awarded a place among the great at Styx.

But there were other things to be done first.

Leutha.

Yes master.

How goes your mission?

Shaluug the Potion Maker has taken me into his bed.

And he will allow you to soon alter his tinctures and compounds?

I have begun bending his will to Lord Set's, so yes, soon he will Set's creature too.

Good. Set is pleased with you. Abyna, what of your mission?

I've gained the confidence of the Inquisitor Vol Tarvan.

And?

He is ignorant of your presence here. A pause. There is a problem though, master.

Yes?

The Abbess has noted my many absences from the Abbey, she suspects, I think, that I have a lover.

Zhaaman Bhol hissed his annoyance. Taking the young novitiate had been rash; but having a spy inside the cloistered walls of the Abbey of The Golden Rose had provided much knowledge of his cult's ancient enemies. Still though, as closely regimented as her life inside the Abbey was, it would probably be inevitable that her anomalous recent behavior would be marked.

Then a lover for will you will have to be found, Zhaaman Bhol's regarded the slender young woman with lidless eyes. You can still serve Set outside of the Abbey.

It will be as the Great Serpent commands.

Shallyma.

Yes master.

"After laying with your husband, have you been taking the elixir I provided you?

Yes master, my womb belongs to no other but Lord Set.

The ophiomancy pit's twistings indicate the time is propitious for you to receive the seed of a true Son of Set, come to me now.

As Lord Set commands, so I obey.

Leutha, Abyna, return to you usual places, and await my call.

Wordlessly the pair turned, and strode calmly into shadowed darkness. Shallyma climbed into the abhuman wizard's lap. His long, forked tongue flicked across her full breasts.

You are a brood-mare for the Sons of the Serpent, you will perpetuate the ancient bloodline that, in the fullness of time will destroy your young and feeble race, Zhaaman Bhol hissed.

Shallyma began grinding her hips