I have to admit, I was highly critical of James Lovegrove's Conan novel "Cult of the Obsidian Moon". I found it to be a weak book and an even weaker Conan story. At the same time, though, I pointed out that I thoroughly enjoyed his Sherlock Holmes/Cthulhu novels. Naturally, I was curious to see how Lovegrove would handle another of Robert E. Howard's iconic heroes, this time Francis Xavier Gordon, better known as El Borak.
As it turns out, The Siege of Lamakan, part of the Heroic Signature Series, is vastly superior to "Cult of the Obsidian Moon". Lovegrove delivers a classic, unapologetically pulpy adventure with just a tiny touch of mystery, capturing Howard's spirit far more convincingly than he did in the Hyborian Age. The story itself is lean, fast-paced, and highly effective:
During an intelligence assignment in Central Asia, British Lieutenant John Stock crosses paths with Francis Xavier Gordon, better known as El Borak, the legendary Texan adventurer whose reputation is matched only by his skill. Gordon reveals that the fabled hidden city of Lamakan, ruled by the enigmatic Queen Zohra, is no mere legend but a kingdom on the brink of destruction.
As Russian forces close in, Stock and Gordon join forces to infiltrate the besieged city, where they must navigate danger from every direction in a desperate effort to save Lamakan and its people.
Blending historical adventure with just a touch of mythic fantasy, the story follows El Borak in a desperate struggle against overwhelming odds while portraying him as an almost legendary figure, equally respected and feared by natives, invaders, and allies alike. Lovegrove also gets the opportunity to show off his literary craftsmanship:
"Gordon retained an enviable composure throughout, which in turn reassured me somewhat. He struck me as a fellow of great conviction and tenacity, but there was, too, something primitive about him, something elemental. It was as though even his native Texas, with its endless scrubby wastes and its outposts of lawlessness, was too civilised for his liking; whereas here, in the East, he had found a new frontier, one that could never be tamed, where the sheer bleak desolation found a correspondence in his soul."
The short story benefits from two particular strengths. On the one hand, it is grounded in a convincingly researched historical setting. Framed as a letter from Lieutenant Stock to his superior (Lord Curzon, Viceroy of India) recounting his intelligence mission into the Pamir Mountains, the narrative feels both authentic and immersive. On the other hand, Lovegrove embraces the larger-than-life sensibilities of classic pulp fiction. There is no attempt to soften or humanize the villains. The Russian invaders, led by the brutal Major Razin, are delightfully over-the-top. Razin even boasts of being a descendant of Genghis Khan, a wonderfully pulpy touch that perfectly suits the tone of the story:
"Major Razin is a fiend even by his own nation's standards. His barbarism knows no bounds. It is said he personally has put more than a thousand men, women and children to death, and that he likes to fall asleep to the sound of screams, with human suffering as his lullaby.”
The novella builds to a satisfying final confrontation between El Borak and Major Razin, providing exactly the kind of climax a story like this deserves. Sometimes, that's really all you need: despicable villains, historical intrigue, a mysterious city hidden high in the mountains, and plenty of savage brutality. I would happily read more stories like this.
