The Witchcraft of Ulua

by Clark Ashton Smith

May 28, 2025

The Witchcraft of Ulua — Image created with generative AI

Foreword

In the twilight corridors of fantasy literature, few voices echo with the decadent music and somber magnificence of Clark Ashton Smith. A peer of H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, Smith formed the third pillar of what has come to be known as the "Weird Tales Trinity." Yet his style was wholly his own—sensuous, ornate, and unflinchingly fatalistic. Among his many contributions to the weird and fantastical, it is in the stories of Zothique—Earth’s final, dying continent—that his unique voice finds its most haunting resonance.

The Witchcraft of Ulua is one of the most striking gems in this cycle. Set in the decaying kingdom of Yoros, it follows the fate of a man tempted by beauty, magic, and the illusion of control. At its core, it is a tale of sorcery—not just of spells and enchantments, but of the deeper, more insidious magic of desire, manipulation, and surrender. Ulua, the eponymous witch, is both victim and villain, a figure of terrible allure and inevitable consequence. Her presence, like the setting itself, is saturated with the languor of decline and the fatal pull of forbidden knowledge.

Smith’s language is not meant to be read quickly. His sentences are cathedral-like—vaulted, intricate, and deliberate. Each phrase is a brushstroke of otherworldly color, painted in tones of obsidian and orchid. This is not pulp fiction meant to thrill in haste, but literature that asks the reader to linger—to savor the rot and richness alike.

To enter this tale is to step into a dream slowly curdling into nightmare. But like the doomed Amalzain, we read on not in spite of the darkness, but because of it. There is a beauty here, in the fall, in the surrender, and in the final note of cosmic irony.

Welcome, then, to Zothique. The sun is dimming, the necromancers are stirring, and Ulua awaits.

Gio Marron