Adrian Collins's Blog, page 225

How to Make a Grimdark Setting

I’m a huge fan of Andrjez Sapkowski’s The Witcher novels. While most fans are familiar with the series through CD Projekt Red’s video game trilogy, the novels are an excellent grimdark series of their own. Most reviewers focus on the grim Clint Eastwood-esque protagonist, Geralt, who is a quintessential anti-hero that follows his own code of honor, but I believe it is actually The Witcher’s setting which makes the series a classic. I’m going to go over much of the world’s appeal in terms of its people, politics, war and development to show why it’s a great basis for authors to draw from when crafting their own gritty fantasy setting.

The books take place primarily in a region of Polish mythology-influenced kingdoms called the North before gradually expanding to include the territories of the Nilfgaard Empire to the south. Our first introduction to the North in The Witcher short story paints a grim picture as Geralt is nearly lynched simply for being a stranger from another kingdom entering a bar.

“There’s no room to be had, you Rivian vagabond,” rasped the pockmarked man, standing right next to the outsider. “We don’t need people like you in Wyzim. This is a decent town!”

The outsider took his tankard and moved away. He glanced at the innkeeper, who avoided his eyes. It did not even occur to him to defend the Rivian. After all, who liked Rivians?

“All Rivians are thieves,” the pockmarked man went on, his breath smelling of beer, garlic and anger. “Do you hear me, you bastard?”

Geralt ends up being forced to defend himself against the mob brought about by simple drunkenness, racism and boredom. The first impression of the Northern people are of a hateful, violent and paranoid bunch who have few redeeming qualities. Indeed, Geralt only avoids being hung by the legitimate authorities for defending himself because he’s there on business as a monster-hunter. He is in Temeria to kill or break the curse on the princess of the region, only to find out her condition is the result of the king’s own unnatural relationship with his sister.

Aside from drawing comparisons to the Lannisters in George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, it’s interesting to note that King Foltest actually turns out to be one of the more heroic monarchs of the region. Future monarchs show themselves to be cowards, murderers, oath-breakers and causally cruel. Thus, Sapkowski plays with the reader’s expectations and increases the story’s intrigue by giving a character conflicting traits – that is, possessing a great weakness as well as an unexpected virtue. In the short story The Bounds of Reason, King Niedamar, after a failed attempt to slay a dragon to fulfill the prophecy necessary to marry a nearby princess, decides to screw heroism and simply take what he wants by force.

“I don’t give a shit about the people there, as Sir Boholt would say,” Niedamir laughed. “The throne of Malleore is mine anyway, because in Caingorn I have three hundred armoured troops and fifteen hundred foot soldiers against their thousand crappy spearmen. Do they acknowledge me? They will have to. I’ll keep hanging, beheading and dismembering until they do. And their princess is a fat goose and to hell with her hand, I only need her womb. Let her bear me an heir, and then I’ll poison her anyway. Using Master Sheepbagger’s method. That’s enough chatter, Gyllenstiern. Set about carrying out my orders.”

“Indeed,” Dandelion whispered to Geralt, “he has learned a great deal.”

“A great deal,” Geralt confirmed, looking at the hillock where the golden dragon, with its triangular head lowered, was licking something grey-green sitting in the grass beside it with its forked, scarlet tongue. “But I wouldn’t like to be his subject, Dandelion.”

This unsympathetic portrayal of the North’s people from top to bottom is a consistent feature throughout the stories. It allows Geralt, a decent man if not a nice one, to be isolated from his fellow man as well as forced to be the one voice of what passes for justice. Even so, Sapkowski upends this portrayal with the arrival of Nilfgaard who causes us to want the North to survive even if they are a bunch of assholes. This is similar to how Joe Abercrombie made the Union appear likeable just by making their enemies, the Gurkish, seem so heinous.

In the short story Something More, Dandelion, Geralt’s frequent traveling companion, describes them in such horrifyingly overblown terms that their presence casts a pall over the rest of the series.

“Not this war, Geralt. After this war, no-one returns. There will be nothing to return to. Nilfgaard leaves behind it only rubble; its armies advance like lava from which no-one escapes. The roads are strewn, for miles, with gallows and pyres; the sky is cut with columns of smoke as long as the horizon. Since the beginning of the world, in fact, nothing of this sort has happened before. Since the world is our world… You must understand that the Nilfgaardians have descended from their mountains to destroy this world.”

The conflict with Nilfgaard seems to be staging one of the “gray” Northern kingdoms against the explicitly evil Nazi-like Nilfgaardians. Except, the very next book, Blood of Elves, disputes such a simplistic good-versus-evil interpretation. The Nilfgaardians have been driven back and Dandelion tells of the North’s victory but the population can’t agree on any of the details. We also get the sense not everyone is happy with the North’s victory.

“As everyone knows,” he continued, sparing neither the baron nor the wizard so much as a glance, “over a hundred thousand warriors stood on the field during the second battle of Sodden Hill, and of those at least thirty thousand were maimed or killed. Master Dandilion should be thanked for immortalising this famous, terrible battle in one of his ballads. In both the lyrics and melody of his work I heard not an exaltation but a warning. So I repeat: offer praise and everlasting renown to this poet for his ballad, which may, perhaps, prevent a tragedy as horrific as this cruel and unnecessary war from occurring in the future.”

“Indeed,” said Baron Vilibert, looking defiantly at the elf. “You have read some very interesting things into this ballad, honoured sir. An unnecessary war, you say? You’d like to avoid such a tragedy in the future, would you? Are we to understand that if the Nilfgaardians were to attack us again you would advise that we capitulate? Humbly accept the Nilfgaardian yoke?”

This is, again, similar to Joe Abercrombie’s handling of the Gurkish with sincere peace envoys sent after the fall of Dagoska (ones which Bayaz’s agents frame for murder). There are people in Nilfgaard who would be willing to be magnanimous in victory even as there are people on the North’s side who scheme and desire a second round of ruinous war.

Things become further muddled in the subsequent Second Nilfgaard War as the North is divided among those who are willing to fight for the Northern kingdoms against those allied with Nilfgaard. The majority of Nilfgaard’s allies are the Scoia’tael (elvish for “Squirrels”) who seek to redress ancient wrongs. Rather than lionize a struggle for equality, Sapkowski treats the elvish revolutionaries as terrorists murdering over slights that have brought unnecessary violence to the next generation. This type of complexity enriches the narrative as it shows the divisions of humanity, elves and dwarves into “sides” which doesn’t carry any moral authority with all of them capable of atrocity for questionable political reasoning.

One of the most tragic conversations in the game highlights how a genuinely good man can make the darkness all the bleaker by contrast. It is a plea from Yarpen the dwarf for peace between the races.

“We have to live next to each other,” Yarpen continued. “We and you, humans. Because we simply don’t have any other option. We’ve known this for two hundred years and we’ve been working towards it for over a hundred. You want to know why I entered King Henselt’s service, why I made such a decision? I can’t allow all that work to go to waste. For over a hundred years we’ve been trying to come to terms with the humans. The halflings, gnomes, us, even the elves – I’m not talking about rusalkas, nymphs and sylphs, they’ve always been savages, even when you weren’t here. Damn it all, it took a hundred years but, somehow or other, we managed to live a common life, next to each other, together. We managed to partially convince humans that we’re not so very different—”

“We’re not different at all, Yarpen.” The dwarf turned abruptly. “We’re not different at all,” repeated Ciri. “After all, you think and feel like Geralt. And like… like I do. We eat the same things, from the same pot. You help Triss and so do I. You had a grandmother and I had a grandmother… My grandmother was killed by the Nilfgaardians. In Cintra.”

“And mine by the humans,” the dwarf said with some effort. “In Brugge, during the pogrom.”

Indeed, it is war which turns the grimdark setting of The Witcher into something which is truly horrifying. While the main plot continues through the books of Geralt’s quest for his adoptive daughter, Ciri, after she’s teleported halfway across the continent, we get frequent vignettes that expose the terrible side of the conflict on both sides. Here is a pair of them from the Kaedwini (North) and Nilfgaard (south) sides.

The Kaedwini:

“The honourable gentlemen have thought up some modern idiocy. Some kind of liberation, or some such. We aren’t going to fight the enemy, but we’re heading towards our, what was it, eternal lands, to bring, you know, fraternal help. Now pay attention to what I say: you’re not to touch the folk of Aedirn, not to loot—”

“What?” said Kraska, mouth agape. “What do you mean, don’t loot? And what are we going to feed our horses on, Decurion, sir?”

“You can loot fodder for the horses, but nothing else. Don’t cut anyone up, don’t burn any cottages down, don’t destroy any crops… Shut your trap, Kraska! This isn’t a village gathering. It’s the fucking army! Carry out the orders or you hang! I said: don’t kill, don’t murder, and don’t—” Zyvik broke off and pondered. “And if you rape any women, do it on the quiet. Out of sight,” he finished a moment later.

The Nilfgaard:

“War to the castles, peace to the villages,” Coehoorn said to his commanders yesterday. “You know that principle,” he added at once. “You learned it in officer training. That principle applied until today; from tomorrow you’re to forget it. From tomorrow a different principle applies, which will now be the battle cry of the war we are waging. The battle cry and my orders run: War on everything alive. War on everything that can burn. You are to leave scorched earth behind you. From tomorrow, we take war beyond the line we will withdraw behind after signing the treaty. We are withdrawing, but there is to be nothing but scorched earth beyond that line. The kingdoms of Rivia and Aedirn are to be reduced to ashes! Remember Sodden! The time of revenge is with us!”

What’s interesting is that Sapkowski makes it clear the war is incidental to the central narrative. There is no clear good or evil nor do the heroes play any real part in its resolution. It is an event that goes on around them and they only intervene to try to help the occasional victim. By the end of the conflict, very little is resolved with the borders re-arranged a bit but nothing significant. The lack of such a resolution at the political level which may give hope for and facilitate a better future along with the number of ruined lives and missing relatives adds to the somber mood.

Notably, the Witcher-verse still has all of the tropes of the fantasy genre. As mentioned in Yarpan’s speech, there’s all the standard fantasy races of Dungeons & Dragons as well as of J.R.R. Tolkien. There are monsters in the world attacking humans, albeit less than there used to be. Magic is real as well, but it is a science restricted to the wealthy as the majority of its practitioners prefer to make themselves rich, long-lived and beautiful rather than to fight evil. Yet, none of this affects the setting’s overall depressing tone. Monsters may exist but the real evil in the Witcher-verse comes from humanity. This is especially true as the only real “villains” of the setting, Vilgefortz and Leo Bonhart, are both entirely human. They’re psychotically evil humans with no empathy as well as a capacity for inhuman cruelty. But they are human.

In conclusion, Sapkowski has created a delightfully bleak setting for his stories. It is a place which feels strongly of low fantasy with very little to admire and a flawed populace. It is also a setting which does not romanticize war or treat its actions gloriously. It is a place with old grudges, ambitions and racial tension that feels all too authentic to readers both young as well as old. The North is a somber place which has little room for idealism or anything but survival. It is thus the perfect place to think of when doing up a grimdark fantasy setting.

The post How to Make a Grimdark Setting appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

REVIEW: Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition

In the Nineties, I loved my weekend sessions of Vampire: The Masquerade. Before A Song of Ice and Fire, it was a fascinating world of moral ambiguity (even moral decay) where the protagonists were all monsters. This was years before Twilight and vampires still had some cachet as scary monsters. It was also years before the urban fantasy boom that may have been inspired by the World of Darkness where monsters existed in the shadows of the modern world.

Eventually, Vampire: The Masquerade wrapped up in a way that few franchises do and its creators destroyed the setting with the apocalyptic Gehenna supplement. This was close to the height of its popularity thanks to the release of the cult classic video games Vampire: The Masquerade: Redemption and Vampire: The Masquerade: Bloodlines. A sequel for the tabletop game called Vampire: The Requiem was released but I never got into that.

If you’re tired of his history lesson, know that eventually the 20th Anniversary of Vampire: The Masquerade resulted in a re-release of the line by Onyx Path Publishing. This helped revive the game enough that it was bought by Paradox Interactive (Eve Online) and they envisioned a new edition that would update it for the New Teens.

Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition has since won the 2019 Origins Awards for Best RPG and Fan Favorite. It’s also proven to be an incredibly popular with fans, though not without controversy as the game attempted to move from a previously PG-13 view of vampires to a hard Adults Only treatment of them. As the sourcebook says, “this is not a game about playing heroes.”

The premise for V5, as we’ll call it from now on, is that it is the year 2019 and the setting has been updated to Modern Nights. The world’s governments finding out about the existence of vampires, or at least their intelligence agencies have. This has resulted in what the vampires call the “Second Inquisition” that means teams of Special Forces and analysts are working around the clock for signs of the player characters breaking the Masquerade. Entire cities have been depopulated of their vampire populations, London specifically, and this has had repercussions throughout undead society.

The Camarilla, previously the most stable of setting elements, has split in half. Now it is divided between the new Camarilla (Tremere, Toreador, Malkavians, Banu Haqim [Assamites], and Nosferatu) vs. the Anarch (Brujah, Gangrel, and Ministry [Followers of Set]). The Sabbat has left their traditional territories to go on a crusade in the Middle East to destroy the ancient Antediluvians. Worse, for the Elders at least, a mysterious call beckons them to battle the Sabbat on behalf of their ancestors.

Some of these changes are on the extreme side and were rolled back in sequels to the book with the revelations not all Elders feel the Beckoning and the Sabbat still exists aside from the Gehenna Crusaders. Still, it’s a lot to take in if you’re an existing V:TM fan. On the other hand, there’s a lot of fascinating stories to be told and the details of the metaplot are expanded upon in supplements that followed.

Content-wise, the game book has perhaps a little too much in the way of opening fiction and not enough material explaining the origins of the undead as well as their history. The game assumes you know who the Clans are and general details from previous editions, which is a shame. On the other hand, there’s some decent explanations for the science of vampires (i.e. there isn’t any and this frustrates those trying to make sense of magic). The book only describes the original seven Camarilla Clans, Caitiff, and Thinbloods with an absence of the Independent as well as Sabbat clans.

The book does a great job on describing vampiric feeding as well as explaining how it can be an exciting part of the game. Vampires are not literally what they eat with Blood Resonance having you develop new Disciplines and skills depending on what sort of humans you choose to munch down on. It’s much harder to live on a “vegetarian” diet of animals and flat-out impossible for more powerful vampires.

The game emphasizes feeding should be something that players put a lot of thought into because it’s very easy to kill mortals if you’re not careful. Hunger frenzies and battle rages are problems all vampires must deal with. Humanity is now somewhat more forgiving and harder to lose but all vampires are expected to have at least one mortal friend that allows them to maintain a mortal tether (called a “Touchstone”). This will not fit loner Kindred or those who consider humans nothing more than food.

The art in the book is hit and miss for me. On one hand, it’s photorealistic and adds a nice horrifying feel to the subject matter, there’s also some ill-conceived choices like giving each Clan a specific fashion style. It’s a little weird to have vampires have iconic dress sense when the game is about pretending to be human.

In conclusion, V5 is a pretty good edition of the game with quite a few merits as well as a renewed focus on horror as well as moral ambiguity. If you want a horror game where you are the monster, then I think V5 is probably the best edition of the franchise. I also think the game should have included all of the original Clans as well as relied less on in-universe fiction versus a clearer history. Is it grimdark, though? I think the new developers of the line are showing a true appreciation for making the undead scary.

8.5/10

Buy Vampire: The Masquerade V5

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REVIEW: Assassin’s Quest by Robin Hobb

In Assassin’s Quest, Fitz, the presumed dead assassin’s apprentice, whose tales have now become the stuff of legend in the Six Duchies is a beaten and battered remnant of his former self. He survived death with the help of poison, his wit-bonded companion Nighteyes, and his trusted allies Chade the assassin, and Burrich the stable master (and father figure). The majority of this world believe he is dead. Even his wife who is pregnant with his child. There are still the terrible raidings by the Red Ships that decimate whole settlements and leave people as the murderous zombie-like Forged. Also, the assumed dead rightful King, Verity is still trying to accomplish what many people believe is foolish in trying to venture to mythological lands to make allies with the equally legendary and fabled beasts, The Elderlings. Our first-person perspective viewpoint FitzChivalry, the Wit-tainted and Skill-talented bastard, still desires to murder his uncle, the pretender monarch, King Regal.

“I’m going to kill Regal. And his coterie. I’m going to kill all of them, for all they did to me, and all they took from me.

Regal? There is meat we cannot eat. I do not understand the hunting of men.

I took my image of Regal and combined it with his images of the animal trader who had caged him when he was a cub and beat him with a brass-bound club.

Nighteyes considered that. Once I got away from him, I was smart enough to stay away from him. To hunt that one is as wise as to go hunting a porcupine.

I cannot leave this alone, Nighteyes.

I understand. I am the same about porcupines.”

Some top reviewers I know don’t like this final entry to the Farseer Trilogy. Although it is lengthy, often poetically over-descriptive, can occasionally be difficult in it’s intricate and complex magical scheme concept sections, and features lots of travelling–I loved it. It’s intoxicating and almost dreamlike within its presentation and I adored that but will acknowledge that it is not for everyone. I’ve also been advised that after this point Hobb rarely puts a foot wrong in the gigantic, door-stopping Realm of the Elderlings saga and I cannot wait to continue. (I would be right now if I wasn’t writing this!)

I’d say this is approximately double the length to King’s Assassin and a large amount of that difference in page count is the Fitz, Nighteyes (and occasionally a friend or two) travelling sections, either to attempt to assassinate one uncle or to attempt to aid another uncle who is half the world away. At certain instances in the prior two tales, it was slow-going but this takes it a lot further. What also happens quite frequently is that as Fitz is often alone he finds out about events taking place across the environment by skill-dreaming. This is where he can be in somebody else’s mind and can see and feel things from their perspective. The skill sections can be confusing, whether the dreams, the power to converse with a person a world away, or the fact that some skill-wielders are so powerful they can murder with just a thought.

Many of my favourite cast members are presented here but others who we followed and truly cared about last time are only mentioned. This is due to the fact that most people believe that Fitz is six feet under. FitzChivalry has a few distinguishing features, a scar on his face, a broken nose and a white in his hair, all from when King Regal was torturing him previously. He has to be stealthy throughout, often with the aid of Nighteyes’ senses. People recognise him, people see him and believe he’s undead and poor Fitzy Fitz as I’m sure the Fool might say, well, he has to be one of the unluckiest protagonists of all fantasy.

The Fitz and Nighteyes (his wit-bonded wolf) mind-linked conversations were excellent as always. He’s one of my two favourite individuals featured in this novel. In Nighteyes, Hobb really has crafted an amazing character and it aids the already excellent world-building as we can witness that same event, town, or possible confrontation from alternative, very different perspectives. Chade, Burrich, The Fool and King Regal are brilliantly presented again. There are a few impressive new additions such as the minstrel Starling who occasionally follows Fitz around and the mysterious old Lady Kettle.

This really was an emotional undertaking/quest for me. Some of the cast re-meeting or certain story-defining revelations released a plethora of emotions within me. I cried, was rejuvenated, amazed, shocked, fell-off the metaphorical stool I was sitting on. I found Assassin’s Quest exquisite and the narrative of the Farseer Trilogy completely. It wraps events up well here but there is so much left to explore of the world, what could happen to the characters next, the potential unpredictable nature on the horizon etc… The last twenty-percent, after lots of walking, camping and hunting, was sublime. This is edging slowly but smoothly towards being one of my top three series of all time. Now, if you excuse me, back to the Realm of the Elderlings.

“I healed. Not completely. A scar is never the same as good flesh, but it stops the bleeding.”

Buy Assassin’s Quest

Read our review of Assassin’s Apprentice.

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REVIEW: Damoren by Seth Skorkowsky

What if the Dresden Files were about a ruthless gunslinger? That’s sort of what I think about Damoren. This is unfair to the author as the character of Matt Hollis isn’t all that similar to Harry. He’s not a pop cultured badass, for example, but a grizzled veteran with a dozen years of demon hunting. The book does make me think of the Dresden Files, though, and Stephen King’s Dark Tower to some extent. If for no other reason there’s not that many demon-hunting gunslingers around.

Damoren is the first book in the Valducan series, which is about a group of demon-hunting soldiers who wield holy weapons capable of slaying them. Each demon-hunter is fanatically protective of their weapon, treating it like their partner in a marriage. This may not be wrong, either, as each weapon chooses its wielder and possesses some form of sentience. The Valducan aren’t terribly happy about Matt possessing a weapon, though, because he’s possessed.

Or so it seems.

A demon-marked Matt Hollis in the past and the demon-hunter who was ordered to kill him, adopted him instead. Matt has since bonded with Damoren, the holy revolver which provides the book its title, and gone on to be a successful independent demon hunter. The Valducan have come to make amends, however, due to the fact someone is trying to destroy all of the holy weapons in the world. Thus, the Valducan need every holy weapon holder in their service, even if most of them would like to see Matt killed.

The book is an entertaining collection of action scenes and Matt dealing with a centuries-old organization of which he has no relationship but everyone else is almost family within. Some of them want Matt dead, some of them think he’s alright, and others are suspicious but all of them are speaking to each other like they’ve known each other for decades. Which they have.

The parts of the book which aren’t about Matt Hollis fitting in like a square peg in a round-shaped hole are excellent action scenes where the demon-slaying badass finds himself up against a host of vile fiends. Vampires, werewolves, Lamia, dragons, and more are all products of demonic possession in this universe. They’re all completely evil and almost unkillable since they can jump to new bodies unless slain with a holy weapon. I like unromanticized monsters and find this book provides me with plenty.

The mythology is well-developed in the book and there’s a selection of writings from past-demon hunters interspersed with the book’s present-day adventures. I like it when authors take time to develop how the supernatural “rules” of their setting work. Honestly, if I have a complaint about the mythology it’s the fact the author reveals too much about the setting by the end. I think a lot of the book’s last-minute revelations could have been saved for future releases.

Is it grimdark? I believe this is a lot closer to it than most urban fantasy. Matt Hollis is a ruthless antihero, the Valducan organization is not that much better than those it fights, and the world is both grim as well as pitiless. They may believe angels inhabit their “holy weapons” but something much darker makes it possible to fight the evil they face.

In conclusion, Damoren is a top-quality urban fantasy novel. If it’s not up there with the Dresden Files’ latter volumes then it’s certainly above the first couple of them. Matt Hollis is an enjoyable character and the villains are reprehensible. This would work quite well as a stand-alone volume but I’m eager to see where this series goes.

Buy Damoren

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REVIEW: Honourbound by Rachel Harrison

Around a year or so ago, Rachel Harrison, then the author of a few prior 40K shorts, began churning out short stories focused on Severina Raine, a commissar attached to an Astra Militarum regiment called the 11th Antari Rifles. The backdrop for these stories was the expansive Bale Stars Crusade, which pitted the Guard regiments against a massive Chaos cult known as the “Sighted”. By the time Honourbound was released, there had been two or three shorts released; there are currently five Raine short stories in circulation: Execution, A Company of Shadows, Fire and Thunder, Trials, and The Darkling Hours. I have not read/reviewed any of these shorts, therefore my take on Honourbound will be as a reader getting first acquainted with the storyline.

There was a bit of pomp and circumstance surrounding the release of Honourbound. An entry introducing the character made it to the Warhammer Community page; and not only did the book drop with a hardback release, but Raine, as a character, received an official Games Workshop mini right out the gate. How often does that happen? Consider how long it took for Eisenhorn to get his official mini….

The point is, there is a sense of marketing around Honourbound that makes it seem as though Black Library is looking to make a franchise out of Raine and the Antari Rifles. It makes sense, if you think about it; with the cornerstone Gaunt’s Ghosts series is winding down, why not pass the torch to another Astra Militarum series centered around a tough but caring Commissar, her doughty charges, a massive Crusade, and a huge Chaos menace?

The question comes down to the quality of the book, of course. Before breaking Honourbound down, I’d like to mention that even though Harrison has a slew of short stories under her belt, this is her debut novel (congratulations!). Also, the novel she has delivered is a hefty door-stopper, weighing in at just under 500 pages (most Guard novels come in at a leaner 200-300 pages).

Let’s look at the blurb first, and then evaluate Honourbound bit by bit:

Uncompromising and fierce, Commissar Severina Raine has always served the Imperium with the utmost distinction. Attached to the 11th Antari Rifles, she instills order and courage in the face of utter horror. The Chaos cult, the Sighted, have swept throughout the Bale Stars and a shadow has fallen across its benighted worlds. A great campaign led by the vaunted hero Lord-General Militant Alar Serek is underway to free the system from tyranny and enslavement but the price of victory must be paid in blood. But what secrets do the Sighted harbour, secrets that might cast a light onto Raine’s own troubled past? Only by embracing her duty and staying true to her belief in the Imperium and the commissar’s creed can she hope to survive this crucible, but even then will that be enough?

What makes Honourbound a tough nut to crack is that there are some truly great elements to it; and yet, there are some elements which are not handled so well. It is never anything less than ambitious and compelling; therefore it unfortunately becomes hamstrung by the poorer elements.

Story

The content of Honourbound reflects a convergence of three storylines–first, as mentioned earlier, covers the Antari Rifles as they take the Crusade to the Sighted across the Bale stars. This arc gives us a yield of three massive action set pieces.

Secondly, we have, interspersed throughout the narrative, flashbacks to Raine’s youth. We see young Severina, and the time she spends with her sister, Lucia, her training and rise through the Schola, and her earlier interactions with the upper echelons of the Bale Stars Crusade hierarchy. These flashbacks are the best written installments in the novel; conveying genuine emotion and illustrating the inputs which forged Raine into her present-day incarnation.

Finally, there is a third arc, a subplot, which follows potential malfeasance within the Crusade itself. While ambitious in concept, it is mundane and by-the-numbers in execution. A random event sets it in motion; evidence is revealed with implausible convenience, and the climax is an overly-theatrical, melodramatic miss, bereft of any logical underpinning.

Characters

The dramatis personae in Honourbound is well-thought out, and created with care. Meticulous detail is bestowed on development for even secondary and tertiary characters; which is appreciated, as seeing characters relegated to the status of ‘window dressing’  in other novels can be frustrating.

The only problem is, these richly-developed characters are confounded by some genuinely bad dialogue. There are way too many examples of cliched, cinematic declarations, and forced moments of poignance. Too many “as always”, “until the very end”, “we hit harder”, kind of instances. The response skews more towards groan-inducing than awe-inspiring. And this is all across the board; nobody is safe from the stilted dialogue.

As for the characters themselves, let’s start with the star of the show: Severina Raine. Raine is, conceptually, a solid character. She’s a tough, lead-from-the-front Commissar. She carries the stigma of a tarnished past–although her mother was a decorated hero, her father was a deserter, and her sister was executed for treason. Not only does she personally bear the shame for her actions; she is also labeled by peers and superiors as possibly less than capable due to her ‘tainted’ blood.

The thing is, in an attempt to make her a franchise player, Raine comes off as a bit ‘too perfect’. We get that she is, in her moral fibre, closer to the tenets of a ‘true’ commissar than her peers, but there are too many instances of her having the perfect thing to say in response to a given situation. This is compounded by the fact that the lines delivered in those scenes read more like a statement of opinion than actual dialogue–the end result reading as manufactured instead of organic.

I won’t go so far as to say that Raine is clad in plot armor–she takes a lot of punishment throughout the book (Harrison does not treat any of her players with kid gloves). However, there is a huge dichotomy in the two Raines we are presented with here–the genuine, sincere younger Raine, whom we see in excellent and welcome flashbacks, or perennial ‘right person at exactly the right time’ adult Raine. Again, all criticisms aside, the concept of Raine is solid–hardened by her past, hardened by years of fighting in a brutal Crusade, hardened by constant disdain, she keeps pushing forward.

Other standout characters include Daven Wyck, Sergeant of the Wyldfolk; the Grey Company Squad which always runs along the edge. Wyck is a born fighter; hell, he’s a born killer, and he’s always charging forward with the sins of his past in hot pursuit. To maintain his edge, he’s strung out on stimms and rage. Wyck’s arc is, in my opinion, the most consistently engaging character arc. He remains a believable balance of unforgivable flaws and unrelenting prowess.

Also of note is Lydia Zane, the primaris psyker attached to the Antari Rifles. Well, allow me to say this–everything, and I mean everything, regarding psykers and their frightening powers, is presented in an excellent manner in Honourbound. Vivid descriptions aside, Harrison really captures the fear, torment, and tumultuous emotions which likely vie for control of these poor characters heads. Zane has to shoulder the duty of using her powers for the good of her kin; knowing full well the revulsion which her very existence inspires in them, knowing full well that she is naught but a tool to be waved and wielded until its expiration date. Reading her tragic past, and knowing her current status as a pariah, one wouldn’t blame Zane if she were to open her ears to the whispers from the darkness…

Finally, we have strong outings from the Duskhounds, the Tempestus Scion team attached to the Rifles. The highlights of their scenes are tied more to the solid depictions of their combat tactics than their character traits. To play Devil’s Advocate, that’s as it should be, since the schola would have wiped most of those pesky personal traits right out of them. However, an odd exception is added for Antari Scions, allowing them to retain their cultural identity; because, I don’t know. I guess we’re to believe that Antari culture is just so great, it’s allowed to circumvent universe-spanning Imperium mandates. This poses a real problem in that the Antari Scions will only replenish their ranks with other Antaris; and scola-trained Antaris are in short supply in the middle of the Crusade (as we see in the book, other Companies have to replenish their ranks with void-born Antari, who need to go an extra set to prove that they can ‘fit in’). Ergo, in the name of pride, the Scions have to go into battle with diminshed number due to a self-imposed cultural bias. It doesn’t make logistical sense.

The Captain of the Duskhounds is one Andren Fel; a close friend and confidant of Raine’s (perhaps the one person she can let her guard down around). Like Raine, there is a real poignance to Fel’s flashbacks; however, his present day depiction suffers greatly from clunky dialogue. On the other hand, there are some strong instances where Fel has to weigh options on loyalty to his squad versus loyalty to the Imperium at large; knowing full well that there will be inconsolable loss attached to whichever choice he makes.

We won’t get into too much detail on the antagonists here, so as to avoid spoilers. Suffice to say, there are some wicked psykers on the side of the Sighted who are elevated by exceptional writing.

As for the Sighted, since cultists are the consummate meatshields/bullet sponges of the 40K universe, they don’t exactly get character arcs. What Honourbound does offer are robust depictions of these twisted heretics. Although it is not explicitly stated which Chaos god the Sighted have pledged themselves to; we can assume it is Tzeentch due to the mantra of ‘change’ which permeates their belief system, as the usage of feathers and crystals as a decorative motif. They carve themselves, and everything around them, with wicked spirals; and the are marked by what equate to ‘time stamps’ mapping their ‘journey’. Many of them wield the tools of their ‘change’, and they charge into battle bristling with wickedly sharp appendages, driven by heretical zeal.

World-building

This department is a home run for Harrison. She has fully captured the feel of the 40K universe, and it shows in the vivid descriptions of the areas where action transpires. Gritty, grimy, derelict facilities, massive, imposing foundries, a daunting shipyard; all of them brought to life, sucking the reader right in. These setpieces are dark, jagged, menacing, and bloody. Exactly what we expect from the original grimdark universe.

For example, around the middle of the book, there is a battle within a captured medicae facility, which climaxes in a ward formerly used for installing augmetics. The installation is the stuff of nightmares–all sharp edges, terrifying instruments, and gutters for catching the copious amounts of blood which must have flowed in its heyday. It’s a reminder of how frightening a world bereft of comfort and gentleness can be.

Also, Harrison has put a lot of work into realizing her vision for Antar, home of the 11th Rifles. We are treated to not only richly developed examples of culture and mythology, but variances of the same along regional differences. It is that extra step which makes all the difference. The Antari carry their culture and tradition with them in all they do, so catching glimpses of the homeworld is an added bonus; especially considering all the dark corners the Crusade throws them into.

Action

A huge hit and a slight miss in this category. The huge hit comes in the visceral, bloody, bone-crunching, and extremely frequent instances of violence in this novel.

Violence becomes an art form in Honourbound, in all its myriad forms: from the crack of the lasgun to gouts of blood gushing over the perfectly inserted knife. We are treated to the warped image of bodies ‘folding like eggshells’ at the whim of Zane’s psychic powers. Close quarters combat is a real plus, and delivered in bulk at the hands of Wyck’s Wyldfolk and Fel’s Duskhounds.

What complaints could be laid against this wondrous, blood-soaked panorama?

One small complaint is, again, the dialogue. In the close quarters scenes, there are too many examples of smack talk between hissing Sighted cultists and rough and tumble Antaris.

The other complaint lies in the lack of application of basic military tactics. The bulk of the action is simply “Forward”. Forward, and let the Antaris’ inherent grit resolve the situation. The Rifles push forward; go through cultists, meet a different type of enemy unit. They bring forward a specific unit to counter it. The conflict is resolved, and the push forward is continued.

In other words, the scenes are predicated more upon narrative convenience than how an actual encounter would transpire.

For example, take the Wyldfolk. They are always on the edge, at the fore. In one scene, Wyck is in the thick of Sighted cultists, opening them up with his knife. Then, he notices that one of his troopers’ lasgun is misfiring. He has time to go over, rectify the issue, say a quick prayer to the rifle’s spirit, and give the trooper an inspiring quip. But wait, weren’t they at the head of their company, in the thick of cultists? Did the Sighted decide to let him take a break to address the issue out of sheer benevolence. It may seem a petty complaint, but hiccups like that break the reader’s immersion and draw them out of the story.

Overall Writing/Pacing

Again, aside from the dialogue, Harrison’s writing skill is commendable. She pens Honourbound successfully as a present tense narrative, a feat which many authors cannot pull off. That she was able to do so in a debut novel pushing 500 pages is a feather in her cap.

There is a bit of a pacing issue at the onset of the book. Honourbound opens with a brilliantly ‘executed’ (haha, bit of commissar humor there) prologue; which perfectly introduces Raine, showing her carrying out her duty in a no-nonsense manner.

What follows is an opening chapter which is ambitious in its scale–the recapturing of a war-machine foundry which has fallen into the hands of the Sighted. While a bit light on military tactics, the action comes fast and furious. The only issue is, it attempts to do double duty by fully introducing us to our characters. I don’t mean a quick line here or there to help paint a quick picture of the character; I mean full on information drops in the midst of breakneck action sequences. It breaks the continuity. I’m not saying that the information isn’t necessary; it just could have been spaced out a little better. After the opening chapter, the pacing achieves a much more confident stride.

In closing

As you can see, Honourbound is filled with both exceptional and marginal moments. I wish I could say that it all the inputs average out to a ‘good’ novel, but that would be misleading.

Honourbound is a very commendable debut novel from an author who delivers excellent action and truly ‘gets’ the setting. You get well-thought out characters, even if they suffer in dialogue (well, they suffer a lot at the hands of the Sighted as well). Peaks and valleys, as they say.

In short, I’ll likely seek out Harrison’s short stories featuring Raine and the 11th. As for future novel installments, I’d likely give them a shot as well.

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REVIEW: Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb

Minor spoilers may follow. After being poisoned in the Mountain Kingdom towards the end of Assassin’s Apprentice, Fitz is a broken and crippled shell of his former self. In Royal Assassin he swears to himself that he will no longer be one of King Shrewd’s men and will not return to Buckeep. The day before Burrich and Hands are set to venture back to the capital Fitz has a sort of fever dream. Without him truly understanding he finds himself Skilling and resurfaces in the King’s body as he is talking to the Fool. He is made aware of an illness that ails the King and that all is not well in Buckeep at all. After this confusing but eye-opening exchange Fitz changes his mind and sets off with his comrades the following morning. The Red Ship armies and their forged soldiers are attacking settlements continuously and are getting scarily close to, as if somehow they are being drawn to, the capital city. It also soon becomes clear that Prince Regal has malignant ambitions and potential political turmoil is just around the corner.

“Are you sure you’ve not had a bad dream?”

“If I have, it’s lasted most of my life.”

To say that it took me four attempts to read and complete Assassin’s Apprentice I had no such gripes with Royal Assassin. I raced through the 648 pages in under 4 days and loved every second. I fell back into the mind of FitzChivalry effortlessly. Hobb’s characters are phenomenally well-crafted and the way that she’s able to arouse my heart, my tears, and also my utter hatred of certain players is masterful. The way she makes me despise Prince Regal is as if he were personally treating me the way that he does “the bastard.” My favourites to read about were the honourable King-in-Waiting Prince Verity, Assassin Master Chade, the eccentric and art-loving Lady Patience, and the warrior-like but often isolated Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken.

“Sometimes,” Chade observed, “it would be much easier to die for one’s king than to give one’s life to him.”

My absolute favourite scenes throughout the narrative are when Fitz converses with a wolf that he rescued from captivity, Nighteyes. We find out a lot more about the magic certain people can wield in this entry, especially The Wit (known impassionately to most as beast-magic), showcasing what Fitz and his companion can do together to help each other. Fitz uses Nighteyes senses sometimes, Nighteyes makes him aware when someone is following him, and likewise, Fitz helps his wolf hunt when he has wolf dreams. The Skill is also explained and utilised more frequently in Royal Assassin especially when Verity can speak to and follow the actions of Fitz when Fitz is fighting the raiders and vice-versa when Verity travels to the Rain Wilds in search of the Elderlings.

Although it does include some stunning action segments, a lot of Royal Assassin is about the quieter times, the thoughts and conversations characters share, beautifully massaging every word, statement, motive, agenda into our mind so then the action scenes hit much harder as we completely understand the consequences from all angles. An average day for Fitz would be a conversation with Burrich, with Patience, meeting the Fool, keeping Kettricken company, talking to Nighteyes, conversing with Verity, being summoned by the King, insulted by Regal, still infatuated with Molly and then meeting Chade is the assassin’s hidden abode. It doesn’t sound the most exciting when spelled out like that but I was hanging on every word and adored the entire reading experience.

Assassin’s Apprentice followed Fitz over 10 years of his early existence. This narrative takes place over much less time. Perhaps a year or two. Fitz is a brilliant protagonist, extremely intelligent and he always knows much more about what is happening than anybody else can acknowledge, apart from Chade, but even from him, Fitz keeps a few secrets. We share Fitz’s highs, lows, dreams, dramas and even his utter lucid, revenge-inspired madness at one point.

The last 100 or so pages are absolutely phenomenal. Due to the incidents taking place I was gripping my book with such intensity that I thought I was going to rip it in half. Eyes glued to the page, every word attacking a plethora of my emotions. Royal Assassin is an engaging and intense character-focused political fantasy masterclass. I’ll be reading Assassin’s Quest as soon as I can and if things continue this way then Hobb might have written what could become one of my top 3 fantasy series of all time.

Buy Royal Assassin

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REVIEW: Dark Forge by Miles Cameron

Miles Cameron continues to go from strength to strength in his fantastic novel Dark Forge. Immense world-building, unique characters and bloody action that has a realism and authentic grit that is rare for fantasy books. Book 2 of Masters and Mages, Dark Forge is fantastic. Read it!

There is always time to talk. You must not be in such a rush to die, my brother.

Dark Forge does not feel like the 2nd book of a trilogy. It is not a filler, and although it sets up book 3 fantastically, it also stands tall alongside Cold Iron. For those that have read book 1, Cold Iron, the second instalment is a surprising and very different read. Where in Cold Iron, Cameron had calm world-building, growing and several brilliant but small set-pieces, Dark Forge has great battles, sieges, and a massive step up on the magic side.

She handed him a bowl of fish stew. “Horses like it.”

This seems to represent her highest level of compliment.

It kicks off with a chapter from a new character, someone on the ‘dark side’. Val-al-Dun’s story here brings about the intense and cataclysmic events that change Aranthur’s life. It switches then, to a great battle, continuing from where Cold Iron finished, which brings about the familiar and accomplished battles that Miles Cameron is renowned for. (Cameron takes a lot of inspiration from his re-enactment, writing battle scenes from experience. Don’t be too worried though, I don’t think he’s ever actually killed someone with a sword. Or has he?) Aranthur and his comrades must use their skills and will to defeat the ‘Pure’, magic snobs who believe it belongs to the nobles, rather than the common.

Aranthur, our main PoV, is a young man who we have grown to love throughout Cold Iron. His journey started excellently, showing his traits as being a special individual, from humble beginnings but seeking a life in the Big City that his family had warned him of. His awareness throughout Cold Iron of the character he could become through his sword-craft, university studies, magic-practising  and woman chasing explored his ‘normal-ness’. (I sometimes realise that I wish I was Aranthur…) He is a real, believable character, and his arc through Dark Forge took him to places that I did not expect, and places he definitely did not expect.

This is a meeting of Cold Iron.

The list of secondary-characters grows throughout Dark Forge, as Aranthur and his comrades move their way from the city to pursue a journey across countries. Aranthur’s responsibility grows gradually as he is promoted, and he takes leadership roles sometimes from his role within the army, and other times because he is Aranthur, and he is what ties his band together. Dahlia is as fantastic as ever, I constantly found myself wanting to read more between her and Aranthur. Other notable characters are Inoques and General Tribane, brilliant female characters. Each character adds to the Eastern and refreshing world, making me want to read more fantasy in Eastern settings.

“Traitor!”

“Traitor to what?” Aranthur shot back. “An Empire whose nobles endlessly place self-interest before even simple patriotism?”

5/5 – yet another masterclass from Cameron, superb world-building, enjoyable characters, a realistic plot and story (as realistic as magic and fantasy can get), and the familiar brutal and bone-shattering battle scenes and duels. Dark Forge propels Aranthur into a world of trouble, and I can’t wait for the final instalment, Bright Steel.

Buy Dark Forge

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Master of Sorrows: The Lost Chapters – Devils Bargains

Chapter 24.5 is an interesting one, not just because it didn’t make it into the final book, but also because it reveals so much more about the wood-witch (Kelga) and the Shadow Reborn (Oyru). It hints at how their two magics work and gives the reader a lot more of the grimdark/horror elements that aren’t as apparent in Book 1, but which become more stark as the series progresses. It also gives a preview of the golden Mask of Gevul’s Mistress (which appears at the end of Master of Sorrows and which plays a significant part in Book 2).

Now, as to why it wasn’t included in the final book, there are two very good reasons: 

(1) Most of Master of Sorrows takes place from the perspective of the protagonist (Annev de Breth), and Chapter 24.5 is essentially a POV shift. I cheat a bit by having Annev act as a “floating eye” in which he dreams about the events taking place, but it’s still not something he experiences directly. Given all that, it didn’t make much sense to include it, especially since . . . 

(2) Annev can’t remember the details of his dream when he wakes. So the reader would know about the dream, but Annev would not. That would be odd (to say the least) and implies that the chapter would be wholly unnecessary (just a tool for squeezing in more world-building, etc).

So, in the end, we cut the chapter. I didn’t throw it away, though, because these events are still canon. They happened but Annev didn’t experience them and/or he can’t remember them – but they still occurred within the context of Book 1, so it made sense to hang onto the chapter (if only for readers who later wanted a good short story that expanded on the background events that happened in Master of Sorrows).

There is a second reason this chapter is worth keeping, though, and that is because this foreshadows Annev’s ability to enter the world of dreams. In this particular chapter, Annev “dream walks” and experiences a vision of actual events that are occurring while he is sleeping. He witnesses them as if he were actually there – as if he were one of the participants – and this is significant because he continues to develop this ability later in the series (first by dream walking and later through astral projection); as he gets better at this ability, he also gets better at remembering the details of his dreams and eventually interacting with the events he observes from afar. Also, since the World of Dreams borders the Shadowrealm (a place we see a lot more of in Book 2), it made sense to keep this scene for future readers. However, because of the aforementioned reasons, we decided it didn’t make sense to include it in Book 1. It’s definitely worth reading, though – especially if you read and enjoyed Master of Sorrows – because it sheds a whole new light on the events that later occur between Oyru, Kelga and Annev. 

Enjoy.

MASTER OF SORROWS: THE LOST CHAPTERS

 

Chapter 24.5
DEVIL’S BARGAIN

 

Annev awoke as the woman in the gold mask pounded on his chest. The invisible wall that had constricted his lungs and rib cage disappeared and a burst of stale air erupted from his mouth. As fresh oxygen rushed to fill the vacuum, Annev coughed violently, expelling it back out. His eyes fluttered open and closed, trying to reconcile the blackness he saw with the blackness he had felt while unconscious; the stars were bright above him, yet few shined through the thick canopy shrouding the Brakewood.

Annev coughed again, his lungs rattling, then began to breathe in earnest. He rolled onto his stomach, struggling with disorientation as he huddled beneath his brown traveler’s cloak. His face hurt. His chest ached. Perhaps worst of all, though, was the pain in his left hand.

When he tried to stand, he stumbled and realised his wrists and ankles had been bound. Anxiety rising, Annev carefully probed the ground beneath him and found that he had been lying on a flat rock. His hands reached farther, finding the edge of the raised stone, and he discerned he was kneeling on a table of some sort. At the same time, he discovered the source of the pain in his left hand.

He was missing three of his fingers.

When a feminine voice spoke from somewhere nearby, Annev scrabbled atop the rock and searched for the speaker, but his eyes were still unable to pierce the abiding gloom.

‘He refuses to speak,’ the woman said, her voice dripping with malice. ‘If you would just let me— ’

‘No.’ The reply came a short distance away. ‘You have had your chance. The seer will divine what I need to know.’

The woman’s voice dripped with venom, but this second voice – a man’s voice – was devoid of all emotion. Cold. Apathetic. Empty.

Annev feared the first voice, but he was terrified of the second.

A second coughing spasm racked Annev’s body as he struggled to stand and see the two people speaking. Instead of rising from the ground, though, he fell off the stone table and landed with his face in the dirt.

I need to get up, Annev thought, his heart racing. I need to get out of here . . . to run! But his mind was sluggish, thick with fog, and his limbs were slow to respond to his commands. He searched his memories for any clue of who these people were or how he had gotten to the Brakewood, but the last thing he could remember was his frustrating conversation with Tosan.

A small but powerful hand grasped the base of Annev’s skull just as a second hand reached between his legs and lifted him off the ground. The darkness seemed to spin around him, and then he crashed back down onto the stone table. Moonlight broke through a gap in the canopy overhead just as a hand grabbed Annev’s thinning hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. A thin blade of metal appeared, pressing against his skin.

Oh, Gods.

His attacker leaned forward, her golden lips brushing Annev’s ear lobe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman’s features were hidden behind a delicate golden mask.

‘Lie still,’ the woman breathed behind the unmoving gilded lips. Her voice trembled slightly, as if in ecstasy or pain.

A dark form moved in the shadows to Annev’s right. He instinctively turned his head, trying to see what new menace threatened him, but the masked woman’s knife sliced into his skin. She yanked his head back, slamming it into the stone table, and he felt his body go limp.

A withered face approached the altar and peered into Annev’s eyes. In the dim light of the moon, he glimpsed crooked teeth and milky-white irises.

The old woman smacked her lips, her tongue slithering out to lap at her own saliva. She took the knife from the woman in the gold mask and cackled.

Before Annev could process what was happening, he felt a sharp pain slice through his abdomen. Warm blood flowed over his skin, soaking his shirt and pooling onto the table. An unnatural chill seeped into his chest and bowels, and then something seized his core, twisting his guts into an onslaught of agony.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a scream – a wail of pure and unabashed torment. Annev turned his head, confused, then realized the sound was coming from his own mouth. At almost the same time, the masked woman snatched something off the table and shoved it in his mouth, forcing him to clamp down on it. He gagged, tasting blood. The flesh yielded slightly beneath his teeth before meeting bone – and then he knew.

He was biting his own severed fingers.

Above him, the old woman lifted a flat, palm-sized rock. She turned the stone in her hands so that its face reflected the moonlight, revealing a flaky red smear on the surface of the rock. The sight of it stoked something in Annev’s memory, but his mind was so hazy with pain, he couldn’t fathom why the stone looked familiar.

The crone lifted the rock to her mouth and spat on its surface. Her pointed tongue snaked out, swirling in the saliva stained red by the crimson powder. She smacked her lips yet again, eyes closed, savoring. When she opened her eyes, the dots of the seer’s pupils glowed red.

The old woman set the rock down on the table and took back up the knife – a slender blade with a wicked curve nearly a span-and-a-half in length. Her other hand reached down, grasping at Annev’s stomach, and the twisting torment seized his gut once again. He screamed around his makeshift gag and tried to resist – to pull away from the witch and roll off the table – but the masked woman pinned his head and shoulders as if he were but a frail child.

The seer drew a handful of intestines up to her face and examined them closely. She prodded the bloody coils with her knife and spoke.

‘The Vessel is close . . . and closer still.’ She sniffed the entrails then hissed. ‘But he is hidden from my sight – from anyone’s sight.’

The woman holding Annev’s head growled beneath her gilded mask, but it was the chilling, unseen male who spoke.

‘How?’ The stranger’s voice was so flat, so void of emotion, it was barely a question.

‘A magic circle,’ the seer said, fondling the intestines. ‘Old magic . . . as old as the forest. Yet there is a path through the circle.’

She reached deeper into Annev’s guts, grasping at exposed organs, prodding them with the tip of her knife. The excruciating pain Annev had previously felt had now morphed into something less insistent. He unclenched his jaw and the severed fingers fell from his mouth. Slowly, he felt himself drift away from the pain, his consciousness seeming to rise out of his head and above his body.

‘An anointing,’ the witch said at last. ‘Or the help of a guide who has been anointed.’

‘A guide,’ the male voice said, almost sighing. ‘But this man is dead.’

Annev looked down at the hunched old woman, detached from all the sensations of his body. He watched in fascination as she looped more of his bowels around her fingers.

‘Yes,’ she said, pinching one of the coils between her thumb and forefinger, ‘but he lacks the anointing, so you have lost nothing.’ She slid her knife down the length of the intestine, examining its contents.

‘So how do I find the Vessel?’

‘When he leaves his circle of protection.’

‘When. Where. How will I know him.’

The old woman shook her head, dropping the entrails back into Annev’s gaping stomach. ‘I can only divine with the blood—’ She gestured haphazardly at the palm-sized stone lying beside the corpse. ‘—and a living augury. Once the spirit flees the body, the divination fails.’

With his consciousness floating above the altar, Annev instinctively pulled back from the macabre spectacle of his death. His perspective shifted, rising higher until he could see the entirety of his body. The masked woman stood at one end of the altar and finally released Annev’s head. The hunchbacked witch stood to the right of his corpse, her form cloaked in a cowled black robe, its surface spotted by blood and other darker stains.

Annev’s attention returned to the woman in the golden mask. There was something strange about her – stranger even than the blood-spattered witch; the woman who had pinned him had been short, less than five feet tall, with a tight bun of gold hair peeking out from the back of her metal mask. Her hands and feet were also bare, painted with a dull grey paint, and her limbs were wrapped in tight-fitting strips of black leather. Strangest of all, though, was the blue-black, semi-transparent material that covered the woman’s torso and loins: the substance looked almost like armor, yet it molded perfectly to the woman’s curves and crevices. The effect was disturbingly revealing and not a little erotic.

‘Is there enough blood for another augury?’

Annev tried to shift his perspective toward the unseen speaker, but he found it hard to focus on the stranger’s location; even with his new vantage point and the moonlight shining down on the altar, too much of the grove remained shrouded in darkness. Still, Annev had a general notion of where the speaker stood, so he focused his consciousness on that spot.

From the periphery of his disembodied perspective, Annev saw the witch pick up the flat stone and study its surface.

‘Just,’ the seer said, licking her lips.

‘Then you will tell me precisely when and how the Vessel will leave his circle.’

Something shifted in the darkness Annev was studying. It was faint – a singular shadow moving among other shadows – but its form was that of a man.

‘Bah.’ The old woman spat. ‘Kelga has done her part. I will take my body and—’ Just as the crone reached for Annev’s limp arm, a second blade appeared in the masked woman’s hand. The gilded woman dashed forward, reaching for the seer, but the hag blinked and suddenly she stood on the opposite side of the altar. She shook her head, cackling, and the masked woman hissed in response.

The spectre that Annev had been watching separated itself from the darkness, acquiring depth and dimension as it became corporeal. The shade stepped into the halo of moonlight surrounding the altar and Annev perceived that it did indeed possess the form of a man – tall, toned, and broad-chested – yet its details were obscured by ragged, dark grey robes and a black face wrap. The garment defined the limits of the man’s figure, yet it also blurred the edges of where his body ended and the darkness began.

‘You forget your place, Kelga,’ the shadow said, waving his hand at the altar.

A dozen black tentacles reached out from the darkness beneath the lip of the stone table. The adumbral appendages prodded the surface of the altar, searching for and then latching onto Annev’s limbs, loins, and torso. At the same time, a dark shadow seemed to pool out from beneath the corpse, swallowing the dark blood that had stained the stone’s surface.

The crone reached a hand toward Annev’s remains but before she could reach him, the tentacles constricted and pulled the disemboweled corpse down into the blackness covering the table, disappearing along with the ghostly grey tentacles.

The old woman snarled, ringing her bony hands. ‘We had a bargain, Shadowcaster! That corpse is mine by right.’

‘You have no rights,’ the shade whispered, his voice completely devoid of passion. ‘We had an agreement, and you have not fulfilled it to my satisfaction. Until then, you have no claim on the artisan’s body.’

Kelga titled her head, peering out from beneath the cowl of her robe. The woman’s fiery pupils had been extinguished, yet her milky-white orbs still reflected the moon’s ghostly light. She growled in frustration, held her breath, then cackled with glee.

‘The spell still requires a living augury,’ Kelga taunted.

‘A human sacrifice,’ the man-in-gray clarified, stepping up to the other side of the naked altar. ‘Any restrictions on race, age, or gender?’ As he spoke, tendrils of smoke wafted up from his fingers then solidified in the form of an iron-gray stiletto.

The crone snorted. ‘Breathing is the only requirement. Though I have found—’

The man-in-gray flicked out his arm and the masked woman at the head of the altar jerked in place. She looked down, staring dumbly at the thick metal spike piercing her blue-black armor, then she connected it with the man holding the stiletto’s handle. The petite woman screamed with the rage of pain and betrayal then raised the blade she had used to threaten the witch. In a flash, she stabbed her betrayer once, twice, thrice.

The stranger in the gray rags barely flinched. Inky smoke leaked from his wounds, but these quickly closed, with the injuries and even the rents in his garments healing in moments.

In response to the attack, the stranger released his hold on the buried dagger and used both hands to clap the woman on the sides of her neck, head, and abdomen. The masked female went limp, and the man-in-gray caught her before unceremoniously dropping her unconscious body atop the stone altar.

The witch grunted, poked at the blade protruding from the injured woman’s chest, and shook her head. ‘The girl will die before I finish the divination.’

‘No,’ the gray-garbed man said, waving a hand and causing the black stiletto to disappear in a vapor of smoke. Bright blood bubbled from the wound, but the man ignored it. Instead, he tapped on the injured woman’s golden mask and circled round the altar to stand behind her head. ‘The pain will sustain her. Begin your augury.’

Kelga sniffed at the command but took up her blood-stained stone all the same. Again, she drew her tongue over the rock’s surface, but this time she lapped at every crimson fleck remaining on the stone. When she was finished, the rock was clean, wet with her own saliva.

The crone brought her bloody dagger up and began to cut at the hole in the masked woman’s chest. Annev watched in fascination as the witch worked to peel back shards of the chitinous blue-black armor. From his disembodied perspective, the witch’s knife looked every bit as potent as the stiletto wielded by the man-in-gray, yet the masked woman’s armor resisted the old woman’s blade, fighting against its slender sharpness. After several minutes, the witch finally scraped off enough chitin that she could begin her grisly divination. She licked her lips, plunging both hands into the woman’s stomach and pulling out double handfuls of entrails.

Atop the table, the masked woman jerked, her unconscious body jolted awake by the pain of the crone’s augury. Before she could resist, though, the man in the fluttering gray robes gestured at the table and four pairs of long-fingered hands stretched out of the shadows. The dark gray limbs seized the woman on the table, pinning her arms and legs with demonic strength. The masked woman screamed in earnest then, fighting furiously at her unnatural bonds. She slipped free of one hand, but then six more of the shadow-spawn’s claw-tipped hands shot out of the dark, seizing the freed limb and holding the masked woman’s torso tight to the surface of the stone altar.

‘The Vessel will leave his circle before the end of Regaleus,’ Kelga said, undistracted by the masked woman’s thrashing. ‘You will know him by the mark of Keos that he bears.’

‘Regaleus has already begun,’ the man-in-gray said. ‘So he will leave tomorrow or the night after.’ The witch grunted in agreement. ‘Where?’

Kelga hesitated then twisted the intestines in her hand. Atop the altar, the masked woman screamed.

‘He walks two paths. Two roads that are too similar too disentangle.’ The crone hissed in frustration. ‘One leads east, the other north. But quaire, taints his course, pulling him toward rivers and the oceans.’

‘Northwest . . . and southeast.’ The witch nodded. ‘Where? I need a name. A place.’

‘I see . . . a small town. North of the Brake.’

‘Banok,’ the stranger supplied.

‘Perhaps. The other is . . . here. In the Brake itself.’

The man-in-gray paused then nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘On either path, the Vessel hunts a merchant who hoards items of power. On either path, the Vessel has been sent to claim a rod and bring it back to the protection of his circle.’ Kelga stopped, humming thoughtfully as she pulled loop after loop of entrails out of the dying woman. ‘Strange,’ she murmured. ‘He finishes his quest . . . with an unexpected talisman.’

‘Talisman,’ the stranger repeated. ‘What kind of talisman?’

The witch shook her head. ‘I see lumen and quaire, but both talismans are taken from the Vessel.’ As she spoke, the woman atop the table relaxed, no longer fighting against Kelga’s grisly divination.

‘What more can you tell me?’

The crone swore in some dark dialect Annev did not know then frantically tore through the abdomen of the dying woman. ‘Beasts of burden,’ she said after a moment studying. ‘Abandoned. Find them and the Vessel will find you.’

The woman on the table exhaled as her body finally went limp. Kelga spat and threw her fistful of entrails back into the woman’s chest cavity.

‘Darkness and death obscure further divination. I have seen all that fate will allow.’ The old woman wiped her bloody hands on her black robes and turned to the man-in-gray. ‘I have fulfilled our bargain. If you are satisfied, I will have my prize now.’

The man at the head of the altar reached down and plucked the golden mask off the face of the dead woman. Beneath the gilded metal Annev saw red lips, delicate ivory cheekbones and soft green eyes; she had been in her mid-twenties, beautiful and vibrant with the strength of youth. It seemed strange that Annev could have felt such hate and malice from such a demure and petite young woman. The golden mask she had worn had been no less beautiful than the face beneath, yet both had contrasted with the woman’s venomous words and ferocious demeanor.

The man-in-gray wrapped the mask within the folds of his tattered robes then flicked a wrist at the young woman’s corpse. The black hands constraining the dead woman greedily pulled at her, fighting to pull her corpse into the shadows. Flesh ripped and bones cracked, and then the woman’s torso and limbs separated, the darkness swallowing her blood, flesh and bone.

Once the corpse was gone, the darkness spread out again, pooling over the surface of the table as black tentacles emerged from the shadows, pushing the first corpse through the blackness and up onto the altar’s stone surface.

Kelga looked at the disemboweled body and nodded, cackling as she grasped the balding man’s brown cloak and then pulled his corpse off the table.

Annev stared, disoriented by the sight of the witch dragging the bloody corpse to the edge of the grove.

That’s not me, Annev realised. She didn’t kill me. She killed . . . that man. Memories of being killed by the witch warred with echoes of who the stranger really was. He recalled an unstrung bow . . . wet boots . . . a cup of tea.

‘You will do one more thing for me,’ the man-in-gray said, stopping the witch before she could drag the artisan’s body into the brush.

Kelga growled, spinning on her heels as she dropped the man’s limp corpse. ‘I owe you nothing, Shadowcaster. I have fulfilled our bargain! Leave old Kelga to herself.’

‘I have need of you yet,’ the stranger said, as if that were all the justification he needed.

The seer’s milky-white orbs stared into eyes as cold as death, as if weighing what she saw there. She studied the man’s fluttering gray rags and peculiar face-wrap, then she nodded.

‘What do you require of me?’

The shadowcaster stepped away from the altar, approaching the witch. ‘I go north. You must go east and wait for the Vessel. If he finds you first, you will hold him till I return.’

The crone shook her head, frowning. ‘I am only an old woman,’ she protested. ‘This forest is wide and my strength—’

‘This forest is your home,’ the man said, ignoring the seer’s complaint. ‘And I know your secrets. You have other agents to assist you. Creatures that once served Cruithear and that now dwell here.’

Kelga huffed. ‘Those you speak of remain in the control of my sisters. I have poached a few, it is true, but they are barely more than animals.’ She sneered. ‘Could you not to teach me to command the shadows, too? We are both children of entropy and our paths are momentarily aligned. If I could command them as you do—’

‘No,’ the man said, stopping in front of the witch. ‘Your talents are too closely aligned with the dead . . . but I could give you something else.’

The old woman pursed her lips together, intrigued. ‘What?’

‘An ally. A creature that is half shadow and half spirit. One that will give you strength. Greater vision. The ability to peer into the realm of shadow – to divine more than you see now.’

‘How?’ Kelga asked, her voice filled with need. ‘What must I do?’

‘I need only call forth the appropriate eidolon.’ The man waved his hand, as if his proposal were the easiest thing in the world. ‘With the demon’s possession, your powers would enhance tenfold – and with the strength you harvest from the artisan’s body, your lifespan will also increase.’

A wicked smile appeared on Kelga’s face. Her tongue teased the sharp ends of her crooked teeth. ‘Bargain struck, Shadowcaster.’

The man-in-gray slid back the witch’s cowl and laid his hand atop her naked head. Dark shadows seeped from his fingers, staining her wispy white hair. As the inky blackness settled into the crone’s skin, the old woman began to cackle, her laugh growing in power and resonance.

‘Bargain struck,’ the man-in-gray whispered.

Chapter 25

Annev awoke with a start, his hands reaching for something. His hair was damp with sweat and his chest heaved, but he was alive and whole.

What was that? Where am I?

He blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness as his mind wrestled with his disorientation. He was in his bedroom, the faint glow of starlight leaking through the tiny cracks in his chamber walls. As he lay on his pallet, his breathing beginning to calm, he felt beneath the prickly straw mattress for the crimson glove Myjun had given him, safely tucked away. His fingers traced the stitching of the phoenix. Annev felt a lump inside the garment and reached inside for the promise ring he had also hidden. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat as his fingers toyed with the ring.

Why do I feel so anxious? Why are my hands trembling?

And then he recalled his nightmare. The vision had been so terrible – filled with shadows and darkness, blood and stones …

But the details were already fading, and when he fought to remember what had frightened him so badly, he could only recall the barest details: a stone table and a golden mask.

Buy the rest of Master of Sorrows and see how it fits in!

 

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EXCERPT: Lifeblood by Lee Murray

I’m very excited to bring you an excerpt from Lifeblood, a story I love written by an author from across the dutch, Lee Murray. Her depiction of colonial New Zealand is just bloody magnificent. Without further waffle, go on, get stuck in.

Lifeblood

Lee Murray

Nikola Silich drove his gum-spear into the ground and let it stand upright while he bent to lift the clod from the ditch. Crouched in the trench, he weighed the blackened lump in his hand, then rubbed at it with his thumbnail. What would he find beneath the grunge? Would there be a droplet of the kauri’s lifeblood, a golden bead of tree-sap, petrified for years and years beneath the soil and turned as dark and rich as good wine?

His heart skipped and he breathed deep, his nostrils filling with the smoke of burning mānuka bushes. In his head, he whispered, Please, let it be good.

The size wasn’t bad. Not massive—Nikolai had heard tell of a slab of gum the size of three well-fed men—but it was big enough to cover Nikola’s palm. Shaped like a half-moon, it was encrusted with debris. It would need lots of scratching and scraping by the fire to free it of its rind before Perkins, the storekeeper, would condescend to swap it for supplies. Taking out his penknife, Nikola gouged the surface of the nugget, cutting away a patch for a better look. Underneath the grime, the resin was golden and pure.

Nikola smiled. These Northland swamps were full of kauri amber and all you had to do was dig it up. British and Americans couldn’t get enough of it for polishing their fancy carriages, although they needed deep purses, because the copal was fetching a colossal £43 per ton. He chuckled. It certainly beat being back home in Vrgorac, where the grapes were rotting on the vines.

His stomach growled. Where was Perkins? Still no sign of the storekeeper’s wagon. No matter. Nikola’s day was made. Even after paying the week’s bills, there’d be enough to buy him a good bit of lamb. He’d get himself some tea; soap too. A few more nuggets like this one and he’d have enough to send home for a bride.

Furtively, Nikola glanced about him. The Chinaman was digging for gum just twenty yards off. His head bent to the task, he wasn’t looking Nikola’s way.

Good.

Working quickly, Nikola knocked the biggest clumps of dirt off his prize, slipping the nugget into the pikau-sack slung over his shoulder before he straightened. The gum fields were full of scum: runaway militiamen and drifters, but there was something especially unnerving about that Chinaman with his slanted eyes and wide smile. He was everywhere and nowhere at once. A dark scurrying thing, like a roach. Nikola didn’t trust him.

“Look out,” said his friend and compatriot, George Unkovich, from an adjacent trench. “Here comes trouble.”

Nikola looked up. A couple of the local constabulary were making their way across the scrublands. The pair skirted the patches of mānuka burn-off, walking with the swagger of men accustomed to getting their own way. Word about the settlement said the younger one was decent enough, but his senior, a fat balding man named Carter, was a mean-arse son of a bitch.

George slapped the dust from his trousers. “Now, what do you reckon they’ll be wanting?”

“Dunno. Guess we’re about to find out.” Whatever it was, it wasn’t good news; Nikola had never seen them carry arms before. He freed his spear and climbed out of the trench.

“You there! Dallys,” the constable said. “You need to clear off.”

Nikola started. “What? Why?” he sputtered. “We’re not bothering anyone.”

Carter sniffed. “It’s the Kauri Gum Industry Act, lad. Came into force yesterday, didn’t it? So if you want to work here, you’re going to need to get yourself a licence.”

“What’s this about a licence?” asked Milos Vasyl, joining them from another ditch. “We never needed one before.”

“You gotta see Perkins at the store,” the young constable said. “He’ll give you a paper to sign. Then you pay over a quid, and Bob’s your uncle.”

“Bob’s your uncle,” George echoed.

Except it wasn’t that simple. A pound was a lot of money, even for a gumdigger. And Nikola still had bills to square. Squinting, he looked across the swamp at the men still at work. “You kicking everyone off? Or just us Dalmatians?”

The younger man lowered his eyes. “We’re telling everyone,” he mumbled.

“What about the Chinaman?”

“We’ll be getting to him,” Carter said.

“I don’t see the Brits leaving,” Nikola replied.

Carter raised the ancient musket and pointed it at Nikola. “You giving me trouble, Austrian?”

“No, trouble here,” George said quickly. He clasped Nikola’s shoulder, holding him back. “A pound, though,” George said, sucking air through his teeth. “You have to admit, that’s lot of money.”

The constable shrugged. “Not my problem, is it? I don’t make the laws, sonny. I just enforce them. Anyway, you should count yourself lucky. He jerked his head toward the Chinaman. The government makes their lot pay £100 before they’re even allowed off the boat. Prime Minister Seddon won’t let them bring their wives with them, either. Good thing, too or the country would be overrun with the yellow devils…”

Gripping his spear, Nikola stepped towards the trench. “We’ll see Perkins for your licences later.”

Carter fired the musket at the sky. The roar split the air, making Nikola’s ears ache. All around them, men looked up from their work.

“If you want to dig gum, you’ll see Perkins now,” Carter said when the smell and the noise had died away. His voice was calm, but the menace remained.

“You want us to go right now?” George asked. His jaw twitched.

Carter tilted his head to one side. “It’s like I said: law’s the law, isn’t it?”

It was close to an hour’s walk into town. They’d never make it back before the sun went down. Seemed they were done for the day. While Milos went off to spread the word, Nikola and George collected up their belongings. They didn’t have much: a spear and spade each, and the pikau-sacks they carried on their shoulders.

The constable and his man hovered near the ditch. When Nikola and George were about to leave, Carter stepped out in front of them. “Leave the bags, Dallys.”

Nikola made to move around him. “No. We’ve little enough. What’s in here is mine.”

But the fat constable shifted his finger on the trigger. “What’s in there is stolen goods. You dug up that gum without a licence.”

“It’s only one day’s takings!” George complained.

Carter thrust the barrel at George’s stomach. “Yes. Be a shame to die for a day’s takings.”

His nostrils flaring, George gave in, scattering his gum on the ground. “There you can have it, but I’m keeping the bloody bag.”

“Now yours,” Carter said, swinging the musket towards Nikola.

Nikola frowned.

“Take it from him, Jones,” Carter said, jerking his head.

Read the rest of Lifeblood in GdM#19

Head on over to our catalogue page and get this story, and much much more in Grimdark Magazine Issue #19.

The post EXCERPT: Lifeblood by Lee Murray appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.

Grimdark top 15: James picks his favourites

This isn’t a post for people to say, “Well, that isn’t Grimdark in my opinion”. Everything here, I think a Grimdark fan could enjoy. Unlike a lot of these sort of features, I will present my favourite book in the series, not just the first. This is in no particular order. Thanks for reading.

Andrzej Sapkowksi – Baptism of Fire (The Witcher Saga #5)

A deadly coup within the Wizard’s Guild leaves the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, gravely injured, and his ward Ciri missing in the third book of the NYT bestselling series that inspired the blockbuster video games.

The Wizards Guild has been shattered by a coup and, in the uproar, Geralt was seriously injured. The Witcher is supposed to be a guardian of the innocent, a protector of those in need, a defender against powerful and dangerous monsters that prey on men in dark times.

But now that dark times have fallen upon the world, Geralt is helpless until he has recovered from his injuries.

While war rages across all of the lands, the future of magic is under threat and those sorcerers who survive are determined to protect it. It’s an impossible situation in which to find one girl — Ciri, the heiress to the throne of Cintra — until a rumor places her in the Niflgaard court, preparing to marry the Emperor.

Injured or not, Geralt has a rescue mission on his hands.

My favourite line: “What a company I ended up with,’ Geralt continued, shaking his head. ‘Brothers in arms! A team of heroes! What have I done to deserve it? A poetaster with a lute. A wild and lippy half-dryad, half-woman. A vampire, who’s about to notch up his fifth century. And a bloody Nilfgaardian who insists he isn’t a Nilfgaardian.”

My quote: “ This series is finally reaching the lofty heights that it has always hinted at.”

 

 

Joe Abercrombie – Before They Are Hanged (The First Law #2)

Superior Glokta has a problem. How do you defend a city surrounded by enemies and riddled with traitors, when your allies can by no means be trusted, and your predecessor vanished without a trace? It’s enough to make a torturer want to run — if he could even walk without a stick.

Northmen have spilled over the border of Angland and are spreading fire and death across the frozen country. Crown Prince Ladisla is poised to drive them back and win undying glory. There is only one problem — he commands the worst-armed, worst-trained, worst-led army in the world.

And Bayaz, the First of the Magi, is leading a party of bold adventurers on a perilous mission through the ruins of the past. The most hated woman in the South, the most feared man in the North, and the most selfish boy in the Union make a strange alliance, but a deadly one. They might even stand a chance of saving mankind from the Eaters — if they didn’t hate each other quite so much.

Ancient secrets will be uncovered. Bloody battles will be won and lost. Bitter enemies will be forgiven — but not before they are hanged.

“We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged” – Heinrich Heine

My quote: “ This trilogy is a character-driven fantasy adventure that is close to unequalled in the genre. Gripping, thrilling, gritty and pretty damn awesome.”

Peter Newman – The Ruthless (Deathless #2)

THE REBEL.

For years, Vasin Sapphire has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Now, as other Deathless families come under constant assault from the monsters that roam the Wild, that time has come.

THE RUTHLESS.

In the floating castle of Rochant Sapphire, loyal subjects await the ceremony to return their rule to his rightful place. But the child raised to give up his body to Lord Rochant is no ordinary servant. Strange ad savage, he will stop at nothing to escape his gilded prison.

AND THE RETURNED…

Far below, another child yearns to see the human world. Raised by a creature of the Wild, he knows its secrets better than any other. As he enters into the struggle between the Deathless houses, he may be the key to protecting their power or destroying it completely.

THE WILD HAS BEGUN TO RISE.

My quote: “One of the most developed, unique, and thrilling fantasy series currently being written.”

 

 

Steven Erikson – Midnight Tides (Malazan: Book of the Fallen #5)

After decades of internecine warfare, the tribes of the Tiste Edur have at last united under the Warlock King of the Hiroth, There is peace–but it has been exacted at a terrible price: a pact made with a hidden power whose motives are at best suspect, at worst deadly.

To the south, the expansionist kingdom of Lether, eager to fulfill its long-prophesized renaissance as an Empire reborn, has enslaved all its less-civilized neighbors with rapacious hunger. All, that is, save one–the Tiste Edur. And it must be only a matter of time before they too fall–either beneath the suffocating weight of gold, or by slaughter at the edge of a sword. Or so destiny has decreed.

Yet as the two sides gather for a pivotal treaty neither truly wants, ancient forces are awakening. For the impending struggle between these two peoples is but a pale reflection of a far more profound, primal battle–a confrontation with the still-raw wound of an old betrayal and the craving for revenge at its seething heart.

Note: I don’t have a quote about this one as I read this before I started reviewing. 10/10. By far, by so much distance far, it’s the best book I have ever read and I don’t think I’ll ever read one better. The big reveal. Just, wow. Don’t want to Bugg anyone with it so let’s just carry on.

R.F. Kuang – The Poppy War (The Poppy War #1)

When Rin aced the Keju—the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies—it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn’t believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin’s guardians, who believed they’d finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her daily existence. That she got into Sinegard—the most elite military school in Nikan—

was even more surprising.

But surprises aren’t always good.

Because being a dark-skinned peasant girl from the south is not an easy thing at Sinegard. Targeted from the outset by rival classmates for her color, poverty, and gender, Rin discovers she possesses a lethal, unearthly power—an aptitude for the nearly-mythical art of shamanism. Exploring the depths of her gift with the help of a seemingly insane teacher and psychoactive substances, Rin learns that gods long thought dead are very much alive—and that mastering control over those powers could mean more than just surviving school.

For while the Nikara Empire is at peace, the Federation of Mugen still lurks across a narrow sea. The militarily advanced Federation occupied Nikan for decades after the First Poppy War, and only barely lost the continent in the Second. And while most of the people are complacent to go about their lives, a few are aware that a Third Poppy War is just a spark away . . .

Rin’s shamanic powers may be the only way to save her people. But as she finds out more about the god that has chosen her, the vengeful Phoenix, she fears that winning the war may cost her humanity . . . and that it may already be too late.

Note:- I’ve just finished the sequel and it is arguably even better somehow, but this is the one that I’m including on my list.

My quote: “A masterpiece by grimdark’s newest and perhaps darkest daughter.”

 

Alexander Dan Vilhjálmsson – Shadows of the Short Days

A strikingly original Icelandic debut set in a strangely familiar alternate Reykjavik where wild and industrialised magic meet.

Perfect for fans of contemporary fantasy in the style of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians or China Mieville’s The City & The City

Sæmundur the Mad, addict and sorcerer, has been expelled from the magical university, Svartiskóli, and can no longer study galdur, an esoteric source of magic. Obsessed with proving his peers wrong, he will stop at nothing to gain absolute power and knowledge, especially of that which is long forbidden.

Garún is an outcast: half-human, half-huldufólk, her very existence is a violation of dimensional boundaries, the ultimate taboo. A militant revolutionary and graffiti artist, recklessly dismissive of the status quo, she will do anything to achieve a just society, including spark a revolution. Even if she has to do it alone.

This is a tale of revolution set in a twisted version of Reykjavik fuelled by industrialised magic and populated by humans, interdimensional exiles, otherworldly creatures, psychoactive graffiti and demonic familiars.

My quote: “A masterfully crafted dark tale . . . one of the most ambitious, intense, original and thrilling debuts I’ve read in a long time”

RJ Barker – Blood of Assassins

Girton Club-foot, apprentice to the land’s best assassin, still has much to learn about the art of taking lives. But his latest mission tasks him and his master with a far more difficult challenge: to save a life. Someone, or many someones, is trying to kill the heir to the throne, and it is up to Girton and his master to uncover the traitor and prevent the prince’s murder.

In a kingdom on the brink of civil war and a castle thick with lies Girton finds friends he never expected, responsibilities he never wanted, and a conspiracy that could destroy an entire kingdom.

My quote: “Simply unputdownable . . . the perfect mix of fantasy and mystery”

 

 

Anna Smith-Spark – The Court of Broken Knives (Empires of Dust #1)

They’ve finally looked at the graveyard of our Empire with open eyes. They’re fools and madmen and like the art of war. And their children go hungry while we piss gold and jewels into the dust.

In the richest empire the world has ever known, the city of Sorlost has always stood, eternal and unconquered. But in a city of dreams governed by an imposturous Emperor, decadence has become the true ruler, and has blinded its inhabitants to their vulnerability. The empire is on the verge of invasion – and only one man can see it.

Haunted by dreams of the empire’s demise, Orhan Emmereth has decided to act. On his orders, a company of soldiers cross the desert to reach the city. Once they enter the Palace, they have one mission: kill the Emperor, then all those who remain. Only from ashes can a new empire be built.

The company is a group of good, ordinary soldiers, for whom this is a mission like any other. But the strange boy Marith who walks among them is no ordinary soldier. Marching on Sorlost, Marith thinks he is running away from the past which haunts him. But in the Golden City, his destiny awaits him – beautiful, bloody, and more terrible than anyone could have foreseen.

“Not sure I really feel like fucking someone who’s part god and part suicidal drunk, you know”

My quote: “Grimdark of the highest order with one of the most complex, beautiful and destructive characters ever written”

https://www.fantasybookreview.co.uk/Anna-Smith-Spark/The-Court-of-Broken-Knives.html

 

 

Mark Lawrence – Prince of Fools (Red Queen’s War #1)

“I’m a liar and a cheat and a coward, but I will never, ever, let a friend down. Unless of course not letting them down requires honesty, fair play or bravery.”

Note: I’ve read every single series Mark Lawrence has written and have rated all his works highly. Prince of Thorns is the natural choice to be here. However, this is my personal list and I enjoyed this series more. For new readers to Grimdark, however, Prince of Thorns is a great place to start, but you can start here too in The Broken Empire world.

My quote: “Stunning… Jalan and Snorri are one of the finest duos I have had the pleasure of reading about.”

 

 

Ed McDonald – Blackwing (The Raven’s Mark #1)

I was very lucky. I was the first reviewer to read and then review Blackwing which is probably the only reason my quote is on the cover. Ed is one of the nicest guys in fantasy and I’ve just finished Crowfall and it’s incredible.

My quote: “9.2/10 –  Guaranteed already, this will be one of the best books I will read this year. I can see Blackwing becoming a big deal in the fantasy world and I can’t wait for the next book.”

Rob J. Hayes – Where Loyalties Lie (The Best Laid Plans #1)

Note: The guy I put forward from my group and the eventual winner of #SPFBO. I’d say Hayes is the finest self-published Grimdark Author around. (Sorry, M.L Spencer, Rosalyn Kelly, and Ben Galley. You guys rule too!)

My quote: “Piratical grimdark mastery, superbly written, with utterly engaging characters”

 

 

 

 

 

Gareth Hanrahan – The Gutter Prayer

My quote: “Hanrahan’s highly anticipated fantasy debut is a real breath of fresh air . . . The Gutter Prayer features a skilfully crafted world, with masterful drama, expert dialogue, brilliant characters and an ending I did not see coming . . . A book that every fantasy fan should read”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dyrk Ashton – Paternus: Wrath of Gods (The Paternus Trilogy #2)

Note: There is a rumour that this book was written by Dyrk Ashton’s alter ego Micheal R. Fletcher (Grimdark royalty) but I have met Dyrk once and if it was one of Michael’s doppels it was very convincing. Either way, this is one of the most researched myth/legend/lore based dark epic urban fantasy concoctions ever written. Dyrk is a SPFBO semi-finalist with over 1000 Goodreads reviews as a self-pub author. When you have me (lol), Anthony Ryan, Nicholas Eames, Anna Stephens, MR Carey and Mark Lawrence on your covers then you aren’t doing too bad. I’m not going to link this one but I said the first book was “A dark urban fantasy gem”

 

 

 

Peter McLean – Priest of Lies (War for the Rose Throne #2)

Note: As far as I can remember, I’m sure Peter can tell you otherwise if I’m wrong, I was the first reviewer to read Priest of Bones too and loved it which is why I metaphorically knocked down Ace Books door to get a copy of this. It’s even better than the first.

My quote: “Priest of Lies is stunning low fantasy by an author who is on top of his game.”

 

 

 

 

Anna Stephens – Godblind

Note: One of the nicest members of the fantasy scene (unless you are scared of hammers) – I was lucky enough to attend the Godblind book launch.

My quote: “A thrilling, unrelenting and a brilliantly presented debut.”

The post Grimdark top 15: James picks his favourites appeared first on Grimdark Magazine.