Adrian Collins's Blog, page 237

Win a copy of THE GREAT ORDEAL by R. Scott Bakker

With the release of THE GREAT ORDEAL just around the corner, I'm sure there are plenty of you deadset ITCHING to get your hands on a copy early. 

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Looks enticing, right? Well, the fantastic folks over at Overlook have very kindly given GdM a paperback ARC to give away to one lucky fan!

You'll find getting in the running easier than Kellhus would find manipulating you to do exactly what he wanted.

Simply respond in the comments of this blog post with your favourite R. Scott Bakker character from any of his Second Apocalypse works (including Atrocity Tales). Tell us why they are your favourite and you could win.

We'll pick a winner on the 14th of June and get the book posted to you!

If you'd like to check out an excerpt of THE GREAT ORDEAL, click here.

EVIL IS A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE: Interior art first look

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Jason Deem has just put out his first sample piece of interior art for the Evil is a Matter of Perspective Kickstarter (live June 15). This piece is based on Deborah A. Wolf's Bloodpenny. The artworks will take up the top third of the title page for each short story if we can achieve the first stretch goal. Deborah was pretty damned happy with the image, and I can't wait to see what else Jason puts up when the other short stories start rolling in!

If you'd like to follow us on Kickstarter (your Kickstarter account needs to be linked to your Facebook) so you don't miss the start of proceedings on the 15th, head on over to the GdM Kickstarter profile and give us a follow!

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EXCERPT: In Midnight's Silence (Los Nefilim) by Teresa Frohock

The hero of Los Nefilim is Diago Alvarez, and much like the Shadow (of the old Shadow pulps), Diago has magical abilities. He and his lover, Miquel, are part of a secretive group known as Los Nefilim (Spanish for The Nephilim--say it like "The Mob" and you've got the right idea). This group of angelic Nefilim monitor daimonic activity for the angels.

The only thing is: Diago is not fully angelic. He is part daimon, part angel, and his very unique form of magic is sought by both sides in the conflict between angels and daimons. Like the Shadow, Diago moves through a world of espionage and partisan warfare with a rogues' gallery filled with angels, daimons, and mortals.

In this excerpt from In Midnight's Silence, Diago has arrived home to find a mysterious package has been left for him. Inside the package is a glass box with a triptych etching of a woman Diago once knew on the first panel, Diago and the woman together on the second, and a boy on the third. Diago quickly deduces that a dalliance with another Nefil has resulted in the birth of his son. Inside the box, is the wedding band of Diago’s partner, Miquel, who is missing. Diago’s only clue is a calling card, which lists the name Beltran Prieto.

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Exclusive excerpt from In Midnight’s Silence

 Diago switched on every light in the loft. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, and there were no signs of a struggle. Miquel’s gun was still in his suitcase, along with his bowie knife. Diago closed the suitcase and shoved it back under the bed.

In the front pocket of Miquel’s pants he found a crumpled theater bill. The heavily creased paper advertised a new bar not far from the Villa Rosa, where Miquel usually played. A large black scorpion had been drawn to dominate the top of the page. The tail formed the “S” within the club’s name and swirled to encircle the words: Club d’Escorpí.

The bill announced Beltran Prieto as the singer. The dancer was unnamed. Miquel de Torrellas was listed as the guitarist. That couldn’t be right. Miquel had made no mention of working in a new club, and the artwork indicated the handbill had been weeks in the making.

Diago refolded the advertisement and pushed it into his back pocket. He would begin his search at the Villa Rosa before moving to the Club d’Escorpí. Perhaps one of the other performers had seen or heard something about this new club. Any information might help him circumvent more of Prieto’s surprises.

He switched from his shirt and tie to a worn sweater with frayed sleeves, so he would blend in with the mortals that frequented the area. From beneath the bed he yanked out his suitcase and opened it. Inside, concealed beneath a false bottom, were his Luger and a long wicked knife.

His hands no longer shook. Initiating a course of action steadied him. He checked his magazines. One was full, the other half full. Diago emptied a box of silver-tipped bullets onto the bed and added rounds to the second magazine.

Yet, even though he had a plan, it didn’t change the fact that he had no idea what was going on. He considered the clues he had so far, but he could find no way to connect them. Candela had never mentioned anyone named Beltran Prieto—but to be fair, they hadn’t spoken beyond murmurs of passion and her whispered lies.

Another spasm of guilt twisted his stomach before he shut Candela from his mind. Think, God damn it. The etched triptych indicated supernatural skill. That was a start, but Diago had no idea whether Prieto was angel or daimon. His motivations were just as veiled as his character.

What can he possibly want?

“He needs me,” Diago murmured. Specifically, Prieto needed skills that only Diago possessed. But what? The answer to that question required a meeting. One that Beltran Prieto was about to regret.

Diago pressed bullets into the magazine and thought of the hourglass. They used to mark time with hourglasses. There was a clock ticking somewhere. Whatever Prieto needed, time was of the essence. “Okay.” Diago inserted the fresh magazine into the Luger, then tucked the gun into his holster. “Let’s not keep him waiting."

* * *

Diago withdrew the playbill and read the address for the Club d’Escorpí. The bar was located three blocks deeper into the Paralelo’s tangled backstreets. At least I’m close. He crammed the playbill into his coat pocket and hurried down an alleyway. The noise of the main avenue fell behind him. Here, the fog thickened until Diago could barely see a metre ahead.

The quiet was too heavy to be anything other than supernatural. The hair on his arms rose in response to the power around him. Barcelona was behind him, along with the mortals and their everyday worries. Diago had stepped into a different realm. No matter how many times he moved between the spheres of mortal and angel, he never got used to the insidious slide from one reality to another. He paused to get his bearings. 

In the same way that earth was an echo of other realms, this new place was a mere reflection of the Paralelo. On a superficial level, everything seemed the same: the walls were brick, the fog was blue, yet this new place was smaller, paler, less complete than the original. The handbills and advertisements were faded, nearly illegible. The scent of the sea became a memory embedded in the fibers of Diago’s clothes. Sounds of the Paralelo’s revelers diminished until the clamor vanished. Time stood still and soft, like the moments embedded in midnight’s silence.

Diago drew his Luger and held the gun close to his thigh. Not even silver tips would stop an angel, but holding the weapon comforted him with the illusion of protection. The skin on his exposed hands tingled. He paused, his palm damp against the grip of the gun.

The distant strains of a guitar drifted out of the fog. In those notes, Diago recognized one of Miquel’s favorite falsetas. This one began por arriba, high along the frets, shifting rapidly through the notes. A wedge of hope pushed back his fear. If it was Miquel, then he might be all right.

The tune picked up speed. The player missed a chord. The song halted.

Diago froze.

The music began again—louder, closer—although Diago had not moved. Whatever approached was coming to him. The fog became electric. Drops of moisture sizzled against the black windows and shadow doors that lined the alley.

The strings hummed when the player missed his next chord. It was Miquel. Any doubt was erased by that error. When he grew tired, he always failed to make a smooth transition between F and E. Judging from the screech of his fingers along the strings, he was exhausted.

But he’s alive. He’s alive, and that’s what matt—

The song ended abruptly. 

Diago thought he heard voices. He cocked his head.

A man spoke a command.

Miquel answered. “I can’t.”

The man spoke again. His tone mocked Miquel’s pain. “You will.” 

Miquel began to play.

Rage flared through Diago’s chest and into his head, almost blinding him. He clenched his jaw and pushed down his anger. He needed his mind clear.

The sounds drew closer still. Miquel’s ring was warm on Diago’s finger. Diago searched the gloom. A door appeared in the wall on his left. Cold blue light spilled across the threshold and shouldered the fog aside. Over the open door, an electric scorpion writhed and blinked in neon splendor.

Diago crept toward the entrance and peered inside. The room was gray, like the walls and the floor had been sculpted from the mist. The same lack of color that diluted the details of the bar enhanced the three figures within.

Miquel played a worn guitar, his fingertips dark with his own blood. Sweat dampened his black curls. Other than a bruise that spread across his left eye like a poison sunset, and his worn fingertips, he seemed to be all right.

Even so, Diago’s heart hammered at the sight of him. Adrenaline flooded his body with an intoxicating mixture of relief and rage.

The loud click of marbles striking wooden trays redirected his attention to the table where an angel in his mortal form sat across from a child. Diago focused on the angel first. He was the same one Estrella had described. To any human who happened to glance at him, he appeared as a beautiful man with long silver hair pulled into ponytail that cascaded down his back. A closer look revealed that he had only four fingers on each hand.

Safe within his lair, he made no attempt to hide his feet, which resembled the clawed talons of a raptor. Thick fur covered his ankles and disappeared beneath the seams of his pants. The eyes were the worst. Great crimson orbs shot through with streams of silver. He possessed no pupils, no whites.

An hourglass stood on the table. Yellow sand trickled from the top bulb into the bottom. The thin line of sand in the top half left no doubt that Diago had arrived just in time.

A mancala board was placed between the angel and the child. They used brightly colored marbles for their game pieces.

The boy chose a tray and scooped up the marbles. He counted them out and frowned at the board, tapping his fingers against the table in a slow rhythm, like a cat twitching its tail. The familiarity of the motion stunned Diago. He often did the same thing when distracted.

He is mine. And on the heels of that thought came the obvious: I have to get him out of here. He glanced at Miquel again. I have to get both of them out of here.

“Come in, Diago,” said the angel. “We have been waiting for you.”

END EXCERPT

 

Frohock has turned a love of dark fantasy and horror into tales of deliciously creepy fiction. She lives in North Carolina where she has long been accused of telling stories, which is a southern colloquialism for lying.

She is the author of Miserere: An Autumn Tale and numerous short stories. Her newest series, Los Nefilim, is from Harper Voyager Impulse, and the Los Nefilim omnibus contains all three novellas: In Midnight’s Silence, Without Light or Guide, and The Second Death in one convenient book.

You can find out more about T. at her website, or follow her on Twitter or Facebook.

 Order Los Nefilim for only $2.99USD on Kindle and pre-order the paperback for only $7.99USD (due for release June 14th).

Evil is a Matter of Perspective: An Anthology of Antagonists

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Starting June 15th the Grimdark Magazine team will be using Kickstarter to raise $19,500USD (just over $27,100AUD) to fund Evil is a Matter of Perspective: An Anthology of Antagonists.

Our anthology will put you in the shoes of your favourite fantasy antagonists. We've gathered one hell of a team: seventeen brilliant fantasy authors, two amazing artists, a designer, editors and a team of readers from GdM. The stories will range from epic fantasy to good ol' grimdark fantasy and most things in between.

The Evil is a Matter of Perspective team

Seventeen authors were kind enough to commit their efforts to Evil is a Matter of Perspective:

R. Scott Bakker (The Second Apocalypse)
Michael R. Fletcher (Manifest Delusions)
Jeff Salyards (Bloodsounder's Arc)
Teresa Frohock (Los Nefilim)
Adrian Tchaikovsky (Shadows of the Apt, The Tiger and the Wolf)
Brian Staveley (Chronicle of the Unhewn Throne)
Kaaron Warren (The Gate Theory, Mistification)
Marc Turner (Chronicles of the Exile)
Courtney Schafer (The Shattered Sigil)
Deborah A. Wolf (The Dragon's Legacy)
Alex Marshall (Crimson Empire)
Bradley P. Beaulieu (The Song of the Shattered Sands, The Lays of Anuskaya)
Shawn Speakman (The Annwn Cycles)
Matthew Ward (Shadow of the Raven, Coldharbour)
Mazarkis Williams (The Tower & Knife)

Stretch goal authors:

Mark Alder (Banners of Blood)
Janny Wurts (The Wars of Light and Shadow, The Empire Trilogy)

Artists:

Tommy Arnold (cover)
Jason Deem (interior--stretch goal)
Shawn King (design)

This line-up is joined by the experienced members of the GdM team: Tom Smith, Mike Myers, Cheresse Burke, Jewel Gray, Kristy Mika, Diarmuid Hughes, and Adrian Collins.

What you get by backing this Kickstarter

The 15+ stories and associated art works will be on offer in four different formats--three print and one electronic: 

ebook (Kindle, ePub, and PDF)
Paperback
Hardcover (with dust jacket)
Lettered special edition:

Limited to 26
Signed by all the author contributors
Arizona leather cover
Ribbon

There will also be a range of other backing options on offer, such as tuckerisations and editing, for those who want more.

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Stretch Goals

The best Kickstarters boast killer stretch goals that keep adding content. Ours is no different. As we bust through our funding goal and keep going north, here's our first list of stretch goals:

Interior art by Jason Deem (financial goal)
Additional short story by Mark Alder (financial goal)
Additional short story by Janny Wurtz (financial goal)
Author pay bump from $0.10 per word to $0.12 per word (financial goal)
Open window for 2x unsolicited submissions (financial goal)
eBooks from Ragnarok Publications (backer numbers goal):

Blackguards: Tales of Assassins, Mercenaries, and Rogues

The Heresy Within by Rob J. Hayes


eBooks from Cohesion Press (backer numbers goal):


Into the Mist by Lee Murray
SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

FUBAR by Weston Ochse

eBooks from Matthew Ward (backer number goal):


A Matter of Belief (novella)

The Tribute (novellette)

First year bundle deal from Grimdark Magazine (backer numbers goal)
Second year bundle deal from Grimdark Magazine (backer numbers goal)

If we bust through these goals we'll be adding further content to keep increasing the amount of value you get for your dollar. Any fiction budget left over will go into sourcing and purchasing more short stories.

The Add-Ons list is still being put together, so keep an eye on our blog for more information.

Back the Kickstarter

Evil is a Matter of Perspective is planned and ready to go for a June 15th launch. We need your commitment to get to print and to turn nine months of planning into a reality.

More to come on Evil is a Matter of Perspective from GdM and the authors over the next few weeks! Keep an eye on our social media pages for more!

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Interview with TOTAL WAR: WARHAMMER writer Andy Hall

Andy Hall is the Lead Writer on the highly anticipated Total War: Warhammer from Creative Assembly. He was kind enough to take a few minutes off to chat with us about the game that has both Total War and Warhammer Fantasy Battles fans collectively throwing their credit cards at him and screaming "TAKE MY MONEY".

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Andy is a 16 year Games Worksop veteran who worked with the likes of Jervis Johnson, Gav Thorpe and Rick Priestley on many games such as Blood Bowl, Warmaster and Inquisitor when at the Specialist Games studio and then as editor of Fanatic Magazine. After a five year stint on White Dwarf, he left GW and worked on numerous Warhammer-flavoured computer games including Warhammer Quest, Blood Bowl 2 and Vermintide. He’s now full time at Creative Assembly as Lead Writer on Total War: Warhammer.

Let's get chatting about the game I can't wait to set eyes on!

 

[GdM] Throughout the Total War series on loading screens we often see quotes meant to inspire, guide and warn. I always got such a huge kick out of them. With so many books, short stories, and fluff pieces already written in the Warhammer world, were you able to use a few choice quotes that we may recognise or did you need to come up with new ones?

[AH] Wow, I've done what must be well over 50 interviews for this project so far and no one's asked me about loading screen quotes before! To answer - there's a few new ones I've written, but the vast majority are taken from existing material in a scatter gun approach. The loading screen is a good way to show just how deep this world is, and so having a random sample of factoids and quotes from the full spectrum of the Old World alludes to that.

We've also got hints about battle and campaign game play in there, summaries of the spell lores, and keep an eye on the loading screens going into Quest Battles they may offer hints on what to expect as well as a narrative summary of your goal. 

[GdM] What heroes can we expect to hear from?

[AH] Bretonnians, Dwarfs, brave Empire men, Orcs, of course. Mannfred has a few choice select quotes, that guy is a real blow hard.

[GdM] Do you have a favourite quote you can share with us?

[AH] 'Oi, dat's my leg!' - perturbed Goblin.

[GdM] And what about those that you came up with yourself?

[AH] 'Life is a cancer, but I have the cure, death ever-lasting.' I think that's one of Kemmler's.

[GdM] Warhammer is an intensely detailed game and world. In an article on ign.com, Stace Harman discusses the exceptional detail the creators went into to ensure a completely unique playing experience for each race. How much input did you have into the creation of those races and uniqueness, and was it difficult to come up with four initial engaging narrative experiences for the one map?

[AH] Yeah, I was recruited early in the project, I'd left GW the previous year and was just finishing work on Warhammer Quest, Blood Bowl 2 and Vermintide, when CA asked me to join. So I had some influence over how the races worked. However, real credit belongs to Ian Roxburgh, our game director, for really laying down the challenge on our campaign and battle designers to make this more than a mere Total War re-skin. This game breathes Warhammer and I hope that I made a small contribution towards that.

[GdM] Which race was the most fun to write?

[AH] It has to be Greenskins. Writing Orc scripts, there's nothing quite like it. All credit to Rick Preistley, and so many other writers in that early GW era for making Orcs hooligan Milwall fans.

[GdM] Which is your favourite to play, and why?

[AH] Perhaps surprisingly, I've really been enjoying the Dwarfs, it's their Grudge mechanic that really keeps you doing the 'just one more turn' thing. I'm an Empire player on the table top (and Skaven...) but I'm saving Franz's lads for my 'release' play through.

[GdM] With four awesome races coming out with the initial release, and two planned expansions on the way, what other races will be added and when can we expect to see them?

[AH] The plan is to get all sixteen armies (and, yes, I mean 16 despite there being 15 army books...) in the game by journey's end. As to the order in which they appear, well, you'll have to wait and see.

[GdM] Can you give us any indication of what sort of stories we'll get to play through with those races?

[AH] In Total War you make your own stories, that is kinda the point, playing out the 'what ifs' of that race. What if Franz invaded Bretonnia? What if Mannfred does create an eternal, deathless Empire? My own personal agenda is to reclaim Marienburg for the Empire. It's always rankled me that the corrupt Bugomeisters bought themselves secession. That's something I intend to put right on my Empire play through! Saying all that we do have a broad narrative structure - an overarching plot - that is kind of a first for Total War and there are the Quest Chains for the Legendary Lords and that will continue for all the races going forward, with the quests and narratives adapting to the style of each race.

[GdM] One of the things I'm most excited about are the Legendary Lords, described on the Total War Wiki as "named characters from Warhammer Lore". Two come out for each race with the initial release, with more to follow as DLCs and Free Content. Which Legendary Lords did you enjoy putting into the game the most and how did you integrate their storylines and history into the narrative?

[AH] Heinrich Kemmler was my favourite to write because he's a senile old git, who thinks of his Undead minions as his 'children'. His battle speeches were great fun to write. The Quest Chains are linked to their iconic magic items, that's how you unlock them in the game. The stories themselves for these are either new, or refashioned from their origins in the background. In a few instances we've had to tweak timelines to get it to work, but as the game doesn't advance in years, I think we get away with it. A good example of a new quest, of new material, for example, is Karl Franz's quest for Ghal Maraz. In our game, he's just become Emperor, and so perfectly entitled to wield the Warhammer, so what I did was make Karl not feel worthy of Ghal Maraz until he has performed a great battle - at Black Fire Pass - such a momentous victory there will set the seeds of uniting the Electors behind Franz's reign and so then he does feel he can wield the Warhammer both as a symbol of his office and as a weapon. And so it unlocks in the game. 

[GdM] Will we see such renown characters as the Bretonian Green Knight, Aenarion the Defender, Malus Darkblade, Archaon, or Sigmar (to name but a few)?

[AH] You're not going to see Sigmar! As to the others... Stay tuned. 

[GdM] Will there be more than two Legendary Lords per race in the future?

[AH] Yes, Chaos already has three - Sigvald, Kholek and, of course, Archaon. 

[GdM] With so much lore already existing, were you able to integrate stories of famous battles and other occurrences through easter eggs or simple nods to other storylines?

[AH] Yes, the game is littered with Easter Eggs for the lore-fiend. Keep an eye on traits, achievements, building and tech tree descriptions in the game guide.

[GdM] Were there any bits of lore you wish you could have put in but just couldn't?

[AH] Not couldn't... But couldn't put in yet. By the time we're done I think we'll be very comprehensive! 

[GdM] Tabletop gamers are habitual list-tinkerers and love kitting out lords and heroes, something that seems to have thankfully made it into Total War: Warhammer. There are magic items and huge skill trees to build on the smaller generals' skill trees of Rome: Total War II, which feels far more representative of Warhammer army lists tabletop gamers will be used to. Will these characters have the immense impact on the Total War field of battle that they can on the tabletop?

[AH] Gods, yes! You're effectively dealing with superheroes here. Some of our Legendary Lords are immortal power houses and that's how they play out on the battlefield. Mannfred should be able to walk up to a unit of gobble and wipe them out single-handedly. The fact you can develop them further or create your own from scratch is icing on the cake. You have 30 skill points (gained by committing them in battle) and that allows you to really customise your Lords and Heroes, just like in table top. 

[GdM] The maps in the current play-throughs look gorgeously detailed, far more so that previous Total War games. Were artists known for their previous Warhammer art used in the creation of the scenery and did you get to work with them on creative briefs?

[AH] We have a great stable of artists at CA and they just launched into bringing this world to life whole-heartedly. We obviously have 30 years of artistic endeavour from Games Workshop to be inspired by. More skulls! Was a catchphrase I and our art lead, Chris Waller used a lot, as well as references from the likes of John Blanche and many others.

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[GdM] Are there any plans to release maps of famous battles as one-offs?

[AH] Not currently.

[GdM] Warhammer and Total War feels like a beautiful match up on the same awesomeness-tier as salt and caramel or beer and the Aussie summer. What are you most excited about with this release?

[AH] So much. This game is what was happening in my head when I was an eleven year old boy pushing miniatures around a table. The static nature of models means they can only be representative. Our game makes it visceral; makes it real. That's why I am proud to have had a minor part in creating it. 

[GdM] Thanks for chatting with me Andy! 

Total War: Warhammer hit the shelves on the 24th of May, 2016 and can be ordered for $59.99USD over on the steam store.

Review: The Wheel of Osheim by Mark Lawrence

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Review by Matthew Cropley

In The Wheel of Osheim, the final instalment of Mark Lawrence’s The Red Queen’s War trilogy, Jalan Kendeth, lover of wine, women and slacking off somehow finds himself lost the bowels of Hell itself, in combat with an army of undead horrors, and forced onto a quest to save the fabric of reality. Needless to say, he’s mildly miffed.

The last time we saw Jalan in The Liar’s Key, he was being pulled into Hell after his Viking companion Snorri. The Wheel of Osheim begins after Jalan escapes Hell, and the events that took place there are given to us in a series of harrowing flashbacks. Jalan seeks nothing more than the comforts of home, yet is dragged kicking and screaming into the role of the hero and sent on a quest to stop the titular ‘Wheel of Osheim’ from tearing reality itself apart. The stakes are far higher than the more intimate Prince of Fools and The Liar’s Key. Despite the grander scale, the story remains a deeply personal one, and Lawrence’s flair for nuanced character development soars to new heights.

The Wheel of Osheim is a tale of wonderful paradoxes, with many of them embodied in its protagonist. Jalan started out as a pathetic coward, yet one with enough wit and charisma that you couldn’t help but root for him, and he manages to come into his own in The Wheel of Osheim, maturing and learning from his experiences without losing his core. Jalan has been through so much that, despite still claiming to be cowardly, he seems far braver than many of those around him simply by virtue of being so used to danger that he barely notices it. After spending two books with him I’d assumed that he wouldn’t surprise me anymore, yet he continues to do so seemingly every chapter. He’s selfish and selfless, fearful and brave, weak and strong, callous and caring. In short, he’s one of the most well-realised, realistic protagonists that I’ve encountered. Where Jorg Ancrath was a grimdark protagonist due to possessing characteristics that would make him a villain in any other story, Jalan is a grimdark hero because it’s as if fate plucked a random side-character from his days of drinking and gambling and forced him into the role of the hero just to see what would happen. In Jalan, we get to see how flawed, realistic person might fare in a fantasy quest.

The secondary characters are equally as well realised, even if we only get small glimpses. For example, our time with the Red Queen is brief as ever, yet when reading about her I felt as if I was staring into a lake and could just make out the suggestion of great depths. On one level I’d love to read a series following the Red Queen’s life, but on another the glimpses we get convey so much. The trilogy is aptly named The Red Queen’s War since while we follow Jalan, the Red Queen and her struggle against the Lady Blue are always at the heart of things. Snorri, of course, is Jalan’s tortured but heroic Viking companion, and while Jalan spends time apart from Snorri this time round, his influence remains important. Snorri is another paradox since while he’s a hulking muscle-bound warrior, he’s perhaps the most vulnerable character in the book. He’s what a hero might become after he’s lost everything, dead-set on the impossible task of rescuing his family from the afterlife. He and Jalan are polar opposites which is probably why their unlikely friendship is so touching and their banter so entertaining. Snorri’s heroism and equally heroic expectations are what bind Jalan to his quest: he just doesn’t want to let Snorri down. This, along with a variety of external pressures, provides a very human reason for Jalan to even attempt the ‘save the world’ quest. Kara and Hennan make reappearances, along with a variety of other secondary characters from the first two books, and their characters remain compelling.

The certain doom of the Dead King and the destruction of reality that has been creeping up on Jalan, and indeed the whole Broken Empire, is no longer the far-off threat that it has been, but explodes violently into the present. Jalan, always seeking to escape from his troubles, finds that there is nowhere left to escape to, and this realisation, along with the epic battles that accompany it, make for a fantastic ending to the trilogy. The emotional threads that have been woven through the series all culminate in a satisfying finale that links closely with the Broken Empire trilogy. Throughout the book, Jalan traipses around the edges of Jorg’s story and provides an explanation for the forces behind Jorg’s struggles. Where the previous books in The Red Queens’s War crossed over in minor ways with the Broken Empire trilogy, this time the links are significant. Rather than feeling like a tacked-on addition to a pre-existing story, The Wheel of Osheim slots in and adds to the Broken Empire trilogy seamlessly. However, at times, especially in the slower first third of The Wheel of Osheim these comparisons reminded me just how fantastic Jorg and the Broken Empire trilogy are, and made me yearn for those books. This effect was short-lived and by the time The Wheel of Osheim picked up, I was so swept up in Jalan’s story that thoughts of Jorg were far from my mind. The Broken Empire trilogy is larger in scale and perhaps more epic, with a deliciously dark tone and clever subversion of fantasy tropes, but The Red Queen’s War stands firmly on its own merits, providing more humour, heart and an equally entertaining, though wildly different, protagonist.

The central dilemma of the novel, whether it’s worth the effort of even trying to save a world from certain doom, is compellingly encapsulated in the world of the Broken Empire. Hordes of horrific undead monstrosities storm kingdoms while corrupt rulers consolidate their own power. Undead have been portrayed frequently in fiction in general, not to mention fantasy, but Lawrence presents fresh horrors that exceed anything he’s shown us yet. The battles with undead hordes are well thought out, with the actual logistical challenges of fighting undead clearly considered and used to create an atmosphere of hopeless dread. We’re also given greater insights into the Broken Empire, including the history of the Builders and the bizarre nature of the Wheel of Osheim itself, all filtered through Jalan’s supremely entertaining viewpoint.

Lawrence’s prose succeeds in being both unpretentious and beautiful, with genuinely deep insights into human nature wrapped up in Jalan’s wittily cynical commentary. A single-narrator first person perspective is rarely used in fantasy in favour of multi-viewpoint third person epics, but Lawrence utilises its intimate nature and internal monologue to great effect, and looking out at the world from inside Jalan’s head is far more entertaining than simply watching him would be. It’s with novels such as this that one realises just how much more engaging books can be when compared to other media, such as films. There’s just no substitute for being transported into another person’s mind, and Mark Lawrence is a master of the art. The plot begins relatively slowly, compared at least to the cliff-hanger ending of the last book, but ratchets up steadily, peaking with several nail-bitingly suspenseful scenes. Jalan’s antics are genuinely laugh-out-loud funny at times, and act as good counterpoints to the dire stakes. His humour doesn’t detract from the seriousness of the situation, but is derived from it with his hilariously realistic reactions to horrific events that would see a traditional hero square his shoulders and raise his weapon. Despite his lack of apparent heroism, Jalan really does rise to the challenge in a way he rarely has before.

Overall, The Wheel of Osheim presents everything our followers could want in a fantasy book, which is no less than one would expect from Mark Lawrence. Fantastic character development, an intimate and entertaining narrative voice, and a plot that manages to be both deeply personal and world-shaking. It’s a wonderful end to The Red Queen’s War and a rich addition to the world of the Broken Empire. Read it.

Purchase The Wheel of Osheim in paperback from Galaxy Bookstore or as a signed, lined, first edition from Quill and Claw Signed First Editions.

Galaxy Bookstore Purchase Link (paperback)

Quill and Claw Signed First Editions Purchase Link (Signed, lined first edition)

Purchase on Kindle:

 

Review: Nightwise by R.S. Belcher

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Review by Durand Welsh

Urban fantasy is a mixed breed animal. Horror, dark fantasy, romance, hard-boiled detective fiction, police procedural – urban fantasy pairs them off, lets them get comfy, and then births its own unique lineages of weird offspring.

Arguably, paranormal romance falls at one end of the spectrum, with the romance interest taking centre stage and your usual posse of ab-licious wolf-boys and hunky vampires lining up to woo (let’s be diplomatic here) the protagonist. But if paranormal romance is at one end of the urban fantasy playing field, then under the bleachers at the other end is R.S. Belcher’s Nightwise.

Nightwise the red-headed stepchild of the hard-boiled detective novel, Lovecraftian and Weird fiction, superhero comic books, the crime caper (although Ocean’s Eleven this ain’t), and good ol’ pappy Grimdark his own self. Nightwise even acknowledges its heritage with several sly winks. The protagonist, Laytham Ballard, quotes Chandler at several points, wears an Alan Moore t-shirt, and actually uses the word “caper” in the appropriate section of the novel.

Laytham is the quintessential grimdark protagonist. He’s morally ambiguous to the core, a man who wants to be a hero, but only succeeds at being a villain. He’s not a good man who does bad things, nor is he a bad man who wishes to do good things. He simply is who he is, a man who’s said to have raised the dead at the age of ten, stolen the Philosopher’s Stone back in Vegas in ‘99, and survived the blood sucking kiss of the Mosquito Queen. Although, granted, his moral compass hasn’t been helped by the fact he’s also lost part of his soul in one of those shady occult deals the Brothers Grimm have been warning folks about for centuries.  

Laytham is also an initiate into “the Life,” the magical underworld. A bit of a rudderless fellow, he’s found a cause in seeking vengeance on Dusan Slorzack, the man who raped, tortured, and murdered his old buddy’s missus. His old buddy, Boj, used to be a smack dealing king of the underworld, and Laytham was his right-hand man. But now Boj is dying from AIDS and Laytham is trying to do right by his old friend the only way he knows how – by dealing out the pain on Slorzack. Except Slorzack is an enigma, a shadow, and as Laytham follows the trail of bodies he begins to realise that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. 

Not only are the secret masters of the not-so-free world, the Illuminati, apparently involved, but Slorzack has gotten involved with some arcane magic known only as the “Greenway.” Whatever mystery project Slorzack is helming, it’s involved him working in the shadows for decades, orchestrating super-sized human sacrifices, and delighting in being the sort of villain that makes even a guy like Laytham seem like a choir boy.     

Pursuing Slorzack with occult magic, his wits, and his fists, Laytham carves his way through occult New York, a place of murder clubs, BDSM dungeons, and homicidal deities. Along the way he ropes in the members of his old crew, including an elderly Japanese “gun saint”, and a transgender Australian shaman. Belcher does a fine job of walking that tight rope between humour and grittiness, and there really is a geeky comic book talent to how Belcher weds the wacky elements with graphic violence. In one scene Laytham invokes a magical marijuana deity, but it’s essentially played straight, no breaking the fourth wall and winking at the reader and saying, “This is all a bit ridiculous.” And when the said deity of bud is the catalyst of a heap of bone-breaking violence, the violence pulls no punches.  

Sure, Laytham snorts stolen coke, bribes people with smack, and his actions often result in the deaths of the innocent, but you forgive him because there’s a perverse logic to what he does, and deep down we all know we’d never be as morally courageous as the Hollywood hero who turns his back on the whipped-cur villain and pronounces his debts settled. A large part of how Belcher manages to make Laytham sympathetic is through Laytham’s interior voice. One of the peculiar things about urban fantasy is the way first-person with a strong, lively interior voice has become the default.  I guess it all goes back to Anita Blake’s punchy catch phrases.  Unfortunately, so many urban fantasy novels seem to feel like they’re channelling Anita Blake in one way or another, and their interior voices are peppered with nauseous one-liners that are meant to sound cool but instead sound juvenile.

Not so with Nightwise. Here’s a sample of Laytham’s interior voice.

“Houdini on meth with Aleister Crowley’s cock in his back pocket couldn’t have gotten in there without being noticed, nabbed, and nailed.”

I like it. I like it very much.

How can you not like a guy who throws out those lines?

Nightwise balances expertly over the chasm between humour and horror, never becoming so clever that the horror and grimness fades away, never becoming so unrelentingly dark that all hope is lost. So, if you want to try something grimdark that isn’t your typical fantasy setting, then give Nightwise a try.

Me, I’ll be heading out and grabbing Belcher’s new one, The Brotherhood of the Wheel.

Grab Nightwise in hardback from Galaxy Bookstore by clicking on the logo below:

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Or on Kindle from Amazon:

 

 

Wrong Place Wrong Time: a short story excerpt from Joe Abercrombie's Sharp Ends

I don't know about you, but I'm deadset chomping at the bit to get my hands on the next foray into Joe Abercrombie's First Law world, the short story collection, Sharp Ends. Full of reprints and new short stories, we'll be back with so many of the characters we've come to love through his first six books.

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Hachette Australia were kind enough to drop us an excerpt from one of the short stories to give you guys a little taste of what's to come.

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Westport, Spring 580

Canto Silvine finished his morning slice of bread and honey, licked his finger, used it to sweep up the crumbs from the plate, and smiled as he sucked it clean. The quiet joy of routine. It was something Mauthis was very keen on, routine. Canto tried to be keen on the same things powerful people were. He thought, perhaps, that might one day make him like them. He had no other ideas how to achieve it, anyway.

He frowned at a honey spot on his sleeve. ‘Damn it!’ Mauthis would be less keen on that, presentation being key, but any more time dithering and he would be late. And if Mauthis hated one quality above all others in a clerk, it was tardiness. He stood, trying desperately to make no noise, but the legs of his chair caught on the uneven boards and made an awful grinding.

‘Cantolarus!’ hissed Mimi’s voice from the other room, and Canto winced. Only his mother used his full name. Only his mother, and his wife when she meant to give him a lecture. As she padded into the room with their son in her arms she had her serious eyes out, that slight wrinkle between the brows that he’d loved to see before he married her, but which had steadily lost its appeal over the months since. To begin with, that wrinkle had come when she told him how their life would be when they were married. Now it came when she told him how far their actual life fell short of what they had agreed.

‘Yes, my love?’ he said, in a tone that tried to laugh her off and reassure her both at once, and achieved neither.

‘How long do you expect us to stay here?’

‘Well, certainly until I get back from work!’ He gave a nervous titter. She did not. Rather, that wrinkle deepened. There was a loud bang on the ceiling, followed by the burble of raised voices from above, and Mimi’s eyes rolled up towards it. Damn bad timing, for those bastards to start arguing just then. If Canto was half a man he would have gone up there and had a stern word with them about it. So Mimi told him. But Canto was not half a man. Mimi told him that, too.

‘This was supposed to be temporary,’ she said, and their son gave a quivering stretch as though attempting to pile more guilt on Canto’s sagging shoulders.

‘I know, and it is, it is! But . . . we can’t afford anything better quite yet. My pay won’t cover it—’

‘Then either your pay must rise or you must find a better-paying position.’ That wrinkling grew harder. ‘You’re a father now, Cantolarus. You have to demand your due. You have to be a man about it.’

‘I am a man!’ he snapped, in the most peevish and effeminate way possible. He forced his voice deeper. ‘I’m due a promotion. Mauthis said so.’

‘He did?’

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ In fact, Mauthis had not spoken to him directly for three months, and that had been to bloodlessly correct him over a minor error in one of his calculations.

Mimi’s angry frown had turned into a suspicious frown, however, and Canto counted that a victory, however it was managed. ‘He’s said it before,’ she grumbled, hitching their son up a little. He truly was an enormous baby. ‘It hasn’t happened.’

‘It will happen this time, my love. Trust me.’ That’s what he said every time. But it was easier to lie than to have the hard conversation. Much easier. Fortunately, their son chose that moment to give a mew and tug at his mother’s nightshirt. Canto seized his chance. ‘I have to go. I’m late as it is.’

She tipped her face towards him, probably expecting a kiss, but he did not have it in him, and fortunately their son was struggling now, eager to be fed. So instead he flashed a watery smile, and stepped out into the mouldy hallway, and pulled the door rattling to.

A problem left behind was just the same as a problem solved.

Wasn’t it?

*   *   *

Canto flung his ledger shut and started up from his desk, wriggling between a well-heeled merchant and her bodyguard and across the crowded banking floor. ‘Sir! Sir, might I—’

Mauthis’s cold stare flickered over him like a pawnbroker’s over a dead man’s chattels. ‘Yes, Silvine?’

‘Er. . .’ Canto was wrong-footed, if not to say somewhat flushed with pleasure, at the mere fact of Mauthis knowing who he was. And it was so damned hot in the banking hall today that he found himself quite flustered. His mouth ran away with him. ‘You know my name, sir—?’

‘I know the names of every man and woman employed by the Banking House of Valint and Balk in Styria. Their names, and their roles, and their salaries.’ He narrowed his eyes a fraction. ‘I dislike changes to any of them. What can I do for you?’

Canto swallowed. ‘Well, sir, the thing is . . .’ Sounds seemed to be echoing at him in a most distracting way. The scratching of clerks’ pens on paper and their rattling in inkwells; the hushed burbling of numbers, terms and rates; the clomp of a ledger being heaved shut felt loud as a door slamming. Nerves, was all, just nerves. He heard Mimi’s voice. You have to be a man about it. Everyone was looking at him, though, the senior clerks with their books held close, and two fur-trimmed merchants who Canto now realised he had interrupted. Have to be a man. He tugged at his collar, trying to get some air in. ‘The thing is—’

‘Time is money, Silvine,’ said Mauthis. ‘I should not have to explain to you that the Banking House of Valint and Balk does not look kindly upon wasted money.’

‘The thing is . . .’ His tongue felt suddenly twice its usual size. His mouth tasted strange.

‘Give him some air!’ somebody shouted, over in the corner, and Mauthis’s brows drew in, puzzled. Then almost pained.

‘The thing . . .’

And Mauthis doubled up as though punched in the stomach. Canto took a sharp step back, and for some reason his knee almost gave way. So hot in the banking hall. Like that foundry he once visited with his father.

‘Turn him over!’ came echoing from the back of the hall. Everyone was staring. Faces swimming, fascinated, afraid.

‘Sir? Sir?’ One of the senior clerks had caught his master’s elbow, was guiding him to the floor. Mauthis raised one quivering arm, one bony finger pointing, staring towards a woman in the press. A pale woman whose eyes burned bright behind black hair.

‘Muh,’ he mouthed. ‘Muh . . .’

He started to flop wildly about on the floor. Canto was troubled by the thought that, plainly, this was not routine. Mauthis had always been such a stickler for routine. Then he was bent over by a sudden and deeply unpleasant coughing fit.

‘Help!’

‘Some air, I said!’

But there was no air. No air in the room at all. Canto sank slowly to his knees, tearing at his collar. Too tight. He could hardly catch a proper breath.

Mauthis lay still, pink foam bubbling from his mouth, his wide eyes staring up unseeing at the black-haired woman while she stared back. Who would Canto talk to now about a raise? But perhaps that was the wrong thing to be worrying about?

‘Plague!’ somebody shouted. A desk crashed over. People were charging this way and that. Canto clawed at someone for help but his fingers would hardly work. A flying knee caught him in the back and he was flung down, face crunching against the tiles, mouth filling with salty blood.

He tried to get up but he could hardly move, everything rigid, shaking, as if he was one enormous cramp. He thought the time had probably come now to cry out, but all that came was a bubbling gurgle. Mimi was right. Even now, he was half a man.

He saw feet stamping, shuffling. A woman screamed as she fell beside him, and the sound seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel.

Everything was growing blurry.

He found, to his great dismay, that he could not breathe.

*   *   *

Sharp Ends by Joe Abercrombie is published by Hachette Australia, RRP $32.99

Grimdark Magazine #7 featuring Victor Milan, Gav Thorpe and Django Wexler hits the stands!

We're really excited to bring you Grimdark Magazine #7. This quarter we have some stellar fiction for you, an article calling the First Law trilogy the anti-Lord of the Rings, interviews, reviews and an excerpt.

Check out the ToC, just underneath yet another cracking cover from Jason Deem depicting a crushing scene from Victor Milan's Red Sails, Red Seas set in his The Dinosaur Lords world!

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GdM#7 Table of Contents

Fiction:

The Penitent Damned by Django Wexler

The Nu-Thai Screwjob by Gav Thorpe

Red Sails, Red Seas by Victor Milan

Articles:

Is the First Law trilogy the new Lord of the Rings? by C.T. Phipps

Interviews:

Shawn Speakman
Django Wexler

Reviews:

Fallout 4 (Review by C.T. Phipps)

Dragon Hunters by Marc Turner (review by Matthew Cropley)

Road Brothers by Mark Lawrence (review by malrubius)

Cover Art:

Sea Monster by Jason Deem (Spiral Horizon Art)

Head on over to our webstore to purchase Grimdark Magazine issue #7 on Kindle, ePub or PDF - USE THIS LINK

We're also up on Amazon, if you'd prefer to purchase through the store there.

To add GdM#7 on Goodreads, click here!

Review: Black Tea and Other Tales

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Black Tea and Other Stories

Review by Jewel Elise

Black Tea and Other Tales by Samuel Marolla is compared to ‘A box of lovely dark chocolates’ in a foreword by Gene O’Neill. Gene’s recommendation had me ready to devour the three dark and bittersweet stories before the opening word, and I gladly did.

Black Tea opens on a confused man wandering the red pathways of a strange house. He finds a note in his pocket telling him the old woman who owns the house is trying to kill him and two remaining men. The opening immediately grabbed my attention as characters are quickly killed off in gruesome ways. The goal is simple, to try survive and find a way out of Grandma’s house of death.

This was my favorite of the three. It has a fast paced beginning and an end so grim it makes you wonder if death would have been better. The amnesia gives the story enough mystery without being overwhelming. The sweet smiling grandma is pure evil, no moral ambiguity, but she’s so frightening that it works. The trapped characters are your average Joe’s working for a company called Elite Maintenance. The men are somewhat morally grey. Black Tea subtly presents the question of what you would allow to happen to your work colleagues if it meant your survival, or theirs.

 

The setting is the house, Villa Bartoli, designed by the old lady’s late husband. It’s like a board game, but without a winner. The windowless hallways are a maze of crimson carpets, and oozing arabesque wallpaper. The Villa feels like another dark and twisted character helping the old lady capture her victims.

Black Tea sucks you into the house along with the lost characters. This story is pure dark chocolate, and leaves you craving more.

I enjoyed Samuel Marolla’s style so much that I greedily unwrapped the next story, Crocodiles. The second short story starts out a bit slower than Black Tea but is instantly gripping because of the well written characters and the protagonist’s realistic, depressing life. William Fiorucci is a thin, divorced and possibly alcoholic, writer living in Milan above an aging prostitute in his Mother’s flat. He’s a freelance journalist working for the Milanese crime news. Ambrogio Cerutti, an old, one-eyed mobster, gives Fiorucci a bottle of his homemade, special wine in gratitude for not writing a piece that would have tarnished his granddaughter’s reputation. The recipe will die with Cerutti, but he mentions it's made of grapes watered by blood three times. Twice with stray cats, and once with a decent man’s. Tasty. El vin dei malnatt–wine that can bring a drop of a dream true—brings both his dreams, and his nightmares to life.

The morally gray protagonist Fiorucci is what really moved Crocodiles along. I loved how he slowly descended into darkness until he became a monstrous person, yet his actions, while unacceptable, are understandable. You liked, yet hated him. The other imperfect characters are also entertaining: Olivetti is his mentally insane mother, Ianfascia, his loathsome editor, and Luisa, the hated ex-wife who stole his beloved son from him. Crocodiles starts grim and progressively gets darker until it reaches its bleak conclusion. Exactly what I was hoping for.

The Janara is the last and shortest story. Giuseppe is an adolescent boy visited by a mysterious and unseen spirit that he calls she. She randomly visits Giuseppe in the middle of the night when everyone's sleeping because of a cursed glass of warm milk given to him by a tattooed prisoner. The nights she comes he is left alone in the dark with only his teddy bear Zot to keep him company. He must follow the rules if he wishes to survive: keep the sheets pulled up, don't move, and most importantly, don't make a sound.

The Janara is a fast paced read that turns certain childhood comforts frightening. Giuseppe is a relatable character and she, though you never see her but through his detailed descriptions, is terrifying. There is a great moral dilemma at the bittersweet end, though I felt it was a little predictable in its outcome. Altogether, The Janara is a dark and enjoyable read. 

Black Tea and Other Tales is a grim and gritty book that leaves you craving another box of delectable stories. It has tasty descriptions and beautifully written sentences that make you want to read aloud just to see how they sound spoken. None of the stories are fantasy or what I consider to be Sci-fi, but they are wonderfully dark. Lessons from these tantalizing tales: Don’t drink the milk, don't sip the wine, and never drink the tea.

I give Black Tea and Other Tales 4.5 grimdark lords out of 5.

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To pick up a copy on Kindle, use this link[image error].