Adrian Collins's Blog, page 240

Goodbye Kennet, you absolute champion

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Today, we lost a grimdark enthusiast. The GdM team said goodbye to a team mate and fellow grimdark enthusiast, Kennet Rowan Gencks, GdM First Reader and fucking great bloke.

 

Kennet approached me on May 20, 2015 in response to an ad for first readers. He did his testing and kicked arse, subsequently landing himself a spot on the First Reader team due to his spot-on opinions of grimdark short fiction.

 

In his approach to interacting with our submitting authors, Kennet took the approach of treating people as he'd like to be treated, telling me during testing, "I wasn't really sure if direct and blunt was the correct style or if I should soft-pedal it, so I went with what I'd want to hear myself." I'm certain there are plenty of authors out there who submitted to GdM who benefitted from Kennet taking the time to write helpful feedback on their piece

 

After spending months getting stuck into the mag, responding to fiction submitters, being a part of team discussions on developing the magazine and what we could do to improve each issue, Kennet's health issues really grabbed a hold of him. If you followed him on his page, you'll have seen the horrifying updates as his health issues really took hold.

 

Today, as we see so often in the grimdark fiction we love to read, is not a happy ending. Today, we lost Kennet Rowan Gencks; and the grimdark community lost a person I wish I'd had more time with, but am so glad I got the opportunity to know.

 

Goodbye mate. You're an absolute champion and I'll miss you.

Review: Blackguards

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This book should be one of the introductory bibles to grimdark. There, I said it.  

It's got a wide range of awesome authors writing for a very specific audience. And boy, do they do it well.

What is Blackguards?

Besides fucking awesome? It's an anthology by Ragnarok Publications featuring assassins, mercenaries, and rogues written by some of the best grimdark and dark fantasy authors out there.

Back in 2014 I spotted something from a small publisher I didn't know a whole lot about on a website I'd never looked at before. Ragnarok Publications' Blackguards had gone up on Kickstarter. The Kickstarter had a fun vibe to it -- cheekily written with plenty of content -- so I threw down my hard earned and waited for the paperback to be delivered in the mail. In all honesty, I clean forgot I'd ordered it until I received an email from reception at work and ran downstairs to see what it was.

When I first started reading Blackguards and taking notes for the review (with a memory like a sieve, you've got to take plenty of 'em!), it occurred to me that while some people might love to hear me crapping on about each individual story, others might not. So I've written two reviews: one that's an overall review with a few favourites, etc, picked out, and one where I've just gone berserk.

I give you the long and the short of my review of Blackguards.

The short of it

Blackguards is a thoroughly enjoyable collection grimdark fantasy written by some of the premier authors of grimdark fantasy -- eg. Mark Lawrence, Peter Orullian, Bradley P. Beaulieu, Cat Rambo, John Gwynne, Anthony Ryan -- and a bunch of newer faces. The stories range from the cheeky and funny, to the super dark and vicious, running the full gamut of the grimdark fantasy genre.

There are some absolutely cracking stories in there. Irindai by Bradley P. Beaulieu, The Subtler Art by Cat Rambo, Better to Live Than to Die by John Gwynne, The Secret by Mark Lawrence, A Length of Cherrywood by Peter Orullian, Seeds by Carol Berg... as you can tell, there are a fair few in here I'm a big fan of. There are a few stories that weren't for me, which isn't surprising. I have pretty specific tastes, and a pre-set opinion of what is a grimdark story, so that was bound to happen.

The production as a whole is excellent. Beautiful art, a solid printing, an excellent design from cover to cover, and a well thought out collection of authors to make this really attractive. The Kickstarter itself is a deadset template for how to run an anthology Kickstarter (check it out here if you've got a minute) with engaging posts and a range of fun and enjoyable backer rewards and stretch goals (I especially liked the author pay-bump and will definitely be pilfering that idea in the future).

Overall, Blackguards is an excellent production by a publishing house that is fast becoming one of my favourites in the market. That'll be all I'll say about them for now. If I blow any more smoke up Tim or Joe's arse they're likely to pop.

The long of it

Here we go. These were my thoughts on each short story in the print edition. My apologies to the wonderful Charles Phipps and the others in the ebook extra to Blackguards, but I'll review their work in another post. This was going to turn into a bloody novel otherwise.

Presentation: this anthology is a work of art. It's beautifully thought out and presented. Shawn King and Joe Martin have done an amazing job on this. The exterior art is a great summation of the content, while the individual interior sketches really add to the appeal of each story as you move through. Top marks.

Foreward by Glen Cook: Enjoyable read. Great opinions. Funny. A little sad with the death of his step mother mid-production. It's also refreshing to get a piece from a bloke who sounds like a more intellectually standard person. Sometimes I read pieces by authors and just think, "How the hell do I even compare to that?" To have Glen speak to me like I'm the average Joe provides a really enjoyable entry into this anthology.

Intro by Joe Martin: I want to buy this bloke a pint. A stout. Because it's dark. Really on point with the grimdark sub genre and started with the same first book in those travels, The Hobbit, though with a perspective I've not really seen before. Added a few new authors to my to read list.

Now, into the thick of it. Some of these run a bit more stream of consciousness than structured review, but, hey, I draft these on the bus to and from work. I'm sure you can cut me some slack. I've also tried to avoid spoilers as best I can.

Mainon by Jean Rabe: world's best assassin hired by a rich noble to prevent a seer's vision of him being assassinated prior to his wedding in two days time. Really enjoyable depiction of noble wealth with a pretty solid twist and ending.

Irindai by Bradley P. Beaulieu: story about a messenger, whose package was poisoned and killed the recipient, trying to not land in the shit. She ends up in the mix with the sons of a god and a drug lord you can't say no to all while preparing for a pit fight. Author writes beautifully. I'm definitely a new fan. His world is magnificent and a refreshing change from European medieval or post apocalyptic world's I'm used to reading. The ending has a nice twist and the use of moths to create a collective mind is really cool. Really enjoyable story. I want to find out more about Ceda and this desert realm of gods, godlings, and Magic.

The Subtler Art by Cat Rambo: Rambo writes an excellent short piece based on two not often seen protagonist types -- the married middle aged couple finding stuff to complete over in retirement. Nice end twist with a top of the hat. A dark, feel good story, I guess. Enjoyable story of one upmanship.

Seeds by Carol Berg: this felt like the first true blackguard of Blackguards. The character is cheeky, depraved, addicted, running scared, but like with most good grimdark, there is a ray of hope. Excellent atmosphere around this character driven story. Some comments have me grinning like I do at Lawrence's Prince Jalan. When a drug addicted, on the run Mage finds himself in the slammer, he must help a man escape in order to save his hand from the chopping block.

Nancy's Justice by Kenny Soward: enjoyably told with Jancy, a kind of thief / warrior with a sense of justice to guide her actions. After hearing a bard's tale, she heads off to save a 300 year old child from its kidnapper. Soward writes in a fun-to-read manner that dragged me in by the scruff of the neck and held me there, but I felt the story lacked a solid ending. Don't leave me hanging like that dammit!!!

Professional Integrity by Michael J Sullivan: two thieves are asked to kidnap a girl (by that same girl) to impress a man who doesn't know she exists. Why? Because her dad locks her in a box when that man visits. There are some really enjoyable twists and turns that changes this from a thief story to more of a sleuth story. Great fun, though the ending with the banter of how they worked it out lacks the punch I usually prefer in what I personally read. I'll take a punt and say this is Shawn Speakman's favourite story. 

Troll Trouble by Richard Lee Byers: a soldier trying to start a new life outside of killing has an old friend drop by - an old friend in a pickle. I found the initial conversation between the protagonist and his mate a bit awkward when it was supposed to be comfortable. Interesting troll - human setup. Different to what I've read before. Bit too much of s happy convenient ending for my tastes. This story was one of my least favourites.

A Better Man by Paul S Kemp: Nix and Egil, in need of adventure, accept a job to protect a wizard while he makes a deal. The details are scarce, and their contact hesitant to reveal anything further, but they're bored as hell and in need of mischief. The banter between these two is the best part of the opening, though the rest provides a slow start. Kind of has that feeling of when I used to read Asterix and Obelisk as a kid, only more sneaky, conniving, bloody, and intriguing. Awesome story twist when you get to it. Didn't see that one coming. Ending is different, more somber. From an editing perspective, there's a few typos in this one. 

The First Kill by Django Wexler: Andreas takes his assassin apprentice Beth out to meet the famous Gray Rose, a highly feared and respected spy/intelligence officer/killer. There's a nice relationship between the protagonist and Beth, and the ending has an enjoyable twist to finish you off. Great little story.

Manhunt by Mark Smylie: the night falls, the City Watch hide in fear of their own lives, gangs drag people from their homes and murder them unchecked. One man walks out into the darkness, dreams of grandeur beckoning him to keep the High King's peace. The story is a good bit of roguish fun, with multiple POVs letting you get a whirlwind story. Sometimes, the author dumps a bit of backstory on you that feels a bit too much for a short and could have been cut back or left out. Excellent use of light and darkness in combat. The desperation and confusion of not knowing where the next blade is coming from is really well written. Pretty somber, somewhat drawn out ending after the climax.

Better to Live Than to Die by John Gwynne: a young member of a group of outlaws gets involved in a leadership battle. This is a short brutal piece that sent me straight to the bookstore to add Gwynne's 'Malice' to my ever growing to read stack. The characters and setting are gripping and the battle scenes had my arse firmly attached to the edge of my seat. One of my favourites. 

The Secret by Mark Lawrence: a story about Brother Sim, one of the most intriguing secondary characters in the Broken Empire series. Love the little nod to George Orwell - some brothers are more equal than others. Knowing brother Sim, I picked the ending pretty early on, but it made this tale no less enjoyable, written in Lawrence's always brilliant use of prose. A stand out.

Friendship by Laura Resnick: Najdan the assassin is ordered to kill one of the brutal Outlookers, an order with dire consequences. Bit of a slow opening with a sizeable info dump to get you into the authors world and understanding the politics that make the assassination a dangerous one.

The Long Kiss by Clay Sanger: Raddox, a murderer and rapist has fled the war he started to spend the gold his dead mercenary company no longer need. It's a fun and raunchy short story with a vicious little ending that's fairly telegraphed but that last scene is a favourite of mine. 

The White Rose Thief by Shawn Speakman: Rosenwyn gets dragged back into a life she thought left behind. A nice slower paced piece where we discover a little more about the protagonist in each scene. Definitely building towards something. His character and writing reminds me a little of Rothfuss' Kvothe in The Name of the Wind with the focus on music - the aim being losing yourself in the beauty of it.

A Length of Cherrywood by Peter Orullian: we're really walking in the shadows with this one. Really dark. A highwayman who kidnaps women and sells them for their wombs deals with his horrible past in the only way he's been taught how. Pretty hard topic to put into a story, I imagine. It has a nice moment in the end where we see a little light through the storm clouds of this tale. For getting me to understand someone who could so easily be seen as evil, I tip my glass to you, mr. Orullian.

A Taste of Agony by Tim Maquitz: straight into the action. Gritty, highly detailed. The detail sometimes slows it for me at times, the flip side being that you're right inside Tim's imagination -- exactly where you want to be. As you can always expect from Tim; it's fast, bloody, and action packed.

What Gods Demand by James A. Moore: an assassin tracks a land manager on behalf of the war gods. Interesting premise with a really enjoyable combat scene. It's brutal and merciless. A nice addition to the anthology. More of a vignette as it's pretty much the assassin owning a couple of hapless bastards with her badassery.

Take You Home by David Dalglish: a young woman on her way through Veldaren when she is kidnapped. She's shocked when her knight in shining armour isn't so shiny. Similar to What Gods Demand in that it feels like more of a vignette from a novel, with the antagonist coming out of nowhere at the end which doesn't deliver the level of punch I would have liked.

Seeking the Shadow by Joeseph R. Lallo: a man enters a tavern (I swear this occurrence was a mandatory element of submitting to this anthology!) and confronts two drunks. He's searching for the Red Shadow. As his story unravels and more is revealed the story gets more intriguing. I'd say it's required to have read his other two books this story sits between to fully grasp what the author is saying.

Sun and Steel by Jon Sprunk: a company of mercenaries is betrayed by their employer. Bit of a predictable and unfulfilling story after the initial defeat. It's written in a way that's easy to read, but this one wasn't really for my tastes.

The Betyar and the Magus by SR Cambridge: really somber, nostalgic opening as our protagonist, a highwayman in post war Hungary, remembers his fallen mentor. Hungry, cold, he sees a carriage approach. The first in months. This is a heart warming story more than a grim one. Yes the setting's rough and dark, but the ending is quite uplifting. 

A Kingdom and a Horse by Snorri Kristjansson: I've been waiting for this one. Plenty of good talk about him out there in the Grimdark community. A group of young Vikings go for a pilliage. Short, sharp, fun, enjoyable as a rollicking tale that reminded me of the a Asterix and Obelix comics I read in primary school. Didn't have the darkness I was hoping for but an enjoyable Viking tale nonetheless. I did, however like that Snorri did this without resorting to blood and guts. Made it different.

Thieves at the Gate by James Enge: a take on the story of Odysseus. I liked the opening, hoping this would be a story to remind me of Gemmell's Troy series. However, the ending lost me. It was different, but not for me. 

His Kikuta Hands by Lian Hearn: a lot of telling in the opening. A young assassin in a feudal Japanese setting finds his organisation set upon by a perceived weak new ruler of the Three Islands. Much like the last story, this one didn't grab me. The telling of so many stories out side the now meant that this short piece spent too much time telling you about the past, future, and political systems, and not enough about what the protagonist was going through.

The Lord Collector by Anthony Ryan: a grim introduction to our protagonist, Jehrid, leader of and Excise Guard unit (think a kind of investigative military) to kick this story off. Jehrid is tasked by his Tower Lord with working with Brother Sollis of the Sixth Order and two others with finding a passenger from a month-old shipwreck. But Jehrid has another agenda: vengeance. A story told with standard Anthony Ryan style. Enjoyable, violent, somber at times and galloping like a horse at others.

Scream by Anton Strout: an art forgery investigator meets with a new client and embarks on a mission to steal a stolen painting. This was fun, and a really engaging ending to the anthology print edition.

If this doesn't tickle your interest, you're dead inside. Seriously. Go find yourself a spot in the extras cast of The Walking Dead or something.

Get that card out and go buy yourself a copy of Blackguards. Hands down the best anthology I've read to date.

The Moral Ambiguity of Geralt of Rivia

The Moral Ambiguity of Geralt of Rivia and the Grimdark World of the Witcher Series

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By Joseph Price
Artwork sourced fromCD Projekt Red: 
ttp://thewitcher.com/witcher3/

 

In the genre of grimdark fiction, heroes are not always the most savoury of people. They are not always the valiant knight on a crusade to rid the world of evil or magicians seeking to educate the world and find magic artefacts of ages past. Grimdark heroes come in a multitude of different flavours, and even the shadiest guard or common pickpocket can rise to greatness through dark and inhumane deeds that lead them to power and greatness. Within the world of The Witcher by Andrzej Sapkowski, one Witcher stands out above the rest: Geralt of Rivia (Gwynbleidd, The White Wolf, The Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde) is that Witcher, a man mutated to be able to fight all of the creatures that prowl in the night. Geralt is held as a martyr to some, a legend to others, and to still others, he is a creature who haunts the night. When asked if Geralt is a hero, most people would not outright say that he is; however, in this world even a villain can be a hero in their own eyes. But what does Geralt think of himself one might ask? Geralt is a Witcher who sees himself as neutral in the affairs of others. However, he is not opposed to helping in others’ affairs for the right price. Within the world that Geralt lives he must walk a morally grey road in order to survive; otherwise, he would be food for the worms, leaving the defenceless for the day when the White Frost will destroy all. But what makes this Witcher so special?

Geralt of Rivia, throughout the Witcher short stories and novels, makes many considerably evil decisions. In ‘The Lesser Evil’, for example, Geralt is forced to make a decision where no matter the outcome people will die. While passing through the Blaviken, looking for his reward for killing a Kikimori, he brings the carcass to the alderman, who points him towards Master Irion, the city’s resident sorcerer. Upon meeting him, he learns that Master Irion is actually Stregobor, a Kovirian sorcerer, who tells Geralt that he is required to kill the girl Renfi, who is after the sorcerer. At first Geralt refuses, stating that he does not know Renfi and that he could not justify killing her. Later that same evening Renfi and crew of ruffians make their way into Blaviken and get a room and a private drinking quarters in one of the city’s taverns. Geralt introduces himself and learns Renfi’s side of the story—how she was raped and magically turned into stone before finally meeting her band of fighters and making her way toward revenge. After their conversation Geralt leaves to stay at the alderman’s and is visited by Renfi late in the night. She asks Geralt to kill Stregobor for her, and he declines. In the morning Renfi is gone, and Geralt now knows what she intends to do. Renfi plans to coax Stregobor out of his tower by killing everyone who goes to the town market that day. Geralt is then forced to make a decision that is the ‘Lesser Evil’. He kills Renfi and all of her band, saving the lives of everyone in Blaviken, but also gaining himself the title Butcher of Blaviken, and souring his reputation.

In the novels, Geralt is forced to make many similarly no-win decisions, most of which involve his ward, Ciri, who is basically his adopted daughter. She is a child of destiny and the last known source of the Elder Blood, the Blood of Elves. In the first Witcher novel, Blood of Elves, Geralt has to make choices on how to keep Ciri safe from those who would do her harm. Most heroes in this situation would decide to keep her in a completely safe location; however, Geralt has other ideas. He brings Ciri to Kaer Morhen, the stronghold of the Witchers. Geralt and the other three Witchers at Kaer Morhen begin teaching her about different monsters, instructing her in swordsmanship, and having her run the dangerous trails leading up to the stronghold that young Witchers have named ‘The Trail’. Geralt sends word to request the help of a sorceress friend, Triss Merigold, to aid in Ciri’s teaching. Triss helps Ciri in several ways in which Geralt, being a man in a stronghold generally only ever used by Witchers who are all men, would not have been able to understand. Soon Triss makes the decision that she is not the best suited sorceress for the job and mentions that Geralt should have chosen Yennefer, scolding Geralt for letting his petty differences with Yennefer get the better of his judgement. She says Ciri needs to go out and meet people around her own age. Geralt already has a plan for this, to send her to the temple of Melitele to learn under Mother Nenneke, where he knows Ciri will be safe and more likely to learn the necessary social skills. But instead he first brings her, a child of twelve, to a place where she could have died countless times but would learn to protect herself, showing the lose-lose dilemmas that can confront the grimdark hero even when they do not directly involve killing.

Within the world of The Witcher games there are many characters that are constantly portrayed as evil, such as the emperor of Nilfgaard Emhyr var Emreis. Emhyr is a power-driven monarch who seeks to make all of The Continent his own and find his only child, the child of destiny he granted as reward to the man who enabled him to marry his late wife. That child is Ciri, whom he wishes to become his successor, and that man is Geralt. Emhyr begins multiple wars in order to achieve these goals. What makes him a complex character is that he destroys Cintra, the country of which Ciri is the princess and her maternal grandmother the Queen. Therefore, Emhyr is the reason for his mother-in-law’s death and the complete disappearance of Ciri. He makes many decisions like these—decisions that seem to both aid and hinder the achievement of his goals—even after countless years of war, while still searching for his daughter and hiring Geralt to find her during the events of The Witcher III: Wild Hunt. Nevertheless, he does not consider himself a villain because he does what he thinks will succeed.

Similarly, in the Witcher games, the player is thrust into the shoes of Geralt, controlling his actions and making decisions for him in countless situations, almost of all of which have multiple consequences no matter the outcome. One series of quests in The Witcher III: Wild Hunt shows the hardship of living in The Continent far better than any other. These quests start with ‘The Ladies of the Woods’ and continue until the end of ‘Family Matters’ in which Geralt, on the trail of Ciri, is led to Crookback Bog. Once there he is tasked by The Ladies to kill an evil spirit resting under a tree on the Whispering Hillock. When Geralt reaches the tree, the spirit asks him to set it free. The spirit tells Geralt how to do so and that, if it is not freed, the children that The Ladies keep in their bog will die. With that the player is given three options: help the tree spirit and save the children, trick the tree spirit by bringing the objects it requires but not piercing the heart of the tree with his sword to rescue the spirit, or straight out killing the spirit. No matter which course the player takes either the children of the bog die or the spirit is freed and the people in the town near the Whisper Hillock die. Soon after, the player is tasked with finding the family of the Baron of Crow’s Perch, whose daughter became a religious fanatic and whose wife made a deal with The Ladies, giving one year of her service to the crones in exchange for terminating a pregnancy. Once the Baron goes to rescue his wife from the bog, Geralt’s actions determine her fate. If the tree was killed, the Baron’s wife will live but still serve her year with the crones, from which the player, as Geralt, can rescue her. However if the player saves the children by freeing the spirit, the Baron’s wife will die, but not before at least saying her goodbyes, which leads the Baron to hang himself out of grief. These are the types of decisions that characterize Geralt’s life in a grimdark world of the Witcher games.

In a world so dark and gritty Geralt is forced to walk a line of moral ambiguity to survive. He is a prime example of a grimdark hero, constantly forced to choose between lesser evils in favour of the greater good. His actions can often be viewed as evil, but every action is something he must do in order to live another day and continue to fight in the ever-changing world around him.

Sound like your sort of deal? Support GdM by purchasing The Last Wish: Introducing The Witcher[image error] through our affiliate link.

 

Second Apocalypse Art by Jason Deem

You may know Jason Deem from the brilliant issue #4 and #5 Grimdark Magazine cover art. Others that know him online will recognize the name from some of the premier pieces of R. Scott Bakker fan art out there.

Being the great bloke that Jason is, he agreed to answer a few questions for our blog and release a little teaser about an upcoming project he’s involved in that every R. Scott Bakker fan will be deadest frothing over.

 

[GdM] What made you want to get into R. Scott Bakker fan art?

[JD] “The Darkness That Comes Before.”

What a cool title, I thought to myself. I discovered, quite by chance, this book in a WH Smith’s bookstore in ’04, I think. I devoured it – not literally, but if someone told me I could gain a deeper insight into Bakker’s world by doing so, I might have. There was no keeping me from The Warrior-Prophet and The Thousandfold Thought. Best. Ending. Ever. And worst, because the story was far from over, and like the qirri from later books, I was addicted.

After living with Scott’s saga in my head for nearly a decade, and prompted by some discussions on the Second Apocalypse forum (thanks to Madness, Wilshire, Francis Buck and Quinthane, among others), I finally tried my (unpracticed) hand at interpreting some of Bakker’s characters. That was in 2013, I think, and I guess I just kept on going.

 

[GdM] What are some of your favorite pieces that you’ve done so far?

[JD] Here are a few of my favorites.

Fallen

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For this piece, rather than a specific scene from the books, I wanted to represent the disturbing, insidious nature of the Consult. These are Shaeonanra, Lord of the Consult, and Aurang, a Prince of the Inchoroi.

 

Kings

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The Nonmen are tragic on a scale unequaled in literature, I think. Equally, the Inchoroi are devoid of any redeeming quality. The early clashes between the two are nothing short of epic and terrifying. Here, Cu’jara-Cinmoi faces off against Sil, the Inchoroi King After the Fall.

 

Ancient Glory

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Maybe the most tragic figure of a tragic race, my take on Cu’jara-Cinmoi, greatest of the Nonman Kings.

 

[GdM] What are we, and the R. Scott Bakker fans, going to see from you next?

[JD] Well, a little over a year ago, I received an email from Bryan Bakker, Scott’s brother. Bryan had agreed to produce a video trailer for Scott’s books… and they wanted to use my art as the primary imagery for it. After I regained my faculties, I was like, ‘Hell, yes!’ Since then, I’ve been cleaning up older art and creating new pieces for the trailer. I’m honored to be a part of the project, and in my own way, help spread the word about Scott’s books. Beyond the trailer, who can say? Scott has more books on the way, and I’ll be here making fan art. In the meantime, Bryan suggested I share one of the pieces I recently finished for the trailer. Fans of the series should recognize the scene (I hope!).

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You can check out more of Jason’s work over on his Spiral Horizon Art website. He’s also been awesome enough to donate a cover for the GdM Battle-Off competition that will create a highly sought after part of the 1st and 2nd prize packs.

Attention submitting authors!

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Ever received a rejection from an ezine and just wanted to scream, "JUST WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE LITERARY GODS DO YOU PEOPLE WANT!!!" I certainly have. It's hard to know what these often faceless and nameless first readers want.

After a year and a half of reading through hundreds -- probably thousands -- of submissions, I decided to jump on the opportunity to interview our first and second readers on behalf of submitting authors to help you all get a look inside their heads.

Here's what they had to say.

1. What kind of grimdark story are you enjoying reading the most at the moment (genre, style, etc)?

[Kristy] Honestly, I love reading anything that fully displays the author's batshit crazy imagination at the moment! Things that I could never have imagined in a million years, yet is made totally believable through the author's writing skill! It's fantasy, it can be anything, everything and occasionally nothing.. It's inherent in it's genre title! If I want to pick the author's shiny imagination like a bower bird after reading their book, you know I'm a happy camper.. Hawkins, Hurley, Dickinson..

[Joey] Right at this moment, none.

That said, I recently finished reading Batman: Knightfall (2012 collected edition). I also finished watching Gundam SEED and Gundam 00 and am currently re-watching DS9. None of these are strictly grimdark but they are somewhat grim with interesting plots, strong characters and far from being morally simplistic.

[Cheresse] I always love a good grimdark fantasy. Particularly something with a distinctive setting.

[Kennet] I really like future-dystopias, Cyberpunk and post-apocalypse.

[Jewel] I am now setting my teeth into the fabulous 'Prince of Thorns'. Late, but better than never. I love how dark Jorg is, yet he still evokes emotion from you.  

 

2. What kind of grimdark story have you seen too much of?

[Kristy] Formulaic fantasy that has simply had the grim turned up to 11. It's had it's turn, time to get creative!

[Joey] In terms of what's out there, I am not well-read enough to say.

As for submissions to GdM, I find too many stories with too much text but lacks a plot.3.Who was the last submitter who made an impact on you?

[Cheresse] Ironically, fantasy. A lot of fantasy is in the D&D gone dark range, and it's hard to top what we've already seen.

[Kennet]Barbarian hordes.

[Jewel] I guess I would say if something has been seen once before, don't try to repeat it. Grimdark stories are unique and should stay that way. 

 

3. Who was the last submitter who made an impact on you?

[Kristy] First They Came For The Pigs.. It was in issue #5!

[Cheresse] T.R. Napper with, 'A Shout is a Prayer.'

[Kennet] It was a serial; a space setting with a wrecked ship and madness and cannibalism. 

[Jewel] 'Ashes' by Tara Calaby stuck in my mind. I enjoyed how it was beautifully dark and different. Happily ever after in grimdark? I think not.

 

4. What's the one thing 80% of submitters could work on to improve their work before they send it in?

[Kristy]Making sure it's Grimdark, is a really great start! I hardly ever see an actual gd story.. Try to tell an original story; it's hard to look past what's popular, but unless you can do Abercrombie better than Abercrombie, it just won't hit it! Pacing in shorts can be brutal, but if it's 95% introduction, 1% twist then 4% post twist, my attention is going to dwindle somewhere around the 50's! And, make sure you get somebody else to read it before submitting! I see lots of continuity, flow, plot hole etc. errors that the author probably doesn't notice because of their brains ability to subjectively skip the blanks, but probably would be picked up by an objective eye. It could make the difference between a rejection or moving it up to 2nd reads..

[Joey] I had an old-school English teacher who, in regards to short story writing, said: "Keep it tight and make every word count!"

That was good advice and one of the few things I did learn at school. Pacing is important in any form of storytelling but it is particularly so in short stories. Unlike a novella or a novel, there is little room for filler which usually stagnates the plot. I have read submissions where the first half is the setup. (Even if one is aiming for a two-act structure, that is excessive. I've tried that myself and it doesn't work.)

The 4000-word limit at GdM is a limit and not a target. If the text doesn't contribute to moving the plot and/or signposting and/or characterization, then cut it. It's natural to put down all the background exposition to introduce the story and set the tone. We all do it and it is, to some degree, necessary but subsequent editing should discard what is unnecessary.

Not that I'm a stellar writer myself but, in hindsight, my relatively better pieces are the ones where I do slaughter the text. Amongst editors I work with, a common recommendation is to try reducing the word count by up to 30%. From experience, the piece improves and it is good practice.

[Cheresse] I have two things: 1, make sure it's a grimdark story before submitting, and 2. make sure that the prose flows nicely and it's as error-free as possible. If I'm on the fence about sending something to the hold folder, I often look at how difficult it would be to iron out the flaws. If the story's too clunky, I won't send it on.

[Kennet] Make sure your story has conflict to drive it, internal, external, both. Show us the conflict.

[Jewel] It feels like a lot the stories we receive aren't grimdark. I would like to see more ambiguous characters with a moral dilemma. For me, the characters are what make grimdark so interesting.

 

5. What do you hope to see drop into the GdM queue next?

[Kristy] Pretty much the above! I really want to see some more emotionally evocative pieces too.. Any emotion will do! I honestly think gd can span the whole gamut, it doesn't have to be dead behind the eyes all the time...

[Joey] In terms of genre and style, I am not picky. I like sci-fi but that doesn't mean I will reject a fantasy piece. It's not any one particular aspect I look for but an effective balance of all the elements.

[Cheresse]Something funny! I almost never see darkly humorous pieces.

[Kennet] See #1.

[Jewel] I'd love to see something dark and gritty that surprises me and leaves me breathless. I want to hate to love the protagonist and for the descriptions seared into my mind. Most of all I want to be excited to pass the story onto the second reader and, hopefully, see it end up in the magazine.

 

Hopefully that gives you a bit of an inside edge. Head on over to our submissions page and get submitting!

Excerpt of Aliette de Bodard's 'Against The Encroaching Darkness'

I was going off like a frog in a sock with excitement when we approached Aliette de Bodard for a short story to be published in issue #5 and she agreed. Aliette has a long list of awards -- two Nebulas, a Locus, a BSFA, and she won the Writers of the Future... *deep breath*... She's also a Hugo, Sturgeon, and Tiptree finalist. Add to that, the's a prolific author of short stories and puts many of them up on her site for you and I to check out for free.

Her latest novel release was The House of Shattered Wings(Kindle[image error] | Galaxy Bookstore). Against The Encroaching Darkness is also set in Aliette's same Dominion of the Fallen world. 

One of my favourite characters in the story is Morningstar. I love the effect the Fallen has on those less powerful around him, which makes the interaction between Victoire and Morningstar all that more awesome.

Without further ado, go on and get stuck into the excerpt!

Against The Encroaching Darkness

Aliette de Bodard

The first Victoire knew of Morningstar's presence was when the air in the room became impossibly light, impossibly tight—until even breathing seemed to hurt, and the air in her lungs burnt with the force of a firestorm. Then she turned, struggling to compose herself, and watched, shock-still, as he crossed the room to where she stood, the crowd of well-wishers parting in his wake like a flock of scared birds. ‘My lady,’ he said, bowing to her.

He had blue eyes, impossibly clear, the colour of summer skies in a season long gone. Now the city lay under a pall of black clouds, dust and ashes blown from the incessant battles in the streets, and summer followed winter with hardly a pause or a difference. Unlike all other Fallen, he wore wings—a metal armature of sharp, cutting edges that moved as he moved, cutting the air to pieces around him, a living weapon, a living fount of power in a city where magic was scarce.

‘My lord,’ Victoire bowed, though her every instinct screamed at her to abase herself flat on the floor—he was firstborn among Fallen, most powerful; he could undo her with a glance or a word. ‘I didn't expect you here.’

The major Houses—Harrier, Aiguillon, Hawthorn—had sent not their heads but their diplomats, just enough to keep up appearances. And here was the head of House Silverspires, the unstated leader of them all, standing in her ballroom with all her other guests, grave and courteous and speaking to her as an equal. Morningstar smiled, an expression that seemed to illuminate the room. ‘I thought I ought to come myself. To apologise.’

‘To—’

Morningstar shrugged; the wings at his back moved, slicing the air with a sound like the lament of dying souls. ‘We didn't mean to kill her. I have ... no grudge against House Lazarus.’

He had nothing against them. House Lazarus wasn't even big enough for him to be aware of it: just Eugénie's lost souls, a collection of the weak and desperate she'd sworn to keep safe. ‘I—’ Victoire struggled for words against the presence that seemed to wrap the room around itself.

Morningstar continued as if she had not spoken. ‘It was a skirmish that went badly. I assume Harrier will offer their excuses, as well.’

They had, but not in the same way. They were not standing there—not speaking in that voice that turned her innards to jelly, that made her measure, irretrievably, the distance that separated her from Silverspires—from Fallen, to whom magic and charisma came effortlessly. ‘A word of advice,’ Morningstar said finally. He raised a hand, as if to forestall any objections, but Victoire was still struggling to find her voice from where it had fled. ‘You're young and weak, like infant Fallen, except without any magic of your own. If you don't show the other Houses that you're strong—if you don't seize your opportunity to do something loud and ruthless—then you'll vanish.’

‘We won't,’ Victoire said, every word a struggle to articulate. ‘We—’

Morningstar smiled, brief and wounding, like a knife stroke across her throat. ‘I've seen it happen. You're not the first House to lose a founder. You might be the first to do so ... in such peculiar circumstances.’

The war—it was always there. The battles hadn't stopped, not even for a mourning reception—people tearing each other in the streets, the slow toll of the wounded and the dead Amaranth and Gérard reported to her every week, the dependents of House Lazarus caught in the crossfires. ‘We're not fighting,’ Victoire said at last.

‘Of course. Eugénie had ... ideals. Commendable of her.’ He said it in a way that implied she'd been young and foolish, and of course she had been. She was mortal, forty years old; whereas Morningstar had been in Paris for centuries. ‘Albeit impractical. Only the strongest, or the dead, can afford neutrality.’

Victoire opened her mouth to say that they were strong—to lie, as Amaranth had advised her to—and then met his gaze and found the words shrivelling in her throat.

‘Remember. A show of strength,’ Morningstar said, and his smile seemed to fill the entire world, teeth as sharp as a predator’s—and she ached to lean forward, to let him take her, consume her utterly; it wouldn't even hurt much—she wouldn't feel anything more than the grief and worry that was already tearing her apart ...

*   *   *

Find the rest of Against the Encroaching Darkness in Grimdark Magazine Issue #5. To find out what else you'll get for your $2.99, find our issue #5 line-up here.

You can purchase GdM#5 from our webstore, or from Amazon.com in their Kindle store[image error].

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Battle-Off competition final 7 decided!

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After two months and 1,600 votes, we have our final seven set in stone!

These self published and small press authors have impressed you the most with their adrenaline-fuelled battle scenes. Over the next couple of weeks, their excerpts will go to be ranked by R. Scott Bakker, Graham McNeill, Anthony Ryan, Tim Marquitz, and Richard Ford.

The finalists are:

Khassan Warrad Seven Undying 
Claire Frank An Altered Fate: Echoes of Imara

Scott Oden Theos Kthonios

Livio Gambarini Eternal War - Armies of Saints

Graham Austin-King Fae - The Realm of Twilight

Seth Lindberg Lords of Dyscracia

Joanne Hall The Art of Forgetting: Nomad

Thank you for all of the time you spent judging the excerpts to reach a final 7. Hopefully you discovered a few new authors and had a bit of free fun along the way.

Watch this space to find out which top 3 finalists get showered in prizes!

An Excerpt of 'The Last Quarrel' by Duncan Lay

Being an Australian publication, I'm absolutely stoked to be able to present to you chapter one from Duncan Lay's The Last Quarrel. Better still, he's a fellow Central Coastie from New South Wales. Check out the blurb, chapter 1, then do yourself a favour and go pick up a copy.

 

Gaelland is a nation gripped by fear.

In the country, fishing boats return with their crews mysteriously vanished while farms are left empty, their owners gone into the night, meals still on the table. In the cities, children disappear from the streets or even out of their own beds. The King tells his people that it is the work of selkies – mythical creatures who can turn from seals into men and back again – and witches. But no matter how many women he burns at the stake, the children are still being taken.   

Fallon is a man who has always dreamed of being a hero. His wife Bridgit just wants to live in peace and quiet, and to escape the tragedies that have filled her life. His greatest wish and her worst nightmare are about to collide.

When an empty ship sails into their village, Fallon follows the trail to the truth behind the evil stalking their land. But it is a journey that will take them both into a dark, dark place and nobody can tell them where it might end ...

 

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The Last Quarrel: chapter one

by Duncan Lay

Fallon had one last quarrel. One shot to save his family and protect the kingdom. To his left, he could hear Devlin screaming – a hoarse, juddering cry that tore at his eardrums. Behind him, Brendan was smashing at a helmet with his hammer.

“This is it, your one chance to be a hero. Don’t miss!” Gallagher screamed at him.

Fallon nestled the butt of the crossbow into his shoulder, lined it up on the target and let out his breath gently. All his life he had trained for this moment. If he missed, there would be no excuses.

“Dad!”

The bolt flew straight up into the air, disappearing into the blue sky.

Fallon lowered his crossbow with a furious curse and spun around to see his son pelting towards him, arms and legs going in all directions.

“You mean I made all that noise for nothing?” Devlin said with disgust.

“Well, it made us laugh. You sounded like a maiden with a hedgehog stuck down her dress,” Gallagher told him.

“Enough!” Fallon cut off his friends. “What is it, son?”

Kerrin slowed to a stop beside them, puffing and red-faced. Fallon groaned inside at the sight. He would be coughing tonight, no doubt about it, and he, Fallon, was going to get the blame for it.

“The Duke’s ship … it’s coming here but there’s something wrong,” Kerrin puffed.

They hurried around the corner of Devlin’s barn until they could look down to the harbor and see the Duke’s ship heading towards tiny Baltimore, every sail crammed onto its masts.

“Don’t tell me, the seals at the headland have turned into selkies and are attacking it.” Brendan grinned.

“What are selkies?” Kerrin asked.

“Evil water spirits. They look like seals but can turn themselves into men and use their magic to drag you down to a watery grave,” Devlin said with relish, hooking his fingers into claws.

“They’re not real. They only exist in old wives’ tales and Devlin’s thick head,” Fallon corrected, knowing that if Kerrin were woken by nightmares, it would be considered his fault.

They looked again at the ship, which was still under full sail rather than slowing as it approached the shore.

“What in Aroaril’s name are they thinking? They’ll never be able to stop in time!” Gallagher cried.

“Come on, we have to get down there!” Fallon led the rush down to Baltimore’s little harbor. As he ran he worried what the Duke was doing, sailing in as if the Dark God Zorva himself were behind him. As the Duke’s man in the village, he was responsible for Baltimore. Was it something about the taxes they should have sent to the Duke’s castle at Lunster? Everyone cheated on taxes!

“Hide some of those fish racks and anything silver! And for Aroaril’s sake put on old clothes!” he shouted at villagers as he ran past.

But most Baltimoreans were racing to the water’s edge to see the ship heading for disaster. The village was nestled where the river Balty met the coast, and a huge hook of shingle- and stone-covered land stretched out from the river mouth into the sea, providing a natural breakwall from the power of the waves for the village’s fishing boats. Except the Duke’s ship was heading right for the end of that hook.

“Dad, what shall we do?” Kerrin asked, puffing.

Fallon muttered another curse. He should have told the lad to run home instead. “Just remember to duck behind Brendan if anything bad happens,” he said.

“That’s what we do anyway,” Devlin added with a wink.

The crowd was starting to back away and shout with alarm as the ship raced towards the end of the hook – right where the villagers had placed extra huge rocks to slow down the power of the sea.

“Aroaril, this is going to be bad,” Fallon groaned, then raised his voice. “I need boats out now! We’ll be fishing the Duke out of the water in a moment! And someone get Sister Rosaleen, because there’ll be men to heal!”

“Most will be dead,” Gallagher warned.

“Were they attacked? Maybe the steering is jammed or something?” Devlin wondered.

“How would that stop them taking down the sails?” Gallagher snorted.

“Maybe they’re all locked in the hold?” Brendan said.

“Shit! And I’ve only got the one quarrel left,” Fallon cursed. “Kerrin, maybe you could –” he cut himself off. It was safer there, where he could keep an eye on him.

The ship ploughed on, then a gust of wind and backwash of wave turned it slightly, so that it just brushed against the rocks with a scream of tortured wood. The ship seemed to stagger and then the sails billowed full of air again and it picked up pace across the bay, heading right for the crowd.

“Get back! Get away!” Fallon shouted, waving his hands in the air.

“Shit! The boats!” Gallagher pointed.

Hidden from the drama by the high bank of the shingle hook, the men Fallon had told to launch boats had just begun to row a pair of fishing vessels out into the small bay.

“Get out of it!” Fallon roared at them.

They gaped at him, then the Duke’s ship had rounded the hook and loomed over them. One crew backed oars furiously, hauling themselves out of trouble, but the others were too close and instead leaped for safety as the tall oak prow of the Duke’s ship crunched over the low sides of the wooden fishing boat, rolling it down and away.

“Something is very wrong,” Devlin muttered as villagers streamed back from the shore, shouting and screaming.

“You only just worked that out, sheepdick?” Brendan shouted.

Crushing the rowboat had not stopped the Duke’s ship at all – in fact it picked up even more speed in the calm water and surged out of the bay and up onto the shore with a grinding crunch, the bow gouging deep into the sand.

The villagers were clear of the area but Fallon feared the ship would topple. Instead, with a creaking of timbers and groaning of ropes, it shifted slightly, leaning over to the right, its sails still billowing. Everyone held their breath but, while it stayed put, nothing and nobody came over the side, and the only calls for help were from the three men who had been thrown overboard when it had crashed through their fishing boat.

Fallon only spared them a glance – the other boat was already moving to rescue them.

“We need to get on board and see what’s happening,” he said loudly. “Soon as we find out, we’ll need a dozen men to go up the mast and bring in those sails.”

“Good idea. But who are the idiots who are going to go on board and get their heads ripped off by whatever killed the crew?” Devlin asked.

“That would be us.” Fallon slapped him over the head. “Remember? You three are my special constables. Time to earn the silvers you get from the Duke each moon.”

“But I thought we just had to sit around making silly noises as you practiced all the time for the day when trouble came to the most boring village in the land,” Devlin said.

“Well, lucky us, because today’s that day,” Fallon said grimly.

“How do you know the crew’s dead?” Brendan grunted.

“You’re right. They’re probably all having tea with the Duke in his cabin and lost track of time,” Devlin thumped Brendan on the arm. “Of course they’re bloody dead. Maybe they angered the selkies and they came over the side and dragged them down to the depths. Or witches came and took them away.”

“Wh-what should we do?” Kerrin asked softly. “Are there really selkies and witches?”

His face had gone white and Fallon could see him shaking. He didn’t blame him. The rest of the village was hiding behind huts and rocks and fish racks and peering out nervously. Where was Bridgit? She knew the Duke’s ship was coming and her absence could only mean she was hurriedly getting dressed to meet the Duke, a process that Fallon knew could take some time. By the time she emerged, it would all be over, one way or another. He could make the watching men join him. They might be fishermen and farmers normally but they all owed the Duke a duty. He just had to order it and they must form the fyrd, a fighting company, with whatever weapons they had. Fallon made them train once a moon for just that eventuality. But maybe this was not the time to call on them.

He dropped to one knee. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “I want you to run back to your mam and tell her the Duke’s ship has crashed and I have to go on board to see what’s happened. Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t know,” Kerrin said, his lower lip quivering and his eyes seemingly full of tears.

“You can do this for me. I know you can. You’re ten summers old now. You are strong and brave. Straight home. Fast as you can now!” He patted him on the shoulder and Kerrin raced off.

He watched the child go for a long moment, then stood and glanced at the ship. “I hope there is something evil lurking on there, ready to tear us apart. Because if it doesn’t rip my head off, Bridgit will.”

“Should we send Devlin on first? He’s so small they wouldn’t even notice him,” Brendan suggested.

“Or Brendan first. Even a pack of selkies wouldn’t be able to eat all of him,” Gallagher said.

“We could dangle Gallagher’s legs on there. They’re so long we could be standing in safety while we see if anything rips them off,” Devlin said.

“We all go together,” Fallon told them, looking them over and thanking Aroaril that he would have the three of them by his side.

Brendan was a massive man, a full hand over six feet, with huge arms and shoulders and a large stomach as well. He had shaved his cheeks, leaving just a moustache and beard under his chin, which made his face look longer. But his eyes were always smiling and he was a true gentle giant. Gallagher spent most of his life on the water and, although he was younger than the rest, his face was browned and lined from years of wind and saltwater and his red hair was faded. He was tall, only inches shorter than Brendan, and thin and quiet compared to the other two. When he spoke, though, it was usually worth listening to. Devlin, on the other hand, was always talking. He was a farmer, and he often said his animals never talked back to him so he needed to speak as much as possible when he was around others. He was a head shorter than Gallagher but nearly as broad across the shoulders as Brendan, his hands huge and roughened from years of working. He had thick black hair and a bushy beard and was always ready with a jest.

Fallon wondered what they saw when they looked at him. He was of average height, falling in between Devlin and Gallagher, with wide shoulders from all the sword and crossbow practice, and a stomach that was only winning the battle against his wife Bridgit’s cooking because of all the running he did. His dark close-cropped hair was fading at the temples, and he scraped his throat clear of bristles, keeping his beard short and only on his face. His nose was too long and his brown eyes set too deep under bristling brows for anyone to ever have called him handsome, and he knew his ears stuck out too much as well. He took a deep breath. Time to stop wasting time and see if all the training was worth it.

“What’s this I hear about selkies attacking the Duke’s ship?” Sister Rosaleen asked, puffing, as she arrived at the run.

“Those boggers are just full of shite, Sister.” Fallon shook his head. “We don’t know what it is.”

The young priestess had arrived at the village two moons earlier, replacing old Father Reece, who had finally been called up to serve his God personally. While they all appreciated her piety, she was far too serious for Fallon’s liking. She was tall too, and her fair hair was scraped back hard from her thin face. Her brow was currently furrowed with concern and her grey eyes were worried.

“There is no such thing as witches. And selkies do not exist either. But I should come with you, just in case,” she said firmly.

“Sister, I appreciate the offer. But this is what we are paid for,” Fallon said, equally firmly.

“They don’t pay us enough for this,” Devlin whispered; Brendan deliberately stepped on his foot.

“I will stay out of the way. But I will be coming along. It is my duty,” Rosaleen said.

“No. Not until we have searched the ship,” Fallon declared and strode towards the ship before Rosaleen could say any more.

As he got closer, he paused for long enough to cock his crossbow and load the last quarrel. Time to see if you really can be a hero, he told himself, then walked around the bow, to the right side, which was slightly lower. The Duke’s ship was slimmer than a fat-bellied trading vessel. It had a high prow, which swept lower down where the rowers would sit. It was usually propelled by sail but there should have been half a dozen oars on either side, big enough to move the ship through calm waters like the bay, or when there was little wind. Nothing showed. He watched the rails of the ship, looking for any movement, his crossbow ready. But there was nothing. At the back was an enclosed cabin where the Duke would normally rest. But there was no movement from there, either. The ship was built out of oak, the timber greying slightly but still immaculate, except for a chunk where it had struck the rock-hook on the way in to the bay, and the bow, which was stove in, timbers pointing in all directions, looking horribly like the jagged teeth of some strange animal.

Fallon walked down the shore to where the side rail was lower and the waves were lapping at his boots. It was lower still further down but he did not fancy wading through seawater to get there. “Give me a hand up,” he ordered.

Devlin kneeled on all fours to make a step, then Brendan cupped his hands together. Fallon took two paces back, then stepped off Devlin, placed his foot in Brendan’s hands and was flipped up by the blacksmith. Fallon grabbed the side rail with his right hand and swung over onto the deck. He stumbled a little on landing, then stopped, levelling his crossbow. Nobody and nothing moved. Everything looked deserted. There were no rowers on benches, and the hatch to the hold was open.

“Fallon! Anything?” Brendan called.

“Nothing! Come on up!”

Gallagher was the next on board, then Brendan lifted Devlin and Gallagher hauled him on board, while Fallon stood guard.

“This one’s going to be tough,” Devlin muttered.

Fallon glanced around to see Devlin and Gallagher trying to haul the heavy Brendan over the side.

“Aroaril but you have a big arse, Brendan,” Devlin gasped as he hauled on the smith’s arm.

“Need a heavy hammer for a long spear!” Brendan called.

“Just for that, I should drop you into the water.”

“A little help here!” Gallagher grunted.

But Fallon had no intention of turning his back on the dark, empty square that was the entrance to the hold. Nothing stirred down there but he wasn’t going to risk it.

A thud and several muffled curses behind him told him that Brendan had arrived. He stole a quick glance to see the three of them picking themselves up.

“Thanks, Sister!” Brendan waved down below.

“If you would just give me a hand in return?” Rosaleen asked.

“No!” Fallon hissed but it was too late. A scrape and a thump told him that the priestess was also on board. Next moment all four were at his shoulder, clustered together for protection.

“We really should have brought torches and maybe some knives and axes,” Devlin said.

“A bit late to mention that, don’t you think?” Gallagher asked pointedly.

“We check the hold first,” Fallon said, walking towards the gaping hole in the deck. If there were answers, he was sure they would be down there.

“Not the Duke’s cabin?” Gallagher suggested.

“That’s not going anywhere. But I won’t turn my back on the hold until we have checked it,” Fallon said. It was very easy to imagine that dark space as the doorway into Zorva’s pits, an image which the old village priest Father Reece had loved to use to terrify his flock.

He crept over to the edge and peered in but could see nothing. A faint sloshing sound suggested there was water below but he supposed it could equally have been a selkie changing form. His aunt used to talk about them: how the seals came to life and granted you wishes if you gave them tribute – and took you to your death if you hurt them.

“What do we do now?” Brendan hissed.

Fallon glanced around and saw all of their faces were white and drawn, especially Sister Rosaleen’s. For the rest of them, it was obviously time to remember that, when all was said and done, they weren’t soldiers. Just a farmer, smith and fisherman who were friends with one.

“You do nothing. I do this,” Fallon said, and jumped into the hold.

Instantly he was plunged into darkness. He braced himself for the landing, but the deck was curved here and he splashed down into water, slipped and fell against the side of the boat. He pushed himself upright, cursing, water slopping over the edge of his low boots, and peered into the darkness. Nothing sprang out at him and, as his heart slowed down, his eyes began to get used to the light penetrating from above as well as filtering in from the jagged opening up the front. A pair of eyes glinted at him from his left and he had brought his crossbow up to his shoulder before he realised they belonged to a fat rat. He and the rat stared at each other for a long moment before it turned and scampered away.

He spun around slowly but the hold was empty. Well, there were a few other rats climbing along the side, keeping out of the water, and a couple of barrels shifting around in the water, but no sign of the twenty or more men needed to sail such a ship. He sloshed through the water, making himself check every dark corner – but there was nothing. Not even a seal, let alone a selkie.

“Fallon?” Gallagher called down.

“It’s empty,” Fallon stood in the patch of sunlight. “No sign of anything.” He held up his free hand. “Give me a lift out.”

They dragged him out and then looked at the stern cabin.

“They must be all in there,” Devlin said.

The door to the cabin was shut, so Fallon took up position in front of it and signaled to Devlin. The farmer grabbed the handle and wrenched it open, Fallon ready to shoot anything that came out.

But nothing did.

Inside it was simple enough. A large bunk, a larger desk and several comfortable chairs, all nailed to the floor to keep them in place, as well as deep lockers on three of the walls. These held clothes, papers and barrels of food but little else. And there was no sign of any crew, let alone the Duke – nor any sign of struggle. The Duke’s jeweled sword lay in a locker, still in its scabbard. Strangest of all, the remnants of a meal were scattered on the table, some of it still on the plate and some obviously thrown off when the ship had struck the land. A fork and knife lay on the table; a hunk of meat was still impaled on the fork.

“He was eating lamb chops. Nice,” Devlin said. “Riona’s cooking them for me this evening.”

“Why did he leave them like this? What was so fast he didn’t finish his mouthful?” Brendan asked. “What could take an entire crew of men and the Duke so fast that they never left so much as a spot of blood?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon said reluctantly.

“It could be witches. Or selkies,” Gallagher said softly.

They all turned to look at Sister Rosaleen.

“It wasn’t.” The priestess shook her head. “I would be able to tell.”

“Had much to do with witches, have you?” Devlin asked.

Rosaleen glared at him. “You will need to recite two Aroaril Save Us prayers for that blasphemy, Devlin, by next full moon. Those tales are not true. Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really? Either it’s true or it’s not,” Fallon said sharply.

“It is a tale that has grown out of a seed of truth. Those who let the evil of the Dark God Zorva into their hearts look like men and women but behave like monsters. And they have powers. From that evil reality grew tales of witches. But if it had been such monsters responsible for this we would see some struggle, some blood at least. And I would be able to sense their evil. Blood magic leaves a stink. I cannot feel any of that.”

“What about selkies then? Everyone has seen one,” Devlin said.

“Really?” Gallagher asked. “Because I’ve been out in boats all my life and never seen one.”

“Everyone has heard a tale of one,” Devlin said. “My grandfather swore he saw one beckon to him.”

“And how many tankards had he downed by then?” Brendan asked.

“There are no selkies. Those are just tales put about so that fishermen could kill off seals without anyone getting angry at them,” Rosaleen said angrily. “How many times do I have to say that to people?”

They looked around the empty cabin again, but it still had no answers. Fallon caught Brendan contemplating the remains of the Duke’s meal.

“Don’t even think it,” Fallon said.

“They’d never miss one chop. And I’ve been running around all afternoon,” Brendan protested.

“I’d miss it. And there will be people coming to see this. The Duke of Lunster is the cousin of the King. He doesn’t just disappear from his ship without a fuss. Mark my words: this is not the end of things. Now, Gallagher, go and grab a dozen men and get the sails down before the ship does itself any more damage.”

“What are we going to do?” Devlin asked.

“You are going to keep people away from it, in case someone gets the idea they should see if there’s anything valuable hidden below. I’m going to ride to Lunster at first light and tell the Duchess her husband is gone.”

“I think I got the better half of that deal,” Devlin admitted.

“What are you going to tell the Duchess?” Rosaleen asked.

“I’m not sure,” Fallon admitted. “Gall, what would you do if you were out there and you saw another ship?”

“Take in the sails, get on the oars and get out weapons,” Gallagher said immediately.

“That’s what I thought. And they did none of that. So what happened here?”

None of them could answer.

“It may not be witches, but there is something strange at work here,” Rosaleen said gently. “I can tell there was no blood magic used but maybe somebody used natural magic. You should ask Padraig to take a look at the ship.”

“He’s the last thing I need right now,” Fallon said with a groan.

“How can he help? He’s an old nutter who lives out in the woods and howls at the moon,” Devlin said.

“We are all Aroaril’s children,” Rosaleen said firmly. “Yes, he is a little stranger than most. But he also knows magic, I can promise you that much. And it might be better to have all the information before you tell the Duchess Dina that her husband has disappeared at sea, leaving behind only a couple of lamb chops. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of him already, Fallon. Isn’t he your wife’s father?”

Fallon rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Sister. I had completely forgotten that.”

Rosaleen smiled. “We all have things sent by Aroaril to try us. I shall pray for you and Bridgit and Kerrin this evening. His cough is better?”

“Much better, thanks.” Fallon nodded and forced a smile.

“Good. Then I shall go and reassure the rest of my flock that there is no pack of selkies waiting on board to devour them.”

Fallon let her walk away and looked around once more. He knew there was something he had missed, so he dropped to one knee and looked on the floor. Nothing. He lay down on the floor and could still see nothing. That was strange in itself. He guessed the Duke would want to keep his ship clean but this was ridiculous. He sighed. The answer to the mystery was not going to appear before his eyes. Then he caught a glint of metal coming from behind one of the lockers pushed against the wall and secured with rope.

He unhooked the rope then signaled to his friends. “Give me a hand here.” He took hold of the heavy wooden locker and, with Brendan and Devlin helping, dragged it out.

“What is it?” Gallagher asked.

They all peered at a small crossbow bolt, the tip stained brown with dried blood, nestling against the wall.

“That could have been there for days, moons even,” Devlin said doubtfully.

Fallon picked it up, then held it up against his own crossbow. “Look at that. It’s less than half the size of the quarrels I use.”

“So? There could be a hundred reasons why it is here.”

Fallon smiled. “And one of them is men were responsible for what happened here. This is what I have been waiting for!”

“What do you mean?” Gallagher asked.

“This means that someone has attacked and killed our Duke and is trying to cover it up,” Fallon said excitedly. “And if we can find out who is behind it, who knows what our reward will be?”

“Maybe just to stay alive?” Gallagher suggested. “If someone has done that, they won’t take kindly to the likes of us interfering. We just need to tell the Duchess what happened here and let others look after it.”

“But it happened in our village. That makes it our business. And I’m going to find out what is going on,” Fallon insisted.

He looked around at his friends and was shocked to see the doubt on their faces.

“Fallon, we’re all happy to make silly noises while you do your thing with the crossbow and flog ourselves stupid pretending to be real soldiers once a moon when you train everyone for the fyrd. But this – this is beyond that,” Devlin said slowly.

“This is serious,” Gallagher said. “If you’re going to kill one of the King’s nobles and then make it look like a mystery then you have big plans. Who are the likes of us to try and stop it?”

“He’s right. We’re just ordinary folk,” Brendan agreed.

“We don’t have to be. We could be heroes,” Fallon growled.

“Heroes have a way of ending up dead,” Gallagher said.

Fallon shook his head. “I’ve waited too long for a chance like this. I’m not going to let it slip past. And if you still call yourselves my friends, you will stand beside me.”

The three of them looked at each other, then Devlin sighed. “We will be by your side. But I hope you know what you are leading us into.”

“That’s what we shall find out. Dev, Gall, go and get Padraig. Maybe he can help us find some answers.”

“The day just keeps getting better,” Devlin muttered as he and Gallagher turned to go.

“Are you sure we wouldn’t be better off handing this to Captain Hagen at Lunster?” Brendan asked.

“I will tell Hagen but I’ll also help him,” Fallon said, unable to keep the grin off his face. He could see it now. This was his ticket out of Baltimore, his big opportunity. This was why he’d trained so long and hard.

Brendan sighed. “Are you sure that is what you mean? I see this and fear it may be the start of something terrible.”

“Terrible for some,” Fallon said, twirling the mysterious crossbow quarrel on his fingers. Already he was thinking what he should say to the Duchess. Then he stopped twirling the quarrel. Perhaps he would be better off thinking of how he was going to explain it all to Bridgit.

END OF EXCERPT

Duncan Lay is the author of two best-selling Australian fantasy series, the Dragon Sword Histories and the Empire Of Bones. He writes on the train, to and from his job as production editor of The Sunday Telegraph, Australia's biggest-selling newspaper. He lives on the Central Coast of NSW with his wife and two children.

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An interview with with Courtney Schafer

GdM's Jewel and Tom were lucky enough to grab a few minute's of Courtney Schafer's time to talk about writing your passions (the pic above isn't your standard author mug shot!), The Shattered Sigil, and grimdark.

[GdM] They say you should write what you know, and your love of climbing really shows through in “The Whitefire Crossing” and “The Tainted City”. What was that like mixing the two worlds? Did climbing inspire the books in some ways?

[CS] When I wrote The Whitefire Crossing, I was writing purely for myself, so it was a no-brainer to mix two things I love passionately: mountain climbing and fantasy. I’d read fantasy novels that had scenes of climbing or alpine travel in them, but often that was treated as a painful necessity instead of a source of joy for the characters. I’d never read a fantasy novel that featured a mountain climber as a protagonist, and it occurred to me that the strange, insular, addictive world of climbing has certain parallels with how mages and magic are often portrayed. 

I thought it would be fun to contrast a climber – someone who actively enjoys dancing with death – with a mage attempting to reject the deadly style of magic in which he’s been trained. Even more fun if my two protagonists are deeply suspicious of each other! Mountain climbing is all about trust. When you rope yourself to a partner, you’re placing your life in that person’s hands. A perfect set-up for shaking up my characters’ assumptions and turning decisions they once believed easy into thorny ethical dilemmas. So yes, climbing inspired the books in a lot of ways. It’s also been fun with each book to choose different types of climbing to incorporate in the story, and decide how best to use those scenes to add tension or go deeper with the characters. After all the standard climbing in Whitefire, I went for a little ice climbing in Tainted City, and canyoneering in The Labyrinth of Flame.

[GdM] Did you base any characters off of people in your life? Which character do you relate with best?

[CS] Not directly, no. I’ve known plenty of excellent climbers who share Dev’s love of the mountains and cavalier attitude toward risk, but he’s not based on any one specific person, and neither are my other characters. For me, that would be too jarring. My biggest reason for writing is to create a book I can later enjoy reading, and I want my characters to feel like their own unique selves, so I can become wholly absorbed in their world as I might with any other book.

As for which character I relate to best…obviously I share Dev’s joy in the mountains, but I don’t share his love of risk; I am a very careful, cautious climber! It’s Kiran whose introverted personality is closer to mine. Interestingly, that makes Kiran harder to write, because his internal reactions seem so obvious to me that in my first drafts I sometimes forget to portray them. I assume that of course the reader will know how he feels and why he takes his next action. Thankfully, my critique group is there to point out that no, the reader is only reading the book and not my mind; then I go fill in the “blank” spots in revision.

[GdM] What are your thoughts on the grimdark genre? How would you classify your work?

[CS] Grimdark is such a frustratingly slippery term – we all seem to mean different things by it! When I hear the term grimdark, I personally think of books that feature either antiheroes (like Mark Lawrence’s Jorg) or bleak, brutal worlds (like Kameron Hurley’s Bel Dame Apocrypha or Worldbreaker Saga), or a nihilistic worldview (R. Scott Bakker). And to me, the true measure of a book’s darkness lies not in the brutality of its action, but in how skillfully the author explores the more monstrous corners of the human soul. The darkest, most disturbing book I’ve yet read is Susan R. Matthews’s An Exchange of Hostages, in which a bright, idealistic young doctor is compelled by his dystopian society to serve as a torturer – and discovers that he is at heart a sadist. What makes the book so horrifying is not its depictions of torture, but Matthews’s skill in portraying the conflict between her protagonist’s ideals and his desires, and how she compels the reader to sympathize with him even as he does repellent things.

Some people prefer not to read such books, and that’s fine. The joy of fantasy (and science fiction) is that the genre spans an immense range of tastes and styles. “Grimdark” books might be more in the popular eye recently, but that doesn’t mean the subgenre is new, or that other styles of fantasy aren’t still being written. As for me, I enjoy it all.

I categorize my own work as “adventure fantasy,” but the adventure is not entirely light-hearted, especially as the series goes on. Dark things do happen to the characters, and there are themes of abuse and blood magic and whether or not the end justifies the means, so readers who enjoy similar aspects of grimdark novels may find they also enjoy mine.

[GdM] The two main characters are written in different POV, Dev in first person and Kiran in third. What inspired you to write them that way? Was it difficult switching points of view while writing?

[CS] When I first sat down to write The Whitefire Crossing, I played around with both 1st and 3rd for Dev and Kiran, and found Dev flowed best for me in 1st, and Kiran in 3rd. Since I was writing the book for myself, I saw no reason not to write it that way. The real question is, why did that better flow happen? The answer lies in my preferences a reader. I love 1st person for snarky, active, highly opinionated characters (Vlad Taltos in Steven Brust’s novels, Gen in Megan Whalen Turner's The Thief, etc). For introspective characters, I prefer the greater emotional distance of 3rd person, because it keeps the narrative from getting bogged down in angst and analysis. It's also much easier to keep secrets from the reader in 3rd than in 1st, and I wanted certain things about Kiran’s past and his relationship with his master Ruslan to be a gradual reveal. So no, it wasn’t difficult at all for me to switch points of view while writing – it actually helped keep me grounded in the proper character’s head.

[GdM] Where did you take your inspiration for the two main cities, and would you rather be a Ninavel, or Alathian resident?

[CS] My inspiration for the cities and cultures lay in the themes I wanted to explore (e.g. freedom vs. safety) and the landscape I chose for a setting. I’ve always loved the stark beauty of California’s Owens Valley and eastern Sierra Nevada, where snowcapped peaks rise to 14,000 feet straight out of sagebrush and alkali desert. The Sierra are rich in minerals and gems, but the logistical difficulties of the terrain meant that most real-world prospectors and miners went north of the Owens Valley to gentler terrain. But my imagined world had magic - so I envisioned a city built by a clever, amoral opportunist who convinced mages to support his mining efforts and keep his labor force supplied with water, by offering the mages complete freedom in the type of spells they cast. The real-world analogue might be how the mafia turned Las Vegas from a tiny cow town into Sin City and made a zillion dollars in the process.

The fun of storytelling lies in conflict and contrast, so once I had my lawless city of Ninavel, I made their closest neighbors a completely different culture: one that views mages with deep suspicion and regulates very strictly what magic they don’t outlaw.

As for where I’d prefer to live…personally, I’d build a cabin in the Whitefire Mountains and avoid both Ninavel and Alathian cities as much as possible!

[GdM] Your website has listed some of your favorite books from certain genres, but what is your favorite Grimdark novel or author?

[CS] Always difficult to choose a favorite, but in this case I’ll go with Mark Lawrence. I read for character, and Mark did an absolutely spectacular job with Jorg in the Broken Empire trilogy. It’s difficult to make such a vicious character compelling, but Mark pulled it off with style. I’m thoroughly enjoying his latest series as well; I’m always a sucker for a mismatched buddy duo, and Mark’s take on the trope has been a lot of fun to read.

[GdM] These stories have many different kinds of Mages, from a Wind Mage to a Blood Mage. If you could pick one, what kind would you be?

[CS] Well, I’d definitely have to go for a style of magic that doesn’t involve torturing people to death. Maybe a crystal mage, so I’d have an excuse to go gem-hunting in the mountains.

[GdM] The books are becoming increasingly darker. What are some things readers can expect from “The Labyrinth of Flame”?

[CS] More difficult decisions, dangerous alliances, and scrambles for survival…but this time, after two books of being seriously outclassed and outgunned (so to speak), Dev and Kiran finally get the chance to use each other’s strengths and kick a little ass. Readers will get to see some new parts of the Shattered Sigil world, and I’ve drawn on my experiences descending Utah’s slot canyons to add a bit of spice to Dev and Kiran’s efforts against their enemies. I hope readers enjoy The Labyrinth of Flame even half as much as I did writing it!

***

Courtney is definitely an author worth watching as her books get darker and darker. Check out the first six chapters of The Whitefire Crossing over on Courtney's website. 

We've also reviewed The Whitefire Crossing and The Tainted City. Click on the links to see what our reviewers thought.

Review: The Tainted City by Courtney Schafer

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Review: The Tainted City (Book Two of The Shattered Sigil)
Review by Jewel Elise

Looking at the cover of The Tainted City, the second book of The Shattered Sigil by Courtney Schafer, had me expecting many light-filled mage fights, and while you do get that, they happen more towards the end. This book, while darker than The Whitefire Crossing in some ways, feels like a crime-fantasy-mystery.

The goal this time is to save Kiran and catch the mysterious mage killer who wants to destroy Ninavel. The story starts out almost where The Whitefire Crossing left off, but it is immediately darker. It opens on Dev doing hard labor in Cheltman Gorge, a depressing, death-filled prison. He is much the same as he was, untrusting, planning, climbing, and generally a good guy. He misses Cara, the outrider he fell for in the first book, and is still desperate to save Melly from being sold to a brothel, or worse. Kiran is in Alathia, where we left him at the end of The Whitefire Crossing, working on figuring out the spell for the charm to bring back the taint. He’s still innocent, trusting, and heartbroken, for now, but he becomes more interesting when they return to Ninavel. Kiran’s dilemma—whether to kill as blood mages do or not—is one of my favourite parts of the story, especially in the end. One dark scene where Kiran is shown the unstoppable pleasure a blood mage feels while torturing a victim makes this dilemma very intriguing. Unfortunately, we know Kiran so well that we never really worry he will do something terrible, which diminishes the story’s suspense. So while he’s more morally grey than in the first book of the series, I never believed he would choose wrong.

The rest of The Tainted City has the same feel as The Whitefire Crossing. I never had a moment of shock when something happened or felt the need to look away. While darker and bloodier, the grit felt like something out of a crime novel. The deaths occurred off stage and were investigated and discussed by the characters instead of actually allowing the reader to see the action happen, and when the action does come I never feared the protagonist would actually die. Although characters are killed, it is never a huge surprise.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the strong female characters in this story. Cara is a good leader and great climber. Melly is very powerfully tainted, and it is fun to see her use her telepathic powers. Jylla is manipulative and smart. Yet all three frequently end up being damsels in distress. I was disappointed each time a female character was hurt or needed to be saved. These strong women are merely mirrors of their stronger male counterparts. It would have been nice to see at least one of them come out ahead of the men.

My hopes were high for this sequel, and in some ways my expectations were met. It had more grit, action, and crime-scene gore than The Whitefire Crossing. Though it was slowed down at times by extended dialogue and discussions, it was fun to read. Unfortunately, it was still not what I consider grimdark. The characters, while having moral dilemmas, didn’t feel grey enough. Like the first book in the series, if you want a dark fantasy with a bit of mystery and magic, this book is for you. Otherwise, for me, The Tainted City climbs along the edges of grimdark but never really falls into the muck. Nevertheless, I give The Tainted City four Grimdark Lords out of five for being a fun fantasy story with entertaining characters and interesting settings. 

Purchase The Whitefire Crossing from the Amazon Kindle Store[image error], or from Galaxy Bookstore.

Read the review for The Whitefire Crossing, book one in The Shattered Sigil HERE.