Adrian Collins's Blog, page 246
October 18, 2015
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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October 15, 2015
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!
October 11, 2015
An Excerpt of 'The Last Quarrel' by Duncan Lay
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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October 10, 2015
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!
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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.
October 6, 2015
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.
September 28, 2015
Issue #5 Line up
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Grimdark Magazine Issue #5 Line Up
Grimdark Magazine issue #5 is chock full of grimdark goodness. We've pushed the genre boundaries of grimdark a bit more in this issue, with zombie apocalypses and cold-hearted near-future sci-fi to go with the three fantasy pieces, which include a Dominion of the Fallen short story by Aliette de Bodard.
Short fiction:
Against the Encroaching Darkness by Aliette de Bodard, a Dominion of the Fallen short story.
First They Came for the Pigs by Chadwick Ginther.
Boomer Hunter by Sean Patrick Hazlett
The Right Hand of Decay by David Annandale
Lessons of Necessity by T.C. Powell
Articles:
Who is the Grimdark Hero by C.T. Phipps
Reviews:
The Liar's Key by Mark Lawrence (review by Tom Smith)
The Mechanical by Ian Tregellis (review by Malrubius)
The Witcher 3 (review by C.T. Phipps)
Interviews:
James A. Moore
Peter Orullian
Excerpts
The Dinosaur Lords by Victor Milan (Chapter 1)
Purchase Grimdark Magazine #5 now over at our webstore:
Or over on Amazon (we get a little extra kick back if you use the below link to get there):
Use this link to purchase Grimdark Magazine Issue #5 on Kindle from Amazon [image error]
September 23, 2015
Review: The Whitefire Crossing
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Review: The Whitefire Crossing by Courtney Schafer
Review by Jewel Elise
Reading The Whitefire Crossing by Courtney Schafer is a bit like climbing a mountain. There is the anticipation of the climb, planning, some struggles, renewed energy and even joy. Then, after the last exciting push, you reach the top and find yourself staring at another peak, another book.
The story starts with a heartbroken smuggler and extreme climber named Dev. To fulfill a promise made long ago he takes on a dangerous job he otherwise never would have. He must smuggle a man named Kiran over the Whitefire Mountains into Alathia and then betray him. Kiran’s a city boy who’s led a sheltered life, but he has his own secrets. He is on the run from a mage named Ruslan, who is willing to do whatever it takes to get Kiran back. The mountains are perilous enough, but with Ruslan close behind casting spells, the journey is that much more dangerous and suspenseful. Secrets are slowly revealed, plans are made and completed again and again, until the steady climb reaches its fulfilling, slightly grim conclusion. It is exciting, but I frequently found myself wishing more action would happen instead of continually reading about characters making plans for it.
The story is told from two perspectives, one in first person and the other in third. While I enjoyed how there isn't a lot of jumping around, the element of surprise is lacking at times because we already know everything the characters are thinking. When Kiran reveals something to Dev, it is a surprise for him but not for the reader. Instead there is a feeling of relief that the secret has finally been revealed.
The relationship between Dev and Kiran is tense. They are both hiding too many things from each other, but as things progress they become closer. I especially enjoyed how Kiran had to learn from Dev how to climb and do hard labor during their crossing. Kiran’s amazement at the scenery was also a nice touch.
The story world is like our own in some ways. Dev’s city, Ninavel, reminded me of what I imagine Las Vegas to be like, filled with mage lights, riches, everyday people, and sin, but with snowcapped mountains in the distance. Mages sit at the top of the social ladder: powerful, rich, and deadly. The worst of these are the blood mages, which is exactly who Dev finds himself in trouble with. Alathia is in some ways the opposite of Ninavel. Magic is prohibited there. The only people who are allowed do perform magic are the mages who control city. There is a large border surrounding the city, and anyone who tries to bring magic over the border is met with harsh punishment. Getting caught smuggling Kiran could mean death, for both of them.
The Whitefire Crossing is an adventurous fantasy filled with magic and betrayal. While slow at times, it is an enjoyable read that will leave you wanting to go out and scale your own mountain. For lovers of grimdark, though, this is not the grim, gritty, action-filled story with unpredictable characters that we look for. Though Dev and Kiran have some moments of moral dilemma, they are still basically black and white. You can tell from the start who is good and who is evil. There wasn’t anything that greatly surprised me or made me cringe, although I have heard the next book is darker. I look forward to climbing that mountain, hopefully with blood mages close behind.
I give The Whitefire Crossing 3.5 grimdark lords out of 5.
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Check out The Whitefire Crossingover on:
Kindle[image error]
Paperback
September 15, 2015
Update from GdM
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After wrapping up our first year of Grimdark Magazine, we're doing everything we can to kick the magazine into the next gear. Below are a few of the things currently being stirred in the pot.
Battle-Off entries closed. Voters wanted!
The entry window for the GdM Battle-Off is now closed. With nearly 1,400 votes cast, now is the time to get in amongst the action, read some free fiction, discover some new authors, and rate their works!
Each piece takes only a few minutes to read, and voting takes a second per piece; perfect for your trip to work or an ad break. Click below and scroll down to find the full listing of excerpts available.
Issue #5 update
We just locked in our last piece for Issue #5! The issue is looking brilliant, with another cover from Jason Deem setting the mood and a marquee story from Aliette de Bodard set in the world she built in The House of Shattered Wings. Keep an eye on the blog for pre-release and more content details!
First Reader Positions Open
With the brilliant Layla Cummins heading off and Cheresse Burke stepping into the second reader role we're after a couple of new first readers to join the GdM ranks. The GdM team is chock full of grimdark enthusiasts and a fun environment to be a part of.
If you're interested in checking out the role (and a couple of other roles we have available, click through below.
The Grim Tidings Podcast
I had a chat with the blokes at the Grim Tidings Podcast a couple of weeks ago about grimdark (surprise!), the magazine, violence in grimdark, and the survivability of the genre.
The podcast, headed up by Rob and Phil, has been running for a few months and deals in all things Grimdark. They've interviewed a range of authors including, most recently, R.A. Salvator. If you're a fan of this magazine, then you'll love this podcast.
September 3, 2015
Review: Empire Ascendant by Kameron Hurley
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Review: Empire Ascendant by Kameron Hurley
Reviewed by Sean Grigsby
When it comes to second installments, especially in the realm of science fiction and fantasy, The Empire Strikes Back is an oft-compared milestone. Some might even regard it as the best film in the original Star Wars trilogy. I don’t know if I’m one of these people.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great movie. It introduces new and interesting characters, more questions are raised, and someone gets frozen in a fictional mineral that’s now a household name. But I always felt a little deprived at the end of Empire. I wanted more to it.
Kameron Hurley’s is about as grimdark as fantasy literature can get. Empire Ascendant is the second book in the series and releases in October, and though I enjoyed it, it left me with a little of that Empire Strikes Back longing.
To catch you up, The Mirror Empire introduced us to a world where the people worship four distinct celestial bodies: Tira, Para, Sina, and Oma. Certain gifted individuals can call on the “breath” of these bodies to help them perform all kinds of cool magic. However, only one body is in the sky at a time, sometimes not returning for a thousand years. Those gifted by the ascendant star are more powerful than those whose comet is in decline.
But it’s when Oma appears, that everyone gets worried. It signals the clashing of worlds, when the thread between parallel universes becomes so thin that crossing between them becomes possible. But the catch is that your “mirror” self has to be dead in the universe you want to cross into. So when Kirana’s world is coming to a cataclysmic end, she has a lot of people to kill on the other side so all of the people in her world can come over.
Ahkio is the kai, leader of the Dhai people, and he’s got several problems to handle in Empire Ascendant. Foremost is his dead sister, Kirana’s mirror self, crossing over and murdering everybody. Second is that he recently found out who his real mother is, and she’s been helping the enemy in exchange for a few lives spared.
Lilia is from the dying universe, sent by her mother when she was young. She’s now a holy symbol for the Dhai. She’s hell bent on revenge against Kirana and the entire invading Tai Mora force. But when her gifts as an Oma mage burn out, all she has left is her wits. And it looks like she’s her adopted world’s only hope.
Hurley is great at creating a unique world with lots of bloodshed. I was tense for every character, even the ones I despised, wondering if they would be next on the chopping block or the monster’s teeth or the walking trees’ grubby branches. However, there are so many characters in this book, I forgot who was who at several points and just had to go along with it, hoping I would remember. Sometimes I didn’t.
Returning to the world of the World Breaker Saga felt like seeing an old friend after a long separation. But I highly advise grimdark readers to start with The Mirror Empire before moving on to this second book. Even as one who was familiar with the material, I forgot many details of what had happened previously and was left to sink or swim in grasping the plot. Hurley would have done well to give the reader a few lifelines of recollection, and save the torture for her characters.
Nevertheless, there were many awesome moments in Empire Ascendant. Some that had me severely creeped out or squirming in my seat. One especially intense scene that I really enjoyed is when legionnaire Zezili crawls into the lair of monsters and comes across a disgusting creature straight out of nightmares. If Hurley ever tried her hand at horror, she’d do fantastically.
Though the World Breaker Saga is set in a vivid fantasy world, Hurley has asks us to contemplate modern day gender issues and how we all interact as woman, man, and transgendered. It is a compelling theme although, admittedly, I stumbled over every ze and hir pronoun I came across in one character’s POV.
With Empire Ascendant, Hurley has added another unique grimdark opus to the hungry shelves in our dark realm. True, it left me unsated the same way Empire Strikes Back did, but I’m excited to see what’s in store for the next installment—even though I’m fairly certain someone will die horribly.
Empire Ascendant releases October 6th from Angry Robot Books, and gets three-and-a-half Grimdark Lords out of five.
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Purchase Empire Ascendant in one of the following formats:
Kindle
Paperback
August 21, 2015
Review: Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan
Reviewed by Adrian Collins
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It's pretty rare that I get the first 50 pages into a book and decide on the spot to go purchase the rest of a series, but there are times when you just know that you're going to love an author's work. It happened to me the first time with Joe Abercrombie's The Heroes, and then again with Mark Lawrence's Prince of Thorns. And even though I thought I didn't like flintlock fantasy, it's happened again with Brian McClellan's Promise of Blood.
Promise of Blood reads like the French Revolution crossed with Lightbringer. McClellan presents Adro through the eyes of Adamant, a retired investigator whose taken up as a freelancer. His old general, Tamas, has called him back into service. In need of work, he responds, only to find the coup has already happened. Tamas, the military leader of the coup, has just killed all bar one -- his son Taniel's best friend Bo --of the royal cabal and had a group of his powder mages killed by a fleeing Privileged of incredible power. Taniel Two-Shot, famed Powder Mage marksman, hunter, and killer of Privileged has come home to see his father. His relationship with famed general Tamas is a strained one, and despite his best efforts, Tamas always seems to want him around as no more as a particularly useful soldier.
As the city reacts to the coup -- the royal family and supporting lords and their families put to the guillotine, the Royalist military's last stand, the new council in charge -- Tamas sends Adamant on a mission to find out what Kresimir's Promise is, apart from the final words on a dying Privileged's lips. Adamant gets knee-deep in Adro's underworld to find out what danger comes the realm's way. Taniel chases the mystery Privileged through the city, before being retasked with taking out the last Royal Cabal member, his best friend Bo. All the while, Tamas tries to keep his new city and council in one piece, and the mighty Kez nation have smelled blood in the water and are on the way with their immense army.
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As the Predii and a few ancient gods nobody actually believed were real come in to play a part in the ever-twisting treachery, the end game becomes clear. And what an end game it is. You're doing yourself a disservice if you don't pick up this series as soon as possible.
McClellan's story has brilliant depth, with plenty for you to get your teeth stuck in to. There's a rich and inventive magic system that pitches a more traditional fantasy magic system against the powdermages, whose expertise is in manipulating gunpowder. The gods in the background are an enjoyable part of the story, without becoming ridiculous as many gods in stories are wont to do. Political factions, both under and Tamas' nose and far away, provide another level of depth to the story, and McClellan makes sure there are plenty of tantalising bits to keep you interested in the series beyond the back cover of Promise of Blood.
One of the things that really makes Promise of Blood stick out to me is the relationship between Tamas and Taniel. Father and son, they struggle to have a normal relationship. Taniel wishes for a more fatherly figure, while Tamas struggles to separate his family from his soldier subordinates. To me, McClellan writes these characters so well that this relationship alone is enough to put me on to the second book.
Promise of Blood is a brilliant book that you need to pick up immediately. I'll race you through The Crimson Campaignand meet you at the end of The Autumn Republic. Do yourself a favour and pick it up at Galaxy Bookstore (paperback/hardcover), Amazon
(Kindle), iBooks (ebook | audio book), or Kobo
.
5 grimdark Lords out of 5.
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