Announcing "The Breaking World"

First of all, I would like to take this moment to announce the big news of the day. My good friend David Dalglish and I have signed a publishing deal with 47North, an arm of Amazon Publishing. The deal is for three books, all co-written by Dave and myself. The series will be titled The Breaking World, and will chronicle the birth of humanity upon Dezrel, the world in which all of Dave’s many, many novels take place, and the war between the two brother gods around whom a great number of his plots center. To say we’re both quite excited about this would be an understatement. For information’s sake, the books will be as follows:

  

Dawn of Swords (sometime in January, 2014)

Wrath of Lions (TBA)

Blood of Gods (TBA)

It really is quite fitting that I post the announcement on this particular blog, which has gone criminally underused for the past year. Because it was in this very space that the groundwork for the friendship that would eventually result in a rewarding collaboration was laid.

  

Three years ago, after much frustration, I decided to take the plunge and begin self-publishing The Rift, a series of post-apocalyptic novels I’d been working on for years. I entered the Kindle publishing world, which had just begun to make headway and gain a name for itself. Reviews were difficult to come by, as I was one of thousands to take the plunge at about the same time. I saw many of my brethren having the same difficulties, and so I dusted off this blog, which had been languishing for some time, and decided that I would pitch my services as a reviewer to the countless self-pubbers who frequented a site called Kindleboards. A great many authors added their names to the list, and my side career as an amateur reviewer began.

This is where Dave Dalglish enters the picture...but first, a bit of background. As far as being a reader goes, I’m really not as well read in genre fiction as a lot of folks out there. I dabbled in the classics a lot when I was younger, but as I grew older, I ended up limiting my reading material to pretty much horror and horror only. In fact, as far as genres go, the one I pretty much ignored was fantasy. I hadn’t read a book featuring swords and sorcery since I picked up RA Salvatore’s The Crystal Shard back in high school. (Which, trust me, was a long time ago.) That was about to change.

So on this list of books to be read and reviewed appeared The Weight of Blood, a dark journey starring a couple disenfranchised half-orc brothers written by a lithe redhead named David Dalglish. I absolutely fell in love with the book. Was it perfect? No, of course not. However, there was so much there, deep stuff, philosophical stuff that I just couldn’t overlook, whether Dave intended them or not. It was the second work of fantasy I’d read since starting the reviews, and I was hooked. A new love affair had begun.

Every book Dave wrote, I devoured. (In fact, The Cost of Betrayal, the second Half-Orc book, I still consider to be one of my favorites ever, in any genre.) We began chatting online, and a friendship was struck. During his later books, he would call me to discuss plot ideas, and I’d like to think that I was able to be of some help. I became enraptured by his world, almost to a scholarly level. So immersed was I that I began to understand Dezrel and what happened within it as much as I understood what was happening in my own writing.

 

One thing that always intrigued me was the Gods’ War, which many of his books reference. I’d often ask him if he was ever going to write it, and he said he had no plans to. (In the interview linked at the bottom of this post, Dave himself describes his feelings on the subject.) I thought that was a shame, as the storyline had so much potential, but at the same time a writer’s gotta do what a writer’s gotta do. If he didn’t feel inspired by the material, best not to pen it or you’ll come out with a substandard product.

 

Fast forward to 2012, when I was putting the finishing touches on The Summer Son, the last of the Rift books. Dave asked me what project I planned on doing next, and I told him I was wavering between ideas at the moment. “Why don’t you write the prequel books with me,” he then said. “You know, the war between Ashhur and Karak.”

I just about fell out of my chair.

 

Full disclosure here: For a long while, I had actually hoped this offer would be made. During my many hours spent reading Dave’s novels, I’d developed a mental picture (and even quite a few written notes) of what life would be like in early Dezrel, hashed out a few storylines that needed telling, and stashed them away as maybe something to give my friend if he ever decided to start the project, or, gasp, maybe wanted me to help write them. And then there it was, falling right into my lap—the opportunity to not only write in a world I loved, but write with a man I admire and who has come to become one of my closest of friends, one with whom I share a great deal of values and beliefs, though we come from vastly different backgrounds. Not only that, but I knew we would work well together, since probably the best short story I ever wrote, The One that Matters, which appeared in his Land of Ash compilation, was a tale I had no confidence in until Dave cleaned it up, removed unnecessary filler, and helped make it what it became. That’s when I knew that the two of us working together could create something great.

I had an outline ready for him almost immediately (an easy task given my previous note-taking), and after his enthusiastic approval, it was off to the races. I worked on the rough draft, constantly calling Dave to keep the storyline consistent and fix quite a few aspects of the plot that I couldn’t find resolutions to. Then, when the hulking manuscript was finished, Dave took it and began a round of heavy edits. What ended up coming out when all was said and done is a book that is far and away the best piece of literature I’ve ever had my name attached to. See, that’s the thing with this collaboration; areas I struggle in Dave is expert at, and visa versa. Balance, people. Celestia would be quite proud. (Anyone who knows Dave’s work will appreciate that statement.)

 

And in the middle of all this, something wondrous happened. Dave got out of a bad representation deal and, all of a sudden, he had a deal with big-six publisher Orbit for his Shadowdance novels and our collaboration was going to have Amazon’s mighty sword behind it. A book that had been a labor of love, that had been slated to be self-published, was now going to find a home with a real, live publisher. Now, I will freely admit that just having Dave’s name on a project pretty much guarantees it success (and I lucked out greatly there), but this was beyond my wildest dreams. I even got hooked up with uber-agent Michael Carr because of this, one of the nicest and hardest-working men I’ve ever come across, who obviously deserves a great amount of credit for these deals being completed.

So there you have it. Really, though I put a ton of work into the project, it’s Dave who deserves the lion’s share of praise here. He was the one who believed in what I had to offer, his rewriting skills were on-point, and hell, he was the one who created this whole wonderful backdrop in the first place! Without Dave Dalglish, there’s no Dezrel, there’s no Half-Orcs, there’s no Shadowdance, and there sure as hell isn’t any Breaking World. I owe him so much, not the least of which is being a great friend when I needed one most.

So thanks, Dave! Not like you don’t know this already, but you’re the greatest, as a man as well as an author. And thanks to 47North as well, for taking a chance on these books. We’re going to do awesome things together, I guarantee it.

To read a fascinating interview with Dave on this subject and a whole lot more, visit the following link: http://davidgaughran.wordpress.com/2013/02/28/from-pizza-hut-to-easy-street-the-david-dalglish-story/

Review: The Old Ways (Paladins III) by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

No one’s perfect, but sometimes everything comes together, especially in literature. It’s fascinating to watch an author grow and grow, slowly improving over time, fixing faults in their writing, finding new ways to explore tired old plot devices, coming to grips with their weaknesses and making them strengths. It’s not all that rare in the world of books, but it’s still special.

And this brings us to The Old Ways: Paladins Book III by David Dalglish.

I, for one, am a huge fan of the author’s work. (Surprised? Look through my archived reviews and you won’t be.) I’ve read every book Dalglish has come out with, and either loved or really liked every one. But this one is something special. Gone is his penchant for rushing, for occasionally taking the easy way out and brushing aside important internal conflict. Instead, what the author has given us in this book is a pace that moves slowly, fluidly, that gradually builds the tension and grows the characters until they explode off the page in the last act.

The Old Ways continues with the struggles of Jericho, paladin of Ashhur, and Darius, former paladin of Karak. The story picks up where we left off in Clash of Faiths, with Darius being converted to the side of light in his trial-by-fire (and unnecessarily rushed) clash with his old friend. He’s a man isolated even when he’s surrounded by people. He’s haunted by his past deeds, both inwardly and outwardly, and the fact that many of those past deeds hurt a great many people does nothing but make life much more difficult for our poor antihero.

But he’s learning, changing, determined to become a better man, even if it kills him.

On the other side of the coin we have Jericho, the sometimes too-good-to-be-true goodie-goodie. While I loved his character when he first appeared in Half-Orcs, truth be told he can be a bit one-note with how honorable and loyal he is. But then again, his purpose in this story is to act as foil for Darius, for Darius is the true star of the show, the character that grows and experiences pain and redemption and acts like a living, breathing human being. He is the backbone of this novel—the backbone of the series, really—and in this book he really shines.

Along with Darius’s redemption, Dalglish also pushes the envelope with his new cadre of villains. We have Valessa, the Grey Sister who died in Faiths, only to be reborn as something dark and complex, a being of shadow that cannot rest until her mission (killing Darius) is accomplished. The scenes involving her were brilliantly done, full of contradiction, self-loathing, and doubt. If there’s one character that I hope future books explore deeper, it’s her.

Then we have Luther and Cyric, priests of Karak who start up the journey toward changing the world to fit their god’s image. The complexity of each character is fantastic. They’re literary interpretations of different ways of obtaining political power—subterfuge cunning, and force and tradition. Both are effective in their own ways, and to watch their respective plans unfold on the page was awe-inspiring. Especially with Luther, who offers a surprise at the end that literally left me speechless.

So yes, I can say that David Dalglish has done it again. He’s written a book full of trepidation and turmoil, full of violence and self-discovery, a book that I fully ingested with aplomb. I may not be someone you really want to listen to in regards to my opinion on this book, since I’m a little more than biased toward him, but in my humble opinion he has created a work that goes far beyond simply being a third book in a series.

And that’s because The Old Ways, while not perfect, is just about as close as any writer can get to that unreachable ideal.

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Review: Best Laid Plans (Shader Book II) by D.P. Prior

Rating: 5 out of 5

Sequels are a tricky business. I consider it a rarity when books actually get better after a fantastic opening volume. Off the top of my head, I can only think of three series that hold this distinction: King’s The Dark Tower, Dalglish’s Shadowdance Trilogy, and of course the Harry Potter books.

In other words, with Best Laid Plans: Shader Book II, D.P. Prior has joined some pretty select company.

Best Laid Plans picks up the story of the events on Sahul (and in other, more surreal locales) with the characters in dire straits. The undead army of the liche Dr. Cadman has overwhelmed Sarum, the Templum fleet is approaching Sahul, and Deacon Shader, our hero, is, well, dead…none of which will stay true for very long.

To say this book has a busy plot would be an understatement. At my count, there are at least nine storylines going on at once: Deacon’s experience in the afterlife, the struggles of the White Order, the survival of those trapped in Sarum, Cadman’s angst and rise to efforts to retain power, Maldark the dwarf’s guilt over his past, the dreamer Huntsman’s continuing education of Rhiannon’s brother Sammy, Sektis Gandaw’s quest to assemble the statue of Eingana and begin the unweaving, Shadrak’s growing importance to the whole (possibly) preordained events unfolding, Shader’s resurrection and subsequent quest, and Emperor Hagalle’s double-handed dealings. Throw into this mix vast battle sequences, and you have a piece of literature that could very well have become disjointed and confusing in a lesser author’s hands.

Yet Prior is up to the task in this opus, and the narrative he builds is a fascinating one. There is mythology and philosophy, questions as to the nature of reality and time, scathing observations on government and religion, and even a few references to modern-day events and objects that bring this beyond the realm of just a great epic fantasy adventure. All of these tropes and points meld together, creating a work that is exciting while at the same time thought-provoking.

This book questions everything. While there are certainly protagonists and antagonists, these characters are as far from being cardboard cutouts that you can get. Perhaps the greatest achievement is the way Prior allows us, through differing points of view, to see inside the minds of virtually every major character and allows us to develop at least an inkling of empathy for them. Even the despicable Cadman and the perhaps more-despicable Gaston (who performed a virtually unforgivable act in the first book) are given time to show they’re real, flesh-and-blood people with doubts and fears and even remorse. It allows them, the characters, the move the plot forward rather than the plot moving them, which for a work that deals a lot in fate and preordination is a feat in and of itself.

The battle sequences were well thought-out and exciting—much more so than in the first book—and particularly the scenes that take place at sea, while Deacon is attempting to find the albino who stole his pieces of Eingana, are captivating. They’re a mixture of new and old, a melding of science fiction and Tolkien-esque fantasy that is truly original and awe-inspiring in scope. There were very few times where I became confused, and even on those rare occasions all it took was a small step backward to realize that I’d simply missed a sentence or misunderstood the usage of a certain word or phrase.

In conclusion, I can say that Best Laid Plans not only matches Cadman’s Gambit, the first book in the series, but enhances it. This is a book chock full of imagery both beautiful and hideous, with a mixture of genuine comedy in places to break up the despair and tension. It was a beast of a story to read, one I didn’t want to put down. And by the time I reached the cliffhanger ending, I wished more than anything that I had the third book on hand so I could get right to it.

That’s right, folks, D.P. Prior has crafted a wonderful mythology that goes perfectly with his spot-on writing. This is a series that should be savored like a fine scotch, one whose sweetness lingers in your mouth long after you’ve swallowed.

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Review: A Dance of Death (Shadowdance Book III) by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

I love David Dalglish’s books. There, I said it. Everything he’s put out I’ve devoured and raved about. From Weight of Blood, the introduction to his Half-Orcs series, to his new Paladins adventures, each story builds upon the next, further enhancing and enriching the world he’s created and presenting new conspiracies, enemies, and themes.

Now we come to A Dance of Death, the climactic work of the Shadowdance series – which, strangely enough, are really stand-alone novels masquerading as a series. And I will now say, as I seem to after virtually every Dalglish book, that he’s once more raised the bar, making this reviewer swoon, sway, and cheer with each swing of the sword (or thrust of the dagger).

This time around, we find Haern, fully entrenched in his role as King’s Watcher, being led out of Velderan by a copycat killer in the town of Angelport, miles away from home. This mimic kills seemingly indiscriminately, leaving behind Haern’s old calling card, the bloody, traced eye, one he hasn’t used in years.

Haern, along with Alyssa and Zusa, head south. There are other bad things going on in Angelport – a fight with the elves over the woodlands, the proliferation of a new, powerful drug that is spreading through the streets, and the infighting between the merchant lords, who own the boats, and the lord of the land, who is slowly losing control of everything. Into this mix is thrown the Wraith, Haern’s much-too-talented, unwanted protégé, which pitches everything into a great big smorgasbord of murder, conspiracy, deceit, and political intrigue that brings the city to the brink of war – both with the elves and amongst themselves.

For the first time, Dalglish introduces a plot that is truly mysterious and isn’t concluded until the very end. While all of his books possess tremendous character development – and are usually carried by it – this one actually uses the plot itself, the mystery, to drive the story forward, using the previously stated character development to enhance the story, making the characters come to even more life than they already are. We understand Alyssa’s doubt, Zusa’s anger, Haern’s guilt, because each step of the way we’re shown why they feel what they’re feeling.

And they aren’t the only characters spotlighted here. We’re also reintroduced to Torgar, from way back in book one, who serves as the master of the guard for the Keenans, the Trifect members who reside in Angelport. We also get further insight into Madelyn Keenan’s character, who, let’s just say, is one of my favorites in the whole book, maybe the whole series. We also get inside the head of the Wraith, this mirror of a creation whose goals and actions don’t quite match up.

This is a book filled – and I mean filled – with meaning and thematic exploration. Everything from drug trafficking to environmental preservation to the question of how far is too far when it comes to the use of violence in making the world a better place are explored. Haern, for his part, is left to question his own motivations, to doubt his every action. He’s presented with a man much like himself, one that kills ostensibly at random, with no thought given to whether his victims deserve their fate or not. All of which leads Haern to wonder, what makes me so much better than him?

Because of this fact, there are no true heroes in A Dance of Death. What we cheer for when we read are incomplete people – in other words, fantasy representations of actual, real people experiencing the type of trauma – gang violence, drug dealers, vigilantism – that are found in any city across the world. All of which makes me repeat something I’ve said many times before: David Dalglish is not a fantasy author. He’s an author, period; one whose words would mean just as much if they were set in Chicago or Paris or Los Angeles as they do in Velderan…or Angelport.

The bottom line is this: A Dance of Death is a great, great read, a much more than worthy offering to close out a fantastic series. The characters are great, the story even better, and it has enough twists to make your head spin. We even get to see elves portrayed being not-so-elflike – you know wise and mystical and peaceful and all that – which I absolutely loved. There is heartbreak and anger, betrayal and gut-wrenching decisions, as well as some rather inspired deaths. I heartily recommend it, as I would all of the author’s books, and can honestly say I hope he gives us more of Haern’s story in the future, because there has to be more to tell.

Yeah, this is pretty much the perfect novel. You won’t be disappointed. And if you are, that’s on you, not the work.

If you want to read this fantastic work for yourself, buy them in Ebook format at the following sellers:

Review: Cadman's Gambit (Shader Book I) by D.P. Prior

Rating: 5 out of 5

Oh, how much I love the melding of genres. To mix and match different aspects of specific literary tropes and use them to tell a truly original and captivating tale can be a wonderful thing to experience, when executed correctly. It then becomes nothing but a story, allowing the reader to concentrate on the strength of the tale being told rather than if they followed all the requisite “rules” ascribed to said genre – ala, in the case of fantasy, the use of magic, mystical beasts, and world-building.

This all brings us to Cadman’s Gambit: Shader Book I by D.P. Prior, a novel that now holds a place in my heart as the most perfect introductory novel to a series I’ve ever read, surpassing the previous champion, The Gunslinger.

In truth, there are quite a few similarities between Prior’s book and the seminal work of King. We follow a gruff, old, and cranky warrior (Roland and Shader), travel along a path in search of an object of untold power (the Rose and the statue of Eingana), and there are remnants of an advanced, ancient civilization lurking beneath the surface of both worlds.

This is where the comparison ends, however. While The Dark Tower chronicles the journey of a single man and his quest for absolution, in Shader we’re presented with a much larger, more universal plight – the elevation of man into a place of honor within the universe. It’s a rather lofty goal that Prior has saddled himself with, and one he’s amazingly able to pull off.

In Cadman’s Gambit we’re introduced, in different flashbacks and wild, swashbuckling tales, to the main character, Deacon Shader. But in almost every way, Shader is overshadowed by the complexity, originality, and turmoil of the world he exists in. This is a version of Earth that has gone far beyond us – 900 years since the end of “civilization as we know it”, pretty much – and there are mystical, as well as scientific, wonders drifting about. There are individuals who have lived for centuries, galactic warlords on the quest for universal domination, and many questions pertaining to the nature of existence, including time, itself. Religion is widely discussed, and even ridiculed, in fact becoming the one uniting and divisive cog in the machine, echoing that fact that though society as we know it has moved on, humans remain humans, whether they ascribe to a Christian derivative, a pagan understanding, immerse themselves in Platonic doctrine, or a combination of all three.

But more than anything else, Cadman’s Gambit is the story of man’s quest for immortality. Every major character either desires it – in spirituality or actuality – or already has tasted a hint of it. It is one of the saddest theological plotlines I’ve come across, and each key player is, in their own way, selfish to a fault. In an existence where death is all around them, in the form of plague or warfare or strange, bio-engineered beasts, rather than trying to survive, they attempt to cheat death.

Which is why Deacon Shader, the warrior monk (and how great of a contradiction is that?), means so much to the story. He is flawed, cranky, violent, and stubborn, a man set in his ways who wants to change but can’t. Because of this, he reflects each and every person I’ve ever known…though he’s way cooler, and stronger, than the average man. Let’s just call him an “ideal human,” which is a fantastic description because of how imperfect he is. Prior has definitely created a conundrum of a story here, and he couldn’t have chosen a better figurehead to anchor it.

The mystery in the tale abounds. What’s up with the hidden, underground tunnels? What’s a “technocracy?” Why do so many people, when exposed to the deity-like entities (or are they?) that save the world from itself, end up living pretty much forever? He also has the courage to introduce magic, only to pull back and suggest, in a brilliant piece of storytelling, that there’s no such thing as magic at all. Just like the rest of the story, it’s a grand negation, and one that can make a reader’s head spin…in a good way, of course.

There is more than theory and world-building at work here. There is actual emotion and real, honest-to-goodness human relationships. Shader’s love for the girl he can’t have, his understudy’s obsession with the same, a dwarf named Shadrach’s fixation on the woman who would be his mother, the religious elite’s love of Ain, their godhead, or Dr. Cadman’s (the main antagonist) love of, well, himself. (I don’t want to spoil anything here, but let’s just say Cadman is a near-flawless villain. You’ll love him.)

The fight scenes in this book are extremely well executed, even if they may be few and far between. Just like everything else at work here, this is a contradiction, for the action acts as a break in the dialogue and philosophic musings instead of the other way around, which is usually the case. Also, there are little Easter eggs thrown in for those of us who still exist in the 21^st century, as some of the “immortal” characters reflect upon events and locales from their past, letting we the readers know that, yes, this strange land was once not only very much like ours, but was ours.

Oh, and I’d be remiss to say that, for the first time ever, the map at the beginning of the book was not only well-made, but necessary to the plot! Go figure. I’ve always been one to never look at them, thinking them superfluous. Not here, my friends. No, if it weren’t for that map, I would’ve been lost.

In fact, I can say in all honesty that the only thing I think might hold this novel back is the fact it’s almost too smart for its own good. The language is dense, the plot sometimes convoluted. You really have to read each and every word, to take in each minute detail presented, to truly understand what you’re reading. I think there may be some folks who may not appreciate it, though there’s nothing wrong with that.

I, on the other hand, loved it. Cadman’s Gambit is a work of pure intellect, taking the best facets of fantasy, science fiction, and philosophy, and mixing it all together into a genus all its own. It's surprisingly humorous in parts, and the Kantian undertones of consciousness as it relates to time and space resounded with me greatly. I couldn’t put it down, though I took my time with it, wanting to bathe myself in every word, every turn of a phrase.

Yup, that’s right. My Year’s Best list just had a new book jump to the top. D.P. Prior’s book is that good. He has a lot to say, and one hell of a story to tell. In my opinion, you should take him up on that journey. Now.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 50/50 (5.0/5)

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Review: Tears of Requiem (Song of Dragons Book II) by Daniel Arenson

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Look out, everyone! Big scaly beasts are on the loose!

Daniel Arenson returns with the second book in his Song of Dragons series, Tears of Requiem. We pick up the story right where Blood of Requiem leaves off, with the surviving Vir Requis – King Benedictus, his wife Lacrimosa, their daughter Agnus Dei, and Kyrie – fresh off their defeat and (near) fatal wounding of Benedictus’s brother and ruler of the land, Dies Irae. The griffins have been released, and hopefully life may come just a tad easier for these poor, harrowed folks.

No such luck, because Gloriae, the stolen daughter of Benedictus, has released the Nightshades, a race of strange shadow-creatures that swallow the souls of the living, leaving a hollowed (yet still living) husk behind. I can’t tell you how horrible this concept sounds, on theory and on paper. To have your soul sucked away and splintered into a million tiny pieces, while your consciousness is still aware, feeling every morsel of fear, longing, and pain it endures? It really is one of the more frightening concepts I’ve seen in a book.

Anyhow, I’m getting off track here. So Gloriae releases the nightshades, and then Dies Irae, who’s apparently indestructible – a dagger in the eye won’t kill this bastard? What’ll it take! – kicks his adopted (stolen) daughter out of his kingdom, for all intents and purposes disowning her. She eventually runs into the remaining Vir Requis she is intent on killing, to prove her loyalty to her “father”. Angst, fighting, seduction, and all sorts of other wackiness ensue.

From there, the book becomes a mad dash against time, with the survivors trying to figure out a way to defeat the ostensibly undefeatable nightshades and save what’s left of this new kingdom of the living dead. Blood is spilled, love is made, unexpected allies are brought together, and we all know that though there may be a light at the end of the tunnel for these tormented characters, they’re going to experience a good amount of tragedy first.

This is a more than worthy successor to the first book. It moves along very quickly, and it really boils down to a mad – though exceedingly violent – survival romp. The characters stay true to themselves, some make grand discoveries about themselves, and through it all an almost horror-novel sensation of isolation and fear washes over near every word.

And yet, unlike the first installment, there is an underlying sense of lightness. Strange as that is to say about a book as dark as this, there is actual levity in certain parts – particularly in the repartee between Agnus Dei and her father. These scenes worked very well to split up the doom and gloom that encompasses the rest of the story.

As for characters, Benedictus remains the stalwart old king, firm in his beliefs and yet nearly overwhelmed with guilt. Kyrie grows immensely, though he is still somewhat trapped in the timidity of being a very young man, especially when it comes to women. (As the father of two teenage boys, I can relate.) Agnus Dei demonstrates perhaps the most growth, as the angst that consumed her in the first book slowly wanes, revealing a strong and yet still sensitive woman underneath. About the only character that seemed a little off was Lacrimosa, as she sometimes acted a bit out of character, almost as a convenience for the plot. And Dies Irae is evil incarnate yet again, a bundle of hatred and brutality so single-minded in his goals that he’ll even sacrifice his own humanity to reach them…though it could be argued that, because of his loathing, he ceased to be human long ago.

As I said, Tears of Requiem is a brisk novel. It punches you in the gut from the very first chapter and only lets you regain your breath for moments at a time. It brings you on a journey of darkness and love, and asks the question of how this struggling race of people will ever survive in a world where everyone hates them. Even with this, it’s an overly fun read, a tale of mythical adventure. And Tears of Requiem does something very important for any series; it builds the tension of a fantastic storyline, with the sorrow at its conclusion setting up what is surely to be an intense – and imminently heartbreaking – conclusion to the series.

Bring it on, Mr. Arenson. I’m waiting.

Plot - 9

Characters - 9

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 45/50 (4.5/5)

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Review: Clash of Faiths by David Dalglish

Rating: 4.6 out of 5

David Dalglish writes what I want to read. He’s listed as a fantasy author, and his books take place in a world that includes magic, orcs, wolf-men, paladins, knights, and ancient gods, but that’s only the surface of what’s happening. I look at Dalglish’s work like this – whimsical explorations of modern-day themes and issues that both entertain and force the reader to examine what goes on in the real world around them.

Clash of Faiths, the second book in his Paladins series, is no different. It continues the story of Jerico and Darius, the paladins of Ashhur and Karak, respectively, and their struggles in the time after the attempted wolf-man invasion of Durham. Jerico finds himself up north, prisoner of a man named Kaide, who is heading up a people’s rebellion against the brutal Lord Hemman. It might not be the best of situations to be in, but at least he’s hidden from the legions of Karak who are hunting him, those who’ve recently destroyed the Citadel, leaving Jerico as possibly the last of his kind. All the while Darius is stumbling about all by his lonesome, getting into trouble and being an overall grouchypants after his run-in with Velixar, Karak’s prophet. And Velixar isn’t done with him…not in the slightest. It is the Big V’s principal goal to lead Darius back to his faith – or the Dark Side, if you will.

The story plays out in equally distributed parts, flipping from Jerico to Darius and back again, paralleling their respective struggles and demonstrating just the types of people these two faithful men are. Jerico joins forces with Kaide (who is actually one of my favorite characters Dalglish has ever created; a living, breathing, gray area of a concept) against Lord Sebastian Hemman, while Darius ends up being thrown in prison by said Lord, for the sin of not being faithful enough to Karak’s cause, even though Darius is constantly professing his love of the deity…and believing every word of it. It is there, while in prison, that Velixar comes to him once again, therefore setting the stage for the rest of the tale to play out.

The story climaxes in a final battle between Hemman’s men and Kaide’s army of farmers and merchants. Unlike most episodes of warfare in Dalglish’s novels, this one is brisk, taking up only perhaps a tenth of the text. Why is that? Because the fighting, while intriguing, isn’t the point of the book. It only serves as a metaphor for the war raging inside Darius’s head – can he love his friend even after all he’s been through, what constitutes righteousness in a faith that preaches order and conquest above adoration, and which system of belief is right, which is wrong, and does it even matter if he chooses one over the other?

This is what makes Dalglish’s books so special to me – those posed questions. And finally, we have the order of Karak shown to be what I’ve long suspected it is – a religious cult that uses suppression and mind control to grow its following. One might ask, but why would someone willingly join a cult like that? The answer is quite simple, given the context of the world it exists in: there is safety in power, in influence, and Karak offers that. The deity promises protection (and a lack of decapitation) to those who follow, while those who don’t are doomed to a lifetime of pain and flight from an aggressive enemy. Add to that the fact that the concepts of order and self-control are the tenets of the faith, and one could understand how an individual who feels unstable could look at the order as a way to heal the fractured parts within them. There are many similar cults, such as Scientology, in the world today that do much of the same. They rely on coercion and peoples’ inherent insecurities to draw them in, promising solutions to the ills of their lives, and then instill the members with an us-against-the-world mentality. If you’re not for us, you’re against us, to the extreme. It is these elements that make Dalglish’s books that much more important, not to mention insightful, than many other works of fiction.

To counterbalance Karak’s aggressive, neo-fascist nature, we have followers of Ashhur, the passive, loving god. When I first started reading these novels, I always took Ashhur to be a representation of Christianity – which I’m sure the author intended. However, the more I read, the more I realize that this is not entirely the case. In fact, you can look at it like this: Ashhur’s teachings are the manifestation of all that is good in spiritual belief; the care for others, the virtue of forgiveness, the living of life with the sole aim of being the best individual you can be. It’s an inclusive system of belief, one in which all people, even those who don’t believe, are treated as equals. Unlike the history of Christianity, Ashhur’s followers don’t actively seek to convert the people, only to show how much they care, saying that if you ever need a place to stay, a steadying hand to lead the way, someone to heal your sore and tired bones, we’ll be here with no strings attached. In other words, everyone has a chance at salvation, whether they buy into the dogma or not. And Jerico embodies this. He treats every person he meets with the same amount of respect until they prove a danger. This is also the reason why Darius has a very difficult time understanding his friend’s actions: to the dark paladin, existence is a series of trials, of sacrifices, both mentally and physically, to a demanding god. The mere concept of something like forgiveness, or even pity, are lost on him, at least on the surface. But once he dives a little deeper, he has the potential to learn that not only is he capable of changing, of becoming something other than the stormtrooper of death he is, but all people are. And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

I’ve gone on a bit of a tangent here, and I’m sure this sounds more like a term paper than a review, but I felt this book deserved to be broken down in this way. Every word written down means something ­– each line of dialogue, each description, each instance of cruelty or kindness. That being said, the only thing I didn’t like about Clash of Faiths was the very end of the book. After so much flowing prose and inner turmoil, it seemed that suddenly everything happens too quickly, especially Darius’s character development. I would’ve liked some more exposition, more scenes of him questioning his faith and coming to grips with the possibility that what he’s always believed may be a lie. But that didn’t happen, and in a way that’s a shame. Darius and Jerico, and their relationship as brothers-in-spirit, deserved it.

That being said, this is still a wonderful book. It more than adds to the canon of David Dalglish’s work – it creates a template for the beliefs of the world that I’m sure will be carried on in volumes to come. The scenes that built upon what we already know about the characters were wonderful. And Velixar? Let’s just say he’s deliciously evil, and whenever he appears on the page, that scene becomes his. Also, one thing the ending did get right was introduce us to a new, potentially lethal villain, one that I’m sure will appear in the next book and wreck all sorts of ungodly havoc. Just that has me excited to continue.

In closing, Clash of Faiths is well worth a read, for both fans of Dalglish and those new to his work. It’s filled with important questions and shrewd observations of the world at large, and it is an improvement on the previous book in the series. I seriously can’t give the author any more props than to say I’m a fan for life, that everything he does strikes me where it counts, and it is always a joy to read what he puts on paper. To me he is the best fantasy author of his generation, the Stephen King of the sword-and-sorcery genre who transcends the normal tropes, and even when there are things I think can be improved, what he puts out there is second to absolutely no one.

Seriously.

Plot – 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 7

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 46/50 (4.6/5)

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Review: The Black God's War: Splendor and Ruin Book I by Moses Siregar

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

(Reviewer’s note: I received this book as an ARC from the author)

Spirituality and religion. These words have been the salvation and bane of human existence since we first formed coherent thought. From the tribal convictions of the earliest African nations to the ancient Greeks to the world as we know it today, we have celebrated them together, found solace through their teachings, fought and killed each other over their differences.

What Moses Siregar has sought to do in The Black God’s War: Splendor and Ruin Book I is show the dangers of intransigent religious belief, to do for literature what Aqualung by Jethro Tull did for music: demonstrate how spirituality and religion are projections of our own thoughts, fears, adorations, and prejudices, that desires propel our convictions rather than the other way around.

The Black God’s War tell the story of two warring peoples – the Rezzians, modeled after early European culture (Celtic in particular) who believe in a covenant of ten gods, and the Pawelons, whose principles and appearances mirror a more eastern, Buddhist/Indian ideal. We are first introduced to Lucia, the daughter of the Rezzian king Vieri, at the birth of her brother Caio, who, by the way of markings on his hands, is proclaimed the people’s Haizzem, or savior. It is here that Lucia is first haunted by Lord Danato, the god of the underworld according to Rezzian myth. He kills her mother and sets in motion a series of nightmare experiences that will forever alter the makeup of this innocent young girl.

By the time Caio is nineteen, the war that has begun (for nefarious reasons disguised as virtue) between the Rezzians and Pawelons has been raging for ten years. Lucia does all she can to fulfill her father’s wishes for victory, though she sometimes has a hard time telling what is real and what is a dream because of Lord Danato’s nightly visits. Caio, on the other hand, is gentle in nature. He wants peace, to use his uncanny abilities to heal people, not fight a war he doesn’t believe in. But being the Haizzem, it is his sacred duty to lead Rezzia’s army, so he does so…reluctantly at first.

On the other end of the spectrum we have Rao, the only remaining prince of Pawelon. He has become a sage, the most powerful sage in the history of Pawelon, and he takes it upon himself, along with his best friend Aayu, to travel from his homeland and assist his father, the Rajah Devak, in defense of their country against the invading Rezzian army. Like Caio, he wants peace – but unlike the Haizzem, his father, though brutal, is a generally fair man, and is allowed the courtesy of his own convictions. In almost every way this makes him the better of the Haizzem, one whose ability to love and forgive is below no other.

As the story progresses, we are thrown into multiple “coincidental” scenarios that are seemingly set up by the Rezzian gods. At least, this is the way things are presented on the surface. If one looks a little deeper, they will see that all the gods did was point the way. Every decision made, though sometimes predictable, was solely the result of the free thoughts and actions of the characters. They are all bound by their upbringing and nature, and it isn’t until they realize this that all the major players begin to actually change. And the nature of the gods, themselves, are brought into question as well. Are they timeless deities or a result of the combined subconscious power of the people? It’s a question the story asks often in the latter stages, and it’s one that really makes one think.

I won’t go any further on the plot other than to say the battle rages on, the gods get involved in some rather surprising ways, and eventually there is a rather brilliant climax that left me grinning from ear to ear.

As a novel, The Black God’s War works on many levels. For sheer entertainment value, we have many epic battle sequences. As a love story, we have Lucia and her brother’s protector, Ilario, as well as Rao and his lover, the young, beautiful, and precocious Narayani. As a spiritual tome we have many segments discussing the nature of spirituality and its effects on the people who practice it. And it’s also a tragedy, in by which only through sacrifice and understanding the nature of balance can the issues presented ever be truly resolved.

And that’s really what the book is about, when it all boils down to it. We have two differing opinions, western pre-Christian (that looks very much like early Christianity, despite the numerous deities), and the nature-loving eastern “godless” peoples. In some ways this book could be looked at as a fantasy retelling of the Crusades, as the lily-white forces descend on the dark-skinned masses, trying to “enlighten” them by basically killing off a whole gamut of folks. How one could ever read a spiritual text and think the murdering of a whole ethnic group because they don’t believe in your god is justified is beyond me. But it happens, and just as in this tale, the results are always disastrous.

Siregar does a fantastic job of painting both faiths in a kind light, though the Pawelon’s, by the nature of their not having started the war, obviously fares better in presentation. It allows for almost every character to come across as sympathetic – Lucia especially. Her tormented nature shines through in everything she does, from her conflictions to her anger to her confusion over the role she has to play in the grand scheme of things. She is the main character of this novel, and more than lives up to it.

That being said, if Lucia is the main character, Rao is the one who steals the show. With his compassion and understanding, his willingness to take risks and ability to see through the veil of righteous deceit, he comes across as an individual who could one day be a spiritual leader strong enough to lead his people to enlightenment. He is young in this book – about the same age as Caio – and yet we see a glimmer of the man he could be, the man he is well on his way to becoming. It really is quite beautiful.

And do you know why it’s beautiful? Because as a character, Rao is balanced. And as I said, this is the main point I think Siregar is trying to make. When his prose speaks of the nature of life and death, of the scales that must always be adjusted, he’s talking as much about the cosmos in general as he is any religious belief. The concept of Karma, after all, can be boiled down to a scientific principal – for every action there is an equal opposing reaction. We see it in nature, we see it in the universe, we see it in people. For every (perceived) evil in the world, there is an equal (perceived) good. I write “perceived” because, just as Siregar presents in The Black God’s War, evil is subjective, not quantifiable on any realistic scale. This book has no evil characters, even though the characters themselves often think their opposing party is such. And in order for their war to end, each individual must come to their own conclusions and make choices – yes, choices, free-thinking choices – about what is right, what is wrong, and what path will best lead to a sense of harmony, both between their respective peoples and within themselves. Some make this discovery, others don’t. You’ll have to read it to find out which is which and what happens when their choices are made.

For a first-time author, Siregar surprised me with the strength of his voice. It’s consistent, and he knows what he wants to say. However, it’s not perfect. He can be a bit wordy at times, and a couple of his major characters (a Pawelon sage and the Rezzian king) are a bit one-note. Normally I wouldn’t make a huge deal out of this, but with the other characters being so fleshed out, complex, and believable, the presence of these less-than-satisfactory entities was all the more obvious. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but something I feel I have to mention. As it stands, the author isn’t quite up to the level of Salvatore, Dalglish, or Pyle, but he’s not too far away. This book is proof of that.

In conclusion, The Black God’s War is a unique experience. The plot is intricate, the characters even more so, and the message is one of beauty. By the time you flip to the last few pages, I hope you have the shivers just as I did, which is how I know that Moses Siregar is going to be around a long time, and his voice, one of unity, passion, and loving sensibilities, is important – in the world at large as well as literature.

So bravo, Mr. Siregar. You wrote a damn good book. You should be very proud.

Plot - 9

Characters - 8

Voice - 9

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 45/50 (4.5/5)

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Review: A Dance of Blades by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

Sequels are tough business, especially when the first book of a series is extremely well written. There’s a ton of pressure to put out something equally as good, and there’s a good chance readers could walk away disappointed because the author wasn’t up to the challenge.

After reading A Dance of Blades by David Dalglish, the sequel to last year’s A Dance of Cloaks, I can tell you with all certainty that this particular writer accomplished just what he set out to do.

Blades starts out five years after the end of Cloaks. Early on we find Aaron Felhorn, the son of Spider Guild leader Thren who now calls himself only Haern, living on the streets and waging his own personal war of attrition against the thief guilds of Velderan. Gone is that sliver of innocence that Haern tried so hard to hold onto in the first book, replaced by an undying need for vengeance against the man who sullied his life. And when I say need, what I really mean is obsession, because that’s truly what it is. Haern hates his father and all those like him so much that he cannot help but paint every thief he runs across with the same blood-drenched brush.

As for those thief guilds and their never-ending battle with the Trifect, the powers-that-be in the land, all is not going so well. It seemed the aftereffects of the Bloody Kensgold, where Thren tried to wrest power away from the businessmen, has left all parties worse for wear. The guilds are in shambles, shamelessly murdering and stealing from any they wish, while the Trifect, themselves, are struggling. Alyssa Gemcroft, now the leader of the Gemcroft estate after the assassination of her father, is particularly stressed. She’s sent her son Nathanial to the north for protection while she constantly wards herself from poisoned food and the fortune her family has lost to the thieves that surround them at all times.

The thing she most needs, at least according to her advisors, is a husband. She eventually acquiesces after Nathanial is killed, apparently by the Watcher (Haern), which introduces us to the main villain of the piece, Arthur Hadfield.

Hadfield is a very strange baddie, at least when it comes to Dalglish’s work. He’s in no way supernatural, he has no otherworldly power or strength, and isn’t the face of some great and secret organization. All he is, is an opportunistic scoundrel who wants nothing but more power. That might make him the weakest of Dalglish’s villains to some, but to me, he’s the best because he’s so real. Arthur’s like a crooked politician with no moral compass, and he attracts like-minded men to his side, such as his right-hand-man Oric. Let’s just say I hated both these characters with a passion, their deeds and thoughts (or lack thereof), and that made me love them…if that makes any sense.

As for Alyssa, she’s come a long way from where we saw her in the first book. She’s a strong woman now, leading her people and doing just what leaders are supposed to do – making the tough decisions, even if they turn out to be wrong. After she discovers her son has been killed, she takes it upon herself to personally dispatch every criminal in the entire city, and hires countless mercenaries to carry out her request. What follows are a series of hellish nights as the streets of Velderan are filled with blood.

Let me say this right now – Alyssa Gemcroft very well may be the most brilliant character Dalglish has ever created…and I don’t say that lightly. She bucks trends and stereotypes and displays power and weakness in equal measure. Throughout the entire book, there is never once a mention of her beauty – it’s simply assumed that she is. As a character she is so well conceived that she almost overshadows the other particulars in this tale of deceit, violence, and woe.

Almost, but not quite.

There are characters aplenty to care about in this novel, just as in the first. We get to see the coming to power of Deathmask (who appeared in the last couple Half-Orc books), and he gobbles up every scene he appears in. We are also reacquainted with Veliana, the lady-behind-the-curtain of the Ash Guild, and Zusa, the mysterious, cloth-wrapped woman who assists both Alyssa and Vel from her place in the shadows (yet two more imminently strong female characters…I have a feeling Dalglish is trying to get to something about women banding together being more powerful than any force in the universe). Also, as readers we get to meet the Eschaton once more, Tarlak and Delysia and Brug, along with Senke, Haern’s former mentor. For those who’ve followed this author’s work, it’s a wonderful homecoming of sorts; to those who haven’t they are introduced to some pretty entertaining personalities that have been sorely missed.

But of course, with all this being said, A Dance of Blades is Haern’s show, and he doesn’t disappoint. We get to see him evolve as a person throughout the length of the novel, from angry outcast to bitter vigilante to, finally, an accepting adult who comes to understand his role in the world. I think, during parts of the book, I forgot a very important part of Haern’s makeup – he’s still a child. He’s at most eighteen years old, and as a father of a son near that age, I can honestly say that none of them have anything figured out. Life is a big, confusing, sometimes hellacious ball of experience, and it takes time to come to grips with that…especially without an elder guide, which is why I found Haern’s progress as an individual to be so profound. Though he does develop friendships by the end, most every decision he makes, he makes on his own, with very little input from others. This shows the strength of character we see when he appears in Dalglish’s earlier novels, and also demonstrates just how capable of righteousness in the face of cruelty he can be.

As the second book in a series, A Dance of Blades loses some of the innocence from the first installment, as I mentioned earlier. However, it more than makes up for that with the amount of brutality and self-sacrifice that is demonstrated within. The three-night battle between the mercenaries and thief guilds is atrocious, and there is very little care for who’s guilty or innocent. There is also one particular scene that turned my stomach, as a kind family is cruelly assaulted by Oric and some more of Arthur Hadfield’s men. Though Dalglish handles the visuals and presentation respectfully, we still get to witness the horror of these actions, and imagine the repercussions for the victims. So when you add all this in together with Haern’s mad fixation on killing every thief he can get his hands on, I guess you can say that this is a book about the loss of innocence…or a fall from grace, if you will.

Which is important in any work of fiction, because of course you have to fall before you can get back up.

In all, A Dance of Blades is a more than worthy compliment to its predecessor. In most ways it even surpasses the first book, which I didn’t think possible. It’s a novel full of treachery, disturbing images, underhanded dealings, war, and desperation, but it also shows the reader how, even in these trying times, there is still a capacity for love and friendship in the world. It says we don’t have to be alone, even if we’ve become monsters to ourselves, because no one worth a salt is ever beyond redemption.

With that, I can honestly say that this is the second-best book Dalglish has ever written, just a fraction of a percentage point behind A Sliver of Redemption. Who knows, perhaps when the final book of the Shadowdance trilogy comes out next winter, he might outshine himself again.

Knowing this author’s work the way I do, I wouldn’t put it past him in the slightest.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 50/50 (5.0/5)

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