They’re everywhere! Take the most
successful fantasy series of the last ten years—George RR Martin’s Song of Ice
and Fire—it is replete with anti-heroes. Tyrion Lannister has to be the
favourite character amongst a sea of schemers and blaggards. He’s selfish, rude,
corrupt, bitter, in fact all the traits that make a great bad guy. Yet amongst
his venom there are redeeming features that make us fascinated by him. By book
two we love him and by the latest he’s more or less the only one (other than
Arya) we care about.
And there’s so many more in
fantasy that you wonder if we ever wanted true heroes. Severian in Gene Wolfe’s
The Book of the New Sun (torturer…tick), Sand dan Glotka in Abercrombie’s The
First Law books (yay, another torturer…tick), Thomas Covenant in Donaldson’s
epic (rapist…tick), Cugel the Clever in Jack Vance’s Tales of the Dying Earth
(thief, cheat, rake…tick), Raistlin in Dragonlance (black magic, betray
brother…OK…tick), Fitz in Hobb’s Farseer trilogy (assassin? Hey, sure…beats
looking after the horses…tick) and, of course, Elric.
Elric was the first great fantasy
anti-hero in my mind. Before him we had the muscle bound might of Conan, the
noble Aragorn and the almost biblical Aslan. In his very first appearance we
meet him on the way to slaughter his own nation. He then further fails to
impress us by wining about his doom-ridden destiny, betraying people all over
the place, becoming addicted to a vampire-sword and then killing all his
buddies one by one. Admittedly some he kills by accident, because he gets
carried away with Stormbringer; but you’d still not add him as a friend on
Facebook would you?
I think it’s the escapism in
another form and I think therefore that that is why fantasy (the ultimate
asylum from our troubled world) is replete with them. These are characters
whose achievements within the books seem all the more admirable, characters
that surpass all the faults and the weaknesses that they have, to become
victorious. They are creations who resonate with us because of their flaws,
which after all we all have (though perhaps not to the extent of these
characters). Why should a being in a fantasy world have to have any less
hang-ups than us?
Follow
a young and naive elf as he attempts to escape from beneath his
overbearing father's expectations. His journey takes him down the road
of great disappointment and loss, atop the wings of a magnificent giant
eagle, and eventually into the company of an old friend who attempts to
nudge him onto the road of self-discovery. Check out Elec Stormwhisper and all of my WOTHLONDIA RISING prequels to Covenant of the Faceless Knights (now in a brand new KINDLE edition for only $4.99!)
Then the warpriest turned again, this time seeing Matthias straining to keep one of the creatures at bay. It was on his sword but the zombie had gotten inside the knight’s shield. It was pushing forward along the length of his sword, already impaled upon it, but indifferent about its state of being. It was propelled by its hunger, not reason or emotion. Its goal was to feed, pure and simple. That is one advantage they have over us, Garius thought as he moved quickly to Matthias’ aid. He came in on Matthias’ right flank and pointed his warhammer at the zombie.“But we have faith,” he whispered to himself in a reassuring tone, calling the celestial aid of The Shimmering One once more and driving a beam of divine holy energy right through the creature’s skull. It slumped upon Mathias’ sword. He glanced at Garius, nodding in thanks, before receiving the next zombie which he drove back with a slam of his shield followed quickly by a wide swing of his blade.Garius moved to assist the fallen Marcus, as Bralon hacked down the last of the zombie threat.As he approached, he witnessed Divah kneeling beside him introducing a burst of regenerative energy into the man while he prayed, bravely and loudly to the sun god through trembling lips. The timorous halfling that had once run from the undead creatures was gone, leaving behind someone more courageous, it appeared.“I thought you feared for your life?” Garius questioned.“I was more afraid for this man than for my own safety,” Divah answered with an implacable contempt behind her green eyes. They were hard in their reflection of the warpriest, whether in response to his words or in an attempt to quell her own fears, Garius could not tell. Perhaps it was simply her detestation of the undead zombies that surrounded her.Marcus coughed and shivered as the light went through him. Garius knelt in prayer, away from the halfling, and asked for help in fighting the disease that now ran rampant throughout his fellow companion.
Now I chose Belgariad mainly because, along with Terry
Brooks Shannara novels and Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant, they were books that
occupied the fantasy section of the library when I was a kid. Their covers
stuck in my mind and I’d never got around to reading them and felt a need to
balance the modern styles of Martin and Erikson (by ‘modern’ read ‘dark’) with
something a little more innocent and easy going.
Now I’m currently writing the fifth of six books in my Prism
series (which would have been the first half of volume three had the publisher
not chose to splice each volume in twain) and I was reflecting on how clichés
sneak into what I write. I don’t have a huge issue with this, after all it’s
what you do with the clichés that matter, and fantasy isn’t unique in that way.
But when I was thinking my mind drifted back to the Belgeriad, which was hugely
popular but seemed quite laden with fantasy stereotype.
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| artwork by fellow Skullduster ~ William Kenney |
The five servants of The Shimmering One formed up next to one another, Bralon at their head, as they absorbed the brunt of the undead charge--creatures slamming into their blades and shields in a cacophony of screeches and guttural sounds unintended for man’s ears. Filled with a blessing of divine strength, the paladins slashed and sliced into the sickening and diseased flesh as body parts were sent flying away.Garius could sense the stench of disease on these filthy abominations and a miasma of contagion was released into the air around each and every one of the foul creatures. He waded through the dead bodies on the floor and allowed the invigorated knights to cut a swath through the horde of zombies. He removed his holy warhammer and gripped his shield tightly, fastening it to his left arm as he joined them.
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| Art by William Kenney |
For several moments, the divinely charged warriors cut down their enemies with ease, never slowing or tiring and their blows were charged with the strength of a dozen men. Blow after blow took the zombies down, one by one, until the speed of their attacks slowed.Divah watched from afar in horror and felt the bile within her throat, threatening to spew forth.How are they doing this? she thought, seeing the volume of the undead creatures and knowing that there were only five of them.
There are dozens of the foul things!She held fast and watched with mouth agape as the scene unfolded.Garius strode into the midst of the chaos and mouthed a prayer, holding his sun-symbol in his grasp as reassurance and continued his invocation with conviction in his tone. The paladins heard his words and pressed their attack, not allowing a single of the anathemas within to disturb the warpriest. The words grew in strength and reached their crescendo as the priest held both hands on high.“You shall not win this day!” Garius screamed as his eyes filled with a white light as did the rest of his body. That radiant and brilliant energy burst forth from him all at once, bathing the area in light so bright that none could see within the divine beacon.“Your perdition is fulfilled!” Garius shouted as the radiance burst forth from his body.Undead creatures fell in droves around the holy attack, simply melting or reduced to ash right before the eyes of the paladins. Micah swung roughly at a zombie and nearly sent himself sprawling to the ground as the creature turned to nothingness right before his eyes. All told, several dozen of them fell under the ubiquitous light.
But when their vision cleared, it seemed that a dozen more simply took their place.
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| CotFK 2nd Edition Artwork only, provided by William Kenney |
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| Mike Haufe |
PROLOGUE
The heavy oak door to the council chamber creaked open, swinging wide as three battered and bruised forms entered the room. They each sat heavily in one of the many plush chairs surrounding a conference table at the center of the room."Me thinks that could have gone better," Rolin Hardbeard sighed, wiping a contrasting bit of dried blood from his full and white beard. Even for a dwarf who was obviously past his prime adventuring years, Rolin was a ruggedly built warrior, but this hour had him looking haggard and tired. His age was evident, as was his broken spirit."You have a talent for stating the obvious my dwarven friend," slurred a beautiful half-elven woman with hair the color of polished silver through what was quite possibly a broken jaw. Rolin managed a brief laugh as he removed his heavy, steel helmet and ran his fingers through his blood specked and thinning hair. His hard, gray eyes lightened somewhat to regard his emotionally distraught friend."Me dear Nimaira Silvershade, after all the years we spent takin’ down giants and ogres, countless trolls and undead, and ye are only now realizin’ I be a dwarf of many talents?" Rolin asked sardonically.Nimaira began to laugh, but the pain in her jaw immediately distorted that laugh, twisting it instead into a grimace as tears slowly welled in her sapphire eyes. Rolin's light hearted visage turned down sympathetically at his friend’s obvious pain.The human priest, Tiyarnon, directed a weak smile at his two closest friend’s familiar banter as he tugged thoughtfully at his ever-graying beard. It was comforting for him to have his friends nearby at a time like this, having dealt with the pain and guilt for so many years himself. It also brought a bittersweet twinge of nostalgia.How long had it been since the three of them had time to spend together outside of official duties? Tiyarnon thought. By The Shimmering One, it had been too long! If they survive this nightmare he silently pledged to ensure that they would make more time for camaraderie and reminiscing in the days to come. Tiyarnon's musings were interrupted by the arrival of a servant, standing within the shadows of the doorway."My Lords, My Lady,” he began with a reverent bow and then continued. “We did not know you had returned; forgive us for our incompetence," spoke the servant humbly, keeping his eyes down and bowing repeatedly from beneath a hooded, brown robe.Rolin Hardbeard, never comfortable with being doted on, waved the groveling attendant's concerns away and directed a comment toward him. “Stand up straight ye durned fool! How many time must we be tellin’ ye that we are folk just as yerself? Just bring Nimaira some medicinal balms, for my beard’s sake!” Rolin barked after a short pause, then continued, “Tiyarnon here has exhausted himself and we got nothin much left.” The servant retreated backwards through the door, still insisting on bowing the entire time. "And bring me some durned ale while yer at it!" The dwarf shouted after him as the man disappeared into the hallway and out of sight."Now what do we do?" Nimaira said, addressing the topic at hand. Rolin simply shrugged, resigned to the fact that they had given a superb effort in their task.
"Get some rest, and try again on the morrow. What else can we be doin?" Rolin responded confidently, his pride obviously still at the forefront of his façade. The dwarf, despite his age and markedly weakened frame, was not one to give up. Stubbornness was evident in all dwarves and this one doubly so, thought Nimaira as she shook her head in clear respect for the brave warrior. She had witnessed that bravery firsthand hundreds of times throughout their careers.
"I'm afraid it won't matter,” Nimaira admitted as she shook her head gingerly. “You were there Rolin! You know as well as I do that we do not have the resources or the raw ability to succeed," Nimaira continued and winced at both that realization and her smarting jaw.The thought of failure sat heavily in the dwarf's heart. Never being comfortable with losing a battle or even an argument and always willing to fight to the very end for his beliefs, Rolin started to protest. All of his objections died before passing his lips as he recalled the scene in his head and recognized that any further attempts would ultimately end in failure. Rolin knew Nimaira was right. Neither of them knew the answer, and both of them looked just then to Tiyarnon.Tiyarnon was wise and calculating beyond his years despite his shorter lifespan compared to the others in the room. While not nearly as old as the dwarf or the half-elf in years, they always thought of Tiyarnon as their patriarch, as did many others in Oakhaven. He had an intuitive way of looking at a situation from multiple points of view, and making the proper decision based on what was best for everyone, even in times of personal grief. Because of that, his two closest friends were looking to him for a solution now, during what certainly was their darkest hour.Tiyarnon sighed as he ran his hands across the gray stubble atop his head, the remains of a thick head of hair, further reminding him of his age. As he spun his chair away from them for a moment, he caught his reflection in the glass of the conference room window and saw the leathery skin and prominent gray beard encompassing his face. After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply and turned back to face his friends.Looking his companions in the eyes Tiyarnon said in a steady and serious tone, “We must appeal for help to the Inquisition,” he began. “And not only the Inquisition, but the chapter of holy warriors that exists within the walls of Safehold.”The half-elf woman’s eyes widened as a look of realization crept across her face, and then asked “Does that mean…?““Yes,” Tiyarnon said, picking up where the half-elf left off. “We must call upon The Order of The Faceless Knights."
I am re-posting this here on Skulldust Circle because I think it is important to discuss with other readers as well as other writers!
