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Grimdark

This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on December 5, 2023.

Twilight of the Gods

By Scott Oden – St. Martin's Press – February 18, 2020

Review by Robin Marx

It is the year 1218, and deep in the wilds of Scandinavia there is a sense that Fimbulvetr, the final winter presaging Ragnarök, is at hand. While the Norse, Danes, and Swedes neighboring them have adopted Christianity, the isolated Raven-Geat tribe reject the so-called “Nailed God” and cling to the old ways. Though surrounded by enemies, the Raven-Geats have a protector known as the Hooded One, immortal herald of the Tangled God Loki. As Twilight of the Gods opens, hot-blooded teenage girl Dísa Dagrúnsdottir has just been chosen by the Fates to serve as the Hooded One’s new priestess. She is shocked to learn that the truculent and mercurial guardian of her people is a literal monster: Grimnir, last of the kaunr, what we would call an orc. As Dísa attempts to survive her new master’s cruel ordeals, a greater threat looms just out of sight. A haunted and deranged zealot fresh from the sack of Constantinople plots a new personal Crusade, one to exterminate the heathen Raven-Geats and unite the Scandinavian peninsula under the White Christ.

Set two centuries after the events of A Gathering of Ravens, Twilight of the Gods is the second volume in Scott Oden’s GRIMNIR SAGA. Twilight of the Gods manages to be both more intimate and more epic than its predecessor. Where A Gathering of Ravens spans more than a decade, roaming from Denmark to England and then Ireland, Twilight of the Gods mostly confines itself to the wilderness of what is now Sweden. The cast of characters is smaller, but the stakes are much higher. While the first book primarily dealt with a personal vendetta, this time a reluctant Grimnir finds himself called upon both to defend the humans he’s been parasitically lording over for generations and fulfill his role in a prophesized religious war threatening to spark the end of the world.

Twilight of the Gods is a book drenched in both grim Norse fatalism and blood & thunder heroics. The novels in the Grimnir Saga depict a North where the Old Gods are in decline. Grimnir is the last of his kind, and other once respected and feared supernatural creatures have likewise become relegated to the margins of the world or gone extinct entirely. The influence of Odin and the old pantheon wanes, displaced by the encroaching Christian faith. For Grimnir and many of the other characters in this book, there’s a pervading feeling that the war has already been lost, yet for various reasons they still gear up to fight one last glorious battle. And readers familiar with Oden’s other work, from the previous Grimnir novel to historical adventures like Men of Bronze and The Lion of Cairo, know that Oden can deliver that final battle with gusto. Simultaneously rousing and horrifying, the combats in this novel blend cinematic action with gory, gritty, down-in-the-mud struggle.

As with A Gathering of Ravens, appealing characters are another strong point in Twilight of the Gods. Oden treads a delicate line with his hero Grimnir; he must appear monstrous enough to feel like an “authentic” orc and not just a brutish costumed human, but not so repellent that the reader finds themselves unable to relate to the character or enjoy his exploits. Grimnir is bellicose, capricious, spiteful, and arrogant. He’s casually brutal and an unrepentant murderer. But he’s also an orc of his word, and never fails to repay a debt. In his dealings with humans, who Grimnir views as little more than animals, Oden also imbues him with a mischievous, amused paternalism. Grimnir may not have a heart of gold, but he’s not an outright villain, either. To preserve Grimnir’s mystique, Oden wisely provides primary viewpoint character Dísa as a counterbalance and foil. Imperfect and impetuous, and sharing more than a little of Grimnir’s arrogance, Dísa is an entertaining heroine to follow. Her undying determination is admirable, and it’s interesting to watch her learn when to push back against Grimnir and when to (grudgingly) accept his brusque guidance.

Despite the exceptional quality of the book, Twilight of the Gods had the misfortune of launching in February 2020, roughly simultaneously with the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. With all the societal upheaval, store closures, cancelled events, and supply chain issues that followed, I suspect unlucky timing and curtailed promotions prevented this volume from attracting the audience it deserved. Now is an ideal time to read Twilight of the Gods, however. Its conclusion will leave readers wanting more, just as more is about to arrive: The Doom of Odin, book 3 in THE GRIMNIR SAGA, is scheduled to be released on December 19, 2023.

Wholeheartedly recommended for fans of Vikings, orcs, Viking orcs, tough heroines, Scandinavian metal, and doomed battles against incredible odds.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on November 24, 2023.

Old Moon Quarterly: Issue 5, Summer 2023

By Old Moon Publishing – August 29, 2023

Review by Robin Marx

Old Moon Quarterly has returned with its third installment of the year. Like previous issues, OMQ serves up an intriguing mix of grimdark and weird sword & sorcery fiction. Vol. 5 cover artist Derek Moore delivers the magazine’s most striking cover artwork to date: a skeleton in full plate harness equipped with a bec de corbin polearm. There are no interior illustrations or advertisements in this 89-page issue, and the text is presented in a single column layout.

After a brief Introduction expressing a desire to see more cerebral sword & sorcery tales in the vein of Robert E. Howard’s King Kull of Atlantis (as opposed to the more direct action yarns featuring Conan and his ilk), the issue opens with “Together Under the Wing,” by Jonathan Olfert. A Stone Age revenge tale with a twist, this story involves a young warrior driven to avenge the murder of his mother, the matriarch of their people. The wrinkle is that the protagonist, Walks-like-a-Rockslide, is a sentient mammoth with bladed tusks and his foe is the king of the giants. Appropriately, given the stature of these clashing titans, the struggle that follows is imbued with a palpable sense of momentum and inevitability. Mammoth and Giant King circle, close, and deal grievous wounds to each other. While the events of the narrative are straightforward, the unusual hero and heavy atmosphere of finality make this story stand out.

K.H. Vaughan’s “Champions Against the Maggot King” is another story that focuses on conjuring a very specific mood. The narrator, Grath, is a grunt in an imperial army locked in a desperate war against the monstrous hordes of the titular Maggot King. The story is presented as a series of vignettes showcasing both the formidable odds the soldiers are facing and the handful of elite heroes who may just be able to turn the tide. Sorrow Mai is a warrior woman with a massive axe and a “leather cuirass boiled in blood.” Ilhar, also called “The Raven,” is an untouchable elven duelist with a darkly poetic heart. Ko-Mon the Heartless is a scarred dwarf who wields an enchanted war chain that is powered by his pain. All these characters are anime levels of over-the-top and portrayed in a worshipful tone by Grath. Their enemies are likewise epic, especially the decomposing dragon that drips clumps of rotting flesh as it strafes the beleaguered troops below. There’s much in this story that’s excessive and even perhaps silly, but Vaughan absolutely sells it with a straight face. “Champions Against the Maggot King” is a grimdark treat that should appeal to fans of the Berserk and Bastard!! -Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy- anime series as well as enthusiasts of The Black Company and The Malazan Book of the Fallen.

In a first for Old Moon Quarterly, issue 5 includes two poems: “The King’s Two Bodies” by Joe Koch, and Zachary Bos’ “A Warning Agaynste Woldes.” “The King’s Two Bodies” is vividly lyrical, if perhaps a bit opaque. “A Warning Agaynste Woldes,” however, was peppered with Old English and tedious to decipher. The poetry didn’t add much to this issue, in this reviewer’s opinion, but I would not be opposed to seeing more verse in the future.

“The Origin of Boghounds,” by Amelia Gorman, is another grimdark entry. Boghounds are dog-like creatures of unknown pedigree. When a bounty hunter named Samphire discovers Hum, the boghound companion of her mountebank target, she decides to use the boghound to track down its master. The pair face stiff opposition in the form of two competing bounty hunters, however, and the situation becomes even more lethal when together they all discover the monstrous and delightfully gross progenitor of the boghounds. This story is packed to the brim with entertaining weirdness. The characters are all quirky and strange, like NPCs from the Dark Souls video games, and the world is evocatively rendered despite the story’s brevity.

David K. Henrickson’s “Well Met at the Gates of Hell” is one of the more sword & sorcery-oriented tales in this issue. A nameless man awakens on a barren plain, under a starless sky. Three figures await him: a massive paladin with a glowing sword, a small dagger-wielding man with a hateful smile, and a 12-foot-tall praying mantis. The trio wish to kill the new arrival for his past offenses and have agreed among themselves to engage him in single combat, one at a time. The story that follows is a triptych of duels shot through with witty repartee reminiscent of The Princess Bride. The protagonist—I hesitate to call him the hero, his enemies seem justified in their hatred of him—and his opponents are all vague sketches, but Henrickson makes the minimalism work. The result is a completely fat-free story that gives the reader just enough to satiate them and not an ounce further. This was the highlight of the issue for me.

“The Skulls of Ghosts,” by Charles Gramlich, is another sword & sorcery adventure. The muscular warrior Krieg journeys into a plague-ridden kingdom trying to locate the malady’s sorcerous origin. While there is a lot to like about this story, it suffered by following “Well Met at the Gates of Hell.” There’s some nicely hallucinatory prose here—the story shares many characteristics with the King Kull tales celebrated in this issue’s Introduction—but “The Skulls of Ghosts” felt long and overstuffed compared to the other stories in issue #5. There were more named characters and backstory than seemed truly necessary, and the evil sorcerer’s habit of assuming other characters’ identities was confusing. The components of a good story are present, but it would have benefited from some trimming and tightening.

“Today, I met a man I had killed before,” opens “The Headsman’s Melancholy” by Joseph Andre Thomas. Set in 14th century England, the final story of the issue is related by Jack Marvell, an executioner in the employ of King Henry IV. While he professes job satisfaction, Marvell keeps a diary to help cope with his depression, and this story consists of a series of journal entries describing his encounters with a strange knave he has beheaded on multiple occasions. Bizarre and gleefully gory, with a cryptic ending, “The Headsman’s Melancholy” is oddly compelling. A fitting conclusion to a strong issue of Old Moon Quarterly.

Unlike some more generalist fantasy fiction magazines, Old Moon Quarterly gives the sense of a very specific editorial vision. A desired vibe. Their submission guidelines call for “dark and weird sword & sorcery,” and while that’s not inaccurate, it feels like it insufficiently articulates what makes a given story Old Moon Quarterly material. With the launch of their first Kickstarter campaign, however, it seems like the editors have zeroed in on a pithy way to describe the type of fiction they showcase: “Soulsborne-inspired.” In short, if you enjoy the brutal, gothic, grimdark aesthetic of From Software’s Dark Souls and Bloodborne video games, Old Moon Quarterly curates fiction with a similar feel. Old Moon Quarterly is recommended for dark fantasy fans of all stripes, but for those yearning for that elusive Soulsborne atmosphere in particular, this is the place.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on March 30, 2023.

Old Moon Quarterly: Issue 3, Winter 2023

By Old Moon Publishing – March 13, 2023

Review by Robin Marx

An intriguing newcomer to the small press dark fantasy fiction scene, Old Moon Quarterly has recently released its third volume. The magazine bills itself as a showcase for weird fantasy fiction and sword & sorcery, citing the works of Clark Ashton Smith, Karl Edward Wagner, and Tanith Lee as touchstones. The first volume debuted in July 2022, followed up by the second in November of the same year. While each issue to date has featured four stories, the page count has grown slightly with each installment. Volume 3 of Old Moon Quarterly boasts striking sepia-toned cover artwork by Daniel Vega, showing an (Elric of Melnibone-inspired?) armored warrior confronted by a twisted, multi-headed monster. There are no interior illustrations or advertisements, and the text is presented in a single column layout.

After a brief Introduction comparing Arthurian romances to modern day fantasy adventures, the fiction section of Old Moon Quarterly Volume 3 opens strongly with “Evil Honey” by James Enge. Nominated for the World Fantasy Award in 2010 for his debut novel Blood of Ambrose, James Enge is likely the most widely recognizable author printed in Old Moon Quarterly to date. Like Blood of Ambrose and several short stories from the pages of Black Gate Magazine, Tales From The Magician’s Skull, and elsewhere, “Evil Honey” features Enge’s wandering wizard Morlock Ambrosius, also known as Morlock the Maker. In “Evil Honey” Morlock finds himself magically compelled by the god of bees to come up with a non-lethal way of dealing with an aggressive hive tainted through the consumption of toxic pollen. Shrunk down to bee size by the god, Morlock infiltrates the hive. While the premise seems like something out of a children’s story, Enge plays it mostly straight. Touches of whimsy are overshadowed by the viciousness of the warped bee society, consumed by fear and the desperate need for a common enemy. While “Evil Honey” works fine as a piece of fantasy fiction, one could also view it through a more allegorical lens as a critique of modern nations and their self-destructive, eternal War on Terror. One hopes that there’s a happier solution for the issues dominating post-9/11 America than what Morlock comes up with for the corrupted hive. Setting potential symbolism aside, “Evil Honey” is a fascinating adventure tale and Enge’s moody, sardonic Morlock is always a treat.

The second story is by German writer T. R. Siebert and entitled “Knife, Lace, Prayer.” Where “Evil Honey” was intensely local—even miniature—in scope, this tale is epic to the extreme. It involves a “girl who used to be a beast” journeying across the devastated landscapes of the Ashlands on a mission to slay god. Her world is literally coming apart at the seams, with the god in the process of remaking it into something new. Enraged by the destruction of all she knew and loved, the nameless beast/girl vows revenge. But to find her divine target she must first enlist a guide: a disillusioned paladin named Edmund. While initially I was put off by the vagueness of some of the prose and frequent flashbacks to the girl’s former life as a holy guardian beast, by the end of the story I found myself completely won over. Not only is the story ambitious despite its brief page count, its conclusion is immensely satisfying.

“Singing the Long Retreat,” by R. K. Duncan, is told through the eyes of Fatima, a warrior woman of the Prepared, a cavalry unit tasked with holding off an invading army while the rest of Fatima’s people make their escape. The odds are overwhelming and, as the name suggests, the Prepared are resigned to their own deaths. Songs and poems are evidently important to Fatima’s people, and she sings throughout the battle that ensues, improvising lyrics to raise the morale of her comrades and intimidate their foes. Nearly the entire story is one extended battle scene. The general ebb and flow of combat is narrated as well as individual acts of self-sacrificing heroism, all punctuated by Fatima’s verses. While it reminded this reviewer of Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” the lack of any conclusive resolution robs the story of much of its inspirational power. “Singing the Long Retreat” seems more an exercise in creating a mood than relating a plot. While I did not enjoy it as much as the other contributions in this Old Moon Quarterly volume, the overall quality of the prose remained high.

The final story is “The Feast of Saint Ottmer,” by Graham Thomas Wilcox, an assistant editor of Old Moon Quarterly. The Arthurian romance touched upon in this volume’s Introduction returns here, in this tale of knighthood and honor. Told in the first person, this novella centers on the youthful knight Hieronymous and his role in the siege of a keep at Kienhorst. The graf of Kienhorst was responsible for the death of Hieronymous’s father, and honor demands retribution. The situation is complicated by the participation in the siege of a contingent of knights called the Order of the Dragon. Fearsome in aspect and more battle-tested by far than Hieronymous, he finds himself longing to be counted among their number. But the darkly alluring nun that commands the Order demands Hieronymous murder the enemy graf, rather than ransom him alive as chivalric convention requires. Throughout the bloody conflict to follow Hieronymous finds himself torn between the obligations of familial duty and the pursuit of martial prowess, the opposing teachings of his father and his grandfather. Drenched in gory, gothic, grimdark flavor, “The Feast of Saint Ottmer” is operatic, even bombastic. One could fairly describe this story as overwritten (some dialogue is in Latin, with accompanying footnotes!), but the ornate prose effectively conjures a darkly vibrant atmosphere. It overshoots Arthurian romance, ending up closer to the opening scenes of Vlad Dracula as armored warrior in the Francis Ford Coppola film Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992). Over-the-top fun, “The Feast of Saint Ottmer” even edged out James Enge’s “Evil Honey” as the highlight of the issue for me.

Finally, Old Moon Quarterly volume 3 concludes with a book review for Final Cuts: New Tales of Hollywood Horror and Other Spectacles, a movie-themed horror anthology edited by Ellen Datlow. Assistant editor Graham Thomas Wilcox returns to examine stories by Gemma Files, Laird Barron, and John Langan in detail. The cinematic horror of the anthology under review contrasts with the fantasy fiction included in this volume, but given the dark tenor of most of the stories here it’s easy to imagine a considerable overlap in readership.

Old Moon Quarterly may be new to the marketplace, but the high quality fiction and affordable cover price make it well worth checking out. Many ambitious fiction magazines struggle with the demands of monthly or bimonthly schedules, but the measured release pace and competitive author rates of Old Moon Quarterly will hopefully allow a steady stream of polished dark fantasy tales for years to come.

#ReviewArchive #BookReview #SwordAndSorcery #Fantasy #DarkFantasy #Grimdark #OldMoonQuarterly #GrimdarkMagazine #GdM

This review originally appeared at the Thews You Can Use Sword & Sorcery Newsletter on December 9, 2022.

Between Two Fires

By Christopher Buehlman – Ace Books – October 2, 2012

Review by Robin Marx

In fourteenth-century France, all hell is breaking loose. War and the Black Plague have ravaged the land. Survivors live in decimated villages, suspicious of their neighbors and outright hostile to outsiders. The wealthy barricade themselves in palatial manors, ignoring the devastation outside their fortified walls and feasting like there is no tomorrow. And indeed there may not be: the devout have concluded that God has turned his face from mankind, abandoning the earthly realm to the depredations of demons from the pit.

The narrative begins with a fateful encounter between Thomas, a disgraced knight, and an orphaned girl hiding in a dilapidated farmhouse with the plague-ridden remains of her father. A scarred veteran who handled himself capably in battle yet still saw his title and holdings stripped from him through the machinations of a rival, Thomas has discarded the tenets of chivalry and turned to banditry. But when this strange, vulnerable girl turns up pleading for help, against his better instincts he allows himself to become her protector. He agrees to take her as far as the next town, but unpredictable circumstances and the girl’s prophetic and compelling visions of angels and demons spur them on a much longer journey, from the ruins of Normandy to Paris and beyond.

The odyssey that follows blends perilous and down-to-earth struggles to survive with surreal encounters with the supernatural. Billed as a medieval horror novel, much of the book adopts a decidedly “grimdark” tone, somewhat akin to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, but set in the late Middle Ages. Most characters are—justifiably—paranoid or desperate, as any stranger could be a carrier of the plague or an opportunistic brigand intent on murder and thievery. However, this gritty and earthy atmosphere gives way to a much more phantasmagorical writing style whenever Thomas and his ward come into contact with the book’s numerous supernatural threats, some demonic in the traditional Biblical sense and others verging on Lovecraftian in nature. On those rare occasions when Thomas and the girl (whose name is not revealed to the reader until surprisingly far into the book) have a brush with the sublime, Buehlman adopts a much more lyrical tone. Throughout the book the author smoothly shifts gears between these disparate styles, masterfully punctuating each scene. I wasn’t shocked to learn, after finishing the book, that Buehlman is an award-winning poet.

Another aspect of the novel that benefits from the author’s expertise is the combat scenes. Buehlman has worked with fight choreographers, trained with swords and bows, and has worked as a combat performer at numerous Renaissance Faires. This experience, coupled with the assistance of multiple medieval weaponry experts cited in the book’s acknowledgements, lends the fights in the book a vivid and naturalistic feel. Combat as presented here is weighty, brutal, and never entered into lightly. It’s about as far from swashbuckling as you can get: combatants grow tired, bystanders interfere, and a chance loss of footing is just as likely to end one’s life as a well-placed blow.

While the prose styling and robust action stand out, the most appealing element is the humanity with which Buehlman treats his characters. The hesitant, growing bond between Thomas and the girl takes center stage, but the supporting cast are also rendered with care and patience. The people that the duo come into contact with are often frightened or suspicious, or seek to take advantage, but the reader is given insight into those characters’ doubts and fears, the dire circumstances that push them to act in the manner they do. For all but the most demonic members of the cast, when a supporting character betrays or acts against the interests of the protagonists, they’re usually given an achingly sympathetic and human reason for doing so. The world is blatantly and terrifyingly broken, and they’re all doing what they can to get by.

So much of Between Two Fires deals with questions of faith, but I hesitate to label this book a Christian apologia or parable. There are physical manifestations of Biblical angels and devils aplenty, but the focus remains firmly fixed on mankind. It is a moving humanist tale, demonstrating that no angel or savior can come to the rescue without people first learning to trust, cooperate, forgive, and even love one another under the grimmest of circumstances.

Recommended to fans of grimdark fantasy or dark historical fiction. It’s a grueling journey, but the oppressive onyx storm clouds overhead hide a platinum lining.

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