Winterbirth, by Brian Ruckley. Book review

Orbit, 2006, ISBN 978-1-84149-423-4. 537 pages.

Winterbirth is the first of a fantasy trilogy set in the invented ‘Godless World’, an imaginary location on the north-western edge of a continent. It is inhabited by two main races each subdivided into separate, often warring, clans, tribes and kingdoms. The Kyrinin live a hunter-gatherer lifestyle in forests and mountains, and their two main clans in Winterbirth, Fox and White Owl, are implacable hereditary enemies. The Huanin, humans with approximately medieval technology, are divided into Bloods (clans) grouped on religious lines into two broad alliances, the Black Road in the north and Haig in the south. Kyrinin and Huanin can interbreed to produce na’kyrim, who cannot have children but who can access a supernatural power called the Shared.

Orisian, nephew of the Thane of Lannis-Haig, is just entering adulthood. Inexperienced and with no great talent as a warrior, he is still mourning the deaths of his mother and elder brother and is anxious for his father who suffers periodic severe depression. All these concerns are swept aside when the Lannis lands are attacked and overrun by the Horin-Gyre Blood of the Black Road, bent on exacting revenge for their defeat and exile many years earlier, and acting in alliance with the White Owl Kyrinin. Orisian is wounded in the attack and is saved only by his faithful shieldman Rothe and the unexpected help of two Kyrinin from the Fox clan. With his lands in ruins, most of his family dead and the Horin-Gyre warriors determined to slaughter every last member of the Lannis ruling family, Orisian faces a desperate journey south to the precarious safety of the allied Kilkry Blood. But as well as the pursuing Horin-Gyre warriors and the sinister Inkallim, a more deadly power is at large – the na’kyrim Aeglyss who wields a terrible and destructive power in the Shared that may plunge the whole world into war and darkness.

Winterbirth is a dark tale focused on destruction, despair, battle and blood. The tagline on the front cover says “The greatest tales are written in blood...”, which gives the reader a fair idea of what to expect. I found the first 90 pages rather slow, as the rival political factions and the existing order are introduced and the back-story of the enmity between Haig and Black Road is filled in. Although it may seem slow, the build-up is necessary to establish the various factions and characters, because when events do start to move, they move fast as Orisian has to run for his life. I found the list of characters at the back and the two maps at the front invaluable for keeping my bearings.

Although a fantasy novel, Winterbirth does not involve a great deal of explicit magic (a plus point for me). The Kyrinin are not human – a sort of cross between elves and aboriginal hunter-gatherers – and have skills that humans do not have, such as keener senses and greater healing abilities, but this could be read as technology rather than magic as such. The major supernatural element is the ‘Shared’, which seems to permit such things as telepathy and a form of mind control. I suspect from the ending of Winterbirth that the Shared is going to play a much greater role in the rest of the trilogy, as Aeglyss’ sinister powers become more developed.

Much of the plot in Winterbirth itself is driven by political rivalries, both between the major human groupings (Black Road versus Haig) and within them. The various kingdoms have a complex and well-realised history of political and religious conflicts, and for me this was a strong point of the novel. The Black Road clans believe in predestination and were exiled for their creed a century or so before the events of Winterbirth. They want revenge on the Haig clans who defeated and exiled them, they want their old lands back, and they want to impose their religious beliefs on the rest of the world. Cutting across this major conflict, there are many internal conflicts within both Haig and Black Road, and the internal politicking between rival factions seems as significant as the main struggle.

Another feature I liked very much was the landscape, particularly the mountain and moorland descriptions. The topography is reminiscent of the western Highlands of Scotland, with long mountain ridges dividing glens and sea lochs, and the rugged Car Criagar with its crags, biting winds and treeless uplands reminded me of the Cairngorm plateau (minus the ruined city, of course!).

Winterbirth is a hefty book at over 500 pages, yet it reads more as the first part of a larger story than as the first book in a sequence. The ‘end’ is more of a temporary pause with most of the plot threads still open, and is clearly setting up for Books 2 and 3. For readers who like a story to reach a definite end, it may be a good idea to have the remaining two books lined up. This ‘setting up’ function may account for why Orisian, the central character, seems to be rather a passive figure for much of the novel, being chased from place to place by his enemies and with little opportunity to influence events, let alone to take control and take the fight to the opposition. There is a coming-of-age element to the narrative as Orisian has to grow into the new role so unexpectedly and unwillingly thrust upon him, so I hope he may take on a more active role in the later books. If I’m correct that Aeglyss’ sinister supernatural powers will come more to the fore, it will be interesting to see how Orisian’s role plays out.

First book in a dark fantasy trilogy set in a well-realised imaginary world, with political, religious and clan conflicts and a sinister undercurrent of magic.

Hawk of May, by Gillian Bradshaw. Book review

First published 1980. Edition reviewed: Sourcebooks, 2010, ISBN 978-1402240706, 356 pages. Uncorrected advance review copy supplied by publisher.

Hawk of May is the first part of a fantasy trilogy retelling the Arthurian legends, focussing on Gwalchmai as the central character. Gwalchmai translates literally as “Hawk of May”, hence the title, and in later legend he becomes the character Sir Gawain. Other key figures in the legend feature as major characters – Arthur, his evil sorceress sister Morgause, her sons Agravain and Medraut (Mordred), Bedwyr (Sir Bedivere) and Cei (Sir Kay). Gwenhwyfar (Guinevere), not yet Arthur’s wife, gets a walk-on part near the end, and will no doubt reappear in the later books. The historical king of the West Saxons, Cerdic, makes an appearance. So do some other figures from the scanty historical records, such as Maelgwn Gwynedd and Urien Rheged, although they are displaced in time by half a century or more from their actual positions in the mid to late sixth century. The setting for Hawk of May is post-Roman Britain at approximately the end of the fifth century, taking the dates for Arthur’s major battles from Annales Cambriae and for Cerdic’s reign from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. However, as the author’s note says, “...since the novel is only partially historical, geography is not that important.” and neither is chronology. The novel works best when read as a story set in the timeless world of “once upon a time”, rather like the medieval Arthurian legends themselves.

Gwalchmai is the second son of Queen Morgause and her husband King Lot of the Orkney Islands. To his father’s disappointment, he shows no noticeable talent as a warrior, although he is a skilled horseman and harpist. Bullied by his elder brother Agravain, Gwalchmai leads a lonely existence until his beautiful mother, whom he worships, offers to teach him reading and, later, black magic. After witnessing some of its cruelties, he comes to fear and hate sorcery, renounces it, and after an adventure in the Otherworld he comes into possession of a magic sword and the skills to wield it. Magically returned to the real world in southern Britain, Gwalchmai sets off to offer his services to Arthur – but Arthur has his own dark reasons to hate and mistrust Morgause’s son. Will Gwalchmai ever persuade Arthur to accept him, and will either escape the shadow of Morgause’s evil magic?

Hawk of May is a fantasy novel, centred on a supernatural conflict between the forces of good (the Light) and evil (the Darkness). Gwalchmai undertakes a supernatural journey on a magic boat to the Otherworld, where he obtains a magic sword and later acquires a fairy horse. He has superhuman strength in battle, and has to physically fight and kill at least one real demon. The magical elements are key to the plot, whereas the approximate historical setting in somewhere in post-Roman Britain is incidental.

Within this fantasy environment, Hawk of May is a coming-of-age story, as the young Gwalchmai has to break free of his mother’s influence, make his own choices and earn a place for himself in the world. The plot mainly follows his upbringing and the circumstances that bring him to Arthur’s warband, so is fairly slight. Perhaps this reflects the book’s position as the first in a trilogy, setting up characters and situations for the novels to come.

Characterisation is effective, with most of the major players clearly drawn as individuals. Gwalchmai is endearingly humble, ever ready to attribute his battle success to supernatural favour rather than to his own prowess as a warrior. He grows from a child to a young man without losing his youthful idealism. Arthur, as portrayed here, is a charismatic battle leader, human enough to win his followers’ affection as well as their admiration. I can see why men would have been drawn to fight and die for this Arthur (something that isn’t always apparent in Arthurian fiction). Among the secondary characters, Cei and Agravain are archetypal ‘Celtic’ warriors, boastful, quarrelsome, flamboyant, cheerful and always ready for a drink or a fight, preferably both. Bedwyr is an intellectual as well as a warrior, with an interest in philosophy and a disinclination to take sides in petty quarrels. Morgause is pretty much pure evil, but given her traditional role in the legend it might have been rather tricky to make her a nuanced character. Gwenhwyfar is attractive and realistic, as far as I can tell from her very brief appearance, which bodes well for the rest of the series (assuming it is going to develop along the traditional lines).

Fantasy retelling of the Arthurian legend from the perspective of Gwalchmai, describing how he came to Arthur’s following as a young man.

The Broken Sword, by Poul Anderson. Book review

First published 1954. Edition reviewed: Gollancz, 2008, ISBN 978-0-57508-2-724. 228 pages.

The Broken Sword is a fantasy novel drawing on the Norse myths and sagas. It is set in the world of men and in a parallel supernatural world called ‘faerie’, inhabited by elves, trolls, goblins and similar creatures. The world of faerie exists in the same world as men, but humans cannot see faerie creatures or creations unless they are shown them by an inhabitant of faerie or have been trained in witchcraft. The Ice Giants and the Norse gods (the Aesir) live in a separate world, and occasionally pay visits to men or faerie. Mythological figures such as Odin, Tyr, the ice giant Bolverk and the Irish sea god Manannan play roles in the story. Insofar as the story has a historical setting, it is in the Danelaw of late ninth-century England. The main characters are all fictional.

The Norse chieftain Orm the Strong has taken land in the Danelaw (north and east England) by killing the former owners, has married an English wife and pays lip-service to Christianity. When Orm’s wife gives birth to a son, the mother of the murdered former landowner, who has powers of witchcraft, tells Imric Elf-Earl that the newborn child is neither baptised nor under the protection of the Aesir. Imric steals the baby, leaving a half-elf-half-troll changeling in its place. The stolen boy is named Skafloc and raised among the elves to be a mighty warrior and poet, though the Aesir’s naming gift to him, a broken sword of ancient and malevolent power, causes Imric much disquiet. The changeling, Valgard, is reared in Orm’s hall and grows up to become a fearsome berserker warrior. In faerie, a great war is brewing between the elves and the trolls, and this gives the witch her opportunity to revenge herself on Orm by setting Skafloc and Valgard on a collision course. This will see the sword reforged and will ensnare Skafloc, Valgard and all those close to them in a tragic fate which none, mortal or immortal alike, can escape.

How do I adore this book? Let me count the ways….. This is simply a superb evocation of the world of the Norse myths and sagas. From the opening sentence, “There was a man called Orm the Strong” to the last, “Here ends the saga of Skafloc Elf’s-Foster”, the book is told in a muscular, poetic style reminiscent of the great Icelandic sagas. It has the same ice-bright clarity, as beautiful as a glacier in sunlight and as pitiless, and the same economy with words. This is an epic adventure and a tragic romance packed into a mere 228 pages, with not a word wasted. Powerful emotions are conveyed in a couple of lines of dialogue or a look or a gesture, their impact heightened by understatement. Violence and war are sketched in bold strokes, with no need for pages of blow-by-blow gorefest. (This latter may in part reflect the era in which the book was first published; in 1954 most adults had only too clear an idea of the effects of fire, steel and high explosive on human bodies). The plot is beautifully controlled, full of intricate reversals, symmetries and parallels that remind me of the entwined animals in Norse art.

The characters are vividly and powerfully drawn. Valgard and Skafloc, ill-starred twins, dominate the story. Although at first they seem to be polar opposites – indeed, Valgard cries at one point, “What am I but the shadow of Skafloc?” – the contrast between light and dark is not as absolute as it appears at first sight. Valgard, half-elf-half-troll, is a loner alien to his human family, while Skafloc apparently takes to life with the elves like a duck to water. Yet Valgard has absorbed enough human feeling to experience genuine remorse at the death of his brother and to give his dead sister a clumsy Christian burial; and Skafloc, for all the glitter and glamour of the elf court, is achingly lonely for human love. Valgard’s bitterness and despair make him the epitomy of cruelty and hate, while the young Skafloc is all light and laughter; yet when Skafloc is denied his heart’s desire he succumbs to the same destructive nihilism.

The women are as individual and as strongly motivated as the men, and drive at least as much of the action. It is the witch, seeking revenge for Orm’s slaughter of her family, who sets the whole saga in motion. Leea, the icily beautiful amoral elf-lady, discovers both love and jealousy, as well as being an active and highly effective participant in the war against the trolls (without, I may add, any hint of a Xena-style caricature. Full marks to the author). Freda Orm’s-Daughter, loyal, loving and brave, is a thoroughly good woman whose attempts to do the right thing nevertheless bring a terrible fate on her and all those she loves best.

Was there anything I didn’t like? In short, no. This is simply a stunning book. I don’t give star ratings, but if I did this would warrant a galaxy full.