The Bloody North (The Fallen Crown)
Page 13
"You've got glass in your hair," Annette said. "And your beard."
Crow laughed, absently brushing the pieces of glass out of his long tangle of beard. "Well. How did that happen I suppose?" He glanced about for Kip. "Where is that infernal creature? Wandered off again?"
As if on cue, the bearcat leapt from the bushes, a small bird in its jaws. It looked up at Crow happily.
(look what I got)
"Kip," Crow scolded the bearcat, shaking his head. "Always thinking with your bloody stomach . . ."
Patti nudged her horse. They set off, leaving the town of Greyside behind. Incidentally, it happened to be the exact same road Rowan had travelled that morning, though there was no sign of him. "So how far is this village you said, about?"
"Not far," Crow told Patti, drawing up next to her. "I'll make sure you're properly set there before I move on."
"Travelling on, are you?" Annette asked.
"I'm afraid so. My work takes me far and wide of Starkgard and beyond. But you will be safe there, in Lilipuddle. They are good people, loyal to the Order of Eld. With the money you both made from the bounty, you will be able to afford a fine home," he said in a melancholy tone, a smile on his face. "Perfect for raising a family."
Annette broke out in sharp laughter. "My days of making children are far behind me!"
Crow shared a look with Patti, a silent exchange not unlike those Kip had with him. "Well who knows what will happen, eh?"
Patti looked away, her eyes glistening with tears. He reached out, gripped her shoulder firmly. She looked back at him, searching for reassurance. "Everything will be fine," he said. "Trust me. It has been foretold."
"I hope you're right," she said.
Crowstone thought for a moment. It had started now. Everything the Order told him had slowly, gradually, turned out to be correct. A great tapestry of events, all of it coming together. All the threads.
"Trust me," he told her.
Twenty Three
Night fell. Rowan found an outcropping beneath a jagged rock face. It was dry under there, and there was room enough to make a small fire. He sat before it, fur around his shoulders, trying to soak up the heat. His entire body ached, every part of it tired from the years spent on the road, fighting and killing and hurting.
What would he do tomorrow? Where would he go? He had not the faintest idea, only a notion that he should ride. He was sure, knowing his luck, a purpose would find him. Destiny would see fit to throw something his way. Though his first call would be an out-of-the-way village somewhere he could rest up a while.
He looked out across a dark country, the snow- and ice-covered land touched here and there by the light of the moon above. Soon the snow would melt. Soon the spring would return.
A great sense of calm had taken hold of him. It felt as though he had license to leave the past in the past. His wife and children were gone. Nothing would ever bring them back. His only consolation was that now he could let them rest, finally, after so many years of hurting at their loss.
I can move on.
Rowan felt like a man forced to carry a heavy load for years, finally liberated of his burden. For the first time in a long while, free to run. Yesterday was the past. Now there was just tomorrow and what he might do when the dawn broke.
The night was strangely quiet – as if the world held its breath to see what he might do next. Rowan Black liked that.
Liked it a lot.
The Fallen Crown
continues with
Book 2: The Rising Fire
Notes & Acknowledgments
My first exposure to fantasy was The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. I saw the old BBC adaptation of it (which I still think stands head and shoulders above both the animated movie and the more recent Disney motion picture) and then found a copy of it in paperback at a car boot sale. I was about nine at the time. I spent months afterward trying to track down copies of all the others. I succeeded, never paying more than about fifty pence for each one. Eventually I had all seven Narnia books lined up on my shelf, each one from a different edition.
A year or so later, I found a box set containing all seven, with cover art to match their respective BBC adaptations. I used that as my excuse for reading them all again from scratch. I still have that same box set now.
In my teens, my uncle loaned me a copy of Spellsinger by Alan Dean Foster and I proceeded to bug him for the other five, tearing through them at a rate of knots. A few years back, I had the honour of having a short story of mine published alongside Mr. Foster. In that anthology (see: Resistance Front by Bernard Schaffer, Alan Dean Foster, Harlan Ellison, et al) I dedicated my story to Alan, thanking him for Spellsinger.
If the work of C. S. Lewis had introduced me to fantasy as a genre (at the age I was when I read it, I honestly didn't pick up on all of the religious notes – it was just a good story), then Spellsinger showed me you could take traditional fantasy and inject it with facets of modern life.
From a very early age, we'd had three films on VHS I'd constantly watch, over and over again. The first was The Goonies – recorded off of the TV with commercials included. The other two were Watership Down and The Lord of the Rings.
After reading Spellsinger, my mind turned to those two cartoons I'd watched as a small child. So I read my way through Watership Down, and then tackled The Lord of the Rings at about the same time as The Fellowship of the Ring came out at the cinema. With Watership Down, I got to see world building on par with Narnia, but done in an entirely different way. Set in the world of rabbits, with their own language, their own beliefs, their own mythology. I found it completely fascinating.
The Lord of the Rings was a slog most of the time, but I have happy memories of the experience. It was a long work to tackle in my teens, but I managed it, just about. A recent attempt at a reread failed miserably. I simply lost interest. A lot of that comes from the books I am used to reading now as an adult. They're faster, more concise. To my mind, Tolkien's opus is a must-read for anyone. But I don't think many will delve back in for a second go. It's a huge undertaking. The Lord of the Rings is a classic work of fantasy that truly established a gold standard for the genre at the time. And there have been many attempts by other writers at recreating Middle-Earth in their own work, to varying degrees of success.
Coming out of my teens, The Dark Tower series and J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter were hugely influential to me. What Stephen King accomplishes with The Dark Tower is something he has tried often and succeeded at rarely. That is, telling a long story and holding the reader's attention from start to finish. Some – novels like The Stand and IT – have worked brilliantly. Others . . . ugh. But for whatever reason, The Dark Tower grips you from the first tantalizing sentence ("The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed . . .") and never lets go. It's a little crazy, it's a bit of a mash-up of multiple genres and sources but that's okay. You take it in your stride. The Dark Tower is King's greatest work. A rich, hugely entertaining epic.
The very same can be said for Rowling's Potter series. I read them one after the other (luckily the last, The Deathly Hallows, was just coming out as I finished The Half-Blood Prince). My habit with those was to sit on the kitchen floor at night, cup of tea by my side and read into the early hours. I lived in a house with six other siblings at the time, so really the kitchen at night was about the most peaceful place for reading.
She did a fantastic job of world-building, of plotting each book out so that it was its own self-contained story, yet progressed the overall plot piece by piece. Readers were literally spellbound (forgive the pun) by the interactions between the characters and the relationships that developed along the way. By the progression of a plot that grew steadily darker and darker – and by what had happened in the past, before the books take place. Certainly the greatest, well-rounded character of the series is not Harry Potter himself, but Severus Snape. Dumbledore's machinations become somewhat omnipresent by the end, wherea
s Snape comes into his own in what is a truly heartbreaking series of revelations.
Recently, I found myself browsing the kindle store for something new to read when I came across The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie. I got the sample, devoured it in one sitting, and bought the rest of the book.
The next day, I found myself in town buying the whole trilogy in paperback and proceeded to read them one after the other. Abercrombie takes the conventions of the genre and turns them on their head. First of all, he does away with the stilted writing of the past and brings his contemporary voice to Fantasy – complete with swearing, sex, and some of the most complicated characters I've ever come across. Each and every one of them broken in some way.
Glokta, broken in body but not in spirit. Logen Ninefingers, broken inside as he tries (in vain) to turn away from the man he used to be. These two characters begin the story broken and end up whole by the end (though not necessarily better people as a result) whilst the character of Luthar begins whole and is steadily broken first in body, then in spirit. Abercrombie writes a kind of fantasy that critics and readers alike have come to coin "Grimdark." I guess it had its beginnings in the work of Robert E. Howard way back when, and I reckon there were the seeds of it in the dark deeds that went (mostly) unseen, in the background, throughout The Lord of The Rings. If Aragorn and company spent the majority of those books fighting nameless, faceless hordes of Orcs with little repercussions for their deeds, Abercrombie makes every kill resonate.
Men fight men, with all the horrific slaughter and detail involved. And when the fight is over, when most of them have died, the survivors are left with their guilt and their shame and their hurt. Left to deal with it all on their own.
It's no wonder, in Abercrombie's fictional setting, that Logen turned out the way he did.
But what some reviewers of The Blade Itself have criticized it, and its sequels, for is its lack of hope, and I have to disagree there. I found plenty of hope in The First Law trilogy. It's there, trust me. What Abercrombie does is to counter-balance these moments, these flashes of characters achieving the positive, with the darkness. If a character is winning in one chapter, the next time we meet them, their luck has taken a turn for the worst.
Is that fair? Probably not. But is it realistic to what we experience in real life?
Yeah.
I took a similar approach in The Bloody North, by having a character consumed with grief to the point where he'd almost stopped living. He just existed – until, that is, his company is slaughtered in front of him and he's left on his own. It's like Rowan has spent three years running from the past and now he is forced to face it and deal with it. By the end, I think it's fair to say Rowan is alive again.
The past is where it should be – behind him. And now he can move on.
But this isn't it for The Fallen Crown series. It's just the first small chapter in a truly epic story. If you think The Bloody North set the stage and introduced a few characters, well . . . wait till you read Book 2. Boy, oh boy, is it going to blow your socks off.
Till next time,
T.H., Brighton, UK March-July 2014
And now for the thanks:
I am hugely grateful to the following people. They read The Bloody North and gave much appreciated feedback and suggestions:
Sandie Slavin, David K. Hulegaard, Gareth Tyrer, Barbara Spencer and others. It all helped. My usual respect and appreciation to my editor, Laurie Laliberte. (The bold underline is there at her suggestion, ha ha!) Not even certain death can stop her from getting the work done. Big thanks to fellow authors David K. Hulegaard, Bernard Schaffer, William Vitka, who are always there to offer guidance and support. (And in the case of Bernard, to trade Harry Potter readoff's with). I also want to thank those writers who influenced me over the years in dreaming up my own stab at the fantasy genre. I think I got them all in what I said above. The ones worth remembering, anyway.
A note on my process of writing The Bloody North. The first rough draft was hammered out on a Chromebook using Google Docs. I rewrote in Word on my trusty HP, then did a pass of the text with Stylewriter. The Bloody North was then handed to Laurie, who did an editorial pass on it. I printed it, went through it from start to finish by hand, then actioned all of my changes. Last but least, Laurie did a proof of the entire text to see if there was anything we both missed. All of this sounds a lot of work, but it's been worth it.
Before we bid farewell (for the moment) to one another, I want to go back to what I said at the beginning when I mentioned the charity anthology Resistance Front. I found myself amongst some immensely talented writers. Some of them (Harlan Ellison, Alan Dean Foster) were big names already. Others (you know who you are) have gone on to big things since submitting a short story for that anthology, and it's an honour to continue to call you all friends. And major kudos to Bernard, who started it all. He put the call out and we answered.
My biggest debt of all, however, is owed to you, Dear Reader, for taking a chance on this book. I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll stick around for The Fallen Crown: Book 2: The Rising Fire. You won't be disappointed. – T.H.
About Tony Healey
Tony Healey is a best-selling independent author. Born in 1985, he has lived his entire life in the city of Brighton, UK.
In 2011, he found his fiction published alongside Harlan Ellison and Alan Dean Foster. A year later, his sci-fi serial FAR FROM HOME became a best-selling sensation, followed by similarly successful sequels. Since then he has collaborated with authors Bernard Schaffer, Matthew Cox, and William Vitka on various projects. He has also had work published by Curiosity Quills Press. He is married and has three daughters.
For the latest on Tony's various projects, visit his site www.tonyhealey.com
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The first three instalments in the smash hit FAR FROM HOME series, collected into one volume. Serves as a great entry point to the series."
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