Dead Man’s Steel is the final instalment in Luke Scull’s “Grim
Company” series. The first two were unflinchingly grim, with an undercurrent of
humour inside a vibrant, if unpleasant, world.
The setting is largely familiar from the earlier books.
There’s the outright terrifying city of the White Lady, for example – where the
population are relatively safe, relatively happy, and not exactly oppressed.
They even have a ruler who appears to care about their wellbeing. On the other hand,
they have law enforcement composed of the snake-like, silent and disturbing
constructs of the Lady, and they also have some rather worrying gaps in their
memories. Then there’s the forested areas to the north, nominally run by the
Shaman, a Magelord who believes in allowing strength to define what is right.
Conveniently for his philosophy, he’s the strongest person in a large area. But
the north is riven by war, one side backed by dark magic and demons. If the
other is better by comparison, they’re still no charmers - their ranks split by
blood feuds, their leaders disunited.
There’s some less familiar areas as well; the broken city of
Dorminia, for example. It’s been the home for our heroes since the first book,
but now it’s a shattered remnant of what it was, populated by feral urchins and
wild dogs. It’s also populated by a mysterious and powerful force, which seems
determined to wreak havoc on the denizens of the city – and indeed the rest of
humanity. We also get to journey into the mountains – which mixes the delights
of cold, clear air and all the space you might want with, well, all the demonic
entities that you could want. This is a world teetering on the edge of
destruction – torn apart by the death of gods, and the rise of Magelords who
are, at their best, rather unpleasant, and, at their worst, downright natural
disasters. The atmosphere suggests the presence of a precipice, a point of no
return inching closer with every page.
Our protagonists, at least, are familiar – though many have
progressed since their initial appearances. Davarus Cole, for example, is no
longer a brash young man determined to do great deeds. Now he’s a tormented,
damaged individual – a man who has done great deeds, and discovered their cost.
His relationship with Brodar Kayne, the old, tired Sword of the North, remains
a delight; even though the two aren’t often on the page together, seeing Cole earn
his way into some of Kayne’s weary cynicism makes for a great read. Kayne
himself is still exhausted, broken down by his own age, and the need to defend
himself against his past reputation. As we go into this final part of the
narrative, he’s coming to grips with the idea that he may not have made the
best choices up until now – and trying to work out both what he wants, and how
to achieve it without an old enemy stabbing him in the back, a new enemy
stabbing him in the front, or a demon biting his face off.
There’s also the redoubtable Eremul the Halfmage, whose tone
has always got a smile from me. He’s ferociously intelligent, viciously sarcastic,
and although wary of those in power, prone to saying exactly what he thinks.
Usually with some wonderfully colourful phrasing. Eremul is struggling to
decide whether people are all terrible; as a man struggling without legs, a
terrible reputation as a traitor, and a small amount of magical power, he’s
prone to seeing people at their worst. Watching him struggle to understand
kindness, and possibly love – well, it’s an experience. An eminently believable
one, layered in personal conflicts and tensions.
There’s other members of the cast of course; I particularly
enjoyed the return of Eremul’s manservant Isaac, now in something of a
different role. The villains are variable – the demons seem rather flat in their
malevolence, without much to make them anything other than the forces of
darkness. By comparison though, both the leader of the aggression against the
Shaman in the north, and the new occupiers of Dorminia in the south are
complex, well-realised individuals. If their goals are to be regarded with
horror and suspicion, their self-knowledge and the logic that led to those
goals are not. There’s grey areas here, a certain complexity which means that
even if the enemy aren’t to be rooted for, they can be understood.
The plot – well, it’s the last in the series, so I’ll avoid
spoilers. But there’s more than the standard soupcon of resolution here. There’s
several stormingly epic battles, kinetic, driven things where it’s difficult to
put the book down, in case you miss someone getting an inch of steel in their
eye. There’s duels – elaborate, byzantine, bloody things, with all the
technique of world-class ballet, and all the heft of a battle axe in the face.
The fate of the world is thrown up in the air more than once, and quite who
will catch it as it comes back down is open to question. This is a world where
everyone is vulnerable, and where the systems that shape the world are personal
ones. It’s a fast-paced story, and one which rewards careful reading with
excellent characterisation and solid worldbuilding to go with the battles, the
sacrifices, the moments of heroism and the acts of villainy.
Is it worth reading? If you’re coming to the series for the
first time, I’d say stop, and go read The Grim Company first. On the other hand, if
you’ve come this war with our mismatched band of adventurers, then yes – this is
a cracking conclusion to a series that you’ll want to see through to the end.
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