The Deathless is the start of a new fantasy series from
Peter Newman, whose Vagrant trilogy
has been very well received. The Deathless, though, is something else –
bringing us a new world, filled with
unknown horrors and immortals on the edge of righteousness, exploring the price
people are willing to pay for their goals, the bonds of family and friendship,
and the way a society can be both more or less than it is thought to be.
The Deathless, you see, are the perfect aristocracy. Living
in castles in the air, they justify their wealth, their extravagance, their
very existence, by their ability to defeat The Wild. What is the Wild? It is
horror. It is dark woods on a day full of spilled noonday sun. It is creeping
horrors in the corner of your eye. It is monstrosities creeping behind you. It
is transformation wished and unwished for, decisions made incorrectly. It is
the risk taken and betrayed. But at a more immediate point, it’s a massive dark
wood, filled with psychotic monsters whose most immediate goal in life is
devouring people alive, at best.
The Wild, as the hostile environment surrounding and
enveloping both flying castles and mystically warded roads, is wonderfully
portrayed. Each breath is a gift, each step the suggestion of ominous intent.
This is a place, a darkly shrouded wood, which see’s humanity ad an interloper,
and is willing to reach out and cut throats before draining their blood into
its roots. But it’s also corruption, a slow game. Because the strange creatures
of the wilds will make details. Maybe they want your hair, or your fingernails,
or your face, and maybe the dreams you have of murder can be quieted, perhaps
your other goals assured. The wood knows. It scents desecration and draws it
out, adding to its store of poison. And there is always a price. This is a
space of madness and magic, where everything hinges on the knife-edge, on a
gesture, on a word, on a decision made moments before.
The Wild is a horror, twisting and breaking the people
seeking to drive it back with a road. And so the houses exist, in soaring
castles, insulated from the horrors of those suffering below. But the castles
do provide champions – armed and armoured, with the strength of ten and speed
to match – and other magic besides – the immortals are the heads of houses
fighting back the Wild/ Of course, being immortal, they have their own effect
on society. Where immortality is a limited gift, it is covered – the book asks
questions of worth (or otherwise) to see if our immortals should hold their
thrones. Even as they murder the demon before them, there is the issue of
hereditary right, the subversion of heredity and bloodline as a positive. Where
these people fight demons, where they fight back the Wild, it is because it
advances their own interests. Which
isn’t to say they aren’t glorious – angel-winged leading a hunt into the Wild,
to defeat the existential threat to civilisation, one might think them
civilised. But outside those castles are the poor and wretched and indigent,
living this way to keep themselves alive. The book isn’t afraid to talk about
The Wild, about the creeping horror, and the price of deals, but nor does it
build a hagiography of those hacking back the roots. They have suffered and will
continue to do so. But they continue to do so believable and we also see the
vicious, focused, effective side of the house. Yes, they are immortal
slavemasters, but they must protect their own – and if that own is not
sufficiently noble, still they can be made so,
I suppose what I’m saying is, the world is a rich one, with
layered interweaving of character and context. The sort of interconnection
which makes characters see like people, and narratives feel real.
This is a
rich, living world, albeit a horrifying one. The people within it slay demons,
yes, they fight a creeping horror with their own hands and wake up at night
screaming. There’s the politics of family and of immortality, of feudal
obligation and enlightenment values, of blood as an oath and blood on the
sword. This is a world to evoke wonder and horror, with characters whose very
depth allows both sympathy and vilification. The story is there, sure enough,
and heart-pumping, adrenaline soaked stuff it is, too. This is a text which rewards closer reading, and
also one which rewards reading at all.
Give it a try; it’s a smashing tale.
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