John Gwynne, Valour (2014)

The improbably named 'Sibfric Voltwo Week' continues with Volume Two of John Gwynne's ongoing saga The Faithful and the Fallen. I shall not hazard a review of Volume One, since to do so would be to cross swords with the not-to-be-surpassed Jared Shurin, whose detailed account of Gwynne's Malice can be found here. As you can see, vol 1 is a reassuringly or depressingly (pick whichever term you prefer) familiar High Fantasy fable-cum-potboiler: Corban, growing to adulthood, begins to comprehend he is the Chosen One as his cod-medieval kingdom is George-R-R-Martinned around him. Valour continues the story. For those desirous of orienting themselves, the publishers have provided the following jacket text.

The Banished Lands is torn by war as High King Nathair sweeps the land challenging all who oppose him in his holy crusade. Allied with the manipulative Queen Rhin of Cambren, there are few who can stand against them. But Rhin is playing her own games and has her eyes on a far greater prize... Left for dead, her kin fled and her country overrun with enemies, Cywen has no choice but to try to survive. But any chance of escape is futile once Nathair and his disquieting advisor Calidus realise who she is. They have no intention of letting such a prize from their grasp. For she may be their greatest chance at killing the biggest threat to their power. Meanwhile, the young warrior Corban flees from his conquered homeland with his exiled companions heading for the only place that may offer them sanctuary - Domhain. But to get there they must travel through Cambren avoiding warbands, giants and the vicious wolven of the mountains. And all the while Corban must battle to become the man that everyone believes him to be - the Bright Star and saviour of the Banished Lands. And in the Otherworld dark forces scheme to bring a host of the Fallen into the world of flesh to end the war with the Faithful, once and for all.

Also provided is a five-page list of dramatis personae. That's five full pages packed tight with names like 'Dath', 'Gar', 'Heb', 'Rafe', 'Vonn', 'Kai', 'Morc', 'Rhin', 'Rath', 'Jael', 'Wolf', 'Bos' ,'Walk', 'Tanc', 'Flai', 'Jam', 'Nitti', 'Grittay', 'Tolkien', 'Tutti', 'Bois', 'Frum', 'Dee', 'Bigg', 'Bad', 'Citi', 'Dissis', 'Djamhodt', 'Dissis' ... look, I'm making these up now, I freely confess, and have been doing so since 'Bos'. But at least 'Bos' is an actual character in this book. There are also two individuals called 'Fray' ('Benothi Giant, companion of Uthas') and 'Ventos' ('a Helveth travelling merchant-trader') who, one earnestly hopes, come together in the main narrative to sell meat pies. Then: a map.

Not a bad map, as these things go. Then a poem:

Not a good poem, as these things go. Then: a cauldron!

The cauldron was a hulking mass of black iron, tall and wide, squatting upon a dias in the centre of a cavernous room. Torches of blue flame hung upon the walls of the chamber. Uthas of the Benothi giants strode towards the cauldron ...

Now that I have 'pies' in my head, I can't read 'Benothi' without salivating. Mmm! Anyway:

...strode towards the cauldron, his shadow flickering on the walls. He climbed the steps and stopped before it. It was utterly black, appearing to suck the torchlight into it, consuming it, reflecting nothing back. [1]

None more black! This gives you a flavour of the whole: unafraid of a bit of cheesy Gothic melodrama. When the story gets going it's all about the many characters all travelling from place to place and scheming and fleeing and fighting. Perfectly serviceably done. You, for instance. Yes, you. You may well be looking for a huge swamp of a narrative in which you can lose yourself, like sinking into a warm bath. If so, then this is for you, It's utterly unoriginal, full of violence, lots of things happen and it doesn't really go anywhere. Me, I found the prithee sirrah idiom hovered uncomfortably between too wincingly archaic ('"Did you see Akar fall?" "Aye. Calidus spoke true. A giant did slay Romar"' [19]) and frankly not archaic enough ('Textual inconsistencies are remarkably rare in the giants' histories' [316]). There's every dramatic cliché you can think of, most of the stylistic ones, and that irritating convention by which characters' inward thoughts are rendered onto the page in slabs of italics. Aye, he thought to himself, that has always annoyed me, when writers do that. What do they hope to gain?

The world is early medieval, largely Celtic in flavour with a strong dose of Norse: giants, dragons and other monsters are real. But the worldbuilding is the usual Fantasy mishmash and omnium gatherum: bits of French ('"I'll not be a corsair for you!" [333]), Greek ('amphorae of wine' [117]), Persian (carpets are mentioned on p.141) and Indian ('"Avatar of Elyon!" [179]) and so on. Chapters are short, heavy on the dialogue, threaded with detailed descriptions of stabbing, mauling, decapitating, torturing and slaying, and each ends with a mini-cliffhanger or duh-duh-DUH! revelation. The author's website suggests he plans four volumes of The Faithful and the Fallen, but I see no reason why it couldn't go on forever. I admit I found it draggy and stale, but your George-R-R-Mileage may vary.