The end of the world starts with a celebration.
Led by the greatest heroes of the age, Majadanâs army has driven back the hordes of the Madlands, or so the cityâs protectors believe. In welcoming their soldiers home, they allow a foe inside the city more powerful than any they could imagine, greeted with cheers and open arms.
Aust is a young man fleeing from his past, hiding in plain sight as a minstrel for a mercenary guild. His knowledge of Majadanâs secret ways has saved his life before, but this time he isnât on his own. When the powers of Hell are set loose in the streets, Aust becomes a guide for a band of survivors:
Eris, a warrior fighting to prove her worth; Vandal, a soldier without a cause or country; Jago, a man-wolf caught in a fight not his own; Moth, a nomad girl who is not entirely human; and Jenin, a priestess from the Wild.
When confronted by an enemy that cannot be defeated, they will each be forced to choose between their honor and their lives. The world they know has drowned in blood and fire. The battle for the city of Majadan has begun.
The end of the world starts with a celebration.
Led by the greatest heroes of the age, Majadanâs army has driven back the hordes of the Madlands, or so the cityâs protectors believe. In welcoming their soldiers home, they allow a foe inside the city more powerful than any they could imagine, greeted with cheers and open arms.
Aust is a young man fleeing from his past, hiding in plain sight as a minstrel for a mercenary guild. His knowledge of Majadanâs secret ways has saved his life before, but this time he isnât on his own. When the powers of Hell are set loose in the streets, Aust becomes a guide for a band of survivors:
Eris, a warrior fighting to prove her worth; Vandal, a soldier without a cause or country; Jago, a man-wolf caught in a fight not his own; Moth, a nomad girl who is not entirely human; and Jenin, a priestess from the Wild.
When confronted by an enemy that cannot be defeated, they will each be forced to choose between their honor and their lives. The world they know has drowned in blood and fire. The battle for the city of Majadan has begun.
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âKneel,â said the vampire, flexing its wings. âKneel and worship Her Radiance, Queen ZĂ»r, Sovereign of the Night Road, Consort to the Living God Zet, and Empress of Mrava.â
Our captors had brought us to the steps of a looted mansion. Its garden had been stripped for kindling, and the houseâs windows were dark and hollow. The first brush strokes of dawn painted the clouds, and in the stillness I could almost pretend that the smoke rising from the city was that of morning hearths and not burning corpses.
I still couldnât believe that Majadan had fallen. The crossroad of the world, the jewel of Kechea, the bulwark against the horrors of the Madlands â reduced to a charnel house in a single night.
I consoled myself that some of the people weâd fled with had escaped. My friends and I, on the other hand, were dead and probably worse. It wasnât out of mercy that the invaders hadnât killed us. Together, my fellow captives and I knelt as spoils for the Wight Queen.
âWho have we here?â asked the undead sorceress. Her skin was as pale as ice, her voice the echo of some long-dead songbird. Her gown had the sheen of metal, and her eyeless silver mask reflected the bonfire behind us.
âMercenaries, Your Radiance,â said the vampire. At any other time, Iâd have laughed. For some of my companions that may have been true, but I was just a lowly musician.
âOur orders were not to take prisoners,â said ZĂ»r. Her voice held a trace of disappointment. She evaluated each of my companions in turn, until at last she came to me.
âI donât know what to make of this one,â she said. My heart squeezed as she stepped into my mind, pushing my memories around like furniture. Pinpricks of moisture beaded on my scalp, and for the second time that night I felt the urge to wet myself. Then, out of nowhere, I felt the urge to kill.
âBy the Old One,â ZĂ»r gasped. âA killer! A newborn killer, his first blood not an hour ago. Sweet devils, what a gift. Lord Zetâs orders be damned, Iâm keeping this one.â
I felt something shrivel inside me. Itâs not that I didnât want to live, but I hated the thought of being spared for what Iâd done. I hadnât killed in self-defense, as so many had that night. Iâd committed an act of hot-blooded murder. It was better that I die with my friends.
âOh, youâre not going to die, little one,â she said, plucking the thoughts from my brain. âNot for a very long time.â
âAll right, but pleaseââ
She slapped me into silence.
âYou will not speak unless I tell you. Can you read and write? Answer.â
âYes, Your Highness.â
She struck me again. âThe correct form of address is âYour Radianceâ or âYour Glory.â Do you understand? Answer.â
âYes, Your Radiance.â
âGood.â She considered me for a moment. âYou were a minstrel. You fancy yourself a storyteller, even. Excellent. This is what I want.
âTell me of this night â what youâve seen, what youâve heard. I want every slice of pain, every cry for help, every shred of loss. I want to know what it felt like when you learned what kind of man you really are. I could rip it from your mind, but I want it from your heart. I want it written down as a testament for all time.â
She traced her fingernail across my face. Her laughter was music in a graveyard.
âTell me all you remember, little man, and I promise to make you immortal.â
In 'The Blood Prayer' by Jared Millet we get to tag along as an ill suited guide leads a desperate scramble through the night time streets of a city invaded by monsters and savages.
Though high fantasy is dominated by epic sagas filled with clashing continents and sweeping generational conflicts, there is also a place for stories that zoom in on the details of what it would be like to live in such a time of magical war.
Aust is a minstrel. Struggling both to make ends meet and to conceal the dark secrets of his past, he buries himself in a life of street gigs within the bustling metropolis of Majadan. When war breaks out within the city walls, he must find an escape route before the overwhelming monstrous hordes harvest him and everyone else in the city for demonic purpose.
With dense action set in a closed city environment this story utilises the core principles of classic Greek theatre to the fullest: One time, One place, One action. Rather than a drawn out road trip, the story condenses the action into a single night with new twists and complications overlapping on almost every page. It is an intense experience that reminds me of both 'The Lies of Locke Lamora' for its focused scope and 'Resident Evil' for its brutal blood spattered violence. The magical system, with a clear antagonism between practitioners of mysticism and spell casting, was also a refreshing take and worked well within the context of the story.
Though a highly competent treatment of the concept, I did feel certain aspects could have been done better. Not only is the majority of the book told in the form of a flash back, but the first person narrative is also recounted in past tense. Unavoidably, this diminishes the feeling of risk and danger because it is evident that, regardless of the horrors and challenges, the protagonist has already survived to the end of the tale. Though being treated a little differently to classic blood-suckers, the inclusion of vampires was a bit of a dampener for me. They simply felt like a rather flat and unimaginative choice when juxtaposed with the many admirably creative and terrifying monsters presented throughout the book.
If you like up-close and personal grim-dark stories full of personal conflict, gory death and divine intervention, this might just be the book for you.