From Middle-Earth to Roshar: Tracing the Evolution of Epic Fantasy

Explore the evolution of epic fantasy from Tolkien’s foundational works to today’s expansive sagas, tracing key authors, series, tropes, and innovations that have shaped the growth of the beloved fantasy genre.

Today, we’ll embark on a journey through the annals of epic fantasy, traversing the vast landscapes of imagination.
From the legendary works of J.R.R. Tolkien to the sweeping sagas of Brandon Sanderson, we shall explore the evolution of this beloved genre.
So, grab your walking stick, saddle your trusty steed, and let us begin the adventure.

Standing on Tolkien’s shoulders

In the beginning, there was Tolkien. And Tolkien said, “Let there be Middle-earth!”
And lo, Middle-earth was born, replete with hobbits, elves, dwarves, and a fearsome Dark Lord.
Tolkien’s monumental work, The Lord of the Rings, set the stage for all the epic fantasy that would follow.
It was a tale of heroic deeds, grand quests, and a world so rich in detail, you’d think he’d been there himself.
But Tolkien’s mastery of world-building and language was not without its consequences.
For many years, the epic fantasy genre languished in his mighty shadow, with countless would-be wordsmiths attempting to recreate the magic of Middle-earth.
Some reached for the stars, while others, fell rather short of the mark.
But a new generation of authors emerged, each bringing their own unique flavour to the table.

The Wardrobe Opens with C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia

In the wake of Middle-earth’s creation by J.R.R. Tolkien, another towering figure in fantasy literature offered readers an invitation to a different kind of epic journey.
C.S. Lewis, a close friend and contemporary of Tolkien, crafted a world of magic and adventure accessible through an ordinary wardrobe in his iconic series, The Chronicles of Narnia.
While Tolkien endeavoured to craft an detailed, adult-oriented mythology, Lewis’ Narnia aimed to capture the imaginations of children.
The Chronicles of Narnia, beginning with “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” introduced readers to a realm where animals talk, witches reign, and battles between good and evil are fought.
One of the distinguishing elements of Lewis’ series is the blend of Christian allegory with elements of Greek, Roman, and Norse mythologies, as well as traditional British and Irish fairy tales.
Aslan, the lion, is a figure of nobility and sacrifice, whose story arc draws heavily on Christian narratives, while other characters and plot elements borrow from a wide array of mythologies. This synthesis creates a world that is both familiar and fantastical, allowing for complex moral and philosophical explorations within an accessible, adventure-filled narrative.
The Chronicles of Narnia demonstrated that epic fantasy could be made accessible and enjoyable to younger readers while still engaging with complex themes and moral questions.

Envisioning the Far Future with Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth

Stretching the temporal dimensions of epic fantasy to their limits, Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth presents a richly detailed world set so far in the future that it teeters on the brink of entropy.
First published in 1950, this collection of loosely connected stories takes place in a time when the sun is nearing the end of its lifespan, casting a perpetual twilight upon an Earth populated by strange creatures and remnants of advanced, forgotten civilisations.
The Dying Earth features vivid world-building, characterised by a mix of fantasy and science fiction elements.
Vance’s far-future Earth is both a playground of advanced technology and a cradle of arcane magics, blurring the line between the two.
His prose is marked by a distinctive, ornate style that lends a sense of antiquity and melancholic beauty to the tales.
Inventive and filled with eccentric characters, Vance’s series was among the first to combine elements of science fiction and fantasy in a single narrative.
Its dystopian portrayal of a dying world and advanced society in decline introduced darker, more complex themes to the genre.
The series also stands out for its influence on magic systems in fantasy literature, with its concept of ‘memorised spells’ having been adapted by several subsequent works and role-playing games.
Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth represents an important milestone in the evolution of epic fantasy.
By envisioning a world so far removed from our present or historical past, Vance expanded the genre’s temporal boundaries and demonstrated the potential of blending speculative genres to create rich, unique worlds.
His influence can be felt in countless later works that blend magic and science, and in those that take place in far-flung futures.

Discovering The Wizard of Earthsea

Published in the late 1960s, Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle was groundbreaking, blending elements of high fantasy, coming-of-age narrative, and philosophical exploration.
Set in the archipelago of Earthsea, the story follows Ged, a young boy with innate magical talent.
Le Guin’s Earthsea diverges from many fantasy realms by not focusing on grand battles and quests, but rather the inward journey of its protagonist.
Ged’s struggles with his own pride and fear provide a powerful exploration of self-discovery and personal growth.
Le Guin’s approach to magic is also worth noting. In Earthsea, magic is based on the idea of balance and understanding the true nature of things, primarily through their ‘true names’. This concept added a layer of depth and spirituality to the genre, reinforcing the idea that power comes with responsibility and often, personal cost.
The Wizard of Earthsea’s focus on personal growth and introspection, along with its nuanced treatment of magic, were key milestones in the evolution of epic fantasy.
Le Guin’s contribution showed that the genre was capable of tackling deep philosophical ideas and themes of personal identity, sowing seeds that would come to fruition in the works of future generations of fantasy authors.

Navigating Frank Herbert’s Dune

Frank Herbert’s Dune, while often categorised as science fiction, has had a profound influence on the epic fantasy genre.
Its detailed world-building, complex political machinations, and exploration of ecology and religion have resonated deeply within the realms of fantasy literature.
Dune unfolds on the desert planet Arrakis, the sole source of the universe’s most precious substance, the spice melange.
The tale follows young Paul Atreides, who navigates a deadly web of political intrigue and warfare as he comes to terms with his destiny.
Dune’s depth of world-building is striking. Herbert creates a universe rich in politics, religion, and ecology, detailing the interactions between various factions vying for control over the spice. This vastness and depth of world-building has become a hallmark of many epic fantasy narratives.
Furthermore, the narrative delves into philosophy and the human condition, exploring themes of power, religion, and ecological stewardship. This blending of speculative fiction with complex thematic exploration is a facet that Dune shares with epic fantasy.
Dune’s enduring legacy lies in its intricate narrative structure and the depths of its thematic exploration, which have become staples in the epic fantasy genre.
It is a benchmark in speculative fiction, illustrating the genre’s potential for depth and complexity. Dune’s influence in the realm of epic fantasy is undeniable, with its contributions helping to shape the genre into its current form.

Soaring with Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight

Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight, the first book in the Dragonriders of Pern series, is a groundbreaking work that blurs the lines between science fiction and fantasy, making a lasting impact on the landscape of epic fantasy.
Dragonflight introduces readers to the world of Pern, a colonised planet where the inhabitants have bio-engineered dragons to combat an alien spore, called Thread, that periodically rains down from the sky.
McCaffrey’s world is one where traditional fantasy elements, such as dragons and telepathy, meld with science fiction concepts, including space travel and genetic manipulation.
The narrative centres around Lessa, a young woman who forms a psychic bond with the dragon queen Ramoth, becoming a key player in Pern’s survival against the Thread.
McCaffrey’s use of a strong, complex female protagonist, a rarity in the genre at the time of the book’s publication, has had a lasting impact on epic fantasy, paving the way for increased gender diversity in the genre.
Dragonflight’s blend of science fiction and fantasy elements marked a departure from traditional epic fantasy tropes, expanding the genre’s boundaries. McCaffrey’s distinctive fusion of genres, combined with her focus on character-driven narrative, opened new avenues for thematic and narrative exploration within epic fantasy.

Unsheathing The Sword of Shannara

Making its debut in the mid-1970s, The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks played a pivotal role in the evolution of epic fantasy.
It stands as one of the first successful high fantasy novels published after the monumental works of Tolkien, proving to the publishing world that readers were eager for more epic fantasy tales.
Set in the Four Lands, a post-apocalyptic world brimming with magic, Brooks’ saga follows the half-elf Shea Ohmsford in his quest to wield the powerful Sword of Shannara against the malevolent Warlock Lord.
The world of Shannara showcases a richly diverse cast of races including dwarves, gnomes, and trolls, as well as a unique magical system.
While Brooks’ saga has drawn criticism for its perceived similarities to Tolkien’s work, it nevertheless helped to lay the foundation for modern epic fantasy.
His storytelling, filled with grand quests, magical artifacts, and diverse characters, helped establish key tropes of the genre.
The Sword of Shannara’s widespread popularity played a significant role in demonstrating the commercial viability of epic fantasy. This not only helped spawn a decades-long series of Shannara books but also paved the way for other epic fantasy authors.

Shattering Realities with Roger Zelazny’s Chronicles of Amber

In the 1970s, epic fantasy was given another twist, courtesy of Roger Zelazny’s Chronicles of Amber.
Zelazny’s work blurred the boundaries between fantasy and science fiction, weaving a tale of intra-dimensional politics and metaphysical exploration that was as philosophical as it was thrilling.
The Chronicles of Amber centre on Corwin, a member of the royal family of Amber, the one true world of which all others, including our Earth, are but mere shadows.
The concept of infinite parallel worlds, each a variation of Amber, offered an innovative take on world-building. Rather than crafting a single, detailed setting, Zelazny created a multiverse teeming with possibilities.
Zelazny’s Amber series features a sophisticated narrative, characterised by non-linear storytelling, unreliable narrators, and an elegant, allusive prose style that draws heavily from mythology and poetry.
His work, while replete with action and intrigue, also delves into philosophical and metaphysical themes, pushing the boundaries of what was traditionally expected from fantasy literature.
The Chronicles of Amber’s integration of fantasy, science fiction, and philosophical musings represented a significant shift in the genre, opening the door for later works that would further blur genre boundaries and deepen the thematic complexity of fantasy literature.

Embracing Complexity with Stephen Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant Series

In a daring departure from traditional heroics of epic fantasy, Stephen Donaldson introduced a profoundly flawed protagonist in his Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever series.
Launched in 1977 with “Lord Foul’s Bane,” the series was revolutionary, as it grappled with complex psychological and ethical dilemmas through its eponymous character, Thomas Covenant.
Covenant is an antihero who is thrust into a magical realm known as The Land while suffering from a severe crisis of disbelief, exacerbated by his real-world diagnosis of leprosy. The series is marked by Covenant’s struggle to accept the reality of The Land, whilst grappling with his sense of morality and the burden of power.
Donaldson’s works are recognised for their exploration of the human condition, introspection, and the moral implications of power. They are characterised by their dense, literary style and philosophical underpinnings, offering a stark contrast to the straightforward heroism often found in the genre.
The series demonstrated that epic fantasy could delve deep into complex emotional and psychological landscapes. By focusing on an antihero, Donaldson underscored that fantasy characters could be deeply flawed and conflicted, opening the door for more nuanced character development in the genre.
The series challenged the notion of escapism often associated with fantasy literature, instead confronting readers with harsh realities and moral complexities. This move toward greater complexity and realism has significantly influenced subsequent authors, making the series a landmark in the evolution of epic fantasy.

Exploring Interdimensional Conflict

Adding a new dimension to epic fantasy, literally and figuratively, Raymond E. Feist’s Riftwar Saga begins with “Magician,” a novel that ushered readers into the twin worlds of Midkemia and Kelewan.
The saga, beginning in the early 1980s, brought a fresh take to the genre, blending traditional fantasy elements with ideas borrowed from science fiction, such as interdimensional travel and alien cultures.
Feist’s narrative focuses on an epic conflict, known as the Riftwar, between the inhabitants of Midkemia and Kelewan, brought on by a rift in space-time.
Over the course of the saga, readers are treated to intricate plotlines and a vast cast of characters, encompassing everything from humble apprentices to powerful sorcerers, from human thieves to alien invaders.
Feist’s work stands out for its fusion of epic and personal narratives.
While the Riftwar provides a backdrop of grandeur and spectacle, the saga’s heart lies in its focus on characters’ growth and relationships, lending a personal dimension to the interdimensional conflict.
Feist’s Riftwar Saga offered a unique blend of elements, taking the best of epic fantasy—grand scale, intricate world-building, a large cast of characters—and blending it with the alien worlds and interdimensional concepts more common in science fiction.
This cross-genre pollination, combined with the series’ emphasis on character development, played a substantial role in shaping the direction of modern epic fantasy.

Dungeons & Dragons

While our journey has primarily focused on literary works, it would be remiss not to acknowledge the influence of the iconic tabletop role-playing game, Dungeons & Dragons (D&D), on the evolution of epic fantasy.
Devised by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, D&D broke new ground in the world of gaming and storytelling, inviting players to step into the shoes of adventurers in a multitude of fantastical settings.
It established a framework of rules, races, classes, and magic systems that has since become synonymous with fantasy role-playing games.
The game encourages collaborative storytelling, as players navigate through adventures, or ‘campaigns,’ guided by a Dungeon Master.
This approach blends elements of improvisational theatre, narrative storytelling, and strategic gameplay into a singular experience.
In this way, D&D mirrors the richness of epic fantasy literature, offering characters, plots, and worlds that can be as complex and captivating as any novel.
D&D has not only inspired numerous fantasy authors but has also led to its own successful line of novels, such as the Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms series (more on those in a moment).
The game’s influence extends beyond the realm of literature and gaming, impacting broader pop culture and reinforcing the enduring appeal of the fantasy genre.
Dungeons & Dragons’ influence on the evolution of epic fantasy cannot be overstated. It has influenced countless authors, and spawned its own rich literary tradition, solidifying its place in the annals of epic fantasy.

Rolling the Dice with Dragonlance

The Dragonlance series, initiated by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, holds a unique place in the evolution of epic fantasy.
Born out of Dungeons & Dragons game sessions, the series merged the realms of tabletop gaming and fantasy literature, introducing a new level of collaborative storytelling and character development to the genre.
Set in the world of Krynn, the Dragonlance series brought the high-stakes adventure and camaraderie of role-playing games to the page.
The initial Chronicles Trilogy starts with “Dragons of Autumn Twilight,” launching readers into a tale of friendship, treachery, and epic battles, populated with a diverse cast of characters, each with their own distinctive traits and arcs.
Dragonlance’s world-building is characterised by a blend of classic fantasy elements with original creations, such as the different types of dragons, the orders of knighthood, and the various races inhabiting Krynn. The pantheon of gods and the magic system in Dragonlance are also tied closely to the Dungeons & Dragons mechanics, creating a familiar landscape for fans of the game while extending the narrative possibilities.
The series’ emphasis on character relationships and development, its exploration of moral themes, and the infusion of humour and camaraderie set it apart.
The characters of Dragonlance, from the heroic Tanis Half-Elven to the enigmatic Raistlin Majere, resonate with readers, often because of their flaws and inner conflicts rather than their heroic deeds.
The Dragonlance series, with its roots in Dungeons & Dragons, not only transformed the epic fantasy landscape but also highlighted the potential for role-playing games to inspire engaging and complex narratives.

Into the Depths with Forgotten Realms

Another cornerstone in the realm of fantasy literature rooted in the fertile ground of Dungeons & Dragons is the Forgotten Realms series.
This franchise, with dozens of authors contributing over the years, has expanded into a vast literary universe that showcases the storytelling possibilities of shared-world settings.
The most iconic subset of the Forgotten Realms series is R.A. Salvatore’s books featuring the drow, or dark elf, Drizzt
Do’Urden. Drizzt, with his moral complexity, deep sense of honour, and struggle against his people’s cruel reputation, quickly captured readers’ imaginations, making him one of the most beloved characters in all of epic fantasy.
Set within the sprawling world of Faerûn, the Forgotten Realms stories encompass a broad range of settings and characters.
The vastness of this shared world allows authors to delve into a myriad of stories, from high-stakes epic quests to smaller, more personal narratives, all against a richly imagined backdrop.
The Forgotten Realms series, particularly through iconic characters like Drizzt Do’Urden, underscores the genre’s ability to delve into the internal conflicts of individuals as much as external epic quests, offering a nuanced perspective on heroism and morality within the larger context of a shared universe.

Unraveling the Pawn of Prophecy

Continuing the trend of epic fantasy in the 1980s, David Eddings’ The Belgariad series, beginning with Pawn of Prophecy, brought a refreshing character-centric approach to the genre.
Eddings constructed a richly detailed world filled with diverse cultures, a pantheon of gods, and prophecies that entwine fate and free will.
The Pawn of Prophecy introduces us to Garion, an unassuming farm boy, who is catapulted into an epic quest to fulfill a grand prophecy.
Eddings’ focus on character development and interactions, particularly in the banter among Garion’s traveling companions, set a new standard for character dynamics within the genre.
Eddings’ approach to magic is also notable. In his world, sorcery is rooted in the Will and the Word, where a person’s will, when voiced, can influence the world. This concept adds an intellectual aspect to his magic system, tying it closely with the characters’ emotional states and mental discipline.
The Belgariad series, with its blend of rich world-building, engaging characters, and thought-provoking prophecies, has made a lasting impact on epic fantasy, with several modern author citing at as the series that made them want to write their own epic fantasy.
David Eddings demonstrated that at the heart of epic fantasy can be deeply human stories, where the characters and their relationships can be as compelling as the grandest of quests.

Unfolding Gene Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun

Gene Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun, a four-volume science fantasy epic, marks a significant departure from conventional epic fantasy narratives.
Its fusion of science fiction and fantasy, coupled with a complex, layered narrative, has profoundly influenced the genre.
The series is set in a far future Earth, now referred to as Urth, a dying world governed by a decaying society that has forgotten its technologically advanced past.
The narrative is presented as a memoir of Severian, a journeyman torturer who is exiled for the crime of showing mercy.
Wolfe’s work challenges the conventions of the genre, not just through its setting and narrative structure, but also through its complex use of language and its exploration of philosophical and theological themes.
The narrative is rife with allusions, allegory, and symbolism, which add multiple layers of meaning, making each rereading a new experience.
The Book of the New Sun also stands out for its unreliable narrator, Severian, whose flawed recollections add another layer of complexity to the narrative. This technique has influenced many contemporary fantasy authors, showcasing the narrative potential that lies in the unreliable perspective.
The Book of the New Sun is a landmark in the evolution of epic fantasy, broadening the genre’s thematic and narrative horizons.

Entering The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger

When you think of Stephen King, the genre that first comes to mind is likely horror, not epic fantasy.
Yet with The Dark Tower series, starting with The Gunslinger, King successfully merges these genres, producing a unique blend of epic fantasy, horror, western, and science fiction elements that defies easy categorization.
The series follows the journey of Roland Deschain, the last Gunslinger, in his relentless pursuit of the enigmatic Man in Black and the quest for the Dark Tower.
The Dark Tower itself, the nexus of all universes, is a compelling symbol of the intersection between order, chaos, and the protagonist’s obsession.
King’s complex narrative blends the mundane with the fantastical, intertwining parallel worlds, multiple timelines, and a medley of characters each uniquely flawed yet endearing.
The inclusion of elements from his other novels lends an additional layer of complexity to the series, effectively turning it into a meta-textual journey through King’s literary universe.
With The Gunslinger, King successfully integrated elements of American Westerns—the lone gunslinger, the arid desert, the pursuit of a formidable enemy—into the epic fantasy genre, presenting readers with a unique take on the hero’s journey.
The Dark Tower series demonstrates the flexibility of epic fantasy, highlighting its potential to borrow from and blend with other genres, further expanding its imaginative boundaries.

The Colourful Chaos of Discworld

Meanwhile, Terry Pratchett was busy turning the epic fantasy genre on its head with his satirical and whimsical Discworld series.
Set on a flat world balanced on the backs of four elephants riding a gigantic turtle swimming through space, Discworld is a testament to the limitless bounds of the genre.
Pratchett’s work played with tropes and clichés, using humour, satire, and wit to present deep philosophical and social commentaries.
The diversity of his characters, from sentient luggage to witches and city watchmen, created a universe as colourful and chaotic as our own.
By not taking itself too seriously, Discworld opened up a new path for the genre, one that allowed for laughter and profundity in equal measure.
Pratchett’s contribution demonstrated that epic fantasy could be light-hearted yet thoughtful, pushing the boundaries of the genre in unexpected and delightful ways.

Returning to Roots with Tad Williams’ Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn Trilogy

As epic fantasy continued to evolve, Tad Williams’ Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy returned to the genre’s roots while simultaneously pushing it towards new horizons.
Launched with “The Dragonbone Chair,” the trilogy is lauded for its revival of traditional fantasy motifs, skillfully reimagined within a complex narrative and thematic framework.
Set in the realm of Osten Ard, Williams’ series explores the fallout of a historic war between humans and the immortal Sithi.
The trilogy centres around Simon, a young kitchen boy, who is catapulted into an epic quest replete with magic swords, ancient prophecies, and warring factions.
While Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn employs traditional epic fantasy tropes, Williams breathes new life into these conventions.
His characters are complex and well-drawn, with Simon’s journey from kitchen boy to hero unfolding in a realistic and compelling manner.
Williams also delves into the complexities of power, history, and memory, infusing the series with a depth that transcends typical fantasy narratives.
Perhaps the most lasting impact of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, however, has been its influence on subsequent fantasy authors.
George R.R. Martin, in particular, has cited the trilogy as an inspiration for his A Song of Ice and Fire series, praising Williams for showing that epic fantasy could offer both the wonder of the imaginary and the dissection of human nature.

Spinning Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time

Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series is a cornerstone in the landscape of epic fantasy, known for its enormous scope and intricate detail.
Comprising 14 books, it is a sprawling saga set in a world that might be a far-future Earth, reshaping the genre with its depth and complexity.
The series explores the cyclical nature of time through its protagonist, Rand al’Thor, the reincarnation of a powerful figure destined to fight the Dark One.
Jordan’s work stands out for its enormous cast of characters, each contributing to the elaborate tapestry of a world teetering on the brink of chaos.
The magic system in the Wheel of Time, based on the male-female duality of the True Source, is a masterful blend of eastern philosophy and western mysticism.
This gender-based magic system contributes to the series’ exploration of gender dynamics, lending an interesting dimension to the narrative.
Jordan’s world-building is astonishingly detailed. His societies are steeply stratified and feature distinct cultures, languages, and histories, making the world feel incredibly real and lived-in.
He also masterfully interweaves political maneuvering, large-scale battles, and deeply personal character arcs, creating a rich, textured narrative. It is a testament to the genre’s capacity for grandeur and depth.

Exploring Historical Reflections

Known for his meticulous and evocative historical fantasy, Guy Gavriel Kay took a poetic leap with “A Song for Arbonne”.
Published in 1992, the novel is set in a world inspired by the rich culture and turbulent history of the medieval Occitan region, now modern-day southern France.
“A Song for Arbonne” offers readers a world of courtly love, bitter rivalries, and intricate political machinations, a backdrop against which Kay explores themes of love, honour, and the brutal cost of war.
His characters, from the honour-bound Blaise to the fiercely independent troubadour, Lisseut, are drawn with a level of depth and complexity that elevates them beyond mere reflections of their historical counterparts.
Kay’s approach to historical fantasy is unique in the way he infuses his world-building with a strong sense of real-world history.
While he reimagines historical events and cultures, he does so with such finesse and depth of understanding that the resulting world feels as vibrant and real as any true historical setting.
“A Song for Arbonne” is a prime example of how historical fiction and epic fantasy can meld together, creating a subgenre that offers the best of both worlds.
The novel stands as a testament to Kay’s skill as a storyteller, demonstrating the potential of epic fantasy to delve deep into human history and experience. This work has undeniably influenced future authors who weave historical tapestries into their fantastical worlds.

Braving Westeros

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin has indisputably reshaped the landscape of epic fantasy.
Set in the continents of Westeros and Essos, the series is best known for its intricate character webs, political intrigue, and a disregard for protecting its key characters.
The narrative, told from multiple points of view, explores the power struggles among noble houses vying for the Iron Throne.
This multi-perspective storytelling gives readers a comprehensive look into the complex, often morally ambiguous world Martin has created.
His characters, whether heroes or villains, are deeply flawed and multifaceted, challenging the traditional binaries of good and evil found in many epic fantasies.
Martin’s world-building is meticulous. From the harsh winters of the North to the sprawling desert lands of Dorne, every setting is imbued with a distinctive culture, politics, and history.
The series’ nuanced exploration of power, war, and societal structures sets it apart, making it a pioneer in ‘grimdark’ fantasy.
However, Martin’s most significant contribution is arguably his willingness to subvert reader expectations by killing off key characters.
This disregard for narrative safety adds a level of unpredictability, creating a palpable sense of danger and tension throughout the series.

Through the Eyes of the Farseer

Following this period of increasingly expansive and intricate world-building, a new chapter in the evolution of epic fantasy was heralded by the arrival of Robin Hobb and her Farseer Trilogy.
Hobb took a different approach, bringing the reader down from the soaring heights of cosmic struggle and grandeur to focus on a single character’s perspective—FitzChivalry Farseer, a royal bastard trained as an assassin.
Hobb’s mastery of character development and emotional depth added a new dimension to the genre.
Her world-building, while no less rich or detailed, was presented more subtly, woven into the very fabric of Fitz’s life and experiences.
She also introduced a unique magic system, where abilities range from animal telepathy (the Wit) to empathetic manipulation (the Skill).
She showed that epic fantasy need not be all about grand conflicts and large casts, but can also be deeply personal and emotional, delivering epic scope through the lens of a single character’s experience.

Unveiling the Malazan Enigma

In the evolution of epic fantasy, Steven Erikson’s formidable Malazan Book of the Fallen series stands out.
Erikson plunged readers into the deep end of a labyrinthine world, mirroring the complexity of real-life archaeology and anthropology.
Spanning continents, timeframes, and dimensions, Erikson’s ten-volume epic navigates through a vast sea of races, ancient history, a uniquely intricate magic system called ‘Warrens’, and an array of gods who meddle in mortal affairs.
But the grandeur of the Malazan world does not overshadow its exploration of philosophical and human themes.
Erikson digs deep into topics like compassion, mortality, and the cyclic nature of history, using the Malazan universe as his canvas. His approach to storytelling, a jigsaw of perspectives and non-linear narratives, offers a multifaceted exploration of these themes.
The Malazan Book of the Fallen, with its dense complexity and intellectual depth, stretched the boundaries of epic fantasy.
It proved that the genre can engage the intellect while providing entertainment, and redefined expectations for world-building and narrative depth.

Exploring Parallel Worlds in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials

Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, beginning with “Northern Lights,” introduced a level of philosophical and theological depth to epic fantasy that was groundbreaking at the time of its publication.
Set across parallel universes, including one resembling our own, the series follows Lyra Belacqua and Will Parry as they navigate complex universes teeming with witches, armoured bears, and daemons—external representations of a person’s inner self.
What sets His Dark Materials apart is its ambitious tackling of profound philosophical and theological questions.
The series deftly explores themes of free will, the nature of consciousness, and the criticism of organised religion.
This thematic richness, combined with Pullman’s brilliant storytelling, brings an intellectual heft to the genre.
Pullman’s creation of daemons—external manifestations of a person’s soul in the form of animal companions—is a unique contribution to epic fantasy, providing a strikingly original mechanism to explore characters’ inner lives.
Furthermore, the series’ protagonist, Lyra, is a complex and engaging female character whose narrative is not defined by a romantic storyline, a relative rarity in the genre. Pullman’s focus on a strong, independent young female lead has had a lasting impact on epic fantasy, paving the way for more such empowering characters.

Flying High with Eragon

Christopher Paolini’s Eragon, the inaugural novel in the Inheritance Cycle, brought a youthful perspective to the epic fantasy genre.
Written when Paolini was just a teenager, the series resonated with a younger audience, carving out a place for adolescent voices in the realm of epic fantasy.
Set in the world of Alagaësia, Eragon follows the journey of its titular character, a young farm boy, whose life takes an adventurous turn when he discovers a mysterious blue stone that turns out to be a dragon egg.
The story combines classic elements of epic fantasy, such as dragons, magic, and a grand quest, with a coming-of-age narrative that speaks directly to younger readers.
The world-building in Eragon is expansive and immersive, featuring a host of races, languages, and cultures.
Despite its traditional epic fantasy backdrop, the series manages to deliver a fresh take by focusing on the protagonist’s personal growth and the moral complexities he grapples with as he navigates his journey.
Perhaps the most significant contribution of Eragon to the evolution of epic fantasy lies in its appeal to a younger audience. Paolini’s series helped to bridge the gap between children’s fantasy and adult epic fantasy, thereby expanding the readership of the genre.

Uncovering The Lies of Locke Lamora

, the first book in the Gentleman Bastard series, is a high-octane adventure that blends elements of epic fantasy with crime caper.
This novel shines a light on the seedier side of fantasy, providing a refreshing contrast to stories of royal lineage and world-saving quests.
The narrative introduces Locke Lamora, an orphan turned con artist leading a band of thieves known as the ‘Gentleman Bastards.’
In the city-state of Camorr, a place with Venetian-like canals and Elderglass towers, they execute elaborate scams targeting the city’s rich nobility.
Lynch’s world-building is rich and immersive, portraying Camorr as a city teeming with political intrigue, gang warfare, and ancient secrets.
The magic, while not as prevalent as in other fantasy novels, lurks in the background, adding an air of mystery and menace.
What truly sets this novel apart is its focus on clever, high-stakes cons, and the deep camaraderie among the ‘Gentleman Bastards.’
Lynch presents an intriguing and gritty look at the lives of thieves, highlighting their ingenuity and resilience in a world filled with danger.

Unraveling Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles

Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles, beginning with “The Name of the Wind,” signify a distinctive approach to epic fantasy, combining traditional tropes with a deep dive into the psyche of its protagonist, Kvothe.
The series unravels as a first-person narrative, with an older Kvothe recounting his life story to the Chronicler over three days. This framework lends a uniquely introspective slant to the narrative, delving into the character’s motivations, feelings, and innermost thoughts in a manner seldom seen in epic fantasy.
Rothfuss’s world-building is both comprehensive and captivating, encompassing a magic system rooted in scientific principles, an array of diverse cultures, and a richly detailed history. The inclusion of songs, poems, and stories within the larger narrative creates a deeply immersive world, harking back to the oral tradition of storytelling.
However, the series distinguishes itself through its focus on the personal journey of Kvothe.
While most epic fantasies revolve around large-scale events and their implications, the Kingkiller Chronicles zeroes in on Kvothe’s life, from his days as a troupe performer to his time at the University stud/headying magic.
This character-driven narrative creates a powerful sense of intimacy, making Kvothe’s triumphs and tribulations profoundly relatable.

Stepping into The Way of Shadows

Brent Weeks’ The Way of Shadows, the first installment in the Night Angel trilogy, is an exhilarating foray into the dark underbelly of a world where assassins, or “wetboys,” wield magic.
The novel features a high-stakes tale of survival and transformation, delving into themes of power, sacrifice, and the moral complexities of vengeance.
The protagonist, Azoth, is a guild rat, struggling for survival in the slums, who apprentices himself to Durzo Blint, the realm’s most feared assassin.
His transformation into Kylar Stern, a professional killer, challenges the narrative conventions of the hero’s journey, exploring the harsh realities and moral ambiguities that come with his profession.
Weeks’ world-building is striking in its grit and complexity, with a magical system that is both mystical and cruel. The magic, termed Talent, is intertwined with the profession of wetboys, who employ it not just for killing, but also for stealth, healing, and even immortality.
The Way of Shadows blends elements of epic fantasy with a dark, almost noir-like atmosphere, resulting in a distinctly grim and captivating narrative.
Its focus on a morally gray protagonist, intricate magic system, and the exploration of sacrifice and survival broadens the horizons of epic fantasy.
Weeks’ series signifies the genre’s capacity for darkness and introspection, and the continuing exploration of its ethical boundaries.

Reframing Morality with Joe Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy

Entering the scene in the mid-2000s, Joe Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy cast a gritty, grey-tinted lens on the epic fantasy genre.
Known for its grim realism, moral ambiguity, and raw characterisation, Abercrombie’s series marked a significant departure from the genre’s traditional ‘good versus evil’ narrative.
The series, beginning with “The Blade Itself,” introduces us to a range of deeply flawed, complex characters, from a barbarian warrior to a crippled torturer.
Abercrombie’s world is not one of clear-cut heroes and villains but a murky realm where characters wrestle with their own vices, prejudices, and questionable morality.
Abercrombie’s works stand out for their harsh realism and biting wit.
He handles violence with unflinching honesty, emphasising its brutality and consequences.
His knack for subverting tropes and expectations has made the First Law Trilogy a standard-bearer for the ‘grimdark’ subgenre of fantasy.

Facing the Darkness with Peter V. Brett’s Demon Cycle

In a world where nightfall brings fear and the ever-present threat of demonic attack, Peter V. Brett’s Demon Cycle unfolds.
Starting with “The Warded Man” in 2008, the series melds the traditional fantasy premise of good versus evil with a nuanced examination of human nature and societal dynamics.
Brett’s world is one besieged by demons, known as corelings, rising from the earth’s core each night.
The only defence against these creatures are the protective wards, ancient symbols of power, which the inhabitants of this world use to shield their homes. This daily fight for survival creates a tense and relentless atmosphere that permeates the entire series.
Central to the Demon Cycle’s narrative is the journey of its characters, from fearful survivors to heroes. However, Brett adds depth by highlighting the societal changes and conflicts that emerge as these characters wield their newfound power, raising questions about leadership, responsibility, and the cost of survival.
The Demon Cycle is a significant contribution to the epic fantasy genre for its fusion of traditional fantasy tropes with intense survival drama and sociopolitical commentary.
The series demonstrates how the boundaries of epic fantasy can be expanded without sacrificing its core themes of heroism and conflict.

Exploring A Darker Shade of Magic

V.E. Schwab’s A Darker Shade of Magic, the inaugural book in the Shades of Magic series, is an exhilarating dive into parallel Londons, each with its own distinct relationship with magic.
Schwab’s novel masterfully blends elements of epic fantasy, parallel universes, and adventure, adding a splash of vibrant colour to the genre.
The story revolves around Kell, an Antari magician who can travel between four different Londons—Red, Grey, White, and the forbidden Black London. Each of these worlds is strikingly unique, varying in their level of magical saturation and societal structures, and is brought to life through Schwab’s immersive world-building.
Schwab introduces a compelling magic system, where magic is seen not just as a tool but as a living entity with its own will.
The relationship between the characters and magic is intrinsically tied to the world they inhabit, forming a crucial part of the narrative’s tension and intrigue.
Also noteworthy is Delilah Bard, a cunning thief from Grey London, who aspires to be a pirate. Schwab deftly subverts the damsel-in-distress trope with Delilah, who is driven by her ambition and thirst for adventure.
A Darker Shade of Magic is an excellent representation of the innovative potential in epic fantasy and showcases the vast, multi-dimensional landscape that epic fantasy literature has evolved to inhabit.

Diving into Six of Crows

Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows, the first in a duology, blends the thrilling heist elements of crime fiction with the immersive world-building of epic fantasy, creating a unique narrative that broadens the genre’s scope.
Set in the gritty, bustling city of Ketterdam, a hub for international trade and criminal activity, the story revolves around Kaz Brekker and his crew of skilled outcasts. These misfits are tasked with a near-impossible heist: breaking into the impenetrable Ice Court to retrieve a prisoner with invaluable knowledge.
Bardugo’s world-building is rich and intricate, extending the Grishaverse established in her earlier trilogy. She uses the heist as a narrative device to explore the socio-economic dynamics, racial disparities, and political machinations in this morally grey world.
The novel stands out for its well-drawn ensemble cast, each with a complex backstory and personal motivations that drive the narrative.
They bring diversity to the genre, not just in terms of their varied backgrounds, but also through the exploration of themes such as trauma, addiction, and identity.
Six of Crows is a testament to the genre’s ability to evolve beyond conventional fantasy tropes and settings. Bardugo skillfully intertwines elements of crime and epic fantasy, crafting a narrative centered around a high-stakes heist while exploring themes of friendship, loyalty, and survival.

Sailing with The Grace of Kings

Ken Liu’s The Grace of Kings, the first in the Dandelion Dynasty series, signals a significant shift in the epic fantasy genre towards a more diverse and globally inspired narrative.
Drawing on elements from Chinese history and mythology, Liu crafts an epic tale of rebellion, friendship, and the transformative power of stories.
The story takes place in the islands of Dara, where two unlikely friends, the bandit Kuni Garu and the defiant nobleman Mata Zyndu, rise against the tyranny of the emperor. Their friendship, tested by the tumult of rebellion and their differing ideologies, forms the emotional core of the narrative.
Liu’s world-building is elaborate and distinctly Eastern in flavour, a divergence from the predominantly Eurocentric settings in epic fantasy.
He infuses the narrative with elements of Chinese philosophy, mythological creatures, and a unique system of airships and battle kites.
Liu’s innovative blend of epic fantasy with elements of wuxia, silkpunk, and Chinese history exemplifies the potential for cultural diversity within the genre.

Unleashing The Fifth Season

Marking a shift in the tectonic plates of epic fantasy, N.K. Jemisin’s groundbreaking The Fifth Season redefined what the genre could encompass.
Set in a dystopian world, The Stillness, plagued by catastrophic climate changes known as ‘Seasons’, Jemisin weaves a story of survival, oppression, and the power of the earth itself.
Jemisin’s innovative narrative structure, employing second-person point of view and non-linear storytelling, challenged traditional storytelling conventions, lending a distinctive voice to the genre.
She breathed life into her characters and magic system, where ‘orogenes’ can control seismic activity, adding new layers to the world-building palette of epic fantasy.
Jemisin uses the plight of the orogenes to explore themes of systemic oppression and racism, embedding these discussions naturally within her world.
Her nuanced treatment of these subjects is both challenging and thought-provoking, ensuring her work resonates beyond the realm of fiction.
The Fifth Season, with its fusion of sociopolitical themes and inventive storytelling, solidified Jemisin’s place as a transformative force in epic fantasy.

Igniting the Powder Mage Revolution

Brian McClellan’s Powder Mage trilogy ignited a fresh spark in the world of epic fantasy with its innovative blend of traditional magic and historical elements, forming a genre sometimes referred to as ‘flintlock fantasy.’
McClellan constructs a unique world that resembles 18th-century Europe in the throes of revolutionary fervor, yet suffused with magic, where the smell of gunpowder is as familiar as the scent of blood.
The story revolves around a diverse group of characters caught up in political upheaval and civil war, including the titular ‘Powder Mages.’
These are individuals who can manipulate gunpowder to explosive effect, and even ingest it to enhance their physical abilities. This inventive magic system, juxtaposed with the series’ more conventional ‘Privileged’ sorcerers, establishes a tense dynamic that reflects the broader class struggle within McClellan’s world.
The Powder Mage series offers a distinctive twist on epic fantasy, merging elements of historical and military fiction with traditional fantasy tropes.
McClellan’s emphasis on military strategy, political intrigue, and battlefield tactics, combined with his gritty, unvarnished portrayal of war, adds a layer of realism that grounds the fantastical elements of the story.
Through the Powder Mage trilogy, McClellan demonstrates that epic fantasy can successfully incorporate and reimagine elements from other genres. His unique blend of magic, history, and politics not only expands the genre’s boundaries but also highlights the creative potential of epic fantasy, contributing to its ongoing evolution.

The Onset of The Poppy War

Navigating a fresh course in the sea of epic fantasy, R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy War offers a gripping, ruthless perspective on war and its costs.
Drawing inspiration from the tumultuous history of 20th century China, including the Second Sino-Japanese War and the Opium Wars, Kuang masterfully interweaves real historical events with fantastical elements, offering a rich, immersive backdrop for her tale.
The story follows Rin, a war orphan who escalates from obscurity to power through sheer determination and grit, but soon finds herself embroiled in the brutality of war and divine politics.
Rin’s journey is not one of heroism in the traditional sense—instead, it’s a harrowing examination of the devastating effects of war and the corrosive influence of power.
Kuang’s depiction of magic is tied intrinsically with gods and the price one must pay for their help. This links the fantastical with the horrific realities of war, and serves as a metaphor for the destructive power of weapons and the ethical dilemmas inherent in their use.
The Poppy War is a stark departure from many of its epic fantasy contemporaries. Its unflinching portrayal of war’s horrors and its engagement with themes of colonialism, racism, and power dynamics present a challenging, thought-provoking narrative.
Kuang’s work underscores the capacity of epic fantasy to grapple with grim historical realities and complex moral issues, further broadening the genre’s horizons.

The Unfolding of The Green Bone Saga

Fonda Lee’s Green Bone Saga, beginning with “Jade City”, offers a unique hybrid of epic fantasy and crime thriller, set in a world reminiscent of 20th-century Asia.
Lee’s trilogy deftly mixes martial arts, organised crime, and magic into a narrative that challenges traditional definitions of epic fantasy.
Centred on the island of Kekon, the story is grounded in the power of jade, a substance that bestows superhuman abilities upon its wearers.
The societal and economic implications of jade form the heart of the narrative, with rival clans vying for control over its trade.
Lee’s portrayal of jade as both a source of power and a potential curse mirrors the double-edged nature of wealth and ambition in real-world societies.
Character dynamics in the Green Bone Saga are deeply entwined with family loyalty and clan politics. The protagonists, members of the Kaul family, must navigate treacherous political waters while dealing with their own interpersonal struggles and the moral complexities of their actions.
With the Green Bone Saga, Lee effectively fuses elements of gangster drama with epic fantasy, creating a world that feels lived-in and authentic.

Exploring New Horizons with Black Leopard, Red Wolf

Marlon James’ Black Leopard, Red Wolf, the first installment in the Dark Star Trilogy, signifies a powerful emergence of Afrofuturism in the realm of epic fantasy.
With a narrative that interweaves African history, mythology, and James’ potent imagination, the novel challenges conventional fantasy tropes and brings in a fresh, non-Western perspective.
The novel’s protagonist is Tracker, a man with a keen sense of smell, who’s hired to find a missing boy. Accompanied by a diverse cast of characters including a shape-shifting man-leopard, he traverses ancient cities, dense forests, and treacherous kingdoms on his quest.
James’ world-building is both immersive and expansive, drawing heavily from African folklore and mythology. This rich cultural tapestry gives rise to a fantastical realm filled with unforgettable creatures, mystical landscapes, and deeply entrenched power struggles.
But it’s not just the African-inspired setting that distinguishes the novel. Black Leopard, Red Wolf is an exploration of truth and power, of love and loss, and the destructive and redemptive aspects of humanity.
With Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Marlon James redefines the boundaries of epic fantasy, bringing in the richness and diversity of African culture.
His complex narrative, combined with an innovative approach to storytelling, contributes significantly to the evolution of the genre, making it more inclusive and globally representative.

Riding the Indie Wave with Michael J. Sullivan’s Riyria Revelations

As the publishing landscape expanded and evolved, so too did the paths available to authors in the epic fantasy genre. One such trailblazer is Michael J. Sullivan, whose Riyria Revelations series emerged as a leading light in the independent publishing sector.
Riyria Revelations, which begins with “Theft of Swords,” combines traditional epic fantasy tropes with a buddy-cop dynamic, as it follows the adventures of the skilled thief Royce Melborn and his mercenary partner Hadrian Blackwater.
Sullivan’s journey to publication is particularly noteworthy. Initially rejected by corporate publishers, Sullivan decided to self-publish his work.
His series quickly gained a devoted following for its unique blend of high fantasy, humour, and heartl, illustrating the possibilities for independent authors in the modern publishing landscape.
The rise of self-publishing and independent authors like Sullivan has significantly broadened the epic fantasy genre. It allows for greater diversity in storytelling, as authors who might not fit the traditional publishing mold, or whose stories are deemed too risky or niche, can now reach their audience directly. This freedom has led to a flourishing of new voices and narratives, enriching the genre in countless ways.
Sullivan’s Riyria Revelations not only demonstrates the compelling storytelling of indie authors, but it also serves as an important reminder of the evolving pathways to publication in the genre.
Indie publishing continues to reshape the epic fantasy landscape, offering both authors and readers alike a wider array of narratives to explore and enjoy.

Allomancy and Highstorms: A New Giant Emerges

It’s fair to say we find ourselves in the age of Brandon Sanderson.
A veritable powerhouse of the genre, Sanderson has crafted works of staggering scope and imagination.
Sanderson’s Mistborn series is a key development in the epic fantasy genre, recognised for its innovative magic system, intricate plotting, and complex character development.
The series, beginning with “The Final Empire,” is set in a world where the prophesied hero has failed, and a tyrant known as the Lord Ruler has established a reign of terror.
Sanderson’s narrative turns the typical fantasy trope of the ‘chosen one’ on its head, offering a fresh perspective on the epic quest narrative.
However, the series’ standout feature is Sanderson’s intricate magic system.
Allomancy, the main magical system in Mistborn, is based on metals, where ‘Mistings’ can ingest and ‘burn’ a single type of metal to gain specific abilities, while ‘Mistborn’ can use all. This highly structured, almost scientific approach to magic has been influential in the genre, prompting other authors to rethink magic as a system with its own laws and limitations.
His characters are multi-dimensional, each with their own flaws, strengths, and motivations.
The narrative weaves multiple plot threads together, building towards an intricate, well-executed conclusion that pays off the series’ various narrative strands.
Following the Mistborn series, Sanderson embarked on an even more ambitious project, The Stormlight Archive.
Roshar is a world beset by fierce storms, and its flora and fauna have evolved to survive in these harsh conditions. This unique setting lends itself to some of the most original world-building in the genre.
Sanderson creates complex societies, intricate political structures, and detailed histories that enrich the reader’s experience of Roshar.
Sanderson introduces several magic systems in The Stormlight Archive, including Surgebinding and Shardbearing, each with their own distinct rules and limitations. This approach further showcases Sanderson’s ability to innovate within the epic fantasy genre, taking the idea of structured magic systems to new heights.
The series also features a diverse ensemble of characters, each with their own narrative arc, contributing to a multi-layered, complex story.
Characters grapple with issues of morality, duty, and identity, lending a depth and realism to the epic narrative.
The Stormlight Archive, with its exceptional world-building, multiple magic systems, and complex character arcs, represents a high point in the evolution of epic fantasy.
By weaving together these elements in a grand narrative, Sanderson demonstrates the genre’s potential to explore complex themes and ideas while captivating readers with rich, imaginative worlds.
His Stormlight Archive series, still in progress, is emblematic of the ongoing evolution of epic fantasy.
As the genre continues to grow and change, so too do the expectations of its readers.
Gone are the days when a simple tale of good vs. evil could suffice; now, readers demand intricate plots, morally ambiguous characters, and worlds so vast and detailed, they could be charted by a cartographer.

Embracing the Future of Epic Fantasy

And, so, we have arrived at the present day, with epic fantasy more diverse and imaginative than ever before. From Tolkien’s foundational work to Sanderson’s groundbreaking sagas, the genre has grown by leaps and bounds, enchanting readers the world over. It is a testament to the power of human imagination and the enduring appeal of a good story. As we stand on the precipice of uncharted literary territory, one thing is certain—the future of epic fantasy is as bright and boundless as it has ever been. And so,let us raise our goblets in a toast to the tales that have come before, and to those yet to be told. Cheers!  

Epic Fantasy vs. High Fantasy: What’s the Difference?

Explore the distinction between epic fantasy and high fantasy in this captivating blog post. Discover the allure of otherworldly realms, sweeping narratives, and extraordinary adventures.

Have you ever found yourself in the midst of a squabble at your local book club, arguing whether a certain tale belongs in the realm of high fantasy or epic fantasy?
Well, worry not, because by the end of this post, you’ll wield the power of knowledge like a mighty sword, or a mighty axe, or whatever else happens to be to hand, ready to cut through any confusion.

High Fantasy: Not Just a Tale of Towers and Tea

High fantasy, contrary to popular belief, isn’t just a genre where characters sit atop towering castles, sipping tea and discussing the metaphysical nature of dragonfire. No, it’s something much more profound, and dare I say, magical.
High fantasy, is all about otherworldliness.
It whisks you away from your mundane sofa (which reminds me, mine could probably do with a good dusting) and transports you into a world brimming with magic, mythical creatures and realms beyond our own.
Be it elves with an uncanny addiction to moonlight or unicorns who’ve developed a penchant for politics, high fantasy has it all.
The governing rule here is simple—the story must take place in a world entirely separate from our own, a place where reality checks its coat at the door.
So, if you’re reading a story where Earth is but a footnote, and magic is as commonplace as a boiled egg for breakfast, you’re knee-deep in the waters of high fantasy.

Epic Fantasy: A Grand Adventure, Minus the Bus Fare

Now, let’s turn our spyglass towards epic fantasy.
Just as the name suggests, epic fantasy is all about scale and grandeur.
It’s the literary equivalent of a seven-course banquet, replete with drama, sweeping narratives, and characters as complex as my Aunt Mabel’s knitting patterns.
Epic fantasy is all about the journey.
It’s about ordinary characters, like you and me (minus the love for fantasy, perhaps), who are thrust into extraordinary circumstances.
They must overcome Herculean challenges, defeat dastardly villains, and often, save the world whilst they’re at it.
So, if you’re reading a tale that spans generations, features a cast large enough to populate a small island, and includes a quest that makes your weekend DIY project seem trifling, then congratulations! You’ve boarded the epic fantasy express.

High Fantasy vs. Epic Fantasy: The Showdown

But wait, I hear you cry, can’t a story be both high and epic fantasy?
Indeed, the two are not mutually exclusive.
A tale can whisk us away to a fantastical world (high fantasy) and regale us with a grand, sweeping narrative (epic fantasy).
In fact, many of the most beloved fantasy books do just that.
However, not all high fantasy is epic, and not all epic fantasy is high.
A story about an elf prince living in a magical world, dealing with the daily trials of royal life (including, of course, the notorious moonlight addiction), would be high fantasy, but not particularly epic.
On the flip side, an earthbound tale about a postman’s grand adventure to deliver a mysterious package, fraught with peril and intrigue, could be quite epic, but not at all high fantasy.

So, there you have it, the difference between high fantasy and epic fantasy, as clear as a crystal ball (well, a well-polished one at least).
Whether you prefer your fantasy high, epic, or a splendid mix of the two, remember: the best part of fantasy is its ability to transport us, to captivate us, and to remind us of the magic hidden within our own world.
After all, isn’t that the reason we read fantasy in the first place?

The Influence of Mythology and Folklore on Modern High Fantasy

Uncover the enchanting influence of mythology and folklore on the high fantasy genre. Join us on a journey through epic quests, magical realms, and prophetic tales of dragons and wizards.

Today, we shall embark on an heroic journey through the realms of mythology and folklore, delving into their influence on the high fantasy genre.

So, grab a cup of tea, settle into your favourite armchair, and prepare to be regaled with tales of dragons, wizards, and all manner of mythical beasts.

A Brief History Lesson

Before we dive headfirst into the fantastical world of high fantasy, let us take a brief detour through the mists of time to explore the origins of mythology and folklore.

From the Epic of Gilgamesh to the tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, we humans have always had a penchant for spinning yarns about mythical beings and grand adventures.

It’s no wonder, then, that these stories have left an indelible mark on the genre of high fantasy, providing a veritable treasure trove of inspiration for authors, both old and new.

Now, let us examine some of the most well-known mythological and folkloric elements that have found their way into high fantasy literature.

Magic

Magic is as old as storytelling itself.

In the ancient myths of Greece, we see the witch Circe using her magic to transform Odysseus’s crew into pigs.

Meanwhile, in Norse tales, we have the Allfather Odin, who’s not shy about using a bit of the old magical arts, even if it involves plucking out an eye for wisdom.

Now, let’s swap our ancient scrolls for the glossy covers of modern high fantasy, where the mystical mumbo jumbo continues to enthral.

In Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series, magic is a complex system of checks and balances, involving ingesting and ‘burning’ metals.

It’s not quite “eye of newt, and toe of frog,” but it sure keeps the plot turning faster than a witch’s cauldron.

In Patrick Rothfuss’s The Kingkiller Chronicle, magic, or Sympathy as it’s known, is a bit like a university degree—demanding, dangerous, and very likely to leave you in masses of debt.

Whether it’s transforming spells of yore or the arcane arts in our beloved high fantasy sagas, magic continues to captivate us, sparking our imagination and making us check twice in wardrobes for secret worlds.

Epic Quests

Ever since our cave-dwelling ancestors first etched a hunter’s journey onto a rock wall, humanity has been captivated by tales of epic quests.

After all, who doesn’t love a good yarn about some plucky hero venturing out into the unknown to slay monsters, find treasure, or pop to the shops for a pint of milk?

When it comes to ancient literature, the quest narrative is as ubiquitous as a rainy Manchester afternoon.

These quests are typically bold undertakings filled with wondrous adventures, strange creatures, and a spot of character development for our heroic protagonists.

Most importantly, they’ve served as inspiration for the modern high fantasy tales we love so dearly today.

One of the oldest examples of the epic quest narrative comes from Mesopotamia in The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Here, our eponymous hero Gilgamesh and his beefy buddy Enkidu venture into the Cedar Forest to square up against the beastly Humbaba.

It’s all for the sake of fame and glory, and it sets the stage for all subsequent epic quests.

After all, what’s a bit of casual monster-slaying between friends, eh?

Meanwhile, the ancient Greeks were not ones to be outdone in the epic quest department.

The Odyssey, one of the West’s oldest and most beloved epics, recounts Odysseus’s ten-year struggle to return home after the Trojan War. Along the way, he encounters cyclopes (who are not very fond of wine, it turns out), enchantresses, and cantankerous gods—a full roster of fantastical beings that wouldn’t feel out of place in a modern fantasy epic.

Now, fast forward a few millennia and we can see how these ancient quests inspire our beloved high fantasy narratives.

We can see these tropes in modern high fantasy tales, too.

Think of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series, where numerous characters venture on epic quests, from Jon Snow’s journey beyond the Wall to Daenerys Targaryen’s path to reclaim her throne.

Not to mention her penchant for raising fire-breathing pets, which beats goldfish any day.

The point is, the epic quest, while thousands of years old, is a narrative we never grow tired of.

Perhaps it’s the sense of adventure, the battle against the odds, or just the joy of watching a character grow from zero to hero (or in some cases, zero to slightly-better-zero).

But no matter the reason, it’s clear that the epic quests of ancient literature continue to echo in our modern tales, providing a rich tapestry of inspiration for authors and a bounty of exciting tales for readers.

Prophecies

If there’s one thing that gets our literary pulses racing, it’s a good old prophecy.

Whether it’s foretelling the rise of a hero, the fall of a villain, or the precise moment your kettle will boil (usually when you’ve nipped to the loo), prophecies are a storytelling staple that never seems to lose its flavour.

From the mysterious riddles of the ancient world to the plot-twisting predicaments of modern high fantasy, prophecies are the Worcestershire sauce of narrative condiments.

They add a bit of zest, a dash of mystery, and a generous helping of ‘what on earth is going to happen next?’

When it comes to the classics, the Greeks really knew how to spin a prophetic yarn.

The Oracle of Delphi was a one-stop shop for all your prophetic needs. However, like the small print in a dodgy phone contract, her prophecies were often quite vague and open to interpretation.

A classic example can be found in Sophocles’ tragedy Oedipus Rex. The prophecy stated that Oedipus would end up doing in his dad and marrying his mum.

 Attempting to avoid this awkward family reunion, Oedipus legs it to a different city, bumps off a stranger (who, surprise surprise, turns out to be his dad), and marries the local widow (you can guess where this is going).

The lesson? When it comes to prophecy, you can run but you can’t hide.

Fast-forward a few millennia, and the tradition of cryptic prophecies is alive and well in the realm of high fantasy. George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series is a smorgasbord of prophecies, dreams, and visions.

The ‘prince who was promised’ prophecy, for instance, has kept readers and characters alike guessing.

Is it Jon Snow? Daenerys? Or Hot Pie? We’re still waiting for that one to bake.

J.K. Rowling also serves up a fresh prophecy in her Harry Potter series. Professor Trelawney’s prediction that a boy born at the end of July would be the one to vanquish Lord Voldemort sets the stage for the entire series.

Spoiler alert: it’s not Neville. Though let’s be honest, Neville had his moments…

These prophecies, like their ancient predecessors, work because they create suspense and drive the narrative.

They offer a tantalising glimpse of what might come to pass, without giving the game away.

In a nutshell, prophecies are like that friend who hints at a surprise birthday party but refuses to give any details.

It’s maddening, exciting, and keeps us on our toes.

They’ve been a part of storytelling for thousands of years, adding spice to our myths, folklore, and high fantasy tales.

Other Realms

Otherworldly realms have mystified mankind since time immemorial.

 From gloomy underworlds to luminous fairylands, these magical domains have played pivotal roles in mythology and folklore, and continue to captivate us in the realms of modern fantasy.

First on our itinerary is the underworld, a staple in many mythologies.

Arguably the most famous is the Greek underworld, ruled by the god Hades. Yes, that’s right, even in the afterlife there’s still bureaucracy.

But, bear in mind, if you’re planning a visit, be sure to avoid the local cuisine—Persephone can attest to the unfortunate side effects of indulging in a seemingly innocent pomegranate seed snack.

In Nordic mythology, we have Valhalla, the eternal feasting hall where Viking heroes spend their afterlives in a continuous cycle of fighting and feasting.

It’s sort of like a never-ending stag do, but with more axes and less curry.

Then there’s Fairyland, a realm full of magic and mischief, traditionally accessed via portals in the natural world, like rings of mushrooms or ancient hawthorn trees.

Be wary of their hospitality, though, or you might find yourself stuck there for a few centuries.

Now, let’s step through the wardrobe (mind the coats) into the world of modern fantasy.

First off, there’s the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman, which takes the concept of other realms to a whole new level with the idea of parallel universes.

Here we see everything from our own recognisable world to the eerily beautiful realm of Cittàgazze, a city haunted by soul-eating spectres.

It’s like Venice, but with fewer gondolas and more terror.

And let’s not forget the mystical lands in C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia.

Through a humble wardrobe, we’re transported to a land where animals talk, witches have a worrisome obsession with Turkish Delight, and wardrobes are definitely larger on the inside.

And no exploration of other realms in fantasy would be complete without mentioning the realm of Faerie in Holly Black’s The Cruel Prince series.

In these books, we encounter a realm both breathtakingly beautiful and chillingly brutal, reminding us that other realms, like people, have their dark and light sides.

Other realms serve as reminders of the infinite possibilities of the human imagination.

They give us space to explore complex ideas, confront our deepest fears, and maybe even encounter a unicorn or two.

Just remember, if you do decide to venture into another realm, be sure to read the small print, respect the local customs, and whatever you do, don’t eat the food.

Gods and Demigods

Gods and demigods are powerful beings whose exploits have coloured our narratives from the earliest myths to the most recent fantasy yarns.

First off, we have the gods, our divine heavyweights.

From the chiselled Olympians of ancient Greece, to the Norse pantheon chilling in Valhalla, these celestial beings wield power that can shape the earth, command the elements, and, apparently, complicate the lives of mortals.

Next up, the demigods—the result of divine dalliances with mortals.

These half-god, half-human hybrids often find themselves in the middle of epic quests, world-saving, and a lot of identity crisis.

From Hercules to Perseus, these guys are proof that having a god for a parent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Gods, in their majestic might, have found a cosy home in stories like Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, where they tackle the peculiar nuances of modern life. I

Demigods, meanwhile, have stamped their heroic mark in series like Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson books.

Whether it’s the awe-inspiring power of gods, or the relatable struggles of demigods, these divine figures from ancient lore continue to cast their influence on our modern high fantasy tales.

Witches

What’s the first image that pops into your head when I say “witch?”

A cackling crone with a pointy hat, a warty nose, and an affection for cats and broomsticks?

Perhaps an eye of newt and toe of frog recipe?

Or, if you’re more aligned with modern high fantasy, a powerful and complex figure with a deep understanding of the arcane arts?

 Regardless of your witchy vision, there’s no denying that these spellbinding ladies have left an indelible mark on literature and folklore, from the ancient world to Terry Pratchett’s beloved Discworld series.

Our earliest witchy wanderings take us back to ancient Greece, where the witch-goddess Circe made a name for herself in Homer’s Odyssey.

 Circe had a penchant for turning men into pigs.

However, she wasn’t all about the porcine transformation; she also helped our hero Odysseus on his epic journey home, showing us that witches can be just as helpful as they are harmful.

Skipping ahead a few centuries, we meet the witches of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the Weird Sisters.

With their eerie chants of “Double, double toil and trouble,” they whip up a storm of trouble for our ambitious antihero.

They’re a classic example of the trope of witches as foretellers of doom and spreaders of chaos. And let’s face it, they’ve got a cracking recipe for disaster soup.

Now, hold onto your hats, folks, because we’re hopping on our broomsticks and soaring into the modern realm of high fantasy.

One needn’t look further than the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series for some of the most iconic and subversive witches in fantasy literature.

Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat Garlick (later replaced by the adorably feisty Tiffany Aching) are the witches of the ramshackle kingdom of Lancre.

They don’t fit the stereotypical mould of cackling, evil hags. Instead, they use their headology (a sort of folk-psychology-meets-common-sense approach), their knowledge of herbs and the human heart, and their innate grit to solve problems.

Granny Weatherwax, with her iron will and no-nonsense attitude, is the antithesis of the evil witch trope.

Nanny Ogg is the bawdy, jovial matriarch we all wish we had, while Magrat and Tiffany represent the idealistic, modern young witch trying to find her place in the world.

Pratchett’s witches are fully-realised characters, complete with strengths, weaknesses, and wonderfully quirky habits (we’re looking at you, Nanny Ogg and your naughty songs).

Over the year, witches have evolved from malicious spell-weavers and fortune-tellers into complex, multi-faceted characters.

They’ve gone from the sidelines of myth and folklore to the forefront of modern high fantasy, casting a spell that continues to enchant readers of all ages.

Wizards

Whether you picture a bearded old man in a pointy hat or a bespectacled boy with a lightning bolt scar, there’s no doubt that wizards have cast a spell over our literary imaginations.

From their beginnings in ancient folklore to their lofty status in modern high fantasy, these magical maestros have had quite the journey.

Our first stop is in ancient Egypt, where we meet the high priest Djedi, who was said to be able to bring a decapitated animal back to life.

Now, I’m not sure about you, but I’d say resurrecting a goose definitely earns you a spot in the wizarding hall of fame.

Returning to ancient Greece, we encounter Medea. his enchantress, who appears in the myth of Jason and the Golden Fleece, certainly knew her way around a spell or two.

She could mix potions, control the elements, and generally bewitch anyone who got in her way. Although technically a witch, Medea’s powers and influence over the narrative can be seen as a precursor to our modern understanding of a wizard.

Moving on to the Medieval era, the figure of Merlin emerges in Arthurian legends.

Now, here’s a bloke who truly embodies the classic image of a wizard.

With his long beard, mysterious origins, and propensity for prophecies, Merlin set the standard for wizard-kind for centuries to come.

The mighty Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings is a wizard par excellence.

He’s old, wise, and can put on a fireworks display to put New Year’s Eve in London to shame.

Plus, he’s got that killer line, “You shall not pass!” which is handy not only when facing demon Balrogs but also when dealing with queue jumpers at the local chippy.

On the flip-side of a Merlin or Gandalf, we have Terry Pratchett’s wizard Rincewind from the Discworld series.

Now, Rincewind’s not your typical wizard—in fact, he’s rather rubbish at magic.

His true talent lies in running away and surviving against all odds, demonstrating that sometimes, it’s not the strength of the magic that matters, but the strength of the character.

And who could forget the wizarding world’s most famous teenager, Harry Potter?

This bespectacled boy wizard has undoubtedly left his mark (much like that pesky lightning bolt scar of his) on the world of fantasy literature, bringing magic and wizardry to a new generation of readers.

Smallfolk

From elves to pixies, and gnomes to dwarves, these small humanoids may be lacking in height but are positively brimming with character.

Our first stop is ancient Ireland, where we encounter the mischievous leprechaun.

This little green chappie, with his propensity for shoe-mending and rainbow-hoarding, is a cornerstone of Irish mythology.

But be warned, if you’re planning on nabbing his pot of gold, remember this: leprechauns are not to be trifled with.

Journeying northwards, we find ourselves amid the Viking sagas and their hardy dwarves.

These stout fellows were renowned for their craftsmanship, forging legendary items such as Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir.

Then, there’s the realm of the fairy folk, sprinkled throughout European folklore.

Ranging from the delicate, fluttery-winged beings of English lore to the more elusive and sometimes sinister entities found in Scottish and Irish tales.

Fast forward to the modern era of high fantasy, and we find J.R.R. Tolkien’s hobbits of The Lord of the Rings.

These pint-sized heroes, with their love for second breakfasts and their big, hairy feet, have won the hearts of millions.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin remind us that even the smallest person can change the course of the future. Just don’t ask them to share their elevenses.

Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series also boasts a delightful array of smaller humanoids.

The Nac Mac Feegle (also known as the Wee Free Men) are a rowdy, boisterous group of blue-skinned, red-haired pictsies who enjoy fighting, stealing, and drinking.

As Pratchett so astutely puts it, they are “the most feared of all the fairy races, even before you get to the point of mentioning that they’re all six inches tall.”

From the early folklore of leprechauns and dwarves to the modern imaginings of hobbits and house-elves, small humanoids have always been a big part of our storytelling tradition.

They remind us of the power of the underdog (or undergnome, or underpixie), the potential for magic in unexpected places, and the truth of the old saying: good things come in small packages.

Magical Creatures

A time comes in every man’s life where you have to sit down and say, “let’s talk unicorns.”

These majestic beasts, with their singular spiralling horns and penchant for purity, have trotted through tales from ancient India to Medieval Europe.

Many a noble knight was said to have wasted his days chasing these elusive creatures, presumably because they had an aversion to practical pursuits like jousting or crocheting.

This majestic creature, boasting the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, has been a mainstay in mythology since the ancient Greeks first said, “you know what our stories need? More flying lions.” And frankly, who are we to disagree?

Next on our list is the ever-rising phoenix.

Hailing from ancient Egyptian and Greek mythology, this fiery bird had the rather handy trick of bursting into flames and being reborn from its own ashes.

Next up, we have Pegasus, the winged horse of Greek mythology.

Born from the blood of the slain Medusa, this high-flying steed had quite the dramatic entrance into the world.

He later served the hero Bellerophon, until a fall from grace—or rather, a tumble from the horse—sent Bellerophon back to the ground.

Then, we come to the centaur: half-human, half-horse, and all-around fascinating.

They trotted their way from ancient Greek lore to the fantastical world of Narnia and beyond, forever raising questions about where exactly they buy their trousers.

Moving from ancient lore to the realm of modern fantasy, we continue to see these magical creatures and their kin popping up all over the place.

Our beloved unicorn has evolved from the unattainable symbol of purity into magical creatures found in the pages of Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn.

They still carry the ethereal quality of yore, but with added layers of depth and pathos that leave us reaching for the tissues.

Then there’s the griffin.

Pegasus, the flying horse, inspired J.K. Rowling’s winged beasts in the Harry Potter series, from Buckbeak the Hippogriff to Fawkes the Phoenix.

Our magical tour continues to reveal the rich tapestry of mythical beasts that have galloped, flown, and trotted their way from ancient mythology to the heart of modern fantasy.

They add a pinch of the extraordinary to our stories and continue to ignite our sense of wonder. And who knows, next time you spot an unusually large bird in the sky or hear a rustle in the forest, you might just start to wonder…

Monsters

Let’s begin with the not-so-gentle giants. They’ve stomped their way through folklore from Jack’s beanstalk to the tales of David and Goliath.

Always towering over us mere mortals, they have a knack for making us feel like Lilliputians on a bad day.

Next on our parade of peculiarities are the goblins.

These mischievous miscreants of the night have their roots in European folklore.

Not exactly known for their good looks, they’re usually trotted out to serve as a warning to children who misbehave.

I imagine it’s like saying, “eat your peas, or the goblins will get you.”

And let’s not forget the brutish ogres.

This lot have been the stuff of nightmares since their first mention in the epic French poem “La Chanson de Roland”.

Traditionally depicted as large, ugly and fond of human snacks, these creatures would make terrible dinner guests.

Next on our monster menu are the harpies. These winged women of Greek mythology, known for their screeching cries and unsavoury habits, were once considered the personifications of wind.

Of course, over time they’ve become less wind goddess and more flying fury.

Next up, we have the infamous Minotaur.

This half-man, half-bull chap was known for his residence in a labyrinth on Crete and his penchant for the occasional human snack. If ever there was a case for carrying a ball of string and avoiding suspicious mazes, it’s this fellow.

Lastly, we have the trolls of Norse folklore. These behemoths, known for their strength, slow wits, and aversion to sunlight, were not the sort of creature you’d want to stumble upon on a late-night hike.

Switching on the lantern of modern fantasy, we can see the shadows of these monsters stretching out into some of our favourite tales.

The giants have been reinvented by J.K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series. Here, they range from the sympathetic and slightly dense Hagrid to the less appealing and significantly more violent Golgomath.

Goblins, with their green skin and industrious nature, find a home in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth.

They may be miners and metalsmiths, but their union rights leave much to be desired, and their customer service skills are truly something to wince at.

And then, there’s Shrek, our favourite ogre from William Steig’s book and the beloved DreamWorks film series.

He might have a face only a mother (or Fiona) could love, but he shows us that even ogres can have layers, just like onions.

The harpies, with their shrill cries and chaotic nature, can be found in Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series.

In these stories, they’ve been repurposed as punishment for those who overstay their welcome in the underworld.

It’s like being told to move along by a terrifying, shrieking bird-woman.

Our bull-headed friend, the Minotaur, also makes an appearance in the Percy Jackson series, where he’s quite miffed about being beaten by a young lad with a piece of string all those years ago.

And finally, trolls. They’ve found a new home under J.R.R. Tolkien’s bridges and within J.K. Rowling’s magical world.

Sea Monsters

Now it’s time to dive into into the ocean’s depths, exploring the mysteries and myths of sea monsters. From the mighty Kraken to the enchanting merfolk and deadly sirens, we’ll traverse the tumultuous tides of ancient legends to the calmer seas of modern fantasy.

First on our maritime itinerary is the colossal Kraken.

This legendary sea monster, hailing from Norse sagas, was reputedly large enough to envelop entire ships with its giant tentacles.

Next, we have the merfolk.

These aquatic creatures with the upper body of a human and the tail of a fish are prevalent in folklore from all over the world.

They might seem inviting, but their whimsical nature hides a propensity for causing shipwrecks.

Lastly, we’ll listen for the captivating call of the sirens.

These Greek mythological creatures, often confused with mermaids, were said to lure sailors to their doom with their irresistible songs.

Now, let’s surface into the realm of modern fantasy, where these sea monsters continue to make waves.

The terrifying Kraken appears in Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series, proving that even demigods should be wary of what lurks beneath the ocean’s surface.

Merfolk, in all their alluring mystique, have swam into the hearts of modern readers in stories like Sarah Henning’s Sea Witch. These aren’t your Disney princesses, mind you. They’ve got more bite than you’d expect from fishfolk.

And who can forget the sirens? Their enchanting melodies have echoed through the pages of countless fantasy novels, including the Watersong series by Amanda Hocking.

The Undead

Next, we’re lifting the lid on the coffin of undead mythology, from the spectral ghosts to bloodthirsty vampires and shambling zombies.

These timeless terrors have been chilling our spines from ancient legends to modern fantasy, so grab a garlic necklace, and let’s dig into the details!

First up, we have our friendly neighbourhood apparitions, the ghosts.

From Ancient Egypt to Shakespearean England, these ethereal beings have been haunting our narratives, often sticking around due to some unfinished business.

Next, let’s sink our teeth into vampires.

These undead aristocrats, originating from Eastern European folklore, are famed for their penchant for a liquid diet—type O, please, hold the garlic.

Lastly, we’ve got the ever-persistent zombies.

With roots in Haitian folklore, these undead folk don’t let a little thing like mortality get in the way of a good walk.

Ghosts float through many of our favourite stories.

From the mournful spirits in Susan Dennard’s Witchlands series to the helpful ghosts of Hogwarts in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, they’re as much a part of the scenery as the cobwebs in an old house.

Vampires, with their impressive canines and nocturnal habits, have swooped into the likes of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles and Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series.

For some unfathomable reason, there’s something tantalising about a brooding, eternally young fellow who only comes out at night.

And let’s not forget the zombies, those steady if somewhat slow, pursuers of the living.

In novels like World War Z by Max Brooks, they serve as a stark reminder that the slow and steady can indeed win the race, especially if the race is to devour brains.

Dragons

As the old saying goes, “Here be dragons!” But what are dragons, really?

Not the scaly blighters who keep nicking the BBQ sausages off your grill.

No, we’re talking about the fire-breathing, gold-hoarding, riddle-spouting creatures that have haunted the nightmares and fantasies of many a culture around the world.

Dragons are fascinating creatures.

They’re the Beyoncés of the mythological world—everyone’s heard of them, and they come with a full range of talents.

Breath of fire? Check.

Flight? Yep.

Shapeshifting, telepathy, riddles? All present and correct.

They’re multi-talented, to say the least, and it’s not difficult to see why they’ve captivated the imaginations of authors and readers alike in the realm of high fantasy.

One of the main reasons we’re so drawn to dragons, I suspect, is because they’re wildly different depending on who you ask.

In much of Western mythology, dragons are usually the baddies.

 They’re the embodiment of chaos and destruction, a menace that needs to be sorted out by our brave knight in shining armour.

St. George and the Dragon, anyone?

Meanwhile, some Eastern mythologies give us a different perspective.

 Here, dragons are often benevolent, symbols of wisdom and power, the kind of being you wouldn’t mind having around for a cuppa and a chat.

 They’re associated with water, agriculture, and the heavens, embodying harmony rather than chaos.

So, one dragon’s fiery chaos is another dragon’s spot of tea.

This diversity offers authors a fantastic toolbox when they’re crafting their high fantasy novels.

Whether a dragon is a fearsome antagonist, a wise ally, or an intriguing mixture of the two, it’s the dragon’s character that adds depth and colour to a tale.

It’s the one creature where the sky isn’t just the limit—it’s a mere starting point.

But these mythological fire-breathers didn’t simply pop up overnight.

Dragons have been slithering around in the imaginations of humans for millennia.

From their ominous roles in ancient religious texts to the great epics of early literature, let’s set our time machine back a bit and explore some of these beastly origin stories.

The Babylonian creation myth, the Enuma Elish, introduces us to the rather marvellous Tiamat, a chaos sea-dragon.

She’s one of the earliest dragon-esque beings in mythology.

With her, we’re in serious trouble. I mean, she’s the embodiment of chaos. Nice lass, I’m sure, but not one for a quiet pint down at the local.

Fast forward to ancient Greece and we encounter a plethora of dragon-like creatures.

There’s the Hydra, a water serpent with nine heads, slain by our friendly neighbourhood demigod, Hercules.

And let’s not forget about Python, a dragon-serpent slain by the god Apollo, which even had a prophecy-telling gig at the Oracle of Delphi.

Over in the Bible, we have the well-known serpent from the Garden of Eden in the book of Genesis, often interpreted as a dragon in early Christian art and literature.

And don’t get me started on Revelation, where dragons and serpents are all the rage, particularly one “great red dragon” with seven heads.

Even the ancient Chinese had a spot for dragons, who were often considered as deities associated with water and weather.

These dragons were vastly different from their Western counterparts – they were symbols of power and luck, rather than monstrous beasts.

They even had a Dragon King, who was in charge of rain and water. So, if you had a water leak, you knew who to blame.

Whether they were feared or revered, dragons have been an integral part of cultural lore across the world, shaping tales and myths for thousands of years.

Even today, in our high fantasy novels, we see echoes of these ancient dragon tales, reminding us of our enduring fascination with these legendary beasts.

The Hero’s Journey

The Hero’s Journey, or monomyth, is a common template found in many stories from cultures around the world.

Proposed by Joseph Campbell, it illustrates the cyclical journey undertaken by the protagonist—the hero—in a transformative adventure.

From the trials and tribulations of Odysseus in Homer’s The Odyssey to the adventures of Hiccup in How to Train Your Dragon, the hero’s journey is a tried and true formula that continues to capture the imaginations of readers the world over.

After all, who doesn’t love a good underdog story?

The Hero’s Journey in The Lord of the Rings

The Ordinary World: This is the hero’s regular life before the story begins. For Frodo Baggins, the hero of our tale, this is his peaceful existence in the Shire.

Call to Adventure: The hero is presented with a challenge or quest. In Frodo’s case, this comes when he inherits the One Ring from Bilbo and learns of its dark history from Gandalf.

Refusal of the Call: Often, the hero will initially refuse the call due to fear or uncertainty. While Frodo is anxious about the dangerous journey, he understands the necessity and takes up the mission.

Meeting the Mentor: The hero encounters someone who provides guidance or training. Gandalf serves as Frodo’s mentor, imparting knowledge about Middle-Earth, the Ring, and the dangerous quest ahead.

Crossing the Threshold: The hero leaves their ordinary world and embarks on their quest. Frodo, accompanied by his friends, leaves the Shire to take the Ring to Rivendell.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies: The hero faces a series of challenges while making friends and encountering foes. Frodo and his companions – the Fellowship of the Ring – encounter numerous obstacles, from Orcs to the treacherous Gollum.

Approach to the Inmost Cave: The hero approaches the goal. For Frodo, this is his arduous journey towards Mount Doom, the only place where the Ring can be destroyed.

The Ordeal: This is a major challenge that the hero must overcome, usually facing death or severe danger. Frodo faces many ordeals, notably the climactic struggle at Mount Doom, where he battles the influence of the Ring and Gollum’s treachery.

Reward (Seizing the Sword): After overcoming the ordeal, the hero receives a reward or accomplishes their goal. Frodo’s reward is the destruction of the Ring, leading to the defeat of Sauron and the liberation of Middle-earth.

The Road Back: The hero must return to their ordinary world. Here, Frodo and his companions return to the Shire.

Resurrection: This is the final test, where the hero must face the consequences of their journey. For Frodo, this is the scouring of the Shire, where he and his companions defend their home one last time.

Return with the Elixir: The hero returns to the ordinary world but is transformed by their journey. Frodo, forever changed by his journey, ultimately decides to leave Middle-earth with the elves, passing on his story (the ‘elixir’) to Sam to continue in the Shire.

Ten High Fantasy Books Inspired by Mythology and Folklore

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Blending elements of American folklore, Norse mythology, and modern-day life, Gaiman’s tale follows ex-convict Shadow Moon as he becomes embroiled in a war between the old gods and the new.

Circe by Madeline Miller

This enchanting novel tells the story of Circe, the daughter of the Titan Helios and the nymph Perse, who is banished to a remote island where she hones her witchcraft and encounters legendary figures from Greek mythology.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Drawing upon European folklore and mythology, Beagle’s novel tells the story of a unicorn who sets out on a journey to discover why she is the last of her kind, encountering a cast of colorful characters along the way. The novel is known for its beautiful prose and poignant exploration of themes such as love, loss, and mortality.

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden

Set in medieval Russia, Arden’s novel draws upon Russian folklore and Slavic mythology to tell the story of a young girl named Vasilisa who must protect her village from dark forces.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

In this epic fantasy tale, Rothfuss draws inspiration from various mythologies and folklores to create a richly detailed world filled with magic, music, and adventure.

The Inheritance Trilogy by N.K. Jemisin

In this beautifully crafted series, Jemisin weaves together elements of African, Asian, and Middle Eastern mythology to create a captivating tale of gods, mortals, and the power struggles that bind them.

The Earthsea Cycle by Ursula K. Le Guin

Le Guin’s classic series is set in a world of magic and dragons, drawing inspiration from various folklores and myths, including Norse, Celtic, and Taoist traditions. The story follows the wizard Ged as he journeys through the islands of Earthsea, confronting ancient evils and learning the true meaning of power and wisdom. The series is known for its vivid world-building, complex characters, and exploration of themes such as balance, identity, and the power of language.

The Broken Empire Trilogy by Mark Lawrence

This dark, gritty series follows the rise of a ruthless prince named Jorg Ancrath as he battles demons, both internal and external, in a world shaped by ancient myths and legends.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

A love letter to storytelling, Morgenstern’s novel draws inspiration from a wide array of mythologies and folklores to create a mesmerizing tale of a hidden, magical world beneath the surface of our own.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

In this standalone epic fantasy, Shannon weaves together elements from Eastern and Western mythologies, creating a world filled with dragons, magic, and complex political intrigue.

Each of these stories offers a unique perspective on the timeless themes and archetypal characters that have captivated readers for centuries. Happy reading!

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Archetypes in High Fantasy: Heroes, Villains, and More

Unlock the secrets of high fantasy archetypes in this captivating blog post. Explore iconic characters like the Hero, Mentor, Trickster, Villain, and Shapeshifter, and discover their enduring appeal in popular novels and comics. Delve into the universal symbols that shape high fantasy literature, inspiring generations of readers with tales of bravery, wisdom, mischief, and epic battles between good and evil.

High fantasy literature has a long and storied history, captivating the imaginations of readers for generations with its tales of valiant heroes, dastardly villains, and otherworldly beings.

At the core of these stories lie archetypes, universal symbols and motifs that resonate with readers across time and culture.

In this blog post, you’ll discover some of the most prominent archetypes in high fantasy, providing examples from popular novels and comics to illustrate their enduring appeal.

The Hero

The hero is perhaps the most iconic archetype in high fantasy, serving as the central figure around whom the story revolves.

This character sets out on a journey to overcome obstacles and achieve a noble goal, often growing and changing in the process.

Heroes possess qualities like courage, determination, and selflessness, inspiring readers to believe in the power of good to triumph over evil.

Example: Frodo Baggins from J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings”

Frodo, a humble Hobbit, is tasked with the monumental responsibility of destroying the One Ring, an object of immense power that could bring about the end of the world.

Despite his initial reluctance, Frodo demonstrates tremendous courage and determination as he embarks on a perilous journey to save Middle-earth.

The Mentor

The mentor is a wise and experienced figure who assists and guides the hero on their journey.

Often possessing magical abilities or knowledge, the mentor serves as a source of wisdom and inspiration, helping the hero navigate the challenges that lie ahead.

Example: Albus Dumbledore from J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” series

Albus Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, plays a crucial role in guiding and supporting Harry Potter throughout his battles against the dark forces that threaten the wizarding world.

Dumbledore’s wisdom and insight help Harry grow into the hero he is destined to become.

The Trickster

The trickster is a cunning, mischievous character who delights in causing chaos and upsetting the established order.

Often serving as a catalyst for change, the trickster challenges the hero and tests their resolve, ultimately helping them grow stronger and more resourceful.

Example: Tyrion Lannister from George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire”

Tyrion Lannister, the sharp-tongued and quick-witted dwarf, navigates the treacherous world of Westeros with cunning and guile. Though he is often underestimated due to his stature,

Tyrion’s intelligence and resourcefulness make him a formidable force, and his actions frequently reshape the political landscape of the realm.

The Villain

The villain is the primary antagonist in a high fantasy story, representing the forces of evil and chaos that the hero must confront.

Often motivated by power, revenge, or other dark desires, the villain serves as a foil to the hero, highlighting their nobility and goodness through contrast.

Example: Sauron from J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings”

Sauron, the Dark Lord, seeks to conquer Middle-earth and bend its inhabitants to his will through the power of the One Ring.

His overwhelming malice and desire for domination create a palpable sense of dread throughout the story, serving as the driving force behind the heroes’ quest to destroy the Ring and save their world.

The Shapeshifter

The shapeshifter is an enigmatic and unpredictable character who can change their appearance, loyalty, or motivations, keeping both the hero and the reader on their toes.

They often blur the lines between friend and foe, forcing the hero to question their assumptions and adapt to new circumstances.

Example: Mystique from Chris Claremont’s “X-Men” comics

Mystique, a mutant with the power to alter her appearance and mimic any person, is a classic example of a shapeshifter.

Her shifting allegiances and unpredictable actions create tension and intrigue, as both the X-Men and their adversaries must constantly adapt to her ever-changing role.

Archetypes in high fantasy literature provide a framework for storytelling that resonates with readers across cultures and generations.

By understanding and embracing these universal symbols, authors can create rich, engaging stories that capture the imaginations of their audience and stand the test of time.

Clockwork Titan – a story in the Ravenglass Universe

Explore ‘Clockwork Titan’, a riveting high fantasy tale. Unravel mysteries of an ancient titan, ravenglass orbs, and wyverns in Nebel Hafen.

The ancient titan stood in silence, facing the Braun Sea, its shadow etched against the passing glow of Nebel Hafen’s lighthouse. Heinrich Graf strode towards the statue, his head craned back as he gazed up at the steel limbs and clockwork joints. Tiny alchemical lanterns lined the path towards the titan, curving in a gentle swoop across the Meerand Gardens. Heinrich glanced to the side as clouds eddied across the moon.

Heinrich stood before the ravenglass plinth as a hand-sized black wyvern landed on top of the titan’s foot and stretched out its wings. “Waage,” Heinrich said. “Where have you been?”

The wyvern surveyed her surroundings, black eyes glimmering against the lanterns. “Lord Graf, forgive me,” she said, turning to him. “Do you have what I asked for?”

“Are you sure this will work?”

Waage hopped down to the plinth, folding in her wings. “I am confident, my lord.”

Heinrich leaned back, his gaze shifting towards the titan’s mechanical head, its stern brow fixed. “Are you sure we can control this thing?”

“The archives were very specific.”

Stepping back, Heinrich reached into his overcoat and carefully removed two balls of cloth.

“Well, unravel them, then,” Waage snapped.

Heinrich’s eyes narrowed as he unwrapped the cloths, revealing a pair of black orbs. “They’re lighter than they look,” he said, offering them to Waage.

“They are pure ravenglass?” she asked, examining the orbs.

“I…They drink in the light.” He gestured to one of them. “Look how it seems to glow with black.”

The edges of Waage’s lips curled back in what might have been a smile. “Excellent.” She grasped the orb in her mouth, threw her head back, and swallowed.

“What are you doing?”

Waage made for the second orb, but Heinrich snatched it away, bringing it to his chest.

“Answer me, wyvern.”

“I need to carry the orbs, my lord,” she said, dipping her head. A shudder spread across her spine as she coughed up the orb, letting it roll along the ground, sending with it a trail a black saliva. “If we are to do this—”

“Yes, yes,” Heinrich growled, waving a hand. “It’s just…” He shook his head. “We have spent so long—”

“You can trust me, my lord. I want to see you rise to power just as much as you do.”

Heinrich stared down at Waage’s slumped body, her wings spread out from her sides in a submissive gesture. “Of course.” He raised his chin. “Forgive my trepidation. Please, continue.”

Waage bolted forward, her jaws snapping closed over the first orb. Swallowing, she looked up expectantly.

With a slight nod, Heinrich let the second orb roll from his palm and into the wyvern’s mouth. She swallowed, eyes twinkling as she stretched out her wings, black and leathery, flapping them until she rose from the ground, disappearing into the darkness.

“Good luck,” Heinrich muttered. He paced and squinted up at the titan’s head. Waage’s shadow passed as the lighthouse’s alchemical glow flickered by. He rubbed his beard, hands trembling. “Gods be damned.”

After several moments, Waage returned, landing on the titan’s foot.

“Well?” Heinrich asked.

“I placed the orbs.”

“And?”

“My lord, they are ravenglass.”

Heinrich frowned. “Do not talk in riddles, wyvern.”

Waage bowed, flattening her wings. “Ravenglass requires the blood of its creator.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“My lord, I require your blood.” Waage looked up with one eye open, her wings still flat.

Heinrich let out an incredulous snort.

“My lord, it is—”

“Wyvern, do not deceive me,” he snapped, raising a hand. “Return the orbs and I will let the blood myself, and then you can return them to their place.”

“Please understand, once enchanted, the orbs will be hotter than a thousand fires. I will not be able to carry them.”

Heinrich held her gaze for a long moment then sighed. “Do it.” Holding out his wrist, he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as Waage drove her teeth into his flesh, swallowing his blood, lapping around the wound. “How much do you need?”

Waage did not respond, but kept drinking.

Groaning, Heinrich flicked his wrist and brought his arm up to his mouth, blood streaming from the tiny puncture wound.

With slow steps, Waage unfurled her wings and rose into the darkness.

Heinrich watched, the blood-flow slowing around his wound. He staggered back as the titan’s eyes glowed dull red.

Waage landed on his right shoulder, her claws sharp but delicate. They stared up as the titan’s gears started to turn.

# # # # #

Unable to sleep, Anna Halter gazed across the Braun Sea as the second sun emerged, red and dreamlike. She leaned on her folded arms, idly stroking the mane of a carved unicorn figurine, her fingernails tracing the etched lines that suggested hair. The light from her father’s lighthouse swept across the coastline, the palace shimmering white and green, the giant standing sentry, the harbour’s taverns and shops, the moored ships, and the chain stretching across the bay.

She followed the sweep of the light again, her gaze lingering on the giant. Blinking, she leaned forward, mouth falling open. The giant’s eyes glowed bright yellow. She blinked again, rubbing her eyes.

Pulling the window open, she shivered against the chill breeze, staring at the giant. She waved and the giant’s arm waved back.

Slamming the window shut, she ducked beneath the sill with her back against the wall, as deep, shuddering breaths erupted from her body. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, and peeped back over the ledge.

The giant’s eyes still burned bright and brilliant. She waved her hand again, her arms and legs tingling when the giant moved.

She dropped down to the floor and bit her bottom lip. Grabbing her unicorn, she got up and ran over to the door, taking the spiral stairs up a level, and banged on her father’s door. “Father,” she called, reaching up and rattling the door’s handle. “Wake up.”

Restless grunts came from the other side of the door.

The lock clicked and her father leaned out, led by the spluttering light of a tallow candle, its smoke smelling of cooked pork. “Anna,” he sighed. “Why do you never sleep, child?”

Anna looked down at her unicorn then up at her father, his blond moustache drooping past his lips. “The giant waved at me.”

He shook his head. “Anna, please. Go to sleep.”

“It’s true. It waved at me.”

Looking behind him, he crouched to one knee and reached out to stroke her hair. “I know things have been difficult since your mother died.”

She pulled her unicorn close to her chest. “It’s real.”

He raised a finger, pressing it against her lips. “Shh,” he said. “It was a dream, or it was in your mind.”

Anna looked down at her unicorn and shook her head. “I can show you.”

Yawning, her father ambled back into his chamber and shifted the drapes away from the window. “The first sun is rising soon,” he sighed. “Show me what you must.”

With tiny footsteps, Anna walked to the window, standing on her tiptoes as she pointed towards the giant. “Look. You can see its eyes glow.”

He leaned over her, gazing through the glass for a short moment before turning back inside. “It is but a trick of the light. Perhaps a reflection of the second sun, or the light of the lighthouse.”

“But it waved, father. Look.” She waved her hand, grinning as the giant returned her gesture. “See?” She turned to her father arranging his day clothes on the bed.

“Anna,” he sighed. “Please get ready for the day. I will make us breakfast.”

“But, father—”

“But, nothing,” he snapped.

Anna flinched, staggering back as she pulled her unicorn close, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening. He crossed the room and kissed the top of her head.

# # # # #

Heinrich paced before the plinth, rubbing the back of his neck, squinting up at the titan’s glowing eyes. He turned to Waage, a deep line creasing his brow. “I had no part in that.”

Waage swooped in rising circles around the titan before diving towards Heinrich, squawking.

Staggering backwards, Heinrich flapped his hands wildly. “What are you doing?”

“It extended its arm thrice—do not lie to me.” Waage hovered in the air a few feet above him, her wings beating down, slow, bat-like.

The wyvern pecked at his hair. “I warn you. Do not lie to me, my lord. I have your blood in my bones. I can control you if you are lying.”

“Treacherous wyvern,” Heinrich spat. “Why did I trust you?” A quivering passed over his body as the wyvern tugged at his mind, bending his will, twisting his thoughts. “What…are…you…?”

“You are linked and you lie.”

“There is no link,” Heinrich said, shrinking back. He stumbled on an alchemical lantern, the tiny ball shattering into smoke. “I have no control over that thing.” He fell to the ground, head smacking against stone.

Waage looked up at the titan and stopped. “You are not linked. I misjudged you. Forgive me, my lord.” She tilted her head. “But there is a link to someone.”

Eyes widening, Heinrich shifted away from the wyvern, his arms out in front of him. “I promise you, there is no link.”

“Look,” she said, pointing a scaled wing towards the lighthouse.

Heinrich followed her gaze, shaking his head. “I see nothing.”

“Of course,” the wyvern mused. “You do not perceive enchantment as I.” She hopped down to Heinrich’s side, flattening her wings against the ground, her head held low. “The thread extends towards the lighthouse.”

“Do not speak in riddles, wyvern. Say your words.”

“My lord, I feel the titan has latched onto another host, like a duckling latching to the first thing it perceives.”

“But a lighthouse? How can that be? How can a lighthouse exert control? It has no will.”

Waage raised her head and met Heinrich’s gaze. “We must seek the keeper of the lighthouse.”

# # # # #

Anna ran her finger along the unicorn’s mane in an absent motion. She stared at nothing as her father stood over the cooking pot, stirring porridge, flames dancing around its base, sending flickering shadows along the stone walls. Pans hung around him and a sack of turnips sagged half-open at his feet. “Things will get easier, Anna,” he said, looking back at her, his feet shuffling. “These past months have been difficult—for both of us. I am sorry that I haven’t been as close to you as I should.”

“You have the lighthouse, father.” She looked to the window as the first sun soaked the Braun Sea in its yellow glow, its light filling the sky, washing out the second sun’s gloomy brown.

He raised a wooden spoon to his mouth, tasting the porridge.

Anna moved over to the window, gazing across the sea towards the giant, its eyes still fiery, even against the first sun’s burgeoning light. A warmth pushed against the top of her head, pressing down like a hand. It sunk into her, filling her, spreading through her—a tingling, electric sensation passing across her skin, stiffening the tiny hairs on her neck.

Her father’s words came out as an echo, distant.

For a moment, she looked down at a tiny cowering man. A wyvern flapped around her and pecked at her eyes. She stepped forward, her head turning with a slow metallic screech.

She jerked back, tumbling to the floor.

“Anna,” her father said, standing over her. “Anna?”

“Father…I…” She glanced at the window.

He took her by the hand and led her back to her wooden stool, smoothed by time. “This is why you should sleep more,” he said, shaking his head. “Here.” He handed her a clay cup of watered-down ale.

“I…I’m…” She rubbed her head.

“You do not have to eat now. Perhaps you should return to bed. Close your drapes. I will keep the porridge warm and stirred.”

Anna rose to her feet and let out a deep breath. “Yes, father.” She walked over to the door, avoiding the window.

“Your toy,” he said, gesturing to the unicorn.

“Thank you.” She took it and shouldered her way through the doors and up the spiral stairs. With a sigh, she stumbled into her bed chamber.

She dragged a leather shoulder bag from between her bed and side table and tipped its contents onto her blankets.

Turning, she glanced over to the window. A twitching sensation travelled along her arms and legs, running up her spine, the pressing, tingling warmth settling around her forehead. She shook her head as if freeing herself from a spider’s web, and reached for her tabard and leggings, pulling them on before stuffing her unicorn into the bag.

The giant called to her.

Breathing heavily, Anna ran down the stairs, bolting through the door before her father noticed.

A gust of wind from the east struck her, blowing hair across her face. She ran along the cliff’s path, winding down towards the harbour, thick clumps of grass making way for barnacle-coated rocks, their sides slick with seaweed. Foamy waves brushed against the sea wall as tall ships rocked in time with the tides.

Reaching the harbour, she skipped over an iron mooring, ducking past the shopkeepers and innkeepers opening their shutters for the day, and avoided the sailors staggering out of brothels.

The warmth around her head increased, surrounding her with a low, insistent hum. She saw herself from across the harbour, a tiny red-headed girl running through the crowds.

# # # # #

“There,” Waage snapped as the titan’s foot rose and fell, crashing to the ground, freeing itself from the plinth. “It is moving.”

Wide-eyed, on his back, and frozen in place, Heinrich stared up at the titan, his elbows poking into the soil. “I can see it moves,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Not the titan,” she said, gesturing with her nose towards the harbour. “The enchantment. It moves.” Waage beat her wings, rising into the air.

“What do you see?” Heinrich asked, wobbling to his feet, dirt cascading from his overcoat.

“People are coming. Hundreds of them.”

“Gods be damned. We should leave before questions are asked.”

Waage swooped down, landing on Heinrich’s shoulder. “My lord,” she whispered as the first few men and women entered the gardens, their eyes cast up in wonderment. “Being here will only increase your status in the eyes of Nebel Hafen’s citizens.”

“And what of Count Schultz?”

The wyvern stretched out her wings, raising her chin. “What of him? Only last night—” Waage’s words stopped abruptly.

“Well?”

The titan’s head turned and the crowd gasped. Waage rose into the air, circling above Heinrich. “I see the source of the link.”

Heinrich’s fists clenched. “Show me.”

“You see that little girl with the red hair?”

# # # # #

Anna’s focus drifted from the giant to the flickering wings of a black-scaled wyvern. She tilted her head as the creature stared at her with its deep black eyes, its wings holding it in midair like a marionette.

“The statue has come to life,” a thin man with bright green eyes said, smiling at her. “Let it rise and protect our shores from the Ostreich invaders.”

Reaching into her bag with trembling hands, Anna retrieved her unicorn, holding it close as she made her way through the crowd. She looked between the giant and the wyvern, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, breaking through the skin. The taste of blood filled her mouth.

# # # # #

“What is she carrying?” Heinrich asked, watching the girl as she approached the titan.

“It is inert,” Waage said.

“I will take it.”

“You would take a child’s toy in front of all these people?”

Heinrich tugged at his beard. “I am at an end, wyvern.”

“Perhaps we could take her to your manor, imprison her, and force her to command the titan to your will.”

“You vile, wicked creature.” Heinrich raised a hand to the wyvern. “Wait,” he said, hand dropping. “Take her blood. Control her with your enchantment.”

The wyvern landed on Heinrich’s shoulder, and brushed against his ear. “I can do that. She already has blood at her mouth.”

# # # # #

Anna stopped at the giant’s feet, placing a hand on the front of its big toe. “Hello,” she whispered as floods of warmth washed over her body.

With creaking joints, the giant leaned forward. The crowd jerked back. Some people ran away, while others stared, petrified.

Anna dropped her hand as the black-winged wyvern darted towards her, diving through the air, its wings swept back. She swung the unicorn, missing the wyvern as it tried to land on her head. Brushing it away, she cowered behind the giant’s foot.

She covered her ears, cringing at the wyvern’s squawks and screeches. The creature spiralled into the air and flew at Anna again. This time she crouched low, thrusting the unicorn around her in broad circles, missing the wyvern as it dodged and weaved her attempted strikes. “Leave me alone,” she cried. “Please.”

The sound of tearing metal echoed around her as the giant pivoted on its feet, swung a fist, and connected with the wyvern.

Anna cringed as the wyvern shot across the gardens, rolling into a crumpled, trembling heap in the dirt.

When the hand rested in front of her, she climbed onto its palm, hugging the little finger as the giant lifted her from the ground, raising her to its right shoulder.

Her breath caught in her throat when she looked down at the tiny faces staring up at her as a gust of wind tussled her hair and blew across her skin. She gazed across the rooftops, mouth agape, eyes lingering on her lighthouse across the harbour.

The giant stepped to the right and into the sea, waves crashing against its knees. Anna gripped the giant’s neck as it swayed with each step, seagulls circling around them as the lighthouse grew closer. She held her breath, trembling as she swept her eyes across the bay, taking in the boats and buildings, the shimmering stones of the palace, the crowds gathered on the lawn of Meerand Gardens watching in awe, a smile reaching her eyes. She threw her head back, loosening her grip. “This is glorious,” she cried.

# # # # #

Heinrich moved through the crowd, Waage perched on his shoulder. “Where am I going? This is not my will.”

“Your will is my will, my lord.”

“No, wyvern. You said—” His arms flailed uselessly as he stumbled onto the harbour wall, legs moving without consent, shins and toes stubbing against carts and walls.

“Enough,” Waage snapped. “I have a plan, but I am weakened.”

Sailors regarded him with confused expressions as he moved in fits and starts, feet jerking with each step. A woman selling shellfish jumped backwards, dodging his erratic movements. “Where are you leading me?” he groaned.

“To the lighthouse. That girl is the keeper’s daughter. We must use that knowledge to our advantage.”

Heinrich lurched forward as if being yanked by a rope, toes stubbing against the emerging rocks. “Wyvern, give me my will.”

“We must take that girl.”

“I will come voluntarily,” Heinrich pleaded. “You are hurting my feet and legs, and my shins are bruised and bloody.” He staggered forward, rolling to the ground as the wyvern released the enchantment. “Gahh! You wicked, deceitful creature. I should—” His words stopped, his mouth slamming tight. He mumbled inaudible curses as he clawed at his mouth, trying to pry it open.

“Voluntarily?” the wyvern asked, voice tinged with irony. “You must promise me that you will not try to hurt me.”

Heinrich nodded then gasped as his mouth unsealed. “Vile creature,” he spat.

“Keep your words. We have work to do.” She gestured to the titan striding across the bay, the waves crashing up to its waist. “It appears the girl is taking the titan home. I would like us to be there to greet them.”

Heinrich rose to his feet and brushed his overcoat down. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

The wyvern marched ahead on spindly legs, following the curve of the rocks towards the lighthouse.

When they arrived, Heinrich rapped on the door with a fist, watching the titan’s approach.

“Yes?” A man with a drooping blond moustache leaned from the door.

“Let us inside. I must speak with you as a matter of urgency.”

The man glanced towards the wyvern and back to Heinrich, a frown knitting his brow. “I am very busy. We have nothing to discuss.”

“Do you know who I am?” Heinrich spat.

“Why, of course. Lord…I’m sorry. You’re the count’s nephew.”

“I am Lord Heinrich Graf.” He raised his chin. “And you are?”

“I am Karl Halter, keeper of the Nebel Hafen lighthouse.”

“You have a daughter?”

Karl’s eyes narrowed. “What is this about?”

“Your daughter has taken something that belongs to me, something very important.” Heinrich cleared his throat.

“My daughter is in her chamber.” Karl brushed his fingers along his moustache, shifting his gaze down to the wyvern. “I’m sorry. I must wish you a good day.”

Heinrich wedged his boot between the door and its frame when Karl tried to close it.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I am Lord Heinrich Graf—”

“And you have no domain over this lighthouse.” Karl held Heinrich’s gaze, his face growing red. “What is it you believe my daughter has taken?”

“That,” Waage said, pointing to the titan with an outstretched wing.

# # # # #

Anna clung tight as the giant stepped from the sea and onto the rocks, its feet dripping with water and seaweed. Circling gulls called out with desperate squawks.

“There,” she said, pointing to the lighthouse. “You must meet my father.”

The giant followed the path to the lighthouse and Anna froze. “It’s that man,” she said. “And his wyvern.”

Creaking, the giant’s hand rose to its shoulder and waited as Anna clambered on. She laid low, spreading out on all fours as the giant crouched, lowering her to the ground. “Father,” she called, running towards him. “I have a new friend.” She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the man with the wyvern, breath catching in her chest.

# # # # #

Heinrich grabbed Karl’s throat and thrust him head-first onto the ground.

“What—” Karl gasped.

Placing a boot on Karl’s back, Heinrich folded his arms and smiled at the girl’s approach. “Little girl, we meet again. I trust you remember my wyvern?”

“What are you doing to my father?”

“Anna, run,” Karl called.

“You had no right to take our titan,” the wyvern said. “We slaved over research and sourcing ravenglass, only for you to steal it from us like some common thief.”

Anna glanced behind her and cradled her unicorn. “It chose me. I did nothing.”

Waage hopped onto Karl’s back and frowned at Anna. “Perhaps you need—”

“Waage, Waage,” Heinrich said, his voice softening. “The girl wasn’t to know of our plans.” He turned to Anna. “Were you, Anna?”

“The giant saw me and talked to my mind.”

Heinrich smiled. “You see? All this can be resolved.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to command the titan.”

“I don’t know how it works.”

“You brought it here. All I ask is that you control it on my behalf and…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “I suppose I won’t kill your father.”

Anna stared up at Heinrich, wide-eyed. “What should I ask of the giant?”

A broad grin spreads across Heinrich’s face like oil on velvet. “My dear, it is very simple. I need the giant to retrieve Count Schultz from his palace and drop him into the sea, beyond the chains.”

A sharp breath caught in Anna’s throat. “But he will surely drown.”

“Indeed. But I must rule.”

“Anna, don’t,” Karl managed before Heinrich booted him in the side.

“What will it be? Help me or watch as I disembowel your father?”

# # # # #

Anna turned and walked to the giant’s feet, placing a hand against the warm metal.

“Do not agree to this man’s requests,” her father called through gritted teeth. “He is not to be trusted.”

“Father, please. I…I cannot be alone.”

“Where is your mother?” the lord asked. “Perhaps we could speak to her too.”

Anna’s bottom lip trembled. “She has passed on. All I have is my father.” She blinked away a tear.

A mirthless smile curled across the lord’s lips. “You see, Anna? Listen to what your heart is telling you. You do not want to see your father die. How could you live with yourself when you knew you could prevent it? Do you know what happens to orphans?”

A long silence hung in the air before she spoke. “I will assist you,” she said, finally. “But you must release my father.”

“I am a man of my word. If you help me, you will be lavished with gifts and you and your father will want for nought.”

She swallowed and dipped her head. “I agree.”

“Anna, what are you doing?” her father groaned.

Crouching at his side, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to die.”

“There, there,” the lord said. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The giant bent to one knee and rested the back of a hand on the ground. “You should climb on,” Anna suggested, rising to her feet. “It will take you across the bay to the palace.”

The lord glanced at the wyvern. “I’m not so sure—”

“I did it,” Anna said, interrupting. “It was…it was amazing.”

“You’re not afraid are you, my lord?” the wyvern said.

The lord pursed his lips and raised his chin. “I have no fear. This is the day I go down in history.” He clambered onto the giant’s hand and gestured to the wyvern. “Are you coming?”

Anna’s father sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Anna, what are you thinking?”

“I’m doing as the lord asked. I didn’t want to see you hurt, father.”

The wyvern swept its gaze across the sea and waddled with the lord towards the giant’s hand.

“Command this titan,” the lord said. “Take me to the palace.”

Anna licked her lips, pulling her unicorn towards her, knuckles turning pale. She reached out for her father’s hand, watching as the giant lifted the lord to its shoulder. Her father got to his feet, standing at her side, staring at the giant, shaking his head.

The warmth filled her mind and she saw herself through the giant’s eyes.

# # # # #

“This is really quite high up,” Heinrich said, clinging to the titan’s neck. He called out a curse as the titan turned and stepped into the sea. “Gods be damned. We are going to fall.”

“Just hold on,” Waage said. “We will be at the palace before you know it.”

Heinrich let out a deep breath. “It really is high. Very, very high.”

The titan waded through the water, the waves sloshing against its knees.

“This swaying is making me feel woozy.”

“I hope she adjusts the course, we seem to be veering away from the palace.”

# # # # #

“I’m sorry I lied to you, father.”

“You know to tell me if you plan to leave the lighthouse. I thought you were still home.”

“My thoughts were not quite my own.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “You are safe now.”

He tugged at his moustache. “I’m afraid this is only the beginning. Lord Graf is a man who craves power above everything. With that monstrosity at his command and that wyvern whispering in his ear…” He shook his head. “I fear for our future.”

# # # # #

Waves crashed against the titan’s shoulders, sending jets of foam across Heinrich’s feet. “Turn, you foul thing. You’re going the wrong way.”

Waage swung her head around and gestured to shore. “We should make for the harbour.”

“We are too far away. We will both drown.”

Waage stretched out her wings, testing them. “I can glide.” She leaped from Heinrich’s shoulder, catching an updraft and shooting into the air.

“You cursed, retched thing. Come back.” Heinrich scrambled onto the titan’s mouth, clambering up its face as the water rose around him.

He climbed to the top of its head, sobbing as the waves washed over his legs and arms and chest, throwing him beneath the surface and deep beneath the sea.

# # # # #

Waage shuddered when the enchantment between herself and Heinrich snapped. “Cursed imbecile,” she muttered.

Turning in a slow loop, she scanned across the Braun Sea, bubbles marking the titan’s descent.

If you would like more stories set in the Ravenglass Universe, you can claim your free starter library when you sign up to my newsletter.

Discovering the Wonders of Fantasy: A Beginner’s Guide to Fantasy Sub-genres

Discover the diverse sub-genres of fantasy literature, from high fantasy to urban fantasy. Explore epic quests, magical cities, and mythical creatures in this guide.

Are you tired of trying to figure out what sub-genre of fantasy you enjoy most?

Fear not, because I’m here to provide a quick guide to the different sub-genres of fantasy literature. From epic high fantasy to dark and gritty urban fantasy, we’ll cover it all.

High Fantasy

This sub-genre is the classic sword-and-sorcery stuff that most people think of when they hear “fantasy.” It typically features a medieval-style setting with plenty of magic, mythical creatures, and epic quests. The characters are usually noble heroes on a mission to save the world from some kind of evil force. Think Lord of the Rings.

Urban Fantasy

This sub-genre brings fantasy elements into a modern, urban setting. You’ll find magical creatures like vampires and werewolves coexisting with humans in a city environment. The stories often involve supernatural detectives, urban witches, and other characters with magical abilities navigating the challenges of modern life. Think the Dresden Files or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Dark Fantasy

This sub-genre takes the darker, grittier aspects of fantasy and runs with them. It often features morally ambiguous characters, intense violence and gore, and a bleak, oppressive atmosphere. The stories may involve themes like death, destruction, and existential dread. Think A Song of Ice and Fire or The Black Company.

Epic Fantasy

This sub-genre focuses on large-scale conflicts and epic battles, often spanning multiple books or even entire series. The stories usually involve complex political intrigue, multiple factions, and plenty of world-building. Think The Wheel of Time or The Malazan Book of the Fallen.

Historical Fantasy

This sub-genre blends historical settings and events with fantasy elements. The stories may take place in real historical periods, but with added magic, mythical creatures, or supernatural events. Think Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell or Outlander.

Fairy Tale Fantasy

This sub-genre retells classic fairy tales with a fantasy twist. The stories often involve familiar characters like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or Little Red Riding Hood, but with added magical elements or reimagined plot lines. Think Stardust or The Bloody Chamber.

Mythological Fantasy

This sub-genre draws from mythologies and legends from various cultures, such as Greek, Norse, or Celtic. The stories may involve gods and goddesses, legendary heroes, or creatures from mythological lore. Think Percy Jackson or American Gods.

If you enjoy fantasy books, you can get a free Ravenglass Universe starter library when you join Jon’s VIP newsletter.

Magic, Mythology, and More: A Conversation with E C Greaves

Discover the world of fantasy adventure with E C Greaves. Explore captivating tales, unique world-building, and the author’s creative process.

Author E C Greaves interview

Welcome to this exciting interview with E C Greaves, an author and illustrator who has made a name for himself in the world of fantasy adventure stories.

Born in Solihull, UK, Ed now resides in Christchurch, New Zealand, where he continues to create unique and interesting tales that have a mildly Slavic tinge to them.

When he’s not weaving tales of magic and adventure, Ed can be found pursuing a variety of passions. He restores old vehicles, codes video games, and teaches history to high school kids. It’s hard to believe that he manages to fit all of this into his schedule, but perhaps his secret lies in the fact that he seems to be completely immune to the effects of aging—despite being far too old to explain the lack of grey hair!

As we delve deeper into this interview, we’ll learn more about Ed’s creative process and how he approaches his work as an author. So sit back, relax, and join us as we explore the fascinating world of E C Greaves…

What inspired you to start writing in the fantasy genre?

In short; long and exceptionally boring train rides to a long (and by some eldritch curse) even more boring job in finance—believe it or not, but I wrote the entire first novel on my phone!

And, I suppose since I grew up with a total nerd for a dad (playing D&D, and various fantasy games on the Atari STE with him, as a kid) fantasy was really the only genre I’d ever read, so it was all I thought to write.

How do you approach world-building in your stories?

Whilst I do have a general idea of what the world looks like—tech level, magic or whatever, types of creatures and peoples, regions, etc.—I pretty much just write stories that take my characters wherever they need to go. From there, I sorta make it up as I go along, and flesh out whatever I need to.

I take this, and jot it down in one of about 35,000 google docs (on my phone, of course), and forget about it until I catch a contradiction once a book is already pretty much finished!

Can you walk us through your writing process?

During the day, I procrastinate a whole lot. Then, in the evening, I reread some existing stuff. Finally, at around midnight, once I can no longer escape it, I start writing. It takes me through til perhaps 2 or 3 am. Which is when I try desperately to get enough sleep to survive the following day!

I usually begin with a conversation, description, or situation that sorta comes to me from the ether—more often than not, something I thought of when I was driving. And then I build on that.

My characters tend to take the story where they want it to go, and I’m most definitely not a “plan every chapter” kind of author.

As such, I let them guide me, and I then go through and tie the stuff I wrote back to the general idea I had for an overarching plot, or I try to work in stuff that references earlier things—you know, to make it seem like I actually DID plan that sweet twist!

The entire time, because I have ADHD and it’s one of the best ways I’ve found I can focus, I drink a billion litres of caffeine—coffee, cola, energy drinks—and I usually chain smoke home-grown tobacco.

Would you survive in your own fantasy world?

You know what? I think I just might.

It’s not all that much more dangerous than our own history was. I grew up on a small farm, and I am fairly handy.

Oh, and I know how to make blackpowder. Anyone with that knowledge would do just fine in a pseudo-medieval (low magic) fantasy world, I think.

What themes do you explore in your work?

Identity and belonging, motherhood, legacy, freedom vs responsibility/authority, and what exactly constitutes “right.”

What do you consider to be your biggest influences as a writer?

In all honesty—and this really isn’t something I’ve seen another author admit,—but…

I don’t actually read many books.

As such, I am more influenced and informed by general conversation and discussion on politics and philosophy, by life and the real world (particularly ancient and medieval history), and by childhood influences—earlier fantasy works (usually films) like Conan, Dungeons and Dragons sessions I played when I was like 7, hours spent poring over the pictures in Dragon magazines, countless video games (from Drakkhen and Hero’s Quest, to Ultima 7 and Baldur’s Gate).

What’s the strangest thing you’ve had to research for your stories?

The stages of pregnancy, and then what happens AFTER you’ve had a baby—how long before milk dries up, and under what conditions? how long before periods come back? what happens to your body? Etc etc

Needless to say, the algorithms started targeting me with a lot of maternity stuff on devices where I’d forgotten to block ads!

What do you hope readers take away from your stories?

I don’t aim to convince readers of anything, and I try very hard to separate my own views from those of my characters. For me, my writing serves as entertainment first and foremost.

That said, I do hope they consider their own views on some of the thematic stuff, and some of the more “thorny” or “weighty” topics discussed within.

Would you rather have a pet dragon or a unicorn, why?

A unicorn. When I was a kid, I had this beautifully illustrated book about woodland critters who hung out with these industrious little gnomes.

In one of the books, they meet these total dick elves, who at one point, steal a unicorn egg or something. I honestly can’t recall much more than a few pictures (of a stripy guy transforming into a fish, and of a telescope putting ink around another guy’s eye).

What I remember clearly, however, is this beautiful picture of a unicorn/pegasus hatched out of an egg. It was really cute and pure, and for a weird little kid who liked goblins and mud, and who was picked on quite a bit, that little white horse creature seemed to represent an innocence and goodness that I think I sorely wished was more prevalent in the world.

Weird, I know.

Wish I knew what those books were!

If you could have any magical ability, what would it be?

Teleportation.

It is, by far, the most powerful/useful ability besides perhaps just straight-up omnipotence. 9-out-of-10 dentists agree.

If not that, cos it’s cheating, then the ability to live happily and healthily without doing harm to any other living being. Photosynthesis or something!

I would also like to be able to communicate with any other living being too (maybe even some dead ones… Just to spice it up!)

If you were stuck on a deserted island with one of your characters, who would it be and why?

I’d want to pick one of the Vulkari, but they’d all probably just eat me.

And whilst Zyntael could perhaps use her weird necromancy to convince the Spirits to help us, I think Phobos Lend would know of some way off the island. Either that, or he’d have a stash of rum and pipe leaf.

What would you name your pet dragon?

Wait, you mean that I didn’t get the Unicorn after all? And I poured my heart out for that question!

Fine.

“Little Stinker.”

It is my go-to pet name in anything where you can have a pet.

Where is the best place to start reading your work?

It’s available on Amazon here:

But, you know what? I really appreciate you humouring me.

So here, have the first book in the trilogy for free!

https://BookHip.com/BDZBZTW

Find out more.

Website: ecgreaves.com

Facebook: facebook.com/ECGreaves.Author

Twitter: twitter.com/GreavesEc

The Magician – Chapter I

Kat squinted at the sunlight pouring into her bedchamber, dust motes caught mid-dance. She smiled at her handmaiden Helene through her tiredness, wishing she could close her eyes and roll back into her dreams.
“Your Imperial Highness.” Helene lowered her gaze. “Your breakfast—” her eyes widened as she stared down at the bed sheets, crisp white linen patched with dried blood between Kat’s legs.
Kat recalled how excited her younger sister had been when she bled for the first time. But it would be different for her. Breath caught in her chest. Her mother would do everything in her power to change Kat, to mould her into someone just like her, but at least it would bring an end to Elisabeth’s gloating.
A smile emerged through the deep creases on Helene’s face, brightness reaching her dull grey eyes. “This is wonderful.” She pulled the sheet from Kat, the handmaiden’s fingers like crabs’ legs.
Kat dragged the sheet back towards her, kicking her legs until she sat with her head against the oak backboard, carvings of scrolls and ivies pressing against the back of her head. She rolled the bed sheet into a ball, folding her arms as she pressed it into her lap. “No.”
“We will have to tell your mother.” Helene raised her chin and scoffed. “You’re a woman now.”
“Please. You cannot tell anyone.” She sat up, clearing her throat. “That is an order.”
“Princess Kathryn.” Helene gave a chuckle, shaking her head. “You do say the funniest things sometimes.” Still smiling, she pried the sheet from Kat’s grip and held them up to the sunlight. She glanced down at Kat’s stained nightdress. “Would you like me to help clean you?”
“That is not necessary. You are dismissed, Helene.” She winced as cramps spread below her stomach.
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Helene dipped her head and hesitated by the door. “One moment, please, Princess.” She slipped from the bedchamber, leaving the door ajar.
Kat’s yawn turned into a sigh. She shifted from the bed, walking around aimlessly, floorboards cold beneath her steps. The arrival of her woman’s blood meant rituals and ceremonies—the cleansing, the sacrifice, the humiliation. She stared down at her trembling hands as her heartbeat pounded and breath grew tight. Sweat pooled around the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, counting to herself, concentrating on the breaths, trying to push away the darkness before it engulfed her, sending back down that spiral of panic.
Helene returned a minute or so later, backing through the door with a wash basin in one hand and a bundle of cloths in the other. She placed the bucket at the end of Kat’s bed and smiled. “You will need to be clean, Your Highness. I can help you if you like. Or if you would rather I left you alone?”
Kat blinked and inhaled, steeling herself. “Thank you, Helene. I can manage from here.”
The handmaiden looked down at a ball of cloth in her hand and passed it to Kat.
“What is this for?” Kat asked, taking the woollen pad.
“Pop it inside your smallclothes. It will soak the blood. I will bring you a fresh pad before you sleep.”
Kat swallowed and dropped her gaze.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Princess. It happens to us all. It just means you’re no longer a child.”
The door clicked behind her as Helene left with the bed sheets. Kat passed over a rug, made from the pelt of a white bear, and leaned out of her window. Clouds tumbled above the Braun Sea, the ever-shifting dots of reflected sunlight sparkling across the waves. Tall-masted ships bobbed in the distance. Barges and sloops vied for space around the harbour.
Kicking free of her nightclothes, she cleaned herself with the cloth. The water warmed her flesh as another pang of cramps pulled at her insides. She took in a deep breath and dried herself, sliding the woollen pad into her underclothes.
She pulled on the clothes Helene had laid out for her—a green silk tunic with a golden wyvern sigil curled along its chest and a pair of cream hose—and raked an ivory comb, carved in the shape of a narwhal, through her knotted red curls, scraping them away from her forehead.
She turned back to her room, searching around for something, anything, to give her comfort. The ornament of a hunting dog, shaped from black glass, so dark it seemed to suck in the light, stood perched on her writing desk. An icy chill ran along her fingers as she took the ornament in her hands, staring into its eyes, wondering what she was going to do. She needed to see Hansel.
Trembling, she set the ornament back on her writing desk, moving aside an ink pot and using it to weigh down loose parchment, many of the sheets scrawled with frantic writing outlining the details of her increasingly vivid dreams.
Kat mounted the windowsill, barefoot, and looked down. The courtyard’s pale cobbles lay four storeys below. Guards and servants passed beneath her in a flurry of movement and purpose, unaware of the young princess looming above them.
She stepped out, dropping down onto a stone ledge, a few fingers wider than her foot, and pressed her body against the sheer wall. Moving swiftly on her toes, she reached a white painted drainpipe and slid down two floors, feet meeting another carved ledge. She pushed herself away from the wall, landing on the roof of the servants’ lodgings, its slate tiles slick with the haze from the Braun Sea.
She hoped Hansel would not be away on a delivery—it was rare for a message to be sent out so early in the day. Leaning over the roof’s edge, she counted four windows from the right, reached down, and tapped lightly on the glass.
Taking care not to slip, Kat shuffled up along the roof tiles. Smoke rose from a crowned chimney to her left. Ostreich flags, dotted along the battlements of the palace’s outer wall, caught the wind, flapping in unpredictable shudders, the white wyvern on a black field dulled by mist. She watched as more guards emerged from the mess hall’s towering doorway, sauntering in twos and threes to their posts, sharing laughter and conversation. She took in the aromas of freshly baked bread and wood smoke, the hint of hops from the temple brewery catching the wind.
A scrambling sound came from just below the roof’s edge. Kat smiled weakly when Hansel pulled himself up onto the slates. His skin was dark from days on the roads, and he wore his black hair in a tight braid. A navy blue tunic and short trousers marked his role as a messenger. “What’s the matter?”
“Is it that obvious?”
He sat down next to her, pale knees poking from beneath the bottom of his short trousers. “Have you been fighting with your sister again?”
“Elisabeth?” She waved a hand. “No. Not this time.” Shoulders hunched, she looked down at her bare feet and swallowed. “I am a woman now.”
“What do you mean?” He looked her up and down, gaze lingering over her chest. “Nah, you still look like a girl to me.”
She gave his shoulder a playful jab. “Not like that. I do not know.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as her cheeks prickled with warmth. “I…I have bled.”
“Bled? Has someone—” He stopped and nodded to himself, a slight grin curling one side of his lips, and placed a hand on Kat’s. “I understand.” He tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. “I won’t say nothing to no one.”
“Does that mean you will, or you will not?”
He tilted his head, eyebrow cocked. “Huh?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “It matters not.” She sighed and picked at a clump of moss, freeing it from between a pair of slates, letting it tumble into the drainage gutter. “Helene says she will tell mother.”
“We all have to grow up.” He picked something from his teeth. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to everyone.”
“I am worried. I have to go through the ceremony.” Her fists clenched into a tight ball, knuckles turning pale. “It will only be a matter of time before there is talk of marrying me off to some noble’s son or some foreign prince who does not even speak the Ostreich tongue.” She watched a pair of seagulls rise in broad circles. They danced around each other, diving and swooping, their broad wings slicing through the air. She envied them, envied their freedom, their ability to live how they wanted without the spectre of royal duties and marriage to a stranger looming over them.
“I thought you were supposed to be a princess.”
She turned to see his toothy grin. “Mother will chide me. She’ll tell me again about responsibilities to the Empire and fulfilling my destiny…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the seagulls.
“Can’t you just order people not to make you do things?”
Kat laughed bitterly. “You think I have power?”
Hansel pushed out his bottom lip and gestured across the courtyard towards the stables. “I don’t know. You live in a big palace. Your mum’s the ruler of the Ostreich Empire.” He counted the points off his fingers. “There’s guards, servants, a navy, an army…”
“Not yet,” she spat. “I cannot even get my handmaiden to do what I want.” She tore up a handful of moss from between the tiles and hurled it from the roof. “It is not fair.”
Hansel laughed.
“You would not understand.” She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands, elbows digging into the sides of her knees.
“Try me.”
“You’ve got it simple.” She turned to him. “You can leave whenever you want and it is not going to cause any crises.”
“No, I can’t. I have responsibilities. People rely on me.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I just wish there was a way I could stop Helene from showing mother those sheets.”
“That’s not a good idea.” He nodded towards the chapel. “I think Witz is looking for you.”
She followed his gaze as the wyvern, no bigger than a large seagull, swooped across the courtyard, his wings broad, black, and bat-like. He landed on the chimneypot to her left and hopped down to the roof, making his way towards Kat on spindly legs. He came to a stop, lowered his head, and lay his leathery wings out at his sides, their surface shimmering between black and emerald green. “Princess Kathryn.” He spoke with a musical lilt. “Your mother is waiting for you.” He regarded her with tiny black eyes.
She gave Hansel a shrug. “I must go.”
“Good luck.” Hansel offered her a grin. “Knock for me later if you’re around.”
“I will.” She gave him a quick smile and climbed from the roof.
Kat scaled down the drainpipe to the courtyard as Witz glided down, landing on the cobbles next to her. He lowered his gaze again and flattened his wings against the ground. “Please, forgive my intrusion. I was sent to find you.”
“You do not need to bow to me, Witz. Just walk with me.” She found his formality in front of the other palace staff strange, and wondered whether they knew how close they really were.
“As you wish, Princess.” Witz straightened his body, folding in his wings, barbed tail stiffening. He looked up at her expectantly.
“Lead the way.”
The wyvern waddled ahead, and led Kat through a side-door usually reserved for guards. The door stood in solid oak inlaid with simple strips of wrought iron.
She hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure?”
He hopped up to the door’s handle, grabbed it with his beak-like mouth, turned it, and pushed the door open. “Come. This way is much quicker.” He took to the air and flew on ahead.
Kat followed him along the seldom-used corridor, footsteps echoing. Sunlight poked through the gloom, highlighting bronze busts of long-dead emperors. Her gaze lingered on a dusty tapestry showing a knight on a horse piercing the belly of a green-scaled dragon, its shield sporting the sigil of a basilisk on a yellow field. The earthen floor tiles faded to a chipped cream along a central path. Judging by the blackened beams and smoke-stained pillars, she presumed it to be a much older part of the palace than where she resided.
Bringing his wings out wide, Witz landed on the gilded handle of an oak door set into a stone archway. Brass images of leviathan and kraken caught the faint light, their surfaces dulled by dust and wear. The wyvern wrestled with the handle for a few moments before giving the door a light knock. He hopped to the floor, disappearing into the shadows.
The door inched open as a male servant eyed her. “Your Imperial Highness.” He bowed. “Forgive me. I was not expecting you here.”
Kat gave him a smile. “I was not expecting to be here either.” She looked back over her shoulder towards Witz.
“Her Imperial Majesty and Princess Elisabeth are waiting for you in the dining room.”
“Thank you.” She glanced around at the familiar surroundings—the glossy white walls, the golden twists of leaves along the coving, the plush jade carpet beneath her feet. “I can make my own way from here.”
Paintings and busts of ancient relatives, nobles, and war heroes blurred past her until she came to a halt outside the dining room. A male servant dipped his head and opened the door without a word. “Thank you.” She raised her chin and took in a breath before stepping through.
Kat’s mother and sister sat at the end of a long polished table, both in jade silks. Rows of tables filled the room. Alchemical orbs hung from ceiling beams, throwing their soft white glow into every corner. She walked to her seat, feeling their eyes upon her. “Mother. Elisabeth.”
“Where were you?” her mother asked. Her eyes widened at the sight of Kat’s bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”
A servant pulled a chair out for Kat and she took a seat, nodding to him with thanks.
“Look at me when I speak to you, child.” Her mother’s flesh had greyed with age, and deep lines creased her brow. She held a teacup with long bony fingers, her eyes narrowing. “Where were you?”
Kat met those dark eyes, her voice catching in her throat. “I—”
“She was probably playing with that servant again or sniffing around the stables,” Elisabeth interrupted, her voice edged with sarcasm. “One would forget she is supposed to be a princess.”
Kat scowled at her sister and turned back to her mother. “I just needed some air. I felt unwell.”
“Your handmaiden came to see me. Helene, is it? I can never remember their damnable names.” She held the cup next to her thin lips, steam rising across her face. “She tells me you have received your blood.”
“That means you’re a woman, like me.” Elisabeth tossed her red hair back, thicker and longer than Kat’s. They shared the same button nose, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes.
“I am still older than you.” Kat’s fists tightened involuntarily.
“Well?” Her mother pursed her lips.
“I…I think she may be mistaken.” Kat shuffled in her seat as a servant poured tea from a white teapot, its faded blue designs of falcons and dragons reminding her of the huntsmaster’s tattoos. “I was out climbing and hurt myself. It must have been from that.”
“She’s obviously lying, mother.”
The Empress silenced Elisabeth with a glare. “Did you visit the physician?”
Kat shook her head and looked down at her chipped fingernails. “It was only a small cut. I think it has healed.”
“Show me.”
“Show you?” Kat’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Your cut.” She placed her teacup down on its saucer. “I must say, Kathryn, it is no surprise that you would hurt yourself the way you go scrambling along those roofs barefoot like some disgusting animal. You’re not hurt at all, are you?” She held Kat with her stare, waiting, a slight curl forming at the edge of her mouth.
Kat went to speak and stopped herself before she told another lie. “Sorry, Mother.” She dipped her gaze, pressing her hands together.
“So, there is no wound?”
A servant placed sweetbreads and cured ham on the plate before Kat. She tore up a piece of the meat with her fingers and ate, closing her eyes as she chewed. “I am sorry.”
“This is a big day.” Her mother raised her chin. “I will have the servants make arrangements.”
Kat met her gaze. “For what?”
“For your ceremony, of course.”

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Click HERE to read The Magician on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

Basilisk on a Yellow Field — a story in the Ravenglass Universe

I stood on the edge of a large stone room lit by alchemical orbs casting soft white light across the faces of two dozen children as they danced to the drummers and pipers performing a traditional Ostreich folk song.

The adults looked on in their green finery. The men wore matching coats, tailored from silk. The women wore long hooded dresses in a darker green than the men. They were cut low along the bust and pulled tight at the waist, with wide skirts extending to the floor.

My dress was in the style of the other women, though a hidden slit allowed me to reach across with my left hand and easily grasp my blade, the Feuerschwert.

A red-faced dancer stared at me as she swayed from left to right, turning and twisting her hands in time with the music. I smiled, but my smile was not returned. There was fear in those eyes.

The Feuerschwert rested cold against my skin. Though secured to my waist, I feared the ravenglass might cut into my flesh, bringing out its dormant power.

The scent of roasted pork hung in the air as I examined the revellers’ faces. I took care to note the features of each person in an effort to remember. A woman’s face sparked a memory when I saw her from the side, but when she turned to me with an unsure smile, it was clear we shared no recognition.

Just one smile, just one nod of recognition was all I craved. Someone to tell me who I am — to tell me my name.

I moved left along the wall as the beat continued. Though the festivities were held in honour of Jorg Shultz’s fiftieth year, the Viscount had retired to his chamber during the final course of the feast. I stepped around a stone bust of my target, staring expressionless from a marble plinth, and skirted past a colourful tapestry that was fifteen feet across. It showed a knight bearing the Ostreich sigil of a black basilisk on a yellow field thrusting a lance into the belly of a green-scaled wyvern.

Reaching the end of the great hall, I slipped through a half-open door. The alchemical glow faded as I made my way along a bare stone corridor illuminated by wall candles. The handle of the Feuerschwert brushed against my side as my steps grew urgent. I found my way to a spiral stairway.

I ascended the steps until I reached a thick door in varnished oak. I placed my ear against the door and listened. Hearing nothing, I turned the handle. I held my breath, pulled up the hood of my dress, removed my shoes, and stepped through the door.

The corridor was dark and the floorboards cold beneath my soles. A faint glow seeped out from beneath a door at the end of the passage. I reached into my dress, removed the Feuerschwert, trembling as I held it my hands. Its ravenglass blade was a deep black — a much deeper black than the darkness of the passage.

I unhooked the skirt from my dress and freed myself from the corset, dropping them in a heap next to me. I stepped towards the door and teased its handle. My heart thundered in my chest as I pushed the door open.

A fire burned in a hearth at the far-right of the room. Above it, a portrait of a long-dead Viscount looked on with a dark, disinterested gaze. Thick green drapes hung in front of the windows overlooking the Braun Sea. I heard a shuffle to my right — it was Jorg Shultz. Our eyes met.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

I said nothing and pricked the index finger of my left hand with the Feuerschwert. The Viscount’s eyes widened at the blade turned from deep black to a glowing red as it consumed the blood.

“Ravenglass,” he whispered, his eyes bulging.

I jumped back on my toes as he tipped his chair towards me. Jorg unsheathed a blade, longer and thicker than my own. With a fluid motion he rolled up his sleeve and sliced the blade across his left forearm. His blade too glowed red.

A wolfish grin rose beneath his thick blond moustache. Nobody had warned me about this.

My hands went slick with sweat. I danced on my tiptoes, feinted left, then right, trying to draw him into dropping his guard, to making a mistake.

“Who sent you?” he growled.

I shook my head. I was not going to answer him. How could I answer him?

He swung his blade in a broad vertical arc. I hopped to the right and stabbed forward with a twist of my wrist. He jerked his shoulder to the side. We both straitened up, regaining our stance.

We circled each other, his blue eyes locked with my own. I dived forward, striking the back of his leg. He let out an agonised scream as the blade hissed, its magic tearing through his flesh, burning him from within.

He swung and I moved to parry, but instead of the expected ricochet, his blade went through my own, like two jets of water crossing each other’s paths. His blade nicked my arm and I felt its fiery heat swell inside.

Neither of us bled from our wounds, but I sensed Jorg’s pain as it spread through his body. He fell backwards, looking up at me in terror. “What do you want?” he managed. His words were weak, his breath shallow.

I stood over him. His blade returned to black as it dropped from his convulsing hand. I pulled my hood down and pushed my blade into his chest.

“It’s you,” he gasped. “What—”

I pulled the Feuerschwert from his chest. “Wait,” I said. “Who am I?” I leaned down and shook him. “Please,” I pleaded. “Tell me who I am.”

But he was already dead.

The End.

Available now!

The Ravenglass Chronicles.

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Kat is heir to the throne…

…but the last thing she wants to do is rule.

When the day she’s been dreading finally arrives, Kat is torn between her royal duties and a magical destiny.

Will she choose true love and risk certain war, or accept an arranged marriage with a man three-times her age?

With only a wyvern and a messenger boy as her friends, who can she really trust?
How deep do the secrets run?

Inspired by the tarot and set in a rich medieval world, The Ravenglass Chronicles is a fantasy novella serial.

You’ll love this coming-of-age epic because everyone loves a coming-of-age epic.

Get your copy on Amazon, or read on Kindle Unlimited.

Wizard of the Wasteland, book one of the Wasteland series.

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Surviving the apocalypse is hard…

…but it’s hell when you’re an addict.

Abel craves a quiet life.

But when a group of enslaved children cross his path, he is compelled to act.

But no one leaves the Family…

Joined by a travelling showman, Abel must do everything he can to save the kids.

Can he resist the temptations of his old life?

Will he ever be from drugs?

Can he find hope in a hopeless world?

You’ll love Wizard of the Wasteland because everyone loves post-apocalyptic survival, flawed heroes, and tales of good versus evil.

Get you copy on Kindle, paperback, audiobook, or read on Kindle Unlimited.

Blind Gambit, a gamelit novel.

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He’s the game’s only hope…but the truth is, he sucks.

In the near future, the B-chip allows blind people to see in virtual worlds.

The only time Brian really feels alive is when he’s playing Gambit…even though he’s the worst player.

When a hacker seeks to destroy the game, Brian’s immune to the weapon that’s kicking everyone else out.

But immunity isn’t enough. He must level-up to take on Gambit’s biggest threat.

With the help of friends and rivals, Brian needs to learn new skills, craft awesome weapons, and discover who or what is trying to tear down the only thing he cares about before it’s too late…

In the real world, Brian is forced to confront his disability. But how can he adjust to a world without sight when Gambit offers so much more?

Written by a visually impaired author, Blind Gambit is a GameLit novel as a fun action adventure, filled with geeky references and an authentic perspective on disability.

Available on Kindle, paperback, and Kindle Unlimited.