Putting Flesh on the Bones of Epic Fantasy
Having just completed an eight-book epic fantasy series, I can finally reflect on what went to plan and what surprised me.
The unfolding mystery, with its plots, turns and twists, was largely mapped out. The characters were less predictable.
I might know where someone’s story would end, yet still be surprised by what they did along the way. An unexpected reaction could change a relationship. That relationship could complicate a carefully laid plan. Before long, another strand of the story was taking shape.
Some of my greatest surprises came from the women in the Saga of the Six Realms. They emerged as resourceful, formidable and sometimes deeply conniving, with desires and loyalties that made their choices increasingly difficult.
Why did they develop this way? I cannot give a neat answer. But as I came to understand them, they gave me more to write about.
When the characters complicate the plan
Once someone has a history, a temperament and something they badly want, their behaviour has to make sense to them. Sometimes that means following a troublesome response and working through its consequences.
Cheadle-Conti is a good example. An exiled Moontar priestess who becomes an assassin’s assassin develops a wonderfully uncomfortable relationship with Gilgamesh, Grand Master of the assassins’ Guild known as the Illusionists.
He needs her. Her abilities make her valuable. Yet when her inhuman Moontar nature surfaces, she makes his skin crawl.
Introducing her to his fellow Grand Masters puts that tension on display. They have little idea what to expect from the attractive woman before them, or how quickly their assumptions might prove dangerous. The men recoil in their chairs when she reverts to cat eyes, flashes her fangs and hisses at them. At once, they discover why Gilgamesh was coy about introducing the beguiling Cheadle-Conti. Yet for all her lethal abilities, she has charm and carries herself with deliciously wicked humour.
For me, the interest lies in their uneasy partnership. Gilgamesh has to deal with someone whose usefulness and unsettling nature are inseparable. How much does he really understand her?
That creates room for exchanges and complications I had not originally conceived. The larger story still has somewhere to go, but now these two have their own business to attend to.
The strength that loss brings into view
Markeesha, the Grand Duchess, surprised me in a different way.
Her husband, Emperor Constantine, is murdered at the start of the story. Amid the uncertainty that follows, she must protect her family and help find a way forward. People who had not recognised her strength begin to realise how much they have underestimated her.
Many of us recognise the feeling of being looked to for answers while still trying to understand a loss ourselves.
In this passage from the opening of Book One, Markeesha must make decisions for her family before she has even left her husband’s casket:
Salvarre nodded, but something triggered his savant mind. He sensed intent in her words. What am I missing? he asked himself.
“Fredrick and Josephine, if you agree, I wish to retain the private wing at Riverstone Castle. I will vacate the Palace,” Markeesha said, the words costing her more than she allowed her face to show. “The election of the next Emperor I leave to others to organise.”
They both dutifully nodded their acquiescence.
“Very good,” Markeesha confirmed prior to her announcement. “Forthwith, you, Fredrick, will assume your rightful place as head of House Mustafa and succeed Constantine as the next Duke of Inkatha. It was also your father’s wish. May you and Josephine serve the people and these lands well,” she added with a note of finality.
“As you say, Mother.” Fredrick respectfully nodded. Josephine beamed with pride and squeezed Fredrick’s hand in excitement.
These are Constantine’s directions. Even after his death, his hand is at play, Salvarre decided, recalling what Constantine said to him on that fateful sole. You foresaw your demise! That’s why you sent the letter to the Sorceress of Vedic Noir. But why? Why didn’t you tell me? Another chilling thought struck Salvarre. Who or what forces an emperor to act this way?
All Justan could think of were his father’s dying words: “Tell your mother and Fredrick I love them. Most of all, protect your older brother from our enemies and himself.”
“Now, I suggest we say our goodbyes,” requested Markeesha.
The Grand Duchess leaned over the casket and gently kissed the dead emperor’s forehead. “I will miss you, my larger-than-life husband,” she murmured. “May your great works and this family do your legacy proud.”
Her hand lingered a moment longer on the casket. “I love you, my dear.”
She then turned around and left the mausoleum.
As Markeesha departed, those left behind felt the first chill of abandonment.
Markeesha’s response gives her a presence far beyond the role she might initially seem to occupy. As the story unfolds, her family’s past complicates that role further. The blood obligations run deeper than she knows.
When affection has other intentions
The elven women brought a different kind of complication: relationships where affection and hidden intentions are hard to untangle.
Ju Deae, a Woodelven Oracle, sees a man who will become central to her future. Having glimpsed that possibility, she decides how to respond and draws others into her plans.
Would seeing part of your future change the way you approached someone? Could you distinguish the person from the destiny you hoped to share?
Yarlil, the formidable Dark Elf Beast Mistress, also has designs on a human.
Cultural differences and prejudice complicate these relationships. The Elves’ histories give them reasons to be wary, and their intentions reach beyond personal desire.
Yarlil is summoned before the formidable Queen of the Dark Lore:
“A great hunger watches us from afar,” the queen continued. “It waits with patience colder than death: an inhuman foe with an insatiable appetite.”
Though questions crowded her tongue, Yarlil knew better than to interrupt.
“It sees across futures,” said Laisjan. “Yet even such a thing hesitates. There exists a living thread it does not understand: a bond between a Nafarzie and a Prince of Men.”
Yarlil frowned. “Since the Fall from Grace, no one has seen or heard of the Nafarzie. They vanished long ago.”
“The Nafarzie walk in more than one realm at once,” Laisjan replied coolly. “Do not mistake ignorance for improbability.”
“And this Prince of Men?” Yarlil asked. “Where does one conveniently find him?”
A slow smile touched the queen’s lips.
“It is your destiny to cross paths; the Lore foretells it. That is why I have chosen you.”
The Elves carry secrets that bear on humanity’s future. A personal attachment may also serve interests far larger than the relationship itself.
Can her feelings be sincere when she is withholding something that might change the other person’s choices?
Love can coexist with ambition. Someone can care deeply yet still try to steer the person they care about. A desire to protect can become an excuse for deciding what someone else should be allowed to know.
We recognise these tensions even when the people involved inhabit a world very different from our own. We know what it is to wonder whether someone wants us, needs us, or needs something from us. Sometimes the answer contains a little of each.
Looking back over the eight books, I can see how these relationships gave flesh to the bones of the story I had planned. Each new attachment gave someone more to gain, more to conceal, or something to lose.
That is where much of my interest in them grew. I wanted to know what they would do when the things they wanted could no longer comfortably coexist. And increasingly, I cared about what it would cost them.
Begin the Saga of the Six Realms
Find Cheadle-Conti, Markeesha and Yarlil in the Saga of the Six Realms, a completed eight-book epic fantasy of political intrigue, ancient secrets and divided loyalties. Begin with Emperor of Mu, where Constantine’s murder sets the mystery in motion.
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