History and fantasy have always been easy bedfellows. Rather than just cuddling up under the covers however, Seven Deaths of an Empire wears its influences and heritage proudly, presenting the evidence as a golden standard at the head of a marching legion. Imperial Rome is the template for GR Matthews’ first foray into epic fantasy, with his characters walking a venomous knife-edge of politics as one Emperor dies and another must be crowned.
Part coming-of-age journey, part court intrigue and murder mystery, Matthews drives the pace of the story through fast-moving chapters that alternate between the two lead characters, resisting the temptation to broaden the scope and bring in other points of view. He adds more depth to Bordan’s history with Kyron through short flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter, reinforcing the way both men feel about duty and service and how Bordan has instilled his values in his grandson.
It is those values the book begins to question as the story develops: at what point does duty become a burden? What if your service is to the wrong ideals? What if the ideals of the Empire are actually harmful to all who live under it? Young apprentice magician Kyron has a lot of questioning to do, in the company of mentor Padarn and their charge, a hostage named Emlyn from the savage, uncivilised Northern tribes the Empire campaigns against at the start of the story. He faces hostility not only from the tribes, but from his own side too, as he and Padarn join the honour guard escorting the body of the dead Emperor back to the capital. Matthews removes the foundations of Kyron’s faith in his Empire brick by brick through the magician’s chapters, culminating in a vision and revelation that force him to face a truth that had been kept from him.
Meanwhile his grandfather Bordan, the Empire’s greatest living general, is being tested by his own crisis of faith—none of the Emperor’s children are suited to the crown, and yet the Empire must endure lest it falls. Here Matthews uses Bordan, mired in politics and surrounded by uncertain allies, to show events spiralling out of control, a man of honesty undone by strategy.
And with the refractions of Roman history within the story, it all rings true: riots in the markets of the city, the campaigns of the legions against the Northern tribes (aka the Gauls and Franks), the death of the Emperor while on campaign (directly inspired by the death of Drusus the Elder in 9BC, perhaps?), crucifixion of the Empire’s enemies, and particularly the battle scenes. Matthews takes an unflinching look at the lines of battle and adds spice to the blood with a well-executed system of magic. The book’s climax sees characters sacrificed for their ideals, and ideals sacrificed for justice, and the ground is well laid for an exciting sequel.
Matthews gives a nod to David Eddings, but Seven Deaths of an Empire is both bloody, and bloody well written. Fans of John Marco and John Gwynne have an excellent new addition to their shield wall.
Julia Kitvaria Sarene