Beneath A Thousand Skies

Summary:

‘You could forget, sometimes, that the life they now lived had sprung from an act of mercy, not violence—that Alyas had disobeyed his king’s orders to snatch a chance at peace, to avoid killing—because killing was how they had survived, and there was, ironically, no one better at it.’

Eight days.

EIGHT. DAYS.

In the Siege of Druine Debell has once again created a masterpiece that is a gripping, edge of the seat, breath-catching ride, that puts me in mind of those terrifying rollercoaster videos where the ride comes to a pause before dropping into a fresh spin; but is also a deep, agonising exploration of the foundations of war, its cost to those who want, those who don’t and those standing in its path. While also retaining that steady, firm drumbeat of hope that has underpinned all three books in the Tales of Isyr and all within a story that spans eight days.

I don’t think I have ever read a book where seeing the passage of time marked so clearly ‘day one’, ‘day two’ has hit with such a gut-punch. That pause, like a guillotine crashing down hit hard every single time. It was a sigh of relief, that the characters I loved were still fighting, that they had survived one more day, and numerous clashes. It was a beat of hope that help could come, that maybe they could win. It was a respite, a moment to breathe, because whenever the action escalated whether with words or blades, I held my breath, because hope and victory and living were not guaranteed in this book. Death loomed constantly, crawled among the characters, stood arm in arm with them; and Debell does not shy away from it, does not paint it in glory or morality.

Death is just a part of it.  A character in its own right, bloody and horrifying, painful and raw, a choice and a punishment. A consequence of each step taken. That element has always been present, but in the Siege of Druine it was far more present, more imminent, partly because of that time-frame and the intimacy of the story; and partly because although the political webs that flow through this series were very much evident in this story, they were a step removed from the immediacy of the situation. A second dance moving in tandem with the action, which in many ways only heightened the feeling of being on a tightrope. Each step in the physical, manifest action of the fighting, hinging on that second, less obvious dance and Debell shows that in such a way that this entire book, even with that brief pause of relief at the passing of a day, the moments when we get to see Esar and Alyas be brothers, is drawn as tight as a bowstring and she maintains that pressure, that tension, that reality that everything could collapse in a single instance all the way through without losing the intensity or power.

‘You did things, and there were consequences, and you lived with them however you could. Or you died. Because that’s what happened in a fucking fight when people were trying to kill you.’

This is also very much a book about choice. Choice in the shadow of death, in the light of hope, and in the space between that dance between politics and action on the ground. In many ways this series has always been a story about that, its written into the very foundation of the story of Alyas and Esar – from their father choosing another son, in choosing to carry the Isyr blades, in Alyas choosing peace over orders – and around them, in the family they have chosen to build with the mercenaries; the jobs they have chosen, and the path they followed. Again, here with the closeness of the story it is heightened. The choices are desperate. The costs high… but the cost of not doing so is ever evident too. It’s about making the choices, the decisions, and then choosing how to live with the consequences.

It’s choosing which side of the coin to pay with and hoping that it play out the way that will save the most about lives. It’s about choosing to fight for peace, even at the risk of losing peace.

It’s about choosing who to follow, who to believe in.

And choosing when to walk away, and what you can and will sacrifice; and where you will draw your own line in the sand.

And Debell plays it out. Sometimes the choices are almost not choices at all, circumstance and other characters actions forcing a moment, so our characters are playing with a limited deck. Other times, giving that moment, that time to rationalise on a choice, to weigh both sides. And both have equal impact throughout.

As always, there is no way to talk about the Tales of Isyr without talking about the characters. This is a nucleated story – ‘thirty men, eight days’ and as such we don’t get to see all the characters; but that doesn’t lessen the gut-wrenching feeling that we might lose some of these characters all the way through. That feeling might be intensified if you’ve read the rest of the series and spent the time with them; but it isn’t necessary, because Debell gives us moments, even just flashes of the stories that have built here. We get to see where the loyalty of Keie of Agazi came from, to the interpersonal relationships that aren’t necessarily played out on the pages but are very much part of the story.

Alyas and Esar as always steal the show, and I don’t think I will ever tire of how Debell writes their dedicated, complicated sibling relationship. There is perhaps not as much development as in the other books, but there moments that we do get are raw and impactful; and the dedication, the determination to protect each other, is particularly heightened if you have read the later books and know what is to come. However, within the pages of The Siege of Druine their relationship, the understanding, the annoyance, the understanding of how the other works is an anchor point at the centre of the story, that keeps the rest of the group anchored, that gives a human touch to the weight of the choice to be here in this place, against these odds and doing what has to be done.

Ermano is a character I wanted to smack at the beginning; but by the final chapter had completely won me over. In some ways he was like a leaf caught in a storm, buffeted around from place to place, but in all honesty that would be doing him a disservice. There is a naivety to him that is frankly terrifying in this world, because such a thing is rewarded harshly – Alyas’ story is proof of that – but in some ways it felt like The Siege of Druine was the story of him finding his place and voice. Yes, there is a lot of his path and fate decided by others, but in the flashpoints, in the moments where he needed to stand or speak, he did. Maybe not as elegantly or as well-aimed as those around him, but in some places, more powerfully, because it came directly from the heart. I liked that it was a reminder that everyone could move pieces, that on this world-scale Mariska board, even narrowed down to where this story was playing out, it wasn’t just the big players that held the power.

Storn was in some ways a mirror of Ermano. Their stories started in very different places, on so many levels, from cultural upbringing to professional achievements, and different views of honour – both their own, and the very concept of it. Yet, there are parallels between Ermano arguing that he should stay because that is his responsibility, to Storn choosing to shatter his position to do what is right. Storn’s fight to find his voice, and his place are played out a little more visibly on the page because of his role, but the impact of his final line in the book, along with Ermano standing against Luiz at the end are such a good reflection of different but similar stories.

 Storn is also in many ways a mirror to Alyas albeit with different baggage, and the moments between the two of them were some of my favourites in the book. Again, coming back to the idea of choice, and the idea of honour and hope – and how those can look through very different lenses. To see Alyas pushing someone to make a choice similar to his own, aware of the price, of what he is asking and doing it because it has to be done; to seeing the conflict, emotional and physical between them over it, and the fact that even though they may have walked very similar paths, the place where they meet is not always one of understanding.

The Siege of Druine also feels in some ways like a book on the art of war. The action when it explodes, is raw, bloody and devastating; and Debell utterly captures the tension, and the rise and fall of running battles; the weight of overwhelming odds, and the impact of death both large-scale and personal. Yet, some of my favourite parts were the slower ones, the acknowledgment and use of tactics, of pieces moving back and forth, of countering each other’s moves. I love that the rational behind them being the ones to hold Druine was because of the tactical master coming at them; and that we get to see that play out in an intricate, costly dance.

There is no way for me to do justice to this book in a review. For one, that gut-wrenching, gnawing sensation of being on the edge of your seat is one that must be experienced; but also, because even now on a fifth or sixth reread, I am still finding new details to fall in love with. The Tales of Isyr as a series is one that brilliant from the start, and each addition has added so much to the world and the same is true of the Siege of Druine; and I love every single moment I have spent in this world and with these characters. But I feel like this one is the one that has left me with the biggest book hangover of the three, and even sitting writing this review, I just want to curl up and read it again, despite just finishing it again. All I can say is that if you haven’t picked up the Tales of Isyr then you are truly missing out, and The Siege of Druine is fantastic either as an entry point or if you have read the other books and want to dive into a piece of history.