“The Speculative Fiction Indie Novella Championship (SFINCS, pronounced “sphinx”)a is a yearly competition to recognize, honor, and celebrate the talent and creativity present in the indie community. We are a sister competition to both SPFBO and SPSFC, and we highlight greatness in the novella format in all areas of speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror, etc.).” – From the official SFINCS website.
Note: The following review contains only my personal thoughts as a judge and does not reflect the views of the team as a whole.
REVIEW
The Weaver and the Wyrm is a fun, slightly campy fantasy romp that, of all things, put me in mind of Xena: Warrior Princess (but with a little of the added texture of George R. R. Martin’s Dunk and Egg series). This is not a comparison I was expecting to make, and certainly, the opening pages (which feature a lot of geographic dreariness)* suggest more of a bog-standard grimdark (but really just traditional) adventure fantasy. I was pleasantly surprised by Weaver, and the more it leaned into its humour, the more layered the text began to feel. While I do think that fans of the larger Emaneska series to which Weaver belongs are the most likely to get appreciate the story, the novella features a pleasingly self-contained adventure that left me eager to check out more of Galley’s work.
Weaver‘s setup is f
airly straightforward, and not so different from many of the other secondary world fantasy novellas from this year’s SFINCS (particularly fellow finalist Parasitic Omens and Dave Lawson’s The Pawns of Havoc). All three feature characters who take on rather murky missions on behalf of individuals or organizations, though each work feels tonally distinct. It’s a solid premise for a fantasy novella–one that promises a self-contained story that should be easy to follow even without the larger context of the world or a main series plot. Weaver’s protagonist, Farden, is a powerful (and somewhat dour) warrior mage tasked by his superior (a vampire named Durnus) with retrieving a dangerous yet mysterious weapon from the land of Albion. With its combination of both Gothic horror and fantasy set pieces, Weaver has a little of a Dungeons and Dragons feel to it, and I could easily see Farden’s adventure as a satisfying one-shot tabletop game, given its balance of investigation, exploration, and action scenes. The weapon Farden’s been sent to purchase is being auctioned by a sinister local merchant called the Weaver, who clearly has hidden motives of his own, and when Farden discovers that the weapon isn’t a sword or spell, but a living reptile (the titular wyrm), he’s torn between setting her free and returning her to Durnus. There are additional dips and pivots in the plot, and it’s a fun one to follow, especially once the wyrm (called Bother) enters the story.
The world of Ben Galley’s Emaneska is one of those rare things in epic fantasy: lived in. For all the grand set pieces and global conflicts at work in many of today’s most popular fantasy series, I often have the problem that while we’re told of the vast lands and disparate regions over which our main characters battle, it never feels as though anyone lives there. This, to me, is a far more important component of worldbuilding than a hooky magic concept or the presence of a lot of capitalized Nouns. To make the reader feel as though the POV characters are more than walking, talking archetypes acting out a role, but are instead persons who move about in the world and who may well mean nothing to those they bump shoulders with in a crowded market, is a rare skill. I was even more impressed that Galley managed this in a novella. Typically, secondary world fantasies run into two problems when shrunk down to fit the confines of short stories, novellas, and slim novels. Either the worldbuilding is so slight that the setting comes off as shallow, or too much time is wasted in a short format trying to cram in as many worldbuilding “facts” as possible, to the detriment of character and story.
Albion was not Farden’s first choice of post. It was not his last choice. It was his only choice.
Happily, Weaver avoids both of these, yet for all that it’s an easy read with what feels like a textured setting, I did feel as though its target audience was pre-existing fans of the main Emaneska books. For the first quarter or so of Weaver, there was a lot that didn’t particularly stay with me and that felt more in service to Farden’s larger story and his place in it than to the shorter tale being told in Weaver. While certain characters leapt off the page for me (the Weaver and Bother in particular), Farden himself was a little of a blank slate at times. Occasionally, he was world-weary and begrudging, coming off as relatably inept (tripping over uneven ground as he plodded onwards toward yet another miserable quest), yet elsewhere he seemed broody, naive and noble, practically invincible, and charmingly witty. All of these qualities can, of course, reside within one character, but I felt as though I was missing the key as to why they were all qualities that this specific character possessed. That said, I was left wanting to learn more about Farden (and Durnus!), so perhaps Weaver achieved its aim after all.
The writing in Weaver is largely smooth and compelling. It was, in part, Galley’s skill at description that helped paint a vivid picture of Albion and of individual environments. That “lived in” quality I mentioned earlier was achieved in no small part through Galley’s clear and yet textured prose. While there were occasionally awkward word choices, or lines that could have hit harder with some judicious tightening, by and large the writing was a strength. The prose never got in its own way, nor did it hinder my comprehension of the story. It was easy to sit back and let events on-page simply flow. Stylistically, Weaver features a combination of a modern tone with a number of popular medievalisms, but while that combination can often feel forced and pretentious, here it matched the slightly campy feel of the narrative. The slightly cheeky tone came off as self-aware and mature, something that’s often missing from attempts at this type of fantasy. At no point did the humour detract from the stakes, rather, it intensified my investment in the world and Farden’s experiences.
All-in-all, The Weaver and the Wyrm is what I’d call roaring good fun, which turned out to be exactly what I needed in the moment. For all Farden’s occasional gloom (and, certainly, his less than stellar opinions on Albion’s landscape), Weaver felt uplifting and lighthearted, with a little bit of a Sword and Sorcery feel. If Weaver‘s anything to go by, I’m eager to read more from Galley.
* Some of which is, admittedly, clearly played up for humour, as in the case of a “shit-coloured river.”
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