This review first appeared on my Substack newsletter, Omnivorous.
Warning: Spoilers for the book follow.
I’ve been a fan of David Dalglish’s The Vagrant Gods series since I read the first volume several years ago. Each subsequent installment has increased the stakes and the intensity, until it all comes down to this: the arrival of Lucavi on the shores of Thanet, where he will enact a terrible mass sacrifice–in effect, a genocide–in order to ensure that his essence and spirit are transferred to his chosen heir. However, despite his enormous power there are quite a few obstacles standing in his way, not the least of which is our band of heroes, including Cyrus (who is increasingly possessed by the vengeful spirit known as the Vagrant), Stasia (who has her own divinity to contend with), Mari (who can take on the personae of various vanquished gods), Keles (who is a royal in her own right), and Arn (who once served the Everlorn Empire but has now become a warrior for their enemies).
It’s not every author who can give you characters that you truly care about and invest in, particularly not when it comes to grimdark. Whether it’s Cyrus or Keles, Mari or Stasia, Arn or his brother Dario, these are people that you actually can believe are real and whose emotional investments–both in liberating the island of Thanet and in their personal lives–have heft to them. These are people that are caught up in a titanic conflict in which thousands of lives are at stake, but they also have loves that they want to protect, and this is what makes them much more than the simple archetypes they might have otherwise become.
There’s a brutal beauty to Dalglish’s prose that makes you feel as if you are right there with the characters as they engage in brutal and ugly battles, all in an effort to keep the world from plunging under the complete dominion of the power-mad Lucavi who is, I think, one of the most sinister villains to have emerged from recent epic fantasy. Like many dictators, he has become very much convinced by his own propaganda, to the point that he really does think it’s for the best that many thousands give up their lives so that his infernal rule can be continued, just as he clearly hopes that he’ll be able to take the battle to the gods in the afterlife, as well. The fact that Lucavi is like so many terrifying leaders in our own word–both religious and secular–is precisely what makes him so terrifying.
This makes it all the more satisfying when Lucavi–whose body has been taken over by one of his own predecessors–is finally cut down by Cyrus/the Vagrant, who has himself been possessed of the literal spirit of vengeance. We’ve been waiting for this moment since the very first book, and now it has come to pass. It’s a fitting end for a creature who has shown himself to be truly monstrous, willing to sacrifice everyone and anyone on the altar of his own misguided faith. This doesn’t mean that Cyrus gets to enjoy the fruits of his labor, because he ultimately realizes, as many heroes have before him, that the world he’s created ultimately has no space for him.
Like the best of epic fantasy, The Slain Divine, and indeed the series as a whole, engages with some of the big questions currently percolating in our culture and society. From the beginning, one of the key issues in the series is the nature of individual agency, and to what extent one person can change the course of empire and the efforts of those in power to bring everyone under a dictatorship. The series suggests that there is power in both the individual and the collective, which makes this concluding novel a particularly pertinent one in the sinister era in which we find ourselves.
Moreover, the series, and this book in particular, is concerned with the nature of religious faith and dogma. The Everlorn Empire and its acolytes for the most part seem to truly believe that it is their mission, and their right, to subjugate all of the other peoples and gods, both in this world and the next, and Dalglish. In different times this would perhaps seem to be a bit too-on-the-nose in terms of social commentary, but in a world in which Christian nationalists both in the United States and abroad seem to determined to bludgeon everyone else into submission and to eradicate all faith that runs contrary to their own, it’s precisely this real-world relevance that gives this series its unique power.
Even though much of the novel focuses on the heroes, there are two characters who are more morally ambiguous. The first is Sinshei, daughter of Lucavi, who has her own ambitions and yearns to take her father’s place so that she can enact her own vision of reform. We’re never quite sure how to respond to her, precisely because she’s a part of this corrupt and violence system. In the end, however, her ambitions are as vain as her father’s, and the same is true of Soma who, as readers of the last book know, is in fact the vanquished god Dagon. Like Sinshei he has his own ambitions for the Everlorn Empire, and he is unfortunately also a tyrant-in-the-making. Rather than returning the world to a state of many gods, he instead wants to take the monster’s place, setting himself up as another dictator. Once again Dalglish makes it clear that, while Lucavi might be the most visible avatar of religious oppression, he is hardly unique. Once again, this is a timely warning about certain figures in our own world who would try to remake the body politic in their own image.
I think it’s safe to say that The Slain Divine did not disappoint. It’s one of those books that, as a result of its powerful prose and its potent messaging, is designed to stay with you long after you finish the final page. And that, I think, is the mark of a truly great work of fantasy.