A young Solgant goes on a mission to find her brother after underlords burn her home, and is aided by two enemies of her people, a Danturin goblin and a Eodan giant
For years Solgants have called an enemy race “goblins” — a people who come by night and raid Solgant settlements and villages. But the word "goblin" turns out to be a myth. There are no “goblins.” There are only Solgants and Danturi. That is one of the points of the book. Another: Bridging the barrier of a hatred so old that no one ever has done so. Until now.
Fleeing her castle’s downfall, searching for her brother and his army, befriended by Angborn the Eodan (whom her people call “giant”), a young Solgant girl named Llyndreth sees for the first time one of her people’s age-old foes. He is a wounded, unconscious, half-dead “goblin” whom, strangely, she cannot find it in her heart to hate — though, by race, he looks as different to her and she does to him. Things haven’t been what they seemed to this point: There were no giants, only Angborn who can change his height, having what Solgants call "magical abilities" because he has powers they don't possess.
So she convinces Angborn to aid her in helping the wounded “goblin.” They dress his hurt which brings him to consciousness, and though he shows hostility Llyndreth asks if he wants water. He looks at her blankly. Then, at Angborn’s suggestion, she tries the Common Speech, a language used by peasants but no longer by Solgant Lords, a language so old it belongs to no one...or perhaps everyone.
Recalling words from her childhood Llyndreth bridges the first barrier between them. His reply is proud, scornful, though he is near dying of thirst:
“I, Zorn, am Captain among Shadow Warriors. I have asked no help of the Sun-spawned. Let you keep your water.”
But he, in turn, has seen the hurt in her eyes and has no doubt that she means kindly toward him, and, "almost, he could accept kindness at her hands."
As Angborn with his own reason for hating “goblins,” goads Zorn, Llyndreth learns that Zorn is a Danturin and that the Danturi are the Shadow People, forced because of long-ago treachery to live in the dark halls of the mountain, living during night, sleeping during day. But they once roamed free and proud before the Solgants came and, at that time, the light did not hurt their eyes. They had been ruled by the mighty prince Dantur (whose self-wrought armband was such a great thing of power that it was coveted by one of the powerful “Old Ones” who lived first in the land). Llyndreth hears Zorn’s "bitter, hopeless defense of his people," sees him conquer his need for food and water, and knows that her own brother Rothwyn would praise such honor. “And honor was the last thing she had been led to except of a goblin.”
Zorn makes a valiant attempt to escape, leaving the sleeping girl and Eodan in peace. They find him almost immediately, in worse shape than before, and he is forced to lie quiet while Llyndreth tends to his needs and Angborn sees to his wound. He is too weak and too ill to care where his duty as a Danturin warrior lay, and by the time he is well enough, his fellow-warriors or “spear brothers” are near. He is brought up against the toughest of choices: Will he do his duty, in honor-bound to hand Llyndreth and Angborn over to his spear brothers? Or will he risk betraying his warrior's oath to aid the two outsiders — one considered, by race, an enemy of his people — to reach the Solgant camp in safety? Rapidly weighing these irreconcilable options and their likely consequences, he finds he knows one thing only: that he cannot let the girl be taken captive. He owes her his life. It is a debt. And the Danturi keep their debts.
Thus begins the journey of these three unlikely companions (along with Llyndreth’s pony) as Zorn leads the others safely toward Llyndreth's brother's camp. Along the way respect and friendship spring up among them through various circumstances. But because of his choice Zorn ends up outcast from his spear brothers and from his people. Alone when Llyndreth first met him, alone when she sees Zorn again, Llyndreth herself sets her own course by making similar realizations and tough choices.
Overcoming fears, prejudice, barriers, both she and Zorn, as well as the unwilling Angborn and even Rothwyn, become part of the waking of a magic older and more powerful even than that of the priest-kind who keep Zorn’s people, his spear brothers, even King Murgg, bound in fear. The strongest power, however, is that of these representatives of the three races joined as one; of the bond between Llyndreth and Zorn; and of the bond between Zorn and the king's heir Gryth — Zorn’s best friend whom he had betrayed to save Llyndreth and who calls him again “spear brother.”
The Shadow Warrior is a truly great book, one that sets up in mind of readers the importance and impact of the choices they make. It is a story the reader "lives through" and is "changed through." And this not only during the first reading, but with every reread, the reader "re-lives" seeing out of the characters' eyes; he or she re-lives their experiences as they change and grow.
Pat Zettner’s consistency and choice of words is simple, compelling, memorable, masterfully done. Personally, I pick the book up just to hear again the language:
“Let you not go through.” “At peace, are we? That’s well.” “Wait a moment while I clothe me warmly.” “Think you...?” ”My mind has turned.” “Bide safe, friend.” “Spear brothers.” “Shadow Warriors.” “Hearth brothers.” “Sa.” “Na.” “Grief is a steed that must travel its own pace.”
And to hear again Zorn’s laughter on the dark mountainside when Llyndreth reveals her aversion, not to “goblins,” but to bats. In that moment, I as reader feel “young and carefree” once more.
Pat Zettner’s exquisite use of blindness, in day or in dark, and the perspective-switch that happens within the reader; the meaning of “blind;” the setting side-by-side Llyndreth’s being led, blind, through the darkness of a mountain tunnel by Zorn, who by race sees in the dark; Zorn’s seeing ahead of him only “a bright-blind emptiness of days” alone if Llyndreth were taken captive by the Danturi to live blind amid scorn in their dark halls in the depths of the mountain. I love it when the two stand in the Cave of Fire and Llyndreth sees, by the flash of green light, gemstones glittering in cave walls, fulfilling Zorn’s unspoken wish when he helped her climb to the blooming thornbush, that she would see such things and and love them as he did. And when Llyndreth glories in storms, Zorn’s reaction makes me smile.
In essence, The Shadow Warrior is a story "of a character/characters caught between hard choices."* Perhaps for that very reason, and due to the decisions Zorn and the others make as they are faced with each hard choice along the way, The Shadow Warrior is also a story of hope, of the worth of "the crack in the wall," and of "the flaw in the stone." Beautifully written, The Shadow Warrior does what all great books do: it changes you.
The Shadow Warrior is a book that deserves reviving! It is memorable, original, and compelling.
I'm not sure how old I was when I first read this book, but I can still remember staring at the last page, quietly re-reading the last sentence out loud, and then slowly closing it. It is (and was then) a quick read, but there is something wonderfully poetic in Pat Zettner's economy of words. I still return to this book, devouring each one of those words eagerly, and gently, precisely /because/ they are so rare. Everything about this book could be dismissed as simple or easy, but it is much more than that, to me.
The world is sparsely described, and yet fully realized. The rhythm of language - both in description and the characters' dialog - lends the story that dream-like quality of a real fairy tale. Llyndreth, Zorn, and even Angborn all possess distinct voices, personalities and they all embark on their own "hero's journey". Zorn's rigid warrior ethos puts him in the position of being indebted to one of his people's worst enemies - and yet it will not allow him to abandon her. Eventually, he realizes he would not wish to, even if he could, even though he must. Never unkind or uncaring, Llyndreth discovers the depths of her own courage, braving the darkness and danger of the goblin tunnels to save him from his people's ultimate punishment. The love that blossoms between them is gentle, uncontrived, and powerful enough to fulfill prophecy, end wars, and begin to erase some of the hate that has plagued both their peoples for generations.
This book illustrates for young readers the importance of not judging by appearances, or of simply believing what, or hating who, you are told. It's about making connections with those who are different or who are our enemies, seeing them for individuals of value, worthy of respect rather than death. It's about being willing to do the right thing, at all costs. It's about the immeasurable value of real friendship, real love.
I still read this book regularly. The writing and themes continue to impact me and my own writing. It will always have a place of honor on my shelf.
"Sa, let us go home, Queen of Warriors."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I first read this almost 20 years ago. A few years back I started to look for books that I enjoyed as a child and reread them. This book came to mind immediately, but for the life of me I could not remember the title nor the author. I just vaguely remembered that it had goblins fighting a war against humans, and the cover had a girl on a horse and a vignette of a face with yellow eyes towards the top. It took hours and hours of online research stretched over a couple of years for me to finally figure out the name of this book. After that, I checked my local library and the libraries of my friends, none of which had a copy. So, I ordered it off of Amazon. There are very few books that I have tried so hard and spent so much time trying to find again. Out of the hundreds of books I read throughout my life, this is one that I HAD to remember and reread. I guess what I am trying to say is that this is a book that just sticks with you. It is timeless.
Zorn is an intriguing character. Angborn is likewise fascinating. But Llyndreth is so comparatively ordinary that I can't help shaking my head in disappointment. I can't think of a single outstanding character trait that she possesses, and it's plain that the author herself is much more invested in those two wonderfully out-of-the-common-way male characters.
The girl is the weakest link in far too many otherwise riveting adventures. I'm actively looking for fantasy adventures in which female characters don't function as the standard-bearers for "Normal" -- in which they, too, might get to be giants or goblins rather than representatives of humanity-as-usual.
Overall, not too bad. Shallow "we can all get along" message with decent writing. Character names were over the top. 10 and up grade/reading level. Read on assignment.