SEVEN DAYS OF MERCY FOR THE APOSTATIC PRIEST

In Lorimer’s dark fantasy novel, a priestess enters a holy city for the sole purpose of slaying a god.

Ruxindra l’Maer, alongside companion and sorcerer Gerritt, traverses a valley to reach Mahakalpe. Many have gathered in this Holy City to witness a god’s rebirth; the Eidolon arrives soon after Ruxindra and Gerritt do. Eidolons are humans who carry a “divine seed” until they’re called to an altar in Mahakalpe, where they embody a deity. When such a god last walked the “fallen world” of Hebdomar, civilizations either “knelt in servitude” or were obliterated. Ruxindra aims to stop that from happening again; as an Apotastic Priestess, she’s a daemon hunter and god slayer. She hears of a corresponding ritual: People have brought lehakva to the city—virgins betrothed to the Eidolon right before they’re sacrificed on a pyre. With help from a local magic-wielding thaumaturge, Ruxindra disguises herself as a lehakva and becomes one of 30 “brides” to the Eidolon, who, this time, is Luka, a boy of about 12 or 13. Ruxindra just wants to get close enough to kill him, but a god reborn may not be the only threat in Mahakalpe. The gathering in the Holy City includes figures from all over Hebdomar, from the “tempestuous” Varag to glass-winged Sylphids who’ve seemingly arrived in a Swarm. Somewhere in the massive crowd is a group that has another agenda altogether. And if the situation weren’t volatile enough, Luka makes an unexpected decision that puts everyone in danger.

Lorimer’s novel, which launches a prospective series, is surprisingly taut for an opening installment. The author introduces myriad places toward the beginning but doesn’t describe them in excessive detail, effectively hinting at Hebdomar’s expanse. Mahakalpe is home to a sprightly cast of characters. The Inaghke, for example, have eyes like “glowing coals,” tentacled heads, and fanged lamprey-like mouths; the presence of just a few of them puts Ruxindra on edge. Much of the novel thrives on suspense; the sacrificial ritual is mere days away, and the protagonist must suppress her warrior instincts (which she only sometimes succeeds at doing). Evocative prose meticulously describes the Holy City at a deliberate pace that builds further tension: “We took a circuitous route around clusters of domed houses, over commercial thoroughfares lined with shuttered shops…. We passed a trellised ziggurat anchoring a humble enclave of the orthodox, their congregation gathered at its base in their stoic expressions and tahliz scarves.” The narrative’s first half offers a touch of comic relief, courtesy of Gerritt, who’s an accommodating companion but usually intoxicated and perhaps more flippant than he should be. The story becomes progressively dour but also picks up steam as Ruxindra and others face off against various menaces, leading to worthy action sequences and more than one opportunity for Ruxindra to prove she knows how to handle the sword that’s usually at her side. The novel is self-contained for the most part, although the sensational ending teases where sequels might go.

Engaging characters enliven an impressive dystopian fantasy tale.