The Grave of Empires by Sam Sykes, Reviewed

Fuck, I love these books.

Sam Sykes, author of Seven Blades in Black and Ten Arrows of Iron - together the first two novels in the Grave of Empires series, has managed to craft a world so broad, so magical, and so gripping, I couldn’t put down the books. Every spare minute I had was spent indulging myself in the stories told by Sal the Cacophony. Every quiet moment was spent following the tale of her quest for revenge. Every single second I could spend in Sykes’ world learning about Sal and Jindu and Liette and Jero, Lastlight and Littlebarrow and Stark’s Mutter, was a second I adored.

Which says a lot about Sykes’ work, because both books are vulgar as fuck. And that’s usually a huge turn-off for me. I’ve put down books for less. Hell, I agonized about including one curse in my first edit of Call to Fire for more than a week. Swearing usually isn’t my cup of tea, but fuck me if these books didn’t win me over.

So yeah, Sal swears. A lot. I’ve often found that authors use vulgarity and crassness as a mask for their edgelord characters. You know the type. The vengeful loner with dead parents, a black wardrobe, a bloody blade, and a lexicon containing every curse word known to humans, elves, dwarves, et al. Under that edgy mask there is so often… nothing. Nothing but disappointment and trope.

Sal is different. Underneath that scarred, violent exterior, she is rife with the things that make her human. Emotion. Worry. Fear. Lust. Love. Anxiety. And I really have to give that last one to Sykes. He manages to capture and accurately portray what anxiety feels like, what it does to the mind and the body. I appreciate the development of Sal’s character because when we pull back the vulgar facade, we see her for what she really is: a broken person who lost something deeply important to her.

I want to get into some specific spoilers with this review, so I’ll give my rating up front. All the stars. Read this series. Laugh, cry, feel a pang of nostalgia for something you never had.

Magic System: 5/5
The magic system in the Grave of Empires is expansive. It has a clear cost structure, varied use, social and political influence, and - oh yeah - Sal has a big fuck-off magical gun.
Prose: 5/5
These books are full of exceptional descriptions of magical places and wonderful(ly awful) people. Sal uses gentle and jagged words to tell her story. I felt all of them.
Plot: 5/5
The intricacies of the plot - and sub-plots - of this series make for a wild ride. Revenge, murder, war, love, love lost… Sykes does it all, masterfully.
Pacing: 4.999/5
There were a couple of points in Seven Blades in Black where I felt that I needed relief from the tension. It felt like Yet Another Thing™️ began when my mind expected reprieve. Ten Arrows of Iron doesn’t have any memorable instances that feel this way.
Jero: 1,000,000/5
I love a hot charisma-based rogue, fuckin’ sue me.

Get the books here and here from Barnes & Noble.

—EVERYTHING BELOW HERE IS SPOILER TERRITORY—

I just want to talk about some of my favorite parts of the books. Also some theories and thoughts.

Okay?

Okay.

LIKE I SAID, SPOILERS.

In Seven Blades in Black, Sal traverses The Scar on her quest to find the names on her list so she can right a wrong that was done to her. I have never cheered so hard for a character like Sal. She’s objectively a bad person - she brings destruction to every town she steps foot in. She’s murdered thousands of people. She kidnaps Low Sergeant Cavric Proud of the great Revolution. Her past is riddled with red and fire. But subjectively, she’s a broken woman driven mad by thirst for revenge after having her magic stolen from her. She actively tries to avoid hurting civilians and destroying their property. She regrets when either of those things can’t be avoided. If everyone from the Imperium to the Revolution and every guard in between would get out of the way, only those on her list, those who deserve it, would get hurt. All that to say, I feel for Sal.

Let’s talk about Jindu. This motherfucker. I was deeply invested in learning what role Jindu played in Sal’s undoing. Sykes writes Sal’s memories of Jindu in a way that drags you into her hell and makes you need to know what happened. She loved him. And as far as I could tell, he loved her. Then he not only betrayed her, but he fucking stabbed her. What an asshole. I want Sal to kill him. She deserves to.

How about Liette. Twenty-two Dead Roses in a Chipped Porcelain Vase. A master spellwright who uses quills as improvised weapons. A Freemaker. A woman who chases knowledge as fervently as she chases Sal. Oh yeah, did I mention this series has queer representation? We love to see it.

And finally, Jero. Beautiful Jero. A charisma-based rogue with a honeyed tongue and hate in his heart. The way Sykes writes Jero’s interactions with Sal was what kept me turning page after page of Ten Arrows of Iron. Gods damn it, he’s just so well-written. Here are some of my favorite passages involving Jero:

Through the pain, I could make out his silhouette against the alchemic glow - his eyes, locked on mine; his hands, holding me down by the shoulders; his voice, speaking through the sound of my pain. And though I only caught a few words, I heard him, cold and gentle as the snow falling outside.
“You can do this,” he whispered. “You know you can.”

Stunning. How about:

“I guess I just want to…look normal. Even if I can’t be-”
“You can.”
For the first time, I looked at him in the mirror. He stood behind me - I hadn’t realized when he had gotten so close. I hadn’t realized how tall he was or how deep his wrinkles went or when his hands had found my shoulders.
“When we’re done,” he said, “there’s going to be a place without the Imperium, without the Revolution, without soldiers or killers or hunters. Two Lonely Old Men is going to build it with that Relic. And we’re going to help him. Once it’s all done, we can be heroes.”
He gave my shoulders a squeeze. His hands were delicate. Warm.
“Or we can just be nobody special at all.”

In the next sentence, Jero pulls away from Sal and all my brain could scream was, just fucking kiss him already, PLEASE.

So obviously I had to keep reading. And I’m so glad I did, because later in the book there is finally pay off for all the gentle touches and soft glances and softer words.

Now, I’m not going to give you the whole passage where Jero and Sal spend an evening together. But I want to give one critique. You all know how I feel about sex in books. Sex is hard to write at all, harder still to write well. There is one short passage in this section that pulls me out of the moment - and I think it could’ve been written in a way that was more reflective of how Sal would’ve seen Jero in this moment.

I curled my legs around him, pulled his warmth into me as I reached for his belt, tore the buckle loose, started tugging his trousers down.

Alright, so Sal really wants to fuck. She’s desperate.

“Ah!”

“Ah” is not what I expected here.

I saw the wince across his face. I stopped, looked at him. He smiled, shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “My leg. Old injury.”
I nodded. “Should I…”
“Yeah.” He looked away, the smile fading. “Just… let’s go slow, okay?”
“Okay.”
I slid him free of the garment.

So, okay. There’s nothing wrong with the way Sykes wrote this interaction. It’s definitely accurate. If you’ve ever tried to get down while you’re in some variety of pain, you’ve probably said “Hey let’s just take it slow.” That’s fair and fine. But accuracy isn’t always what a reader is looking for in this kind of a scene.

I would’ve written this section differently. I don’t say that because I think I’m an expert or anything, and I’m not trying to come off like an ass. I’m offering a different perspective (and rewriting scenes from books by authors I like is an exercise I do with somewhat regularity to hone my voice).

Setting the scene again, Sal is desperate. Jero has semi-undressed her. She’s frantic to undress him. Starting at “I curled my legs around him,” - and taking liberty with what I assume Jero’s injury was/to use it as a literary device - I’d have written it as:

I curled my legs around him, pulled his warmth into me. I reached for his belt, tore it loose, tugged his trousers down.
I saw the wince cut his face as he hissed a breath through his teeth. It wasn’t the cold bite of the air or anticipation. It was a scar. From his belly to his knee, an old injury marred the right side of his body. I stopped, looked up at him. His wince curled into a smile. But it was just as hollow as we were.
I ran my fingers along the jagged length of his scar, like she had for me so long ago. And like she had so long ago, I knelt and I kissed every inch of his injury until his fingers were in my hair and his breath was ragged. He pulled me up to him, nodded, found my lips with his. We were still broken. But I could make him feel it less.
I slid him free of the garment.

Why? Like I’ve said, sex in literature comes down to personal taste. Again, there’s nothing wrong with what Sykes wrote. Actually I have to applaud him here. He covers consent twice for the same scene. First, Jero is making sure Sal is okay and checking on an injury she sustained. He waits for her to consent to him touching her. Sykes takes the time, takes the word count, to have Sal say, “Yes.” Second, Jero asks Sal to slow down, she says okay, and she does. So many writers don’t offer any of their characters consent and it’s fucking infuriating. It could be said that Sykes wrote the scene the way he did to give Jero a chance to consent, to make an ask and have Sal meet it. I 100% applaud him for this. I just like the clear but subtle “He pulled me to him and nodded.” Jero wants Sal. Sal wants Jero. They have both consented. Get it on.

Where am I going with this… Oh right, so it’s implied that Jero dies near the end. And I HAVE TO FUCKING KNOW IF HE’S DEAD OR NOT, SAM. I think he’s still alive. I think he clawed himself out of the wreckage of the iron arrow, and if Sal doesn’t kill him the Revolution will. I can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. I can’t say he does. But I need to know.

One last thing and then I’ll let you go. There’s an Eldritch horror … vibe… kind of thing going on. And it’s just so damn good. The way all these story lines and characters converge into every epic battle blows my mind.

Sam, great work. I don’t want to be that person, but please finish book 3. Like, as soon as humanly possible.