Juliet Marillier, Wolfskin (Tor, 2002)
Juliet Marillier, Foxmask (Tor, 2003)
I had the good fortune of reading Juliet Marillier's Wolfskin and Foxmask one immediately after the other. Though connected, these are very different books, for the most part about very different people, and each is capable of standing on its own. Together, however, they achieve more than the sum of their parts.
Our story begins in a Norway which might not follow all the rules of reality imposed by historians, but one which is built soundly enough on Scandinavian myth, culture and history that it does not push the boundaries of belief. The first part of Wolfskin follows Eyvind's rise from peaceable farmboy to exalted warrior.
Young Eyvind, strong and fearless, wants nothing more than to dedicate his life -- a short and glorious one, he hopes -- to the war god Thor. His older brother Eirik, already a battle hero and not yet eighteen, has bid him wait another year or two before attempting the secret initiation into the mysteries of the elite band of warriors, the Wolfskins, named for their unflagging fierceness in battle and for the heavy, shaggy pelts they wear with pride.
So Eyvind endures in the household of his mother, tending sheep, felling trees and farming. He's a patient and good-hearted boy, but the waiting rankles. When his brother visits home on leave between Viking raids that season, he brings a slight and quiet nobleman's son, a dark-haired stranger named Somerled, and asks Eyvind to watch out for him.
Right away, we sense trouble. Somerled is as different in temperament and sensibility from Eyvind as he can be. He's withdrawn, suspicious, quick to anger and slow to make friends: everything Eyvind is not. He treats others like servants or slaves, and shows special interest in devising the cruelest and most inhumane methods to trap hares and other small game. He invents new, beautiful, intricate knots which tighten as his rabbit-victims struggle, and it's his wont to play voyeur to their agonies.
It is an irony that the gentle boy of integrity and thoughtfulness is called to bloody warcraft, and the bitter one with the cruel streak and lack of respect for life is called to kingcraft. The two boys link their fortunes early in the story, Somerled instinctively binding Eyvind to him in lasting ways; through blood and honor and love. "You did your friend no favors," says the seer when the blood-brothers request a foretelling, "in binding him to you thus." Somerled doesn't seem to care, but she continues; "Eyvind will sacrifice much to adhere to his promises."
And so he does. Over and over and over, in scenarios of escalating severity and with increasingly dire consequences, we watch him do so. When his loyalty to Somerled and his blind following of the tenets of his warrior god finally become too much for a good man to bear, Eyvind breaks, to be healed, made even more whole than before, by his love for the priestess and princess of the Light Isles, Nessa.
Wolfskin contains two nicely-detailed maps, both of which I referred to often during my reading, to help fix locations in my mind and follow the characters on their travels. The first is an overview of the corner of the world occupied by this almost-real universe. It spans the distance from "Lands of the Svear" (Sweden) -- along with the territories of the Norsemen and the Danes -- across the water to "The Light Isles" (The Orkneyjar, or Orkneys). The second map details Hrossey; the Orkney island Nessa's people share with the mythological Hidden and Seal Tribes, a band of peaceful hermit Christian monks from Ulster and eventually, the Norsemen as well. Whether or not these different peoples can all live together in harmony depends on how successful Nessa and Eyvind are at uniting them.
Foxmask speeds us forward in time to the next generation. Somerled's son Thorvald, along with Creidhe (daughter of Eyvind and Nessa) and their friend Sam, sets out on a dangerous ocean voyage of uncertain duration and with no clear route or goal. The children (adults, by the standards of their world) seek the Lost Isles, which are rumored to exist somewhere to the north and west of Hrossey. Creidhe, a talented weaver and a straightforward, good-hearted person -- much like her father Eyvind at her age -- forces her two friends to take her with them, determined to make Thorvald realize he and she are destined for each other. Sam, the shipwright, loves them both, but is appreciated by neither.
This second book, when read in conjunction with Wolfskin, sets us up for grief; we see already the patterns of old mistakes and poor choices, played out in the first book by the previous generation with such grim results. Thorvald's heritage seems likely to prove too difficult for him to overcome -- Somerled's legacy of selfishness and petulance already apparent in his behavior -- and Creidhe's devotion to the son too eerily echoes Eyvind's loyalty to the father. Thorvald wants answers and Creidhe wants love, while poor, gentle Sam just wants to go home
There are two maps also for Foxmask. The first is familiar; it's the same we saw in the front of Wolfskin, only this time, the indicated path of travel across the water extends to the far northeastern corner, all the way to The Lost Isles. The second is a close-up view -- the Isle of Streams, the Isle of Clouds, the Isle of Storms -- all the places where the main action of this second adventure takes place. On one of those islands, Thorvald hopes to discover his father's fate and in so doing, discover something about himself. Creidhe, separated from the boys upon arrival, still searches the isles for true love. Sam's needs and wants are subsumed by the destinies of the other two.
Foxmask is more introspective than its predecessor. Where Wolfskin gathers momentum with the power and potentially fatal consequences of a runaway train, Foxmask meanders. It isn't less full of action and adventure, but that action has more subtle repercussions, the adventure less resolved conclusions. Both books achieve fantastic heights of lyric storytelling, weaving myth and history and fantasy together with the richness of one of Creidhe's tapestries. Recommended reads, for sure.
