Dark Thane (Last Clansman) [Paperback]

Dark Thane is the second of Miller Lau’s "The Last Clansman" fantasy novels. It takes place 16 years after Talisker, and returns us to the magical world of Sutra.

Readers who enjoyed the first book will be pleased that Duncan Talisker and his friend Alessandro Chaplin reappear, joined this time by Talisker’s daughter, Regan; his adoptive son, Tristan; and Regan’s treacherous advisor, Jahl. 16-year-old Tristan has inherited the title of Thane of Soulis Mor, but he’s physically disabled and fears the other thanes won’t accept him. Regan claims to be his twin, although they’re not really related at all. They begin to rule together, but the more powerful Regan is too willing to follow the advice of the mysterious Jahl. He has a strange hold over her and soon turns her already ambiguous soul towards darkness. When Tristan’s life is threatened, he’s sent through a magical portal to contemporary Edinburgh. But Jahl finds a way to follow him, and soon our world is in as much danger as Sutra.

Miller Lau has woven a tale with plenty of intrigue and sword-wielding action--and a couple of splendid dragons. It moves along at a fast pace, but many of her characters are strangely passive and rather too prone to tears, especially Tristan. The only character with a real agenda is Jahl, while the others only react to events. This weakens the impact of what would otherwise be a fine classic fantasy.--Elizabeth Sourbut

Talisker is startlingly good fantasy

Miller Lau's debut work is a well-crafted, beautifully-structured story

Miller Lau's debut novel, Talisker, is startling...a joy to read

Fifteen years have passed since Duncan Talisker vanquished the mad God Corvus. Now his peaceful existence is shattered when riders arrive from Soulis Mor to hail his son, Tristan, as the new Thane. Only Duncan knows that the rule of the Twin Thanes - Tristan and Regan -will be founded on a lie. But, until the arrival at court of the mysterious Jahl, the echoes of Corvus' malice are safely contained within the soul and dreams of Regan. Heedless of her brother's warnings Regan is drawn into Jahl's web of intrigue and the consequences for the Fine and the Sidhe look dark. Caught between the light and the darkness, Regan must choose the path of her destiny. In Edinburgh, power is spilling over from the world of Sutra as Jahl begins to spread his influence using Knox - an apocalyptic cult leader - as an unwitting tool in his search for Godhood. As Knox prepares the way for Jahl's entry to an unsuspecting world, the void between the two planes suffers disturbance and Talisker must take a hand in mighty events once more. "Dark Thane" is the sequel to the critically acclaimed "Talisker", and continues the tale of Duncan Talisker, The Last Clansman.

Daniel had changed his life, ‘rocked his world’, as he was so fond of saying. Now, the colours of that day seemed unbearably bright . . .

He had been in Princes Street Gardens, late spring and a clear crisp day, still edgy and cold but the locals were pretending it was summer. All around people lazed on the grass, couples ignoring their shrieking children; only telling them off when they really annoyed other sun seekers. Nathan sat observing as was his habit, his knees bent up to his chin, perching like a lank, black bird; a living shadow on the bright idyll. A small girl of about three years old came up and stared at him curiously and he returned her penetrating gaze without smiling. They considered one another for long moments before her mother called her back. Just before she turned away she wrinkled her nose, ‘You smell, mister,’ she said.
Nathan couldn’t help but smile. It was true after all, and something about her confidence in uttering the flat statement was quite brilliant. He’d been sleeping rough for a few weeks and often the choice between a shower at the Waverley Station or a fix had gone the wrong way. He rubbed his eyes as he watched her walk back to her mother who promptly scolded her for talking to strangers. His eyes were quite sore and puffy now, and he thought he’d managed to get some kind of infection in them.
‘Good morning. Is anyone sitting here?’ It was a male voice, soft and melodic.
Nathan looked up frowning. There was no ‘here’ just the grass beside him. The figure looking down on Nathan was in shadow as the sun was behind him.
‘Whatever you’re selling, I’ve got no money,’ he muttered coldly. ‘And,’ he added as an afterthought, ‘I’m straight, so back off.’
The speaker laughed seemingly unoffended. ‘I’m not selling anything. Actually, I suppose you could say I’m giving it away.’ He moved to sit down, and as he did so, the sunlight was momentarily caught and diffused in his hair giving him a golden halo, an appropriate harbinger of what was to come.
No, don’t think that way . . .
He sat close to Nathan, too close, invading his personal space which made Nathan uncomfortable, and yet, after the thought of edging away briefly flashed through his mind, he stayed where he was, next to the stranger.
‘I’m Daniel,’ the stranger announced. ‘What’s your name?’
Nathan narrowed his crusty eyelids and scrutinised this innocent abroad. ‘What do you care?’ he muttered.
‘I’m just being friendly,’ Daniel shrugged. ‘It’s such a nice day, don’t you think?’
‘Nice?’ Nathan snorted. He hated the word ‘nice’ and, generally, people who said things were ‘nice’ instantly aroused his suspicion as tree-hugging hippies or upper-class toffs cocooned from the harsh extremes of reality.
‘Well, just . . .’ Daniel seemed to sense his disapproval; something Nathan later learned about Daniel was his innate intuitiveness, which bordered on . . . miraculous.
Stop it. He was never Holy. Never Divine.
‘Just . . .’ Daniel leaned back on his elbows on the grass and laughed unselfconsciously, ‘. . . nice.’
Nathan pursed his lips, unsure of whether he should laugh also.
‘Look, I’ll be honest,’ Daniel confided. ‘I wondered if you needed a meal and bath. No offence like. I know somewhere that doesn’t cost anything.’
‘What’s the catch?’
‘There’s no catch. Well, we might ask you to peel the tatties or wash the dishes,’ Daniel smiled . . .

Nathan stared down at the corpse, a stupid smile on his face.
You were so clever, Danny. Gathering up your lost souls.
If Daniel had sat down and told him the truth; that he had come to save his soul, ensuring he would be Raptured at the time of the Deluge with all the other Children, he would have laughed or called him a freak. Occasionally prone to violence, that day, a year ago now, Nathan had been close to the edge; it was possible he may have attacked his saviour. As it turned out he had only prolonged Daniel’s life by a year. Daniel had found drugs, coke and a small amount of weed in Nathan’s room and the con frontation which ensued had brought them here, to this . . .
Suddenly, without warning, Daniel moved, such a tiny fluttering motion that Nathan almost missed it in the shadows of the room. Then, it came again, the fingers of his left hand spasmed slightly, twitching open.
Alive? For a moment Nathan considered the proposition. You could say it was an accident. You could say that the Devil possessed you for a moment. Daniel would like that. He could exorcise you in front of everyone. More glory for him, the Golden Boy. More power. More love . . .
‘No,’ he said aloud into the darkness. His voice was soft and low, his dark eyes round, ‘Not this time, Danny. It’s my turn.’
Raising the poker high above his head he struck three more times. By the third blow, Daniel, his golden friend, charismatic prophet, founder of the Children of the Deluge, was unrecognisable. Half of his head was a messy pulp and now it appeared as if that handsome, classical face had been dismantled. A calm blue eye stared lifelessly from the undamaged half and the mischievous curl of the mouth could still be seen. Blood was everywhere, but Nathan seemed unaware of the warm incrimination; he sank to the floor and lay beside his friend still cradling the poker in his arms. He stared at the still beautiful side of Daniel’s face and he seemed to be listening.
‘No, no, Daniel, don’t you see?’ he whispered. ‘It was you. You made me do it.’
He laughed quietly. A cracked broken sound. Then, as the church bells of the Old Town chimed midnight, he slept.