Pulp Fantasy Library: The Unforsaken Hiero

I'm a huge fan of post-apocalyptic fiction, particularly of the fantasy (or science fantasy) kind, which probably explains why Gamma World remains one of my favorite RPGs of all time. There's something incredibly powerful about the idea of adventuring amidst the ruins of a more advanced but now collapsed civilization. That power is, I've argued, foundational to the appeal of most fantasy, whose stories generally take place in a fallen era. Everything from Greek mythology to Middle-earth's Third Age to the time before the rise of the Sons of Aryas is a reflection of this near-universal desire to do great deeds amidst the wreck of the past. 

One of the first books of this genre I remember reading was Sterling Lanier's Hiero's Journey, first published in 1973. I simply adored it and, once I found a copy of my own, I re-read it on a regular basis. Consequently, when its sequel, The Unforsaken Hiero, unexpectedly appeared on a bookstore shelf in mid-1983, I immediately seized a copy and tore into its pages. I could not wait to learn about the further adventures of warrior-priest Hiero Desteen and his companions, Klootz, a "morse," (mutant moose) and Gorm, a mutant bear. I had every expectation that this novel would be every bit as good as its predecessor.

I wish I could say that that was the case. However, compared to Hiero's Journey, The Unforsaken Hiero is, if not exactly a failure, far from an unqualified success. It's probably not helped by the fact that it was set up as the middle book of a trilogy that never happened. I don't know the details of what happened or why Lanier didn't write another book about Hiero, only that he did not and that, as a result, The Unforsaken Hiero feels both uneven and unfinished, as if the author had simply run out of steam before he could provide a satisfying – or even adequate – conclusion to his narrative. 

The novel chronicles Hiero's trek southward from his native Metz Republic in Kanda toward the Kingdom of D'alwah on the coast of the Lantik Ocean. D'alwah is the home of Luchare, Hiero's new bride, whom he had rescued in the previous novel and whose father is its ruler. Likewise, D'alwah is a more sophisticated society, a little closer to the world that existed before "the Death," the ancient holocaust that had toppled the previous civilization. More important still, the kingdom is nearer to the strongholds of the Brotherhood of the Unclean, a group of humans who seek to reclaim the knowledge of the time before the Death in order to gain power over the more primitive societies that grew up in its wake. Hiero's goal is not only to learn more about the Unclean but to seek out allies against them, a role for which D'alwah is particularly well suited, especially now that he is the son-in-law of its king.

The pacing and the dialog seem somehow off, though pinpointing precisely how is hard to say. Part of it, I think, is that Lanier seems simultaneously quite keen to show off more aspects of his setting – which is mostly welcome – while at the same time only sketching it in the most vague ways. For example, the Kingdom of D'alwah, despite being an important part of both the story and the overall setting, isn't well described beyond being a feudal-ish kingdom that's retained some bits of more advanced technology. The same could be said of many of the book's newer characters, such as King Danyale himself, who's mostly a cipher. I'd have liked to have learned more about D'alwah and its people, if only to contrast them with Hiero's own people, the Metz.

Nevertheless, Lanier excels at depicting the weird and dangerous wilderness of the post-Death world. It's filled with all manner of strange creatures and, while reading this, it's hard not to imagine what it would be like to run a Gamma World campaign set in a world like this. Indeed, one of the things that always bugged me about Gamma World was how unorganized it seemed to be, without any large states or organizations beyond the Cryptic Alliances. Were I ever to referee a GW campaign, I'd surely steal a few ideas from Lanier about both the larger world and what it's like in the wilds beyond the settlements of mankind. So, while The Unforsaken Hiero is nowhere near as good as its remarkable predecessor, it's not wholly without merit. I found my passion for post-apocalyptic science fantasy reignited by re-reading it and suspect it's a topic to which I'll return again in the near future.