It was a dirty job, it was a dirty town, but someone had to do it.
In some ways, Razorfist’s sword and sandal follow up to The Long Moonlight is even more noir than its darksome predecessor.
When Xerdes is forced to flee Menuvia following the destruction of gangland in ‘The Long Moonlight’, he finds himself wandering the arid, desert wastes of Nazgan: a kingdom where thievery and treachery are rules of law and the sands are infested with giant land leviathans—the Whispering Windserpents of Nazgan. In Kara’Zin, the capital of Nazgan, Xerdes is contracted by a barkeep (and former noble) to locate his wayward wife at his abandoned estate out in the Whispering Waste. If he locates the runaway bride, his reward is as much treasure as he can carry from the strong room of the mansion. However, the operation won’t be simple. Not only are the wastes rife with bandits and Windserpents, but they are haunted by a shrouded horror in a strange face mask leaving a trail of dead underworld gang members in its wake. Throughout its mysterious, bloody crusade, the figure has only ever spoken a single word—“Xerdes.”
While Razorfist largely eschews much of the visual noir aesthetic in this sequel in favor of a sword and sandal, treasure hunting adventure, make no mistake, it’s as much (if not more so) of a fantasy noir as ‘The Long Moonlight’. From the implementation of a femme fatale character, to the absolute wringer that Xerdes is put through in the story, to the backstabbing de jour courtesy of the majority of the secondary cast, to the mystery of the mansion and the nameless wraith, this story actually surprised me with how noir it actually was.
One improvement over ‘The Long Moonlight’ is Death Mask’s pacing. Some of the improvement may have somewhat to do with the shorter page count, but more so it feels like the plot is less weighed down by any kind of complex setup. Unlike the more intricate plot of ‘The Long Moonlight’ with its gang wars, heists, and forensic investigations, ‘Death Mask’ presents a more straightforward narrative that offers brisker pacing and more dynamic action. In a way, it feels very much like an Indiana Jones or Doc Savage kind of adventure, with callbacks to the works of Robert E. Howard and Fritz Lieber. In particular, one could sense the influences of Razor’s favorite instalment in Michael Moorcock’s Elric saga, ‘Fortress of the Pearl’.
I think an element that improves the pacing is the increased focus on action. Whereas Xerdes primarily avoids physical conflict whenever possible (lending more to the mystery, intrigue, and character development in the first book), here, he’s driven to such extremes that from the very beginning he must fight tooth and nail in order to survive. Thus the action is more frequent and visceral, reflecting the savage climbs he now finds himself in in contrast to the subtler, opulent decadence of Menuvia. In a way, it’s almost survival fiction like ‘The Road’, ‘Mad Max’, or ‘The Revenant’, given that almost everything in this book is out to kill him.
Also, whereas ‘The Long Moonlight’ was more of a street level crime story in a low fantasy setting, ‘Death Mask’ opts for a higher fantasy setting populated by the reptilian Bord, anthropomorphic Feras-sun, or the aforementioned Windserpents. These new inclusions effectively build out the mythos and offer more perilous climbs for Xerdes to explore, once again, without revealing too much. It gives you enough to keep you invested in the world without dumping it all on you and eschews the pedantry of so many indulgent, phonebook fantasy authors. None of the worldbuilding feels derivative. For example, while the Windserpents at first glance may turn your thoughts to the sand worms of Frank Herbert and Robert E. Howard, they are actually more akin to land leviathans—like sea monsters cresting waves of arid dunes rather than foaming waves of sea. The way they’re presented even gives the impression of some kind of land-bound sea monster more than the Graboid-esque subterranean predators that suck you into the sand like some invisible, pneumatic tube. In spite of all these new additions, while the world is more greatly explored and explained, the story and characters remain paramount.
Speaking of Feras-sun, after enjoying the genius of Inspector Coggins in the previous work, Razor now gives us the mysterious, mute wolf warrior, Tian. Without contriving a language or dialect for this new ally by making him mute, Tian retains a level of mystique both in origin and intention, much like Sergio Leone’s titular, mute gunfighter from ‘The Great Silence’. His fighting skill also lends more action to the story than it would otherwise enjoy, since Xerdes is a thief and tends to avoid fighting whenever possible. For myself in particular, I most enjoyed the camaraderie that developed between himself and Xerdes without the former saying a single word throughout the book. In a way, their camaraderie helps strengthen Xerdes’ resolve after enduring the depravity and treachery of Nazgan—the lone spark of friendship and nobility in a land blackened by centuries of crime, treachery, and injustice.
In terms of villains, you can’t do much better than the ‘Wraith’—a nameless assassin who stalks Xerdes throughout the story; an eerie, hooded figure bandaged head-to-toe and wearing a strange mask. You begin to wonder if he’s even human, or perhaps a ghoulish specter seeking vengeance from beyond the grave. Why does he pursue Xerdes? Why does he wreak havoc on the criminal underworld? What does he conceal behind that mask? What’s more, the ambiguous nature of the wraith gives him an elemental feel—like he could be anywhere at anytime. Razorfist uses this character sparsely and tactfully, never overindulging. He’s rarely seen, but his presence is felt throughout the story—he embodies the chaos, depravity, and danger looming constantly over Xerdes’ head; in a way, he embodies Nazgan itself. His ghostly nature is also further implied by the visions Xerdes sees in a portion of the book—figures from his past that could be real or just products of a fevered mind after days in the desert without water. Is the Wraith one of these specters? Are these specters real, or is there a natural, logical explanation? The addition of the Wraith also lends an air of foreboding to the whole narrative—a specter that embodies Xerdes past catching up to him as much as the ghoulish visions that plague him throughout the story.
While the main plot itself isn’t necessarily a mystery, the kingdom of Nazgan, the encounters Xerdes has in it, and especially his connection to it are mysteries that give the book as much intrigue as its predecessor. It gives us more questions by the end without infuriating us, and leaves the greatest mystery still open—who is Xerdes?
What especially ups the stakes here is that Xerdes is really put through hell. Through a sequence of multiple betrayals, torture, and daring escapes, he’s driven nearly to a breaking point, and we see our hardened, thief hero (a man constantly in denial of his own heroic impulses) forced to take a definitive, moral stance after languishing in a kingdom of infinite vice and corruption. It certainly marks a drastic step from the straightforward revenge quest of the first book. By the end, we even come to know just a little bit more about his past—not enough to shed the necessary mystique of the character, but enough to keep us intrigued, to give us a glimpse into the hidden depths of Xerdes, and to show us that he’s more than a simple thief.
What I really like about this story is that in spite of the hell he’s put through and the torments of past and present that haunt his every step, Xerdes never loses his characteristic snappy wit, sarcastic banter and humor or descends into maudlin tirades on the evils and injustices of the world. Even when he finally does let loose about exactly what he thinks of this backwards, kangaroo-court, criminal society, he makes an actual value judgement rather than lose hope or descend into moral relativism. Xerdes doesn’t take time to wring his hands or bemoan his sorry existence, his dead girlfriend, or his past mistakes like some preening, self-absorbed antihero. He acts on everything; he leaves no room for hesitation or uncertainty and wastes no words, guided constantly by a strict moral code and sense of honor that is becoming harder and harder for him to ignore or deny. He makes a value judgement and acts on it. With danger around every corner, he doesn’t have time to indulge in self doubt, yet that doesn’t mean he’s impulsive. Rather, it means that he thinks on his feet and can adapt to any situation without letting his feelings get in the way (most of the time)—very Indiana Jones-like.
If you twisted my arm to find any real fault in ‘Death Mask’, I could only really nitpick about the length being too short, but hey, fans voted for the lore encyclopedia in the end, and who am I to turn my nose up at some good worldbuilding even as a postscript? Short as it is, I certainly felt I got more than enough bang for my buck.
With ‘The Long Moonlight’ and ‘Death Mask’, Razorfist has more than demonstrated his aptitude in both of Nightvale’s primary genres—sword and sorcery and noir. Death Mask definitely feels like the capstone to the first arc of Nightvale, really pinning down an overarching theme (that being Xerdes’ reluctant hero’s journey), firmly establishing Vale as a unique and enthralling world teeming with real and convincing characters, and planting the seeds of a real, pulp hero to guide us through it all. Like Philip Marlowe guided us through the slums and seedy, back alleys of New York, so Xerdes acts as our ever-reluctant guide through the harsh, mysterious, fantastical, and cutthroat world of Vale. With the world and hero firmly established, the door is open for new and diverse adventures (story-wise, not the fake, meaningless, gender/race quota kind) for our daring thief to explore, new riches to find, new enemies to face, and new steps to take towards being the hero he never intended to be.