The Scrolls Of The Ancient (Book 3 of The Chronicles Of Blood And Stone) by Robert Newcomb
01/11/2004 . Source: Martin Jenner 
pub: Bantam. 531 page enlarged paperback. Price: £12.99 (UK). ISBN: 0-593-04963-2. Buy from Amazon US - Buy from Amazon UK
nb: US titles may only be available from Amazon US, and UK titles from Amazon UK. check out website: www.booksattransworld.co.uk
The third and apparently final book in Robert Newcomb's 'Chronicles Of Blood And Stone', 'The Scrolls Of The Ancients', sees our hero Prince Tristan and his entourage once again assailed by the servants of darkness.
Following the collapse of the Gates of Dawn and the death of Tristan's villainous son, you'd think that the crown prince and his surviving wizards would be busy rebuilding their shattered realm. Nope! Apparently the effort of putting paid to Nicholas' nefarious schemes was a bit much for them and, while the people of Eutracia suffer hunger and banditry, we find our gallant hero and his friends shacked up in the royal palace, enjoying a little R&R.
Only when their card game is rudely interrupted by the megalomaniacal Krassus, master of the sinister arts of the Vagaries, does their bubble burst. After handily defeating the combined might of the protagonists, Krassus, in his gloating, reveals a new and deadly threat to the world.
Prince Tristan and his sister Shailiha are the Chosen Ones, but unbeknownst to them another exists to rival them, their lost half-brother, Wulfgar. If Krassus were to find him, he could use the newly uncovered power of the Scroll of the Vagaries to turn him to the dark side and destroy the benevolent magic of the Vigours forever! Gasp!
After giving his helpless enemies his annotated plans for world domination, Krassus departs in dramatic fashion, leaving the heroes unharmed. Hot on his tail, Tristan and co. begin the search for Wulfgar and the other Scroll of the Ancients in an attempt to thwart the arch-wizard's schemes.
Their hunt will take them from Eutracia's poverty-stricken capital to the hidden pirate fortress of Sanctuary and beyond, as the climatic confrontation with the servants of the Vagaries draws inevitably nearer. Featuring demons, birdmen, pirates and exploding herbs, the adventures of Tristan must be seen to be believed.
Never a truer sentence was written. Some part of me deep inside wonders if Robert Newcomb's books and 'The Scrolls Of The Ancients' in particular are some sort of incredibly sophisticated satire attempt. If that should be the case, then labelling 'The Chronicles Of Blood And Stone' gon of virtue with the emotional range of a brick wall. He exists simply to dish out bloody and unrealistic violence and give the wizards, Wigg and Faegan, cue to begin another chapter-length block of expositionary dialogue. Krassus, on the other hand, is a pantomime villain in the most traditional sense, complete with insane laughter, random acts of senseless cruelty and no redeeming features whatsoever. There are no attempts to grant him any particular humanity or explain his actions. He is Evil (with a capital 'E') and that's enough.
In real life, there are shades of grey but in Robert Newcomb's world everything is black or white, good or bad. More than anything else this lack of human ambiguity in either heroes or villains makes it impossible to empathise with the characters or even care about the events unfurling.
The supporting cast are no better. Either they act as humanoid milestones marking Tristan's bloody progress through the novel or they exist as lesser replicates of our hero, fulfilling his twin duties of slaying and stupidity when the prince royal is unavailable. Only the wizards are exempt, for they serve a different purpose. They must ensure that the reader (via the transparent mechanism of informing their selectively idiotic companions) understands in intricate and soul-sapping detail every tiniest aspect of how the unusual magic system works. I can only imagine that Robert Newcomb somehow grew so enamoured of his creation that he mistakenly believed his readers would prefer great swathes of the book devoted to its workings, rather than to the plot.
In fact, it seems as though the author is fascinated by minutiae in general. To give him credit the descriptive writing in 'The Scroll Of The Ancients' is above par, occasionally surprising the reader with an elegantly turned phrase or an evocative image. Newcomb over does it, though, and as such, the half-page description of a character's c />
As the book drew to a close and I counted the remaining pages with glee, several major issues remained unresolved. As the unread paragraphs grew fewer and fewer, it became apparent that these matters would, in fact, never be brought to a conclusion. This seems a very bizarre thing in what is supposed to be the series' final book, not least because the entire trilogy has been laying the groundwork for certain events. There have been prophecies and omens and no end of discussion, but then...nothing. On top of that, at least one unrequited romance and one major villain remain outstanding, as though the author totally forget about them. The only thing I can think of is that there is to be a further book in the series. The alternative is just too unlikely. As you may imagine, this strange absence of any kind of closure makes the novel even more frustrating than ever.
Possessing of some decent writing, 'The Scrolls Of The Ancients' is nonetheless damaged beyond any hope of recovery by poor characterisation, non-existent pacing and truly abominable dialogue. Perfectly balanced between idiotic, boring and frustrating, this book should be avoided like a particularly virulent plague - unless you liked the first two, of course, in which case I can only hope the disease isn't catching. I'd prefer never to see the book again, keeping painful flashbacks to a minimum, but if I were forced to place it in my collection, it would be on the shelf entitled 'abandon hope, all ye who enter here'. You have been warned.
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