The Malicarn #2
Glenn was becoming an expert in the fake history of a real place.
He read through websites, wikis, and online guides of the Malicarn universe, cramming in as much backstory and trivia as he could.
He knew the general timeline, how after the movies ran out of source material the producers began making prequels, engineering an arc around the Council and the Great Wizarding War which set up a whole new era of characters and plots.
Glenn also knew all of the continuity gaps and character inconsistencies that resulted from this soft reboot, and all of the various fan theories that grew to account for them.
There was the “Anarchist Malicarn” theory, which posited that no one ever really ruled the Malicarn and that it was instead a self-reliant, autonomous entity.
The Malicarn kings over the years had no policies, no management issues, and no actual acts of lordship other than fighting wars against various external enemies.
For a long time this theory was a joke about how poorly fleshed out much of the Malicarn world was, but after the Great Wizarding War it took on a life of its own, since the king was in exile and no one seemed to be in charge.
Even the current storyline, with Prion coming forth as king, seemed to support this, as there was no one to object to Prion’s ascension.
Glenn thought this theory was clever and brought it up during a morning story meeting once.
“Stop reading fan blogs,” Jules said. “They are just making stuff up.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it a good point? No one’s actually in charge of the Malicarn right now—”
“I’m in charge,” Jules said.
When the lore became too complicated, Glenn went back and reviewed older material.
The synopsis of the original books, technically in the future of the current story’s timeline, felt quite different from the types of stories Jules was interested in.
There were fewer heroes, more morally compromised characters, and much more emphasis on ecology and politics.
Glenn bought himself a deluxe illustrated edition of the original novel—titled, simply, The Malicarn—because he liked the cover art.
It featured a painting of a rocky landscape and a black shadow hovering over a mountain.
The book’s jacket copy read:
In the river valley, a prophecy has emerged: The Citadel will fall.
In the capital of Kingstown, a mysterious wizard known as the Necromancer plots to return magic to the realm and install himself in the halls of power.
Away across the Mountains, a Council of Heroes fights against the coming darkness.
In a story with dozens of memorable characters and locations, empires will crumble, magic will be unleashed, lovers will be betrayed, and wars will be fought.
Since it was first published nearly eighty years ago, The Malicarn has sold over a million copies, been translated into more than thirty languages, and given birth to an iconic series of books and films. This new edition includes over a hundred illustrations from artists around the globe, bringing the world of the Malicarn to life in a new and immersive way.
About the Author: J. D. Souard was born in Paris in 1922.
He served with the French Army at the outbreak of World War II, but spent most of the war as a German prisoner.
Following the war, he moved to the United States and worked as a copyeditor at The Boston Globe, where he met his wife Wendy.
They married in 1960, and their son Daniel was born in 1962.
The first novel in the Malicarn series was serialized in World Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine from 1963 to 1964, then published by Oar Books in 1965.
Souard wrote four more books in the series before his death in 1993.
Daniel Souard continued the series before selling the rights to WBC Studios, which continues to publish Malicarn novels in conjunction with the cinematic Malicarn Expanded Universe.
Glenn never got around to starting the book.
He had also worked his way back through every film.
The quality varied in contrast to the budget.
The later, bigger, and more spectacular films—all prequels—felt hollower than the earlier, smaller ones.
The Battle of the Morlon Kastaun, Jules’s first solo screenwriting credit and the climax of the Wizarding War plotline, felt particularly stilted as Glenn watched it one night on his phone.
That film serviced a dozen main characters and ran over three hours, ending in a very long battle scene at the old Temple of the High Wizards, a castle called the Morlon Kastaun.
The filming location of this battle was still extant, in the northern end of the valley.
Glenn visited it once. The black walls of the castle stuck out of a forest like ancient ruins.
The scanned characters, who thought it was a real battle site, had begun erecting monuments to the dead.
When the afternoon production call started, Glenn turned his microphone off and blurred his background, so no one could tell he was sitting on his couch.
Larry’s box kept freezing up. It looked like he was on a plane.
Jules was in the Citadel, sitting at a conference table with four or five other writers, already in an argument with Larry the moment he logged on.
“It’s a lot of resources,” Larry said, “for it to be taking this long.”
“You knew that would be the case,” said Jules. “Glenn, where’s Brian? Is he still down at training?”
Glenn had nearly forgotten already that Brian was Kreek’s real name.
“I don’t know,” Glenn said. “I left awhile ago, like I was supposed to.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll check the feed. Better if he stayed there anyway.”
These writers’ meetings were dry and always too long.
They were also relentless and constant. Each day, or multiple times a day, script assignments came with a checklist of things that the Reals had to make happen, a list of things it would be nice to have happen, and a list of what absolutely could not happen.
A writing assistant ran down the wish list for the afternoon.
“After training, Prion should visit the armorer. Gregorian insults Tristan over supper. Make sure no one leaves the village. Kip and Jip need to get drunk, but don’t let them sleep with anyone.
We need to stay PG-13 if we can. Also can’t risk any of them getting the clap right before they leave for battle.
” Someone laughed, but it wasn’t a joke.
There was a very bad gonorrhea outbreak going on.
Larry grilled Jules about introducing “visitor characters,” fans who would only be scanned for a week or less, depending on how much they paid, but Jules always insisted that the Malicarn wasn’t ready for tourists yet, that they needed to perfect the story world first, and then under his breath complained about “this Disneyland shit.” The visitor-characters program never did get off the ground.
Sometimes specific lines of dialogue were required to be said on set, mostly catchphrases or dramatic beats that would play well in a trailer.
Story meetings also included overviews of the current arc and where the writers expected the action would go next.
The writers were excited because the training sequence would offer plenty of opportunities for quips and small character beats.
“How about this,” Jules said, riffing with the writers. “Maximus tells Tristan not to touch his axe. We’ll make it a repeated bit, and then in the final battle Tristan is forced to pick it up to defend himself and says—”
“How do you choreograph that?” another writer asked.
“What, no, listen to the joke. They’re at the fight set, then Maximus says—”
“I think we call it the palimpset,” a writer butted in.
“What does that mean?” said another.
“The demon fight set! Instead of calling it a set, we call it a palimpset. ’Cause we built it on top of that first small village set.”
“It’s pronounced ‘palimpsest.’”
“It’s a pun!”
“Nobody knows what a palimpsest is.”
“I do.”
“You’re a writer. You’re not a real person.”
“Let me finish my joke!”
This went on for a long time. Glenn played Wordle. After the meeting finally ended, he got a text from Lilly.
Almost done. Meet me at the inn in 10 min?
He put his costume back on and walked out of his tower, nearly bumping into Kip, who was pacing furiously, hands twitching at his side. He looked up at Glenn, his eyes blinking as he tried to speak in a whisper.
“Gregorian, I am glad to find you. I need … uh, I need to speak with you.”
“Of course, Kip. Is your training over for today?”
Kip, one of the more comic Council members, had never so much as spoken to Glenn before. He certainly never looked so concerned.
“Yes, Prion released us. The others went to the inn for drinks, but…”
“Oh, you should join them!”
“Yes. It is just, you see, once our training is complete, I suppose we shall be heading out.”
“Yes, Prion will need to depart and face the demons as soon as he can.”
“Right, this is my concern. I do not think … that is, I know I am not ready.”
“Perhaps not yet. But I have seen your sword arm, Sir Kip. It is mighty. Kreek will make sure you are ready when the time comes.” Glenn was stalling. He didn’t know what Kip was so concerned about.
“No, no. You do not understand. I cannot do this.”
“You must have faith in your abilities—”
“No. I cannot. I have always been told that I am a warrior, a descendant of mighty knights. But it is simply … that is not … I do not want to go.”
Glenn bit his lip. “My good man, I assure you, you are more than capable. Put your doubts away—”