Heroic fantasy fiction gets a bad rap.
Unfortunately, as is the case with so many other things, it is often defined by its lowest common denominator. To make matters worse, the true definition of heroic fantasy is not always clear, so other brands of fantasy, whether well written or not, are folded into the same rubric, thereby muddling the whole issue.
According to L. Sprague DeCamp, heroic fantasy includes stories of:
“action and adventure laid in a more or less imaginary world, where magic works and where modern science and technology have not yet been discovered. The setting may…be this Earth as it is conceived to have been long ago, or as it will be in the remote future, or it may be another planet or another dimension. Such a story combines the color and dash of the historical costume romance with the atavistic supernatural thrills of the weird, occult, or ghost story. When well done, it provides the purest fun of fiction of any kind.”
Heroic fantasy is not only fun; it’s tried and true. It can be traced back to mythology, to Gilgamesh and The Iliad and the Norse Sagas–tales that have truly stood the test of time. Or, as Jessica Amanda Salmonson writes in her terrific essay, Enjoying Heroic Fantasy:
“…heroic fantasy is an ancient form of story-telling that survives to this day in good & bad varieties. To me, the combination of beauty & horror that is heroic fantasy’s ideal makes it the most noble & valuable of all literatures.”
So it’s a shame when thousands of years of great storytelling are forgotten in the face of one piece of fictional trash, and that the worst of a sub-genre can become its definition to so many readers. Fortunately, there’s proof against such accusations.
For instance, as Salmonson writes:
“Someone is apt to be saying about now that heroic fantasy includes some of the worst popular writing to have appeared in the fantasy & science fiction field generally. I hear that red-herring a lot, from people who give Hugos & Nebulas to books I wouldn’t wipe my ass with.”
Need more proof? Then I turn your attention to The Return of the Sword: An Anthology of Heroic Adventure, 330 pages, 20 tales of heroic fantasy at its finest, edited by Jason Waltz of Flashing Swords Press. This anthology is crammed with creative plots, inspired storytelling, and original characters, all wrapped in the action, adventure, and excitement that traditionally define the genre. It’s a new brand of heroic fantasy, and is, I think, exactly what Salmonson refers to here:
“Heroic fantasy is, for me, a celebration of life’s brief, transient joys & sorrows. When it is done well, the language has a high level of beauty…”
If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. Information about all the great authors and how to purchase the anthology can be found here. Need a trial run? Here’s an excerpt from James Enge’s “The Red Worm’s Way,” a magnificent tale with a truly enjoyable character, Morlock Ambrosius:
Morlock’s interest in gold was slight indeed; he made it by the boxful whenever he needed some, which was not often. But, as a maker of things, he had once had some interest in coins. He glanced instinctively at the discs in her hands.
They were of a type new to him. Each design was different, and some were horrible – he could see headless corpses and hanged men on a few of the gold cartwheels she held out to him. The coins might be solid and perhaps they were gold, but he doubted they were good in any generally accepted meaning of the word. They stank of evil magic.
He was about to say as much when one of the coins, showing what appeared to be a crow or raven wearing a crown, winked at him. It could have been a trick of the light, but he didn’t think so.
“What will you take for that one?” he asked, pointing at the crow-coin.
Guile entered the eyes of the grieving woman. “That is an especially valuable one, sir. They say the Crow King will do any service for the person who holds this coin.”
Morlock grunted skeptically and said, “How much for it?”
“I am not selling these coins, sir. I’m offering them to pay for a service. You cannot buy this coin; you may earn it.”
“By keeping the Strigae from chewing up your husband’s corpse tonight.”
“Please do not speak so disrespectfully of the Sisters of the Red Worm (I summon them not!). But that is the general idea.”
Morlock thought idly about knocking her down, taking the coin and running away with it. But his conversation with the woman had drawn a crowd of interested listeners; he doubted he would get away clean. Besides, stealing magical gold often had unintended consequences. On the other hand, he could just say, “No,” and walk away. But it occurred to him that he wasn’t going to do that.
“All right,” he said. “Keep the others; I just want that coin with the crow.”
“I will give it to you tomorrow morning.”
“If I keep your husband’s corpse intact.”
“Oh no. Not at all. If you stay on watch through the night I will give you the coin, even if the Unnamed Ones violate poor Thelyphron. But . . .”
“But?”
“Our law says that whatever parts are missing from a dead body after a vigil must be made up by the watcher.”
“So if poor Thelyphron’s nose is missing in the morning, he will be buried with mine? Likewise liver or testicles?”
“Yes. That is only fair, wouldn’t you say?”
Morlock considered the question briefly. “No. Where do I stand, or sit, this wake?”
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Published works, Reader reviews | Tagged: amber stults, Every Day Fiction, Flash fiction | 
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Posted by Nik Hawkins
