David Burrows Fantasy Author

The Horror of a Shield Wall Regia Anglorum at the Battle of Hastings My experience comes from reenactment, not the battlefield itself, but even that controlled version was brutal enough. The command at the end of a battle for “Dead Arise” gives us second, third, and fourth chances; real warriors did not get that luxury. I have cracked finger bones four times, broken my thumb once, and broken ribs twice. A fellow Saxon was once thrown thirty or forty feet when a charging horse skidded into the shield wall. So no: even as a reenactor, fighting behind a shield was never easy, even when everyone knew it was only a display. The Seax: Tool, Weapon, Liability When I first joined Regia Anglorum, all newbies learned to fight with a scramseax: the typical Saxon knife used for everything from chopping wood and butchery to close combat. It was shorter than a sword, quick in the hand, and dangerous precisely because it felt so familiar. On one occasion a colleague asked me to take part in a sho...

The Birth of Drachar's Demons Some years ago, a friend read Prophecy of the Kings and told me how much he had enjoyed it. Yet one thing troubled him: he wanted to know more about Drachar, a figure only hinted at in the story. Oddly enough, his curiosity stirred my own. I realised that I knew surprisingly little about Drachar myself—or about his people, the Eldric. That is one of the strange delights of being an author: the world you create is often filled with shadows even you have not yet explored. Perhaps that is why Tolkien’s extraordinary world-building remains so compelling; his deep love for the Elves, their histories, and the vastness of Middle-earth gave every hidden corner the promise of a story waiting to be uncovered. Before writing Prophecy of the Kings , I imagined that authors had their tales fully mapped out before they ever put pen to paper. For me, it was nothing like that. The story revealed itself chapter by chapter, often surprising me with unexpected turns i...

  In fantasy, it is dangerously easy to write yourself into a corner. Take the dragon: vast, ancient, armoured, and almost impossible to kill. If such a creature has no weakness, the story can quickly lose its edge. The beast sweeps across kingdoms, burns cities to ash, and leaves armies broken in its wake. Terrifying, yes — but without a way to fight back, even terror can become predictable and the tale becomes stale. So how have other storytellers solved the problem? Myth gives us brave knights such as St George, charging into legend with lance and sword. After a mighty clash, the dragon lies slain, and statues immortalise the hero standing triumphant over the body, sword raised in glory. It is stirring imagery — but is it enough? Dragons have scales like armour and breathe fire, acid, or worse. How could any knight survive long enough to strike the killing blow? In The Hobbit , Tolkien found a brilliant answer: a flaw. Smaug, magnificent and vain, reveals the one gap in his ...

  How I outran a horse — three times! As a Saxon re-enactor, I was once invited to take part in a filming opportunity. I arrived in a broad, open field to find several friends already there, along with the film crew, the cameras, and a sense that this was going to be more interesting than an ordinary day in costume. The producer explained the scene. Six Saxons, fleeing the Battle of Hastings, were to be hunted across the field by roving Norman mounted patrols. We would form a loose shield wall. Four Norman knights would charge. And because I was on the left-hand end, I had the special honour of dropping my shield and running for my life. It sounded simple enough. The camera was set low to the ground about two hundred yards away. The plan was that a mounted knight would catch me just before I reached it, swing his sword down, and kill me dramatically on film. Right. The producer shouted, “Action!” and the knights spurred their horses into a gallop. The ground seemed to tremb...