Whenever a superhero movie comes out, it’s always defined by the villain. When someone asks “which one was Batman Returns?” the easy answer is “the one with Catwoman and Penguin” (or “the one with Christopher Walken,” depending how awesome the person you’re talking to is). Well, Shadowdance isn’t exactly free of this, either. The first book was easy: it’s the one with Thren Felhorn. Perhaps not everyone’s favorite character, but personally, I had a ball. So ruthless, so cold, willing to turn even his own son into a perfect killing machine to further his aims. A Dance of Blades is a little harder. I tried something a bit different with Arthur Hadfield, a villain without any real fighting abilities, but instead relied on manipulation, deceit, and overall douchebaggery. As for the other main villain, Ghost, I don’t feel like I accomplished even a tenth of his potential. Learning from both, it’s time to introduce the main villain of A Dance of Death: the Wraith.
With someone like Haern, I need a character who can stand toe to toe and pose a legitimate threat. With Wraith, not only can he cross swords, he can win. And often will. Wraith is like a darker version of the Watcher, a man garbed in cloaks and shadows, with his fighting instincts honed to perfection, and a reputation based on fear. For those who’ve read the Half-Orcs, here’s a tiny *spoiler*: he even gives Dieredon a run for the money, in what was an absolutely blast to write. /*spoiler* But creating a good villain is more than just giving a hero Bad Guy #237 to whallop, and I wouldn’t be so excited for you all to meet him if that were just the case. No, I’ve done a few other things, but this one’s the biggie: he’s a mystery villain.
Longtime readers should know I generally like my villains out in the open. I want Velixar by the fire, his seductive words making far too much sense. I want Thren hanging over everything, a dark specter dominating young Aaron Felhorn’s life. I want to watch Redclaw’s rise to power, and Arthur’s schemes play out piece by piece. But with the Wraith, his identity is a secret. For the first time, I get to play with red herrings, misdirection, and an overall sense of mistrust that just belongs in the Shadowdance Series. If there’s ever a book of mine that craves mystery, it’s this one. I promise you, I won’t cheat, and if you look closely,you just might figure out who’s face is hidden within the folds of that hood.
I’ve mentioned Arthur Hadfield twice now, and for a reason: the Wraith isn’t just a simple killer. Assuming I have done my job right, he’s one of the best manipulators I’ve ever created. I have four factions struggling against each other in A Dance of Death, and the Wraith is using them all. He’s got his aims, not that I’ll tell you, and no one is safe from him. No one can predict him. He’s Arthur, except he can traverse the rooftops, skulk in the shadows, and slaughter with his own hands. Best of all, he’s openly mocking the Watcher, challenging his every ideal, his every belief. This is the Joker staring at Batman, saying they’re the same, and slaughtering an entire city to prove it.
A Dance of Death should be the best of the series, returning to the large scope and politics of Cloaks, while retaining the manipulation and personal struggles in Blades. And holding it all together is the Wraith, his blade, and his ever present grin.
