Broken Frontier

In an ancient time and far off place, an epic struggle erupts between a prince and a king. No matter who wins, the price of either victory or defeat will be paid in the same currency—blood.

Namrazy and the forces of the dread King Groznyj, ruler of Tzenebraum, stand at the gates of Drakanc Hrad. The castle under siege is the home of the bloodprince Petr Drakanov, once a general in the King’s army, now branded a traitor. When Petr refuses to surrender, Namrazy orders his forces to break through the gates. Though they are formidable, they are summarily routed by Petr’s twin sisters Katia and Kesmy. Both were murdered, but live on now as stone warriors, several feet taller than the tallest in Namrazy’s cadre and capable of mass destruction. The bloodprince has sworn to protect his castle and family against the King, but of those most closest to him, his friend Marcus, a Teardrop Knight, is torn between his friendship and his allegiance to his liege. Loyalty to the King and nasty rumors about what Petr did to his sisters and his presumed dead brother win Marcus over, and soon he and Petr face each other in a duel from which only one will emerge alive.

Who? What? When? Where? Why? Whether fiction or non-fiction, these questions are at the heart of any narrative. And where comics are concerned—especially first issues featuring previously unknown characters—how these questions are managed is very often the make-or-break difference between a first issue that compels us back for issue #2 and one that is quickly dropped and easily forgotten. Though there’s much to like in Archaic #1, and one thing to certainly be excited about, what would otherwise be an engrossing read was frustrated by the script’s ineffective management of those five essential questions.

But first, the script’s strengths. That Archaic can easily be pigeonholed as sci-fi/fantasy, but also subverts such a blunt label is due to James Abrams’ powerful imagination. He has a d.j.’s acumen for remixing established genres and styles into something fresh and new. Like Joe Kelly and Chris Bachalo’s Steampunk, the setting is as antiquated as it is futuristic, as much a product of advanced technology as of dark magic. The tension between brooding prince Drakanov and murderous King Groznyj brings Hamlet to mind, while the level of royal intrigue invokes Paul Jenkins’ Inhumans maxi-series. Likewise, the rhythm of the story is tight, with neither page nor panel wasted. And while no particular character has any more depth than an archetype, Abrams also gets characterization points for establishing real tension and conflict among his major players.

But despite these strengths, it’s easy to lose one’s bearing while reading Archaic #1. It took three readings to get all the names straight and an understanding of the conflicts between the characters. And though I read it more than once, I really didn’t get a handle on what Archaic is about until consulting its pitch line in Previews. Finally, it wasn’t until my local comics shop lent me Archaic #1.5—oddly, more a prologue than a continuation of the story—that I got some of the backstory vital to understanding what’s going on in Archaic #1. But even with all this, still there’s something missing. The conflict between Prince Drakanov and King Groznyj seems more a pissing match than a power struggle because we don’t know 1) why Drakanov has broken away from his king; and 2) why he has been branded a traitor. Just as unclear are the stakes. We know that these characters are fighting, but the first issue gives hardly an indication of what they’re fighting for. Abrams throws the reader right into the story—a great way to hook the reader. But instead of feeling in medias res, reading it feels more like beginning a novel somewhere in the middle. Had I been a casual reader instead of a reviewer, finishing Archaic #1 once would have left me more puzzled than intrigued, and decidedly on the fence about picking up issue #2.

And now, the one thing to be truly excited about in Archaic #1—the art has none of the weaknesses of the script. In fact, I expect to hear a lot more about Brett Marting in the future. His style is his own and no one else’s, though influences are also apparent—namely, the excellent Jae Lee, as well as the illustrated posters of Toulouse-Lautrec. His linework is bold yet fluid, and more often than not he dynamically renders anatomy and proportion. His set pieces are elegantly composed and well framed, and he gets to the essence of individual characters in his close shots. Fight scenes are a weakness of his, though. In some places they aren’t as tightly composed, and when one character makes a move on an opponent, the image can be quite static. Still, this is a minor deficit in an impressive set of skills.

Though it could have been better executed, Archaic is worth a look. My impressions of the writing are mixed, but I think James Abrams has the skills to become a solid writer. Brett Marting, however, is gifted, an artist to watch. Together, they’re on to something, and if in future issues the scripts can grow as strong as the art, Archaic will distinguish itself as something truly special.