Broken Frontier

Hide the kids, make sure your insurance is paid, and update your will. Demons are about, and the only one who can save us all is a cheerleader named Abigail, who brought them here in the first place.

Abigail was once a popular cheerleader. We all know the type. Then again, in her case, maybe we don’t. Maybe it was her strict upbringing that fueled her rebellion against her Bible-thumping parents. Not just with a beer or two, or staying out way too late, but with a book of magic spells, as well. So she gathers a group of friends in the family rumpus room for "Bible study" and lets the Latin fly. The result? Mali, a big red demon awakened after 300 years, loosed upon Earth once again to kill and destroy. Suddenly becoming a mage without even knowing it, does Abby have the stuff to stop an apocalypse she helped create?

For me, the downside of The Necromancer is that it is yet another story about a teenage girl upon whom is suddenly thrust the mantel of world savior. The premise wears thin on me because the character arc involved is too often typical and predictable—someone both too shallow and too much of a smart-ass for her own good discovers that the world is much more complex beneath the surface and then struggles with the weighty responsibility she bears. Still, I began The Necromancer with as much of an open mind as a groan, but curious to discover what set it apart from the scads of similar stories to be found on the comics shop shelves on a monthly basis. I was pleasantly surprised.

Planned as one huge story intended to run fifty or so issues in the tradition of such titles as 100 Bullets, The Necromancer #1 opens more like a novel than a comic. A red-haired Abigail, now a mage dealing with her own guilt, flashes back to her former blonde self and the actions that resulted in both the death of her loved ones and her own transformation. In the hands of Joshua Ortega (who wrote ((FREQUENCIES)), a mighty fine sci-fi novel), the flashback is a great narrative device. Instantly the reader is aware of the difference between Abby then and Abby now, and the difference is so stark that we’re eager to see what fills the gaps in between. Bucking the predictability of the genre, Abby’s guilt is true and palpable—she had a hand in starting this mess, and now she must fix it. Thus, the suspense Ortega creates is more centered on character development than plotting and has more weight because of it. Though I started with reservations, I finished The Necromancer #1 both sympathizing with Abby and certain that issue #2 will be on my pull list.

The story is solid, but the art is better, a sight to behold in fact. Start with the very first page. Abby now—blood red hair, scars on her beautiful face. Abby then—blonde, not a scratch on her, looking at least several years younger as if the time in between has taken its toll. Then her fist smashing a mirror, the shards so meticulously rendered the imagination hears the sound. Then the shards themselves, reflecting faded, fragmented images of the two Abbys. From four widescreen panels so boldly rendered, instantly we know that an inner war is on, and the blood drenching Abby’s hand on the next page seems just a hint of how much more the reader can expect. The rest of the issue is just as gorgeous. Francis Manapul on pencils, Brian Buccellato on colors, and five (count ‘em—five) inkers deliver rich, dynamic images full of exquisite depth and raw emotion. The action is swift, the story flows smoothly from panel to well-constructed panel, and the angles chosen keep the reader’s eye oriented throughout and moving along at the story’s pace.

Top Cow has delivered some of comics’ most consistently engaging stories and beautiful artwork over the past year or so, and if The Necromancer #1 is any indication, readers can expect even more in the foreseeable future. It’s a fantastic debut, and has all the right stuff it needs to stick around for a long time.