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Scourged: The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Ten Mass Market Paperback – December 24, 2018
Kevin Hearne (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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“[Kevin] Hearne draws his Iron Druid Chronicles to a pitch-perfect close in this dizzy, world-hopping adventure. But amidst the battles and bargaining that go into saving the world, there is also an enormous amount of heart.”—RT Book Reviews
Unchained from fate, the Norse gods Loki and Hel are ready to unleash Ragnarok, a.k.a. the Apocalypse, upon the earth. They’ve made allies on the darker side of many pantheons, and there’s a globe-spanning battle brewing that ancient Druid Atticus O’Sullivan will be hardpressed to survive, much less win.
Granuaile MacTiernan must join immortals Sun Wukong and Erlang Shen in a fight against the Yama Kings in Taiwan, and she discovers that the stakes are much higher than she thought.
Meanwhile, Archdruid Owen Kennedy must put out both literal and metaphorical fires from Bavaria to Peru to keep the world safe for his apprentices and the future of Druidry.
And Atticus recruits the aid of a tyromancer, an Indian witch, and a trickster god in hopes that they’ll give him just enough leverage to both save Gaia and see another sunrise. There is a hound named Oberon who deserves a snack, after all.
Don’t miss any of The Iron Druid Chronicles:
HOUNDED | HEXED | HAMMERED | TRICKED | TRAPPED | HUNTED | SHATTERED | STAKED | SCOURGED | BESIEGED
- Print length336 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDel Rey
- Publication dateDecember 24, 2018
- Dimensions4.18 x 0.86 x 6.85 inches
- ISBN-100345548566
- ISBN-13978-0345548566
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“[Kevin] Hearne is a terrific storyteller with a great snarky wit. . . . Neil Gaiman’s American Gods meets Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden.”—SFFWorld
“[The Iron Druid books] are clever, fast-paced and a good escape.”—Boing Boing
“Hearne understands the two main necessities of good fantasy stories: for all the wisecracks and action, he never loses sight of delivering a sense of wonder to his readers, and he understands that magic use always comes with a price. Highly recommended.”—The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
“Superb . . . plenty of quips and zap-pow-bang fighting.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Celtic mythology and an ancient Druid with modern attitude mix it up in the Arizona desert in this witty new fantasy series.”—Kelly Meding, author of Chimera
“[Atticus is] a strong modern hero with a long history and the wit to survive in the twenty-first century. . . . A snappy narrative voice . . . a savvy urban fantasy adventure.”—Library Journal
“A page-turning and often laugh-out-loud funny caper through a mix of the modern and the mythic.”—Ari Marmell, author of The Warlord’s Legacy
“Outrageously fun.”—The Plain Dealer
“Kevin Hearne breathes new life into old myths, creating a world both eerily familiar and startlingly original.”—Nicole Peeler, author of Tempest Rising
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I had a cup of wine with Galileo once. He remains one of the greatest examples of human genius I’ve ever seen over my twenty-one centuries of life, and one of the bravest. Think of the giant, hairy stones he must have had to stand up to the Catholic Church back when they routinely toppled monarchs and killed people for the glory of their god (who let me buy him a shot of whiskey in Arizona once, by the way, and who did not feel particularly glorified by any murders, let alone the ones committed in his name). To look at the whole of Christendom and call bullshit on their geocentrism despite their threats took some iron guts. And he didn’t give a damn that nobody wanted to believe him at first. “I have math,” he told me over the rim of his cup. He gestured to it as he spoke. “And the numbers are like this fine vintage we are enjoying. Verifiable, observable, existing independent of us, and caring not one whit about human faith.”
Stellar guy, that Galileo! Ha! My puns remain execrable, alas.
Eventually the Church had to admit that Galileo was right—and admit also, long after his death, that his life and work had been a fulcrum on which the world pivoted. The flourishing of the sciences that used his methods brought many wonders to humanity. Many evils too.
I am beginning to wonder now if I might not also be such a fulcrum for good and evil, even if I have labored to remain anonymous. I have endeavored for much of my long life to keep myself out of histories, all the while putting more and more history behind me. For much of my two-thousand-plus years, I did not feel I was building to some grand climax or accomplishing anything but my continued survival, but recent events have caused me to reevaluate.
According to a nightmarish visit from the Morrigan, Ragnarok will begin in the next few days, and it won’t end well for anyone, because apocalypses tend not to include happy endings. Perhaps I can still do something to minimize the damage; no matter what I do, though, it cannot erase the fact that it wouldn’t be happening at all had I not slain the Norns and unchained the Norse pantheon from their destinies. I am almost entirely to blame, and the guilt is already a nine-ton albatross about my neck. I don’t think I’m going to get an easy gig afterward like Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner did either. Telling your tale to random wedding guests is a pretty mild punishment for economy-size cockups.
It is fortunate that I have a friend able to shoulder such burdens and make me forget for a while that they are there.
Oberon said as he placed his paws against a bound tree in Tasmania prior to shifting home to Oregon. My Irish wolfhound was expecting a proper feast before I went off to battle gods and monsters and assorted demons from the world’s pantheons, and he’d challenged me to supply a meat bar for him, Orlaith, and Starbuck, our new Boston terrier, in the style of salad bar buffets. We’d adopted Starbuck during a stint of crime-fighting in Portland that Oberon pompously called “The Case of the Purloined Poodle.”
“The five meat categories will be represented,” I assured him.
“Of course. Didn’t you have a maxim about this?”
“Uh . . . I think you’re misquoting, Oberon. It’s supposed to be ‘to each according to his need.’ ”
Choosing to keep Oberon carefully insulated from double entendres has proven to be endlessly entertaining. “An excellent job too. It can’t possibly be interpreted to mean anything else but what you meant. Here we go.”
I shifted us home to our cabin near the McKenzie River in the Willamette National Forest, and Oberon immediately shouted mentally to the other hounds once we arrived.
Starbuck’s higher-pitched voice replied immediately with his limited vocabulary. he said.
Orlaith added, and both of them exploded through the doggie door to greet us, Orlaith trailing behind because she was very pregnant and close to delivering.
I had to spend a while getting slobbered on and trying to satisfy three dogs with only two hands while they demanded details on the meat and gravy bar. I confessed that I didn’t have sufficient information to provide details.
Oberon was incredulous.
“All the meats? Oberon, that’s impossible.”
“It is. At least in the time I have allotted to me. Maybe it could be a squad goal for later. But right now we have to limit ourselves to what we can pick up in Eugene. Is Earnest here?”
Earnest Goggins-Smythe was our live-in dogsitter, whom we’d been depending on rather heavily in the past few weeks, especially as Orlaith’s delivery approached. He had a standard poodle named Jack and a boxer named Algernon, or Algy for short, and they’d remained inside with him.
Orlaith said.
“I should probably say hi and make sure he’s okay with Jack and Algy participating in this smorgasbord. But after that, would you three like to come with me to Eugene to go shopping for the meats, so you can advise me on what to get?”
Orlaith said.
Starbuck shouted.
Oberon said.
“Do you want to go or not?”
“Okay, give me a minute to talk to Earnest.” After confirming that Jack and Algy could participate in at least some cautious meaty debauchery, my hounds piled into the blue ’54 Chevy pickup I’d acquired during an escapade that Oberon had dubbed “The Squirrel on the Train.” Oberon looked out the back window at the truck bed.
“It’s more than enough, Oberon.”
“I’m not promising anything at this point beyond an assortment of meats and gravies. And maybe a story about a famous hound for the drive, since you’re way too pumped up right now.”
Orlaith’s ears perked up.
“More of a tiny hound—a beagle, in fact.”
Oberon said.
Orlaith asked.
“It was Bingo.”
“Exactly like the song. I can tell you the true story of the actual Bingo who inspired that song.”
Orlaith cocked her head at me as we pulled out onto the road. It was crowded in the cab—the hounds barely fit and Starbuck had to sit on my lap, all aquiver with excitement.
“Oh, but there were earlier versions of the song, which hint at some heroic deeds. And I know the details of that heroism.”
Oberon stopped looking at the truck bed and trying to imagine it filled with meat.
In the eighteenth century, just before the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions, there was a cabbage farmer in the Southern Uplands of Scotland—that’s the region closest to the border with Britain. His name was Dúghlas Mac Támhais, the Gaelic form of Douglas McTavish. In addition to his hillside of cabbages and a hayfield, he had a barnyard with some animals in there—a dairy cow, a plow horse, and, most important, a henhouse. Because chickens—those humble descendants of dinosaurs—are so delicious, they needed protection from foxes. And because cabbages are likewise delicious to some animals, they needed protection from rabbits and the like. That was where Bingo came in: Half his job was to protect the farm, and the other half was to be adorable. Bingo was outstanding at both halves of his job.
But he worried about his human. Dúghlas, you see, had taken to drinking quite a bit of ale after tragedy struck: He lost his wife as she gave birth to their first child and then lost the child soon after to fever. He was heartbroken and descending into alcoholism, and Bingo worried that he’d never recover.
One night, as Dúghlas was scowling at a potato and cabbage pie he’d made for dinner—a dish called rumbledethumps—Bingo let loose with a tremendous racket outside, and Dúghlas assumed quite rightly that they had an unwelcome visitor. He was already pickled as he grabbed up his musket, which he kept loaded and primed in case of emergencies like this one.
There was a fox trying to get into the henhouse, and Bingo was chasing him off, headed toward the property of the neighboring farm. They had a stile over the fence, for they were good neighbors, and the fox actually used the stile and Bingo leapt after him. That was the first verse of the original song: “The farmer’s dog leapt over the stile, his name was little Bingo.” The second verse had to do with the farmer’s drinking habit, and that was immortalized because Dúghlas was inebriated to the point where he shouldn’t be attempting things like steep steps over a fence. He managed to climb up to the top okay, but coming down was disastrous. He slipped on the first step, fired the musket into the air with a convulsive jerk of the trigger, and wound up hitting his head on the bottom step pretty badly. He was unconscious and bleeding.
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Product details
- Publisher : Del Rey; Reprint edition (December 24, 2018)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 336 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0345548566
- ISBN-13 : 978-0345548566
- Item Weight : 4.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.18 x 0.86 x 6.85 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #144,094 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #4,289 in Fantasy Action & Adventure
- #5,467 in Thriller & Suspense Action Fiction
- #10,233 in Paranormal & Urban Fantasy (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

KEVIN HEARNE hugs trees, pets doggies, and rocks out to heavy metal. He also thinks tacos are a pretty nifty idea. He is the author of the New York Times bestselling series the Iron Druid Chronicles, the Seven Kennings trilogy that begins with A PLAGUE OF GIANTS, and co-author of the Tales of Pell with Delilah S. Dawson.
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Top reviews from the United States
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In fact, about the only redeeming part of this book might be the potential for a new Vendetta Series: The Dark Iron Druid Chronicles wherein Atticus gets exquisitely dark revenge on EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER IN THIS BOOK, with only the debatable exception of Owen. The potential for fanfic stories detailing this revenge might outstrip the potential for Mr. Hearne to write it, though, given just how thoroughly he messed this one up. It's that bad. Ethan Frome is a more worthwhile investment of time, money, effort, and emotion, and as an English teacher himself, Mr. Hearne should know just how high (low?) that particular bar is to clear.
SPOILERS AHEAD. In order to clearly enumerate and illustrate my top 3 problems with this book, it is necessary that several major plot points will be discussed. Thus, here's the spoiler warning in advance. ***SPOILERS AHEAD***
- In past books, the battle scenes have been exquisitely detailed, nuanced, and filled with action for all characters. This book is not. Atticus' battles with Anghus Og, Das Tochters Das Tritten, any Dark Elves, any Aesir (except the battle with the Norns), or even some of Granduaile's training battles were ALL better described, more richly experienced, and took longer to read/write than any single battle in Scourged. Battles in the Novellas were all better than these. Ragnarok turned out to be a GIGANTIC letdown; this is some Heart of Darkness level of buildup and letdown (pages and pages of exquisite description of how important and epic Kurtz is, but when he's found it's like 5 pages of him doing nothing but saying 'the horror, the horror' and dying). Jormungandr? Wasn't even a battle. Many others have illustrated the shortcomings of the battles before me, and I'll leave it to them.
- Granuaile's response to Atticus attempting to keep her safe from a battle he expected to die in, and to ensure Druidry could continue, was ridiculous. I was right there for Perun's response; he was used and treated as an object, not appreciated or loved. Granuaile? She gets so upset at being sent to an easier battle that reduced her threat level because Atticus couldn't bare to either let Druidry end or to see her hurt because he loved her so much... was cause to break up with him? Less than an hour after he lost his right arm (with all his tattoos, and their included powers and connection to Gaia) and WHILE HE'S STILL WEARING HIS BLOODSTAINED CLOTHES??? Seriously? Her response was so far beyond reasonability that it actually caused me to fail my suspension of disbelief... IN A FANTASY NOVEL. It's so out of character, so unbelievable, that in a story featuring a 2000+ year old Irish dude who does shots with Jesus and is on a first name basis with several deities who are all real with physical bodies and dozens of different types of magic that obeys made-up rules, it was a PLOT POINT that made me go "that's just too unrealistic to be believable". Let that sink in. Look, I know a potential relationship with the Morrigan was always a more compelling thing to explore, even after she quasi-died (as the series has proven, death is no obstacle in the long run) - and that if that were to happen, the relationship with Granuaile would have to end. Granuiale as a character has always been poorly written in first person perspective but well done from other characters perspectives - well done enough to leave the reader attached and invested DESPITE just how badly written she is in first person... but this was so bad that I can unequivocally say that killing her off would have been better. Killing Atticus would have been better. Killing Oberon would have been better. Killing all three would have been better. Killing Granuaile before the battle, or even having him break up with her before the battle would have been better. ALL would have been more believable. She knows that he lost Tahirah in battle and that it nearly destroyed him - and she's so surprised and betrayed that he would seek to sideline her to a different battle than his so that he wouldn't witness her death (and perhaps be killed the same way Manannan Mac Lir was, which was just a revolting and another unbelievable part of the story, but this review is already too long), pushed her to break up with him after HE was betrayed by his own pantheon, the Norse, the Greeks, the Romans, and everyone but Coyote in such a way as to destroy his connection to Gaia and his ability to be a Druid in an unfair fight? BS. The pettiness of the gods has always been a theme, but so has some of their humanity and redeeming qualities... and he throws it ALL away with that battle. Freyja would force the battle when he was wounded, the earth beneath him drained from the battle, and without his weapon? That THOR would have more honor than literally any other deity on that battlefield? Sorry - the numerous ways in which this story breaks character, breaks believability, and breaks with reasonability... just too much. Way, way too much.
- There is no way Atticus could reasonably conclude that everything happening was his fault. There is so, SO much effort spent droning on and on about how everything is his fault and he sees everything as his fault... and not only is it unbelievable and unreasonable (as well as out of character), it's so annoying and heavy handed that it might be even more damaging to the story/book than Granuaile's breaking up with him, taking his house, separating their dogs, and lecturing him about it. If it's anyone's fault, it's Thor's. If not Thor, it would be Lief. If not Lief, it would be the Norse. The Norns were killed in self defense, and Atticus had absolutely NO trouble with that at any point. He was there to steal an apple, they tried to kill him, they lost. Everything that happened after, as he points out in Two Ravens and One Crow, was in response to violence that was offered him. Look, there's no need to go into detail about just how NOT his fault ALL of this was, because there have been 8 previous books all detailing how each was responsible for their own actions. But to say that Atticus, who is such a pragmatist, is incapable of seeing this and has to repeat at least once every couple pages how everyone's death is his fault? I'm sorry, but just remembering that makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.
Perhaps the best possible thing that can be said about this book is that it's short; so, while it's expensive, badly written, badly conceived, and badly executed, it is at least not insufferably LONG in addition to just being insufferable.
I also had a problem with the character arcs in this book. I was not a big fan when Hearne decided to expand from Atticus' view point to include Owen and Granuaile. He has never written their view points as well, especially Granuaile's. In this book, Owen's story is more of a series of vignettes, and could have been left out of the book entirely with nothing lost. Granuaile's story is not important and almost a side quest until the very end. And Atticus takes a backseat in Raganarok, relying on his allies and friends to do all the heavy lifting.
The book gets two stars for the fact that I still cared about the characters, and that Hearne decided to end his series and not keep it going indefinitely like some other authors have decided to do.
The book is clearly a wrap up loose ends as quickly as possible type book. The character interactions are minimal and frankly annoying on several levels. Granuaile feelings regarding Atticus trying to protect her (in his way -- not great but there is thought for her and her future development) as inexcusable. Atticus has other sins to pay for relative to her but there should have been some type of discussion; it would have a been a great chance for character development. Owen's actions seem to just tie a few minor loose ends. The actual big battle is uninspired, to say the least, but had a few interesting elements.
I am sad to see the series done but it was done or should have been done a few books ago. I enjoy reading the adventures of Atticus and Oberon, so those will be missed. But, the humor and joy found in the early books are sorely missing from this book.
There was a fair amount of preachiness that was heavy-handed which the book would have been a lot better without. I do wonder how much the editor really worked on this book before release.
If you really enjoyed the series, then the book is worth reading if you can get it discounted. The full price for the book is too much.
Top reviews from other countries

It's not a terrible story and it does wrap everything up with a dose of justice and a smidgeon of hope for the future as endings should. It just felt all the way through from its overly-introspective sections, through the un-coordinated and un-epic feel of the battles, to the abrupt and unsatisfying ending that this was written, not from a love of the story and the characters, but to get the arc closed and out of the way so that the author can move on to his two new series.

This book appears more a detailed plot outline than a finished novel. Events happen at a rushed pace, as if ticking off a checklist of plot points that Atticus must resolve. Meanwhile Owen & Granuaile are off having cameo adventures with barely any connection to the main narrative - although at least there is some entertaining humour here.
The frenetic pace comes at the cost of characterisation - all the characters feel like pale imitations of their previous book selves. As a result there is very little emotional impact.
Even the big climax of the story fails to engage in any meaningful way and I was left thinking "Is that it?"
This book feels very different to all the others in the series - again it's more like a first draft than a polished, complete end to the chronicles. I wonder if perhaps the author was rushed by the publisher to finish it, or as others suggest maybe he's lost interest in the characters?
Clearly fans of the series will read this anyway for completeness - and I don't regret knowing how it ends - but this is not a good book.


