More exciting than Homer! Reading this story is like studying a complex mosaic whose tiles please the eye individually and then resolve into larger fantastic images of warriors, gods, goddesses, witches, mages, priests, wizards and more. But the fantastic is made real by the details; the snorting of horses, the rain running off the roofs of the city, the smell of bodies burned in a stable fire, the touch of a silk dress in a whorehouse. The entire adventure has a satisfying balance as good battles evil and destiny drives everyone back to where they began. Almost. This is a world worth exploring further. ( )

The Sacred Band is an epic story, based on Plato's Sacred Squadron, which consisted of pairs of male lovers that formed the elite force of the Theban army in the 4th century BC. The authors open it without wasting any time to hint that some of the characters, like Tempus (AKA the Riddler) have multiple names. You are invited right into their midst. It is by association, and by living next to them as if you were part of the band, that these names start to connect for you—even without the benefit of an official introduction.

You will find yourself immersed in a mythological world, among mortal and immortal beings, whose deeds and reflections carry poetic, symbolic meanings. “The Fates swoop in, looking Tempus in the eye. And he can see them, this man of many years, who has beside him a creature of wind and wave.”

Action is delivered in a sensual manner that puts you right there, in the skin of the characters, seeing and hearing everything they do, and at the same rhythm: “When he had walked as far as the dockside along the swampy marsh, he saw a flash of leg, a gleam of skin. It was too tempting. He gave chase. He chased and chased it, into the Maze, and into a warren of alleys and hovels. He was about to give up when he caught sight of it again: a flash of skin, low cursing, heavy breathing and a clutter in an alley.”

I was especially moved by the scene of burning stables. “Horses screaming. Men running. Water in buckets; never enough. Black smoke billowing from the barracks, making men and horses caught and cough and wheeze. Lurid flames; evil, awful light from hell as hungry fire eats up men and horses, hopes and dreams.”

I find it an amazingly unique that this story is the product of creative collaboration between its two authors, Janet Morris and Chris Morris. Seamlessly executed, this is more than a story—it is a triumphant imagination of the possibility to rise above ourselves, so that everyday reality is but a shadow of what we can dream.

Five stars. ( )