Tag Archives: C.S. Friedman

Much of contemporary science fiction examines how humans will react to emerging technologies, explore the solar system, and establish colonies on new planets. Think The Martian by Andy Weir or Leviathan Wakes by James S. A. Corey. I enjoy reading about the political battles, technological advances, and ethical issues that might arise in the near future. But one of my favorite branches of the genre looks much farther ahead—to futures where Earth has faded into myth and science has advanced so far that it is indistinguishable from magic. This vision of humanity’s distant future is what compelled me to read Black Sun Rising by C. S. Friedman, the first novel in her Coldfire Trilogy.

Black Sun Rising takes place on the mysterious planet Erna, colonized centuries ago by settlers from an advanced Earth civilization. But on Erna, things are not quite what they seem. The planet is governed by the Fae, a powerful force that adepts can wield to bend reality to their will. Throughout the novel, the reader is never quite sure what is real, what is imagined, or even what constitutes reality on Erna.

Civilization on Erna has developed into a feudal society ruled by religious sects. The story follows Damien Vryce, a priest and warrior of the Church of Human Unification, who is on a mission to understand the Fae and learn how to control it. Is the Fae magic, or a natural force that can ultimately be explained by science? This question lies at the heart of the political and philosophical tension on Erna.

During his travels, Damien meets Ciani, an adept who has been brutally attacked by mysterious beings that used the Fae to strip her of her memories. Determined to help her recover them, Damien follows rumors that lead him to a dark forest, home to a powerful sorcerer known as the Hunter. After a perilous journey, Damien discovers that the sorcerer is Gerald Tarrant—a revered saint of his own religion who has become something far darker, sustaining himself on the life force of Erna’s inhabitants.

Faced with a threat more powerful than he can confront alone, Damien reluctantly enlists Tarrant’s help. Tarrant’s motives remain unclear, and his very existence is an affront to everything Damien believes in. Where Damien is guided by faith and moral conviction, Tarrant has sacrificed his humanity for power and survives only in darkness. Yet for Ciani’s sake, Damien forms a fragile and uneasy alliance.

Friedman offers few concrete explanations of the Fae or Erna’s underlying nature. Instead, the reader is immersed in a dreamlike world where the boundaries between belief and reality blur. One of the most striking scenes occurs when Damien, Tarrant, and Ciani discover an ancient Earth telescope in a region where the Fae has no influence. Looking through it, they are astonished to find a reality untouched by will or belief. On Earth, science was grounded in observation; on Erna, it is shaped by perception, emotion, and intent.

While the landscapes of Erna are vivid and compelling, it is the characters who make the novel truly stand out. The dynamic between Damien and Tarrant—light and dark, idealism and pragmatism, hero and anti-hero—drives the narrative forward, with several surprising revelations along the way.

This is a challenging yet deeply fascinating read—unlike anything I’ve encountered before. For readers willing to venture into the strange and unsettling world of Erna, and to grapple with the complex characters of Damien and Tarrant, Black Sun Rising is well worth the journey.

Friedman, C. S. Black Sun Rising. DAW Books, 1991.