Hmm... a story about a world with a society like that of feudal Japan, full of warriors and magical powers. On the surface, it doesn't seem like the kind of book that would appeal to me, but some skilled storytelling overcomes the almost alien historical setting and purple prose. The Path is a surprisingly engaging story of legend and lost culture, and it stands out as a creative pinnacle in Bart Sears's career in comics. I passed on The Path when it was first released in episodic format, and I'm beginning to see that it was a mistake.
A warlord -- imbued with what he believes to be the power of the gods -- defends his nation from the onslaught of a superior army, but those same gods turn on him. The slain warlord's brother, a humble monk, rushes to his side, and he swears vengeance upon those in whom he has now lost faith. Empowered as his brother was and armed with the Weapon from Heaven, Obo-San is joined in his quest for revenge by his brother's two closest allies, Wulf and Aiko, but before he can begin his mission, he must first contend with the ire of two former friends, now a mad emperor of his homeland and the new general of his armies.
Sears is clearly influenced here by the works of legendary Lone Wolf and Cub artist Goseki Kojima and the equally respected Frank Miller. The more exaggerated tone that characterized Sears's work in the 1990s is gone, replaced with a far more dramatic and dark tone. The action sequences are intense and dynamic, but it's the quiet, slow-moving scenes that really capture the eye. There's a mystical tension that comes over the book, and a creepy cinematic flair as well. Atiyeh's colors reinforce the tension and the sense of the supernatural at play in the plot.
Simonson's fill-in chapter brings both visual consistency and variety to the story. His efforts aren't nearly as dark as Sears's efforts, though, but given the chapter's nature as something of an interlude, the difference works within the context of the story. Atiyeh's muted, greyish colors maintain the necessary tension as well.
The exotic nature of the Japanese culture that serves as the story's foundation is mesmerizing. Marz spells out the political and martial structure of this strange society quite clearly. The ritualistic nature of this world is haunting, and the characters' stoic nature is oddly compelling. Yes, it's difficult to relate to them, but they remain inexplicably fascinating.
At heart of the story is a tragedy that seems greater than the hero's death in the prequel chapter. Marz manages to convey the gravity of Obo-San's loss of faith, and one can't help but sympathize with and pity him. Furthermore, this is a rare instance when the reader's awareness of the larger context of the CrossGen Universe, the sigils and the First works with the story. The greater tragedy is that the figures with whom Obo-San is so angry aren't really his gods, and that these powerful alien creatures have robbed him of his spirituality and inner peace.
