Break

[Deleted]

6007 words, which isn't bad considering I started three days ago. Anyway, here's the first excerpt. It's -really- rough. I wasn't even trying to do anything but catch up, so that may explain away the quality of the piece.

It was less than an hour before the furtive mage left through the back door. He had changed his clothes into a short brown tunic, though his breeches seemed to be the same. There was a small poniard at his hip, one hand tightened around the hilt as he glanced around like a frightened animal before rushing off into the forest.

Daen and I waited a minute before we followed after him, previously hidden behind one of the houses in the village. We chose to chase him on foot, leaving our animals in the care of a local farmer.

Despite his short stature, Daenzil was able to keep up with my long-legged stride and soon we were on Fiere’s trail. It wasn’t a difficult trail to follow, because even I could see how the mage had trampled through the forest with little regard for his tracks. I gritted my teeth, trying to puzzle out exactly why he was running and, more importantly, who he was running from. It was clear that while we were a threat, something larger was on his mind or he would have left immediately after seeing us. I mentioned as much to Daenzil, whispering to the dwarf as we carefully made our way through the brush.

“Could be he had a disagreement with those bandits,” my companion said quietly, brushing a branch aside. “Greed is always an issue. Or maybe he just had a change of heart.”

The last possibility was one I rolled around in my head with distaste. Even if the man had a change of heart, it still didn’t absolve him of the deaths of the patrol or the three villagers murdered through magical means. It meant the man was unpredictable, perhaps prone to whimsy.

Mood swings and rapid personality changes were a dangerous part of wielding magic. A strict mental discipline was usually enough to counteract it, though shocking events or traumatic experiences had a habit of breaking through even that. Which was why Wardens were assigned to each mage and why a sorceress without a Warden was a dangerous being, indeed.

Rays from the sun shot down through the foliage in shafts of spearing light, painting the otherwise green conifers and bushy ground in spots of gold. Squirrels chittered at our passing, a rabbit bounding away as we passed in a loping run. Daenzil’s longsword was quiet even with the pace, part of the inscriptions lining the scabbard infused with a spell similar to the one I had casted on the inn’s bell earlier.

The dwarf stopped suddenly, holding up a fist. I halted, crouching and looking around. I saw nothing but trees and a few large boulders embedded in the steadily incline the forest floor took ahead.

“Tracks’ve disappeared,” Daenzil muttered, one hand reaching behind his back to draw the longsword. It gleamed briefly in one of the shafts of sunlight, the blade almost as long as him. The dwarf’s muscles bulged under the weight of the weapon, but I knew from experience he could wield it longer than any human, and most dwarves, I’d met.

I reached for the obsidian dagger at my hip, drawing confidence from its wire-bound hilt. It was an old gift from Magister Faran, one of the possessions he’d left to me after his passing. With it had been a letter, one final lesson. Magic is a powerful weapon, but when your reserves have run dry, it is always preferable to have a blade at your side.

“Did he take to the rocks?” I whispered, eyes dancing from one tree to the next, boulder to depression in the hill.

“Could be,” Daenzil said doubtfully, grabbing his sword in both hands and turning in a circle. “Be ready.”

There was a rustle to our left. We both turned toward the sound, weapons bared at the area. For a moment, nothing happened. It was only when I felt the tip of a sword on the back of my neck that I realized we’d been tricked. My skin tingled around the feel of the steel, its metal cold and sharp. Daenzil was similarly indisposed, a dagger to his throat being held by a woman clothed all in forest green.

A man stepped out of the brush where we had heard the sound, clad in leather guard armor. Where the blue of the Fairlands had been was now a deep scarlet that almost blended with the treated leather. Throwing daggers decorated both sides of his chest in a dual bandoleer, their sharp points cloaked by the black sheaths.

“Huh,” he said, holding his hands behind his back and staring at me with startlingly blue eyes. “Who are you and why are you in my woods?”

I looked back into his eyes unerringly. “We’re chasing a man who owes us money.”

The man smirked, glancing down at Daenzil before returning his gaze to me. “Oh, really? Funny that, since we’re doing the same. Shame we ran into each other, though.”

“I’d let us go, lad,” my companion sighed. “We’ve more important tasks than talking with ye.”

“Oh really?” the bandit leader asked, chuckling. “And how do you propose to convince me to let you go when you talk to me as if I were nothing more than a common peasant? Seems a little rude, don’t you think?”

Before the dwarf could say something suitably insulting, I interrupted him. “Forgive my associate. You know how dwarves are. But we really would enjoy being free to find our man.”

“I don’t believe I caught your name, Lady...”

I gave him a grim smile. “Names are dangerous things to bandy about.”

The man furrowed his brows, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Very well, since you seem so lovely, I’ll let you go. For the price of your weapons, armor and...” he eyed me up and down speculatively “your company. I’ll even help you track down your man.”

“I think you’ll find my company more than its worth,” I replied, already knowing diplomacy had failed.

“Oh, I doubt tha—”

He was cut off by flames engulfing his head with a sickening crackle. The man screamed, thrashing around and beating at the fire. The sword on my neck fell away as my captor drew back in surprise. I took advantage of the opening and dove forward, picking up my dagger and turning around to meet an attack.

Deadly steel was descending to split me in twain, wielded by a large, dark-skinned woman with a snarl on her face. I dodged to the side, hastily casting a spell. An arrow of pure light slashed forward, catching the unprepared bandit in the shoulder and sending her spinning.

The sounds of metal against metal clanged to my left and I allowed myself a look while my adversary was distracted. Daenzil was trading blows with an unlucky bandit not even old enough to grow a full beard. A line of blood oozed from a shallow cut on the dwarf’s neck but he was otherwise unharmed.

Confident in my companion’s capabilities, I turned back to my own problem, trying to ignore the last groaning gasps of the dying man. Even as I did this, my eyes danced across the forest to spot anything out of the ordinary. The spell that had taken the bandit’s leader hadn’t been one of mine.

Unfortunately I didn’t have further opportunity to investigate, since the sword-wielding bandit charged me, holding her bleeding shoulder in one hand and her weapon in the other. She hacked at me in a devastating side-swipe, nearly catching me in the side as I twirled away. My boots gained purchase easily on the forest ground, crunching through the fall-colored leaves and dew-covered grasses.

Before I could attempt to sign a more powerful binding spell, the woman continued her attack. I dodged backward again, cursing as the weapon slashed through my vest to leave a shallow sting across my ribs. I resisted the urge to look at the wound and instead brought my dagger up in readiness, calculations running through my head. I had to time my next move exactly right or I would end up with more than a scratch.

“Die!” the woman roared victoriously, obviously underestimating my admittedly puny dagger. She swung her sword in a diagonal slice, aiming for my neck.

Less than a second before impact, I darted forward, bringing my dagger up to meet the larger weapon. When they hit, runes lit up across the obsidian in gold and a numbness shot through my arm. I gritted my teeth and shoved the sword aside just enough to deflect it from its course, causing the woman to stumble forward, off balance.

I continued my forward motion, slamming my shoulder into her left shoulder. My legs strained against the woman’s larger size and competing forward force, but it was enough to cause her to further stumble, twisting to the left and tangling her feet. She thudded to the ground, her grip on her weapon failing.

Before she could regain her footing or swing her sword at me in a last-ditch effort, I moved my hands through the signs of a binding spell. My hands deftly flicked through the studiously remembered formula, eldritch words tumbling out of my mouth quickly yet precisely. The dangers of magic were always on my mind, one missaid word would render the spell useless or, even worse, cause it to kill.

A subtle blue light encased the warrior woman’s hands, binding them together in a gel-like substance that would be impossible to break without magical assistance. Her legs were likewise bound together, with yet one more band crossing around her head at mouth level. It was perhaps more than required to stop her, but I was still shaking from the close encounter with death.

[James]

The excerpt isn't the very start of the book, right? Because there were some things that really threw me (like the gender of the narrator) that I assumed wouldn't have happened if I started reading from the start.

[Deleted]

Nov 13, 2012 17:53:42 GMT -5 James said:

The excerpt isn't the very start of the book, right? Because there were some things that really threw me (like the gender of the narrator) that I assumed wouldn't have happened if I started reading from the start.

Correct. This is about 6k words into the book. I could post the beginning, if you'd like.

[James]

I don't really mind. If you want some feedback on it, I'll give it a read. But if it's something you've just breezed through and is still in the rough stages, then feedback probably won't be too helpful.

[Deleted]

Nov 13, 2012 20:16:28 GMT -5 James said:

I don't really mind. If you want some feedback on it, I'll give it a read. But if it's something you've just breezed through and is still in the rough stages, then feedback probably won't be too helpful.

I'll take feedback if I ever get around to finishing NaNo. I'm still behind after those first two days of being too busy to write, so... bleh.

[Deleted]

Daenzil chuckled. “You left yourself open for an insult, harpy, but for once you’re right, so I’ll not pursue it. Though I am curious about your services... how much did the Duke pay to have you help us?”

“Well, I hardly think any amount of gold in the world will do me any good if the land is dead and ruined, my little half-man. Think of my help here as an... investment. If we succeed, I continue to live. If we fail, I, and everyone else in Dranen, die. And I do so enjoy living.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Soren said suddenly, his tone commanding. “Stop the horses.”

I turned in surprise at the ranger once we stopped, but his attention wasn’t on any of us. Instead, his cowl was facing the forest around us. My hand was instantly on my obsidian dagger, eyes scanning the woods for threats.

There was a creak of leather from Soren, the man’s bow now gripped in his hands, an arrow already fitted to the string. He was still staring at the forest, his shoulders relaxed and his bow aimed at the dirt. I saw the sense in that; no use burdening either his muscles or the string with tension when there wasn’t a dire need.

I was burning to ask a question, but the ranger’s warning was still present in my mind. He wouldn’t have called for quiet unless there was something seriously wrong, especially with the deference I had instilled in him that morning. My eyes returned to the forest, noticing my mount’s ears flicking this way and that.

Nothing but an owl hooting in the distance and crickets filled the darkening night. A mist was beginning to play through the trunks, rolling down from the mountains like a tide of grey smoke. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, adrenaline flowing through me the longer the blasted silence went on.

Another creak of leather came from Soren, followed by a whispered question. “You said there were wargs in these hills, Diana?”

“Indeed,” the cloaked woman replied.

“Damn,” the ranger replied quietly. “Well, they’re watching us right now. I’m not sure what they’re waiting for.”

Daenzil grunted as his pony pawed at the earth. “They’re waiting for us to make a move. Smart creatures, wargs.”

“What do you suggest?” Soren asked. “Were these a pack of wolves, I’d say we could chance the run, but I cannot say I’ve encountered wargs before.”

“They’ll attack us whatever we do,” I said, my eyes still straining to pick out any movement in the forest, any light reflected in an animal’s eyes. “Run, attack. Even if we stay here, they’ll eventually move.”

“Ah,” Soren said, “so that’s why the smaller ones are moving around to the other side of the road. A pincer attack. I suppose we’ll be moving against them first, then?”

A pair of long, wicked looking blades appeared from the edges of Diana’s cloak. “I’ll not sit here and become food. Perhaps if we let them have the dwarf...”

Daenzil snorted, one hand reaching for the hilt of the longsword strapped across his back. “I’ve been itching for a fight all day. Wargs wouldn’t be my first choice for a challenge, but they’ll have to do.”

I sighed and gritted my teeth, resigned to the battle. “Very well. Soren, stay with the horses and take as many as you can out with your arrows. Daenzil, Diana, take our right. I’ll take the left.”

“You realize the bigger ones are on the left, I hope?” the ranger asked, his voice higher with excitement. “Shouldn’t we kill the larger ones and have the rest turn tail?

I shook my head, patting my horse’s neck, sensing the tension in his body as he realized battle was about to be joined. “Wargs fight til the pack is dead. I’ve got a plan, anyway. We need to take out the smaller ones first so we can deal with the bigger ones together.”

“Oh, simple enough then.” Soren blurred into motion, shifting his torso to the right, bringing his bow up and letting fly an arrow all in one swift movement. There was a solid thock, a chorus of surprised yelps coming from the smaller pack. “One down, sixteen or so to go.”

With a howl, the rest of the pack rushed forward toward us, their large black bodies disengaging from the shadows of the forest as if they had been part of the landscape. I grimaced, jumping off my horse and raising both hands in front of me. Despite the imminent blur of fur and claws, I closed my eyes, envisioning the spell I needed in my head.

My hands began shifting in response to the memorized formula, arcane words tumbling from my lips in a series of crisp, clear sentences. I opened my eyes, nearly finished with the spell, just two more hand gestures to make. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like I was going to have time to perform them.

One of the largest wargs I had ever seen was bounding toward me with all its speed, slaver dripping from its huge tusk-like fangs and a murderous intelligence visible in its eyes. I could see the death it was planning to make reality in those eyes.

It would go for my throat first, tearing through my slender neck like an arrow through a sheet of parchment, then bring its claws raking up my body, ripping it to shreds. My enchanted leathers wouldn’t protect me from that kind of force, I knew. At the least, it would send me flying, pummeling me like being hit by a boulder flung from a trebuchet.

Those images flashed through my head in slow motion as it gathered itself for a final leap, muscles tensing in preparation for its kill. My mind screamed at my hands to move faster, my lips to finish the spell right then. I wasn’t going to make it.

I bared my teeth at the warg, determination and frustration sending my hands up into the second to last gesture. One more movement, one more phrase would save the others, even if I died in the attempt. I could hear Diana and Daenzil fighting against the other pack behind me. They would be caught unawares if I didn’t deal with my part of the pack.

The beast jumped, roaring in victory, maw open to reveal a black tongue and flesh-rending fangs.

As swift as lightning, an arrow tore through the animal’s snout, the impact knocking it too the side and off course. The creature sailed past me by less than a centimeter, the rush of air from its claws so close I could feel it against my cheek. I brought my hand up, palm open in front of me, and finished the spell.

A wall of fire exploded into existence before the rest of the pack, scorching the ground an ashy black and sending up another round of frightened yelps. One of the swifter of the pack had been caught in it, instantly charring it to a deranged crisp. The animal screeched in agony, rolling futilely on the ground before its body realized the brain was dead.

Waves of exhaustion hit me, cramping my stomach like I hadn’t eaten in days. My breathing came in ragged gasps, my eyes wide and body shaking. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline, I would have fallen over. As it was, I could barely stand. But there was still a threat too close for me to rest.

The massive pack leader that had intended to kill me was picking itself up off the ground a few meters away from me. It groaned, pawing at the arrow stuck in its snout before fixing its gaze on me. Rage filled its eyes, the matted, tangled fur raising around its neck.

“Soren!” I called, my voice cracking on the second syllable. “It’s still alive!”

“Last arrow!”

Soren’s gift sailed through the evening air, but the warg managed to dodge it with an agile spring to the side. It pawed the ground, growling and tensing for a pounce at the archer. I heard the ranger curse, but I was busy trying to come up with a plan.

With the warg’s attention diverted, I glanced at the ground, spying a small, vaguely arrow-like pebble. I reached for it, the cold stone pressing welcomingly into my heated hand, and held it on front of me.

Meanwhile, the pack leader was already in the air on a collision course with Soren, who was still on top of his horse. The ranger yelled a command to his mount and the horse skipped to the side, out of the way. When the warg landed empty-pawed, it swiped out with savage speed, knocking Soren off his horse and sending him to the ground in a puff of dust near the flame wall I had conjured.

Drawing in a deep breath, I muttered another spell, my free hand rushing through the gestures as fast as safely possible. A trickle of power started in my hand, flowing toward the pebble and sending it hovering above my open palm.

The warg howled, wasting no time in bounding forward to end the ranger’s life. Soren was just beginning to lift his head, the cowl knocked off to reveal his grim expression in the firelight. Yet even with death sure to reach him, the man drew and held his dagger in front of him defiantly.

My spell was completed with a final word. The pebble shot forward with astonishing speed, electricity ripping through the air in its path and a thunderous roar vibrating through my bones. When the pebble struck the massive, monster wolf, a flash of light ripped through the night until it seemed almost as if the sun were coming to life before me.

I closed my eyes against the brightness, dizziness sweeping through me with the effort of the spell. I felt myself falling and hitting the dirt, the impact knocking the wind out of me, not that I could breath anyway. There was a ringing in my ears from the cracking smash of thunder that had come with the light and when I opened my eyes, there was a glare burned into my vision.

Minutes passed like hours as the searing image fell away, my lungs aching for air and my stomach twisting in knots. Every tendon in my body felt it like it was being pulled to its fullest extent, but I thrust the pain aside, attempting to use my arms to pick myself up. I shook my head to clear it of the ringing, staring at the last place I’d seen the beast.

The dark shape was still moving. A sense of loss permeated my chest along with a feeling of utter surprise. There was no possible way it could still be moving. Even if I hadn’t killed it, it should have been paralyzed for at least ten minutes.

“Samantha!” a voice called as if from far away.

I turned toward the sound of my name, attempting to point at the body of the warg still moving. Instead, I fell back to the dirt, weak as a kitten and horror filling me as I watched the beast shift to its feet.

[James]

Hmmm. I'm really unsure about this, Tam. The writing is strong and the quality's good for something written through NaNo. But if I'm being completely honest, there's something "off" about this. I think it may be the perspective. I admire the original feel of a first person high fantasy story... but I don't entirely like it. It might just be because I don't read a whole lot of first person high fantasy, though. So I wouldn't worry about it too much.

I love the magic that has been shown so far. Particularly the pebble spell that I really like the idea of using what's around to create spells. However, I'm unsure about the aftermath of these examples of magics. I may (well, I know I am) be missing an exposition somewhere about how magic works in your book. But the consequences of using magic seems a little too dramatic, it's like you can't float a feather without being crippled over by exhaustion. And then, really, what's the point?

My only real other concern about this is that actually, surprisingly for NaNo, it feels too surgically clean. This was a battle scene. And you didn't get any real emotion or chaos from it. It was just described (very prettily) without any real sort of danger (which should definitely be felt from a first person perspective).

Basically:

- Writing quality is good.
- Descriptions are strong.
- From the limited look I've got, characters seem fine.
- I'm iffy about the perspective and the use of it. It seems a little too clean for first person.
- Magic is a double-edge blade, literally. The spells seem creative and clever. But the consequences may be a little too much.

[Deleted]

Hmm. Thanks, Agro. I admit, first person isn't my forte, even after all the experiments and other writings that have featured it here on AWR. This is actually the first time I've written first person as long, too, so I'm happy about that if nothing else. As for tension and such, I've been repeatedly told that my writing lacks it, something I'm entirely incapable of understanding. I mean, I can understand that my writing isn't tense to others, but I'm incapable of producing that tension. It's like I know how it's all going down and it's going to end at a certain point, so that's reflected in my writing, rather than the uncertainty.

As for the magic point, Sam isn't that strong a spellcaster. In fact, she's one of the least powerful in the whole organization. She has to be smart and improvise to get anything done and even then she gets tired out by several spells in quick succession. For instance, she would have been able to cast the railgun-style pebble spell she did a lot more if she hadn't have made that giant fire wall at first. The firewall takes a lot of energy, especially with how big (at least 3-5 meters long) it was. So it's just her, unfortunately for her.

But yeah, since the character is supposed to be smart and improvise things as a result of her relative powerlessness (especially against enemy magi) she has to come up with things on the fly, using every day objects to perform spells that more experienced or powerful magi could cast into existence without such aid.

[James]

Nov 23, 2012 1:38:44 GMT -5 Croswynd said:

Hmm. Thanks, Agro. I admit, first person isn't my forte, even after all the experiments and other writings that have featured it here on AWR. This is actually the first time I've written first person as long, too, so I'm happy about that if nothing else. As for tension and such, I've been repeatedly told that my writing lacks it, something I'm entirely incapable of understanding. I mean, I can understand that my writing isn't tense to others, but I'm incapable of producing that tension. It's like I know how it's all going down and it's going to end at a certain point, so that's reflected in my writing, rather than the uncertainty.

I think the problem is intensified by a first person perspective. We're inside the character's head. We should see some more fright, some more emotion to signify the danger that the character is in. Faster heart-beating, short, shallow breaths, scattered thoughts and the like.

[Deleted]

“You did what?”

Blain looked up at me, his unshaven face and tired eyes filled with exasperation. “I sent Soren after you.”

My mouth fell agape as I processed that. “You don’t trust me?”

The Knight of Fairland Keep sighed and set aside his quill, running a hand through his hair. “No, that’s not why I sent him.”

I glared at him and set my mouth in a thin line, my cheek still itching from the remnants of the burns I’d received. My body still hadn’t recovered enough energy to heal my wounds, so the left side of my face and arms were covered in bandages. The thick padding only served to increase my annoyance.

Ashcroft drummed his fingers on the desk, the light of the lantern behind him casting his face in what would have been full shadow had there not been a candle next to him. “Samantha, I trust you. I do. But the village, my men and the whole area are under my purview. How would it look if I sent not even a scrap of help to the Duke’s sorceress?”

“It would look like you’re confident in the Duke’s choice,” I retorted, resisting the urge to slam my bandaged palm on his desk. “You could have at least asked me, or even Daen’, before sending your little toady along.”

“I would have asked, if I hadn’t already have known what you would say,” Ashcroft replied, waving his hand in my direction. “You’re notoriously stubborn, a fact I would know even if we hadn’t grown up together.”

I turned around, furious. “My stubbornness doesn’t get people killed, Blain.”

There was silence behind me at that. I could hear the lord of the keep’s steady breathing as I closed my eyes. The scent of ink drying on parchment filled the room while crickets chirped outside the stone walls. My heartbeat thudded in my chest, slowly coming back under my control.

Ashcroft was the first to break the silence. “You’re right, Samantha. I shouldn’t have asked Soren to go.”

I tapped my foot, refusing to turn around.

He sighed, the sound of a chair scraping on wood followed by his heavy footsteps. “I shouldn’t have, but I did. A mage is dead because of my decision, yet the men and women who serve me are safe. If you would ask me to choose between one man’s life and many, I would choose the many. It is a soldier’s duty to the people he protects.”

I flinched at the hand he laid on my shoulder as he finished. “Spare me your rhetoric, Blain. That road is more well travelled than any other.”

He turned me toward him, his stormy eyes filled with concern. It took a moment to realize it wasn’t directed at me. Something dark lingered at the edges of those orbs, something that nibbled at his conscience.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowed as a new puzzle surfaced in front of me. The situation at hand could wait a few moments.

He glanced away for a moment before turning back to me. Ashcroft seemed as if he were about to say something, but his mouth shut abruptly instead and he turned back to his desk. The chair scratched across the wood again and he was seated.

“You should rest. Getting your energy back to heal those burns should be your priority. Don’t want to go back to Roland tomorrow looking like I threw you in the fireplace,” Blain joked with forced levity.

I cocked my head, looking at him confusedly. “What do you mean? My investigation’s not over. Before he died, Fiere mentioned a woman, someone who knew me.”

Ashcroft glanced up at me and tapped a letter on the end of his desk. “This came in while you were unconscious. I was going to give it to you when you came to, but you decided it would be better to yell at me for my decisions.”

“I’m not sorry,” I replied, snatching the letter up. “Fiere would have been a powerful mage and a boon to the world if he had been captured instead of killed.”

“Be that as it may, we must live with the consequences of our actions,” Ashcroft said blandly, returning his eyes to the paper before him. “You can bring the letter with you to your chambers, Samantha.”

Recognizing the dismissal, I narrowed my eyes and turned on my heel. Anger boiled up inside of me like the fire that had coursed through Fiere only just that morning. It cooled when I remembered the dark thoughts that seemed to plague my childhood friend’s expression. I turned at the threshold, looking back at him.

“You can always talk to me, Blain. About anything.”

The knight paused in his actions. After a moment, he nodded, returning to his work. I left the room, more troubled than before.

Character stuff. Hmm.