Arkinal had already taken steps to limit the pain but that didn’t repair the damage to his hands. His blood pattered down onto his coif, sounding just like a gentle spring rain, while the gashes in his palms and the blood flowing freely over his tattered skin conspired against him. One slip was all that it would take to send him plummeting hundreds of feet to his death.
It had been months since he had seen home where he was sent away by his master on this nameless quest. He had seen many strange things along the way, some miraculous, some evil, but none that would have peaked his master’s interest. Above was, hopefully, the thing he’d been sent to find. To end.
He could just make out the shape of the balcony, cut out of the stone by Dwarven hands centuries ago. At one time, he imagined, King Thalmet must have stood there and gazed out over the lands. Now, it lay empty, forgotten by all but the few who had ventured into Blackcrest seeking their fortune. It was just such a one who had told Arkinal of the balcony. The gold Arkinal had paid him was the only wealth that one’s climb had ever produced.
Blackcrest had lain abandoned for over half a century. Once, it had been the center of Dwarven culture, home to the greatest of their race. All Dwarven kings, from Thalmet the Second on down to Glenden the Fourth, also called Yellowheart, ruled from within the keep. But now, the Dwarven race lay scattered, reviled as cowards and often kept as slaves.
Arkinal reached up, feeling for a handhold. He now had to go by touch, his eyes were blinded by the blood dripping from his arms. He found a crack and pulled himself up. He’d been climbing for hours with nowhere to rest and he was near the end of his strength. The weight of his mail, weapons and supplies, safely tucked in the bag that hung by a rope from his belt, seemed to increase with every foot he gained. He reached up once more and felt the lip of the balcony, jutting slightly from the cliff face. He would have to get both hands on the lip and allow himself to swing out into space before he got a leg up over the edge. He gasped out a quick prayer to his ancestors and pushed up hard with his legs. His hand found the lip and his legs swung from the wall. Arkinal used the momentum gravity had given him and swung a leg up, curling it into the balcony with a soft thump. His hands were beginning to slip and he, in a panic, spun the rest of his body into the sheltering arms of the balcony. He landed noisily a good two feet away from the edge, only to be suddenly yanked back into the wall, striking his head onto the stone. If not for the lip on the inside of the balcony wall, his supply sack would have dragged him back out into the air, to his death.
Legs braced against the lip, Arkinal hauled on the rope to retrieve his items. They came over the lip with a loud crash, the sack splitting open from one abuse too many. Arkinal quickly took an inventory, finding several of his vials had cracked but none of their contents had spilled. Still, he took the cracked vials and transferred the liquids, powders and herbs over to the spares he carried for just such occasions. Two vials had to be tossed over the side, too dangerous to risk spilling. Arkinal was careful to throw them in different directions, just in case. He reassembled his kit and set it aside while he donned his mail. Not as good as Dwarven mail but light and strong all the same. It would stop anything short of a crossbow bolt and covered him from neck to calf. His boots were covered with similar mail as was his coif. He wasn’t fond of helms, preferring clear vision over metal for saving his scalp. He fished out his custom baldric, made to carry both his blade and his kit, settled it over his shoulder and cinched it at the waist. Lastly, he drew Scorn, which felt, for the first time in his life, as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He knew he had no choice but to rest.
He positioned himself, back against the inner wall of the balcony, and forced his protesting body into the martial position of repose. The Elven Way was not a naïve belief system and understood that sometimes a believer would have to find peace while garbed for battle. This position allowed for mail, weapons and the need for sudden alertness. Arkinal closed his eyes and sought the mountains soul.
#
The girl couldn’t have had more than twenty years behind her with her soft looking skin and muted features. She wasn’t precisely pretty though was pleasant enough, but Karrak wasn’t attracted to beauty anyway. What the girl had in abundance was innocence. It showed in her walk, in the way she moved with a strong sense of fear through the city as though she were remembering all the terrible things her mother told her would befall a farm girl in the big city.
Fortunately for Karrak, she still lacked the skills for safely moving about the streets and she took predictable paths in a fairly regular schedule throughout her day. She was on her way home from her job as a serving wench at Grolth’s and her steps displayed her weariness. Her fear kept her head down, too frightened to chance seeing what might be lurking in the night. There were no lamps lining these back streets, the only illumination coming from the infrequent dwellings above the shops that fronted the other sides of the buildings. She should have known better than to take the alley’s, thought Karrak, but he suspected she preferred a speedy end to her trip to the uncertain safety of a longer but slightly better lit path up the main roads.
He waited for her, hidden in a small alcove, bottle and cloth in hand. His anticipation was mounting and he dreamed of the games they would soon play. His breathing grew heavy as she neared his hiding place and he fought to control the noise. Her steps faltered about twelve feet away, as though she sensed him there in the dark. Karrak held his breath as she stopped and looked around. He quietly unstoppered the bottle and poured the liquid over the rag, careful to keep his head back from the fumes lest he and not she be dropped by the gas.
Something lit into her eyes, a sudden spark of fear, and she turned to flee back to the street. Karrak shot out of the nook and pounced on her back, covering her shriek with the soaked rag. She struggled free, stronger than he had thought, and raced down the alley. Karrak cursed his luck and ran after her. He was only two steps behind when her knees buckled. She fell hard to the packed earth with a whuff of air, out cold either from terror or from the ether on Karraks rag.
Karrak looked down on her, his fury only slightly abated by the blood flowing from the scratches on her face. How dare she defy him like that? He kicked her in the ribs and was rewarded with a groan. She would pay for this, oh how she would pay. He picked her up and hefted her onto his shoulders, nothing more than a rucksack on his massive frame.
All alike, they were all alike. Troublesome. Meddlesome. But he had ways to teach her. She would learn just as all the others had.
Karrak kept to the back alleys, winding his way to the edge of the city and out into the farmland beyond. He had to stop halfway across a bean field to give the girl some more ether. Farmers daughters seemed to be sturdy lot, he mused. Once across the field he entered the forest, walking another hour before arriving at the door to his little cottage. It was a simple dwelling of log walls and thatched roof. He kept it clean and well maintained in order to discourage squatters but he never slept within its walls. Karrak dropped the girl to the floor by his unused cot, pulled aside the reed mat and opened the trap. He lit a small lantern kept in a niche at the top of the stair and stepped into his true home, dragging the girl behind him by her ankles. Her head made an enjoyable rhythm, counting a beat with each stair step. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Karrak set the lantern on the shelf at the base of the steps and used a match to light a larger, permanent fixture. He envied the city people and their gas lights but he was used to the flickering light of an oil flame. Besides, there was no help for it; his habits required the solitude of the woods.
His charge was starting to come around, moaning a bit and struggling feebly. Karrak hunkered down over her head, watching her face, drinking in the first taste of her fear. He gazed down and settled in, wanting to greet her open eyes with his very best smile.
#
The Fell moon was high in the night sky when Arkinal opened his eyes. Light streaked the floor leading away from his seat in the balcony and he could make out a few details of the room beyond. Dust reflected back at him, fully an inch thick and completely unbroken by the presence of either Dwarf, Elf, Man or even the Ancient Thrim. The room was large enough to swallow the feeble light without revealing a wall to either side. There were large pieces of furniture lurking in the dark and little else that he could see from where he sat.
Arkinal inspected his hands, satisfied that the skin had knitted together nicely though they were still mightily sore. Healing oneself was a distinct advantage though quite useless on the battlefield due to the time required to achieve even a small repair such as this. Perhaps one of Briettas priestesses could have done it in a wink but he doubted even her vaunted followers were so skilled. He then stood, returning Scorn to its sheath with a practiced motion and only the slightest wince.
He needed more light and set about gathering just that. Arkinal again closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and reached out to the energy around him, coaxing it to gather to his will. When he had enough under his control he asked it to form into a ball. The ball floated, invisible to all but those who could do as he, just over his left shoulder. Arkinal then asked the ball to release its energy, ever so slowly, in the form of light. A glow began to form around the ball, casting enough light for him to get around without tripping. He bade it to follow and entered the chambers of the last king of the Dwarves.
The ceiling was low, barely seven feet high and Arkinal’s coif brushed the ceiling as he walked. The walls were plain though certainly had been richly adorned once upon a time if the gigantic bed were any indication. The frame was large enough to have offered Arkinal a comfortable night. He wondered what a Dwarf would have needed so much space for but then decided that perhaps he didn’t want to know.
He could now see, beyond the clouds of dust he had kicked up, the great double doors that opened onto the keep beyond. He walked over, his boots making muffled clacks on the dusty floor, and tried the pulls. The doors wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, shaking over half a century from the hinges but to no avail. Arkinal sent his globe of light into the crack between the doors where it revealed a metal bar across the gap. Nobody, he thought, had said this would be easy.
Arkinal called back the globe and, by its light, removed his kit from his belt. He removed two vials and a small glass tube with a tiny funnel on one end. He opened each vial and set one of them aside. The tube he slipped between the doors until it was resting on the bar on the other side. He poured the contents of the first vial into the funnel and waited patiently for it to spread over the center of the bar. He then took the second vial and carefully allowed several drops of its sticky contents to run into the funnel and slowly down the tube. He ignored the sizzling sound the tube made, holding it steady until he was certain the second ingredient had made its way to join the first. Then, he flung the tube far back into the room behind him where it shattered against the wall.
He capped the two vials and returned them to his kit and settled down to wait. After a time, filled with much spitting and crackling from the other side of the door, he heard the two newly made halves of the bar fall to the stone floor below. He stood and gave an experimental pull. This time, the doors glided open easily.
#
Jenzee awoke to a terrible headache and unfamiliar smells. She groaned with pain and worry, not knowing where she was, unwilling to open her eyes. She felt something close to her, a darkness looming just over her head. She felt along her thigh and was surprised to find her purse still tied into her skirt. Terror ran through her at the realization that, if she weren’t to be robbed, then something even more dreadful awaited her. Her skin went clammy and a cold sweat broke over her from head to toe. She should have been more careful. She should have kept to the mains. She never should have left the farm.
Tears started running from her tightly closed eyes, little sobs escaping her mouth as she tried to regain her calm. Someone let loose a quiet sigh, someone very near. Jenzee started, muscles tensed, ready for the blow. But it never came.
She opened her eyes, blinking at the flickering light and beheld a wonder. Gazing down upon her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His blue eyes were so pure and clean, strong jaw, high cheeks, with long golden hair. He wore on his face a smile of such kindness, joy and understanding that her tears redoubled with relief.
“What do you fear”, he asked?
Jenzee was confused. Fear? Well, certainly not this beautiful man.
“What do you fear?”
She had no idea what he wanted. He still smiled, he looked concerned.
“Do you fear the dark?”
She closed her eyes, starting to worry once more. What did he want?
“No. I think you rather like the dark. Can’t see what’s coming that way, right?”
She opened her eyes, drinking in his face. He only wanted to help her. She could see that now. But she couldn’t make herself speak.
“What do you fear? I’m not talking about the things that make you nervous or worry. I want to know what steals your breath away. What leaves you gibbering mad, piss running down your legs, unable to move terrified. I want to know what stops your heart’s beating. What, my lady, do you fear?”
Her lips moved and a whisper of sound escaped.
“What was that? Please speak up. Tell me your deepest fear and I will take it from you, I give you my word.”
“Falling”, she whispered more loudly.
His smile never changed, but his eyes grew cold, distant, as he thought about her answer. It was a tricky one, to be sure, but he could work it out.
“Falling”, said Karrak, “very well, we shall cure you of this fear. When we are through you will never worry again.”
He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.
“Let us begin”.
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From reading your text, I can tell that you know how to tell a story. The actions of each character and their locations are clear. As a first draft to a story I believe it’s fine, but there are, I think, things that can be improved. I’m going to nit pick, so there are things that you might disagree with or might seem small but I’m going to point them out anyway.
Adverbs- fairly, slightly, fully
- as a general rule of writing adverbs are to be used sparingly. Be conscious of when you use adverbs because they can slow down the flow of the story. Try removing them from sentences and see if it still says the same thing. I once heard a professional author say that they allow themselves one adverb per page. In regards to the word ‘slightly’, I find if you use this too much, it can make your characters seem wishy-washy. This is to say you can’t use it but rather just be conscious of it.
Show don’t tell
- Bellow I’m going to list out some instances of when the text tells rather than shows and vice versa.
(He had seen many strange things along the way, some miraculous, some evil, but none that would have peaked his master’s interest.)
- this here is an opportunity for show not tell. The text could show us some of the miraculous/evil things that he saw by describing what he saw. This is an opportunity to bring some depth to the world. On the flip side, sometimes you just want/need to move the story along. It’s up to you to decide in this instance.
(Arkinal quickly took an inventory, finding several of his vials had cracked but none of their contents had spilled.)
-this example is very subtle. If the text describes the contents of his bag spilling out and the vials cracking, it’s showing. When it’s taking inventory, it’s telling. (eg. The bag spilled open, dumping vials onto the floor. Arkinal held his breath as several of them cracked, anticipating a fiery end.) The example is just to show you how it could have been done. I’m not telling you how to write your story.
In the part describing Karrak in the shadows the text does a good job of showing not telling. It shows his intentions without explicitly telling us. It shows the cloth and the ether. It doesn’t tell us what they’re for but the reader knows.
(...more than a rucksack on his massive frame.)
- here’s an example from the text of when it tell us the size of a man
(The ceiling was low, barely seven feet high and Arkinal’s coif brushed the ceiling as he walked.)
- here’s great example from the text of showing the reader the size of a man. It doesn’t tell the reader he’s tall but the reader knows by the description of his coif brushing the ceiling. This shows us that Arkanal is almost 7 feet tall.
In general, find that there are points in the text where you’re trying to get information across to the reader but it feels like the text is listing them out like on a grocery list. Try to be more subtle when present information to the reader.
- example of an information dump where the text gives out info like a grocery list.
(He pulled harder, shaking over half a century from the hinges but to no avail.)
- now here’s good example of the text giving reader information without listing it out. From that sentence, the reader can tell that it’s been 50yrs since the door has been opened.
Finally, there are places where the sentences need to be clearer. Some times, it’s too wordy. It almost sounds like you’re trying force sentences to be ‘writer like’. Sometimes simple is better. This isn’t to say that you can’t turn a beautiful phrase, but rather, just try not to force it if it’s not there.
Overall, you’re off to a good start. Keep writing. Good luck.
I like how you start this off with an action scene- this helps to pull the reader in and make them keep reading and you do a wonderful job of it. The way you start this is a good mix of character, plot, and backstory.
“Lastly, he drew Scorn” I would specify that Scorn is his sword (or whatever it is)
You might want to eleabratote about the healing process that Arkinal went through and explain a bit more about the vials, and what he is doing there.
I like how you end this. Incredibly creepy, but yet incredibly suspenseful. For a chapter in a book, this is not very long, and the sections themselves are very short. The only thing that I can really see wrong with this is that you eed to explain more. YOu want to create a believable world, and the reader will assume that things are the same as they are in this world unless you explicitly state otherwise, so i would defiently go back and add a little more backsotry, and a little more about the setting, and time espessially to the early parts of this piece.
I’m not good with grammar, but if I notice something I know about 100% then I’ll mention it, but I’ll try for spelling and perhaps if there was something that I think might make it better. But I will give you the critique that I seem neccesary.
” Above was, hopefully, ” Above what? It’s confusing at first, make sure you put in what he’s talking about, especially since you were just talking about something different.
“just such a one ” it may just be me, but it doesn’t make since, too wordy.
In the whole of the first section, since your main character is climbing up, apparently a tall cliff face, or mountain, put in some discription if who he is feeling about climbing it, sees a rock fall and watches it go to the bottom even though he’d been told ‘not to look down’ that kind of thing.
“soft thump” with everything he has, wearing and carrying, wouldn’t it be a hard thump? or a crash?
“soft looking skin” omit ‘looking’ it’s unneeded.
” She wasn’t precisely pretty though was ” a comma between pretty and though, reads better.
“lest he and not she be” don’t put the ‘and not she’ part, it’s confusing, and doesn’t read correctly.
“they were all alike. Troublesome” instead of a period put a colon, it’ll look better, and the way you are talking it, it shows that that’s what they’re all alike: troublesome.
“The Fell moon was ” is that supposed to be Fell? or Fall?
The part about karrak and the girl Jenzee, I can see what you’re going for that she sees one thing, but he’s actually something else, perhaps put in a part with him getting mad with her not answering and then really nice again. Something like that perhaps?
But all in all I love this, I’d love to read the rest of this, I’m curious of what Karrak has instore for Jenzee and if Arkinal will meet up with them?
Good luck and Happy Writting
Instead of “peaked his master’s interest” you should write “piqued.”
The kinds of superficial gashes and scrapes that one gets from climbing rocks would probably not cause blood to flow so freely. Also, if blood were really pouring out of him like that, it’s likely he’d slip, or lose enough strength to fall. I know you’re trying to add suspense to the scene, but it’s just not plausible enough.
At the beginning of the second section, instead of writing ”... behind her with her soft looking…” Why not leave out the words “with her” and see how you like it. I think it reads smoother.
Your description of Karrak’s brief struggle with the farm girl was very effective. I especially like how she managed to struggle away, it lent a note of verisimilitude, as in the real world physical confrontations almost never work out as smoothly as those who stage them hope they will.
I think a physical description of Karrak would be helpful. He must be very strong if he was able to carry a girl for that far.
Instead of writing “weren’t to be robbed” you should write “if she hadn’t been robbed…”
Karrak’s apparent ability to make himself seem beautiful is wonderful. It makes him far more menacing than if he were simply a bad man who looks like a bad man and acts like a bad man.
Overall, although this doesn’t step outside of any of the bounds set by Tolkien so long ago, it’s a fairly compelling fantasy tale. I never felt as though it were a chore to read, and would continue were the opportunity available.
Hi
This is an amazingly well written piece. I only have a few observations; things that made me go ‘hmmm’.
’Something lit into her eyes’ seems a little awkward to me.
’blinking at the flickering light and beheld a wonder’ Seems as though ‘blinking’ and ‘beheld’ convey two different senses of time. They may be technically correct in application, but combine to create a confusing picture. Could possibly be solved through punc?
Minor things ,I know, but I hate to see anything detract from a story so well told. In a few short pages the characters are coming to life and piquing my interest. Descriptions of settings and characters are extremely well done, without any ‘info dumps’ or awkward descriptions; you give us just enough to want more. I would read this book. Great job.
Overall it’s a very gripping story. I like how you skip from one setting to the other. The episodes are short enough not to forget about what was going on before and long enough to understand what’s going on.
But I would cut some parts and rephrase others:
First paragraph starts with action, is a bit gruesome but still, captures your attention. The second and third paragraph are a bit tedious to read. I would condense them into one paragraph by cutting the part: “It was just such a one … abandoned for over half a century.“ Then move the sentence “Once, it had been…” in front of the sentence “Now, it lay empty” and cut the rest. Its already clear the Dwarves are not there anymore. Also, I would leave out the “To end” part. Cut “he imagined” in the sentence starting “At one time…”, since you say “must have” its clear that Arkinal is imagining. The rest of the first section stays interesting: What kind of bottles are they? Why would the warrior need them?
P. 3 You might want to rewrite this sentence “She wasn’t precisely pretty though was pleasant enough, but Karrak wasn’t attracted to beauty anyway.” It sound a bit akward.
P.4 “Her fear kept her head down, too frightened to chance seeing what might be lurking in the night.” I would turn this sentence around: Too frightened to chance seeing what might be lurking in the night, she kept her head down. That way you don’t have to repeat that she’s frightened.
P.4 Why is there a sudden gleam of fear in the girls eyes when you already said she was afraid? Maybe you should replace it with “a sudden spark of awareness”? because she notices something is coming?
P.7 I’m not sure that “muffled clacks” makes for a good description. “Clack” is for me a very distinct, loud sound. But maybe I’m just weird.
P.8 You say Jenzee feels something and then you describe it as dark. Maybe you should rephrase it since you can’t feel “darkness”? Maybe a “dark presence”? or an “ominous form/presence”?
P.9 I don’t understand why Jenzee thinks this: “He only wanted to help her. She could see that now.” I guess you want to portray her as naïve but still, she must be really stupid if she really thinks the man is there to help her. Does he have any powers? Like mesmerising his victims? Then you might want to make that more clear?
I really enjoyed reading your first chapter, despite all the blood in the beginning :) I hope you continue with the story!
Ciao, Nina
Very nice read, it was enjoyable and very well thought out. I can tell it was a re-work of an earlier work just by how polished it seems and how the characters are well done. I didnt notice much in the ways of errors or anything, then again I tend to have problems with those myself. Overall nice job and I cant wait to read some more.
Very good. Creates suspense and draws the reader in. Excellent description and action. Its hard to critique, because its just the first chapter. But just as it is, I didn’t really see a connection between what was going on with Arkinal and how that related to what was happening with jenzee.
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