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Novel Treatments / The Sons of Easros (working title) (Analysis)
Angud
“Our day has finally come brother.” Oveila mused, as she dragged the long trained fur across the bedchamber.. “It feels like a lifetime has been erased with the passing of the old man’s reign.” A look of satisfaction crossed Oveila’s wickedly beautiful features. “Soon everything we have waited for will come to pass.”
Angud nodded assent although he remained silent. It was always best to let Oveila talk. She
was much wiser than he, that he was sure of, and besides it made him feel good to hear the sound of her
voice. In spite of all she had trained him for, in spite of how much he had looked forward to this day.
He was nervous, and nervousness was a sign of weakness. If he didn’t already hate this inner part of
him, showing Oveila any sign of it would be disastrous. He stared out the stained glass window, snow
was beginning to fall. It was early Dareth in Entente, the first moon of the year of The Morning Star. That in itself was an omen, that not even Angud in his ignorance of history could ignore. In all of Easros’s rich history no King’s reign had ever been more fortuitous than those that had been crowned in the year of the Morning Star. A thousand years it had been since the last Morning Star had been crowned, and now here Angud was on the day of his own coronation. Still, even though Oveila’s seers had foretold of Angud’s bright future, the shadows that were cast over his bedchamber seemed to speak in much louder volumes. He glanced angrily toward the gray clouds that passed his window. It was
probably beastly cold outside, which would explain why the coronation was moved to inside the Great
Chamber Hall of Ashkar’s Keeping instead of in the center of the city at the feet of the great statue of King Ashkar. Angud frowned, already they had broken tradition by dethroning his father before his death, and now the coronation was going to be held somewhere else. It was almost insulting. If they wanted to the Quoroum could decree it mandatory that the ceremony be held in the square. They were just being difficult, Angud was certain, because they hated him.
Oveila seemed to not notice his lack of conversation or his distant gaze.
“You’ll need to take a wife soon.” she mused, curling one of his long black locks around her
finger.. “I want to ensure that only your line will remain on the throne of Easros.”
Angud did not reply, instead he just stared at himself in the mirror, his face was expressionless,
save a slight narrowness in his eyes as he judged his features. Angud’s countenance was dark as
always. His thick curling hair fell into locks over his furrowed brow. He stared down his thick, arched
nose at his reflection. He had always thought of himself as a respectable looking man, the heir of a
long line of royalty. Perhaps not striking like Oveila, or handsome like Lariek, but still a strong-looking
man.
The wind whirled outside in a long wailing howl that made Angud’s flesh crawl. He glanced again at the window as it reflected over his shoulder in the mirror. Powdered snow blew by, carried away from the castle in swirling gusts. The sky was menacing, dark silver clouds rolled and collided. Even though it was just before mid-day, his chambers were swathed in oppressive darkness. The flickering flames from the hearth cast long spidery shadows across the room. Black fingers stretched out, and curled around him as he sat before the mirror. He swallowed hard and scowled. It was hard to imagine that he, a grown man about to be king, would still be afraid of the dark.
“Is there one particular type of female you would like to have on your arm?” Oveila smiled rather wickedly as she wrapped the elegant robe around Angud’s broad shoulders.
The robe was twenty-feet in length and made from the finest furs in all the realm. There would never be it’s equal. It was the royal fur of the king, and only he would wear it on the day of his coronation. It was heavy, as it draped about him. Oppressive weight hung down on his shoulders, he could barely breathe.
“I have very little thought for any woman of late.”
Angud’s growling baritone buzzed his insides, and he could feel the timbre of his voice vibrate against her palms. In truth Angud hadn’t thought of any other female in his life. Oveila had consumed his entire childhood. She had molded his half- youth and now as he was a man, she still had all the control. He smirked to himself. It seemed wrong for a grown man to not be in control of himself, that in fact a woman was his keeper. But Oveila was after all no mere woman. She was so much wiser than
he, and with every passing minute of this morning he knew he needed her guidance more than ever. He turned on the small stool in front of the mirror his eyes scanning his new quarters. It had been less than a week since his father, King Ederick was declared unfit and taken from this room to live out the remainder of his years in another part of the castle. His deathbed would be far from prying eyes, but also far from being a bother.
If any bereft thoughts wandered into Angud’s mind on his father, the sight of himself clad in the royal robe of the king soon shut the thoughts from his mind. It was hard thinking about his father now.
If he did it would only make things worse. Angud had not been as grievous as his mother or Lariek had been when his father became ill, but it had pained him. His father had been a good man, if not perhaps a little aloof to the resistances of his eldest son. Oveila had been favored at first, and then cast aside for Lariek. But there had never been a place for Angud in the old king’s heart. Angud knew it. As a king Ederick was superior to most, but as a father, Angud felt he had failed miserably..At least as far as he was concerned. He had ignored Angud outright choosing to leave him to his tutors, and to Oveila. Well, it didn’t matter now. Ederick was dying in a bed of his own piss, and slaver and as he had meant little to Angud in life, so he could mean less in death. There were much more pressing matters at hand. Particularly Angud’s impending ascension to the throne.
Now this was a prospect that had haunted him almost from the first day of his life. Being king was a responsibility that Angud had never felt totally prepared for. True, Oveila had been molding him, and teaching him. Taking the place of even the tutors who had been slated to teach him about his role.
Making Angud king had seemed to be Oveila’s one passion. It had encumbered their entire lives. Now that her seeds of training, and promises of the throne had ripened into reality, it seemed horribly cruel and disloyal to rob her of it now. Even if at this very moment Angud was wishing that Lariek, his sunny always smiling baby brother was standing here in the kingly robes and he, Angud, was somewhere else, far away. He ground his teeth as he stared at his black reflection, Oveila’s whispers fading to nothingness in his ears.
Angud had never spoken to Lariek about his feeling toward the king-hood. In fact they rarely spoke at all. As an infant Lariek had been surrounded by fawning, over-attentive nurses. As a child, if he wasn’t curled up with a book, he was hiding behind their mother’s skirts. Even as a teenager Lariek and Angud had done little as a pair. The blood of their father ran thick in their veins, but they were as much brothers as if one or the other had been born on the wrong side of the sheet. Not that anyone would dare suggest such an atrocity. The whole kingdom knew that Ederick would as soon cut his royal manhood off than betray his love for Queen Ramoya with some other woman. No, they were brothers as true as any other, but this did not make them friends. They openly shunned each others company, even after they had reached manhood, and the difference in their ages was less noticeable. They both enjoyed hunting and riding, but they never did these things together. It was never even encouraged, and practically forbidden by Oveila, although she never said so outright. But Angud knew, in absolute terms, that Oveila hated their baby brother. Oh, he knew all to well just how much.
Oveila wrapped her arms around her brother’s broad fur lined shoulders, and the instant she touched him his mind cleared of it’s secret thoughts. The feel of her arms around him seemed to soothe his anxious mind. He felt his body seem to sedate, as if her hands possessed the balm that he needed to soothe his addled nerves. Her presence always seemed to make him see reason, even now as she pressed her thick lips to his cheek he began to realize how powerful he looked in the blue velvet robe.
He reached up and covered her long delicate tapered fingers with his own meaty paw. Her touch was cool his, heated. He breathed out, as her claw-like nails raked through his hair in one long, luxurious sweep. Her eyes were burning, as she stared at their pair reflections in the glass. Her mane of black hair swept around her milk white shoulder, and tumbled down over his own, covering one regally clad shoulder as if to say: ‘You are a king, but you are MY king.’
Her reflected eyes bore into his own, and he could read the triumph in her face. Yes, this day was as much hers and his own, and he would not deny it her, no matter how his weak belly turned and the bile rose in the back of his throat. No, he would gladly give her the crown she had worked so hard for. He smiled thinly, and her red lips opened. The sight of her pearly teeth against the moist red of her lips, sent a twinge of desire to his groin.
“As long as she is biddable and bedable she will suit.” He replied, dutifully. A wife meant about as much to him right now, as a pile of dung in the stables. What was a wife when he had Oveila at his side?
“I will find you a suitable bride, my love,” she purred, “Someone who will suit our purposes.”
And suddenly Angud decided this day was not so unwanted after all.
Lariek
Lariek pulled his tunic down over his head, ruffling his already unruly hair, and reached for his thickest woolen breeches. If he was going to be out in the woods today it was better to be prepared. The wind howled outside, making the first real noise in the room since he had begun to dress. He laced up his breeches, as quickly as his fingers would allow. He was determined to not waste time. Nearby his butler, Furley held out his shortsword. He took the weapon, and shoved it into the scabbard and laid it aside.
“Thank you.” Lariek said without looking the butler in the eye.
The older, attentive man before him nodded, and tried to respect his master’s obvious lack of eye contact. Lariek fought to meet his servant’s gaze, but for some reason, unknown even to himself he could not.
It was not guilt.
By the gods he didn’t have one damned thing to feel guilty about! It wasn’t like he was running
away. He could go out hunting today if he damned well felt like it. And what if he missed the
coronation? He was not needed at the coronation except as a figurehead. The second son, standing there in his regal cloak, and secondhand crown. Smiling like an idiot while simpering knee-benders praised his brother, while kissing his royal signet ring? That was a dish he could not quite bring himself to partake of. It would probably be seen as a slight, he knew that much, and he would probably have to answer for it at some point, but still brought his riding cloak around him. He stared blankly toward the bed at the silk doublet, breeches and royal cloak that had been laid out for him. For some reason he could not tear his eyes away from the sight of them. It wasn’t as if he felt guilty.
Or was it?
After all his brother was being crowned today, by all rights Lariek knew he should be present.
But something inside him forbade him to go to the ceremony. He couldn’t bear seeing the smug look on Oveila’s face, the way she would undoubtedly smirk for his benefit when they both knew that she had finally won. Lariek grimaced. Gods, but he hated her! Almost from birth he knew that Oveila was wicked. And he knew his hatred was returned almost tenfold. Oveila never wanted him to be born, of
course she never wanted Angud either, but at least Angud could get her what she wanted. The crown.
Power was everything to Oveila. Uncompromising and absolute power. Lariek was never anything to
her, but an annoyance. A spare heir to the throne who was neither needed or wanted.
At least, the feeling was mutual. In the beginning it was merely that he disliked her, and the child in him wanted everyone else to feel the same way. Surprisingly it took little effort. It seemed that Oveila was not well received in the realm long before Lariek even took his first breath. She already lacked favor in the kingdom, and the fact that her own mother disliked her was adding insult to well deserved injury. His menacing was slight at first no more than the pranks of little boy who knew fully
well he was quite protected by his parents. Oveila seemed to take it in stride although under the surface Lariek knew she harbored a deep hatred for him. As he grew into manhood however, he learned new things about her that were fearful. One unforgettable incident that ended with the death of a dearly loved horse instilled something new in Lariek. Fear and bitter hatred.
He had been riding on an outing with some of his boyhood friends, they were on a cliff side. Lariek, who had always been the more skilled horseman, had gone on ahead to scout for any impending danger. From out of nowhere a flock of crows burst out of the tree line next to them. The colt, who was too green to have been on such an outing, shied instantly. He reared and toppled backwards over the cliff side falling to his death. Lariek could not explain how he had defied the fatal plunge. He
only remembered something, or rather someone grasping him by the arm and unseating him from the horse as the beast toppled backwards, releasing him to the mountainside, and not to the ravine below.
His eyes told him in a brief instant that the hand that saved him was Angud’s and the eyes that lit upon his rescue could have only been Oveila’s hateful eyes. But he was never certain. After a time he convinced himself that he had been wrong, but all the same he quelled his eagerness to annoy her and maintained distance. He kept her attempts to do him in, to himself and harbored his revenge in a stunning display of self-restraint. All the while mistrust and seething animosity boiled between them..
When word got around the castle that she was practicing potions, Lariek took to eating outside the castle walls. He never had food or drink from the palace kitchens from that day on. And if in an emergency he was forced to dine in the palace. Only Furley was given permission to prepare the food or drink he took. There could be no chances taken. Not if he wanted to stay alive. Oveila was evil.
What Angud saw in her he would never know. More than likely she had a spell over him. She was a
witch after all. At least her powers only held sway over Angud. No one else in the kingdom seemed to hold his esteem for her. Everyone in the kingdom thought Lariek was the best of Ederick’s offspring, and Lariek knew perfectly well that the whisper about the kingdom was that he should be king in Angud’s stead. But, short of committing treason, and claiming the crown for himself. Lariek knew it was not a likely possibility.
Pulling on his heaviest doublet, his lips set in a grim line. Lariek was after all only the heir presumptive, that meant a long line of Angud’s sons would stand in the way. The idea of slaying children was profane, the thought of killing his brother equally repulsive. The gods held no favor for a man who would slay his own kin, nor would they smile down on a royal traitor. Lariek was fourteen when the thought of treason first occurred to him. The word in itself instilled only fear. He knew nothing of revolt, what he did know was that he was hardly in a position to mount to something as momentous as out and out treason. He pushed the thoughts aside, even in that instant believing that Oveila already had wind of his thoughts. He never so much let himself have a whisper of the notion again, until the threshold of manhood and the failing health of his father quickened his hatred again.
First and foremost, when his father first fell ill, Lariek, saw to it that Ederick’s chambers were always under guard telling the Court Justices, in front of the entire court that he feared for the king’s safety. The then sixteen year old prince did not have to say it aloud, in fact no one did. Everyone knew that Lariek was plainly accusing his sister of conspiracy to regicide. Oveila hated him for that, and he fairly imagined that she spent the better part of that night conjuring up some horrible curse against him in that blasted book she was always tampering with. No matter. He no longer mattered that she toyed with black magic. He cared not that she was feared, or dangerous or that even his brother the great and mighty Angud seemed to be in fear of her, or at least fear of being without her. He knew his brother was at her mercy. He knew full well that she had been twisting his mind and bending his will to her own. He was a mere puppet to her now and not nearly the man he could have been.
Lariek felt terribly sorry for Angud. In the deepest part of his heart he did not believe that Angud was as terrible as Oveila. The brief flash of his brother’s face that day on the cliff side had haunted him.
He could not deny what he had seen, Angud had saved him. He knew it. It was probably the reality that Angud had saved him from murder at Oveila’s hand that had stayed Lariek’s hand all these years.
Little by little he tried to gain his older brother’s trust and to his credit Angud had given him fair chance, in spite of Oveila’s warnings. Unfortunately the time had not been long enough. By the time Lariek was ready to make his move and have Oveila’s rule of Angud overthrown the king’s illness had taken it’s toll and Ederick was declared unfit. The opportunity had slipped through Lariek’s fingers like grains of sand. The only thing to say for his efforts now was that Angud’s trust and seeming comradeship toward Lariek insured that at least for now, Oveila would not try to see Lariek’s head on a spike.
He scowled at himself in the mirror. Now four years later, his hatred had not grown any dimmer, if anything having his father declared unfit was only fuel for his fire. He thought of Oveila and his blood boiled. He hated her and he couldn’t bear seeing her win. Yes, that was why he was going to hunt today. Lariek was not an overly proud man. He never boasted being in the right in all things and he would never begrudge a foe a fair triumph, but Oveila was never fair and he could not grant her this glory with any sign of approval. He was not a coward either, although he felt like one. If he could he would gladly have fought this entire farce, in some sort of grand public display. The time was not right. Soon, but not yet. He glanced at Furley whose eyes were pleading, but Lariek was determined to ignore it. He knew what his trusted butler was thinking. There would be talk everywhere in the kingdom when he was not present today, talk that could result in trouble for him. Even as much as Lariek had been watching his sister, he still could not know all of her thoughts, and he would not know what she would do to him after today, until the very moment her judgment rained down upon him.
It was too late, he was determined.
Turning away from Furley, he donned his heaviest cloak, then reaching fort he short sword, he strapped it around his waist in silence. He gave Furley a nod of dismissal and let himself out
of the private door of his chambers. He wanted to give himself the chance of escape from the castle, unnoticed.
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Taemaeri reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a very good read. I can totally picture this as I read it. The only suggestion I have is the first mention of Lariek. I wondered who he was until I got to the section that revealed he was Agnud’s brother. You might want to at least tell the readers who he is in the beginning. Your words are very vivid the overall clarity of the story is great. The setting you chose is perfect for this type of story. Overall this is a great start to a great novel.
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Jacamo reviewed Version 1 -
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This is well told story set in a swords and sorcery realm somewhere in time.I enjoyed reading it.The royal family infighting is very well portrayed.Intrigue is the backdrop of every monarchy with succession to the throne the motive.All of which is well presented in this story.A spectacle in the making.The story flows very well and tends to pull the reader in.Very well done.
VioletL reviewed Version 1 -
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I remember this. Yes, there have been changes but there need to be more. You still need to polish your grammar and punctuation. Long trained fur needs to be long-trained. She was much wiser than he, that he was sure of, and besides it made him feel good to hear the sound of her voice. This needs to be two sentences. Take out the AND and it will be stronger. In spite of all she had trained him for, in spite of how much he had looked forward to this day. With the period here, this is a sentence fragment. If you make it a comma, the He needs to not be in caps. He was nervous, and nervousness was a sign of weakness. Also, you do not need two in spite of’s in one sentence.It was early Dareth in Entente, this needs to be a new paragraph. that were cast over his bedchamber should be shadows that filled his bedchamber
It was probably beastly cold outside, which would explain why the coronation was moved to inside the Great Chamber Hall of Ashkar’s Keeping instead of in the center of the city at the feet of the great statue of King Ashkar. This needs to be more direct. It was beastly cold outside, so the coronation had been moved indoors to the Great Chamber Hall.
If they wanted to the Quoroum could decree it mandatory that the ceremony be held in the square. Needs a comma after the “to”. Decree it mandatory should simply be “could have required that…” Angud did not reply, instead he just stared at himself in the mirror, his face was expressionless,
save a slight narrowness in his eyes as he judged his features.—-should be 2 sentences
twenty-feet in --this should not have a hyphen be it’s equal. Its not it’s now as he was a man, Now that, not now as as grievous as his mother or Lariek ---Do you mean He had not grieved. Grievous is misused here.king-hood is not a word, as far as I know. Kingship, maybe, but how about just “being king.”
I haven’t made detailed comments on some of this, but this bit— He no longer mattered that she toyed with black magic. He no longer cared or it no longer mattered to him. reaching fort he short sword, he strapped it around his waist in silence. not only is this mis-written, but you have him putting the sword on several pages before.
Overall, this is wordy and needs to be cut by perhaps 30% to 50% and all these little things need to be fixed before you can go somewhere with this piece. It is a lot better than the first version and I know what work goes into something like this—I just cut about 10% of the latest draft of my novel and have more to do. Do you have someone who can go over the whole thing and help with an edit? A professional editor might be a good idea. This will take a lot of work at 60,000 words.
anjuli_fair reviewed Version 1 -
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It’s very easy to read- few things clog perception or the develoment of the characters. One thing, I think you should rework the description of the potential attempted murder. It doesn’t make sense as is- from crows to tumbling horse to being saved by an invisible brother and seeing the sister’s evil eyes? I think you need something more in there to create a clearer picture of that scenario.
RobinRenee reviewed Version 1 -
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What can I say, you left me wanting more. I had little time to notice if you had any mistakes, because I was far to drawn into the story. I would love to be one of the readers that you request when you add more of the story to Urbis. The only critique that I can honestly give this piece of work is; it was to short.
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