Well, this is the eighth chapter, so there’s been a lot of description in earlier chapters. I agree that it needs more, but like you said, it is also a rough draft.
Thanks for your comments. I hope that you will continue to read the rest of the story.
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Gate of the Realms (Chapter 8)
Chapter 8
Satyros had forgotten how good it felt to be a part of column of men marching off to some unknown fate. After three years of peace, he was ready to breathe the crisp, morning air and appreciate it for what it could be; the last morning of his life. It was exhilarating. More than that, it was life.
The celebration the previous night had lasted far into the evening and well into the early morning hours. Satyros did not stay to see its end, but had left soon after Ren had given an account of Kai. Satyros was distinctly aware of the rift that his title had set between himself and his childhood friend. They grew further apart with each day that passed them in silence. He mourned the loss, but there was nothing that could be done.
Áedán had taken up residence in Satyros’ company for translation purposes, much to his relief. Ren rode to the left Satyros as he was wont to do since Kai had taken up with a group of soldiers that admired his humor more. Elias and Lucius rode with their respective companies further down the line, each with his own translator who was a constant companion.
Maianiron led the procession of warriors, her mail glistening in the early morning light, a smile set firmly upon her face. Cael rode beside her, their horses even in their step. Maianiron had brought Fæ five thousand warriors, all from a variety of distant lands. Her own men totaled to twice that, and some of them were scattered all over the vast land that was Fæ. Although most of her men marched with her now, messengers had been sent out to the free-riders that guarded the outlying regions. By Satyros’ reckoning, there should be another five thousand that were to meet them on the road. The more he contemplated the numbers they rode with, the more he began to wonder what kind of army would require twenty thousand armed cavalrymen to defeat. His expectations were high.
On the third day of the march, scouts reported back more frequently to Maianiron. After several hours of this, a vanguard of horsed warriors appeared from an eastern road. The Fæn queen ordered a halt as the company of nearly two hundred approached. The leader of the vanguard sat tall upon a black stallion. The Captain’s attire was certainly Fæn. An ebony cloak sat upon the narrow shoulders of the leader, clearly well worn and travel stained. Satyros caught a glimpse of the chain mail as the rider moved. He had almost to look twice, for the mail was as dark as the rest of the outfit. If not for the sun’s glancing, he would have never have seen the hauberk.
The dark captain hailed the Queen and, for a moment, it seemed as if they talked quietly in their language. After a time, the captain removed the helm to reveal a woman’s face. Despite the time Satyros had to accustom himself to female warriors, he was still surprised to see such a dark figure transform into a stunning beauty.
“She is called the Dark Florette in your tongue. She is Briallen, to those who know her well.” Áedán said in a hushed tone to Satyros.
“She is Fæn?” Satyros asked.
“She is my father’s sister-daughter. Third heir to the high seat if Maianiron and I were to perish in battle.”
“Does she care for titles and honors?”
Áedán raised an eyebrow, “You mean to ask if she has ambition?”
“Bluntly put, yes.”
“She has ambition, but not for Maianiron’s seat. Her ambition is dedicated to destroying the gate to the Rogue World. Briallen would give her life for Maianiron. Have no doubt of that. In truth, she is like a sister. All three of us grew up together after Briallen’s parents were slain in an attack on an outlying citadel.”
“Hence her dark presence,” Satyros noted presently. A dark past often created a dark persona.
“Dark? I suppose. She does have a wicked sense of humor. Her so called ‘dark presence’ has much to do with the nature of her missions. Her patrols cover chiefly that land that closely borders the Rogue World. She and her warriors protect those small citadels in the region. The dark attire help to hide the nature of their presence in the night.”
“You mean to say she openly fights those that attempt to pass through the broken gate?” Satyros asked, remembering the ill-effects of the stone that Maianiron had brought back from beyond the gate.
“Indeed,” Áedán affirmed, “She is a fierce fighter and a good captain. I will introduce you to her. She rides this way as we speak.”
Satyros looked and found he was right. As she neared, she smiled and said something in her language that made Áedán laugh.
“Cousin, you look well,” he said, extending his arm to her. She grasped it and kissed his cheek.
“And you look like your sister. It seems we are all ourselves,” she said smiling. Presently her gaze turned toward Satyros and those that followed behind him. “But I am wondering what all these foreigners are doing following my royal cousins. Did you know you were being followed by boys dressed as men?” It was apparent that Áedán was fighting fiercely to control his laughter.
To Satyros’ chagrin, Briallen turned her attention on him. “And who is this that sits on your right, cousin?” Her eyes were a hazy brown and her look was as piercing as Maianiron’s. Satyros found himself holding her gaze, despite the strength in her eye.
“This is Captain Satyros Delphi, of Gedi.”
“Is he, indeed,” Briallen said, reigning in her horse to get a better look at Satyros. “I shall look forward to saving your ass on the field. You look like you’re going to need it.” Despite the slighted comment, he did not bristle.
“My lady, I shall look forward to thanking you,” he said, inclining his head. Ren covered his chuckle with a polite cough.
“Pride is not a vice for you, Captain,” The Dark Florette said, catching his gaze once more, “It seems that I shall actually have to get to know you in order to truly wound you. A pity.” She turned to Áedán once more and said something in her native tongue. To Satyros, it seemed she had finally become serious. Her face, for a moment, lost it’s hardness, and Satyros could see something in her eyes that was soft, delicate even. Áedán smiled somberly as Briallen adorned her helm once again and rode back to the front of the company.
“Briallen can seem to be as brittle as steel. In truth, she is tired. She has seen more battles and buried more friends than most ever will. I do not attempt to excuse her crass behavior, however.”
Satyros wanted to reply, but found he was out of words. Maianiron’s cousin had been embittered by the conflict that had been ever present in her life. Burying nameless warriors was easier than burying friends. Satyros felt pity for her. It was a hard fate to live.
“Why does she stay in the front lines?” Ren asked Áedán. “The constant battles must weigh heavy on her mind.”
“Maianiron has often sent fresh commanders to take her place for a time so that Briallen might have leave to come back to Resaeri and rest. Briallen only makes room for them in her citadel and sends them out with her own warriors.”
“Will Her Grace not command Briallen away from the front?” Ren asked, bemused.
“Maianiron does not command Briallen to do anything. Briallen is a good commander and has earned the freedom to do as she pleases. Even if my cousin were commanded, she would not leave the front and her warriors would never leave without her. And so they stay. I suppose Briallen stays on the front because the duty of avenging her fallen friends is never quite done. She has vowed that she will not come back to Resaeri until the war is won or she is slain.”
“How many years has she fought?” Satyros asked, rather abruptly.
“Years?” Áedán scoffed. “Many. Far too many to want to remember. Your people like to talk in years, but time is nothing to us. We do not hold it in such great esteem as you do.”
“A thousand years is a long time, my lord. What about your peace?”
“If it ever comes to pass, it will be a nice holiday.”
II
Maianiron ordered a halt for the night when as dusk approached. As tents and fires were set, Satyros noticed that Maianiron stood looking up at Briallen, still horsed and armored. They talked quickly and soon Briallen was riding into the wild land with half of her men behind her.
Satyros sat down to a meager dinner of dried beef and a hunk of bread that was beginning to taste stale. They had been on the march for nearly the entire fortnight that he had allotted for travel. The bread had lasted far longer than he anticipated. Eager to see what the surrounding area looked like, Satyros walked the perimeter of the camp. By the time he arrived halfway around the camp, dusk had fallen in its entirety. A man from his contingent waved him over to a large fire where every land was represented by at least seven or eight men.
“Captain,”called Ioan, “The fire is warm and the company is good .” He was a young man who offered Satyros a place next to him. One of the new soldiers.
“I would not refuse,” Satyros said, sitting next to him. Ioan offered him a wooden cup.
“A gift from the new contingent. Spiced wine.” Satyros took the cup from his hands and took a sip. It was a heady wine that left him flushed in the first taste.
“This is a generous gift.”
“Well, I shall not remind them of it for I have nothing to give in return.”
“You are giving them your sword. That is quite enough in their eyes.” Satyros replied. Ioan sat for a moment, thinking.
“I suppose you are right, sir. But come, there is to be a story told, and that was my reason for inviting you over. One of the Fæn men is to tell a tale about one of their great heroes. Here, he stands now,” Ioan pointed to a man that had just stood at the encouragement of his coterie.
“Men of the east and of the west. Men of the North and of the South. Men of all tribes and peoples, I shall tell you a great tale of valor,” the man began, his voice clear and refined. “Listen well, my brothers, for the tale that will be spoken tonight is one to be remembered.” The man that spoke smiled knowingly and the men who had heard the tale before edged closer.
“In an age past, when the light of victory was still only a spark, there lived in a fortress not far from here the daughter of a Prince. She was likened by the bards to the evening. For many years, she spent her days dwelling within the walls of her father’s domain, but war was upon them and soon it had come to their very doors.” The speaker paused for a moment, smiling at his audience. The quiet was deafening.
“The dark horde stood at the gates demanding their blood. In haste, the Prince commanded his daughter to go with the other women and the wounded, but she pleaded to be given a sword.
The Prince, who loved his daughter best of all, told her again to follow the wounded and yet she stayed.
They will know you, the Prince declared.
I fear them not. If you wish it, I will wrap my hair in my helm, said she.
In a moment of knowledge the Prince declared that if she were to take up the sword, there would be no peace for her.
There never was, said she.” A quiet cheer was emitted from the new contingent’s men. The speaker raised his hand they became silent once again.
“With this last word, she donned her armor and helm. Her hair she left unbound in defiance. Let her enemies smite her was her thought. They would taste her steel.
The battle was fierce and lasted for several days. At the end, victory belonged to the Prince and his warriors. The Prince, who had taken an arrow, stood amidst the carnage and beside him stood his daughter. The men who had fought alongside her had found her a worthy friend in battle and honor was hers that day.
Soon, the Prince died of the arrow he had taken in battle. His daughter remembered his words. Though the helm and hauberk and sword held no magic qualities within themselves, it was the world she saw behind them that bound her to her fate. She took command of the fortress that day and it has been hers ever since.” The speaker smiled and turned to sit down, but there was a groan among his men.
“Come tell us the rest of the story! You are unfair to treat us so!”
“If you wish,” he answered and once again stood before his audience. “Days passed and the death of her father continued to plague her. The feathers in the arrow that pierced through her father’s armor had been recognized before. It was the signature of a high-ranking captain she had seen during the battle. With this knowledge, she vowed to avenge her father.
“In that same fortnight, it was heard that this same captain had been killed in his own bed. A black rose lay by his corpse as a signature from the assassin. A new signature to replace the arrow. A new name to our Prince’s daughter: The Dark Florette.”
Nods of approval came from all around the fire. It was a good story.
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JRChristopher reviewed Version 3 -
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Some parts of this leave me wondering, for instance.
The prince took an arrow. Where?
Other than that this is impressive. Very creative. I usually only check grammar and punc. but I got caught up in this quickly. It leaves you wanting more.
There are a few typos here and there, and some spelling. Nothing big though.
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DarkShadow reviewed Version 3 -
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I really enjoyed this tale. Specifically the ‘character’ of Briallen. Her sharp wit and tongue are refreshing and help to give her a credible depth. I’d like to see a little more description in the writing. Right now I’m not fully seeing the scene in my mind. I’m not hearing the fire crack, or smelling the smoke during the telling of the tale. My only suggestion would be that you try and remember that we have 5 senses. I’d like to see a little of each in almost every sentence to help paint the picture.
It’s a great start, and as you say a rough draft so I won’t trouble with spelling or grammar. The flow for the most part seems good. Whether this was the first or the last chapter, it is interesting enough to keep me reading, and I think that is important too. Many people build up their first chapter and then the dynamic of the story is lost. That does not seem to be the case here.
Very nice! Thank you for the read!
stygmarsh reviewed Version 3 -
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Here are my opinions with overview later.
Lose “far into the evening and” to economise?
Which “he” in “much to his relief”
20,000 cavalry! Wow! A lot of horseflesh
Lose “Seemed” from “it seemed as if they talked”?
Overview: An enjoyable read. Very hearty stuff and flowed well, with the Dark Florette a suitably sassy warrior-ess. Its maybe as it stands a bit light on the detail of a Cavalry army on the march, food and fodder etc, but the dialogue takes it along.
JEBradwyn reviewed Version 2 -
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I liked this. I think you’ve done a lot better job of showing just how fiesty Briallen can be. Looks like things are coming along nicely.
JEBradwyn reviewed Version 1 -
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The number crunching at the beginning was a bit much for me, though I wouldn’t say it was completely unnecessary.
I like the way Briallen was introduced; there was something very classic about how it was done; it stood out very well as being the overall purpose of the scene. I also liked how she was explained more by the characters than by narration; it gives the reader a better heads up on how she is going to mix with the rest of the group.
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