Sci Fi & Fantasy / Chapter 7
The sounds of battle crept in. It was faint but still there, recognizable. He had never heard it before but knew without a doubt what it was. The sound grew louder, closer. Then the smell hit him. It was everywhere. He couldn’t smell anything but the acrid stench of battle. Nothing but blood and sweat lingered in the air. It was everywhere. He thought he should be sickened by how strong it was, but he wasn’t. It was simply there for his senses to take in.
The sound and smell grew with each passing second. Realization hit him. Hard. It was happening again. He couldn’t control it and it was happening again. He wanted to cry out; to warn anyone close enough of the danger. To run and keep running as long as they could to escape. He tried to scream but no words escaped his throat. It was horrifying. The one thing he could try and do to save someone, he couldn’t do.
He didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew what would be happening in front of him, and he didn’t want to see it. He clenched his eyes shut as hard as he could. The sound grew louder still. Light started to creep in, as if someone was slowly opening the door of a lantern, letting out more light. He refused to open his eyes, but it felt like he was waking from a dream and nothing could prevent it. It was more like a nightmare. A nightmare he desperately wanted to wake from.
Suddenly they were open but the instant light blinded him. After a few moments of white and black spots dancing in front of him, he saw what he didn’t want to see. It was not what he expected. There was a man before him. A huge beast of a man, all in armor and wielding a massive sword that he held above his head. The man’s helmet had been knocked off and his sweaty damp hair stuck to his head. The man had an ugly white scar on his face that ran from the middle of his brow, just above his nose, down between his eyes and curved off to the left of his nostril and ended mid-cheek.
His armor was nothing like he had seen before. Knights had ridden through the village once before and their armor was far better looking then this man’s. Their’s had shone bright against even the dull grey sky, while this man’s was even duller than the grey sky. The man’s armor was rigid, full of hard corners and rough edges. The knights’ on the other hand was well fitted with smooth flowing edges that all seemed to meld perfectly together.
Then his gaze rose to the man’s eyes, and there he saw it. Murderous intent. The man intended to kill him. It was the only thought he had. That was why the sword was raised above him. The man wanted to cleave him in two starting from the top, down. But why was he not moving? Wait, he was. He was moving, only so slowly it was barely distinguishable.
Suddenly the man roared to life and began pulling the sword down at his target. Flinching, he sucked in a gasp. He wanted to move away, somewhere, anywhere, out of the way of the deadly sharp sword, but his legs would not move. He was stuck and about to have a sword cleave his skull. In a last frantic effort he tried to raise his right arm to block the blade. Surprisingly it did as he commanded. It came up, but for some reason was to far off to the side to block anything.
He stared wide-eyed as the sword swept down at frightening speed and strength, then stopped, inches from striking him. Stunned, he looked to his arm. Running his eyes up from the elbow he realizes he is holding something. Something firm but not heavy. It felt good in his hand. The hard cold steel in the other didn’t feel so good.
Suddenly his arm moved of it’s own accord and the man in front of him stumbled back a few steps. His arm slowly lowered from above his head. As it passes his vision, realization hits again. He’s holding a hilt. As the hilt, then blade crosses his vision he sees the entire center, running from the hilt to tip, is black. At least he thinks it is but doesn’t know for certain since half the blade is covered in blood.
The man in front of him had regained his balance and charged again with a feral roar. He had his sword raised this time over a shoulder instead of directly above him, slightly changing his plan of attack. Why was he so slow? It didn’t matter. The man was big but had no chance to win the fight. He didn’t want to hurt the man but knew he didn’t have a choice. He wanted to warm him but couldn’t.
Then for some reason he spun, turning his back on the man. He couldn’t control any movements he made. It annoyed and frightened him, but at the same time he was interested to see what his body would do in the fight. As his head turned from the man and followed his body around, he felt an ice cold shiver run down his spine. There was another man, just like the first almost upon him. Another two were coming from each side of this newest foe. He thought he should stop and face this new threat, but he kept spinning around.
Then he saw what he hadn’t before. There were more men around him. They were everywhere. He was surrounded by them. Looking past these he saw even more. They were coming from all directions, swarming like ants over the flat land where he stood. Coming for him. They all had that murderous look in their eyes and only one thing could satisfy their need. His death.
The next few seconds seemed to crawl. Or was it minutes? It could have been hours but he wasn’t sure. Time seemed to slow right down, but also felt like it was blazing by at incredible speed. The four closest to him were cut down with such fluidity and efficiency that he wondered why he had been scared in the first place. More men rushed him, and all fell just as easy and quick. He never stopped moving. Never stopped for breath or to get his bearings. These men wanted him dead. They would do anything they could to make that come to pass, and with that train of thought came their own death wish. He had no wish to kill them all but he was fighting for his life. It was kill or be killed.
He didn’t know a person was able to move the way he did. He was like wind and water. Everywhere at once but nowhere at the same time. He saw countless swords, axes and flails fly towards him from all directions. They all caught air. His blade only caught flesh. These men were heavily armored but his sword sliced through them like a knife through warm butter. The cries of the dying fell on deaf ears. The men rushing him could see what he was doing to their comrades, but they paid no heed for themselves. They were cocky with their massive numbers. They didn’t think one man could stand up against their horde, but they had never faced an opponent like this. He was death incarnate.
Then all was still. The deafening roar of battle had almost faded. There was not one man left standing in his vision as he turned, surveying the once peaceful plain. He watched as his body moved again of it’s own will. He went down on one knee and lowered his head. His vision faded into darkness as his eyelids closed and he could hear himself reciting something but couldn’t make out the soft spoken words. As he rose, he reached back with a hand and tugged at something behind his belt. His hand came back around holding a soft black cloth. He held it open in his left hand and with his right, he brought the sword up and placed it on the cloth. Pushing the material down with his thumb, he slowly pulled the blade through, cleaning the blood off. Turning the sword over he repeated the procedure. After the blade was clean, he reached back again and replaced the cloth behind his belt.
After the cloth was back in it’s place, he started walking to a spot cleaner of bodies. The dull sound he was vaguely aware of, was suddenly louder, closer. The sound grew, but it was different than the first he had heard upon becoming aware. There were no screams this time. Only an ever growing metallic clinking sound and a rumbling he felt deep in his chest. He lowered his sword to the ground and pulled it along the space of earth at his feet, making a curved line from one side of his body to the other. He then lifted his sword and moved into a deadly stance, his feet still behind the curved line.
The plain was mostly flat but there were a few small humps of hill scattered on it. It was from the hump in front of him the sound came. The metallic clinking grew louder, the rumbling, deeper. Then, spears appeared above the small hill. They bobbed up and down as the wielder’s ran for the hill. The first man appeared, running straight for him. He lowered his spear to chest level and aimed it straight ahead. As he watched the man close the distant, he slightly changed his stance.
These men were totally different from the last group he had just wiped out. They were much more orderly and kept themselves in formation as they rushed at him. Their armor was completely different as well. The brutes armor was a disgrace if compared. The man’s armor in front of him seemed to reflect everything. He would have been blinded had the sun been out, but thankfully the day was overcast with dark clouds starting to blow in. As the soldier rushed forward, he brought his spear up over his shoulder and hurled it. Quickly ducking, the weapon flew through the spot where his head had been a moment before, and he rose again to meet the soldier. He brought his eyes up the man’s body to look him in the eyes before he killed him, but they never made it. As his vision passed over the chest plate of the man’s armor, time seemed to slow again. His gaze paused a moment as a hazy reflection in the armor started becoming clear. He expected to see himself there. What he saw, froze him.
As the soldier grew slowly nearer, the reflection became increasingly clearer. It wasn’t his face. A blurry stranger stared back. Just as he was about to see a clear picture of the alien person, everything stopped. The soldier no longer moved. The deafening noise of all the soldiers rushing towards him abruptly ended. There was no more smell, he wasn’t even breathing. Then everything started fading. The sharpness of each blade of trampled grass, the facial features of each man rushing towards him, and even his sword in front of him, was blurring. He stared ahead at the reflection that was now to difficult to make out. He desperately wanted to know who the man was. Why he was looking at a stranger when it should have been himself in the reflection.
Everything was blurring to beyond recognition. All the soldiers were blended together in a mish mash of inhuman faces with weapons sticking out everywhere like a giant grotesque pincushion. Then even that faded. The last thing he saw was a bright blue eye reflecting off a piece of armor. Then it to faded into the void of nothingness.
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First paragraph, you start two sentences close together with the words “The sound” avoid repetitions when you can, it draws unwanted attention. Also within the same paragraph you begin three out of eight sentences with the word “he”. It’s not heinous but it still detracts from your story.
He wanted to cry out; to warn anyone close enough of the danger
close enough to the danger
Again on page 2, you start two sentences in a row with the words “The man”
Then his gaze rose to the man’s eyes, and there he saw it. Murderous intent. The man intended to kill him.
For the sake of readability I would either merge the first two sentences or the second two. The definition of murderous intent tells us that he wants to kill him so we don’t need both. It’s a subtle repetition.
Running his eyes up from the elbow he realizes he is holding something.
You have a tense shift right here from past tense to present. Try to pick one tense and stick with it.
After the cloth was back in it’s place, he started walking to a spot cleaner of bodies.
I don’t think you want “cleaner of bodies” the wording is awkward… maybe, a spot which lacked bodies or something else.
I think the biggest thing you need to work on are the starters of your sentences. They are often repetitious and which draws undue attention to your sentence structure rather than to your plot. Other than that you have an interesting plot shaping up. I wonder, is he possessed, someone’s puppet, or is this some side of him he didn’t know? Good job.
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This is really good! The details and ploy line flowed together very well. I like the line you ended with it summed it up well. It seemed like some vampyre story, I don’t know if thats anything you’re aiming for but thats what i felt. good job though. Can’t wait to see more.
I am not a big adventure type person but this was pretty good. The action was described nicely as well as the armor. The way you give his thoughts come across well. I can just about imagine what it would be like out there myself. The cleaning of the blade was nice as well. Then a confussion to his own reflection gave a nice twist. But since I came in on chapter 7 I have to ask who is (He)?
Well, there were a few things that confused me a little bit about this story. At first I wasn’t sure what was going on, what was the soldier supposed to be hearing at the beginning of the story? And what did you mean when you were talking about the running? That part was confusing, but once I got into the story I understood more about what was going on. Other than that, the story seemed descriptive enough but I just had troubles trying to follow what exactly what was going on.
I really had trouble getting into this. The narrative tone is weak. It’s full of cliches. The sentence structure is redundant. It’s just a hard read. Sorry.
“The sounds of battle crept in.”—What kinds of sounds? Bombs dropping? Swords clanging? Lightsabers buzzing? It’s too vague. I didn’t know if I was reading “Sci Fi” or “Fantasy” until the fourth paragraph. It would be better to describe the sounds so the reader can hear them, rather than just saying it sounded like battle.
“He had never heard it before but knew without a doubt what it was.”—If he had never heard it before, how did he know “without a doubt” what he was hearing? Also, I just don’t get the point of the sentence. What are you trying to convey? Were the sounds just that obvious that he knew? Or was he psychic?
“He couldn’t smell anything but the acrid stench of battle. Nothing but blood and sweat lingered in the air.”—I wouldn’t (or would not) use contractions in your narrative. Also, starting a sentence like “Nothing but…” may work in casual speech, but it sounds adolescent in narrative. I think the sentences would read better combined: ”He could smell nothing but the acrid stench of blood and sweat.”
“all in armor”—This is another piece of “conversational tone” that doesn’t work well.
“The man had an ugly white scar on his face that ran from the middle of his brow, just above his nose, down between his eyes and curved off to the left of his nostril and ended mid-cheek.”—Do we really need this much detail in the description of a scar? Is the shape of the scar somehow relevant to the story? Does it indicate that he had once been attacked with a special weapon and survived, therefore we are to assume he’s supremo-tough? I think just “ugly white scar between his eyes” is sufficient.
“There were more men around him. They were everywhere. He was surrounded by them. Looking past these he saw even more. They were coming from all directions, swarming like ants over the flat land where he stood. Coming for him. They all had that murderous look in their eyes and only one thing could satisfy their need. His death.”—This paragraph has a great deal of redundancy. I understand the use of short, choppy sentences to convey tension, but this is overboard. If the men were everywhere, obviously he would be surrounded by them. He looked past them and saw more… Were there more past them as well? ”Coming from all directions?” I think that was already covered by “They were everywhere” and “He was surrounded by them.”
Ok – I really liked that, it felt quite vivid, the narrator fading in and fading back out of a vicious battle. I was caught up in the action and the sounds and smells of the battle – it flowed really well.
Good twist at the end, where he doesn’t see his own reflection – it makes the reader wonder if it’s more than a dream..
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