The Chosen (working title, fantasy) - Writers Forum

Kyrie · 06-22-2007, 04:43 AM

((I didn't check this as much as I would have liked to, but I know it's good enough to post, if not then I'll be very grateful if someone would point out the mistakes, if not then just enjoy.

By the way, this is the second part of the story, the first part is here.

Please enjoy.))

The Chosen

Sounds of far away activity begin to fill my ears as I stir from my dreamless sleep. Where am I? The last thing I remember is Magister Ahser's concerned face, and then?

Opening my eyes, I try to will away the remains of drowsiness. Maybe it's just a dream and we are already in Schwarz, and I did not faint in the middle of a road. But, as I fully open my eyes I'm not welcomed by the sight of luscious furniture and expensive decorations expected from such a rich kingdom but a cat, an mangy one at that who greets me with a high-pitched 'meow', he must think my chest is comfortable because he's sitting on it and not letting me breath well. The background behind the feline is blurry, yet the animal looks as clear as day, somebody must have taken my glasses, dammit.

"Errm..." my throat feels like sand-paper when I try to speak.

"Dali! Oh don't mind her. She's just checking on yah."

Dali the cat jumps off my chest, running to the open door and escaping between the legs of it's owner. Turning to where the voice comes from, I squint and manage to perceive the figure of a woman. Without my glasses I'm pretty much blind to anything standing six feet away from me.

"I, uh...what--"

"Good thing you woke up. You slept like a log last night. Here, drink this."

I reach out for the glass she offers, taking a little sip to know what it is. Just water. I drink more until my throat is no longer parched. Returning the water I ask for my glasses.

"On the table next to you. Your friends will be glad to know you're okay now."

"My friends?"

Slipping my glasses on, I finally take a look at my hostess. Her wavy blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, accentuating the small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She's wearing a simple country dress with an apron. This lady must be a housewife, not exactly my vision of glamour but at least they helped us. That's right! I was traveling to Schwarz with someone. That boy!

"Where's the Magister!"

"Who? You must be talking about that boy. He almost didn't sleep worrying about you. He's outside right now. But, where do you think you're going?"

The lady is powerless to stop me as I throw the covers away, dashing to the door and looking for a way out. Such is my haste that I barely notice that I'm wearing peasant clothes. I scurry around the kitchen and living room until I finally find a door that leads me to the sunny outside, almost blinding me as I run out. Recovering my sight again, the only thing I can see is a single long road with buildings on both sides, no streets, no sidewalks; just people coming and going as they attend personal matters. If this was the whole town, then finding Magister Ahser shouldn't be much of a problem. Ah, but I forget he's just a child, a fairly uneducated one at that.

It would be much easier to shout the Magister's name, but I do not wish to call the attention of the citizens, as I fear it would cause chaos. People can be very simple-minded and knowing that a God is among them, they might ask the impossible of the now untrained Ahser. I can't help but notice how the houses are actually stacked up one over the other, wide alleys leaving enough space for stairs to reach the top floors.

Suddenly, I spot the distinctive uniform of temple maidens. Their backs are to me, but their presence means that Magister Ahser is around. I start walking faster, and as I get close I see the Magister kneeling on the ground, juggling paper balls to an amused crowd of school children. The kids applaud his skills in such a mundane entertainment, yet the maidens do nothing to stop him, so submissive they are they won't even dare raise their voices at the Magister. It angers me that they will not discipline him in manners concerning, well, manners. He's not wearing the clothes that were given to him. Instead he wears brown knickers, white shirt and suspenders. For a moment I am glad that he's not dirtying those robes, seeing as how expensive they are. He complains when I grab his arm and jerk him up, the paper balls falling to the ground and the cries of many disappointed children following. The Magister struggles until he recognizes my face.

"Master, you're up! How do you feel?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Grabbing his wrist I pull him back to were I came from, the maidens silently follow us.

"Let go, Herlief! You're hurting me!"

I do not answer his pleas and eventually he resigns to follow me back to the house where I woke up. The hostess is waiting for us at the door, with some shame I realized I had no idea were the house I had woken up was, if the lady hadn't been outside I would've walked by it, but I'm to proud to voice my shame out-loud.

"I see you found your friend. See? I told you he'd be fine."

"Thank--"

"What place is this?" I ask harshly, interrupting my liege's attempt at a conversation.

"This is the town of Rhuan. This boy says you are on your way to Schawrz, is that right?"

I must teach the boy a little something called 'discretion'.

"Yes, so if you would kindly show us to our clothing. We must get on our way."

"It's in the back room, but you shouldn't leave so soon..."

The lady points to a door at the end of the kitchen; after that, I hear nothing of what she speaks. My only concern now is getting on our way as soon as possible. A day of travel has been lost because of my little mishap, the Queen is expecting us soon, and to not be there at the proper time could be seen as a sign of disrespectfulness.

I try to pull the Magister along with me but he struggles and escapes my grasp. As I turn I can see the anger in his dark blue eyes.

"What do you think you're doing!" he bellows at me.

"We must get on our way, now." I answer coolly.

"But they helped us! Is this your way of saying thanks!"

"It is not that I'm ungrateful, but you have to understand Magister-"

"Don't call me that! Stop calling me that!" he shouts at me, covering his ears and closing his eyes as if it pains him to hear the word. Once he opens his eyes they are full of hate directed towards me, the hate translating into venom as he speaks.

"I hate you. You're so...so...."

But before he finishes he dashes out the door, neither of the maidens making a move stop him. I try to run out after him, but the lady stops me, giving me a knowing smile.

"Don't worry. He'll come back on his own."

I'm unsure about that, but for some reason I want to think she's right.

*~*~*

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

silverwriter · 06-22-2007, 06:42 AM

Some quick tips.

Be consistent with your paragraph double spacing. Do it every time, or it just gets confusing and a bit hard to read. Remember, with each new paragraph and each new person speaking.

Usually writers use too many dialogue tags, but it couldn't hurt for you to use a few more. Correcting some of the spaces between paragraphs will help, but don't take "use dialogue tags only when necessary" as an absolute. You can always take them back out if they become overkill.

When someone is yelling, don't bold it. I know you may want to make it an extremely loud yell, but italicize it if you feel the need to do something. Also, one exclamation point will do the trick. More than one is being redundant, as the excalamation point - a single one - does the same thing as a million of them. With the exception of taking up space, that is.

GunslingersRequiem · 06-22-2007, 08:05 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Kyrie

((I didn't check this as much as I would have liked to, but I know it's good enough to post, if not then I'll be very grateful if someone would point out the mistakes, if not then just enjoy.

By the way, this is the second part of the story, the first part is here.

Please enjoy.))

The Chosen

I begin to wake up. Sounds of far away activity begin to fill my ears as I stir from my dreamless sleep. Where am I? The last thing I remember is Magister Ahser's concerned face, and then?

How do you begin to wake up? That'd be rather impressive. Kind of repetitive since you mentioned waking up already.

Opening my eyes, I try to will away the remains of drowsiness. Maybe it's just a dream and we are already in Schwarz, and I did not faint in the middle of a road. But, as I fully open my eyes, I'm not welcomed by the sight of luscious furniture and expensive decorations expected from such a rich kingdom, but a cat, a mangy one at that who greets me with a high-pitch 'meow'. I dislike cats.

I would suggest adding more description here--hard to believe that someone faints in the middle of a road. If you must use 'but' here, enunciate with a comma. I know what you're trying to do here, but I suggest killing these two words and adding the descriptions after the long sentence. Too much information in one sentence is hard to take, sometimes.

"Errm..." my throat feels like sandy paper when I try to speak.

Sandy paper? Sand-paper?

"Dali! Oh don't mind her. She's just checking on yah."

Turning to where the voice comes from, I see a woman standing there, or at least I try to. Without my glasses I'm pretty much blind to anything standing six feet away from me.

How can she see the woman, and then try to see her? Has she tested this?

"I, uh...what--" < Make it a double-dash if it's ending a sentence or quote. Single dashes can be hard to miss.

"Good thing you woke up. You slept like a log last night. Here, drink this."

I reach out for the glass she offers, taking a little sip to know what it is. Just water. I drink more until my throat is no longer parched. Returning the water, I ask for my glasses.

If she could see the woman before, why can't she tell that the liquid is clear? You don't have to change anything, I'm just curious why she didn't look first.

"On the table next to you. Your friends will be glad to know you're okay now."

"My friends?"

Slipping my glasses on, I finally take a look at my hostess. Her wavy blonde hair is pulled back on a ponytail, accentuating the small wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. She's wearing a simple country dress with an apron. This lady must be a housewife, a housewife in an agricultural community, not exactly my vision of glamour but at least they helped us. That's right! I was traveling to Schwarz with someone. That boy!

'in'. Good word choice. 'at'. A bit of a compound run-on. I suggest breaking this apart.

"Where's the Magister!?"

Choose one or the other.

"Who? You must be talking about that boy. He almost didn't sleep worrying about you. He's outside righ-but, where do you think you're going?"

?

The lady is powerless to stop me as I throw the covers away, dashing to the door and looking for a way out. Such is my haste that I barely notice that I'm wearing peasant clothes. I scurry around the kitchen and living room until I finally find a door that leads me to the sunny outside, almost blinding me on my way out. Recovering my sight again, the only thing I can see is a single mile-long road with buildings on both sides, no streets, no sidewalks, just people coming and going from whatever matter they had to attend to. If this was the whole town, then finding Magister Ahser shouldn't be much of a problem. Ah, but I forget he's just a child, a fairly uneducated one at that.

'as I walk out'. If it only almost blinded her, why does she need to recover her sight? If she can see a mile away, perhaps you should indicate that there is a tilt of land. Otherwise, it seems implausible that she can tell this.
'. No streets, no sidewalks; just people coming and going as they attended to personal matters. <--Just a suggestion of how this would work better.

As much as it would be easier to shout the Magister's name, I do not wish to call the attention of the citizens, as I fear it would cause chaos. People can be very simple-minded, and knowing that a God is among them, they might ask the impossible of the now untrained Ahser. I can't help but notice how the houses are actually stacked up one over the other, wide alleys leaving enough space for stairs to reach the top floors. I guess they do it to save space, if so then what kind of produce would they grow?

Doesn't sound right--I'd suggest something to the extent of, 'As easy as it would be...'. This line lost me--what are you trying to say here?

Suddenly, I spot the distinctive uniform of temple maidens. Their backs are to me, but their presence means that Magister Ahser is around. I start walking faster, and as I get close I see the Magister kneeling on the ground, juggling paper balls before an amused crowd of school children. The kids applaud his skills in such a mundane entertainment, yet the maidens do nothing to stop him, so submissive they are they won't even dare raise their voices at the Magister, it angers me that they will not discipline him in manners concerning, well, manners. He's not wearing the clothes that were given to him. Instead, he wears brown knickers, and a white shirt and suspenders. For a moment I am glad that he's not dirtying those robes, seeing as how expensive they are. He complains when I grab his arm and jerk him up, the paper balls falling with not much of a thud. The Magister struggles until he recognizes my face.

A large run-on--I suggest breaking this apart into separate sentences. Perhaps you could condense this with a better descriptor. It doesn't read correctly.

"Master, you're up! How do you feel?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"Uh, what are you talking about?" Grabbing his wrist, I pull him back to were I came from. The maidens silently follow us.

"Let go, Herlief! You're hurting me!"

I do not answer his pleas, and eventually he resigns to follow me back to the house where I woke up. The hostess is waiting for us at the door.

"I see you found your friend. See? I told you he'd be fine."

"Thank--"

"What place is this?" I ask harshly, interrupting my liege's attempt at a conversation.

"This is the town of Rhuan. This boy says you are on your way to Schawrz, is that right?"

I must teach the boy a little something called 'discretion'.

"Yes, so if you would kindly show us our clothing. We must get on our way."

"It's in the back room, but you shouldn't leave so soon..." The lady points to a door at the end of the kitchen; after that, I hear nothing of what she speaks. My only concern now is getting on our way as soon as possible. The Queen is expecting us soon, and to not be there at the proper time could be seen as a sign of disrespectfulness.

This sentence works, but it sounds a little too stressed. Perhaps you could reword it so the descriptions flow better.

I try to pull the Magister along with me, but he struggles and escapes my grasp. As I turn, I can see the anger in his dark blue eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he bellows at me.

Again, one or the other.

"We must get on our way, now." I answer coolly.

"But they helped us! Is this your way of saying thanks!?"

You do this a lot.

"It is not that I'm ungrateful, but you have to understand, Magister--"

"Don't call me that!! Stop calling me that!!" he shouts at me, covering his ears and closing his eyes as if it pains him to hear the word. Once he opens his eyes, they are full of hate directed towards me, the hate translating into venom as he speaks. "I hate you. You're so....so..."

Please kill this completely. I think it was already mentioned that you should unbolden this, then get rid of one of the exlamation points after each sentence. Ellipses are fine to use, but I would use them sparingly--overuse implies that you don't have a better way of expressing your characters. Also, the three-period ellipse goes in the middle, the four-period ellipse at the end. A good way to remember that is to just add a period at the end of your original ellipse, if it's the end of a sentence.

But before he finishes, he dashes out the door, neither of the maidens trying to stop him. I try to run out after him, but the lady stops me, giving me a knowing smile.

Used twice--I suggest killing the second one, or coming up with a different word.

"Don't worry. He'll come back on his own."

I'm unsure about that, but for some reason I want to think she'll be right.

I know you want this to sound like a future possibility, but using 'she's' will work just the same, and read a little better.

*~*~*

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

Well, I know that I completely marred your story with multi-colored marks, but I hope it's not overwhelming. The way you tell your story keeps the reader's interest, and although you seem to have a problem mix-matching commas and periods, your sentences are well-structured. Also, your descriptions are well-placed and accurate. A few brush-ups, and this will be good to go for the next section.

Kyrie · 06-22-2007, 12:56 PM

Thanks a lot silverwriter and Gunslinger. Like I said, I didn't have enough time to review this as much as I wanted so it needs a lot of work, but thanks for your reviews and tips, I really appreciate it.

Kyrie · 06-26-2007, 03:59 AM

((Third part of this story, but first I wanted to answer a few of Gunslinger's questions.

Quote:

How can she see the woman, and then try to see her? Has she tested this?

First of all, Herlief is a guy, I found it funny how you kept referring to him as 'she'. And about the question, Herlief is near-sighted, or short-sighted, whatever you want to call it, so he needs eyeglasses to see things far away, and don't tell me it's not possible to not see six-feet away with myopia, I have a friend that's really blind to anything three feet away, and yes, I did check that. Thanks for marring my story anyway, I appreciate you took the time to read it and correct it

Sorry for the rant, I recomend you read the first part (the link is on the first post) if you haven't. Please enjoy.))

The Chosen

Dinner was fairly uneventful. Lucia, our hostess, introduced us to his husband, Almos, and her daughter, Elena. The Magister had yet return, but Lucia insisted that I should eat and regain strength. She was right so I reluctantly agreed and sat across the daughter, who kept sending me looks and batting her eyelashes, I hope she realizes soon I'm about twice her age, give or take a few years. Dinner was a glamorous plate of rice with beans and potatoes on the side to which I can't help but grimace a little, and some kind of milk-looking drink.

"It's rice water hun, don't worry, it's gonna bite you." Lucia explained. Obviously I'm not used to commoner meals, but at least it filled my stomach.

The maidens played around with their food, eating only enough to seem polite. Later, I bid goodnight and went to bed, which is were I am right now, still waiting for that boy who I'm going to slap silly when he arrives, that is if he arrives.

I hear the door creak as it opens, startling me from the light sleep I was entering. Adding to the fact that my glasses are once again on the table beside me, there is almost no light in the room except for the little ray of moonlight coming from the window so I cannot see the person who just came in, only feel a weight settling down on the bed next to me. I truly hope it is not the daughter, the scandal she might cause can irate her father enough to kill me, not that I know it as a fact but it's too late in the night and I'm too tired to even think logically. Turning to refuse the daughter and take a beating for it, I realize it's not the golden haired Elena but the dark and messy haired Magister laying there.

Raising myself on my elbows, I try to check the Magister as much as I can. He's still wearing those peasant clothes, but I guess I could forgive that. I'm worried that he might not have had dinner.

"Did you worry about me?" he speaks, surprising me as I thought he was asleep.

"Yes. I'm in charge of you, Magister."

He doesn't answer but instead 'humph's, annoyed.

"Is something wrong?"

"Go to sleep Herlief."

The Magister turns on his side, showing me his back.

"Do you even know what my name is? I know yours, Neriah."

I'm not surprised, if that was his intention, instead I'm just confused about his actions.

"Magister, you have to understand, you can't go around acting like a child whenever you feel like it."

"But I am a child. And then why didn't you drag me back to the carriage when I jumped off?"

I have no answer for that, I don't even know the true reason myself. But I want him to realize that I do recognize his age, and that I'm aware that much of the experiences he could have enjoyed as a young man have now been taken away. I think I wanted him to have a last taste of youth before being fully entrusted to his duties, but before I can even open my mouth to voice my concerns, he speaks again.

"I sent a letter to Schawrz while you slept, they'll wait for us longer. Now go to sleep."

I take his order and lay down again, not before arranging the sheets to cover him as well. Contrary to what he might think, I do know more of him than what he believes. Magister Ahser's birthname is Fayette, his current age is 16, born in the Kingdom of Grun, what I do not know is how he was found, but I'd like to know someday, perhaps he'll tell if I ask.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading. I'm sorry it's so short, but the next part it's quite long and I don't want to scare you with the lenght or bore you.

assassin · 06-26-2007, 10:31 PM

You might be getting bored with me repeating that I love this, but I do, so I will. Love it. If I could, I'd pluck it straight from you mind so I could reading more. O_o ... Does that sound as creepy to you as does to me?
The ending to the third piece give a kinda 'flashback eminent' feeling to it. Do we get to find out how the Magister got where he is? I do hope so.

The only thing I can say is where you bounce your narration from Ahser to Herlief that, seeing it's first person, perhaps a tag of who's view it is at the top. Just to stop confusion. It took me a few seconds for it to click and I'd been forwarned it would be Herlief.

Kyrie · 07-04-2007, 04:23 AM

((I had to rewrite most of the first part because it turned out to 'bright' for my taste, but I'm happy how it turned out.

assassin - it's not creepy at all, 'cause I feel the same way with you and your stories~ is that too creepy or can i still have your babies? lol

Anyhow, please read the first and second part before reading this (the links are on my sig) and in case you haven't been paying attention, Magister Ahser's real name is Fayette, and since this next part is done in third-person-POV he'll be refered to as such.

This is also a kind of flashback, it's before Fayette became Ahser, I hope it's not too confusing...

I hope you enjoy. Critiques of any kind are welcome, even if it's just to say it sucks~))

The Chosen

~*About a month ago*~

A lonely dog barked at the waxing moon, another two or three following in a tuneless melody of barks and howls. Fayette was used to that, as well as the rancid smell of the dirty river that went through the city, but tonight he had chills running up his spine, making the little hairs on his neck stand on end.

Turning the corner sharply, he quicken his stride, two women on the other side of the street waved at him like they knew him, but Fayette just ignored them, he always took this shortcut from the library to home and those two were always there, waiting for rich men to pay for their graces.

Fayette clutched the book at his side harder; as much as he liked private tutoring he'd have to stop staying so late at night with Master Friedrich at the library. Suddenly he felt a tugging, like an invisible force pulling him towards the next corner and to the left, but he ignored it and continued forward, towards his broken-down room above the bakery, where he worked to pay for the room and a meal. But as he walked further pass the corner, the tugging stopped and Fayette began to feel heavy, not like he was being pulled back or something weighting down on his shoulders, but in his legs he could feel the same strain of when he carried the heavy flour sacks around the bakery.

Gulping, the boy turned and walked back to the corner, the heavy feeling dissipated but the tugging returned, coaxing him into the dark street. Surely the baker's wife would be worried by now, not that she appreciated him in some way, but somebody had to do the heavy work her drunk husband refused to do. Following his gut, and the tugging, Fayette entered the darkened street, a single light post waiting for him at the end. Fayette would have chuckled at the irony of a light waiting at the end of the corridor, but he was too scared out of his wits to even consider a light joke.

Halfway through the tugging stopped and the boy let out the shaky sigh he was holding back, the lack of sleep was making him hallucinate, he thought. A groan reached the boy's ears, looking back at the end of the street there was an irregular shape of a man, away from the light. The figure groaned again, making an unmistakable sound of pain, Fayette dropped the heavy book and dashed towards the man. He pulled him towards the light to see his wounds, the rush of adrenaline giving him enough strength to pull him easily.

The man was cold and pale, a large patch of blood making it's way beneath his body and staining his white shirt. Fayette ripped one of his sleeved and pushed the cloth were he guessed the wound would be but one of his hands was soon grabbed by the man in an amazing display of strength, despite his condition.

"B-boy....it's a trap..."

"What? What?" Fayette was scared, this man was about to say his last words to him.

"It's a conspiracy." The man coughed blood, some of it landing on the boy's cheek. "Don't let him get that post..."

"Wait! What? What post?"

Fayette leaned closer, trying to listen better. The dying man grabbed his shirt and pulled him to see him face to face. Just as he was about to speak more, his eyes suddenly turned wide, and then his face became peaceful.

"Oh. My God, Ah--"

The young man was paralyzed and speechless, a man had just wasted his lasts words on him and died in front of his eyes. Leaning back, Fayette took a deep breath to calm himself and surveyed the man's body. Apparently he'd been stabbed by a sword that went through his chest, the pool of blood didn't extend beyond the body so he'd most likely been killed right there. Looking down at his hands, Fayette noticed they were covered in blood, probably of an innocent man. The lad suddenly felt nauseous, turning away from the body, he discharged what little he had for dinner.

Feeling a little better, Fayette turned again to the body, an odd sensation of warmth and coldness invading his body. Standing, he tried to remove the blood on his hands, brushing them against his slacks to get rid of it. As he was doing this, a pair of officers appeared at the corner, looking at the corpse one of them gasped and the other walked forward to Fayette.

"You. What are you doing here?"

"I, uh--" The lad figured it would be best to tell the truth, anything else he could come up with would be to unbelievable. "I was walking by on my way home."

The dark green clad officer narrowed his eyes, but seemed to believe him anyway.

"Norris, come check this," called the other officer to his partner, both of them now kneeling over the body. Fayette stood were he was, the more he cooperated the sooner they would let him go.

"Boy, you are under arrest."

"What! Why?"

"For the murder of the Maestro of Law Newark." the officer answered sharply, grabbing Fayette's wrists to tie them together as the boy struggled.

"I didn't do it! I swear! Let me go! It wasn't me!"

Fayette continued to struggle, but the two officers overpowered him in stature and strength. For a second he imagined himself old and decayed in a small cell, his studies forgotten and his hopes for tomorrow destroyed. He struggled harder, looking back at the man that had put him in this mess. It was obvious that that man had been murdered, and Fayette would be held guilty until proven innocent, that is, if he could prove his innocence.

~*~*~*~

I hope you enjoyed. Please critique. Have a nice day~

assassin · 07-04-2007, 05:11 AM

I feel so sorry for Fayette(or do I still have ta call him Ahser?), blamed for a murder he didn't do. Makes me wanna get a wet fish and slap those officers silly.
Love these sort of flashbacks, gives me that smug 'I know something you don't know' feeling.

Kyrie · 07-04-2007, 09:58 PM

Call him Fayette, he likes it better. I'm glad you enjoyed it~

ladylaughalot · 07-06-2007, 05:49 AM

I like this story so far, but I have to disagree with the other poster about putting whose POV the chapter is in at the top. I find it ameaturish when people do that, perhaps finding a way to include the name of the person whose POV it is in within the first scentence is the way to go... "X proped himself on one elbow in the bed as he heard the bedroom door creak open"... or something like that. Overall though it's definatly a keeper IMO

assassin · 07-07-2007, 01:24 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by ladylaughalot

I like this story so far, but I have to disagree with the other poster about putting whose POV the chapter is in at the top. I find it ameaturish when people do that, perhaps finding a way to include the name of the person whose POV it is in within the first scentence is the way to go... "X proped himself on one elbow in the bed as he heard the bedroom door creak open"... or something like that. Overall though it's definatly a keeper IMO

Okay, when it's 3rd person, that's fine. But I was talking about when it was in 1st person in which case what you're suggesting would be: "X proped myself on one elbow in the bed as I heard the bedroom door creak open" and that's just 'What?'
I've also seen a few books where the person's name was at the top of that piece (sorta like a chapter title without the 'chapter #' bit) Gryphon's Eyrie by Andre Norton is one of them and I think 'Gryphon in Glory' is done that way too.

Kyrie · 07-18-2007, 10:46 PM

((I'm really embarrased about the next part. I'm having a bit of writer's block but I'm hoping a kick on the ass will get me going again.

I can't say sorry enough, so please destroy and tear through this piece like you get payed for it, and if you can, please enjoy it.))

The Chosen

*~*~*

Three days since the dark haired boy had been thrown into jail. Three days that felt like, well, three days. The baker's wife had come once, tears dripping for her tiny eyes into a cheap handkerchief. The few minutes they were given were wasted in complaints from the wife about the husband passed out on the kitchen, and of how was she ever going to find another tenant for the room upstairs. Fayette hadn't even been formally judged yet and she was already giving away his room. Lovely.

Fayette's jail room was a simple box of mossy stones, some of the moss so thick it would make a comfortable bed, given a few more years. The lad even got two meals a day, meals that were obviously made from left-overs and whatnot, but filling. A constant drip of water from the ceiling created a tiny pond in the middle of some appropriately placed stones at the corner, it wasn't enough for Fayette to drink and not go thirsty for a few days, but it was good enough for the occasional rat who would come drink, and perhaps bath before scurrying off.

Except for the second day, when the baker's wife visited, Fayette was left with little to do and plenty of wasteful time. The little entertainment he had found in trying to pass pebbles through the bars of the door was cut short by a guard telling him to cut it out, it disturbed the other prisoners.

At the fourth day, the same guard that stopped his pebble game came for him, tying his hands together and guiding him with what was left of the rope. Fayette payed little attention to the corridor and the rest of the other cells, being almost the same with his own cell.

"You're gonna be judged now kid. You're one lucky brat." The guard said, his voice hard and obviously used to dealing with guards and his own children at home.

"How so?" the boy asked, was it really so odd?

"Normally it would have taken twenty to thirty days to trial you. But you got it in three days."

"What are my charges?"

"Guilty for manslaughter." An exaggeration of course, but somehow expected.

"Who, uh, who made my trail--"

"Who sped up the procedure? A Maestro I think, Friedrich something or another."

"Friedrich Dryder?"

"I don't know, kid. We're not even supposed to be talking." The guard said in a finishing tone, leaving Fayette pondering on wether it had been his teacher or not.

*~*~*

"The young man by the name of Fayette will now be judged under the charge of assassination and manslaughter of Maestro of Law Newark. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

The court room was the extreme opposite of the old the catacombs they dared call a jail. The tall windows showered the room with light, making the polished woods shine and deepening the wrinkles of the old judges. The nine judges sat in tall cubicles in a semicircle, each of them wearing the red and white robes that distinguished them as honorable graduates from the Tower of Law in Altrossa.

All of them gave Fayette curious looks which ranged from surprise to rage as soon as he entered, and continued to do so as he stood behind a small podium, two guards at his sides, the one from before still holding his rope. Behind him, a few rows of people sat to heard the trial, among them was Master Friedrich, whom Fayette was sure was here to help him.

"He claims not guilty." One of the judges spoke in a loud voice, "please present forward the evidence."

Evidence? What evidence? Fayette turned to his teacher only to receive a concerned look. Turning back his attention, the boy noticed a man place a bloodied dagger on a table in front of the judges and himself.

"This was found near the alley were the body of Maestro Newark was found. Our Maestros of Medicine concluded that this was the weapon that killed Maestro Newark."

Fayette didn't doubt that statement, but that did not make him a murderer either.

"Boy, do you recognize this weapon?" a different judge spoke.

"No, sir."

The judges whispered among themselves, as well as the crowd behind him.

"Boy, what were you doing in that alley that night."

"I was walking home from the library, sir. I noticed something in the shadow and when I went to check--"

"I did not ask you that. Answer only what is questioned."

Taking a deep breath, Fayette calmed himself, he wasn't going to ruin his chances by calling the old man a senile bastard.

"Can anyone prove that that is your regular way home?"

"Yes, the baker's wife. I live with her."

The crowd started murmuring again, the boy turned and there she was, still holding on to that cheap handkerchief, shaking against her seat. A guard moved towards her to take her near the stand, but before he even touched her she stood, shaking her head and trembling like a leaf.

"That's a lie! I never took in this boy! He--he's lying!"

Fayette felt his face grow hot, she was calling him a liar? He who moved the flour sacks, attended the clients while she gossiped and compromised his study time because she was taking advantage of her position as his tenant? She was calling him a liar? Fayette felt his face grow hot before exploding.

"You backstabber! How can you say that after all the time I've helped you! No wonder your husband is always passed out or in the wineries!"

The boy continued to accuse and yell at her while the baker's wife played the innocent victim, crying crocodile tears into the hanky.

"Order! Order!"

One of the judges slammed his fist against the wooden cubicle, but the people were already shifting around, some trying to console the wife, the guards restraining the accused boy, other people were running out the hall to gossip the incident to the closest person, some were even yelling at each other about wether the boy should be executed immediately, or if the other person was as dishonest as the baker's wife, or his person just kicked me and that person is laughing at me.

The only one enjoying the chaos was one of the eldest judges, sitting comfortably in his cubicle, wondering when the boy's next trial would be.

*~*~*

"I'm sorry Fayette. With all the riot your case was postponed and this time there's little I can do."

Master Friedrich spoke gently to his student, the boy continued to hang his head in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Master." The older man sighed heavily.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have done something." He tried to pat the boy's head through the bars. "I'm really sorry, Fay."

Fayette allowed the man to ruffle his hair lightly. The same guard that had taken him to the courtroom pretended to not notice the old man pass his hand through the bars.

"I'll be leaving now, I'll try to visit as often as I can. Take care."

Master Friedrich stood from the stool he had been given. Giving the boy another glanced he stepped out, followed by the guard. Fayette continued to kneel at the door of his cell, his head still hanging and resting against the rusted bars. His first and probably only chance had been blown away, all because one woman had been too coward to admit a simple truth.

Sighing in defeat, Fayette stood and walked to one of the corners of his cell. A rat drinking from the little fountain scurryied of as he came closer, dropping himself down on the mossy floor, the stones behind him humid and even slightly comfortable, his soul and heart hurting more than his body.

The rat took a peek at the boy from his little whole in the wall, his tiny nose twitching and detecting a very faint smell of salt coming from the lad's eyes. Fayette couldn't help imitate the water dropping from the ceiling into the rocks, even if his tears didn't make a tiny pond to wash himself, it would cleanse his soul from dispair.

*~*~*

I'll go rewrite this now. Thanks for reading.

Shinn · 07-18-2007, 10:56 PM

Hi Kyrie.

You've done well, and it was very interesting read. Keep up the good work.

assassin · 07-19-2007, 12:10 AM

Yay, more to read

Noticed a spelling mistake here and there, but it's all good to me.
Absolutely love the description of the cell. Poor Fayette

Kyrie · 07-19-2007, 04:05 PM

Thank you both, Shinn and assassin, you've given me the impulse I needed to go on.

Shinn, I'm glad you enjoyed it (I love your name and sig by the way).
Assassin, I'm happy you're still with me, but the worst is yet to come for Fayette.