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testinglimits · 09-09-2007, 12:27 PM

Talamar’s Bane

Chapter I – Shattered Beliefs - Draft Copy

Spring arrived in patches of forgotten greens contrasting well on a blanket of blazing white. I, in my fourth year of living in the mountains, was out collecting the necessary roots and shoots needed for today’s soup. My fingers, now numb from the still bitter winds that swept down from the mountain, fumbled constantly as I placed each frozen find into the pouch at my side. A surprise patch of blueberries I was working on held enough on their stems to possibly give Brother Julius a reason to make those wondrous scones he was so famous for. After a intense winter season, made much longer by the war to the south, such small delicacies of a sweetened scone would give me the fortitude to last another day in this unforgiving land. It was not my choice to live in the monastery but under my father’s orders that I stayed.

News on the progress of the war brought to us occasionally by traders as they made their way through our mountain passes; even those stout men have begum rare of late. The towns where I frequently, as a youth, sang, drank and chased women my childhood friends were now no more than burnt husks still smoking from grief. I found it hard to believe that so many innocent died due to the whim of one mad man but then such is the folly of mankind.

Lucian, a traveling healer, at times delivered letters from my mother. He, because of his craft and neutral ways, was permitted to cross the lines of power though there were rumours that soon even this will change. Lord Talamar’s strength was almost great enough overshadow any fear of reprisal of any of the seven religions that governed this Kingdom for so long. We were a nation that ran on beliefs, very ancient ones at that. While I was pondering all this I failed to notice an old man approach and it wasn’t until the tap of his staff off the hard granite reach my ears did I with a start turn to face him.

He was not a large man, quite fragile looking to be truthful. His wiry arms, bare to the cold wind, were criss-crossed with dozens of coloured lines I thought to be vivid scars. It took a moment for me to realise they were tattooed runes. I bowed my head as taught by the monks to show respect to an elder and then looked up once more. He stared at me with a slight smile on his lips. His eyes were a colour blue that could only be described in poetry and even though surrounded by wrinkled skin they held such youthfulness and power behind them. My attention drifted to his staff that I mistakenly thought to be a mere fallen branch. Again I could see that runes, etched in silver, ran along its length. I remembered my uncle Tam’s stories about wizards and magic but my father; a stout believer in the One True God, told me there were just childish tales of the poor and that I should be above their false beliefs. Still I remembered them, so great was the power behind uncle Tam’s words. Of course, this man who now waited before me, could be a local shaman or a medicine man from a back wood village, still his eyes told me otherwise.

‘Are you done with your judgment of my worth, boy? Have I passed yours tests or merely succeeded in wetting your appetite further?’ he said to me while making his way to a large boulder to sit down. I blushed in embarrassment, feeling stupid by my show of rudeness.

‘I apologise, elder, I meant no disrespect.’ I answered, bowing my head again.

‘You have a bad way of showing it then.’ He replied and then waved the discussion away as one would a pestering fly, ‘Tell me now, would you happen to have some tea on you in that satchel of yours? I haven’t had a good cup of tea in a long while and I know you Monks of the Order do like your tea.’ He smiled, disarming my still fumbling mind. I hastily rummaged through my pack and with a grin pulled out a small hand-painted tin. He was correct about the tea, it was the finest in the land, and many have traveled far and wide, over high mountains to acquire just a few pounds of our leaves.

I looked around for some wood to start a fire only to frown for upon this ridge none was to be found. Once more I found myself preparing to apologise, I was a poor representative of the Order for even the simplest duties required for guests I failed to provide. I turned to face him, prepared to accept the look of disproval given by elders to the youth of my day when I noticed a small blaze burning at his feet. Where he found the time to create such a wondrous blaze or indeed the wood to burn in it was beyond my understanding, again my eyes drifted to his staff that rested in the crook of his arm.

‘Should I perhaps make the tea for us also?’ he asked and again I blushed. This day was just getting worse by the minute. Quickly I pulled out my small pot that I rigged over the flames with a stick balanced on top to two stones. I added some snow gathered in a drift against the same boulder he sat on and then the tea leaves in my haste to get at least one thing done. Too late did my fingers close to stop the leaves as they fell into the melting snow. I had added them too soon and the tea would be ruined. Did the old man catch my mistake? I looked up with my eyes only, kept my head as downcast as possible. He either pretended not to notice my error or perhaps didn’t care. I believe it was the latter for something told me his eyes didn’t miss much, if anything at all.

We sat in our own silence with the wind and the crackling wood as just background noises until the water began to boil. From within his pack he pulled out two metal cups delicately detailed with carvings. I was hesitant in using such beautiful ware on just roadside tea. Not since the grand state diners at my father’s house had I seen such finery. He pushed them into my hands without a second thought and then dug back into his bag again. He gave a small cry of glee when he pulled out a small packaged wrapped in green leave. He looked over at me and smiled.

‘Honeyed cakes from Astair, a must with tea, an absolute must.’ So said he handed me a cake. I numbly took it. The honeyed cakes of Astair were famed and far beyond even my father’s wealth. Who was this man? How could he have such wealth and yet look so…well...beggarish?’ I took a tentative bite of the cake and disappeared into bliss. The rumours of this delicacy couldn’t even compare, they were a mere shadow, like describing a rose to a blind man, and words would fail its beauty.

‘…from your uncle Tam.’ His words pulled me out of the whirlpool of pleasure I spun comfortably in.

‘Huh…what did you say?’ It was then I noticed a rolled up parchment clutched in his hand.

‘Strange, Tam told me you were a bright lad, must have been just family pride talking. I said, here is a letter from your uncle Tam. It’s more of an introduction but I thought the tea would suffice…Well go ahead and read it, boy, the cake can wait.’ He went back to sipping his tea watching the mountains cut swaths into racing clouds. I pulled the ribbon’s bow and broke the seal of wax, unrolled it and began to read. The first page was, as he mentioned, an introduction. His name I found out then was Zil, which didn’t exactly inspire much of the grandeur I associated with wizards, I noticed him smile, could he read minds also then? It turned out that he was a wizard from the far southern reaches of Talam. I searched my mind for the lessons of geography my mother drilled me on and tried to place it on one of the huge maps my father had on the walls of his study. Try as I might, I could not. A chuckle from the Zil hinted that he was amused by my lack of worldly knowledge. I began to regret sharing my tea with him at that point.

The letter went on after to explain that my uncle had been ordered by my father to remove me from the monastery immediately as the battle was going badly. Uncle Tam started a resistance movement on the southern continent where the conqueroring Lord Talamar had yet attacked. I was to accompany Zil on my journey to him and follow his orders as if they were my very own father’s. I rolled up the letter and placed it in my satchel before turning back to Zil. He was just finishing his tea.

‘When do we leave,’ I asked him.

‘Immediately, boy, can’t you read?’ he told me. He stood up, grabbed his staff, tapped the ground twice and the mountains vanished. The first thing I noticed was the spray of salt water on my face and the insufferable heat, gone was the deep bone chill of the mountain air.

‘Oh, there you are, Gred, welcome to Talam.’ Uncle Tam voice appeared before me. My eyes were still swimming from the trip. He gave me a huge hug and then stepped back

‘Salisha,’ he indicated with his head to a small woman about my age standing to one side, ‘will take you to your room. You can drop off your belongings and change into a more suitable attire. Take a walk around, see the sights, Salisha can answer any question about it. I’ll send for you around diner time.’ I recognised my uncle’s voice before his face. Gone was the round face and mirth filled eyes. Now a warrior stood before me, dressed in battle-gear. Grabbing Zil’s arm they both walked off towards a stone structure. I stood staring after them still trying to adjust to this sudden change of beliefs.

‘Excuse me, sir, I will take you to your room now,’ a small voice spoke up from behind me. Numbly I followed in her wake. She pattered on about the castle and country but my mind was still lost in this new turmoil. Perhaps my uncle would clear the webs that held it but it would have to wait. Until then, I just would have to place one foot in front of the other and hope no pitfalls swallow me whole.

thamior · 09-10-2007, 07:31 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by testinglimits

Talamar’s Bane

Chapter I – Shattered Beliefs - Draft Copy

Spring arrived in patches of forgotten greens contrasting well on a blanket of blazing white I like the image, but I feel like you could do better in conveying it, perhaps, "Spring arrived, beginning to show the forgotten greens of the grass, which stood in contrast the blanket of blazing white". I, in my fourth year of living in the mountains, was out collecting the necessary roots and shoots needed for today’s You start in past tense, but today feels like present tense, perhaps "the day's" soup. My fingers, now numb from the still bitter winds that swept down from the mountain, fumbled constantly as I placed each frozen find into the pouch at my side. A surprise patch of blueberries I was working on held enough on their stems to possibly give Brother Julius a reason to make those wondrous scones he was so famous for. After an intense winter season, made much longer by the war to the south, such the small delicacies of a sweetened scone would give me the fortitude to last another day in this the unforgiving land. It was not my choice to live in the monastery but under my father’s orders that I stayed. Perhaps some more explanation about that, and how he feels about it? Is he close to this father? Does he agree with the orders...?

News on the progress of the war brought to us occasionally by traders as they made their way through our mountain passes; even those stout men have begunm had become rare of late. The towns where I frequently, as a youth, sang, drank and chased women my childhood friends were now no more than burnt husks still smoking from grief Confusing, I get the general gist, but I think your phrasing lacked in this sentence, perhaps relook at it?. I found it hard to believe that so many innocent died due to the whim of one mad man but then such is the folly of mankind.

Lucian, a traveling healer, at times delivered letters from my mother. He, because of his craft and neutral ways, was permitted to cross the lines of power though there were rumours that soon even this will change Another choice of present tense, I'm bewildered as to which you want to use.. Lord Talamar’s strength was almost great enough overshadow any fear of reprisal of any of the seven religions that governed this Kingdom for so long And Lord Talamar is the mad man? Anything else about him we might want to know?. We were a nation that ran on beliefs, very ancient ones at that. While I was pondering all this I failed to notice an old man approach and it wasn’t until the tap of his staff off the hard granite reached my ears did I, with a start, turn to face him.

He was not a large man, quite fragile looking to be truthful. His wiry arms, bare to the cold wind, were criss-crossed with dozens of coloured lines I thought to be vivid scars. It took a moment for me to realize they were tattooed runes. I bowed my head as taught by the monks to show respect to an elder and then looked up once more. He stared at me with a slight smile on his lips. His eyes were a colour blue that could only be described in poetry and even though surrounded by wrinkled skin they held such youthfulness and power behind them To add to the effect, maybe you could phrase this line more like poetry?. My attention drifted to his staff that I mistakenly thought to be a mere fallen branch. Again I could see that runes, etched in silver, ran along its length. I remembered my uncle Tam’s stories about wizards and magic but my father; a stout believer in the One True God, told me there were just childish tales of the poor and that I should be above their false beliefs Some Ill sentiment against the father again?. Still I remembered them I'm guessing you mean wizards, however that is not clear from how you phrase it as they haven't been mentioned in the last sentence, so great was the power behind uncle Tam’s words. Of course, this man who now waited before me, could be a local shaman or a medicine man from a back wood village, still his eyes told me otherwise Nice transition back, though it feels a little rough.

‘Are you done with your judgment of my worth, boy? Have I passed yours tests or merely succeeded in wetting your appetite further?’ he said to me while making his way to a large boulder to sit down. I blushed in embarrassment, feeling stupid by my show of rudeness.

‘I apologize, elder, I meant no disrespect.’ I answered, bowing my head again.

‘You have a bad way of showing it then.’ He replied and then waved the discussion away as one would a pestering fly Nice portrayal of character, for the wizard, ‘Tell me now, would you happen to have some tea on you in that satchel of yours? I haven’t had a good cup of tea in a long while and I know you Monks of the Order do like your tea.’ He smiled, disarming my still fumbling mind. I hastily rummaged through my pack and with a grin pulled out a small hand-painted tin. He was correct about the tea, it was the finest in the land, and many have traveled far and wide, over high mountains to acquire just a few pounds of our leaves.

I looked around for some wood to start a fire only to frown for upon this ridge none was to be found. Once more I found myself preparing to apologize, I was a poor representative of the Order for even the simplest duties required for guests I failed to provide Another nice portrayal of character, this time for the boy. You've kept it consistent so far. I turned to face him, prepared to accept the look of disapproval given by elders to the youth of my day when I noticed a small blaze burning at his feet. Where he found the time to create such a wondrous blaze or indeed the wood to burn in it was beyond my understanding, again my eyes drifted to his staff that rested in the crook of his arm.

‘Should I perhaps make the tea for us also?’ he asked and again I blushed. This day was just getting worse by the minute. Quickly I pulled out my small pot that I rigged over the flames with a stick balanced on top to two stones. I added some snow gathered in a drift against the same boulder he sat on awkward, try "I added some snow gathered from a drift that lied against the same boulder that the man sat on" and then the tea leaves in my haste to get at least one thing done Somehow you need to put more emphasis here, so that the next part comes out more. Too late did my fingers close to stop the leaves as they fell into the melting snow. I had added them too soon and the tea would be ruined. Did the old man catch my mistake? I looked up with my eyes only, kept my head as downcast as possible. He either pretended not to notice my error or perhaps didn’t care. I believe it was the latter for something told me his eyes didn’t miss much, if anything at all.

We sat in our own silence with the wind and the crackling wood as just background noises until the water began to boil. From within his pack he pulled out two metal cups delicately detailed with carvings. I was hesitant in using such beautiful ware on just roadside tea You said it was grand tea, now it's roadside tea? Perhaps he means because it's ruined tea?. Not since the grand state diners at my father’s house had I seen such finery So his father is someone important, but we still know nothing about him?. He pushed them into my hands without a second thought and then dug back into his bag again. He gave a small cry of glee seems out of character for the old man when he pulled out a small packaged wrapped in green leave leaf. He looked over at me and smiled.

‘Honeyed cakes from Astair, a must with tea, an absolute must.’ So said he handed me a cake awkward phrasing. I numbly took it. The honeyed cakes of Astair were famed and far beyond even my father’s wealth A mere cake is? Perhaps there's some info on where it comes from? Why is it so valued, beyond simple flavoring. Who was this man? How could he have such wealth and yet look so…well...beggarish?’ I took a tentative bite of the cake and disappeared into bliss. The rumours of this delicacy couldn’t even compare, they were a mere shadow, like describing a rose to a blind man, and words would fail its beauty Nice.

‘…from your uncle Tam.’ His words pulled me out of the whirlpool of pleasure I spun comfortably in.

‘Huh…what did you say?’ It was then I noticed a rolled up parchment clutched in his hand.

‘Strange, Tam told me you were a bright lad, must have been just family pride talking. I said, here is a letter from your uncle Tam. It’s more of an introduction but I thought the tea would suffice…Well go ahead and read it, boy, the cake can wait.’ He went back to sipping his tea watching the mountains cut swaths into racing clouds. I pulled the ribbon’s bow and broke the seal of wax, unrolled it and began to read. The first page was, as he mentioned, an introduction. His name I found out then was Zil, which didn’t exactly inspire much of the grandeur I associated with wizards, I noticed him smile, could he read minds also then? It turned out that he was a wizard from the far southern reaches of Talam Does this have a connection with Lord Talamar? If so, it might be good to explain, otherwise, the names are too close for comfort. People will want to make inferences. I searched my mind for the lessons of geography my mother drilled me on and tried to place it on one of the huge maps my father had on the walls of his study. Try as I might, I could not. A chuckle from the Zil hinted that he was amused by my lack of worldly knowledge. I began to regret sharing my tea with him at that point Zil, apparently a mind reader, does not react to that thought?.

The letter went on after to explain that my uncle had been ordered by my father to remove me from the monastery immediately as the battle was going badly. Uncle Tam started a resistance movement on the southern continent where the conquering Lord Talamar had yet attacked. I was to accompany Zil on my journey to him and follow his orders as if they were my very own father’s. I rolled up the letter and placed it in my satchel before turning back to Zil. He was just finishing his tea.

‘When do we leave,’ I asked him.

‘Immediately, boy, can’t you read?’ he told me. He stood up, grabbed his staff, tapped the ground twice and the mountains vanished. The first thing I noticed was the spray of salt water on my face and the insufferable heat, gone was the deep bone chill of the mountain air.

‘Oh, there you are, Gred, welcome to Talam.’ Uncle Tam voice appeared before me. My eyes were still swimming from the trip. He gave me a huge hug and then stepped back

‘Salisha,’ he indicated with his head to a small woman about my age standing to one side, ‘will take you to your room. You can drop off your belongings and change into a more suitable attire. Take a walk around, see the sights, Salisha can answer any question about it. I’ll send for you around diner time.’ I recognized my uncle’s voice before his face. Gone was the round face and mirth filled eyes. Now a warrior stood before me, dressed in battle-gear. Grabbing Zil’s arm they both walked off towards a stone structure. I stood staring after them still trying to adjust to this sudden change of beliefs.

‘Excuse me, sir, I will take you to your room now,’ a small voice spoke up from behind me. Numbly I followed in her wake. She pattered on about the castle and country but my mind was still lost in this new turmoil. Perhaps my uncle would clear the webs that held it but it would have to wait. Until then, I just would have to place one foot in front of the other and hope no pitfalls swallow me whole.

Overall, not bad. Interesting, but there were some phrasing and syntax issues which threw me off.

testinglimits · 09-10-2007, 06:14 PM

hello and thank you for the read and suggestions

I suppose before we start I should point out that the corrections made to words like 'realise - realize' are not needed as they are both correct in spelling. The American Dictionary would use the 'z' where the English dictionary would use an 's', there is also an apparent difference in words with 'or' 'our' ie, honor - american honour - english. I am saying this as it is how I was taught and how I write.

A few things I agree with here, some not, but then such is the task of writers and critiques, a disagreement of understandings.

The 'springs arrival, the beginning...' I didn't want to use as it shows a double use of a inital motion verb, both showing the same movement so a bit redundant.

like I mentioned I agree with some, so I'll just pick out the ones that stuck and explain them.

Old men, do shout with glee, old women too, try going to a bingo hall, its nuts there.

The honeyed cakes, I agree I should have explained why, still when you picture the price of Saffron, you can see how the price might be high, but as I said, I agree, I should mention why the price or they are prised so highly.

Zil was only suspected of mind reading, I always found my granddad seemed to know what I was thinking half the time, no doubt it was because of his life experiences.

As I mentioned the old man was already sitting on the boulder it would again be redundant to mention it again or so my thinking.

Still it does need a tightening up so I will definitely put it through the creative washing machine and see what happens.

Thanks again for the read and comments and the helpful suggestions and the time involved

TL

thamior · 09-10-2007, 06:29 PM

I figured those might be the British spellings, I knew of the "our" endings, and actually, prefer them myself, but I tend to use the American way just to avoid correction. But I corrected the "s" with "z" just because I wasn't sure.