Originally Posted by jon_snow

I'm not sure about the title to my story yet, but so far it's called Darkenhall.

PROLOGUE

I'm dieing.

That single thought echoed through Siegfried's mind as he lay on the battlefield, hot blood--his or his enemies, he couldn't tell--soaking his armor and cloak. His vision blurred, the sights above him blending into a haze of red. He coughed and clutched his side, trying in vain to stem the blood. All around him he heard the cries of death, as skulls were split and lives ended.

I'm dieing. (Paragraph Break is all that is needed... this confuses and does not give a good flow...)
Siegfried had fought his hardest, cleaving foes in half like a butcher, but he was no match for seven soldiers at one time. He had taken down two, when they slashed him on the arm, and stabbed him in the chest with a large dirk. He had collasped, and they left him for dead.

(I want to say that it is odd anyone would use a dirk on a battle field unless they were in a tight close combat... perhaps grappling...)

Siegfried was never very religious. His parents never prayed and he never even stepped foot in a chapel until he became a knight (wrong word, as you make distinction that he is a barbarian and they were killing the knights... so he can't be a knight, perhaps a legionnaire , Hero? ). Warriors were expected to ask the Goddess of War for her favor before entering battle, but Siegfried never really believed he was talking to anyone. Now he wished he had.

"I wonder--what happens after..? Do I sleep forever? Go to the Holy Lands? The Dead Lands?"

Hours passed as the battle ended. Siegfried couldn't tell who had won, if it could be called winning. Bodies of the Sigurnian soldiers were piled atop the Kaliberans, barbarian and knight alike lying face-down in the mud.

"Hurry up and die, you fool."

The pain was unbearable.(I would like to feel his pain... you know... he;s dying and all I see is... he is in pain and he is dying... I don't feel him dying... you know... I don't sympathize with him) He thought about the life he wished to have had. He never married. He always wanted to marry Bridget. He loved her red hair, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. But Siegfried had always been the big, violent boy. A barbarian among barbarians. He'd never be a father now, even if he did survive. Bridget married Griswyck, an old badger of a man, and incredibly ugly. But he was strong. Strong enough to not die, stronger than Siegfried.

(No... Siegfried was the Big violent type... as such... the woman would not go for a bigger violent type... as Siegfried could compete against that... unless that is your plan and then you don't need to explain Sieg, you can just explain Griswyck)

Siegfried looked around and spotted the shattered piece of a spear. He reached over and grabbed it, clenching it as tightly as he could, which wasn't very tight at all.

(good... but it falls flat.. I need to feel this.. and "Which wasn't very tight at all" does not fill me...)

I'll end it now, he thought. Spare myself the pain. He directed the spear closer--closer--closer--

(I don't like this... it seems lame... like he is going to stab himself slowly... which... is not what you do when you want to "end the pain" you look at spear head... maybe admire it... then line it up and get ready for a single decisive thrust into... say the neck or eye socket...)

"Sieg! Sieg!"

A young soldier with a newly-grown beard and a nasty cut on his cheek ran up to Siegfried.

"You're alive!"

"Varin?" asked Siegfried weakly.

"Yes, it's me! Thank the Goddess, you're alive."

Siegfried coughed up blood. "Not for much longer."

Varin reached into his pocket and produced an old-looking crystal about the size of his hand and raised it into the sky. It began to glow brightly, as Varin waved it around.

"Help! Someone! We've got a man down!"

"Did we win?" croaked Siegfried.

Varin looked guilty. "We won the battle--but we lost the war."

Siegfried looked confused.

"Those craven Kalibers slaughtered Masso and his force up at Curagon, and Launus was captured and his warriors killed. The Kaliber general plowed his way through the countryside┘we've lost."

"But King Oliver?" (don't need the but)

"He's alive. For now. The dragons haven't reached Garrom yet."

As they were speaking, a rider approached, a litter dragging along behind the horse. He was clad in the fur cloaks all Sigurnians wore, with a green sash around his head, stemming the blood from a wound he had suffered. His hair was dark, and made darker by the stain of blood. He leapt down and came over to investigate.

"Stomach wound," he remarked causually, "not good. He could survive if we get 'im to the Herb Sisters in time. Help me get 'im on the stretcher."

Siegfried screamed as they moved him, the pain rupturing along his side. As they strapped him to the litter, his vision blurred and he coughed up some more blood.

He could feel every jolt and every bump as the two soldiers carried him along the side of the forest. He thought he could see creatures in the woods, watching him, waiting to devour him.

"Is...ther...aaahh.." Siegfried groaned at the effort to speak.

"Don't speak, man," barked the rider, "you'll die and spoil the meat." The rider turned, showing his teeth. His long, yellow teeth.

He had no strength to defend himself. The wolf-man pounced on Siegfried and bit his throat.

The teeth sank in and closed, hard.

Originally Posted by jon_snow

Originally Posted by jon_snow

The lance struck the knight’s head, shattering into bits and pieces and sending the unfortunate knight to the ground. The crowd erupted in applause as the winning knight proudly raised his fist in the air. "Knight" is used three times in two sentences. Try "unfortunate man" and "winner" for the second two uses.

“Yes, I’ll win and prove that we Slades are not to be trifled with,” Sir Bryant said, placing his foot in the stirrup and pulling himself onto his horse, a fierce, black destrier.
For some reason, this line of dialogue seems awkward. Try just, "Yes, they'll see that we Slades are not to trifled with," or something to that effect.

“At least I am a boy.”
Minor nitpick, italicizing "am" will add emphasis, and more clearly define the insult.

If he won, he would restore honor to House Slade.

“You’ll never have honor in your house, boy.”
Jayson never said the whole House honor thing out loud. From what I've read in the later conversation, this guy seems to be like a familar or a guiding spirit or something, so I can understand once that's all cleared up, but at this point in time, we don't know he's anything more than a normal person, and the response to someone else's thought really jarred me.

Which will be Bryant, thought Jayson.

“I doubt it, my friend.” The tall man spoke again.
Same here.

“You’re not even human!” “The first round.” the man said, fading away with the breeze.
Now it starts to make sense and I begin to realize that this guy's no ordinary person. But, like I said, at first it just looks like you forgot that thoughts can't be heard by other people. :p
He walked with a limp, holding a cane in his left hand. He had no right.
Try something along the lines of "He limped into the room, holding a cane in his left hand, for his right had been severed long ago." When I read that second sentence, I read the word "right" to mean that he had no right being in the room. Though that could have more to do with me being an idiot than with your actual story.
The brothers stopped and stared at the man with looks of hatred.
Again, this seems a little awkward to me. Maybe "The brothers stopped and regarded the man with [choose a word here...hatred works, but so could distaste, anger, etc.]"?
Jayson sat on a pile of hay, keeping his head down and running his fingers through his hair. The man reappeared next to him.
Try specifying which man. Say "The long-haired man from before" or something like that. Until Jayson said “You have no idea what it’s like having him as a father,” I thought you were referring to the father returning, and "reappeared" was just a figure of speech. But again, maybe it's more me being the simple-minded fool I am.

Suddenly, an agonizing shriek echoed through the stables. A horrible odor blasted through the room, and the shriek stopped.
"Blasted" isn't the word I'd use. I know you used it to describe it's sudden appearance, but if I were you I'd say "A horrible odor suddenly permeated the room" or something to that effect. It works as is, but--to me, at least--it seems to imply that it smelled horrible for a second and then was gone. Things that blast generally don't stick around for long.