Thread: Share your excerpts

On the off chance anyone wants to post any excerpt of their story for others to read. Mods feel free to close if it's just going to clutter the place! guess I'll start then...

This is my prologue, or intro, if you like to Dark, Dark Moon

He took a deep breath in and let the crispy air chill his lungs, an attempt to wake himself up and focus. The air nipped around his cheeks as soon as he pulled the scarf from his face. It was an involuntary reaction, as though he could somehow hear clearer. However, the only sound was the simple squeaking from his oil lamp, which tweaked occasionally thanks to his old, trembling hands.

The grounds of Amber Manor were almost majestic under the moonlight. Its subtle glow cast a glittery blanket over the frosted grass. In heaps, dotted around the grass lay the curled up leaves all stuck together like iced pyramids. Note the ‘almost’: if he knew nothing about the history of the manor, ignorance would indeed have been bliss. But to be ignorant in these parts, was to be cursed.

This time, the noise was distinct. It was a strange gurgle, hiding behind the hedgerow. His footsteps crunched on the grass as he made his way over. Again, a watery choke. Seemingly without reason, the anxiety left him. He just knew that he didn’t need to tread carefully from now on. He walked a little faster, almost jogging to the spot, trying to catch the last echoes of the fading sound. Between the clouds of breath and swinging beacons of light, he strained to see ahead.

I guess I'll share

This is the beginning of my second chapter. Not sure yet what my novel is going to be called, but here it is:

Chapter Two

Chimera Making in the Dark

The man with the dark skin sat in a corner of the Iron Boar Inn, were no one could see him. Or to be more specific; were no one wanted to see him.

There, he sat nursing an overly large mug of steaming herbs; a blend of his own tea that he had created many years before venturing across the Black Seas and into Monis Valtere; many years back, when the name Narsh Quillen would have struck fear in any mans heart. King or serf, it did not matter, the quietest whisper of his name would bring a man to his knees.

But now, sitting quietly by himself, in the shadows of a corner, he was nothing.

No one in the inn knew who he was, which, was the way he liked it. In Orinthe he was no more than an outcast in a sea of faces. But, unlike every other fish with a face, he was out of the water. But that was alright with Narsh Quillen, it was better than being feared by everyone he walked amongst, back when he roamed the streets of Nuren.

He mulled a little longer over his mug, then stood -- still in the shadows -- and slid his mug into the magical lining on the inside of his cloak. Narsh had always been paranoid; living by the rule of thumb that if someone offered you a drink, decline as graciously as possible. You never knew if they had drugged it without you looking. And that, had been what had kept him alive longer than almost any other person he had fought side-by-side with, in the long years that he had been alive.

Tossing a silver coin onto the table, he stepped from the enveloping shadows and into the sickly dull light of the room. Oil lamps lined the walls, giving an eerie feeling to the room that he surprisingly felt comfortable with. As well as the fireplace and the large stove that sat in the middle of the tables and chairs loitered about the dining room, the lamps were the only source of light.

He made his way through the sitting crowd, dodging a few drunkards who stepped out in front of him asking for coin. Ignoring them, he made his way to the door, all the while conscious of the two figures who had, in the middle of his exiting the Iron Boar Inn, gotten up from were they sat and began to follow him.

Quillen knew who they were.

They were Master Rothfuss’s hired men. Cutthroats, whom Narsh guessed, were from the Mercenaries Guild – a cheap service that Rothfuss was fond of hiring from within. The Master of the Order was no fool. Sending his own men – good men, whom were to precious to send against him – would surely be a foolish thing to do. So instead of wasting his men, he hired men and women whom were not afraid to lay their lives on the line for a little bit of hard coin and a reputation. After all, who would want to mess with someone whom had killed a member Illuminati?

The two figures -- one a female and the other a very ugly, overweight Drogen -- both wore the customary teal and gold colored robes of the king, with a small, golden dagger pinned to the breast of their outfits. He had been right: they were indeed from the Mercenaries Guild.

Narsh shrugged it off. It wasn’t a big deal. These two were the newest group sent to him within the last two days, and if they were as clumsy as their other guild members had been, they wouldn’t last long enough to pull their steel against him.

Time to have some fun. Narsh thought, stopping long enough at the door of the Iron Boar Inn’s door to look as if he were hesitating; unsure of were to go once he was out and in the streets. Then, as casually and coolly as possible, he reached his left hand up and shook the rope, ringing the bell with the plaque just above it that read: “Ring if the service was good.”

He smiled to himself as he disappeared out the door and into the humid summer’s night. He crossed the street. And then, his nose began to tingle, as the faintest trace of rain raped his nostrils. Closing his eyes, Narsh basked in the smell. It brought back such fond memories.

The two cutthroats, who had just stepped out into the street, hesitated as they watched the black man as he stood on the other side of the road. After a few moments of waiting and watching, the woman turned to her counterpart and nodded. Quietly she began to cross the street, the heavyset Drogen following behind.

She stepped cautiously up to the side of the man, just as her partner did the same. She turned her head and noticed his eyes were closed. It was almost as if he was praying to the Seven Gods. Either that or he was so nervous that he was about to piss himself.

The women discarded the last idea, after studying the man’s expression. His face was young, almost as taught and shiny as a young man’s would be fresh out of pubescent youth. Except, there were small crowfeet wrinkles around his eyes, and the beard stubble on his chin was beginning to come in grey in a few patches.

A sudden emotion of despair and doom ripped through her body and began to settle in the pit of her stomach like a gigantic rock that weighed too much for her petite body to carry. As she doubled over in nausea and fear, she caught a glimpse at Umri, her Dogren Partner.

The saggy flesh around his eyes seemed to have sagged even further down than they had been moments before. His ears covered his face, and his tongue hung to the side of his mouth. Umri’s arms fell to their sides as he fell to his knees. As if he were being moved by an invicible hand, the Dogren laid on his side in the middle of the sidewalk, curled in a ball. Eyes closed.

Andathrie, his human female partner however, still stood next to Narsh. Body slack; her arms hung at her sides as well. She forced herself to opened her eyes barely enough to see through a small slit, and saw an orange light, enveloping the figure next to her.

It’s him who is doing it! Andathrie screamed mentally to herself. They really do exist! How foolish of me to not heed the master's warnings! It was at that moment in time, while standing on the sidewalk, on the side of the street, just across from the Iron Boar Inn, that she knew she had made the worst mistake of her career. And it was going to cost her more than any amount of gold in all the known world.

It was going to cost Andathrie her life.


~Rodney

Hey, this is kinda fun. I enjoyed both excerpts, so I'll play along too.

Here's the opening of my novel, Kith and Kin.

-----

Fire. Raging hot, blinding, and all around him. Doran doubled over, coughing as though his lungs could expel the scorching smoke and find a clear breath. Through his choking, he thought he heard something and he slapped both hands over his mouth to stop his coughing enough to listen. A young girl’s scream rang in his ears for the briefest of seconds over the roaring of the flames.

Merciful ghosts, his little sister.

“Su!” he cried, stumbling across the room to her door. “Su, can you hear me?”

“Doran! Get me out of here, it’s so hot.”

His hand found the doorknob and searing pain shot up his arm and dropped him to his knees. He didn’t let go. He twisted the knob and pushed with all his might against the door, but it didn’t budge.

“Su,” he called. “Su, try to pull open the door.”

Another scream.

“I can’t,” she sobbed. “It burns. Please get me out.”

“I’m coming, Su, I’m coming.”

Doran pushed and kicked and swore at the swollen door, imploring it to open. His hands felt like they were melting each time he beat against the wood.

“Please,” he cried. “Please open.”

The door didn’t obey, and as he paused to look around for something to use as a lever, he realized it had gotten quiet on the other side of the door.

“Su?” he called, but no reply came. She couldn’t have heard him. “Su, answer me!”

Still nothing.

“Su!” Doran beat his fist against the door and felt blood squirt from his blackened skin. He felt dizzy, defeated. His whole body was trembling. He wanted to let the flames take him. But instead, he darted across the room and dove out the open window.

Heh. I think my first draft will never be viewed by others. Muahahahaha! But actually, today the quality was much better than yesterdays. I think. Or at least, I hope so.

I don't usually show a first draft without some revision, but here's a brief snip-it from a flashback.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
He sat there with her underneath the dark blanket of the sky and felt warm. His tux was drenched, but with her beside him he didn’t feel so cold. Sure, he was on the verge of hypothermia and shivering, but at least he wasn’t shivering alone. And also, the sky had lent him a blanket.

They sat together in the moonlight beside the fountain he had fallen into. They had been laughing about what had happened. Laughing about how he had tried to dance on the edge to prove his point that it didn’t matter how many shots of liquor he had, he could do anything just fine. Giggling because she had torn a two hundred dollar pure white satin dress at the hip, but it was okay because she had borrowed it. And what did it really matter? The banquet was already over.

So they had laughed together beside the fountain until they saw the pale reflection of the world around them. And that’s when the sky wrapped its self around them and gave them a front row seat to the show. It ushered them in with the Moon’s light and seated them with the fine twinkle of the Pleiades. That’s when their laughter stopped and their wonder began.

The pair did not say a word to each other as the curtain was drawn to the midnight show of the Heavens. Even though he was in a wet black tuxedo and she was in a ripped white evening gown, they both watched the stars like two dignified members of a high-class ballet. As the curtain was drawn and the stars twirled on-stage, they kept their silence and their manners, just like the rest of the star-crossed audience; for to break the silence of any show is to break the illusion that everything in the universe, if only for a brief period of time, is perfectly alright. And no one wants to break something that beautiful and unreal because underneath the wonderment and hope of stars is always the dark, emptiness of night.

You know, Katastrof, I really wish you'd post more of your work. Really.

Okay... FINE! I will share. But only because others are being brave and sharing.


-----

Aisha tried to suppress the coil of nausea she felt in her throat, turning her gaze to the ground. Though the small fire in the ouled tent radiated impressive heat, she felt her heart shiver in her chest. She hated the ceremony of it, the proposal of something so revolting that it required the dressings of nobility. Bound on her knees before him she was to appear demure and wanting, though not eager. She was not a common whore after all. Obediently, she raised her eyes to meet his though the contact gave her no pleasure.

“Do not fear me bokkie,” he said. The bulbous body of the man glowed pale in the firelight and the jewels that studded his rings glinted in dazzling shades of blue and red. Aisha was no fool and she knew that her Master waited eagerly outside, most likely counting the kaps he had received from the Trader.

“My name is Seghen and I will not harm you,” he continued in a soft voice.

“I do not fear you,” she said, flexing the muscles in her jaw. This was no lie for she had no fear of Seghen but rather fear of the life she could never escape. She slowly rocked her weight back upon her heels and rose to her feet. The few feet that separated them seemed vast and she focused on the soft furs beneath her feet as she approached him. Sinking to her knees before him, she pressed the tops of her knees against his feet and leaned forward, resting her forehead on her folded hands. Her exposed bottom felt the heat of the fire and she shuddered as she felt his hand slide under the curve of her ass.

“You are a very beautiful bokkie,” he said. His dialect and manner of speech was strange though he retained the common tongue. She felt his hand upon the back of her head and she leaned back into her kneeling position looking up into his dark pitted eyes. He struggled to kneel down in front of her, his weight making the transition clumsy and difficult. She closed her eyes. She could feel his hands on her breasts, tweaking the gold rings in her nipples. He traced the thin gold chain to the ring in her navel and for a moment held the gold “y” taut. Pressure bloomed in her nipples and navel but she knew he would not hurt her. It was all part of the process, part of the dance between a charmouta and her guest.

“Might I confess something to you?” he said. She opened one eye and raised a brow in question. It was a stumble, a step out of normal process.

“If you feel it necessary,” she replied. Seghen smiled, a gold cap winking at her in the firelight.

“I did not come here to be seduced or to seduce you.”

Aisha opened the other eye and blinked. She did not believe him but perhaps this was some game that he hoped to have her entertain.

----

whoo hoo!

All righty then, I'll bite. Here's the introduction to my NaNo novel Milk:

Tim Searcy was in his customary post-work position, lying flat on his back with his cap pulled forward over his eyes, hypnotized into alphastate by the 3V news. It took a full minute for the dent in the overstuffed couch cushions to flatten out after he was suddenly awakened by the doorbell and telephone chiming in unison.

Some people wake up immediately, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, ready for whatever happens. Tim was not one of those people.

"Huh? Wuzzat?" He mumbled, rubbing sleep dirt from his eyes. He tottered into the kitchen and thumbed the button that allowed entry into the building, heading over to the window to see who it was and picking up the portable phone.

"Whozat?" He demanded of the caller. A computerized message began to inform him of his right to be subjugated under the thumb of another credit repair company and he hung up, reaching the small kitchen window. A small brown truck was parked in front of the door, and presently he heard footsteps outside his door.

He opened the door a crack and eyed the umber-clad man suspiciously.

"Mr. Searcy?" Asked that worthy, seeing him peering out. "Timothy Searcy?"

"I might be," he admitted. "Who wants to know?"

"Package for you, sir," said the delivery man, ignoring the qualifier. He held out a large manila envelope and an electronic clipboard. "Please sign here."

Tim scrawled his name in the tiny window and accepted the package. It was hard to make out the sender's name because the overhead light had gone out again. The brown man trotted away, down the stairs, and Tim returned to the safety of his undersized rooms, locking the door behind him.

He pulled his pocketknife out and slit the top of the envelope, spilling the contents out on an end table.

The forms to renew his health insurance fluttered to the table's surface, atop a pile of old 3V Guides. The origin was easy to determine because of the rather large company logo on the back of each page. He looked in vain for the little vial to put his urine in. "No pee test?" He asked of the air. "Weird."

He snatched up the documents and returned to the couch for an examination of the contents.

It turned out that the company was asking him to make an appearance at a doctor's office, there to undergo an examination. The results of that examination were to determine which insured pool he was to be a part of. The doctor would also scan his genome at that point, in order to make no mistake about his physical condition. That information would then be made a part of his permanent record.

"Nice," Tim said. "So they will know exactly what's wrong, and how to fix it.And it costs the same money."

To say that Tim was not overburdened with native intelligence would not be understating the case. But his concern was the cost and the inconvenience of shopping for another insurance plan and wading through mountains of hard-to-read brochures and documents. Those concerns were addressed, and Tim was quite unaware of any other issues.

He set aside the papers that he needed to take to the doctor's office, wrote the date and time of his appointment down on the calendar inside the front door, and repaired to the kitchen to hunt down a frozen dinner.

Selecting something vaguely Italian, he popped that into the mike and poured himself a cup of the coffee he'd made upon arriving home from work an hour ago. Stirring the sugar in with his forefinger, he returned to the couch, where the news was starting anew.

"Good evening," said the talking head on the screen, a not-entirely-unattractive-older-blonde woman wearing a business jacket and frilly white blouse. "Welcome to the NBS evening news. Our top story tonight is about the insidious machinations of local pol Abel Kennedy, indicted today for fifty-six counts of perjury during the recent fraud trials of Alderman Dink Weaver.

"Kennedy refused to be interviewed, but his people issued a statement, which says, in part: Abel Kennedy is and has been honorable in the discharge of his sworn duties as a public official. The untruths he allegedly uttered while under oath will be proven to be factual and Mr. Kennedy will be exonerated by a jury of his peers."

The holographic image of the newswoman was replaced by a man with short gray hair, horned-rim glasses, and a prominently aquiline nose above an equally prominent adam's apple, clad in prison grays and looking at the concrete floor of the County Jail. The worm's-eye view perspective of the camera made him look sinister and predatory.

"Kennedy is the six-term Senator who became famous for challenging fellow Senator Lloyd Berquist to a duel during a debate about a particularly ugly piece of pork that Kennedy was seeking to tack on to an environmental bill. When Berquist objected to the rider, which sought to raze a large section of swampland for the use of developmental contractors, Kennedy was heard to question Berquist's parentage and the two nearly came to blows on the Senate floor.

"As the bill was about preservation of habitat for the endangered Cyan-spotted Titmouse, a marsh-dwelling creature that lived in the very area that Kennedy proposed to pave over, Berquist's objection was understandable."

The camera pulled back slowly and showed images of willow trees overlooking a brownish creek. "The titmouse is still alive today, thanks to Senator Berquist, who has this to say about his colleague..."

A man with wavy brown hair, graying at the temples, and a square jaw set off nicely by a well-manicured professorial goatee, standing in front of the state assembly building, said "I look forward to visiting Mr. Kennedy in his new home, and hope he likes the food."

The blonde woman reappeared. "Next up, the capsule weather. But before that, a few words from our sponsors."

Tim got up to fetch his dinner as the first of nine consecutive commercials began. The spot was loud enough to be heard in the next county, and he hummed along with the cheery jingle as he sprinkled parmesan cheese on his mostaccioli and meatballs. The cat was begging to be fed, and he opened a can of extruded meatlike product for him.

"There ya go, Bubba," he said, placing the can on the grimy floor. "Enjoy."

The animal began noisily gobbling. He was an oversized ginger tabby with extra toes that made his feet look like catcher's mitts. Tim found him in the parking garage at work one afternoon and brought him home. At that time, he was a tiny orange kitten. Now he was halfway to becoming a tiger. His head was the size of a grapefruit.

Back on the couch, Tim chomped as the series of commercials ended. After the one-minute weather segment, the male anchor introduced an item about yet another politican indicted for perjury and blatant misapprehension of his duties.

"Goddamn election year," Tim grumbled.

all looking like good novels in the making!

Originally Posted by Tiamat10

You know, Katastrof, I really wish you'd post more of your work. Really.

Thanks Tiamat, I would post more, but some of it is too rough to be viewed or just not finished. I have a real problem with finishing stories because I run out of steam to fast.

I really think I need to outline...

Plus I like having the time to read the stories in the Workshop! (Especially yours, Rage's, Siegfried's, Adrian's, Gunslinger's, Non Serviam's, Chris Miller's DeVorn's, lilacs', Joe's, eggo's, Sam's when I'm feeling tough, and I haven't read any from modery yet but I'm sure they're good by the sounds of his novel.)

*smiles* thanks, Katastrof. I don't post in the workshop often as I attend an offline workshop every week and have little need for additional criticism. Typically I only post something here if someone has strongly objected to one of my own criticisms, in order to give them an opportunity to savage the piece or to understand that I know what I'm talking about.
It sounds like you start stories before they're fully gestated and might be in need of some outlining (as you say) or storyboarding, which is my preferred route. The chief advantage to me of storyboarding is that you're using scenes from the actual writing, building them up more and more as you go along with an eye toward the scenes eventually fitting together.
It also sounds like you're a little unconfident, and I see no reason for that, based on the snippet above and the content of some of your posts. The workshop here is a good place to get some constructive crit and the persons you mentioned would be, I imagine, more than happy to share their processes and insights with you through the medium of sharing the work.
Everyone's work here looks excellent so far.

Very rough, choppy open to Covert Military Operations.


"Mmm." The caccadas were singing outside. Bein-Long pushed the scratchy hay back into the seeping matteress, as the cold seeped through her tattered blanked. Her greasy hair stuck to her head as she rolled out of bed, making the others toss in there sleep, releasing the smell of old piss. The sun wasn't up yet, but the lamp down the hallway tickled the shadow in the room. She checked to make sure that her parents were still snoring. Her older brother was still muttering about the girl he wanted to marry. As her sisters turned in their matteresses, the smell of mildew infested her nostrils, making her wish for bleach. Squinting, she looked across the room for her destination; dirty blue shutters.


Stepping around her sisters on the floor, she made her way to the dresser, her nightshirt painfully thin in the cold weather. Slowly, she opened her dresser drawer, scraping the wood, and snapping the knob as she jerked around to see if she had woken anyone up.


Quickly she put on a brown pair of pants with multiple grey patches, and a brown shirt that had an emmense number of runs in it. Looking for her grey coat in the bottom drawer, she was attacked by the smell of mouse droppings. As she shook out the coat, her wood carving of a crow fell out of a pocket. Bouncin on the floor, she picked it up and stuffed it in her trouser pocket. She hears a patter of feet and then a distinctly unwashed smell. Turning slowly, making sure not to let the floor boards groan, Bein-Long turned.


"What are you doing Sissy?" Rubbing sleep from her eyes gave her face cleen spots.And holding a hard worn teddy bear that had once been Bein-Long's, her five-year old sister looked like the epitome of innocene.


"Go back to sleep Tilly." Looking at a tare in Tilly's dress, she groaned inwardly, mother would raise a racket.


"Bein, I had a bad dream. There was a big group of cats, they were the size of bid dogs, and they were out to get you! They kept chasing you in a forest of white trees with silver leaves. No matter how fast you ran, they kept getting faster and faster. And... and..." Tilly started to cry. "Then you were in this room, and these men tied you up, and they kept cutting you with knives, and hitting you, and you kept screaming."


"Shh.. It's ok Tilly. There is no such thing as a white tree." She brushed her fingers through Tilly's hair. "Tell you what, you can sleep in my bed if you want."


Her little eyes lit up. "Really?"


Bein-Long nodded, and Tilly ran to her bed, they curled up, asleep amasingly quickly. Putting on her coat and rolling up her pants legs, she checked to make sure that Tilly hadn't woken anyone else up.


The shutters groaned loudly when she opened them, causeing her heart to race, so she jumped out quicker that she normally did and scraped her knee on the frame, making her pull out two or three splinter. Looking up to the scattered clouds in the sky, she noticed the the sun was amost set. Feeling invigorated by the light wind, Bein-Long slammed the shutters shut and raced toward the cliff.


Scrambeling up the rocks, she scraped her other knee, and laughed at her clumbsyness, glad that she had rolled up her trousers. The crisp air was starting to soften, but it prickled the hair on her legs. The rocks had an Earthy, mossy, grass-like smell, that made her feel like she belongs on this cliff like jutting of sharp black stone. Yawning, she notices that the air tasted sweet, first pollen of the year in the air. Reaching the top of the out crop, she looked down at the more or less sheer two hundred yard drop.


Laying back, a pebble stabbed her in the shoulder, and she pushed it away unthinking. The rocks were colder than the air, but they where absorbing her body heat much more quickly. Using a trick she learned from her oldest brother, she streched each muscle group one after another, slowly warming her body.


Slowly, the sun clawed above the horison, staining the clouds pink and red. Noticing that something was playing with her hair, dangleing off her favorite flat rock, she rolls over to find a dirty, once golden kitten, small and malnurished. Snapping a string off her coat, and using a little scrap of fabric in her pocket, Bein-Long made a little ball of fabric that the kitty chased around.


"Bein-Long Kim, breakfast!" Her mother called out in an exaserbated fashion. Pausing to unroll her trousers, she wonders if father will be able to find another job soon, then she sprints for the house, and the cold begins to fall off. Pushing the knob up with her weight, she pulls the front door open, wishing that she knew how to fix it.

I will ^.^


Chapter 3


A low growl woke the pair and they were face to face with the nine inch canines of a full grown sabercat. Marci let out a faint whine of terror and the sabercat growled again. It was obviously in no mood to deal with children trespassing on its territory. Marci got behind Magnus who stood up. “We apologize,” he started, bowing lowly but keeping eye contact with the fierce predator. “We were being chased by...” The cat let out a snarl, in no mood to speak or listen to stories. It just wanted the children gone. Marci cringed, but Magnus seemed unaffected though he could feel his pulse beginning to rise and his palms beginning to perspire.


Magnus was at an impasse. The sabercat was blocking his way and he couldn't negotiate with it to let him pass. He gulped and a bead of sweat rolled down his left temple. The cat obviously noticed because it smirked and let out a fierce roar. Marci squeaked and Magnus cringed, losing his cool. A more ferocious growl sounded from a distance and the sabercat looked in the direction of the sound, then ran off, tail between its legs.


The boy was frightened by now though he refused to show it. He had a duty to protect Marci and be strong for her. But whatever had scared the sabercat off must have been formidable indeed because the large cats were rarely ever scared off easily because they were one of the top predators of the forest. After a few moments, a girl with long blue hair drawn to the right side by a golden clip laid with a sapphire dropped out of the canopy. She was wearing cream colored clothing, but it was only enough to cover the necessary areas. Magnus got on guard and licked his lips. The girl chuckled. “If I was going to hurt you, I would've by now,” she said. Her Fairy accent was strong and unmistakable as she spoke. “I sensed somebody in danger, so I came as fast as possible. Who're you?” The girl tilted her head to one side, curious.


“I'm Magnus and this is Marci,” Magnus said, motioning.


“I'm Imril,” the girl said. “You're soaked and you must be exhausted.” The pair nodded; they had gotten barely four hours of sleep before hand. “We can go back to my village. You'll be welcome there. You've been touched by Elondra's favor. Do you have the energy to make the journey?”

“I don't think so,” Magnus said wearily, last night's events finally catch up with him. Marci passed out.


“Oh my!” Imril said, catching the young girl before she hit the ground. She gently lifted Marci up onto her shoulder, then held her other hand out to Magnus. He looked at Imril warily. “I won't hurt you. I'm just taking you and your friend to my village the quickest way: teleportation. I swear on my Ukati.” Magnus didn't know much about Fairies, but he knew enough that one wouldn't swear on their Ukati-whatever one was-unless they really meant it. Magnus grabbed the young Fairy's hand and they disappeared.


When they reappeared, Magnus fell to his hands and knees, shaking violently. It had been the first time he had teleported anywhere and the feeling of being ripped from one place and thrown to another was worse than riding a bucking horse. He would've emptied his stomach of its contents if he had eaten anything beforehand. An elderly woman ran out to meet the trio. “Enomi?” the old woman asked, looking at Imril.


“Nonli,” Imril answered. She handed Marci to the old woman, who walked away. Magnus made a weak protest and it went unheard or if it wasn't heard, it was ignored. Imril helped Magnus to his feet. “That was my nasu, or grandmother I believe you would call her. She's also the Village Elder, so don't worry much about your friend. Emil-nasu is great with healing. I promise your friend will be fine. I guess I've been given the task of looking after you.” Imril blushed, then reconsidered. “Atza!” An older Fairy boy with green hair ran out of a hut that was well disguised in leaves and vines. “Noril-atza, Magnus. Magnus-ilu, Noril-atza. My brother, I believe you humans would say.” Magnus nodded wearily as Noril supported him and Imril walked off.


Noril led Magnus back into the hut he had come from and helped him onto a bed. “Elil?” Noril asked. Magnus tilted his head. “Oh sorry. I am not used to speaking Human. Are you all right?”

“Extremely drained, hungry and thirsty, but other than that, yes,” Magnus said.


“Rest,” Noril said. “It will do you well.” He gently pushed Magnus down onto the bed, then used a spell to put the boy to sleep.


Magnus woke with a jerk. He looked around the little hut, confused at to where he was for a moment, but the events came back to him. He put his head on his throbbing head again. “Awake, I see.” Magnus looked around and saw Noril standing in the door. “You were with Arassae a long time.”

“How long?” Magnus asked.


“The moon has risen and set once and the sun is at its highest point again,” Noril said and Magnus groaned. He had been asleep nearly a full day. “What bothers you?”


“Just how long I was asleep,” Magnus said.


“Your energy was low,” Noril said. “You ran from the Guild and your own villagers. It is understandable. You must be famished.” The Fairy handed Magnus a basked filled with fruits, berries, herbs and nuts. “It will restore your energy. I know it is not what you are accustomed to, but it is good for you.” Magnus nodded and started to eat it. To his surprise, the natural offerings of Peneth were full of flavor. He ate the whole basket and he felt rejuvenated. He looked down and noticed his clothes were the same cream colored material except his were more than what he had seen the two Fairies wear. He had a full shirt and pants whereas Noril just had enough to cover the necessary areas.


“Can I see Marci?” Magnus asked. Noril tilted his had. “My friend.” Noril nodded and led Magnus out of the little hut.


A small village nestled under a waterfall met Magnus. The huts were almost indistinguishable from the natural terrain except for some windows and perhaps a doorway, but even those looked fairly natural. The trees were surprisingly green for this time of year, whereas all the others were losing their leaves in a fiery display. It was also warm like spring. But Magnus could smell the spells in the air.


The waterfall was extremely tall, but made relatively little noise as it crashed into a large lake below. The sound was akin to a small stream. Vines crept up the side of the waterfall and rosebuds and closed lunafuras, moonflowers, could be seen. Though the sun was high, shady trees kept the heat off, but let enough light through to make a rainbow form at the base of the waterfall. Magnus smiled. He liked the sense he got from this place. It felt like nothing could reach them.


Noril led Magnus to another hut and Marci was sitting on one of the beds-a hammock made of leaves, really-and was eating something similar to what Magnus had had a few moments ago. The boy walked to his friend and sat next to her. “Thank goodness you're all right,” he said. “You worried me when you passed out like that.”

“Nope. I'm fine,” Marci said, popping another berry in her mouth. “I just don't have the energy you do, Magnus.” The girl smiled sweetly, then popped the last berry in her mouth. “Emil's been taking care of me, so you don't have to worry. She's nice.” Marci smiled as the old woman walked in.


“Etil Magnus tonim,” the Elder said, looking at Magnus. The boy tilted his head.


“Nolil,” Marci answered. “Iterek motli noshti. Kannek.” The Elder nodded and left. Magnus stared at Marci, bewildered that his friend could speak Fairy. It especially surprised him because it was a hard language to learn and he had heard that it could take up to twenty years to learn. “There's a lot you don't know about me.” She hopped off the bed and Magnus blinked. He hadn't even asked her about it, yet she still answered. “I have Fairy blood from my mother's side. I also have a lot of other bloods in me, but I can't tell you. Rein-unete told me I couldn't tell you right away.” The girl giggled and pulled Magnus off the bed. “Come on!”

She pulled Magnus into the village and toward the waterfall. Several small Fairy children were playing in the lake. Magnus was awed as he watched the children manipulate the water with their magic. He hadn't seen magic used aside from the bad said of it when nomads came and attempted to burn the village down. He didn't think somebody so young would use magic, but then again, those had been humans using it specifically for their own gain. He had figured Fairies were more connected to Peneth than most humans were. They were also clearly blessed by Elondra. He had never seen a waterfall before, but he knew this one was magnificent.


The Fairy children looked up at Magnus and Marci a little warily and curiously. “Nochle,” Marci said and the children smiled. They motioned for Magnus and Marci to join them. Marci did so happily, but Magnus stood there. He had never been much about playing. He had always been more into studying the natural phenomena. He had always been a loner and very serious, more like an adult than a child. The only friend he had was Marci. “Come on, Magnus!” She pulled him into the water and he fell face first.


“Marci!” he said, standing up. He kicked some water at her and she used magic to splash him back. Magnus smiled and a splash fight soon ensued between boys and girls. Magnus' forces were outnumbered by Marci's, but his had more skill than hers. After the girls had won, everybody was lying on the ground, soaked, but laughing from having such a good time. Even the ever serious Magnus was laughing, having let out some of his pent-up child.


The sun was soon setting, though, and the children walked to the center of the village where a bonfire was. Magnus looked around, a little confused. Everybody was sitting down. Marci sat next to Emil, but the boy was left standing. Imril motioned for him to sit between her and her brother. “What's going on?” Magnus whispered.


“Emil-nasu is going to tell us the tale of Elmi the Leaf,” Imril said. Magnus nodded. He had obviously heard the myths and tales before, but he thought it would be interesting to hear the Fairy version.


“Contra noni telma tha,” the Elder began. Magnus sighed. He had been looking forward to hearing it. There was a momentary pause. “In light of some in our presence that won't understand the native tongue, I must tell the tale like this.” There was another momentary pause before the Elder began.


“In the days of yore, the gods and goddesses did not help us much and they were not worshiped greatly. There were only nomadic tribes. There were no villages and there was no agriculture. The races foraged from the land and they all lived in relative harmony. Humans, Fairies, Elves... Whatever race, there was relative peace. Yes, there were fights, but no wars.

“Soon, though, agriculture was discovered and villages began to spring up. They were far off and rarely did they interact, but they were sometimes close enough to where they could trade. Things still remained fairly peaceful and independent.


“That is until several humans were hand-picked by the gods and goddesses. They were given extremely potent magic. They were told to use these powers for only good. According to the legend, Elmi was the first to receive the Gift. She was apparently fourteen or fifteen. Though young, the girl had acquired much knowledge. She had spent much time among the different races, learning their ways. She learned philosophy and astronomy from the Centaurs. She learned healing from the Elves. She learned deep understandings of the meanings of the stars from the Avians. She learned swordplay from the Fairies. She learned guidance, discipline and structure from the Tunders. She learned diplomacy from the Dragons. She learned kindness, compassion and hospitality from the Amrils.


“With all this knowledge, she founded the Mage's Guild. She formed a hierarchy loosely based on what she had learned from the Tunders. She founded the Guild to help the nomads and small villages.

“For a long time, the Guild existed like this. There was a major faction in each major region. But there came time when Elmi died. She was struck down by a spell. Some believe it was by an assassin, others believe it by accident. We will never know unless we could speak to her. But this set hot debate among the Guild factions as to who would lead next. No solution could be reached. The Guilds began to fight among themselves, then a war began. The war continues to this day.”

The end of the tale was met with complete silence. Magnus had never heard a lot of the details in this version before. He had, of course, heard Elmi was indeed the Guild One, but he hadn't known she had been so young or known so much. He also didn't know what the old Fairy was speaking of when she mentioned Amrils, Tunders, Avians and Centaurs. Of he had seen Fairies, Elves and dragons before, but he was baffled about the others.


A small feast was brought out and the inhabitants of the small village ate and generally had a good time. Magnus and Marci joined in, but the boy was detached. He went over the two versions of the legend over and over again. Points met up, but other points also conflicted. He was mildly disturbed by the discrepancies. He also didn't know which version to believe. Something nagging in the back of his mind told him he would find out at some point.


The moon rose higher in the sky and the Fairies retired to their huts one by one. Marci went with the Elder and soon Magnus was left alone in the center of the village with the remains of a smoldering fire and the moon high above. After the festive events that had celebrated the two visitors, everybody else was tired except Magnus. His pondering was bothering him and he thought and thought until Goddess Arassae sent him into slumber with Elmi shining down coldly on him, daring him to discover the truth.

OK, here's an excerpt from somewhere in the novel. Not sure where yet.

The pain was so intense he thought he would pass out. Surely his thin arms could not be twisted up any further without breaking!

He felt as if he would wet his pants, but that would only give his tormentor reason to humiliate him more. He wanted to hold back the tears, but if he didn't show signs of pain the tormentor would think he wasn't hurting enough.

Pain was the persuader. If there was enough pain the child would agree to anything. And what the tormentor wanted would require a lot of pain, both physical and mental.

The boy felt himself slipping away. His body relaxed, his mind clouded, and the pain receded to a distant place.

"Don't you go out on me!" The tormentor picked him up and shook him.

The boy looked at his tormentor through half-closed eyes. "Just kill me," he whispered before he lost consciousness.

So I totally decided I needed evolved dinosaur-like things in my story (thanks a lot Jurassic Park!)

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The thick green foliage pressed in around them and Aisha swatted at the swarm of small nipping flies that had begun following them upon their entrance into the jungle. The heat was nothing like Aisha had ever experienced before. The air felt wet and her skin was slick with moisture. The very air seemed to ooze droplets of water. High above them arced massive branches, almost obliterating the sky from view. This was the jungle Desmond had described but even as they traversed over the tangled roots and rotting ground, Aisha marveled at the density of such large trees. How could they ever see sunlight? Or rain? She felt Desmond's hand on her shoulder.

“It's beautiful but for these voracious insects,” she said, swatting again at their appearance.

“Aisha, quiet,” Desmond said and Aisha froze. Desmond's voice was urgent and in a half whisper. She turned to face him and was alarmed to see that he had grown quite pale in the shadows. He shook his head at her and pointed toward the tall ferns that gathered around them. Several paces behind them Aisha could see Buru crouched low, staring intently into the gloom.

“Something is following us,” Desmond whispered close to her ear. Aisha looked around again, feeling a thrum of panic in her throat.

“Fadia—she wandered off to relieve herself,” Aisha whispered. Desmond's hand trailed to his holstered gun.

“Stay here, stay close to Buru.” he said. Aisha shook her head and unsheathed her machete. Desmond shook his head but she pushed past him, keeping her eyes sharp for any sign of movement. She wondered how the men had sensed the presence of this danger and cursed her own naivety. Busy mooning over the strange jungle when it was clearly filled with horrors.

Suddenly a loud hissing sound emitted right over her head and Aisha and Desmond instinctively raised their weapons. But as Aisha peered into the thick overhang, she saw Fadia's face, stricken with fear, staring out at her from between two large banana leaves.

“Fadi--” Aisha began but Fadia shook her head urgently and beckoned them to climb. Desmond pushed Aisha from behind and without thinking she grabbed a low hanging vine and began pulling herself up the slippery trunk of the tree. Fadia reached out her hand and pulled Aisha up the rest of the way and together they crouched in the crevice between two large branches. Desmond was below them and was making no move to climb. Aisha almost called out but then she saw it. A large scaly creature stood to Desmond's right, cocking its head to the side as it stared at him. Its dark green color made it almost invisible against the foliage and it would have gone completely unnoticed but for a vivid orange plume made of thin skin atop its head. It stood on two back legs and was a little taller than Desmond itself. But its long hooked claws were what made Aisha scream.

As Aisha's scream buffeted the warm air the creature jerked its head toward the sound, startled by her presence. Desmond seized the opportunity and pulled his gun but the creature moved with terrible speed and suddenly Desmond's gun lay upon the mossy ground. Desmond screamed and pounded at the creature's head. The creature had Desmond's arm in its jaws and was tugging back as though it meant to sever it from his body completely.

“Stay here!” Aisha commanded Fadia and stumbled down the side of the tree, waving her machete. The creature emitted a high pitch warble, though it was muffled by its grip on Desmond's arm. Aisha brought the machete high above her head but the creature suddenly screamed, releasing Desmond. A quivering arrow stuck out of the creature's chest and Aisha saw a black streak charge from out of the ferns. Buru emitted a warrior-like bellow, bringing his own machete down with furious force. The creature screamed again and its own blood pooled with Desmond's on the ground. It began to retreat, thrashing its long scaly tail as it broke into a run. Buru chased it for a few feet but then stopped, his barreled chest heaving.