Sunday, April 10, 2011

New Chapter 1

After talking with my creative writing group, I tried going a different angle with the first chapter. I'm now using an action scene to start. Does this work better? Suggestions on how to make the scene more compelling are always welcome. Note: I haven't had time to fix all the issues in the chapter just yet.

Chapter 1

Remnants of the Past

The sound of heavy footsteps threatened as a young woman hastened her pace. She glanced back to see her assailant gaining on her, his sword glinting in the sunlight. Dizzy from an earlier blow to the head, she stumbled but quickly climbed back to her feet.

The man neared her, eyeing her as a vulture eyes a dying animal. Her lungs ached. Branches lashed at her face as she pushed through an area of thick vegetation. She glanced back again. He followed only a few feet behind.

She coughed. The heavy footsteps grew louder. With each step, her assailant’s heavy boots crunched twigs, pounded the forest floor beneath. She stumbled over a tree root, barely keeping her balance, but her surroundings swirled around her with the return of her dizziness.

The ground hurtled toward the young woman’s face as her knees collapsed, and she met the forest floor with a heavy thud. The man’s boot struck leaves and twigs mere inches from her head. He brandished his sword. Her heart pounding, she stared at him in one last hope he’d spare her.

His eyes, however, offered no compassion.


The blunt, heavy blade of the axe crashed into its target with a loud thwack. Vardin smiled as he gazed upon his handiwork, the mangled mess at his feet. His forearms felt as if they had caught on fire, though Vardin strangely enjoyed the pain. It signaled he had worked hard.

I don’t understand why I have to do this right now
, he thought as he drug his sweaty forearm across his equally sweaty forehead. How could we possibly need firewood any time soon? Sometimes, I just don’t understand my uncle.

Grunting, Vardin lifted the collection of wood he had chopped that day. He gazed at the tree trunk where the dull blade rested and wanted to grab the axe. But it would have proved impossible. He shook his head as he turned to head home. Why didn’t I bring something to carry all this? I guess I could make multiple trips, but no, I think I’ll just come back for the axe.

Vardin tried to wipe the sweat from his brow as he tripped and stumbled through the forest, cradling the bundle of wood. Though he possessed more than enough strength, it felt awkward in his arms. One of the logs clunked to the ground. He considered picking it up, but it wasn’t worth the effort.

Vardin pushed open the door to the cabin with his back and scraped his muscular right arm against the doorframe. Glancing quickly at the injury, he saw no blood. He didn’t want to show weakness, not in front of his uncle, whose eyes had just flicked in Vardin’s direction.

“Um, where do you want this, Uncle Theodon?”

His uncle placed the book he was reading on a table and gave Vardin a stern look. “Where it always goes, by the fireplace.”

“So, why do I have to collect firewood in the middle of summer?” Vardin sighed, a ray of sunlight beaming through the door and reflecting off his deep blue eyes.

Theodon scratched his long, brown-gray beard and picked up his book again. “Well, the old man in town said it’d be an early winter, and you know the old man’s never wrong when he makes a prediction.”

After setting the wood next to the hearth, Vardin started in the direction of the door. A bead of sweat trickled from his dark blonde hair down his cheek, tracing along a thin scar from a few years earlier when he had tripped and fallen into a thorny bush.

Theodon glanced up, startled, as Vardin opened the door. “Where are you going?”

“I left the axe in the clearing. I need to get-”

“Vardin, how many times have I told you not to leave tools sitting around like that?” In the light streaming through the door, his short brown hair appeared almost as light as Vardin’s.

“I couldn’t carry the axe and the wood,” Vardin protested, pausing for a moment. “I mean, what would a thief want with that rusty axe anyways?”

“Just go and get it.”

He marched out the door and slammed it behind him, pondering, What’s so important about that axe anyways. It’s a piece of junk; it can barely even chop wood. And why does he have to keep treating me like some little kid. I’m going to be thirty-five years old in a few days; I’ll become an adult then. Why doesn’t my uncle start treating me like one?

Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, Vardin looked above the trees of the forest at the mountains a little beyond them. These mountains, he knew, formed the Ring of Darkness in which he lived.

For a place that’s supposed to be evil
, he thought, it’s really not that bad. Yeah, I know Armoth rules over the region, but you barely notice, except for the occasional Darkness Guard sighting in Crayden.
He glanced at the mountains again.  

But I have to admit it would be nice to see what exists beyond the Ring of Darkness. I’ve never heard of anyone making it across the mountains, though. My uncle’s always told me Armoth prevents that from happening. Is Armoth really that powerful?

Vardin turned his attention back to retrieving the axe as he walked beneath the thick canopy of leaves. Though the shade shielded him from the heat, sweat still streamed down his face. He glanced at the sky where only a few beams of light penetrated the maze of leaves. The aroma of tree bark pervaded the air, greeting his nostrils with its sweet smell. As Vardin made his way toward the clearing where he had left the axe, he reminisced about his youth spent in the forest.

This really is my favorite place, he thought as he pushed aside a low-hanging tree branch to use one of the many shortcuts he had discovered. The way the birds sing in the morning, the smell of the trees. I wonder what’ll happen when I become an adult. Can I really stay here forever?

Vardin’s thoughts were interrupted as he spotted the axe sticking out of the mangled tree stump. He approached it, but the sight of bright red berries suddenly tempted him. Crouching down, Vardin plucked a few of them from the bush, making sure not to take any green berries; he remembered the vomiting spells all too well.

After shoving the handful of berries into his mouth, Vardin stooped over and removed the axe from the tree stump—the moment a sudden, shrill noise occurred nearby. Adrenaline surged through his body as he tried to determine the source.

Vardin treaded cautiously in the direction of the disturbance and heard it again—the scream of a woman in grave danger. He felt certain of it.

Maybe a bear, or something, Vardin thought as he raced into another clearing, pushing branches away from his face. A thorny, purple bush pricked his legs, and he felt the tickle of blood trickling down his ankle.

“Oww,” he grunted as he looked down at the injury.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw a man standing in front of him—tall, muscular, and imposing—wearing a thick chain mail and carrying a sword. Vardin scrutinized his uniform, noticing a red and black circular badge—the symbol of the Darkness Guard—adorned it.

The Darkness Guard brandished his sword. “What are you doing?”

Vardin swiveled his head before raising his axe. “I-I could ask you the same.”

His heart raced. Uncle Theodon had always told him to steer clear of Darkness Guards, but for some reason, his instincts told him he must challenge this man. Vardin noted the sword appeared spotless.

“I-it’s none of your business,” the Darkness Guard growled, a hint of panic behind his eyes. “Go back to your home.”

“Well, I think it is my business. I heard a woman screaming.”

“Leave now,” the Darkness Guard snarled through his yellow teeth as he raised his sword to Vardin’s chin. “Or I’ll kill you.”

The blade of the sword against his skin, Vardin lowered the axe. It stood little chance against the Darkness Guard’s sword and armor. After all, chopping wood with it proved hard enough.

“Okay,” Vardin acquiesced, barely moving his jaw. “I-I’ll go.”

He staggered back a few steps and pivoted while glancing sideways over his shoulder at the Darkness Guard. The man’s eyes tracked Vardin, but he made no more threatening moves.

Before Vardin turned his head, his foot caught on something. He tried to stop the fall but failed. His head struck a rock on the forest floor with a tremendous thud, and the last thing Vardin saw before he lost consciousness was the Darkness Guard’s laughing face.

Vardin was traversing a rocky mountain, behind his father and in front of his mother. His recollections of his parents had always seemed indistinct, but for some reason, he knew these people were his mother and father.

Both moons shone brightly in the sky, allowing Vardin to make out their appearances. His mother looked short and pretty with dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes while his father stood tall and muscular, his broad shoulders level with his wife’s head. Vardin’s father’s dark brown hair and brown eyes reminded him of Uncle Theodon, though the dim moonlight barely illuminated the mountain enough for him to see anything.

Vardin fell and scraped his knee on a jagged rock, but his mother quickly scooped him up and carried him.

“We have t-to keep going,” she stammered, a shaky panic in her voice.

“Why?” Vardin heard his young voice answer, sounding as if its owner teetered on the verge of tears.

“You have to be quiet,” his mother whispered again. “The Darkness Guards will hear us . . .”

The mountain around Vardin blurred, and he felt a momentary surge of panic before his surroundings rematerialized a few seconds later.

“Janen,” his mother wheezed. “Can you carry Vardin for a while? I’m too exhausted.”

“I don’t see how it will help. The stuff I’m carrying’s heavier than he is.”

“Why are we doing this? Was our life inside the Ring of Darkness really that bad?”

Vardin’s father pointed at the rocky peak. “Andia, freedom exists out there, just on the other side of these mountains. Yes, we could have lived out the rest of our lives in that horrible prison. But is such a life really worth living?”

“I know. It’s just, now there’s no turning back. The Darkness Guards are chasing us, and we’re running blindly across the mountains. It all seems so desperate.”

“I know it seems that way, but it felt like it was what I had to do. I can’t really explain it, but something told me I must do this.”

“I trust you, but you’re still crazy.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m only thinking about everything we left behind. And what was it all for? So that we could die alone on a cold, deserted mountain?

“Darling, we’re not going to die,” Janen asserted. O-or at least I hope we’re not going to die. I don’t know. For some reason, I think we can do it. It feels like our destiny is to be on this mountain right now. Whether or not we make it, something will come of this. I can feel it . . .”

The forms of Vardin’s parents blurred as everything darkened again. He even experienced a brief moment of consciousness before the darkness disappeared and his parents came back into focus.

“I can’t do this much longer, Janen. I’m so tired.”

“It’s only a little longer. Soon, we’ll be on the other slope of the mountain. We’ll be going downhill. It’ll be much easier.”

Vardin heard the clamor of voices in the distance. “Is that them over there?” The far-off shouts echoed eerily off nearby walls of rock. “Let’s go in that direction...direction...direction.”

Vardin’s parents hastened their pace. The Darkness Guards’ boots clanked behind them. Andia wanted to slow down because she carried Vardin, but the clanking footsteps grew closer. They slid into a tight area between two walls of rock, the only way they stood any chance of losing the Darkness Guards.

The clanking of the boots echoed everywhere as Vardin’s elbow scraped against the rock wall.

“Owwwww,” Vardin cried, the high-pitched voice of him as a child startling the semi-aware, older version of himself . . .

“. . . What are we going to do, Janen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see anywhere to hide.”

“Well, we have to do something!”

“I don’t see any caves. Do you?”

“No, they’re going to see us!”

Young Vardin grabbed his mother’s hand. “It’s okay, Mommy.”

“W-well, aren’t you the brave one,” she stammered as she tried to repress her fear.

The sun rose, but Vardin’s parents hadn’t discovered a hiding place. Stumbling over rocks, they raced down the mountain.

Janen glanced back anxiously at his wife and child. “We have to keep running!”

“I’m so exhausted,” Andia panted as she twisted her ankle. “Oww!”

“You okay, honey?”

“I’m fine,” she answered while she climbed back to her feet. “Just twisted my ankle.”

“Can you still run?” Vardin’s father turned around to look at her.

“Watch out!” Andia shouted, pointing at a rock.

The warning came too late. Janen tripped over the rock and lost his footing. He tumbled down the slope, which had steepened a great deal.



He continued tumbling, his body flipping end over end. Vardin heard the grunts every time his father crashed against the rocks, finally coming to rest about twenty feet down the slope. Vardin’s mother scrambled down the mountain after Janen, a look of panic on her young, beautiful face.

He lay crumpled in a heap when they arrived, and a bone in his leg stuck out through his skin as a river of blood poured from the wound.

Vardin’s mother knelt next to his father as Vardin stood a few feet away, looking in on the situation like a bystander, his emotions ranging from shock to fear to helplessness.

“Go on without me,” Janen moaned, his words barely audible. He looked pale, lifeless, not the man who had stood twenty feet above seconds earlier.

“I can’t just leave you here,” Andia cried, tears racing down her cheeks.

His father grimaced in pain. “Please, take Vardin and go. Forget about me. I can’t continue on like this. I’m a dead man.” Vardin’s mother put her head on Janen’s shoulder and cried silently. “You don’t have time. Take Vardin and go.”

Shaking, Andia rose to her feet, but it seemed too late. The Darkness Guards closed in on them, hunters approaching their hapless prey. Vardin could only stand and watch them march nearer while listening to the unnerving sound of his mother’s tears.

“Mommy,” his voice cried. “I think we have to go now.”

Vardin’s mother looked up to see the Darkness Guards less than twenty feet away, standing in the same spot from which the fatal fall had begun. Hoping none of them held bows, Andia grabbed Vardin and barreled down the mountain. She stumbled numerous times down the rocky slope, scraping and bruising her legs on the rocks.

Vardin heard the clanks of the Darkness Guards’ footsteps growing closer and closer. The low sound of their voices carried ominously down the mountain. “Stop right there!”

But Vardin’s mother didn’t stop, instead hastening her pace and scurrying dangerously fast along the precipitous slope. She continued until she arrived at the edge of a deep ravine, a ravine she may have been able to jump across had she not been carrying Vardin.

At that point, she collapsed to the ground, terrified, waiting to be overtaken by the Darkness Guards. Andia held Vardin tight to her chest as she shuddered uncontrollably, her breathing faint and shaky.

When the Darkness Guards reached the edge of the ravine, they brandished their swords with malice, moonlight glinting off the parts of the blades not covered by congealed blood.

“Stand up,” one of them commanded, but Vardin’s mother refused to comply. “If you stand up now, we’ll spare your child’s life.”

“How can I take your word for it!” she shrieked. “You of all people!”

“Just stand up and give us the child.” He took a deep breath. “Then . . . uh we will proceed.” He avoided her eyes.

A tear rolled down Andia’s cheek as she stood and handed Vardin to the Darkness Guard. She looked at the man and opened her mouth, but she didn’t say anything.

Another Darkness Guard stepped up to Vardin’s mother. Andia made no sound apart from her faint breathing as she looked at Vardin, her deep blue eyes gleaming with love—a gleam Vardin knew only he could see.

The Darkness Guard raised his sword and sliced off her head in one swift, calculated movement. He looked to the man holding Vardin and nodded, but Vardin’s captor didn’t return the gesture, staring instead at the decapitated body of Vardin’s mother.

Vardin watched from this man’s arms as the sea of blood drained from his mother’s body. While young Vardin looked on in bewilderment, his consciousness began to resurface, and the older version of him raged with anger. He wanted to kill those Darkness Guards.

Vardin examined his captor—a tall young man with short, brown hair and a short, brown, neatly-groomed beard. Then he looked at the lifeless body of his mother. Her blood sparkled almost magically on the ground as if it tried to tell him something, but he couldn’t comprehend its message.


  1. Piece of advice, start with the mc and her current situation. If this is set in early England, anything before the last 150 years where did fresh squeezed oj come from? They can't grow oranges in the Uk. They wouldn't last on a ship from the tropics.
    Your agent will worry about market and suggest changes of this sort - starting with Vardin which I doubt an agent will do.

  2. Today oranges can be grown in the Uk. That has only happened in the past 100 years.

  3. Thanks for the comments. Since this is set in a different world, I'm not overly concerned about people wondering if fruit can be grown in the climate.

    On the main character issue, Malia and Vardin receive roughly equal treatment. I chose Malia for the query because writing a multiple POV query is difficult and because I think Malia is the more interesting of the two.

    Again, thank you for your comments. Now, I just need to find the time to start editing some more. Recently, I've started working on another project. I may post a chapter or two from it soon.

  4. This is a very good improvement. The description is a bit better and clearer(sentence structure wise). Nicely done.

  5. Wow, this is a really old piece. Thanks for commenting. I have since improved this dramatically.