thanks for the review, it was actually helping.
“How can he tread water and push his hair back?”
– well, you can tread with your feet for a while, long enough to free your arms :)
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Chapter 1 - Fantasy - Untitled as of yet (Analysis)
Face down in the river, Aodhan watched the swirling shadows his hair cast over the rocky bed. Tiny schools of fish wiggled beneath and when he reached to stir the stones, they scattered in all directions. Puffs of dust rose in the disturbance just as Aodhan’s lungs began to ache for air. He pushed himself upright to tread water and parted the wet curtain of hair from his eyes. A slight movement in the foliage on the bank prickled his skin, but he dismissed it as imagination. Low hanging braches and overgrown shrubbery skimmed the surface of the water and threw heavy shade over the edge of the river. Insects scoured around and birds continued to sing.
He turned and swam to the opposite bank where his horse audibly tore and chewed the grass. When Aodhan’s knees hit the riverbed, he walked out, the leggings clinging to him and hair dripping down his back and shoulders. His tunic hung off the branch of a small tree and his boots and dagger lay beneath it, but before he could reach the clothing, a distinct rustle came from the overgrown bank behind him. The horse’s head shot up and his back arched.
Aodhan spun, straining his ears and eyes. In a few strides, he had the dagger in one hand. A solid mass crashed into the back of his head, sending him to the ground. In the moment of disassociation with his body, Aodhan lay stunned. A stinging of the palm that held the dagger roused him enough to see that the weapon had slipped through his hand during the fall and he now clutched the blade.
The horse’s shrieking stirred the fog in his head and Aodhan rolled onto his back, wincing. Two robed figures blocked out the sun above him, both faces covered with hoods. One of them held the thick tree limb that had clouted him over the head.
“You better have,” Aodhan took a ragged breath, “a good reason for such a dirty attack. What do you want? I have nothing with me but the horse.”
The men looked at each other then back at him. They bent forward; each grabbed an arm and dragged Aodhan to his feet. His head spun and throbbed and the man on his right wrested the dagger from his bloodied hand. Aodhan dropped his weight and turned his body into the man, elbow slightly raised. His captor growled in pain and let go, nursing his wrist.
The other man made a move to restrain him, but with the right arm now free, Aodhan pivoted and rammed his elbow into his face. He stumbled back, blood flowing from his nose and over his mouth.
Aodhan’s mind raced with the next course of action, for the man whose wrist he’d hurt seemed capable of another attack. Sure enough, he lunged forward with Aodhan’s dagger. Aodhan covered his head with both arms and hurled himself into the attacker’s chest, wrapped an arm around his opponent’s and twisted it out. He heard the dull snap of bone and the dagger dropped to the grass. The man growled and his hood fell back to expose a scarred face and fair hair tied back at his neck.
Aodhan’s vision lost focus and he felt as if his feet hung above the ground. In that moment, he felt his ribs crack and the air leave his chest, remembering the other attacker in the back of his mind. Aodhan doubled over and collapsed, coughing and gasping. He clutched at the grass, straining every muscle to lift himself, but the man’s knee struck at the side of his head, throwing him down sideways.
“Get that horse!” The voice sounded under water. “We’ll strap the bastard on and make haste.”
The blurred sounds of whinnying and thudding hooves hovered in his head. His heart pounded in his ears and a strange rushing, like a stream, rumbled in the background.
“My arm is broken,”
“Use the other one, you nit. Bring the horse closer.”
Aodhan sensed the presence of hooves hear his head, and then he was being lifted, a painful process that felt as if a boulder rolled around in his head. He felt a saddle between his legs and vision returned; the back of his horse’s head swimming in and out. They thought him to be unconscious, holding him upright and preparing to tie his hands back. Just as Aodhan planned to spur the horse into action, there were two consecutive, barely audible, thump noises and the two men fell where they stood.
Aodhan leaned over to look, regretting it instantly when he almost slid off. Catching the pummel of the saddle, he steadied his balance. More carefully, he peered down. Both men looked alike with their fair hair and scarred features, and from what he could see they still breathed. He saw what had taken them down: a small, dart-like object was imbedded into one man’s neck. Someone else was out there, he thought, intrigued, and they had rescued him.
Aodhan reached forward for the reins, trying to keep his head steady. With bare feet, he spurred the horse on, knowing that if he dismounted to retrieve his boots and tunic he would not be able to mount again.
Slowly, as if in a garish dream, he rode back to the manor house.
The gangly wolf pup slipped a little through her arms, and she heaved it higher against her chest. It arched its back and knocked her nose with the back of its head. Kristean tilted her head to the side, feeling each stair with her foot before she took it. The shade of the dank kitchen enveloped her, and with some guesswork, she reached the table and stood on the tips of her toes, placing the pup’s rear end onto the surface. The animal struggled feebly and yelped in pain when its weight rested on the broken hind leg.
“Silly thing, keep still.” Kristean pushed its shoulders down, so that the pup lay on its side. The bone stuck out through the skin, which was festering and swollen. “What mischief did you get into to injure yourself like this?” without further hesitation, Kristean found a pewter bucket and returned outside to fill at from the well. She rushed back, relieved that the pup hadn’t moved, and hung the bucket from a hook above the lit fireplace. While it heated she gathered two linen cloths and took out a jar of ground thyme. The pup opened his snout, showing a pink tongue and pointed canines. He let out a long whine and gave Kristean a doleful look. A well-grown pup, with long legs and a lean, grey body; he was not fresh out of the womb, but not old enough to be roaming on his own.
Kristean pulled out a chair and sat down to stroke the wolf. She could feel his ribs through his coat, and the bones at his chest were sharp. She heard the soft footfall of leather against stone, but the presence did not register until a voice that spoke “You’re out of your mind” ripped through her chest and her heart floundered.
“It’s you,” she breathed, “Don’t startle me like that, and without manners too. Good evening brother, how was your day? Mine was quite interesting.”
“That much is obvious – there is a wild animal on our kitchen table.” Aodhan limped towards the fire and peered into the bucket, strands of long, pale hair escaping from behind his ears. “The water is boiling. I trust you’re not making tea.”
Kristean left the pup’s side and retrieved the bucket. She placed it onto the table above the animal’s head. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. I’ll need your help to set his bones back in place.”
Her brother stood, eyes flickering from the wolf to Kristean’s face. He was dressed in a brown woolen tunic that came down mid thigh, where his legs stood shoulder-length apart, lean muscles visible through the tight leggings. His calves were swathed in strips of leather that met his boots at the ankle.
“Hold him down, very firmly.” Kristean instructed. She positioned herself at the pup’s broken leg and motioned with her head. “Go on. It will be quick, but you must hold and not let go.”
Aodhan drew out his steps before standing behind the animal and pressing down with both arms, one at the pup’s rump and the other controlling the shoulders and head. “You’re out of your mind,” he repeated.
“Now, be ready.” Kristean chewed her bottom lip, took the broken leg with both hands, and gave Aodhan a signaling look. With the flick of her hands there was a small crunching noise followed by deafening squealing and thrashing against the table. Kristean struggled to keep the leg in one place without crushing the very bones she was trying to save. The two of them waited another minute before the animal calmed, his breathing shallow and thin whines coming from his throat.
“Keep holding.” Kristean soaked a piece of linen into the hot water and wiped at the wound, managing to clean away some of the pus and congealed blood. Next, she dipped the same cloth into the jar of thyme and dabbed on the ground plant, creating a small shield around the wound. Lastly, she tied the remaining strip of linen around the leg, tucking in the corner to secure it. “There, that should keep it from going septic again before it heals.”
Slowly, Aodhan lifted his arms, keeping them positioned should the wolf move. The animal lifted his head and twisted it to lick at his leg but was greeted with a thick bandage.
“Explain to me why there is a wolf in our kitchen.” Aodhan rounded on her. “Do you realize the potential danger you might bring to us? Where there is one wolf, there are more, and this one has parents somewhere. If he doesn’t maul you in your sleep, they will.”
“He was alone,” Kristean said, “and hurt. The poor thing wasn’t even able to get on his feet, much less attack me. I believe he may have been abandoned.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so they rested on her hips. “Have a heart, brother.”
“I have a head, Kristean.”
The pup gave a long wail, finishing it off with yelp. Kristean saw the wolf struggling to stand, his injured leg splayed out and his front feet clawing at the table. She scooped him off the table so that she cradled him like a babe and left the kitchen through a door that led into the rest of the manor. Aodhan followed her with long strides.
“Where are you taking it?” he demanded.
“Into the solar, he’ll be more comfortable there.” They passed the buttery and into a maze of corridors, eventually ascending a flight of stairs. Aodhan took the stairs gingerly, but Kristean was light on her feet, her heavy woolen gown trailing behind. Reaching the landing, she took a right turn into a room filled with rich sunlight pouring through the numerous, large windows. Set against the left wall stood a four-poster, carved oak bed, the heavy maroon canopy tied back with thick ropes. On the stone floor where she would normally place her bare feet after rising, was an undyed sheepskin rug. With a slippered foot, she slid it into the corner and laid the wolf down.
“You think to keep a wild animal beside you while you sleep?”
“He’s harmless,” Kristean insisted. “Now leave.”
Aodhan gathered his long eyebrows in a frown, his eyes narrowed. “Will you not listen to reason at all? I know those woods, and I know the animals that occupy it. A wolf is a wolf and will never be your pet dog. “
“Please, leave. Someone shall be here with my bathwater very soon.” She watched him turn his solid back to her and march out the door, pulling it shut. His limping stride vaguely registered in her mind but she dismissed it.
Kristean stuck her leg out, resting the heel against the edge of the wooden tub. She spread her toes out and wriggled them, watching the water glisten on her pale leg. She sunk down into the lavender scented water, submerging her long dark hair. Above her, the ceiling glimmered with the fire from the hearth, its rough texture creating pock-mark shadows. Kristean stuck her fingers into the mass of hair, washing out the soaked chamomile flowers. She then pushed herself up so that the water slicked her hair back. A dull chill made her shiver and she noticed her wrinkled fingertips. She had spent a solid hour daydreaming and planning for tomorrow when her father would return from his three-month sabbatical at his sister’s home. Kristean had looked forward to him being away as it had given Aodhan some temporary respite. The manor was too small for the two of them and Lewyn was always sure to make his contempt of his son blatant. She remembered the times when their shouts echoed down the hallway, brutal and cruel. The only avenue for escape was into her garden, where she would crouch into the dirt and made an effort to observe the state of every plant.
There were the times when Aodhan carried a split lip or a bruised cheek. He would keep to himself and snipe at her if she attempted to console him. Kristean could not understand how Lewyn could be so indifferent to her and yet so contemptuous of Aodhan. She envied the families of her father’s tenants. The children worked hard, but their family was always there at the end of the long day to feed them bread and milk and a special sweet treat every week. Kristean felt a hollowness spread inside her as she thought about the mothers, and the lack of her own. Aodhan remembered her well, but Claire had passed away during her birth and Kristean felt somehow indebted to her.
Kristean slipped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a sheet that had been draped over a chair. She raked her fingers through her hair, leaving it out to dry. She had asked not to be disturbed, and the bathtub would likely remain filled with water until the morning. She listened for Aodhan’s deep breathing from the other side of the room. She should have known he would be displeased with her for bringing the wolf pup home. She had dismissed his opinions and even told him to leave, but inside she longed for his approval just once. It was her way to act with her heart, and as usual Aodhan had shown his objection to this.
Removing the sheet, Kristean put on her linen shift and slid into her bed. She lay on her side so that she could see the wolf in the corner, asleep on the sheepskin rug. It was an effort to keep her eyelids open, and without realizing she slipped off into slumber.
* * *
A voice scoured his mind, incomprehensible, surreal. Aodhan's eyelids flickered and his teeth ground, his fist gripping the sheets at his side. Unable to wake, he grew conscious of the weight in his head, digging in deeper. The voice grew louder, gaining energy and momentum, and finally spat out a word: ' …sssssun. ' .
Sweat gathered on his brow and his breathing came shallow. Aodhan, aware the room around him, struggled to move but something held him down. His whole body burned with a cold fire; his heart quickened at the strange sensation. He concentrated on movement; one arm twitched, then he jolted upright, sucking for air. In his mind, the hissing word still echoed: ' Ssssun… '
A lump on the back of his head now ached on contact and the right side of his face felt tender and swollen, but usually hidden by his hair. Beacons of moonlight from the windows cut through the darkness. He could make out Kristean’s bed, the canopy drawn around her. A shadow stirred, at the leg of the chess table. He banished the remaining wisps of the dream. No sense in letting his imagination gain any ground, or he'd lose his sanity. The shadow moved again, this time towards him. Aodhan tensed, read to leap in defense. It jittered forward, emanating a raspy breath with each movement. Then came a tiny whine and he snorted to contain his laughter. Damn Kristean's wolf pup, he had completely forgotten the animal. The night held a full moon and it was foolish to assume the animal would sleep through it. The wretched thing struggled to walk, his bandaged leg half dragging.
Fully alert, Aodhan swung his legs over the edge, bare feet touching the cold floor. The pup skulked around him in a semi-circle and dropped to the ground, laying his snout flat between his extended forelegs . Aodhan stared at the eyes. The wolf shuffled forward an inch and flipped onto his back, legs in the air, head inclined to maintain eye contact. Aodhan sensed submission and leaned to gingerly stroke his belly.
* * *
Kristean fastened the leather girdle around her waist, cinching in the dull green gown. She tied a cloth purse to the girdle and then pulled a heavy mantle over her shoulders, letting it fall so that it hid the purse. Thieving little fingers would either have to approach her head on or lift the floor length mantle; not an easy feat if one did not want to be noticed.
With her hair in a tight new braid and her feet in leather boots, she was ready to leave. After another glance in the polished brass mirror, she left the solar and descended the stone staircase to the Great Hall.
Men and women carried boards and assembled trestle tables at the wings of the hall. A serving woman scrubbed the stone floor of the dais, while another polished the carved wood chair in which Lewyn would be seated in later that night. Out of the busy servants, the cook approached Kristean with ideas for the menu, seeking approval of the courses. The game had been quite poor lately, but the cooks were intent on making the best meal possible out of it.
“I’m sure father will be ravenous enough to appreciate anything,” Kristean said, moving away from the portly woman.
“Thank you, my lady.”
Kristean left through the main door into the morning sunlight. Long shadows fell across her path and the crow of a rooster sounded from behind the stables. Aodhan rode out atop a chestnut gelding and Kristean saw the red and blue swelling of his jaw and cheekbone. She waved her arms and stepped out into his path, grabbing the bridle. “What has happened to you?”
“A small scuffle, sister. It happens.”
“When?” she demanded, then her eyes widened. “Yesterday, you were limping. How hurt are you?”
“I’m fine. Now let go of the horse else I’ll be late.”
Kristean stepped to the side, her eyes narrowed. “Please, return as early as you can; father’s welcoming feast is tonight.”
Aodhan gave a tight smile and nodded once, setting his mount into a trot. Kristean watched him leave, the heat rising to her cheeks at the thought that he had kept the incident from her and she had been too preoccupied to notice anything wrong.
She rode down the path, over the crest, nearing the first cottage that sat on her father’s land. A decaying wooden fence enclosed it, and outside she could see Abigail’s white dress fluttering in the wind as she hung out some bed linen to dry. Abigail lived alone with her grandmother, a woman who was convinced she was a fortune teller. Lewyn deemed her a lunatic, but Aodhan treated her kindly. Kristean scoffed, wondering if the reason for this was because Abigail held his interest.
Kristean spurred the mare into a trot down the winding lane. Soon the trees thickened and the lane met the highway, onto which she turned left. She was flanked by the woods, thankful for the fresh scent the trees provided. The air was cooler and various birds chirruped around her.
A few times a small movement between the trees caught her eyes. Something on the edge of her vision, but was always gone by the time she turned her head to look. Perhaps an animal? In her experience, the animals were not brave enough to be so close to the highway, let alone a human. She thought then that maybe it was a fawn that had lost its mother.
But the movement appeared again and she was almost sure she caught a glimpse of the rear end of a horse. Kristean exhaled in relief. Someone’s horse had escaped and was now having a merry time with its new freedom.
The remainder of the journey into town remained uneventful, until she reached the main cobbled street and saw the mounted figure plodding along a respectable distance behind her. It would not have been so strange, but the rider was wearing an off-white cape, hood pulled up, and riding the most magnificent grey horse Kristean had ever seen.
She kept her eyes in front of her, although she felt as if her head was being pulled to look back by some force. The town was bustling as was usual; people from all walks of life crowded around the streets. The wealthy folk in their carriages kept the curtains drawn over the windows, as if refusal to acknowledge the beggars and peasants on the street meant that they did not exist. Some of the poorer gentiles walked briskly with heads held high, the ladies constantly pulling up the hems of their skirts.
The building were packed tight against each other, the upper storeys protruded several feet over the street, thus creating room for the width of the street while maximizing space inside. A few of the windows were left open, sheets draped over them to dry in the breeze.
There was a constant clobber of hooves and scrape of carriage wheels against the cobbled road, competing for the shouts of vendors, beggars, and barking of dogs. An armless child wrapped in a faded sheet stumbled before Kristean, and she reined her horse in before the little girl was trampled.
“Mornin’, missus, would yer ‘ave some alms?” With her remaining arm, the girl proffered what appeared to be a chamber pot. Her hair, brown Kristean assumed, hung about her dirty face in knots, plastered with mud and fifth. “Me mam’s gunna ‘ave erself a babe soon an we all’s need some gruel.”
Kristean wondered whether the child’s mother had cut off her arm on purpose, hoping for extra sympathy. With some regret, Kristean shook her head and tugged her horse’s head to the side so that she bypassed the child beggar. Lately there was barely enough money to feed her father, brother, herself and the horses. Aodhan had often chastised her for giving into several beggars in one day. “It’s each to his own, sister, and that is the way of the world,” he had said.
Mingled smells of baking bread, fruit and vegetables and fresh fish permeated the air further down. She was nearing the markets at the Town Square located at the crossroads. The Town Square dominated a large block on the left side of the crossroads, while the barracks and blacksmiths sat on the other. The crowd thickened; an array of dull reds, browns and grays of their clothing. Mangy dogs skulked around their feet, every now and then making a desperate leap towards a dropped morsel of food before scuttling away out of sight.
People blindly walked right under her mare’s nose, at times bumping into her flanks. The horse grunted and snorted, lifting her head into the air and showing the whites of her eyes. Kristean kept a tight rein, sensing her mount’s discomfort. Kristean pressed all her weight into the right stirrup and swung her left leg over to dismount. She felt her foot brush against someone, but there was no angry shouting. Her feet landed on the cobbled ground, barely missing a pile of rotting cabbage. Kristean led the mare through the throng, keeping her mantle tight around her body. It was easy to catch sight of the hooded figure on the pale grey horse. The rider stood beside the vegetable stalls, seated high over the people’s heads on the horse, looking her way. Kristean’s heart fluttered, but she pretended not to notice the person. Her first instinct was to make for the blacksmith’s shop across the road and stay in the company of her brother for a while, but she knew she would be chastised for riding alone in the first place.
Kristean turned to her left, away from the figure. She came across a fish stall, and the smell of brine and seafood was overwhelming. She made a purchase of a dozen fish and placed the package, wrapped in newspaper, into the saddlebag. She carried no basket, for it had a tendency to be robbed or snatched by nimble hands. When she turned away from the stall, the hooded figure stood before her, horse held in place with one hand on its shoulder. Kristean jumped and stepped back, shouldering and old man. He grumbled some obscenity but continued on with his business.
“Please, we must talk,” the figured said in a smooth, female voice. Beneath the shadow of the hood, Kristean could make out a slim jaw, full lips and a slightly upturned nose.
“I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you,” Kristean turned away and began to walk. The woman caught her by the arm. Kristean brushed her off, wary of the stranger’s intentions. “I warn you, my brother is not far away and…”
“I mean no harm and I want nothing of you. Only your time. I have something to say to you; it is in your own interest that you hear it.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Minerva,” the woman said, her voice growing relieved. “I promise you no harm. I am a mother and I carry no weapons.”
A gruff voice broke in: “Ay, ladies – move it!” It was the stallholder, urging them to move away and make space for customers. Kristean mounted her horse and watched the woman do the same.
“Ride with me to the woods, away from the people,” the woman instructed.
Kristean followed, sensing that the woman was indeed harmless. They rode through the town in silence until the buildings dispersed, giving way to farmlands and paddocks. The woman rode off the highway and over the grassy field, into the woods. Kristean followed, but not before feeling around the saddlebag for the small dagger that was placed there by Aodhan, in case she ever needed it. They were not deep into the woods before reaching a thin, gurgling stream surrounded by large rocks and fallen tree limbs. The woods were not yet thick enough to block the sunlight, so that gentle rays still passed through and warmed the ground. The woman dismounted and simply left her horse where it stood. Kristean, however, tied her mare to a thin tree and joined the stranger on the rocks at the stream. They sat facing each other in silence, Kristean wringing her hands in her lap.
“May I ask your name?”
“Kristean, Miss.”
“Call me Minerva.” The woman reached up, hesitated a moment, and then pulled down her hood. Her jaw was slight, her chin narrow, and her neck long. Bright, wide set green eyes stared at Kristean, and the pink lips were in a straight line. Her hair was almost the same colour as her pale face, sitting around her face in wispy strands and continuing down under her cloak. The very fine lines around Minerva’s eyes and mouth conveyed that she was not as young as she had seemed initially.
“Pleased to meet you.” Kristean felt stupid, for she had nothing else to say.
“You shall not remain so pleased, you see.” Minerva raised her shoulders in a slow shrug. “This is particularly difficult for me, after all this time, coming here and seeing and talking to you…”
“What on Earth do you mean?” Kristean noticed that the woman’s voice was getting shrill and fast.
“I knew your mother, Jocelyn, although very briefly. She was my closest friend, of her kind.”
“Of her kind?” The woman was clearly not right in the head and Kristean regretted ever riding to the woods with her. She mentally measured the distance to her horse in case she needed to flee.
“I supposed I must simply say it. Your brother, Aodhan –“
“How do you know my brother’s name?”
Minerva smiled, “Why, I named him. He is my son.”
Kristean jumped to her feet, her face red and her jaw clenched. “How dare you? You’re after our money, are you not? You’re some harlot, following me around for God knows how many years, stalking my family and then fabricating some story so you may get your hands on our house and money! How convenient that our mother has passed away – leaving a position for you to fill!”
“No, you misunderstand me.”
“You shall not get a single coin!” Kristean saw no reason to admit that her father’s finances were already disappearing before their eyes.
“I do not want your coins,” Minerva said sternly, growing frustrated herself. “I am here to warn you and my… your brother, of impeding danger. I admit I am also here for selfish reasons, for I must see my son, and speak with him for the first time in my life.” Her eyes filled with tears and they spilled out over her cheeks like tiny waterfalls. She made no attempt to hide her face, instead stared intently at Kristean, whose mouth hung open and slack.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
JamDive reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Your pacing is a bit off. The people who rescue Aodhan from his attackers are not at all developed. Instead you transition to Kristean and her wolf pup. while the mysterious Rescuers are never mentioned again. You may be missing a chance to carry things forward by showing the reader more about these shadowy individuals. I suggest you might try re-reading the story looking for spots where you could develop some of your ideas more fully.
Dialgue is a great way to move the story forward while you add punch to your characters, and you obviously have grasped that already. However, I think it might improve your story if you looked at your dialogue and took out a lot of the descriptives like this one from Pg. 18 :
“I do not want your coins,” Minerva said sternly,....”
I think it sounds better to just say …Minerva said. Try simplifying some of your dialogue and see if it sounds any more natural to you. Good luck!
- add/view comments (0)
SwordMistress reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
This 977 word review has not been unlocked.
judy reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Hi, all suggestions are just my opinion. I hope I offer something that is useful.
Aodhan watched the swirling shadows his hair… This sentence either needs “that” or a comma between shadows and hair.
The first paragraph is a little confusing. I couldn’t figure out if he was swimming or if he lay on the ground with his face in the water.
The movement in the foliage is just randomly thrown in, it seems.
How can he tread water and push his hair back? I would have him toss his head back or swim back to the bank then move his wet mop of hair.
Do horses backs arch? This made me think of a movement cats make, not horses.
Instead of saying the weapon slipped out-this makes it seem like it fell from his hand-try using the word hilt.
the man on his right wrested the dagger…wrestled
for the man whose wrist he’d hurt seemed capable of another attack. This is not needed, the reader already knows the man is not completely incapacitated.
Aodhan covered his head with both arms and hurled himself into the attacker’s chest, wrapped an arm around his opponent’s and twisted it out. ?? This needs just a little work. He is first covering his head and charging then wrapping his arm around. It just seems like your missing a movement. Also, instead of referring to the knife as it, try using another way to describe it. ie: sharpened blade.
Fight scenes are very challenging to write. I struggle with mine all the time, trying to make it flow from one scene to the next.
voice that spoke “You’re out of your mind” ripped through her chest and her heart floundered, With this sentence, I did not expect him to be her brother. :)
She is not worried about her brother’s condition, and what happened to his broken ribs?
You think to keep a wild animal beside you while you sleep? Did you mean- You think it is safe (maybe)
Just a break into thought- Someone tried to steal a lord’s son (I’m guessing since people toil his land) And nothing came of it, no worries, no mention to his sister. He was smacked in the head, ribs cracked, sliced his hand with the blade of his dagger, and other stuff. He comes home and goes to bed without anyone tending to his wounds. The whole story dies off. He doesn’t worry about the stranger with the poison darts. Nothing. I’m not sure, but I am guessing that something of it will come up later. The thing is, is your story starts off a little exciting, then drops.
tensed, read to leap in defense. (ready)
I was going to mention too, I would think she would splint the broken leg of the wolf pup.
The town was bustling as was usual; people from all walks of life crowded around the streets. I would reword this sentence- As usual, the town bustled with people as they crowded the cobblestone streets. (Or something like that) Try to get rid of verbs such as was, were, could, would, and replace them with action verbs.
shouldering and old man. ... shouldering an old man.
First off, as I stated previously, use more action verbs.
Now, I like your story. Besides a few missing commas and grammar errors, your writing is smooth. When you go through to edit this, you will probably catch the majority of these.
You are very descriptive with your writing and that is nice.
Good job.
slbynum3 reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
You certainly have talent. Your writing style and the details of your setting are excellent. I also like the characters and the way you depicted them. There were only a few things I was confused about.
Aodhan had left his tunic behind in the beginning, but when he appeared to Kristean, he suddenly had a brown one on. Did he put on another?
“She rode down the path” i don’t remember any mention of Kristean getting onto a horse.
“The town was bustling as was usual” delete second ‘was’
I don’t know if it’s just me or not, but it seems strange that the characters live in this huge manor with servants, but they barely have enough money to feed themselves.
If Kristean’s mother is named Jocelyn, who’s this Claire you mentioned earlier?
Overall the story held my interest. There’s still a lot of mysteries in it, such as what those men in the beginning were after when they attacked Aodhan and how Minerva is Aodhan’s mother but not Kristean’s. I assume everything will get cleared up in the chapters to come. Keep writing.
Louminator reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
You have a strong grasp of the language. Aside from a few missed mistakes, your grammar, punctuation, and vocabulary skills have developed admirably, honed and executed by one who is a student of their craft. These are important tools to the writer; however, sharpened utensils and fine implements still require the skilled hands of an artisan. This story lacks a few key ingredients to make it a good stew. (You should go back at some point and proofread to catch some of those glaring mistakes, or you can wait for others to point them out for you. I’m not going to point them out because they should be pretty obvious once you go over it again.)
The first paragraph fails to grab me as a reader. I don’t know who Aodhan is or what he is doing wading around in the river. More importantly, I don’t know why I should care. I cannot relate to him in any way as he is presented as “Aodhan wading around in a river”. So, what of it? And the first line is really a sucker-punch to the reader. “Face down in a river” immediately gives me the impression that he is not in a good position. Yes, it does grab my attention, but then it turns out to be a rouse, and a rude one at that. Don’t sucker the readers or you’ll lose their trust quickly. (And believe me, you’ll want the readers to trust you or they won’t stick around for long.)
While your descriptions are detailed and vivid, they are also very dull. They fail to draw the reader in; instead, it’s painting a portrait picture one frame at a time. Even the action reads like a rehearsed choreography in slow motion. It’s too verbose. Try toning down the long sentences and simplify the vocabulary when the action takes place. It should be quick and punchy, like action! Too many flowery words tends to make the reader pause while they retrieve definitions from their mental files and slows down the action for them.
- “You better have,” Aodhan took a ragged breath, “a good reason for such a dirty attack. What do you want? I have nothing with me but the horse.”
This sentence is a perfect example of interrupting the pace. The dialogue tag (‘Aodhan took a ragged breath’) intervenes at an awkward place where he is saying something. In fact, that should be a sentence by itself, so it would read better like this:
+ Aodhan took a ragged breath. “You better have a good reason…”
Smoother. No interruption. Better reading.
- She heard the soft footfall of leather against stone, but the presence did not register until a voice that spoke “You’re out of your mind” ripped through her chest and her heart floundered.
Sentences like these are trying to cram too many ideas in one place, particularly the reader’s head. Break it up into more manageable chunks so the reader can digest it easier. There’s no need to force feed it. The extra periods in a paragraph aren’t going to be a distraction. Try something like this:
+ She heard the soft footfall of leather against stone, freezing her at that instant. Her heart floundered for a moment before she heard a familiar voice. “You’re out of your mind.”
Also note that the emotion of fear isn’t being forced in this, either. Or does every unannounced footfall “rip through her chest”? I would think that she would suffer from a few heart attacks if it were that extreme every time.
I’m sure as the author, you probably know where this story is going. But halfway through this, I am still looking for some clue about a possible plot. Foreshadowing. Anything. Much like the descriptions and the action, you fail to invite the reader to take part in the writing. We are left on the bleachers to watch everything that goes on without any clue or help as to what is taking place and why we should care. And it shouldn’t come so late in the first chapter; most readers won’t stick around that long if they’re not drawn in soon.
Overall, there is definately potential in this. But at this point, that’s all it is: potential. The only first, true plot-point -- the woman who claims to be Aodhan’s true mother -- not only comes too late, but with too little affect. I don’t feel like I know these characters at all, nor the place where they live. It strings along like a series of random events, yet I can sense that the author has a clear sense of purpose in his head; if only I could glean some of that direction from reading this work.
Hopefully this gives you a better perspective on how to make this better and more readable. I’d really like to read this again when you’ve had time to make some necessary improvements. Good luck. Keep writing!
Showing 1 - 5 of 5
Review item
Add to favesCreator
Relevant Links
Item Stats
GENERAL
5 Reviews 2 Comments
Version 1
Latest Activity: 11 months ago
REVIEW QUEUE
Appeared in Queue: 60 Times
Skipped: 3 Times
Ratings & Rankings
