I need to reword that. But the principal is the same as a house on a hill. There is an ‘up’ and ‘down’ in a ship, the gravity may remain constant, but there is an up and down, if you torque in space your body (with AG) will feel it and will register the disequilibrium. If the stablizer is gone, then yes, it would be drifting ‘off center’ which would mean, that it would feel like it was listing BECAUSE of the AG. Like sailing ships they have a relative ‘horizion’ because the body needs that.
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Way of Sand and Shadows: Tears of sand (Part 1)
Carik slid to a stop in front of the door, fighting not to drop the precious bundle he carried. The deck wasn’t quite level so even with the non-skid deck shoes stopping was difficult. Working without sleep was cutting into his reaction time as well.
He checked the corridor before attempting to key open the doorway with the Captains’ override. His tired eyes refused to focus, but after three tries he finally heard the lock click. Looking over his shoulder every few seconds wasn’t helping. Once the door had opened, he poked his head inside to look around. After sensing no movement, he slipped inside. He quickly pulled the locker from the foot of the bed and put down his bundle.
Carik clutched the bed as the ship bucked beneath him from a second, and then a third boarding charge. The Song of the Sands was in trouble, whether she had been scuttled or simply boarded, he wasn’t sure. He stepped away from the bed and quickly, and in firm motions began to draw a sign on the wall with the tip of his finger. The figure, made up of lines and curls glowed gold for a moment before fading into the grey bulkhead leaving no sign to the naked eye.
The design was both a call and a protection. It would keep those who were after him, The Shaded and The Shadowed, from following him into the room, and it would disturb the paths, telling the other Honored Shedda that there was a brother in trouble. But the sign had only one weakness. It could be crossed if the occupant opened the door to them.
He finally looked over at the bundle he had put in the corner. The uneven movement told him his son was finally awake. He had been forced to use a heavy sedative to keep him asleep through the worst of the battle, afraid of his son getting caught in the crossfire.
Carik waited until he had his son’s attention, which was obvious by the pair of sand-gold eyes, heavy with sleep, staring at him. Those eyes still sent a chill down his spine as they had the day he had first realized that the boy’s eyes would forever remain that color. That he, quite possibly, was the ‘highborn of Honorata” that would end the war.
He sighed and mentally cycled through his languages as he crossed back over to the door. By now he could hear the assassins. It sounded like they were forcing every locked door on this hall. They knew he was here, but not where. Finally he settled on slaver, his son’s first language, and what passed for a trade tongue here in the outermost part of the Rim.
“It’s all right Mika.”
He opened the door just enough to see out, he wanted to check on the others. Two black-clad figures were lying in the hall and he paused a moment to send a prayer to Ona for the two Honored Shedda. They had known him by sight, and understood his task. They had agreed, without prompting, that he had to live at any cost. So they had chosen to draw fire while he and his son vanished into the corridors now hazy with smoke and bad air.
Carik heard footsteps and pulled his attention back to the corridors. The Assassins had gathered again to regroup. He could hear just a bit of their plans, and the few words he heard made his heart stop in his chest.
“Remember, the boy…we want…kill the rest. Not important. …HIS orders…sene. Must come with us.”
Carik began to speak in a low voice almost before the others had finished. He reminded himself that there wasn’t much time left. And that if he expected help to come, he was kidding himself. This was, after all, free steel.
“Stay here Mika, don’t open the door, for anyone or anything.” Carik said, crouched in the doorway. He paused to look out one more time before hitting the sequence of keys that sealed the door and turning to address his son.
Mika was wrapped in a fireproof blanket and wedged into the corner near the bed. Carik was afraid that the assassins would get tired of waiting and force the bulkhead, even the smallest bording charge against the door would send white-hot, razor sharp duritanium shards into the air.
The tiny First Mate’s quarters were sparsely furnished. I could almost, he thought with a grin, touch the walls if I were to lie on the floor with my arms over my head. Even Cariks “captain’s suite” wasn’t much bigger than a pair of lavs put together though.
The pictures on the wall were not of Carik and Mika, but of the crewman’s family. Mitch, his son, and his daughter stared back at him, giving him a reason to hope the three of them were still alive. The three-d picture waved at him, the son giving bunny ears while the daughter stuck her tongue out at the camera.
Carik paused a moment to pray to Ona that the crewman whose quarters he borrowed was safely stowed in cold sleep until all of this was over. Mitch was a good man, not a spacer by birth but good on a ship none-the-less. And he didn’t deserve to have this happen to him. Nor did he deserve such cursed steel.
Carik finally took note of the condition of the tiny room he was now trapped in with his son. The small desk had been wrenched out of the gravity clips, as had the chair Both were now forced awkwardly against the lav door. The search had been thorough, but not neat. They hadn’t used any scanners, but had done it the old fashioned way; by hand.
Another small blast sent shivers through the steel and brought back the memory of how all of this had started. The other ship, the Demtaya “The displaced” had hailed them on the common channel as if they were a slave vessel.
“Song of Sands,” The voice carried a heavy but unplaceable accent. “Come to and prepare to be boarded. Your steel is forfeit.”
Carik remembered stalling for time until he could formulate a plan. It was just him and his crew in the great dark, the furthest part of the Rim, four days from help of any sort, and accosted by a ship, that by her size alone could outlast Song. The Song was a Girati based ship, free or not she didn’t move well in normal space. And these ‘normie Pirates’ had a distinct advantage; Shadow Walkers.
The other captain’s voice practically dripped the notes of the Dark Song, these weren’t slavers, they weren’t even pirates, they were assassins.
“For what reason, Shadowed, do you plague this twice-bought and honored steel? For what reason do you threaten us?” Carik stared at the captain on the viewer, willing him to flinch. He didn’t
“Honorata.”
The acknowledgement of Carik’s house told him he had no more room to run, after twelve years they had caught up with him. Check and mate.
“Keep course, load all weapons, get the freedmen and slaves off this boat at the first port of harbor.” He spoke quickly in an obscure slave language he and his crew used in cases like this. “Make for the Aid station in sector four.” He paused a moment.
“Are we running?” The green-eyed first mate interrupted, spoiling for a fight.
Carik nodded. “Outmanned, outgunned.” Nothing else needed to be said.
So, without warning the small ship folded. Carik knew they couldn’t get far. Not on a ‘cold fold.’ They had no momentum to drag them across N-space; but at least, it would at least give them a head start.
And so it had begun. For the third time in as many decades the Song was overhauled by pirates. But this time there would be no surrender.
“I want the crew off.”
The mate looked at him with hard jade eyes. “Then I hope you plan to space us all Captain, because we all agreed. To the man.”
‘To the man’ was a girati phrase meaning they would fight until everyone was dead. But he couldn’t have that. Someone had to take this steel. “If you stay you are going cold sleep. They don’t want the steel. They want blood. Mine.”
“Agreed.” And they shook on it. A Spacer’s bond.
He held that shake for a moment, willing him to understand. Mitch’s single spoken word told him he understood all too well. Michael.
Carik nodded at the human name his son had used in public since he could remember. Double names were not uncommon on the Rim, out here people could be anyone they wanted to be, and there was nothing to do but call them by it.
Ona had been with the Sands because they had out maneuvered the other ship for two days. Two days of random folding and course changes until they could draw alongside one of the aid stations to drop off their cargo and crew. But the station was unmanned, and only some good flying by Mitch had gotten them in and out without a breech.
When the attack began, Carik did the only thing he could, he hid himself on the shadowed path and followed them to keep the searchers from doing too much damage to his ship or his crew. They knew he was here. He was Girati, not freeborn either. He was bound to ship and steel and stone. He couldn’t leave.
He had been forced to hide his son in one of the medical bays, but he didn’t dare sedate him again. He prayed the searchers hadn’t gotten many of the crew as they fled or loaded themselves into stasis chambers to await either cold death or revival.
Carik looked back over the door and tried not to rub at the bruise across his back. He was out of shape. If two assassins could sneak up on him, on his own steel, he must be deaf dumb and blind. He only hoped his brother-in-arms had been able to get the message out.
He whispered another prayer in deep rim Standard, the language that passed as the Tongue of the Shedda. It was, he decided, an oversight not to have taught his son that language. But then again, that would have meant teaching him more about the paths than Carik felt he had a right to know.
Mika was safest away from the paths so that they could not force him to walk the darkest path and use him against all Shedda.
Carik stopped for a moment, crouched, hand flat to the steel beneath his feet, ‘listening to the song,’ trying to figure out how much damage they had done to The Song of the Sands. The ship was drifting, her attitude was off, and that was only discernable by the fact that the pictures were all hanging a few degrees away from the wall.
Mika reached out to brush the steel of the floor with just the tips of his fingers. He could feel that something was wrong. He didn’t know how to explain it. But somehow the melody in his head was off. It was sinister, dark, and sad. The song sang to him of death as it had for the past few days.
Carik looked agitated as he raised his hand from the steel. He didn’t want to admit that the song told him far more than he wanted to know. It told him that there were murderers on this steel, that there were things that had no name chasing him.
He thought about what he would say before he opened his mouth. He had to be clear, imminently clear, for he knew those who used the Darkest Path could appear as anyone they chose to. He had to make sure that his son stayed in this room. Only here, surrounded by the invisible marks of the Sands, which he had etched on the walls and the doorway; only behind them was he safe, only here was his son out of danger. No member of the Dark Path could cross that door unless it was opened for him.
“Whatever you do Mika, no matter what happens, what you hear, don’t open the door. Not for anyone,” he said as he crossed to the dresser and rummaged around. The mate had told him he always kept a laser in the drawer. Finally his hand touched something metal secured to the underside of the drawer. It was an old repeater, decades out of date, and firing single photon rounds. There were only a couple of shots left on the coil.
He didn’t have time to look for extra rounds. Nor did he think he’d need or get a chance to use more shots than he had. He paused a moment, gun in hand and looked at the door, and at his son. He was trying to decide if he should keep the gun, but already he knew that there was only one way to secure his son’s freedom.
“What about the men you called?” The small voice broke into his planning and he startled back to reality with a grin.
“The men?” It took a moment for the question to register before he could reply. “They don’t need to use the door.” Carik paused a moment to draw the emblem of the sands on the wall with his finger, tracing the shadowy curls of the Ancient Language for what he knew might be the last time.
He looked at the wall one more time as the emblem faded into the steel, vanishing as quickly as he had drawn it. He knew he was stalling, just hoping that someone would see the disturbance that one sign had caused and rush to his aid. But finally he turned and approached his son.
He could almost taste Mika’s fear, it was so strong, but he had to find some way to calm him down. He needed his calm, childlike faith to steel his courage for what he had to do. Carik forced himself to relax, stepping a little bit further into the song of sands, allowing his heartbeat to slow a little. He was getting himself too worked up.
He smiled again at Mika, before tousling his hair, adjusting the blanket, and pushing the old photon repeater into his son’s hands. “Shoot anyone or anything that walks in through that door.” He paused. “Got that? Anyone.”
Mika nodded but then asked sadly, “Papa, what about you?”
Carik paused, unsure of how to answer that, of what to tell his son of his quest. “I have to go after your mom, Mika.” They both knew Julia was dead, they’d known for two days, but he had to go. Carik didn’t know how to tell his son that if he saw him again it would be a phantom, a man using the darkness as a cloak. He didn’t know how to tell him that the last time he had seen Julia, she was nothing more than an assassin in disguise, how to explain why he had killed her.
Mika had never seen his father like this before. He was sad, and seemed so much older than he had been a few days ago. His jet-black hair was now a salty gray, his eyes had a layer of steel behind them Mika had never known, and he had freed every slave and servant on the ship and sent them away.
Carik was a slave runner who bought slaves from the outer rim, brought them to the ‘civilized’ part of the galaxy to free them. Normally he did it with ceremony and feasting, but this time he just gave them chips good for passage on any ship, freeborn, USL or Girati, and got them away.
Carik listened intently as he quickly changed into the sand colored tunic that matched his son’s eyes, and the black robe that covered it. He had forsworn these clothes decades ago, before his son was born. He closed his eyes, fighting tears as he remembered the last time he had worn his Shedda robes. He had come back from the Forbidden World, from the Darkest Path after three years.
“Carik, of the Surname Honorata, this day you are stripped of the title of Honored Shedda. For a term of no longer than the amount of time that you walked the dark path. This day your collar is forfeit, and you shall no longer call yourself a Walker of Sand and Shadow. This day, you have become, Shadowed.”
The words of the council still rung in his ears though it was decades ago. But those three years of being a Shadowed had been the longest years of his life. He had not been forced to walk the circle to earn his collar again, this was a separation of sadness. They had forced him to live in the real world so that he would not accidentally go to the shadows, to keep him from slipping. But even knowing that, it had been difficult. For three years he had been outcast from everyone he had ever known. None of them wanted anything to do with a shadowed.
That three-year separation was when everything had changed so irrevocably. He had tried to change his own path, a choice, he now knew was not his to make. He should have told his son. He should have trained him. But even now with The Shadowed at the door, he couldn’t bear to tell him.
Carik had met his wife shortly after he had taken back his collar. She knew of The Paths, and she didn’t demand that he go against them, nor did she demand that he cut his collar and leave the paths forever. She could live with him as he was. All she asked was that he love her as hard as he could for as long as they were given, and to never tell her when she would die.
He thanked Ona that he had not been given a glimpse of her death. But he had been given a glimpse of the choice he would make. Now he had to do it, either he would walk the path, or his son would, and he could not damn him to that before he even knew the way.
No Ona please, let him be a child just a little longer. He doesn’t need to know of the paths I will walk. Not before he finds them on his own.
Carik could hear them attempting another run at the door and knew that they wouldn’t be put off much longer. He paused as his hand touched the teardrop-shaped stone around his neck, and with a deep breath he pulled the worn cord over his head and handed it to his son. “Keep this for me.”
Carik tried not to let the fear into his voice because he knew Mika was looking for anything, any idea of what was happening. He had to walk the path. He paused, could he damn his own son to that? How could he leave him unprotected? A simple tear wouldn’t do it, and he knew that. Only blood would make it so that even one of the Shadowed had no claim against him. Blood it would have to be.
He crossed the room silently and unwrapped the black belt and bandolier that he had worn for so many decades. The belt bore two curved black daggers, the mark of what he was; of what he now had to give up.
Carik had told his son of the Shedda, though he never told him what it really meant; he hadn’t told him that he was a practicing member, just a follower. He never explained any of it to his son, nor did he tell the boy of the choice that would now have to be made.
Carik could see the recognition of his Shedda robes in his son’s eyes, followed swiftly by the awe that all spacers felt when a Follower of the Paths came into view. The Shedda were a spacer’s best hope. And now he could see that Mika knew the meaning of his black collar.
With a single, swift motion he split the collar, bottom to top and handed the inch wide black leather to his son. He knew that Mika wouldn’t understand the meaning of the act, so he told him that it was ‘in case they ask.’ But there was more that he wasn’t telling, he also knew that it made his teacher responsible for the boy until he was safely in the hands of those who would train him.
His hands moved faster than the human mind could process as the long curved knife moved back to its place in the front of the bandolier. He was careful to make certain that the blades were firmly tied in place before kneeling close to Mika and scooping him up into an embrace.
He felt his son’s heart slow as he held him close again. Cintibure and Amara masked the scent of fear and blood that clung to both of them as he simply held his son for a moment willing calmness to him. He hummed the first couple of notes of the song of sands, knowing that his son needed the security the path could bring him without understanding the price that had to be paid.
Mika reached up and rubbed at his father’s neck drawing back his hand to show a small drop of blood that the knife had left against his neck as he had cut through the tough leather of the collar.
He whispered a prayer before he drew the small, diamond profile knife often called a Slaver’s Knife. The small dagger was no longer than his index finger and only half as thick. The thin, super-strong blade had neither haft nor handle, but instead the last inch of both blade edges had been retouched so that someone could easily hold it in a sort of ice-pick grip.
The knives were good for cutting ropes and killing men, made more for stabbing though than really cutting, but they had the benefit of not having enough handle to be easily removed once forced all the way into the victim’s side.
The blades were cheap and easily hidden, which is why they had become a staple of the rim. But more than that, with a long cutting edge and a wickedly sharp point, they were good defensive weapons. But in this case he wanted to use only the tip.
“Shh,” Carik hugged Mika to him, as he always did when his son was afraid. He hummed the odd toneless melody his son had always known as his father’s song. Instantly Mika quieted.
Carik could see his son was forcing himself to stay still, so he smiled and whispered, “Give me your hand.”
Very carefully he laid the point of the blade against the crook of his son’s arm, holding the blade with his thumb against the ridge in the middle so that it was flat in his hand, and pushed. He applied enough pressure to draw a few drops of bright red blood, which he caught on the tip of the knife, before gently tying off his son’s arm. He repeated the same process with his own arm before putting the blade in a small silk bag and tucking it in his pocket.
“Mika, I pray you will understand someday.” He hugged his son. “These men are here to protect you, never go anywhere alone, not until you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Your path Mika.”
Carik heard Mika stifle a gasp as two figures walked out of the wall across the way. The people who had just entered were men, there were two of them, and they were also dressed in sand and sable, each of them wore the collars like the one Carik had just cut.
“Carik?” He hesitated. “Carlos?” The man addressed him in the language of the Shedda.
Carik pretended he hadn’t heard him and continued talking to his son. He smiled a little as he hugged his son again. “Remember Mika, remember what I told you. We all go to the sand one day. This is my day.” He kissed his son on the cheek before rising.
The taller of the two strode over and embraced Carik like a long-lost brother. “You called?”
Carik thought a moment, going over in his mind everything he needed to protect his son. Nika was here now so he couldn’t wait any longer. Finally he returned the embrace and stepped back before speaking to his Teacher, and his son’s namesake.
“The men of the shadow are outside, I need you to protect my son.” He stood, half-turned away from his friend. “Do I have your word?”
“You intend to face them. This is suicide, Carik.” Nika was incredulous that his student and best friend would do something that insane. He took a half-step toward Mika putting himself between his student and the boy. “At least take the repeater.” He reached to take it from the boy only to find it pointed directly at his chest with a firmness that said the boy would use it.
“For what purpose Nika?” He sighed and turned to face Nika, turning his back to his son, Mika didn’t lower the gun, but he wasn’t worried, he had taught him well. “What good would a gun do me against a shadow? What good is a gun against the dark path?”
“Why are you doing this?” The taller, younger man turned his back to hide the look on his face. He knew he could still reach either one before any attack. He wasn’t positive that either of them were who they said they were.
Carik put his hands on Nika’s shoulder, trying to get him to turn around, to convince him of his reality. When that failed he spoke to his back. “Nika, you know why, you know what has to be. We all have a circle to walk, this one is mine. See, no collar; you can’t protect me.”
Nika turned to look at Carik, his mouth partly open as if to speak, but instead he stared at Carik. He looked him over from head to foot, and then locked eyes with him for a moment. The missing collar was what had made him wary. Could this be a Dark Path trick? Or was his student really willing to sacrifice everything for his son?
He was after all, the man who had, as he said, ‘jumped’ onto the dark path after him. He had been called as his advocate, the one to either bring him back or send him on. He took the orders literally, following him into the very gates of hell, and into the teeth of the Monster.
The two men stood, unblinking for a moment, neither one speaking a word nor seeming really to breathe, and yet it was clear that some sort of contest, whether of wills or of words was being waged. Nika finally dropped his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was more pained, ragged. There was no way he could stop this, he knew, his whole posture screamed it but he had to ask, he had to hear it.
“Do you have to do this?”
“Either I go out there, or he comes in here, and I want to fight him where I know the territory, that is what you taught me.”
Nika nodded even as he asked the question, more for Joran’s benefit than his own. He knew Carik’s mind was made up. “But you know this is suicide.”
“I know it is me or my son.” Carik raised his voice at last. The frustration, anger and fear of the past week finally breaking through his Shedda training as he spoke fiercely. “You know what that means Nika. I will not damn him to that. At least I know what is going on. He’s just a boy, he shouldn’t have to fight for his life, and not against the Legend.”
He glanced at his son, unsure for a moment which language he was speaking. It relieved him to see his son’s puzzled look, he had never taught Mika the language of the Shedda, so he knew the boy couldn’t understand the argument they were having.
“But the boy should have a father.”
“Don’t you think I want that Nika? Don’t you think I want him to grow old and never seek the damned collar? That’s why I haven’t told him. He doesn’t know what he’s facing.”
“And you do?” Nika shouted back. His eyes drifted to the small boy named after him.
“I walked this path Nika, I faced him, and I’ve still got the scars to prove it.” Carik tried not to drop his head, everyone else considered it a mark of honor that he had survived, but the things he had done there had marked him, he had never used his powers actively again. He never really thought he was worthy to be called and Honored Shedda again, not after what he had done.
He stood there, looking at his friend, wondering why he had been sent. To warn him off this path? To discourage him? But the easy path was usually the wrong one. But why here? Why now? Why like this?
It finally fit, the last piece clicked in his mind, this was his penance, this was his atana, his Blood Price for what he had done while he was on the Shadowed Path. This was his Dark Wind. His judgment. And that alone managed to calm him as nothing else could. He raised his chin just a bit, with a new layer of steel in his eyes.
“You aren’t coming back are you?” There was a tone of awe in Nika’s voice.
“Protect him Nika.” His voice was no longer unsure, his voice was no longer shaking, now it was calm and sure, just as it always had been.
“You know they are going to kill you.” The awe had turned to horror and confusion. “You know.”
Carik turned his back, his voice low. “I know. But what choice do I have? Run? Play the coward? We both know what happens when you run from these bastards. I’m not putting him through that.” Carik turned back, his jaw set, his hands held firmly behind his back, making his knives out of reach. “So either wish me greeting or raise your blade.”
“What?” Nika knew that he was giving them both an out.
“You know what they are going to do if they breach that door, I have no collar, you can’t protect me, so either wish me Greeting and let me go, or raise your blade and strike me down.”
Nika’s hand hovered over his knife. It was tempting, if only to save his friend’s honor.
“Just, if you do this, I ask one thing Nika.”
“Anything.”
“If you use your blade against me, use it against my son as well.”
Nika bowed his head, realizing he had walked right into that one. He couldn’t kill his friend without killing Mika a boy they were now sworn to protect from the Shadowed. He could see the collar in the boy’s hand, Carik had given him his protection. And what was worse, he recognized the bandage Mika had around his elbow and knew that Carik probably had a similar one under the flowing sleeve of his robe. Atana. Blood price is what it would mean if he killed Carik.
He hesitated, looking from Carik to the boy, and knowing that their deaths would get his collar stripped from him. Everyone loved Carik, the council would not be nice to him. And he was a friend. He didn’t want to lose him, and especially not to what he knew would take him.
But what choices do I have? Strike and wait for those outside to come in? Kill my student and his boy and wait for the Council of Shadows to strip me of my collar and damn me to a traitor’s death? Or walk the path he intends to walk and fail? I’ve been on that path, I know what awaits. His hand waivered for a moment. Could I really strike down Carik? Finally his hand moved away from the knife, and he saw his student relax.
“Walk softly, strike true.” He gave his friend the greeting of a Shedda going off to war. He didn’t add the last half, because he knew that his friend would walk the dark path. He had to. When he moved again, Carik could see he was broken. Nika laid the back of his hand against the inside of his friend’s elbow in a silent show of support. Even if he didn’t agree with it, he stood by his friend.
“No matter what happens Nika, no matter what, don’t come after me. I have to have your word on that. By the sand.” He wanted Nika to understand what might be at stake.
“Carik, I’m not an idiot, I know what it means to follow you on this circle, and I am not ready for that.”
“You were ready a moment ago.”
“I was shown my place Carik, I’m not insane enough to face Chekir, even with you. I just don’t have the ability.” Nika was surprised that he was brave enough to use the Shedda name of The Shadowed, “Besides, I’m not Honorata, it wouldn’t do any good.”
“By the sand.” Carik repeated.
Nika drew his black dagger and pricked his finger. A drop of blood welled up and dripped to the floor. “By the sand in our blood Carik, I will not follow.”
“By the sand we walked I accept, but being a shadowed I cannot give you back your word. Remember me when I go to the other Paths, Remember me when I walk the sands, this will be my payment.”
“You will always be Carik Honorata.” He knew that now his friend was indeed Carik, ‘the caller of shadows.’ He was named that when he was born, a name he had never understood until he became what some shedda called a ‘Twice born’ a Shedda who didn’t even discover his powers until he was an adult.
Carik nodded. He hadn’t used his given name in decades, but it didn’t sound foreign to his ears this time. Carik Honorata. Yes, that was how he was born, and that was how he would be remembered, it completed the circle.
He threw back his shoulders and turned to look at his son, who instantly lowered the repeater.
“Protect him for me Nika. He’s more important than he can understand.”
“You have my word.” Nika again put the back of his hand against the crook of his friend’s arm, the same place Carik had bled himself. “Don’t forget him on that path my friend. I know what horrors await there, hold on to him.”
Carik nodded and then bowed his head a moment before he walked through the door to face the men outside. The men in the room turned their backs to the door forming a black wall in case the door triggered open. It wasn’t just that they didn’t want Mika to see out, they didn’t want those outside to see in.
Mika couldn’t see what happened, but he could hear it. It would be many decades before he understood everything.
Carik stood, facing the throng of men sent to kill him and smiled with relief, not a true Shedda among them. That made it easier, he didn’t want any of his friends to see him do this; it was dangerous enough as it was.
It had been his worst fear that one of the fallen would witness this and spread the word that they were looking for Carik’s son. As it was they knew that it was Carlos Hunter’s son. He and his son had long since taken “human” names to hide their heritage, Mika still too young to understand that there were those sent to kill him if they knew his given name was Honorata.
Carik smiled, it was a relief to stop running, and this time, he didn’t calm himself down. These bastards had chased him for almost thirty years, For twelve of those he had had Mika, but he still looked no older than a little child of eight. Carik knew he’d look that age for a long time. Spacers, Girati and those living in less than earth gravity tended to age slowly. And Carik had never had the luxury of living on a way-station or at Keltar for the formative years, he’d always been on the run.
He pulled all the anger he’d squelched over those decades around himself like a cloak, he wreathed himself in hatred, rage and anger, and then, to force himself over the edge, as he hummed the sinister tones to open the dark path, he piled on the hopelessness and despairing rage that had come from his wife’s death.
He seethed, he held on to the desire to kill. The song of shadows echoed across the room, a dark, sinister melody and he began to fade from view as the air in the room began to move in cold circles, making the cloud of black shadow swirl and eddy around them all.
“I am a master of sand and shadow,” Carik said in a low, mesmerizing voice that seemed to echo around the room at even the slightest breath of a word. “You see and hear only shadows and air, I have walked the circle of poison and lived, any who would follow, strike true.”
One of Carik’s knives detached itself from the bandolier and floated where the figure’s hand would be, it was soon joined by the other on the opposite side. Both blades came up in front of the shadowy figure’s face, crossing at the hilt as the figure inclined his head forward in a bow.
Carik continued to speak as the knives seemed to move on their own wrapped in his shadowy hand. “I have embarked on the dark road, Caller of Shadow is my name, strike if you dare.”
Those who knew what the name Carik meant shivered, he was the only man to walk the dark path and come back. He was the only one to willingly throw himself onto the darkest of all paths, and come back alive let alone sane. “Those who hear me, know me, those who know me fear me, strike if you dare.” The voice had become taunting. The figure was laughing at them, mocking them.
“Carik is dead, I killed Honorata myself. He’s a liar.” Their commander called from the shadows, not daring to come any closer.
The men, believing the voice, rushed the figure of shadow, each one thinking that he could catch it, for that, in truth was what Carik had become. But like a something out of a nightmare, it slithered and slipped from one man to another leaving bloody gashes in its wake.
They stabbed and slashed, and jumped at him, but he just vanished in a wisp of shadow and reappeared somewhere else. He mocked and slashed at them, goading them on as he silently moved from one man to another.
Hands reached for him, but they grabbed nothing but air, feet aimed for him, knives were hurled at him, but he slipped away from them. He danced, taunted wove his way through the circle of men, leaving bloody gashes as the only sign of his having come. The knives danced seemingly of their own accord and with each stroke blood welled from one of the assassins.
But at last Carik’s anger failed him, and, for a moment, he appeared human before slipping away. An assassin aimed a blow at him, just as he slid back into shadows. The fatal stroke went through the shadow, but he hadn’t been quite fast enough. The Assassin drew back his blade marked with blood.
Finally Carik appeared again, human, blood running down his sleeve as he stood panting and unsteady on his feet. “A hunter’s blade.” Carik smiled. “Laced with an Illegal poison.”
“Actually I took it off of one of you freaks.” The hunter admitted. To any but a Shedda a black blade was forbidden for it was coated with the deadliest of poisons. To wield one against a Shedda was considered an act of treason.
Carik’s smile was almost serene as he reached out and slashed the man across the arm. “Then receive what you deserve.”
“But you can’t—” The figure gaped. “You cannot avenge.”
Carik’s smile was malicious now. “I have no collar, you have no protection.”
“The unbeatable Carik is bleeding.” A voice called from the shadows.
“But look at your men, not a man among them remains unscathed.” Carik was trying to maintain his balance, but it was a fight the men could see he was losing. If it was possible he looked even older than he had before.
Carik knew that he had been slashed with a knife, in fact, he had let the man slash him, he could feel the dark shadows pulling him down, and even the love for his son was failing him. He knew he couldn’t face The Shadowed and kill him, so this would have to be his stand. It was here and now, he had to choose who lived and who died.
“Give me what I want and I will let you live.”
Carik laughed. “I give you what you want, you let me live. Funny, but isn’t the penalty for killing a Shedda, a traitor’s death?” His grin was wolfish now.
“Or did Chekir forget to tell you that Desin? I knew you were there. You’ve walked the dark paths, but you are not a student of the Darkest Path. You don’t know what horrors await you if you succeed.”
The black vapors still hung around Carik Honorata like a mantle made of cold shadows, deep and dark enough to hide in. They seemed to cling to his very being almost physically dragging him to the ground.
“You don’t know what will happen when you report back to him that you had a hand in my death. You don’t understand the horrors he will unleash against you. You don’t know what it means to walk into the shadows and know you will never return.” Carik pushed himself back off the darkest path, silencing the song of his stone, of his ship. The vapors began to fade. Without the song it would be only a matter of time before the poison killed him.
“But I know. I know what it feels like to kill my own men. To strip their collars for doing their jobs, to feel their songs go dim and die in frightened agony as they slip away at the hands of a man they trusted.”
The figure he had addressed as Desin stepped out of the shadows. “And what about your men? Will they know that fear?” The greedy glee made the shadows gather around him and Carik shivered.
“I have no collar, I don’t command anyone. Not now.” Carik pulled himself back up to full height. “Now, I am not sworn to the Code, I am your equal. I am not bound by Law or Honor.”
For a moment, the two stood face-to-face. Carik still holding his knives in a threatening position to keep the Assassins from attacking as he spoke. He knew the last vestiges of the Path were clinging to him, and it made the assassins slow to attack, because it made him one of them.
“You are running out of time, only one of the Greater guardian can heal your men.”
The assassins were watching, waiting for something to happen, but they didn’t expect what did happen, one of their number dropped to the ground writhing and screaming.
Carik hurriedly dampened his own song even further so that he couldn’t feel the man’s agony as his life slipped away in vivid horrors. He forced himself to remember only the day he had married his wife, or the day his son was born.
He concentrated on trying to keep himself calm. On the melody of the sand, but he couldn’t hear it. Slowly it began to come back to him, note by note. Carik strained, hardly daring to breathe for fear of drowning out the beautiful melody. But this time, as the melody came to him, it wasn’t the partial, halting, fragmented melody he had always known. This time it wasn’t fragmented, instead, a series of voices raised up the notes in the old language, words, that no one now understood, even the Shedda themselves only had fleeting glimpses of this language even older than rim standard. The song was complete, the song was answered. It was beautiful.
Finally he understood. This was his circle. It had started with a black dagger, and today it ended with one. His knife moved one more He felt the pain, and the wetness across his palm. The fire in his blood grew white hot, but he didn’t move.
“Jadow poison is very hallucinogenic, but unless you are strong enough to control the dreams, they will be horrors. This is what the path teaches, and if you know what you are doing you can fight it, but what if you don’t want to? Then it will win. But then, you wouldn’t know that Desin, you never walked the circle of Poison.”
“You’re immune.”
“Usually,” Carik was fighting to speak now, trying not to slur his words, though they were becoming breathless. Between the pain and the beauty of the song, he was having difficulty speaking. “Your collar is forfeit Desin.” He dropped the black daggers to the ground, looking at his hands coated in blood. “You completed your training, but you refused the final test. And now you have failed it. The Dark Wind will hunt you down on whatever path they find you. And then you will know the Circle of Poison.”
Carik slid to the ground, the poison finally conquering him. He reached out as he fell grabbing the hem of Desin’s robe. It left two bloody handprints.
Carik could feel the sun on his face, but now, his skin and blood weren’t icy as they had been when he called the darkness to himself, now, for the first time in years, he was warm, swiftly becoming hot. He knew the feeling was the Jadow poison raising his body temperature, but he didn’t care, he could hear the song. He spoke softly, trying not to drown it out. The fire was almost unbearable, but the icy chill had finally left his bones and his heart.
“Netesh Mika.” He managed to force out against the pain of the fire in his blood, “You can’t have him,” He repeated firmly, “You got your Honorata.” He let go of Desin.
It was at that moment Desin understood the trap. He had killed. Carik had willingly killed a Shedda, himself. He had made no attempt to save his own life, and so he had killed a Shedda. He had fulfilled the prophecy, he had used the path to kill.
What was more, by allowing an assassin to kill him, he had condemned the Walkers of Shadows, the Shadowed, and Desin to a traitor’s death. No honored Shedda would hold their hand. They would kill him.
No doubt Carik had planned it this way, damn him to a traitor’s death and give his son the protection of the Shedda, because he had been murdered by a fallen Shedda.
Desin fled into the hallways before anyone could find him. No one followed. They would get him later.
The small crew cabin was silent for what seemed to everyone to be an eternity. It wasn’t until more black and sand clad figures stepped into the room that anyone moved. One of the figures stepped forward with a wary glance at the blanket bundle in the corner. Nika made sure he was between the newcomers, neither of which had lowered their hoods to reveal their faces, and Mika.
“What kin that you hide him so?” It took Nika a moment to realize that the man had addressed him formally in the Shedda language.
“Carik’s child. Mika.” Nika explained, his hand sliding for his knife. Black leather peeked out from below the cowls, both bore the collar, but so far he had killed quite a few fallen this week. He wasn’t sure how strong Carik’s protection of this room was now that he was dead so he gambled that they were friends.
“You do me disservice, for you see my visage and my house, but I know neither of yours.” He gave them the closed answer of a warrior.
There was a tense moment as both men removed their hands from the hidden pockets of their traveling robes and pulled back the cowls. Nika made no move to greet them, though he knew their faces as Desi Honorata, Carik’s half-brother, and Shekir, his loyal companion.
“Where is Carik? I would give him greetings from the road.”
Nika didn’t wipe away his tears, but he didn’t move out of Desi’s way. The large man who had addressed him was much larger than he was, well over six feet, making his half-brother Carik seem like a dwarf, but even his coffee-with-cream skin that set him off as a mulatto, didn’t impress Nika. He knew such things could be faked. These appeared to be his two oldest friends, two of the most-respected Shedda to ever live, but they would die if they meant the boy harm.
“Where is Carik? Speak.”
“Carik is on the paths.” He had meant to say the Outer Paths, but he couldn’t get the words beyond his lips. “I am to care for Mika.”
Mika’s eyes went to the door at the sound of his father’s name. At the sound of his own name, Mika raised the repeater. He wanted to know who these men were and what they wanted.
The men spoke neither slaver nor Girati, both languges which Mika was familiar with, instead, they spoke ‘deep rim’ standard. A variation of standard so far removed from the regular language of the day that few understood it.
“What happened to Carik?” The voice was that of the Mulatto, but for being a large man, he had a soft voice, and he also had Carik’s dark brown eyes. Mulattos were rare still, even here on the rim, but that didn’t concern anyone in the room, he was still a man, he could die like a man. And he would if he meant Mika harm.
“Tell me. What happened?” Anger tinged the soft voice, he was getting tired of being stonewalled. At last Nika was satisfied that this was the real Desi and relaxed his stance. He didn’t step away though, for he still had some doubts as to his intentions when he found the answers.
“Most honored brother,” Nika addressed him by his full title. “I spoke a half-truth. Your brother has gone to the Outer Pathways.”
“How did he get there? Did he go by sand or Shadows?”
He walked the path he needed to walk.” Nika replied as if the man should have known the answer. His voice was broken, sad.
“The darkness?” The room was deathly silent. That in itself was affirmation.
“You let him walk the Dark Path?”
“What was I supposed to do Desi? Strike down my student and his Sene son? Damn myself to a traitor’s death to save him from something he had been preparing for since he took the collar?”
“You could have tried.” Desi was angry now.
“And I would have failed Honored Brother, we both know I would have failed. If you want to blame me for his death, I stand ready.” He reached for the knife on his belt, resting his hand on the hilt. “But I will take no pleasure in killing one of the best.”
“You would strike me?”
“I am Bound by honor Desi, you know what a Shedda’s word is worth.” Bound by honor was the Shedda equivalent of being bound by law. It was the highest form of responsibility they could take. It told any who heard that they would risk their lives for whatever they had sworn by sand or shadow. “I will not take back my oath, I believe in Carik.”
“Carik is dead.” Desi slid his hand for his own knife. He didn’t want to have to kill Nika, not in front of Carik’s son either. But if he was truly bound by Honor, he would have no choice if Nika considered him a threat. And he knew if he killed Nika, the boy would shoot him.
He turned his attention back to Nika. The young man was one of the most even-tempered he had ever known. To have him threaten one of the most respected teachers of the Path was unusual to say the least. “What bond ties you to Carik? He’s gone, far beyond our reach.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I felt the bond between us vanish when he stepped across to the Darkest Path?” He paused a moment. “I swore to him to protect his boy, and Carik was my student.” Desi knew that was a strong bond. His word, given by the Sand, was a very strong thing.
“And what else?”
“It was for me he went to the Shadowed. I owe him everything.”
Desi moved his hand away from his knife. That was something he hadn’t known. Carik had never told him of why he had gone to that Path, but now it appeared that the reason stood before him.
“Please Nika, I swear I mean the boy no ill. Tell me of Carik’s last stand.”
Nika sighed, trying to hold back tears. He could read the fear in Desi’s coffee-brown eyes that looked so much like Carik’s. He had to try and find some way to get this off the path they were on. This exchange proved that they were all on edge. This latest foray into the shadowed had lost them a lot of good men.
Nika paused a moment, trying to decide what to say, and how to say it. “He went out to meet him as his namesake. He killed them, and when he felt himself slipping he stepped into a blade.”
“Why would he do that? He knew enough to kill them without resorting to that.”
“They weren’t here for us Desi, they wanted his son.” The voice was hollow, flat. “That was the only way he could put him well beyond their reach, forever. Now we are sworn to protect him because we are blood-bound to Carik’s boy.” He looked over at Mika and gestured to the cloth around his arm. “You know the signs as well as I. Atana a blood token . It was for Mika that he walked the path this time. And he knew if and when he came back it would only be to face the Council again. So he did this.”
“But he forfeited his collar.”
Nika shook his head. “The boy has it. He stripped his own collar to save us from having to protect him; or kill him, he gave that protection which he should have had, to his son.”
“That’s insane.”
Nika smiled sadly, “Yes, it is. But it worked.”
“Yes it did,” Desi turned to those beside him, suddenly all business, this wasn’t the time for mourning, there would be time enough for that before the end. Finally he switched back to regular standard. “See to the body. We must prepare for travel. Carik wanted to be buried at home.”
It took a moment for the conversation to register, even in standard, Mika sat where he was for a moment as he translated the Standard in his head. The men had already walked out through the door before he threw down the pistol and jumped up to go after them.
Desi carefully grabbed the child before he could get more than a few paces. He wasn’t sure if the body was safe. There were some poisons that stayed in the blood and the body long after death. And if it was a hunter’s knife, or that of another Shedda, it was an almost certainty that he was toxic.
“No child, it isn’t safe.”
The large mulatto held Mika against his side, and let him cry into his pant leg. “I’m sorry.”
It seemed only moments later when one of the men came back with the gold silk bag containing the bloodstained knife. Carik had slipped it into his pocket before he left.
Nika took it and carefully pulled the blade out to check it. Blood was still drying on the small steel blade, so he put it back in the bag and knotted the cord before handing the bag to Desi.
“Atana, a blood price has been paid for the boy. He is to be treated as a Walker though he bears no collar and is untested.” Nika held Desi’s hands on the bag so that he would not be able to withdraw them.
“Such a thing comes at a dear price, the boy is no longer under my protection, but now yours. If you would accept this token of blood then speak now.”
“By the sands beneath our feet and the shadows at our backs, I accept this Blood token. I know that the highest of all Atana has been paid for this boy, and I stand ready. My daggers await his service, my shroud awaits his order, my collar is forfeit at his word. These I swear by the Greater Paths, and by Ona himself.”
“I surrender this token to you along with Mika, of the surname Honorata, protect him as if he were your own son, keep him off the darkest path.”
Desi pulled the bag out of Nika’s hands and slid it into his own pocket. It would sit in his inside pocket, next to his heart, until the boy had taken his collar. Then it would be given over to the boy.
“You know this means you are sworn to the boy.” Nika’s tone was conversational, “For as long as…”
Desi nodded. “I know,” He smiled. “That was what my brother wanted.”
Nika finally relaxed, it still felt odd not to have Carik around.
“You going to be ok?” Desi sounded concerned.
“I’ll be fine, it is just a shock, even knowing what he would do, to sense him just vanish like that, and to know that this time he won’t come back.”
Mika had watched the whole exchange silently, still clutching Desi’s pant leg for dear life. But now that the boy was standing, and no longer under the blanket, he could tell how cold the ship really was. He started everyone by speaking in Slaver.
“Rukka,” He said to the ship. It only beeped in response. “Rukka!” Again, it only beeped.
The command in slaver drew Desi’s attention back to the shivering young boy. “Darkness take me,” Desi muttered at his own carelessness. He thought about things for a moment, flipping languages until he found one he knew the boy understood.
“The others turned off the voice recognition system.” Desi finally put down his traveling pack and began to rummage through it. Mika watched in closed-mouth awe as things of unknown make and use flashed before his eyes.
Finally, at the bottom of the pack, Desi stopped rummaging and pulled a short sand-colored wrap out of his pack. He tucked it around the child and gently adjusted it until it was comfortable. It was a bit long on the boy, dragging against the steel at his feet, but it would keep him warm. Desi knew he’d have to get the voice systems redone or they would freeze before they ever got to Amara. And while he was at it, thawing the crew would be a good idea since he didn’t know how to fly.
“Nika, call the other protectors, this child should never be without help.”
It was still odd for them to think that the boy was thirteen, he looked no older than eight or ten, but that was the curse of Grifter blood. They aged slowly. He’d look like a kid probably well into his fifties. Of course, most grifters lived to be over a two hundred. Desi thought about what lay ahead, and frowned. A hundred years was a long time to protect Mika. But he knew, he’d have at least that long. Maybe longer.
Nika pulled his cowl and bowed his head. He had been honored that Carik, his best friend and student had named his son after him, but now, he felt lost. He didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t just losing him, but losing him so completely. But this had to be done correctly. He put his hands into the pockets of his robe and called.
Six notes rang out in the air. Clear, sad notes. To those who didn’t know what they were it would have seemed odd. Not a single word was spoken, but soon the room was filled with sound as notes began to be heard in response. It was a moment later when the men singing those notes arrived. As everyone else had they walked out of the wall, some of them remaining half-way in the wall to give the others room.
The effect was eerie. It seemed that there was one man, multiplied a hundred times, drifting off into the shadows of the bulkhead. The faces were all different, the eyes all hard and sad. They knew the reason for that call.
“Honored Brother, what brings us to your aid?”
“Hold your weapons for this is a safe place protected by sand, and word and blood. Let the others know, this ship is a ship of Sand and Shadows, It will be kept, as it always has been, freeborn.”
Some of them turned to leave. Desi held out his hand to stop them. “But hold a moment, there is more.”
The people murmured, it was unusual for one so high to give that call, for it told them there was blood to be paid on one side or the other.
“Who is the outsider that he should hear us?”
The question was legitimate. They wanted to know why this conversation was being held in the boy’s language and not their own. “That is why I have called you, stand aside a moment.”
They knew that meant there were others on the way. When Desi was certain that everyone had arrived, he bowed, gaining their attention. The murmurs and whispers dropped off into silence.
He waited until he had the attention of everyone assembled before he spoke again. “The child was given to our care by the last act of Carik Honorata, treat him as a Son of a Shedda should be treated.” The assembly murmured. “He bears his father’s collar, his token for safety, and his father committed the gravest of all offenses to save him. It was for him that he swore Atana.”
“Whose blood did he use?”
“His own.”
The assembly was silent for a moment. “Then how is it Atana?”
Desi knew what he was getting at, that it was hard to ‘murder oneself’ as the Shedda phrase went. But his brother had indeed found a way.
“He walked the dark path to kill the assassins and when the song began to overwhelm him, he stepped into a poisoned blade. He completed the Poisoned circle, but refused to use his abilites to save his life. He allowed himself to be led to the Outer Pathways to save his son.”
“Then he died a traitor?”
“No, he did it for love.” Desi paused and smiled, they didn’t know his brother like he did. They didn’t understand what he had given up. They didn’t know how things were. “But more than that, there are those that would seek to send this boy to the sand early, or to steal him and force him to walk the dark path.” Desi paused a moment. “You know the name I mean. I won’t say it, not until our own is safely at rest, so that I may draw no more attention to his child.”
The crowd murmured again, to be afraid to use the Shadowed’s given name was telling, it meant that whoever it was they were here to protect was powerful.
Desi stopped. “It is our sworn duty, for this boy is now our sworn charge. Any who turns his back is subject to the penalties proscribed. It will be dangerous, many will be lost. But this child must not walk the Darkest Path. That was not his father’s wish. No matter what men say of Carik, he died an honorable man, he sacrificed himself to save this young boy.”
There was silence for a moment. Everyone knew this was their last chance to leave before being bound to the boy. If they stayed they would become his sworn protectors. It was one of the youngest who noticed.
“Sene” The phrase was so loaded with meaning that the given meaning of ‘sand eyed’ just didn’t fit. Not only was this boy endowed with the golden eyes of a chosen but he was Carik Honorata’s only true and freeborn son. Certainly a boy destined for great things.
The single word rippled its way across the room, and the figures crowded closer as if to physically protect him. They understood the danger now, nothing else needed to be said.
“We hear the sands, we see the shadows, the songs ring in our ears and the paths are before us. This boy is our sworn charge, our collars are forfeit if we betray him. His words are our duties, his commands are our lives, we place all things in his hand, for his Path is shadowed.” One of the young men in front spoke again. “We do this in honor of Carik, now being borne to the Outer Paths, in honor. May we be worthy to be called Protectors of Honorata.”
“Is this your word?”
All of the figures bowed their heads and there was silence for a moment before the young voice spoke again. “We have so sworn, we will not take back our words.”
“So be it.” Desi spoke with a serious voice, “Before we get there, let me explain this young boy’s condition. As you can see, he is Sene, and there are those apposed to him ever finding the paths.”
“The leader of those who took Carik was once one of our number, a man blood-sworn to Carik. He is a man whose collar is now forfeit.” Desi let the murmurs die down. “But I want no retaliation. Strike to wound not to kill, that choice belongs to the boy.”
Again their heads bowed, to the Shedda, it was as good as an oath. “The boy, is as my son, and for as long as he lives, he will remain as such. This was Carik’s wish. Protect him as if he were one of us. He has a hard path to walk.”
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 |
SwordMistress reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Overall you write pretty well. Your sentences flow. The overall story idea is quite good. What I think you need to work on is clarity. There were a lot of confusing parts. You need to spend some time on the fight scene. I couldn’t picture it at all. I’d like to see the characterization deepened as well.
I think that this could be easily be expanded into novel length. You have a lot going on in this story and a lot intricate ideas that could use more time in describing them. I think this could make a great novel.
“to key open” be more specific here. This is early in the story and the reader had no idea what kind of world this is. ‘Key open’ could have a lot of different meanings in a sci fi or fantasy world.
You need to tell the reader right away in the beginning where this takes place, a ship on water or a spaceship. This is too short for a novella, according to Writer’s Market a novella should be at least 20,000 words. As a short story this probably won’t have any pictures and no description on a jacket cover to offer clues on what type of story this is.
“free steel.” Don’t know what you mean by this.
“The three-d” 3-D
“cursed steel.” Don’t know what you mean by this.
“‘To the man’ was a girati” I don’t think you need to explain this. Given in the context it’s obvious.
How old is Carik’s son. It’s kind of confusing. You first describe the child as a bundle, which makes him sound like a baby. Then Carik tells him not to open the door to anyone and the fact is mentioned that the boy knows several languages, which would indicate being much older. Unless the people in this world have special abilities, but if that’s the case you need to tell us. I think the reader needs this information early on.
Seems odd that his son wouldn’t talk more while Carik is getting ready to leave.
“Cintibure and Amara” are these herbs, flowers, fragrances from what?
“He whispered a prayer before” Who? Mika or Carik?
“He knew he could” Not sure who is thinking this.
“I have no collar, you can’t protect me,” You already said this. There are a few times in here where you repeat the same information over again.
“But what choices do I have?” This sudden jump into first person is awkward.
“For twelve of those he had had Mika,” Mika acts more like a six year old, then twelve. A twelve year old would figure out a lot and I doubt he’d be so accepting of the his father going out to this death.
“Those who knew” How many men are there? What do they look like? I’m not getting a picture here.
“They stabbed and slashed” Again this is very hard to picture when you don’t even know who ‘they’ are and how many of ‘they’ there are.
“But I know. I know what it feels like to kill my own men.” I don’t know who’s saying this, I think it’s Carik, but I’m not sure.
“For a moment, the two stood face-to-face.” How many assassins are there? Has Carik killed any? How badly are they injured? Are they just standing around now? If several of them rushed Carik there’s not much he could do.
“married his wife, or the day” and the day
“His knife moved one more” Not clear.
“though they were becoming breathless.” His words aren’t becoming breathless, he is.
You need more action tags or dialogue tags. I found myself frequently unsure of who was talking.
The ending is missing.
- add/view comments (0)
highelve34 reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100%% of the Item
this is awesome i want you to keep writing and don’t stop until you finish this book then send it round and get it published ok this is so good. but the only blandish point for me is the very start. there very hard things to do, maybe try to make it bit more interesting, but once you get passed the first few lines its awesome, i have never seen so many different ways of telling the same thing.
dwkeys reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100%% of the Item
Very nice work! You do an excellent job of giving us a picture of Carik’s inner thoughts. The society you present comes across as a complex one, heavily dependent on honor but equally wary of binding oneself by that same honor. Nicely done.
I did see one minor logic issue. This sentence The ship was drifting, her attitude was off, and that was only discernable by the fact that the pictures were all hanging a few degrees away from the wall. If this is a space-faring vessel, then it must have some sort of artificial gravity (AG). The AG would remain under the floor no matter what the attitude of the ship was, therefore the pictures would not hang from the wall. If the AG is out, then Carik would have other issues to deal with.
And a typo here… His knife moved once more(.) He felt the…
Excellent work.
annana reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100%% of the Item
This is a very long piece for Urbis. I’ve personally decided on shorter pieces, so the cost of opening a review is less prohibitive. Unfortunately, there are other downsides to that. I’ll try and give you a worthwhile review, starting from the beginning.
This is a really good piece, it was engaging and worked very well. It certainly had me hooked in, though the start was a little slow. I felt it worked much better than Ch 2, and I had a nice sense of what Carik, and a bit of a sense of Desi and Nika. The background culture seems complex and interesting, without being particularly defined. It leaves a lot of questions, but none that need to be answered for the part of the story you’ve presented, except perhaps what you mean by “steel”.
I’ll go into detail now with the notes I made as I wrote.
_
In the first few lines, I see a couple of issues. One is the use of telling, or part-telling, instead of showing. I’m sure you’ve heard this before.
He checked the corridor before attempting to key open the doorway _ – This is basically telling about action. It’s better than straight telling, but still more passive than it could be. Move it out of observation: _Reaching the door, discipline forced caution to the fore. Scanning the hall, listening for pusuit, his fingers worked nervously at the keypad… – This sort of thing raises the emotional ante, brings your readers into the action in a way directly felt. This can substantially increase both engagement and empathy for your characters, making readers feel an intimacy and really care about what happens.
The deck wasn’t quite level so even with the non-skid deck shoes stopping was difficult. – This is another “telling”, but whole line could probably be dropped as too focused on minutae. It is a level of detail that takes away from the urgency created by the lines before it. You could provide this information elsewhere, if it will be needed, or you could restructure it. The question should be, does this add an essential point in the plot? Does it reveal an essential facet of a character? Does it work to create or support the ambiance? If any word of sentence doesn’t do one of those three, it is best to delete it. In this case, it looks like it is there for ambiance, but if the setting you are creating is a ship-board disaster or raid, use prose that really supports that sense. The deck was canted at a slight angle. _The stabilisers must have blown, _ he thought, fighting against the tilt towards the wall, skidding downhill when he tried to stop. This makes the damage more consequential, something he (and the reader) fight, instead of a fact we know. If you’re after ambiance, you may also want to include other senses, the smell of burning insulation, a high whine or grinding of damaged machinery.
After the first few lines, the action picks up, and our writing becomes more active. It should be at this level from the beginning.
But the sign had only one weakness. _ – the “but” may work, but the “only” doesn’t, making the entire sentence weaker. Helping words often have this effect. _But the sign had one weakness. – is cleaner and more direct.
_afraid of his son getting caught _ – awkward, a slow phrase. “afraid his son might be caught” would be faster.
_which was obvious by the pair of sand-gold eyes, _ again, helper words that don’t help. Delete “which was”.
_of sand-gold eyes, heavy with sleep, staring at him _ – too many parenthetic phrases make sentences seem longer. There is nothing wrong with long sentences, as long as they flow. _Carik waited until he had his son’s attention, obvious by the fixed gaze of sand-gold eyes, heavy with sleep. _ – Clarifying the sentence does make a problem more obvious: how is attention the same as a sleepy gaze.
From there, this picks up markedly, becoming exciting. Bits of background, specific words and titles like “Honoured Shredda” fit naturally into the story, creating an intuitive understanding.
_he was kidding himself _ – This stuck out. It’s a popular expression, and associates with a time and culture. “fooling himself” would have been better.
I’m not sure what happened, but near the beginning there stop being indents for the paragraphs.
_touch the walls if I were to lie on the floor with my arms over my head. _ – this took me a minute to visualise. Maybe something like “touch the walls with toes and fingers, if I were to lie stretched full length on the floor.”
_than a pair of lavs put together though _ – delete “though”
The paragraph about the pictures seemed distracting and over-described, given the context. I’d suggest going straight to the prayer for the crewman, Mitch, since that gives us information about Carik as a person of compassion, at least in regard for the crew.
_This was, after all, free steel. _
_Nor did he deserve such cursed steel. _
_Your steel is forfeit. _
At first I thought “steel” might be “material”, but the second use seemed more like “luck” or “fate”, but it seems like something else. A very brief re-statement the first time it was used would give readers something to go on. This was, after all, free steel, a free ship. – (It may not mean ship, but at this point I can’t figure out what it does mean.)
_It was just him and his crew in the great dark, the furthest part of the Rim, four days from help of any sort, and accosted by a ship, that by her size alone could outlast Song. _ – awkward and too many commas. I’m often guilty of this myself. “It was just him and his crew in the great dark, four days from help of any sort out on the furthest part of the Rim, accosted by a ship that by her size alone could outlast Song.”
_But this time _ – delete “but”
Two days of random folding and course changes until they could draw alongside one of the aid stations to drop off their cargo and crew. _ – This is a fragment. “It was two days… ...changes _before they could…”
_ship and steel and stone _ – here again I’m confused. I was just feeling I was right that “steel” was “ship”. It doesn’t help that you also use “steel” as the material. _steel of the floor _
_No Ona please, let him _ – “No Ona, please, let him…”
_The awe had turned to horror and confusion. _ – I found this part of the piece unsettling, because as Nika seemed to understand and accept, he suddenly seemed to jump back into denial. It was like a stutter in the building scene.
In part, this scene was building to a climax, in a strongly dramatic way, but what exactly the actions, the history, and so on was continued to be unstated. As a reader, I found it compelling enough, heard enough clues, that I was willing to set aside my lack of contextual understanding, in order to follow the action and hopefully work it out. This is a great technique of drawing the reader in. But it depends on the build being smooth, on a sense of unfolding and incipient revelation. The tension holds things together, like surface tension holds a drop on a counter. Hesitation, confusion, or backtracking can break that tension. I think you want to look back at this section to make sure you maintain the build and tension. I’d suggest the doubt before the surety unless you make clear more of what is actually going on, what is waiting for Carik, and what the “Dark Path” and “shadowed” is all about.
I didn’t understand what happened with the blood. Did he just prick both their arms? Then what? Did he mix the drops of blood, do something with them, or just leave them? It is really confusing. I kind of get “blood price” as what it “means”, but not what was actually done, what the ritual was physically.
The fight scene in the hall is very well done.
_His knife moved one more He felt the pain, _ “once”. Period after “more”.
_The large man who had addressed him was much larger than he was, _ – delete “large”, it’s awkward and you’re about to say he is larger, then describe him.
_as a mulatto, didn’t impress _ – delete the comma
but for being a large man, – awkward. “but for such a large man” “but being a large man”, “but for a large man”. And should Mulatto be capitalised? It’s a pretty odd word currently, when we really don’t talk of “mixed race” or use specific words indicating mixture of negro and caucasian. Today, racial mixture is heading towards common, and many races are mixed. Would they use this term in the future on the galactic rim? You might want to stick with description of features.
_should have had, to his son _ – delete the comma
_those apposed to him _ – “opposed”
You need to watch for words that should be hyphenated.
_razor sharp _ – “razor-sharp”
_out maneuvered _ – “out-manoeuvred”
Certainly by the point Carik called Nika, things picked up and flowed well, and it was gripping. The part before that was a little slow, but from there it really pulls the reader in. The conversation with Nika was, as I noted, a little long, or less sharp than it could have been, but still worked well. The fight was done well, dramatic without too much attention to blood and gore. I liked that. The arrival of Desi was also good, though I think you may want to re-thing using “mulatto”. The end was nice, a good set-up for for your story. You now have the “special being”, a couple of good teacher/mentors, and a couple of incipient plot-lines, revenge, and the challenge of the “dark path”. Very nice. My only suggestion is that you have at least some focus on Mika himself. As it stands, he is almost tabla rasa, and you don’t seem to develop a character for him either here or in Ch 2, except as an exceptional, guarded, being who has lost a father.
I look forward to more of this story.
Doogy_Rev_Brothers reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I’ll be honest and say that Sci Fi isn’t a genre I usually read but this was an interesting read and held my interest well throughout, striking the right balance of both imagery and description. Some pieces I’ve read tend to get bogged down with descriptive text – I never felt that whilst reading this. Likewise some don’t use enough leaving the reader unable to associate with the world the writer is trying to create.
I also think you did a good job of revealing the different elements of your plot whilst maintaining the overall pace of the piece. Your characterisations were also good Carik was especially strong and the dialogue was well executed and more to the point believable, which is no small point in itself. I didn’t notice any glaring typo’s or grammatical errors or indeed anything I’d be too tempted to cha