Sci Fi & Fantasy / Stygmarsh Chapter 10. Birds, Tar and Mire
Only the Goblin didn’t sleep. All the time the humans had been with Cairn, Tarn waited, keeping an eye on the Gont’s house out of the window. He’d been half expecting the Giant to return for him, to add him to the cook pot; yes Tarn fancied he knew more of the dark nature of Gonts than the humans.
When the first group rolled back to the Giant’s barn, drunk and happy, Tarn kept to the shadows, still suspicious and watchful. Only when Jim and Manon returned did his fears subside a bit. He made sure that the barn door was barred and only then did he allow himself to doze, fitfully.
He was awoken by some indistinct sound, becoming immediately alert, straining the darkness though his eyes and ears. Was something on the roof? There was something on the roof! The Gont means to kill us in our sleep! Tarn scrambled down from the reed loft and awoke Manon with a rough shake.
“Shh!” Tarn hissed, “there’s someone on the roof – The Gont comes to kill us all!”
“Wha.. Oh, Tarn it’s you,” Manon said sleepily, recovering his faculties.
“The Gont is coming to kill us all!” the Goblin hissed again, pressing a candle lantern close to their faces.
“What nonsense!” Manon yawned, eyeing Tarn’s large teeth, but got to his feet all the same. I best look anyway, the trickster thought. The Goblin led Manon up the ladder to the window looking over to Cairn’s cottage. Outside the stars, hard points in the black, illuminated the quiet, featureless steading yard below them. Bleedin’ Goblin! Manon thought, why did he have to wake me?
“There’s nothing there,” Manon started to say.
It was then that he saw it; some vast black thing swept by, blocking off the starlight. The most monstrous shape, like a massive bird, rose up and alighted on the Big Man’s cottage.
“AAAAARGH!” Manon’s scream disturbed the calm night like lemon juice squirted into an eye. Startled, the winged shadow took to the air again.
“Jim! There’s summat out there!” Manon shouted, tearing down the ladder to the barn floor in complete panic, Tarn at his back.
The ranger scrambled out of his sleeping bag and grabbed for his bow. “What do you see?” he bellowed climbing up to the gallery as the others started awake. Tricky was up quickly and Michael too, fumbling in confusion with his sword before clasping his sacramentary instead, while Isambard pulled his sleeping bag over his head muttering “Gah! Be quiet won’t you?”
Then something large landed with a whump on the barn roof. A slight cracking sound came from up there as reed thatch and dust started to sift down from the rafters. They froze, staring silent with fear, watching the thatch sagging as if under the weight of two enormous feet. The night prowler shifted, forming bulges in the reeds as it slowly crossed the spine of the barn. The wooden supporting struts groaned under the strain, but the roof held.
“What is it?” Michael’s voice sounded high-pitched, his wide eyes following the dents.
“Some sort of Big Bird!” Manon whispered, “Couldn’t see much ‘cept it was Big!”
From outside, the Giant’s dog started barking furiously. Tarn’s nerves were already on edge and the baying was the last straw. Finding himself near the barn door, the urge to unbar it overcame him and the Goblin leapt off into the darkness.
“Engelsblood!” Tricky cursed, “Get back here!” The Nasturian sprang after Tarn moved by a blending of his own panic at whatever was causing the barn roof to creak, and suspicion, in case Tarn knew something he didn’t and had the right idea escaping.
Tricky was a few yards away from the barn when he suddenly became aware of a powerful rush of air and the starlight darkening above him. “Look out!” Tricky screamed at Tarn, as he threw himself to the dirt.
Tarn half-turned, looking up over his shoulder as the black shadow bore down on him, and tumbled headlong. A moment later the grip of a huge talon squeezed his chest, tearing him from the ground. Tarn’s head lurched as he felt himself being borne upward in an irresistable swirl of dark wings. The grip of the immense claw shifted a fraction, weakened.
The Goblin reacted instantly to what instinct told him was his last chance. Somehow he twisted free of the talon and then he was plummeting through the air, turning, hitting the ground. Tarn lay in a heap and remained there, his breath all knocked from him, fighting the darkness churning in his head.
Immediately after the bird swept past Tricky, he leapt up and glanced once at the Goblin being taken off. Horrified at the danger that the Goblin had exposed him to, he sprinted back to the barn, slamming the door. Manon, who had witnessed it all as if mesmerised, now showed the presence of mind to yank the door open again. He dashed out across the yard to the stunned Goblin. Tarn felt an arm about him, pulling him up and then he was staggering in a dazed run. Manon lost sight of the black shadow wheeling against the stars, but he kept his eye on the the thing that mattered most, the dim orange square of light marking the barn door. Here Tricky hovered uncertainly, scanning the dark skies. Closer, almost there, closer, almost there, Manon puffed the thought repetitively to himself, straining under the Goblin’s weight. As the pair lurched back into the barn, the dark shape streaked by and Tricky hurled the door shut, this time barring it.
“Vat you go out dere for! Stupid fecker! You get us all killt,” Tricky snapped at Tarn. Manon caught the look of hatred the Goblin shot at Tricky’s retreating back.
“You saved my life Manon. I owe you thanks,” Tarn gasped quietly.
“That’s alright, Tarn,” Manon said, brushing it off lightly, but wondering at Tricky’s actions. He helped the Goblin to the reeds, lowering him next to Kharoon, who had not even woken up.
The humans scattered about the barn, Jim closing the three window shutters and peering anxiously through the cracks, but after many minutes, there was no further sign of the creature.
“What in the name of the Angels was that?” said Isambard, who had also remained abed during the hubbub.
“A legend!” Jim said in a voice of wonderment, “We better keep a watch.”
They all stayed up the first half an hour but saw nothing. Grime had long stopped barking and no more sound came from the steading.
“What did you mean, Jim?” Isambard asked finally. “What legend?”
Jim looked about from face to face, seeing fear in the lad Manon and the Priest. Even Tricky looked unsure, behind a wry face. The ranger began his tale in a low whisper.
“I have heard of folks in the eastern most Peats of the Thanelands, talk of this,” he narrowed his eyes. “Sensible folk. Folk not used to telling wild tales.”
“What?” Michael gulped. Isambard listened with folded arms, his face set with a sceptical frown.
“They say in these remote places that somewhere north of them, deep in the marsh, lives a ‘night dragon’. A flying beast black as sin and so huge it can take off whole cows from the East Peats.”
“Does it eat.. people?” Manon asked.
“Never heard it did. Though I expect nobody ever lived to say,” Jim finished slowly.
“Ya. A gud story,” Tricky said, and for once without his sarcastic edge.
Isambard, usually unimpressed by fireside tales, was about to scoff at Jim, but thought better of it. By the look on their faces, something had been out there. Jim arranged a watch so they might get some sleep and even Tricky took his turn, self-preservation foremost in his mind. By and by their fear grew less and nothing more disturbed them that night.
It was crisp and chilly, just past the dawn when Cairn rapped on the door in greeting. If the morning light had taken away the troubles of the night, for Isambard, Michael, Manon and Tricky these were replaced with the troubles of a mead hangover. The Goblin, though much bruised, was mostly recovered too. Brother Michael tried to check whether he had broken anything, but Tarn moved sullenly away from his advances, saying ‘I’m triffic-see’ with what Michael suspected was sarcasm. The Squire was in even worse humour than the Goblin, for he still needed to rescue his possessions from the bottom of the pool and furthermore, was developing a sniveling cold. Kharoon, unaware of all the night’s events, also got up groggily. The lizard thanked Cairn, stated “leave soon” to the humans and strutted unsteadily down towards the boats.
“Curious folk,” Cairn commented as the lizard left, smiling warmly at the ranger. Jim decided now was the right time to mention the flying beast.
“There was a big bird visiting last night, Cairn.” Jim told the Giant, watching his expression carefully, “Manon said it landed on your roof.”
The Giant shrugged. “That be the Byrde,” he nodded wisely. “It do live atop the cliffs across the Mire. Still, no damage done that can’t be fixed.”
“Well it frightened us half to death!” Michael said. Cairn gave him a wry smile.
“It be the bright light of yourrs that bought it this a-ways, I be thinking.” Cairn answered, but he did not seem very concerned to Jim. “We best go see what its had forr its zupper,” the Giant said, “Come. Let us go to the pool and take a look.”
The Giant led them to back down to the cove. A throng of marsh crows flapped skyward as they approached the pool. The body of the tentacled creature had been ripped apart and scavenged in the night, its black remains littering the shore like tea-leaves about a huge cup. The signs of the Big Bird were unmistakable to Jim; no crows could have shredded such a huge carcass so quickly.
“Poor Old Corpatter!” Cairn rumbled looking sadly at the scene. “Still they’ll be another along soon! They do love a bit of home cooking!” he winked at Manon. The trickster’s smile was equivocal. Given a chance they might like a bit of the home cook as well, he thought.
“It seems a good thing the Bird had feasted already,” Jim observed, kicking at a tentacle, “Otherwise it might have tried to come into the barn.”
“Thank the Angels!” Brother Michael affirmed.
“What about my kit?” Isambard whined, his head still sore.
“I can help,” Cairn boomed jovially, and the next moment he cast off his coat and waded into the pool. After a few dives, the Squire was reunited with his breastplate and bag. He grew much happier.
“Now, it is time for ourr breakfast,” Cairn said, to which there was general agreement. “Go ahead to the steading. I must talk to Kharoon awhile,” and he walked off another way, his long legs soon taking him amongst the hazel and birch.
At the cottage Abiline welcomed them in, providing freshly baked bread that they smothered with sweet damson jam and honey. Magnus and Jim talked together, the young Gont eager as ever for the Thanesman’s tales. Magnus too, knew of the big bird but told Jim it was only a hazard at night. When Cairn returned, he went to the pantry where he engaged in discussion with his wife in their slow and low-pitched language. It was odd sounding but Manon decided he liked it and would like to learn it one day.
“There seemed something strangely musical about it,” he commented to the Squire.
“Must be Giant tongue,” Isambard said, without much interest.
“Gontish,” Jim corrected, to which the Squire looked baffled and Manon laughed.
When Cairn came out of the pantry he carried a large birch basket under his arm and a smile on his face. He gave the basket to Jim, who fairly stooped under its weight.
“Lunch and zupper,” he said to answer Jim’s puzzled look on seeing the rounds of cheese and other foods in the basket, “And I’ll need this,” Cairn said taking the great oar down from the wall with a grunt, “For I decided that I be a-going with you across the Mire. Saferr and a-quickerr.”
The prospect delighted the marshmen and Manon thanked Cairn and his wife profusely for having them. They gathered their bags from the barn to follow the Gont down a different path where a low boathouse of rough logs held a boat fit for a Giant. It was of wood and well-crafted, very broad but not overly deep so that it would support the mass of the Gont, yet not ride too low in the water. The Gont fitted some planking across it for seats and helped them aboard. When they were comfortable, Cairn fitted the huge oar to a lock at the stern. Humming a soft, lilting song, the Gont propelled the boat with slow skillful sweeps about the island to the cove where the lizard’s skiffs were already bobbing in the water. The lizards themselves were awaiting them in the shade of the trees and immediately strutted to the shore to board the reed boats. Their shoulders and faces glistened in the light from a covering of sticky grease, protection from the sun the marshmen understood. The Gontish boat came alongside and Cairn transferred his passengers into two of the three remaining lizard craft, the cage of the Chosen taking up the third. Jim joined the Squire and Priest, whilst Tricky pitched in with Manon and the Goblin. Jim noticed, with interest, the great lizard Pukos wore patches of sackcloth steeped in brown ointment over his wounds. Furthermore both it and Reebokk had threaded one of the pincers of the Blackleg on a cord about their necks, as trophies he suspected.
Kharoon allowed Cairn to lead the three reed boats. As the Gont rowed across the Mires he again hummed the low rhythmic song to himself, keeping it flowing hour upon hour. The Gont plied a route that was far from straight, keeping to the deeper channels. Yet it proved far quicker than Jim could have hoped for by dead reckoning alone, for none of the channels remained passable for long. Sometimes a channel would end in a cul-de-sac, purposefully fenced off by stakes that protruded from the water. The ranger thought he once caught sight of a blackleg beast in one and wondered whether it was something to do with the Gont.
When they beached the boats together by an island to allow the passengers to answer the calls of nature, Jim asked Cairn about it. Cairn reached for his pipe, stretching his back muscles.
“Them Corpatters likes to settle, mostly,” he told Jim, “but on a darrk night, when the Morrigan’s not looking, they do wanderr about a bit. Can’t have that, now can we?”
“I suppose not,” Jim said, understanding a little more, “so you pen them in?”
“We give them a bit of rotten food to seed them down and then we pegs them out of the way.”
“But aren’t they dangerous?” Manon asked.
Cairn scratched his head, “Not dangerous really,” he said, “just a bit of a bother. Zumtimes.”
Michael grew a little pale at the idea that the creatures were lurking all about the mires.
By mid afternoon a low set of cliffs came into view, crossing their path on the east horizon. The Gont pointed and Kharoon clicked. It was their destination. It was later that afternoon when the boat with Brother Michael sprung a leak, having run upon a sharp log. As the boat started to fill with water, Brother Michael began to pray fervently and reached for his Spiritual powers. Calm Grace flowed through Michael, his face a mask of rapt attention, pressing his hands to the fracture. As the lizards jumped out and Isambard and Jim grabbed their bags preparing to do the same, the water stopped coming in. Seeing the boat stop sinking, Birama swum quickly back and ordered Reebokk to drag it upon a mud bank. Michael blew out his cheeks, yawning and stepped out of the boat following Jim and Isambard. The lizard shaman gathered to inspect the damage, clacking and pointing at the Priest.
“Good show, old man,” Isambard said, sensing Michael had helped, though he had been dozing at the time it all happened and assumed he’d plugged it with a cloth.
When Jim saw the size of the tear in the reeds he knew why the lizards were so animated; The boat should have shipped water and sunk. Although they didn’t really know how he had done it, both Jim and the shaman were full of respect for the Priest after that. It did take not the lizards long to repair the hole by re-weaving the reeds and coating the area with an odd-smelling brown resin that dried to a hard shell, and they set off again.
As dusk started to settle, they reached the reed-choked shallows below the ragged line of grey stone bluffs. Cairn drove a long pole into the mud, to which he tethered his boat, and waded the shallows, carrying his huge carved oar over his shoulder with care. The great lizards dragged their craft to the shore and carried the baggage and the Chosen’s cage to the scrubland near the water’s edge. It was a desolate spot to set up camp but Kharoon clicked orders and the lizards gathered about the Chosen.
“Varnii sleep now. You sleep now.” Kharoon told them.
“But it’s almost night. I thought you chaps liked to travel by night?” the Squire asked. Kharoon gave him a blank stare. “I said Why-Not-Travel-Tonight,” Isambard repeated almost at a shout, but still got no reaction. “Oh, for Nick’s sake! They’re impossible!” he gave up.
“Looks like we’re camping here then,” Jim said, riling the Squire some more.
“Not the nicest place for a picnic,” Cairn rumbled with good humour, “But some good stone anyway,” he commented on the bleak cliff.
Jim lit a small fire in a hollow and soon there was a strong tea ‘a-brewing’, as the Gont put it. Cairn opened the food basket and served a supper of bread and thyme-flavoured goat cheese with the tea. The Gont’s wife had even packed fresh fish for the lizard folk, Kharoon spitting their thanks. Isambard and Michael turned in immediately their tent was up, followed by Tricky and Tarn. Cairn stayed up by the fire looking over the mires from the beach and waxing the huge oar. Presently he brought out from his cavernous bag, what was for him, a small cask of mead. The marshmen kept the Gont and the mead company, though this night they drank it sparingly, mindful of its effects.
“I shall be off tomorrow and have asked Kharoon to come and visit my steading on yourr way back from wherrever you be bound.” Cairn said to Jim as they shared a pipe by the fires last embers, the others’ snores coming from the tents.
“I wish I knew where that was,” Jim replied gazing out across the flat horizon.
“You have made the trip safer for us all.” Manon said, “How can we ever repay you?”
“Ah, my small currly friend, just rememberr to give my wife a gift if you come again. Nothing big, nothing special, but just something,” he smiled wistfully. “Old fashioned is my Abiline.”
“What will you do now?” Manon asked him.
“I must return to my steading, and soon I shall visit my cousin, Hewn Broadshoulder.” Cairn said. “There is a fair in his steading to the north of herre at the fullmoon.”
“Perhaps we shall meet again?” Jim said.
“If Nud wishes it, it is surre to happen,” the Gont said with a smile
The night was dry and peaceful and with the Gont there Manon and Jim certainly felt safe as they settled to sleep.
At dawn Cairn woke them one-by-one, suprisingly gently for such a big man, and bid each in the group goodbye.
“Your name in head of Chosen,” Kharoon said to Cairn with a bow as the Gont took up his oar again. He set off with a wave from the boat, his broad back soon disappearing amid the reeds, his baritone humming lingering for a short time after.
The day was overcast and the banks of cloud rolled west relentlessly. The lizards spent the morning taking the bug lanterns and other supplies out of the boats before dragging them well away from the water. Then Jim watched as they hid them masterfully in a hollow, covering them with brushwood, and wiping away their tracks. Kharoon was already scanning the splintered cliffs stretching left and right before them, riven with a hundred intricate canyons. The old lizard bent over his barkskin map and chose the left side, changed his mind and directed the Chosens litter to be carried south. They set off, walking near the base of the cliff and presently heard a strange bubbling and plopping coming closer, as if someone was throwing stones into gooey mud. Soon they came into an area of greasy grey shingle between the cliff and the marsh where no plant grew or creature was to be seen. It was covered to knee-height in patches of steamy mist and pocked with large muddy pits that, to their surprise, would suddenly belch forth with a great noise and a puff of acrid fumes, smelling of rotten eggs.
“What is this place?” asked Manon looking about in disgust. “I don’t like it.”
“It where bad Kappu enter land,” Dannu explained, pointing to the dark pool of oily water that fed into the nearby stream and reflected a rainbow of light off the surface.
“Tar pits. That’s why it stinks,” Jim said, wrinkling his nose.
“Only Akkatim – beast of water with dark leg – come live here. Much bad.” The lizard explained.
“True nuff,” Jim agreed, “Where now?”
“Sign-who-speak, tell of path. Varnii must go bakk Land of Vakknu. Kapanakk Altan, Varnii say.”
“And at this path?” Isambard asked from behind his kerchief.
“Through go forbidden place,” Dannu said, gazing away.
“And?” Tricky demanded, “Hey!” but already Dannu was walking over to where the lizards were heading off, skirting the pools with the Chosens cage suspended on two poles.
The rest of the day was spent trudging along the smelly tar pits, scraping the blackened muddy loam off their boots whilst Kharoon sent lizards looking amongst the cliff foot for a canyon to investigate. Jim figured he might be of use looking for this path Dannu had mentioned and tried poking about several himself, but only found the unmistakable tread of lizard folk. It puzzled him until he realised that the tracks, really just marks where the rain couldn’t easily reach, must be pretty old ones. I better tell Kharoon anyway, the ranger decided.
“No Tabr here,” Kharoon said agitated when he understood Jim, and immediately sent Grinn to snout the area the ranger indicated. After a while the great lizard came back and reported to Kharoon.
“Everything alright?” Jim asked, trying to catch the gist of the lizards chatter.
“Hold Arakken,” Kharoon replied, “Hurry good.”
“Why?” Manon asked.
“Arakken,” The lizard repeated, giving a sudden baring of pointed teeth, though his eyes did not appear hostile towards Manon, “No like salt seepers.”
“More lizards, eh?” Isambard said breezily, “I bet that’s why Kharoon wants to travel by day.”
“Vhy dat?” asked Tricky.
“Probably want to avoid them. They’re probably deadly enemies, I should imagine,” the Squire guessed.
“Marvellous!” Manon said sarcastically.
Later that day Isambard cornered Dannu alone.
“Dannu, what are ‘the signs-who-speak’, hmm?” he asked curiously, having to repeat himself. For reply the lizard showed him his small cudgel. The shaman curled his scaly thumb about a sign carved at the end – recently cut the Squire noted – and offered it to him. Isambard took the proffered stick and touched the shape, reaching for his runepower as he did so. With something on the edge of excitement the Squire fingers began to tingle. It was a proper magic Rune! Furthermore there was some similarity, some part of it Isambard recognised. It was like a sigil the Squire could draw himself, indeed the very one that had slumbered and drowned the great lizard back in the Hold. Whatever the provenance of these runes, the Squire realised, these lizard shaman had learned to shape and empower these runes for themselves. The thought lay uneasy in the Squire’s mind. He mentioned this to nobody, but carefully noted the shape down on a page of coarse paper the trickster lent him, his own supplies having already perished into a mush in the incident where he had last faced death.
At the end of that afternoon Kharoon discovered the place Jim knew he was looking for, though it was just a featureless crack to the ranger. The shaman led them up the course of a warm, steaming river that sprang from a fold in the cliff face. It was a bigger canyon than Jim thought from the inauspicious entrance, widening to a hundred yards after a quarter of a mile. The air grew moist and hazy with an evil-smelling mist. The hot little river wound about their steps, like a dog anxious to please, Manon thought. They tramped upward through an area filled with billowing steam and presently discovered its source; a rent in the rockwall on their right was cascading scalding water into a murky lake set against the cliff. Beyond the lake the canyon continued, slowly climbing into the grey bluffs until it became lost in shadowy mist. Yet, every now and then, a dank and foetid air came moving down the canyon, shifting the mist before it, accompanied by an eerie piping sound.
“I really don’t like this place either,” Manon said.
“Danni-boy says its haunted,” Tricky said rather unhelpfully and with a grin.
“By what?” Isambard asked.
“Kappu-vatevers’ spirit,” the Nasturian said.
“Bleedin’ marvellous!” Manon groaned.
The elder Or-likk called a stop, raising his staff with a green scaled arm mottled brown with time. With an effort the old shaman clambered atop a rock and the lizards gathered below to listen. The shaman held a discussion, thoughout which Kharoon seemed angry to Manon, pacing about and muttering to the others. Then, when Or-likk had climbed down, the great lizards clustered and spoke together, something Manon had never seen them do before. He watched fascinated as their huge leader Orlokk came across to speak to Kharoon. They finally exchanged a spit and Kharoon returned to the other shaman. It seemed to Manon that, at the last, the great lizard had decided the matter, rather than the shaman, and the shaman were accepting its decision.
“Camp,” Kharoon called to the humans.
“Funny place to make camp,” Jim grumbled, “we should go back down a bit. Stinks here.”
“Vat dey talk about Danni-boy?” Tricky asked the lizard as they unpacked the tents.
“We wait. Vakknu blessing,” Dannu told him.
“Vat’s dat supposed to mean?” Tricky complained, but the shaman fell silent.
“Maybe the moon?” Manon suggested, still wondering about the great lizards.
“Been hardly any moon these last three nights,” the Squire commented.
“Let’s get the tents up anyway,” Jim suggested. “Rest or sleep until they tell us what’s going on.”
As evening closed in, Jim noticed the great lizards taking up a defensive circle about the Chosen, crouching and staying hidden amongst the stunted and sickly brush weeds. Moreover their defensive attention was all towards the east where the canyon ran into the shadows, as if they expected some threat from there. So as not to cause alarm, Jim subtly suggested to Isambard that they change their campsite, and he directed it so that the lizards were higher up the canyon, just in case. Isambard hung up his wet spare clothes and his pack to dry and began to practice drawing the lizard-made rune in his tent. Michael poked the fire and searched for bug bites, Tricky sharpened his sword while Manon and the Goblin slept.
Bored with waiting about, Jim used the last light to hunt with his bow, returning having shot a thin and exceedingly sinewy jack hare. This gave Manon and Michael something to do. They decided to try cooking it in mead not trusting the ‘dirty little spring’ as the Squire commented after using it to shave in. Although the hare went no further than a few bites each, Michael enthused about the recipe.
Alone amongst the lizards, Kharoon was scanning out west, gazing between the canyon walls toward the patch of marsh. Briefly the dying sun punched through the cloud horizon, bruising the cliff tops around the slim valley until they glowed a deep plum-colour.
As the sun disappeared, Kharoon suddenly croaked “Vakknu!” pointing west, below the distant clouds. There, barely visible in the narrow band of sky, still more blue than black with the dusk, was the thin rind of the waxing moon. The effect on the lizards was swift; they prostrated themselves at the sight and called on ‘Vakknu’ in chorus. The Chosen whimpered or maybe giggled, in its cage.
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This 307 word review has not been unlocked.
Ok Im gonna keep this brief, this piece was also awesome I read one previously called “Legend of something I forgot just thinking about the characters and the storyline behind it. its just awesome stuff where do you guys come up with these stories to tell its just amazing stuff Im not much of a story teller myself but its just really cool to read other peoples work and have your mind blown away by their incredible talent.
I liked it alot, just keep writing and I shall definitely keep an eye out for more of your work too.It kept my interest right through to the end. Thanks for a great read I enjoyed it.
Oh and I gave you a 10 for your goal you deserve it mate =)
Amy
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I enjoyed this story. the only thing i can think to say is in a few of the sentences, you may want to re-arrange the words a bit, for a better flow. as for what character i enjoyed most, i am really not sure. i enjoyed them all in their own ways _ but i guess i’d have to say Tricky. thanks for the great read!
This was fun. It reminds me of neverwinter nights 2 and dungeon siege. You have a very lively stroyboard and have the ability to present it well. I would like it and appreciate it if though you were only a bit more descriptive. Please post the continuation. I can’t wait to read it!
I enjoyed your work and thought that all and all, it was a really good read. I felt that the character of Tricky was the most interesting to me because he seemed to be the most unique. Although it’s not by a huge amount, he stood out to me the most. Grammatically and everything else, I felt that you were quite solid and I really enjoyed your work.
Thank you for sharing it and good luck to you in the future.
This isn’t bad. It’s pretty well written, and there wasn’t really anything that jarred me, though I would like to know how the goblin actually freed himself from the night dragon’s talons. As you write it, he just thinks to himself, “Man, I need to be free,” and he’s free.
My issue with this is that everything that’s here has been done to death already. Rangers and goblins have been in so many stories that (unless they are done in a way that’s against type, such as a goblin that’s smart and sophisticated or a ranger who’s evil or a complete asshole) they’ve become boring.
This is competent, but it doesn’t have anything that destinguishes from any other typical fantasy story.
I’ve reviewed an earlier version of this privately. You know I like your work.
I notice some improvements, and it flows a lot better, and though I still think more can be done with depth of character, I feel they are more strongly drawn. Some of what I noted as errors, eastern most instead of “eastern-most”, I see are still there, but for this I’ll skip ahead to the later parts I didn’t give detailed notes on.
Again, a couple of technical things:
= try and keep one paragraph for each PoV character, and for the speech of each characters. It makes it much more clear.
= Indent (three spaces) at the start of each para. Urbis does not recognise word-processor indents, only actual spaces.
_and had the right idea escaping _ – This is a little awkward, and sounds like the idea is escaping. “….and escape was the right idea.”
_when he suddenly became aware of a powerful rush of air _ – I’d simplify. “when he suddenly felt a powerful rush…” “felt” is also stronger than “became aware of”.
_overly deep so that it _ – comma after “deep”
_the lizard’s skiffs were _ – “the lizards’ skiffs” – possessive of a plural.
_from the sun the marshmen understood _ – comma after “sun”, or it sounds like the marshmen understand the sun, rather than the protection of the salve.
_the Squire and Priest, _ – “priest” is not capitalised.
_Tricky pitched in with _ – “pitched in” can be used as “helped with”, but otherwise “pitched” implies thrown, and unless he was pitched into the boat, “climbed” or “clambered” is probably better.
_about their necks, as trophies he suspected. _ – comma goes after “trophies” not after “necks”.
_By mid afternoon _ – “mid-afternoon”
_By mid afternoon a low set of cliffs came into view, crossing their path on the east horizon. The Gont pointed and Kharoon clicked. It was their destination. It was later that afternoon when the boat with Brother Michael sprung a leak, having run upon a sharp log. _ -
This part of the story gets very “tell”. You could easily describe someone spying the cliff, instead of telling us someone did. You could also bring in the ominous with a memory that Cairn said the “Byrde” rooted on the cliff. Likewise, the collision that leads to a major leak is potentially an exciting and suspenseful part. Describe it, instead of just mentioning it. You could focus on the fear, the water pouring in, attempts to bail, the distance to the cliffs they would have to swim, the fear of blacklegs and other beasts. As I noted, the suspense dies off with morning and the departure of the Byrde, and doesn’t return till the valley near the end. This would provide a chance for another dramatic interlude that flows more naturally into the “miracle” by Brother Michael, which could also be beefed up with more effort by the brother to focus, more about the “grace” and more “reaction” and emotional response by the other characters.
_immediately their tent was up _ – This is an “English-ism”, but not good grammar even there. “immediately after their tent was up” or “immediately, once their tent was up.”
_cavernous bag, what was for him, a small cask of mead. _ – wrong punctuation. “cavernous bag what was, for him, a small cask of mead.”
_Cairn said to Jim as they shared a pipe _ – comma after “Jim.”
_and peaceful and with the Gont there Manon and _ – At least a comma after “peaceful”, but with so many “and”s you may want to use a full stop, and start the next sentence at “With the Gont..”
_with the Chosens cage _ – “Chosen’s”
You could probably do more with the scene where Jim discovers other tracks. Build more tension, make it seem more threatening, with strong concern among the lizards, and a virtual flight, looking over their shoulder, and making efforts to cover their tracks. It’s another point where you could create “build”.
_It was a proper magic Rune! _ – This discovery that the lizards use runes… why is this a surprise? Isambard opened rune-sealed doors. And if the rune is a sleep-rune, why would it be good for direction? (these just occurred to me as minor incongruities)
_green scaled arm mottled brown _ – comma after “arm”
_atop a rock and the lizards _ – comma after “rock”
_cooking it in mead not trusting the _ – comma after “mead”
_as the Squire commented after using it… _ – comma after “commented”
Again, this is better than the last draft.
I perceive Manon as the central character here, with Jim as a strong second, and Tarn a third. Isambard feels minor, and Michael the least defined. None of the lizards have much personality. Tricky has a persona, but not a “sympathetic” one. More like the major in Space Family Robinson.
The last sentence is a good one to leave this chapter on. It leads one to want to “turn the page”.
It was then that he saw it; some vast black thing swept by, blocking off the starlight.
-I’d try for moonlight, stars aren’t too bright.
“AAAAARGH!” Manon’s scream disturbed…
-Try saying he cried out, and describe the sound don’t try to spell it out. As it stands I’m reading the word AAAAARGH and thinking about that word, not how Manon sounded.
They froze, staring silent with fear, watching the thatch sagging as if under the weight of two enormous feet.
-I actually see two enormus human feet sitting on the roof, disembodied. Why not try something like, The roof groaned, and wood splintered and cracked under the strain of a great weight, as if the sky itself had fallen upon the house.
*Run on above, I know but just leaving ideas :)
The Goblin reacted instantly to what instinct told him was his last chance.
-When the plot reached climax try to avoid lengthening phrases out. Make things short and to the point, for instance:
Without hestitation, the goblin flailed against the grip. His instincts taking over rational thought. (Break it down into two sentences if needed.)
But some good stone anyway,” he commented on the bleak cliff.
-Was he looking at the cliff, or standing on it? Unclear here.
The air grew moist and hazy with an evil-smelling mist.
-Evil has a smell? It works for me but… Hell just pointing that out.
Well, I’m finished reading this now. I’m really impressed with your descriptions on several things. I like how you said what they ate, what the lizard-guys wore. Nicely down.
I really liked the Cairn character, he seems temporary, but I really liked his manner, and the way he spoke. The characters are brilliantly made, diverse and humourous and true to their make, if you know what I mean. Great job on that.
I really liked how you give every character just enough time in the story to be easily remembered without slowing the plot. Good humor in this, and a great job all in all. You’ve got some real pontential mate. Stay with it and your likely to be the next Tolkien. :D
I’m looking forward to your next installment.
_I would appreciate comments on enjoyability and characters (most / least favourite?). Anything you’d like to know more of / less of etc. _
Overall, this chapter gives a little more insight into the characters, but they still seem fairly undefined. I think Tricky is more defined, and Tarn much more so.
Manon seems to be the central character, but I still am really uncertain of his relationship with the others. He is certainly one of the few characters I feel much empathy with. It seems to me he is fairly intelligent, and trying hard to make sense of their situation and do the right thing. His saving Tarn shows his courage.
You mention Manon as the “trickster” several times here. In what way does he show this, as a skill or a problem? He is also too minor in the troupe, and seems not to develop credibility with them in spite of the fact he seems to develop leadership and responsibility.
I felt a bit of connection with Isambard in the long chapter in which he explored, but aside becoming ill, I’m not certain what was gained from it, other than a long description of the cave complex, much of which we don’t seem to need to know. Other than that, he just seems to be at times a little pompous, often ill, and generally regarded as a “personage” without having many qualities that seem to justify it.
Michael has his power of “the grace”. Otherwise he seems a bit naïve and priestly, and occasionally offended by pagans. There is nothing really there for a reader to connect to.
Jim, in this, shows a measure of skill and leadership, but I don’t have a lot of understanding of his character, except that he has survival skills, and is a bit taciturn. But most of what we see of him is from the outside.
Tricky has some character, at least a bit of a scoundrel, afraid of monsters, and holding his own conversations with Tarn, but again, we really don’t get much understanding of Tricky.
Tarn shows up as a real person in the first part of this, as you make him your POV character. He seems self-reliant, and paranoid of the alien humans, both understandable. But he also seems to have courage, and is not unsympathetic, as we see in his communications with Manon.
There was a good sense of tension with the introduction of the “big bird”. With it’s departure, that was lost, and the whole thing seems to have just become another incident, rather than having a connection to the plot overall. In some ways, it would have been good if the bird had killed or seriously injured one of the group. Otherwise it seems that no matter what the adventure, they all always come out unscathed. A bit of tragedy is not a bad thing in fiction.
The tension is also lost with the bird. Yes, they are travelling through unknown territory, through swamps and crevasses, yet there is no real sense of danger, no threat. The plot tension does not re-appear until the suggested threat with the lizard-guards facing east.
Likewise, they all just proceed with one another. There is no simmering resentment, no growing suspicion, no attempt to convert of prove one’s faith, or disprove it; no greed or envy, no hope from someone that they can escape, or become leader, or find the clue to the secret treasure the others don’t know the existence of: no-one scheming to eliminate the others so in the end, they get all the lizard gold. There is no internal social plot, so there is no tension there either.
This low level of tension and deeper characterisation is the major lack I see in this story. I don’t believe swapping the point of view between characters helps. If you do so, try and keep it with one character for at least a chapter.
That said, the plot itself is interesting, and the environment well described. I feel you do well sketching the characters, and describing the action with a style that is fairly spare but complete. Your word-use and prose is generally good. This chapter flows better than some others.
Here’s some specific stuff:
_Bluddy Goblin! _ – I don’t remember you using this expression before, but why not use “bloody”. It makes more sense as an explicative, even without a connotation of “God’s blood”.
_like lemon juice squirted into an eye _ – This is a great expression, but I wonder how many lemon trees they have in the swamp. It seems a bit modern.
_between his sword and his sacramentory _ – I’m not sure about using “sacramentory”. I guess it is a made-up word for a sacrament-case. In Christianity, containers for the host include: ciborium: the container used on an alter; monstrance: a fancy container used in a procession; pyx: a small portable container, sometimes hung around the neck, probably what Michael would have. “Pyx” really just refers to a small box.
_crossed the spine of the roof backwards _ – I don’t really understand “backwards” in this context.
_“What is it?” Michael squealed, his wide eyes following the dents. _ – This is a strong image, but “squealed” conflicts a bit with the impression I’ve had to date, which is of a largish man with a sense of religious calm, who rises to meet danger with either a sword or a sacrament.
_at Tricky actions. _ – “Tricky’s”
_he became suddenly _ – “he suddenly became”
_Immediately the bird had swept past _ – “Immediately after the”
_against the stars but he kept _ – comma after “stars”
_lowering him by Kharoon _ – “by” sounds like “by way of”: eg “lowering him by his shoulders”. Maybe use “next to”.
_the eastern most Peats _ – “eastern-most”
_Isambard listened but with a fixed smirk and arms folded. _ – After the big bird walking on the roof, grabbing one of their company and so on, I don’t think the Squire would smirk. Scepticism maybe, but the situation was clearly serious.
I’ll stop there. After this point, as I mention, the suspense dies and there isn’t a lot more revelation of characters until the end of the chapter.
First off, I didn’t like think the term, “about to pooh-pooh the story” really fit in with your dialogue. Second, I think you need to describe your setting so much more, especially in the first paragraph. I can see them talking to each other, but the setting is still questionable. I really like Tarn even though he seems to be too cautious for his own good and sort of, not so smart about certain things like he’s missing something. I also don’t like Kharoon. He reminds me of the lion from “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe”. I don’t know why, but when I read things that he was saying, the lion’s image just popped in my head.I’ll be honest with you, I’m not really a big fan of these kinds of stories so the fact that I actually had enough patience to read it, that’s really great.
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