The Merchants Daughter

[dustinzgirl]

You guys are so awesome.

Thank you, Chris and JD.

And, as Chris noted, brackish is an odd choice here, and I'm not sure what you mean. Do you mean sallow? brownish? olive? dark?

All ove the above? Actually, I really just like the word. Its a fun word to say. I suppose it wasn't the right choice of words, but I was thinking more sharp and brownish. I suppose I could have just said, sharp and brownish. lol.

About the Coffee thing: I had a made up word, and as you will see in 'The Cursed Lands" (The Sequel to this one) I have several made up words. The problem with using a made up word for coffee is that IMO, the morning ritual is mundane, so to say, and and I wanted to convey that. Tea, I suppose would work also, since tea has been around since before civilization.

To which I make another point....the use of "Christian King" actually stems from two things. I really wanted to steal stephen kings "Crimson King" not the guy, of course, but the word, because it conveys so much so quicly, being at once sexy, powerful and dark---but the Christian King is not those, of course. I just like the phrase. But obviously that would be far to obvious. The second is that this story actually started as a tale about the Formians, Firblogs and Tuatha (All from an extremely early irish history--mesolithic, I think?) The problem with that is that once I started down that path, it became painfully obvious that I had no frelling clue what I was talking about. So, the use of Christian King was originally, in my fantastical story, meant to convey the death of the old religions and the old gods. But, since there is sooo little on formian and firblog religions, in fact, I am under the impression that the Celts believed the formians and firblogs were gods, it was rather hard to write. The other part about the use of that is there were, in early Irish history, the daughters of Noah (who was a giant, so the stories say) went to ireland after the flood, bringing thier religion with them and planting the seeds that changed religious history forever. Thats kind of, the whole theme---in a way---but it is a background theme, that is, until you finish it, you will never really think about it in that context. At least that is my plan for the third chapter, anyways.

So, in short, here is what I really did: I mixed some way early history with some middle ages badness, threw in a bad guy who shakes the foundations of beliefs. Also, I have been wanting to change the castle into one of those hill-house things the druids used? but, again, not my area of expertise, and when I wrote it, the whole thing sounded stupid. But, this time in history would work well, because we know druids had swords and jewlery and stuff like that.

 

[j d worthington]

On the daughters of Noah -- while that works as legendry, the problem with the Christian connection is that the story of Noah takes place too long before Christ, so it would still be unlikely to be a "Christian" King. As for use of the firbolg, tuatha, etc. -- there are some pretty good sources on both the paleontology and legendry surrounding them that you could probably locate via the 'net; do you have a library near you that does interlibrary loan? If you either haven't used this service, or haven't used it for a long time, it's got to where it's considerably quicker turnover than it used to be -- sometimes I used to have to wait months; these days it seems like I get what I order within a week or so, generally speaking.

The conflict of cultures is a good idea; gives you plenty of scope for storytelling, which you can go into from different perspectives, either social commentary, irony, straightforward adventure.... Should keep you happy as a puppy chasing its tail, for a good long time. Good luck; keep us posted....

 

[dustinzgirl]

I never use the library because I don't have a car right now, and before that I just never returned books. I have a problem with that, LOL--movies, books, ect I never return them.

I do have unlimited internet access to the University Library's PDF books, and I buy a lot from Amazon. Most of what I do is internet based, because I really do not get out much, even when I had a car.

Yes, I've been working on the culture thing. The way the story develops, and you will see this when I post later versions.

About the barbarians / shamans:

It is true that shamans rarely interact in a battle like way, I think I have to elaborate on that part a bit. But, the shaman was there with a girl and a baby, at special waters they use for healing. The water does not work if you take it out of the pool. The ceremony was interupted, the shaman was angered at the desecration and attacked the men. I suppose I can add those two sentances and have it make more sense.

The three springs people treat the barbarians like wild animals. You might fear a wild boar, and you might hunt a wild boar...but if you do not respect the wild boar, it will gore you to death.


One of the points I will make, and this comes up later, is that the human folk of this land are not inventors, they are not prone to wild ideas about the outside. A very long time ago (I'm still working on the history line, here) some calamity brought men across the southern mountains, but as soon as they passed, the mountains closed up again (because, the dragon god let men through--basically to make the elf and dwarven gods angry, because my dragons are kind of petty that way). So, the men were cut off from the rest of the world, and formed this land. There are also some mystical creature/human wars, and that also has a lot to do with the whole cut off from the rest of the world thing.

anyways, right now I am working on Chapter 3, Panther's Pass (The easterners) when I am not really working.

Sorry if I went off on a tangent there, LOL, but as you can see I steal from pretty much every culture.


Lastly: I am going to take your suggestions and work them out with the story. Thank you Chris for your grammar comments---I really bite at grammar and sentancing and spelling. Im like an idiot-savant that way. Thank you JD for your insight. When I get published, this site is so going in my foreward.

I am posting the rest of Ch. 1. By no means do I expect you gentlemen to put the same time and effort into the rest of this that you have. If you want to, that would be awesome, and appreciated, but it is not expected. If you just want to read it, please do so!

 

[dustinzgirl]

The Merchant's Daughter Con't

The Fall Festival came and went that evening, and like hundreds of condemned criminals before her, Gardenia spent the night in a solitary cell. _Well_, the girl thought, _I can hardly call this a cell_. The young merchant's daughter was fairly certain that Lady Esmeralda had a large hand in Gardenia's small fortune. The room was not fancy, not by any means, but rather plain and comfortable. The bed was soft and warm, and there were, thankfully, no spiders or rats. She had even been given a personal commode, and along with that was brought fresh water to wash herself in. The grizzled guard who had brought her to Lord Bartholomew and protected her virginity was the only person Gardenia had seen, and she had learned his name as Kristopf. As it were, Kristopf was rather fond of cheap brandy, and shrugged easily when Gardenia refused his offer of a drink. He sat just outside her door, and she could hear the gentle and constant rocking of the chair against the door, almost a drum, reminding her that he was still there, should she gather any thoughts of escaping.

From outside her door, Gardenia heard the short and loud sounds of argument, until finally the keys jingled against the brass handle, and Lady Esmeralda entered the room. Gardenia recognized her at once, all pale silk and blonde hair, her fingernails painted brightly for the festival, her face painted twice as bright as that.

"I can not go against what ill fate my brother has decided for you, dear child. Yet, even so, I can not deny that his cruelty is beyond good judgment, and therefore offer you this chance of freedom."

Gardenia shook her head, slowly. "If I run, will it not fall upon my father's head to return me in a fortnight, or face my punishment? No, dear lady, though your intentions are well put, I will not do so."

Esmeralda smiled. She had thought this girl would give such an answer, but she had to be sure. "Then kneel, child. Kneel before me as you would any lord or lady, but know that I am Esmeralda, First Priestess to Gaia of the Northern Holds, Bearer of Creation, of Nature and Hearth."
Gardenia did not stutter, she did not falter, and she certainly did not miss a beat. She fell on her knees instantly, her face prostrated against the floor.

"It is written that the laws of man are secondary those of the Goddess Gaia, that no King or Lord can stand against her nor flee her wrath. Gardenia, I have spent the night in prayer, until the Mother herself came to me. You are to be my First, and therefore I bestow upon you a grace that even my brother can not deny." There was a pause as Esmeralda shook with her secretive power, her religious fervor. "Rise, Gardenia child of Tenwick Goldbottom, Rise and be known as Gardenia First of Esmeralda, now and forever."

Even as Gardenia stood, her shining golden hair reflecting the soft candle glow, there came a pounding on the door. Esmeralda smiled, deeply, thoughtfully, and _gladly_. She made a single wave of her fancily gloved hand, and the door burst open, sending her brother, husband and Kristopf sprawling through the entryway.

Bartholomew was aglow with anger, his steely eyes blazed at his sister and the peasant girl. "What have you done witch?" He screamed, and raised himself upwards in a rush towards them. Matteous grabbed his leg, and caused the Lord of Three Springs to fall ungraciously to the floor. The two tussled for a moment, with neither getting the upper hand.

"Enough!" Esmeralda snapped. "Stop behaving like children. Bartholomew, you have no right to accost me, as I was bidden by the goddess to do so. This girl is now under Gaia's protection and warrant, and if you dare disturb that magic, I will bring more than hellfire upon your foolishly prideful head. And if you breathe a word of this to our mother, I will certainly turn you over my knee."

Matteous did not doubt for a moment that Esmeralda would hold to her promise, he knew that frozen and commanding look in his wife's eyes, the look of a priestess and noble lady who bore no foolishness.

Bartholomew glowered, his eyes to the floor. His muscular frame shook with fury beneath a silken jacket, and he dug his fingernails into the floor until his knuckles became white. "You have found a way to usurp my power over this hold, dear sister. Do not think for a moment that this will go unpunished. Even if you hide behind the cloth of your goddess, I will repay this transgression." Silently, he rose. Lord Bartholomew's steel gray eyes met and held with the merchant's daughters bright blue eyes, and they stared for a long moment in silence. She gave him no leave, no peace. _Those damned eyes_. Bartholomew swore, silently, that her eyes would hang from the hearth in his room before he stalked out, turning his back with little more than a grunting word of foreboding.

[[FOUR SPACE SKIP]]

 

[dustinzgirl]

Days passed simply after that moment, followed by months and then a year. The Fall Festival came around again, and Three Springs bustled with color and light. Gardenia found that she fit easily into the life of Esmeralda's guardian and servant. The work was neither hard nor tiring, and the two women became fast and true friends. Her father and sisters were in an uproar that she had taken to the castle life, but found it a better fate than her death, of course. Within a month, Delia, whom Esmeralda did not really care for, was married to Will Boots, and all the noble family except Bartholomew attended, even Lady Theodora who enjoyed "sitting with her commoners". Gardenia's family life was well behind her, and the merchant's daughter found that, in truth, Will Boots was a good match for her younger sister, while he was not quick with wit or arms, the young man was certainly smart and cautious enough not to drive her father's business into the ground. Yes, Gardenia thought, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her, the Tome of Gaia in her hands, _truly the goddess has laid favor upon me and mine_.


She offered an open prayer of thanks to Gaia, and Esmeralda joined her in unison.


Dinner at the castle was rarely an overdone affair, as Gardenia had come to know. She had expected nights of foolery and dancing, but found that the castle's folk lived just as normally as any, aside from their massive jewel encrusted doors and fine, thin porcelain dishes. Lady Theodora, who had aged slowly and very well, sat always at the head of the table, as was her right since her husbands passing. At the other end, the lord of the castle sat alone, though the room bustled with life, the Lord had skulked and thinned over the year. Gardenia did not sit at the table, but stood quietly with the servants, as was her position. Friends as she might be, more than that, sisters in the eyes of their goddess, there was still propriety and tradition. Often, dinner talk was idle, how did Bartholomew like the girl that would soon be his wife? The mousy, youngest daughter of a foreign lord who had seemed rather glad to be rid of the child, citing that it had been nearly impossible to marry her off in his own homeland, for she was far too into books and not into, as it were, noblemen. This suited Bartholomew, and after the customary year of engagement, they would be married the day of the Fall Festival, which now was only weeks away.


Still, Bartholomew could not fathom why Esmeralda paraded that vicious peasant girl before him, always forcing her to stand directly in his line of sight. Even when he had turned away, Esmeralda bade the girl to stand by door, so that she was not blocking the dinner light. Bartholomew knew they were laughing at him, mocking him with the girl he had condemned to death, and in a wicked twist of religious law, his sister had stolen his prize, his right as a lord to exact justice. These thoughts, and thoughts of Matteous, who no longer spoke to Bartholomew except in matters of state, poisoned the young man. Poisoned him as surely as any tipped arrow or spiked meal could have, growing within his soul, thoughts of desperation and lost pride.


"The Christian King is coming for the Fall Festival. He will oversee my wedding with the Lady Inyshia."


Esmeralda choked on her wine, and it left long red splatters on her golden dinner gown. "Gardenia, take the boys and their meal to their rooms. And take care not to step in our lord's line of sight, for I fear his eyes tend to wander."


"Aye, my lady." Gardenia bowed, short and stout as a man's bow would be. She refused, even after a year of castle life, to curtsy. She also refused to wear skirts, which Matteous thought just as well. It was hard to teach his boys how to shoot a proper crossbow or ride a proper saddle in a dress. Matteous gave a moment to watch both Gardenia and his wife, and was gladdened by how much the young merchant's daughter had accented their lives, being more than a servant; truly, she had become a part of their family.


Once the boys were gone from their table, Esmeralda stood. She spat on the food, and into the drink. "I can not eat; your words have fouled this meal. How dare you bring the Christian King into our homeland, into our hearth? During the Fall Equinox! Our time of power and play! Are you mad?"


Bartholomew did not look at her. He stared straight at his mother, whose bright and brassy hair had turned soft white over the last year. "I need not remind you, dear sister, that this is my hold. My home, and here I am Lord. Not you, and certainly not your children or husband."


"You curse us all with your foolishness, bringing the Tree Burners into our land. You curse our home, and act as though you have every right to do so!"


Esmeralda did not notice the smile that crept on Bartholomew's face, but Matteous did.


"Is this all a power play, boy-lord? You think you can bring the Christian King here, and not find yourself oppressed beneath him? Even our own King has decreed that none may cohort with him. You are a fool, for many reasons, and yet you add more." Matteous slammed his glass on the table, hurrying to catch his wife and mother in-law as they stepped angrily from the dining hall.


There was no further discussion that night, and no further dinner. Bartholomew sat for a very long time, until all the servants had finally left. The foul things that poisoned his mind, insane things, grew with every word he thought. Finally, a late night kitchen maid came to take his goblet. She was not pretty, not at all, which was probably why she was confined to the kitchen. Lady Theodora like pretty serving girls to be shown, and prettier serving boys, yet this maid had a gangly horse-faced look about her, and therefore was never seen during the bustle of dinner.


Bartholomew grabbed her by the arm, and forced the quiet and long faced girl to the cold stone dining hall floor, he would prove his manhood tonight, if only to this wide-eyed, crying servant.

 

[dustinzgirl]

[[FOUR SPACE SKIP]]
The Christian King came with little fanfare, more gawking stares than banners waving. Lord Bartholomew's people were rather unimpressed. Esmeralda, whom the peasant kind referred too often as their queen, stood very still and very silent by her brother's side. Bartholomew's smile was as great as any boy at fair-day; he seemed rather pleased with himself as the Christian King stepped from his great red and gold wagon, painted with crosses and odd words Esmeralda did not understand. _Did not want to understand_.


"Welcome, and be happy here, Christian King!" Bartholomew bellowed underneath the sharp sound of trumpets.


The Christian King was certainly not what Esmeralda had expected. He was younger than her brother, and almost seemed sickly. A child, and nothing more than that, she realized, watching the boy king be paraded forward, two large men were holding his hand at either side. His dress was long, so long that two small girls carried after it, holding the train up from the dirt. The boy nodded at Esmeralda, his deep brown eyes resting only once on the pendant she had donned just for this occasion, the rounded insignia of Mother Nature, Gaia, fell gently between her bosoms, the deep cherry wood a striking color against her pale skin.


"Lord Bartholomew be well met. Pray tell, will there be the pagan Equinox ritual you told me of tonight? I must know, for preparations by my priests to save me from demonic influence must begin."


"No, not tonight good king, we have planned two weeks in advance, for that was the will of your priesthood."


"That is well, I am sure ample arrangements can be made. It is imperative that the pagan religion not fall upon me, for I am the only bearer of light and truth in this forlorn world. May my wives accompany your sister on this day, and have you set aside separate rooms for our women?"


"Of course, and of course again. We understand that in the face of properness, the King and his men must be separated from their women."


Esmeralda could hold her tongue no more. "Then how in the blue blazes do you ever bear children?"


"Peasants bear children, Lady Esmeralda, our nobility oversees this, and from there chooses the ones best suited for our position." The Christian King answered her as if he were speaking to a child, his tone soft and slow. "Will you take my wives into your home, and protect them from the pagans?"


"As well as I can, Christian King. Do you find me a pagan?"


The question drew a gasp from every person there. Her outburst had been expected, that was the way of Lady Esmeralda, but her confronting question was rude, to say the least.


The Christian King took this with a bright toothed smile, and patted her hand with his own. "No, dear lady, I consider you an unlearned person."


Esmeralda was, for the first time in her life, shocked beyond words.


With that, the boy who was king walked past, the two small and darker skinned girls holding his train. Bartholomew hissed at his sister, and with a swift stride caught up to the boy king. He was thrust back by the two men who held the boys hands as he walked, simply and with no word other than he must walk two strides behind the king's wives. Even Bartholomew was shocked to realize that the boy king's wives were the two dark skinned girls holding his dresses train; they seemed not even old enough to be away from their mother.


Gardenia had grown in power beneath the goddess Gaia, for Esmeralda had been training her. Already, she had mastered the First Art of Concentration, and was fast approaching mastery of the Second Art of Contentment, soon, Esmeralda thought, this girl would have mastered all three arts, the last being the Third Art of Conscience. Normally, it would take years to master even the first of these precious arts, but Gardenia was a solid and fast learner, taking all that Esmeralda and other priestesses taught her and making it part of her spirit.


All this, unbeknownst to any, was about to change. For the Christian King had come, willingly welcomed into their home and hearth, and there bore no refusing of him now.


The night before the festival came swiftly, and both Esmeralda and Gardenia were glad of it, for after the Fall Festival was over with, the Christian King and his strange child-wives would be gone from their land. The two foreign girls, Esmeralda had learned, were literally slaves. They had been purchased for the Christian King, and knew their station well. Aside from that, the girls kept mostly to themselves, whispering in low tones in their odd language. The only other time Esmeralda or Gardenia heard a peep from them, the child wives were chastising them for the evils of their religion and especially their prayers. Once, the girl-wives had been so offended by the two women's scripture that they covered their ears and recited the same wordless line in monotone until Esmeralda and Gardenia left the room.


It was just after the moon rose against a bleakly red sky; Lady Esmeralda had kissed the boys, now seven and three, goodnight. With so many strangers in the castle, both Matteous and Esmeralda had felt it necessary to leave the walkway in between their own room and the children's open, and had moved Gardenia into the boy's room.


Then, the fires started.

 

[dustinzgirl]

There was smoke so thick and black Gardenia had to scream for the boys to find them, and Esmeralda. Matteous was already donning his short sword, and gave a grave kiss to each child. He paused a moment longer on Gardenia's lips, and even longer still on Esmeralda's. "Go, women, beneath the castle. You know the way, Esmeralda."


"No, my husband, I will not leave you." Esmeralda's face was thick with soot and tears. "Please." Her voice trailed off, and Matteous grabbed her hard by the waist.


"Do as I say, stubborn woman, just this once for our boys' sake. Later you can scream at me for days on end, dear wife." He planted another thick kiss on her lips, and ran from the room.


"My sword." Gardenia said as she ran back into the boys' room. She had never kept the blade, a long sword fashioned for her by Matteous's own blacksmith, far from her grasp, but in her rush to grab the boys she had forgotten it. Before she could reach the room, it burst into flames.


"That is no natural fire!" Esmeralda screamed, pulling two ceremonial blades from the wall. Each blade was as fine as any, sharp, cold steel. The swords were ceremonial, but well-maintained in memory of early years in old history when women fought by their husbands' side.


Outside the room, the Christian Kings two child wives cried, their eyes burning. They had been bred for a silent court life, and were very afraid. Gardenia did not even ask Esmeralda, she had not needed too. She pulled the girls to her by their nightgown collars, and bade them to run between her and Esmeralda. "Stay with us or you will die and meet your Christian King's god." She had said flatly, once she shook the crying from them. The girls nodded in understanding, their thin black hair bobbing across their dark faces.


They were running, Gardenia carrying the Lady's elder son, two odd foreign girls between them, and Esmeralda taking the end with her toddler crying on her hip. She could not afford time to quiet him, for now to falter would mean their deaths. Esmeralda let the boy scream in her ear.


The halls were utter pandemonium, the insane following the mad, as it were. Then, there was something else. Men, dressed in red robes, coming upon those who were leaving their rooms and slicing them into death. Behind those men, came more men in black robes, who prayed over the dying. Praying for, Lady Esmeralda noted, their souls to be forgiven and accepted by the Christian King's god. She resisted an urge to turn back and thrust her fists into the black-robed faces.


Lady Theodora came from her room, yawning and rubbing her eyes. A kitchen fire, surely only that could make such a thick smoke. It certainly would not reach the noble Lady in her own quarters.


A man in a red robe struck the Lady Theodora from behind, stabbing his curved sword deep into her back.


Gardenia, and those behind her, ran for their lives. Esmeralda wished she could go for her mother, but her own instinct told her that to do so would be death. She prayed then, prayed as hard and as fierce as she ever had, and hoped that Gaia was a true goddess.


Gardenia was running so hard that she barely saw the red robed man step from around the corner. She stopped herself just short of impaling her, and possibly the young boy in her arm, on the strange interloper's scimitar.


"Show me your face, betrayer, so that I may know who I kill!" She screamed, and raised the fine ceremonial blade in the air. The robed man thought this would be her folly, and charged her without a cry. Deftly, with movements so fast that Esmeralda barely saw them, Gardenia spun the boy away from the charging man, and at the same time used the sharp end of her blade to slit the attacker's throat.


"Where did you learn to move like that?" Esmeralda said, breathless. She had seen her husband spar on many occasions, but believed that even he would be slow compared to this girl, a girl that had come into their lives by nothing more than chance.


"My da's guards. Some of them were rogues, surely." Gardenia flashed a toothy grin. "And maybe a brigand or two."


"The tunnel entrance is not far, just past Bart's quarters." Esmeralda said, her teeth gritting. "And he should pray that he is already dead, for I am sure I have lost my husband."


The rest of the way was easy, there were no more robed men or even servants, in fact, Gardenia noticed, stepping over the bodies that lined the walls, "They have already been this way, and by some small fortune, we missed them entirely." Hearing the sounds of the dying and the crackle of the flames behind her, Gardenia did not feel they were fortunate at all, not really. Still on the move, and refusing to tire, the women led the children through a maze of long corridors, some utterly empty and other filled with blood and slaughter.


Esmeralda took the lead through their lord's master bedroom, for it contained the easiest, and most secret, route to the lower tunnels. The room was empty, and Esmeralda was glad for it. She did not know what crimes against state, country and morality she would commit should the noble woman face her only brother. The wall slipped open easily at her beckon, an enchanted ring she wore on her hand opened all doors within the castle. Together, the noble lady and her boys, the merchant's daughter, and two very afraid foreign queens, stepped heavily through the wall.

 

[dustinzgirl]

[[Four Space Skip]]
Matteous was furiously hacking through the mass of red robed men, and where one fell, two more took his place. He had made it through the hallways, finally, and stood at the top stair case leading to the Common Room of the castle. Beneath him, utter pandemonium ensued, the musical twang of steel against steel offset only by the screams of the dying and grunts of the fighting. He did not consciously think of his wife and children, now they were but a distraction to his fight, but always they were just beneath the surface of his mind, waiting for the Captain at Arms to finish his task. He knew they would be safe, knew so because of his wife's stubbornness and affinity towards the arcane, but more so because he had trained Gardenia, and found her to be a formidable opponent. The fiery blonde had even shown him a trick or two, and as his finger lay into the eye of one screaming robed man, Matteous used that trick to pluck the eye from its socket in one tilt of his thumb.


For Matteous, the task was simply to kill as many invaders as he could and defend the castle his family called home. Simple, because now he fought men like himself, his lithe and strong body, near middle age but not showing it as of yet, flew as a weapon in its own right, and where he could not land a solid strike with his blade, he dealt a deadly kick or blow.


The Common Room suddenly burst into flames, and Matteous cried out as both red robed man and his own soldiers were melted before his eyes. The fire was so intense that every wall hanging burst into fire, almost simultaneously. The red fighter that Matteous had been fighting did the oddest thing the captain had ever seen a man do. He laid his sword at Matteous's feet, and cried out. "Kill me, heathen, kill me now! I'll not be fodder for that one!"


Matteous did as the man bade with a swift slice to the prostrated man's neck. Then, he understood what the man had meant. Matteous was widely renowned as a great fighter, having lost no battles in his ten years as Captain at Arms. He had removed brigands from the roads and once a pack of ogres from the nearby forest, but these enemies had been simple. They all had the same weaknesses, the same motions. Now, as Matteous watched the great slithering beast move into the castle from a door of its own making, he wondered at the red and gold colored scales, too afraid to move. Even his heartbeat had fallen still, if only for a moment. One word repeated in his mind, and for the first time in all his life, the great captain had no recourse of action, no swift wit to save him, no army to command.


For before the very human captain, a creature of legend made itself known, and Matteous could only think _Dragon! _ before it was upon him.


It was only the speed of his motion that stopped the man from being destroyed beneath one massive black claw. The dragon tried to turn in the large room, but was too slow. Matteous slid beneath its foot, which was as large as any wagon Matteous had ever seen. The skin ripped from the palm of his weathered hand as he slid across to the underbelly of the beast, all the while praying it would not rear up and destroy him.


A voice called then, a voice Matteous had prayed he would never hear again.


"Hold! Great Dragon, I implore thee to hold! For this is my family, and the Christian King promised they would not be harmed!" Lord Bartholomew stood at the top of the winding staircase, his hair disheveled but otherwise looking as he did any other day, dressed in dark silk finery and his sword hanging loosely by his side.


"How many of our people have you murdered?" Matteous called from beneath the beast.


The dragon reared up, as far as he could in the room that was certainly not built for creatures of his height and girth. "Human! Take leave, and take it now, for I am Blackblood, the great death-dealer, and I have no time for your human foolishness. Get thy kin from beneath me, or I will crush him duly." The voice was a rumble throughout the room, shaking the very foundation of the castle.


"I am no brethren of yours, Lord Bartholomew, betrayer!" As soon as he spoke, Matteous wished that he had not, for it was not his brother in-law who replied, but the massive beast he hid beneath.


"Well, if ye are no kin to this one, then ye are dinner for me!"


Bartholomew turned from the scene, sick at the sight of his once Captain and former brother. Had he not been generous in offering the man amnesty? Had he not tried to rescue him from the beast that would surely devour Matteous? Slowly shaking his head, Bartholomew stepped up the cracked staircase, never to enter the Common Room again.


Matteous was not one to give up easily, some base desire for victory pushed him from beneath the creature, and he leapt onto the great swinging tail. He ignored the slices into his thin human skin, and used the sharp scales to crawl up the spine of the beast. The dragon howled in frustration, trying to turn about in the room. Blackblood the dragon was having a hard time of it, for the Common Room was much longer than it was wide, and he could get not get his body to come around fully.


Matteous found his mark, and thrust his sword into the nape of the beast's neck.


The dragon screamed in fury, and fire flew from its nose and mouth.


Matteous was flung from the creature's writhing back like a rag doll, his body snapping against the ceiling, then smashing upon the floor. In its death throws, Blackblood managed to jerk its body so that it landed atop the already dying man, and both victor and prey, though which is which is unknown, died in the broken Common Room of the Castle at Three Springs.
[[FOUR SPACE SKIP]]

 

[j d worthington]

Not going into a critique tonight -- feeling severely under the weather and I don't think I could do it justice; so I'll read it when better. Do have a couple of comments on your response above: Yes, it would be helpful to have that information about the shaman and the woman and her baby, but I think it might help if, for example, your protagonist (being young) asked his protagonist why they were there, it was unusual to find them in that part of the country, etc., so that he could deliver a brief, one- or two-sentence answer that gives that information. That way the shock/surprise that the reader feels at having a shaman and woman/baby is also a shock that your protagonist feels, and then the explanation also gives them both (your character and the reader) insight into the barbarians' culture, without slowing the pace of the action. That way it can be done when we're recovering from the slaughter, and actually aid the pacing, give insight into their culture, the protagonist's culture, and both he and his companion's character, all at the same time, at the expense of about one or two lines. Knowing where to place details of this sort are as important as including them at all.

Also, when you say they are not "inventors", do you mean "fabulators", in that they aren't overly prone to myth-making about the outside world, but that their views are based on hard experience? or that they are not mechanical inventors? It seems to me you mean the former, which is an important cultural element that has to be developed over a gradual familiarity with your story and its world; as for mechanical invention, most medieval societies (and pre-medieval, for that matter) were rather sparse at that, generally speaking (though there were notable exceptions).

And this wasn't a tangent; it helped to clarify some of the questions I had but had not yet formulated well enough to ask. Yes, as you go along, more of this sort of thing will find itself woven into the fabric. You may have to go back and build here, trim there, reproportion, etc., but just let it flow as it comes, and then do that part of it.

I look forward to going over the rest of this in the next day or two. Again, good luck, and keep up the good work.

 

[j d worthington]

*ignore -- for some reason this posted twice*

 

[dustinzgirl]

Also, when you say they are not "inventors", do you mean "fabulators", in that they aren't overly prone to myth-making about the outside world, but that their views are based on hard experience? or that they are not mechanical inventors? It seems to me you mean the former, which is an important cultural element that has to be developed over a gradual familiarity with your story and its world; as for mechanical invention, most medieval societies (and pre-medieval, for that matter) were rather sparse at that, generally speaking (though there were notable exceptions).

Fabulators. And by that I mean that there are strict definitions, and most do not deviate from that. A population of placating believers.

Not that they do not have stories, ect.

But like most early societies, mechanical inventions come slowly.

Plus, this is a magic/religion intense realm, which you really have not seen yet. So mechanical inventions are not really a priority, and, like most cutlures that realize a power in thier belief structures, religion/magic does not really change--has not changed for thousands of years. To do so would be blasphemy, since most of this land worship Gaia (good), Baal (evil) or Som (neautral), even the barbarians, ect.....that why matteous makes a point to say "Sure, they worship Gaia" because they do, but in a way that the three springs people think barbaric.