Electromagnetonatron
New Member
This is part of the first chapter in a book that i have finished. The whole thing is over 130 000 words which i thought might be a bit big for this first crtique. I would appreciate opinions on the story telling and if it entertains. I have tried my best with the punctuation but i am no expert so please dont be too harsh. So, here goes...Oh, there is some violence in this bit so be warned. If you want more then there is plenty of it.
The gentle breeze warmed by the vibrant sun rippled the stalks of barley in a long flowing wave one after the other all the way to the end of the field where her husband played with their boy, Michael who was five and beamed with all of the wonders of childhood. His sister, Raine played just a few yards away at the edge of the small picnic area.
She was the light of her life.
No other child could ever compare to Raine. She was wild, and free, and funny, and moody, and everything a child should be...and loving...she had never met a child as loving as Raine.
She saw Ryan striding toward her from the edge of the field pushing aside the stalks of barley with a grace that she had not seen in any other man. The top of her sons head bobbed along barely breaking the head of the stalks. Occasionally his tiny hand rose, and waved in a familiar way. Finally Ryan picked the boy from the golden sea, and set him in the crook of his arm where he laughed joyously. He had fair hair like his grandmother, his father’s mother. He had her temperament as well wild, and wicked, and funny too. He laughed a lot.
A movement on the right edge of the field caught her eye. She saw a single rider dressed in dark clothing. He looked at her with hidden eyes from beneath a cowl that lost the shape of the face in shadow. But she knew him, or knew his like. A dozen or so foot soldiers spread out around perimeter of the field carrying torches that somehow fitted the serene atmosphere of the late afternoon light. The rider tossed his torch into the field with the foot soldiers followed his lead, and the fires sprouted from the base of the field where her husband had so recently played with their child.
Keera stood up and gathered Raine, to her.
Ryan stopped where he was, and the boy sensing fear began to cry.
He was only five.
Too young to die.
Her breathing increased as the fire took hold of the dry barley and spread in toward their little haven. Ryan put the boy down, and told him to run to his mother which he did for she could see the barley parting atop the stalks where the little boy pushed them aside.
The fire spread too fast and she lost sight of Ryan in the black smoke billowing up from the blaze. She hoped her tribe would see the smoke and come to their aid when far away another plume rose from the village, and another and another until the village burned red, white, and black smoke rose above the field blotting out the sky.
They were lost with nowhere to go. Stepping into the tiny haven her son came running across the small ring to grab her from the opposite side to his sister. She looked down at him, putting her hand on his head. She felt tears slide down her face.
Ryan strode out of the barley into the family circle his face in darkness against the giant sun blotting the landscape with its mellow colours. It should have been a time of joy and loving, although she had never felt closer and yet so very far away from her family than at that very moment. Her heart beat a little faster and her breath came in short bursts.
“Take the children down to the river,” Ryan nodded at a path leading away from the village into the forest, “the fools have put a barrier between us. There is our escape”.
Keera looked down the grassy slope to the small copse of trees and the river in the distant winding away from the terror. She looked back to him wanting to stay and fight.
“I know,” he said reading her thoughts, “but one of us must save the children,” he held her arm just above the elbow with his gentle touch, “please,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
She nodded, unable to speak. Tears came with the confusion. She was usually level headed, and would have been if she had time to prepare, but there was no time, war was upon them.
“You are not ready for this,” she looked at his light clothing meant for a day in the sun, and not for battle.
“I know,” he said with a half smile, “but needs must, now go,” he encouraged her with a gentle push.
She could see there was no changing his mind, “come on,” she coaxed the two children away from their father toward the river.
“Daddy,” the two children called to him.
“Go with your mother, I will meet you at the gorge where the two rivers meet,” he shouted.
She waved and somewhere inside the fear and pain she knew where he meant to meet them. She ran down the hill with the two children over the moistened grass. Despite the day being full of sunshine the rain had fallen for several days previous which had encouraged their frivolous activity before the set of winter. She kept pace with the children, holding their tiny hands, not daring to look back in case she feared the worse.
They reached the small wooden copse which hid the sounds of the fire, and the clash of swords, and men. Her breath sounded louder in the silence that spread toward the river. The trees smelled fresh in the late summer rain distilled in the sunshine water still dripping from leaves.
Ryan watched his life disappear over the edge of the field and into the trees. They were as safe as he could make them, and it was up to Keera to secure that safety. He turned his back on the three people he loved in the world, and faced his immediate future. The field of barley blazed in the far corner where the men had first arrived. Plumes of grey smoke billowed into the air from the reddened flames deep in its heart. His only thought was of the time and effort taken to plough the field and grow the barley. Time they could ill afford and time spread out ahead in the failing summer months leading to autumn and winter where life would be frugal.
He leaned down into their small enclosure where his sword laid next to Keera’s and his heart missed a step. In their haste she had forgotten her weapon. He drew his sword the finest ever made and looked back down the empty hill to the wooden copse and the river winding silver and gold in the evening sun.
Torn between following them and staying he observed the number of men striding through the field toward him. Like a pack of dogs they were spread out in spearhead formation with the lead man just twenty feet away. He was a big ugly man six feet wide, and six feet tall. His face unshaven with a small plaited beard hung with beads, and several winy bows. His eyes were knotted together focussed on just one thing, Ryan. Two others were just behind him, and they would reach him almost as one. He would have to use those few seconds to his advantage. The first man carried a hammer like an axe but flat and blunt meant for smashing people to a pulp. The other two had long swords and wooden shields covered in a deep brown animal hide.
Vikings.
They were Norsemen from across the sea raiders of the coasts of England for women, gold, and more recently, land. They were settling in the north pushing the English further south, and west toward Wales and the south west.
The first man was surprisingly fast for his size but still slower than Ryan who ducked beneath the swing of the hammer which shook the ground when it hit. Ryan took on the second pair knowing the big man couldn’t swing the hammer without threatening his own people. Shields were useful but wieldy reducing the options for attack. Ryan brought his sword up high to attack the first of the pair, and in defence the man raised his shield to fend off the attack. Ryan twisted his wrist to change the trajectory of his attack and brought the force of the weapon down on the foot of the invader. He squealed, and howled in pain as the blade cut through his boot and halfway through his foot. Ryan walked into the shield and pushed him into his companion who took the force admirably but sent his balance into disarray. Ryan pushed the second man again causing him to stumble into his partner and fall. The shield came down enough for Ryan to get his sword under the guard and through flesh to bone. They both went down in the broken grass together. Ryan turned in time to see the big man just two strides away and ducked then rolled away as the hammer swung through empty space and landed on the first of the men on the ground. His squealing stopped instantly. While the big man rolled the hammer into the air ready for another attack Ryan whipped the sword around catching the arm holding the hammer and slicing a deep gash from his elbow to his shoulder. He dropped the hammer on his foot, and while the big man dealt with the pain, Ryan ran the sword through his side piercing his heart.
It was over in seconds, and that was too long. If they were Vikings then they had a boat, and if they had a boat then it was down by the river where Keera was heading with their children. There were a half a dozen men behind these three closing on him. He couldn’t spare the time it would take to kill them all.
He ran through their little picnic area taking up Keera’s sword in his stride and racing down after his wife and children.
Keera could hear the constant sounds of swords clashing, and men shouting all around the forest. Michael had stopped crying when Raine started softly streaming tears down her face. Keera caught her breath through fear of what their future might hold. These were fierce men from the other side of the water whose reputation for violence and rage poured before them striking fear into everyone in their path. There were kings to the north who had stayed their ground only to be trampled underfoot. There were rumours of one king who managed to stem their violent tide only to be taken from his land and across the sea where rumours of his death froze the mortal soul. She would rather die than be captured. She would rather kill her children than let the heathens take them. In her rush she had only her knife about her waist with which to fend against the tide of men seeking her blood. She cursed for leaving her sword back at the camp. She stopped the children beside a thickening wall of trees where she hushed them into the underbrush.
“Stay here,” she said, “wait for my return.”
“Don’t leave us,” Raine begged.
“I won’t leave you,” she said, “but I must get my sword. I shall return with your father.”
“Mama,” Raine begged.
“Look after your brother,” she leaned over them holding them both tightly to her, “I will be back I promise.”
“Mama...”
“You have to be quiet Raine or they will find you. I can’t protect you without a sword.”
She shoved them deeper into the bush, and stood up. They were close to the river, maybe a hundred metres through the trees and they would be at the river bank. If there was a boat it would be farther down the river in deeper water. She looked back up the climb to the top of the wooded copse where she had entered. No one had followed them. The sounds of battle echoed all around. Smoke filled the air from the burning village, and the fields of crops wasted. Winter would be hard if they survived at all.
She took a step away from the children checking they were out of sight.
She turned on her heel and ran back up the slope to where she had left Ryan. She didn’t know why she left the children alone. If she were in a stronger state of mind she would have taken them further along the river bank and waited for Ryan to join them. She knew she was putting herself and her children in danger by her actions but she couldn’t stop herself. Her fear for Ryan outweighed her fear for herself and her children. She knew she would not see Ryan again and it caught all of her reason in a net of troubles and threw them back into an ocean of fear.
She almost reached the copse when she heard the sound of footsteps coming through the trees ahead. She ducked behind a tree crouching low to the ground using the girth to hide her from the direction of the footsteps. She followed the sound around the tree inching out of sight from whoever it was, and when she was sure perpetrator had his back to her she tempted a look.
“Ryan,” she half shouted in a hush.
He turned raising his sword ready to defend his self.
“Keera,” he smiled, and then looked confused, “where are the children?”
“Down there in a thicket of trees, they are safe,” she joined him forgoing a hug in place of a gentle squeeze of his hand.
He pulled her down the slope, “the village is gone, we must leave here, come back when they have gone.”
She nodded running behind him.
Grey smoke choked the air all around them drawing visibility to within a few metres. Ryan came to a sliding halt halfway down the slope. He held his hand up for her to be still then she heard it too. Echoing around them was the sound of beating drums seeming to come from no one place.
“Men,” Ryan said.
“Lots of them,” Keera said.
“An army beating weapons on their shields, and they are all around us,” Ryan looked to Keera for confirmation.
“The river,” she said.
“The river,” he agreed.
They ran toward the trees behind which their children hid. Their only chance was to cross the river. Swim if they had to, but cross it they would. Even if they were seen they could go with the current down river and find a clearing on the opposite shore away from the woods, the smoke, and the invading army. Ryan hit the first tree of the thicket hiding the children and he whispered their names. Raine stepped out from the bushes.
“Where’s Michael?” Ryan asked her.
“He’s gone,” Raine sniffled.
“Gone, gone where?”
Ryan found he was shouting, and Keera teased him to silence by touching his arm.
“Raine,” Keera came around Ryan, “where has he gone?”
“I don’t know,” she cried, and tears smote her grubby face.
Keera kneeled down and took Raine in her arms long enough for her to stop trembling, and she asked again.
“Which way did he go?”
Raine burbled, but she managed to point a finger down the track along the river bank away from their escape route.
“Damn,” Ryan said, “I’ll go get him, you and Raine get in the river and...”
“We all go or none of us goes,” Keera said looking at him with determination.
He knew the look well, “we may all die,” he said.
“Then so be it.”
“Damn you.”
“I know.”
She didn’t have time to explain that she was not going to live her life without him or Michael. She had had enough emptiness in her life, now she had found her life she was not going to live any other way.
Keera walked behind Ryan holding Raines hand along a well used mud track that fell into the river in a few places. The other bank was a good hundred metres across the other side of the quick flowing channel. They would end up a mile or so down river if they crossed it now which would have been a good idea if it were not for Michael.
The beating sound grew louder from the top of the bank where the woods began. They were closing in trying to flush them out. They could see fire burning in the trees behind them as they rounded a corner in the river. Ahead they saw the Viking vessel’s moored against the bank beside the canoes the river people used for fishing. There were six men in view sitting around a fire talking and laughing. Another one stood in the boat, and another walked up and down the bank. From the thicket leading to the open area Keera saw Michael charge into the Viking camp.
The gentle breeze warmed by the vibrant sun rippled the stalks of barley in a long flowing wave one after the other all the way to the end of the field where her husband played with their boy, Michael who was five and beamed with all of the wonders of childhood. His sister, Raine played just a few yards away at the edge of the small picnic area.
She was the light of her life.
No other child could ever compare to Raine. She was wild, and free, and funny, and moody, and everything a child should be...and loving...she had never met a child as loving as Raine.
She saw Ryan striding toward her from the edge of the field pushing aside the stalks of barley with a grace that she had not seen in any other man. The top of her sons head bobbed along barely breaking the head of the stalks. Occasionally his tiny hand rose, and waved in a familiar way. Finally Ryan picked the boy from the golden sea, and set him in the crook of his arm where he laughed joyously. He had fair hair like his grandmother, his father’s mother. He had her temperament as well wild, and wicked, and funny too. He laughed a lot.
A movement on the right edge of the field caught her eye. She saw a single rider dressed in dark clothing. He looked at her with hidden eyes from beneath a cowl that lost the shape of the face in shadow. But she knew him, or knew his like. A dozen or so foot soldiers spread out around perimeter of the field carrying torches that somehow fitted the serene atmosphere of the late afternoon light. The rider tossed his torch into the field with the foot soldiers followed his lead, and the fires sprouted from the base of the field where her husband had so recently played with their child.
Keera stood up and gathered Raine, to her.
Ryan stopped where he was, and the boy sensing fear began to cry.
He was only five.
Too young to die.
Her breathing increased as the fire took hold of the dry barley and spread in toward their little haven. Ryan put the boy down, and told him to run to his mother which he did for she could see the barley parting atop the stalks where the little boy pushed them aside.
The fire spread too fast and she lost sight of Ryan in the black smoke billowing up from the blaze. She hoped her tribe would see the smoke and come to their aid when far away another plume rose from the village, and another and another until the village burned red, white, and black smoke rose above the field blotting out the sky.
They were lost with nowhere to go. Stepping into the tiny haven her son came running across the small ring to grab her from the opposite side to his sister. She looked down at him, putting her hand on his head. She felt tears slide down her face.
Ryan strode out of the barley into the family circle his face in darkness against the giant sun blotting the landscape with its mellow colours. It should have been a time of joy and loving, although she had never felt closer and yet so very far away from her family than at that very moment. Her heart beat a little faster and her breath came in short bursts.
“Take the children down to the river,” Ryan nodded at a path leading away from the village into the forest, “the fools have put a barrier between us. There is our escape”.
Keera looked down the grassy slope to the small copse of trees and the river in the distant winding away from the terror. She looked back to him wanting to stay and fight.
“I know,” he said reading her thoughts, “but one of us must save the children,” he held her arm just above the elbow with his gentle touch, “please,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
She nodded, unable to speak. Tears came with the confusion. She was usually level headed, and would have been if she had time to prepare, but there was no time, war was upon them.
“You are not ready for this,” she looked at his light clothing meant for a day in the sun, and not for battle.
“I know,” he said with a half smile, “but needs must, now go,” he encouraged her with a gentle push.
She could see there was no changing his mind, “come on,” she coaxed the two children away from their father toward the river.
“Daddy,” the two children called to him.
“Go with your mother, I will meet you at the gorge where the two rivers meet,” he shouted.
She waved and somewhere inside the fear and pain she knew where he meant to meet them. She ran down the hill with the two children over the moistened grass. Despite the day being full of sunshine the rain had fallen for several days previous which had encouraged their frivolous activity before the set of winter. She kept pace with the children, holding their tiny hands, not daring to look back in case she feared the worse.
They reached the small wooden copse which hid the sounds of the fire, and the clash of swords, and men. Her breath sounded louder in the silence that spread toward the river. The trees smelled fresh in the late summer rain distilled in the sunshine water still dripping from leaves.
Ryan watched his life disappear over the edge of the field and into the trees. They were as safe as he could make them, and it was up to Keera to secure that safety. He turned his back on the three people he loved in the world, and faced his immediate future. The field of barley blazed in the far corner where the men had first arrived. Plumes of grey smoke billowed into the air from the reddened flames deep in its heart. His only thought was of the time and effort taken to plough the field and grow the barley. Time they could ill afford and time spread out ahead in the failing summer months leading to autumn and winter where life would be frugal.
He leaned down into their small enclosure where his sword laid next to Keera’s and his heart missed a step. In their haste she had forgotten her weapon. He drew his sword the finest ever made and looked back down the empty hill to the wooden copse and the river winding silver and gold in the evening sun.
Torn between following them and staying he observed the number of men striding through the field toward him. Like a pack of dogs they were spread out in spearhead formation with the lead man just twenty feet away. He was a big ugly man six feet wide, and six feet tall. His face unshaven with a small plaited beard hung with beads, and several winy bows. His eyes were knotted together focussed on just one thing, Ryan. Two others were just behind him, and they would reach him almost as one. He would have to use those few seconds to his advantage. The first man carried a hammer like an axe but flat and blunt meant for smashing people to a pulp. The other two had long swords and wooden shields covered in a deep brown animal hide.
Vikings.
They were Norsemen from across the sea raiders of the coasts of England for women, gold, and more recently, land. They were settling in the north pushing the English further south, and west toward Wales and the south west.
The first man was surprisingly fast for his size but still slower than Ryan who ducked beneath the swing of the hammer which shook the ground when it hit. Ryan took on the second pair knowing the big man couldn’t swing the hammer without threatening his own people. Shields were useful but wieldy reducing the options for attack. Ryan brought his sword up high to attack the first of the pair, and in defence the man raised his shield to fend off the attack. Ryan twisted his wrist to change the trajectory of his attack and brought the force of the weapon down on the foot of the invader. He squealed, and howled in pain as the blade cut through his boot and halfway through his foot. Ryan walked into the shield and pushed him into his companion who took the force admirably but sent his balance into disarray. Ryan pushed the second man again causing him to stumble into his partner and fall. The shield came down enough for Ryan to get his sword under the guard and through flesh to bone. They both went down in the broken grass together. Ryan turned in time to see the big man just two strides away and ducked then rolled away as the hammer swung through empty space and landed on the first of the men on the ground. His squealing stopped instantly. While the big man rolled the hammer into the air ready for another attack Ryan whipped the sword around catching the arm holding the hammer and slicing a deep gash from his elbow to his shoulder. He dropped the hammer on his foot, and while the big man dealt with the pain, Ryan ran the sword through his side piercing his heart.
It was over in seconds, and that was too long. If they were Vikings then they had a boat, and if they had a boat then it was down by the river where Keera was heading with their children. There were a half a dozen men behind these three closing on him. He couldn’t spare the time it would take to kill them all.
He ran through their little picnic area taking up Keera’s sword in his stride and racing down after his wife and children.
Keera could hear the constant sounds of swords clashing, and men shouting all around the forest. Michael had stopped crying when Raine started softly streaming tears down her face. Keera caught her breath through fear of what their future might hold. These were fierce men from the other side of the water whose reputation for violence and rage poured before them striking fear into everyone in their path. There were kings to the north who had stayed their ground only to be trampled underfoot. There were rumours of one king who managed to stem their violent tide only to be taken from his land and across the sea where rumours of his death froze the mortal soul. She would rather die than be captured. She would rather kill her children than let the heathens take them. In her rush she had only her knife about her waist with which to fend against the tide of men seeking her blood. She cursed for leaving her sword back at the camp. She stopped the children beside a thickening wall of trees where she hushed them into the underbrush.
“Stay here,” she said, “wait for my return.”
“Don’t leave us,” Raine begged.
“I won’t leave you,” she said, “but I must get my sword. I shall return with your father.”
“Mama,” Raine begged.
“Look after your brother,” she leaned over them holding them both tightly to her, “I will be back I promise.”
“Mama...”
“You have to be quiet Raine or they will find you. I can’t protect you without a sword.”
She shoved them deeper into the bush, and stood up. They were close to the river, maybe a hundred metres through the trees and they would be at the river bank. If there was a boat it would be farther down the river in deeper water. She looked back up the climb to the top of the wooded copse where she had entered. No one had followed them. The sounds of battle echoed all around. Smoke filled the air from the burning village, and the fields of crops wasted. Winter would be hard if they survived at all.
She took a step away from the children checking they were out of sight.
She turned on her heel and ran back up the slope to where she had left Ryan. She didn’t know why she left the children alone. If she were in a stronger state of mind she would have taken them further along the river bank and waited for Ryan to join them. She knew she was putting herself and her children in danger by her actions but she couldn’t stop herself. Her fear for Ryan outweighed her fear for herself and her children. She knew she would not see Ryan again and it caught all of her reason in a net of troubles and threw them back into an ocean of fear.
She almost reached the copse when she heard the sound of footsteps coming through the trees ahead. She ducked behind a tree crouching low to the ground using the girth to hide her from the direction of the footsteps. She followed the sound around the tree inching out of sight from whoever it was, and when she was sure perpetrator had his back to her she tempted a look.
“Ryan,” she half shouted in a hush.
He turned raising his sword ready to defend his self.
“Keera,” he smiled, and then looked confused, “where are the children?”
“Down there in a thicket of trees, they are safe,” she joined him forgoing a hug in place of a gentle squeeze of his hand.
He pulled her down the slope, “the village is gone, we must leave here, come back when they have gone.”
She nodded running behind him.
Grey smoke choked the air all around them drawing visibility to within a few metres. Ryan came to a sliding halt halfway down the slope. He held his hand up for her to be still then she heard it too. Echoing around them was the sound of beating drums seeming to come from no one place.
“Men,” Ryan said.
“Lots of them,” Keera said.
“An army beating weapons on their shields, and they are all around us,” Ryan looked to Keera for confirmation.
“The river,” she said.
“The river,” he agreed.
They ran toward the trees behind which their children hid. Their only chance was to cross the river. Swim if they had to, but cross it they would. Even if they were seen they could go with the current down river and find a clearing on the opposite shore away from the woods, the smoke, and the invading army. Ryan hit the first tree of the thicket hiding the children and he whispered their names. Raine stepped out from the bushes.
“Where’s Michael?” Ryan asked her.
“He’s gone,” Raine sniffled.
“Gone, gone where?”
Ryan found he was shouting, and Keera teased him to silence by touching his arm.
“Raine,” Keera came around Ryan, “where has he gone?”
“I don’t know,” she cried, and tears smote her grubby face.
Keera kneeled down and took Raine in her arms long enough for her to stop trembling, and she asked again.
“Which way did he go?”
Raine burbled, but she managed to point a finger down the track along the river bank away from their escape route.
“Damn,” Ryan said, “I’ll go get him, you and Raine get in the river and...”
“We all go or none of us goes,” Keera said looking at him with determination.
He knew the look well, “we may all die,” he said.
“Then so be it.”
“Damn you.”
“I know.”
She didn’t have time to explain that she was not going to live her life without him or Michael. She had had enough emptiness in her life, now she had found her life she was not going to live any other way.
Keera walked behind Ryan holding Raines hand along a well used mud track that fell into the river in a few places. The other bank was a good hundred metres across the other side of the quick flowing channel. They would end up a mile or so down river if they crossed it now which would have been a good idea if it were not for Michael.
The beating sound grew louder from the top of the bank where the woods began. They were closing in trying to flush them out. They could see fire burning in the trees behind them as they rounded a corner in the river. Ahead they saw the Viking vessel’s moored against the bank beside the canoes the river people used for fishing. There were six men in view sitting around a fire talking and laughing. Another one stood in the boat, and another walked up and down the bank. From the thicket leading to the open area Keera saw Michael charge into the Viking camp.
) infamous throughout Chrons. But he is good with the grammar and punctuation aspects of critiquing, and if that's all you need, nobody else ever needs to follow a post of his.
