wulfsbane
Don't Believe In Fate
- Joined
- Apr 26, 2013
- Messages
- 84
Yay, finally doing my first critique! I've been writing a while, on and off, but certainly not as long as many of the people on these forums. This is the beginning of something I'm writing. I guess you could call it a WIP, but the first section is all I have written so far. I would have posted entire first section but it's a couple hundred words over the limit. This section takes place many years before the events of the book, so it is a prologue of sorts. The story will still follow the main character of this section, though. I'm interested in any criticism you have, really any feedback at all. Don't hold back. I can take it. 
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Rin looked out across the plain at the foreign army, its flags raised and billowing in the wind. He was afraid, but he was resolved not to show it. Vallus always told him never to show his fear. Never show weakness, to the enemy or to your men, he’d said. Someday, I’ll command an army, Rin thought. I’ll be a great leader, just like him, uniting men from many tribes to a common purpose. Looking out at them, the army of the Blood Men looked huge, but he knew that Vallus’s army was bigger. Three thousand Soltish warriors, the men said, against the two thousand of their enemy. Victory was almost certain, they said. Despite the favorable odds, Rin could not shake the fear that clung to his mind. We may win, he thought, but I could die. Friends could die.
“You ready, boy?” a voice behind him said.
Rin turned to see Vallus, a faint grin on his face, as he leaned on his spear.
“Yes. I am ready,” Rin said, trying to sound confident.
“Good. Remember, no fear. I hear that these Blood Men do not begin their battle training until they are men. You are young, and they will think you weak, a green boy. Let’s give them a lesson. A deadly one. Now mount up, it’s time to crush these spineless northerners. We’ll show your father that these men die like any others, eh?”
Rin, began to smile, “Aye sir. We will.”
“That’s the spirit, son. You’ll make a fine leader someday.”
Vallus rode off to gather the men, and Rin’s fear receded. They would win, and he would survive. It would be a glorious battle, the first step towards retaking the lands that the Blood Men had stolen. Though Vallus was his grandfather, he was the father that Rin always wished he’d had. Maybe father will finally see sense after we win this battle, he thought. He might finally come out from behind his walls of cowardice and join the fight. He would no longer be able to say that it was pointless to fight the Blood Men.
Rin ran through the camp, heading to his tent to prepare for battle. He donned his lizard-scale armor and found his spear and skor, a short handled stone weapon made for close combat. Its blade was a short piece of flint, and its pommel was a jagged stone spike. He went and found his D’rak lizard mount basking in the sun. He mounted the large reptilian beast and guided it over to his place in the battle lines. Most of the men had already formed up, creating a line of riders, and more were streaming in. He could see Vallus at the front, holding his spear above his head.
“It has been many years since the Blood Men first pushed us from our lands,” Vallus shouted, “They think us no more than simple savages. A nuisance to be dealt with quickly. But we will show them that they have made a fatal mistake. Every one of you is worth five of those men out there. They have underestimated us and we will make them pay the price!”
A great cheer rose from the Soltish army and three thousand spears were leveled as they advanced towards the enemy on their D’rak lizards. They picked up speed as they crossed the plain. Rin could see the enemy forming a defensive line of spears. His heart beat faster as they drew close. Four-hundred paces. Arrows flew out at him. He ducked his head behind the horns of his D’rak, feeling the vibrations of arrows glancing off the bony horns. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man fall from his mount, an arrow through his eye. Three-hundred paces. He leaned low over his mount, bracing his spear under his arm so he could hold it with one hand. Two-hundred paces. He picked out a target and held his spear steady. One-hundred. He screamed a war cry. Fifty. Impact.
There was an explosion of carnage as the charge smashed into enemy lines. A jolt went up Rin’s arm as his spear ripped through the man’s leather armor and tore through his chest. He screamed, his face contorted in agony. Rin jumped off his D’rak with the man still impaled on his spear.
He was still alive, blood pouring from the hole in his chest. Rin felt a sudden disgust with himself. He is an enemy, he reminded himself. They are the enemy. They deserve to die. Trying not to look at his twitching body, Rin pulled the spear from the dying man. When he looked around, all he saw was chaos. Fighting was everywhere. D’rak lizards rampaged through the fray, killing Solts as well as Blood Men in their frenzy.
Rin heard something behind him and whipped around just in time to parry a spear thrust from an enemy soldier. All thoughts of right and wrong fled. There was only survival. He had to kill this man to survive, so that was what he was going to do. The man made another thrust, and Rin parried it, sprinting to close on him. His skor was out in a second, stabbing at the man’s neck, where he was unarmored. The man dropped his spear later than he should have, but even so his hand snapped out and his grip closed around Rin’s wrist. His other fist smashed into Rin’s temple. Rin fought through the pain and twisted his wrist out of the man’s grasp, blocking another punch with his free hand. He feinted with his skor at the man’s gut and, as he moved to block, Rin took his opportunity.
The man gasped in pain as Rin’s skor found his neck, ripping into soft flesh. The man fell to the ground and Rin moved on. Rin was not sure how much time passed, but soon he could hear Vallus’s voice shouting above the clamor of battle, calling them to regroup on him. He joined the growing mass of Solts surrounding their leader, grouping for another charge. The enemy was fleeing, every single one of them. Victory, Rin thought, we have won! The men were looking up at Vallus, cheering as he raised his bloody spear in the air.
Suddenly, as Rin watched Vallus, an arrow streaked through the air, lodging in the leader’s neck. He tried to cry out as blood filled his throat, but fell to the ground instead, drowning in his own blood. The men stood in shocked silence, looking at the lone archer who had fired the arrow. He stood across a field of corpses, massive bow in hand, and making no move to run. Rin was stunned. Vallus, dead? He had seemed so invincible. Leaders didn’t die, their troops died for them. Somehow, Rin had never expected that Vallus would die so easily, like any common soldier. After a couple seconds of shock, the anger began to bubble through. He would make the Blood Men pay for killing his leader.
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Rin looked out across the plain at the foreign army, its flags raised and billowing in the wind. He was afraid, but he was resolved not to show it. Vallus always told him never to show his fear. Never show weakness, to the enemy or to your men, he’d said. Someday, I’ll command an army, Rin thought. I’ll be a great leader, just like him, uniting men from many tribes to a common purpose. Looking out at them, the army of the Blood Men looked huge, but he knew that Vallus’s army was bigger. Three thousand Soltish warriors, the men said, against the two thousand of their enemy. Victory was almost certain, they said. Despite the favorable odds, Rin could not shake the fear that clung to his mind. We may win, he thought, but I could die. Friends could die.
“You ready, boy?” a voice behind him said.
Rin turned to see Vallus, a faint grin on his face, as he leaned on his spear.
“Yes. I am ready,” Rin said, trying to sound confident.
“Good. Remember, no fear. I hear that these Blood Men do not begin their battle training until they are men. You are young, and they will think you weak, a green boy. Let’s give them a lesson. A deadly one. Now mount up, it’s time to crush these spineless northerners. We’ll show your father that these men die like any others, eh?”
Rin, began to smile, “Aye sir. We will.”
“That’s the spirit, son. You’ll make a fine leader someday.”
Vallus rode off to gather the men, and Rin’s fear receded. They would win, and he would survive. It would be a glorious battle, the first step towards retaking the lands that the Blood Men had stolen. Though Vallus was his grandfather, he was the father that Rin always wished he’d had. Maybe father will finally see sense after we win this battle, he thought. He might finally come out from behind his walls of cowardice and join the fight. He would no longer be able to say that it was pointless to fight the Blood Men.
Rin ran through the camp, heading to his tent to prepare for battle. He donned his lizard-scale armor and found his spear and skor, a short handled stone weapon made for close combat. Its blade was a short piece of flint, and its pommel was a jagged stone spike. He went and found his D’rak lizard mount basking in the sun. He mounted the large reptilian beast and guided it over to his place in the battle lines. Most of the men had already formed up, creating a line of riders, and more were streaming in. He could see Vallus at the front, holding his spear above his head.
“It has been many years since the Blood Men first pushed us from our lands,” Vallus shouted, “They think us no more than simple savages. A nuisance to be dealt with quickly. But we will show them that they have made a fatal mistake. Every one of you is worth five of those men out there. They have underestimated us and we will make them pay the price!”
A great cheer rose from the Soltish army and three thousand spears were leveled as they advanced towards the enemy on their D’rak lizards. They picked up speed as they crossed the plain. Rin could see the enemy forming a defensive line of spears. His heart beat faster as they drew close. Four-hundred paces. Arrows flew out at him. He ducked his head behind the horns of his D’rak, feeling the vibrations of arrows glancing off the bony horns. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man fall from his mount, an arrow through his eye. Three-hundred paces. He leaned low over his mount, bracing his spear under his arm so he could hold it with one hand. Two-hundred paces. He picked out a target and held his spear steady. One-hundred. He screamed a war cry. Fifty. Impact.
There was an explosion of carnage as the charge smashed into enemy lines. A jolt went up Rin’s arm as his spear ripped through the man’s leather armor and tore through his chest. He screamed, his face contorted in agony. Rin jumped off his D’rak with the man still impaled on his spear.
He was still alive, blood pouring from the hole in his chest. Rin felt a sudden disgust with himself. He is an enemy, he reminded himself. They are the enemy. They deserve to die. Trying not to look at his twitching body, Rin pulled the spear from the dying man. When he looked around, all he saw was chaos. Fighting was everywhere. D’rak lizards rampaged through the fray, killing Solts as well as Blood Men in their frenzy.
Rin heard something behind him and whipped around just in time to parry a spear thrust from an enemy soldier. All thoughts of right and wrong fled. There was only survival. He had to kill this man to survive, so that was what he was going to do. The man made another thrust, and Rin parried it, sprinting to close on him. His skor was out in a second, stabbing at the man’s neck, where he was unarmored. The man dropped his spear later than he should have, but even so his hand snapped out and his grip closed around Rin’s wrist. His other fist smashed into Rin’s temple. Rin fought through the pain and twisted his wrist out of the man’s grasp, blocking another punch with his free hand. He feinted with his skor at the man’s gut and, as he moved to block, Rin took his opportunity.
The man gasped in pain as Rin’s skor found his neck, ripping into soft flesh. The man fell to the ground and Rin moved on. Rin was not sure how much time passed, but soon he could hear Vallus’s voice shouting above the clamor of battle, calling them to regroup on him. He joined the growing mass of Solts surrounding their leader, grouping for another charge. The enemy was fleeing, every single one of them. Victory, Rin thought, we have won! The men were looking up at Vallus, cheering as he raised his bloody spear in the air.
Suddenly, as Rin watched Vallus, an arrow streaked through the air, lodging in the leader’s neck. He tried to cry out as blood filled his throat, but fell to the ground instead, drowning in his own blood. The men stood in shocked silence, looking at the lone archer who had fired the arrow. He stood across a field of corpses, massive bow in hand, and making no move to run. Rin was stunned. Vallus, dead? He had seemed so invincible. Leaders didn’t die, their troops died for them. Somehow, Rin had never expected that Vallus would die so easily, like any common soldier. After a couple seconds of shock, the anger began to bubble through. He would make the Blood Men pay for killing his leader.
