The Half Broken Crown

[DarrenReid]

Dear all

As part of the promotion for my new novel, Lord of Darkness and Shadow, I have launched a new online novella which I write and publish on a weekly basis - I think I have about as much idea of where it is going as the readers do! Anyways, here's part one - please let me know what you think.

Darren Reid
DarrenReid dot co dot uk

The Half Broken Crown -Part One
by Darren Reid

(c) February 2006, all rights reserved​

It was the end of the Dwarf war and all around the world the last embers of death had began to subside. The fires that had raged across the dark sea had been extinguished and life, at least for some, was beginning to return to normal. All this and more, Alraeic knew to be true, but the unfolding scenes of chaos around him forced this knowledge to the back of his battle sharpened mind. When the fires raged, the arrows flew and the swords clashed, it was the gravest folly to consider anything but the immediate circumstances.
Almost without thought Alraeic dropped one shoulder, allowing a flaming arrow bolt to pass harmlessly above where the shoulder had been. The air was alight with the smell of burning wood, blood and the screaming sounds of men dying horrific deaths. Alraeic had read his history well, knew everything that one of his vocation needed too, but in no history is the true horror of war, or even an isolated battle, truly communicated. Alraeic could see through the corner of one eye, as he marched immovably forward, a soldier, possibly one of his own, being lanced through the stomach. What Alraeic saw, what Alraeic knew, was that the soldier was still alive, even as his assailant twisted the lance in his victim’s exploding gut. Somewhere in the distance a soldier screamed a horribly brutal cry of agony. Perhaps it was the staggering figure on the bank above Alraeic, the one clutching the empty socket where once an eye had been. But probably not, there were plenty of targets and plenty of potential victims in what had quickly turned into little more than a killing field.
The smell of smoke was beginning to fill the air; something, quite possibly the pack’s supplies, had been set alight. But not even this could deter Alraeic from his course. Some small distance ahead of him, standing atop a ridge that jutted suddenly out from the packed dirt floor of the forest clearing stood Leena, flanked by two of his men. The third soldier had collapsed moments before in a hail of blood, ruptured eye and cranium. Without thought and in spite of all the weariness that was weighing Alraeic down, he quickened his step.
The Milons were approaching Leena and her last two protectors, moving in from the obscured copse of trees from which they had been firing flaming bolts into her dwindling body guard. Dirty, sick looking creatures, the Milons scuttled forward, their long grey legs and arms glistening in the forest filtered light of the dying day. At the head of the pack was a Milon quite unlike the rest. Thick, pulsating muscles squirmed under his paper thin grey skin. His ears were longer and narrower than those of the rest in his pack, drawing to sharper points than Alraeic had ever seen on a Milon. Catching sight of the advancing pack, heralded by an eruption of flaming arrows, Alraeic changed his course, drawing his long, thick blade. Behind him a gust of wind picked up the thick red velvet cloak that hung off his shoulder armour, a flag of both his allegiance and ability as a warrior. An unlit arrow exploded out from behind the advancing pack of Milons, colliding violently with the thick breast plate Alraeic wore. Winded, the impact of the arrow almost knocked him down. Almost. But for all the force of the impact, the thick plate armour Alraeic wore did not crack and he barely slowed.
With his sword bared, Alraeic burst into a run, charging into the advancing pack of Milons. How many were there? Seven, maybe eight of them? From somewhere behind Alraeic an arrow flew over his head, striking the leader of the pack in the face. His cheek exploded in violent fountain of blood and puss, the force of the impact knocking him squealing to the tightly packed dirt of the forest clearing. Turning towards the direction of the deadly arrows the Milon pact made eye contact for the first time with the advancing Alraeic.
In a single, seamless motion, Alraeic sliced through the front runner of the pack, taking off the creature’s head with an almost careless stroke of his razor sharp blade. A second Milon, a scrawny creature that could afford to miss no more meals than it already had, charged towards Alraeic, its short sword swinging violently. Sword already raised from its last killing stroke, Alraeic brought the blade down upon the second Milon, effortlessly slicing off its sword bearing arm. For a brief moment the mutilated creature only stared into Alraeic’s eyes with an expression of complete disbelief before turning and charging blindly back into the forest. By the time the one armed Milon reached the relative safety of the tree line, Alraeic had already forgotten of the foul creature’s existence. Instead he lunged into the remaining Milon pack, his sword swinging in wide, precision guided arcs, taking off limbs and stabbing through the pathetically thin bodies of the creatures. For Alraeic time had slowed so that every heart beat resonated with a dozen thrusts and swings of his sword. For what seemed like hours, but was in reality seconds, Alraeic’s sword flew into that advancing Milon pack until the last survivors had turned and fled back into the trees. But seconds it had been and as exhausted as Alraeic was there was no time to slow. He had pushed back a half a dozen Milon’s from the woman he was sworn to protect, but around them, around the camp and around the last failing soldiers he and the other Stars of Aemara commanded, the advancing Milons began to swarm in.

Lord of Darkness and Shadow is on sale now​

 

[Brys]

The prose itself is good, but there are a couple of issues generally:
You could do with more description in the beginning - you state that

in no history is the true horror of war, or even an isolated battle, truly communicated

but you don't really show it. You start to, but it's too detached, and you don't give enough examples of it. In the same way that a conventional history can't fully convey the horror of the Holocaust, because it lacks the personal aspect, a general view is unlikely to be successful. It seems like you know what you need to do - but don't quite go far enough. There seems to be an element of the invicible character in it, but it's too short an extract to see whether that's really the case.

The first line's also pretty offputting - it has the word dwarf in it, and it suggests there's going to be an infodump. There isn't, but it doesn't seem directly relevant to the scene that ensues.
You could also add a bit of description to the Milons, to establish a better image of them. Other than that, it's very good.

(PS it's not a good idea to try and self-promote. Don't post this in other forums, because spamming isn't tolerated. It's fine to do it like this, but try and get involved in the community outside of just promoting your novella - just a warning).

 

[DarrenReid]

Hey

This really isn't much in the way of promtion other than letting people read my writing - this story is the first past of a novella but not one that is going to be sold - it is a free online endeavour

thanks for your comments though

Darren

 

[bendoran]

so you are not looking for a critique, you are just advertising?

 

[DarrenReid]

Bendoran, I think you misunderstood - what I mean is that the project is to promte my name - but only on my blog which i advertise extensively outside of writers groups - I haev posted it here specifically to be crtiqued by writers such as yourselves. Like I said, this is a free online thing, nothing I am trying to sell - it is just some fun and whilst I love hearing feedback from fantasy and sci-fi readers it tends not to be constructive, ie "this is good" or "not so good" - I am posting it here to be told why it is good or not so good so that when I do write for commercial purposes it is much better.

I am sorry for the misunderstanding - see why i need critiques

Take care

Darren

 

[jackokent]

Sorry but I have to be another one who says "this is good". Well I thought so anyway. I loved the Milons.

I will try to critique as well though but my observations will of course only be personal ones:

I didn't like the word "suddenly" to descibe how an outcrop jutted (para 3). I prefer suddenly to describe action.

"all the weariness that was weighing Alraeic down," felt a bit clumbsy, maybe - the weight of his weariness?

"drawing his long, thick blade. Behind him a gust of wind picked up the thick red velvet cloak that hung off his shoulder armour, a flag of both his allegiance and ability as a warrior. An unlit arrow exploded out from behind the advancing pack of Milons, colliding violently with the thick breast plate Alraeic wore. Winded, the impact of the arrow almost knocked him down. Almost. But for all the force of the impact, the thick plate armour Alraeic wore ." maybe diffferent adjectives than thick. Also, the repetition of the armour he wore slows down the action.

" Milon pact" Pack? Can a whole pack make eye contact. Did they not just notice him?

I have to agree with Brys that there is a feeling of detachment. That's fine if delerate. The abundant use of adjectives slows down the action so that it doesn't feel maybe as warish (is that a word) or manic as maybe a battle would normally.

Really enjoyed it however and looking foward to meeting more Milons.... or maybe something worse.

 

[DarrenReid]

Hey Jackokent

You can say "its good" if you like - It always makes me smile

I have to admit that over using adjectives is easily my weakest point whenever I write anything and I will definately try and fix it in the future. As to the feeling of detachement...was it intentional - yes and no; I love to write fusion pieces - for instance my book is a fusion of dark and high fantasy as well as science fiction - in this case I wanted to do a combintation of dark and high fantasy - high fantasy is basically what it is as the protagonist is not self centerd etc but I also like to describe the 'true' horror of what is happening - in some ways i try to describe things like Orwell does in 1984 - gruesomely detached - so that I don't over do it on the gore - I don't know if that makes sense but it is what I was aiming for!!!

I have the second part complete and will post it in this thread a little bit later on - if you like check back and let me know what you think,

Take care everyone,

Darren
P.S I think you done a great job critiquing Jackokent - cheers :0

 

[Brys]

It's fine to do something gruesomely detached, but the problem here is that you also seem to be trying to do the opposite, as the impression is given Alraeic's personally involved in the fighting - a close up view - rather than an observer who can see the horror of it in its totality. The sense of scale is hinted at, rather than actually shown.
A positive thing to say about it - you can add more to improve it - you don't have to go through the dreaded process of cutting stuff out, because what's there is very good. I'd also have to disagree with jackokent on the adjectives - you use them appropriately and certainly not excessively. Ok, there are one or two that don't quite work, but it's a huge exaggeration to say there's "an overabundance of adjectives".

effortlessly slicing off its sword bearing arm

I don't know a huge amount about fighting, but the idea of effortlessly being able to slice of someone's arm is quite frankly ridiculous. It's rare that this kind of thing happens - often through luck - and it isn't easy, it requires a huge amount of strength (it's lucky, as well, isn't it, that he didn't try and defend himself). Sorry for being cynical and pedantic, but that tends to be the best thing for critiques.

This article might be of some help to you - http://www.sfwa.org/writing/thud.htm

 

[jackokent]

it's a huge exaggeration to say there's "an overabundance of adjectives".

I think I said "your abundant use of" sorry to be pendantic you did say it was the best thing for critiques

 

[DarrenReid]

Hey Brys

Thanks for the well thought out critique, I will definately give your comments some thought - and will go and read the article now - thanks

And here is the second part of the story as promised - I will add part three in a few days - if this is not the thing to do in this forum, ie keep updating the story please tell me and I will stop

Darren

The Half Broken Crown, part two, by Darren Reid (c)2006, All Rights Reserved

Dozens of squirming, stalking Milons began to move in a wide arc around the flank of Alraeic’s surviving soldiers. Little over a dozen soldiers remained, their dirt and blood battered chain mail reflecting the dull, forest filtered light as they drew in a tight circle around Leena. In among the soldiers stood the last of the Stars of Aemara, their heavy velvet capes weighed down with blood, their faces straight from the battle. In the centre of the defensive circle, alone and the picture of regal perfection stood Leena, her long flowing gown billowing in the harsh wind that had begun to pick up through the small clearing in the wood. With a casual awareness of what was happening around her, Leena reached up and brushed a thick strand of hair away from her wide, penetrating eyes. She held in one hand, a little below her breasts, a long, curving knife, gilded from point to base in an elaborate pattern of runes. In truth it was only the presence of this blade that suggested, at least to Alraeic, that she understood how dangerous the pitched battle had become.

With no small amount of difficulty Alraeic tore his eyes from Leena and joined the human shield that had formed around his liege lady. Whatever would come, whether her fault or not, he would fight to the last this day if that was the need. And, if that was the case, he would hold in his mind two thoughts. The picture of perfection he was fighting to protect and the knowledge, completely undeniable, that had his advice been heeded she would not have led them to this disaster. Although even as the last thought crossed his mind, marked only by the barest hint of a smile, Alraeic knew he could not hold it long. If today was his time to journey to the tower where souls meet their end, he would do so only with the image of Leena as she had stood a moment earlier; the warrior noble baring her only weapon in a last desperate battle.

From atop the slight mound upon which she stood, Leena watched Alraeic as he joined the last men that stood at her defense, a sight of male arrogance if ever she could imagine one. The wind that was harrying the soldiers picked up for a moment and Alraeic’s thick, blood soaked cape was picked up, momentarily flying as flag would from atop the highest tower of Aemara. Such complete and utter arrogance! Leena felt her blood boil just looking at him, with his battle hardened face, set in an expression of complete determination. For a moment she was sure he had been watching her, staring into her eyes with his own deep brown ones, mesmerized and mesmerizing her. The nerve of him, that he should think himself equal enough to look upon her as if she were just any woman! Despicable! Did he really think his soft, angular features and short, ruffled hair was enough to make her attracted to him? The gall of some men never ceased to amaze her.

Tearing her eyes from Alraeic, Leena quickly scanned the scene around her. The Milon horde was closing in; dozens of the filthy creatures wearing little more than rags and carrying weapons of the worst workmanship she could imagine. Unconsciously she gripped the hilt of the dagger her father had given her, allowing its familiar sensation to fill her with pride and the determination to fight. Would she live? Possibly, though she doubted it, but she did intend to take a good many of these filthy creatures to the tower with her if she fell. And maybe Alraeic too, if he got in her way. At least that way he would be her last sight upon Earth. Suppressing a violent rush of blood to her face Leena banished the thought from her mind. Filthy man that he was, he would no doubt rejoice if he knew such a thought had, even for the briefest of moments, crossed her fair and delicate mind. Fair and delicate, yes that was correct. Fair. And delicate.

A flaming bolt ripped through the air and into the assembled men in front of Leena ending the brief, peaceful hiatus the troop had been enjoying. A gargled, tortured sound erupted from what had once been the face of one of the Stars of Aemara, his hair and face ablaze as he fell forward, pieces of cranium falling to the damp floor of the clearing. A shudder that Leena did not try and hide passed through her body, how easily it could have been her. Or Alraeic. Or any other the soldiers, of course.

Alraeic saw Jaena’s face explode only through the corner of his eye. The death was a tragedy, no doubt, but right now it was little more than a statistic. One Star down, including himself that left only a three left to lead the troop. And if they fell would the soldiers stand by their liege lady? Would they honor themselves in death, or would they run? Maybe, perhaps time would tell, perhaps not. It mattered little at that moment in time as the advancing Milon horde burst forward in a charge, dozens of sweaty figures waving crude blades and swords. The time for thinking, perhaps forever, was over. At this Alraeic could barely repress the smile that was spreading over his lips. Raising his thick, razor sharp sword to the sky he began to step forward towards the charging band of monstrosities before him.

“Weapons forward,” he bellowed, his throat cracking painfully. To either side of him the troop began to advance. Those who had been rich before being drafted into service raised the swords they had brought, the others brought up an assortment of bows, arrows, blades and bludgeons. If Leena was to survive the troop would, almost entirely, have to be sacrificed for her. Without another thought Alraeic lunged forwards in a run, leading the last charge.

 

[jackokent]

- I will add part three in a few days - if this is not the thing to do in this forum, ie keep updating the story please tell me and I will stop

Please do NOT stop. I am dying to read the next post.

Now to be picky:

Dozens of squirming, stalking Milons began to move in a wide arc around the flank of Alraeic’s surviving soldiers. Little over a dozen

Lots of Dozens

In the centre of the defensive circle, alone and the picture of regal perfection stood Leena, her long flowing gown billowing in the harsh wind that had begun to pick up through the small clearing in the wood.

This felt unnessariy long a casual sentence for a battle even if you are trying to portray Leena's casualness.

Although even as the last thought crossed his mind, marked only by the barest hint of a smile, Alraeic knew he could not hold it long.

This sentence felt a bit uncomfortable. Had to read it a couple times to get the meaning.

Tearing her eyes from Alraeic, Leena quickly scanned the scene around her. The Milon horde was closing in; dozens of the filthy creatures wearing little more than rags and carrying weapons of the worst workmanship she could imagine. Unconsciously she gripped the hilt of the dagger her father had given her, allowing its familiar sensation to fill her with pride and the determination to fight. Would she live? Possibly, though she doubted it, but she did intend to take a good many of these filthy creatures to the tower with her if she fell. And maybe Alraeic too, if he got in her way. At least that way he would be her last sight upon Earth. Suppressing a violent rush of blood to her face Leena banished the thought from her mind. Filthy man that he was, he would no doubt rejoice if he knew such a thought had, even for the briefest of moments, crossed her fair and delicate mind. Fair and delicate, yes that was correct. Fair. And delicate.

Quite a lot of use of the word "Filthy"

A flaming bolt ripped through the air and into the assembled men in front of Leena ending the brief, peaceful hiatus the troop had been enjoying.

Comma after Leena

A shudder that Leena did not try and hide passed through her body, how easily it could have been her. Or Alraeic. Or any other the soldiers, of course.

Not sure the punctuation is correct here. Should it be a full stop afer body and semi colons after her and Alraeic.

Raising his thick, razor sharp sword to the sky he began to step forward towards the charging band of monstrosities before him.

Every time he uses his sword you describe it (this is following on from the last excert). The reader already knows it's thick, long and razor sharp.

The only other comment I would have is maybe the potential flowering love is a bit obvious. If you don't handle it very carefully, and this is just my opinion, it could become corny. Unless I've got it completely wrong and this isn't where they are going. This is less of a critism than a warning really.

Keep it coming. I think it's great.

 

[DarrenReid]

Hey Jackokent

Thanks so much for your critique which I always enjoy - regarding the continuity issue i will try and pay more attention to the numbers that are described (dozens, little over a dozen) - when I wrote my first book, one of the main characters is a nine or ten year old boy, but when i went back to revise he started off as six then eight, then seven - hehe - publishing as I go is a little bit awckward but I will make every effort to rell this in. also because i only do 1000-1500 words a week on this story I always feel I have ti describe things over and over for each part - this will stop (though maybe not for part three as this is already written).

The love story thing isn't really a love story (though it might turn into one, who knows!), but is instead meant to add, or will add, some extra depth to the characters and maybe some subtle humor in the form of their antagonistic and strong personalities - this is very much a stay tuned kind of development.

If you enjoy this series, pop over to my website (darrenreid dot co dot uk) as there is a short story prequel to my novel i'd like to hear your opinion on - eventually I will post it here for critiques but I don't want to spam this board with lots and lots of writing!!

I will add three either later tomorrow or tonight if I get the chance so please check back and let me knw what you think - hopefully part three sees the story opening up a bit!

Take care everyone,

Darren

 

[jackokent]

"The love story thing isn't really a love story" sorry about that - so it wasn't being obvious then, forget what I said earlier.

Really enjoyed the website prequel. I have a personnal rule against buying new books as I read so much. I have been known to buy whole shelves from charity shops. Might have to break this rule it in the case of Lord of Darkness and Shadow.

Looking forward to part 3 of HBC

 

[DarrenReid]

Hey

Here's part three, hopefully this part starts to open up the story a bit more - let me know what you think. Jackokent, if you do decide to get my book please do let me know what you think of it.

Take care all,

Darren​

The Half Broken Crown - Part Three by Darren Reid (c) 2006, All Rights Reserved​

“Weapons forward,” Alraeic bellowed, his throat cracking painfully. To either side of him the troop began to advance. Those who had been rich before being drafted into service raised the swords they had brought, the others brought up an assortment of bows, arrows, blades and bludgeons. If Leena was to survive the troop would, almost entirely, have to be sacrificed for her. Without another thought Alraeic lunged forwards in a run, leading the charge…

All around Alraeic the sounds of the battle faded away, his peripheral vision narrowing until the leaders of the Milon pack became all that he could see or hear. The air through which Alraeic and the troop was charging had taken on a slightly putrid smell; burning timbers and blood. The wind had picked up lifting the few red velvet capes left into the air like streaming banners. The Milon pack was close now, filling the air with low, guttural groans and cries. Reaching upwards with his right arm Alraeic heaved his blade over his shoulder, ready to swing it down up the first group of the filthy charging creatures that reached him.

From some way behind him, Leena watched the charge, her breath caught in her throat. She was alone now, but for the few charging figure in front of her. How many of them would come back, if any at all? Slowly Leena took a step backwards as if the extra distance would offer her some greater protection if the Milon pack broke through her last line of defense. She could, of course, turn around and run, fleeing blindly into the woods. There was no maybe about, it was her role to flee, Alraeic had made that perfectly clear long before they had encountered the day’s calamity. Every worse case scenario, every potential problem had been plotted out between Leena, Alraeic and the other Stars of Aeamara. It was their duty to make sure she got to her destination safely even if that meant the death of the troop, of every last escort; it was her duty to make sure the sacrifice was not in vein.

And even now, as the moment came, Leena paused, paralyzed by indecision and fear. Could she escape? Maybe, though the final leg of the journey would be arduous and dangerous if undertaken alone. Had she the skills to survive? She was trained in woodland survival, but was that enough? She had known they would be hunted on their journey, yes she had known that at least, and had deviously kept the fact from her protectors; if they knew she was hunted they might have asked why and that, she had decided at the time, was a question she would not, could not answer. A shiver passed through Leena’s body that was not brought on by the strong breeze whipping through the body filled clearing. It occurred to Leena that she held her life in her own hands at that moment. Run as she was duty bound to do, as she was expected too (at least Alraeic had expected it, he had not even looked back from his charge to make sure she was fulfilling her duty!), or stay. Or fight. But what was the use, she had only a single dagger, and as beautiful as it was it would be little use in the battle. But she was not scared. But she did turn, and she did run. It was, after all, her duty to allow these men to die for her.

Alraeic did not see Leena turn to run, did not see much beyond the Milon pack leader before him for that matter. Thick, pulsing muscles churned and flexed under the thin grey skin of this creature with every slash or thrust of its crude, rusted sword. One of its ears, the left though things were moving so fast Alraeic couldn’t be sure, had been clipped off just below where it became pinched into a point giving one half of the creature’s face a strange human quality. The thought passed so quickly through Alraeic’s mind that he barely even registered it. His blade had become heavy in his battle wearied arms, his muscles tied into knots, his body held up with little more than adrenaline. The creature before Alraeic seemed barely to tire, regardless of how many times it bludgeoned its blade into the spaces where moments prior Alraeic had stood.

Drawing his thick blade into the air with no small amount of effort, Alraeic feigned to one side, the creature responding by diving backwards, its weaponless arm trailing after the rest of the body. Alraeic lunged forward taking the creature’s trailing arm in on of his thick, callused hands, stopping the creature’s retreat in one bone jarring movement. For the briefest moment the caught Milon glanced up at Alraeic with a perfect expression of surprise and terror; the moment did not last. Alraeic swung his sword like an axe into the creature’s side, cleaving a thick hole that excreted thick bubbles of blood so dark it was almost black. The creature shrieked in agony and shock, looking down at Alraeic’s blade with an expression of mixed horror and shock. With a painful thrust that set Alraeic’s muscles on fire he freed the blade from the creature’s side, letting the squealing body crumble as he did so.

Alraeic had become separated from the rest of the troop. He could see them, or at least thought he could, through a pulsing mass of Milon’s who looked to be scrambling in around the survivors like rats over an animal carcass. A few stragglers surround Alraeic, though none as large as the still twitching pack leader. The stragglers began to swarm around him, three or four scrawny creatures, one whose clothes had been entirely ripped off, another whose skin had been dyed a faint red by spilt blood. Alraeic settled his weight onto his right leg, stretched the left out before him and raised his sword above his head. Every muscle in Alraeic’s body burned now, his bones groaning in silent agreement. The stragglers had not encircled him but instead formed a barrier between him and the backs of the Milons overwhelming the troop. He would cleave his way through these bedraggled creatures and then into the flank of the Milon pack. He would die, he knew that, but he would do it fighting to get to his men.

Before Alraeic could move, the world around him seemed to darken and…shift somehow. The Milon stragglers in front of him faded somewhat into the shadows, each creature now giving off a faint aura that clung around them like a low lying fog. The Milon horde that had encircled the surviving members of the troop shared a joint aura that hung around them, pulsing as if keeping time to the beat of the some unknown heart. The forest, the sky, everything seemed to glow and pulse and for the briefest, most fleeting of moments Alraeic could see and, more importantly, understand everything. Alraeic’s heart began to slow, sweat he did not know was covering his face began to dry and calmness permeated every facet of his being.

Not seeing a thing of what Alraeic saw, the straggling Milons between him and the main horde that was now bludgeoning the last of the troop wantonly darted forward taking advantage of their attackers’ apparent lapse in concentration. The blood soaked Milon, a pathetic, scrawny creature that called its self Eaerad took the lead in this impromptu charge, waving his short, misshapen blade before him.

Alraeic watched the four Milons approaching him, led by the creature coated in pints of human blood. They snarled and howled as they moved, their over long legs stumbling over rocks and tree roots as they neared, a picture of complete gracelessness. Their auras pulsed and warped as they moved, linking up briefly before breaking apart and flowing around them like water. Alraeic did not raise his sword, doubted he had enough strength left in his arms to do so, even had he wanted. The Milon’s were almost tangible in his mind now, creatures he could reach out and touch or brush away like leaves on the wind. He did not act, didn’t know if he could, and was not entirely sure he was not hallucinating from exhaustion. The brief moment where everything, every answer and every question, had been known to him was gone, the last dying ember already beginning to fade from his memory; but not all the knowledge was lost.

As the blood soaked creature that had called its self Eaerad came within striking distance, Alraeic struck outwards with his mind, a kind of general sweeping motion that would pulverize anything it touched. The blood soaked Milon raised its battered blade above its head before widening its eyes in shock and in horror. Tears of blood began to leak from the corners of its eyes, from its finger tips and from every orifice on its body. And for a moment Eaerad could see exactly what Alraeic saw, could see the pulsing auras that surrounded them all, and he too knew all of the answers and all of the questions. From the centre of the creature’s chest exploded a thick beam of light that only he and Alraeic could see. The beam of light formed its self into a vague, ever changing image of Eaerad with wide, terror stricken eyes. The image was screaming in panicked terror, clawing at its own body, desperately trying to pull its self back to where it belonged. The trailing end of light was now reaching out towards Alraeic’s chest, connecting little above where his heart was beating slowly. For a moment the apparition of Eaerad hung between his own body and Alraeic’s, screeching terribly. The apparition hung in this position only for a moment before being torn from the grip of its own body and disappearing into Alraeic. From then on, Eaerad felt no more and saw only darkness.

 

[jackokent]

It's getting really exciting. I can see this is going to be a great post to follow.

However, this one did not seem as polished as the previous 2. To be picky, some of the sentences seemed very descriptive which might again slow down the action. Words like "became" slowed down the first sentence. The second sentence "The air through which Alraeic and the troop was charging" again felt almost over described. Maybe a tense issue "were charging" could be charged. Or maybe "Alraeic and his troops charged through air which had taken on a slighlty putrid..." Just a thought.

"few charging figure in front of her." figures

"But she was not scared. But she did turn, and she did run. It was, after all, her duty to allow these men to die for her." the two close "buts" made it feel a bit clumbsy and her running is such a big thing ( an action) maybe it got a bit lost coming in the middle of her thought process. I had to read it twice to ensure she really did run.

"Before Alraeic could move, the world around him seemed to darken and…shift somehow. The Milon stragglers in front of him faded somewhat into the shadows, each creature now giving off a faint aura that clung around them like a low lying fog." the word somewhat seems a very conversational one in amongst such an increible happenning.

"could see and, more importantly, understand everything." This was a bit confusing without any following explaination. Again, it is such a big thing I felt more could have been made of it imediately. He suddenly knows everything! Wow! Wouldn't he want to explore this a bit more in his mind?

"Not seeing a thing of what Alraeic saw, the straggling Milons between him and the main horde that was now bludgeoning the last of the troop wantonly darted forward taking advantage of their attackers’ apparent lapse in concentration." this is a massive sentence for an action scene. Again, possibly over described.

At the end the view shifts to Earad. I'm not experienced enough to know if this is generally a bad thing but it felt a bit strange in the middle of the action. If Earad is going to have a big part later maybe it's more fitting but if not then is there anyway we could stay in Alraeic's mind so he knows that Earad is thinking these things, if you see what I mean. Shifting around between Leena and Alraeic seems fine but shifting into bit players can be disjointed.

Please remember this is only my humble opion. I am still loving it and looking forward to next post.

 

[DarrenReid]

Here is part four - I have had to split it into two posts due to length. hope you enjoy,

Darren

The Half Broken Crown - Part Four
by Darren Reid (c) 2006, All Rights Reserved​

The trailing end of light was now reaching out towards Alraeic’s chest, connecting little above where his heart was beating slowly. For a moment the apparition of Eaerad hung between his own body and Alraeic’s, screeching terribly. The apparition hung in this position only for a moment before being torn from the grip of its own body and disappearing into Alraeic. From then on, Eaerad felt no more and saw only darkness.

II​

From Leena’s vantage point, hidden behind a line of trees that quite suddenly melded into the wider forest behind her, Alraeic had become completely obscured. Instead Leena could see only an indiscriminate mob of Milon figures slumped over the few surviving members of the troop. The Milon pack had commenced hacking, gouging and tearing into the barely visible clump of human survivors. The only real details Leena could make from the scene was the occasional, though all too clear, sight of limbs or some other bloodied mass being thrown carefree from the squirming pile of creatures. A single agonized cry escaped the barely living mound, echoing dully through Leena’s ears, chilling her heart and planting her feet firmly to the soft ground of the forest. It wasn’t that Leena did not want to turn away, to run blindly into the darkness of the forest, but that she could not tear herself from the sight before her. Her eyes seemed glued to the macabre sight before, unrelentingly attached to the incomprehensible violence that had engulfed the troop. A few of the Milon’s had broken away from the main body and had proceeded to search out the few limbs that had been discarded by the rest of the pack in their blood lust. Leena’s stomach lurched heavily as one of these outcast creatures came across the mangled remains of a forearm and proceeded to wrench pieces of loose, bloody flesh from it with its sharp, glimmering teeth.

Leena had no idea how long it had been she had lost sight of Alraeic for it could very well have been his forearm that the short, fat Milon some distance before her was now feasting upon. Surely only a few seconds had passed since she had charged into the cover of the forest, certainly she had paused and turned for only a few seconds more. Leena’s legs were weak, starting to shake; they felt seemingly detached from the rest of her. Her whole body was now starting to shake, tears she did not know she had shed rolling carelessly down her cheeks. With no small amount of effort she began to take short, tentative steps backwards into the forest, never tearing her eyes from the Milon pack who were now so covered in blood that she could not tell where the pack ended and the troop, or what was left of them, begun.

For what passed as an age, though in reality passed in minutes, Leena backed slowly into the forest, allowing the trees to envelope her, slowly blocking the image of the battlefield. At some point Leena realized that the battlefield was now completely obscured by trees, had in fact been so for some time. At this slow dawning realization, she at last allowed herself to turn in the direction she had been wandering in. Her heart was beating relentlessly in her chest, pumping blood loudly through her ears. The dagger her father had given her was still in her hand though she had quite forgotten its existence until she glanced down, startled by the sight of it, her hand now white from gripping it so hard. With some reluctance she sheathed the dagger in the elaborate and embellished scabbard that hung loosely at her waist.

All around her the forest had closed in from every side. Thick trunks covered in moss stretched skywards, the ever present sound of birds and insects filling the air making for a pleasant change from the horrific sounds of agony that had assaulted her in the preceding hours. For no particular reason that Leena could discern she kneeled down and, with an out stretched finger, drew a long, titling tower into the soft, wet ground before her. In her homeland, a place she had not seen in countless years and where she had been, still was, bound the tower was a symbol of death and a mark of respect for those that had passed. She would sit by the crude drawing. And she would weep for those that had passed into the tower’s embrace. Not all roads lead to the tower. But theirs, Alraeic’s, certainly had.

Though he could not see her and though he remained some distance from her, running blindly through the forest, Alraeic saw all of this and more. Leena kneeling in front of a crude drawing before, the knife now hanging in her scabbard, and the movement in the trees beyond. The image of Leena faded in and out of existence, merging, obscuring and then being completely over taken by the sight of the forest as he moved swiftly through it. The fatigue that had weighed him down to the point complete exhaustion was now only a vague thought in the back of his mind. All of Alraeic’s body for that matter had faded from his consciousness. Clumps of hair, matted with Milon and human blood, fell limply over his eyes; Alraeic barely brushed them away. Whether his eyes were covered or not, the sight that mattered, the sight he needed to see, glowed with an irrepressible brilliance in his mind until some obstacle before him forced the image to the darkness where no eye can see.

The sense that Leena was close, growing closer in fact, did not negate Alraeic’s frustration that he could not sense precisely in which direction he should move. Trees with thick and twisted branches reached out to scratch at his tired body, birds sang songs that deafened his ears and always the croaking, broken voice of Eaerad sang in his mind.

I’ve got a love that’s greater than you power,
I’m going to lead you along to the tower,
It’s in my true heart that my power grows,
I’m going to take you to the tower that eats souls.

The thought of what had happened in the clearing, of the last charge, his last encounter before charging blindly into the forest to find Leena had not yet occurred to him. He could not allow the thought to form in his mind, to break his concentration or cripple him be reliving the bitter terror and confusion of the events. And what if thinking about his…gift would make it stop? He didn’t know that it wouldn’t, didn’t know that it would. About his new circumstances he knew nothing, but he knew this; with his gift he could find Leena, would find Leena, and that was all that mattered.

Again, the forest around Alraeic faded into the vision of Leena, shuffling uncomfortably in front of the crude rendering of the tower.

I’ve got a love that’s greater than your power

To one of her sides a dark, shadowed figure moved through the trees. Too tall by far to be a Milon, the shape ruffled and floated, fading into and out of the forest. Arms and legs appeared momentarily only to disappear as the dark shape floated around where Leena was perched. The shaped moved with only a vaguely human shape

I’m going to lead you to the tower

as if it was wrapped in a cloak of darkness, a cloak of shadows. Alraeic could not suppress the shiver that ran up his spine at the thought. But he was close now coming

It’s in my true hear that my power grows

towards where Leena sat, whispering a silent prayer under her breath. Alraeic could see everything now with a

I’m going to take you to the tower that eats souls

perfect clarity; the vision, the forest around him, and the spectral creature that was drifting towards Leena. It floated above the ground, a fine cloud of smoke and shadows drifting in the air, the only discernible shape that did not alter was that of its head, a half eaten corpse wearing a hood of shadows. It was moving closer to Leena, stretching out two shapes that began to resolve themselves into arms. Its face was as much bone as it was flesh, though its jaw was completely bereft of any features. Instead what was snapping in anticipation was a jaw bone grafted from smoke and shadow. Locked behind it was a black, leathery tongue that flicked out whenever the jaw bones parted. Alraeic could almost smell the creature, could almost taste its sick, putrid sensation upon his tongue. How could she not see it yet, why had she not moved? Frustration, the first emotion Alraeic had felt since he had faced Eaerad began to flood his body. Realization was quick to follow. So was panic.

 

[DarrenReid]

Part Four Continued...


The creature was now moving directly behind Leena, its long shadowy arms outstretch. A few seconds and it would have her. Leena had closed her eyes to pray, cleared her thoughts and began meditating. The creature closed in, inches from reaching out and grabbing her. Very slowly, Leena let a hand drop to her waist, exhaling as if it had been part of some meditative pattern. Gently she worked her hand towards the scabbard in which her dagger lay. She knew something was behind her though she would not turn to face it until she could be sure of cutting it with her blade. Her hand fell discretely upon the handle of the blade, the familiar sensation acting to slow the heart that now raced in her chest. She could feel the intruder, no doubt a stray Milon, just behind her.

Without further thought she sprung to her feet pivoting around as she did so, her blade bared. For just a moment the shadow creature recoiled in fright, shying away from the blade and the creature that held it. Leena’s heart seemed to stop when she saw the shadow creature, even as it recoiled in terror from her. The moment of panic was soon in passing. The creature had no flesh in the lower part of its face, though what it did have upon its cheeks crinkled upwards in the approximation of a smile.

Panic gripped Leena and the dagger she had been holding dropped seamlessly from her hand. The creature stretched out its arms and lunged forward, its long, leathery tongue shooting out of its mouth as it charged. Lenna froze, her eyes wide at the sight of the approaching creature. Its hands came to her face and stopped just short of her delicate cheeks. For a moment the creature hung, suspended, before her, its wide, black eyes widening in what Leena thought at first had been delight and later would come to realize had been terror. Through the creature’s shadowy form Leena could make out a single, solitary figure, though not its features. The creature rotated its head until the back of its hood hung before Leena’s eyes.

Alraeic watched the creature turn to face him, marking the features upon its face. Somewhere in the back of his mind a faint memory tried to be heard but was quickly quashed. The creature’s black eyes were wide and staring, taking in all of Alraeic at a glance. Where once the creature had ended in an indiscriminate cloud of smoke, a long, trailing edge had appeared, flowing outwards towards Alraeic. The edge meandered until it collided with Alraeic’s chest, opening his eyes wider than they had ever been to


I’ve got a love that’s greater than your power


the world around him. Realization, consciousness and power flooded Alraeic’s body and mind, the whole


I’m going to lead you to the tower


universe becoming just another answer to just another question. Fear, panic, all fell to the back of Alraeic’s mind, only the creature sprawled out before him concerned him now. Without thought, without


It’s in my true hear that my power grows


action, the creature before Alraeic began to buckle and convulse, an ear splitting scream escaping its mouth. Through the creature Alraeic could just make out Leena


You’ve become the tower that eats souls


dropping to her knees, her eyes shut tight and hands clasped over her ears. The scream lasted only a moment before being silenced for eternity. It was some time before Leena could open her eyes, though when she did the shadow was no where to be seen. Only Alraeic remained, face down on the forest floor.

 

[jackokent]

I got completely caught up in this. Reallly enjoyed it and devestated when it finished where it did.

The description didn't impinge as much this time wich made the piece a more absorbing read for me.

One para felt a bit weaker than the rest.

" Leena’s legs were weak, starting to shake; they felt seemingly detached from the rest of her. Her whole body was now starting to shake, tears she did not know she had shed rolling carelessly down her cheeks. With no small amount of effort she began to take short, tentative steps backwards into the forest, never tearing her eyes from the Milon pack who were now so covered in blood that she could not tell where the pack ended and the troop, or what was left of them, begun." Two "shakes" in quick succession, could she not tremble? "Seemingly" I always think is week word and rairly adds anything. It made me think "well her legs felt detached or they didn't". Last sentence a bit long and clumbsy, the "begun" took me by surprise at the end.

Brilliant stuff. Can't wait till the next post.

 

[DarrenReid]

Sorry the updates have taken so ong but I was on holiday!! Let me know what you think of this next part which has again been split into two so read the post below as well,

Darren

Chapter Two
Aeraania

Alraeic regarded Leena discreetly through the corner of one eye. They had been walking for days now passing from the forest in which the troop had been slaughtered into a seemingly never ending prairie. The scenery, as bland as it had become, held little interest for Alraeic, his mind moving between long stretches of thoughtlessness and deep reflective tones that seemed to block out every sight, every sound around him. Alraeic welcomed the long stretches where his mind seemed to shut down, blocking out the present scenery, past horrors and a future he dared not contemplate. Since he had awoken, shivering like a child caught in the grips of a fever in Leena's arms Alraeic relished every moment when his mind did not ask the questions his heart called out for, nor seek for the answers that his soul demanded. For the time being Alraeic's only companion, other than Leena, was silence.

The pair had been travelling, alone but for each other, for some days now. Leena had told Alraeic that he had collapsed in the woods and had not awoken from days on end, though she had been rather vague on the details herself. The thought of Alraeic's reawakening was never far from his mind these days. He could still recall Leena's face peering down at him, soft hair cascading down her cheeks, wide blue eyes framed with slight wrinkles that he had never before seen. Alraeic had seen Leena then not through his own eyes but from somewhere in the darkness, shrouded in shadow and bound in torment. Her face had seemed distant at first, the sensation as she gently ran a hand over his cheek nothing more than a vague notion. From the darkness, from his cloak of shadow, Alraeic had felt himself rise, slowly at first to be sure, but undoubtedly it had been happening. Leena's face had grown, the sensation of her touch more tangible, but until the moment where he completely regained consciousness it had all been witnessed through eyes that were not his own. And then, of course, had come the rebirth.

In one instant the feeling of distance, of darkness and shadow, the voices, the images, all had ceased. Alraeic had sat bolt upright, his face electrified as if he had been cast into some freezing body of water. The sights, the sounds, the feelings of the forest all assaulted his senses simultaneously, brutalizing him into consciousness. Every nerve in his body had been alive in that moment, the memory of the preceding events uncannily vivid in his mind. That first day, spent laid out on the forest floor as Leena nursed (at her insistence) him back to what she deemed health, had been the most difficult. The rebirth had been swift and electrifying. He now knew who he was, or though he did at least. But nothing from that moment to this had had the effect of soothing Alraeic in the slightest. He may have been reborn, but he had been birthed with all of the sins of his past life. Alraeic knew this as completely as he knew the sun would sink below one horizon and rise above another. He had known it from the moment he had regained consciousness and when he allowed it, his mind could dwell on nothing else.

The first night had been the hardest. Leena had refused to allow Alraeic to rise, to move and certainly not to exert himself. He had tried, to be sure, to stand, gather the strength to hunt, but his weak, exhausted body had betrayed him. Instead, come night fall, he had lain beside a tiny fire that Leena had constructed. Little more than a single, flaccid flicker of light, he had sat, barely upright, nibbling at the undercooked leg of a rabbit Leena had trapped earlier that day. Leena had sat close to him, shivering until he had wrapped her in his blood splattered cloak. He had awoken bound in the cloak himself, his thick chest plate removed along with what other armour had adorned his body. It had not occurred to Alraeic that this was the first real warmth Leena had had since the battle. Had not occurred to Alraeic that her face, much more worn and lean, was the result of exhaustion, of malnutrition, or the constant dread that had weighed her down, body and spirit. None of this had occurred to Alraeic, in part because he himself was too weak to think of anyone but himself, and in part because that first night a spectral image of Eaerad and the Shadow spirit had sat to his other side.

It had been the sight of the Shadow spirit that had unnerved Alraeic the most. Where once it had been black as the night sky, it was now bathed in a strange ethereal light that seemed to permeate every tree in the forest. It had sat, hood up, looking longingly into leena's feeble attempt at a fire. It no longer drifted but instead had well formed arms and legs, though the latter were obscured by the long hooded cloak it still wore. It had sat, in complete silence, its arms wrapped around its legs, rocking back and forth. Eaerad had sat next to the Shadow spirit, its smaller body dwarfed by its ethereal companion. Eaerad said little that night and, like its companion, sat staring blankly into Leena's failing fire.

Little in the way of conversation had passed between Alraeic and Leena. A few token questions, acts of courtesy, but not much else. Leena had sat watching Alraeic covertly, watching as the hulking man first wrapped his thick arms around his knees and then as he had began to rock himself back and forward. Alraeic's eyes had appeared to Leena at the time to be quite wild and she did not doubt that fever must still be gripping some part of his mind. He stared into her small fire with eyes that never seemed to blink for what seemed like hours at a time. He looked haunted, traumatised. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, to wrap an arm around his shoulders and to hold him. He had looked so lost, in so much pain. Evidently Alraeic had cared more for the lives under his command than she had guessed.

In truth Alraeic had spared his fallen men little to no thought. It was not as if he did not know they had all died, in some of the most horrific scenes he had seen, just that the memory seemed unimportant. Every time a memory of the battle tugged at the edge of Alraeic's mind he would invariably glance at the two spirits that sat, quiet and contemplative at his side. He had not been able to keep his mind on his fallen comrades for long. Some time after Alraeic had finished the half raw rabbit that had been served to him Eaerad had raised his head abruptly, looking first at Alraeic and then to the Shadow spirit. Eaerad had spoken a few mumbled words that Alraeic could not quite make out, its eyes regarding him and his other ethereal companion suspiciously. The Shadow creature had raised its head at this, one of the few times Alraeic had seen its face that night. It had said nothing in response though the flesh on its face had twitched as if it might before it once again turned its gaze back to the fire. The rest of the night had been marked by silence from all who sat around the fire.

The following days had proved less of a trial, if only because Alraeic recovered enough strength to begin his and Leena's journey again. The going had been slow, at least for the first few days, but if nothing else they had found more to eat than a few half starved rabbits. Eaerad and the still unnamed Shadow spirit had remained with him, ever present companions he always saw at night though seldom during the day. Since he and Leena had reached the edge of the forest and entered what he knew to be the Great Plains the Shadow spirit had taken to coming forward during the day. At first Alraeic had not noticed him as he took to walking some distance behind, his head raised and constantly taking in the scenes around them. It was something of a misconception that the landscape of the Great Plains, something Alraeic himself considered bland, was not unvaried. Hills and mounds rose and fell, small copses of trees where a few game animals would live punctured the endless green prairies. Lakes, large and small, the sky, the clouds, the smells and the sensation of the place was a constantly changing thing that the Shadow creature seemed not to tire of.

Eventually Eaerad began to appear during the day. He too shunned Alraeic, walking along side the ever silent Shadow spirit. Occasionally Alraeic heard Eaerad talk to the creature though all the conversations were decidedly one sided and did not last long. In a strange kind of way Alraeic had grown accustomed to seeing the two spirits and began to find himself missing them when the did not appear on their journey. Leena had asked Alraeic once why he kept looking back; he had replied simply that he was doing so to make sure they weren't being followed. Little else passed between them.

A strange barrier had grown up between the pair. It wasn't that Alraeic was ungrateful that Leena had taken care of him when he had passed into the darkness. Quite the contrary in fact. But he had started to resent her for the lives that had been lost. He did not spend much time thinking of the troop and found no emotion in him to grieve, but what he did feel when his thoughts turned to his men was resentment. Resentment for the lost lives, resentment that he had been charged with escorting a noble born, resentment that she had led them to such an unmitigated disaster. But more than anything he knew how he was beginning to feel towards her, how his face could not help but contort its self into a smile when he saw her, how he longed for her to comfort him and grieve for the dead with him. And he resented her, most of all, for that.

They had been journeying for ten days since they had left the forest behind them and at last Alraeic knew their expedition was nearing its end. The final destination, where the Lady Leena would take the high seat, would be cresting one of the approaching hills. If not the one before them, the one after.

"Why are you smiling," leena said, turning to face Alraeic, her taught face lit up with an expression that demanded a swift answer to a lady's question, "you haven't looked like that in days."

Alraeic shifted uneasily under Leena's gaze. He had become accustomed to silence between the pair of them recently. Certainly they had never exchanged what could be considered pleasantries, not since the battle and certainly not before. A moment of silence passed before Leena tilted her head slightly further to one side, demanding and answer, though a certainly playfulness had entered her eyes.

"Nothing, my lady, it simply occurred to me that our arduous journey is nearing its end."

"And this makes you smile?" Leena turned away from him at this, turning her attention back to the road ahead. Alraeic's cheeks began to flush, anger and frustration broiling in his mind. This was ridiculous. She spoke and didn't speak in the tones of an upset wife or lover, ever demanding of her doting man's complete attention and desperate for his despair should they ever be conceivably parted. With some effort Alraeic struggled to calm himself, letting a wave of frustration wash over him before fading into obscurity.

"It makes me smile," Alraeic affirmed, "because you shall endure no more hardship. It has not been an easy journey."

Leena continued walking in silence for a few moments longer, her hair streaming out behind her in a decadent display of elegance. She would be enjoying this, Alraeic had no doubt. Seemed to take immense delight in making him squirm, holding out an acceptance of an apology before taking it away just to see how he reacted. There were moments in each day where Alraeic had he not known better, would have sworn he and Leena were lovers. Luckily, these moments did not last.

"If only the end of our journey was the end of my hardships. I have long days and longer nights ahead of me."

 

[DarrenReid]

Leena didn't face Alraeic when she spoke but he knew that her face had dropped, was etched with sadness. He had heard that tone in her voice before. Knew it well, though he could not necessarily say why. For the briefest moment Alraeic's heart broke for Leena. He hoped what she said was a lie, or exaggerated or that it would simply not come to pass. Even as he thought this, his heart broke all the more.

"My Lady, if there is anything,"
"Oh quiet with your chivalry, events will unfold as they will and whether you are there or not. If you want to help maybe you can enlighten me about the creature in the forest?"

Alraeic's heart darkened at this. Some short time before he had become aware that the Shadow creature had appeared, twelve or so paces behind them. He had successfully avoided turning to watch it but now the temptation was almost overwhelming.

"They are called T'Eranocs, though in truth they have many names, my lady."

Leena stopped walking. She turned and faced Alraeic, her wide eyes blazing, her face set in a countenance of complete authoritarianism. Alraeic stopped and turned to face his charge. At the back of his mind he was aware that the Shadow spirit, the T'Eranoc, had also drawn to stop and was watching the pair intently.

"T'Eranoc? Non-sense. You speak in the Dwarf tongue and I assure you that no such phrase exists. I suppose its closest translation would be Shadow spirit, or Shadow creature, but the sound of it in the language of those foul creatures is far closer to gibberish."
"My apologies, my lady, I simply tell you of what I know."
"What you know is half old wives tales and half superstitions my dear Alraeic. And how might you come to know of such creatures and I might not?"

Alraeic regarded Leena coolly. He had no idea how such a notion had entered his mind and certainly he knew not a word of Dwarf tongue. And yet, he knew. Knew it to be the truth, as undeniable as the rising as the sun. He knew what he had said to be true and knew more besides. He could tell Leena all of it, all of the truth. Or of course he could lie. Lying, Alraeic decided, was by far the easier option.

"I grew up in a village and, as a boy heard of them from my father. I never saw one, but my old father could spin a tale so real that I knew what they looked like long before I saw the creature that attacked you in the forest. There are strange creatures that lurk in the shadows, my lady."

Leena smiled slightly at this, of all things, smiled and continued forward, not saying another word on the subject. Alraeic's blood started to boil, frustration building up in the confines of his skull. Still, he let it pass uneventfully. The image of Leena's smile endured in his mind. It was a happy image, one that he did not mind concentrating upon. When he saw it time seemed to draw by and even the memory, or more specifically the sight, of his two new companions could not unnerve him. By the time the image began to slip from his mind, his and Leena's destination had crested a distant hill.