| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Smyther |
Posted - 07 Jul 2005 : 18:37:06
Well, I wanted to share this short story I've written in the realms, and this seemed like the best place to put it. Correct me if I'm wrong, Alaundo.
~*~
Well, here's a story I've had in the PC memory banks for a while. I figure this is not going to be published (Wizards of the Coast publishes all realms stuff, and I'm underage for their guidelines - damn december birthdays!), so I can post it here it and get a few peoples' opinions.
So, tell me what you think, good or bad, and enjoy the story!
The Fisherman's Daughter
Inga’s heart rose with the swelling of the fishing boat, beating with the pulse of the waves. Sea brine covered her face, soaking into her long, stringy brown hair. Lashings of foam coated her, saturating the rough clothes she wore, weighting her down. It was a good feeling to be at sea, to know you were at the mercy of Umberlee, Valkur, and Istishia – the deities of the seas. She was not a religious person, but every time the boat crested one of the great swells, she praised their names.
Her older brother pointed silently off to the side, and Inga gave a little gasp of joy at the sight awaiting her. There was a pod of orcas and dolphins, swimming along at a tangent to them. Hadrian gave a shrill whistle and one of the dolphins responded, swimming over to rub against the side of the boat. Inga beamed with indescribable delight, even though she must have seen dolphins up close a hundred times. It never ceased to amaze her, the ocean. It was if it held its own curious brand of magic.
As they crested another great swell, the rugged line of the seashore mountains bobbed clearly into view, marking their destination beyond the Red Rocks of the coast. As the dolphin swam away, little Culver wriggled out of the masses of rope on the bottom of the ship. He was Inga’s youngest brother, the second youngest member of the eleven children of Fisk and Disa, but he already showed the signs of aptitude required for a great fisherman.
He handed the coarse hemp rope to Hadrian, tied with an intricate knot of the little boy’s own design, ready for the casting. He then ducked back down to the bottom of the boat to snuggle against the fish they had caught – a whole net-full. The little boy loved the smell and feel of the wriggly things, and always laughed at the idea of pirates giving him over to ‘swim with the fishes.’ Those were the stories that Inga always loved to tell the little boy and her youngest sister Audny, who was currently toddling around back home.
Inga was nineteen now, catching up to Hadrian’s twenty years and the eldest Annika’s twenty-two. She was now a woman, but not just any woman – she was a fisherman’s daughter. As such, she grasped the great rope with Hadrian as the rocky coast came into view, and steadied it for Hadrian’s great throw. The rope caught and tightened on the iron dock pole, and Hadrian’s muscles bulged as he held the rope fast. Inga was not quite as strong, but she still lent everything she had to assisting her beloved brother.
At last, with the limited help of Culver and Inga’s third sister Tryne, they hauled the boat across the last waves to the shore. Whilst she collapsed against the broken cliffs, Hadrian pulled the boat up onto the rocks and lifted the fish out. The fishing boat was then securely tied up and tucked away into a tight cleft in the cliffs, and the four were ready to return home with the catch for the day. It was a hard living, fishing, but the Lancont family loved it well enough to grin and grit their teeth before heading out each morn.
Culver helped drag the catch with one little five-year-old hand, along the jagged path to the fishing village of Brey. His other hand rubbed the sniffles out of his nose and then grasped Inga’s calloused palm for security. Inga felt proud to have a family such as hers, and there was absolutely nothing that could change her mind about the course of her future. She would be a fisherman’s daughter for life, that was given, and she would continue on the tradition and mother more little fishers to keep the line strong. There was something about the combination that gave her pause, just this once, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. So, she just shrugged it off and started to whistle a bawdy sailor’s tune on the way back to their cottage, tucked into the sea-smashed boulders of the cove.
~*~*~*~*~
That night, as she sat by the window and the fire, drying out her clothes and warming her soul, she let her mind wander. Inga found absolutely nothing wrong about her current path, but something about it was beginning to turn her off. It was something too elusive to grasp, but it still nagged at her. Only when she realized what it was out the window that she was gazing at did she begin to guess.
In the distance, illuminated by the last shreds of light of a sliver of a moon, was a great caravel. The ship seemed to hover about the stretch of water that could be seen from Brey cove, as if taunting the girl. There was a tug at her evening dress, and she looked down to see little Audny.
“Story?” She asked, sucking on her thumb. It was a sight darling enough to turn the heart of any hardened sailor, but this night Inga was more than a little annoyed.
“Soon,” she replied sharply, and turned her gaze back out the window. The caravel was still there, and the sails were beginning to flap into view as it turned. The colors of Waterdeep, the great city just to the south of Brey, shone clearly in the moon’s glow. Inga found herself wishing to be on that ship, bound for different places – perhaps the New World of Maztica, or the heather-covered islands of Moonshae.
“Story?” Audny asked again, pulling the skirt further. Inga gave a half-grimace as she looked down and then returned to the window. The ship was now gone.
“Yes, story-time,” Inga replied softly. “Let me tell you the tale of little Oody, a girl who wanted stories so much that the kraken himself came by to tell her one. Little Oody got such a tale from the kraken that she fell fast asleep with excitement, and the kraken moved in to eat her soft hairs…”
“Inga!” Her mother Disa exclaimed. “You’ll give Audny nightmares with that kind of tale!” Inga’s mother was not the sort who approved of adventure, or even of girls going out to sea. All she wanted was for the eight girls of the family to settle down with some nice boy and take up knitting sweaters for the warmth of their men. It was what she did all the day long.
“Ooh, the kraken’s gonna get you, Audny!” Teased Reidun, who was only a year older than Culver. She made wiggling motions with her arms. “The tentacles will suck you up!” She dove on the little girl, wrapping a great bear hug about the little one, causing squeals of surprise and joy.
Inga returned to gazing moodily out the window, oblivious to the magic of the night sky. Her oldest sister Annika was settled down with a man from Port Llast, and now lived in quiet solitude. Hadrian would be sticking around in Brey to take over the family business once their father Fisk was too old to go to sea. Fisk was even now out on some great fishing ship of Waterdeep, lending his hand for a week as a favor to an old friend. Fisk and Hadrian would have a good life together as father and son in Brey, but Inga would be expected to move on.
Next year, on her twentieth birthday, she would be expected to go out into the world and find a nice fisherman or farmer to settle down with and raise a family. She didn’t want a farmer for a husband. But there was also something telling her she didn’t want a fisherman for a husband, either. But it was something she had wanted her whole life – wasn’t it? To raise a family of fisher children like her parents before her?
Inga fell asleep in front of the fire that night, too tired to move into the hard bed that awaited her. Would it be that she would someday share a hard bed with another? The thoughts bothered her to sleep, following into the realm of dreams. As the fire died down and the rest of the family retired, Inga tossed in her chair, unable to deny the thoughts entertained in sleep. When she woke up, all the feelings drifted from her mind, only leaving behind the uncomfortable traces of a restless spirit.
~*~*~*~*~
Inga woke up to the rough shakes of Skyler, her only other brother aside from Culver and Hadrian. Skyler was a mean one, always retreating into dark moods when confronted with the ‘meaninglessness’ of his existence. He wanted to go and study in Waterdeep, but there was no money in the family for that. Such as it was, he could only take out his frustrations on his sisters.
“Get up, snoring beauty!” He huffed as he ripped a homemade blanket from Inga. Her mother must have spent a lot of time on the blanket before draping it across Inga during her sleep, but Skyler ignored the kindness given to another and focused only on his sister. “Dad’s back early!”
The words caused Inga to bolt out of her seat and scramble for some suitable morning clothes. There must have been something terribly wrong for her father to return early.
Fisk did not wait for modesty to be achieved before throwing the door to the cottage open and striding inside. “Ugh, for the favor of Umberlee!” He griped as he slumped down into a great armchair by the liquor cabinet. He opened the case up and took out some whiskey. He wiped the greasy blond bangs of his hair from the sides of his lips and took a great swig to calm his nerves. “Never seen a storm like that one!”
“Storm?” Inga asked curiously as she pulled some suspenders up and over a crude sweater Disa had made last tenday. “I heard no storm.”
“Then you’re deaf, girl!” Fisk exclaimed vehemently and took another dose of alcohol. “Been raging all the night, wrecked old Kel’s trawler around dawn, and I only just got off the wagon from Waterdeep. Busted up my foot in the wreckage, and I’m for figuring that I’m one of the few that made it to shore alive. Damn sharks must have smelt the fish blood leaking from the decks.”
Inga shuddered at the image of the ruined sailors, hunted down by sharks in the gray morn. “Did Kelsey make it out alive?”
“Dunno,” Fisk grumbled, avoiding the gaze of the girl. “Last time I ever do him a favor, alive or not. But there’s not time to be wasting with words. Last afternoon’s catch been in the smokehouse all the night?”
Inga nodded.
“Well, good! Don’t stand about like a witless – get the fish out and down to market square. Can’t do it myself, for the leg’ll take a good two days to heal up proper.” He pulled the mangled foot up and let it lay on a stool for evidence.
Inga moved to action, calling Hadrian and Ester, the daughter a year younger than Inga, to assist in getting the fish out. The morning’s light was already in full, breaking through the fog of night to shine prettily on the dew-covered ferns about the cottage. But there was no time for contemplation, and Inga helped get everything ready for the trip down the slopes to market square. This late in the morning, all the prime stall spots would be taken, so the fish had to be the best looking and smelling if they were to sell.
~*~*~*~*~
The market square was busier than usual, filled with a company of mercenaries on their way up the Trade Way to fight some battle. They had just come down from the High Road that ran across the cliffs further inland, looking to buy provisions without the high prices of Waterdeep. Soon they would leave, and Inga half-wished she could go with them – but she had never learned to swing a sword or chant a spell in her life. She would be of no use.
All about the square were vendors from the village and a few scattered sea cottages from up and down the coast a ways. Most people were selling fish, be it smoked cod and salmon like the Lanconts, or fish caught fresh this morning before the sun rose. It puzzled Inga to no end that nobody seemed to be talking about the storm her father had spoken of, or the disaster that had befallen Kelsey of Waterdeep, a noted fisherman and banker.
She stood silently in the shadows of their stall, watching potential customers pick over her selection. Hadrian and Ester were off somewhere, probably buying grains and swine from traders from further inland. It was this lull in activity that gave her time to mull over her life, and come to some strange conclusions.
Inga saw herself as fairly pretty – a brown-haired, somewhat tall lass, with a trim waist and not too large buxom, and certainly a nice smile, if the complements of the local boys were anything to take note of. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her appearance – and if it was her personality, well, anyone who spoke ill of her could damn well sink to the bottom of the sea. She wasn’t about to change for anyone; she liked herself as she was. No, it was not her looks that put her to pause, and it certainly wasn’t the thrill of being on the ocean that turned her spirits down. It was something about her life. It was as if it was all one long monotony, broken only by moments of exhilaration on the wild Sea of Swords, and it had taken her nineteen years to realize it. It was then she understood that what she really wanted was adventure.
“How much for three?” Came a voice. Inga looked up to see one of the mercenaries, a man from a group called the Flaming Fist, from the port city of Baldur’s Gate. He was holding a coin pouch in his bare palm.
“Well, it’s two coppers a fish, but if you buy six, I’ll let you get away with two coppers off – a silver.”
“Your prices are low,” the man commented, and flipped her a silver piece with the minting of Baldur’s Gate. “Do you live here, that you can afford to let six fish go for a silver?”
“Yup, we live just up the bluffs to the south of Brey proper. How ‘bout you? Just passing through on the way from the Gate?”
“Actually, I live in Beregost. It’s a smallish town south of the Gate, but close enough that I could join the Fists.” He looked up, and his eyes caught on her face. Something tugged at the strings within him, and his mouth jammed.
“Where you lot heading to?”
“Got hired by the lords of Neverwinter, to help fight some ‘menace’ in the Neverwinter Wood. Don’t know too many details, except that there’s supposed to be demons involved, and the pay’s good enough to warrant our attention.” He paused and took his helmet off, revealing pointed ears and glossy gold hair. “I, personally, have another reason for going.”
“Demons? Elves?” Inga asked curiously. They didn’t get many elves in Brey, not to mention demons. The exact implications of the words he spoke avoided her notice, lost in a sea of thoughts caused by the mercenary’s appearance.
Without his helmet, the man – correction, elf – seemed different. There was less of the hard look of a mercenary about him and more of a kindness that she associated with such mystical creatures.
“A gold elf,” he replied. “The name’s Avery, and you are?”
“Inga.”
Avery paused to consider the name. “It’s a good one for you,” he said at last. “Hero’s Daughter suits you – you look well enough like a heroine already.”
Inga blushed deeply and ground her foot into the dirt. “I’m no heroine! I haven’t even touched a sword before.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the rags-to-riches tales?” Avery asked. Inga nodded, having told those sorts of stories to Culver and Audny many times before. “Anyway, you don’t have to swing a sword to be a hero.”
“Oh, I’ve tried magic before, and it hasn’t worked at all for me.”
“There are other magics besides the Art…” Avery said, drifting off into his own mind. Should he tell her? Or would that make the pretty maiden only reject him? He had not even told Grand Duke Eltan, the leader of the Flaming Fists.
“What do you mean? If you’re going to pull some lame comment about the magic of my eyes…”
“Come with me.”
“What? I have to mind the stall!”
“What’s going on?” Came the hard voice of Hadrian. He and Ester were returning from their purchases. It looked like Ester had bought enough grain for a week’s worth of bread – baking was her specialty, not fishing. Hadrian, instead of the usual single swine the family bought each tenday, bore several paper packs of sliced pork, the smell of which set Inga’s mouth to a drool.
Avery turned and looked sheepishly at the two. “I needed to talk to Inga alone,” he said, taking care to show the Flaming Fist symbol on his shield. “Now you’re here, you can watch the stall.”
Hadrian looked at Avery for several moments before nodding. Avery went off towards the hills and beckoned Inga on. Hadrian bent down to whisper in his sister’s ear. “If he tries anything funny, don’t be afraid to call for help. Don’t be too proud.” He then went and sat at the stool and opened one of the packets to smell the meat and check for flies.
Inga hopped off away from the market square, curious as to what this strange elf could want to tell her in private. But before she reached the edge of the crowd, her elbow was caught by Ester.
“Whatever Hadrian said, you can take care of anything the elf throws at you,” she said in earnest. “If he hurts you, fight back, and show backbone. It runs in the family.”
Inga looked at her sister with astonishment. The demure Ester had never shown any signs of this sort of advice before. “What do you mean it runs in the family?”
“Well, mom saw you looking out the window last night, looking like you wanted adventure. And since you didn’t tell the little ‘uns a story, after you went to sleep, she did. I’d never been more amazed in my life at the tale she told – I’ll tell you it all afterwards. But the important thing is, mom was an adventurer in her younger days, and she knows the fire that burns inside.” Ester paused. “I know too, I’ve felt it often enough. I don’t know about the others, but I know the fire runs in the family, and you can’t take ill from anybody without a fight. It’s not the way to go out.”
Ester was showing incredible maturity for her age, and Inga felt the least she could do was return the favor. “I will. But you’ll have to promise to tell me everything this evening.”
“Everything,” Ester assured her.
~*~*~*~*~
The foothills of the Sword Mountains were filled with fragrant grasses and blooms, and the heat of the coming noontide made everything seem warm and happy. Avery sat back in the long grass, playing with one particularly stubborn strand. His helm and shield lay by his side, their heavy metal weight crushing the grasses.
Inga sat back from him, nervously twirling a purple pansy about in her fingers while she waited for him to formulate his words.
“I’ve had a power for some time now, beyond the skills with the sword that gained me a position within the Flaming Fist.” Avery stopped, almost unwilling to share his story. Inga was a stranger he had met only that morning, and here he was, on an impulse, imparting the knowledge that had been solely his up to that point. There was something about her that intrigued him, pulled him past the first beatings of an infatuated heart, to an interest that was beyond personal. He didn’t know if he loved her, or if he could even grow to love her, but he knew that she would listen to what else he had to say.
“You said you could not perform magic – I was the same way, once. But then I got a hold of an enemy wizard’s spellbook during one of our forays. It had spells in it beyond the power of anything I could ever have dreamed of. I could not use them then, and even today I am not strong enough in mind to use them. But the many basic spells he had in there, the little useful ones called cantrips that help about the room and such, they were easy enough that I could attempt them.
“They worked for me, those minor spells, and I quickly grew dependant on them. Every night, I needed to practice the magic, to make it my own. I developed minor twists and recorded them in my own book, changing the spells to what I needed – little things like changing a floor-polish spell to an armor-polish spell.
“Then, one night, I had a dream. It was completely dark, and I walked upon a world made of black silk. There was no evil, I assure you,” he said on seeing the worried look on Inga’s face, “but there was a sense of peace and silence I had never felt as a warrior. I never lived on Evermeet, the home of all good elves, and this dream seemed the closest thing to those verdant shores.
“I felt a cold kiss on my cheek, and then I woke.” He paused and pulled a cloth-covered book out from a carrying bag at his side. “My spellbook had changed, and I knelt to kiss it.” He pulled off the black silk cloth and kissed the book reverently. “Just as I do each night I am able. It still feels cold, even in the heat of the summer sun. Feel it.” He passed it over, and Inga gasped at how the cool contrasted with the warm spring air.
“What does it all mean?” She asked softly. Avery knew he had her attention, and that she would not reject his next words.
“The goddess of the night, Shar, had placed her cold kiss upon me. I embraced her magic, and my eyes awoke to the wonders of the Shadow Weave, a different way of performing magic. It was such power that the wizard whose book I took had practiced. I saw Shar’s power, and I knew it was a way of getting around the natural barrier ‘true’ magic had erected about my mind.”
“But isn’t Shar… evil?” Inga asked. “From the tales I’ve heard, her priestesses wear cloaks of blades and give human sacrifices each night!”
“Just because you accept Shar doesn’t mean you worship her. I love Shar with all my heart for this gift, but I have not turned down the dark road. I keep my honor whenever I can, and do my best to champion good. I merely use her magic and give blessings each night for it. That is all she requires.” He scooted over to Inga’s side and clasped her hands to the book. “Open it up and try a spell.”
“I won’t give in to evil!” She cried and slipped her hands out to slap the gold elf’s face. The book fell to the ground. “I thought all gold elves were supposed to be good, yet you try to seduce me to the dark side of magic!”
“There is no dark side!” He shot back angrily. “There are only shades of gray. I follow the shade that allows me magic that I would never normally have – the same limitations I feel upon you!” He stood up and put a hand on the sword at his belt. “I lived a life of the sword until I felt Shar’s kiss. I never knew my life was boring until I discovered what I was missing.”
His words struck home with Inga. She had always loved her life before last night, until she had begun to suspect that something was missing. In her heart, she knew now that this was what was missing. She had never tasted magic, and now she could… it was so close to her grasp to be tantalizing… she could have magic, but at the expense of giving praise to the dark goddess Shar. The spellbook lay between her feet, where it had fallen when the two had let go of it. The front cover was open, revealing a simple spell to make fish taste like pork…
She snarled and slammed it shut, taking her frustration out on the book. She knew what she was missing now, damn Avery! She knew it and yet would deny herself. She placed her hands down in the grass, no longer strands of passive beauty, and pushed herself up. She stood tall, looking down on the gold elf from on high.
“How could you debase yourself so? You say you never saw the shores of Evermeet, and now you deny them to yourself by practicing black magic? I know the tales – an elf that turns to evil cannot put foot on the land of Evermeet.”
“I am not evil, I just use the power I am offered!” Avery was yelling now, something he had never done before. He had been so sure that Inga would accept the dark magic, and now she was essentially labeling his doom, spelling it out in a way he had never thought of when he first opened the wizard’s magic book. “I choose the path before me, the one that leads to where my heart belongs. I saw the look in your eyes, that’s why I told you of this! You are in the same position as I was those decades ago – you are in a place where you know you don’t belong, and you yearn for more! You talk of me denying myself Evermeet, but I say you deny yourself your true heart! Which is worse, little human? To not be able to go somewhere, or to not be able to truly live?”
His outburst shocked Inga into silence. “I think…” she said softly. “I don’t know what I think.” She covered her face and ran off, trying to slow the tears of pain.
Avery lowered his head, understanding that he had forced the concept upon the girl too suddenly. “I’m sorry, Shar,” he breathed. “She may yet see the light to your darkness, but for now I have failed.”
~*~*~*~*~
It was in the boat cove that Ester found Inga, still crying silently. The one her parents had named ‘Star’ sat down beside Inga and placed an arm about her. For a younger person, Ester far eclipsed Inga in maturity. She knew the pulls of adventure and how hard it was to balance it with family and duty.
“You remember the time I ran off?” Ester asked. Inga did not respond, but she continued anyway. “It was just for two weeks, but I spent all that time in Waterdeep, learning about the streets, and the city, and how people think in those places. Skyler was so jealous when I came back.” She giggled softly, but Inga did not. Her humor died in her throat and she hugged her older sister tighter. Beneath their bare toes, the cold ocean currents were sending up little forked tongues, as if to sooth the internal hurts with sea-kisses.
“I took Lene with me for the first few days,” she said, referring to one of the two twin sisters in the middle of the age group, “but she couldn’t bear to be away from Dagny. She left me soon after we arrived, and came back to you all with my messages.”
“Yeah, she told us that Waterdeep was a scary place filled with monsters and thieves.” Inga was not even sniffling now.
“Well, I slaked my thirst for adventure over those days. I don’t know if I ever told you, but I fell in love with a boy there, and he turned up dead in the streets a few days later. Turned out he was running from a guild run by some floating eyeball monster. They didn’t take kindly to him deserting, so he was killed. I only stuck around for a few more days after that, to seal up what little affairs I had begun. I thought they might be after me next, and that thought kept me awake every night.”
It was Inga hugging Ester now, taking her proper role of a big sister and comforting the girl as the old, bad memories washed over her.
“I saw enough of blood and adventure to last me for the rest of my life. I realized how nice making bread is compared to the intrigues of street-life. It’s the sort of thing you need to do.”
“What? Go find a boy and watch him die?” There was a hint of humor in Inga’s voice, and Ester smiled, knowing that Inga was overcoming her shock.
“No, go out and get a little worldliness in you. That’s what mom did at your age now. That’s what she told us about, and even showed us the shortsword she used to carry. Mom lasted for a year before coming back to Brey – I lasted two weeks.”
“You don’t know what he offered me,” Inga sighed. “He offered me magic, but a magic that’s… just not right.”
“So? Take it and find out what it’s like for yourself. Before my ‘adventuring days,’ I always used to say that a person should try everything once. I still believe that now, even if I don’t say it.”
“Even try death?”
“When it comes for you. When it comes for me, I’ll be ready to give it a go and see if it’s as all bad as it’s cracked up to be.”
Inga looked at her sister with newfound respect in her eyes. She had never seen this side of her demure sister before, and never even thought to associate her with those adventurous ideals. “What if I try it and can’t stop it? Like black lotus?”
“I tried black lotus in Waterdeep,” Ester said softly. Inga’s shocked silence told volumes. “It, like death, and most likely like this strange magic you speak of, is not everything people make it out to be. It was addictive, but with the right support, I made it out before returning home.”
They sat in silence for a while more, until Inga’s stomach began to growl. Clouds were beginning to cross the sky, like the clouds that were accumulating in Inga’s mind. She was torn in all different directions, for all different reasons. If the storms started above, she was sure the turmoil in her head would come too.
“We’d better get back home soon, or we’ll catch it from dad. We’ll probably be in enough trouble already for not helping Hadrian bring the stuff back to the cottage.”
The two sisters left the boat cove, turning their backs on the roiling sea, whilst the clouds overhead slowly drifted away.
~*~*~*~*~
That night, once all those younger than fifteen were put to bed, the older ones stayed up to gather around Disa. The homely woman had put aside her knitting and had taken a rusty shortsword into her hands. She seemed much more a warrior now that there was a weapon within her grasp. However, she still bore the look that said adventuring was not a good thing, especially for her children.
Hadrian in particular seemed enraptured with the sword and the idea of the blood of warriors within their family. He looked as if he longed to take the sword up and smite down villains everywhere. It was a much less mature look than that which Ester and Inga gave it.
“Does it have any magic powers?” Tryne asked curiously. Inga suppressed a shudder at the mention of the word ‘magic.’
Curiously, her mother laughed. “No, only that which the person puts behind it. It was just a simple sword in my day, and now it’s just a simple rusted sword. Too much sea air can do that to an iron weapon.” She looked sharply at her children. “Now, don’t let this give you any ideas. I told more than I meant to last night, and I’ll not tell more than I mean to this night.”
Fisk sat apart from the family, in the same position Inga had fallen asleep in the night before. It was the most comfortable seat in the house, tucked right in between the roaring fire and the cooling window.
“Terrible storm tonight,” he muttered. “Just like the one that took down Kelsey.”
Inga looked up in surprise. “There’s no storm out there,” she noted, puzzled.
“Are you blind as well as deaf?” He gestured out the window. “Look at that lightning!”
Disa turned to her husband, a concerned look on her face. “There’s no lightning, dear.”
Fisk turned his cool gaze on the family. “If you’re all determined to play this game, I’d be best off in bed – if I can sleep in this Talos-cursed thunder.” He stumbled off to his room, wincing as he leant on his bad foot. More than the eyes in the main room watched him go. There came the sound of soft voices and scuffling, and then the sounds of six kids hastily climbing into bed and putting on false snores. Audny was the loudest, making uproarious snoring noises that made the women gathered smile at each other. The littlest one was quite the character.
But their smiles were broken with the passing of Fisk, still mumbling about the weather. All assembled knew for absolute certain that there was no thunder or lightning or rain going on outside. It was as clear a night as you could wish for; the earlier clouds were completely gone.
Inga took the warm seat by the window and tried to spot any ships out on the ocean. There was not a sail to be seen; nothing broke the vast expanse of sea visible. “Why do they call it the Sea of Swords?” She asked.
“For two reasons, really,” Hadrian replied. “One is for the jagged cliffs that line most of it, and the second is for all the cutthroats that have sailed it.”
“I’d call it that for a different reason,” Inga muttered.
“What was that?” As usual, Ester’s sharp ears picked out the little sounds.
“I’d call it the Sea of Swords for all the pain it brings to people.”
Disa, Hadrian, and Tryne looked at her, all astonished.
“Go on,” Ester encouraged, knowing her older sister had to get it off her chest.
“It brings people together so tightly that it won’t let them go. It makes people love it so much that they don’t want to go. It enthralls so many people that they feel they can’t go – everything keeps them tied to it, and thus the bonds do sting.” She rested her chin on the sill, unaware that she had the full attention of everyone about the house.
“It has a magic of its own, beyond the ‘Art’ or the darker side. It pulls and enchants. It hurts physically those who set sail on it and hurts emotionally those who don’t. It is nothing but an ocean of pain, driving swords into the hearts of all that encounter it.”
“And so you want to leave?” Disa asked. She knew this day had to come. It had come earlier than expected with Ester, and would come at some point for the rest of the girls. It was a bloodline of fire that ran in all the women of her family. She had hoped that the stable fisherman Fisk would be able to calm the blood, but all he seemed to do was incite it. He encouraged the girls to adventure, fishing on the seas. And now he was seeing things, and she knew Inga would want to fix him – she knew because it was what she herself wanted.
“Yes.” Inga said quietly.
“Then come with me,” a voice said, even quieter. Only Ester and Inga heard the voice, and only Ester paid attention to it.
Ester got up and went to the window, pulling the sleepy Inga away, and hissing at Avery to stay out of it all. The gold elf listening beneath the window nearly jumped and smashed his head in surprise.
The two sisters made their way to the communal children’s bedroom, ignoring the scattering youngsters about them. Inga lay down in her bunk and huddled down in the sheets, trying to get to sleep, whilst Ester remained alert and thoughtful.
In the living room, Disa stood and shooed Hadrian and Tryne away before retiring to her bed with Fisk. It seemed so much colder now, and she began to wonder why she had ever settled down. Fisk was huddled under the sheets, clasping his ears and murmuring about too many weather gods. At that moment, Disa couldn’t remember why she loved Fisk.
~*~*~*~*~
Avery crept about the house, using his natural stealth as an elf. He knew he was taking enormous risks being here. He would have to catch up with the Fists tomorrow – gods, they could already be in Neverwinter by now with their marching pace – and would suffer the consequences of a perceived desertion. He also took the risk of being caught by the villagers and attacked. Ester had already heard him, and that was enough risk for now.
But he was compelled by the fall of night to seek Inga out again. There had been something in her eyes that revealed she was receptive to his words, and perhaps a little encouragement this night would bring her to Shar’s magic.
The smallish cottage was easy enough to sneak about, but he had to take care to avoid tripping up in the numerous fishing nets strewn about the yard. Before he had come, a dog had been hunting about for fish scraps and had knocked the pile of logs over, scattering them about the side of the house, making footing in the dark quite treacherous.
There, at last, was the window to Inga’s room. There was a silhouette in the window, and Avery’s heart leaped. It must be Inga. He crept forward and whispered her name. Down came a frying pan atop his head and he collapsed to the ground, stunned.
Ester leaned out the window, letting the stars illuminate her darkened features. “Go away, elf. Your magic is not wanted here.”
“I heard you two down by the ocean,” Avery hissed. “You were the one advocating she try something new.”
“You stalk us?” Ester was disgusted with what she saw below her. The elf was obviously too far gone into the dark magic to be able to take privacy seriously. She resolved to let the local detachment of the Waterdeep watch know about this wayward Flaming Fist. “Inga doesn’t want to talk to you, doesn’t want to see you. You tore her heart with whatever you said to her, and she hates you for it. Go away.”
Avery stood and bowed, taking the insults gracefully. It crossed his mind that the family might be racist against elves, as many were on the Sword Coast, but he surmised it was mostly his hasty actions that earned their ire.
“Go away, or I’ll tell my dad, and he’ll spear and gut you like a fish.”
Avery turned and left, stumbling over some loose logs, and headed for the path down to the village.
Ester turned back inside and looked to her sister’s bed. Good. She was finally sleeping peacefully now, all completely tucked in a bundle of rough sheets. She rested her head against the sill, letting the night air lull her into peace. She fell asleep not knowing that the bundle in the bed was not Inga. Inga was gone.
~*~*~*~*~
A shadowy figure crept away from the Lancont home, following the same path taken by Avery. It seemed like a mass of shades of gray, from a light gray hood to dark gray cloak to a white shirt and black pants. It was not a conscious choice that made Inga take those colors, but something within that had accepted that life was more than the little white and black that cloaked her true colors. She was armed with her mother’s rusty shortsword and a wicked fishing knife that would likely serve her better. A soft pouch of silver coins clinked at her waist, and a hastily assembled bag of supplies was hung at her back.
Avery might not have known it, but he had provided the perfect distraction for Inga to slip out and grab what food and supplies she could. Now she was willing to have an open mind. She would not be trying black lotus any time soon, but she would be receptive to trying this dark magic. If Avery apologized to her.
The stars glittered with a cheerful twinkle, as if admiring the pluck it took for Inga to run from her old life and try something new. She was resolved to last longer than two weeks, but a year was perhaps a bit much. Perhaps. There was always a chance that Inga would love the new life and never desire to fish again – well, that was a little overkill. She would always love to fish and sail.
The houses of Brey cove stood in patches about the market square, divided up into areas of business. She cast one last look at the fishing homes, the few reminders of what she was leaving behind. Her lips went dry and a tear almost came out as she began to understand what she was really doing. She could be killed – but, like Ester, she would face it with the open mind it deserved.
Avery was nowhere to be seen, and Inga could only sit and think. Where would he go? He probably wouldn’t hurry to catch up with his company, considering a good night’s sleep was a must. Inga could never do without one, and she was surprised that she could actually manage to escape her home without yawning.
The only place she could think of was the foothills to the north of the fishing village, and so she went.
The hills seemed different at night, much more sinister. Night flowers gave off their scents and crickets chirped their songs, but it still seemed like something was different. Inga decided then that she didn’t like the night and would try to adventure only during the day.
“Surprise to see you here,” came the soft voice of Avery. Inga spun around to look at the mercenary, worried that he might turn on her. “It’s the new moon,” he commented, “if you noticed.”
Inga hadn’t, but she failed to see the significance.
“Are you here to give Shar’s magic a try? Or are you just wasting my time?”
“I’m going to try it. But I’m also leaving home – I want to see the world beyond Brey and the waters about it.” She pulled out the knife. “If you try anything, I’ll – ”
“Spear and gut me like a fish, I’m sure. Now, take my book.” He handed the soft book over. It seemed different in the night, almost as if it was a warmth in the cool of the black sky above.
“You’re giving it to me?”
“For now, yes, until you learn enough spells to warrant your own tome.” He sat down on the grass and pulled her down with him. He placed his hand on hers, helping to open the cover. There was a tingling in their fingers, and Avery cleared his throat nervously. “Er, you see this first spell, it’s to, ah, change the flavor of fish to pork. I always liked pork better, so it was a useful spell, and…”
He stopped as Inga moved to sit next to him, snuggling up against the cold chainmail the mercenary wore. “The book makes everything seem so warm.”
“It will do that. Shar has many gifts, and one often finds them to be quite surprising. Like warmth in the night – it’s the beacon of hope she sends to keep the blessings coming.” He leaned over and kissed the book. “Praise be to Shar.”
“Why do you kiss the book?” Inga asked.
“It’s in memory of the dream I had, when Shar gave me my first blessing.”
“You missed the point of my question,” Inga purred, and laughed to see Avery’s nervous face turn to her. She leaned in softly and placed a gentle caress on his lips. “You’d be much better off practicing on a living person.”
Avery nodded. “And if you come with me, are you going to help me practice?”
“Well, we’ll see. Let’s start by seeing how good you are to begin with.”
Inga laid her arm over the elf, forcing him to the ground. The spellbook lay off to the side, forgotten in the passionate kiss. At last, she lifted her head, letting the brown strands of her hair tickle his face. “Not good enough. Try again.” She leant down and dissolved into the kiss, pouring her frustration into passion. By Sune, how she loved this elf. He was a dark one, to be sure, but that only made the attraction stronger. She would not let her passions get out of hand… a baby was not something she wanted. But for now, all love was in the kiss.
~*~*~*~*~
“Selûne’s eyes and stars!” Swore a caustic voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Inga woke to the rough handling of Skyler, just as she had the fateful morn before. Except now it was only just the break of dawn, and something felt different… she was not in her old hard bed, but on the grass, arm around an elf… suddenly, it call came back to her.
“Skyler! Can’t you see I was trying to run off?”
“Didn’t run very far, did you?” The fourteen-year-old replied wryly. “You’re lucky you didn’t, and lucky I found you! Something terrible happened!
Beside her, Avery rose with a palm to his head. “Ugh, who swore by the witch of the moon?” He turned and saw Skyler gaping at him. “Get the child away, Inga, I don’t need someone who speaks of She Who Will Die.”
“There’s been a problem, Avery, and I need to know!” Inga leapt to her feet and brushed the grass and morning dew off her, ready to face the day. “What happened?”
“You know old Kelsey? He came back, and he killed dad and mom and some of t’ others!”
Inga’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” She gathered all the things that lay about the hill dip and hurried off after Skyler. “Come on, Avery! Your help could be needed!”
Avery groaned and got to his feet. An old friend had come and gone on a murderous rampage? This could bear looking in to.
~*~*~*~*~
Inga ran alongside Skyler, panting for breath as they spoke.
“What exactly happened? How did you escape?”
“Didn’t escape, just started to follow you when I saw you leaving. Ester was busy talking, so I just slipped out. I thought that if you were going to Waterdeep, I’d have to go with you!”
“WHAT HAPPENED?”
“Okay, okay. I saw it when I left the house. Old Kel came stumbling up the pathway, this big, I mean BIG, knife in hand, and he just broke down the door like it was nothing. He went inside and started yelling about how dad had betrayed him, and he just killed him and mom right then.”
The two stopped in front of the cottage to take a breather. Skyler leant against the wall, panting out his words. “An’ then he came… into the kids room… and just started killing… like he was… all real angered an’ stuff.” He took a gulp of air and walked round to the door. “See?” He said, motioning towards the mangled door. There was something disturbing in Skyler’s eyes, but Inga was too worried to think about it. Instead, she focused all her attention on the cottage.
Inga put a foot in the doorway and then hesitated, dreading what she would find inside. As she walked in, there seemed nothing amiss but a strange silence – quite odd for the Lancont home at this time of morning. It was the silence of death. Then the coppery smell of blood reached her nose, and she had to hold in the burning retch.
Skyler came in and opened the door to the parents’ bedroom, revealing the broken bodies. His surprise at the slaughter was evident as his eyes bulged and he staggered off, away from the blood.
Inga went in and gently put a hand on her father’s cold, dead face. She ran it across the bristles that were just beginning to grow in again, and ran her fingers through the greasy blond hair. She looked at her dead mother, knowing that the woman would never know another adventure like that of her youth, and began to cry.
Skyler came in then, helping along Hadrian, who had a great wound across his side. The blood flow was staunched with patched sailcloth that was rapidly turning crimson.
“Who survived?” Inga asked, her throat caught in the pain of her loss.
“Apart from you, me, and Skyler,” Hadrian said, “Only Audny and Ester live. Audny had the sense to hide under the bed and lie still, but Ester said something about ‘fighting back’ and it ‘not being the way to go.’ Kelsey left both she and I for dead.”
Inga choked her tears back, recognizing the formerly inspirational words her sister had spoken. “But she lives?”
“Only just. She’s in the kids’ room, cleaning up the twins and Culver, and Tryne and Reidun. Their blood was everywhere.” He closed his eyes in the horrible memory. “Why would Kelsey do something like this? What did dad do that was so bad as to warrant the death of his family as well?”
“Where did Kelsey go?” Inga asked. Her blood was beginning to rise; filling with the fire that ran in the female side of the family. “I’ll kill the bastard for what he did. I’ll KILL him!”
“Don’t swear revenge until you see everything,” Hadrian said, trying to assuage her. “Anger gets us nowhere.”
“I don’t care! I’ll take my anger out on Kelsey’s cold corpse until his spirit feels it in the pits of the hells! I’ll blast him with magic, make it so he suffers for eternity!”
“So you want to use my magic for pain?” The soft voice of the gold elf Avery seemed to echo in Inga’s mind. “That’s not what I offered it to you for.” He stood in the doorway, eyes averted from the corpses of Inga’s parents. Hadrian looked curiously at the elf, wondering how the mercenary was involved in all this.
“You dare?” Inga screamed and lashed out at the elf, shocking Hadrian out of his thoughts. He and Skyler caught Inga’s middle, but she fell limp in their arms, crashing to the floor. She lay there, sobbing, pounding the wooden boards with her fist. “And I wanted to be an adventurer! This is the kind of blood I would see every day.”
“Not every day,” Avery said. “Most days you see the happy smiles of those you protected, those you saved from a death like this. You live a hero’s life if it you choose it, and the blood of innocents stains your hands only if you choose it to be so. Most days are spent in the company of like-minded folk, laughing and joking and thinking about nothing more than life’s little joys. It’s only occasional that you actually run into someone capable of doing something like these heinous murders.”
Inga looked up. “Really?”
“I’d never lie to you. There are some parts that get truly disturbing, but much of it is just walking from place to place, looking for those few moments of exhilarating terror.”
Inga stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m going to see Ester.”
Ester was sitting on a chair, Culver cradled in one arm, washing away the blood from his closed eyes. Dried tears stained her face, but she kept on at her task. She ignored the aching pains in her stomach.
“How are you?” Inga asked gently. Ester looked up and saw the face of the sister she loved.
“I thought I had seen blood when I went to Waterdeep. I couldn’t image anything to compare with the death I saw. Then last night came, and I knew that I hadn’t seen anything yet.” She wiped the last bloodstain off the child’s face and set the dead body down against the wall. Audny leaned forward and put a quilt over the body, her body shaking with grief. It was intensely horrible to see a little three-year-old girl exposed to such violence.
“I’m going to pay Kelsey back for this. He’ll die for what he did to the family. You should come with me – help me.”
“I can’t,” Ester sighed and leaned forward. She pulled her dress aside and revealed the horrible wounds below. “I’ll never walk again. My spine was cracked, too. I can’t feel a thing down there.”
“He will pay.”
“You can’t kill something already dead.” Ester gave Inga a hard look. “Even if you could kill a zombie, I wouldn’t want you taking blood for blood.”
“A zombie? They don’t think, they don’t speak! Skyler said it spoke.”
“I don’t know much about it, but he was certainly already dead. He walked as if waterlogged, and his skin was bloated. He drowned in that storm dad talked about, and he came back to life for some reason.”
“And now dad’s gone and can’t tell us.” Inga sat down on her old, hard bed. The way it felt to be home then, she didn’t know if she could ever settle down. Staying in one place limited you and held you down. It was a tie that any murderer could follow. “Kelsey was a good man. Why would he kill anyway?”
“Perhaps your elf friend could answer that,” Ester said. She pointed a shaky finger at the gold elf in the doorway. “He knows enough about dark magic.”
“There are necromantic spells that can make the dead walk, but I’ve not heard of the dead speaking and thinking.” He shook his golden hair. “This is not something that lies in my realm of expertise.”
Something snapped into place in Inga’s mind and she turned to the elf. “Why was it important that last night was a new moon?”
“It’s a time holy to Shar, when a few of her servants go out to work the Shadow Weave upon others. It was because of the full moon that I looked to bring the dark gray side to another, but then I found you and realized how you were meant for it.”
“Ester. Dad said something about storms both last night and the one before, right?”
“Yes, but he said he had never known a storm as bad as the night before.”
“Precisely. The night of the waning moon had a terrible storm on it, and the night with no moon had an even worse one. Avery, do you still have your original spellbook, from the wizard?”
Puzzled, Avery dug to the bottom of his pack to retrieve an ancient-looking bundle. He drew off the cloth cover and handed the book over, pausing first to blow off the dust.
“Are there any more servants of Shar in this area?”
“Shar’s worshippers are everywhere, and those who give her thanks are even more numerous.”
“Anyone specific?”
“Well, there is one in Waterdeep, I don’t know if should tell you…” He drifted off as Inga’s harsh look drilled into him. “His name is Yeslek, a former lord of the city, before his identity and religion were revealed. He deals in all kinds of things, from leather to gold to slaves to – ”
“To ships and banking?”
“Most assuredly. He is a man of many alliances and contacts.”
“Yeslek is Kelsey backwards.”
Ester gasped aloud, understanding the connections. “So Kelsey was really a Sharran, working to gain contacts for his goddess?”
“That was Yeslek’s mission, yes,” Avery confirmed. “But this Kelsey, what did he look like? Yeslek was quite distinctive in appearance.”
Skyler spoke up then. “Well, he had this great big nose, and a scar across his cheek…”
“Kelsey had nothing of the sort!” Ester exclaimed. “He had a tiny little nose, with a clear complexion and jet black hair…” As she described the man, Skyler began to back away. Avery shot him a glance and then began to flip through the old wizard’s book.
Just as Skyler reached the doorway and Ester finished her description, Avery found the spell he sought. He mumbled a few words and tossed a pinch of some glittering substance, and immediately everything in the room flashed.
Skyler screamed and fell to the ground, moaning as his body began to stretch and contort.
“What did you do?” Inga screeched and rushed to her fallen brother. “Turn him back!”
“I’m not turning him into anything,” Avery calmly stated. “I’m just revealing the truth.” They all watched in horror, as Skyler became a horrible pale thing, hairless and naked on the floor. “Awful lot of doppelgangers live in Waterdeep,” Avery commented wryly.
The creature looked up at the bewildered and disgusted faces about it. It leapt up and made for the door to the outside of the cottage, but Avery and Hadrian quickly blocked its way.
Avery barked a sharp magical phrase and the doppelganger froze in its tracks.
“The Shadow Weave,” he said while circling the frozen figure, “is useful for many things. Some magic, like making things out of nothing, it is quite useless for. But controlling the mind, ensnaring the senses, that it something Shar’s magic does well.” He stopped in front of the doppelganger and stamped his foot. The creature went rigid and its mouth fell open.
“Who are you?” Avery demanded.
“My name is Sanguisuga, otherwise known as Kelsey, or Yeslek.”
“Why were you in the body of the boy?”
“He was out of the house when I came to kill Fisk, and I spotted him. I killed the boy, went in to the slaughter disguised as a drowned zombie and came out again in the body of the boy to look for the remaining daughter.”
“Why did you wish to kill Fisk?”
“Because,” the doppelganger’s normally blank face twisted in rage, resisting the spell. “He abandoned me in my darkest hour. My enemies had found me upon the high seas and cast a stormy spell to seal my doom. The ship was wrecked and the sharks were upon us. I beseeched him for help, but he swam away, leaving me to die. When I got to shore, I determined that he and his whole family had to pay. Shar would demand nothing less of me.”
Inga strode forward and stood before the doppelganger. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes. You are the last of the sisters I intended to kill.”
“Then you didn’t know two things. You failed to kill my youngest sister, and my older sister lives in Port Llast, away from your clutches.”
The doppelganger did not answer, not having been asked a question. Internally, it digested the news. It had not known about the youngest sister – its knowledge of the family was recent as of four years ago. But it knew of the older sister. It was she who financially backed the doppelganger, and Sanguisuga would have smiled if it could, knowing that even if it died this day, Annika would get them all in the end. Annika always got what she wanted.
Inga turned to Avery. “Do as you wish with the doppelganger. I have seen enough blood for this day.”
“For this day?” He asked. “What does that imply?”
“I’m going to go adventure. Not in Waterdeep, not in Neverwinter – somewhere far enough from home but still by the sea. Once this ordeal is over, I want to go away.”
“Will you ‘ome back?” Little Audny asked. It was one of her first fluent sentences, and she was asking about Inga. It nearly melted the poor girl’s heart to see the petulant little face gazing up at her, and know that this girl too had the bloodline of fire. She too would someday go adventuring – for however a short while.
“I’ll come back…” Inga drifted off. She turned to Avery and smiled wryly. “You’ll be teaching me, of course?”
Avery took a look at the Flaming Fist symbol emblazoned on his shield and thought a moment. “It’ll take a while to quite the Fists, but yes, I will.”
“I’ll be staying here,” Hadrian spoke up. “Ester’s lost the use of her legs, and she and Audny will need to be looked after until Audny grows up. I guess… I’m the man of the house now. I can only do my best to make ends meet.”
“Then if everything’s settled,” Ester interjected, “there are dead that need burying.”
~*~*~*~*~
Later that day, Inga sat by the fresh graves of her family. She clutched a bundle of sea lilies in her hands, trying to hold the tears inside. She had always been a tough girl, but there was only so much she could be expected to do. As soon as she looked down again and thought of Culver’s cherubic face, never to shine again, she finally broke down.
The flowers fell from her hand atop the joint grave of Fisk and Disa, the two parents who had raised her so well. Avery came up behind her and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. She grasped his hand and leant her head on it, letting the tears run freely.
“I can’t ask you to leave your family,” he said, “they need you.”
“I can’t stay with them,” she cried. “This place has too many memories for me. I might have well been slapping Audny across the face for the lie I told her. I don’t think I’ll ever come back. I don’t even know if I can face the sea.”
“Then find out.” Avery grasped the girl beneath her arms and hoisted her up; he was stronger than Inga would ever have expected. He stood beside her, keeping the side of his face to hers, looking out to sea. “I heard your little speech about the sea,” he said. “The ocean does hold pain, but it also heals your wounds. It gives and takes. Set sail again and forget your worries in the ocean spray.”
Inga turned her head and kissed the elf’s cheek. It was a lot different than the pure passion she had kissed with the night before – it was more solid, more there. “I never thought a servant of Shar could be so compassionate.”
“It’s not for Shar that I’ll teach you magic. It’s because you need it. It’s something to hold on to that you can make your own. Like a sword, it becomes something unique to you, your own style of wielding it. You need it to keep you safe in body and mind.”
“Avery the gold elf,” she said, “I think I just might love you.”
“Don’t say anything now then,” he said, and kissed her cheek just as she had his. “Always think things through before you do them. If you’ve decided to leave Brey and come with me, then that’s enough thought for one day. Save thoughts of love for when the tears come again, when you need somebody to hold.”
The two stood in the silence of the evening, watching the sun set over the Sea of Swords. The great ocean which bore a name of many meanings. At last, once the last red rays disappeared, Inga turned to Avery.
“What did you do with the doppelganger?”
Avery maintained the silence for a few minutes more. “I’m not going to tell you.”
Inga looked shocked at his pronouncement and pushed him away. “If we’re to travel together, you have to trust me enough not to keep secrets. I have to be able to trust you. If you executed the doppelganger, that would be fine, if you would just tell me!”
Avery just looked at her with sad, gold eyes. “Do you really want to know? You won’t like it.” She nodded, a grim light in her eyes. “I let him go. He returned to Waterdeep for a message to any who would listen: Avery and Inga are together now, and the Shadow Magic will keep us strong.”
“A warning?” She asked. She was displeased with the ‘punishment,’ but she decided to trust Avery’s judgment. It was the first step in a long road together. The first step always began with trust.
“No, a message. There was something that belied the doppelganger’s words. It didn’t tell us something. Whoever’s out there and listening to ‘Yeslek’s’ words, they’ll know the truth. If they come to find us, we’ll be ready, and we’ll win.”
Inga looked Avery in the eyes before she spoke. “I can only hope that what you did was right.”
Avery took her by the hand and led her away from the graves to the village below. He felt differently about her now. Now it was not just her looks that appealed to him, but her strength in mind, character, and determination. His heart beat with love for her, even though he knew an elf would live far longer than any human would. He would make the most of their time together. The first step was trust, the second step hope, and only then could the third step of love be taken. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, but the pair had already taken three in the space of two days.
~*~*~*~*~
A few miles south of Brey, in the great city of Waterdeep, Sanguisuga stood before the Lady Annika and her husband. He had related Avery’s message, and it was greeted with mixed emotions. On the one hand, Annika was glad that her younger sister had taken the bloodline of fire to a new level. But on the other hand, she was displeased that the whole family was not dead and out of the way, especially after agreeing to help the doppelganger in his enterprises. How ‘fortunate’ for him that Annika’s interests coincided with his own.
She tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the hard wood of her armchair, until her husband of Port Llast whispered in her ear. She smiled cruelly and nodded, then motioned for the doppelganger to leave. Yes, what she now had in mind would be a fitting end for the new couple. She hoped the two would live to see it through to the end. The Lady Annika’s punishments were notorious in the underworld of Waterdeep, and this one would be no less than agony. |
| 13 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| Mace Hammerhand |
Posted - 29 Mar 2006 : 08:57:50
An editor will judge the first paragraph first, he will not take the time to read through the entire thing if the first few sentences 'suck'.
I, as a reader and a writer, stopped giving stories the benefit of a doubt because I can spend my time elsewhere (in a cafe, pub, watching a movie). If a story starts slow but is interesting no problem there. If it, however, if riddled with inconsistencies that I cannot wrap my head around ... sorry no can do.
A reader starts at the beginning and starts judging at the beginning |
| Smyther |
Posted - 29 Mar 2006 : 01:57:14
Well, it looks like I have quite a lot to work on. I agree with many of your comments. This was one of my first attempts at something like a short story, and I'm learning from all your comments.
Originally, this was supposed to continue on to a much greater length and I had to squash most of my ideas into a smaller space, and actually looking back on it now there are some areas that really do seem contrived - such as the love interest. The corny bit at the end really has to go, I know, but I think that I didn't make it clear enough that her earlier contact with the elf was purely out of lust and an infatuation with the new and different that it overwhelms her.
At the death of her family, I am trying to get across the inner turmoil and confusion she feels. She doesn't simply forget about her parents, but she just can't sort through the emotions inside her and as such swings from one extreme to the other. It was intended that later the full force of her family's deaths settles on her after thinking it through and measuring it against the need for something different with Avery. Emotions are rarely if ever rational or one-sided and they seem to hit at completely random times while other, lesser emotions seem to take the dominant side. You can't understand the bigger picture and the true bredth of the tragedy befallen you until the little bits begin to click in.
I don't think I intend to continue this story, though there is certainly a lot more that I wanted to do with it. The family deaths were the big catalyst and the rest was to revolve around the full weight of her emotions overcoming her as she struggles to sort out her initial lust with Avery and take revenge on those who killed her family. It was not meant to be teenager goes off into the world and becomes a powerful hero, but one girl's conflict of emotions as she takes on the wider world as all the horrors she has been sheltered from begin to pile on her faster and faster. Perhaps I attempted something a little too advanced and my writing is not quite good enough to convey everything I wanted to. I'll keep working and seeing what I can do to get better.
Your comments, however harsh, were asked for and I really do appreciate an honest critique from you all. Any other thoughts would also be appreciated.
I'll probably respond to some of your more specific comments later, when I don't have chemistry to work on.
Mace: I will say one thing, I would like it more if you could read the whole story to see how things fit into context with each other instead of judging it paragraph by paragraph. If you can't get into it enough, that's fine. |
| JadedWolf |
Posted - 28 Mar 2006 : 11:22:35
My main beef with your story is; why should we care about the protagonist?
Inga: "Lalala, I'm happily fishing!"
-Elf comes along, offers her to teach her Shar's magic-
Inga: "Hey, know what? Adventuring runs in my blood. I'll come with you. But first..."
-Molests elf-
Later...
"Your parents have been murdered. And your brother too!"
Inga: "Oh, this would be a great chance to use Shar's magic, which, actually, I haven't yet been able to learn with only one day having passed. But let's not think about that."
-They find the killer-
"I killed your father because he didn't help me!"
Inga: "Oh. Elf, you can do with him what you want."
Elf: "Fine, I'll let him go then."
Inga: "Okay. Shall we go travel now? That sunset looks so appealing to ride off to."
Now, why should I care about a character that does not seem to have a personality of her own? Everything she does seems to be contrived to fit the plot.
-She agrees to study under Avery because it suits the plot. (Before, she was happy being a fisherman's daughter.)
-She falls in love because it suits the plot. (There is no sign of attraction between them at all, before she just decides he's better off kissing her than a spellbook.)
-She forgets about the death of her parents because it suits the plot. (She grieves about them... what? One minute. And then she is perfectly fine with Avery letting the doppleganger go. Wow. She's cold, I'll give her that.)
|
| Winterfox |
Posted - 28 Mar 2006 : 10:58:30
quote:
It was a good feeling to be at sea, to know you were at the mercy of Umberlee, Valkur, and Istishia – the deities of the seas.
Wait, why would this induce a good feeling? Umberlee's not called the Bitch Queen for nothing.
quote:
She was now a woman, but not just any woman – she was a fisherman’s daughter. As such, she grasped the great rope with Hadrian
Er, you make it sound as if, were she not a fisherman's daughter, she wouldn't have been able to grasp a rope. I'm pretty sure that any woman with arms and hands can accomplish the feat of simply closing their fingers around a rope, having the strength to hold it notwithstanding.
I find the part where Avery tries to convince Inga to take up the Shadow Weave vaguely contrived and not very convincing. You have tried to establish Inga's longing for a different sort of life, but I don't feel it is nowhere near enough.
The story didn't really grab my attention; I think you could do away with the first few scenes and the story wouldn't suffer much. In a novella or a novel, the buildup would be necessary and expected, not to mention likely longer, but in a short story, the scenes take up space you can't afford to squander. For that matter, even in a longer work, it would have difficulty retaining my interest; I don't really believe in fantasy where nothing much happens in the first twenty-fifty pages. (And I don't mean as in "waah there's no action scene right off the bat", either.) Starting the story with the meeting between Avery and Inga would have given it a lot more oomph. It's just, no offense, more interesting than fishing.
The part where they start kissing came absolutely out of nowhere. I mean, what? It has the tinge of "my romance is pastede on yay!", especially with phrases like: "how she loved this elf" and "all love was in the kiss." I could see it as part of her determination to pursue her impulses, but even then, there's been no buildup for the attraction, no anything. About all I can see to it is that Avery's male and Inga wants to molest something with the right set of genitals.
Her response to the death of family members is downright weird. It's incredibly underwhelming, despite the CAPSLOCK OF RAGE. (Hint: use italics.) I just... am not convinced that she's undergoing a loss of that magnitude. Proclamations like
quote:
I’ll take my anger out on Kelsey’s cold corpse until his spirit feels it in the pits of the hells! I’ll blast him with magic, make it so he suffers for eternity!”
sound distinctly, well, stilted. Do real people talk like this when that enraged? Would she be that coherent, especially given that she falls to screaming and sobbing right afterward? And the way she calms down in seconds flat after that is downright creepy. She doesn't behave like a normal human being. Neither do her siblings. Their reactions are so wooden I have to wonder if they aren't all doppelgangers.
quote:
“A zombie? They don’t think, they don’t speak! Skyler said it spoke.”
This is one more inconsistency: throughout the story, Inga displays level of knowledge that should be beyond her. She knows about Sharrans "cloaks of blades", about the differences between elven sub-races at least on a superficial level ("all gold elves are good"), and now she knows about undead too? Do you think these things are common knowledge available to peasants, of all people?
Most importantly, I can't bring myself to care about Inga. It's a subjective thing, but her characterization doesn't catch me or tickle me the right way. There're too many inconsistencies in her personality, and as I said, her reactions to the events are bizarre. I can neither empathize or sympathize with her; as a character goes, she's not even terribly interesting. (Peasant teenager who wants to go adventure, yay! That's very, very done, I'm afraid.)
The romance, which doesn't seem as one-sided as I thought, becomes even more unconvincing and stilted toward the end. This?
quote:
He felt differently about her now. Now it was not just her looks that appealed to him, but her strength in mind, character, and determination. His heart beat with love for her, even though he knew an elf would live far longer than any human would. He would make the most of their time together. The first step was trust, the second step hope, and only then could the third step of love be taken. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, but the pair had already taken three in the space of two days.
Made me cringe. It's corny, and... "His heart beat with love for her"? Oy vey vey. They've known each other for how many days? Please tell me he's mistaking plain ol' lust for love. No, sorry, I can't take seriously a relationship that spontaneously develops in the course of two days. (If someone's going to bring up Romeo and Juliet, I'll tell you right at the outset that I thought the two were obnoxious, self-indulgent brats who were more in love with the idea of defying their elders than in love with each other. Hormones, hormones. True love, my arse.) That you feel you have to tell the reader he is attracted to her strength of character and so on speaks a thing or twelve. Don't you trust their interactions and your writing enough to speak for themselves? Show, not tell.
See, this is why I don't like teenage characters. Give me ones mature enough to admit that lust is lust, not ZOMG TWU WUV ONEONEONE, any time. |
| Mace Hammerhand |
Posted - 28 Mar 2006 : 08:52:11
Smyther, I finished reading the second paragraph.
Here is my suggestion, read more, a whole lot more. Stay away from fantasy for reading, read thrillers, horror, anything you can get your hands on. If you wanna write about fishermen, do some research on medieval fishermen in Europe. I don't mean to stay away from fantasy altogether but focus on other genres.
Your style is unfocused, your characterizations inconsistent (see my last post). Also, consider all circumstances! 8 sisters and the gods know how many brothers. Damn, that's a lot of people for a fisherman's family. These people must live in utter poverty with siblings sharing beds etc.
I am a perfectionist, admittedly, thus I consider my stories, work through scenes in my head over and over again after I have written them and then tweak'em. Also I play through potential scenarios in my head, approach them from every angle and then take a mallet to it to see if it holds together. ´Sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees so to speak, but you should write and read more, use a damn big mallet to your prose and the books you read. Find the inconsitencies in your story and those of other authors, if you see other people's mistakes you can avoid them for yourself more easily.
Do yourself a huge favor, put the submission on the backburner, let it simmer and work on it when you feel you have the grasp on the story. |
| Mace Hammerhand |
Posted - 28 Mar 2006 : 08:35:19
Read a little more... not much, but I can say this much:
Maybe my standards are too high, but I honestly would suggest you rethink the entire thing again and try again. Inga enjoys the fishing thingy at first and 'loves' this life, then in the next paragraph she sees absolutely nothing wrong with her life but she has this longing. Sounds to me she is either bi-polar or you have no clear concept about the character, or if you have a clear concept and you cannot bring the ideas onto paper.
If I were you I would describe Inga's discontent right from the start. It is illogical to say she would never think of a different life and then say she has this longing. The longing had to be there before. It happens too sudden.
Will read more now.
Mace *I made my ex-girlfriend rewrite her entire play twice and then she changed it to novel format* Hammerhand |
| Mace Hammerhand |
Posted - 25 Mar 2006 : 22:54:49
Haven't read this much yet, but here are a few preliminary comments:
Inga, Annika and Hadrian are too earthlike to be Realms, change them. Cut down on the adverbs, if a verb ain't strong enough to stand on its own find a better one. Too wordy in some cases, e. g. "It was a good feeling..." change it to "It felt good" much sleeker. "... at the sight awaiting her" why not just "sight", since the dolphins and orcas do not await her.
Swelling of the fisherboat? The boat is pulsating? The verb's use in this context is rather new to me.
Why not add some dialogue to the first paragraph? If the sea is as wild as you described it, the characters have better things to do than to look and nod at each other to get someone's attention? Ever been on a stormy sea in a nutshell? Also, to take the five year old with them makes me wonder how much they actually love their kid brother. Should the boat keel over the first one to be gone to Davie Jones will be the kid. If I remember correctly (and what little knowledge of fishermen in the middle ages I gathered is about 20 yrs back) the little children helped, yes, but not on the boat, those kids were the live-insurance for the parents when they grew too old to provide for themselves. The children did menial tasks, gutting fish and the like, maybe (again if I remember correctly) they did NOT go onto the boat to fish.
I read more when you send me the thing, word format no virus pls ;-) if I can help it I avoid reading on screen.
Make the entire beginning more alive. We get to know Inga a little bit, but aside from her deep love for fishing (which I cannot understand, really, because of the living conditions) and her family there isn't much to see. You don't have to spill the beans in the beginning, but in all honesty write it in a way that makes me want to continue reading, which atm it does not.
Welcome to the Wolf Pack
|
| crushingsky |
Posted - 16 Jul 2005 : 11:56:48
Structure: Good, Pacing: Good, Dialogue: Good. I can't believe you're only 17. Your control of sentence structure and syntax is remarkably mature for your age. There does'nt seemed to be any unneeded fat on the story so far. Everything written seems to serve a purpose for building the story. I wonder how many times you've rewritten this. There are some caveats to using the shadow weave but it looks like you're leaving the plot open to address this. Characters such as Inga and Avery that are young and dumb naive are a welcome change from worldly or self-flagellating characters. I hope you intend to have them grow and mature with the plot and maybe explore their flaws a bit more. You seem to be a good writer in command of your story so it's hard to tell if any of the things that seem out of place are missteps and not actually setups for later plot points. I will drop this observation though, for someone that "only accepts the gifts Shar provides", Avery does seem to toe the Sharan party line when it comes to the moon goddess.  Very interesting, Smyther. Keep it coming! |
| Smyther |
Posted - 16 Jul 2005 : 00:54:16
Very appreciated. Thanks to you both!
I've actually read over the story again, and I've found a few indiscrepancies that I'll have to edit later. Anyone else spot things that need improving? |
| Alaundo |
Posted - 14 Jul 2005 : 12:53:56
quote:
Originally posted by crushingsky
I've been reading these forums for a long time but I finally registered an account so I could say how much I like this story. It's rare that I find amateur written fiction that I can't walk away from but this was pretty good. You really know how to "put the hooks in". I guess good story telling is like fishing, eh? Excellent dialogue as well. I wish I could write dialogue like that. I like how you kept it running fresh all the way through, using every revealed mystery as an opportunity for more questions. I'll be watching out for the continuation.
Well met
Glad ye decided to register eventually, crushingsky. I hope to read more from ye in the future  Thank ye for providing feedback to Smyther's tale, i'm sure he will appreciate it. |
| Shadovar |
Posted - 14 Jul 2005 : 11:53:38
Pretty well written, Smyther, an impressive piece of work, do keep writing more. |
| crushingsky |
Posted - 14 Jul 2005 : 09:51:24
I've been reading these forums for a long time but I finally registered an account so I could say how much I like this story. It's rare that I find amateur written fiction that I can't walk away from but this was pretty good. You really know how to "put the hooks in". I guess good story telling is like fishing, eh? Excellent dialogue as well. I wish I could write dialogue like that. I like how you kept it running fresh all the way through, using every revealed mystery as an opportunity for more questions. I'll be watching out for the continuation. |
| Alaundo |
Posted - 07 Jul 2005 : 23:36:04
quote:
Originally posted by Smyther
Well, I wanted to share this short story I've written in the realms, and this seemed like the best place to put it. Correct me if I'm wrong, Alaundo.
Well met
Thou art quite right in penning thy tale at the Adventuring area, Smyther. Thank ye.
As Smyther states, please provide feedback herein if ye wish. |
|
|
