- Shockadile117
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- Honorable Member
Everything is proceeding as I have forseen.
I started writing a book recently and thought I might post some of it on here.
It is in the fantasy genre, just to let you know. I'm going to put it one in two posts because it's quite long.
If you have any comments or thoughts, please feel free to leave them.
I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!
Here's a bit of backstory (as this is not the beginning of the book.)
The main character, Avros, was a prisoner of a great city named Rainstar until one day the highest authority in the city The High Mage came to free him. rainstar had lost its King to madness ten years earlier and the Prince to untimely death.
The Mage needs Avros to venture into a dark, evil valley that lies between Rainstar and Archwind Palace; these structures are built on two hills.
The reason for this excursion is that the Mage requires a particular rare plant: Shadowseal, for an unrevealed reason.
Avros obliges to take the job, as the prize for completing it and another (to be done later) is his freedom which he desires more than anything else.
we begin with this: Avros has slept the night in an inn and has now set off to the Valley to find the plant taking a torch with him.
Here it is:
Once Avros had left the village he immediately turned west and began making his way towards the valley. He was travelling across wide open plains dominated by long, green flowing grass that stretched in every direction.
Avros quickly began to jog making the best pace he could through the long grass; a brisk, strong wind was blowing tainted with the harsh chill of winter, being only the first days of spring and little past seven o'clock in the morning.
The conditions were perfect for running and Avros made good time across the plains. Winter's long grey marches of drab, leafless branches, stretched upward like long bony fingers pointing toward the sky, had been replaced by the fresh, bright green trees of spring, thickets of which interspersed the long grass fields that surrounded the Androvas - the name given to the twin hills which Rainstar and Archwind palace were built upon.
Avros hugged the base of the hill as he ran, Rainstar looming high above him like a watchful sentinel; he glanced up at the city and the palace, the fallen star at the summit of Arminor's tower was glistening in the early sunlight. Avros half expected to see the dark silhouette of the Mage standing on the walls of the palace, watching his progress.
It was now near nine o'clock and still Avros was running, his thick, black cape billowing about him in the wind. He passed under the eaves of a thicket of tall, bright silver birches, birds were singing sweet tunes from their branches and the sound of the swaying grass in the wind was like the slow ebb of calm waves against the shore.
It was here under these fair trees, the cool sunlight breaking through their high branches to grace the tall fresh grass and large clusters of poppies sprinkled with morning dew, that Avros sighted the dark vale.
He quickly ran to the entrance of the valley and stared inside, it was a stark contrast with the fair spring morning- the entire channel was owned by the darkness and farther in Avros could see the dark wood the people of Rainstar called the Undergrowth.
An enormous stone crawling with bright green moss stood on the far left, towering at least twenty meters into the air. It was blocking part of the entrance as if a giant had dragged the stone there, intending to seal the evil inside but had given up after the first stone. Clinging to the base of rock was a small river, the River Lirithar, flowing swiftly down towards Deepening Forest that stood just a short mile behind Avros, he turned following the path of the river, watching its bright waters flow into the forest and out of sight. Something along the eastern borders of Deepening forest caught Avros' eye. Across the open ground of the plains he could make out the shape of a large pavillion surrounded by a small cluster of tents, smoke was rising from around them. Avros assumed they belonged to the guards watching the forest that the Mage had mentioned.
Turning his attention back to the valley Avros peered inside and very boldly without thought strode into the gloom of the valley. Immediately hit by the dark presence of the valley Avros began to wonder, rather frivolously, how the waters of the River Lirithar remained uncontaminated after passing through this place.
The valley was quite wide and the shadowy, twisted wood stretched its entire width; from afar the wood looked like a tangled mess and as Avros got closer he saw that it was a tangled mess, the trunks of the trees were a sickly dark green colour and the ground here bore no grass. Avros reached the wood.
Stepping inside, under the foul trees, Avros felt something pulling him back by his left shoulder, he turned in haste half expecting to see some terrifying creature clawing at his cape. Instead he saw a large sharp thorn pinned through the material. Avros was thankful he had taken the chainmail with him for upon prying himself loose from the thorn he saw it was as sharp, long and cruel as any dagger. Avros made sure to be mindful of his surroundings at all times.
Ten minutes of walking passed, Avros had travelled as quickly as he could, though often hindered by the natural flora of the wood.
The trees that grew here were mutilated and often clashed with each other, their warped trunks twisted into contorted postions, stretching up weaving their branches into a tangled mess of a ceiling creating a dense mass that allowed precious little light in. Twining roots sprawled their way across the ground jutting out at awkward and dangerous angles. The natural light was gone. For all Avros knew, standing in the pitch black under the thick canopy of the forest, it coud have been midnight outside.
He stood still for a moment and began to assess his surroundings. The wood was as silent as death. No leaves rustled, disturbed by the presence of an unbidden breeze. No small animals scurried through the tree tops. No birds could be heard singing a beautiful song in the mid morning sun. Nothing. There was not even the faintest gust of wind to clear the hot stuffy air of the forest. Not even the roar of the great waterfall Palanaer at the end of the vallley could be heard. The wood seemed to swallow sound and claim all life leaving it a sullen and dark place.
Avros jumped over the edge of a large, knobbly tree root and landed several meters down. As soon as he hit the ground he sank into the turf, he pulled his legs out- his knee high boots were stained halfway up with dirt. Cursing he looked across the ground laid before him and saw that gradually it became more and more like a bog. Avros continued to make his way forward with caution.
With each intentionally soft footfall of his heavy leather boots Avros felt the ground beneath him tug at his feet, as if the very earth itself was trying to claim him.
Avros continued his careful trudge across the marsh for some time until gradually the ground underfoot began to feel drier and more solid. In the never ending dark of the valley time had lost all meaning. Avros was trying to pick as straight a path as possible through the knotted wood towards the point, near Palanaer, that the Mage had advised searching for the Shadowseal. This proved very difficult, the tightly woven trees crowded round forcing Avros down routes he wouldn't have willingly chosen, he always tried to right his course trusting his fine navigation skills to keep him on track.
For some time since leaving the barren marsh Avros had felt the presence of an unfamiliar being near him, its eyes were constantly burning into his back, he became very wary, listening intently for the tell-tale sound of a sharp snap of a twig or the soft rustle of branches. Nothing. The eerie silence framed the constant sht, sht, sht of Avros' light chianmail, making it the only sound in the forest besides the now muffled roar of Palanaer, the great waterfall. Avros clutched the wooden box in his right hand tightly against his hip and tightened his grip on the torch in his left. Very suddenly he whirled around, waving the torch in front of him searching for his nameless pursuer. Again nothing.
He turned back and continued his walk through the wood. Small, narrow streams began to trickle about Avros, they wound through the dark wood and joined with others or seperated in two, creating a vast web of fast flowing waters that wove their way through the valley, until they united at the exit and became the mighty river Lirithar.
Dark green shoots of tall grass and knee high shrubs began springing up around these streams. Avros bent lower to the ground now, swaying and holding his torch up to the many plants; he began following the largest of the streams.
The muffled roar of Palanaer was becoming louder.
[Edited on 12.25.2012 4:52 PM PST]