Okay, I skipped my 9k crit (because, really, it was getting silly...) but don't feel able to skip 10,000. This is the new first chapter to the shiny new thing. It is a first draft, it's been written as I'm struggling to get over the flu and can't concentrate on work, so be gentle on me. (Well, reasonably so, if it sucks, shout...)
Anyway, usual first chapter provisos - does it hook, too much info, not enough info etc etc. Muchly thanks.
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The twenty-day selection were called for, and ten mages came forwards to join the line of Council Guards in front of the high metal gates, closed for now. The walls of the Mage quarter curved, bowl-like, above Anna. The storms of the Outland Plain never reached this square of dry ground, nor the wind the streets of low wooden houses.
“Come.” Anna’s mother touched her arm, making her jump, but she forced herself to calm. She couldn’t draw attention to herself. Not tonight. Blake stepped into the courtyard from the street opposite, his smile wide as ever, his steps casual. His eyes, though, were quick, flitting from the guards, to the supply cart which had earlier carried food and a supply of water for the next twenty days.
“Ready?” he murmured, reaching her.
She nodded; as much as she ever would be. Her mother drew close behind them. The other mages in the courtyard studiously ignored them, fussing over the ten mages selected or carrying soup and salve-soaked bandages to the ten just returned.
“Let’s go.” She took a step towards the cart.
A noise rose from the centre of the courtyard: Yvette, she of the high-pitched, practiced histrionics, flung herself at one of the ten: her son, Mattheus, tall, broad and not a little shaky on it.
“You can’t take him! He’s barely seventeen.”
Anna winced; only six months older than she was and already eligible for service.
The guards pushed Yvette away, turning Mattheus to them and clapping his wrists in irons. Yvette's calls were joined by other mages. Anna broke into a jog, Blake beside her, her mother barely behind, but no guard raised a warning: the show was as diverting as planned.
Blake jumped for the wagon and rolled in. He reached down, taking Anna’s hand and giving her a boost. She flattened herself against the rough wood, pulled a burlap sack over her, another around her, ensured her dark cloak was spread out. Blake burrowed next to her, shifting the wagon as he did. Her mother checked her covers, pulling them tighter until, finally, Anna heard the whisper of a goodbye, an unbearably final squeeze of her shoulder.
The wagon was musty from fine grain dust covering the planks. She needed to sneeze but breathed through her mouth. Something warm touched her wrist and she tensed until she realised it was Blake’s hand encircling her wrist, giving comfort.
A jolt, and the wagon started to move. Blake’s hand tightened. It was working. They were going to get out of the mage quarter, she and Blake, the first of the mages to escape and not to be forced into service for the city. If this worked, they could set up a place of refuge. Other children could be taken from the quarter and given a future that didn’t include their service. If it worked.
The wagon moved into a steady rhythm. They must have joined the paved road into town. The second wagon would be alongside, the ten mages held within, chained wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle as ever.
At last, they drew to a halt. She concentrated on the muffled noises around her, trying to work out where they were. Something clattered as it rolled past. The wagon shifted, and she assumed the driver must have jumped down. Slowly, she counted past fifty and then lifted her head enough to see out.
The air smelt of smoke and grime; they had reached the railroad depot next to the commercial quarter. Blake squeezed her wrist, readying her. She found her breath hitching – they had to get clear of the depot and through the commercial quarter to the mining zone, the centre of Nova Grantia.
Carefully, she sat up, pulling her cloak around her. The night was the true black of the Dark, the one-night period between services when the city was reminded what it would be like without the mages. Her eyes, already adjusted under the sack, took in the yard. There was no one near their wagon; it had been left to sit, abandoned, until the next delivery. The guards were gathered around the second wagon carrying the mages, intent on the prisoner-check.
She gave a sharp nod to Blake; time to go. She jumped down, landing with a soft thud. They crossed a single railtrack, aiming away from the busy depot and she felt horribly exposed. She hunched over, but didn’t stop. Blake ran beside her, his dark cloak making him nothing more than a shadow. She reached the far side of the track and turned the corner of a short platform. She pulled herself close to the wall, mouth open, breathing as quietly as she could. Nothing moved; most of the city took advantage of the Dark to go to their homes. Miners couldn’t work until the next twenty-day was started; the cranes to load the trains wouldn’t operate.
“Let’s go,” said Blake. “Final furlong.”
She nodded and started forwards, still keeping to the shadows. Ahead the gate to the commercial quarter stood ajar, the last obstacle before freedom. She crept forward, listening, watching. No guard was there – presumably they’d be with the Council Guard, helping to bed the mages down for the night, preparing their prisons and making sure each was sealed from any weather.
“Now!” Blake slipped through.
She hesitated, her senses alert, holding back.
“Hurry.” His hiss carried in the still air, too loud. She had to move, now, before they were seen. She slipped through the gate, let her cloak fall into a draped puddle of dark.
“Hey there!” The voice was loud, impossible to miss. “Stop!”
“Hell.” Blake stiffened and then he turned to the voice, his easy smile in place. “Guard! There you are.” He held his hand out, pushing Anna behind him a little, but she bristled and held her place. “We had a delivery to make. Left it in the depot.”
He sounded so confident, surely it must work. There was a pause from the guard, a slowing of his steps. Hope flared; the guard believed Blake, they’d be sent on their way.
“Let me see your passes.”
Anna met Blake’s eyes. He shook his head and pushed her towards the commercial quarter. “Go.” His voice was tight, hopeless.
“No. We both go.”
But the guard was nearly on them. He’d call for others, they’d be surrounded, she wouldn’t get another chance.
“We separate.” Blake turned back to the guard. “I’ll just get my pass.” He took off, running back towards the depot.
“Blake!” He was distracting them from her. She wanted to go after him, to tell him he was a bloody idiot but there was no time – already more guards were emerging from the sidings. One pointed at her.
She ran for the commercial quarter, yells following her, the hard sound of boots. She put her head down, sprinting like she never had before, down alleys, across streets, darting around bins. She didn’t know where she was, what part of town, only that at some point the steps behind her stopped. She’d lost them.
She stood, breathing hard. Had Blake got away? He’d studied the lay-out of the depot, if there was a way out he’d find it. She listened, but there were no sounds of any pursuit. She had no way of knowing.
She couldn’t stay here – she’d be picked up too easily. She pushed off from the wall. She had to reach the miners' quarter and Master Dint, one of the overseers. He had work for her. She’d make her way there, and Blake would follow.
Surely, he’d follow.
Anyway, usual first chapter provisos - does it hook, too much info, not enough info etc etc. Muchly thanks.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The twenty-day selection were called for, and ten mages came forwards to join the line of Council Guards in front of the high metal gates, closed for now. The walls of the Mage quarter curved, bowl-like, above Anna. The storms of the Outland Plain never reached this square of dry ground, nor the wind the streets of low wooden houses.
“Come.” Anna’s mother touched her arm, making her jump, but she forced herself to calm. She couldn’t draw attention to herself. Not tonight. Blake stepped into the courtyard from the street opposite, his smile wide as ever, his steps casual. His eyes, though, were quick, flitting from the guards, to the supply cart which had earlier carried food and a supply of water for the next twenty days.
“Ready?” he murmured, reaching her.
She nodded; as much as she ever would be. Her mother drew close behind them. The other mages in the courtyard studiously ignored them, fussing over the ten mages selected or carrying soup and salve-soaked bandages to the ten just returned.
“Let’s go.” She took a step towards the cart.
A noise rose from the centre of the courtyard: Yvette, she of the high-pitched, practiced histrionics, flung herself at one of the ten: her son, Mattheus, tall, broad and not a little shaky on it.
“You can’t take him! He’s barely seventeen.”
Anna winced; only six months older than she was and already eligible for service.
The guards pushed Yvette away, turning Mattheus to them and clapping his wrists in irons. Yvette's calls were joined by other mages. Anna broke into a jog, Blake beside her, her mother barely behind, but no guard raised a warning: the show was as diverting as planned.
Blake jumped for the wagon and rolled in. He reached down, taking Anna’s hand and giving her a boost. She flattened herself against the rough wood, pulled a burlap sack over her, another around her, ensured her dark cloak was spread out. Blake burrowed next to her, shifting the wagon as he did. Her mother checked her covers, pulling them tighter until, finally, Anna heard the whisper of a goodbye, an unbearably final squeeze of her shoulder.
The wagon was musty from fine grain dust covering the planks. She needed to sneeze but breathed through her mouth. Something warm touched her wrist and she tensed until she realised it was Blake’s hand encircling her wrist, giving comfort.
A jolt, and the wagon started to move. Blake’s hand tightened. It was working. They were going to get out of the mage quarter, she and Blake, the first of the mages to escape and not to be forced into service for the city. If this worked, they could set up a place of refuge. Other children could be taken from the quarter and given a future that didn’t include their service. If it worked.
The wagon moved into a steady rhythm. They must have joined the paved road into town. The second wagon would be alongside, the ten mages held within, chained wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle as ever.
At last, they drew to a halt. She concentrated on the muffled noises around her, trying to work out where they were. Something clattered as it rolled past. The wagon shifted, and she assumed the driver must have jumped down. Slowly, she counted past fifty and then lifted her head enough to see out.
The air smelt of smoke and grime; they had reached the railroad depot next to the commercial quarter. Blake squeezed her wrist, readying her. She found her breath hitching – they had to get clear of the depot and through the commercial quarter to the mining zone, the centre of Nova Grantia.
Carefully, she sat up, pulling her cloak around her. The night was the true black of the Dark, the one-night period between services when the city was reminded what it would be like without the mages. Her eyes, already adjusted under the sack, took in the yard. There was no one near their wagon; it had been left to sit, abandoned, until the next delivery. The guards were gathered around the second wagon carrying the mages, intent on the prisoner-check.
She gave a sharp nod to Blake; time to go. She jumped down, landing with a soft thud. They crossed a single railtrack, aiming away from the busy depot and she felt horribly exposed. She hunched over, but didn’t stop. Blake ran beside her, his dark cloak making him nothing more than a shadow. She reached the far side of the track and turned the corner of a short platform. She pulled herself close to the wall, mouth open, breathing as quietly as she could. Nothing moved; most of the city took advantage of the Dark to go to their homes. Miners couldn’t work until the next twenty-day was started; the cranes to load the trains wouldn’t operate.
“Let’s go,” said Blake. “Final furlong.”
She nodded and started forwards, still keeping to the shadows. Ahead the gate to the commercial quarter stood ajar, the last obstacle before freedom. She crept forward, listening, watching. No guard was there – presumably they’d be with the Council Guard, helping to bed the mages down for the night, preparing their prisons and making sure each was sealed from any weather.
“Now!” Blake slipped through.
She hesitated, her senses alert, holding back.
“Hurry.” His hiss carried in the still air, too loud. She had to move, now, before they were seen. She slipped through the gate, let her cloak fall into a draped puddle of dark.
“Hey there!” The voice was loud, impossible to miss. “Stop!”
“Hell.” Blake stiffened and then he turned to the voice, his easy smile in place. “Guard! There you are.” He held his hand out, pushing Anna behind him a little, but she bristled and held her place. “We had a delivery to make. Left it in the depot.”
He sounded so confident, surely it must work. There was a pause from the guard, a slowing of his steps. Hope flared; the guard believed Blake, they’d be sent on their way.
“Let me see your passes.”
Anna met Blake’s eyes. He shook his head and pushed her towards the commercial quarter. “Go.” His voice was tight, hopeless.
“No. We both go.”
But the guard was nearly on them. He’d call for others, they’d be surrounded, she wouldn’t get another chance.
“We separate.” Blake turned back to the guard. “I’ll just get my pass.” He took off, running back towards the depot.
“Blake!” He was distracting them from her. She wanted to go after him, to tell him he was a bloody idiot but there was no time – already more guards were emerging from the sidings. One pointed at her.
She ran for the commercial quarter, yells following her, the hard sound of boots. She put her head down, sprinting like she never had before, down alleys, across streets, darting around bins. She didn’t know where she was, what part of town, only that at some point the steps behind her stopped. She’d lost them.
She stood, breathing hard. Had Blake got away? He’d studied the lay-out of the depot, if there was a way out he’d find it. She listened, but there were no sounds of any pursuit. She had no way of knowing.
She couldn’t stay here – she’d be picked up too easily. She pushed off from the wall. She had to reach the miners' quarter and Master Dint, one of the overseers. He had work for her. She’d make her way there, and Blake would follow.
Surely, he’d follow.
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