This is an excerpt from the very beginning of a book I am co-writing with Amber Whitney.
Things we would like you to comment on if you could: Is it interesting and intriguing? Do you want to read more? Is it too confusing or does is turn you off in any way? Are there any areas where the writing sounds clunky? Things like that would really help out out.
Tanwil brushed a finger over the faded scar as he stared
ahead. The light breeze in the forest made the sweat prickling
the back of his neck feel cold. Barin knelt beside him, jostling
the small bush next to him.
“Have to be quick,” Barin muttered, staring at the wall.
The old man kept his grip tight on the sword at his side. Tanwil
didn’t have to look to know Barin was rubbing the insignia on
the hilt.
Past the dense forest where they hid was a stone wall, at
least fifteen feet high. Tanwil raised his eyes, gazing at the
tips of the trees beyond the wall. The peculiar blue leaves
swayed in the same breeze that bothered Tanwil’s neck.
He traced his scar again. It went from his forehead to the
curve of his chin on the left side of his face, nearly as wide
as his thumb. The wound had nearly sealed his eye shut, but his
eyesight was still fair. It had however left him with a
perpetual squint, and women who always sat to his right.
Tearing his eyes away from the Grove, Tanwil looked over
his shoulder.
“Is Egund ready?”
“He’ll do what needs to be done.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
Barin didn’t respond. There was no need, they both knew the
price Egund had to pay for them. The old man stood, turned and
walked back to their makeshift camp. Tanwil followed, counting
the paces in his head from the tree line to the group. It
wouldn’t make any difference if he knew how many paces it was
from there to the wall, but he did it anyways.
Maldin and Fenlar stood aside with the horses, while Egund
paced a rut in the ground. Dark rings hung under Egund’s eyes.
For the past two nights the elf had looked like a man haunted.
Under normal circumstances, Barin would have demanded that Egund
rest properly so he wouldn’t be a danger to the group. But these
were not normal circumstances, and Barin would not make any more
demands of Egund.
Barin took an unlit torch from his saddlebag and handed it
to Tanwil. Giving the wooden torch a squeeze, Tanwil disciplined
his face into a blank mask. Showing fear would only make it
worse for the younger elf, but in the back of his mind he was
thanking the Danae that it wasn’t him.
“Egund. It’s time.”
The youth looked up from his pacing, and Tanwil forced
himself to ignore the fear he saw in those eyes. He gestured
with the torch, waiting for the boy to come to him. Shaking his
hands out, Egund took a few uncertain steps forward and stood in
front of Tanwil. The young elf raised his hands, holding his
trembling fingers above the torch. A bead of sweat crept from
his temple into the collar of his jerkin.
Nothing happened. They stood in silence waiting for Egund.
Tanwil’s patience began wearing thin. They didn’t have long
until the guards came around the wall again. Somewhere, Barin
cleared his throat.
There was a sharp crack in the air, like bottled thunder.
Violet flames sprung to life at the end of the torch, and Tanwil
snatched it back. Egund lurched forward, his face twisted in
agony. Before he dropped to the ground, Barin caught him. The
old man covered Egund’s mouth, stifling the elf’s screams.
Egund’s body began convulsing violently while he howled into
Barin’s hand. The old man managed to keep his hold despite the
struggle. Barin looked at Tanwil, the old man’s eyes dropping on
him like weights.
And Tanwil ran.
Thanks for reading!
Things we would like you to comment on if you could: Is it interesting and intriguing? Do you want to read more? Is it too confusing or does is turn you off in any way? Are there any areas where the writing sounds clunky? Things like that would really help out out.
Tanwil brushed a finger over the faded scar as he stared
ahead. The light breeze in the forest made the sweat prickling
the back of his neck feel cold. Barin knelt beside him, jostling
the small bush next to him.
“Have to be quick,” Barin muttered, staring at the wall.
The old man kept his grip tight on the sword at his side. Tanwil
didn’t have to look to know Barin was rubbing the insignia on
the hilt.
Past the dense forest where they hid was a stone wall, at
least fifteen feet high. Tanwil raised his eyes, gazing at the
tips of the trees beyond the wall. The peculiar blue leaves
swayed in the same breeze that bothered Tanwil’s neck.
He traced his scar again. It went from his forehead to the
curve of his chin on the left side of his face, nearly as wide
as his thumb. The wound had nearly sealed his eye shut, but his
eyesight was still fair. It had however left him with a
perpetual squint, and women who always sat to his right.
Tearing his eyes away from the Grove, Tanwil looked over
his shoulder.
“Is Egund ready?”
“He’ll do what needs to be done.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
Barin didn’t respond. There was no need, they both knew the
price Egund had to pay for them. The old man stood, turned and
walked back to their makeshift camp. Tanwil followed, counting
the paces in his head from the tree line to the group. It
wouldn’t make any difference if he knew how many paces it was
from there to the wall, but he did it anyways.
Maldin and Fenlar stood aside with the horses, while Egund
paced a rut in the ground. Dark rings hung under Egund’s eyes.
For the past two nights the elf had looked like a man haunted.
Under normal circumstances, Barin would have demanded that Egund
rest properly so he wouldn’t be a danger to the group. But these
were not normal circumstances, and Barin would not make any more
demands of Egund.
Barin took an unlit torch from his saddlebag and handed it
to Tanwil. Giving the wooden torch a squeeze, Tanwil disciplined
his face into a blank mask. Showing fear would only make it
worse for the younger elf, but in the back of his mind he was
thanking the Danae that it wasn’t him.
“Egund. It’s time.”
The youth looked up from his pacing, and Tanwil forced
himself to ignore the fear he saw in those eyes. He gestured
with the torch, waiting for the boy to come to him. Shaking his
hands out, Egund took a few uncertain steps forward and stood in
front of Tanwil. The young elf raised his hands, holding his
trembling fingers above the torch. A bead of sweat crept from
his temple into the collar of his jerkin.
Nothing happened. They stood in silence waiting for Egund.
Tanwil’s patience began wearing thin. They didn’t have long
until the guards came around the wall again. Somewhere, Barin
cleared his throat.
There was a sharp crack in the air, like bottled thunder.
Violet flames sprung to life at the end of the torch, and Tanwil
snatched it back. Egund lurched forward, his face twisted in
agony. Before he dropped to the ground, Barin caught him. The
old man covered Egund’s mouth, stifling the elf’s screams.
Egund’s body began convulsing violently while he howled into
Barin’s hand. The old man managed to keep his hold despite the
struggle. Barin looked at Tanwil, the old man’s eyes dropping on
him like weights.
And Tanwil ran.
Thanks for reading!
