Stuart Suffel
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- Aug 19, 2016
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So, as always, it's the first few chapters that cause the pain. This is a completed upper middle grade fantasy novel. Question, is this openning it a bit too gory? (It's proably the most gory of the entire novel, but hey, I gots to go with the visions.) Also, please point out all the problems - ( I have thick lizard-like skin)
Chapter 1
Her father's upturned body swung back and forth across the main beam of the makeshift gallows in the palace courtyard below, like a grotesque pendulum, his bare head almost grazing against the hard ground with each swing. Princess Celia was thankful he had been killed before this horrendous spectacle began, else she did not think she could have stomached such a sight.
The crowd of Farlander mercenaries surrounding the swinging body counted each time the corpse passed a certain point marked on the ground.
One!
Two!
Three!
When the swinging torso finally settled to a halt after a count of nine, a cheer went up from some of the crowd, and money passed hands. These had guessed correctly.
After the winnings had been distributed, a burly soldier grabbed the lifeless torso, raised it above his shoulders, shouted a mocking Long live the King! and then gave an almighty push. The counting began again as the body swung back and forth for the umpteenth time.
Princess Celia wanted to scream down to them – to denounce their barbaric actions against her father, but she did not. There was no point in her dying also. Not when her father’s death had yet to be avenged. “Monsters,” she said under her breath.
Celia felt her companion's arms rest upon her shoulders. “Child, watching that debauchery serves no purpose. Please, my Princess, come away from the window.”
“It serves a purpose,” Celia snapped. “Each and every face I shall remember. Each and every one, Melissa.”
After a few moments she allowed herself to be guided by Melissa towards the tiny chamber’s one piece of furniture, a small wooden bench set near the camouflaged door. The sun was fading, but they dare not risk candlelight.
Melissa held Celia for a while, neither speaking. A noise sounded from the adjacent throne room and Melissa rose to look through the small spyhole carved into the chamber door. She quickly whispered back to Celia. “The soldiers have left! Only the jailer remains.”
Celia jumped up from the bench and darted to the spyhole. Melissa held her arm. “Brace yourself my child. The jailer is using his whip on the Saldan again.”
Celia looked through the spyhole as the jailer's whip snapped across the Saldan's face, burning a line of red along its cheek. The Saldan, shackled to the wall, gave no response, but Celia instinctively flinched. She drew out the long needle concealed in her breeches and ran her forefinger along its edge, careful not to touch the poisoned tip.
Melissa moved closer to her. “You do not have to do this task. We can find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Celia answered. Her eyes flickered to the ground. Her mother dead. Now her father. A few months ago, she was the happiest most carefree girl of the Five Worlds. And now—
Her face locked into grim determination. She gestured to Melissa. “I will have to move quickly, the replacement guard will be here soon, so there may be no time for your water magic.” She gently pressed down on the hidden lever below the spyhole and gave a sigh of relief as a section of the wall gave way without any sound. She stepped into the throne room.
The jailer had his back to her. He was growling at the Saldan. “You're a tough one, creature, no doubt. But I ain't failed yet. It's only a matter of time. Soldiers is coming back – gonna bring your new lord 'n master. And he ain't gonna tolerate your silence. Either ways, you be dead meat. So, jus’ tell me where the rest of King’s gold is, an’ I’ll use me hammer, an’ all this will be over lightening quick for ye.”
The Saldan didn't respond. The jailer spat and gripped his whip again.
Celia crept towards the jailer, and raised the long needle above her head, aiming for the jailer’s neck. One chance, that's all she would have, against a brute like him. She readied herself to pounce.
Heavy footsteps clunked from the hallway outside. The new guard was already here!
She dived towards the throne room doors throwing her full weight against them. They clanged shut. She lifted the locking bar and slammed it downwards. A moment later a fist banged on the doors. “Brassan, why are these doors locked? What’s going on?”
Celia turned from the doors to see the jailer now facing her, a leery grin on his fat lips. “Well, well, well,” he said. “If it ain't royalty. Elven royalty at that.”
Celia frowned. “Only on my mother's side, troll. I am my father's daughter.”
“Yeah? Reckon you'll be joining him soon enough too. Made a mistake running in here you did, Princess. Bounty on your head. Dead or alive.”
Celia pushed the needle up her sleeve out of sight and held it there with her smallest finger. The element of surprise was gone. Maybe another approach was best. “Whatever the bounty, I will treble it.”
Brassan's leer grew more menacing. “On your word, is it?” He laughed, an ugly dark laugh. “Or do you carry sacks of gold under that tunic of yours?”
Celia curved her hand under her sleeve, now allowing the needle head to rest on her palm, still out of view. “There was a time when the word of the House of Rosseral was worth more than gold.”
Brassan spat on the ground. “Aye, and there was a time when I was handsome.” Another bang sounded on the door. “Hold yer horses,” the jailer shouted towards the locked doors, “I'm about to make some bonus money here.” He threw the whip across the room and picked up a hammer off the floor, all the time keeping his eyes on Celia. “So,” he said, grasping the hammer shaft, “dead or alive. What's it gonna be, your High and Mightiness?”
Celia smiled. “Alive, of course.” She slid the needle into view.
Brassan sneered at the sight of the needle. “You Mayyassans—you do make me laugh.” He moved slowly towards her; his huge frame seemed to fill half the room. Celia stayed where she was, making sure her eyes didn't flick towards Melissa, who had slipped quietly into the room and was now behind the jailer.
The jailer moved closer and closer to Celia, his powerful arms resting loosely against his sides, the hammer dangling from his left hand. He stopped just within striking distance. “Pity I'm not a troll. I'd enjoy crunching on your bones.” In one fluid movement he flicked the hammer from his left to his right hand, then swung it upwards towards Celia's midriff.
Celia fell back against the doors away from the hammer’s impact, and allowed herself to collapse legs first, straight down to the floor. She was flat on her back, her feet now facing the jailer. As his hammer’s continued upward swing met empty space, the gap between his legs widened. Celia pushed her hands against the door with all her might and propelled her body forward. She shot under the jailer legs like an arrow. It was a trick she had played on the giant Groddan many a time. A lot easier with an amicable giant playing Catch Me with his favourite princess of course.
Celia raised both legs up as she sped. Melissa was already kneeling in position. The watersprite leaned forward, dipping one shoulder to the ground. Celia's legs and body glided up Melissa’s arm. Brassan began to turn around to locate his slippery bonus as Celia flipped backwards into the air and landed perfectly onto his shoulders.
He was still in the process of turning when his eyes opened wide in shock as he spotted Melissa. “Where'd you come from?”
Celia wrapped her legs around his throat. It was only then Brassan realised the half elfin was atop of him. He reached up to grab her, but Celia caught the jailer's hair with one hand and swung out of reach. She readied the needle with her free hand, and then landed again on Brassan's shoulders.
She pressed the needle against the jailer's jugular, then leaned into his ear. “This is for my father,” she hissed. She jabbed the needle deep into the jailer's huge neck. He gave out a low groan. “You will die, Farlander. On that, have my word.” She punched the rounded top of the needle hard with her fist. It went right through the jailer's neck. He gurgled, but no words came out. As Brassan's huge frame shuddered to the floor, Celia somersaulted off him, landing squarely on her feet.
The bangs on the door became louder.
Chapter 1
Her father's upturned body swung back and forth across the main beam of the makeshift gallows in the palace courtyard below, like a grotesque pendulum, his bare head almost grazing against the hard ground with each swing. Princess Celia was thankful he had been killed before this horrendous spectacle began, else she did not think she could have stomached such a sight.
The crowd of Farlander mercenaries surrounding the swinging body counted each time the corpse passed a certain point marked on the ground.
One!
Two!
Three!
When the swinging torso finally settled to a halt after a count of nine, a cheer went up from some of the crowd, and money passed hands. These had guessed correctly.
After the winnings had been distributed, a burly soldier grabbed the lifeless torso, raised it above his shoulders, shouted a mocking Long live the King! and then gave an almighty push. The counting began again as the body swung back and forth for the umpteenth time.
Princess Celia wanted to scream down to them – to denounce their barbaric actions against her father, but she did not. There was no point in her dying also. Not when her father’s death had yet to be avenged. “Monsters,” she said under her breath.
Celia felt her companion's arms rest upon her shoulders. “Child, watching that debauchery serves no purpose. Please, my Princess, come away from the window.”
“It serves a purpose,” Celia snapped. “Each and every face I shall remember. Each and every one, Melissa.”
After a few moments she allowed herself to be guided by Melissa towards the tiny chamber’s one piece of furniture, a small wooden bench set near the camouflaged door. The sun was fading, but they dare not risk candlelight.
Melissa held Celia for a while, neither speaking. A noise sounded from the adjacent throne room and Melissa rose to look through the small spyhole carved into the chamber door. She quickly whispered back to Celia. “The soldiers have left! Only the jailer remains.”
Celia jumped up from the bench and darted to the spyhole. Melissa held her arm. “Brace yourself my child. The jailer is using his whip on the Saldan again.”
Celia looked through the spyhole as the jailer's whip snapped across the Saldan's face, burning a line of red along its cheek. The Saldan, shackled to the wall, gave no response, but Celia instinctively flinched. She drew out the long needle concealed in her breeches and ran her forefinger along its edge, careful not to touch the poisoned tip.
Melissa moved closer to her. “You do not have to do this task. We can find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Celia answered. Her eyes flickered to the ground. Her mother dead. Now her father. A few months ago, she was the happiest most carefree girl of the Five Worlds. And now—
Her face locked into grim determination. She gestured to Melissa. “I will have to move quickly, the replacement guard will be here soon, so there may be no time for your water magic.” She gently pressed down on the hidden lever below the spyhole and gave a sigh of relief as a section of the wall gave way without any sound. She stepped into the throne room.
The jailer had his back to her. He was growling at the Saldan. “You're a tough one, creature, no doubt. But I ain't failed yet. It's only a matter of time. Soldiers is coming back – gonna bring your new lord 'n master. And he ain't gonna tolerate your silence. Either ways, you be dead meat. So, jus’ tell me where the rest of King’s gold is, an’ I’ll use me hammer, an’ all this will be over lightening quick for ye.”
The Saldan didn't respond. The jailer spat and gripped his whip again.
Celia crept towards the jailer, and raised the long needle above her head, aiming for the jailer’s neck. One chance, that's all she would have, against a brute like him. She readied herself to pounce.
Heavy footsteps clunked from the hallway outside. The new guard was already here!
She dived towards the throne room doors throwing her full weight against them. They clanged shut. She lifted the locking bar and slammed it downwards. A moment later a fist banged on the doors. “Brassan, why are these doors locked? What’s going on?”
Celia turned from the doors to see the jailer now facing her, a leery grin on his fat lips. “Well, well, well,” he said. “If it ain't royalty. Elven royalty at that.”
Celia frowned. “Only on my mother's side, troll. I am my father's daughter.”
“Yeah? Reckon you'll be joining him soon enough too. Made a mistake running in here you did, Princess. Bounty on your head. Dead or alive.”
Celia pushed the needle up her sleeve out of sight and held it there with her smallest finger. The element of surprise was gone. Maybe another approach was best. “Whatever the bounty, I will treble it.”
Brassan's leer grew more menacing. “On your word, is it?” He laughed, an ugly dark laugh. “Or do you carry sacks of gold under that tunic of yours?”
Celia curved her hand under her sleeve, now allowing the needle head to rest on her palm, still out of view. “There was a time when the word of the House of Rosseral was worth more than gold.”
Brassan spat on the ground. “Aye, and there was a time when I was handsome.” Another bang sounded on the door. “Hold yer horses,” the jailer shouted towards the locked doors, “I'm about to make some bonus money here.” He threw the whip across the room and picked up a hammer off the floor, all the time keeping his eyes on Celia. “So,” he said, grasping the hammer shaft, “dead or alive. What's it gonna be, your High and Mightiness?”
Celia smiled. “Alive, of course.” She slid the needle into view.
Brassan sneered at the sight of the needle. “You Mayyassans—you do make me laugh.” He moved slowly towards her; his huge frame seemed to fill half the room. Celia stayed where she was, making sure her eyes didn't flick towards Melissa, who had slipped quietly into the room and was now behind the jailer.
The jailer moved closer and closer to Celia, his powerful arms resting loosely against his sides, the hammer dangling from his left hand. He stopped just within striking distance. “Pity I'm not a troll. I'd enjoy crunching on your bones.” In one fluid movement he flicked the hammer from his left to his right hand, then swung it upwards towards Celia's midriff.
Celia fell back against the doors away from the hammer’s impact, and allowed herself to collapse legs first, straight down to the floor. She was flat on her back, her feet now facing the jailer. As his hammer’s continued upward swing met empty space, the gap between his legs widened. Celia pushed her hands against the door with all her might and propelled her body forward. She shot under the jailer legs like an arrow. It was a trick she had played on the giant Groddan many a time. A lot easier with an amicable giant playing Catch Me with his favourite princess of course.
Celia raised both legs up as she sped. Melissa was already kneeling in position. The watersprite leaned forward, dipping one shoulder to the ground. Celia's legs and body glided up Melissa’s arm. Brassan began to turn around to locate his slippery bonus as Celia flipped backwards into the air and landed perfectly onto his shoulders.
He was still in the process of turning when his eyes opened wide in shock as he spotted Melissa. “Where'd you come from?”
Celia wrapped her legs around his throat. It was only then Brassan realised the half elfin was atop of him. He reached up to grab her, but Celia caught the jailer's hair with one hand and swung out of reach. She readied the needle with her free hand, and then landed again on Brassan's shoulders.
She pressed the needle against the jailer's jugular, then leaned into his ear. “This is for my father,” she hissed. She jabbed the needle deep into the jailer's huge neck. He gave out a low groan. “You will die, Farlander. On that, have my word.” She punched the rounded top of the needle hard with her fist. It went right through the jailer's neck. He gurgled, but no words came out. As Brassan's huge frame shuddered to the floor, Celia somersaulted off him, landing squarely on her feet.
The bangs on the door became louder.
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