Another Novel
Dec. 18th, 2003 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kippurbirdI've started my second book. It's called Alternates, The Champion. As opposed to Alternates, Love Lust and the Apocalypse . It deals with Alec's early life up until his twenties.
Here's a sample
A storm rolled over the Dragonridge mountains with an quickness that seemed almost unnatural. The sky darkened to a slate gray and then to a twilight black shutting out any possible hint of starlight. The wind sped through the mountain passes and valleys howling like a pack of wolves on the hunt; teasing and brushing against trees and rock. Rain spat down in gusts, pelting with a fury and menace. Lighting crackled providing the only light in the sky and thunder crashed, tumbling after it. In a valley deep with in the mountain range the city of Xanth was quickly drenched as were the outlying farms and the forest at the foot of the mountains. Inside this forest was a small cabin. From the windows light was seen as well as a silhouette of a man.
His name was Raven Troven and he would give anything to be out in that storm, if it would bring the midwife faster. His wife, Sela, had started labor just as the storm hit the house. If he were a superstitious man, Raven would have taken this as an ill omen. But that was silly talk, a fire wizard such as himself knew that while a storm might have magic in its origin it didn’t necessarily mean that it was an omen of bad luck. Or an omen of anything at all. Anxiously he ran his hand through his golden blond hair peering out into the darkness. Fortunately the midwife was planning to come by this night. If only she would hurry!
He turned to take in the room, making sure everything was at the ready. There was a large fire in the fire place, water boiling (he still didn’t know what the hot water was used for), and the crib warming by the fire. Clean rags were on the rough-hewn pine table and the dinner dishes had been washed. Finally his five year old son was sent up to bed, though the storm might wake him something that Raven didn’t want to deal with. His eyes darted to the room beyond the common room where Sela waited. A moan occasionally drifted out and he was tempted to go to her side.
But he couldn’t leave his post. To leave his post would be a neglect of duty. If only Greywolf was old enough to understand what was going on.
She might want some tea. The thought came unbidden to Raven, but it was a good though. The midwife always asked for a cup of tea after her visits with Sela were done. He started to step away from the window when lighting flashed almost touching the top of the pine trees around them. In the briefly lit forest he could see a figure struggling against the wind, bent over huddled for warmth.
The midwife!
“Sela! I shall be right back, Capala is almost here,” he said turning towards the bedroom. He got no response. He wasn’t expecting any. Grabbing his cloak he wretched open the door, wind and rain quickly sneaking in as he pushed himself outside. He ran, against the wind, to the midwife and putting an arm around her helped her back to the cabin.
She threw off her cloak and stood up straight, once inside, revealing a woman in her forties with silvery black hair and pale skin, ears delicately pointed. Capala shook her self and gave Raven a grateful look.
“She’s …” he began but was cut off by a moan from Sela.
“She’s in labor.” Capala finished, a quick look at the room discovered what she needed and she gave Raven an approving nod. She then grab the rags and dashed into the bedroom, shutting the door.
This left Raven with time to wait. He was not good at waiting. He had already called his father on the Scryier as well as Kratz, an old family friend who was like a second father to him. Both would be here in the morning. He began to pace, and with every pass of the door he would give it a longing look.
Time passed as the storm raged. For a while it seemed like Sela’s screams were in synchronization with the thunder’s rumbles. Another thing to be worried about, if he were a superstitious man. Eventually he gave up the pacing and climbed the steps to the attic loft where Greywolf slept.
The boy was asleep, sprawled out almost half way out of his bed. The blankest were kicked down by the foot of his bed, his wavy gold blond hair sticking out in odd ends on his pillow. Gently, so not to wake the boy, Raven readjusted the sleeper so that he was completely on the bed. He then pulled the blankets over him so that he would be warm. Greywolf only gave a soft sigh at the attentions.
As he finished there was a loud thunderclap at the same time Sela gave a wrenching scream. Raven hurried down the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom, worry etched on his face. The midwife was huddled over her.
“Is she okay?” Raven asked.
“She’s fine,” Capala said, “Both of them.” She turned towards him and he could see that she was holding a tiny squalling bundle in her arms.
Raven blinked, “Both? It’s a girl?” He said as what she said filtered through his worried mind. A surprised and delighted smile lit his face, “A girl! I’ve got a daughter!” Capala smiled at him and handed him the baby.
He looked at her, as he walked over to Sela’s side. It looked like a typical newborn child, wrinkly and red in the face, reminding him of a beet. There was a scrub of black hair on her head and the tip of her tongue was sticking out. But it was the most beautiful wrinkly beet looking thing that he had ever seen. “We have a daughter!” he said to Sela.
His wife smiled, lifting a hand up to touch his arm, but a moan stopped her. Raven looked at the midwife in alarm. Capala checked Sela and then looked up at him. “There’s another one. Twins.” She then shooed him out.
Carefully Raven took the baby girl to the common room to where the crib was waiting. He placed her down and drew up the a blanket to cover her. Twins. Twins… he couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the clock. It was almost the leap day and the spring solstice festival day. There was a special honor for children born on that day. Especially for the first born on that day. Just three more minutes. He rocked the crib softly, watching the clock. The midwife would be keeping an eye on the time.
Two minutes.
Then one
Finally it was midnight. The storm seemed to be loosing its fury.
And then a minute past midnight and he could hear the cries of another child as the final clap of thunder faded from hearing.
A few more minutes past before Capala came out holding another bundle. Raven stood up from where he was sitting by the fire and walked over to her, questions on his face.
“It’s a boy,” she said, “And Sela is fine despite loosing a lot of blood.”
Raven let out a sigh of relief. He looked down at the baby and gave a start. The baby had pointed ears. They were soft and bent over, as well as being much proportionately larger than Capala’s. Hesitantly he reached out to touch them.
“His ears?”
“A throwback, I believe,” she said handing him the baby. The baby gave a mewling cry, stretching out his lungs.
“Throwback?”
“Yes, after all the Trovens do have fey in their blood. It’s just reasserting itself here.”
“Just how is this going to effect him?”
Capala shrugged walking back into the bedroom, “I don’t know. It’s probably just physical.”
Raven nodded at this and continued his inspection of the baby. He looked much like his sister did, wrinkle face and beet red. He had a tiny scruff of white blond hair and when he blinked his eyes open they were a blue gray. “Well my little elfling,” he said with a smile, “You were certainly unexpected.” Raven walked back to the crib and placed the baby next to his sister and then looked around for another blanket. If they were lucky they would still have some of Greywolf’s old baby clothes. They had only had enough new ones for one child, not two. When he was sure that both babies were settled in and asleep he went to check up on Sela.
His wife was sound asleep, her long black hair plastered against her face, her normally dusky skin pale, making her look almost dead. She was sprawled in the bed as if having just collapsed there from sheer exhaustion. Capala was in the room cleaning up. She had a pile of rags that were full of blood, many more than he remembered from Greywolf’s birth.
“She’s fine. She just needs rest for a couple of days. Keep her in bed. I’ll be back in two days to check on her,” Capala said. Raven nodded. “I’ll also inform the council of the boy’s birth. I do believe five seconds after midnight is a record. One that’ll be hard to break for many years to come. A great honor.” Again Raven nodded. Looking at his wife lying there, he had completely forgotten about the festival tomorrow.
“Yes, the festival. Although I don’t believe my family will be attending it.”
“Of course not,” the midwife said with the tone of voice that said if had even think about doing that she would string him up. She finished gathering up the blood soaked rags and walked into the main room. She tossed the rags into the fire and then looked over the newborns. When Raven joined her, she said, “Keep an eye on the younger one, they sometimes need more feeding and can get sicker easier.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Raven murmured, lightly brushing a finger against the face of the boy. “Wouldn’t want that at all.”
It's just a start. I don't know exactly how it's going to go. But then again that's the fun of writing a story.
Here's a sample
A storm rolled over the Dragonridge mountains with an quickness that seemed almost unnatural. The sky darkened to a slate gray and then to a twilight black shutting out any possible hint of starlight. The wind sped through the mountain passes and valleys howling like a pack of wolves on the hunt; teasing and brushing against trees and rock. Rain spat down in gusts, pelting with a fury and menace. Lighting crackled providing the only light in the sky and thunder crashed, tumbling after it. In a valley deep with in the mountain range the city of Xanth was quickly drenched as were the outlying farms and the forest at the foot of the mountains. Inside this forest was a small cabin. From the windows light was seen as well as a silhouette of a man.
His name was Raven Troven and he would give anything to be out in that storm, if it would bring the midwife faster. His wife, Sela, had started labor just as the storm hit the house. If he were a superstitious man, Raven would have taken this as an ill omen. But that was silly talk, a fire wizard such as himself knew that while a storm might have magic in its origin it didn’t necessarily mean that it was an omen of bad luck. Or an omen of anything at all. Anxiously he ran his hand through his golden blond hair peering out into the darkness. Fortunately the midwife was planning to come by this night. If only she would hurry!
He turned to take in the room, making sure everything was at the ready. There was a large fire in the fire place, water boiling (he still didn’t know what the hot water was used for), and the crib warming by the fire. Clean rags were on the rough-hewn pine table and the dinner dishes had been washed. Finally his five year old son was sent up to bed, though the storm might wake him something that Raven didn’t want to deal with. His eyes darted to the room beyond the common room where Sela waited. A moan occasionally drifted out and he was tempted to go to her side.
But he couldn’t leave his post. To leave his post would be a neglect of duty. If only Greywolf was old enough to understand what was going on.
She might want some tea. The thought came unbidden to Raven, but it was a good though. The midwife always asked for a cup of tea after her visits with Sela were done. He started to step away from the window when lighting flashed almost touching the top of the pine trees around them. In the briefly lit forest he could see a figure struggling against the wind, bent over huddled for warmth.
The midwife!
“Sela! I shall be right back, Capala is almost here,” he said turning towards the bedroom. He got no response. He wasn’t expecting any. Grabbing his cloak he wretched open the door, wind and rain quickly sneaking in as he pushed himself outside. He ran, against the wind, to the midwife and putting an arm around her helped her back to the cabin.
She threw off her cloak and stood up straight, once inside, revealing a woman in her forties with silvery black hair and pale skin, ears delicately pointed. Capala shook her self and gave Raven a grateful look.
“She’s …” he began but was cut off by a moan from Sela.
“She’s in labor.” Capala finished, a quick look at the room discovered what she needed and she gave Raven an approving nod. She then grab the rags and dashed into the bedroom, shutting the door.
This left Raven with time to wait. He was not good at waiting. He had already called his father on the Scryier as well as Kratz, an old family friend who was like a second father to him. Both would be here in the morning. He began to pace, and with every pass of the door he would give it a longing look.
Time passed as the storm raged. For a while it seemed like Sela’s screams were in synchronization with the thunder’s rumbles. Another thing to be worried about, if he were a superstitious man. Eventually he gave up the pacing and climbed the steps to the attic loft where Greywolf slept.
The boy was asleep, sprawled out almost half way out of his bed. The blankest were kicked down by the foot of his bed, his wavy gold blond hair sticking out in odd ends on his pillow. Gently, so not to wake the boy, Raven readjusted the sleeper so that he was completely on the bed. He then pulled the blankets over him so that he would be warm. Greywolf only gave a soft sigh at the attentions.
As he finished there was a loud thunderclap at the same time Sela gave a wrenching scream. Raven hurried down the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom, worry etched on his face. The midwife was huddled over her.
“Is she okay?” Raven asked.
“She’s fine,” Capala said, “Both of them.” She turned towards him and he could see that she was holding a tiny squalling bundle in her arms.
Raven blinked, “Both? It’s a girl?” He said as what she said filtered through his worried mind. A surprised and delighted smile lit his face, “A girl! I’ve got a daughter!” Capala smiled at him and handed him the baby.
He looked at her, as he walked over to Sela’s side. It looked like a typical newborn child, wrinkly and red in the face, reminding him of a beet. There was a scrub of black hair on her head and the tip of her tongue was sticking out. But it was the most beautiful wrinkly beet looking thing that he had ever seen. “We have a daughter!” he said to Sela.
His wife smiled, lifting a hand up to touch his arm, but a moan stopped her. Raven looked at the midwife in alarm. Capala checked Sela and then looked up at him. “There’s another one. Twins.” She then shooed him out.
Carefully Raven took the baby girl to the common room to where the crib was waiting. He placed her down and drew up the a blanket to cover her. Twins. Twins… he couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the clock. It was almost the leap day and the spring solstice festival day. There was a special honor for children born on that day. Especially for the first born on that day. Just three more minutes. He rocked the crib softly, watching the clock. The midwife would be keeping an eye on the time.
Two minutes.
Then one
Finally it was midnight. The storm seemed to be loosing its fury.
And then a minute past midnight and he could hear the cries of another child as the final clap of thunder faded from hearing.
A few more minutes past before Capala came out holding another bundle. Raven stood up from where he was sitting by the fire and walked over to her, questions on his face.
“It’s a boy,” she said, “And Sela is fine despite loosing a lot of blood.”
Raven let out a sigh of relief. He looked down at the baby and gave a start. The baby had pointed ears. They were soft and bent over, as well as being much proportionately larger than Capala’s. Hesitantly he reached out to touch them.
“His ears?”
“A throwback, I believe,” she said handing him the baby. The baby gave a mewling cry, stretching out his lungs.
“Throwback?”
“Yes, after all the Trovens do have fey in their blood. It’s just reasserting itself here.”
“Just how is this going to effect him?”
Capala shrugged walking back into the bedroom, “I don’t know. It’s probably just physical.”
Raven nodded at this and continued his inspection of the baby. He looked much like his sister did, wrinkle face and beet red. He had a tiny scruff of white blond hair and when he blinked his eyes open they were a blue gray. “Well my little elfling,” he said with a smile, “You were certainly unexpected.” Raven walked back to the crib and placed the baby next to his sister and then looked around for another blanket. If they were lucky they would still have some of Greywolf’s old baby clothes. They had only had enough new ones for one child, not two. When he was sure that both babies were settled in and asleep he went to check up on Sela.
His wife was sound asleep, her long black hair plastered against her face, her normally dusky skin pale, making her look almost dead. She was sprawled in the bed as if having just collapsed there from sheer exhaustion. Capala was in the room cleaning up. She had a pile of rags that were full of blood, many more than he remembered from Greywolf’s birth.
“She’s fine. She just needs rest for a couple of days. Keep her in bed. I’ll be back in two days to check on her,” Capala said. Raven nodded. “I’ll also inform the council of the boy’s birth. I do believe five seconds after midnight is a record. One that’ll be hard to break for many years to come. A great honor.” Again Raven nodded. Looking at his wife lying there, he had completely forgotten about the festival tomorrow.
“Yes, the festival. Although I don’t believe my family will be attending it.”
“Of course not,” the midwife said with the tone of voice that said if had even think about doing that she would string him up. She finished gathering up the blood soaked rags and walked into the main room. She tossed the rags into the fire and then looked over the newborns. When Raven joined her, she said, “Keep an eye on the younger one, they sometimes need more feeding and can get sicker easier.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Raven murmured, lightly brushing a finger against the face of the boy. “Wouldn’t want that at all.”
It's just a start. I don't know exactly how it's going to go. But then again that's the fun of writing a story.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Alternating Currents
Date: 2003-12-28 08:08 pm (UTC)So, now that I've finished the draft of your novel that you put up on FictionPress, I'll say this: I'm happy to offer you a Clarion-style critique; comments on any aspect you might like comments on (plot, characterization, pacing, etc.); or just pat you on the back and say, "Good job! I enjoyed reading it. You go, grrrl!" Whatever you prefer and are comfortable with.