My chapters are long so I will divide them into sections. This is just a sampling, there is more to come! But be brutally honest and let me know what needs to be fixed. This is my first attempt at Fantasy fiction.
Amarie stood on the shore of the Sapphire Lake, the wind whispering nature's secrets through the leaves of the surrounding aspens. She pushed back a stray strand of auburn hair, a basket of herbs in the crook of her elbow. The surface of the deep blue lake looked like rippled glass. Sapphire Lake was a place of serenity where Amarie could collect her thoughts like spilled marbles. The meditation was a necessity to keep her senses sharp and to keep herself alive.
As of late the thoughts that seemed to be taking about the most space in her brain were those of her parents. Amarie felt more like they were donations than actual parents. Her father had never really wanted her, he made it perfectly clear that his affections were reserved for his son. Since that son was never provided Amarie learned how to hunt, swordsmanship, and other skills to impress him. He gave her his auburn hair and discipline but never the affection and acceptance she really craved.
Her mother seemed like a frail woman, soft spoken and physically petite. But living with Amarie's father for so long had hardened her heart and her defense had become sorcery. She secretly showed Amarie which herbs would heal and which ones could kill. She taught Amarie the skills of a mindbender and was the one that honed Amarie's senses to match those of a High Elf. And in the end she entrusted Amarie with her bitterness for all men.
Then at the age of fifteen her mother finally had her vegence and killed both her father and herself. Being an orphan had suited Amarie just fine. She roamed the wild land of Tarasova, increasing her skill as a Ranger and a Sorceress. But now, here in the land of Chevara where she had settled temporarily she wondered what her parents would think of her presently. Would her father have ever accepted her? Did her mother truly care that Amarie master the skills she taught her or had all of their lessons been to spite her father?
Glancing over her shoulder she watched the amber sun sink below the horizon silhouetting the city of Chevara. Sighing, she retrieved her ivory cloak from a nearby boulder where she had discarded it earlier. Fastening the wool around her neck she gave the lake one last contemplative glance and turned toward the city walls. She knew that being out after dark was a risky move.
The bow and arrows strapped across her back gave her courage. She could decapitate any advisary within mere seconds with the short sword sheathed in a leather scabbard at her side. And should either of these weapons fail her Amarie was confident of the damage she could inflict with the daggers hidden in each of her black boots. Still, Amarie found herself quickening her pace as the sky began to turn a dark violet.
The sky had turned an inky black dotted with few silver stars when Amarie finally reached the gates of Chevara. She trudged up the cobblestone road to a tall, thin building seemingly wedged between two similar structures. A wooden sign over the door, although faded, read Chevara Inn & Tavern. Bright golden light and the loud noises of the busy establishment flooded the night air as Amarie opened the door.
Amarie made her way up the stairs to her rented room and discarded her herbs and her cloak on the feather-filled mattress. She slung her bow and arrows over the back of a wooden chair and unbuckled her scabbard from the black belt around her waist. She considered ordering a hot meal to her room but felt that tonight she needed to be surrounded by others. And the mere thought of food made her stomach grumble audibly.
I love it!
