NN -- Prologue: Dark Water, Pale flame

Wolf · 2008-03-15T21:26:02Z

Hey guys! Some of you may have read the original 'NN -- Prologue'. Well, this is a rewrite. It's a lot different, and it takes place four years before the original prologue. ^_~ Anyway. I have lots of issues with character development, so any advice on how to incorporate that in this would earn you my tremendous gratitude. And it would be great if you guys could answer the questions at the end! Enjoy! (Hopefully you will...) Prologue: Black Water, Red flame. [Stage: Rough draft] Curdled moonlight writhed on the blade as she held it on high. Dusky pines formed a ragged circle around her, like teeth tearing into the star-strewn blanket of the sky. The air was hot and heavy with sin. The forest was still, waiting for a sound to break the silence -- and she brought the knife down. The night was washed in scarlet. Souls wrenched apart with the grating shriek of metal on metal. A cruel mouth gaped, the muscles frozen, pulled taut in a silent scream. Darkness rushed into the world, borne on wings of malice and strife. * * * * * Torches flickered from the opposite side of the river, spilling a sallow light on rows of black-masked faces. Isaria hissed in frustration. There was no way for her to cross; swift black water rushed close to her feet, rolling and knotting like muscle. She would have to wait for them to make the first move. "Isaria." She gritted her teeth at the sound of her name being spoken by such a hated one, but her voice was even as she said, "leader of the Cørra." He had no name to speak of, and no honour. Still, she knew that it would not do to provoke him, so she continued in the same neutral tone, "what are you doing here? This is not your kingdom." No answer came from the opposite riverbank. The Cørra whispered amongst themselves, a sound like dry bones and autumn leaves stirred by the wind. Isaria's patience rose. I didn't come here on the first night of StarFell to watch them bickering like old women! she thought crossly. It had been agreed long ago that the Cørra would keep to their own lands, and she would keep to hers. What was so urgent that they had to break their word? But silence swept over the river as the leader of the Cørra spoke. "We know the law as well as you do," -- he stopped and turned to face her, and she raised her head proudly to meet that soulless white gaze -- "but we have found something that may be... of interest to you." "Oh?" she called across the river, "and what might that be?" Her mind raced with possibilities as she waited for an answer, some of them unpleasant. She knew that things the Cørra found interesting might not appear that way to her. But before she could voice that opinion, an outbreak of whispering arose from the opposite riverbank, and she held her tongue to watch with cold grey eyes. The torchlight wavered as the crowd of Cørra parted, forming a narrow passageway through the reeds. Isaria's curiosity pricked and she took a step closer, in order to see better into the seething shadows on the other bank. She couldn't see anything, but snarls curled through the silence. Not animal snarls, though they have a certain feral edge, Isaria thought. One of the Cørra held out a torch -- and its flickering light fell on the face of a young girl. Fetid, ashy hands held her forearms; a grey pallor leeched from their fingertips into the girl's bronzed flesh. "Who is this?" Isaria asked. The girl's face was unfamiliar: skin tanned golden, a cat-like expression, green eyes slitted with pain. She looked about ten winters old -- almost the same age as Ayra, Isaria's daughter. The leader of the Cørra pointed to a slender ankle bound with ropes. Etched in blue-back ink was a swirling, sprawling tattoo. Isaria's lips parted in shock -- the girl was Elkarian! "Where did you find her?" she asked. Her voice shook with anger. The Cørra had been causing trouble for many seasons, but to take one of her people? The Cørra laughed softly -- a sound that resembled choking rather than laughter -- and pulled back on the girl's long auburn hair, baring her throat. Even from her position on the other side of the river, Isaria could see that her pupils were dilated with terror. Pity tempered with rage; how had one of her people been taken by the Cørra? Even more importantly, how had she not noticed? The answer crept over her as stealthily as a panther stalking its prey. The girl was not from her kingdom. To take in someone from an enemy kingdom was unthinkable, she knew. But she could not leave the girl at the mercy of the Cørra. Then Isaria snarled. The Cørra have no mercy, she thought. Pushing away those troubling thoughts, she said, "You are right. The girl is of interest to me. If you send her over now, we will allow you to leave in peace." "Your arrogance is not appreciated, Isaria. We want a price for the girl -- allow us the Black Lake and the poppy fields that surround it for hunting, and she is yours." "I refuse," Isaria said bluntly. Everyone knew that the lake and the surrounding land belonged to the wolves. She would have to find another way to get the girl. "You refuse? Then we shall leave, and take her with us," -- he loosened his grip on the mane of auburn hair -- "but who knows what we will do on your lands?" Isaria felt a snarl building in her chest. Why would the Cørra want the Black Lake so much? Why was the girl so important to them? With a sudden jolt of unease, she locked her gaze on the girl, searching for the telltale ivy tattoos, the whiteness creeping over her pupils. But there was none. The girl was not a daughter of the Cørra. Relief rushed through her. She twirled a lock of dark hair between her fingers absentmindedly, willing herself to look as if she did not care about the girl or her future. But her mind was whirring, desperate to come up with a way to breach the distance between the riverbanks. A sudden movement on the other side of the bank made her head snap up. So much for looking indifferent, she thought. The Cørra were leaving; torches were extinguishing rapidly, plunging the surrounding reeds into darkness. There was only one thing to do. Second Nature... Isaria felt the familiar ache in her chest, the familiar sensation of weighing no more than a feather. Her bones crunched as her skeleton twisted; tendons tore and reformed with lightning speed. Through the pain -- which she was still unaccustomed to, even after all these years -- she heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the Cørra. Her jaws gaped in a soundless scream of agony -- and it was over. Her mind shifted into a more feline state; old thoughts spiraled away, leaving only one motive: Get the girl. Cørra on the riverbank. Dark water lapping at the shore. Do not swim in it -- the night of StarFell, it is unsafe to venture into water. Get the girl. "I know you! Child of the Eclipse..." the whisper came from one of the Cørra. Isaria growled from low in her chest, lifting her lips to reveal teeth like ivory thorns. She swung a broad, powerful black head and forth, her steel-grey eyes fixed on the other side of the river. "Mage of the eclipse, now." The Cørra's voice was tense, tight with anxiety. He knew her. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Isaria; she was larger now, older than when he had seen her last. No longer a child, but a lioness. "What are you doing? Do not talk to her -- we are leaving," the leader of the Cørra said impatiently, but his voice was tinged with fear. Get the girl. She was only a few paces away. How nice it would be to leap at the Cørra, to rip out their throats! Isaria could almost taste the blood, almost feel its warmth seeping into her fur. Only the girl matters. A plan. She needed a plan. She tilted her head to the sky, where stars glittered like snow sprinkled on the dark-feathered wing of night. Wishing she could find something other than beauty there, she swung her head down again and fixed her gaze on the Cørra, cold and calculating. Intuition came to her then, as if the stars had indeed imparted wisdom. She bunched her muscles, preparing to spring -- and the effect was immediate. The Cørra hissed and blew out their torches, melting into the darkness without a sound. Only the leader remained. His white eyes burned with fury, and he spat, "You win, this time around. But we will have the black lake, whether you like it or not." Without warning, he pushed the girl away from him. She had been watching somewhat impassively the whole time, but now her eyes stretched wide as she stumbled -- tried to catch her balance -- and tumbled into the dark waters of the river. No! Shock coursed through Isaria's limbs like wildfire. She bounded through the reeds, ignoring the sting as the barbed edges tore at her fur, trying to keep the girl's head in sight. She didn't even notice as her concentration slipped and she rippled back into Elkarian form. Mud oozed between her bare toes as she leant out over the river, arms outstretched. I can't lose her after all this! Isaria thought in frustration. The next few seconds would be crucial. She leant out a little farther, as far as she could without stepping into the water... ... And her fingers snagged on the girl's sleeve as she went past. Isaria breathed a sigh of relief and hauled her out of the river. She was surprisingly light; her clothes clung to her now that they were wet, and Isaria noticed that the girl was very thin. Anger coursed through her, hot and churning. No one, no one, had the right to starve one of her people! She whipped her head around to look at the Cørra, her eyes narrowed to furious slits, but he was gone. A weak cough snapped her attention back to the girl. Isaria tilted her head back to ease her breathing, and two shockingly green eyes blinked open. "Who are you?" Isaria asked as gently as she could. The girl stared uncomprehendingly at her for a moment, then she said coarsely, "Guinevere. My name is Guinevere." Not a name I know, Isaria thought grimly. The girl must be from another kingdom. * * * * Guinevere couldn't believe it. The Cørra -- they were gone. Bastards, she thought fiercely. She would have killed them -- if she had the strength -- for a couple of arrows. Last night seemed like a dream. The torches, the river... Isaria, the Elkari -- no, the Mage of the Eclipse. A good dream, yes, but she wondered how long it would be before someone saw her shoulder. Her shoulder. It ached dully now, tainted by the water. She cursed the Cørra silently. She would have died; rivers were not safe on the first night of the season of StarFell. Not safe at all. A sharp stab of pain drew her attention back to her shoulder. Cautiously, although no one was nearby, she lifted the arm of her tattered crimson dress. The skin was unnaturally red, the tattoo of the Cørra standing out lividly. She winced as yet another throb of pain coursed through her shoulder. She knew what that meant. It was growing. Soon, it would be harder to hide. These people -- The Elkarians of Na Deltori -- had given her food and shelter. But the Cørra were one of their bitterest enemies. What would they do to her if she was revealed? (To be continued...) ----------------------------------- Now for the questions! 1: Did you get a basic feel for Isaria's and Guinevere's personalities? If so, what were the indicators? If not, how could I improve? 2: Did you notice any clichés? If so, what were they? 3: Did you find it interesting, as a prologue? If so, what caught your attention? If not, why? And you can let me know in your review if you'd like to be on The List. The List is a list (no duh) of people who I PM every time I post a new chapter. :) The List so far: - KJ - Azila Thanks!

I don't have any nitpicks, (other than ones already pointed out) either.

Overall, this was much much better, although very different from the first one.

In answer to your questions:

1: Did you get a basic feel for Isaria's and Guinevere's personalities? If so, what were the indicators? If not, how could I improve?

Um.... Yes I suppose I did. I was a little confused by Guin's change though... It seemed as though one second she was compltely terrified, and the next thinking about what 'bastards' the Cørra were.

Isaria was kinda more of a mystery, but I don't object to that, especially as this is only the prologue.

2: Did you notice any clichés? If so, what were they?

Hmm, I really like your idea about the 'second natures' of Ayra and Isaria, but the whole thing with the Cørra is a bit cliche.

(You know, there is always one 'evil' race in a story.)

3: Did you find it interesting, as a prologue? If so, what caught your attention? If not, why?

Yes, I did. The beggining moved a little fast for me, and was a bit confusing, but in the end I was hooked! Very nice.

Put me on the list please.

See ya~

~Lupis

Ooh! I was randomly shuffling through your portfolio and saw this -- and decided to revisit it.

Random note: I just remembered why the name Isaria sounded so familiar to me! I had a character in a story I wrote a while ago (never to be posted on YWS) named Saria... weird, huh?

Also, I think it would be really awesome if you showed more of a difference in the way she thinks when she's in wolf form from when she's in normal form. You do that a little bit (with thoughts of blood, and such) but if you made the transition much more noticeable, that would be lovely. Maybe rather than having narrative (such as "Isaria growled from low in her chest, lifting her lips to reveal teeth like ivory thorns. She swung a broad, powerful black head and forth, her steel-grey eyes fixed on the other side of the river.") ONLY have her thoughts -- which you do quite nicely. So in other words, while she's in second nature the narrative will all be her thoughts (such as "Cørra on the riverbank. Dark water lapping at the shore. Do not swim in it -- the night of StarFell, it is unsafe to venture into water. Get the girl."). I just think that would be really neat if you did that. Because you tell us that her thoughts become more feline, but this would be a way of showing it as well.

You haven't abandoned this, have you? I really wanna read more of it. ^_^

~Azila~

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