Prince of Agharta - chapter one

Rain fell woefully, the sound of it's relentless dance filled the hollow lane. Only Aaron's own splashing footsteps on the muddy drive could be heard over the chatter.

The world seemed dim, lifeless, Grey clouds engulfed the sky from each horizon, stealing away colour from all living things. The normally lush canope wad devoid of its romance, and failed to half the anslaught of the downpour.

The rain's chatter continued to persist, sounding like thousands of birds. Black and strange.


Aaron's eyes caught a glimpse of an ominous red trail, which lapped against his toes like and irritable wave, copious ribbons of red swam down he hill to him.

Panicked eyes roved for its source.

"BROTHER" he shrieked

There was no answer. Only a shaded figure was present. Attired in a long heavy coat, long dark hair plastered to it's face and neck.


Aaron's gait widened, into a frantic sprint for the familiar security of his home ahead. The growing figure sat resting beside the door, a Rapier perched against his shoulder…the source of the red stream.

"BROTHER! I heard screaming! WHATS WRONG? ARE YOUT HURT?" Aaron howled, fear overwhelming him.

Now only ten feet away from one another, Aaron's Brother resolved not to answer, instead he stood up slowly. Pushing his weight against the wall. Delicately he moved his sodden hair out of his face and gave Aaron a blank stare. Brandishing his Rapier out to him, warning him not to advance.

"Run Brother. Leave this place, there is nothing here for you." He said with a smooth control. Then lowering his Sword to the ground, he ran his thumb down the blade. The red stream continued to Aaron's feet.

Then lowering he proceeded to draw strange symbols on the patio.

"HADAGO!" he shouted, the smooth control now gone.


The blood markings on the patio began the glow with an intense fury, like fire the light rose into the air, falling back when hit by the rain. The red ribbons continued down to Aaron again, only the Vermillion ether made it's procession to him with a sentient certainty.

When the light caught Aaron's feet, although it moved like fire – deathly cold ran through him, he was motionless unable to move. Completely petrified, his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Don't go in Brother…But be glad, my work is done. You can be spared." He pronounced each word with assured meaning, his smooth clear voice returned. Giving a warm smile.


Then vanished. Aaron was alone. The rain still beating down on his motionless body, mingling with his tears.


Then, an intense pain tore through he aching chill. A sharp throe bore into his shoulder. Relinquishing it from it's paralysis, Aaron used his free arm to feel for the source of this pain, his groping figures met a blade- protruding out from him.

"do not look for me" The smooth voice whispered in Aaron's ear. Then the burning pain again as the blade slithered out.


Blood surged from the wound, inking his shirt as the dye was cast.

What had happened? What had Dorian done?

Aaron tried to apply pressure to the welling wound, in vain. His vision blurred and faded…

Was this his tears? Or blood loss?

The fiery markings on the patio ebbed away, fading into a weak mist. The hold was broken and with out warning Aaron fell forward into the torrent of dirty bloody water.


Aaron roused to a faint cracking sound, as his eyes opened to see the large expanse of mottled blue of a tent canvas. Making only a slight effort to move his head toward the cracking sounds he was welcomed by the sight of a small fire which dazzled his eyes.

Trying to sit up was futile, Aaron was pinned to the ground arms by his side by an invisible force, which Aaron took as exhaustion.

He lay there, staring vacantly at the weak embers ahead of him. Dorian's face flickered in and out of his mind…A sudden hiss woke Aaron from his thoughts. Rain was dripping through a hole in the canvas over the fire.

A long shadow appeared on the canvas, cast upon it by the lantern the shadow seemed to carry. The silhouette traveled round the circular tent, its hand tracing along it.

"Where the bloody hell?" the shadow murmured, deep and raspy. "aha! Lil' bugger…" the shadow's hands retreated from the canvas. "KEEVA, tent"

there was a faint glimmer of silver than ran down in front of the shadow, with that a zipper faded into existence upon the canvas. Then a quick zipping sound, that announced the entrance of the figure.

The incomer was hunched over dressed in a bright yellow rain coat, its hood draw up.

"Oh your awake are you?

The incomer proceeded to perch his lantern on a hook suspended from the top of the tent. Pulling back his hood, great reams of matted hair fell about his face, piercing green eyes broke through the mass of dark hair.

"I'm sorry I had to pin you down like that, hehe.. but I err…didn't want you runnin off" The forty year old man continued.


Aaron lay there staring up at the shaggy stranger remove his rain coat and toss it to one side. Totally bewildered to who he was.


"I know what your thinking! And no. this isn't "it" I just had to keep the tent a sensible size while humes were about…but err…I think the coast is clear" He said whilst taking out a roll of parchment from his trouser pocket.

"Thankyou for purchasing a Digby and sons tent….many years of enjoyment…aha.. Expansion! First, make sure that there is suitable space around the tent for the required expansion. Second, make sure there is nothing resting against or upon said tent. Thirdly, take your : Cesius ring, wand , summoning rod etc and tap the top of the tent whilst chanting "amoraa sesius expanira" stop chanting to stop expansion." The man said, dictating the content of the parchment aloft.

The stranger then ranched around in his bag, rested against the canvas.

"oh bleeding 'ell…where…" he cursed under his breathe, bent double over his bag. " I cant find it…erm…I 'spose the tent'll have to stay as it is I'm afraid" the stranger grimaced.


Aaron eye's glazed over in disbelief, who was this man? And what was he on about?


"oh! Jeezy creezy! I almost forgot!" the stranger still bent double made a quick sweeping motion with his hand, and the invisible bindings over Aaron dissipated instantly. "now lets see about that wound, the Mancea tendril seems to have stemmed the bleeding atleast." Said to himself, before rooting through his bag once more " aha! I almost thought I'd misplaced this n'all" He took from the bag a bottle labeled, essence of Ibris.

He made his way over to Aaron and knelt by his side, uncorking the tincture as he did.

" now this…might, sting" pouring a copious amount of the dark green potion, Aaron let out an almighty whelp, as his wound hissed and sizzled. "ah but you'll be wanting to know who I am, wont you?" the stranger announced suddenly, a wide grin emerging on his face


"yes please, if its not too much trouble" Aaron replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice


The stranger stood up with great flair and poise "Maestro Fidel, at your service" he said giving a sweeping bow.


"Maestro Fidel?" Aaron repeated

"no, no, no … its pronounced fee'del" Maestro retorted " I think my daddy wer a Spaniard or sommat" Meastro continued, his attention redirected to the dwindling fire " IGICEA" he said in a clear voice, as the flames leapt into life.


Maestro turned back to Aaron, his grin long since faded and replaced by a somber expression, as he wringed his hands nervously. " now about what happened with your brother Dorian…theres something you should know" Maestro begane, Aaron aware of where the subject of discussion was leading turned away from him. "the people he killed today aren't really your family…they weren't even real people, you Aaron are from the House of Mah, a family as ancient as they come. However, you and Dorian are the last of this line. We tried to hide you away, hide magic from you" Maestro stopped as Aaron turned back round to face him. His eyes illuminated by the fire.

"And Dorian killed those sentinels, or your family…so he could get their attention, your brother is after revenge…"


Aaron did not blink, only taking in a sharp breathe at the end of Maestro's speech

"Who does Dorian want revenge from?" Aaron whispered, feeling at his no-closed wound. Skin warped with deep scars.


"I'm not entirely sure if I'm the best person to tell you that…all I really know for sure is that right about the time o' yer birth there was a coup for power by one of the Saneen, he wiped out many of the ruling families so that he could gain exclusive access to the source, now luckily he's not managed to take power yet…but he's not far off "


"Saneen?" Aaron enquired his voice full of doubt


"oh, o'course you don't know…erm… the Saneen are three of the finest practitioners of magik the world has seen for Nye' on five hundred years. All three have suddenly gone into hiding, the reasons aren't clear…but ill tell ya this. What happened today and the Saneen are related" Maestro paused, busying his nervous hands by re-corking the essence of Ibris



"no..." Aaron whispered his lip quivering, eyes darting from left to right desperate not to make eye contact with Fidel.

a painful silence ensued, washing over the crack and hisses of the fire. Total silence.



"Im afraid there is nothing else can be said...but you best get to sleep, i'll be needing to ger' you somewhere safe" Maestro announced, the awkwardness of the situation becoming too great for him, for he had never really known how to comfort those in mourning.

Maestro rose to his feet with little grace, and made his way to the entrace of the tent taking his lantern from it's perch aloft, as he went.



Aaron lay back down on the rug benethe him, once again he was alone. The worst thing to be for he was now at the mercy of his thoughts. His tears welled for what seemed an eternity before breaking it's banks and running into his hair.

BIENVENUE!! Welcome!
now! let us begin.

Firstly - well done, it was nice to read and you did not have too many "run-on" sentences (something i must admit that i am terrible for).

liked it. I think the language will scare some but not me and not others with a good grasp of obscure English.

Your descriptions are deep, sometime a little flowery, but emotive just as they should be.

Your characters have a realism about them but are perhaps a little 'too modern' in their thinking for the setting.

I commend you for writing for YOU which is the way it should be done.

If you finish it then let me know and I'll happily buy a copy and read with vigour!

alas. KRIS OUT!

It's a line-by-line! I stole the idea from another website. Let me know if anything's unclear.

Rain fell woefully, the sound of it's its relentless dance filled the hollow lane. Only Aaron's own splashing footsteps on the muddy drive could be heard over the chatter. Could be heard by what? Watch out when you lead with passive voice. Not only does the passive voice here make your POV ambiguous, it's just plain weak writing.

The world seemed I think you could cut seemed painlessly. It either is or isn't dim and lifeless. dim, lifeless, Grey clouds engulfed the sky from each horizon, stealing away colour from all living things. The normally lush canope wad devoid of its romance, and failed to half the anslaught of the downpour.

The rain's chatter continued to persist, sounding like thousands of birds. Black and strange. You're losing my interest, as a reader, here. It's nice to know the setting, but most readers would rather know how the character is reacting to the setting. The rule of thumb with description is to describe the bare essentials--things readers have to know or they might not understand your story.



Aaron's eyes caught a glimpse of an ominous red trail, which lapped against his toes like and irritable wave, copious ribbons of red swam down he hill to him. What the heck are you talking about? I think you're describing a blood trail, but your fancy language impedes clear understanding of the text. It's not even a pretty image. It jars. I think this could stand to be tighter, more precise.

Panicked eyes Whose panicked eyes? I'm sure it's Aaron's, but if I were really bored by now, I could pretend any number of things with panicked eyes are roving about for the source. roved for its source.

"BROTHER" he shrieked Two things: instead of caps, you're generally supposed to use italics or bold. It's not a rule, it's just easier on the eyes. Second, you don't need the dialogue tag shrieked because we already get he's shouting.

There was no answer. Only a shaded figure was present. Attired in a long heavy coat, long dark hair plastered to it's face and neck. Awkward. Now you've presented the reader with two characters and we still can't be entirely sure (though it is obvious) who the true narrator is. Also, "only a shaded figure was present" sounds sort of awkward.


Aaron's gait widened, stray commainto a frantic cut frantic. Readers can guess by now he's panicked. What happened to the shadowy figure? sprint for the familiar security of his home ahead. The growing figure sat resting beside the door, a Rapier random capitalization alert perched against his shoulder…the source of the red stream. What? A red stream? As in, like a real stream? Quite a bit of liquid?

"BROTHER! I heard screaming! WHATS WRONG? ARE YOUT HURT?" Aaron howled, fear overwhelming him. Whapwhapwhap. That's the sound of you hitting readers over the head with plot points. Show us Aaron's fear and panic. Also, try starting the story out with Aaron's brother screaming. The information dumped here just sounds contrived.

Now only ten feet away from one another, Aaron's Brother random Capitalization alert resolved not to answer, Pick a character whose viewpoint you'll tell the story from and stick with it. If we're in Aaron's head, we can't know that his brother is resolved to do this or that. instead he stood up slowly. Pushing his weight against the wall. Fragments of sentences are not bad in fiction. They add spice and personality. However, when the fragment doesn't make sense or doesn't otherwise connect with previous sentences or fragments, you've got a problem. Chronologically, it doesn't make sense that Aaron's brother would be pushing his weight against the wall after he stood slowly. Delicately he moved his sodden hair out of his face and gave Aaron a blank stare. Brandishing his Rapier out to him, warning him not to advance.

-AND cut!-

Your writing shows promise. You mostly understand how to form coherent sentences, but you seem to be so caught up in making your words sound pretty, you fail to convey an interesting story populated with interesting characters. In the end, it doesn't matter how fancy your writing is if readers get bored with the story

Watch out for nonsensical fragments and random Capitalization in your text. Also, the dialogue between Aaron and his brother is stiff and stilted. Nobody talks that way.

I thought the general images conveyed were very pretty and had the writing been tighter, more precise, I definitely would have wanted to know more. I quit a little less than halfway through. I gave up. I saw the same problems repeating themselves and I didn't want to be mean and note every last one of them.

Good luck. Hope you keep writing because you'll gain some degree of mastery if you do.

I started to read this piece, but unfortunately I never got the chance to be submerged in your ideas. The blatant spelling and punctuation errors stopped me cold. For instance:

Save the dugongs! wrote:Rain fell woefully, the sound of it's relentless dance filled the hollow lane.

Should be "its."

Only Aaron's own splashing footsteps on the muddy drive could be heard

Passive voice.

The world seemed dim, lifeless, Grey clouds

Why is "grey" capitalized?

canope wad devoid

I'm not sure if "canopy" is just the American spelling, but "wad" is definitely wrong. "Anslaught" might be misspelled as well.

These mistakes made me give up before the story even got going. Pay extremely careful attention to your grammar/punctuation. Each mistake chips away at your credibility and is a huge distraction.

Good luck!

Cheers,
Shafter

I. NITPICKS

Rain fell woefully [this isn’t the greatest bit of personification - it’s best to leave out the adverb] , [I think you should use a dash here] the sound of it's relentless dance filled the hollow lane. Only Aaron's own splashing footsteps on the muddy drive could be heard over the chatter [What chatter?].

The world seemed dim, lifeless, grey clouds engulfed the sky from each horizon, stealing away colour from all living things. The normally lush canope [I don’t think this is a word] wad devoid of its romance, and failed to half the onslaught of the downpour.

The rain's chatter continued to persist, sounding [try not to use -ing words better said “The rain’s chatter persisted, shrieking like thousands of birds.] like thousands of birds. Black and strange.

Aaron's eyes caught a glimpse of an ominous [What makes it omnious?] red trail, which lapped against his toes like and irritable wave, copious ribbons of red swam down he hill to him.

"BROTHER" he shrieked

Should be “BROTHER!” he shrieked.

There was no answer. Only a shaded figure was present. Attired in a long heavy coat, long dark hair plastered to it's face and neck.

When did this figure appear?

Aaron's gait widened, into a frantic sprint for the familiar security of his home ahead. The growing figure sat resting beside the door, a Rapier [if the rapier is important put The Rapier or just put “rapier”] perched against his shoulder…[s]the source of the red stream.[/s]

I think you should take out the strike out part. Make the reader wonder.

"BROTHER! I heard screaming! WHATS WRONG? ARE YOUT HURT?" Aaron howled, fear overwhelming him.

I think you shouldn’t use caps lock for what he said and regular for some parts. Keep it consistent.

Now only ten feet away from one another, Aaron's brother resolved not to answer, instead he stood up slowly. Pushing his weight against the wall. Delicately he moved his sodden hair out of his face and gave Aaron a blank stare. Brandishing his Rapier out to him [s],[/s] [I think you should combine these without using a comma because they’re not independent clauses] warning him not to advance.

"Run Brother. Leave this place, there is nothing here for you." He said with [s]a[/s] smooth control. Then lowering his Sword to the ground, he ran his thumb down the blade. The red stream continued to Aaron's feet

.

The blood markings on the patio began the glow with an intense fury, like fire the light rose into the air [rephrase the bolded part], falling back when hit by the rain. The red ribbons continued down to Aaron again, only the Vermillion ether [Um, what?] made it's procession to him with a sentient certainty.

When the light caught Aaron's feet, although it moved like fire – [s]deathly[/s] cold ran through him, he was motionless unable to move. Completely petrified, his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Don't go in Brother…But be glad, my work is done. You can be spared." He pronounced each word with assured meaning, his smooth, clear voice returned. Giving a warm smile.

“Giving a warm smile” isn’t a good sentence. It doesn’t have a subject…combine it with something.

Then vanished [Same here]. Aaron was alone. The rain still beating down on his motionless body, mingling with his tears.

Then [avoid using “then” as a beginning] , an intense pain tore through the aching chill. A sharp throe bore into his shoulder. Relinquishing it from it's paralysis, Aaron used his free arm to feel for the source of this pain, his groping figures [what figures?] met a blade [the dash is unneeded]- protruding out from him.

"do not look for me" The smooth voice whispered in Aaron's ear. Then the burning pain again as the blade slithered out.

“Do not look for me.” The smooth voice whispered in Aaron’s ear. The burning pain returned again as the blade slithered out.

The fiery markings on the patio ebbed away, fading into a weak mist. The hold was broken and [b]without warning Aaron fell forward into the torrent of dirty bloody water.

Trying to sit up was futile, Aaron was pinned to the ground, arms [b]by his side by [try using a word other than “by” the second time to avoid repetition an invisible force, which Aaron took as exhaustion.

"KEEVA, tent"

“Keeva tent!”

There was a faint glimmer of silver than ran down in front of the shadow, with that a zipper faded into existence upon the canvas. Then a quick zipping sound, that announced the entrance of the figure.

The incomer was hunched over and dressed in a bright yellow rain coat, its hood draw up.

"I'm sorry I had to pin you down like that, hehe.. but I err…didn't want you runnin off" [s]The forty year old man continued[/s].

Don’t tell us his age.

Aaron lay there [s]staring up at[/s] [watched as] the shaggy stranger remove his rain coat and toss it to one side. Totally bewildered to who he was.

"I know what your thinking! And no [don’t split this into two sentences] this isn't "it" I just had to keep the tent a sensible size while humes [What?] were about…but err…I think the coast is clear" He said whilst taking out a roll of parchment from his trouser pocket.

The man said, dictating the content of the parchment aloft.

Should be “The man said as he dictated the content of the parchment he held aloft.”

The stranger then ranched around in his bag, rested against the canvas.

“Ranched” means to raise animals…

"Oh bleeding 'ell…where…" he cursed under his breath, bent double over his bag. " I cant find it…erm…I 'spose the tent'll have to stay as it is I'm afraid." The stranger grimaced.

Aaron eyes glazed over in disbelief, who was this man? And what was he on about?

"oh! Jeezy creezy! I almost forgot!" the stranger still bent double made a quick sweeping motion with his hand, and the invisible bindings over Aaron dissipated instantly. "now lets see about that wound, the Mancea tendril seems to have stemmed the bleeding atleast." He said to himself, before rooting through his bag once more. "Aha! I almost thought I'd misplaced this n'all" He took from the bag a bottle labeled [s],[/s] essence of Ibris.

"Maestro Fidel?" Aaron repeated
"no, no, no … its pronounced fee'del" Maestro retorted " I think my daddy wer a Spaniard or sommat" Meastro continued, his attention redirected to the dwindling fire " IGICEA" he said in a clear voice, as the flames leapt [b]["leapt" is a word] into life.

Maestro turned back to Aaron, his grin long since faded and replaced by a somber expression, as he wringed his hands nervously. " now about what happened with your brother Dorian…there’s something you should know." Maestro began, Aaron aware of where the subject of discussion was leading turned away from him. "the people he killed today aren't really your family…they weren't even real people, you Aaron are from the House of Mah, a family as ancient as they come. However, you and Dorian are the last of this line. We tried to hide you away, hide magic from you" Maestro stopped as Aaron turned back round to face him. His eyes illuminated by the fire.

Aaron did not blink, only taking in a sharp breathe at the end of Maestro's speech

Re-word this.

"Who does Dorian want revenge from?" Aaron whispered, feeling at his no-closed wound. Skin warped with deep scars.

Do you mean non-closed?

Maestro rose to his feet with little grace, and made his way to the entrance of the tent taking his lantern from it's perch aloft, as he went.

Aaron lay back down on the rug beneath him, once again he was alone. The worst thing to be for he was now at the mercy of his thoughts. His tears welled for what seemed an eternity before breaking it's banks and running into his hair.

II. LET’S PUT THE REAL BACK IN FANTASY

Yes, fantasy is supposed to be unreal right, but you still need it to be realistic, and I found this slightly unrealistic.

In short, it was mostly out of my confusion.

I think you really need to expand much more on this to prevent question marks from popping up into your reader’s heads while writing.

The first thing that you should do is pinpoint I time. When I first read this, I was fairly sure that this was set in the past, but later on you mentioned “patio” which I’m fairly sure isn’t as archaic as the story seems to be. After all, your characters are using swords and elixirs rather than guns and medical professionals.

Now, the second thing that you should do is what I implore all fantasy writers to do.

NEVER IMMEDIATELY JUMP IN TO FANTASTICAL STUFF

Simple as that. It’s easiest for the reader to understand stuff and better relate to your character if they’re ordinary at one point and that’s how it should be. This makes your story more real when we see a main character in a normal setting and then we jump into this fantastical element with them rather than be dragged into it by them. Get me?

III. LISTENING TO THE RAIN IS AS BORING AS WATCHING GRASS GROW

From the beginning of your story:

Rain fell woefully, the sound of it's relentless dance filled the hollow lane. Only Aaron's own splashing footsteps on the muddy drive could be heard over the chatter.
The world seemed dim, lifeless, Grey clouds engulfed the sky from each horizon, stealing away colour from all living things. The normally lush canope wad devoid of its romance, and failed to half the anslaught of the downpour.
The rain's chatter continued to persist, sounding like thousands of birds. Black and strange.

Oh dear, this is a rather dull beginning. I don’t mean to offend at all, but the first few sentences need to hook your reader. I think you should either nix this whole thing out or you should add it after your character notices the ribbons of blood which is much more interesting if you ask me.

Avoid describing the weather at first. Yes, it’s always good to set the scene and the weather is important in that, but you don’t need to tell us in the beginning. Intersperse it between action. It’s quite easy with rain. Just mention splashing water every now and then or puddles, or how cold it is, or how the wet clothes hang off of your MC like rags. Anything. Just don’t spend a whole bunch of time telling us about it.

IV. PURPLE PROSE ISN’T THE BEST WAY TO DESCRIBE STUFF

Wikipedia wrote:A term of literary criticism, purple prose is used to describe passages, or sometimes entire literary works, written in prose so overly extravagant, ornate or flowery as to break the flow and draw attention to itself. Purple prose is sensuously evocative beyond the requirements of its context. It also refers to writing that employs certain rhetorical effects such as exaggerated sentiment or pathos in an attempt to manipulate a reader's response.

Read the complete article here

I don’t think your writing is complete purple prose, however, it’s nearly there. You often use very flowery, wordy descriptions for everything. You do have a knack for creating imagery (which is a very good thing!) but don’t over do it. Think of your writing as a cake and description the cake. You don’t want to pile on icing just because it’s sweet and pretty. No, you end up with an overly sweet lumpy piece of cake. The nicest cakes have just a nice bit of icing. That’s what you need in your writing. Good, strong descriptions and word choice but not to much.

Other than that, which is kind of in the same category is your sentence structure. You often have fragments in here. Just read over your work. Omitting fragments makes the story flow easier - bad flow distracts the reader from the overall story.

V. DIALOGUE, DIALOGUE, DIALOGUE!

You introduce Maestro Fidel and he has a funny accent. Which is good, it makes characters seem more real, but you don’t keep it consistent. A piece from your writing:

"I know what your thinking! And no. this isn't "it" I just had to keep the tent a sensible size while humes were about…but err…I think the coast is clear" He said whilst taking out a roll of parchment from his trouser pocket.

See here he still has an accent, but here:

"Im afraid there is nothing else can be said...but you best get to sleep, i'll be needing to ger' you somewhere safe"

His accent shows up more. Try saying whatever he says out loud and see if it’s fitting for his character.

Also, you have a few mechanical errors in your dialog. You always start out with capital letters and you always end with some sort of punctuation:

“Hi.” He said.
“Oh, hello,” she replied.
“Nice weather we’re having…”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Much better than last week.
“Last week was a scorcher,” he said, “I thought I would melt.”

See. Punctuation and capitalization.

VI. OVERALL IMPERSSION

I thought this was interesting. You have a few kings, but with some editing and some work you can really make this great. It has good promise, it’s just a little rough. PM me if you have questions.