Hey,
This is my first real try at writing a novel, so please, any feedback or reviews I would be very gratefull.
Please tell me what you think
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Chapter 1
The last of the evening wind whipped up leaves on the forest floor, pulling them up into a final triumphant swirl, rising higher and higher towards the tree tops, only to fall, only moments away from the spindly, and tumble down, back to the earth, where they rested, waiting for a foot or scurry of tiny paws to brush them aside into the undergrowth.
Bártak-Duk reached the edge of the clearing at just after sunset, his fishing line slung across his shoulder like a soldier, his pace quickening, as he came into sight of the camp. A bustle of tents and people weaved around the clearing, generating a gentle hubbub of chatter as the night began to draw in. He could smell the rich aroma of a meaty stew as he drew near, it wafted across the campsite, drawing people into its embrace. A shout was called, and the various activities people where performing ceased. They began to return to the camp centre, drawn in by the aroma and the glow of the large fire in the middle; its glow illuminating the faces of the people.
There were three long tree trunks placed around the fire, just enough to seat the twenty or so people clustered in the little clearing, and they were soon occupied. When everyone was seated, the Tokrakc; their leader, wrapped in cloak coloured dark silver stepped forward, his shaggy main of hair obscuring much of his face from view. He began to speak, in a soft, yet loud voice, his words ringing for all to hear:
‘We have made it far further than we could possibly have imagined! We are now so close to reaching our homeland. All those long months ago, we sat, much as we are now, dreaming of a place where we could prosper and live in peace, safe from persecution.’
He paused now, his face sweeping the crowd in expectance of a response, but none came, for they were all to engrossed in his words, which still echoed around the clearing. He breathed deeply, pulling himself upright, and continued.
‘Well, it is for me to say, we are within a few miles of our dream. A place of sanctuary for our families, away from the Humans who have hunted us and killed us. A place to start our lives again!’
A loud cheer erupted from the listeners, their joy expressed in a great cheer as they realised that their dreams, the hopes they had been pursuing all of their lives, where within a whisper.
‘Tonight, we shall celebrate, we shall drink and dance. And tomorrow, we shall march forth and return to our home!’
High up, concealed behind the protection of the tree line, the three men looked down at the clearing with murder in their eyes. The three were lying, flat on their stomach’s, just inches from the edge of the tree cover, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords as they watched the Tokrakc deliver his message.
‘Listen to them.’ The youngest of the men said. He was barely into his twenties, with little military experience; he was of a noble class, given the post of Captain by the state, and extremely pompous.
‘Pathetic scum’ he scorned, ‘They have no place in our society; they breed like roaches and have no respect for their betters.’
The middle aged man was inclined to agree, although not to the extent that his comrade made out.
‘Yes Lutatus.’ He nodded, ‘But they are different to us, they are different in so many ways, so much so that we could say we don’t truly understand them.’
The young Captain snorted in disillusion, but was cut off by the firm voice of the eldest man, the commander of the fifty or so men straddled back some fifty yards behind them.
‘Cut it out Captain.’ He grumbled, turning at once back to his favourite of the two, Marcellus.
‘If we are to trap and kill them all, then we will need to pincer them from both sides.’ He muttered, ‘I want you, Marcellus, to take twenty five of the men, around the campsite and into the woodland on the other side. You will await my signal, and they we shall begin the attack from two sides.’ He paused. ‘They won’t know what’s him them.’
Anger flared in Lutatus’ eyes, although he did not show it to his commander. He was the nobler of the two captains. Why had he not been chosen for the task? Resentment filled his heart and he knew he would get his revenge one day.
‘Yes sir, of course sir.’ Marcellus replied, hiding his obvious pleasure from Lutatus.
‘Then get to it!’ The commander grumbled, getting himself to his feet, and retreating a few steps into the woodland.
As he returned to his men, the commander reflected upon what his two sparing captains. Some of what Marcellus had said was indeed true. Soon after his crowning four centuries earlier, King Tyros, the ruler of the human kingdoms, had moved swiftly to persecute the ‘vermin’ who shared the land with his people. He claimed they were monsters, that there very nature made them dangerous and cruel.
Yet the commander remembered a time, before it all when, as a boy, he had played on his father’s farm with his friends, some of whom had been Minos. How odd it was now, some fifty years on, that he should be fighting a war against them.
Down in the clearing, the campers where oblivious to the threat hanging just out of sight. Bártak, still sitting on the end of one of the trunks, smiled as he watched the dancers. His thoughts turned to that of his people’s plight, for which he felt a deep embedded anger. The Minos had been peace loving folk, at one time living in total harmony with humans. They had been farmers, great craftsmen of armour and weapons – yet peaceful and loving, and they did not deserve the fate that had been placed upon them.
‘Bártak! Come, dance with us!’ Came a shout from a group of children his own age. There were four of them, two boys and two girls, all around fifteen years old; they would reach adulthood in only a year’s time. The boys had already begun to grow their horns, though at the moment they where little more than stumps. In a year’s time, they would be a just over three feet long.
The Minos did not completely resemble humans. They had heads that resembled that of a bull, but more pulled upwards, with usually a crop of black hair that drapped down between the two curving horns that protruded out from the head, curving upwards and then back towards the head, like two semi circles. Their bodies where powerfully build, stronger than that of a man, their arms long with long thin fingers, ideal for rapping around their favourite weapon’s, the spear. The legs were also long, lean and muscular, stretching down towards flat hooves at the bottom, and they were quick. The Minos where known for their speed and their agility, they could run a mile far faster than a man, and their great reserves of stamina meant that they could run for long distances undeterred by tiredness or fatigue.
But this night, they were vulnerable. They were not expecting an attack, and whilst they were happy and celebrating their new found freedom, they left themselves exposed.
Bártak joined his friends, just as the first arrow pierced the chest of a merry dancer, who had strayed away from the centre of the party. For a moment there was complete silence, the music stopped, the wind died down, and the owls didn’t hoot. And then came the plunge. Screams raked the air as the humans crashed down into the clearing, attacking the unprotected flanks of the Minos before they could react...
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