Here There Be Dragons - 6 • Young Writers Society

Ranger Hawk · 2011-03-01T16:26:13Z

Thanks for all comments! :D This is the first half of chapter four. A/N: Based on past comments, I've decided to have Jot change to just the cat-size. Makes it simpler and a little more believable, I think. So anyway, just proceed as if that's how it's been all along. Recap: Jot the dragon and Chance the young knight are in a village, spending the night at an inn, before journeying on to the kingdom Rale, to rescue Chance's sister from the evil wizard. Jot's special abilities include "turning invisible" and shrinking. Here There Be Dragons Chapter Four Chance was awakened by a lovely voice singing a forlorn song in a melodramatic tone. “And my foe was vanquished by claw and by tooth, and here now I speaketh only the truth, “I’ll fight you forever, forever you’ll be, my sweet-tasting, light bon-ed supper for me.” “A-hem,” said Chance, rolling onto his side and peering down at the floor. I looked up. “Your blood will flow to my mouth and my heart,” I announced. “Stop that.” “As I rend you to pieces and tear you apart!” With a disgusted sigh, Chance sat up. I instantly stood and stretched my front limbs. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for hours now.” “I needed that rest. Haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.” “That would explain your perpetually staring eyes. It’s not healthy, you know. Not natural .” Chance didn’t even rise to the jab. He simply dropped his feet to the ground, paused, then hefted himself up to stand. I played idly with a dead rat; Chance didn’t ask where it had come from. “We leave this village in an hour,” Chance announced, pulling on his tunic. “And then we’ll be on the road.” I snorted. “That’s not going to happen. You’ll get distracted, you won’t find what you’re looking for, and we won’t end up leaving for at least two hours.” As it turned out, my prediction nearly rang true. It took at least a half hour for us to leave the inn; Chance breakfasted and paid, only to find as we were leaving that he had forgotten a small knife in his room. Of course, Chance didn’t feel the need to specify just what he had left behind, and the innkeeper was loath to let the boy back into the room without an explanation. The ensuing hassle left Chance nearly hopping in impatience and myself (in the pack) snickering. When the innkeeper finally let Chance return to the room, the boy discovered that the knife was actually in his boot, and he hastily departed under the glares of the innkeeper and his wife, who had gotten involved. “Snappy times, eh?” I said from the pack’s depths. “Quiet,” Chance muttered, stepping into the crowded street. “Now I’ve got to find better armor and a horse.” “Try the ironsmith.” “I told you to be quiet.” “Fine.” I positioned myself so my back and spikes happened to be poking Chance in the back. “Why did I ever think to bring it along with me?” I heard him sigh. “That’s what I’d like to know.” Silence; he was moody now. And he stayed that way as he sulkily struck a deal with a gruff ironsmith who seemed suspicious of the ragged boy. Can’t imagine why. In the end, Chance got his armor cleaned and inspected for a small fee, which wasn’t exactly what he had imagined, but sufficed enough for his limited amount of coins. “Now for a horse,” he muttered as we left the armory and mixed in the crowded street again. “They’re usually found in stables,” I commented aloud to myself. Chance sighed, as if he had something burdensome on his mind. Probably thinking of his sister, dear boy. As Chance quickly discovered, there was only one stable that sold horses, and in that rickety structure there were only three steeds available. I subtly peeked out of the pack and in a second had reckoned that the first one, a large draft horse, would make a fine meal for me, though it looked a bit doughy and lethargic. The second was too sprightly and would no doubt give me an upset stomach. The third was no better than a rack of bones with some skin stretched over it and a bush stuck on to pass as a tail. Unfortunately, as Chance was just starting to discuss the possibility of buying one of the sorry steeds, the nervous one caught my scent and went berserk, setting the other horses off in varying modes of alarm. Of course, the stable owner wasn’t to know that the cause of the horses’ unease was actually me; he naturally thought it was Chance, and concisely told the boy to get the hell out of the stable and bring his bad luck with him. This did not seem to improve Chance’s feelings towards me. “Now what am I going to do,” he sighed, frowning at the closed stable doors. “I can’t walk to Rale on foot, that would take too long. I wouldn’t reach it in time.” There weren’t many people in this area; it was tucked away, in a corner of the village, by the protective wall. Obviously, Chance wasn’t too worried about anyone overhearing him talking aloud. Which was stupid of him, because it just so happened that a man was lingering in the shadows of the wall, watching intently. He sprang forward as soon as Chance had spoken and said in a cheery voice, “Well now, sir, and what is your problem? P’raps you need some assistance?” Chance whirled around; I, with my invisible scales, peeked subtly over his shoulder and couldn’t help the little cry of recognition that left my mouth. Fortunately, Chance’s mouth was open, perhaps in his own moment of surprise at seeing a familiar face, and the noise was attributed to Chance. “What’s the noise for?” Ryder—the trouble-cause of the tavern, the scraggly-looking roustabout—seemed genuinely curious. “Er—it’s just, I didn’t know anyone else was here,” Chance blustered. I could see his cheeks going red in his confusion and I inwardly sighed. This boy was far, far out of his way. I couldn’t imagine how he was going to cope when we actually reached the grandiose kingdom of Rale, with its pristine streets and noble, corpulent wizards. “Well, this may not be a bustling city, but it does not mean that it is completely abandoned.” Ryder strode casually to the side, hands clasped loosely behind his back in a non-threatening posture. I peered at him; scruffy beard, tangled, greasy hair, and a glint in his gray eyes that all characterized a fighter; as for his clothes, they were good, durable ones that travelers usually wore, stained with mud and other—well, let’s just say brown —spots. He had a broadsword at his side, which looked very much like it could be drawn in one easy motion. I had no doubt that this man knew how to fight, and fight effectively, whereas I had yet to see Chance display any sort of combative prowess. Again, I heaved an internal sigh. The boy was going to die, and I would be without my steel. Perhaps it would be better to eat Chance and have done with the whole business. While I was pondering over this lovely thought, Chance seemed to have been sizing Ryder up as well, and I could almost feel his mind spinning, wondering what to do. Ryder was now standing in front of us, arms folded and legs in a firm, confident stance. He was regarding Chance steadily. “Well, boy?” he finally said, breaking the silence that had draped over our corner of the city. “In need of some help? I overheard you talking about a journey to Rale, and I must say that I have services I can give, for a fair price. You need a guide, no doubt. And I am one of the very finest you’ll find.” I snorted. Chance hastily wiped his nose, as if he had made the sound because his nostrils were stuffed. “Erm, no, thank you,” he said politely. “I think w—I’ll be just fine.” “Oh really?” Ryder began pacing in front of Chance, in a very calculating manner that reminded me of myself, when I was toying with a victim. It felt a little odd, seeing the maneuver instead of actually doing it myself. Ryder spoke, never once looking at Chance, all in an attempt to make the boy feel insignificant and vulnerable at the same time. “What are you hoping to do in Rale, I wonder? You are obviously a novice traveler, who’s probably never set foot outside your father’s fief. Are you heading to the kingdom to gain a chance at knighthood? You’re off to a poor start here; there’s not much in this town that’ll get you anywhere large and fancy. In fact, most of the people here are troublemakers. Robbers, swindlers, the like. And you just attract too much attention.” Chance’s muscles tensed; I could feel it through the pack. He was probably now wondering how he could get away from this shifty, smelly man. Meanwhile, I was growing impatient with the circumstances we were falling into due to the imbecilic mind of this boy.

I'm baaaaack. Again. :]

Is the beginning of this chapter, by any chance, one of the sections that used to be in third person? Because it feels like it sort of wants to slip back here and there, but that might just be me, since I'm still very curious to see what this novel would look like if it was told from multiple POVs. I love that rhyme, though. I think I should get an alarm clock that sings that to me. ^_^ Or maybe just that last line. Over and over...

*ehem* Anyhow.

Something I noticed that you did a lot in this chapter (and I'm not sure you did it so much in the previous ones) is that you say "Chance" an unnecessary amount. Lookee here:

Spoiler

With a disgusted sigh, Chance sat up. I instantly stood and stretched my front limbs. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for hours now.”

“I needed that rest. Haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“That would explain your perpetually staring eyes. It’s not healthy, you know. Not natural.”

Chance didn’t even rise to the jab. He simply dropped his feet to the ground, paused, then hefted himself up to stand. I played idly with a dead rat; Chance didn’t ask where it had come from.

“We leave this village in an hour,” Chance announced, pulling on his tunic. “And then we’ll be on the road.”

Since it's just Jot and Chance in the room, and it's told from Jot's perspective, the only person Jot could be talking about would be Chance, so you can just say "he" in most of these places. You do it in a few other places through the chapter as well, so you might want to watch out for it.

Also, the pacing in this chapter is a little funny. There's a lot of Jot telling about things after-the-fact, in a summary rather than us watching them roll out before us. It's not necessarily a bad thing to write this way, since most of it it would probably be boring if we saw it "real time", but it's just a little surprising because it's new. You haven't really done all that much of it in any of the chapters up to this point, and all of a sudden you do it a lot now. I'm not sure what (if anything) you should do about this, but I thought I'd bring it up since it occurred to me when I was reading.

Something else I noticed is that you say Jot recognized Ryder, but you don't go in to why. The first two times I read it, I thought Jot had some personal experience with him from a long time ago. I'm pretty sure he just recognizes him from the inn though, right? I'm still not 100% certain. I think if you had a bit more of Jot's thought process (i.e. his reasons for letting out a cry of recognition) then it would clear up the whole thing.

Actually, I'd like to hear some more of Jot's thoughts in general. Part of the problem of having the pace the way it is (how I talked about before) is that the narrative gets more fact-oriented, which leaves less space for all the funny little commentaries that are so much fun to read. Not that this wasn't fun, of course. Actually, I'm tempted to go on another "this novel is great because..." rampage--but I won't. ;}

I'll be back for more very soon!

Here There Be Dragons - 6

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