Young Writers Society

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7


Another longer chapter. I think I might end up splitting up some of the later chapters into separate ones; some of them are almost 40 pages long.

EDIT: Chapter 4 now posted.

Chapter 3: Arillo (Considering new title: Copper Moon)

“Creiha, the sun is shining for you. You are not a doormat, so get up!” Creiha opened her heavy eyes a little to see Markus standing above her, a dashing smile lighting his face. “Come on!”

Creiha moaned and sat up slowly, smothering a yawn and sneezing. Warm, yellow sunlight oozed into the hall where she lay, making Creiha’s skin crawl at the heat. She wiped her coarse sleeve across her face and squinted. “Markus?”

Markus chuckled with a one-sided smile, crossing his arms merrily, “It was quite a shock to find you asleep on the floor.”

Returning his smile, Creiha dragged herself to her feet and glanced down at her mud-caked skirt, grimacing. “Do you have any other clothes I can wear?” she asked, shifting in disgust.

“No, but I was planning on going to the market tomorrow, and I’m sure we could find something,” Markus answered, eyeing Creiha’s skirt with a hint of embarrassment.

“Where’s Strick?” Creiha scanned the room with a puzzled expression. The room seemed strangely empty without his presence, and, when Creiha’s eyes fell upon the fireplace, she noticed that it was still smoldering from last night.

“He’s not here,” Markus said unenthusiastically. Worry crossed his face for a moment, but he smothered it with another smile.

Creiha blinked, “Where did he go?” she asked, her heart sinking in unexpected disappointment. When Markus didn’t answer immediately, Creiha glanced at his face to see Markus was staring at the door distractedly. “Markus?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Oh,” Creiha sighed in disappointment and bent over to rub her sore, chafed knees. Her arm no longer ached, but she still felt as if she had walked bare-foot over hot ashes all the way from Sray-Valom.

“Why don’t you come and sit down?” Markus offered, gesturing towards the chairs in his small study. The way his voice wavered disturbed Creiha, and she eyed Markus with concern, following him into the study.

“Is everything all right, Markus?” she asked in a soft voice, chewing on her lower lip.

Markus laughed, a trace of bitterness in his voice, “All right for you, perhaps.” He lit a few worn candles next to the oak desk in his study and pushed a few old papers aside.

“What do you mean?” Creiha frowned, but Markus only smirked and gestured once more towards the chairs in his study. Creiha followed him reluctantly, easing into the wooden chair slowly as her eyes scanned the books shelved on the back wall. The spine of each book was badly damaged, fraying at the edges and so dusty the titles were difficult to read; the titles all contained a single word, a word she did not recognize – Lecräesa. “Markus, what is Lecraeyeesa?” Creiha asked, stumbling over the strange word, her eyes glittering with fascination.

Markus winced at how Creiha slaughtered the word, but managed a pleasant expression; his face blanched when he sat down, “Creiha…” he began, but soon trailed off and stared down at his fidgeting hands.

“Markus, what is wrong?” Creiha asked warily.

“Creiha, I need you to know –I need you to understand that because you have seen us, you are in danger.” Markus exhaled shakily and ran one hand through his unkempt hair.

“I’m not afraid of danger, Markus.” Creiha protested adamantly, irritated by his doubt in her.

“Then you have not seen danger, Creiha. Those who have stood in the peril I speak of fear it without shame.” Markus looked up, regarding her firmly.

“I’ve been in danger before,” Creiha griped and eyed her muddy skirt petulantly.

“Not this danger,” Markus told Creiha, his olive eyes fixed upon her expression, “I hate to pull you into this, Creiha. Strick and I will send your back to Sray-Valom when he returns, and then, as long as you promise not to tell anyone about this, we can leave you alone. You will never have to see us again. Or if you want us to take you to Mirzintyre, we–”

“No! No, Markus, I can’t go back to Sray-Valom. I won’t return to Sray-Valom!” Desperation flooded her expression and she leaned forward, gripping the edge of her chair. “You don’t understand. I can’t return to Sray-Valom, and I don’t want to go to Mirzintyre. Why can’t I remain with you and Strick?”

“Creiha–”

“Please, Markus, just tell me what Lecräesa is. I can’t hide from danger I don’t understand,” Creiha reasoned, heart leaping within her when Markus’s face softened with compassion, and a slight smile tugged at his mouth.

“Lecräesa is lost; she is buried beneath the ashes of time. There are who wish to see her dead and few who fight to see the flameless dragon fly again,” Markus explained with head lowered, staggering over his words with great thought.

“Who is Lecräesa?” asked Creiha in wonder, her forest green glowing with unquenchable curiosity. In her mind, she painted the beginning of a grand fairy tale, garnished with gold and slowly blooming before her eyes. Except this was no fairy tale.

Markus chuckled at the absurdity of what she said. “Not who, what, Creiha.”

“Okay, what is Lecräesa? A fire?” Creiha continued, not dissuaded by Markus’s correction.

“No, no.” Markus smirked, and, for a moment, Creiha thought he was going to tease her, but, when he continued, his voice was grave. “She is lost; she is stricken. She once existed, but fell at the hand of Kalinth. You may remember King Hialdrin – King Hedjlon’s father. King Hialdrin attacked Lecräesa, and she collapsed. He burned her o the ground, and, as if he had not already extolled his lust with death, he massacred her people. All who defended her were killed without mercy,” Markus spoke in a low, intense voice, holding Creiha’s eyes with his own as if her gaze was his only condolence.

“What was she?” Creiha whispered, forest-green eyes tempering until they glowed with an innocent sorrow.

“She is lost,” Markus told Creiha, stroking his chin with one hand and finding a sudden interest in the lines of his desk.

“Markus, I know she’s lost, but what was she?” Creiha repeated her question.

“I cannot tell you.” Markus shook his head and avoided Creiha’s prying eyes.

“What is the point of telling me about this lost fire, place, woman – whatever it is – and then not tell me what it is?” Creiha demanded irascibly, controlling her voice with great effort.

Markus stared at Creiha with a serious expression. “You don’t understand, Creiha. It depends on what Strick, Arillo and I decide to do with you. I will not place you in unneeded trouble. I’ve already said too much.” Markus rubbed his right temple and sighed, already regretting how much he had said.

“You’ve said nothing, Markus,” Creiha cried, and fell back into her chair angrily.

“I’m sorry, Creiha, but Strick and Arillo will be furious if I say anymore.” Markus explained, casting her a sorry smile and leaning back in his own chair.

“Who is Arillo?” Creiha asked with a sigh, sitting upright and pushing aside her frustration.

“Arillo is a good friend of ours. I believe you will like her.” Markus said, casting Creiha a barbed glance as if Creiha liking Arillo was some form of an insult. “We’ll be traveling to her house in two days.”

“Will Strick be back tomorrow?”

“There’s no telling,” Markus muttered with displeasure, “Arillo and Strick were never on the best of terms. It's been two years since they last met. It should be interesting.”

“Why are they not on the best of terms?” Creiha asked with a frown.

Markus shrugged, “Arillo is very critical and Strick is – well, Strick is complicated.” Markus looked uncomfortable talking about the two. “They should be rather civil around you so don’t worry.”

“Markus, will you answer me one last question?” Creiha asked, watching Markus carefully.

A smirk edging across his features, Markus crossed his arms and said, “Well, that would depend on what the question is, wouldn’t it?”

“Who is Strick? He’s not Svarë, but he doesn’t look like he is from Kalinth. And his eyes – I have never seen eyes like his before.” Creiha shifted uneasily when she had finished speaking, staring at Markus with expectance.

“If he wants you to know that, he will tell you. I wouldn’t throw away a trust as fragile as his.” Markus shook his head with sudden authority, but with gentleness Creiha admired.

Creiha nodded with sour disappointment, her eyes wandering over the books on his shelf, “Are you and Strick- uh- criminals?” Creiha asked timidly, lacing her fingers in her lap.

“In some people’s eyes, yes, but people are easily deceived.” Markus sounded regretful, eyes roving over the rows of his books disinterestedly. “Once you enter the labyrinth so few of us have dared to enter, you find it is impossible to escape until you have succeeded. Then, of course, others are born in to the labyrinth, the years of their childhood spent navigating hopelessly through the twists and turns. Those are the most valuable to have beside you, but they are the most rare and the most sought after, the most hunted.” Markus’s eyes were far-away, “They are the ones you try to keep as close as possible lest someone else find them and take them from you, but they are often the ones fearless enough to venture forward while you hide away, afraid to face the path before you.” Markus sighed thoughtfully and glanced at Creiha, realizing once again that he had said too much and reddening. “Well, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself over the likes of us. Besides, you’re still injured and need rest.”

Creiha nodded, wishing she understood. She and Markus talked for a few minutes longer, conversation veering in aimless directions until Markus told her he was going to the market today, and he would look for some clothes for her. Eager to meet Arillo and for Strick to return, Creiha wandered restlessly for the rest of the day, having been forbidden by Markus to read anything in his study and warned about going outdoors. Thankfully, Markus did have some ink and paper to lend Creiha, so Creiha spent most of the day composing apologetic letters to Criscialda and feeding them to the fireplace every so often.

That night was a stormy one, distant roars of thunder rocking Markus’s small house, a foreboding pall hovering below the churning clouds. Creiha’s mind refused to rest no matter how hard she tried to settle her thoughts. Evidently, the same spoke for Markus for halfway through night Creiha heard him pacing near the fireplace and whispering inaudibly to himself. Creiha wished to join him but was confident that he would not want her listening to his whispers, so she lay there on the shoddy straw mattress and quilts all night, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

The next morning was no different; rain had begun to pour down upon the town, and the market was closed for the day because of the storm the night before. Creiha sat in her designated room for hours, just gazing at the rivulets weaving down her windows and the endless bleak clouds outside.

Day trudged by wearily until the sky had begun to darken once more with night. Creiha insisted she wasn’t tired when Markus announced she needed her rest. He had looked haggard with worry standing there in her doorway. “We will visit Arillo tomorrow whether it is raining or not,” he informed her wearily and retreated to his study in silence, leaving Creiha alone to spend another miserable night tossing uncomfortably.

Miraculously, sleep did manage to envelop Creiha in its comforting arms, and Creiha drifted thankfully into the darkness that was not so bleak as the storm outside. She dreamed of home, of ancient, good times with Criscialda and of the peace of security she had known in Sray-Valom.

She did not want to dream of flaming courtyards or gray walls or labyrinths. Creiha wanted to dream of happiness.
~

Notes: impressions on Markus and Creiha would be great. Also, I feel like some of the dialogue is a little awkward. Was it? All crits and comments welcomed.

Chapter 3 continued

Morning came, and the sun peered through the clouds for the first time in a few days; a sheer film of mud smudged Creiha’s window, but light still spilled into Creiha’s room and danced across the wooden floor, playing upon Creiha’s serene face. Creiha awoke with a start when Markus burst into her room with an enormous grin, beaming with excitement. “It’s morning! We’re headed to Arillo’s, so you had better wake up.” His dark, olive eyes glowed in the new morning’s sunlight, and, when Creiha groaned and rolled over, shielding her face from the light with one arm, Markus laughed.

“Markus, what time is it?” Creiha murmured, rubbing her eyes and smothering a yawn.

“Early,” Markus answered and tossed some fresh clothes at her.

“Thanks, Markus,” Creiha muttered, hoping she could unknot her golden hair without cutting half of it off. She dressed quickly and routinely before opening her window and allowing the stormy air to waft through the house and fill it with the scent of departing rain; Creiha drew a deep breath and allowed a smile to creep into her face. She loved the smell of rain.

Markus offered Creiha a crimson cloak and a pair of sturdier boots, but Creiha declined the cloak politely, protesting she already had one. Markus grimaced at her choice of the threadbare, mud-stained indigo cloak, but shrugged and left the boots for her while he refolded the crimson cloak and stuffed it in his worn pack. “Well, are you ready to–” Markus began, but was cut off by the front door swinging open abruptly and smashing against the wall. A sudden rush of air startled both Markus and Creiha, and Creiha gasped, drawing near to Markus instinctively

It was Strick who stepped in, closing the door behind him and locking it tightly. Lines of exhaustion ran deep in his features, and he wore a panicked expression, brushing his dripping hair out of his face with one hand. When he saw Creiha standing there with wide, forest-green eyes, he composed himself immediately and turned to Markus with unnatural calm. “Markus–” he exclaimed, short of breath.

“Strick?” Markus blinked in surprise until his shock froze into a glare of extreme displeasure, “Do you have any idea how worried I was? You could have at least told me where you were going? What were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

“Markus,” Strick ignored Markus’s outburst. “Arillo– and there were guards,” he gasped, staggering over his words between shallow breaths.

Horror edged over Markus’s features. “Strick, what about Arillo and guards?” he whispered. Creiha could hear the trepidation in his low voice.

Creiha glanced between Strick and Markus anxiously, green eyes roving over Strick’s drawn face. She could feel her heart thrumming against her ribcage when she asked, “What’s going on?”

Strick drew a deep breath. “Arillo’s house was surrounded by King Hedjlon’s guards; it must have been an entire regiment, Markus,” he said in a highly controlled voice, eyes wandering toward Creiha in concern.

Markus stared at the floor in disbelief, his face ashen, “Arillo,” he whispered.

“What does that mean?” Creiha whispered faintly, coils of fear churning in the pit of her stomach.

“It means Arillo is dead.” Markus’s voice broke, and he lifted his empty eyes to stare at the ceiling, his face contorted with anguish.

“Or that she’s been captured.” The overwhelming guilt that submerged Strick’s whirling blue eyes terrified Creiha. “And if they raided her house, they’re sure to know where we hide.”

Markus turned away, shaking his head and running both hands through his hair. He began to pace. “No, Arillo– Arillo can’t be dead. She’s the only one who would know what to do with Creiha. How did they find her?” Markus’s olive eyes had grown wide with panic.

Strick stared at Markus gravely. “I don’t know, Markus, but we have to leave this place. The guards will come here next,” he said, the controlled tone of his voice dissolving into fear.

Markus returned his friend’s stare. “But to leave my study? My books? My father’s library? I left this place once, and it was destroyed.” When Strick did not respond and only lowered his head, Markus sighed shakily, his mouth grim with determination. “All right, I’ll hide the books and then we have to leave. Creiha, be ready to go. Strick, we need to talk.” Markus motioned to Strick while, and nodded at Creiha.

Creiha obeyed begrudgingly. The two disappeared into Markus’s study, leaving Creiha alone in her confusion. What happened to Arillo? Why was Arillo so important? Who was King Hedjlon? Where had Strick disappeared to? Why had Markus been so worried about him? What in the world was Lecräesa? Why would the guards come here next? Creiha’s lips trembled with fear, and the silence that lingered in the empty hallway of Markus’s house was disquieting; Creiha closed her eyes tightly and waited for Strick and Markus to return.

When the two did return, neither spoke a word until they stepped out of Markus’s house and onto the muddy path outside.

“If anything happens, you run for the nearest village,” Strick instructed her, and, when Creiha looked up at him for reassurance, he forced a perturbed smirk. The very thought of Strick being afraid terrified Creiha.

“All right,” Creiha agreed weakly.
~

Notes: I feel a little uneasy about this scene.

Your an amazing writer!

Strick, we need to talk." Markus motioned to Strick while, and nodded at Creiha.

I think you forgot something here.

I didn't find the dialogue awkward. I thought it was very good.

I liked your last scene. It was more exciting than the first part. That's only because your first part was pretty laid back. (I know you can't have action all the time though.)

When Markus didn’t answer immediately, Creiha glanced at his face to see Markus was staring at the door distractedly. “Markus?”

When Markus didn’t answer immediately Creiha glanced at his face to see Markus was staring at the door distractedly. “Markus?

When I read it aloud with the comma, it sort of jars (or it could just be me, anyone correct me). Try it without the comma.

There doesn't seem anything wrong with the scene you are unsure about. You display the dramatics of their worry over Arillo very well.

Very good story overall! Keep up the good work!

So, I'm cutting chapter 3 down 'cause it's too long, Here is the last scene of chapter 3 - one of my favorites.

Last section of chapter 3

Strick led them on a winding path through a dense, unfamiliar forest, taking care to avoid the main road. The brilliant sun which loomed high in the noon sky cast its light upon the luminous leaves above them, but only a sparse amount leaked to the forest floor. Creiha beheld the faint rays of sunlight which sliced through her dark mood, apprehension knotting in the pit of her stomach. Shadows had settled over Strick’s features and his whirling blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead, scarcely noticing Creiha.

In the silence, the fear that had spawned from the pit of Creiha’s uneasy stomach crawled up her throat and made it hard to breathe; her ears ringing, Creiha hugged herself tightly when a shudder shook her body and a bolt of pain lashed through her arm. Finally, the forest line broke and they came upon a deep valley. Dry grass covered the slope down to the foot of the clearing where a small house stood, tranquil save the flowers which had been pulled up in the front yard. Shielding her eyes from the sunlight, Creiha watched Markus and Strick expectantly.

“I don’t see any guards. It should be safe,” Markus whispered loudly enough that Creiha could hear. Normally, his words would have been encouraging, but his grave tone chilled Creiha. Once again her eyes settled on Strick, but this time he offered no encouragement. He nodded, devoid of all emotion.

“Come on.” Strick signaled to Markus and Creiha swiftly and led them down the hill towards Arillo’s devastated yard. Shards of glass littered the ground outside Arillo’s house and a knot formed in Creiha’s throat when she saw the jagged remains of broken windows glinting in the sunlight.

Anxiety clawed at Creiha’s heart when they approached Arillo’s front door. Starving for encouragement, Creiha glanced up at Strick’s face to see fear had breached his cold expression, and she swallowed hard as the three of them stepped through the door and into Arillo’s house. All three of them froze.

Markus inhaled sharply. “Well, you were right,” he whispered throatily.

Creiha shouldered her way in front of Markus and Strick and gasped at the sight before her. An ornate chandelier had fallen to the ground, twisted golden arms bent into the air and glass ornaments shattered upon the wooden floor. The room was strewn with splintered chairs and an overturned table, but what captivated Creiha’s eyes most was a pile of burned books heaped in the middle of the room. Shocked, Creiha steadied herself against a cracked, whitewashed wall. Her hand slowly wandering to her chest and brushing the loose collar of her shirt, Creiha was mesmerized by the horrific sight; she was still staring when Markus and Strick began searching the house for any sign of Arillo.

Creiha inhaled shakily and approached a small pile of scorched literature in the corner, the tortured pages crumbling at her touch as she knelt down to examine them. Frightened tears stood in Creiha’s eyes when she pushed a mound of charred books and sorry ashes away until she laid hands on one surviving book. Though the cover was singed and stank of smoke, the title was still visible – Lecräesa. Creiha glanced around her, affirming that Markus wasn’t looking over her shoulder and then opened the fragile book carefully, her eyes scanning the first few words:

When the sun topples from its peak and shatters into a thousand pieces upon the earth, so the flameless dragon shall fly again. And after she falls, she burns with the flames of Lecräesa. Not a single tear falls from the sky, and the Jaded Valkyrie finds herself alone, and waiting, for the tears of Lecräesa to fall.

A gentle wind ruffled the pages of the book in Creiha’s hands, and Creiha watched the pages turn by, a disappointed frown edging across her face.

“Arillo!” Markus’s panicked voice disturbed Creiha’s thoughts and she started, closing the book with a loud slam and watching clouds of dust billow into the air. On trembling legs, Creiha rushed towards Markus’s voice. Her heart skipped a beat at what she saw. A pale-haired woman Creiha assumed to be Arillo lay there, amid the charred books, her silver-blond hair stained with blood and her face pallid. Her chest rose and fell with a struggle, her cold lips parting with each gasp. Creiha’s hand flew to her mouth at the way the side of Arillo’s dress had peeled open to reveal red-blistered black skin. Her hair was singed and the way her lower lip trembled revealed the tears that threatened to escape her eyes.

“Arillo–” Strick knelt beside Arillo. “What happened?” he whispered hoarsely, his calm face breaking up like brittle ice.

A ghost of a smile played upon Arillo’s pale lips, and she moved her mouth slowly, her words less than a whisper. “I–I called for you.” Her eyes were clouded with confusion.

“I know,” Strick responded in a faltering voice.

“Markus, what are you doing here?” Arillo moaned and closed her eyes. “Why is Lecräesa so cold?” As a cloud passed over the sun, shade oozed like an unbidden pall through the house, painting Arillo’s sunken face a sallow shade of gray.

“Arillo, stay with us, please. We need your help,” Strick pleaded with her desperately. Creiha had never imagined his face capable of the distress she saw there now.

“Strick, so you didn’t get yourself killed… yet,” Arillo spoke as if that were a surprise, her face contorting with displeasure when she opened her dark golden eyes.

“Arillo, exactly what happened?” Strick ignored her comment and asked again, squeezing her hand as if in assurance she was still in this world.

“The guards– they found me. I don’t know how, but they burned everything. They took Gietan and the girl named Lusien. You have to find them.” Arillo stopped short and drew a labored breath.

“Arillo, Markus and I think we may have found Senzieda’s dying wish,” Strick told Arillo gravely, leaning closer so she could hear him. Markus urged Creiha forward hesitantly, and Creiha glanced back at him fearfully; Markus mustered a frail smile,

“You found the girl?” Arillo said hoarsely, nearly choking on her own words. She fell into a coughing fit, her body convulsing and arching. Finally, her coughing ceased and her mouth dripped with blood when she grabbed Strick’s hand and nearly crushed it.

Near tears, Markus spoke up. “Her name is Creiha from Sray-Valom. She has a sister named Criscialda. She hasn’t been with us for more than a week.”

Arillo didn’t seem to hear him; she gripped Strick’s arm with a strength not characteristic of her condition and yanked him down, closer to her. “Strick,” she whispered seriously, “Listen to me. You have to get them – you have to find the girls, Senzieda’s dying wish. The moon now fades. The sun must rise, even if the sun freezes over, even if the sun shatters upon the ground. They will need you.” Arillo pursed her lips and swallowed her sobs courageously. “Strick,” she whispered softly and then sat up just enough to whisper her last words in his ear before collapsing onto her back weakly and smiling at Markus one last time. “Markus–” Her mouth moved in one last sentence, but only a thin rush of air escaped her open mouth before her face grew still.

Strick closed his eyes and lowered his head, still kneeling at her side. He released Arillo’s hand silently.

Creiha looked on in utter confusion, painfully attuned to the emotion churning around her. Sorrow emanated from Markus’s broken demeanor beside her and for a few minutes, no one spoke or moved.

Markus broke the pause silently as he strode over to Strick and crouched beside him, talking just loud enough that Strick could hear. Strick nodded reluctantly, but still did not speak.

“I think it’s about time I had some questions answered,” Creiha piped in a feeble voice, shifting her weight nervously. She was tired of being left in the dark, exhausted with being dragged through threads a story she could not read. And the image of Arillo lying dead on the ground kindled upsetting memories.

“Creiha, can’t we talk about–” Markus began, eyes flashing heatedly with irritation.

“No.” Strick interrupted with a shake of his head. “No, she’s right. If she continues any further with us, she needs to know.” Strick stood slowly, the chill of tenacity edging into his shadowed features. Creiha met his gaze hesitantly and cowered inwardly under the intensity of his blue eyes.

“Strick, if we tell her, she can’t go home!” Markus hissed in alarm, “The more she knows, the more danger we put her in!”

“She is in just as much danger following us without knowing anything,” Strick replied calmly, eyes taking on a sharp edge as they held Creiha’s.

Creiha glanced away anxiously.

“Creiha, you’re right. If you continue with us, there are questions that must be answered, but if you do join us, you may never see Sray-Valom again.” Strick’s voice was harder than usual, stricter, and colder than Creiha remembered it. His face looked stony against the dim light, almost unmoving.

Creiha stared at him with wide, glassy eyes, drawing a ragged breath. She scarcely knew these two men, but by some untamed contortion of her own heart, she trusted them; she trusted them more than she had trusted anybody– even Criscialda. And Lecräesa. Like feeble wings, Lecräesa swept up settled memories from the depths of her mind, and she could almost hear her mother’s enchanting voice in the ring of the intriguing word. Despite her overt fascination, Creiha thought of her mother and Criscialda and immediately shied from the idea of leaving them. When she felt Strick nad Markus’s eyes resting upon her, Creiha swallowed hard, lowered her head in shame, “I–I need time,” she stammered, heat rushing to face.

Markus assented quickly, his mouth grim. “Gladly. It is not a decision to be made hastily. You can stay in the room upstairs at the right while Strick and I bury Arillo.” Markus gestured toward a wooden door at the end of a short path of broken chairs.

Creiha nodded with a weak smile. “Are you sure you won’t need any help burying Arillo?” she offered, disquieted by the brief silence that followed.

“No, just get some rest,” Strick answered for Markus. “It’s been a hard day for you,” he added softly, and his eyes rested upon Arillo’s still face.

“For all of us,” Markus muttered through unbidden tears.

Creiha nodded and watched Strick and Markus lift Arillo’s body from the burn wood which had become her deathbed. Lowering her eyes, Creiha turned away from the scene and approached the door to her right hesitantly. Once she had managed to drag the door open, Creiha narrowed her eyes in the dim light of the compact room leading to a dusty.

Grimacing, Creiha tested her weight on the first stair, untrusting of the ancient-looking structure. Cautiously, she ascended to the second step and stared at the rickety staircase incredulously. Markus must be out of his mind, she thought and was about to hop back down the two stairs when she heard a rustling sound, a dull jingle in the room above. Mouth set in determination, Creiha surmounted her fear and ascended the staircase slowly, astounded when it did not collapse under her weight. The air smelled musty, but the walls of the staircase were uncharacteristically clean and smooth, a slick black color in the inky darkness. Creiha realized she had been holding her breath when she exhaled upon reaching the top of the staircase to face an open door. The smells of nature outside the room bombarded her; the strong light filtering through the window shocking her unsuspecting eyes.

Creiha gasped when she stepped through the doorway. From the ceiling dangled thousands of tiny strings of beads. They jingled dully with the wind and glittered in vibrant colors when the sunlight struck them. “Who was this Arillo?” Creiha muttered in wonder, her heart beginning to race with excitement. She remembered the string of beads Strick possessed and eyed the ceiling with awestruck eyes.

“There was nothing we could do. She was already dying.” Markus’s voice sounded below Creiha’s window. Creiha started in surprise, and then crept over to the window quietly to stare at Markus and Strick talking below, a small mound of stones remembering Arillo.

“Arillo’s dead. Gietan has been captured. There is only the two of us now, Markus,” Strick said, shock and sorrow intermingled, his head lowered.

“Gietan is not dead; we’ll have to break him out of the castle again. I’m just glad we left Mirzintyre before King Hedjlon found us,” Markus spoke, his voice thick with sorrow. “And I’m glad you’re alive. You could have easily been killed back in Sray-Valom. What were you thinking?” Markus chastised. “Do you have any idea how frightened I was when Captain Pierce told me you’d been captured?”

Strick did not respond.

Markus pursed his lips with displeasure. “What are we going to do with Creiha? If she’s the girl Arillo was talking about, we have to tell her – tell her everything. But if she’s not, well–”

“Everything important, you mean,” Strick added, staring at the ground thoughtfully.

“Strick–”

“If she remains with us, we will tell her about Lecräesa, but she needn’t know more than that, Markus. If she proves herself to be the girl and to be trustworthy, we will tell her the rest,” Strick reasoned softly. “And if she is not Senzieda’s dying wish, I will search Kalinth for another three years.”

Creiha bristled leaned against the wall beneath the window and wondered what Senzieda’s dying wish was – what they hoped her to be.

“You know you’re going to have to tell her eventually or someone else will and she won’t know what to think. You have to stop pretending you’re nothing important. If they kill you, there is only the girl and we do not know who she is yet. Arillo is dead, Strick. Arillo is dead and we’ve all known since we found you that you’re next,” Markus said seriously, flashing eyes fixed on Strick’s face. Strick grimaced at him but allowed him to continue. “So stop running off and almost getting yourself killed.”

“Markus,” Strick interrupted his rant softly but with a chill, “The only place I’ll ever be safe is six feet underground, dead.”

“Yes, but you can’t run off throwing your life away, Strick!” Markus protested, running both hands through his sandy-blond hair with frustration.

“A life of running is no life at all.” Strick frowned deeply, the calm in his voice disquieting. “And we are hopelessly off topic.”

“Are you even listening to me, Strick?” Markus shouted, his voice swelling with anger, “Do you care that our hope lies in you? Has it ever occurred to you that somebody might care if you died? Would you care if someone did? Do you care about anything anymore?”

“I do care. That’s why I’m not hiding six feet underground in a hole you dug for me. Your hope should not lie in me. I am stricken, Markus– and the stricken one can never lead anyone to the victory you hope for!” Strick shouted in frustration, pain lining his every forced word. Creiha dared to glance out the window; she had never heard Strick shout before.

Markus did not speak for a moment or so. He just stared at Strick, shaken by the words he had said to provoke such a reaction. Hesitantly, Markus spoke. “Who is to say if one is stricken? It’s not true, Strick. Remember Senzieda; remember what she–” Markus stopped short, sighing shakily in a battle to restrain himself.

“Senzieda is dead, Markus. She has been dead for three years.” Strick closed his eyes and looked away from Markus. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, drawing in a deep breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Markus shook his head, “I-I lost my temper.” He ran his calloused fingers through his hair stared at the ground, shaken by his own outburst.

Silence hovered in the space between Markus and Strick, an awkward quiet allowing the beads above Creiha’s head to dance noisily.

After a few moments, Strick spoke up “Arillo said King Hedjlon captured Gietan and that Lu-girl – whatever her name was.”

“Lusien. Her name was Lusien. We should free Gietan and the Lusien girl, especially Gietan. Hedjlon will have him killed, and Arillo sounded like she cared about Lusien’s well-being.” Markus nodded in agreement. “But it will be harder with the guards expecting us and Arillo not being there– and with Creiha at our heels if she decides to join us.”

“I would like to believe she would be safer in Sray-Valom, but I doubt that,” Strick said in a soft, thoughtful voice. “It seems either way she chooses, we have to drag her somewhere.”

Creiha scowled.

Markus sighed. “Is this the sixth time Gietan’s been captured or the seventh?”

“Depends on how you define ‘captured.’ Gietan would argue this is only the fourth time.” Strick rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have to rescue him again. Captain Pierce can only do so much. We don’t want her jeopardizing her position.” Markus shook his head in doubt.

“Sophie is clever. She might be able to convince the king to set Gietan free,” Strick said dryly.

“No, Captain Pierce would arouse suspicion if she suggested such a thing. She’s a valuable ally, one I will not endanger easily.” Markus shook his head firmly. “There has to be some other way!”

“Or we could just let Gietan figure something out on his own. He could pace that prison in his sleep considering how many times he’s been there.”

“Strick,” Markus began with a smirk. “We can’t just leave Gietan there and you know Hedjlon will have him under heavy guard.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we find him conversing with old friends and enjoying his stay,” muttered Strick. “There has to be another way into the prisons. I was unconscious when Arillo led us to rescue you, but I think she found some secret tunnel into the castle. But first, we have to do something with Creiha.” Strick frowned anxiously, the wind stirring around him.

“Yes, we’ll stay here for the night, hear her decision tomorrow and hopefully head for Kalinth Castle that night.” Markus nodded quickly.

Strick nodded mutely.

Creiha watched Strick and Markus enter Arillo’s house once more and grimaced, sinking against the wall at her back. Who is Sophie Pierce? Who is Gietan? Lusien? Creiha sighed and crossed arms. And lastly… Who is ‘they’?

Staring up at the ceiling, Creiha watched a wind sweep through the thousands of beads and made her decision.
~

Notes: if someone could critique this part, I would love them forever.

I agree with you. This is my favorite so far.

The passage from the book is very good. Very mysterious.

Her mouth moved in one last sentence, but only a thin rush of air escaped her open mouth before her face grew still.

Maybe you should replace one of them? It sounds a bit repetitious.

Great work!

Thanks so much, Dark Lordess.

If anyone could give me some character impressions (you don't even have to critique it, or even read the previous chapters... though that would be preferable!), I would be forever grateful. I've cut a lot of this and I need to be sure I am still getting the correct character traits across.

Finally have enough time to read this! Haha, first thing once I got on the site…


Quote:
Creiha, the sun is shining for you. You are not a doormat, so get up!”

Love this.


Quote:
Creiha moaned and sat up slowly, smothering a yawn and sneezing.‘Smothering a yawn and sneezing?’ - at the same time?


Quote:
Markus chuckled with a one-sided smile, crossing his arms merrily,
My suggestion is to change the comma into a period, but your choice, really.


Quote:
The room seemed strangely empty without his presence, and, when Creiha’s eyes fell upon the fireplace, she noticed that it was still smoldering from last night.

Second comma not needed.


Quote:
“Not this danger,” Markus told Creiha, his olive eyes fixed upon her expression,

Decide where the comma should be.


Quote:
“Okay, what is Lecräesa?
Emphasize it a bit more? Italics? -Suggestion.


Quote:
Markus smirked, and, for a moment, Creiha thought he was going to tease her, but, when he continued, his voice was grave.
The power of commas. I suppose the one after ‘and’ is okay, but after ‘but’? Lol, but I’m not really sure, Just seems that in this sentence you were in a comma frenzy.


Quote:
“There’s no telling,” Markus muttered with displeasure

Decide where the comma should be. Lol, that sounded mean, didn’t it? O_o


Quote:
She and Markus talked for a few minutes longer, conversation veering in aimless directions until Markus told her he was going to the market today, and he would look for some clothes for her.

He already told her that he would be going to the market today. To the last part add ‘that’?


Quote:
Thankfully, Markus did have some ink and paper to lend Creiha, so Creiha spent most of the day composing apologetic letters to Criscialda and feeding them to the fireplace every so often.

Nitpickiness alert. The second ‘Creiha’ into ‘she’ or something equally vague.


Second part. No worries.

Third part. Oooh, long. Goodie.


Quote:
Shadows had settled over Strick’s features and his whirling blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead, scarcely noticing Creiha.

The ‘and’ is - I don’t know. No idea. Its just - one part of a sentence to the other. And the ‘and’.


Quote:
In the silence, the fear that had spawned from the pit of Creiha’s uneasy stomach crawled up her throat and made it hard to breathe; her ears ringing, Creiha hugged herself tightly when a shudder shook her body and a bolt of pain lashed through her arm.

Too much of ‘Creiha’ in one sentence. And you have her pain, okay. Nice, feeling etc. Then you describe the forest. ?


Quote:
Markus whispered loudly enough that Creiha could hear.

‘For Creiha to hear?’ - though not sure.


Quote:
Anxiety clawed at Creiha’s heart when they approached Arillo’s front door.

Yikes, so much of her name. Use ‘she’ more. Or something. Sentence by sentence, you have ‘Creiha’. Literally, at least in this part.

Nice description here.

The extract - so mysterious.

Quote:
Markus’s panicked voice disturbed Creiha’s thoughts and she started, closing the book with a loud slam and watching clouds of dust billow into the air.

So much of ‘and; here.


Quote:
A pale-haired woman Creiha assumed to be Arillo lay there, amid the charred books, her silver-blond hair stained with blood and her face pallid

Comma frenzy. Well, not really, but I like the expression. First comma not needed.


Nice scene (Arillo’s death).


Quote:
“Markus,” Strick interrupted his rant softly but with a chill, “The only place I’ll ever be safe is six feet underground, dead.”

Interpunction or capitals, whichever it may be.


Quote:
Would you care if someone did?

Important question, but the italics is bothering me. (Its in italics, btw. I’m just lazy here, haha)


Quote:
“Is this the sixth time Gietan’s been captured or the seventh?”
Lol.



Character impression will come, perhaps tomorrow. I know that my maniacal grammar correction etc. (if there is any etc. to talk ablut) won’t do you much. To the awkwardness of the dialogue - I did not really see it, but I will be reading this again. If you have any Q’s, feel free to PM me. Toodles.

Okay, so my previous crits were of the nitpicky/grammar/typos kind of ones. I suppose they don’t do much to the writer, but I love them nevertheless. Character and/or plot opinion make you have to think, haha. Here’s what I promised.


Arillo

My all-time favorite. Seriously, even though (from what I’ve read) she was in for just a short while, I came to like her. Her death scene was fabulous, and since you as the writer did not really tell the reader much about her, the rest had to be imagined, lol. The fact that she and Strick were not on the best terms made me intrigued, too. Also, I like her name.

Added: The prologue, was it about her?


Strick

The mysterious kind of guy, but in an interesting way. Well, that was short, but it described him best? Grr. The answer to that you will find at the end.


Creiha

The main-est of your characters, lol. You managed to portray her feeling and emotions, made her a person, not just six letters among hundreds of others. However, her position in the events of the book is somewhat unclear. Kudos to you if that is what you wanted, but I still want to know more about her and her sister, lol. Supposedly, she is Sanzieda’s last wish – that is all I know. *Whimpers*. I don’t really know who Sanzieda is, and while I am aware of what Creiha thinks of the whole matter, I don’t know what she KNOWS about it. Some background info here? Though I understand if that’s how you wanted it to turn out. Hm, I really should take a sneak peek into the thesaurus. Too much of ‘know’.


Criscialda

Not really a main character, but I suppose she will play a big part, lol. The ‘bond’ foreshadowing thing. I don’t really have an opinion on her, as I don’t know much about her.


Markus

While all of your character are pretty good, have a life of there own, Markus turned out a bit pale when in comparison to them. He just kind of lacks the ‘spark of life’ that Creiha or Strick has. Or Arillo. You managed to give her a life, even if you took it away so soon.



Basically, I love you. Seriously. Lol. No, you got me interested, and even though you posted a lot I read it all too quickly. Your description are really good, the dialogues interesting and at some points made me want to laugh. I look forward for more, and that’s before it gets published. Lol, I’m on a compliment frenzy, I think.

Well, not. I don’t love you. I was in the Writer’s Corner section. Incidentally, I saw Snoink’s comment. *Starts crying*


Cheers,

Elein


P.S. Sorry if I sometimes get off the topic – I tend to think writing, hehe.

I've only read the first part but so far it is good and the diolague between Creiha and Markus is awesome, not akward.

Quote:
her forest green glowing with unquenchable curiosity

I think you forgot something here.

Quote
forest green eyes tempering

You said forest green not too long before it and it sounded repititous.

The second part was AWESOME!

Quote:
Who was King Hedjlon?

That question doesn't make sense to me because i think she would know who the king was unless he is a king of another country/area.

Quote:
The very thought of Strick being afraid terrified Creiha

You need a comma after afraid.

I finally got to the third part. I loved it. It was your best so far and i think your chapters after this are going to become progressivley better.

Quote:
Creiha stared at him with wide, glassy eyes, drawing a ragged breath. She scarcely knew these two men, but by some untamed contortion of her own heart, she trusted them; she trusted them more than she had trusted anybody– even Criscialda. And Lecräesa. Like feeble wings, Lecräesa swept up settled memories from the depths of her mind, and she could almost hear her mother’s enchanting voice in the ring of the intriguing word. Despite her overt fascination, Creiha thought of her mother and Criscialda and immediately shied from the idea of leaving them. When she felt Strick nad Markus’s eyes resting upon her, Creiha swallowed hard, lowered her head in shame, “I–I need time,” she stammered, heat rushing to face.

You threw in a part about Lacreasa here and it confused me. I would suggest taking that out for now or putting something in to make it less confusing.

Creiha:
I admire her bravery for continuing. I admire her intelligence for not making hasting decisions. However, i think she was stupid to try to save Strick in the beginning, or brave.

Strick:
This is the type of guy i would normally hit across the face to try to knock some sense into him.

Markus:
My favorite character. He is sort of like Rone in my book. I think he is the smartest character in your book.

Creiha: She's not exactly sure what's going on, that's for sure. She's starting to understand how important and complicated the situation is. She's also a little afraid of not being able to ever go back to Sray-Valom, but there's no way she's going to let them leave her behind either. I really like the way her character is written. I don't know what it is about her, but i just like her.

Markus: hm... interesting, but he doesn't ahve a very set personality. He's always trying to presuade Strick to be reasonable, or to think about what he's doing. I think he could do with some work because I agree with eleinasari.

Strick: Mwahahaha, i know he's Strick now because he's stricken. I remember that line from the very beginning when he was telling Creiha how it wouldn't mean anything to her then. Mkay, well I think he's pretty cool. I like how you had him get really upset when he was talking to Markus. It shows how quiet and reserved he normally is. He also wants to be out there and do stuff instead of hide and think about doing something like Markus seems to.

Okay well I haven't read for a while, sorry. I couldn't really find any corrections, so I just left my impressions for you to mull over.

*flies away to read on*

Yet another great chapter, and probably one of my favorites so far. I don't have anything specific to point out that hasn't all ready been said. I'm really liking this, though!

Hey hon,

Here is just the first eight pages of Chapter Three.

Enjoy,
Cal.