The Chains of Duty Chapter 13 (part 1)

Hey Glasses!

Well, it's certainly been a while again. But not as long as last time. So that's good. What free time I have outside of work now I generally taken up with important things, as well as studying.

I think I've said this before, but it's a good thing, so I'll repeat it: Despite how you don't churn out these chapters so often, in addition to the fact that I'm extra slow to get to them; I still remember the story well. There's been a lot of stuff between the last time I read anything of this story, until I'm reading this latest chapter now. Yet I remember.

That's a lot of credit to you. You've crafted a story that's at least going to stick with me. And that's very good. It's kind of the first hurdle to get past; getting someone's attention. All these chapters in, and you're doing good.

Okay, in this chapter we're back to the books. Literally. Which I really like. I love how you're not advancing this novel too fast. You're slowly going ahead with it, and unraveling bit by bit pieces of the story. In terms of actually crafting a thought out novel, you're way further than I've ever been.

You bring up parts about the sister's encounter with Xelop, and you added another encounter as well now. An encounter that ties into a new plot thread in your story.

The Essence!

I'm really liking that. And you even tied this up with the prophecy which you wrote earlier. Very good. Connections are starting to get made. I know I wasn't a big fan of the prophecy you did write, but prophecies are still quite interesting. As well as bona fide cool.

This 'Essence' element you bring up is definitely interesting, and it's a welcomed entry into the story. I do have some questions about it though, but I'll bring those up later. I'm also wondering why they're still studying this book and only noticed the tiny text now. Didn't they already comb through the books? In any case, this might just be me not remembering exactly what they've done with the books so far. They might not have.

Lastly, I'd want some more tension between Nidara and Keed in there. They've got this troubled history that's being more and more dug up for the reader as they go along. I'd want a few cues along the way.

Alright, that's pretty much what I've got for the overall chapter, so I'll just write as I go along from here on:

In a size much smaller than the rest of the text, was written a chunk. She strained to read it.

and made Nidara wish she had asked someone to fan her.

Keed sat in front of her, nose buried deep in the twin book.

Soon, his expression turned from surveillance to realization.

She repositioned the lens in her hand over the leaf.

The mage’s first incantation is often a weak one, yet it tends to drain the mage.

Books on sorcery she had considered them.

“I remember reading,” Keed said, “in a previous section, that peasants who have not been wounded by the spirits do not possess the determination required.”

Novara had yet to wake up, after almost a week.

The rehab army was beginning to prepare.

She remembered waking up with a nightmare, of herself hiding inside a cupboard and a man who looked much like Xelop taking her mother away.

when she had only caught a fragment of conversation

She felt she ought to feel something

…The key lies in the youngest of the dark ones

Whose blood flows blue…

Nidara squinted at the page open in front of her. In a size much smaller than the rest of the text, was written a chunk. She strained to read it.

The window behind her in the study was open, letting in fresh summer air. Even as the sun shone in an angle that did not allow it into the room, its heat pervaded the air, and made Nidara wish she had asked someone to fan her. Keed sat in front of her, nose buried deep in the twin.

“Keed,” she said, finally deciding to discuss the topic. “Have you found anything that looks like this in your book?” she turned it around for him to see, pointing at the particular spot with a finger.

He looked up at her call. Putting aside his book, he edged forward toward the page. Soon, his expression turned from surveillance to realization. He pulled back and rapidly began to sift through the pages in the other book. When he found what he was looking for, he turned his book toward her.

“Same thing here,” he said.

“Can you read it?” she asked, aware that if he knew about the particular extract, he would have read its contents.

“No, Nidara,” he shook his head. “The text is too small for the naked eye.”

“We should get lenses, then,” she said. There was a storage cupboard in one corner of the study. She went and retrieved two lenses, careful in the handling of the precious slabs of glass.

The only difference between a mage and a peasant is the acknowledgement of the power magic brings. Many think of sorcery as a form of trickery, and rightly so, for sorcery is only toying with the way mother nature set the course of things. It is important to believe in the miracles that can happen when one believes. Only then can one be a sorcerer. Only then can one bend the laws of nature, and use them for the greater good.

Looking up from the book as soon as she was done reading the first few lines, Nidara found Keed reading from his book intently. There was a crease on his brow, showing how focused he was. His hands moved the lens with every word registered across the page.

“What does yours’ say?” she asked.

“It explains how one can become a sorcerer,” he informed, without looking up. “What about in yours’?”

“Same.”

She repositioned the lens in her hand over the leaf.

The mage’s first incantation is often a week one, yet it tends to drain the mage. The expertise needed to become a full-fledged mage takes years of practice. Some incantations require a large amount of confidence, whereas other, weaker incantations can be done with the least of labors.

The center of the mage’s strength is in the heart and the abdomen. In order to cast spells the power must be tapped into.

Nidara gazed at Keed without lifting her face. Their eyes locked. “Heart and abdomen,” she muttered. That was it. The end of text in that size. “That is it? That is all one needs to know?” It did not make sense. Books on sorcery she had considered them. The bulk of the contents were plain philosophy, about the effects of sorcery, and the things that led people to become sorcerers.

“I remember reading,” Keed said, “in a previous section, that peasants who have not been wounded by the spirits do not possess the determination required.”

Nidara put down her hand lens, confused to no end. Who knew if this toiling away after a bulk of text would bring any results? The clock was ticking. Novara was yet to wake up, after almost a week. The rehab army was beginning to prepare. For all she knew they were wasting their time and energy.

“This section is an obvious contradiction, then,” Nidara said, sinking into her chair, trying to gather whatever little relaxation she could get.

“That is the easiest explanation,” he answered putting down his hand lens also. “There is, however another explanation.”

“Is there now?” Nidara asked, genuinely curious. She had not read the entire book after all; she was only studying parts and sections that Keed had suggested were important, and comparing her views with his. Seeing of anything at all could help them with the situation at hand.

“Yes, indeed. It is said that among mere peasants, hidden and well cloaked, are the carriers of The Essence.”

Nidara had heard of The Essence before, but only twice. The first time was when she overheard her father, king Markoph telling General Rudolf why her mother was gone. She remembered that day clearly, though she was only a toddler at the time. She had woken up with a nightmare, of herself hiding inside a cupboard and a man who looked much like Xelop taking her mother away. Novara slept peacefully in her crib. Scared, she had gone looking for her father, only to find him in his study behind closed doors, discussing the root of all the problems with his only friend.

The second time was the day before they had set out on the journey during which she was abducted. Much like the first time, when she had only caught a figment of conversation before her nanny found her and took her back to bed, this time, she had only heard a man utter the words in a bare whisper before their caravan was pulled out of the city gates.

“Nusada had it, The Essence.” Markoph said. “That is why she is gone.”

“What do you mean by ‘The Essence’?” Nidara asked. Curiosity was more than gnawing away at her insides.

Keed glanced toward the entrance to the study warily. “You do not want everyone to know about this,” he said, dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper. He inched forward on his chair till he could no longer. Nidara took the cue and did the same. “From what I’ve learnt,” he began, “it is some sort of property which allows ordinary people to become extraordinary, if they put their mind to it. There is, however, a limitation. The Essence flows in bloodlines and only those who possess the dominant portion of the heritage have the ability to use it.”

“What is so secretive about that?” she asked, obviously every family would know if they possessed such abilities or not.

“It does not always show in the expected places. Not everyone knows what it is.”

She felt she ought to feel something, fascination perhaps, or fear. What she felt however was unusual in all its glory. She felt recognition. Almost as if she knew it all from before, but it was stowed away in some distant recess of her memory, waiting to be retrieved.

She quieted and craned her neck toward the entrance. “How do you know about this?” she asked.

He pulled back slowly, as if fortifying himself from physical harm. “Well,” he hesitated, “my mother had it.” His voice never went higher than when he began explaining.

She knew his mother to be a good friend of her mother the queen. She held back the flood of emotions that threatened to overflow. It was almost as if Nusada was trying to say something to her.

“So, what you are saying is, anyone could have,” she paused, not sure if she should say the word, “you know, it, and no one would know. Unless they told someone,” she asked, testing her understanding of things as they stood.

“If they knew about it themselves, of course. And there is also the prevailing trend in the way it is expressed in people.” He added.

Her thoughts froze.

Prevailing trend? So, it is not completely random?

“You are wondering what that is, no doubt,” he said, as if reading her mind. She nodded slowly. “If I remember correctly, Princess,” he began flipping the pages of his book, and settled on one particular page. “There is a prophecy…”

Prophecy…

“…about the importance of the full moon for the strength of sorcery…”

…On the full moon of each month

Shall come the time…

“…which talks about the prevailing trend also…”

…The key lies in the youngest of the dark ones

Whose blood flows blue…




Wow, this is absolutely amazing, so I really have absolutely nothing to criticise whatsoever, and this review will just glow with positivity, and I shall go on and on and on and ON about how brilliant this is! Everything was brilliant, but I especially loved the ending, and, oh, it's just brilliant! I can't wait to read more of your work!!!

Eva(lynne)

---Evalynne---

I really like the progression of the story; it was easy to follow and straightforward. Great work on exposition in the story. There were still some small misspellings and usages of commas, but that were small and inconsequential; easily fixable. For future notice, using prophecies in fantasy is always seen as cliche, so watch out for falling into a pit. While prophecies can be great for foreshadowing and can make the reader suspect one thing when another is going to happen, they can generalize the tale and ruin surprises if not handled with care. I don't think this will be a problem though because you seem to have a good handle on the story.
Looking forward to reading more!