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A new book, hopefully

by Misty


This is a co-write i'm doing with a friend of mine. I had to write the beginning, with the boy as the main person, and she's starting the next day. So please tell me what you think of this, so I know it's good enough for our book. It doesn't have a title yet, though. Thanks! Btw, I'm new here!

Chapter One:

The Prisoner

The moonlight illuminated his face, which glistened with a mixture of sweat and dirt. His shaggy chestnut hair was plastered to his face with sweat, and he was short of breath. Bow in hand, with a sheath of arrows at his back, he ran, placing one ragged, tired foot in front of the other. His eyes, deep brown like the tree bases, which surrounded him in the dense forest, were wide with fear and shock.

“Asher!” A male voice screamed to him above the flurry of arrows and screams in the background. “Asher, wait!”

He turned around, and saw his friend, and fellow warrior, Tate running up to him. “We’ve lost!” Tate exclaimed. “The attack, we lost, most of the men are dead. They’ve captured Master Brae; most of the others are dead. We have to get out of here!”

Asher shook his head, and looked both ways. He saw only the dark shadows that were trees, and the scraggly bushes that grew sparsely in that part of Tereth’Teth. They’d been sent on a mission to attack the enemy’s training camp, and exterminate as many of their warriors as they could. Their band had been small-only a hundred young warriors; quick, slender and strong warriors, in a secret night attack.

Asher had retreated after seeing most of his accomplices struck down with arrows, and several with the enemy’s long, silver swords. “We must run!” Asher said, breathless. “Run away from here!” He swallowed quickly, his throat parched and dry.

Tate looked both ways, again, and grabbed Asher’s arm, pulling him behind the safety of a tree. “And where would we go, Asher? There is nothing but death for those who retreat, and worse than death for deserters. What can we do?”

Asher shook his head, and stared at his friend. Tate had blonde hair as shaggy as Asher’s, pale blue eyes, and a thin frame. His clothes hung limp off his starved body, and deep bags accentuated his eyes. Asher knew he looked no better. Behind them, closer to the training camp, there were the screams of those who died, slowly. Asher shook with fear, and he steadied himself against the tree. “Just run, Tate,” he said softly, then he took off. He heard Tate behind him, but barely paid him any attention.

And before he knew what was happening, a man in white cloth pants and a long gray cloak, with his shirt strings untied, stepped out from the tree, bow drawn. Asher stopped dead, and stared at the arrow for a long moment. It was fletched with Pegasus feathers. Asher dropped his bow, and fell to his knees. This man was very powerful. The Pegasus gave his feathers to no common man.

His breathing was heavy, as he heard Tate running through the bushes, making no attempt to save him. Asher closed his eyes, and held his arms up in defeat. He heard the man draw his sword, and lowered his torso so that his neck was parallel to the ground. He put his hands behind his back, and waited to die, slowly breathing, and savoring those last breaths.

It was almost a relief, knowing he would finally die. Fighting for Lord Tel’Vek had worn the young man through. In his thirteen years before the war he had not seen anything compared to the past three. Then he had seen his friends turn from common young men to trained killers, able to slaughter women and children, and even babies, without conscience. He had even participated in the act. He had seen Lord Te’Vek’s men kill his mother and father heartlessly for refusing to fight. And he had chosen to fight over death, given up his honor for all of this.

He now clung to the fact that it was over, finally over. It would be easy to die. This was the most painless way he could have ever imagined. Even the sentence for retreating was being hanged. Still, the life he could have led with his mother and father, the family he could have had, the lives he could have changed all rushed through Asher’s mind, as the man’s footsteps slowly approached. The thoughts brought tears to his eyes.

And then he felt the man put a hand on his shoulder in a rough but gentle way. Asher dared to look up, and saw something like pity in the man’s eyes. “Come,” he said in a deep voice. Asher stood up slowly, and let the man push him through the bushes, the flat of the sword pressed against his neck. As he stumbled into the camp, he saw the dead bodies of his friends strewn across the ground, bloody and disfigured, and his eyes welled up with tears. There was a lump in his throat, and he coughed, raising his fist to his throat. He breathed in several times, then out, sporadically, over and over again.

The man led him to tan colored tent, whose flaps blew about in the breeze. He led Asher to the middle of the tent. Then he pressed his hand hard on Asher’s shoulder, and he dropped to his knees. The man took a length of rope from his silver belt, and roughly tied Asher’s hands behind his back. Asher was shaking heavily, making it harder for the man to secure the knot. The man stood up again, then took off his cloak and draped it across Asher’s shoulders.

As soon as he left, Asher let the tears for his friends flow down his cheeks. He heard men calling out orders, the sounds of shovels hitting the earth, men calling out to each other and heaving bodies into the ditches they’d created. He didn’t know how many other prisoners there were, but he realized that Master Brae, the troop leader, had also been captured.

He didn’t know why the man had taken him captive, rather than killing him. As the moist ground soaked through his tan-colored cloth pants, chilling him to the bone, Asher almost wished that he had. His sweat-soaked hair was cooling down in the breeze, and his teeth chattered. He looked up, and saw a man’s silhouette at the entrance of the tent. Asher sighed, as he realized he was being guarded.

Fatigue had already coursed through his body, and crying had only made him all the more tired. So, with a sigh, he lay down on the earth, and allowed himself to block out the chaos, if only for a few short hours.


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Fri May 16, 2008 6:27 pm
enzoguy15 wrote a review...



Hm, nicely written and detailed . I was a little confused at first, but that was quickly cleared up with the flashback thingies (can't think of a better word for 'em).

What did stand out to me was:

'His shaggy chestnut hair was plastered to his face with sweat, and he was short of breath.'

The second half the sentence (after the comma) goes at a different tempo than the first half and it makes it feel kindda clumbersone.


One other thing - you say you're co-writing this. Have you both worked together to come up with a coherant plot beforehand?




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Sun May 11, 2008 11:50 pm
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helpless42 wrote a review...



Hey, this is really good. I mean like really good. I like it a lot, but it seems a little long winded. Remember that too much of a good this is a bad thing. too much detail bores the reader, too little makes them mad. I like it a lot, but just tone down on the adverbs abd adjectives. I think this could really be good, well it is good no arguing with that, but you should totally continue with it. Keep on writing!




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Sun Mar 13, 2005 10:01 pm
Mattie wrote a review...



Hey Misty. This co-write you're doing with Erin is great! I finally got around to reading it and I think it's a lot better with two people working on it. I love Asher, he seems really brave and courageous. You both did great with the detail and story line. I also think that with two people writing it, you'll accomplish a lot more and be able to expand your writing skills. Good job!




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Sun Feb 20, 2005 9:39 pm
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Misty says...



yeah. She quit the co-write so now I'm supposed to be working on it on my own but I haven't...although I should, our plot rocked. But oh well, can't win 'em all.




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Wed Feb 16, 2005 8:00 pm
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Sureal wrote a review...



Hm, nicely written and detailed :). I was a little confused at first, but that was quickly cleared up with the flashback thingies (can't think of a better word for 'em).

What did stand out to me was:

'His shaggy chestnut hair was plastered to his face with sweat, and he was short of breath.'

The second half the sentence (after the comma) goes at a different tempo than the first half and it makes it feel kindda clumbersone.


One other thing - you say you're co-writing this. Have you both worked together to come up with a coherant plot beforehand?




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Mon Feb 14, 2005 9:36 pm
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Misty says...



thanks. means a lot. I should start writing again...




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Fri Jan 21, 2005 4:36 am
Bobo says...



Awesome writing, Misty! I like how you have the sort of mental monologue when Asher thinks he's going to die. Without that, it wouldn't have sounded as good. Great job, and keep on writing!




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Fri Jan 21, 2005 12:52 am
DarkerSarah wrote a review...



Haha...I think it's important to know your parts of speech and grammar when writing a story so: adjectives: descriptive words, i.e. pretty, sad, monstrous...adverbs modify a verb: slowly, very, merrilly...basically adverbs are anything that end with an "ly" and then some.

-Sarah




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Mon Jan 17, 2005 5:41 pm
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Misty says...



I'm sorry for being completely ignorant, but what are those? yeah I know I'm a sophomore in high school and I don't even know what an adjetive is...blah blah blah I get that enough from my dad. Please explain?




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Mon Jan 17, 2005 4:18 pm
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DarkerSarah says...



I think you could be on to something here.

The dialogue is very good. There is just one piece of advice I have to offer: when editing, always lose the adjectives and adverbs first. Good luck in writing more of this!

-Sarah





What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant?
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice