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Chapter 7
A path of murder
The man behind the cloak called to his comrades: Hurry up you mangy, flea-bitten witch-sons, weve got a job to do! The score of assassins gave a mixture of grunts of tired resentment and the occasional insubordinate mutter as they urged their horses onwards faster. Address your chief correctly, you repugnant puddles of orc sick!
Yes, Holtz. They muttered darkly. The one eyed assassin smiled to himself as he slashed the neck of his own horse with his whip, the poor animal exerting itself to a greater speed. Within seconds, the smile was wiped from the face of Holtz. Two cloaked figures stood in the middle of the road, swords outstretched, calling out words inaudible over the sounds of hoof beats. Highwaymen. Didnt they know of Holtz, one of the most powerful wizards in Ralgray, whose might was to be feared above the powers of all others?
Give us yer gold! One of the highwaymen crooned with a sick sense of satisfaction. Cmon ugly, wachoo waitin for? The highwayman laughed heartily. Holtz held his reins tightly, and then let his hood fall to his shoulders. The highwayman gasped at the face, with its one furious eye, its scars and its pale shade of white skin. Bloody hell, it really is ugly! He chuckled.
You shall pay for that dire jibe. Holtz whispered. The two men laughed, and one man opened his mouth widely, Holts expecting a cliché among the lines of: You and what army? but none ever escaped from his mouth, as his collection of ruthless killers stepped up beside him from the shadows, all looming over the two highwaymen threateningly.
Well, the highwaymen stammered, theres clearly been a misunderstanding here, we were simply-
You have dealt me a grave insult tonight. Said Holtz calmly. And for that you shall pay. He gave them an inhuman, cold glare. You are both very lucky that Holtz is merciful when he has a quest under his belt. The two men refrained the urge of sighing with relief. Therefore, I shall not kill you myself, which, incidentally, would be much more painful than anything my followers are capable of.
One highwayman gaped. Please, mister
Take him out. Holtz sighed and turned his back on the two cowering figures. Three deadly assassins walked towards them on horseback, bows of yew held up high, each with an arrow prepped from his quiver to shoot at will. One man dived for cover in some nearby trees. An arrow was released; it flew from the bow towards the centre of his face, his dive not enough to protect him as the arrow sunk into his left eye. The man screamed as a torrential spray of blood was released, splattering all over the ground. He swung his sword about in panic as blood gushed from his ruined eye. Another three arrows landed in his chest, and he fell backwards, screaming insanely into the night as an arrow punctured his right ventricle, and two more sunk into his abdomen. He hit the floor, still screaming manically and squirming like some kind of rabid animal, and then he went terribly still.
His comrade looked up in fear, but before he had time to blink, a long sword was swung at his face, and a few seconds later he lay beside his partner with a bloody hole in his skull, killed with one slash. The two corpses were piled in a heap at the side of the road, and then the riders galloped once more into the night, leaving the two highwaymen in a thick, translucent mist of death behind them, Holtz screaming into the dust:I shall see you in the devils abode!
They rode on for some time; the two kills nothing compared with the murders that would be committed later on this night. They had been riding at top speed for around eight hours, and they would be in Mulnuch village in approximately another five.
Someway on they reached a farm, where Holtz instructed his riders to knock down the fence and cut through the fields, a quicker route than using the road. Two men sent their horses at the wooden fence. One bucked in fear and the other whinnied loudly, but the two men whipped their horses harshly till their knees hit the wood, making it snap into several pieces, the path clear for the riders to go onward.
The fields were freshly ploughed, with rich vegetation growing all around. The hooves crushed and destroyed the crops, a path of destruction in their wake. An angry farmer ran up to the riders, brandishing his pitchfork threateningly. Ill teach you better than to touch Stan Shans potatoes, you half blooded scum! He roared.
Holtz was clearly caught up in blood lust after the last murders, and, eager to notch up his kills, he yelled. This ones mine! His horse galloped towards the angered farmer, and the cloaked figure lifted his hands, a jet of white light hitting the farmer in the chest. The spell knocked the pitchfork from his hands and bowled him over. The heaving figure became the victim of a terrible curse, where Holtz flicked his fingers and a lump formed in his chest. The man began to shriek and wail as the lump swelled in his pectoral muscles, till it was the size of a melon. There was an explosion of gore and a slithering, cylindrical shaped creature slid from the bloody hole. The snake crawled from his chest, dragging linings of intestines with it, leaving a gruesome trail of blood across his torso and lower neck, then, with a crackle, it burst into flames, the spell completed. Holtz bellowed with maniacal, twisted laughter as he and his companions rode onwards.
After the short cut through the farm, the murderous group reached the village of Heathgreen. An elderly woman was selling china tea services at a stall, even though it was late at night. Then again, the villagers here were not renowned for normal activities. The horses ran her down, her body as brittle and delicate as the crockery she was selling, which also was smashed to several pieces as the horses crushed it beneath their feet. The woman did not scream or yell as she was hit, she looked sad and old and tired, and just accepted her fate as if she was obliged to die so that the riders could move onwards towards their goal.
It was nearly an hour later that the riders reached Mulnuch Village, their destination. The high walls that could have belonged to some fortress swam into view in the night, and Holtz chuckled to himself as he approached the two metal gates. The guards put up feeble resistance, raising their weapons and swinging them hopelessly at the horses. A few arrows hit the armour and bounced away instantly. Its Mithril, you fools! Screamed Holtz. He lifted his right hand and muttered an incantation under his breath. The armour upon the guards bodies began to melt and drip from their limbs like molten wax. It steamed and bubbled, and the guards began to yell. The hot metal burned their flesh, making them claw at their torsos insanely, their flesh whitening and bubbling on weakened skeletal frames. The heat consumed them, until the full extent of the spell was unleashed, and fires roared from where the armour had originally been, making their flesh smoulder as it burned fiercely.
Holtz ignored their dieing screams as he approached the entrance gates. Powerful protection enchantments acted upon the gates. He moved his hands about in several different motions, slowly lifting the spells from the gates, muttering words of magic under his breath hoarsely. Uncatatum Yasoua, Kilkinghytrin Jykryat, Hertsefronkone Zeferinhajah... He slowly rendered the gates defenceless, and finally he shot a ball of flame from his fingertips, which made the colossal gates fall instantly. As they toppled he cast a silencing charm, so as not to raise alarm, and they hit the ground with noise quieter than the scuttling of a mouse.
They strolled in, dismounting and leaving the horses by the gates where they stood obediently, knowing that if they made a bid for freedom they would be later whipped unsparingly. Holtz sniffed the air loudly, but no aromas entered his nostrils. He sensed the magic in the air, and gained knowledge that this place had only one magical source, likely a half-blood with a little magical knowledge. He sensed the energy radiating from the village inn, and stepped across the cobbled street, his footsteps muffled by countless silencing charms he had cast under his breath.
The door, locked at this time of night. A quick spell and a click as the lock came undone. He entered the house. A spacious room with a bar for serving drinks and food. A wooden staircase. He ascended to a corridor lined with doors seemingly made of ivory or similar material. The energy grew strong here, Holtz almost inhaled it, and he tasted it on the tip of his tongue. A large door, unlocked. He pushed it open and entered the room. A round, wide bellied woman lay in bed, in a state of slumber. He roused her by shaking her shoulders vigorously. Her eyes creaked open and she screamed at the sight of him, a piercing shriek released from her lungs, but it was no use, silencing charms meant nobody could hear her apart from the ruthless Holtz, who now smiled sweetly, his one open eyelid fluttering as if he had been deprived of sleep for some time.
Who- she began, but Holtz hushed her.
Where are the two thieves? he asked quietly.
I dont know- she spluttered, and then remembered the two men with her husband, who had gone to Halstrag forest. Gone! She yelped. Gone, far from here, to the forest of Halstrag! she bellowed, without any care for her husbands well being. Holtz had enough magic inside of him to separate truth from a lie. This woman certainly spoke the truth. He howled, enraged, angered deeply by this news. Going to Halstrag forest meant he would face many obstacles in the continuation of his journey. He yelled with outrage and gripped the woman by her throat, his fingers tightening around her skull. He forgot the silencing charm, only filled with rage, all sense driven from him. The whole village heard her final scream as a great quantity of his magic surged from him like running water, frying her brain, his magic contorting and twisting every nerve in her body to agony, her brain boiling in her skull. He released her and she fell backwards, her head hitting the pillow, an expression of great shock upon her face.
People hammered on the door furiously, with yells of: Is everything OK? and Are you alright, Aggie? The door swung open and a man with a bushy beard stood at the door. He saw the ghostly figure over the corpse and began to shout: MURDER! MURDER!
Holtz scowled. They would pay, all pay for being in his presence at the deliverance of this terrible news, a whole village would be wiped out, mass genocide. He outstretched his arm, and within a second, his fingernails had grown at least three metres, the man who had shouted pinned to the wall by a nail through his face. A few others were wounded; blood streaming from bare arms or legs. He roared in rage and flung his arms wide. Fire erupted from his palms and spread rapidly, burning houses and people alike, flames that scorched and roared and crackled madly. It engulfed every inch of the village, killing everybody but those he had wished to keep safe, his crew of fellow killers who each stood in a ring of protection, everything around them destroyed and ruined. Holtz was floating in mid-air, the top floor of the house he had been standing on had been burned away, but the extent of his magic kept him levitating. He drifted gracefully to the ground. He leapt on his horse and struck it using a spell that conjured a whip covered with protruding snake fangs. It snorted and galloped into the distance in the direction of the magical forest, his comrades following him wordlessly, knowing better than to ask for orders when he was in such a terrible temper, and to just follow him blindly. His horse ran faster than all the others; rage flowing through Holtz like a deadly poison. When he found the two thieves, they would die slowly, and painfully, for humiliating him and wasting his time like this. He was sure of it, and he made the silent pact to himself that very second.
Thank you for your comment, and for your interest, I am 13 years old coming on 14. I might check out this site you're on about, I don't think they could do much to offend me in all honesty, it's not like I've never had any negative feedback. Do you have any particular knowledge on impressing publishers etc?. Until I find the font of all writing knowledge i just ahve to ask for help from everyone I can I'm afraid. Thanks again, and I'll consider changing the things you mention for better reading on forums.
It works on a credit system - has members from all over the world - and its free. Take a look and see what you think.
Flick thanks, I wasn't aware of that site.
It looks good although the pages and pages of info are a bit daunting. Will give it a go.
If someone sends me something that starts at chapter 7, I immediately wonder what is wrong with the first 6 chapters. It's not a good idea to send that far into a book, as your reader has no idea what has gone on up to then. Now, if you are of the opinion that this is your best chapter, then you need to revise the first part!
I am an editor, full time, I know what publishers like to see, and that is a first chapter and a synopsis. Put your speech on new lines, each new piece of dialogue needs to be on a new line so the reader can see that someone else is speaking. Layout is as important as the writing. Best of luck.
Okay, like me, you use a lot of adverbs and adjectives that are probably superfluous. I am currently rewriting my book and culling as many as I can. I had recent feedback where I was told I could get rid of 90% of them!
I like your descriptions, they are very vivid and I can picture the scenes in my head. I think you overdo some of it in your attempt to give as much detail as possible to your reader. For example, the highwayman who gets an arrow through his right ventricle. Your point of view character has no way of knowing this. Something like "Another three arrows landed in his chest. Two more sunk into his abdomen. He fell backwards, still screaming maniacally (don't know whether this works better than manically) and squirming like a rabid animal, before going terribly still." might read better. Similarly, in Mulnuch, in the inn, it might be better for him to grip the woman around the head, as his fingers can't tighten around her skull if they're on her throat.
Some of your sentences are long, the sections separated by many commas. Break them up into shorter sentences or use colons. I take it in your actual MS, you've double spaced your lines and indented the first line of your paragraphs. I know it's difficult to do this on the Talkback reply page.
Holtz uses a lot of multiple, derogatory swearwords when addressing his troop. I feel that not all of the words are necessary. You could just have a couple of them: your reader will get the gist of what you're trying to get across with one or two succinctly put words.
I don't know much about horses' stamina: did you research whether they could run at high speeds for that long?
I know the chapter is entitled 'A path of murder' and I take it that's why the farmer and the tea lady meet their gruesome deaths: are these scenes essential to this chapter because of its title? The silencing charm feels a bit Harry Potterish but hey, I doubt Rowling has a copyright to it. Besides, I'm sure other fantasy writers use similar spells. Maybe one of the other Talkbackers might know of some.
When you've completed your novel, go through it very carefully looking for typos and misspellings. Do it on the screen, then print out your book and go through it again with a pen. Before you send it out, leave it for a few weeks, even a couple of months, then go back to it. You'll see it in a different light and you may find you want to rewrite parts of it. And I agree with what's been said above.
Finally, well done! You have a very good imagination and to have pushed yourself to write a whole novel is excellent. I wrote my first book when I was 13 ... I have, sadly, since misplaced it (I think my mother threw it out when I was at university). I was reading books like there was no tomorrow at the time and that's the way to go to improve vocabulary, which, judging from the above, you're already good at! Welcome to Talkback. Hope you have fun here with us!
If you'd said it's about a boy who discovers he's a wizard and goes to a special school where he learns to play a game involving broomsticks, then we'd know where JKR got the idea from!
1: Is it normal for a book designed for children [such as my one] to have an adult as the cnetral character?
2: Can anybody elaborate on the layout needed to show to publishers?
3: dorothyd, you mentioned writing a synopsis. I knew I would need to write a synopsis, but isn't it hard to show a book in a positive light in such a brief manner? Any tips, as you and I'm sure a lot of people here have some knowledge about what publishers like to see.
Thanks so much.