Novel in Progress

NOVEL IN PROGRESS IS MOVING

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 20:32:00 +0000

As of today, further updates are moving to the DBD media blog.

www.dbd-media.blogspot.com

Please subscribe there and keep following my twitter for updates!

35 pages complete! Short fiction coming soon...

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 13:47:00 +0000

Hey Guys!

It's been a while. I've been busy doing everything but writing, but now I return. I have finished 35 pages of the novel, which is farther than I ever hoped to get this quickly. However, the journey continues on as there are still 90,000 more words to type. So please head over and check out the manuscript page for the complete piece to date.

I also have a second short fiction piece (500 words) coming soon, so stay tuned for that!

Drew

The Audience! And Manuscript update

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 16:47:00 +0000

I just wanted to extend thanks to the viewer ship of this blog, which is steadily growing. This blog has now been viewed by those in 7 countries!

Many Thanks!

Also, check the manuscript page for a large update.

Drew

Chapter 3, v1

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 18:22:00 +0000

Jaon spent the long, cold night underneath a large pine on the side of the dirt path. He awoke and immediately felt the stiffness in his back where a root had dug into his back. Stretching, he looked out over the land. During the night, the surrounding area had become a frozen wasteland. Snow was everywhere, at least a half of a foot deep in many places. As Jaon stood up, he recoiled as snow dumped on him from the branches above. So…cold. He had not planned on such early harsh weather when he had packed his few provisions. He wore old leather boots that had once belonged to his brother. The leather had a few small holes and it was well broken in, but they would be able to hold up for a little while in the snow until Jaon could acquire new ones. However, he wore only a loose fitting woven short that he had grown out of many months before and his trousers were full of holes. It’s nearly 5 miles to the next town. How am I going to make it? He thought of the stone, and how it had created warmth when he had first used. He quickly dismissed the thought, however, because he did not want to risk using the power unless his life was severely endangered. Despite the adverse conditions, Jaon decided that the best path was to set out for the next town, Cos on the Lake, where he knew there were friends of his grandfather. If he was able to find them, then maybe he could get better clothes and such.

Jaon had only managed to venture a few hundred yards before the cold began to take its toll on his body. His body was racked with shivers, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. His feet were nigh on senseless and his fingers lacked the ability to bend beyond his first knuckle. His eyelids were frozen in a half-open state, and his nose was running almost constantly. Jaon’s mind began to shut down bit by bit as he mindlessly continued down the path. Soon his vision began to flicker, and Jaon unknowingly began to list sideways off the path. He collapsed into a bank of snow, and lay there gasping for breath. The icy wind whistled as it thundered past, throwing snow into the air. But Jaon was unaware of this, as his head was still plunged deep inside the snow bank.

Cold. Jaon only knew cold. No words could describe the pain of the ice and snow against his skin. They froze, and then burned. His mind reeled with the sheer weight of the pain on his senses, but he had no control of his limbs to move away from the snowbank which was trapping him. his helm kept the back of his head from the wind, but it provided more of a hindrance than any protection. Jaon's arms flailed a few times more, feeble attempts to free himself from the ever-deepening snow.

Jaon awakened in a well lit room. The sunlight streamed through the open windows, and candles were lit all around the room. He began to move his head, but he found he could not. His eyes flicked up and down, taking in the scene around him. A man, clothed in an apron and very clean clothes was tying a rope around the upper part of his left leg. Next to him, on a large bench, were a collection of sharp tools. What are those…for? Wondered Joan to himself. He tried to move his arms, but they were strapped to something he could not see. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that a fire was going with a large bucket positioned over it. Jaon mumbled something incoherent, trying to attract the attention of the man in the apron. Luckily, the man looked up. He cursed, and then addressed Jaon.

“We were hoping you wouldn’t wake up yet. But I guess we’ll do it the hard way, then.” He turned away from Jaon, and went back to the rope. As he worked, the surgeon called out a name, and shortly afterwards a younger man entered the room. He looked no older than Jaon, and he was dressed in the same sort of apron that the older man was in. He took a leather strip from somewhere in his apron and shoved it between Jaon’s teeth. NO! That was Jaon’s only thought as the sudden realization came to him. He struggled against his bonds, but they were tied tightly. The older man noticed his struggle and put an arm on Jaon’s shoulder.

“Son, I know this is hard for you. You need to relax, though. You are very lucky to even be alive now. If you struggle, we risk losing you again and I don’t think that either of us want that to happen.” He spun around, and went to the bench.

His assistant splashed some water on Jaon’s left leg, and scrubbed it with a rough rag. The older man took a rough, wood handled saw from the table. Jaon’s eyes rolled back into his head. No. This can’t be happening. He tried to reach out to the magical flow, but without the stone he had no power. He realized that he had to face this alone. Numbness had come over his whole body as he waited for the inevitable pain. He tried not to look at the horrible sight, but his eyes were drawn downward by some force. The smooth blade skimmed across his skin, and the pain began. Jaon threw his gaze upward, and he uttered a throaty scream. He felt his skin crawl as the man continued the sawing motion, growing faster as he went deeper. He heard the man curse again and yell at his assistant. “He’s bleeding too quickly! Get some more rope! Damn.” He continued to cut, and Jaon saw a flash of white as the younger man dashed over and tied off more of his leg. A throbbing began in his leg, and Jaon knew that the surgeon had hit bone. The minutes crawled by as the pain grew and grew, he wanted to scream louder, but his voice would not allow him to. He wanted to black out, and end his suffering, but something did not allow him to pass into the void. Something was there, in the back of his mind, a presence he could not shake. Don’t let go, Jaon. Don’t let go. The voice faded as quickly as it had come. Jaon would have wondered, but there was no time for that. As the bone finally snapped, he screamed for the last time. Then his mind began to shut off his sense as the pain grew more intense. His vision blurred, and finally grew dark. His hearing flickered in and out, and he could only catch a few stray curses from the surgeon. Don’t…let…me…go. He heard a loud clang of metal, and then a searing burning passed through his body. It felt like he had inhaled fire, and it was burning inside of him. He could not even register the curses of relief from the surgeon as the wave of pain crashed over his consciousness. He was slipping away. Don’t…let…me...go. His mind went blank. Painfully blank.

The sun was long gone by the time Jaon came to once again. He felt as if he were lifting a heavy and painful blanket as he struggled upward in bed. He was in a small room, barely large enough for the bed. His sheet was a woven grey blanket, which kept him warm against the cold of the stone walls. He stretched his arms above his head. As he did, he immediately felt something different about his hand. Something is missing. He lifted his gaze up towards his hands, and what he saw repulsed him. His little finger on his right hand was a bandaged stump, reduced to no more than the size of his fingernail. He continued to stare at it, wondering how on earth that had happened to him. His memory of the past few days was almost non-existent, which left him confused and suspicious. Answers. I need answers. He pulled back the sheets, and began to swing his legs over the side. However, he immediately felt that something was wrong, and even as he looked down the memories flooded back. He tilted his head back and howled, an inhumane sound. The door to his room immediately flew open, and a young woman dashed in. She came around to Jaon and wrapped another blanket around him. She held him as he cried, trying to help him realize that all was not lost. ”Honey, it’s alright. You’ll be fine; the doctor says you did very well.” Jaon ignored her words though, and his mind raced. How? Why did I end up like this? His eyes remain fixated on the bandaged stump and the bloodstains that remained around it. He traced the outline of the bandage with his finger, the shock rendering him almost mindless. It seemed like hours until the woman left, but still Jaon sat at the edge of his bed. His tears had long since stopped, but the overall depression continued to pervade his consciousness.

This was a tough scene for me to write, especially because it was mostly written in one sitting. The subject material is a bit gruesome, but necessary to show the horrors this boy has been through. I know, I haven't posted chapter 2 yet but that will come. I really need advice on this as it is a key part.

Thanks

Drew

Writing Workspaces and the Writing Process

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 00:17:00 +0000

Hey Guys!
Another informative post here. Today I want to talk a little about writing workspaces and how they can positively and negatively influence your experience as you write. Now, I will preface this by saying that there is no reason a great novel can't be written on a laptop at the kitchen table with children running around. But I believe that you will be a quicker worker and a better worker if you have a space to write.
Now, most of us have some sort of desk at home. I have a standard computer desk that I have retrofitted with a large shelf that contains my monitor and laptop. To briefly touch on the subject of computers, I think that if you are doing a lot of writing a laptop is essential as it can be taken anywhere. However, a good keyboard is even more important, so take the time and money and invest in one that will last and is not stressful to your hands as you spend hours typing. A good monitor is also nice whether you have a laptop or a desktop. I prefer two as I can have my main manuscript up on one screen and my sketches on the other, or my notes, or this blog for helpful tips! Seriously, though, a good monitor or two can save your eyes. Also, good lighting is important to save your eyes from strain and pain. I have two lamps, one that lights the whole room and the other that serves to light my desk. I plan to move an Ott-Lite up to my room as well as those are miracle workers for the eyes.
So, we've done lighting and computers. What else? I suggest keeping a pad of paper right next to your keyboard for quick writing. If you need to make a sketch or diagram or just need to rough out some ideas a pad of paper is perfect. Just make sure you always have something with which to write.
Also helpful can be a set of good speakers (if there is no one to disturb) or a set of quality noise canceling/noise isolating headphones. I love to listen to suitable music as I write, a growing list of which can be seen on another page here (see pages to the side).
Keep all the materials you could ever need close at hand. I won't go into specifics, but any reference material, dictionaries, notes need to be close at hand.
I will leave you with a picture of my current workspace, which those of you who follow my posts on Twitter will have already seen:

Not the greatest pic, but hopefully you get the idea and are inspired!
I would love to see more workstations from viewers, so send them in!

Drew

That special something...How to make your Novel different!

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 19:53:00 +0000

Hi All!

The topic of this post is how to make your Novel/story stand out. People have been writing stories for hundreds of years, so it is impossible to come up with something completely and utterly original. At some points all our ideas are based on something else. However, to distinguish your story from everyone else, you need to have something special. This is something that I am struggling with as well. I have read so many great fantasy novels that they are really bleeding into my novels. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it is always better to be original. In fact, I would argue that to write commercially successful fiction it is necessary to be at least partially original. You can get through a novel with an intense,exciting plot, 3D characters and a detailed world alone, even if the ideas are not necessarily original. However, if the setting really is too stereotypical or draws from one source too much then there might be a problem of distancing yourself from others of your genre. The special feature of your setting is what sets it apart so that when people look at the book cover on their shelf they say "Oh, that book was the one with...." instead of "is that the one with this? or that? they all blend together." Here are some suggestions for making your novel original:
1) Start with a plan. If you write out a plan for your setting/magic/character then you can analyze them better by comparing them to stuff that is already out there.If you sense you are drifting to closely to a certain writer, it is better to realize it before writing than after 20,000 words.
2) Be an smart reader. It is always advisable to read a lot if you plan to be a writer. You can learn all sorts of things from what you read, and it is also a nice escape from writing. However, the 'smart' part of reading is teaching yourself to shy away from emulating what you read. When you read something, don't say "How can I put that into my book?" rather say "Is there something in my writing like this? Can I add parts of this to make sure that my book is still original?". Keeping yourself separate is very important.
3)Combine. You should not have to forget everything if you want to write, however. As a writer, you are free to pick and choose what happens and what you include. Did you just read a book that had a great story arc? Nice! You can apply parts of that story arc to your own works. Great description? Use it as a building block to go back and work on your descriptions.

Hopefully this has helped you out some! Questions, comments, criticism? Leave it in the comments below or email me!

Drew

(Inspired by a post on writingforums.org)

Celtx Review; Blog updates

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 14:43:00 +0000

Hello All!
It's another beautiful day as I sit here writing. Today will definitely see more progress on the novel, though I do not yet have enough to warrant an update post yet. I have been frozen on chapter 4 for a while as I am trying to lengthen all the chapters significantly. The forward/backward progress is definitely the way to go, though.

I do have a quick review for today. About a year ago, I was introduced to Celtx by a friend when I was writing a movie screenplay. Celtx is free to start, and it offers a ton of features. The free version contains 7 different "templates" for different kinds of writing. I wrote about 30 pages worth of a screenplay there and I have to say it is an incredible interface. You can have your characterization and script open at the same time in the same program and there is no need to keep typing character names and places because of an auto-insert feature. There is also a mobile app, but as I have not used it I will not be reviewing that. Not to say that isn't to change. but go check it out for yourself!
For updates, there is not a ton. Last night I launched the first Twitter-exclusive page via a QR code that I tweeted. Obviously more content is to come on that page, but it is a start.
Again, I want to make a request for guest authors. I am really wanting to get this blog kick started and guest authors/posters would be much appreciated. Email me at edcommissions@gmail.com to get started!

Many thanks for reading, I hope to bring you a writing update later today!

Drew

Flashback v1; Updates; Community Appeal

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 19:19:00 +0000

Flashback #1: The Child

Horses flashed by the small houses, merely shadows in the torch light. Townspeople shuttered their windows and barred their doors, hiding from the soldiers. The soldiers gave no attention to these movements as the pressed forward to fulfill their mission.

A child had been born.

The castle loomed as a dark structure in the night, ominous and instilling fear. Horses and messengers converged on the castle, all bringing messages to the king. There was no sleep for anyone in the castle that night.

A child had been born.

The king himself was asleep in his private quarters, unaware of the men at his doorstep. A page burst into the room, and whispered into the king’s ear.

A child had been born.

The king’s sleeping eyes burst open in realization. He sat straight up, fully awake.

THE child had been born.

Hey Guys!

What a way to start a new year, with a strange prologue. Anyways, feedback on that is much appreciated, I'm not sure whether to keep it or not as of yet.

So, the blog has been updated quite a bit in the day or so its existed. I have redone the look, which I think looks very professional. It does not have tons to do with what has been written so far, but it does build the suspense and it looks excellent.

I have added a Twitter feed to the sidebar, which takes you straight to my Twitter page. ReTweet and Tweet about what you see here, and follow me @novelprogress.

Check out the pages that are now here! I added a bunch yesterday which can only grow at this point. I am thinking about doing something with QR codes in the near future, so keep an eye out for that.

I want to incorporate the community more into this blog as it grows and develops. Therefore, if you have a blog that is about writing or contains your writing, send me the link! My email is: edcommissions @ gmail . com. I am hoping to get a blogroll up and running soon. All that I ask in return is that you either write a short things about this blog in one of your posts or that you put this blog onto your blogroll.

If you would like to have something you write featured on this blog, please write to me as well. I would love to have as many guest authors as I can.

Thanks!

Drew

Chapter 1, v1

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 21:05:00 +0000

Chapter 1: Confrontation v1

Jaon lay on his pallet in the corner of the kitchen, thinking. He was tired, but resisted the urge to fall asleep. If I can spend hours in a field with no rest, I should be able to stay awake for a little longer, he thought to himself. Jaon was tall for his age, and many in the village thought him to be older than the sixteen-odd years he really was. His skin was blemished from countless hours in the sun and he had many scars from boyhood accidents. His brown hair was ragged and unkempt, as he rarely took the time to clean it properly. Now, he was waiting for his grandfather to come home from the village, hopefully with some news of the war, or a package from the village. It had been many seasons since their father had supposedly been ambushed. Jaon was tired of people sending their condolences to his family. Many times he had slammed the door in a ‘friend’ of the family’s face because he was so fed up with people thinking he believed the lie. He had seen through it the moment the message came to their house. Even the messenger seemed to only be reading straight from the letter, as if he did not really believe it. He was about to nod off to sleep when he heard the beat of horse’s hooves, then a sharp whinny and the sound of heavy feet tramping on the dirt path. He leapt up from his bed, tiredness quickly forgotten, and rushed to the door. He whipped the heavy door open just as the old man rushed in. His grandfather was well built from years of work in the fields and in the blacksmith’s shop and he rarely struggled to keep his feet going under him. However, now he collapsed on the floor, his back holding the creaking door closed, and he gasped for breath. In his arms he carried a cloth-wrapped bundle. Jaon asked, “What happened out there? Grandfather?”

The old man answered between wheezing breaths,” A creature just burst out of the trees and tried to take the package. I fought him off but…” his voice trailed off and he slumped to the floor, his face twisted with obvious pain.

That was when Jaon realized that there was a dagger stuck in the old man’s side. The pommel was a solid, glittering ruby, and the handle seemed to have been made of pure gold. The wound was bubbling and every few seconds a new stream of blood would spurt forth from the deep incision. Jaon ripped off a piece of his brother’s clown blanket and tried to stop the bleeding but it seemed to have no effect on the gushing wound. The blood pooled warm and thick on the floor, spreading across the hard packed dirt like a pool of water. The old man just kept getting colder and colder in Jaon’s arms. Struggling for breath, he opened his eyes one last time and managed to gasp out, “Open the package, Jaon. Open it….” Then he slumped farther to the floor.

Despite his grief, Jaon sensed the urgency in the words and tore away the loosely-wrapped cloth around the package. He gasped as he removed the covering to reveal a length of smooth wood. Upon closer inspection, there were words etched into it. What could they mean?

He was about to begin deciphering them when the door flew open again. This time, a large, hulking shape stepped into the room. His face was angled like that of a cat, and he had gold eyes with black streaks criss-crossing the gold. He was dressed in black clothes and a billowing black cape, both rimmed with golden runes. His boots were all black except for the golden toes, which were inscribed with more runes of some kind.

In a deep voice he said, “Give me that, boy.” His voice was full of scorn and contempt for Jaon. He took a step forward and repeated his previous statement, adding more weight to the boy. Jaon took a step back, then turned and ran. Heedless of the danger, he dashed into the cellar, desperately trying to avoid the monster. He heard a scream from his mother, then the sound of heavy boots coming down the rickety stairs. He turned away from them and began to search for the only thing of value in the cellar, a note from his father. He had only a little time before he was discovered, so Jaon began to search through the alcoves he had dug into the wall for the item. His hand closed around the note, and then he grabbed it and dashed for the stairs with that in one hand and the plank in the other. The creature spun to chase him, but he was already up the stairs. As he ran, he saw a crumpled figure in the kitchen. He looked the other way, stifling his emotions, and kept running. When he was almost to the door another figure loomed in the door. He was identical to the creature that was chasing him, except he was wearing red and silver. The figure motioned to Jaon to come to him, and then drew a silver bow from his back. Jaon ducked, and the arrow whizzed above him and pierced Jaon’s pursuer through the chest. Jaon then sprinted through the door and into the night. He ignored calls to him by the red-clothed stranger and continued to run. Jaon wanted to get as far away from those two strangers as he possibly could. In the back of his mind he knew he should have gone back to the red-cloak but he did not second guess himself. Despite the whiplash from the branches and the thorns in his feet Jaon kept running, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Soon after dawn he arrived in Laemire, his clothes ragged and soaked with sweat. He was exhausted, but he still did not stop. He ran all the way to the Dancing Friar. He took the front steps two at a time and burst through the door. He ran through the common room, drawing strange looks and murmurs from the early morning patrons. Jaon hurried into the kitchen and went right up to the innkeeper, Jules. “My mother been murdered, Jules! This thing… just come up to my door and tried to kill me, then killed my mother. You gotta help me!” Jaon realized he was causing a scene and stopped abruptly. The innkeeper looked at him, then said quietly, “Why don’t you go get some sleep, and then we’ll talk.” Jaon reluctantly agreed, and plodded off to find an empty place to sleep. He found some sacks of flour in the storeroom, and he dropped off to sleep after carefully stowing the plank and letter underneath himself. He slept for many hours, and the sun was straight overhead when he finally awoke and made his way back upstairs to the kitchen. It was quiet in the kitchen, as the cooks had not yet begun to make meals for the people staying at the inn. The innkeeper noticed Jaon almost immediately, and after motioning him to follow made his way into the main room.

Once they were seated in a quiet corner of the common room, Jaon unwound his tale, starting with his father’s supposed death. He left out the part about the letter his father had given him, since that was rather personal. He also did not know whether to trust Jules or not, as despite their friendship Jules could still accidentally reveal the information. After Jaon had finished, he took a large swallow from his cup and looked at Jules, expecting a reaction. Jules, cleared his throat, then spoke in a lowered voice.

“Son, I suggest you leave this town as soon as possible. There’s no telling when those things might come back for you.” Jules looked around the room, as if to make sure they were still alone.

“But what are those things?” Jaon asked. His face was beginning to flush, and his eyes pleaded with Jules.

“Those are Ba’ha’ral, the ancient guardians of the sea. There are a few different types of them, some which you may never see. There are some who are weaker, and many of those are in the service of the king. The most powerful have never walked this earth, but rumors say that they are coming.” he looked around to see if anyone was watching them then continued. “These that you saw here are in the service of the king, but the one who tried to help you might be a rogue or a deceiver.”

“What would they want with a poor farmer like me? What have I got to offer?”

“I don’t think they want you, boy. It’s what you have that they want, and let me warn you that they never stop until they do get it. I don’t know what it is exactly, but there is something about you…” The innkeeper trailed off, then waved his hand as if to bat away the words. “No, nevermind.” After that the innkeeper stood up and walked back to the kitchen, leaving Jaon alone at the table with his drink.

Jaon was tempted to go back to the storeroom and sleep, but he knew that he must be going. If what he said was true I can’t stay anywhere for long. So without a pause he got up from the table and left. As he stepped onto the street, he was shocked to see that no one was outside. This time of day was very popular normally. There were no merchants selling their wares, no beggars begging or even children playing in the streets. All he saw were a few scrawny rats nibbling on something in a pile of waste and a mangy dog scratching itself. The few buildings on either side of the street all seemed deserted, with not even a sound coming from their open windows. The dog whined, and Jaon turned to look at it again. When he looked closer at the dog, though, he noticed that the dog had no shadow despite being fully in the sun. That’s strange. Then the dog turned toward him and fixed him with its staring green eyes. Its tongue hanging out, the dog walked straight towards him. Jaon tried to turn around to flee into the inn, but he found that more invisible bonds were holding him in place. He struggled briefly, but his legs were firmly stuck in their place. It was just him and the advancing dog. In desperation he pulled the letter from inside his tunic. He tore at the seal and pulled out the contents of the envelope. The letter was in a neat script and it read, Son, if you read this, you must have received word of my death. If you think as I think you will, you will see through that lie. I am in a position that does not allow me to be known to my enemies. Jaon looked up and saw that the dog had stopped and was looking at him quizzically. He quickly looked back at the letter. When you are in the greatest need, look to the stones for your help. I will come back home for you, son. I will. That was all he wrote. Jaon came back to the real world with a start, and immediately he saw the dog was advancing on him again. Jaon looked down at the ground, and saw nothing but dirt. Drat, no stones. As he cast his eyes along the street, he felt something hard in the bottom of the envelope in his hand. Ripping apart the rest of the envelope, Jaon pulled out a smooth stone with a strange insignia etched onto its surface. As he held the stone, it grew hot in his hand. He almost dropped it, but the heat disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Then it slowly began to levitate, until it hovered a few inches above Jaon’s hand. The dog was still coming, and Jaon could see it was running now. In desperation he moved his hand like he was going to throw the stone at the dog. To his shock and surprise, a beam of light shot forth from the stone and struck the dog squarely in the forehead. The dog-illusion flickered and disappeared, leaving the hooded shape of a Ba’ha’ral in plain sight. The Ba’ha’ral stumbled as if he had been struck by a boulder, and then toppled to the ground. Jaon rushed over in time to see that the stone was still on its forehead. The stone’s emblem was glowing very bright, and continued to do so even when Jaon removed it from the Ba’ha’ral’s forehead. He started to go back up the stairs into the inn when two more Black-cloaked Ba’ha’ral appeared out of the alleyways. Jaon wished then that he was like those magicians in the stories who could just lift up their magic wands and their enemies would be destroyed. Even as he thought that, two beams of violet colored light shot out from the stone in his hand directly toward the advancing monsters. The two staggered under an invisible weight, then fell back into the alley. Jaon felt a sudden drop in his strength, but it was forgotten in his amazement at what he had just seen. Again he turned to go into the inn, but before he could open the door it was slammed open in his face, causing him to drop the stone in surprise. On the other side of the door was the white-faced innkeeper who was staring at him with a wide open mouth, the plank in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.

“How did you do that?” he asked incredulously. “How?”

“I have no idea! I just thought it and it happened! Are you going to kill me or something? I’m innocent! I never asked for this!” Jaon babbled.

“Calm down, Jaon! Control yourself! Now let’s go inside. We need to have a long talk about this…,” said the innkeeper, putting one of his hands on Jaon’s shoulder and using the other to pick up the stone. “…this power of yours. Oh, and this time give me the full story. Don’t leave anything out.”

The innkeeper turned abruptly and walked through the door. Jaon took a final look around at the street, noticing how the bodies had conveniently vanished. With a shudder, Jaon crossed the threshold and

Once inside, Jaon and the Jules sat down at the same table in the corner they had used that morning. Jules had the servants bring a divider to place between their table and the rest of the common room so they couldn’t be seen or heard. He also told the servers to make people sit a good distance away from them. There were some servants of the King that had been trained to read people’s lips so even the most secretive conversation could be deciphered, and others had been gifted magically enhanced hearing so they could better ‘serve’ their ruler. With recent events in the surrounding lands, no one could be completely above the suspicion of being loyal to Fredar the King. Only when everything was sufficiently noisy in the common room with the lunch crowd did Jules begin.

“Jaon, do you know why the creatures of Him have such an interest in you? Because you are one special child. Now this isn’t like the stories, no not at all. You aren’t going to become the king or anything, no sir. The gift given to you is more difficult than that. But you still are one special child. Very few humans are successfully able to wield this power. Those who are able to wield the power seldom live long enough to meet someone else who is like them. The emblem of the human magic wielders is on this stone. This emblem identifies a true wielder of the power, as it is etched onto the finger nail of your left pointer finger.”

Jaon glanced down at his hand. Sure enough, the symbol was there as decribed. Breathing hard, he stared at Jules. “Please don’t tell anyone. Please! I’ll be murdered in the streets!”

“It’s not that bad, really! You could choose to keep this power secret, throw away the stone, and live out the rest of your life normally. Many have done that, and there are no adverse affects to that decision. Of course, you could also go to the capital, to the king’s magicians, and see what they have to say about your ‘power’. The worst they could do to you is have you sentenced to living the rest of your life swinging in a hammock over a gorge while you ‘think about all the wrong you’ve done’ when you have done more good than anything. You could also pledge yourself to Him, and do his bidding, be hated by civilization, hunted down and then killed by an angry mob. So those are your normal options.”

“Normal? I’m not normal, so why should I do anything normal? There’s something you’re not telling me, so spit it out!” Jaon stared into Jules’ eyes. “I need to know, Jules. This is my life we are talking about.” He looked down, then reaffixed his gaze on Jules. “And my father’s.

“Okay, you got me there. You could go to the place where the Ba’ha’ral make their homes. Now I’m not saying that would be easy. No sir, it would be very difficult, very difficult indeed. You would need to travel over barren desert lands and through forests in which unthinkable dangers lurk. Then you would have to scale the cliffs to the walls of their fortress, and plead your case to them and hope they decide to take you in. There you would receive proper training in the use of your power. If you are lucky, they might even swear you in as one of their own.” Here Jules paused to take a long drink from his mug. “This has never happened in recorded history, though. The Ba’ha’ral are a very secretive, selective group.”

Jaon used this occasion to slip another question in. “Now where did you learn all this from, o knower of all?” he added sarcastically. The only answer Jules gave him was a quick flash of a stone in his right palm. “Let us say that I know from experience.” With that he stood up, and retreated to the kitchen. Jaon attempted to follow him, but was held in his seat by invisible bonds. After Jules had disappeared into the kitchen, the bonds disappeared. Jaon did not follow Jules, however, as he did not want to risk being trapped again. He went back to the storeroom to think about all that Jules has said. He lay there many hours, tossing ideas around in his head. By the time he finished, he knew there was only one way out. And that was to find the Ba’ha’ral.

Introduction v1

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:23:00 +0000

Introduction

The morning dawned bright but cold. The sparrows were only just beginning to sing, and the last few night dwellers crawled back into their forest holes as the feeble rays of the sunlight broke through the mists. In the tiny village of Moorshead, a few tiny wisps of smoke could be seen coming out of the chimneys of the small thatched cottages that lay in orderly patterns along the streets. In the nearby pastures, a few animals stirred, awaking from a long winter’s sleep. A light dusting of snow covered all in the village, and by looking at the clouds one could see that there was more on the way. A few ducks splattered around in the pond, trying to get one last meal before the water froze completely. It seemed like nothing could ever go wrong in this little town.
In a small house not far from this town, Jaon stirred in his bed, and pulled the threadbare blanket over his head to block out the crisp, bright sunlight. His grandfather had already been up for an hour, tending to the livestock and stoking the fire. Now he was readying the cart to take to the local market, which was the small family’s only source of income. After hearing his name called a few times, Jaon stretched and slowly lowered himself to the cold dirt floor. Jaon was nigh on sixteen years old, and was very quickly becoming a man. He had long brown hair, which hung unkempt over his ears and eyes. He was a very fit young man, but one had to be fit in order to work the long hours in the fields. After folding his sheet into a small bundle, he slowly made his way over to the washing tub. Once he had splashed some of the lukewarm water onto his face and dried off with an old rag, Jaon walked out into the cottages’ only other room to eat before heading to the weekly market. His actions mimicked those of many other village boys that day, working long days alongside family members to sustain a meager living. However, Jaon was different from all those children. After the death of his brother, Jaon was the only supporter of his mother besides his grandfather. As he nibbled on the leftover food from previous meals, Jaon watched the sun rise as he always did. His routine was always the same, but he did not think about this much. So little happened that was out of the ordinary in that small village, it was hard to believe that there was ever a time where something happened that was not in perfect accord with everything else. There had been a time when this small town was important, but that time had long been forgotten.

However, Jaon knew none of this, nor did he care to learn about it. His life was filled with such peaceful monotony that he had no concern for what was outside of his small world. He grabbed for a small crust of bread, and went through the door to the street outside, where the old man was waiting with the cart. Today was market day, and he and the old man had to sell everything in their cart if they were to be able to afford food for the next week.

As he watched Jaon slowly move towards him, the old man felt his long-harbored disappointment flare up inside him once again. So many years I’ve waited. And this had to happen. He shoved his emotions back down, though, determined to keep an even temper. If his temper broke, then the old man would have no chance of fixing his mistakes.

As soon as the boy was settled in the cart, the old man slapped the old mare and they began the journey to the market. The dusty, well-traveled road twisted and turned before them, worn with the wheels of countless carts. As he walked, the old man drifted off into his own world of thought. Memories were flooding back on this day, a day he had wished would never come. At least not like this. This is almost too much to bear. The old man knew that soon he was going to break from the years of pent up emotion, but he suppressed it as long as he could. Maybe someone will take this from me. He knew, somehow, that the only way he could be released was through death. He was ready for death to come, but the boy was his responsibility. The boy. Why did he have to come to me? The shuddering of the wheels over cobblestones brought the old man back to the present. Out of habit, he checked for the dagger he kept concealed in his belt. Satisfied that it was easily accessible, the old man redirected his focus towards the road ahead. However, it was not long at all until he began to drift off again. How I miss you, Haelon. How I miss you.

The road wound on, and so did the old man’s thoughts.

Welcome!

noreply@blogger.com (Drew B Darby) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:19:00 +0000

I start this blog with a bright view of the future. I have embarked on writing a novel for the first time, and I hope to complete this dream of mine. In these pages I will chronicle the process of writing this novel, complete with my thoughts, ideas and ramblings.
So here is how it's going to work: I will be posting each new chapter as a separate post, basically a "today's progress" post. I will also have a "manuscript" page where every day I will upload the complete work as it stands at that point. As I make various changes, they will all go into new posts at some point. I also hope to be displaying concept art for the characters and the cover here as well.
A bit confusing, but as I post more it will make more sense.
So, what is your part? Comment. Let me know what you think. If you think it is horrible, don't lie! Tell me, and tell me straight up. I'd rather be embarrassed now than later. If what I write inspires you, great! Please don't just take my ideas, but use them as a springboard to new and better things. If you like what you see here, please follow my blog or just keep coming back. I promise that there will be lots of content.
Thanks for reading, I hope to have up the first post in a short while!

Drew