Easy points for you :) (Fantasy)

Well, here it is, its simple. I need feedback on a fantasy novel I am writing. I need to know what you think of the story so far? Does it flow? And were I am going wrong? (well, no one is perfect)

Just to let you know, this is going to be a book consisting of between 600-700 pages. And it is going to be the first of the four books I plan to write in this saga.

Its an easy way to win points I feel. And I really do need the feedback.

Go, knock yourselves out



PROLOGUE

Holding his head in his hands, the young man wept. How could they do this to him? His own family. He could hear voices filter through the gaps in the door, but none of that mattered now. She was gone. Taken from him with one quick act of brutality. Never again would he hear that sweet laugh, those mocking comments that bit with both truth and love.

“I grieve for you son, but there’s nothing to be done, you know this.” Those were the words of the man who had taken everything from him. The man he had once called father was gone to him now. In his place was set a calculating, heartless king. Who would buy for himself power on the sale of his sons and daughter.

Well he would still have a son and daughter to buy his power with. But this son he would have no longer.

* * * *

Julian could hear the young man weeping through the door.

The moon looked down with a full face on the city of Rallion, sending through the palace windows an eerie light to match the lord protectors mood. Julian was thankful it was night. The palace that in the day would be bustling with servants and nobles was at the moment a place of quite movements and little creaks.

Other than the two men who stood facing each other, the odd guard who would pass on his night time rounds, or the occasional servant, the hallways of the palace were empty.

Julian, the lord protector of the Hall, looked to his childhood friend.

“It has been done as the king requested.” Julian answered councillor Bracken, his voice cool.

“You don’t approve?” Asked the councillor shrewdly.

“I don’t see as it matters whether I approve or not. It was the kings choice to make, and he made it.”

Both men knew that if he so chose, Julian could cause more than a little trouble in the matter.

“Julian,” said Bracken calmly. “You know that things have to be this way.”

Those “Things” were the fact that a young man was now sitting broken in the room behind him. Knowing that the women he loved was now gone, as was the child she had been carrying.

“Hmph,” snorted Julian. “For the greater good no doubt. As it always is when something nasty takes place. But the greater good is not always the right choice, you know this as well as I.”

The first councillor to the king looked from side to side, you could never be too careful in the palace of the king, even at this late hour.

“Julian, please. We are in the kings palace, not the Hall.”

Julian smiled ironically. “Have no worries my friend, we are not being overheard.”

It had been a long day, Julian sighed. “Come, lets have that drink you promised me, I could do with it at this moment.”

Councillor Bracken smiled, and the two men set of down the lavishly decorated hallways.

* * * *

The contents in the goblet swirled, the vortex at the centre now self sufficient from its creating force.

King Bryce the second watched in fascination as the vortex slowly died out, the wine returning to its natural placid state. It had taken forty seconds since he had swirled the contents, a simple choice he had made, but from that choice the contents had had enough momentum to carry on unaided for two thirds of a minute. The king of Rallion - the most powerful of the kingdoms on the Kingsland - enjoyed small observations like these. They corroborated what he had always said. Every choice one makes in life has consequences. Some far weightier than others, true. But nevertheless it was a wise man who tried to plan for every eventuality.

And that was exactly how the king lived his life. He planned, everything, meticulously. There was never a moment of the day when he was making choices he hadn’t planned for. Even now, the hour after midnight, he was using his planned hour in which to relax. The day had gone well he thought. His son had taken the news of his lovers death as well as could be expected. And it wouldn’t be long before he was back courting. In a couple of months he would let his son know that he was to wed the daughter of king Joan, the princess Alivea.

Yes, things were going smoothly once again.

A noise from the guards outside brought the king out of his musings. The sound of metal striking floor was followed by a crash against the door. King Bryce muttered a curse under his breath and stood, moving towards the door.

As the king reached forwards to open the door, he suddenly found himself propelled across the room. He lay stunned. Faint voices reached him. He wasn’t sure but he thought he could hear shouting. Slowly, the king opened his eyes. The room which was usually as ordered and planned as one of the kings days, was now a jumble of debris and fallen units. He suddenly felt anger rise up in him. Who would dare attack his persons?

“What is this!?” roared the king, painfully getting to his feet.

A young man, one inch past six feet in height, walked through the door less arc. His eyes blazing.

“This,” said the young man, indicating the decimated room, “Is retribution, father.”

The prince cocked his head, looking with dead eyes at his father king. “Now I must finish this, goodbye father.”

The last thought of king Bryce the second, was not that his son had betrayed him. Nor even was it about his planning in which he had though to have done perfectly. No, he wondered to himself what he had unleashed upon the world? For as he looked into those eyes of death, he saw in them the destruction of all he strived to help thrive. His kingdom.

Chapter One : Balion

Fluid in motion the quill moved across the rough paper, soaking in with the knowledge of plants and remedies that would help for a number of the most common illnesses found on the Kingsland. Balion carefully put the quill back in its holder, stretched his arms above his head, and looked critically on the work he had produced.

Well, it wasn’t the best he could do, the tails on the “Y” were still what his master would call hooks. And he would have liked to embroider the edges. But all in all it was sufficient for what was needed.

Balion pushed up from the chair and moved to the cabinet, were he removed four small paper weights that would hold the paper open while it dried.

Warm streaks of resplendent light filtered through the single window of the back room, colours dancing a myriad of shades as individual ink pots reflected the rays repeatedly off their glass cased bottles, giving the room a more vibrant and airy atmosphere than actually warranted.

Balion was in a jubilant mood. It was the tenth day of the month. The day in which apprentices all over the isle of Ripplegate awaited impatiently. The annual half day holiday was Usually in itself reason enough to feel a relief from the days constant chores, but today that was just a minor part of the reason why Balion was so excited.

He felt like rubbing his hands together as he anticipated the coming nights celebrations. This years “day of light festival” would be the best so far, he was sure. Not only the rumours that came down from the keep - which said there was to be a gifted among this years celebrations - but the fact that he was now counted to be amongst the adults, and could compete in the trial of arms - Even though he would only go in for the bow competition - made his body shiver in nervous expectancy. Balion and his closest friend Jack had often talked about going to the games, and all their spare time over the last year was spent practising eagerly for this very day. Jack would be going in for the bow competition too. They both knew that trying for the stave or sword contests would be useless. Balion was of a height with the men on the island, but he lacked the bulk and experience the other fighters had. And Jack, being both shorter and of a slighter build, not to mention never having used a sword or stave in his life, agreed that their best chance of success came with the bow.

Balion was standing with his back to the door when he heard a noise from behind him. He turned to see master Jerry, looking down on the work laying open on the table.

“Still got those hooks there, boy,” said Jerry, pointing to the work.

Jerry was what Balion considered an old man. In his fifties, he spent most of his time in the shop on one project or another. He was a little portly, but by no means was he fat. He still had nearly a full head of hair, but the years had taken their toll and there was only the odd smatter of light brown amongst the grey.

“I know, I do try to work on them, but it seems to be habit.” Said Jerry, placing the inks in their correct place in the cabinet.

“Hmm, but they are improving. A day practising those alone,” Jerry pointed to one of the “Y”. “And I think you would be aright.”

Balion looked to Jerry nervously. Jerry laughed, “No, not today. Tomorrow is soon enough. I need you to get them aright by this day in seven. Got a job from the keep, and I need you to do the more simple diagrams and copying.”

Balion nodded, a feeling of pride suffusing through him. They got a job every now and then from the keep. But previously Jerry had worked on them by himself. It felt good to know that Jerry thought him capable of helping.

“Now, get going lad. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Balion nodded, grabbed his bag of the table, then said goodbye.

He got to the door of the shop when he wondered, “Jerry, will you be coming to the celebrations tonight?”

Jerry looked up from the other side of the counter, “I might be. I don’t really know yet. I got a lot of work to do.”

Balion nodded, and felt a little guilty that he was leaving Jerry to work alone.

It wasn’t often that Jerry went to town, Preferring instead to spend his time working through the old tomes, which were in a such a sad state that the ink had long faded over the years, and deciphering runes which it seemed no one understood other than himself.

Balion pushed thoughts of work aside as he moved through the door of the shop and out onto the street. He wanted to get home as soon as he could, knowing the quicker he did, the more time he would get to practice with his bow before the evening games. He wanted to get in at least a couple of hours practise, and was in no doubt that when he reached the clearing where he and Jack practised, his friend would already be there awaiting him.

Balion gave brief waves and calls of hello to a number of familiar faces as he jogged the dirt beaten road. It was just past mid day, and the sun hung gracefully at the top of its arc, bathing Balion in an unwelcome wave of heat that made his clothes stick to his back, underarms, and inner thighs as he worked up a sweat.

Using a trick he had long ago mastered, Balion loosely detangled his mind, shutting out the discomfort of heat and focusing on keeping a steady pace for the two mile distance to his home.

Like the majority of young men on the island, Balion had spent many years running through the isles forests. Either playing games of chase, or with Jack as they set about adventures in which they made out to be heroes of some great saga.

Being used to running in the forests, and traversing unsteady ground, meant Balion found no trouble with leaving the road and taking the shortcut through the woods.