Kid, a fantasy novel in progress. Need feedback please

1

I look down at the paper sitting before me, blank but for the few words written so far. It’s a lot harder than I first thought documenting the facts of my life. Am I supposed to write what I think happened? Or be self defacing and write it as it was perceived by others?2

Hmm, I think the truth is best all around. But don’t judge me prematurely. Because as you will see, I have reasons for all I have done. You might not agree with them. But to me every action I have taken in my life had reason and meaning. All I ask of you who is reading is to have an open mind. And think, what would you have done in my position?3

My earliest complete memory is of the monastery on the isle of Ripplegate. Ripplegate at that time was a simple place, with only a few thousand people living on the forested island just of the coast of Jahmel. 4

I was sitting, rather like I am now, with pen in hand and concentrating fiercely on the page before me. The head priest Julian had set me a task earlier that morning. What the task was I have now forgotten. Other than it had something to do with numbers, all I can now remember was the desire of a six year old boy who wanted greatly to impress the main authority in his life. 5

I do however remember that I completed the task easily, grabbed the parchment, and left my room at a full sprint as I took of down the stone hallways of the monastery. The floor, cold and rough under my feet, accepted my brutal pounding with an ironic sigh. I passed a couple of the grey robed priests on my way, gave them quick bows of greeting, then shot off again.6

With its endless seeming corridors and near identical oak doors, the monastery can be confusing even to a grown man at times. But, lucky as I am to be blessed with a good memory. I found no troubles in navigating the endless stone corridors.7

I took no notice of the paper in hand that was becoming more and more crumpled as I clenched my fists in effort. And when the star carved pillar came into view I nearly squealed with delight. Julian would be happy to see that I had done the task he set. And maybe, if I was very lucky, he would get cook to make me one of those blue sponge cakes with the coloured sprinkles on top. A small shiver passed over me as I thought about the delicately baked cake with honey.8

When I reached the intricately carved door, the only one in the monastery to look any different from the others, I pounded on it with my small clenched fist. I can very vaguely remember being told off for not knocking before, but this time I knocked and waited excitedly.9

“come in.” came the calm reply from the other side.10

I didn’t need to be told twice. I reached up and pulled the handle and the door swung open.11

Julian was sitting with pipe in mouth, looking down at some papers set before him.12

The room had a strong aromatic scent, with a touch of bitterness. I later came to know the scent as feverfew. More a weed than plant, it was used by those with medicinal knowledge to relive headaches.13

Julian showed no sign of discomfort as he looked down on the six year old boy standing before him, a small smile playing across his features.14

“Kid. You know you shouldn’t run in the halls of the monastery.”15

I gave him a mischievous little smile as I replied. “Running is good exercise you said.”16

Julian’s smile grew broader. “I did say that didn’t I?” then he chuckled softly. “Well, try to make sure Father Owen doesn’t catch you.”17

Julian glanced at the paper in my hand, raised his eyebrows slightly and asked. “That for me?”18

I nodded nervously and moved forward to hand the head priest the now smudged parchment. Julian reached forward and received the work calmly. I stood still as I watched him. He looked over the paper carefully, stopping only for a drink of the bitter tea that was the source of the aromatic smell in the room.19

“This is good Kid. You seem to be doing well in your studies.” The head priest seemed to be talking more to himself than he did to me, but nevertheless I beamed under his approval.20

Julian lay the parchment on the desk before him and leaned back in his chair, for the first time showing the discomfort he obviously felt. “Hmm, I think I have no choice but to bring you a mentor. Its obvious that your ability will soon far exceed that of the other priests. What do you say Kid? Would you like someone to teach you letters as well as numbers? You know it’s a good thing to be able to read and write, with those skills you will never go hungry. Always will there be need for someone who is both numerate and literate. It will see that you can look after yourself when you need to.” Again the head priest seemed to be convincing himself more than me.21

“If you think it is a good idea father Julian.” I replied, trying to keep the hurt from my voice. Father Julian was the rock in my life. He was the one who had raised me, looked after me, saw to it that I was fed and clothed. The thought of him not being there to teach me was more than a little unnerving.22

A warm smile came to Julian’s face. He obviously heard the hurt in my voice. “There’s no need to worry. You will still be here. And you can come to me when ever you like.” 23

And with those simple words that made everything alright in my view. I left the head priests room happy that day. Julian was pleased with my studies. Not to add the good news that I would later be the proud owner of a blue sponge cake with coloured sprinkles and honey.24

The following months I spent my time as I usually did. The mornings I spent out in the grounds. Running and pretending to fight ferocious dragons and unimaginable monsters with my little wooden stick.25

Afternoons were for study. Julian hadn’t found me a mentor yet. But I wasn’t worried. 26

Truth to tell I wasn’t all that bothered if a new mentor was found or not. Julian was providing me with a more than adequate education, and like any normal six year old boy I much preferred running about the monasteries grounds and generally making a nuisance of myself.27

The couple of hours I had in the evenings before bed were used for prayers. Even at that age I was full of questions about the deities called gods. Maybe I was a little premature in my judgements as you will find out. Everything taught to me I questioned. The priests answered as best they could, and it was rare that my arguments actually made any sense. I just couldn’t understand why I should believe in something I couldn’t see, smell, touch. The priests hadn’t seen a god either, which made me even more sceptical. Julian often tried to explain the reasons for belief and prayers, sometimes spending hours going over the same things again and again. But I have always been stubborn.28

At that time in my life I can honestly say that I was happy.29

But, as with everything in life, nothing ever stays the same. It was just over a year since the conversation in Julian’s office when I received the news that my new mentor had been found. I was called to Julian’s room not long after sunrise and It was there that I first met Jecht.30

A tall slim man. He looked on me with loosely focused eyes. “So you are the one that I am to teach.” It was not a question. “Julian here tells me that you are rather talented with numbers. Is that so?”31

This was a question I knew. But Jecht seemed to be wavering a little on his feet. And a strong smell was emitting from him. I kept quite. “Are you a little hard of hearing? Or are you just being ignorant?”32

I looked to father Julian for advice. And received in turn a brief nod. 33

“Sir, I don’t know if I am talented with numbers. Father Julian sets me exercises and I complete them. That’s about all I can tell you.” I was proud that my voice stayed calm under those dark threatening eyes. 34

Jecht tilted his head to one side and ran his eye over me critically. Then came a surprise, he smiled.35

“Now that was a sufficient answer. I think I can teach you.”36

Jecht turned to Julian. “His studies will start tomorrow. No one is to interfere in any way. I will teach him in my own way.” His tone was abrupt.37

Julian agreed with a brief nod. “I understand. It will be as you say.” replied the head priest. “Come, I will show you to your room.” he pushed up from his chair and moved to the door. “Kid, could you tell cook to make one extra meal for afternoon lunch?” 38

“Of course,” I replied. And then left gratefully to go deliver his message.39

On my way to the kitchens I wondered to myself why father Julian had let my new mentor speak to him as he did. Before that day I had never seen anyone speak to father Julian in such a way. It wasn’t that Jecht was rude, it was more in the tone he had used when demanding that no one was to interfere with my studies. 40

I put the odd conversation to the back of my mind, obviously in time Jecht would come to respect the head priest as he deserved.41

Cook, assiduous in her duties as she was, was already well aware of the new visitor.42

“I know, Kid. He is your new mentor right?43

I nodded. Cook always knew what was happening in the monastery.44

“He doesn’t seem the type father Julian would usually chose. But who am I to say? I’m only the cook”45

I was confused by her comment. A bright youngster I might have been, but I was still only seven years of age.46

“What do you mean cook?” I asked.47

Cook looked over her shoulder as she removed the freshly baked bread from the oven. “Only that I thought he would have chosen one of the priests here to apprentice you to. But never mind that now. A young boy like you must be starved.” she cut off a fairly large portion of bread, buttered it, and threw in some of the beef from yesterdays evening meal. “Here,” she handed to me the steaming beef bread. “That should see you until breakfast is ready. Now run along now, I have a lot to do.”48

I mumbled thanks through a full mouth. “Fanks cook.”49

she laughed, “your welcome Kid.” and then preceded to push me out of the kitchen affectionately.50

And in that way was I treated by all the servants. They liked the young boy who brought a little mischief and life into the house. But they had their own chores and duties to fulfil. Which meant most of my time was spent alone. 51

I think that is where my sense of privacy stems from. Growing up at the monastery had its advantages, indeed. But when it came to company for a seven year old boy, there wasn’t much.