Curse of Graves

[0xDEADCAFE]

Something I started a few years ago, but never took very far. Lately its been on my mind again so I thought I would have another go. It's a tale of boy meets necromancer, with maybe a teeny bit of questing.

Chapter 1 starts in the next post. Comments invited.

[0xDEADCAFE]

Chapter 1: Harbinger

A black speck winged on the horizon, but the boy was not watching.

The matron said, “Graves,” but the boy was not listening.

“His name is Graves - do you hear? - whom you shall address as Master Slayer. And you will do so with all the respect that a young rascal such as yourself can muster. Roll your eyes all you want! You will attend this man, and attend him well, or I will find you the darkest, foulest corner of this monastery, and leave you there with nary candle nor broom ‘til it is clean enough for the Lady herself to take her tea!”

“I’m not afraid of the dark, if that’s what you think,“ said the boy, “and I cleaned plenty of dark corners before I became a novice. I’m not supposed to have to do that anymore. I am supposed to be out practicing my weaponry lessons with the other novices!”

He turned his back on the matron and took a few steps toward the window where he could see the rows of students training on the practice field below. Above his gaze, the black speck was gliding across the sky, nearing imperceptibly.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled to himself. Everything about this thing disgusted him, but he knew his best chance against the matron was not to throw a tantrum, but to show respect for the rules in which he was schooled. Raising his voice for the matron to hear, he said, “It is the duty of all novices to train in the fighting arts and learn the way of battles,” and then added, in a somewhat lowered voice, “not wait on some smelly old codger who’s too weak to even feed himself!”

The matron sat down and sighed deeply. She regretted her moment of pique and tried again with more dignity. “And what of history?” she asked. “Is it not also the duty of every novice to learn the history of this monastery and that of the wide world as well?”

The boy ignored her. Standing at the window with arms crossed and feet apart he stared longingly at the field below where the novices moved as one to the calls of the apprentice masters. His muscles twitched as he heard the familiar commands. He closed his eyes, imagining himself down on the field, moving with the others, feeling the balance of the fighting stances, enjoying the effortless command of his body and that his strong arms and legs gave him.

The matron gazed expectantly at him for a few moments, then realizing he had not heeded her question, said coolly: “I am told that you are somewhat skilled at the fighting arts, for a novice of course.”

At this the boy whirled around, hissing, “Somewhat skilled! I’ve won every tournament I was ever old enough to enter. I’m the best - everyone knows that!”

Satisfied with the response that her remark had drawn, the matron pondered her next move. “I can see you are prideful,” she said in even quieter tones, and then dropped her gaze to some papers on her desk.

“Am I?” he said, taking a few proud strides towards her. “No one beats me with staff or fist, and soon I’ll complete my training in spear and sword-” he broke off suddenly, and then, as if suddenly remembering something important, continued, “-and I’ll soon have trials. How am I to get top marks if I’m not allowed to train?”

Now the matron ignored the boy, at least outwardly, and began importantly pushing some papers around her desk. Then, without looking up, she said, “You will be given ample opportunity to impress the masters.” Then after a few more moments of very important pushing she stood up and walked slowly over to the tall mannish boy. “Now, I ask you again, what of history?”

“History?” he said. “We learn it in lessons.”

“You do,” she stated flatly, strolling around the boy. “In what year was this monastery built?”

“Uh…”

“Who was the last of the ancient monks? The one who was so important during the last struggle against the darkness?

“…”

“You did say you learned it in lessons, did you not? Or were you speaking only of the other novices?”

“Names and dates! What does a warrior need with these things?”

“Why in heaven Master Adema chose you for this task!” she cried loudly to herself as she turned from the boy and walked back toward her desk. She stopped suddenly as she reached it, and turned around, looking hard at the boy, continuing, “But perhaps…, perhaps you need this task more than it needs you.” Then, setting her closed fist down on the desk and leaning, she said, “It is just possible that you will learn some appreciation for history before you’re done with it.”

The boy showed his puzzlement on his face, but the matron just stood and stared at him, saying nothing. After several uncomfortable seconds under the matron’s formidable glare, he finally asked, “So, what is this Graves, an old history teacher or something?”

The matron answered him thoughtfully. “In a manner of speaking, perhaps, but more to the point, boy, he is history.”

Even more puzzled, but defying the matron to get the best of him, he raised his voice a little and said in his best imitation of studious and proper speech: “Ahem, do you mean, history, as in he is as old and crumbly as the books in the library?” And then, grinning, “Or, history, as in he will soon belong in a history book, if you take my meaning, ma’am?”

The matron’s face brightened at this display of wordplay on the part of this lad who had previously shown little cleverness. “And if I said that he is history in the sense that he won it, changed it, made it, that all that you see around you and all that your fathers for three generations have known and lived is by his doing. What would you say to that, boy?”

Now the boy’s confusion reigned on his face and in his speech. “You speak nothing but riddles,” he said, now with a look of pain around his eyes.

The faint cry of a bird blew through the window, but neither of them heard it.

“I don’t know what your words mean, and it’s true I don’t know all the words of the history lessons, but, if you please ma’am, can’t I just return to the training and let someone who is better with words do this task?”

Disappointed, the matron resumed her seat behind the desk. She folded her hands and for a moment looked down at them as if unsure of how to continue.

“Please sit down,” she said.

Her voice now had a tone of finality, and the boy could feel himself resigning to the inevitability of what was to come. It felt a little like falling, like breathing under water, like taking on weight, and heavily he trod to the front of her desk and slumped down into the chair placed in front of it.

“I’ll not waste many more words on you boy. You have been chosen for this task - not by me, mind you - and if you ever want to be allowed to return to the practice field again you will do it, and do it well. In case you feel that you have been unfairly singled out, know that you are not the first chosen for this task, nor I suspect will you be the last. Quite a few novices, apprentices and even a few masters have had this task before you.

“It is simple enough. You will tend this man. He is very old and requires constant care. Whatever food he will take you will bring to him. When needed you will dress him and wash him. Whatever he asks for, you will furnish as best you can from the blessings we have in this monastery. You may seek my aid but understand this: he is in your charge not mine.

“Now pay attention. You will have writing equipment with you whenever you are with him. If he talks to you of his past you will write down what he says. If he tells you stories you will listen very carefully and then write down what you remember. At the end of each day you will present to me all you have written. Do you understand?”

When the boy did not answer, she began to ask again, but at that moment a raven landed on the window sill with a loud fluttering. Clad in its ebon armor of wings, it nearly shined in the sunlight, each of its sharp feathers reflecting the light like the edge of a knife. One of its eyes was milky white, and it glanced around the room purposefully, finally settling its lone black eye directly upon the boy.

The matron flew from her chair toward the window. “Evil creature! Away with-“

The raven held its perch, and stopped her in her tracks with a shockingly loud and piercing cry. It gave her a long threatening look and then returned its gaze to the boy. It screeched again, quieter this time, slower and low-pitched, like it was delivering a message, and then flew off.

“Begone!” said the matron, rushing to the window. “And take your treachery and your evil omens away with you. Your kind is not welcome here!”

The boy had barely noticed the arrival of the dark harbinger or the matron’s obvious distress. He sat grim-faced, self-absorbed, his body and spirit an alchemical mixture of one part fist and one part pout. He understood all right. He was to spoon-feed a smelly old geezer, wipe his nose, wipe his butt, and listen to all his crazy ramblings.

And while the boy sat wondering what he had done this time to deserve such a disgusting punishment, somewhere in the unseen sky above him, an avian voice answered, unheard.

[Relapse_]

Subject wise, not my cup of tea. Don't worry, though- I have very fickle, rare tastes that boarder more on sci-fi and avant garde than fantasy. But technically, you're writing flawlessly. Every sentance and paragraph flowed perfectly when read in my mind. If you want extra super-writer bonus points, try experimenting with colourful metaphors in keeping with whatever moods or emotions you're trying to establish.

Keep up the good work!

[0xDEADCAFE]

Subject wise, not my cup of tea. Don't worry, though- I have very fickle, rare tastes that boarder more on sci-fi and avant garde than fantasy. But technically, you're writing flawlessly. Every sentance and paragraph flowed perfectly when read in my mind. If you want extra super-writer bonus points, try experimenting with colourful metaphors in keeping with whatever moods or emotions you're trying to establish.

Keep up the good work!

No worries mate, I too generally prefer Sci-Fi to Fantasy. Thanks very much for the kind words. Something tells me that RevenantsKnight could easily demonstrate just how not-technically-flawless this chapter is, but I'm very glad to hear that you thought it flowed well.

Your advice about colorful metaphors is very welcomed; I'll definitely keep it in mind. The whole raven thing was originally supposed to be a metaphor, but it seems to have become more of an allegory. It's something I grafted onto the original scene after letting it sit for about two years, and I am not quite sure how well I think it fits in.

[RevenantsKnight]

Something tells me that RevenantsKnight could easily demonstrate just how not-technically-flawless this chapter is.

Eep. First, I should say that I do miss stuff; I'm not an English teacher or professional editor by a long shot. As for being technically flawless, I think this is pretty darn close. Couldn’t pick up anything more than a few smallish errors, so my thanks on that; it did flow nicely for me as well. Anyway...an interesting start, to be sure; I’m rather curious as to what you’re going to do with this setting, and whether this will turn out to be your take on a teacher and student sort of thing, or something...less predictable, given your enjoyably oddball creativity. Here are those previously mentioned comments:

Everything about this thing disgusted him, but he knew his best chance against the matron was not to throw a tantrum, but to show respect for the rules in which he was schooled.

“Everything about this thing” doesn’t sound too smooth to me; I’d change “thing” to maybe “task,” “arrangement,” or something like that. Also, I’d see if you can’t remove the second use of “but,” possibly by moving the “respect” part before the “tantrum” part.

She regretted her moment of pique and tried again with more dignity.

The way this is worded, it sounds like the matron pauses for a second while she regrets, and then tries again. Did you want these to be simultaneous?

Standing at the window with arms crossed and feet apart he stared longingly at the field below where the novices moved as one to the calls of the apprentice masters.

I think you need a comma after “apart.”

He closed his eyes, imagining himself down on the field, moving with the others, feeling the balance of the fighting stances, enjoying the effortless command of his body and that his strong arms and legs gave him.

The last part of this sentence needs another look. What did his “strong arms and legs” give him?

Then after a few more moments of very important pushing she stood up and walked slowly over to the tall mannish boy.

You might want to drop a few more descriptions of the boy into this first chapter.

“Why in heaven Master Adema chose you for this task!” she cried loudly to herself as she turned from the boy and walked back toward her desk.

The spoken bit doesn’t sound right on my ear; should that be “Why in heaven did Master Adema choose you for this task!” or am I just missing something?

Then, setting her closed fist down on the desk and leaning, she said, “It is just possible that you will learn some appreciation for history before you’re done with it.”

I’d replace “learn” with “gain,” since “learn” can be either positive or negative. Or did you want that ambiguity?

“And if I said that he is history in the sense that he won it, changed it, made it, that all that you see around you and all that your fathers for three generations have known and lived is by his doing. What would you say to that, boy?”

I like this passage, but it’s a little hard to follow on first glance. You might want to trim it just a tad.

It felt a little like falling, like breathing under water, like taking on weight, and heavily he trod to the front of her desk and slumped down into the chair placed in front of it.

This is a wonderfully vivid image

“I’ll not waste many more words on you boy.”

You need a comma after “you.”

“You may seek my aid but understand this: he is in your charge not mine.”

I believe you’re missing a comma after “charge.”

He sat grim-faced, self-absorbed, his body and spirit an alchemical mixture of one part fist and one part pout.

Heh...excellent.

This was a great read, and I’m looking forward to more. Thanks for posting!

[0xDEADCAFE]

Chapter 2: Champion

That evening Matron Rubia stayed late in the dining hall with Master Adema, who despite his relative youth for one of that title, was one of the most respected at the monastery. For several years he had served as disciplinarian of the younger boys, but recently became the novice instructor of elementary fighting techniques. It was he who had recommended this latest boy for the task of tending to the man Graves, and it was that proposition that he and the matron were now discussing.

Albeit, for the moment, it would be Matron Rubia doing most of the discussing.

“Think once, think twice, said the eldest of the mice,” said Rubia, wagging a husky dinner roll at the young master. She then took a substantial bite of the crusty loaf, and began chewing her way to a rough oratory.

“’’Tis true that no one has had much luck with this man. Even Master Oriole, who we used to say could charm the quills off a porcupine, could get nothing out of him for a tenday of trying, and the other masters who took their turns fared no better.”

“It seemed only logical then, to let some of the more promising apprentices try with him, after all what could it hurt? Who knows what key will unlock that man’s mind, if he has one left, that is.” She paused to take a sip of wine, which she rolled slowly about her mouth.

Adema sat quietly, watching her. He had already finished his meal and now sat forward, leaning on his elbows, twirling the stem of a wine goblet between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. The calm, even surface of the spinning liquid evinced the fine control of a swordsman, as the shimmering outer wall of the glass reflected the face of a sincere seeker of truth. He had indeed thought twice, thought thrice, and thought again before putting forth the name of the boy, Kurst, for this very special task, and he continued to ponder the wisdom of it during Rubia’s monologue.

For her part, Rubia had thought of little else since her frustrating interview with the boy that morning, and the disturbing encounter with the strange crow, though it had in no way affected her appetite; a woman of many talents, she had the most remarkable capacity for perfect erudition while in the act of consumption.

“And finally when all of the apprentices failed, it was decided to use the novices. The old man must be tended, at least, even if he does refuse to tell us about his past, and he really doesn’t need that much in the way of caring.” Rubia paused to nibble a morsel of meat from a large, mostly bare bone, which she held in both hands.

“He barely eats at all and, strangely, though he looks to be as old and weak as death itself, he doesn’t seem to suffer from any serious ailment. I’ve never seen such case.” Rubia put down the well-cleaned bone and licked the grease from her thumb.

“So why not?” The question hung in the air as Rubia tended to her glistening fingers.

“But always, with the apprentices and novices, as with the masters, we chose the most intelligent, the most studious. All of them had some interest in history and at least a passable talent for writing.” Adema couldn’t help thinking that he himself had never been asked, but he nodded politely and passed her one of the monastery’s ornate napkins.

“But this one - Kurst, I believe you said - I wonder if he can write his name much less a coherent paragraph, and as for history, I suspect he’d use one of the old books as a bludgeon before it actually occurred to him to open it!”

Rubia unfolded the napkin and began wiping her hands in a manner that the young master perceived as intended to convey her disapproval. Adema smiled and said in as pleasant a voice as he could manage, “You’re not far from the truth, I suspect. He’s no scholar - that’s for sure.”

“Then can you, Master Adema, tell me why you recommended this boy? All I can think is that the masters have quite given up hope of learning anything from this man, and have now resorted to having the novices just take turns babysitting him.” Rubia balled up the cloth and dropped it roughly on the table as if to punctuate her last remark. “He does require a caregiver,” she said sighing, “and I can spare no one to nurse him all day long.”

Adema gave his glass a final twirl and then set it down. “It may come to that, but not just yet, I think.” Adema looked down into his glass and squinted as if trying to divine a deep insight out of the dark liquid. ”There is something special about this lad.”

Rubia dug a fingernail at a piece of meat between her teeth; Adema tried not to notice as he spoke.

“Over the years, I’ve taken quite an interest in him. He is the reason I changed offices. As head master of the young ones I would have had no contact with him once he graduated, so I asked for a position teaching the novices.”

Rubia succeeded in extracting the gray smidgen of flesh and flicked it onto her plate. Adema asked, “Did you know he’s never been beaten in the tournaments?”

Rubia answered by blowing a burst of air through her teeth. “I hardly think that will help him with the old man. If the knowledge he’s locked up in his head could be wrestled out of him, I’d do it myself!”

Adema chuckled inwardly and allowed his gaze to stroll the avenues of the matron’s strongly built frame. “I don’t doubt that you would, Rubia,” he said, and arresting his amusement lest it broach laughter, said “I don’t doubt that at all, but there is more to this boy’s prowess than brute strength. As I said, he’s never been beaten - I don’t mean that figuratively - he has never been beaten.”

“Surley not, Adema. Surely any one of the masters, if not most of the apprentices could easily-“

“Yes, yes, of course, Rubia, but we don’t allow formal competition outside of the age groups. But still, you must admit it’s remarkable. We have been blessed with outstanding young fighters before; at times there are students who are clearly better than the rest, but Kurst, he has been with us now for years, and he’s not lost not once – not one training bout, not one qualifying round, not one single final. The boy simply will not be beaten.”

Rubia frowned, poured herself another glass of wine, and offered the decanter to Adema.

“You’ve seen him, Rubia. Thank you.” Adema paused to refill his glass. “He’s not the biggest of them, and I can tell you he’s not the fastest either. His skills are excellent for his age, but not that excellent, not what I would call extraordinary, certainly not of a level that would explain his astonishing success.”

Rubia pushed the frown about her face as she listened to Adema’s voice, so earnest, so full of admiration for a boy she firmly considered to be little more than a rude and ignorant scamp.

“He has a knack for…, well…, overcoming. That’s the only way I can put it. He has a rare gift, Rubia. Though his mind may not made for history and writing, as you say, it’s as keen as a diamond in the heat of battle.”

Rubia began to appreciate the fact that Adema’s sponsorship of the boy was quite in earnest. Yet she was used to getting her own way. “I still don’t see how that will help. His behavior today was very disrespectful. I handled him of course – I dare say he’d meet his match in me - but nevertheless, he impressed me as one quite unsuitable for service in this monastery.”

“I’m sure I can talk to him, make him understand-“

“Can you? I’m not so sure you could. Or should,” said Rubia, looking away.

“Should? I don’t understand.”

Rubia shifted in her chair and swallowed roughly. “I have a bad feeling.”

“A bad feeling? About what?”

“About everything. About the boy – and about that man, I’ve never liked having him here – and about, today, that awful, awful creature.”

“You mean the crow that flew into your office?”

“That was no mere crow!” Rubia’s voice flared suddenly and Adema could hear the tension in it, a strain that bespoke of a genuine fear. “It was evil! You know what the villagers say about them.”

“I do, but don’t tell me you believe in that superstitious nonsense,” said Adema.

Rubia said nothing, but dropped her eyes, sat up a little straighter, and crossed her arms.

Adema continued, “There must be a hundred ridiculous tales about ravens: that they are messengers of dark lords, that they visit doomed souls on the eve of their damnation, that they are not birds at all, but immortal minions of the demiurge, screeching words of power older than earth itself. You can’t believe that.”

Rubia turned her head and wrapping her arms around herself more tightly.

“You do believe it,” whispered Adema.

continued in next post...

[0xDEADCAFE]

...continued from previous post

“I have a bad feeling,” repeated Rubia, in a way that raised the hairs on the back of Adema’s neck.

“Rubia, you can’t give these fables credence. Why, I’ve even heard people claim to be able to converse with them – right before they offer to tell your future for a gold piece – you can’t believe any of it. Its fear riding the back of ignorance, a charlatan’s tale sold for warm ale, a child delighting in an innocent vision of terror. Truly, Rubia, we’ve advanced beyond such foolishness, haven’t we?”

When Rubia did not answer, Adema reached across the table and laid his hand gently on her forearm.

“Trust me Rubia. Give this boy a chance.”

Rubia looked into Adema’s warm and steady eyes and slowly the chill seemed to leave her.

“Well…” she said, reaching for her wine glass. “He did show a bit of cleverness during the interview. For a moment I thought I saw…, but no. Tell me Adema, how will his…, this talent you describe, help us?” Rubia raised her glass and gulped a mouthful of wine.

“Well, I-“

“You must admit,” interrupted Rubia, setting down her glass, “the boy has absolutely no interest in history. And we didn’t even tell him what the real purpose of his task is - to get the old man to tell of his past - and I certainly don’t think he will press the point out of his own curiosity.”

“I thought it would be better to keep the true nature of his task from him,” said Adema, after waiting a moment to make sure Rubia was finished. “He’s at the age now when it’s easier for him to oppose a thing than to accept it. And he’s clever enough to guess that the quickest way out of this task might be to fail at it. You’ve seen how willful he is, even for one his age.”

“Have I!” said the matron, the color returning to her cheeks. “It’s been quite a while since anyone got my goat the way he did this morning.”

“You see? He has a powerful effect on people.” Master Adema smiled broadly and continued with a jolly air, trying to lighten the mood, “and he was none too pleased with me either, I can tell you, when he got back from your office this morning - I almost reached for my staff when I saw the look in eyes.“

Rubia answered stonily, not a bit amused, “Alright Adema, I’ll give my permission.”

“Thank you, Rubia,” said Adema, his smile vanishing.

“Perhaps all we can do is hope for the best, may the lady deign,” she said, and then bowed her head for a moment as she made a solemn gesture in the air.

“Its ironic really.” said Adema, a grin returning to his face.

“How so?”

“I’ve known this boy for most of his life, ever since he first came here as an orphan. Now, all the young boys love the martial arts at first, but over time most of them find other interests, even as they continue the training. Not Kurst. Though now nearly a man you can see how he still dreams of becoming a great warrior just as fervently as any six-year-old brandishing a stick at a monster of a tree. If he only knew: tomorrow, as he trudges his way to his hated task, he’ll be on his way to meet a man who might very well be the supreme champion of our age, perhaps greater than any warrior in known history.”

[0xDEADCAFE]

Eep. First, I should say that I do miss stuff; I'm not an English teacher or professional editor by a long shot. As for being technically flawless, I think this is pretty darn close.

First of all, quit being so darned modest. Second of all, thanks once again for pointing out my many errors. (Some day I really must learn the secrets of this strange thing you call a "comma.")

“Everything about this thing” doesn’t sound too smooth to me;

Agreed. In fact, I noticed that I used "thing" poorly in a few other places too.

The way this is worded, it sounds like the matron pauses for a second while she regrets, and then tries again. Did you want these to be simultaneous?

I guess I didn't intend exactly that. I could reword this without the "and."

The last part of this sentence needs another look. What did his “strong arms and legs” give him?

An effortless command of his body. Yes, it is awkward, and I'll revisit.

You might want to drop a few more descriptions of the boy into this first chapter.

Actually, now that you mention it, I think I want to leave the description vague, perhaps even more than it already is. For example, when I reread "tall, mannish boy" I realized that I don't picture the boy as tall, so I plan to take that word out. "Mannish" is suitably vague so I'll leave that. I think what I want to do is define the boy by his words and actions and leave his general physical characteristics to the reader's imagination.

The spoken bit doesn’t sound right on my ear; should that be “Why in heaven did Master Adema choose you for this task!” or am I just missing something?

It's an unfinished statement. "Why in heaven Master Adema chose you for this task I'll never know." I probably should have used an elipses instead of an exclamation mark to indicate that she trailed off without finishing her sentiment.

I’d replace “learn” with “gain,” since “learn” can be either positive or negative. Or did you want that ambiguity?

I'm not sure that distinction is important to what is being said, but it's a good point. Foor for thought.

“And if I said that he is history in the sense that he won it, changed it, made it, that all that you see around you and all that your fathers for three generations have known and lived is by his doing. What would you say to that, boy?”

I like this passage, but it’s a little hard to follow on first glance. You might want to trim it just a tad.

Yeah, and it's a particularly important passage I feel. Thanks for the heads-up.

This was a great read, and I’m looking forward to more.

Thanks so much, and, fear not, I'll be spicing with commas liberally.

[RevenantsKnight]

Hrm...a rather quiet and serious chapter, with lots of foreshadowing and little hints. You’ve definitely got my attention, what with some of the possible futures you’ve put forth...but I can’t help wondering whether they came a little too quickly. In my opinion, it’s a little dangerous to introduce major hints as to fate, etc. before defining the characters they’re being attributed to. Here, I don’t know if I care enough about Kurst yet to view him particularly favorably or unfavorably, which means that if he doesn’t get more personal elements of him shown soon, I might start thinking of him more as a faceless agent of a prophecy or something. Other than that, this looks good, and I’m looking forward to more! Some comments:

That evening Matron Rubia stayed late in the dining hall with Master Adema, who despite his relative youth for one of that title, was one of the most respected at the monastery.

Minor nitpick: I think you need a comma after “who.”

“Think once, think twice, said the eldest of the mice,” said Rubia, wagging a husky dinner roll at the young master. She then took a substantial bite of the crusty loaf, and began chewing her way to a rough oratory.

“’’Tis true that no one has had much luck with this man. Even Master Oriole, who we used to say could charm the quills off a porcupine, could get nothing out of him for a tenday of trying, and the other masters who took their turns fared no better.”

Erm...who says this bit? From the punctuation, it appears as if Adema says this, but it sounds to me to be better suited to Rubia. If this is Rubia speaking, drop the closing quotes.

“It seemed only logical then, to let some of the more promising apprentices try with him, after all what could it hurt?”

The comma after “him” should be a period or semicolon, and there should be other commas after “after all” and “logical.”

For her part, Rubia had thought of little else since her frustrating interview with the boy that morning, and the disturbing encounter with the strange crow, though it had in no way affected her appetite.

Crows and ravens do belong to the same genus (Covus) but they aren’t synonyms. I’d pick one or the other and stick with it.

“I’ve never seen such case.”

You’re missing an “a” after “such.”

“But this one - Kurst, I believe you said - I wonder if he can write his name much less a coherent paragraph, and as for history, I suspect he’d use one of the old books as a bludgeon before it actually occurred to him to open it!”

I’d try to come up with something more specific than “a coherent paragraph”; you could convey a hint more about the monastery here with a good example. Also, you need a comma after “name.”

“Surley not, Adema.“

Surely you mean “surely.”

“Though his mind may not made for history and writing, as you say, it’s as keen as a diamond in the heat of battle.”

I think you need a “be” after “may not.”

“Its fear riding the back of ignorance, a charlatan’s tale sold for warm ale, a child delighting in an innocent vision of terror.”

“Its ironic really.” said Adema, a grin returning to his face.

I think you need “it’s,” not “its.”

“Trust me Rubia. Give this boy a chance.”

You need a comma after “me.”

“I almost reached for my staff when I saw the look in eyes.“

That should be “the look in his eyes.”

Thanks for posting!

[0xDEADCAFE]

Here, I don’t know if I care enough about Kurst yet to view him particularly favorably or unfavorably, which means that if he doesn’t get more personal elements of him shown soon, I might start thinking of him more as a faceless agent of a prophecy or something.

Yup, I got the same feeling as I was writing it. As a matter of fact I cut short and then removed another vein in the conversation for exactly this reason, and I might consider shortening chapter 2 even more. It was originally a brief interlude, but on revision I got a little carried away with the conversation... The next chapter will deal quite closely with the boy; hopefully it won't be too late.

“Think once, think twice, said the eldest of the mice,” said Rubia, wagging a husky dinner roll at the young master. She then took a substantial bite of the crusty loaf, and began chewing her way to a rough oratory.

Just curious, did you have a comment about this line?

Erm...who says this bit?

I'll attribute it.

The comma after “him” should be a period or semicolon, and there should be other commas after “after all” and “logical.”

I opted for a dash - it seems like an aside - but dutifully applied the commas.

Crows and ravens do belong to the same genus (Covus) but they aren’t synonyms.

I thought they were. Thanks for pointing this out. After doing a little research, I'm definitely making it a raven.

I’d try to come up with something more specific than “a coherent paragraph”; you could convey a hint more about the monastery here with a good example. Also, you need a comma after “name.”

I'm not sure I follow you. She is saying that she does not expect him to be able to write well. Maybe "coherent paragraph" is a not the best choice, but what do you mean about conveying more about the monastery.

Surely you mean “surely.”

Surely. (And stop calling me Shirley!)


As for what I didn't comment on: corrections have been made. Thanks a bundle, and for what it's worth, no one bears the crest of "anal" like the Knight.