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Greetings, everyone. This here's another one of my short stories, set in the Diablo world for sure this time. It's still a tad rough by my exacting standards, and I'm not personally sure how much more polishing it could use, so I'd appreciate it if you'd do me the favor of reading it over and leaving any comments, feedback, rants, or whatever else comes to mind. In particular, I'm especially interested in opinions on how believable the relationships between the major characters are, since this piece steps somewhat outside my usual realm of writing for a change. Thanks for your time, and I hope you enjoy this!
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Running was never something that Ialvos enjoyed, mostly because he felt that it demonstrated a sort of failure; if one were careful and wise enough, such alacrity would never be necessary. As a result, he took to planning as much of his waking life as he could well in advance, and strove to follow his agendas to the letter. His meticulousness, which tinted every facet of his existence, had served him well so far; as a cartographer, he had produced the definitive map of the harbor of his home, Tran Athulua, as well as other excellent charts of the islands and the currents of the Twin Seas. Renowned throughout the lands of Athulua, his works had guided countless ships past rock and shoal, and brought him much wealth and praise early in his adult life. Both had allowed him to keep his life to his liking; it was well within his power to decline a contract from a prominent merchant in order to preserve his carefully crafted schedules and prevent unnecessary haste. And yet, he found himself running, his body careening past the beautifully crafted houses of the city’s aristocracy, arms pumping as he gained speed. He had often walked down this road, going to or from a client’s house or just stopping to admire the structures’ graceful, sunlit shapes, but now he saw only the path ahead of him, his sight made focused by dread.
The words of Lady Daela, matriarch of all Philios, rang in his ears as his legs carried him away from the grand House of Athulua, perched among the topmost branches of a particularly massive tree, overlooking the city and the harbor beyond. The age of the Prophecy is upon us. Three of Hell’s dark lords will soon walk the lands of humanity, as foretold by our priests of Karcheus the Watcher long ago. In order to fulfill our station as defenders of not only our islands but all of Sanctuary, I have ordered many of our warriors to depart for the lands beyond...Her disembodied voice faded out of his mind, overshadowed by an icy fear that drove him on over the seamless wooden roads.
As the houses of the rich faded around him, replaced by the stands and shops of the marketplace, Ialvos slowed his pace in anticipation of the crowds of Athuluans buying and selling wares, swapping rumors, and going about their daily lives. Here, the sunlight remained strong, the branches overhead removed or diverted to allow light into the great plaza. He barely heard the sounds of life enduring as he dodged through the masses of people, almost unaware of those around him. To his straining brown eyes, warped by emotion, the market seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, almost as if it sought to detain him forever.
Finally, he came upon the familiar path on the edge of the city, a walkway curving gently towards a cluster of thatch-roofed houses, plain, sturdy structures that suggested a reserved strength rather than an empty bareness of necessity. Unlike the market, the branches overhead here were thick and numerous, so the trail seemed to shrink into the shadows around Ialvos, except for where rays of sunlight that escaped the leaves splashed into golden pools on the wood. Still running despite the aching of his young but soft legs, unaccustomed to action, and the heaving of his lungs, he skirted a sizable hole in the pathway, the empty space encircling a ladder leading down towards the forest floor. With trembling hands he unlatched the gate surrounding the houses and, breathless, walked to the second domicile on his right, pausing for a moment to gasp in air. Then, his mind lost amid a haze of worry and possibility, he pulled away the curtain hanging over the opening in the walls and stepped inside.
For a moment, Ialvos’s vision saw only a wall of black, then as his eyes began to take in the darkened room, they flickered right, instinctively moving to check the large wooden stand and rack in the far corner by the worn table. Both stood empty; there was no trace of the usual items upon their wooden beams. Dammit, he thought, I’m too late. Part of him wanted to leave immediately to search the rest of the city, in the hope that he could catch up to her before she left, but the burning in his legs and chest told him that would be a rather unlikely outcome.
Too winded to do anything else, he slumped downwards into a sitting position, managing just barely to shift himself so that his fall ended upon a chair placed by the doorway. For a few minutes, he sat there motionless and fumed inwardly, cursing his weak, thin limbs and the concept of duty while the pain faded from his weary muscles. Unable to release his frustration by physical action, Ialvos contented himself with staring angrily at the room’s inanimate occupants. In his fantasies, he imagined first the table crumbling into wooden fragments under the force of his wrathful gaze, spraying the far wall and the door of fabric set into it with a fine cloud of dust and splinters. Next, his sight fell upon a clay pot resting by the stone-lined hearth; he stared balefully at the vessel until it disintegrated, forming a small pile of dust that collapsed slowly into the ashes from the last fire.
As he turned to his left, looking for another victim, his realm of dreams vanished abruptly as reason finally managed to snare his anger. Part of his mind, disgusted with his childish desires for violence, sent a frisson of shame down his spine; another, still seething, caused his hands to curl into fists, the bunches of muscle and bone shaking with fury. Finally, his soul in control of his body again, he rose from his seat and turned back to the open portal behind him, readying himself for another run.
“Wait, Ialvos.” A strong, melodic voice rang out from the darkness of the room, accompanied by the clink of steel. The cartographer whirled in surprise, the soft leather of his shoes sliding on the polished wood floor as he attempted rather clumsily to check his forward motion. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not his eyes deceived him, and then stepped towards the speaker, openmouthed. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so soon before I left, so if you wish to talk, let us do so while walking,” continued the figure matter-of-factly, motioning with a gloved hand and striding forward gracefully towards the door.
Still a bit surprised, Ialvos moved to her side, squinting for a moment as they stepped into the light. His sight took in the dull green rain cape hiding his companion’s armor, a breastplate and a pair of steel shoulder guards by his recollections, and the ebony circlet placed over her straight, blonde hair. Below that, her gentle features were composed into a mask of determined blankness, punctuated by the two ice-blue orbs that stared into the shadows blanketing the walkway with an even resolve. In her left hand, she carried a massive septum that stood taller than her by a head, holding it upright as she walked forward. His eyes were drawn, though, to the heavy traveler’s pack slung over her right shoulder, which she carried as if it were a bag of gull feathers. “So you were chosen, Lehani,” he murmured, speaking barely above a whisper.
Her eyes still fixed on the path ahead, Lehani nodded, the motion causing her hair, gathered behind her, to bob up and down, the tips of the golden filaments brushing against her back. “I was told maybe six hours ago, when I arrived at the eastern treetops to take over the watch of the harbor. A priest from the Temple of the Watcher met me there, and told me to go immediately to the palace.” She shrugged, the metal of her armor clinking quietly as she moved her shoulders upwards. “You can guess the rest, I assume.”
Ialvos swallowed slowly, and quickened his pace to take his mind off of the emotions flooding his breast. “It is true, then? Do the Three walk among us now?” Despite the grimness of the subject, he felt little fear at the prospect of demon princes in the mortal realm; the combined strength of the Heavens and of Athulua’s elect, he reasoned, would be more than enough to turn back even the vilest fiend ever spawned amidst the fires of Chaos. And yet, the apprehension that gripped Ialvos’s chest was enough to slow his breath, stemming from a concern he was loath to admit to anyone, least of all himself.
Although her expression remained solemn, a shade of hope crept into Lehani’s voice as she answered, “The Dark Trinity is not yet remade, though if the rumors of a curse blighting the western lands are true, one of them may have escaped his prison. We’ve time still, perhaps enough to halt this Terror, and cage him once more before he succeeds in fulfilling the prophecies of the Watcher.” She paused, and her eyes sparkled with a passionate fervor Ialvos had never seen before, causing him to blink and look again. “Ours is the greatest duty, defending all of Sanctuary against the darkness.”
“The greatest duty?” Ialvos raised an eyebrow, his surprise at her words coloring his voice.
“Of course,” his companion replied, a small smile appearing on her face like a ray of sunlight emerging from a mask of cloud. “By our devotion to Athulua and her heavenly kin, we show our defiance towards the dark ways of Chaos. With Her blessing, all mortals will take heart from our example and stand with us against the might of the Three.”
Nodding mechanically, Ialvos began to walk faster, for they were now entering the heart of Tran Athulua, the bustling marketplace he had run through barely minutes ago. The presence of so many other people irritated him; something within him recoiled at the thought of letting the various merchants and their customers overhear even the barest wisp of his conversation with Lehani. A sudden urge to take her hand and run with her through the crowds and into the quiet of the forest beyond gripped his breast. Unwilling to act upon that, his body remained in step with the warrior at his side. “Do you know where you are bound?” he asked, looking upwards into her eyes and wishing inwardly that he had spent more of his time learning of the faraway kingdoms of the mainland. Many names, foreign-sounding words like Westmarch, Lut Gholein and Kehjistan, had graced his ears over the course of his work, but the little he knew about these lands was likely to be useless.
Lehani hesitated for a moment, her mouth partway open as if she had begun to tell Ialvos a secret and then caught herself. That look disappeared from her countenance in an instant, replaced by an expression of mild amusement, but not before his sight took note of her pause. “Curious, aren’t you?” she laughed, the sounds of her merriment ringing out like the musical tones of a wind chime.
“Well,” began Ialvos hurriedly, “since I’m a mapmaker, I was just wondering if I’d heard of wherever you’re going, and if I could be of any help. I haven’t studied the lands beyond Athulua’s protection much,” he continued, the words rushing from his mouth, “but I do have a sense of what’s out there. That’s all.” The instant the last of these left his lips, he scolded himself mentally; he sounded like an idiot, babbling careless splashes of words like a drunkard slopping wine from a goblet.
Lehani didn’t seem to think his words foolish, though; she merely held her smile and gazed down at him for a moment, the silence punctuated by the rhythmic thump of her spear butt against the wood, before answering, “I do not know myself, as I suspect Kythese, or whoever is leading us, wants to keep that a secret until the very end.” She paused for a moment, her free right hand making the sign of Athulua to show proper deference to the elder warrior’s name. Ialvos’s eyes chased the gesture, meant to represent the sun and the rain, as it rose from her side to rest in the hollow of her throat. “While no child of the islands would dare bargain with the darkness, even wood and water can be tapped by the Three to serve as eyes and ears.” Her smile broadened slightly and her voice took on a lighter tone as she finished, “Which is why I wouldn’t tell you anyway, if I did know.”
Ialvos’s face fell at this; his failure to glean even this small bit of knowledge from her made his heart sink in his chest as if it had suddenly become lead. Puzzled, Lehani cocked her head and studied him, then smiled again and added, in a gentler voice, “I didn’t mean that as a strike against you, Ialvos. Not even Lady Daela herself would hear our destination from my lips, if that is what my commander willed, and I will just trust to Karcheus’s guidance that we will find what we seek.”
Ialvos nodded in response, but felt little change within him; he hadn’t took Lehani’s words as an insult, and he’d expected his knowledge to be of no use. Her assurances had done nothing to allay the increasing desperation that blackened his thoughts, though he felt a momentary flare of contentment against that dark cloud at the concerned and soft tone of her voice. It’s nice to know she cares about me, if only a little, he thought to himself, and smiled briefly.
As his feeling of satisfaction waned, Ialvos’s mind returned to its brooding despondency of before. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to describe the gloom that gripped his heart, other than that it was one of the worst sensations he had ever known. Attempting to distract himself for even a moment, he began to look around the marketplace, hurrying his short strides to keep in step with Lehani. People, their faces made blurs by the quick motions of his head, walked past him, carrying their purchases, or stood bargaining with the various merchants. Stands bearing fruits, whetstones, wooden crafts, and other objects faded in and out of his vision. All around him, the business of the market continued in its daily rhythm, the populace of Tran Athulua flowing in and out of the square and along the smoothed branches like blood through veins. Everything seemed to be as it always was, except for the darkness within Ialvos’s soul.
“Actually, Ialvos, you might have an idea of where I’m headed,” Lehani began suddenly, startling Ialvos out of his silent observations. “The priest who met me at my post very briefly mentioned a sect of warriors, Rogues I think he called them. Have you heard of any such group? It seems like they were powerful, for he said they had played a part in breaking Diablo’s army some months ago.”
Ialvos paused, thinking, then quickly began walking again when he realized that he was in the way of a rather burly merchant carrying a wooden rack filled with an assortment of daggers. “I’ve heard that name once, but only as one of the many powers in the western lands. There are many kingdoms and ports in that part of Sanctuary, most of them younger and weaker than the great empires to the east.”
Lehani smiled her thanks at these few words, and Ialvos accepted them with a nod and a rush of happiness. For the next few minutes, everything in the world seemed right to him, and he walked beside Lehani, almost in a daze, following her lean, powerful figure with a puppetlike mindlessness to his actions. Once the last of his euphoria faded, though, Ialvos found himself again in his world of questions and worries, plagued by the same gnawing dread. As he made his way through the market, he found himself going over his companion’s words again, searching them for a spark of light to guide him. His thoughts passed over her words on faith and the Three; he found them, and the determination they conveyed, more than a little unsettling, though he could not explain why, his mind either unaware or willfully ignorant of the whims of his heart. He lingered upon her smile for much longer, reliving the moment in his head over and over in a vain attempt to bring back its pleasant warmth. In his memory, though, the image was a pale shadow of its former self, unable to drive back the gloom of the world.
Fighting back a burst of despair at this realization, Ialvos forced himself to keep his mind busy, and continued sifting through Lehani’s words for distractions. He briefly considered talking to her some more, but let that idea slip away when he remembered that he had nothing of importance to say. I’ve made enough of a fool of myself already, he berated himself silently; there’s no point in pouring oil into that fire. Examining his memory with the same meticulous care he afforded his work, he suddenly paused as he recalled what she had said of those Athulua’s warriors sought. It seems like they were powerful, for he said they had played a part in breaking Diablo’s army some months ago. Something within him awoke at this, a feeling that colored his gray dread with the red of emotion. The more he thought about it, hearing again and again her voice in his head, the more he was struck by its seeming absurdity. “Lehani,” Ialvos began, eyes flickering left in his head to take in her face.
Lehani’s head swung round to face him at this, though she kept walking as she did so, neatly sidestepping a porter carrying a load of obsidian. “What is it, Ialvos?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.
“You said these Rogues the priest mentioned were powerful?” he queried. He knew the answer, and would have even if he had not reflected upon it; his ears had captured her every word and his mind had grasped them greedily, storing away each one like coins in a miser’s stash. After she nodded her assent, he continued, fighting to keep his emotion from bleeding into his words, “Then why do they need your help? Can’t they finish what they began themselves?”
Lehani’s face grew grim as she replied, “Fighting an Evil greater and older than humanity itself is something that would tax even Athulua’s devoted. I cannot be certain, but I would think those battles reduced their ranks, even if they did not fight with Terror itself.” She hesitated for a second as a distant pain colored her features, then faded before another surge of resolve. “With Her blessing, we will help them stand again, and become the herald of humanity’s resistance against the armies of Chaos.”
“A pity the other lands are too weak to defend themselves against the shadow, so we must carry their burdens for them.” The words spilled out of Ialvos’s mouth before his mind could detain them, rising above the general hum of the market on wings crafted from the bitterness that had simmered in his heart ever since Lady Daela’s voice had faded from his ears to ring forever in his memory.
Shocked, Lehani stopped dead and turned towards Ialvos, a mix of surprise and anger spilling into the hopeful determination that filled her eyes. Several bystanders turned to look as well, then quickly reversed their actions once they saw the black expression on Ialvos’s countenance, muttering things to each other. Ialvos didn’t care. None of the people around him mattered now; his world encompassed only himself and Lehani. “What does it matter, Lehani, if these distant Rogues fall before Hell’s might? Let them burn! They are of no concern to us, and should not be anything to Athulua,” he hissed, ignoring the fury that blossomed at first in her eyes. “We have the strength to protect ourselves. Why must we risk our own to save them as well?” he finished, his voice tainted with a bitter anger and sorrow. The mere act of saying those words tore at his heart, as they brought him to face the insidious worry that he had refused to recognize ever since Lehani had taken the oath of Athulua’s warriors years ago: the fear that she would be ordered to leave for a distant land and vanish from his life forevermore, as suddenly and completely as shadows flee a newly lit torch.
The two of them stood there, facing each other amid the sea of people, for several minutes before Lehani reacted. Her face no longer harbored the passionate wrath that Ialvos had first seen; instead, a curious mix of quiet understanding and steel shaped her countenance. Silencing the onlookers around her with a penetrating glare, she waved her hand towards a path out of the market, leading into the darker shadows of the forest. “Follow,” she rapped out, and began to make her way towards the trail, striding forward as if she were going into battle against a hated foe. The crowd of people in her way parted before her, fear and awe gleaming in their eyes. Stunned by this side of her he had never seen, Ialvos stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, staring after her dumbly. When he finally returned to his senses, he began to follow Lehani’s fading form, pushing through the reforming wall of humanity in his haste.
Lehani stopped a short distance into the forest, and waited for Ialvos to catch up without turning around. When he arrived, she remained silent even as he came within arm’s reach, still gazing off into the shadows surrounding the city. Here, the branch upon which they stood was untouched by the hands of human crafters, its surface rough and curving downwards from the rounded peak. Below that, Ialvos could see only blackness; falling from the canopy down to the earth itself was as absolute a death sentence as any executioner’s axe. For a fleeting instant, Ialvos wondered if anyone would ever find him if Lehani pushed him off the branch...
“Listen, Ialvos,” Lehani murmured softly, her quiet voice more compelling than any thunderous command to Ialvos’s ears. “I will not listen to you question Athulua, Karcheus, or any of our other ancestors. They possess far more knowledge than any of us can hope to attain, and you should respect this and their judgment. If you persist in this, I will not tolerate your presence any longer.” The last of these words were snatched from her lips by the hiss of the wind through the tree branches, almost as if the forest itself had just exhaled through clenched teeth.
Ialvos looked down at the spotless tops of his leather shoes, his face burning, and then quickly brought his head back up when he realized again the depth of the drop off the branch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and meant it.
Lehani finally turned around as he spoke, and her eyes focused upon him with an unnerving determination. After an uneasy silence that lasted for an eternal second, her cold, expressionless mask cracked around the lips as a faint smile emerged on her countenance. Ialvos didn’t see it, though; his attention had returned to the branch beneath him. “It’s...just that...well...” He sighed, unsure of how to best breathe life into his thoughts. Moment after moment passed by Ialvos, and still he remained speechless; in his mind, he wrote and rewrote his words, seeking to convey an idea and failing each time. He could say it only once, and so it had to be perfect.
“I know.” Ialvos looked up, sucking in his breath with a gasp, drowning in his surprise. The edge in Lehani’s eyes softened as she repeated her two words, her smile broadening. “How...” Ialvos’s voice began, then trailed off, his mind too stunned to think.
She laughed, a sound of true happiness, as she replied gently, “You should look in a mirror more often, Ialvos; it’s writ all over your face.”
Ialvos smiled at this, a big, sheepish grin that seemed to cover his entire face. “Maybe it is, then...” he chuckled, his features tinged with red for a moment. He paused, fumbling for words again, then murmured, “I just didn’t want you to disappear...without saying goodbye.”
Lehani didn’t say anything in response; she merely smiled back, the gentle rain of light falling through the canopy above shining in her eyes. Ialvos spent the next few moments taking in the beauty of her happy expression, lost in his joy. Somehow, he knew then that this was a thing to embrace now and not meant to last; he would cherish this one memory beyond anything else he had ever known.
Finally, once he felt the pull of time on his shoulders like the hand of a caretaker who did not understand, Ialvos closed his eyes, letting the heavenly image fade from view. When they opened again, Lehani stood before him, her smile faded and her spear in hand. “Are you?” he asked, letting the words hang in the air.
“Of course.” Lehani’s eyes glimmered with the faintest trace of her old fire, though her voice remained a ghost’s loving whisper. She paused for the slightest instant, swallowing and letting her eyelids fall, before straightening the pack slung over her shoulder and beginning to walk back to the city, the soft tapping of her septum on the wood echoing in the silence.
Neither of them spoke as they reentered the marketplace; there was nothing more to say, and even if there were, the busy crowds in Tran Athulua’s heart would have silenced either one of their voices. They made their way slowly through the square, Ialvos alternating between looking in front of him and sideways at his companion, Lehani doing the same. Whenever their gazes met, Lehani smiled her faint smile, and Ialvos would grin in reply, his eyes darting downwards for an instant before rising back up to join hers. Though they lacked the same indescribable energy as that moment in the forest, each passing second left Ialvos in an intoxicating bliss, sweeter than the best wine he had ever tasted.
Though his crossing of the market had seemed to take forever merely an hour ago, it came to an end too quickly for Ialvos this time. When they stepped onto the deserted platform overlooking the low treetops and the glittering liquid lapis of the sea, and drew near to the tip of the ladder protruding from a hole in the wooden floor, he stopped and turned to his love, his features bent into a wan half-smile.
Lehani returned the bittersweet expression, eyes shining before the lids closed over her nascent tears, and uttered, in a voice so soft Ialvos could have mistaken it for the wind had he not seen her lips move, “Goodbye, Ialvos. I will return to you, sometime. That’s a promise.”
The big, sloppy grin broke out on his face again, the better to hold back his own tears, tears formed from sadness and joy mixed into the greatest hour of his life. “If you don’t, I’ll go find you and bring you back.” The words rushed out of his mouth, followed by a breathy cross between a laugh and an emotional sniffle, and he looked down in sheepish amusement before his head snapped back up and he added, voice choking as he finished, “And that’s a promise.”
Lehani laughed at this, wiping away a tear she could not hold back. “I suppose I’ll be leaving the harbor with one of your maps,” she mused, her voice steady, her lips quivering.
“Then it was all worth it,” Ialvos replied, and they both laughed in unison, sharing a last moment together. “They must be waiting,” he whispered after a few minutes, because the lump rising in his throat prevented him from speaking louder. She swallowed again, and the hand clasping her spear tightened as she nodded. “Goodbye, Lehani.”
“Goodbye, Ialvos. Until we meet again. Soon.”
He watched her head shrink into a smaller and smaller droplet of gold against the darkness of the forest as she descended the ladder, then followed the tiny pinprick as it bobbed along the path to the sea, and the waiting ships. When he could see it no longer, he turned, blinking back tears, and began to walk, heading back into the current of his life.
After reading the above article, I subconsciously dish out one of my own, stacking up 335 words before I realize the foolishness and get a hold of myself.
Such is the strength of attraction to a challenge.
In an attempt to save this mortal shell from wasting finite waking moments, I shall refrain from reading any more of your postings.
After reading the above article, I subconsciously dish out one of my own, stacking up 335 words before I realize the foolishness and get a hold of myself.
Such is the strength of attraction to a challenge.
In an attempt to save this mortal shell from wasting finite waking moments, I shall refrain from reading any more of your postings.
I know folks are looking at this, and it'd really be helpful to me if they left constructive feedback. :howdy: As I mentioned earlier, this is not exactly my usual type of piece, and I'd like to know how it worked out for people. So, seriously, leave whatever impressions you have on my story, preferably with some sort of explanation. If you couldn't finish the thing because you got annoyed with it three paragraphs in...tell me that. Anyway, I could really use comments on this piece in particular, so I can decide whether this change was a good one or not.
The only caveat: please don't leave things like that last one, which was basically a fluffed-up "your story sucks" post. I don't mind people telling me that they don't like my writing, but if you're going to leave any sort of negative criticism, I would think it's only fair for you to explain your reasoning to me so I can change my writing accordingly (or not.)
I enjoyed this story, throughout your work the pace is kept at a fluid level, moving the reader (well me) from one point to another with interest. I am not a very good writer but from what I can see your spelling and grammer are excellent which help with this flow.
Your descriptions paint the perfect picture, from feelings to surroundings and I felt like I too was trapped in that blasted market place, anxiety working its sweaty curse. Well done on the whole and I look forward to reading more of your work.
I enjoyed this story, throughout your work the pace is kept at a fluid level, moving the reader (well me) from one point to another with interest. I am not a very good writer but from what I can see your spelling and grammer are excellent which help with this flow.
Your descriptions paint the perfect picture, from feelings to surroundings and I felt like I too was trapped in that blasted market place, anxiety working its sweaty curse. Well done on the whole and I look forward to reading more of your work.
Your comments are appreciated. Thanks for your time!
To me this comes across as being condescending. This isn't a literary criticism, it's just the way I feel. Maybe I have thin skin?
"this piece steps somewhat outside my usual realm of writing for a change."
Since you bring this up, maybe you should post a link to your other writing, if it's available...
"Running was never something that Ialvos enjoyed, mostly because he felt that it demonstrated a sort of failure; if one were careful and wise enough, such alacrity would never be necessary."
Alacrity is defined as briskness, or a cheerful readiness. When I read the word, I wouldn't normally envision someone in a life-or-death situation, which is what the rest of the sentence implies. If such a technicality matters to you, you might do well to consider a different wording: such haste would never be necessary; panic need not arise; one wouldn't have to resort to the vulgarity of exerting oneself, etc.
The opening sentence is otherwise very strong by itself, however I think that you should organize the rest of the opening paragraph a little differently. When I started reading, I immediately expected to see a scene of Ialvos running, but after the motion of the first sentence you move directly into exposition. By the time the paragraph gets back around to the running, careening and beautifully crafted houses, the sense of movement has been lost. You do such a good job of incorporating the same feelings of cautiousness and perhaps timidity throughout the story that you can afford to skip over the exposition at the beginning, which you spend (in my opinion) too much time on. I would suggest cutting most of the exposition out, or mixing it with the motion of the present.
"Unlike the market, the branches overhead here were thick and numerous, so the trail seemed to shrink into the shadows around Ialvos, except for where rays of sunlight that escaped the leaves splashed into golden pools on the wood."
except for where seems really weird, it might be correct grammatically (I'm not sure), but I know that except where would make more sense to me. Although I'm not saying I know that to be correct either.
That's all I noticed as far as possible grammatical mistakes go.
Your style is nice and easily readable. There's a sense of a little wordiness, something I assure you I'm much worse for, but nothing that really jumps out at me as offensive. One thing that did strike me as a little repetitous was the word 'of.' You use it correctly, but sometimes you insert it when it's not strictly necessary, and you favour using the longer form of possessive over the contraction (I dunno what actual technical terms I should be using, what I mean is the difference between the possessive of noun and the noun's possession). Most of the time there's no other option, but when I was reading it seemed to me that more variety would have been nice. For example, here's a paragraph and how I would change it:
Quote:
“Wait, Ialvos.” A strong, melodic voice rang out from the darkness of the room, accompanied by the clink of steel. The cartographer whirled in surprise, the soft leather of his shoes sliding on the polished wood floor as he attempted rather clumsily to check his forward motion. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not his eyes deceived him, and then stepped towards the speaker, openmouthed. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so soon before I left, so if you wish to talk, let us do so while walking,” continued the figure matter-of-factly, motioning with a gloved hand and striding forward gracefully towards the door.
Quote:
“Wait, Ialvos.” A strong, melodic voice rang out from the darkness of the room, accompanied by the clink of steel. The cartographer whirled in surprise, his soft leather shoes sliding on the polished wood floor as he attempted rather clumsily to check his forward motion. He paused for a moment, unsure (deleted) whether or not his eyes deceived him, and then stepped towards the speaker, openmouthed. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so soon before I left, so if you wish to talk, let us do so while walking,” continued the figure matter-of-factly (this is of course fine), motioning with a gloved hand and striding forward gracefully towards the door.
I also don't like the part where Ialvos slips on the floor. I would imagine that the boots or shoes of the common person, if there were leather, would be boiled or otherwise hardened leather ... would they be all that slippery? And it doesn't make sense to wear slippery footwear in the first place when you live on a tree-branch. I don't advocate removing the bit, or anything, it's a clumsy action very much in keeping with the character, I just think it deserves some thinking about.
A second point is that because Ialvos is doing the stepping and is the one openmouthed, it seems as if he should be doing the talking at the end of the paragraph; I'd clarify beforehand that he's not the one speaking. Maybe he stepped forward, openmouthed, but was interrupted by the musical voice before he could speak, "and so on and so forth," or something.
Generally, I think the story should be shorter. For me it only conveys one emotional idea. Keep in mind that this emotional idea is representative of several single emotions, mostly those of happiness and loss; in fact some of the strongest parts of the story were where Ialvos was fluctuating between the two. But although the story is effective with the emotional idea in mind, I don't think that it needs to be as long as it is in order to be effective.
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The big, sloppy grin broke out on his face again, the better to hold back his own tears, tears formed from sadness and joy mixed into the greatest hour of his life. “If you don’t, I’ll go find you and bring you back.” The words rushed out of his mouth, followed by a breathy cross between a laugh and an emotional sniffle, and he looked down in sheepish amusement before his head snapped back up and he added, voice choking as he finished, “And that’s a promise.”
I liked this! This was a spot where I enjoyed the character of Ialvos very much.
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When he could see it no longer, he turned, blinking back tears, and began to walk, heading back into the current of his life.
This was good too. Visualizing 'the current' ties into his life and work as a map maker very nicely, sortof brings the ending around to the rest of the story.
The nonchalant manner in which you describe the city to be in the trees is a wonderful visual, as is the view of the dark abyss into which Lehani almost-kindof-not-really threatens to push Ialvos.
The story: I enjoyed it. And nobody said I'm a genius (probably called me something much worse, actually, anyway); you can take those ideas and run with them if you want, I'm just hoping they're relevant. Eventually someone more proficient than I will come along and offer some more ideas. That's the other thing, too, it's harder to critique good work than bad...
There are others in The Dark Library, just search for pieces by RevenantsKnight if you're curious.
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
"That's all I noticed as far as possible grammatical mistakes go.
Thank you very much for pointing those out. I have a bunch of bad writing habits that still get into my pieces no matter how much I try to avoid them, and with any luck, your feedback will help me minimize those errors.
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
One thing that did strike me as a little repetitous was the word 'of.' You use it correctly, but sometimes you insert it when it's not strictly necessary, and you favour using the longer form of possessive over the contraction (I dunno what actual technical terms I should be using, what I mean is the difference between the possessive of noun and the noun's possession). Most of the time there's no other option, but when I was reading it seemed to me that more variety would have been nice.
Again, thanks for mentioning this. It's appreciated. Really.
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
I also don't like the part where Ialvos slips on the floor. I would imagine that the boots or shoes of the common person, if there were leather, would be boiled or otherwise hardened leather ... would they be all that slippery? And it doesn't make sense to wear slippery footwear in the first place when you live on a tree-branch. I don't advocate removing the bit, or anything, it's a clumsy action very much in keeping with the character, I just think it deserves some thinking about.
You're right in mentioning that soft leather's not a common sort of shoe material, since it's none too durable. What I was trying to get at was that these shoes were designed for wealthier customers; after all, Ialvos is an expert in a rather arcane trade required primarily by nobles and merchants successful enough to own a ship. Seeing as there's no need for extra traction if you're just walking on even surfaces such as a palace's flooring, these shoes would be horrible for turning quickly. I didn't have him slide all over the marketplace for the same reason because that would just look silly. As for slippery shoes not making sense...well, when did fashion ever make sense?
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
A second point is that because Ialvos is doing the stepping and is the one openmouthed, it seems as if he should be doing the talking at the end of the paragraph; I'd clarify beforehand that he's not the one speaking.
Erm...I thought I did that by following the quote with "continued the figure matter-of-factly." Would it help if I put that part before the speech?
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
Generally, I think the story should be shorter. For me it only conveys one emotional idea. Keep in mind that this emotional idea is representative of several single emotions, mostly those of happiness and loss; in fact some of the strongest parts of the story were where Ialvos was fluctuating between the two. But although the story is effective with the emotional idea in mind, I don't think that it needs to be as long as it is in order to be effective.
The length is probably because I wanted to try and describe the Amazon cities a little; they're mentioned only briefly in the manual, and no story that I've read has taken a shot at envisioning them. Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to couple that attempt at a depiction of the Amazon islands with the emotional component of the story, but I felt that just trying to paint a picture of the cities and the culture would lack resonance with the reader, so I tried to throw it in here.
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
The nonchalant manner in which you describe the city to be in the trees is a wonderful visual, as is the view of the dark abyss into which Lehani almost-kindof-not-really threatens to push Ialvos.
Thanks for your impressions on the setting...maybe I should have stuck to a painting... :lol:
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
The story: I enjoyed it.
Yay!
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Originally Posted by Üdorim
And nobody said I'm a genius (probably called me something much worse, actually, anyway); you can take those ideas and run with them if you want, I'm just hoping they're relevant. Eventually someone more proficient than I will come along and offer some more ideas. That's the other thing, too, it's harder to critique good work than bad...
They're all relevant, and much appreciated. Thanks again for your opinions and time!
Well, there really isn’t a lot I can say beyond what Udorim already stated.
Maybe one or two minor things…
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Originally Posted by RevenantsKnight
To his straining brown eyes, warped by emotion,
Like I said, pretty minor -- but “warped” really jagged on my ear. It made me think of the way a basketball looks after you’ve been using it for about a year, or a tire on a mountain-bike. In short: It initially conjured up a strange mental image. Now, of course you didn’t mean his eyes were physically warped; it’s right there in the text, “warped by emotion”, but even that seems a bit off. Traditionally, eyes can be glossy, glassy, bloodshot, wide, squinted, etc… but warped?
But really, that’s just me. And it can certainly be counted as a good sign when you ask for a critique and all the critic can think to do is point out little quibbles (note: “quibbles” is by far the dumbest word in the English language). So, other than that, quite good; it was sort of slow and meandering, though not to its detriment. You managed to keep it from dying on the page, which is always a hazard with a story that decides to take a more languid approach. And, in the end, it turned out to be a thoughtful little piece about dread and love and the concept of duty. Kudos.
One more little thing: Is it just me, or was Ialvos was a bit too into Lehani, if you get me?
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Originally Posted by RevenantsKnight
Somehow, he knew then that this was a thing to embrace now and not meant to last; he would cherish this one memory beyond anything else he had ever known
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Originally Posted by RevenantsKnight
The big, sloppy grin broke out on his face again, the better to hold back his own tears, tears formed from sadness and joy mixed into the greatest hour of his life.
… And things like that. I know it’s a big moment for poor lovestruck Ialvos, but seeing it as the greatest hour of his life? I dunno, guy. Not that it doesn’t work at all; it just seemed a bit grandiose to me. I liked Ialvos much better when he was basically fumbling and gawking in her presence, not getting all “maudlin” on me. The Ialvos that felt ‘puppetlike’, the Ialvos that reddened when he said something stupid to Lehani: that’s the version of the mapmaker that felt the most genuine to me. Oh, and the part where he “wrote and rewrote his words” in his head? Nice. I mean, who among us hasn’t been there, right?
Well, that’s my two cents. Hope it helps and so forth.
Generally, I think the story should be shorter. For me it only conveys one emotional idea. Keep in mind that this emotional idea is representative of several single emotions, mostly those of happiness and loss; in fact some of the strongest parts of the story were where Ialvos was fluctuating between the two. But although the story is effective with the emotional idea in mind, I don't think that it needs to be as long as it is in order to be effective.
RK replied the length probably resulted from him "want[ing] to try and describe the Amazon cities a little," but I disagree with this assessment. The descriptive sections are a good touch, but much more of the length comes from expository passages describing Ialvos' emotional state as the reader is carefully walked through his fluttering feelings. The writing is well-crafted, but I would prefer to see those thoughts conveyed through other means than exposition.
I, personally, would have written this as as a dialogue-driven story.
That being said, you obviously have a different style, which works, and a character as reticent and introspective as Ialvos does present narrative challenges. There is less opportunity for dialogue to illuminate his rich interior life. As a result, each action has to reveal character. This is especially true in a short story.
The one aspect of the story which I think could be called "flawed" is the flatness of Lehani, especially as compared to Ialvos. Beyond her sense of duty and her affection for Ialvos, the reader gains little sense of her as a person. We recognize that the story is told from his perspective, and she will as a result suffer some. This, however, points back to what I wrote above: Each action has to reveal character.
RevenantsKnight
Thanks for your time!
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