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Hi Creative Convention! I've written a self-contained fantasy novel. It runs 70,000 words and has been read through by a few people who have given feedback. Since I've been told it has potential I thought I'd ask readers/writers here for critique and constructive criticism. I'm posting the first chapter here. If there's interest I'll continue to post more. Thank you for your time! ----------------------------------------------- Order of the Magi Chapter 1 The muted sounds of chaos reverberated through the makeshift throne room. Its rough walls rocked from the explosive spells cast just outside its gilded entrance. With a deafening boom, the doors burst open, hewn from their hinges and crashing to the ground in a shower of dust. Through the haze, the figures of two imposing magi emerged. Cantus waved away the motes that clouded his vision and spotted the rogue. He sat in a high backed armchair, tapping his staff on the ground with nervous energy. He wore an ill-fitting vest sewn with quartz stones over a loose blue robe. He was muttering under his breath, not spells but curses aimed at himself and his predicament. “Yeesh, this is sad,” said Renk. Cantus had to agree. While the manse was a great deal nicer than the hovels outside, it looked furnished by a gaudy madman. The capitals of the columns along the walls were pressed with bent and dented bronze. The two nearest had marble facades lined with cracks, plaster peeking from underneath. The steps leading to the throne were so uneven that as the man rose and stepped from his chair he nearly fell over. Renk lurched forward but Cantus stuck out a hand. “Wait. Something’s wrong.” The rogue was making a lazy orbit of a small section of the room, picking at his beard like it was an unwelcome stranger to his face. “It would have been much easier if you had just given up at the gates,” Cantus said. “That, or you could’ve fled the premises and let us follow you into the woods. Either way would have avoided unnecessary injury. Honestly, what were you thinking sending that guard?” The rogue looked at him, wild-eyed. Then, sheepishly, “I forgot your kind existed.” Forgot the Order? The organization governing all magical practice? Impossible. “That’s a good one,” Renk laughed. “Now c’mon, drop your staff.” The rogue relented, and the stick clattered to the ground. As he came forward with hands raised there was a fizzing sound, the runes on his staff glowed. Two bolts of roiling green shot towards the magi. They arced through the room with an impressive cacophony of sound and light and crackled harmlessly off of astral shields. The rogue sighed, cryptically muttering “I should have been content with tea.” “Then we met with his guards. Big, burly guys, a dozen of them. But we had our spells ready. They ricocheted off the walls, and through the door to where Fennyl was on his throne. He was ready. You should have seen it, the flames were everywhere.” Cantus was in his element. The younger magi, meeting him on their walk back from the gate, clung to his words. Their bright faces stood out from the somber landscape, tufts of hard yellow grass crunching under their heels. Their mentor, Coreen, sniffed derisively. Renk was listening, confusion growing on his face. Cantus went on, “After we burned his home to the ground he knew he was beaten. We sent him back to the Isle with the circle of runes. A Judicator is surely deciding his fate right now.” Renk broke in. “What? C’mon, that’s not how it happened at all.” Cantus shot him a look, but he continued, “This guy Fennyl was small time. He tried to set up a cult in a really poor area. And he didn’t have a bunch of guards, just one guy with a iron sword. But the people still thought he was their savior. Crazy what folk will believe!” The mentee’s faces fell and they backed off, surveying Cantus with a doubtful gaze. “Telling tales again?” Coreen chided. He frowned. He didn’t see the harm in a little embellishment. What was wrong with a bit of thrills and glory? Their recent assignments had none of that, so he needed to invent. The problem was, only the dumbest magi still practiced outside the auspices of the Order. So that would be the rest of his career. Fighting the idiots. They made their way through the moor. A single perfectly white staircase emerged in the distance from the murky grass and stretched far into the air. Beyond it, through the mists, he perceived the shadow of the great bastion. The Isle, seat of the Magi Order, and the greatest example of earth-shaping magic in existence. Atop its banks sat training schools, research wings, and the Last Library. It was also home to one of the greatest mess halls on Earth, which was where Cantus was now headed. It began in dreams, the whispers of power beyond consciousness that mankind could control. Visions in the darkness, poured over and interpreted for their meanings. Gradually, the outlines became clear. Then, centuries of development. Feeling around in the unknown, the world’s cultures cultivated a list. The symbols of a universal code to harness the schema of the astral world and distill it into language. These became the runes. The greatest advance came with the staff. A tempered cylinder of wood, carved with the proper array of symbols, allowed a practiced mage to harness incredible power. Here was Vruna, diverting a river. There was Harkross, razing a mountain. Rain was plentiful when needed, and the fields were full. Sun-drenched cities rose, as powerful kings harnessed all they could muster. Civilization spread across the continent, and man was in a golden age. Except…the borders were reached, and where to go? Traverse the seas? That was an option. And while some explorers set sail, looking for new avenues of adventure, others set their sights inward. Territories began to convulse, wracked with the violence of clashing Magi. Firestorms, frozen wastes, and gales ripped across countries as humanity’s most powerful forces competed for dominance. It was in this maelstrom that the Order began. “Awful lot of stairs, even if it does seem to go by in a flash!” said Renk jovially. “In fact, almost too fast! Like it was magic!” Cantus managed a half smile at this old joke, and the two made their way across the concourse towards the mess. “They should look into a pulley system like we saw in Aberdaen,” said Renk. “No runes, but the stairs seemed to move on their own.” “Yeah, that was some piece of engineering. I mentioned it to Anka, but she’s got no interest in technology,” replied Cantus. “To her, the runes seem somehow less mysterious than rope and sandbags.” “Weird girl you’ve got there,” said Renk. “Still, hang around here for that many years and maybe they really do make sense.” He sighted some friends, younger magi coming back from practice, and waved. “See you tomorrow, C!” he shouted, running in their direction. Observing his gait, Cantus marveled at the effect magic had on a body. In the cities they traveled to, a man Renk’s age would be long past running. His knees too worn by the decades to be so spry. Renk still showed the physical and mental maturity of a juvenile. It’s a question, thought Cantus, whether wisdom only comes as the body withers. Or are we just lucky? Dinner that night was stewed pork, pickled squash, and a helping of grains. After serving himself, Cantus scanned the hall and, seeing Anka, joined the researchers at their table. “So by replacing the “el” with a “nu” in the fifth line, we realized we could save 30 runes further down, and the spell still runs the same!” Anka looked delighted. “Now, not exactly, don’t just make stuff up.” Her research partner Jorge interjected. “Yes, we saved those 30 characters, but the tradeoff – Hi Cantus,- the tradeoff of efficiency is power. If you change how it’s written, you don’t still get the same effect.” “No, but the difference is negligible!” Anka shot back. “Any idiot would choose the shorter version. Easier to remember, faster to cast! And” she looked back to the group “we’re working on a suffix to close the power gap!” Murmurs of appreciation. Hard to see how they’re not tired of it, Cantus thought, spending the day researching and then spending the evening discussing the same. We’re not like that, retelling every detail of our battles. Well, he reconsidered, not many of us. Anka turned to face him. “So, save the world today?” she asked cheerily. Then laughed, embarrassed. “Definitely.” He grinned back. “This one had better range than some, but hadn’t built up his defenses. No deaths, so a good day.” He didn’t elaborate. Anka smiled, and didn’t press for details. His job, the job of many in the Order, was central to its purpose and existence. It rarely broke new ground where magic was concerned. Just the same egos, flaring around the same goals as ever. But it could be a thrill. He finished the rest of the meal in peace, listening to the researchers debate the depth of the astral world, and how to shield against its growing pressure. The windows gleamed as the sun pushed past the edge of the island on its way to the horizon. Nothing scheduled tomorrow, Cantus thought, so I can finish reading that folio. Then see if Anka wants to visit a garden. Coreen entered his field of view. “Sorry to disturb your carousing, but Archmage Horvoth would like the see Cantus in his chambers.” He winced at her demeanor, like a stern teacher chastising a student. And Horvoth? What could he want? “Sorry, sounds like this is important.” “Mister Cantus! Good of you to come!” said Horvoth, raising his arms in welcome. Horvoth’s study was lined with books, with suspended orbs lighting the stacks. “Sorry to call you away on your victory meal, as you did a superb job with that man today. He was very cooperative when we got him.” Horvoth’s manner was unnerving. For a man of several centuries, who had lived alongside most of these magi their entire lives, he spoke as if he was welcoming a foreign dignitary. But I suppose he can’t think of all of us as family. “No trouble, sir. Fennyl wasn’t an ambitious man. All he seemed to want was some women and townsfolk treating him like their god. He had nothing in the way of plans, though he kept mentioning tea.” "But of course by law he couldn’t be allowed to continue,” said Horvoth. “Ignore one rouge because he seems small-minded, and others get ideas. Then they could grow bold. Magi with nations, even small ones, is not something we can enable.” “No, right, that’s what we do. I mean, stopping it, that is.” Cantus tripped over his words. “So is, I mean, is this about Fennyl? About what to do with him?” “Heavens no!” What an affectation! “Fennyl’s has already been dealt with. No, I called you here for a different reason. It’s time we assigned you a new partner.” Cantus felt a surge of pride. Guess I’ve done a good job with Renk, he thought. They’re already giving me someone new to mentor. “Yes, we had some choice in the matter, and you seemed the best fit. Even temper, effective, with moments of keen insight! You should get along very well with Evroh!” Evroh? That wasn’t a modern name. Parents hadn’t been naming their children Evroh for a century or more. It’s coming back? “You may recognize the name from our histories!” continued Horvoth. “Evroh was a vital member of our opposition at Calle, when we had underestimated the strength of their forces. He’s tended to the northern areas in recent years, but his partner has decided to rejoin the research corps, for a brief stint before retirement. Evroh, however, wishes the stay in service and could use a new, vital ally.” Cantus despaired. In his prime, at peak condition, being pawned off to one of the oldest magi in the order. What will my job be, he thought, to keep him active? To make sure he doesn’t wander off and start a typhoon? Disrespectful notions, he knew, but why was this his burden? The man should go into research like his partner, or give up the staff and take up life on the beach. Why insist on continuing to work? “I think you’ll enjoy your time with Evroh,” Horvoth was saying. “He has many wonderful stories to tell, legends of our order, the people who made it what it is today. One of his mentors even constructed the foundations of this island! There aren’t many who can say that, for sure.” “I’m sure it will be an honor,” said Cantus, managing a pained smile. “It’ll be nice… to learn from the past.” “That’s the spirit!” Exclaimed Horvoth. “Always more to learn! Endless mysteries of the universe at our fingertips, in our profession!” And with a big smile, he clapped Cantus on the back and led him out. Cantus sat at a table in the balcony of the mess hall, reserved for private meetings. He sipped some coffee, as it was earlier than he’d planned to wake up that day. Below he could see a group of mentees giggling at a table. There were fewer of them this year, he thought. Seemed the Order needed less recruits these day. Our slice of the world is at peace. “So you’re the fellow I’m to meet.” Cantus turned. In front of him was a large bald man, gray hair spilling down his chin. His face sported many lines, a few scars, and sallow cheeks. But the eyes were bright. “You’ve probably guessed I’m your new partner,” rumbled the man, shaking Cantus’ hand and sitting down across from him. “Good of you to take me on, as I found myself facing an early retirement! But I wasn’t ready for that pasture, not yet!” We’ll see if you still feel that way in six months, Cantus thought, but he smiled. “Yes, very good to meet you. Horvoth was telling me about your history, that you knew the man who constructed this place. That’s impressive!” “Hah! Horvoth, that dinosaur. We all knew the architect, if we were alive at the time. He knew him too. Anyway, it took a team to cast that spell. He should remember a better story, but he’s spent so long here he probably can’t see past the walls.” Cantus grinned. Well, at least his new partner had some life, and his insults felt harmless, coming out of that gray mouth. “So what’s your specialty, brother?” the old man asked. “Can’t be in combat without a specialty. Myself, it’s the wind. You could say I’m a blowhard! …Ah, but truly, it’s a great skill. And it makes the fires burn faster, when we have to do that sort of thing.” “That’s my specialty.” Cantus replied. “I can handle all the elements well enough, but fire’s my most potent. I’ve got a fire spell that can seal-break too, for when some rogue really doesn’t want his collection destroyed.” He was proud of that one. Anka had developed it decades ago, and kept it for him. Wonderful Anka. “Pride! That’s what the old sages said fire symbolized! But you seem like a calm one.” “Thanks,” Cantus said. “It’s a been a while since I lost my temper.” Talking with this old man was agreeable enough, but they were going to be spending a lot of time together. Best to just wrap up today’s meeting as fast as possible. Cantus’ eyes drifted back to the younger group below. “Things haven’t changed much here, in the past centuries,” Evroh said, following his gaze. “Those children don’t know it yet, but we’re trapped in amber. The last time I visited a city I saw some things I could’ve sworn were magic, but there wasn’t a rune to be found! But they,” he said, gesturing to the mentees “will only ever be visitors there.” Was the old man becoming melancholy? But Cantus saw an opportunity in those words. “Well, fortunately we’ll have lots of chances to visit that world together, partner!” he exclaimed. “I look forward to seeing you again on Raqday.” Standing up, he shook Evroh’s hand heartily. Then he collected his cup and walked away. Cantus awoke glumly, his internal clock telling him it was time to rise. Beside him, Anka slept soundly, snoring lightly. He looked at her with tenderness, and twinge of envy. Researchers could choose their own hours. But he hadn’t the mind for it. After the morning’s essentials, Cantus made his way down from his quarters and walked out to the main concourse. The island was large, home to a number of architectural wonders and nearly five hundred magi, but the flat topography made it seem as though everything was close by. And then, there was a certain quirk to the tiles, to their spotless regularity, that made walking upon them seem faster. They could be charmed like the stairs, he thought, but had never bothered to check. He arrived at the front of the main hall, acknowledged a passing acquaintance, and noticed Evroh by the fountain. “You’re here early,” Cantus remarked. “Couldn’t wait to get started again, huh?” “Oh, you must have heard how it is at my age,” chuckled Evroh. “I’ve been out for a stroll the past hour. I met several of my higher ranking contemporaries, off to bureaucratic matters in there” he gestured to the main hall “so I know what we’re about.” “Oh?” Cantus raised a brow. “Do they still want us at the briefing? Or can we just go?” “No, they’ll still want us keeping to decorum, but it’s an interesting case! No hunting, I’m afraid, but unusual. They’ve found another library!”
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Hmm, no input so far. I dunno whether that means it's bad or just average enough not to get a reaction. I'm going to post the next section which completes the first main incident of the story. ---------------------------- The Library had been found in the desert off Kolomei, sparsely populated lands in the south-east. The reason it had evaded detection so long, the minister explained, was because it had been buried. Hundreds of years ago a mage, in a desperate attempt to save his collection, had moved it through the sands and under the dunes. There it had lay, for centuries, until a mission by locals through the desert had uncovered it, while dowsing for a watering hole. The mission sounded boring to Cantus, though it was apt to end quickly and not weigh upon his time. It wasn’t a job for battle magi, but Administration was concerned that the library could have counter-spells, wards, and other traps. They were to go with a small team of conservators to search for rarities, and after appraisal, destroy the remaining grimoires without incident. Pop down to the surface, burn the books, get back in time for supper. That at least had a nice ring to it. Cantus looked over at his partner, wondering if this was the kind of mission he would get with the old man. Were there less promising youths to train, so they wanted to keep their older members active? Or was he just not as good as he thought he was, and this was his punishment for hubris? He didn’t hate his older colleague, and combat missions could be stressful, but was a life of book burning and other distractions really for him? I’m over-complicating things, he thought. I’ve got plenty of time, which must be running short for him. He directed his attention back to where the minister was explaining how they should make sure the conservators were outside the premises before the burning began. That’s too bad, thought Cantus, I’d like them to see my fire spell. Cantus and Evroh stepped out of the gate a good eighty miles north of their destination. The dunes here were still flecked with grass, a sign of great plains that had run across this land millennia earlier. “I don’t see the conservators.” Evroh arched a brow at his new partner. “Weren’t you listening, lad? They were handling some business down here earlier and are making their way from the other end. We’ll see them at the entrance.” “Right, well, I just meant I thought they’d meet us here…” Cantus trailed off. He hadn’t actually been listening to a great portion of the briefing, observing the salient details, library, location, burning, and disregarding the rest. It was a method that had served him well throughout the years, as ministers were apt to prattle on about precautions that were second nature. Yet this time he had missed something. “Let’s get going then. You’ve got a preferred method of transport? On sand I like to harden a section to stone and propel it through. That usually does the trick unless we run into any storms.” Evroh stepped forward, surveying the landscape in front of him. “That’s a fancy prospect, to be sure. But I mentioned my specialty is wind. So how about I treat you? I’ll summon up some whirlwinds and get us there in no time!” He chuckled. “Free of charge!” This time it was Cantus who raised his brows. Whirlwinds were difficult modes of transport, with the caster needing to provide shielding to the lower body throughout so the wind wouldn’t tear his legs off. To control two twisters and provide shielding all at once would need a delicate touch, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to trust this old man with those bits. He liked his legs, and Anka would miss the other parts. “I’ll… pass.” He said. “Wind is fast, but I should be able to keep up.” “Suit yourself.” Evroh shrugged, and closed his eyes for a moment. The sand at his feet began spinning counter-clockwise, and grew in power until he was atop a large cyclone. “Let’s be off!” He shouted, and sped ahead into the desert. Cantus was taken aback for a moment, then cursed and gathered the sand under his feet. He wasn’t going to let the old man get the better of him. While he grumbled, the twister moved further and further away. Evroh saw the light gleaming off a dome in the distance, and let the wind abate, placing him gently down on the ground. The dunes had collected into a crater around where the bronze vault stuck through the earth. The age was apparent in the greenish hue the metal had taken over the years, striking against the golden sand. Evroh looked up and saw the small party of conservators looking in his direction. “Well met, friends!” He waved. “Hope we didn’t keep you long. My partner” he looked back “will be arriving shortly. Until then, perhaps you can tell me what we’re dealing with here.” “Ah! We’re very glad you’ve come!” The oldest member of the group hobbled toward him. Evroh noticed this man had a limp and wore thick spectacles atop his head. These were rare ailments for a mage, which must make him-- “Chief Conservator Bastien at your service, my friend,” said Bastien, extending a hand. Evroh grasped and shook it firmly, remembering meeting the man ages ago. “My acolytes and I have been waiting for your arrival. Thought not long, I assure you! We took a slower form of travel. We had time for preliminary surveying, and estimate that this library is quite large, an order of magnitude greater than many of our recently examined collections. Though smaller, far smaller of course, than our collection on the island.” His eyes darted back and forth, computing sums and areas. Evroh clapped him on the back, disturbing his train of thought. “No matter! We’ll be sure to give you peace of mind throughout the process.” “Much obliged!” replied the conservator, regaining his balance, and looked ready to continue speaking until a dirt-stained Cantus arrived in front of them. He hunched over, breathing deeply for a few moments before looking exasperatedly up at Evroh. Then brushed himself off and presented himself cordially toward Bastien. “Nice to meet you! I’m Cantus, and it seems you already met Evroh. We’ll be assisting you on this mission, as instructed by the Order. I’m going to do a preliminary sweep to check for traps at the entrance, and then we’ll head in.” He walked off, all business, the trace of previous fatigue gone from his posture. Evroh grinned. “In a rush, that one. So what can you tell me about this place?” Evidently the library had been here for hundreds of years. As they walked around the perimeter, the conservator explained to Evroh that a powerful mage, centuries ago, had moved his collections further afield from battle. The desert was a desolate place, where few would think to go. Then, they surmised, when things had taken a particularly bad turn for the library’s owner, he had buried it in sand. The inside was intact, but the dunes had hidden all trace of the library’s existence. If it hadn’t been for a sandstorm a few weeks ago, it would never have been uncovered. “So how did the Order realize it was a library?” Evroh asked. “It could just be a lost palace, something from an older civilization.” “Well, that isn’t my department,” said the conservator “but no civilization has lived out here for thousands of years. And when you come across something like that” he gestured to the huge dome “it does smell of magic.” Evroh turned, and gave the air a considerate sniff. “Smells like dust to me!” He looked at Cantus, who was tapping the base of the dome with this staff. “Guess I’d better go help the boy out though. There could be dangerous dust in there, and your assistants look impatient.” Bastien shot a withering glance as his acolytes, forlornly trying to shield themselves from the sun. “The younger generation could use some patience,” he said, shifting his eyes to his immobilized leg. As the magi entered the library, Cantus’ eyes surveyed the floors below them, taking in the scene. Glowing orbs hovered at the end of every row, casting a soft light down upon shelves and shelves of books. He looked down at the staircases that arced between each floor, and judged the building to be six stories. His sense of awe was tempered by the growing realization of just how long this would take. The group climbed down the dome to the highest level, and Cantus glared at the books. He loathed this task. The problem with books is that there was no drama to them, no emotion. A hunt for a rogue mage had lots of emotion. There was the thrill of seeing what paltry defenses the opponent had constructed to confound the Order. There was the tension of confrontation, to meet the mage face to face, to find out if they really did have some ability. And there was the satisfaction, of seeing the culprit come to realize he couldn’t compete with someone like Cantus. The sorrow in their face as they grasped what choices lay ahead of them. Books had none of that. They were trees fashioned to trap knowledge and keep it in these dreary shelves that the group now walked past. Cantus looked back at Evroh, who was admiring the architecture, and decided to snap the old man out of his reverie. “We’ll examine the lower floors, you can begin your work here.” Bastien nodded, and started instructing his acolytes. Cantus sped up, beginning down the next staircase and sending tiny bursts of astral energy in front of him to detect traps. So far the library was eerily quiet, not even a barrier spell at the door, but there had to be something. A skilled mage doesn’t just move his prized collection to the middle of nowhere and then rely on nature to keep it safe. But aside from a means to keep out the sand, there was nothing. I hope the lower levels give m something to do, he thought, and continued walking. Evroh watched his younger partner hurry down the steps in front of him, poised to fight. The youth is determined, he thought. But perhaps too eager. Evroh ambled down after him, and looked out at the rows of bookcases that the library housed. What forbidden knowledge sat within, he wondered, and whom did these volumes once belong to? He tried to remember the great Magi of the past, the ones he had learned about in his youth, which had caused the early Order such trouble. But the names had melted away. Zestia was the only one to come to mind, as she had repelled so many for so long, with a magic that stuck in men’s imagination. The rest were power mad old fogeys, engaging in repetitive battles that were absorbed and then forgotten. Finally they reached the bottom floor, and Cantus let out a sigh. “There’s nothing! No wards, no traps.” He lifted a book off a shelf in front of them, opening it up to a crackling page. “Nothing!” “I’d count that as a victory if I were you,” replied Evroh. “We’ve found ourselves an easy assignment! They’re not all like this.” He reached into his pack and took out an orange. He began to peel it. Cantus stared at him, goggle-eyed. “I know they’re not all like this,” he hissed. “But you expect, when you find a library in the middle of the desert, that the person who put it here might’ve thought to add some defenses!” Evroh shrugged. The boy had a worse temper than he’d heard. “Maybe they wore out! Maybe it was moved here at speed, before the owner went to fight in some final battle. Or maybe he figured the sand was enough, or meant to add defenses at some later date. Procrastination affects us all!” He grinned, and popped an orange segment into his mouth. “For example, I keep meaning to learn the lute. A classic instrument, wouldn’t you say? For the past sixty years I’ve been thinking about picking it up. And now it isn’t even in style! Missed my chance.” Cantus nodded. “Sure.” He looked confused, and vaguely insulted. “In any case, Cantus, we can rejoin those fellows up above. It may not be combat, but it can be interesting to see what the other departments have to do once in a while. “Yeah…” Cantus trudged back to the stairs. “And hey, if you’re bored, there’s always reading material!” It must be evening by now, Cantus thought, as he paced up and down the halls of the library. The conservators had been at their work all day, moving from shelf to shelf to seek out new material among the musty tomes. Evroh had been impressed by the spells they used to skim the rows, checking the contents against their vast records of memorized works. But as incredible as it was, it lacked style, so Cantus had wandered away, playing with a flame on his fingertip and wondering when they could eat. What felt like hours later he heard a call from up above. The group had followed a route from the top left to the base of the building and back up, and were now finishing their search. Cantus wandered up to them, and saw Bastien had brought a cookpot. The acolytes sat on the floor next to it, peeling potatoes. “Discover any new tomes?” Cantus asked the chief conservator. Bastien looked up, then bowed his head. “Incredibly not, I’m afraid. This library has all the principal grimoire that were in circulation among magi six centuries ago. But every text is already contained in our collection.” He looked sad. “I would love to take some of the most pristine editions back with us, but Administration has not granted the additional space our department asked for. And they don’t see the need for redundancy.” Cantus looked over at the stacks. “So it’s all just kindling.” The conservator looked horrified. Then his eyes slid back down to the floor. “Yes, of course, for reasons of propriety, and for the safety of this world, they will have to be burned. It’s regrettable, but…” he squeezed out the last words “the risk is too great.” “Right then,” Cantus said, raising his staff, “should we get started?” Bastien looked up in dismay, beginning to splutter, but Evroh broke in, “Let’s be patient, lad. I’d rather not travel over the desert this late, and we can enjoy one night within these walls before we finish our work here.” Cantus felt ready to protest, but only shrugged. “Fine.” The cream of potato soup was light on cream but then, Cantus supposed, he hadn’t done much that day to deserve a hearty meal. The library had been a thorough disappointment, and his new partner displayed a stunning lack of respect for him as a peer. “Lad”. Cantus frowned at that description. Despite his appearance, he had close to a century of experience in the field. If he hadn’t been a mage, he’d have been in his dotage. Yet the old man, centuries his senior, considered him like a boy of a few decades. “-be exciting to be a battle mage.” Cantus looked up. One of the acolytes, a young woman, was speaking to him. “Hm? Oh, yes, it is.” He wasn’t sure what the first part of her question had been. “There’s still a lot of rogues out there who think they can ignore the Order, and we have to bring them in.” “Hahh, that sounds nice. It’d be good to be outside more.” She looked over at her mentor, but he was deep in conversation with Evroh. “I think he decided inside was better a long time ago.” “So why are you a conservator?” Cantus asked. He hadn’t expected any of these acolytes to be so outgoing. “Travel!” She said. Cantus brightened. “And reading, course. Books are my first love, and what we learn as conservation magi let us read lots of them. Recently we were in the capital of Audua, at a library inside the catacombs! We found a collection that held the entire history of the world in forty-seven volumes. That was a good day.” “The whole history of the world, huh? It sounds like a lot…” “Oh of course, it was a vast simplification,” the woman continued, “but it was fascinating to see how one culture saw the events of our shared history. It’s those perspectives, over such a long time, that you can’t get anywhere else.” Cantus considered what she said. “Have you read any folios?” he asked. “They’re similar to books, but they get to the point.” “Oh. Hmm, the folios.” The woman’s voice suddenly sounded tired. “I tried to read them, but it’s just the same thing over and over. Star crossed lovers, or men seeking revenge. No real depth, just genre…” Their conversation petered out. Cantus could feel her disdain, and was reminded why he didn’t have many friends in her department. He was about to say something else, just to relieve the boredom, when one of the glowing orbs across from them, a level below, flickered and went out. Cantus propelled himself across the gap, and landed in front of the dark sphere. At the end of the row, standing between the bookcases, was a figure. Cantus sprang forward, and it veered left, outpacing him. He followed, trying to discern the figure’s appearance, but the orbs kept going out. He rounded a corner and saw… nothing. The figure had vanished. Behind him the orbs hummed back to life, their light illuminating the ground. He concentrated, and let tendrils of power swoop around the area. He extended the search, probing the lower levels. But there was nothing. He was alone. “An illusion?” Evroh asked, when Cantus rejoined the dinner. “I’m not sure. It seemed like there was someone there, I just couldn’t get a good look.” “We all saw the light go out,” said the female acolyte. “There must have been a cause!” Evroh scratched at his beard, and peered over the railing. “This place may not be as welcoming as we thought. But we should still be able to rest here. You’re under our protection, so we’ll sleep in shifts. If there’s any sign of an attack, you’ll know, and we’ll keep shields up.” Cantus nodded his agreement, and took first watch. But the rest of the night passed without incident. The orbs hummed, soft light settling upon the leather bound spines and their wooden cases. Cantus awoke to find the acolytes packing their mentor’s belongings. Desert sun leaked through the dome’s narrow windows. Bastien limped over to the magi. “We must thank you for the protection, though this mission was not fruitful.” He looked wistfully over at the shelves below. “Or at least, not worth it to the Order. We will leave you to your duties.” The conservator turned and limped away. Cantus watched the man and his assistants exit the library. He smiled. “Now for the only exciting part of this whole ordeal.” Evroh chuckled. “You weren’t glad for a day of peace? Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had your job much longer, and I still like the work. But when’s the next time you’re going to see a place like this?” “Hopefully not for a long time.” Cantus responded and, hoisting his staff, walked over to the nearest shelf. He focused, and was aware his soul’s connection to the astral world. Before him, he saw the glowing runes of the fire spell. He read them within his mind and felt as the seeping power from beyond reached into his staff and through his body. Between the two worlds, the power changed. Surged into flames, and shot out, enveloping the nearest bookcase. It burned with a golden fire that would break seals and reduce even rock to ash. Then it spluttered out. Cantus’ mind had a hard time accepting what happened next. The nearest book flew from the shelf and spat out a jagged crimson bolt. Cantus raised his staff, but the bolt pierced his free arm. It went limp. The next thirty bolts, from other books, hit his shield. Cantus was now enveloped in shield, shocked but safe. And yet, the bolts weren’t subsiding. They hit the shield, crackled against it, and stuck, continuing to try and work their way through. That wasn’t how shields were meant to work! Meanwhile, more and more books, from all corners of the library, were joining the assault. Cantus thought he could hear ragged laughter off in the distance. He looked over at Evroh, and saw the old man sitting on the ground. He clutched his staff in front of him, brows knit. The books were swarming around, blasting at his shield. Great, Cantus thought, he’s defended, but it’s taking all his energy to stay alive. He had to think quickly, or they were both dead. He tried to reason through the situation. The books were all operating under the same spell. A spell neither mage had sensed when they examined them. Efficiency dictated that there was some sort of control node, telling the books what to do. But where? Cantus tried to focus past the vivid red that was enveloping his vision. It should be in a central location. The lowest level? It was worth a shot. He had been overconfident when he had checked there, and perhaps he had missed something. Slowly, shielded, and surrounded on all sides by books and beams, he inched his way towards the staircase. Evroh’s luminous body, standing in the astral world, examined his surroundings. The first thing he noticed, aside from the light that was hitting his shield, was that the entire library was here. Every detail, down the brick, was etched into the astral world. He took a step, and walked away from his physical form, taking stock of the situation. This was highly unusual. He had expected to see a dim vision of the library’s physical form, overlaid on top of the dark, roiling collective unconscious that was the astral world. Instead, every contour of the building was here, emitting a faint blue light. But why? He looked at the books, still pouring from the shelves to assail him and Cantus. He noticed the younger mage was on the move, slowly approaching the staircase, then beginning a careful descent. He had the right idea. Whatever was guiding these books, Evroh thought, was probably in the basement, furthest away from anyone who tried to take a book outside. Jumping over the railing, he floated down to the lowest floor, and let his gaze travel. There were the bookcases, and the shelves, and the stones on the floor. There were the pillars, and the fireplace, and a few loose pieces of parchment in a corner. There was a chair, and a— He turned, and looked back at the fireplace. Its presence wasn’t strange. A library cellar could get cold and damp. A fireplace was a sensible fixture. But inside the fireplace was a log. He walked over. Would whoever have made this library, and then traced every inch of it into the astral world, have bothered with something as tiny as a log? And yet here it was, outlined in blue, glowing strands. But logs were not permanent. If there had been a fire, the log would have burned, and vanished. So why was it here? In this plane? It couldn’t be. Evroh bent down, and broke a piece of luminous bark off the astral log. Underneath, runes glowed. He chuckled, shook his head, and then looked at his staff. It’s cylindrical form, also etched with runes, was the narrow cousin of this log. Whereas his instrument was structured for convenience, this was for subterfuge. Crack this log, he reckoned, and the attack would stop. He looked up, to find Cantus, but the boy was still a long ways away. The swarm of books around him was growing more numerous by the second. Evroh sighed. Breaking the source on his end would be risky. If there were too much resistance, he would lose concentration and his shield would fail. But he wasn’t yet sure of his young partner, uncertain of how long he could hold out. Bringing his staff over his head, and thanking the gods for a long life, he struck. Still on the stairs, Cantus’ pace had slowed to a crawl. The shield was holding, as it would as long as he was conscious. But the red light had totally enveloped his vision, and there was pain radiating out from his limp arm and over his chest. Assuming he did reach the basement, how would he search without being able to see? Should he have headed for the exit instead? But it may be too late for that. For the first time in years, real fear edged its way into his mind. Fear, and anger at his newly assigned partner, too weak to help in this search or counsel escape. The old man should have retired, Cantus thought, and I should still be with Renk, whose bad sense of humor had never affected his competence. What was he going to do? Anka would probably know. She’d have some spell cooked up for every situation. But he wasn’t Anka. And he couldn’t think of any other possibility. He was going to die here, and become part of a dead man’s collection, killed by a bunch of objects. drat it all. A book bounced off his shield, and then the rest fell, on to the stairs or the further down. He looked around. The light was gone. Only the after-image remained in his eyes, giving the scene a greenish tinge. The bookcases were bare, their contents now covering the floors. “Thank the gods!” He heard Evroh’s voice boom from above him. “I wasn’t sure that would work!” Cantus stared up as the older mage came in to view. They were both still alive. Had it been luck? The two magi stood outside in the mid-afternoon sun, silhouetted by the flames that consumed the library. Cantus inspected the piece of log that Evroh held out. “So it was all thanks to this.” Evroh nodded. “We got lazy, expecting obvious traps. And I only thought to examine the space through the astral world once I had no other options. I knew I wasn’t going to make it down all those stairs again.” Cantus turned away. “You thought of it, though. I never use that method, and because of that…” Evroh put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re still too attached to your body. That’s a consequence of youth, when it always does what you want. When you get to my age…” he stretched out a gnarled hand “you consider other ways.” Cantus smiled at the older mage, but wasn’t consoled by his words. Instead he felt a profound sense of incompetence. What should have been an easy task had been a disaster. He had seemed boorish to those acolytes and, when faced with magical conflict, his forte, he had been slow-witted. If the log hadn’t been in the basement, Evroh would’ve had time to search the library’s every cranny in his astral form before succumbing to exhaustion. Cantus hadn’t made it halfway down those steps. He spent a moment more staring at the flames and pondering these discouraging thoughts. Then he glanced at his arm, still lying limp at his side. There wasn’t much he could do about the past, but at least back at the Isle he could get his arm working again. Crippled by a book, now that would be a story to tell Anka.
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Nov 15, 2017 05:35
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quote:Hi Creative Convention! I've written a self-contained fantasy novel. It runs 70,000 words and has been read through by a few people who have given feedback. Since I've been told it has potential I thought I'd ask readers/writers here for critique and constructive criticism. quote:The muted sounds of chaos reverberated through the makeshift throne room. Its rough walls rocked from the explosive spells cast just outside its gilded entrance. With a deafening boom, the doors burst open, hewn from their hinges and crashing to the ground in a shower of dust. Through the haze, the figures of two imposing magi emerged. Their opponent meanwhile is given a physical description but lacks a name, which is then casually revealed later so why hide it? Better than just calling him a “rogue” all the time because without context people are going to fall back on generic fantasy terminology and picture a stealthy guy with a dagger when they see that word. quote:The rogue sighed, cryptically muttering “I should have been content with tea.” quote:The mentee’s faces fell and they backed off, surveying Cantus with a doubtful gaze. quote:It began in dreams, the whispers of power beyond consciousness that mankind could control. Visions in the darkness, poured over and interpreted for their meanings. Gradually, the outlines became clear. quote:Here was Vruna, diverting a river. There was Harkross, razing a mountain. quote:“Awful lot of stairs, even if it does seem to go by in a flash!” said Renk jovially. “In fact, almost too fast! Like it was magic!” quote:“Yeah, that was some piece of engineering. I mentioned it to Anka, but she’s got no interest in technology,” replied Cantus. “To her, the runes seem somehow less mysterious than rope and sandbags.” quote:Renk still showed the physical and mental maturity of a juvenile. quote:rouge quote:Evroh, however, wishes the stay in service It gets better as it goes along. I didn’t read the second chapter so I can’t comment on that, but you really need to sort out that opening. It neither explains the situation properly, nor hooks the reader with a compelling mystery that would encourage them to keep reading until an explanation is offered. This lack of detail is something that continues throughout the chapter, and it makes me wonder whether this might be partially responsible for the novel being so short. It never gets as confusing as those first few paragraphs, but you seem to have a habit of leaving out important pieces of information and description. This sometimes happens when a writer has something so clear their mind that they forget that the reader doesn’t know everything they know; I’ve certainly been guilty of that myself. I’m not saying you should go all Tolkien and have pages of backstory for every little thing, but it would help if, for example, we knew what “Raqday” was when that word is used. Bakeneko fucked around with this message at 12:04 on Nov 20, 2017 |
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Nov 20, 2017 11:54
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Cool, thanks for the feedback! I'll take another crack at that opening and post it here once it's done.
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Nov 20, 2017 22:29
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