So I'm a bit of an aspiring novelist. In fact, for most of last year, I was writing a fantasy novel. It was... okay, but you could definitely see my inexperience. I only got about halfway through before I got bored with it. Sicne then I've matured a lot and read al lot, and I think I have grown quite a bit as an author. As such, I recently created this new draft, but only the first chapter. I like it way better than the original draft, and while I may never continue this second draft, I would like to share it with you guys, and get some of your input and (consturctive) criticism. Thanks!
-Chapter 1-
The Expedition
A man stood on the edge of a steep cliff, overlooking a gorgeous valley filled with tall evergreen trees. As far as the eye could see, the forest stretched on and on, never seeming to end. In the distance their lay a small cluster of wooden cabins, with smoke puffing from their chimneys. It was the town of Enidsworth, and all that surrounded was the Forthan Wood. The man looked around him, at Hunter’s Knoll, the high, treeless hill that he stood on. On its center was a large log cabin that could hold up to eight people. The man looked back down into the woods, and a smile crossed his face as the wind blew his dirty blonde hair across his face. He was Orson Serrant, adventurer by trade.
Hanging from the man’s belt were a variety of scrolls, rolled up perfectly. They held maps of the surrounding woods that Orson had hand-drawn. Slung across his back in the traditional style of his country was a sheathed sword. Why anyone would bring a sword on an expedition into the woods was a mystery to all but him.
A young girl, looking to be about fourteen years old, came up behind him. She had a bow slung across her back, and a quiver of arrows hanging from her belt. Like Orson, she had pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair that swept across her back. “Orson,” she said, “the others have made it up the hill. May next you consider could, I don’t know, maybe waiting for everyone else? Seriously, slow down.”
“Sorry, Enlica,” Orson replied. “I didn’t realize my poor, weak little sister couldn’t keep up.” As Enlica’s smile faded, Orson’s grew. He turned around to face her, and started walking toward the cabin.
“Hey, I could’ve kept up if I wanted to,” said Enlica in her own defense. “I was just waiting with Sylvi!”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure that’s what it was,” replied Orson sarcastically.
The siblings reached the door of the cabin, where a a hook jutted out. Orson placed a sign on it that read:
Occupants: Orson Serrant and Company
Hunter’s Knoll Occupation Permit
Granted by: Belwin Tarthary, Patron of Cartography
“What’s the sign for?” asked Enlica quizzically.
Orson replied, “This cabin was built for Enidsworth’s hunters. The sign tells them that we have permission to be staying here.”
The cabin opened into a large waiting room with a fireplace at the far end. On the right were a kitchen and table for dining, and on the left were four doors leading to the four bunk rooms. Inside the cabin were five other people, all dressed similarly to Orson and Enlica, and all with either a bow like Enlica’s or a pair of hunting knives. A tall, muscular man with short light brown hair looked at Orson, and smiled.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “You know, you could have slowed down a bit and walked with us.”
Orson rolled his eyes, and spoke back, “Please, Jareth, I don’t want to hear it from you, too. Where’s Sylvi?”
Jerric pointed toward the bunk room nearest the door. “She’s in there, trying to sleep.”
“Alright, thanks Jareth.” Orson entered the room, where there was a bed on each side of the door. On the right, on top of the blankets, lay a girl, her leg wrapped completely, and with a few red blotches shading the bandage. She looked over at Orson. “Hey there, commander. How are you?”
He sat down on the bunk opposite her. “I’m fine, but I told you, just call me Orson. How’s your leg doing?”
The previous day, the strangest thing had happened. A pack of wolves had actually attacked the band of explorers, an incredibly rare occurrence. While the pack was scared away after several of them were slain, one was able to get to Sylvi and bite her leg. The group had slowed down its pace so she could keep up. Of course, it had to happen on her first expedition with them. Orson could only hope she wouldn’t be scared away from ever coming with them again.
Sylvi smiled, despite her injuries. “Oh, I’m fine, Orson. Wow, this turned out to be quite the adventure, huh? Where in Alava are we, anyway?”
Orson looked at her and replied, “If you think it’s an adventure out here, just wait until we reach the Baris Mountains.
Adventurer’s Journal
Entry 1. Geography of Alava
Alava is a land of flat fields. It mostly consists of open plains dotted with farms and villages. Woodlands are scattered through the countryside. In the north is the mighty Forthan Wood, a large evergreen forest, which is easily Alava’s least populous region. Alava borders the Baris Mountains to the west and the Mountains of Light to the east. The sea wraps around the Baris Mountains to the west and Alava to the south. The north border of Forthan Wood is the majestic Cliff, a massive, indomitable height that borders all lands to the north. In eastern Alava is Lake Nenival, to which all four of Alava’s rivers are related. The mighty Cerania begins in the Baris Mountains. The Haro River finds its roots in the crags of North Forthan and unites with the Cerania halfway to Nenival. The Valian flows from the Mountains of Light a short distance before uniting with Nenival. The Nenival River flows out of the lake and into the sea near the city of Grent.
“This is Hunter’s Knoll,” explained Orson. “Normally, Enidsworth’s hunters stay out here on hunting trips. It has a great view, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said as she looked toward the ceiling and rested her hands behind her head. “So, have you made any good maps?”
Orson reached for one of the scrolls hanging from his waist. When he unrolled, it showed a detailed map of east-central Forthan with all of the game trails as well as the hunters’ and woodcutters’ trails. The foothills of the Baris were on the far left, and Enidsworth was directly in the center. Most of the markings between Enidsworth and the Baris were blank and missing, and the trails were cut off. “I’d still like to visit all of these blank areas before we start heading home in a few days. I sell these maps to a man named Belwin Tarthary in Halavaan.”
“What were you collecting all of those plants for, then?” asked Sylvi.
Orson opened a pouch on his belt and pulled out three different-looking flowers. “Belwin takes plants, too. He wants to learn all there is to know about Alava’s frontiers. I’m just one of over a dozen adventurers he hires. Although, I’ve already collected most of the plants around here. The areas nearer the Baris have the flowers I really want.”
Sylvi sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in her leg. “Well then, Orson. When are we leaving to get these plants? I’ve always wanted to see the Baris!”
“Well, I was planning on leaving in the morning. We haven’t gotten much rest in a few days. Besides, you need more time to heal.”
“Come on, Orson, I’ll be fine. It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”
“Maybe not, but if it’s infected, then we need to wait until I make some kind of remedy to give you. I have most of the ingredients, but it’ll take me an hour or two more today before I can get them all to you. We can’t leave until I’ve had the time alone in the woods searching for herbs.”
Sylvi sighed. “Alright. But can we leave first thing in the morning, then?”
“Well, if everyone wakes up early enough, then yes.”
Sylvi lay back down, put her hands under head, and closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll be here when you need me.”
The group of eight explorers were walking through the woods on the next day of their expedition. Orson was at the front of the group as they marched forward toward the Baris Mountains. Jareth walked at the back, guarding the group from any attackers from behind. In front of him was Sylvi, limping along as Enlica helped her to walk. The other four expeditionaries marched in between.
As they headed onward, Orson could feel the woods become more oppressive. His adventurer's instinct told him that the trees further along were gradually taller, thicker, and closer together than they were further behind on the path, despite any visual clues. They were approaching the deep wood on the foothills on the Baris. More significant than that though, they were getting nearer to the Cliff, the monstrous entity that, despite its colossal size, could only be seen from a very close distance. However, Orson could also sense something else in the woods. There was something… sinister about the forest. Corruption hung in the air.
“Hey Orson?” called Jareth from the back of the caravan.
“Yeah, Jareth?” Asked Orson, looking back.
“Let’s just… be more careful from here on out. I have a bad feeling about this place.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Have you ever been here before?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so,” said Orson uncertainly.
Soon, the group came across a clearing in the forest. All the trees around it were barren and dead. Rotting leaves covered the withered ground. Dead grass sprouted up rarely in the desert of uncovered dirt, cracked and dry. In the center of the clearing was a pile of burnt branches and dead animals. Bloodied wolf pelts dotted the forsaken soil. All across the clearing were depressions in the earth where bodies seemed to have lain. The whole place reeked of chaos and despair.
Orson walked into the center of it all, and span in circles as he took the desolation in. Everyone else sauntered in slowly, disgusted looks on their horrified faces. Enlica walked toward Orson, her bow in hand, arrow nocked and prepared to be fired.
“Orson… what did this?” she asked.
“I… I don’t know,” Orson replied, unsure of himself.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the expert!” she exclaimed.
“I have never, ever seen anything like this in all the times I have been out here,” said Orson. He continued to scan the clearing, and looked over at one of the wolf pelts. They were ripped apart, and bits and pieces of flesh, muscle, and organ still hung from what remained of the corpse. It seemed to have been sliced to shreds by some sort of crude dagger or knife. Ribbons of black blood (that clearly did not belong to a wolf) weaved across it like lightning in the sky.
A wolf howled in the distance; it was an agonized scream, filled with desperation and hopelessness. Everything around them seemed terrible, and the wolf cry didn’t help. It just added somberness, not fear, into the hearts of those poor souls standing in the clearing.
Jareth walked toward Orson. He had his long hunting knife in hand. “Come on, Orson. Let’s keep going. I don’t feel safe in this place.”
“Me neither,” replied the journey’s leader. “We should head back to Hunter’s Knoll. We can take a different trail through the woods.”
“Sounds fine with me,” said Sylvi. “This place is kind of creeping me out.”
Just then, a loud piercing sound with an incredibly high pitch flew through the sky. At that moment, as if because of the sound, Sylvi fell to the ground, gripping her leg, as terrified screams of pain flowed from her lungs into the putrid air. Blood seemed to be flowing from the wound, which Orson could only assume had now been somehow ripped back open.
“Quick! Now! We need to go now!” shouted Orson as the howls of wolves - and howls of creatures that couldn’t possibly by wolves - screeched in the wind from every direction.
Orson picked up Sylvi, who was still grasping her leg desperately, breathing heavily, and occasionally letting out a scream, and gestured to the others to go. He insisted that Enlica take the lead and that Jareth stay by her side to defend her. They all sprinted away from the clearing. In time, Sylvi calmed down and yelled at Orson to put her down. However, knowing she could never keep up with them, he held on. In a half-hour or so, they reached Hunter’s Knoll.
“Skip the cabin!” ordered Orson. “Just keep running to Enidsworth!” They never stopped running the entire way there. It wasn’t until the reached the town’s inn that their exhaustion caught up with them. There was no conversation through the run. There was only silence, as dark thoughts filled the adventurers’ minds. The events of that night would haunt Orson for weeks.
