Criticism on a revision draft

@hybridlore @freedomwriter76 @euodia-vision @jonas @mineralizedwritings @anyone-else-who-might-have-slight-interest

If I just tagged you and you aren’t interested, feel free to go away.

So…If you’re still around, and haven’t read the first chapter, look up. If you’re still around and you have read the first chapter, look down.

 

CHAPTER 2- NAHIM
“Nahim. Nahim!”

Mandin waved his large hand in front of his 19-year-old friend’s hidden face. “Nahim, what’s up?” Nahim seemed to be the only silent audience sitting in the crowd of Realn, whoops and cheers erupted around them in the packed stands leaning up to the sky. Down below, in a large silver circle at the end of a long, winding path from the city on the horizon, stood a triumphant hero next to her speeder of green with lightning stripes of blue.  She waved her gloved hand to the crowd. A large smile blessed her face and the look of pure joy in her hazel eyes exclaimed she had been waiting for this day since her childhood. Behind her also waved the four other winners of this race, who had finished after her. The many flags of dragons and heroes thrashed in the strong winds of the planet Banor. In front of the winner’s circle, set jetting out into a crystalline lake, the young Lord Nahor sat in his own private place with his newly-wedded wife. The couple were overshadowed with dragon wings, and a large orange dragon head rose above, as if it were a real one of the great beasts in their rock-like state of watchfulness. As if a figurehead, a depiction of a woman, half-armored in the special armor of the Realn, stood at the front of the Lord’s Seat, the dragon’s orange-red tail curled around her feet in wide circles. The expression upon her face was as vivid as life, a look of determination, of courage, of a will, a look that could bring her enemies to a halt, a queenly expression. Her hair flowed back in a wave of blond-red curls, and her light blue dress flowed in the wind of Ancient Wond. Her left hand was raised, as if to stop an impending doom. That was Empress Budeca, one of the greatest empresses who ever lived. She had reigned in one of the golden ages of the Realn, when their name was the fear of their enemies and the joy of their allies. When they ruled the seas, air and the land, when they had a place on almost every piece of land on their side of the great Wond. When they showed they were small in number but great in power. Only the Addawnai could drive them from their shores. Today was her birthday, celebrated by the family-clan, Ward, for ages, in wartime or in peace. She was the Mother of the Ward. Thousands of years had passed since her death, but still her memory remained in the hearts of her people, she was the woman that any young Ward girl strove to be.

Behind the great dragon that shielded the lord of the Ward and served Budeca and behind the sparkling water rose the Banorian trees. Their trunks rippled from root to leaf in the wind, as if a wave of a sea. Every bow was burdened with tender leaves and sweet flowers, streaked with a mixture of blues, oranges, and whites. The scent that hung on the air was sweet and like unto a rose and an apple blossom, wonderfully blended together. The trees wrapped around one side of the lake and behind one side of the stands, halting at the large rock that served as the foundation for various shops of various streaks of the color palette, offering things to buy. Behind this was a long road that led back to the rising city. One great standard stood out above all: the bust of a gold dragon. The fierceness of his face was accented by his slit reptilian eyes and the various shapes of his scales, along with the silver and bronze streaks. On his chest was a round stone of sparkling blues, pinks, purples, whites, silvers, and speckles of gold. It is hard to describe THE stone, the crowning jewel of the Realn. If you have ever looked at it once in your life, you will remember it to the end of your days. A light seems to come from each color, giving it a magical, enchanting look. Even this flag made by the Realn, this Realn symbol, did not serve its beauty justice. But none has seen this jewel since it was enclosed in the Labyrinth, at the beginning of the Nanian war, as is custom when the emperor dies or steps down.

But it wasn’t any of this that captured the attention of Nahim, it was thoughts. He stared blankly through his visor at the winding course from the horizon that the many speeders had taken. His eyes did not even flick toward the joyful winner who now received her medal prize, nor to the Ward standards that waved now with ferocity, feathered wings around THE stone. Mandin could hardly take everything in; he had been here year after year for 26 years and he still couldn’t believe the palette of colors, every one imaginable. He wondered what this native-to-Laxor friend of his felt about such a Banorian festival.

“Nahim, what’s up? You overwhelmed or something?”

“Huh?” a quiet voice, as if in another world answered.

“What do you think? Why didn’t ya enter the speeder race? You’re good enough.”

“Nih, you never met my brother.” His monotone voice was wistful.

Mandin raised his black eyebrows, interested in what he hoped Nahim would say next.

“Banorians know how to add color,” Nahim commented while looking around him through his visor. His voice was more light-hearted than usual. It was not what Mandin hoped he would say.

“Kinda a culture thing.” Mandin ran with Nahim’s change of subject.

“Funny how I’m of a totally different family-clan that no longer exists and a Laxorian where we don’t usually like to throw all our colors into one big thing and you invite me to an extremely, what would you call it? Wardian festival? Not to mention the fact that the clans are divided since the death of our emperor,” they both pressed a fist to heart, “I might as well be a Wardian myself!”

“You finally figured it out!” Nahim gave Mandin Ward a playful punch on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m Laxorian through and through.” A slight chuckle escaped Nahim. He was in high spirits today.

“Then why don’t you ever go there?”

“How do you know I never go there?”

“Well, you’ve got this fear of flying, and you’ve forgotten that in the last two years since we teamed up, you’ve never even asked to go there. Oh, and don’t forget, you were at Father’s academy for a year and never left. So, why don’t you go there?”

“That topic is not for bright colors.” Translation: Mandin, you’re stepping to close. “This place is as bright as an elven New Year. Who gets the colorful job?”

“A lot of the women of the surrounding area and even from across the Ward territory prepare for this holiday. Usually there is a Lady Young Budeca, usually one of her direct descendants that has no pollutions from aliens in their lineage. This year it happens to be Lady Aileen.” They both looked to the dragon box for Lord Nahor and his lady as the crowd around them rose and slowly dispersed for the other festivities of the day. “Speaking of no alien blood, I’ve never quite understood what you are.”

“Guess Wondian man with a dash of elf and you’ve got it, my friend. C’mon, I’m curious what other Banorian Wardian surprises await.”

They rose and walked with the crowd into the open space of the nearby stone platform.

“You do realize that it’s ‘Ward’ not ‘Wardian’ that should be used in any sentence of the sort you would put the incorrect word of ‘Wardian’ in?”

“Now I do.” Mandin laughed his hearty laugh. Nahim remained steady. His grave personality seemed like iron sometimes; today the forge of gay colors seemed to soften it more than usual.

“Nahim, I still think you should have joined the speeder races. Your speedering is excellent.”

“My brother’s speedeering was exquisite.” A small point was made on the last word.

“Speedeering? What kinda of a word is that?”

“The same kind as Nayhelmic.”

“Which is?”

“A correct Nayhelmic term.”

“This is what I get when I’ve gotta have a Laxorian for a friend,” Mandin laughed, he matched his friend’s speed as they entered a diligent place where the stands were now open for business. Laughter and festivities went on around them. “But, who was your brother?”

“That topic is not for such colors.”

“It never seems to be for dark colors either,” Mandin mumbled. “C’mon, sometimes you need to just talk about things. I’ve got seven years of experience on you, and that experience told me that sometimes I needed to tear Dad away from his papers and trainees to talk about something. Or even to tear my childhood friend from her books to talk about anything.”

Nahim tilted his helmet at the mention of “her”. “You have a female childhood friend?”

Mandin caught the hint in Nahim’s voice. “Friends ONLY. Don’t you go getten’ any ideas. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, talk about your past to someone, I’m not sayin’ me.”

“You may have the seven years but I’ve had the fire. You know I don’t have a family, no father to pull from his daily duties. No mother to pull from her daily baking. No brothers to pester. I never had any sisters.” Nahim’s voice was unusually wistful as he spoke, and it sounded like he had broken out in a smile at the word “pester”. “All I’ve got now is a good friend that I believe I would go to the edges of the Galaxy for even if they wouldn’t for me. Though, who am I talking about? They would.”

“Then talk to him.”

“That dragon figurine is missing something.”

“Now you’re just changen’ subject.”

“Yep.”

“Well, guess I’ll just pester you some more.”

“Your father is over there.”

No sooner had Nahim spoke than Mandin’s father set down the dragon figurine he was studying, noticing the two of them and called to Mandin.

“Then I guess I’ll go over there for a few minutes; don’t disappear.” Mandin veered off towards his parent, Nahim turned and went towards the far away edge where the strange trees ended. So unique, like the tall trees of his beloved Laxor. He relived looking over the landscape around his home, the volcanoes at one end, the Laxorian forest to another and the last side walled by the tall grasslands with its sharp blades. He half-smiled at the memories of the wonderful time when the three suns, Diala, Leahae, and Lahoom had set all at once, their light blending together to make the most romantic and gorgeous sight Nahim had ever seen touch the grasslands of his home. Alin’s voice sounded in his mind. “Wouldn’t that look great from the sky? Sunlight dipping the blah grasslands in paint. Huh Nahim? Can’t you just see it?” His mother giving a soft smile as she rested her head on his father, her hand over her swelling belly. That was so long ago, yet the memory was sweet and clear as if straight from the time. He reached the edge of the shops just as the sunset of Diala began. Nahim’s eyes scanned the horizon through his helmet’s dark visor. To his left, blue-gray grass bowed to her Majesty the Wind as her long train swept across the plain with the magnificent king of the Day Sky, Diala, casting out his last cape of orange. With a sudden realization Nahim remembered that it was Haye 9th, 10,018 GA, the fourth anniversary of the Laxan invasion. This was an anniversary of tears and death for him, and the fact that only Nanians survived made it worse. King Vorgan had survived to continue the war. And the traitor was still unknown. ‘Ehyeh, Why?’ He did not pause any longer but passed under the peaceful shade of the boughs. Nahim Nayhelm was lost to the scene. The bits of light from the suns came down onto the ground, filtered to green, blue, orange and white. The wind rippled up the trunks, making the filtered light shift and change every second. For an instant, Nahim wished to be one of those leaves or one of those flowers so that he at least would have a family. He was a Lone One now. The Nayhelm family was dead. Another ‘Why?’ to be directed to the Realn God. ‘How can you create something so perfect and make something so devastating?’ Maybe Mandin was right, after all this time maybe he should tell someone; he needed a direction to go. Maybe telling his story would make them like brothers instead of just this friendship that was deep but yet not the laughing, joking, pestering relationship that Nahim always had with his siblings. On his own, figuring out the whys and the questions, he felt becalmed without an ash breeze.

He pushed aside his previous thoughts, wishing to instead think of the current beauty around him. He eased himself down onto the leaf covered and flower speckled ground and crossed his legs to watch the shifting light. For the first time in a long time, he lifted his helmet and set it beside him in a pile of fallen flowers. His black hair with misbehaving wisps of multicolored light-dyed hairs fell on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and took in the fragrance of the many sweet flowers. The burning smell of a forge. Bits of dainties that Nahim did not recognize. The bustling of the crowd behind him didn’t bother him much as he sat away from the edge of where they were, all alone. People raised their voices in Realn but Nahim did not listen to the conversations, he was in another world of peace. The wind was cool and the scent of more flowers and places far away, of a sweet purity as if after a rain, caressed his face. Little merry breezes played in his hair. His low-melanin face was stained by the fading rays from Diala. And Leahae would soon be falling too. Here was his peace. For a while there he sat, his mind thinking of nothing but the place around him and how pleasant Banor could be.

“I told you not to go anywhere.” Mandin was half-laughing.

Nahim turned around suddenly, forgetting his helmet rested in the flowers beside him. Mandin froze, a look of shock in his features. “What is the…” A lock of hair touched Nahim’s face and he realized what had happened. “Mandin, I can explain.” Mandin’s uncovered face had gone pale.

“What kind of trick is this?”

“No trick.” Nahim lowered his eyes to the ground. Mandin had seen them; Nahim’s secret was out. “Please, don’t tell anyone, I will explain everything to you later.”

“Everything?”

Nahim took in a deep breath. Did that mean Mandin wanted to hear about the long-pried-for past that Nahim hid from his sight? Was that raised eyebrow a look of hope for what he wanted Nahim to answer? Yes, it was. He sighed; maybe this was destined.

“Everything.” He lifted his helmet out of its cradle of white, blue, and orange streaked flowers. Pulling his hair out of his way, he slid it back over his head, once more hiding his eyes. He then stood, casting a look over that peaceful spot, before turning to go with Mandin back to the stone platform.

Mandin walked beside him, but he was not thinking about the light-hearted things that his friend now commented on to lift the tension. He had always wondered what the face that was always hidden either by his helmet or by a dark speeder mask. Now he had seen it, and he didn’t know what to think. Nahim could be considered handsome, with a strong nose, a somewhat square clean chin, black eyebrows down close to his eyes yet not too close, and a mature look to his cheek bones. Mandin felt it matched and yet didn’t match his voice, which lacked some of the deepness that he himself had. But that wasn’t what bothered Mandin so. Those eyes had looked straight into his own, those black pupils, red irises and… red sclerae. How could someone of man and elven lineage have such eyes?

*****

Nahim brought his metal-covered fist onto his protected thigh. He threw his head back onto the leather headrest of the copilot seat of Mandin’s spaceship, the Scorpion Fish. The thin cockpit was the place he often remained with Mandin at his side in the pilot seat as he was now. The festivities of yesterday had ended and now the two partners were back in that paint-splotched colorful place that Nahim now understood. Mandin’s sister had painted it just for Mandin, saying that the rest of the ship with its dingy gray walls was depressing.

The Scorpion Fish was not a bad spaceship, not a Realn one either. Large engines that were held near the center of the body to the side propelled it at a fast speed. It had a box-like appearance to the body except for the slanted cockpit with its large, curving down window. Along with its cargo bay sized door that slanted out to the jutting-out roof, it had a rather un-Realn shape.

Mandin glanced at the man in the plain tan copilot seat. His brows furrowed. He could not keep his question corralled any longer.

“Nahim, what’s goin’ on? First you seem asleep to the world, then ya show your face. In the name of every curious pricklin’ in the galaxy, what’s goin’ on?” Nahim mindlessly slapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left.

“I don’t know where to start.” Mandin remained silent, waiting for Nahim to continue. Nahim let his hands fall and sighed. Under his helmet his eyes closed. “Haye 8th, 10,015. It began first with strategic bombings to trigger the eruption of the Laxan twins. When the beginning of the invasion happened, my parents left along with my older brother, Knihan, who was a city guard. I was to stay with my ten-year-old brother, who they didn’t want in the fray of battle yet. If the Nanians got too far I was to take him out of the city. There were few Realn left there. It was mostly refugees from other planets. Ones who we had offered to protect; we lost them all before the end. The fight was cruel. The Nanians outnumbered us, like a mob to a small hunting party. Most of the refugees were just that, refugees, with no training and no ability to protect themselves. Earthquakes rumbled the earth and the Laxan twins erupted for the first time in 14 years. There also was a traitor somewhere” – Nahim spoke through clenched teeth – “who knew of the secrets we kept and gave them to our enemies. I could not get my little brother out of the city,” –– sadness tinged Nahim’s voice ––“He was killed. I went to find my mother, father and Knihan but I found my mother dead in the courtyard of the Lord’s tower. My father fought Vorgan but lost that fatal duel.” Nahim swallowed. Oh how could he ever forget? His father’s last words still echoed in every passage of his mind as the breath of life left his mortal body. Hot fire sizzling bodies of fallen Nanians and refugees. His forever home transforming into an uninhabitable rubble. Blasts of more rock and lava bursting forth from the Laxan twins. Weeping, screams, pain, suffering. Earth groaning and moving under his feet as if it itself was feeling the pain of the moment. Heat. Inner pain that felt like it wanted to wrench his heart to pieces from the inside. His voice stalled as he remembered Knihan’s cry of ‘No!’ He too had challenged that spider-like king. “Knihan was killed from behind by Vorgan’s favorite. I killed that favorite. I challenged King Vorgan, the Nanian King, to a duel of death. I was 15, Knihan was 20. Vorgan scoffed that such a ‘child’ could dare fight him.” Nahim remembered throwing down his helmet and staring into Vorgan’s six black eyes. He remembered casting away his own sword to pick up the blue-bladed crystal swords of his mother and father. He remembered how the molten crystal had flown out and hardened as one. He remembered fighting with energy and skill he never knew he possessed. He remembered feeling like a Nayhelm. “Near the end a deep chasm had opened in the courtyard due to a large earthquake. During that time we were both knocked off the ground but I regained my feet sooner. That was when I brought my sword down on his arms.” –– Triumph rang slightly through the sound of his voice –– “And that is when he pierced my throat. I fell down the chasm. I still had no helmet and the fall would have broken my neck. I dropped the swords as I tried to grab onto something.” Nahim paused. The next part was going to be hard to believe, He himself could hardly believe it. With a deep breath he continued, “I stopped falling suddenly. I was floating on air! Air that carried me away from the city to a hill in the sweet grasslands. I kept my eyes hidden behind the visor because Vorgan never forgot my eyes and to this day, hates me more than I believe he hated Lord Adorian, lord of the Nayhelm. When he heard news of a red-eyed armored Realn, he sent out a snip for any news of me. That is why I was at your father’s training academy on Banor, where no one saw my eyes. The rest of the story is for later.” Nahim wouldn’t continue. How could he be rid of those memories? Why couldn’t he go back to that innocent childhood where Knihan played his old practical jokes, and where Larin played Alley Dash, and even back to where Alin taught him every little bolt and rivet to a speeder and to a spaceship? Those days seemed like yesterday when no strip of laughter was withheld. Nahim let out a quiet sigh.

“But Nahim, what about your eyes?”

Mandin’s voice was a pure vein of curiosity. Nahim brought his head up again. “The mystery of why my sclerae are so is unsolved. I am full Wondian and I am full Realn. In my veins, there is no alien blood nor that of the Nameless Things. Red irises is a mutation that can occur once in a century but I have never heard of another with eyes like my own.”

*****

It was one day later when Mandin found Nahim under the speeders, tweaking with the lifters and a few other components. He shook his head. Nahim probably felt some small thing when they were out riding that morning over the fields of Alick. He walked over to Nahim and bent down to look at the confusing pile of parts. “May I ask a question that is pretty personal just to settle my curiosity?” Nahim set his tools down and turned. This seemed the week for personal questions and answers.

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you fly? You work with speeders like a pro. I’m surprised you haven’t joined the speeder Guardians. Why do you not at least learn how to use a ship if you don’t know how to?” Nahim turned back under the speeder and looked straight up as his hands fisted. How could Mandin speak about such subjects as if they were the scent of flowers on the wind? They were serious subjects to Nahim, couldn’t he take the hint? Yet that joyous voice coaxed him to talk, to trust, some underlining feature that he couldn’t explain.

“I know how to fly. I just…” He slid from under the speeder and stood up. “Mandin, I just can’t. My past has looming shadows. Ehyeh doesn’t care so what do you think has happened?” Nahim’s voice was tinged with anger.

“Nahim––” But Nahim would not listen, his hands fisted with anger.

“No! No, I don’t want to hear it! Answer this, Mandin Ward; my family is dead, my home is in ruins, my life is mangled, my memory is branded, and yet you want to say ‘Ehyeh is good!’ Do you call this good? Do you?” Nahim’s chest heaved, he was yelling. “What is the answer? Mandin, what is the answer? I don’t know what to think of this God I have known from childhood who suddenly is horrible to me. I just don’t know what to think. Is Ehyeh merciful? Or is he cruel?” Mandin stood up and looked straight into Nahim’s visor with his soft brown eyes.

“Jonas.”

“What?” Nahim seemed taken aback by the name.

“Jonas, he was my favorite story when I was a child.”

“How does that help? It’s just a story! Just a story for all I know. Besides, Ehyeh wanted to destroy those people, and he did later! How does the story of Jonas help?” Nahim turned around and put his head in his hands. The rage that had caused him to yell in response to his friend seemed to drain away into a quiet voice,

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”  For a few moments there was silence, and Mandin wished he had never come up to Nahim in the first place. But that couldn’t be helped. Nahim wished he had not spoken on the impulse of earlier; it had taken that joyful ring out of Mandin’s voice. Nahim’s shoulders shuddered as his mind ran over the memories before the Laxan invasion, to the reason he mentally could not fly. Should he tell Mandin? No. Not yet. Then what should he do? He needed to get out of this room. He walked to the square door, Mandin watched in silence. ‘What have I done now?’…

*****

It was Adhai 20th. Nahim’s chest rose and fell. Mandin listened to his deep, even breaths. Not a thing would wake Nahim when he slept as deep as he did that moment. Mandin was glad he could; he hadn’t for a long time. Nahim’s uncovered head lay back on the seat, with a look so restful that it seemed nothing stressful had ever happened to him in his life, nothing that worried him. A holographic journal sat in his lap, a pen poised in his right hand, about to fall out.

Mandin delicately landed the Scorpion Fish, so lightly that Nahim’s precarious pen did not fall from his armored hand. How long had it been since he had finished that class of his fathers’ training for the Space Skwads? How long ago was it that all he wanted to be was a famous pilot of one of those unique squadrons? Why had he even changed his mind, after all his parents, sister and he had done to prepare for the day he knew he was ready? Six years, he guessed. Six years ago he had decided he wasn’t ready, that he needed more experience past his own little bubble of Banor, that he needed more knowledge of the Wondian Galaxy. With thoughtful steps, Mandin walked onto the dry surface of Dolant. Even in this trading city, the air had little humidity and little water was in the streets. The streets were built wide, incredibly wide, but were sized down by the traders that lined the streets. On a large black wall were projected the newest released bounty snips. Mandin paused to look at the round holographic pieces. There was one that caught his eye. He gasped.

“No, this can’t be right.”

 

Fast footsteps thudded into the small room. Nahim was still resting in the copilot seat. Mandin shook him, he moaned and stretched. Mandin stared into his face,

“You’ve got to see this.” Nahim groggily read the snip Mandin held up.

“Mandin, either I’m really tired or I have a reading disorder, but tell me that is not what it says.” Nahim rubbed his eye with his left hand. Mandin shook his head.

“That is what it says. I’m not kiddin’.”

Nahim grabbed the snip:

 1,000,000 Galaxos for the capture of a Realn by the name of Nahim Nayhelm. On the charges of traitorous acts, murder and breaking Code. Kind: Man. Gender: Masculine. Hair color: black. Eye color: red. Age: 19. Height: 9 hands. Build: average Realn male. Last seen with another Realn, Mandin Ward. Kind: Man. Gender: Masculine. Hair color: black-root blond. Eye color: brown. Age: 26. Height: 9 ½ hands. Build: muscular. Contact employer by hologram audio, Danoo system, Dolant 4W 25 02 1903. Ask for Master Grostoff.

Mandin wasn’t kidding. Nahim was now fully awake. Why was there a second snip? Why had Vorgan sent out a second one now? And how did he get not only Nahim’s information, but also Mandin’s? How could Vorgan know his name? And why would he use the name of a revered family-clan but use a number for Dolant? One answer was all Nahim could think of:

‘By my Honor, I will avenge you and find this traitor.’

The words echoed and re-echoed in the caverns of his mind. Had he finally come to the first step of fulfilling his promise? But the Grostoffs? They were one of the most respected Realn families. How could one of them even have a dream about traitorous acts? Maybe he was a pawn serving Vorgan without knowledge, but that didn’t seem possible. The snip slipped from Nahim’s talented fingers to clink onto the metal floor. His hand remained poised in the air, his eyes staring and mouth slightly agape until Mandin laid a hand on him. Then, with his red eyes searching the brown ones, he stared into the webbing pattern of Mandin’s iris. He knew in his heart that he now endangered his only friend in the Galaxy, and he would not forgive himself for that.

“At the Laxan invasion I vowed I would find the one who gave away our secrets. I vowed by my Honor. But how could a Grostoff be a traitor?” Mandin’s brows knotted. Nahim thought that Mandin didn’t understand his reasoning, but he did not bother to explain. He didn’t want to explain. Nahim had to do something, something to protect himself but also Mandin; he had said that he would go to the ends of the Galaxy for his friend, and he had meant it. He still meant it. He sighed, and opening up his journal, acted as if nothing had ever happened.

 

@kyronthearcanin

I shall remember the paragraph thing! Funny, just a minute ago, I had someone say almost the same thing after I emailed hr my short story!

Thoughts are in italics on my Word document, just they didn’t stay there, when I copied and pasted.

You have no idea how happy it makes me feel when someone says they want to read the next chapter! I have up to about en chapters so far, 35 to the entire book. Yeah. I’ll post Chapter 3 soon!

You know what? I just read it, and realized that that style is outdated and I only wrote this about a couple months go. Sheesh, I can’t even keep up with my own writing!