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Hi. I’m RAE. You can call me Ru or Ruee, whichever.
I’m writing a book called Guardian Angels, a space story, and I would like some criticism on it. By the way, when I do ‘dialogue’ It means he’s thinking that, not saying it. Here is the first chapter…
CHAPTER 1 LAXAN
Billowing smoke filled the air. Lava drooled red into the city streets. Rock soared into the air to land on crawling Nanian bugs. Ash was mixed in with every shaking breath. They had lost. The Nayhelm had failed. Laxan was overtaken and leveled to no more than a ruin, their reward for protecting refugees. Now the refugees screamed and cried as they were killed. The Realn, warriors to the end, Knights of the Galaxy, a nation that didn’t have even one teen who didn’t know the skill of at least one weapon well, had failed here, and maybe everywhere else they were too. The war was scarring the mighty Realn. Tears rolled slowly down the stained cheeks of Nahim. Back there lay the bodies of his family. His face stung and his eyes burned, his throat and mouth were dry from being full of ash. He had no weapons nor helmet anymore. To dash into the Nanians was suicide without purpose, against the Code. Yet that was the impulse that flowed with his adrenaline. The ground shook with earthquakes. The last of the brave ships trying to get refugees out of the city exploded with a great boom as if it had broken the barrier of sound. Here he stood, upon the high ground along Laxan, watching people die from bug aliens and from lava, suffocation and crushing and not able to do anything for lack of a weapon, lack of energy and lack of hope. Laxan was doomed and he knew even a dozen berserker warriors could not save his beloved home now. For the first time in his life, he was helpless and alone, without any member of his family left to turn to. Mothers called after children’s souls, fathers tried to comfort them. Children tried to make parents rise again to no avail. All was too much. With his heart aching unbearably, Nahim turned away from his viewpoint and wiped his ash and tear stained cheeks. His hands balled into tightened fists with rage and sorrow. ‘How? How could the Nanians get so far?’ One answer was the only one that could have made this great city with her close-guarded secrets fall. ‘A traitor!’ Nahim turned back to the ghastly scene he could do nothing to change. ‘By my Honor, I will avenge you and find this traitor.’ One last look. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! A high-pitched Leavar warning call rang in his almost deafened ears. It seemed to be a last wailing cry of anguish issuing from those salamander dragons over the people they once were friends with. Now it was Nahim’s turn. ‘Farewell.’ He ran into the tall grasslands, but he could not smell their sweetness, nor care about the tall blades cutting his face. His back was to Laxan, to his home, to his now-dead family, and to his happy past. He could feel it even in the way he moved; his life was changed forever.*****
He ran until he finally came to a staggering stop and glanced behind him. The air over his home was black with smoke. The horrible memories flashed through his mind. His dead brothers and parents. Vorgan. The duel. The hopelessness. The rescue. All was too vivid. His young features contorted. Nahim’s hand strayed to his throat. He winced with clenched teeth. Pain. He looked at his fingers. Blood. He tried to talk. Nothing. Nothing but pain. He let his hand fall and stood with mouth open slightly, eyes staring off towards his old home. How long he remained here, he could never guess; all he knew was that he was wounded, but his family would not be at his side; his mother would not talk to him and comfort him as she tended it. His father would not ask how he had managed to hurt himself this time. No little brother to ask him to spin it into some brave act of monster-slaying. No older one to chuckle at the mess he had gotten into. Tears rolled more freely. What would he do now?
A low, throaty growl resounded from behind him. He turned. A tigros tail bounced above the grasses, its two colors of orange and black mingled in a cloud or swirling water pattern. Usually a tigros wouldn’t dare attack a Realn, especially fully trained and almost fully armored ones. But Nahim was different; he was weary, wounded, dehydrated, and starving. And a Realn with no helmet. The orange and black roughly striped predator leaped to come down on Nahim’s chest plate, sending him smashing to the ground. One large, out stretched paw holding claws of almost one hand in length tried to swipe Nahim’s face, only to be thwarted by Nahims’ sea blue and forest green gauntlet. He gave a hard blow to the beast’s jaw, and it leapt away with a stiff feline agility, the young creature realizing it should not mess with a Realn.
But Nahim did not rise. There was no hope for him. If the Nanians found him, he would die. And if he tried to keep going, even if no other young impulsive tigros thought he would be an easy kill, he would die of dehydration. If somehow he found flowing water out here, then he would die from the probable infection in his wound. And no one ever went into the vast grasslands. And the Leavar? Suddenly his eyebrows lifted; he readied his muscles to rise. He could almost feel Knight’s hot breath like that of summer’s hottest air, blowing out of his black nostrils. Those almost invisible scales rubbing lovingly against him, those pupiless red eyes staring into his own. He could feel the red flaps of skin down the creature’s body, he could almost feel himself riding Knight back to his volcanic domain, the pace set by those long black legs veined in red. His wound would be no problem then, for it is said that the saliva of the Laxorian Leavar has healing abilities. Hope sparked, but then blew out. Nahim let his muscles relax again. The Leavar would not come. They were now probably in their volcanic caverns swimming in the lava, out of reach of those murderous Nanians. He wished he could lift his voice up in a call Knight always had a tuned ear for, the call of his master and friend. What was he thinking? Here he was, no matter what way he turned, going to die and never fulfill his vow. He would die with no honor. He was stuck with death. After 15 years of his life it had finally come. His hands fisted into the very roots of the sharp grass, he could barely breathe. He was not afraid of death, he was afraid that he would be honorless when he died. Nahim let his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks as one last tear drifted down his already wet skin. ‘This is the end.’
What do you think? Would you want to read the second chapter?
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHansHi!! Sorry, I would’ve gotten to this earlier, I just didn’t even see it. Do you know how to tag people already or did you just not know who to tag?
It seems interesting so far! I think the biggest thing I noticed was that your paragraphs are really long — I think it would be easier to read if you split the paragraphs up, but that’s sort of a matter of style I usually use very short paragraphs, so I could just be biased.
Billowing smoke filled the air. Lava drooled red into the city streets. Rock soared into the air to land on crawling Nanian bugs. Ash was mixed in with every shaking breath. They had lost. The Nayhelm had failed. Laxan was overtaken and leveled to no more than a ruin, their reward for protecting refugees. Now the refugees screamed and cried as they were killed. The Realn, warriors to the end, Knights of the Galaxy, a nation that didn’t have even one teen who didn’t know the skill of at least one weapon well, had failed here, and maybe everywhere else they were too. The war was scarring the mighty Realn. Tears rolled slowly down the stained cheeks of Nahim. Back there lay the bodies of his family.
So, for this first part, the beginning is great. The first sentence draws you in, so good job on that!
I think maybe introducing the main character earlier in the scene would connect you to him more, because so far it’s a lot of scenery and then you realize, oh, that’s who we’re following. I would maybe change the first few sentences to something like this:
Billowing smoke filled the air and lava drooled red into the city streets. Tears rolled slowly down Nahim’s stained cheeks.
They had lost. The Neyhelm had failed. Laxan was overtaken, leveled to no more than a ruin — their reward for protecting refugees. Now the refugees screamed and cried as they were killed. (….)
But it’s completely up to you, I guess it’s really just a matter of style.
‘How? How could the Nanians get so far?’ One answer was the only one that could have made this great city with her close-guarded secrets fall. ‘A traitor!’ Nahim turned back to the ghastly scene he could do nothing to change. ‘By my Honor, I will avenge you and find this traitor.’ One last look. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! A high-pitched Leavar warning call rang in his almost deafened ears.
So, for Nahim’s thoughts, I think I would personally put them in italics, because the quotation marks look like he’s talking. But again, mostly just a matter of style, and I know you explained it for us, I just don’t know if readers will understand that he’s not speaking out loud.
I think instead of writing the actual sound out, I would just start a new line and write, “A high pitched Leavar warning call rang…” but yeah, again, just your personal preference. I really like all the names you came up with, though. I know that can be hard — I usually just use a generator or something like that.
Anyway, I’d be interested to read the next part! Thanks for sharing it, and hopefully I didn’t offend you or anything. Mostly my advice is just personal style, so do with it what you will.
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May AlcottI do know how to tag people, but who would be interested? I do have two friends, but at the time I posted that, they we nonexistent. Should I just tag people I know?
I like your idea of adding Nahim in, it’s probably the only advice I’ve gotten about this chapter that doesn’t ruin my purpose at all.
Actually, funny you should mention italics, I do have them on the original Word Document, just in the transfer from there to here, They got lost. I just decided to leave it since my original document is fine.
For your next idea…I’ll ponder over that one for a while…
Don’t worry about offending me, the only way you can do that is by saying “This book is the worst I’ve ever read in my life…” Which, Thankfully, I have never heard, but from myself, reading my first draft. I also love advice on style, b/c often I find myself disliking my style cuz it seems so inconsistent at times, ya know? Oh, and don’t be shocked, the second chapter is very different from the first.
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHans@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.
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHansOkay, I was just making sure! Hmm…. yeah, I would just tag anyone you know/people who asked about your WIP, but of course you don’t have to. It just helps them to see it.
I know that @loopylin and @kyronthearcanin write science fiction, so maybe they would be interested to read it? Sorry, I don’t know who you’ve met yet. Or maybe @whalekeeper or @mineralizedwritings.
Okay, gotcha, that makes sense. Yeah, sometimes transfers can be weird. And nice, I use Word too! I think a lot of people use Google Docs, which works well too. I just like Word.
Okay good XD I never know when giving critiques, I just want to make sure I’m not hurting anyone’s feelings, but I try to be honest. And girl, that’s the point of first drafts. They’re allowed to be terrible. So try not to let your inner critic get in your way (which is easier said than done, I know.)
Great! And yeah, I get it. Style is hard. Okay, sounds good! Tag me when you post it!
Oops XD totally missed that you already posted the second chapter. Lag XD
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May AlcottThanks for the tag!! You’re really saving me there XD I hope to be more active, especially once I leave YWW. (:
Hey! So yeah, I love and write sci-fi, and I love this story!! You’re a very talented writer. I agree with everything hybridlore said – on the topic of long/short paragraphs, I think it’s a thing where people have gotten lazy. We don’t want to read long paragraphs because we lose focus too easily. That being said, for people to read your story, you have to give the reader a hand in some cases. I find myself going back and shortening paragraphs that are too long, especially when there’s worldbuilding and heavy character building involved.
So hopefully you don’t take anything the wrong way – being honest and encouraging is sometimes hard to do at the same time lol, though it’s hardly the case with this story. I mean, besides some mechanical stuff, your story is AMAZING for a first draft! Seriously, my first draft is looking a whole lot rougher than this. 😉
Just something to think about – usually paragraphs are also split by character action. So generally, Nahim rubbing his eye with his left hand would be in a different part than Mandin, even if that leaves a one sentence paragraph at sometimes. That way, it’s clearer what’s going on – and shorter paragraphs hold a bite that longer ones tend to lose.
Any thoughts would tend to go in italics. Even when a character from the past is talking, generally I would use quotation marks as well as italics just to get the point across. Again, this is another thing that’s about helping the reader and the cohesiveness of the story in general.
All in all, I need the next chapter!! It’s amazing so far, and I can’t wait to see the plot progress. Keep writing! (:
You can make anything by writing - C. S. Lewis
Thanks for the tag!! You’re really saving me there XD I hope to be more active, especially once I leave YWW. (:
No problem XD hopefully it wasn’t getting annoying, I just keep seeing things that I’m like, “Oh Ava does that!” or whatever, so yeah XD. When are you leaving YWW?
That was really good! I’m super interested to see what happens next. And yeah, I agree with everything @Solfyre said. It’s looking great for a first draft! I’ll let you know if I remember anything else, but I don’t think I noticed anything major.
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May AlcottI 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!
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHansNo, it’s not annoying at all! I honestly am super forgetful and just forget to check KP and stuff lol. So yeah, it actually helps a lot!
I’ll probably be leaving in May, because that’s when my subscription ends. I’ll still be on other stuff but I just want to put that money towards other things, if that makes sense. 😉
You can make anything by writing - C. S. Lewis
Okay! XD good! I’m glad it wasn’t annoying you, cause it was a lot of tags XD
Gotcha, yeah. Totally understand that.
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May Alcott@hybridlore @freedomwriter76 @euodia-vision @kyronthearcanin @jonas @mineralizedwritings @loopylin @whalekeeper @anyone-else-who-might-have-slight-interest
Again,
If I just tagged you and you aren’t interested, feel free to go away.
If you’re still around, and haven’t read the first and second chapter, look up. If you’re still around and you have read the third chapter, look down.
Enjoy.
CHAPTER 3-DANGER
Nahim opened his hologram journal and, taking his pen, wrote in black at the top of a new page,Yeray 4th, 10019
In Realn runes. His handwriting was neat and small, his straight lines (for there are no curves in Realn Runes, they are made to be easily written on stone) were so straight that anyone could have said his writing was typed. He dropped down on the page to where he began to write in the same runes. The pages shifted shades of light blue in a swirl pattern. He thoughtfully stopped and set his elbow on the page, rubbing his smooth chin. He twirled his pen only to embarrassingly drop it on the floor. The little pen rolled on the metal floor under the leaning-out protection of the Scorpion Fish’s copilot controls. Nahim set his book aside with his removed helmet. Getting half on his knees, pressed between the controls and the seat, bending his neck under the control wheel, Nahim looked for the little black thing. He reached for the small object.
“Sorry, sirs, Sir Mandin is not home. Only his partner, Nahim, is here.” In the previously silent and mostly empty Scorpion Fish, 3PO’s robotic voice echoed down the main hall from the cargo bay. Nahim glanced back at the open door in the back of the cockpit, bumping his head on the wheel.
A deep voice rolled in some words that Nahim couldn’t understand.
“Sirs, Nahim doesn’t take visitors, only Sir Mandin takes visitors. You must wait for Sir Mandin.” The other voice rumbled again, sounding urgent. Nahim groped at his little pen once more, came up empty, and stood to see down the hall. But the little set of stairs from the cockpit to the hall and the low ceiling made it impossible for him to see into the cargo bay. He decided to wait where he was.
“Sorry, sir, you cannot come i––” There was a strange sound and then metal clanked against metal.
“3PO. 3PO!” Nahim called the name, he wished he could see what was happening, but he already had an idea. A small object bounced across the hall with a loud echoing ‘ding!’ as it hit the floor. It rolled to the base of the stairs and Nahim saw what it was. The small little object was spherical in shape, brown in color except its glowing yellow cracks. Every Realn knew what it was, almost anybody in this part of the Wond Galaxy knew what it was; a Terror Bomb. Nahim knew he couldn’t stop its detonation; he raised his arms in front of his face in fear.
*****
Mandin was worried as soon as he saw the cargo bay open. His feet thudded in an empty cargo bay, echoing through the open space. He saw 3PO, damaged beyond the amount of repair that Mandin wanted to bother with, crumpled in a heap. Muddy black impressions of boots coming in and going out trailed on the floor. A fear for Nahim crept into his mind. As he called his partner’s name, he half-wished Nahim was playing a Jonas on him; Nahim certainly wasn’t answering his calls.
“Nahim. Nahim! Na––” Mandin stopped as he entered the cockpit. Burn stains were in the colorful interior paint, Nahim’s helmet was against the far wall. Mandin knelt to pick up the handle of a crystal sword. With one hand perched on his knee, he turned over the hand-held object. Mandin threw it to the ground in disgust. He rose as the weapon clanked against the floor. “Nahim! Nahim!” He knew he shouldn’t have bothered, this was no Jonas trick. Nahim would not leave without his choice weapon and helmet. Nahim was captured. He swiped his eyes over the room until he locked onto Nahim’s face-down journal. Tearing his eyes away, Mandin slid into the pilot seat. But the Scorpion Fish would not lift a cubit nor go a handbreadth in any direction. The muscular Realn gave another cry of disgust and frustration. Glancing over the room, his mind thought about where Nahim could be right now. He ran his gauntlet through the dark roots of his light hair. He had failed. At this moment Nahim could be in his grave. ‘No! NO!’ Mandin reached out to touch a burn on the wall, to run his fingers to the slice going down the length of the co-pilot seat. He could smell some foul scent originating from a tentacle of olive green lying on the ground. Even in this confined space, Nahim had given them a fight. Once again, by the base of the split seat, Mandin saw Nahim’s red-bound journal. Carefully, as if it was made of glass, Mandin lifted it. Maybe just maybe there would be something of value to him. No, he would not look through this journal, it is private! The feeble hopes of maybe finding something to help him prove the innocence of Nahim were not enough to make him look. But humans are naturally curious, and this was what made Mandin turn the pages of Nahim’s private hologram journal. Upon the first page there were lines of straight black Realn runes, but it was unreadable for Mandin. The letters spelled out something different than Realn and sometimes even turned into a different style of runes that Mandin had only seen on a trip to the Realn imperial planet, Rea. The words pronounced by the Realn runes were more rumbling, more guttural, and fiercer than the sometimes sweet sound of the Realn language. The rest of the pages were all in Realn Runes also with normal Realn words and spellings (omitting the occurrences of some of Nahim’s Nayhelmic terms), but the database of past pages written and committed to memory showed that that strange language was used more often than true Realn. Mandin almost closed the book then and there – human curiosity was settled – but that was when he glanced at one page near the end of the Journal, the last page Nahim had scribbled on before his pen had rolled away. Loosely translated it said:
Yeray 4th, 10019.
Mandin, this page of my journal is written for your eyes. I have written a long section in my normal Realn, this is for you to read as a last resort once I leave or, if I be captured before I leave, to free my name before you come to find me. I plan to go back to Laxor for a time, until all of this Grostoff business blows over, with your help, like a breeze on the endless grasslands of my beloved Home. As long as I remain with you, I endanger you, your ship, 3PO, and even possibly, your friends and family. Vorgan will stop at no cost to have me killed.
The writing stopped here. Mandin wasn’t sure he had read that right. He read it again. The words were the same.
For a while Mandin calmed himself reading what that section of real Realn written for him, even with the sparks flying from a hole in the cockpit paneling which Nahim must have made during the fight. Ever looming in the back and sometimes way in the front of his brain was the fact that Nahim was captured and that he could not save him until Nahim was proven guiltless. As Mandin read his surprise, somewhat pushed aside the feeling of fear that had welled up inside his heart. Nahim had left him instructions, maps to Nanian Imperial Guard helmets that were buried in Laxan which Nahim theorized would hold recordings of transactions with the Grostoff Traitor. Ideas of showing that the snip was wrong, a way to proven purity of honor. After a while of this reading, he rose from his undamaged comfy pilot seat and left the Scorpion Fish to the scroungers of this diversely populated space station they had been landed on, taking with him Nahim’s things and the only valuable pieces that he needed from the spaceship. His sister would finally get her wish; Mandin had to get a new ship.
*****
Sweat poured down Mandin’s face as he sat back to rest. With a glance around him, he saw lava rocks with the peaks of buildings sticking out. There was no smell that he could detect on the air. The grasslands, now afar off thanks to the lava rock, were a dark brown with slight amounts of green. The air was starting to turn chilly as is the custom of Laxor at this time of year. It was hard to believe that this the ruin was once a great city. Looking back at his own work of rolling and chiseling away some rocks, he finally noticed a little glimpse of color. Forgetting his break, he once again set upon his painstaking task. As Mandin tore through the rock with a vengeance, a comm link opened inside his helmet; he stopped to answer the comm.
“Son, how’s it going?”
Mandin answered in his cheery but tired tone. “Fine.”
“What are you up to? You’re breathing hard.”
“Uhhh…” –– Digging through rocks sounded weird, but oh well, he usually was pretty up front with his father. –– “Diggin’ through rocks, what’s up?”
“I heard Nahim is no longer with you?”
Mandin was silent for a moment, it had been almost a tai. His mind constantly went over what could be happening to his friend. “Yeah, what abou’ it?”
“Just asking if it was true…”
“Dad what’s really up? Besides the atmosphere and stars and all that.”
“Mandi, what I really mean to say is that you got drafted, into the Space Skwads. You’re now in a new squadron called the Boomerangs, piloting these new experimental fighters.”
Mandin froze as he picked up a small rock that rolled into his way. Nahim was counting on him! He couldn’t leave for the Space Skwads, but it was against Code to not answer Draft. To save Nahim’s life he would forget pieces of Code like this but it wasn’t just himself he had to think about, he had to think of the disgrace it would bring upon his family. No. He couldn’t break Code. There was no way to help Nahim, there was no way to run away from Draft.
“Mandi, what’s wrong?”
How could he still continue to save Nahim? He couldn’t ask his father, he was too busy with his own training academy. He couldn’t think. He breathed deep and reached for the now partially exposed Nanian Imperial Guard helmet, one of his two prizes from this excursion. On these were uneditable recordings of all that the guards had done and said. Using his visualizer he began browsing the recordings for keywords. He had forgotten his father was still on comm.
“Mandi, Mandin? Are you okay? What’s the matter?”
Master Milcah knew his son would not be a fan, but neither he nor his wife, Mistress Lily, thought it would be this bad: Mandin was not even acknowledging him.
“Mandi are you feeling okay?”
Mandin brought himself out of his thoughts to at least answer. “Nih, Yeh, I just…ugh!”
Master Milcah was astonished, was this really his good natured light-haired son? “Mandi, I want to know are you… what are your feelings? Are you glad to get into…?”
“Nih.” It was a snap.
“Mandin, what is wrong?”
“Nothing” –– That wasn’t totally true –– “Something, ugh!”
“Mandi, I want a straight answer, what’s the matter for the last time.”
“Nahim just didn’t disappear, Dad, he was captured.”
“Son, I can’t just go and get him, I don’t know where he is or if the bounty snip is correct. You know the Grostoff reputation.”
“Dad! Of course the snip is wrong! Nahim told me his true story, he has done nothing of the kind!”
“If he has already broken Code he would do it again. I’m not sayin’ the snip is undoubtedly right. I’m saying be careful and prepared just in case the snip really is.”
Finally! Mandin’s visualizer had found the recording he wanted and more besides.
“Dad, I have a feelin’ you’re wrong.”
Mandin didn’t hear the last comment his father made, some of the stuff on this crushed helmet was exceedingly interesting. But that would have to wait, he had to go to Banor.
We shall see if I got the italics right this time, sorry if i didn’t.
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHansYou 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!
#Justiceforsandwichclone
#theclonesdeservedbetter
#HugRikerSquad
#HugHansLol! I know, it happens to me too. It just means you’re improving!
Great job on the chapter! I don’t think the italics worked, but it’s not a big deal. Can’t wait to read the next one!
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
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