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Okay Mark and anyone else out there who has an opinion. I got desperate enough. Don’t spare me. Here it is.
Quick explanatory note: the MC of this scene just trapped himself in a long hall by tying the doors shut, so the bad guys who are trying to catch him can’t come after him. He’s hoping there’s a back door. But the bad guys apparently have some sort of battering ram, so that’s what all the references to shuddering doors and stretching ropes are. I have already described this hall in detail elsewhere in the story, so some of the setting is taken for granted in this scene.‘Sliding to a halt on the slick granite floor, Denholm glanced to his left and saw a spear stuck quivering in the long, carven door of the book press, head half embedded therein while the wood about it was splintered in sharp white shards. Good. Whoever had thrown it was now without a weapon save a knife or a sword, and he could handle either or both.
Turning a full circle in the middle of the hall, Denholm swept the place with his eyes, searching for the owner of that spear. There was a flicker of movement behind one of the columns near to the door, and even as Denholm fixed his eyes upon it intently a man clad in the black silken surcoat of the watch leapt out from behind it and ran forward, his sword drawn in his hand. Denholm stood his ground for a moment, then whirled on his heel again and ran as the doors gave another mighty shudder, and daylight showed for a moment between the leaves. He could face one of them, but all of them at once he knew full well to be beyond his skill or strength. Darting up onto the dais at far end of the hall, Denholm heard the running footsteps of the watchman behind him and suddenly reached a decision. He stopped in the middle of the dais and turned, crouching and setting his hands beneath the edge of the low, round table full of scrolls and inkhorns and feathers. The watchman was nearly upon him, and almost before Denholm had gotten a firm grip on the edge of the table the man’s sword came down in a flashing arch, slicing the hazy air and missing Denholm’s head by half an inch. The blade fell lengthwise upon the table and stuck there, embedded in the splintered wood, and the watchman did not have time to recover his balance before Denholm upset the table and all its contents, sending scrolls and parchments and bottles of variegated inks scattering over the hard, polished floor. Some of the inkwells broke, and spreading puddles of greasy ink stained the black granite and the scattered parchments.
Yanking his blade out of the splintered table, the watchman raised it above his head and turned full around in one fluid motion, but Denholm threw himself out of the way of the falling sword and scrambled to his feet, catching up the low chair that Lord Gair had been wont to sit in and using it as a shield to block the watchman’s next blow. He underestimated the other’s skill.
When the watchman saw that his opponent was no longer vulnerable, he lowered the blade he had half raised again and stood uncertainly for a moment, blinking rapidly behind the raised visor of his helm. They stood thus for a moment— hunter and hunted, staring at each other, their bodies tense, each waiting for the other to make some move that would signal the renewal of the conflict. Denholm realized suddenly that the man was very young— his cheeks were smooth, and his dark eyes were clear and watchful beneath his helm. Perhaps it had not been very long since the man had joined the watch. Perhaps it was by his position here that he supported those who were dear to him… perhaps he had a mother who would grieve if he died, and fall upon her knees and plead for his life if she were here. It was strange, Denholm thought suddenly, how the different threads of lives living themselves out in different parts of the world sometimes intersected. What seemed insignificant to one might mean all the world and more to another. One man’s careless actions or lack of wisdom might affect many, many more than he alone.
But Denholm wanted only to get away. Time was precious, and with each second of it that passed the doors weakened, yet he could not turn and flee whilst there was still the peril of being stabbed in the back.
Seeing the young man’s hesitation, the watchman suddenly slipped down into a crouching position and scurried forward beneath the chair that Denholm held, striking with a low, swift blade at Denholm’s legs. Denholm leapt back and dropped the chair, narrowly escaping being slashed across his shins. Throwing himself to the side in his turn, the watchman avoided the falling chair and rose swiftly to his feet, bringing his sword over his head and down in a glancing, flashing loop that was meant to catch Denholm on his right shoulder and sever his arm; at least render it hopelessly crippled. But Denholm was too quick. Darting in under the falling blade, he caught the watchman’s wrist on his forearm and struck it aside, sending the blow glancing wide. The watchman stumbled, off balance, and Denholm seized his sword arm, clamping iron strong fingers over the tendons in the man’s wrist and digging his fingernails through the leather gauntlet and the sleeve of the man’s tunic. The man grunted and fought back, attempting to tear his arm away, but Denholm clung to him with the strength of desperation and set his other hand on the flat of the blade, pushing it slowly but surely down until it pointed at the floor.
At the other end of the hall, the doors jerked and shivered as another blow was dealt them from the outside, and for a moment Denholm thought he saw the forms of men standing impatiently without when the leaves of the door quivered half open, then swayed shut again. Setting his teeth, Denholm bore down on the watchman’s arm with all his strength and suddenly broke away, twisting the arm at the elbow and hitting it aside with his clenched fist as the watchman struggled to right himself. But the watchman refused to drop his weapon. Deciding suddenly that he had no time for this, Denholm drew back a few steps and kicked the man in the stomach even as the man raised his sword clumsily with his twisted arm and struck at him again. The watchman doubled over with a sharp exclamation and let his sword fall clattering to the floor, clutching at his stomach and staggering backwards.’And… that’s it. What do you think?
Hi Kate,
I’m definitely no expert, and others will most likely disagree, but here are a couple of things I noticed, mainly from a reader’s standpoint.
In the bit where Denholm (nice name, by the way, I really enjoyed its uniqueness) is holding the chair, it says, ” He underestimated the other’s skill.” I didn’t see (from a reader’s standpoint) how he underestimated his skill so much as I would have liked to, especially as he “stood uncertainly for a moment”
Also, from a reader’s viewpoint, the break in the action, as Denholm realizes his opponent’s youth, though so meaningful, was too long. There might have been room for a few sentences, and as a writer, I enjoy writing stuff like that- but as a reader, you’re wasting my time as all I’m really interested in is if Denholm gets away. One other thing I noticed was that you used “suddenly” for Denholm’s realization/thought several times, another verb might change it up a bit:).
Great attention to detail! Especially on the spilt ink!
I’m sure others may disagree, but those are things I noticed, and as I said I am not the one to go to on fight scenes :), although, you have me quite captivated to find out if Denholm gets away… And his situation.. and the whole story… 🙂 All around, I really liked it!Thanks Hannah. I really appreciate it.
Gah! I really can tend to use suddenly too many times. Thanks for pointing that out. I’ll work on it. And yes, I can also tend to go off on profuse poetic imaginings and take up way too much space with ‘revolutionary’ realizations.
All around, thanks for the criticism. I’ll definitely take it all into consideration.
And just so you know, Denholm does get away… kind of. Sort of. 😛
:).
I understand that! I have several words that I do that with… Unfortunately.
I also understand that second bit. I had a small word limit on my last story- I almost died* because I was wanting scenes that were very enjoyable to write but didn’t help move the story along, so they got cut.
🙂
Wow! SO reassuring, Kate. But I guess that’s kind of, sort of good. 😉 But really, this sounds like something I would like to read.
*not really but one of my characters did, well, he actually completely died…First of all, let me say that even if you had made a complete mess of the fight scene (which you didn’t), I still would have loved this scene overall. Seriously, I’m hoping you finish this book soon so I can read it.
Now, for the butchery!
Actually, I’ll start off with a positive point, and that is that anything about the fight that I’m not criticizing was done well, and that’s a decent portion.
Ok, the real butchery.
Yanking his blade out of the splintered table, the watchman raised it above his head and turned full around in one fluid motion.
Gasp, shudder, shriek, choke. Don’t worry, this is a common mistake. Its just that turning full circle before delivering a blow is asking to get killed. It leaves a very safe opening for even an unarmed opponent to attack you and it doesn’t help you at all.
He underestimated the other’s skill.
Hugh? How? It doesn’t seem like it.
They stood thus for a moment— hunter and hunted, staring at each other
Just try to make the reader understand they are far enough away from each other that they can take this dramatic pause safely. Don’t go out of your way to point this out of course, but if you could just try to give that impression … not supper important, but I thought I’d mention it. Also, I might finish off, “hunter and hunted, each planing his next strike.”
Denholm realized …
Yeah, too long. Fights happen quickly. Three sentences are all you need, if that. Nice dramatic effect though.
digging his fingernails through the leather gauntlet and the sleeve of the man’s tunic … Denholm drew back a few steps and kicked the man in the stomach even as the man raised his sword clumsily with his twisted arm and struck at him again. The watchman doubled over with a sharp exclamation and let his sword fall clattering to the floor, clutching at his stomach and staggering backwards.
Through the leather? Also, this is a rather doubtful situation. First of all, why didn’t he just kick the guy in the first place, or punch him, or etc. Secondly, why didn’t the other guy do the same? Why are they so concerned with the sword when they could just knock the other guy out? This is the one part I’d completely change.
Now that you let me read this, you have no excuse for denying me a proofread. It is inhumane to give a fellow a teaser and then deny him the rest. No, really, you would have the full rights to do that, but … ah, it would be hard.
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Daeus, I was prepared to fall on my knees and beg you to proofread this story for me once I finish it, because your critique on my last one (of which this is a sequel, actually) was so helpful. But hey! You’ve saved me a very awkward moment of humility. I WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO HAVE YOU PROOFREAD THIS BOOK WHEN I FINISH IT.
And thank you so very much for your criticism. I know that’s an odd thing to thank someone for, but I LOVE CRITICISM. It’s what makes us good.
I’ll definitely be fixing the ‘full circle’ thing, now that I think about it, it is pretty dumb, even if there was a smashed table between them. And all of your other points were great too. Thank you. Thank you so much. I would like to give every single one of your points it’s separate stamp of approval, but it’s getting late, and by brain’s starting to fry, and besides I have to go to bed. So… yeah. Thanks again.
Hannah, I’m glad I made you curious. And personally, I really think you’d like Denholm. Just saying…
*sigh* I’m so mean.
Thanks to both of you!
@Kate. Yes. Yes, you are. I am DYING to know what happens. And yes, Denholm does sound like a great character!
*blinks owlishly, sniffs, and hangs head contritely* I am ashamed.
Yeah, it’s funny actually, because Denholm is not the main MC for this book, more like the second main MC, yet he seems to be the general favorite among my fan base— read, my siblings. 😛
Try not to die, by the way. I only just found you again.
Just a couple corrections the other guys missed:
Some of the inkwells broke, and spreading puddles of greasy ink stained the black granite and the scattered parchments.
Read that again. You probably deleted that and rewrote it, but forgot to take out the previous wording. I do that all the time. 😛 Just decide on one to keep.
…catching up the low chair that Lord Gair had been wont to sit in and using it as a shield to block the watchman’s next blow.
I don’t know. “Wont” just seems like a rather awkward word. Keep it if you want to, but it kind of made me stop for a second and separated from the story.
Great job, overall! 🙂
Some of the inkwells broke, and spreading puddles of greasy ink stained the black granite and the scattered parchments.
Read that again. You probably deleted that and rewrote it, but forgot to take out the previous wording. I do that all the time. ? Just decide on one to keep.
@Rosey… what? I read it, and I think I missed what you were trying to say. Would you mind telling me exactly what was wrong? Because apparently I’m too dull to find it myself. 😛
And with the ‘wont’ word, I’m going for the old words in this book, so that’s why it’s in there, but I can see how it might distract. Thanks for pointing that out.
I might know. Put a comma after the first “and”, and between ink and stained.
All I could find.
Additionally, you might say black granite floor just to clarify. By the way, Is the owner of this place filthy rich? Because granite flooring would be really expensive, especially for a room of the size you seem to indicate and it seems it isn’t even the most important room in the building, or so I guess.
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@Kate
Don’t be TOO ashamed… Just so long as I can read it someday… 🙂
I believe it! He seems like a pretty cool character!
Alright, I’ll try 🙂Thanks Daues. I think I see what you’re saying.
And yes, the owner of this place is filthy rich. He works for the government.Actually, he’s part of the government. Governor of this really wealthy city named Ivreton. And… he’s high in the king’s favor. At least… most of the time.
Oh and by the way, that king I just mentioned… you know him already. Only he was significantly younger when you met him.
And Denholm… um… he’s… um… somebody’s… um…um…somebody’s son. Isn’t that news?@Hannah. If It’s ever published, you can read it. Actually I am planning to publish it, but it’ll probably be awhile. Just if you ever see a fantasy series named ‘Generations’ by Kate Flournoy on some shelf several years from now, pick out the second book. It’s named ‘Chosen’.
And thanks. I appreciate it. XD
I read through that sentence a few more times. There are actually a few ways to read that I guess, and I accented the wrong words. What I was thinking was that you had hit a midway point between
“Some of the inkwells broke, spreading puddles of greasy ink on the black granite and the scattered parchments.”
and
“Some of the inkwells broke and puddles of greasy ink stained the black granite and the scattered parchments.”
I took “spreading” as a verb, not an adjective.Okay Rosey— I see what you’re saying. Yes, I definitely could have constructed that sentence better. Thank you…
…and just so you know, I have no clue what a verb is. I know. I’m a writer. I’m supposed to know these things. But every English program I ever took went in one ear and out the other. *sigh* Oh well. I know how to use them— that’s the main thing, write?
(Yes— that last part was supposed to be a pun).
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