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I have a scene I would like feedback on. Specifically, if either of the characters seems inconsistent. There’s a lot of backstory here, so a few statements may seem rather vague, but all in all I think it pretty well explains itself.
It’s the middle of the night in an army encampment.Here it is.
“Harold? Harold, is that you?”
Harold jumped and jerked himself upright, whirling in the flame-streaked darkness to the voice that had broken so unceremoniously in on his meditations. His face hardened, and he gritted his teeth. “Yes, Dallan,” he said coldly. “What do you want?”
“I?” the prince returned with a haughty little laugh. “I ask nothing at your hands… Flamehand.”
Harold grimaced. “Then go away.”
“Nay, not so fast,” Dallan countered, an odd note of something Harold did not like creeping into his voice. The prince stepped forward out of a wagon shadow, and stopped half silhouetted against a distant watch fire, his bearing uncertain but eager. “I have somewhat to tell you.”
“I don’t wish to hear it,” Harold retorted, and stormed past him, but Dallan reached out and seized him by the arm. “Listen,” he hissed, his voice trembling with unusual excitement. “Listen to me before you go. I mean you no harm.” He licked his lips nervously, and his deep eyes were shining in the darkness. “Truly.”
“What would you say?” Harold demanded, his voice still frigid as ice. “No twisted serpent words, if you please. Speak plainly.”
“I will,” Dallan replied, and the eager note in his voice had grown almost to a strange, ravening hunger. “You and I are both men together, Flamehand,” he said, his words tumbling over one another with his unaccustomed eagerness. “We cannot have that much difference in our ages, and we are both princes of mighty kingdoms. We may speak plainly to each other.”
“Well do it then,” Harold said bluntly. He was liking this less and less, but something compelled him to stay and hear what Dallan had to say. He had never seen the prince like this.
“You are a far greater man than I in physical power, Flamehand,” Dallan went on, his fingers tightening on Harold’s arm. “You might do anything you wished. I— I have…” He choked on his tongue, and had to force himself to slow down and speak calmly. “You must not be angered that I have noticed your bid for your brother’s place.”
Harold sucked in his breath sharply, his eyes going wide with astonished indignation, but Dallan would not let him speak. “Rest assured I will not betray you,” he went on hurriedly. “On the contrary I offer you all— myself and my men I place at your disposal, under your leadership. We are yours to do as you command. When it comes time for you to complete your plan— when you but say the word— I swear to you my hand will be first and foremost against the king, and he shall not live a moment beyond that which you designate for him.”
Harold’s head was reeling. He could not think— what was this— ? This—? Surely he had misunderstood. “What are you saying?” he cried out breathlessly, his brows knitting into a furious frown. “What— what treason is this? How could you”— Dallan laid a finger against his lips, his face still bright with eagerness, his limbs trembling and shaking with his excitement. “Shush, my lord!” he said with forced lightness. “Let us not pretend. I have seen you woo the men— they are yours, and you can not have done it without so meaning. It was masterful! It is done! Now take your rightful place!”
“You… you…” Harold spluttered, understanding finally penetrating the haze of jumbled and confused thoughts whirling about inside his head. “Why you half-witted idiot! If you think for one moment I would raise my hand against my brother then you are not worthy to be called a man!” He jerked his arm out of the prince’s grasp, and stumbling backwards with incredulous disgust written all over his face he came up gasping against a wagon and clung there for support. “If I ever hear you using such vile and treasonous words again,” he hissed, his words catching in his throat, his eyes fluttering and burning with his anger, “I swear I will have your tongue cut out.”
Dallan advanced half a step, his form still taut with expectation, his lips twitching with nervous anticipation. “You do not know, do you?” he half gasped, half laughed. “Flamehand, your name is worshiped with blind adoration throughout your brother’s army, while his— faugh! He is mentioned only in sullen whispers and coupled with words such as you and I have often thought in the privacy of our minds. Silly. Spineless. Fool.” Dallan took another step forward, and his handsome face was alight with maniacal joy as he spat out the last word. “Coward.”
Harold cried out and raised his hands as if to ward off some falling blow, placing them over his ears and shutting his eyes tightly. “Silence!” he exclaimed. “Silence, or I will call for the guards.”
“Nay!” Dallan whispered, his voice hissing through the darkness as he attempted to keep it low. “They would rather side with me, and urge you to take your rightful place. Listen to me, Flamehand. Listen. You have a chance for eternal glory within your grasp. The men will rise at a word from your lips, and you will win this war, and you will go on to win the hearts of the world. I have seen it in their eyes— in your eyes. Have I not read that desire?”
“No!” Harold shouted. “No,” he repeated, his voice lower. “If you have, you misread it. I have never conspired against Dunstan, nor will I ever do so. You are mad.”
“Nay, I am not mad,” Dallan insisted. “I see opportunity, and I seize it while it is within my grasp. So should you.”
“Opportunity for what?” Harold demanded bitterly. “For your own personal aggrandizement? What else did I expect from you? And you had the… the complete and utter insolence to imagine myself a man after your own heart. Fool! Blind fool!”
Dallan gave a light, exasperated laugh. “And still you play with me!” he exclaimed. “Cease, Flamehand. Let there be no secrets between us. Did you not as good as tell the men that you were ready to defy the king, and numerous times?”
Harold stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes, and could only shake his head. “Never!” he snapped from between clenched teeth. “Never did I say anything of the kind.”
“Never?” Dallan repeated, laughing. “How then must I interpret your refusal to take orders from him— your direct defying of his authority?”
Harold opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking, and suddenly turned his face aside. How did he explain that? “It was a personal matter,” he replied at last. “It had nothing to do with politics.”
“Then you do not realize your own potential, Flamehand,” Dallan urged. “Take these steps I have suggested— you will not regret it. I swear it to you upon my life.”
Harold only shook his head. “I cannot,” he said, almost mechanically. “I have never led a single man, let alone an army. It is not in me.”Any thoughts are appreciated. 🙂
Well, first of all, the emotions are fantastic. Dallan is wonderful bad guy. This is really well done. I only have four small points to make.
1. The second paragraph needs improvement. First of all, why is the darkness flame streaked? The big thing though is that the section, “to the voice that had broken so unceremoniously in on his meditations” is distractingly wordy. Make it snappy. Always make tense parts snappy.
2. Dallan says, “I ask nothing at your hands… Flamehand.” This sounds like he despises Harold. Later on he seems to nearly worship him. Perhaps Dallan really does not worship Harold, but it may be an inconsistency. You would know.
3. Somewhere, you said something about rising from the shadow of a wagon or something. Unless there is some important reason for that I can’t see without context, that is just distracting and unnecessary.
4. At least once, you referred to Dallan as “the prince”. You shouldn’t do that since you said they were both princes. You should refer to him by his name.
And that is all that I can see. One thing I am wondering though, which I assume you cover in the book, but I thought I may as well mention it, is how Dunstan lost the respect he had. (Or maybe Dallan made that up)
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Thank you Daeus. 🙂
I didn’t realize until I posted how long the scene was— sorry to give you such a substantial chunk all at once. 😛The one thing you need to know about Dallan is that he only worships Dallan. If Dallan can further his own interests by saying anything and doing anything, he will, no matter what it is he has to do. He does hold Harold in contempt— very deep contempt. But it served his purposes to flatter him, and what he says has a surprising amount of truth woven in with it.
And Dunstan’s loss of respect has to do with a little stubborn pride on Dunstan’s part, a lot of blind ingratitude and discontented unrest from the army, and partway with uncontrollable circumstances.
Dallan didn’t make it up. He’s just used it to his advantage.And Harold is the only one who has deliberately blinded himself to just how bad the situation really is.
He has a bad habit of doing that. 😛
What Daeus said. 😛 and one other thing. Reading it straight through, you rather overused the word Flamehand. It just shows up a lot when Dallan is addressing Harold. I’d cut it out in one or two instances so it doesn’t get repetitive.
Thank you @writefury! I did sort of do that on purpose— Dallan can’t resist rubbing Harold’s nickname in his face every chance he gets, but maybe I should have made that more obvious or taken it out altogether. 😛
I like the name Flamehand – for him at least. There are obvious reasons why I don’t want to be called that. Ouch!
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Don’t worry— it doesn’t really hurt Harold. He’s gotten used to it.
And used to being called that. 😉
And I’m glad you like it— I actually went to a fair bit of trouble to come up with a dramatic nickname for him that didn’t sound… well… comic-bookish. 😛
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