# Lilith



## Ajay (Apr 13, 2011)

This is the prologue of a (hopefully soon to be released) book I'm working on, titled "Lilith". (Please feel free to buy it the moment you see it on the stands )

I've finished 60 odd pages, with all editing included and I want to know how you people feel about it.

Anyway, here goes nothing


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*Prologue*​

_25th May, 11:45 pm
The Sterling Estates
_
'Soon, all will be over and none of this will matter. I am writing this with hopes that, in time, you will forgive me. This is in no way her fault.'
She looked up from the parchment, hoping that the scrawls across the rough paper hadn't woken anyone. She sighed in relief when she could detect nothing but the regular noises of the sleeping household.
'Good', she thought, 'They’re fast asleep.' 
     She silently returned to note.
Privacy, Amanda knew, was a hard thing to come by in the Sterling Estate.
She had lived there for as long as she could remember and from the way things looked, would die here as well, unless she took matters in to her own hands.
And that, was exactly what she was going to do.
Finally, she was done. She looked through the note one last time, and felt the sadness weigh down upon her shoulders. She really didn’t want to have to do this. However she looked at things, the Manor had been her only home and its inhabitants her only family for as long as she could remember. Leaving this place, where she had so many memories, would not be easy. She sighed and carefully slipped the note under her pillow and stowed the quill and inkbottle under her bed. She picked up the over-night bag she had been secretly putting together for months and strapped it onto her back, securing it carefully. She got up and stealthily made her way to the door. Just as she reached the door, she caught sight of her reflection on the mirror.
She looked younger than a 17 year old, with short brown hair tied into a ponytail and impossibly pale skin. She had always been slim but it wasn't because she dieted or was an athlete or anything. It was more like her body simply refused to change no matter how much food she stuffed into it. The only thing she liked about herself was her eyes. They were hazel with brown flecks in them, and they sparkled brilliantly in the light.
She guessed that she had gotten this from her mother. She had seen an old photograph of her dad and he had dark gray eyes. She sighed, as her thoughts turned to her mother. How she wished that, her mother was there for her now, when she needed her the most. She shook her head, trying to bring her mind back to the matter at hand.
Her memories of her father were vague, and those of her mother, non-existent. She had given up on finding out about them a long time ago. It was futile, looking for someone who had disappeared so long ago. She was escaping now, and reminiscing about the past would have to wait.
She opened the door and slipped out. She felt guilty about leaving the others without a word, but she hoped they would understand. She turned around for a moment and looked at their sleeping forms, as they lay in bed, fast asleep. She would miss them all terribly. Sighing silently, she blew out the candle she was holding and quietly tiptoed down the stairs, carefully hopping over the creaky ones.
She was at the bottom now, and she looked around to see if anyone would raise the alarm. No one did. It was dark, which was a bonus for her. She didn't need any light to get around the great hall, not after spending her entire life in the very same building and on the grounds. She felt her way to the window and looked around one last time. She was going to miss this place but she had to do this. With another sigh, she leaped out of the window and ran into the darkness. What she did not see were a pair of eyes observing her from the second floor bedroom. He recognized her immediately but made no move to stop her.
In the darkness outside, the only sounds were those of the crickets and the occasional hooting of the owls. It was a chilly night, with winds blowing through the trees, almost as if they were whispering out a warning. Even the guards, as they paced outside the walls, were inaudible from this far. The guards would not be a problem. She had observed them for a while now, and their routine had not altered once. It was the same. Eight guards working in two shifts. The night shift was almost due and these guards could not wait to be off to the comforts of their homes and beds. Still, she was cautious.
Complacence would not thwart her this time. The inner estate had no alarms of any kind. Even then, it was foolish to try to break into the Manor. It was set on a cliff-side, with massive walls around the perimeter. None who was unwelcome could cross these walls, and accessing it from the sea was sheer madness.
     The waves would crush them onto the rocks before they could even try.
She could almost hear the waves splashing against the jagged rock face of the cliffs nearby, as if answering her thoughts.
There were gates in the Northern and Western walls and they were almost impossible to scale. The House was, simply put, impenetrable.
Besides, Clarissa trusted her guards to the point of foolishness. She had trained them, after all. Amanda was apprehensive about this, but she figured she could pull one over Clarissa. The guards were looking to keep people from breaking into the manor, not out. This, she felt, gave her an advantage. There was also James's promise.
It was up to him now. All she could do now was watch out for his signal, and pray that everything worked out. She was well hidden, with an open escape route. She crouched low, still not letting herself relax. That would be for when she was safely outside. She settled herself for the inevitable, tense wait. James was late.
A few miles away, an engine purred gently in the silence of the night.

ߛ​
_12:15pm
A Few Miles North of Lu’Viel
_
He was late. He knew Amanda would hate him for it. Hell, he hated himself for it but there was no way to anticipate that they would start the tournament at the guild today. To top it off, his match had been against one of the Eras. He had never fought an Era before. They were impossibly strong. He had barely won and they told him he had fallen unconscious after delivering the final blow. Now, he was rushing to make it in time for the rendezvous with her. His muscles were still sore from the fight and he would have given anything to postpone this to another day but this, he knew, was impossible. It had to be tonight. This was their only chance.
     He could not believe he was helping Amanda break out of the Sterling Manor.
In fact, he was sure she would not have convinced him if it had not been for Lilith.
Ever since she had come along to take up residence with Amanda, he had found it harder and harder to refuse her. Besides, he found it terribly difficult to say 'No' to pretty women. Amanda undoubtedly fell under this category. Her short, slim physique and large hazel-brown eyes gave her an air of innocence. This had fooled him into thinking she was delicate the first time he had met her. Now he knew better though. She was anything but vulnerable. Heck, he was more delicate than she was! He was sure she was going to get him into a lot of trouble, someday, if he let her. Now, he felt, the day had finally come.
He hoped he would never have to see Clarissa after this, shuddering at what she would do to him if she ever figured out his part in Amanda's escape.
He was almost at the western gates, gliding smoothly through the trees. He had found an alternate path, that he was sure was concealed enough for him to get close to the gates and had suggested to use this as the escape route.
Might as well increase their chances of getting away, not that he really believed it was possible. After all, he had never been able to sneak out of the Academy in all his time there. He mused to himself, thinking of all the failed attempts.
They weren't as strict with him. Clarissa and he had been on good terms, and he had never tried to get away for good. His tries had been all about the kicks and half-hearted attempts to go down to the village for a pint of beer or two. He chuckled, remembering the exasperated look Clarissa had given him, when he had been caught, a few years before his Summoning. She was almost ready to kick him out herself. As far as she was concerned, life could wait. Control was vital. He had stuck out his tongue at her then, but could now completely agree with her. Without Control, he wouldn’t have survived at Stratagem Guild for as long as he had.
He frowned at that thought, wondering why Amanda could not just wait one more year until she completed her summoning before rushing off to wherever it was that she was heading, but he knew better than to question her. She was impossibly stubborn and secretive about the whole thing, when they'd argued about it earlier, or rather 'discussed' the issue, as she liked to put it. He snorted in annoyance at her pigheadedness. She was impossible once she had made up her mind. She had a talent, a knack of sorts to make people see her way. It only made her all-the-more dangerous and he dreaded the thought of unleashing her upon this world without adequate Control. The world wasn't ready to face a force like hers, he concluded with a sigh. What, with those impossibly large eyes clubbed with her other ‘talent’, he pitied the fools out there who were unaware of the dangers he was about to let lose.
He chuckled mirthlessly and noted that he had come to their meeting point. Now, all he had to do was give her the signal and they would attempt the impossible: escaping the Academy. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment about what he was getting himself into. Clarissa would not forgive Amanda as she had forgiven him. Amanda was too important.

ߛ​
_12:20pm
The Estate Grounds_

She was seething now. They were running disastrously late, and it didn't help that her apprehension rose as the minutes passed by, ticking away like a countdown to doom. Every sound startled her and she waited for somebody to see her standing there and raise the alarm. What had she been thinking?
‘This was never going to work', she realized helplessly. They were going to find her here, look through her bag and realize at once, what she was attempting to do. That would be the end for her, in more ways than one. Her thoughts chilled her to the bone. She was getting hysterical, she realized. Hysteria would only get her caught. She bit her lower lip, trying to rein in her thoughts. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. She failed miserably. Clicking her tongue angrily, she wondered where in heaven's name James was now. It wouldn't be long before they found her bed empty and read the note she'd left them. She was sure she did not like the prospect of being around when Clarissa was informed of her absence. Her thoughts kept swirling in an endless vortex. She tried to stop thinking about James and her escape. Instead, she tried to divert her mind to more pressing concerns. She thought about what she was going to do, once she got out. She thought about her mother and her missing father. Anything at all that would keep her mind off the coming escape. Her thoughts were now just flashing pictures running through her head. She felt herself becoming overwhelmed and desperately tried to rein in her thoughts. She had to concentrate. The guards could be here any moment, and she had to be ready for them. Her heart was beating furiously and she was sure someone would hear it. As is the fates were reading her mind, she felt a prickle down her neck, as if something lurking around in the bushes nearby. She tensed herself, waiting for an attack, beads of sweat forming on her brow. She clutched at her bracelet, gathering her magic and preparing to strike. If it came to that, she would fight her way through anything they threw at her. She hadn’t come all this way just to be stopped by a few guards. She would make it out of the manor one way or another.
               Suddenly a loud shout made her jump out of her skin.
She cursed under her breath for being negligent and whirled around to face her attacker. There was no one there, but she sensed his presence.
‘I'm so screwed if he can turn invisible', she thought with growing panic, trying desperately to remember the re-materializing spell.
She waited anxiously, bracing against the oncoming attack, when there was a sudden movement and an owl flew from the tree. She almost laughed out in relief. ‘Only an Owl', she assured herself. She realized she had been holding her breath and let it out with a whoosh.
Then, the attack came.
Before she knew it, she was sprawling across the floor and a hand clasped her mouth. She screamed silently, her heart hammering erratically, blood pounding in her ears. She choked back tears of frustration and embarrassment, as she lay face down on the ground. She should have known. A bird as small as an owl couldn’t possibly have had a presence. ‘It was all over. She had failed’.
“Stop squirming, it’s just me”, a familiar voice whispered into her ear. The hand slowly released her and she turned over to see James standing over her with a strained expression on his face.
     “What was that for?” she hissed angrily, seeing red immediately. Her hand was hurting and she had definitely bruised her side.
“I didn't want to risk startling you,” he said, his voice still a strained whisper.
     “And so you floored me?” she asked incredulously, still stinging from his blow. She bruised like a peach and this was going to leave a mark. He shrugged mutely and indicated for her to follow. She stalked behind him silently, muttering angry curses under her breath. It wasn’t the fall, it was the embarrassment of getting floored by him that hurt the most. She felt like choking the life out of him right there. ‘First, he's late, and then he floors me!’ she thought. ‘I should get caught just to get him into trouble. I could always blame him for seducing me and making me agree to run away with him', she thought mutinously. Then, she shook her head. She was thinking just like Lilith now. It isn’t as if they wouldn’t believe you, you know. Not after the history you both have had, a small voice whispered enticingly in her head.
She dismissed her thoughts immediately. Tempting as the ideas were, she needed his support to get out of here. After all, they were through. It had been almost a year now and she had to get over him. He obviously had.
Besides, Clarissa would see through it immediately. Clarissa was terribly fond of ‘James’, she thought disgustedly, and was surprised to note the venom in her voice. Things had not changed much for her over the past one year, she realized. Hadn't Clarissa been able to see through everything that happened before? ‘That's probably what made Clarissa... well... Clarissa’, she thought, while vaguely trying to keep track of where she was going. They were near the Western wall now. She thanked the goddess for the moonless night, and looked at James expectantly, when they reached the wall.
He seemed to have been expecting this. He looked at her, his eyes lingering for a fleeting moment at her eyes. ‘Maybe he isn’t as over it as he seems to be either’, she wondered. Then, she heard him.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this? There's no going back if you do this now.”
     That hit her like a slap on the face. Her grimace was enough of an answer. She had gone through all this trouble and he was questioning her now? 
He nodded briskly and turned his back to her, seemingly contemplating the wall as if it were a masterpiece of some kind. Suddenly, he touched a blue stoned ring and there was a flash of light. A small circular surface of light had opened up in the wall. “Nice”, she remarked under her breath, ‘A dimension portal’.
“I got ring this off a trader up in Lu’Viel. It’s really useful to go through stuff and I can transport things anywhere I want”, he whispered, in explanation.
     ‘Neat’, she thought. ‘I have to get myself one of those’. You have enough toys as it is Mandy, a voice in her head remarked. She clicked her tongue angrily and looked up at James.
He mentioned for her to follow on his lead and lightly stepped into the portal. Although she would not have minded scaling the walls, it was far riskier since there was a greater possibility of one of the guards or someone from the Manor spotting them. She wanted to avoid confrontation, if she could and this seemed to be the best way. She took a deep breath and stepped into the light, passing from captivity to freedom with a single step. ‘At last’, a voice in her head said, ‘I'm free.'
At that exact moment, she heard the Estate’s alarms go off.


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## Nazgul Killer (Apr 13, 2011)

I'll start off with small things that bother me as they tend to foil or make the story.
First and foremost, badly timed punctuation. You have certain sentences that would sound and look about a thousand times better *without* commas, yet you seem to add about two of them to these sentences. This interrupts the good flow of the story and forces the reader to ignore the punctuation, which gets confusing later on. Here are a few examples:


> How she wished that, her mother was there for her now, when she needed her the most





> Her memories of her father were vague, and those of her mother, non-existent





> She thought about what she was going to do, once she got out


This isn't too critical, but it makes your story look better if you were to avoid these little mistakes. You should contemplate exchanging certain commas with words (Such as in the second sentence, "Her memories of her father were vague whilst those of her mother were non-existent"). 

A little error; 12PM is 12 at noon, 12AM is midnight. Just a small error. 





> _12:15pm..._It had to be tonight


All-right, now with these little things aside I can tell you that I am fond of your story and *very* fond of your writing. The story is okay, the plot progresses with a nice rhythm and you are indeed a good writer. Your style of writing isn't as unique, but it is indeed familiar and it is exactly the style that I like. You write elegantly and intelligently, a sign of a gifted writer.
Now, I would warn you not to put your story far too much out there and not make it a written cliche (You have quite a few cliche aspects of your story already, such as the relationship between Amanda and James... Heck, even their names themselves are cliche), cliches tend to ruin good stories. 
Overall, you seem to have a good story developing here, keep an eye out for cliches and for over-punctuation. Good work so far, keep it up.


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## Ajay (Apr 13, 2011)

*Chapter 1*

Thank you =) I'll definitely work on that. Here's the next bit... Hope you all enjoy =)


'You don't know what you've got till it's gone', Aramaus mused silently, thinking of the old saying. It seemed appropriate now. He thought back to the morning that left him in such a state. Clarissa had come to him, rather withdrawn and tense. He knew what this meant. She had recently screamed at someone in the Academy. He wondered who the unfortunate soul was. Even he regarded his mate with a strange reverence. Her aura demanded this from those around her. She seemed to want to talk. He relented with a sigh. She told him in soft whispers that one of the ‘wards’ was missing and a note had been found in her bed. She had been staring at him pointedly while saying all of this. He looked back at her nonchalantly, but his back immediately stiffened. ‘No, it couldn't be. She had no reason.’ he had thought urgently. Then she delivered the blow. It was Amanda.
Amanda was gone and from the looks of her note, she was going to do something stupid again. This, he disregarded after a thought. She was not the kind to give up. Not the Amanda he knew.
He hissed out now, in frustration. It pained him to know that he might never see her alive again. After all, she had been his apprentice and had shown great promise as a sorceress. However, Amanda was no mere sorceress. She had a far more important role to play.
He had been brooding about it in his chambers ever since. Now, it was time to take some action. He walked back to Clarissa's office, quickly stepping inside. She was sitting on her chair, behind her desk, with her back to him, staring out of the open window. He appraised her coolly, as a stranger would. She was breath taking. Her hair was long and dark, a silky sheen against the glowing lights in the room. Her body was long, graceful and toned. She emitted an air of vibrant energy. She stiffened as she heard the door closing and gripped the arms of the chair. He noticed this as well and wondered what it meant. He had a feeling he was about to find out.
The chair swiveled and now, she faced him. Her face was a mask of controlled anger, her lips set in a thin line, white against her exotically tanned skin. For some reason, this amused him greatly, and he struggled to control his smile.
“Well, she's gone. There is no trace of her. Disappeared into thin air from the looks of it”, she spit out at him, as if somehow, this was his fault. ‘Of course there is no trace of her, you stupid woman. I thought her ever trick in the book.’
His anger flared at this unfair accusation.
“Why, my dear, can't you control a measly sorceress by yourself? Is the strain too much? Maybe you're getting too old for this job”, he drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm, his lips curling into a sneer. She merely glared and got back to what she did best, fuming silently.
He felt a little guilty about giving her a hard time, but more pressing thoughts occupied his head. ‘Where was she now? Why did she leave? Did she intend on coming back?’ he chuckled at the last question. No, she would not come back.
That much, was certain. Frankly, he could not blame her. Clarissa was starting to become unbearable. “I will handle things from here”, he said and with a curt nod, glided out of the room. He may have thought her every trick in the book, but some tricks were never written in any of the books.

ߛ​
The night had been rough. Amanda felt stiff. Riding was not her forte and it had been a while since she had ridden so long and hard. They had fled from the walls to a nearby clearing, when they heard the alarm. There, she saw a Bike resting among the trees. Although calling it a “bike” was stretching things a bit. The only reason it could have been called a bike was that it had two wheels. There, the resemblance ended. It was long, sleek and as black as the night, unlike any other she had ever seen. The smooth, metallic body reflected none of the light around it so you couldn’t tell it was there unless you touched it. She looked at him in wonder, and he shrugged absentmindedly, “A Gift”, he said mysteriously. She suspected self-indulgence.
That was hours ago. They had been riding ever since. Although she knew they were going to be pursued, she could not help but feel thrilled with her newly found freedom. It was nice to be free.
She kept repeating the word ‘freedom’, tasting it, savoring it, relishing it.
She sighed in relief. It was true, she was free, and in a few hours, they would reach James' place and would camp out there for a while. After that, she was on her own, although she hadn’t told James any of this.
She couldn’t bear the thought of getting him involved any more than she already had. She looked at James, driving the bike at hell's pace, with a wild grin on his face. He seemed to be content just to be racing away on it.
‘Boys', she sighed with a smile. Her eyes lingered over his strapping muscles, appreciating the comfort they seemed to provide her mentally. This was possible only because James was with her. She smiled to herself and hugged his back. She could feel him tense under her immediately. She chuckled huskily, aware of the profound effect she had on him. She sighed; Lilith was such a bad influence.
 He didn’t look so bad himself, with dark, dirty blond hair, left long, his normally pale skin tanned from long hours under the sun and an impressive physique. He looked like one of the large marble sculptures back at the academy. Thoughts of the Academy led her to reminiscence of their past.
They had been so good together, at one point of time. Although, like any other seemingly perfect relationship, things hadn’t worked out as expected. When it had became unbearable, they had decided to call it quits. That was a long time ago.
It was his mannerism, which had put her off. A small frown formed on her face as she thought back to her years in the academy when James was still an apprentice like her. He was such an exhibitionist and she hated that. This is what had separated them earlier, when he was still in the Academy. His overly flirtatious nature, against her insane jealousy, was a bad match. Although she would never had admitted it then, one year gave a person a lot of time to think things over, and if she were being completely honest with herself, she knew she had been overly jealous of his popularity back then. She preferred anonymity while he was all for grandstands. It had been bitter in the end and she was surprised that they had still got along on such good terms. It puzzled her to no end. ‘Perhaps he wanted to...’, but something interrupted her thoughts.
     Right then, there was a loud howl, which made the hair on the back of her neck raise up. It was a sign of pure, unadulterated fear. Her eyes grew wide in horror as she realized what had happened. 'They' had found her. She turned to her side and saw black shapes flitting through the trees on either sides of the road. They were large black forms that seemed to be moving at impossible speeds. She tried to see how many there were. From the looks of it, there was an entire pack, 8 strong that had somehow traced them so quickly, a pack of vicious killer wolves.
     It wasn't as if she did not expect pursuit, but rather that she had not expected to be found so fast. Besides, she had not expected Clarissa to send out the wolves after them. They had taken many precautions to ensure that pursuit would be difficult. James was gunning the engine, throttling the bike to its top speed. The engine purred in response and shot forward. He had obviously seen them as well. She tensed herself. ‘We'll soon know if we're to be brought back unharmed or…,’ she thought and immediately chided herself for thinking that way.
They wouldn't hurt her, would they? The question gripped her heart in its vice like hold. She had heard horror stories of the wolves and their feats. They were usually sent on tracking and elimination missions and the latter sent another chill down her spine. She felt bile in her throat and leaned onto James for support. His only reaction was to speed up the bike while muttering some choice curses through clenched teeth. She realized with a pang of guilt, that she had involved him in this as well. They would not make any distinction when they “took care” of us. She shuddered at the thought and leaned in closer to him.
“Promise me something”, she whispered, straining to be heard over the roaring engine. “What”, he snapped, still keeping an eye on the pursuing beasts.
"Promise that, if they ever catch us, you'll get away." 
      He opened his mouth to protest, but she did not wait for him to speak. "If they see that you're helping me, then they'll get you as well. Don't let them catch you as well."
He shook his head. "Amanda, I wouldn't—"
"Just say you will. I... I couldn't bear it if they killed you because of me."
James's eyes widened as he turned around to look at her, then he placed a hand on her hand and smiled.
"They won't catch you," he told her. "And even if they do, I'll get you back. I promise you that."
He turned back to the road and braced himself for the coming onslaught. Then, they came.

The wolves attacked instantly, as if they connected somehow. Amanda saw two of them aligning themselves to the left rear of the bike, so close that it was almost as if they could reach out and snap at her legs. She shuddered at the thought and pulled her feet in, tucking them closer to the bike's frame. The other five chose to attack from the right side, while the last one veered away, deeper into the forest.
“Damn”, James muttered, under his breath. “We're still too far from Lu'Viel.” 
‘Lu'Viel’ was a port town they had been heading towards. It was near the warrior guild, located in Greater Stratagem, and they had planned to stock up there. It was the largest of the Northern towns, under Queen Evangeline and an important trading port. It was also the home to the largest smuggling ring in the country. If one needed to find something or someone, there was no better place to look than Lu’Viel. 
James glanced at the pursuers in disgust and started swerving the bike rhythmical, making it harder, undoubtedly for the wolves to attack. Suddenly one of them leaped up into the air and was almost on top of them. He could see the white of its deadly fangs, reaching out to shred his head off when suddenly, it burst into a giant ball of crimson flames and stopped its advance abruptly, in midair. The flaming ball now hurtled away from them in the opposite direction and the other wolves had to jump away to avoid it. He swore loudly, just as the other wolves howled out in anger, all the while struggling to regain control of his bike. Turning around, he saw Amanda's hand encased in pale red flames, a grim expression set on her face. The Golden bracelet that she was wearing seemed to be glowing. He had always thought that it was decorative, and not an artifact. She smiled at him ruefully and turned back to the attackers, a haunting sadness creeping into her eyes.
He blinked in confusion, “When did you get that...”
“I’m a Sorceress. What did you expect?” She closed her eyes for a moment as if the feat had drained her. “I need to concentrate to maintain the flames. Drive.”
He shrugged and focused on throwing off the wolves. She always had been full of surprises; this was just another one. He had concerns that were more pressing. They were hitting the curves at reckless speeds now, the tires screeching in protest against the asphalt, and he needed every bit of his concentration to keep the bike from swerving off the road. He spotted the sea coming up on the left, the road cutting along the mountain face.
The forest cover was lost. At least he could look at all the wolves now. That was a good sign. He was now banking against the curves, narrowly avoiding the railing, which was protecting them from the edge. A wrong move would send them to a painfully death, into the jagged rocks below. The waves were crashing against the stony surface, ensuring that anyone who missed the rocks would be torn to shreds against them anyway.
He saw it at once, a small break in the railing, around a sharp U-shaped curve. He spurred the bike on and felt Amanda tense behind him, sensing what he was about to do.
She screamed as he launched the bike at the railing, and into the air, with solid ground hundreds of feet below them. ‘My freedom’, she thought, ‘was short lived.’
     The bike seemed to hover, almost as if by magic, in the air. The other side of the road seemed far away, but they were approaching it fast. Two of the wolves were closing in too fast to change their paths. They howled as they fell to the rocks below. Another had been a bit more observant. It jumped off the edge, arcing through the sky, right behind them. Amanda glanced back just as the bike landed on the road with a bone jarring impact onto the other side. The wolf had managed to hang on to the edge of the road and was clawing its way up to them. She drew in a sharp breath and focused her energies on the palm of her hand.
The bolt of flame hit the wolf just as it managed to climb over the edge. Its eyes widened in dismay and with a grunt of pain, it fell over the edge and into the water below. The other wolves had not been idle during this. They had followed the roads, which eventually lead them to their targets. The pursuit began again but this time, the wolves kept their distance. They seemed wary of her and her flames. She smiled grimly and glanced back a James. He had a thin smile on his lips but it disappeared in a flash. He concentrated on the road again.
They had left the seaside. They were now in the forest again. Their pursuers had reduced to three. One of the of the wolves guarded the rear while the other two flanked them from either side, advancing steadily until they were almost on par with the bike. Amanda started reaching for her power again.
With a stab of worry, she realized she didn't have much left. James seemed to sense this.
“Conserve it for later”, he muttered under his breath, “Don't use it on them unless you absolutely have to. I have an idea.”
She looked at him apprehensively. She did not like his ideas, not after what had happened at the Cliffs.
She sighed and released her concentration. Immediately, the power faded away. The wolves had made no move to stop them; they were simply following them at a safe distance, almost as if waiting for a signal. Something was wrong. She thought back to when she had first become aware of the wolves' presence. There were eight of them. Suddenly, she realized what it was. ‘Of course, how could I have been so stupid?’
‘It's an ambush!’ a voice in her head screamed.
Just as she was about to alert James, a black shadow launched itself on to them from the trees. At the same moment, the flanking wolves struck. The age-old tactic proved effective. With a startled cry, James lost control of his bike, which skidded from underneath them, just as they were thrown off it. Amanda fell onto the road and felt a sharp impact on her head, before the light began to fade away and the darkness took her.
James had been luckier. He had got thrown onto the undergrowth and could roll to counter the blow. The fall still struck him silly and it took a while for him to re-orient himself. He jumped to his feet just as the wolves had reached Amanda's motionless form. Fear rose in his gut. He suppressed it brusquely and shouted out to the wolves, “Hey you stupid mutts, over here!” 
     They turned to regard him. ‘Good. I have their attention. What now, James Old Boy?' 
There really was no other way. He should have known, anything Amanda suggested was bound to end up like this. He would have to use them.
He summoned his magic and opened the Sacred Gate with a touch of his ring. A blue portal opened in front of him. Reaching inside it tentatively, he pulled out a pair of blades. They glistened in their complete flawless splendor, like a beam of light in each of his hands.
They were Orcus and Quartos, two of the Seven Sacred Blades.
The wolves seemed to hesitate as he drew his weapons, trying in vain to shield their eyes from the brightness. This was all the distraction he needed. In a flurry on movements, he attacked the wolves one after another, making them focus solely on avoiding his blades.
He had them right where he needed them. He reached for his magic again and opened another portal below Amanda, figuring she would be safer away from here. She dropped out of sight quickly, before the wolves could even react. Now that he had sent her away, he was a little more relieved, although he didn't have enough magic left in him to escape into a portal himself. 
‘As long as she's safe...' he decided. The wolves growled in anger as they saw what he was doing. They had lost their quarry. One of them sniffed the air and immediately darted into the forest while the other three began to circle him. There wasn’t much he could do about the one that ran away.
He hoped Amanda had enough power left to defeat it. He had enough to worry about. He forced his thoughts away from her and turned to regard his attackers. ‘Fighting off three fully grown wolves was going to be tough.'


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## Razzazzika (Apr 13, 2011)

I was absolutely enthralled by your story. I love it. I didn't even notice the comma thing until Nazgul killer pointed it out. I can't find much to nitpick on, and I usually nitpick a lot.

I did however notice a contrast between these two sentances punctuations:

You have enough toys as it is Mandy, a voice in her head remarked.
‘At last’, a voice in her head said, ‘I'm free.'

One has quotes, the other doesn't, you should standardize what you want thoughts to be, in my story I do thoughts in italics. It looked like you wanted to do single quotes, maybe you just forgot it on that one sentence.

He may have thought her every trick in the book, but some tricks were never written in any of the books. -- I'm pretty sure he _taught_ her every trick in the book, not thought.

The wolves attacked instantly, as if they connected somehow. -- This sentence didn't make sense.

It might also be better to not describe Lu'Viel and the surrounding area in the middle of an action scene. Maybe do it before the wolves attack, or after they're done killing them(it would probably work better sometime before, since you mentioned it several times before that)

Other than those few nits, I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVED it and wouldn't hesitate to pick it up if you got published.


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## powerskris (Apr 13, 2011)

Hey Ajay!

You've got a really strong start with this. Rather than spend a lot of time force-feeding people information right at the beginning, you jumped right into the story and fed us information a little at a time. That's what drew me in right away.

Your writing is strong and you already have an established style. All good things!

The only thing that I would say is to give you the same cautionary advice that my writing colleague gave me near the beginning of my first novel:

At some point I wrote: _"blah, blah, blah," Maria thought_.

My colleague loooked up from the page and read it aloud. I asked what the problem was.

"Kris," he said, "I know it's tempting to get into your character's head. Everyone is but don't, because once you start, you're never going to stop."

He was right. I was wrong (but don't tell him that). I just felt the need to say the same thing as it saved me a major headache in the second draft! It was valuable advice to me, and I'm just passing it on.

Kris


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## Razzazzika (Apr 13, 2011)

That depends on if Ajay can do it right, powers.

I noticed the very last sentence wasn't right ‘Fighting off three fully grown wolves was going to be tough.' just wrong tense, But I know for a fact, one of my favorite series of all time, Dune by Frank Herbert, would constantly delve into the minds of multiple characters. And it's hailed as a literary classic, at least the first book is.

But just picking from this article:
You have enough toys as it is Mandy, a voice in her head remarked. - fine, if quotes added for consistency
‘At last’, a voice in her head said, ‘I'm free.' - fine
‘Of course there is no trace of her, you stupid woman. I thought her ever trick in the book.’ -- these particular thoughts are the best kind, and i realize now the grammatical error of thought instead of taught was a freudian slip haha
‘As long as she's safe...' he decided. - fine
'You don't know what you've got till it's gone' - thinking of the old saying... from the bard Joni Mitchell haha, anyway...

bad examples
‘Where was she now? Why did she leave? Did she intend on coming back?’ these should not be quoted, when you're thinking, do you think 'Where was she now?', no, you think 'Where is she now?' so either the sentance is:
more pressing thoughts occupied his head: Where was she now? Why did she leave? Did she intend on coming back?
OR
'Where is she now? Why did she leave? Does she intend on coming back?'

Same applies to the wolf one I mentioned at the beginning:
'Fighting off three fully grown wolves is going to be tough.'

I think it's only a matter of tense in those circumstances. Once again, I REALLY love the story, but as powerskis did point out, the internal monologue could use some work.


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## powerskris (Apr 13, 2011)

Razzazzika, my favorite novel is Dune as well. I read it at least once every two years, folowed by the rest of the series. What you may not know is that Frank Herbert has been criticized specifically for using internal monologue as one of his very few faults.

Also, the reason why I brought up the advice is because my writing colleague has a Masters in English and has been teaching English for the last twenty years. He also teaches creative writing classes that have a sterling reputation in that region. That's why I valued his advice.


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## josh.townley (Apr 13, 2011)

Thank-you for posting this. I really enjoyed it. It was well written, and flowed very well.
However, I agree with Nazgul Killer regarding the occasional overuse of commas. I tend to do the same thing sometimes, but find it easier to pick them if I read it aloud, and pause with the commas.
There are also a few incorrect words (lose instead of loose, thought instead of taught) and a few times where you used the incorrect form of the word (I can't find them now, but I noticed a few in the 2nd post), but those are easily fixed.
Something that I liked particularly is how you revealed bits of the world gradually. For example, we hear about Clarissa several times, and from several people's perspectives before actually meeting her. I liked learning about her character that way.
It sounds like the beginning of a great story, and I hope to be able to read the rest of it some day. 

Edit: Incidentally, have you approached any publishers or literary agents with this story yet, or are you waiting until you finish? I ask because your style is quite similar to mine, and I'm trying to get some idea how difficult it is to sell a story.


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## Ajay (Apr 14, 2011)

Thank you Kris, I will definitely work on that. The internal monologue has been bothering me for a while and I'm glad you shared your friend's advice with me. Don't worry, I'll keep it tightly under the wraps =P The only problem is that, Amanda's voice isn't the only thing that's in her head, so some of it might be initially confusing, but the next couple of pages will hopefully clear that up.

Razza, Thanks a lot for reading through the entire thing. My spellings suck, and it doesn't help that my train of thought (not taught >.>) is racing ahead and my fingers can only type so fast (dearly wishing they'd come up with the thought (not taught =P) recognizing computers soon =P) and I will ensure that the internal monologue and other such voices in my head and my characters' are all straightened out in the next draft. Thanks again and I hope you'll keep reading and let me know what you think =)

Josh, thanks for the words of encouragement =) I'm waiting till I complete at least around 80% of the book, but I have been doing some preliminary level research on a couple of publishers and I'd be glad to point you in the right direction if you'd like =) You will definitely get to read the whole thing because I'm determined to make this big =) and I hope you'll all help me along the way however you can =)


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## Ajay (Apr 14, 2011)

*Next Few Pages =)*

This is a slightly larger update... but its just so that there's a bit of continuity in the whole thing =) All quoted (' ') and double quoted (" ") sentences are originally italicized but have been lost in Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V =P Anyway, let me know what you guys think and I've already incorporated all the changes you've all talked about so far and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well =)

Thanks again

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Aramaus hated the council meetings. They were long, dull and pointless. He did not see the value of having a room full of scruffy old men report trivial matters every other week. Though he was old, Aramaus regarded himself to have aged gracefully. 
All the council members did was grumble. Then again, he knew better than to question the ways of the Lady Evangeline. She might have been tolerant, but she did not take lightly to impunity, which was even more reason for him to dread being here now.
He walked along the long corridor, observing the artwork that hung on the walls. He had to admit, she had great taste. They were exquisite paintings of the old times, those of the greater days, the times of King André. They portrayed the Grand Court and the Gathering. This was considered the Golden Ages by the historians. It was a time of peace, a time of benevolence. A time long gone, he mused. Some of the pieces were undoubtedly worth many times their weight in gold.
There was a low cough. Someone was here. The lighting was dim but he could make out that he was being observed. He looked up to see a young woman watching him from near the great oak doors. He smiled and slowly walked towards her, wishing he could have sent someone in his stead.
“Greetings Chancellor Aramaus, I am Freya, Personal Assistant to the Lady Evangeline. She's been expecting you.” She coughed again, this time a little louder.
He sighed and mentioned for her to lead the way. This was not going to be pretty.
They walked through the door and arrived at a Small hallway, at the end of which was the Grand Chamber Doors. Here, there were statues, of ivory and marble. They were large, and old. They seemed to be scrutinizing him, as if ascertaining if he were good enough to see their mistress. Right at the end, there was a door, flanked on either side by the largest of the statues. Aramaus instantly recognized them. There were few in the divided kingdom that would not have recognized this particular pair of statues. They were one of a kind and were each worth a mountain of gold at least. One had a large staff in one hand and a plant in the other. He seemed to be smiling down beguilingly. The other could not have been more different. He seemed to stand tall and proud, with a wicked looking ax in one hand and a cracked skull in the other. They were of Tao and Drug, the Lords of Life and Death. He shivered involuntarily. 'Behind these doors was the most powerful being in all of Norgov', he thought bleakly, 'and I am about to upset her terribly'. The girl coughed as she led him to the doors. She was probably ailing, he thought. He shook his head. He had far more important things to worry about.
Like worrying about himself, he thought wryly. Cursing Clarissa's mistake, he took a deep breath and knocked on the Chamber Doors. After what seemed like an eternity, there was an answer. “Enter”, a chilling voice commanded. He released a breath and pushed open the heavy doors. Things had not been going well for him lately.

ߛ​
Simenon was not used to change. The phenomenon of alteration left him with a bad taste in his mouth and a dark feeling in his heart. His late master, Gorgerin, had entrusted him with the care of the Grand Library, almost a century ago, and he felt that so far, he had exceeded his predecessor's expectations.
Had he not collected all the know manuscripts that had survived the uprising, carefully copying out each and every document and preserving the originals in almost perfect condition? Had he not gathered all sources of modern and ancient knowledge under one roof? Why then, did they question his sanity and honor, when he maintained that they were not allowed to see the originals? 'Were the recreations of Simenon good enough for the Great over-lords?’ he thought mockingly. He grumbled on, as he stacked the manuscripts back into place. No one respected knowledge these days. All they wanted was to further their own standings. Well, he'd be damned if he gave in to their whims and fancies.
     For many centuries, the Library of Andorra had remained neutral to the influences of the rulers of the lands, surviving on collective interests and the riches' donations, striving to achieve man's quest for absolute knowledge. 'It was not about to lay aside that principle now!’ he thought vehemently, gathering his papers and dimming the lamps. He walked to his quarters and turned to lock the Archives.
He had given up on living, companionship and other material wealth to devote himself to the quest of knowledge. Did they really think of him to be so weak-willed that he would bow down to their threats? Let them do what they might; they would gain no favors from him. He pocketed the key and dusted the dirt off his long green robes.
“The Grand Librarian did not give in to threats”, he exclaimed out aloud, “Not now, not ever.”
“Oh, I wouldn't be sure of that”, a chilling whisper replied.
He jerked up and looked around to locate the voice, startled. He had thought he was alone. The towering archives of manuscripts seemed empty and menacing in the dim light cast by his oil lamp. “Who's there?” he called out. There was no answer.
“Show yourself,” he demanded. 
A body eased out of the shadows. It was cloaked from top to bottom in black robes and a hood pulled over its face hid its identity. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he said, taking a step backwards. His confidence was faltering now and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. He did not like the aura surrounding the intruder. It reeked of danger.
The stranger hissed in annoyance and whispered, “Give me the keys and I will consider about sparing your miserable little life.” He felt himself shudder and gripped the keys in his pocket. The Vault, he realized. It wanted the manuscripts. “They keys aren’t here and you shouldn’t be here either. Visiting hours are long since over. Be gone, or I shall have to summon the guards”, he stated, sounding far braver than he felt. The creature took a slow step towards him. A hissing voice emerged from under the hood. “Come now, we both know you have the keys in your pocket. Let me have them and I’ll make your end quick and painless, Young Simenon.” He felt a cold wave of panic sweeping over his body, numbing his limbs. It knew. “Over my dead body”, he spat out, taking another step away from the creature. It seemed greatly amused by this. “That can be arranged.”
Simenon didn't feel the blade until he fell to the floor. The pain alerted him.
He looked down in dismay and saw the blade had passed right through his chest. There would be no living through that, he realized. A hand reached for him and he flinched away. A hand like no other, it seemed to be rotting to the bone, with the skin hanging limply around it. He noticed a Black-Stone ring on one of the talon-like fingers. He had read about those artifacts before. He tried to remember where. It ignored him and reached for his pockets. He heard the jingle of the keys and turned to see his killer. “Why...?”, he asked weakly.
     The hooded figure looked at him or at least he thought it did. He couldn't tell.
The same rotting hands reached out from under the robe and lifted the hood off. “You!”, Simenon exclaimed.
“It can't be! You're dead.” And then he remembered where he’d seen the ring, just as death took him. The creature mused, ‘Trust a librarian to recognize someone as old as me.’ It turned away from the now cold, lifeless body and glided towards the vault.

ߛ​
Amanda felt her head spinning. She sat up and massaged her temples. That seemed to ease the pain a little. Then, she remembered where she was. 'James and the wolves!' she thought in dismay. Where were they? She remembered realizing about the ambush but being too late to warn James about it. 'I must have fallen off the bike and got knocked out', she realized. Where was she now? She looked around. The bike didn't seem to be anywhere and there was no sign of James either. 'Or the wolves...' she thought, 'Thankfully.' She stood up and patted the dust from here leggings. She had anticipated that the journey was going to be rough and had dressed accordingly. The red leather tunic she had on was caked with dust but it would survive. So would her boots. The only thing she was worried about was her cloak. It was dark brown and made of a smooth velvet-like material. It seemed unruffled by the fall. It was her mother's and although it had enchantments, she dreaded the day they would give way and leave here only heirloom damaged beyond repair. 'Well', she thought, 'not the only heirloom. There was still the book.'
     However, she could hardly make sense of her father's writings. Her father had left her a leather bound journal and although she had spent many years pouring over it and trying to make sense of its contents, she had failed miserably. 'That's why I'm headed to the Grand Library', she thought to herself, ‘to decipher father's last words’. If there were any way to do it, she would find it in the Library.
She hadn't shown anyone the book. Only Clarissa knew of its existence and she had dismissed it easily enough. However, she had also mentioned that if there were anywhere Amanda would find answers, it would be at the Grand Library of Andorra. This is where Amanda had gotten the idea, but not before she tried the Estate's library. Out of all the languages she had checked it against, none had matched those in the journal, although a few scripts resembled those of the ancient tongue. Further investigation proved that almost every page was written in a different script. She had heard of books like these. They were a kind of word map, that didn’t reveal the next content until you had deciphered the previous page. It was an almost forgotten skill and she wouldn’t even have recognized it unless Aramaus had mentioned to her during their lessons together.
     Though she figured there was a chance she had missed looking through some of the books, she felt figuring it out in the Academy’s library, although it was large by itself, would be impossible. The script seemed to resemble more of the ancient language or a combination of languages, not any of the spoken ones. She had considered asking Aramaus about it but something had held her back. Maybe it was Clarissa's casual dismissal or perhaps it was some intuitive sense but she felt that the lesser people knew about the journal, the better.
Her heart wrenched as her thoughts shifted to Aramaus. He had been so caring and understanding, yet for some reason, she was weary of him. She guessed he would not be pleased with her absence at the Estates but she could hardly be blamed. There were certain things one had to do and this was one of those. 'Even if it meant abandoning the life you lived', she thought grimly.
     'Sometimes, the right thing and the hardest thing are the same', the voice in her head replied. She sighed, 'I know, Lilith, I know.' Picking up her pack, she slung it on and set off to look for James, praying that he was safe.


ߛ​

The old man looked up from the book and asked the patient, “Well? Do you remember anything at all?” The young boy did not even bother to respond. He just kept staring out of the window, staring at the light-house. “That’s a light-house. Do you recognize it? Are you from somewhere around here?” the Doctor tried again. And again, there was no response. He sighed. He remembered the day the young boy had been brought in. The trawlers had said he’d washed up on shore, clutching a large book in a vice like grip, mumbling some strange words. They had tried to pry the book from him, but it had taken two men to extract it from the boy’s death grip. The Doctor had examined the patient and informed them that he was alive and well. All he needed was some rest and he would eventually get better. That had been weeks ago, and yet, there were no signs of improvement. True, he had got up three days after he’d been brought in, but he hadn’t uttered a word since then. All he did was eat what he was feed and sleep all day long, but in his sleep he had said a lot. He seemed to speak of a girl named Amanda and some other nonsensical words like Norgov and Callus, but the Doctor had looked these up and he hadn’t found a single reference to either in any of the public libraries. The strangest part was that upon mentioning any of these mutterings, when the boy was awake, would evoke a strong reaction in him. The first time the doctor had tentatively dropped in the word Callus, the boy had started screaming! And he wouldn’t stop until he had been heavily sedated. It was all very peculiar indeed.
In all his years of practice, Dr. Calthrope had never seen anything like this before. He had tried to contact this “Amanda” person, but none of the police stations nearby had any record for a missing person report matching a description that fit the boy. They had assured the doctor that they would keep a look out for any enquires but they told him not to get his hopes up too high. Many people go missing all the time, few were ever found, they said. They thought that the boy could have run away from a local orphanage and made enquires at the nearby ones but that didn’t give any results either. The police had all but given up and suggested that the doctor do the same and hand the boy over to an institution for the homeless. The doctor had wondered why he hadn’t done so.
     There was something about the way the boy’s eyes stared right into his, that had prevented him from doing so. He looked over the boy with an affectionate glance. He was a scrawny little thing, barely a few summers old. His rust colored hair was all over the place and he had the deepest grey eyes that reminded the doctor of the foggiest of days. An ugly scar was traced along the side of cheek, the only remnant from his accident three weeks ago.
Although he couldn’t explain it, he had grown attached to the boy somehow and felt he couldn’t rest easy until the mystery of the boy’s past had been solved. Also, he could never forgive himself if he handed over such a helpless child over to an orphanage, were he would be picked on, or worse, forgotten. He looked down at the book and continued to read aloud. Perhaps some part of this strange book would trigger some of his memories and give the doctor a clue to the boy’s past.


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## Aiko (Apr 14, 2011)

powerskris said:


> What you may not know is that Frank Herbert has been criticized specifically for using internal monologue as one of his very few faults.


 
Why is that? Is internal monologue considered bad form? Got some references you can point me to, either as a general prohibition or as critique of Herbert in particular?

I think it fits dune well, and my next novel will feature some internal monologue. Not Dune-like, but my MC definitely has to keep some things to himself. I had planned to set it off in italics once I've established that these are internal monologue observations. It will happen often enough that I don't want to keep saying "he thought".


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## powerskris (Apr 14, 2011)

Aiko:

Frank Herbert, Dune | Vaguely Borgesian

Specifically this quote: *The characters in Dune rarely seem to be “human” in their thoughts, actions, or mistakes.  In large part, this is due to Herbert’s unfortunate tendency to overuse internal monologues, with several scenes containing multiple characters, each of whom will be shown to say something, only to be followed with their internal monologue indicating whether or not “truth” was spoken.*

For writing in general:

Interior Monologue: Just Think No!

From what I've been told and from what I've learned, internal monologue isn't a one hundred percent "no,no" but it should only be done when it is absolutely necessary. What my colleague was trying to communicate to me was that, if you give into the temptation, you begin to show what our "hero" is thinking all of the time. If you do this, you eliminate the dramatic component of seeing what our hero is like through their words and actions. If we're always going to know what they're thinking, what's the point?

But of course, there is an exception to every rule, and I'll usually go out of my way to find it! If you have a character who is mentally ill and hears someone talking in their head, then yes, we need to see what they're thinking because a second personality is there.

I'm just trying to say that it's a slippery slope, be cautious not to fall down it. Internal monologue can cause you to fall into some nasty writing habits.


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## Ajay (Apr 14, 2011)

> But of course, there is an exception to every rule, and I'll usually go out of my way to find it! If you have a character who is mentally ill and hears someone talking in their head, then yes, we need to see what they're thinking because a second personality is there.



That's not the only case where they'd be an internal voice. It could be multiple personalities or even possessions... Just saying..


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## powerskris (Apr 14, 2011)

Sorry, I just meant that as one example!


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## Ajay (Apr 14, 2011)

powerskris said:


> Sorry, I just meant that as one example!



=) Didn't mean it point it out... Anyway, when's your next chapter coming ? Waiting to see what'll happen to Earth =S


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## powerskris (Apr 14, 2011)

Ajay said:


> =) Didn't mean it point it out... Anyway, when's your next chapter coming ? Waiting to see what'll happen to Earth =S


 
The first part of chapter four is up now!


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## Ajay (Apr 17, 2011)

*Last Pages I'll be Posting =)*

This is it people, the end of the line, I'm not going to post anymore up, so let me know what you think. It's been wonderful having your feedback and comments and I hope you enjoyed these last few pages (enjoyed it enough to get the book that is =P)

I'm aiming to release by the end of this year, so watch out for "Lilith" =)

And Cheers
================================================================


Amanda was pouring over some books when she heard the noise. It sounded as if someone was scraping something. She had thought she was alone in the musty old library. Well, alone apart from the books anyway. There were millions upon millions of books in the vast alcoves of the library. Books of every shape, size, color and subject. There wasn’t a book in the world that probably wasn’t in the library. It was like a reader’s dream come true. Although Amanda had come there with a purpose in mind, she couldn’t help but admire the expanse of the complex and the sheer amount of knowledge it must contain within it. The building itself was a gigantic white marble structure that seemed to stretch on endlessly. It was over five stories high and was easily the largest building Amanda had ever seen. Not that she had seen much in the first place, but it seemed to dominate the horizon like a Star upon the Earth. For this reason, it was called Elyria, or the Great Star. The vault of course was out of bounds, for that is where the poor old librarian had been murdered, as she had later learnt from a guard at the entrance. She could only hope that what she was looking for could be found in the public archives.
	She looked for the source of the noise and found a striking young woman crouching on her knees and scraping some sort of red stain off the carpet. She also noted that the woman’s eyes seemed to be blotched as if she had been crying recently. She wondered why. Suddenly, as if sensing her, the woman startled up and looked straight into her eyes. They were piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through Amanda. She tried to break eye contact with the stranger but she couldn’t help but stare into those deep eyes that seemed to hold many secrets within them. The girl’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
“Can I help you?” she enquired with a slight edge in her voice. Amanda merely shook her head and turned to walk away.
“Umm… I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” 
Amanda turned back to face the girl, and smiled.
‘Lesson One at the academy, NEVER speak unless you’re spoken to’. In magic, voices have a strong power over a person. Incantations and charms all use tones and voices to work and giving away your voice gives the enemy an edge. These thoughts ran through Amanda’s before she even could think of a reply. Finally, she reined in her thoughts and came up with an appropriate reply.
“That’s ok, I’m sure you had a lot on your mind and I was being too nosy for my own good anyway.”
     Suddenly, the girl burst out laughing and couldn’t stop for an entire minute. Amanda was surprised to find a smile spread across her face as well. The stranger’s laugh was contagious. She looked at her, as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. She had dark, straight hair that flowed down her shoulders and a pixie like face that seemed to light up as she smiled. She was a few inches shorter than her and had a slight build. She must have been a few years over twenty. 
“Explain your-self!” demanded Amanda hotly.
     “I’m really sorry. I couldn’t help it when you said that. You sounded exactly like my cute little sister!”
Amanda blinked in surprise and her face split into a smile again. “Well then, since you said cute, I’ll forgive you.”
      The stranger burst into peals of laughter again, and exclaimed between ragged breaths, “Stop it! You’re too much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were my little sister.” 
She slowly regained control of herself. “By the way, my name is Miata.” She stuck her hand out. “Oh… Uh… Hi, I’m Paige”, stuttered Amanda, as she took Miata’s extended hand. 
‘Brilliant! Real quick thinking right there, Mandy. You’re in a library filled with nothing but books and the best fake name you can come up with is “Paige”!’, snickered a voice in her head. ‘Shut up Lilith! I didn’t hear you come up with any suggestions either’, she thought angrily. ‘Well, I would’ve thought it was obvious. You could have just said you were Lilith, you know.’ Amanda cursed herself internally, blushing furiously. How could she have missed that? 
“Uh… Are you ok? You seem kind of phased out.” Amanda shook her head, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Miata was peering at her face intently, as if trying to decide something. Amanda looked away, and started to move towards the next aisle. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I really must get going now. Perhaps we’ll meeting again sometime.” Miata watched as she slipped around the corner and out of sight. “Yes, perhaps we shall, Paige”, she whispered to herself.

ߛ​
The bar was as dirty as hell. The people there were even more so. A stench that could only be describes as sweat and whisky and grime, all rolled in one, wafted across the room, almost as if it were part of the ambience.
Sofia looked on with distaste. This was the last place on earth she would have liked to be. However, if there was any chance of her finding out about the Gorgons, this was the place she would have to start with. Finding out about them had been harder than she had imagined. All people knew about the Gorgons, as far as they were concerned, was to avoid them at all cost and never get in their way, if one valued their life.
The Gold-merry Bar was the kind of place people went to if they needed something. Located Far East of Andorra, in a city called Cerynb; it had a reputation for attracting the scum of the land.
It could not have been more different from its name. There was nothing golden about it and the mood was far from merry.
Few, other than locals would find their way past the overflowing garbage cans to the entrance of the bar at the end of the alley between dark, looming tenements. The bar itself was small, the room filled with small, old wooden tables. The windows had a metal grating covering the outside. The bar was full of scruffy looking, ragged, older men as well as equally ragged youths. A single ceiling fan slowly swirled in the smoke infested room, its rhythmic creaking the only sound in the otherwise somber monotony.
Inside the bar, the only music came from a man playing the violin in a corner. Sofia noticed that he was a younger man, perhaps the nephew of the owner. The young man’s uncle was behind the bar. He was continually serving shots to a grubby looking middle-aged man with a few days’ worth of hair on his face. The man was crying, while talking inertly to the bartender. The bartender nodded sagely, every once in a while. She watched as he mentioned to violinist to change the tune.
This was the last place on earth someone of her standing would be. And yet, here she was. She closed her eyes an attempted to strengthen her resolve.
     She would have her revenge, and save her brother.
	Suddenly, the door to the bar slammed open and a man, walked in. He was unlike any other man she had ever seen. He was astonishingly tall, with a shock of dirty blond hair that looked like it hadn’t been tamed in weeks. In fact, he would have been right at home with the rest of the scum in the bar, except he wasn’t like the others. He had about him, an air of confidence that was completely out of place in the bar. The regular patrons were all dead and defeated men, long forgotten and trying to forget their lives and wallow in their miseries with liquor. He sat down a few seats away from her, but otherwise completely ignored her. She watched as he ordered a drink and sat back to light a smoke. He took a puff and slowly exhaled the smoke, making ring like patterns in the air. She watched, mesmerized as each ring of smoke flitted through the air and then disappeared. She realized that she had been staring and quickly shifted her gaze back to the glass in her hands. The dim light cast a blurred reflection on the glass and she could see now that the man had put down his drink and was whispering intently to the bartender. The barman gave a curt nod and mentioned for the stranger to follow him.
Sofia’s eyes followed him and just as he went through a curtain at the back of the bar, she got up and slowly made her way towards the veil. She could be wrong but something told her there was some valuable information waiting to be learnt from behind those curtains. She edged closer and strained to hear what was going on behind the enclosure. They were talking in whispers, but she could just about make out what they were saying. They seemed to be arguing about something.
	“I’ve done as you asked, but you must know, this puts me at considerable risk. If they ever found out what I was up to, I wouldn’t last the night”, the barman was saying in a strained voice.
     The stranger’s voice was menacingly quiet, “Do you have what I need?”
	“First, there’s a question of compensation. You must understand. The information I have is of considerable value and —“
     There was a loud bang and the sounds of a scuffle broke out from behind the curtain. “If you value your life, you will tell me what I need to know.”
	The barman sounded like he was being strangled, “My men tell me that they saw some suspicious looking people ridding hard north from the place that you mentioned. One of them was carrying a black spear similar to the one you described.”
There was a sudden thud and Sofia thought she heard the barman cry out in relief. There were deep footsteps and suddenly she realized that she’d lingered too long. They were about to see her, and they would realize immediately that she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. However, the barman wasn’t done yet. What he said next, kept her rooted onto the spot, with no thoughts of escape.
	“Oh, and there is one other thing. All the riders work identical Purple Robes with black insignias on them. You know what that means don’t you, lad.” He just left his words hanging there.
Tears rushed to her eyes and Sofia felt her heart pounding, as images of that horrible night came flashing back. It was them, the ones who had murdered her sister and taken Luca away.

ߛ


****Chapter Jump****​

James stared at the freshly dug grave. His hands were stinging and his back had never hurt so much before, but he was oblivious to all this. He stared at the white cloth under which the corpse of the woman he loved with all his heart lay. A lone tear flowed down his cheek. He slowly picked up the bundle and lowered it into the pit in front of him.
	Once he’d closed the grave, he looked at the grave marker and thought for a moment. Then, he carefully carved out the words


Amanda Lyon Cain

She shall live on in our Hearts​
He turned away from the grave, just as it started raining again, as if the heavens themselves were mourning her passing.

ߛ​


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## Frivle Dilby (Apr 17, 2011)

Hmm... There's a lot going on here. You sure know how to play an audience. Good work. I would agree about being careful about internal dialogue. You haven't gone overboard, just be careful. There were some simple spelling and punctuation mistakes, but overall, I hope you find a good publisher. I enjoyed reading what you've posted. Feel free to look at my work, I would be happy to hear what you think.


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## Charon (Aug 9, 2011)

powerskris said:


> Razzazzika, my favorite novel is Dune as well.


 Heh. I bought 'Dune' in hardcover at a used bookstore like _20 minutes_ before I read your post, Powerskris.  Weird.


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## SteveHolak (Aug 11, 2011)

*Very* promising writing.  Th ecomma thing did jump out at me (sorry), mostly because it came in fairly early and as a mistake.  Say your sentences our loud and see how thye sound with the different rhythms imposed by the use or removal of commas.  For example:

[And that, was exactly what she was going to do.]  (Perhaps: And _that _was exactly what she was going to do.) ?


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