Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

I wake to the sound of wood being chopped outside and the clunk of the pieces hitting the ground.  Sitting up, I yawn and stretch before getting out of bed and sliding into some leggings and a green tunic. I glance around my room where there are various trophies from family hunting trips; a stone so smooth that it looks like an egg, an arrow with which I shot my first rabbit, and the short sword that my father got me as a gift last year. As I take the stairs two at a time I hear my sister Elaine banging around in the kitchen attempting to make breakfast. I hurry into the kitchen and flip to stovetop off. “Hey, what are you doing?” She demands, crossing her arms. “I’m preventing another fire in the kitchen,” I respond, putting away the random ingredients she had pulled out and placing them back in the cabinet. “It only happened twice, and you know the first was your fault!” She pouts, stomping to her spot at the table. Elaine is the youngest and by far the most attractive in the family. With her flowing honey brown hair usually pulled back in a ponytail, beautiful blue eyes, rosy lips, and a full figure, she attracts the eyes of every man in our small town. As I place the ham into the hot oil, my brother walks in exclaming, “Ooo, Cali is cooking! It gonna be good!” Unfortunately, whereas I got the brains and Elaine got the beauty, Talon was left with the brawn and not much of the other two. His thick brown hair and little scraps of beard clinging to his face hide most of the tan skin and one of his brown eyes. He is at least a head taller than me  (Elaine only goes up to his chest) and since he is as wide as an ox, the town often calls on him to do the heavy lifting. He drops into his chair at the table and waits for me to finish cooking. “Where’s Father?” Elaine asks Talon. “Prolly out on the fields. At least, that’s where he was headin when he sent me to chop wood,” he responds. I place the meat onto three plates and take them to the table. As soon as I set them down Talon starts digging in, and even Elaine abandons her ladylike ways to scarf her share down. There is a reason for their eagerness- today is the day we will be examined to see if we are worthy of receiving a Class or if we are to just stay on the farm the rest of our lives. Our father is going to take us to the square at noon where we will be tested by the Imperial Soldiers. “Are you ready for today?” I ask Elaine and Talon. “Not at all,” Elaine expresses nervously. “I’m not certain I want to leave the farm.” “I am!” Talon exclaims, “I don’t wanna life of wood chopping and cow milking.” “What about you, Cali?” Elaine asks me. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I want,” I reply uncertainly. “It’s nice being here and everything, but it might also be nice to have a Class and see the world.”

We finish eating our breakfast, chatting about the weather this week and the condition of the fields after last week’s storm, and when we finish Father comes in through the front door. He hangs his scythe back up on the wall and calls, “Get ready to go,” before rushing up the stairs to his room. I hurry to my room and slip into my leather boots, hesitating before grabbing the smooth stone off of my shelf and stuffing it in my pocket for  luck.

When I sprint down the stairs, my family is already waiting outside for me. I glance at my siblings as we begin the four mile walk to the village; Elaine is dressed in her finest teal dress and even Talon dressed up for the occasion. Looking at them makes me self conscious about how underdressed I must look.

We reach the village an hour later. As Father leads the way into the village square, my gaze drifts to the clearing in which the soldiers are preparing. There is something mesmerizing in the way they set up their uniform tents in perfectly straight lines. We have a few hours until the testing is supposed to start, so Father tells us to meet him back at the house when we finish and stay together. We all agree and watch him trudge away, his shoulders sagging. He was never quite the same after our mother died ten years ago in the thunderstorms. He lost that spark of joy in his eyes, that one thing that constantly drove other people to him, put out by nature itself.

We all agree to meet back here at the square and Talon leaves to go find his friends, leaving me with Elaine. “We should go check the store and see if there is anything new.” Elaine declares before striding in that direction. Our village isn’t big enough to have its own tailor, but we do have a general store that sells food, fabric, and occasionally books. Books are a rare commodity here in Terian- in fact there aren’t many books in Garthain at all, not after the king burned the majority of them.

We are greeted by Clara, who has been our friend for years. “Elaine! Cali! How are my best friends?” she exclaims while embracing us. “Are you ready for the Test?” I chuckle and roll my eyes, “Not at all, but I assume you are?” She bounces up and down, “Of course I am! I can’t wait to find out what Class I can pick!” “You know you might not get to pick a class right?” I respond. “Don't be so pessimistic!” She counters with a smile, “I’m sure we’ll get to pick a Class!” “Whatever you say.” I respond before following Elaine into the building. We spend a few minutes in the store looking around and chatting with Clara before excusing ourselves and leaving the store. “She can be a little too happy.” Elaine exhales. “Reminds me of someone else I know.” I respond, giving her a look. “Hey I’m not that bad!” She protests.

Talon, Elaine, Clara, and I gather around one of the soldiers tents with the rest of the villagers that want to be tested. One of the soldiers waves the first villager forward into the tent. A few moments later the disappointed man walks back out. The soldier calls out for the next person and a boy who couldn’t be more than twelve steps up and enters the tent. A considerably longer time passes before the boy re-emerges with a smug grin. In his hand is a letter and a small blue stone. “He must have shown a Water affinity,” Clara whispers to me. Many more people enter the tent, most coming out frowning and empty handed and a rare few coming out with a letter and a stone.  Finally we are next. Talon steps up first when the soldier calls and enters the tent, emerging with a letter and a brown stone. He grins at me and Elaine before striding over to the edge of the clearing to watch. The soldier calls for the next person and Clara steps into the tent. She exits beaming and holding a letter and a green stone. “Air!” She whispers to me as she passes by. The soldier calls again and I motion for Elaine to go first. She takes a breath and walks into the tent. It isn’t until ten minutes later that she emerges holding a blue stone and a letter, her face slightly pale. The soldier calls and I enter the tent. I take in the white cloth walls and the single desk in the center, behind which sits a man in a white robe that covers everything but his hands. On the desk sit six stones arranged in a circle; one blue, one green, one red, one brown, one black, and one white. He motions for me to sit in front of the desk and I comply. “Place your hand in the center of the stones.” His deep, dark voice resonates within my chest, as if the Earth  itself was speaking to me. I place my hand in the center of the stones and watch for anything special. He places one of his smooth hands on top of mine and mutters incoherently. Suddenly two stones light up, causing him to start. The black stone is somehow glowing brightly and a faint shimmer is emanating from the red stone. “H-how?” He asks himself, withdrawing his hand. He quickly pulls out a piece of parchment and a pen and starts scribbling frantically. He folds the parchment and seals it with a stamp of wax before handing it to me with a black stone and a red stone. “Take these and don’t open the letter until you are home. Whatever you do, DO NOT let anyone see the black stone.” He looks into my eyes and through the hood I can see his eyes, a shimmering gold, almost glowing in the shadow of his hood. “Go home and read the letter and do as it says.” I nod, attempting to squash my growing panic at his tone, and he says, “Now go out and show off the Fire stone and act proud, for Fire is a rare enough affinity.” I nod again and plaster a smile on my face before stepping out of the tent, taking care to position the stone in a way that it reflects the light. I walk towards Elaine and Talon, noting the fact that Clara was already gone, and the smile plastered on my face is no longer fake. “We all made it,” I breathe. We all stand there taking it all in before Elaine says, “Let’s go home.” I nod my agreement and follow her back home.

As soon as we get home Talon rushes to his room to read his letter and pack and Elaine and I follow suit. Once I am in my room I collapse on my bed and take a deep breath before grabbing the letter from where I threw it and opening it gingerly. Inside are two pieces of parchment.

Congratulations! You have tested positive in one or more attributes. Please pack only a small amount of personal belongings as whatever you bring you will have to carry. We will leave at dawn and you most likely will not be coming back. Make sure to bring a weapon as the roads are dangerous and filled with monsters. Your training will begin as soon as we arrive at our destination.

Underneath is a messy scrawl that must have been what the man in the robe had wrote.

As soon as we leave the town come find me. I will need to give you special training to control your affinities. Please carefully consider the possible classes that have been given to you. Do not tell anyone about your Shadow affinity. We don’t need that getting out to the pubic. I will explain more tomorrow.

On the second page is the list of classes I can choose along with a bit of information about each:

Basic classes:

Fire Mage - Wields Fire magic for offensive capabilities, this class has a very wide promotion tree, ranging from becoming a Blaze Alchemist, Pyroblade, Arch Fire Mage, and more.

Shadow Mage - Wields Shadow magic capable of doing many things, either offensive or defensive or supportive, this class’s promotion tree is rather small, ranging from Necromancer to Reaper to Spy to Thief, all of which are very rare classes.

Advanced Classes

(Note - Only those with a very high affinity in their elements may start out as an advanced class, as normally you have to be promoted to it after much training)

Blaze Alchemist - Very rare class that wields both Fire and Shadow magic to create potions, poisons, and various chemicals to aid allies or harm enemies. Can be promoted to High Blaze Alchemist.

Reaper - This class is almost extinct due to the fact that in order to become a Reaper you must have extremely powerful Shadow magic. One of the most offensive and deadly classes, capable of merging with shadows and generally skilled with the scythe. Can be promoted to Arch Reaper.

Those are all of the classes you may choose from with your level of affinity. Please choose wisely, as there is no switching classes.

High Priestess Clover

The class titled Reaper had been circled multiple times. I sigh, “I guess that one sounded cool anyways.” There’s a knock on my door and I hear the muffled sounds of excitement coming from the other side. I lay my letter on the table and open the door. Talon comes bursting in with Elaine right behind. “Have you chosen a class yet?” Elaine asked. “Yeah have you two?” I respond. “Course! Imma be a Gaiablade.” Talon responds with enthusiasm. “I think I’m going to be a Aquacurativi.” Elaine follows, enunciating each syllable of the name. Talon gives her sideways look before asking, “A what?” “Someone who uses their water affinity to heal others.” She explains. “Ah how’d they come up with that name?” Talon responds. Elaine shrugs and turns to me. “And what is your class?” “Um, I don’t know for certain.” I answer. “Wait, didn’t you just say that you had?” Talon pushes, crossing his arms. “Oh, uh, right. Well-” I am saved by Father calling from the kitchen for us all to go to him. Elaine gives me a tell-me-later look before following Talon down the stairs. I sigh before joining them in the kitchen.

When I enter the kitchen, I start at the life in Father’s eyes. “Listen here kids,” he begins after taking a deep breath, “The world is a dangerous place, especially here in Garthain. Please, be careful, and whatever you do, do not work directly for the king.” The intensity of his voice at that final sentence has me taking a step back. “I know I haven’t been the most supportive of you three these past few years, so I understand if you want to leave me and this place behind and never look back.” He shakes his head and sighs. “You three go pack. I’m sure the soldiers will be calling on you within the hour.” And with that Father turns around and walks back to his room, closing the door behind him. I look over at my siblings and see Talon with a grim look on his face and Elaine attempting to fan away tears. Talon and I meet gazes before he steps away to return to his room and pack. Elaine sniffs and follows suit.

Author's Note

I posted the prologue and chapter one today and if anyone likes this book so far ill post every week on friday

Reviews

[JayG]

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Calyxia/2067097/

You’re hoping that people like this, so I thought you would want to know of some things that affect a reader's decision to commit to reading a given story. Nothing bad, and nothing to do with good or bad writing, or talent, but there are some things you should be aware of. And unfortunately, it will sting a just a bit.

The thing that hit me first is that you’re trying to make the telling more immediate by using present tense. It doesn’t help. Lots of hopeful writer do it, but it only detracts, because most reader’s aren't familiar with it. And of more importance, there’s not a trace of difference between:

“Sitting up, I yawn and stretch before getting out of bed and sliding into some leggings and a green tunic.”
and
“Sitting up, I yawned and stretched before getting out of bed and sliding into some leggings and a green tunic.”

The same person got out of the same bed and got dressed. And it’s the same narrator explaining it. So what changes? Nothing except that some readers don't like present tense writing.

Added to that, why does the reader care what color the tunic is? They can’t see and admire them. In fact, why does the reader care what he’s putting on? Do they know the difference between and pants and leggings, or that with leggings his crotch is uncovered under the tunic? Does it matter? Do we care if he yawns and stretches? Nothing is going to happen that matters in that room, and we assume he wakes up each morning, so all you told us is that he does the same sort of thing we do in the morning: get up and get dressed (though apparently, he doesn’t have to take a leak, brush his teeth, or wash up in the morning).

My point is that since everyone gets up, why give the details of him doing something that doesn’t move the plot, develop character, or set the scene where action is to take place. Will it change anything if he doesn't stretch, or wears a kilt? No. We don't even learn his gender or name here. So why not start this as he comes into the kitchen and begins to interact?

My point is that you want the story to entertain, and there’s nothing entertaining about someone we know nothing about, and can’t see, getting out of bed and getting dressed. In short, make it march. Have something that matters happen on the first page.

Next:
You’re using first person, and pretending to be the protagonist. But we can’t tell a story on the page as an outside narrator, because the reader can’t see our performance or hear the emotion in our voice. That matters, because in verbal storytelling, how you tell the story matters as much as what you say. Remember, while you can tell us how someone in the story speaks a line of dialog, you can’t tell the reader how you would speak the narrator’s words. So they have to guess, based on the punctuation.

Have your computer read this aloud and you’ll hear how different what the reader gets is from what you intend them to “hear.” That’s why the narrator’s role must be limited to supporting the protagonist, not standing alone on stage and talking to people who can’t hear or see you.

Readers don’t come to us to learn what happened. That’s history, and history is boring because there’s no uncertainty. Life has uncertainty because the future is not yet written and we live in a moment of now. So, to seem real, that’s what your protagonist must do, to give the reader a feeling of being there as thre story tsakes place, as against hearing about it second-hand.

Were this the film you’re visualizing as you read, the reader would see how the characters act toward each other. They’d read their body language and expression, and see their gestures. And they’d see everything in parallel. As one character speaks we see the reaction of the others. And at the same time we also see their dress, demeanor, changes in expression, even changes in breathing that are meaningful. We also get the room's ambiance

On the page, all we get are the words, one after another. And every detail the reader is to know is given serially, slowing the pace dramatically. So if something you mention doesn’t matter to the plot, to developing character, or setting the scene, rip it out. If it takes longer to read about the character doing something than it would take to watch it happen in a film, the story moves in slow motion.

So cut out the unnecessary crap. If it matters to our protagonist enough to respond to, it matters to the reader. If not, who cares? The trick is to give your protagonist reason to react to what matters.

And in the end, that’s my point. The tricks of the trade. Nothing in our schooldays prepared us to use them, or even know they exist, because all we learn in school are nonfiction writing skills, given so we’ll be able to write for our future employers. Professions, like medicine and writing fiction are learned AFTER we leave our primary school years. In other words, your school days made you exactly as well prepared to remove someone's tonsils as to write a novel. Thankfully, we have enough sense not to remove body parts without additional training. 😜

Think about it. If you don’t know the elements that make up a scene on the page, or even what a scene is, can you write one? Will you include short-term scene-goals, an inciting incident, or know to end the scene in disaster for the protagonist? No, because you can’t use a tool you don’t know exists, or fix a problem you don’t recognize as a problem. As Mark Twain put it: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

So fixing the “just ain’t so” issues is something you need to look into, because there’s a LOT to writing fiction for the page that isn’t obvious. Remember, we all start reading professionally written and produced fiction in first grade, so while we don’t know how to do it, we do know it when we see it—and reject what doesn't seem right. As Sol, Stein observed: “Readers don’t notice point-of-view errors. They simply sense that the writing is bad.” So you need to know what a POV error is, why it matters, and how to avoid them

To give you an idea of the issues involved, you might want to poke around in the writing articles in my blog. And you definitely want to devour a few books on fiction writing technique from the library’s fiction-writing section. They won’t make a pro of you, but if you learn to use those skills well, you will have the tools with which to become a pro. And if you provide your talent with the proper tools—the ones that will give your writing wings—who knows where you’ll fly to?

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

[Calyx Danum]

Thank you for your comment ill keep it in mind, but a few things I feel need to be addressed. First, the main character is a girl. Second, I write in the present tense for a reason, even though i know it's not the best. I use it because i personally feel the best way to convey a story is as its happening, instead of a retelling of a story, but that's still just a personal preference. I do thank you though for everything you pointed out and I'll make sure to keep it in mind, especially the dialogue parts.

[JayG]

The character's gender being taken as female was your intent, but the other girl is wearing a dress. And according to the text, our protagonist is wearing only leggings, without underwear, that she put on immediately on getting out of bed, with no morning cleanup. Not too many girls, today, do that. And remember, we have no idea of where and when we are in time and space. Based on the wood being chopped, and the mention of leggings and tunic I assumed somewhere earlier than 1900, and rural. Not your intent, but it is what the words suggest.

Since you're in first person there are no "she did this or that," references to clarifygender. I cook, so the act of cooking says nothing. You need to address that.

• I use it because i personally feel the best way to convey a story is as its happening,

You're right, we need to place the reader into real time. But tense and person have absolutely nothing to do with that. Viewpoint does, and you learn nothing about viewpoint in your school years. So that's my point. Your personal beliefs cannot replace actual knowledge of the craft of our profession. As Mark Twain said, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

And don't keep what I said "in mind" as you write. That's a tiny fragment of the things you need to know and use. So get out of your chair and grab some good books on The Techniques of the Selling Writer—which happens to be the title of one of Dwight Swain's books on writing. Though, given where you are at the moment I'd suggest Debra Dixon's, GMD: Goal Motivation & Conflict, as a first book.

Writing fiction is a difficult and demanding profession, one whose tricks are NOT give us in our school years. And you aren't going to learn them by reading fiction, or via a few suggestions on a site like this. No way in hell can you learn a subject that people spend years earning a degree in by reading a few posts online.

I'm not talking about good or bad writing on your part. Nor talent, either. My point is that if you hope to please readers who are used to reading professionally written and prepared work you need you know what the pro knows. After all, of what we learn in our school years is what we need, most new writers would be new grads. But are they?