Chapter 1, Antlers Simple Existence

Introduction to Antler

Antler sat with his back against the large castwood, between two of its massive, tangled roots. The tree behind him was shaped in such a way that favored the curve of his back, creating a space not only comfortable, but isolated. The perfect place to read his books. Sunlight bled in from between the leaves of the giant castwood, casting shadows on the cream-colored pages. He was a farmer’s boy, living in the northern tip of Ruq. Winters were hard, summers short, and the coin slim.

His parents were not wealthy, scantly able to afford anything beyond necessity. The book he was reading was worn. It’s binding was unraveling, some pages were torn, others were falling out. Words were misprinted on the page, he believed an entire section of the book was missing, though he couldn’t quite tell. Still, Antler was content with it. Happy even. He’d take half a book over nothing any day.

He particularly fancied books about heroes, true or not. Though he could hardly ever tell the ones told true from the ones that weren’t. They all seemed to be riddled with exaggerations and embellishments. Those embellishments, however, were his favorite parts. The idea of a knight eight feet tall, clad in gleaming plate armor, a cape hanging from his shoulders, and his family crest of a Red Hawk surrounded by flames displayed proudly upon it filled Antler with excitement. The knight was said to shift the tide of battles just with his presence. Klaegor the Brave, he was called, of the Geliwin Family, proud folk from the shores of Ihania, land southeast of Ruq.

Antler had never seen anyone eight feet tall with his own eyes, but surely it was possible for a man to grow as high. Improbable perhaps, but certainly possible. At least he hoped. He always hoped every detail of these stories were true, that Klaegor was really eight feet, and that he held a sword taller than him in one hand, and shot flames out of the other. But in the end these stories were written for children, not for the history books. And books with true accounts were reserved for students and scholars, neither of which Antler belonged to.

He once asked his father about becoming a student at a school. “We are neither noble nor wealthy, my son. All we can wish for is a forgiving winter and a bountiful crop season. Besides, we haven’t the coin.” That was all he and his father ever spoke of it. Antler understood what his father was saying, and agreed. Becoming a learned man was expensive. Most people in Ruq couldn’t read, and he had only learned cause his house had given shelter to a Herald from the Great Temple. As payment, he taught young Antler to read. He offered the service to his parents as well, but they both kindly refused.

He looked up from his book and towards the sky. The sun had moved far more than he had thought, and it would be setting soon enough. There was a chill settling in the air, and wind howling through the trees. It would snow soon.

Antler gathered his things, laid them out on his linen wrapping, and tied the four corners together over the middle, making sure it was tight enough to keep his things from falling to the ground. He made his way through the trees, past tall vaelinwoods and thick bronze-oaks, along a small foot path just wider than him.

The sky was grey, clouds hung over the land, and snow began falling, soft and slow at first but sure to pick up into a fury. As he walked through the village, he saw children playing knights-and-dragons, women washing and hanging their clothing, and men working the fields. The same thing he saw every day. As the people began to notice the snow, however, they started herding the children into homes, moving the clothing inside, and strolling out from the crops. The sight of the final one always reminded him of armies walking from the mist, like had been described in his stories.

Quickly, the town became quiet and empty. Everyone was in their homes now, windows shut, fires blazing, dinner cooking. He was left alone, to make the walk to his house in the quietness of his village, a small, humble, and nameless place. One almost entirely ignored by travelers, unless they’re desperate. It was made up of workman’s homes mostly, small things spread far apart from each other, just big enough to hold a family. There were thirty homes in total, and one tiny tavern with room enough to bed six people.

Antler’s peaceful walk was interrupted by shouting coming from the tavern. A man was yelling at a pair of guards, the only two in the entire town. One was tall and thin, named Walter. The other was broad shouldered and of fair height, named Manne.

“Piss on you two, and piss on Lord Mallard!” The words were slurred and he recognized the voice. Antler moved closer to the tavern, curious. He didn’t notice how low the sun was getting.

The guards were sitting down, seeming to mind their own business, as they would. The man yelling was no threat to them. Haendal Castell, his name was. He was always picking fights when he was drunk, and he was often drunk. He was son of a great lord, though that great lord had disowned him many years ago, and exiled him to the north.

One of the tavern owners, Mrs. Naim, a plump lady with a soft voice moved towards Haendal, presumably to quiet him. She laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “Please quiet Lord Castell. You’re disturbing the other patrons.”

“I’m no lord,” he said, turning quickly to face her “My father made sure of that.” His movements were broad and imprecise. Antler wondered how long he had been drinking today.

            “Aye, my apologies. Now please, Haendal, stop shouting, or I’ll have to throw you out.” That was a serious threat considering the weather, but coming from Mrs. Naim it still sounded soft. Perhaps too soft for Haendal to appreciate.

            “I am a coin carrying customer!” He lost his balance for a moment and found it again on a nearby table, spilling Walter’s pint. The man stood up, a good head and half taller than Haendal.

            “By the Five, man! If you don’t settle down I will take you to the northern work camps, I swear it!”

            “It’d be an excuse to get away from this damned frozen place,” Manne added.

            “I’m so sorry, Sers. I always beg my husband not to allow Haendal so much ale, but he says we can’t deny a paying customer.” Haendal turned to face the guards.

            “You know what, take me to the camps! I should like to get away from here!” He knocked over the other guard’s drink.

            “Very well Haendal,” Walter grabbed him by the arm, “let’s go.” Manne stood and they both started for the door. Antler decided he should do something. He was fond of Haendal, and pitied him in some ways. In a lot of ways actually. He set his books on the ground and met the guards at the entrance.

            “Are you truly going to take him to a work camp, Sers?” Haendal spoke before the guards could.

            “Oh, hey Antler. How’s your father?” Antler grinned, pleased that Haendal, even in his current situation, was still curious.

            “He’s well.”

            “That’s good,” he gave a drunk smile, “and don’t worry, these jossers aren’t gonna--” Walter elbowed him in the side and he let out a cry of pain.

            “If you’d move, we’d be on our way.”

            “Take pity on him. He’s not a criminal, just a drunk.”

            “Indeed, he is a drunk. Perhaps the camp would be good for him.”

            “Allow me to take him home. I’ll make sure he won’t bother you two again.” The guards looked at Antler, eyeing him up and down, trying to figure out what his intentions were.

            “Why do you wish to protect him?”

            “He’s a good friend of mine” The guards thought on it.

            “The boy is friends with a slozzer,” Manne said, amused.

“Very well. Take him home. And ensure he understands that he if he wishes to avoid the camps, he shall restrain himself from future incidents.”

“Aye, restrain himself from future incidents. I’ll make sure of it.” They let go of him and went back into the tavern. Haendal tried to follow them back in but Antler gave a firm tug on his tunic and wrapped his arm around him.

            “Do you truly wish to work in the camps?”

            “Those men wouldn’t take me! They couldn’t survive the journey!”

            “Nor could you, Haendal. You may be young, but you’re far from fit.”

            “Ah, piss on that! I’m as fit as ever.” He lost his footing, and if not for Antler he surely would’ve fallen into the mud. “Oh, thanks Antler. You’re a good lad.” there was a quiet before he spoke again, “Antler,” He let the name sit on his lips. He repeated it. “Antler… Have I ever said that you have a strange name, lad?”

            “On more than one occasion.”

            “Ah. And what’s your last name then?”

            “Gilligan.”

            “Antler Gilligan. Truly a unique name.”

            “I thank you, milord. Such kind words,” he replied drily. This conversation was not a new one. Nor was this entire debacle a new one. Though the target was peculiar. Antler questioned him about it as he opened the door to the hut. “Haendal?”

            “Yes, Antler?” He leaned him against the wall; the door was difficult to open.

            “Why were you pestering those guards today?” He pushed himself into the door and it didn’t give.

            “I wanted to see how they might react.” Haendal slid down the wall onto his backside, and his head fell against the wood.

            “If you play with fire, you may get burned.” He took a few steps back and launched himself into the door. It just barely moved past the frame, and it did so with a loud cracking sound. It was enough to get it open, though.

            “I’d hardly call those two fires.” He let out a loud, roaring laughter. His laugh faded into a faint chuckle as Antler lifted him up from the ground.

            “Right. Well promise me you won’t bother those men again. I fear they really will take you to a work camp if it happens again.”

            “You may be right, lad. I’ll avoid them in the future then.”

            “Thank you.” Antler sat him in his bed and looked around, though there wasn’t much to see. His home was a sparse, one room hut with a hearth at one side and his bed at the other. He had a small chest, presumably were he kept what little clothes he had, and a linen banner nailed into one of the walls, his family crest upon it; A bear’s head, it’s teeth bared, on a field of green. He looked at Haendal and decided he was closer to a dog than a bear. But all the same he was truly a friend to Antler.

            He checked the fireplace. “Your embers have gone out Haendal. You need to keep them burning or you’re going to freeze.” He heard snoring coming from behind him. Antler sighed. He removed Haendal’s boots, put his legs up on the bed, and put a blanket over him. He grabbed the flint and steel sitting on the fireplace and struck them together. No sparks were made, however. He struck it over and over again and nothing. He looked at his hand, curious if he should do what came to mind. He figured it would be better than letting Haendal freeze.

Antler placed his hand in fireplace. He concentrated and felt the heat moving through his arm and into his hand, the raw feeling of power building up. He couldn’t produce a full flame, but the heat was enough to light the kindling. Eventually the logs caught as well and there was a healthy flame burning in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the walls. His mother told him to never do that. That using magic was dangerous. Usually he would heed her warning, but a fire was needed, and there was no way to make it.

He looked at Haendal one last time before exiting his hut. I pray you one day find your strength again. He didn’t say it out loud for he didn’t want to wake him, but the words were as true as any. He closed the door behind him and looked out over the horizon. It took him a moment to realize the sun had long set, and he was expected home at least an hour ago. He broke into a run, fearful of what his father might have to say upon his arrival.

It wasn’t until he had arrived at his home that he realized he had forgotten his books.

Author's Note

Tear it apart, though keep in mind it is a small part of a larger story

Reviews

[Janelle]

I'll start by saying that I absolutely adored the opening of this chapter. There's something inherently fascinating about the protagonist sitting under a tree and reading broken books. It created this interesting juxtaposition between reality and fantasy, with the books being in such disarray. Kinda meta, actually, though I guess that was your intent!

However, because the introduction had such an enjoyable, easy pace, towards the middle when Antler stumbles upon the bar scene, it gets a little jarring. I had to read through it a few times to really get a grasp on what was going on. Suddenly there are all sorts of characters popping up, a lot of action, and a lot of dialogue when previously we were just relaxing under a tree reading about dreams we wish could happen.

Now, it's true that the disparity in tones definitely communicates how out of place Antler might feel, transitioning from his area of comfort to one of chaos. You can get really deep and explore really interesting concepts with that, but in this case I think it might have been a bit overblown. Maybe it could benefit if you took the bar scene a little slower? Or maybe if you just introduced it at a more gradual pace? I thought it was a little odd that we started off with such an introspective beginning just to become bystanders. Maybe that was the feeling you were going for? This criticism might be based more on personal preference now that I think about it, haha. I'm not too sure about your intentions, but it was just one of things that I noticed.

That being said, I really enjoyed the dialogue between Antler and Haendal, it does a good job of setting up their character dynamics without being overt.

All in all, I certainly enjoyed this chapter and I'll be sure to take a look at the other chapters in the future!

[D-Wizzel]

Thanks! I completely agree. I thought there was some disparity between the two sections of the chapter, but I couldn't quite nail it down. I'll definitely work on that. Again, thanks! It means a lot!

[goodbyeaccountgoodbye]

This is a good start! I will say, though, that sometimes it's hard to follow the dialogue. By this, I mean it'd be nice if you made it clear who was speaking.

Other than that, nice introduction and I can't wait to learn why Antler can't use his magic :)