The Assassin's Blood - Story Extract

An extract from a fantasy novel.

Black.

               He heard something - a drumming sound somewhere nearby. Horses. The hooves of horses against the earth.

               Black.

               The floor was covered in lights - stars? Red stars. What was it about the colour red that made him uneasy? There were voices, too, echoing several times over and distorted beyond understanding. Were they speaking human?

               Black.

               It was as if everything was merged: thoughts and memories and consciousness all colliding together, just out of reach. He drifted about in the darkness, feeling numb and empty.

               A moment of light was born in the distance and suddenly rushed forward, consuming him, and bringing with it a lifetime of memories. Suddenly, everything made sense.

               He was in the farmyard, running alongside Ivor, who drove the backend of the plough across the field with tremendous speed and power that there was barely any need for the ox, Bessie, who tried her best to stop the plough from running her down. With his short legs, it was difficult to keep up with his older brother, but he pushed his little muscles to the limit as he always did.

               Ivor sped ahead, taking a brief moment to look back and chuckle as dirt flew up from the plough and dirtied his younger brother's clothes and face. He quickly wiped the dirt from his eyes, and sent a handful back towards Ivor, who responded by tackling his little brother to the ground.

               For a few moments they brawled with each other, the aim being to cover the other's face in as much mud as possible. Not long after, they heard their father's voice booming across the meadow.

               "Cut it out, boys," he called, his voice filled with amusement, "I want this field ploughed by sunset, don't y'u forget."

               "Yes, pa," they replied in unison. Brushing themselves down, the two brothers exchanged a smirk.

               Without warning, a loud, piercing scream came from the farmhouse - it was a horrible sound that soon fell short. Ivor went still, his face an expression of shock.

               "Ayla!" their father shouted, immediately setting off across the meadow in the direction of the house, and the two brothers quickly followed. Seeing his sons running behind, their father looked to them mid-sprint, extending a finger towards the tree line.

               "Take Bren to the forest, Ivor! Run, and don't look back!"

               "But father-"

               "Run, Ivor!"

               The two boys stopped in their tracks. Ivor grabbed Bren by the arm, pulling him round. They started off in the opposite direction, running back over the freshly ploughed field towards the trees on the opposite end. Bren's legs ached from the speed at which they ran, but Ivor's iron grip made sure he didn't fall behind.

               Bren didn't know what to think - he felt his insides churning. It must have been Helena's scream - there was no one but their family for miles round - but he had never before heard her scream. It must have been something terrible to make her do that.

               Heart racing, breaths quickening. For a few moments, Bren heard his father's muffled shouts from behind. Then, silence.

               They passed by Bessie, who had become agitated in the panic. She cried and tried in desperation to free herself from the plough she was attached to. Bren began to run to her aid, but Ivor drew him back.

               He fought against his brother's grasp, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Ivor shouted something at him and flung him over his shoulder. Bren locked his hands tightly round the back of his brother's neck and sobbed into his rough-spun tunic, unable to take his gaze away from Bessie. Until something else caught his eye.

               From the farmhouse emerged The Shadow. Bren froze, his lips trembling.

               The assassin fixed his red eyes on the brothers, and with a flick of the wrist, he sent something hurtling towards them. A split second later, Ivor collapsed on top of Bren and the little boy gaped as the air escaped his lungs.

               At first, Bren didn't understand what was wrong. Then, something warm began to slither down his cheek, and his eyes fell upon the knife lodged in the back of his brother's head.

               Bren wailed. The blood began to run into his eye as he tried his hardest to lift Ivor's body. He could just make out the assassin through his blurred vision, approaching quickly with red eyes that glared brightly despite the midday sun.

               With his final attempt, Bren managed to escape using a tree root behind him, and he began to run through the forest. Time slowed to an impossible degree. All he could see were the bodies of tree trunks flying by.

               The only sound he could hear was the storming footsteps approaching from behind, amplified by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Bren couldn't outrun him. He was going to die.

               But then: silence.

               Bren continued on, not daring to look behind. The forest seemed to stretch on endlessly, farther than he remembered from his countless days of hide and seek with his brother. His mind flashed back to a single time when he’d had an argument with his father and he’d ran into the forest and crammed himself beneath the roots of a giant alcar tree. For hours, he stayed there, right until the darkness crept in and shadows began to twist and shape into the monsters of his bedtime stories. When his father eventually found him, he snapped the great roots with his bare hands and pulled Bren into his arms. How Bren longed for the warmth of his father’s embrace now.

               He only had a moment to consider this tender memory. A sudden burst of agony tore through Bren’s knee and he fell to the forest floor, wailing.

               Bren was paralysed. He urged his hands to move, to pull himself across the forest floor, but he seemed to no longer be in control of his limbs. It was just like the moment after he’d force himself out of a nightmare, only to find his body to be entirely frozen. If he didn’t move, the monsters would take him back. Just one movement, and Bren could run.

               But the monster was already on top of him. Bren felt a light touch on his back, and a sudden warmth as the cloak dropped around him.

               "With the death of your body, I grant your soul eternal life in the Soul Cairn alongside your family. Rest well, child." A dagger flew down.

            Black.

Author's Note

This is an extract from a fantasy novel I've been writing on-and-off for the past few years. It's very dear to me, but writing it has not been easy - I've redrafted about 5-6 times, and finally I think I'm on the right track with this one, although of course improvements can still be made.

It's not meant to entirely make sense (due to it being an extract), but any feedback is still very welcome. Thanks :)

Reviews

[richieb]

Enjoyed your writing. Writing isn't easy but at 17 you are ahead of the game. Redrafting is necessary. Its like trimming a plant, the plant will thrive and produce better results. Revision teaches discipline, builds your vocabulary, develops better sentence structure and hones your craft. Work diligently, Hemingway used to write 1000 words a day.

[M. George]

Thank you very much! Merry Christmas :]

[Kaliope]

A very gripping and emotional scene, however I have to agree with Alex that pacing is a tad bit off in a few places. E.g. the paragraph starting with "Bren didn't know what to think…" It seems too rational for the situation and would fit better into the part where the boy is hiding and actually has time to reflect on his situation. Also the paragraph with Bessie… it's too explanatory for my taste, I'd shorten it just to the animal's reaction.

Btw, I too find it rather hard to write fast such fast, scary scenes and you honestly did a fine job, but since you mentioned that you tend to struggle with pacing in general I can offer a few tricks I've come across that might help you as well:

*) Use short sentences, simple vocabulary but strong verbs. Treat action scenes as if they were flash fiction, make every word count. That can be a very effective way to transport a fast pace and if done right it can leave the reader breathless.

*) First action, then reaction. Of course characters react to a threat, but unless a character is in control of the situation, the first impulse is instinctive, emotional. There's no time to analyze or reflect, that comes later when the first shock wears off. Actually - since you are writing a novel - you might want to delve deeper into something called scene-sequel structure that also deals with the order of action/reaction (for scenes in general, not just action). I always keep a chart depicting this concept open on my computer while writing, it's that helpful (at least to me :-))

*) stay closely with the character in peril and keep the POV strictly focused. What do I mean by that? There were two or three occasions when you referred to Bren as "the little boy" or "little brother". He wouldn't refer to himself in that way, so in my perception the POV shifts slightly towards an observer rather than the boy. IMHO that diminishes both tension and pace a bit.

To summarize: I liked the scene very much, the issues I addressed are minor and I'd be interested to read more. I hope I could offer some useful advice :-)

Cheers,
Kali

[M. George]

Thank you very much - I really do appreciate the time you've taken to review and give advice! I'll definitely take your pointers into consideration, and I do agree with some parts being too rational for the fight/flight response that the character is likely having. I guess what I was going for was a kind of slow-motion, time-freezing moment, but perhaps it hasn't worked quite as planned. The POV shifts were semi-intentional, as the main character is actually experiencing the last moments of Bren's life, and creating some distance between the two I think works considering the situation (which of course I hadn't mentioned!). I'll see how I feel about them after some more redrafting.

Thank you again, your review has been very helpful! :)

[Alex]

My only criticism of this piece is the bit where the two boys are playing before the scream. It should be a bit longer. As is, there wasn't quite enough time to ultimately catch me off guard when the scream happens, which I'm fairly sure was your intention. You could easily make that extra time by describing he farm with some more detail, especially the woods that he runs to at the end, noting them in the distance, and even moving the story of when he hid from his father to that point (the story does interrupt the tension of the moment where it is). Besides that, this was very good, and I'd be interested in reading more. Seems almost like a Quentin Tarantino opening scene, which I'm a big fan of. Great job!

[M. George]

I do tend to struggle with pacing so your criticism is very fair. I also agree that the story about his father does interrupt the flow - I was wondering if I should move it - I'll try out your suggestion. Thank you very much - I take the Tarantino comparison as a big compliment! ;)