Chapter 1

Chapter 1                                    
                                

    Her wicked laughter echoed in his head; chain held his well muscled arms that burned with exhaustion from his unyielding struggle.  The darkness was impenetrable. Only a pair of eyes filled with a burning red hatred could be seen glaring at him.
    Keeping his eyes opened he forced himself to stare back to show that he was unafraid. The red pupil-less eyes narrowed as a huge disfigured hand with long bony fingers, ending in thin needle like nails with a gnarled wicked curve, slowly pressed the sharp metal points of its fingers into his flesh.
    He clenched his teeth so tightly, to restrain the pain; he thought they were going to break in his head.  His breaths came in hard and fast.
     “You can’t break me your Hinessss.”  Tyrell sneered with bold courage.  Angered she withdrew the venomous claws with a quick jerk.  The poison coursing through his veins now, burning his flesh from the inside out, she thrust a clenched fist forward; blood splurged from his nose and mouth.  The four punctures in his firm knotted stomach dripped with his life force.
    He threw his head forward and spat at her.  The hideous laughter came again, this time with a flare of energy that split his mind with images of a sun streaked blond haired woman, with almond skin, embracing a gray-lifeless demon with bat like wings      and a long thick tail.  They locked lips-
    “NO,” he screamed in anger, jerking the chains as his hatred turned to pure strength. As if in answer to his display of will, dozens of tiny platinum dragons swarmed him and began to eat at his flesh.
    “Aarrrgh....”
    He shot up like a catapult, sweat dripping from his still shaking body.  Looking around at the darkness, he crawled forward stirring the fire with a short fat stick.
    “The same dream?” A voice came deep and gruff that broke the silence.  His breathing still hard, “Nightmare you mean” he chuckled in a feeble attempt to shake the chilled residue.
    Silence settled in the camp for a long while then springing to his feet, Tyrell strolled to the pack near his saddle.  Bringing the leather flask to his dry lips he took a long draw of the sweet Elvin Elderberry wine.  
    “I’m wide awake, what about you?”
    “Yea, kinda restless too,” the growl echoed.
    “What do ya say, Odin, -wanna break camp and get an early start?” he goaded.
    “Sure, maybe we can stumble into some action.” Odin said, cheerfully.
    He understood his friend’s exhilaration, having witnessed it several times; the dream always upset him.  The need to ride and the anticipation for battle always followed the nightmares.  The threat of danger and alertness required, seemed to ease him somehow, keeping his mind occupied from the darkness that haunted him
    Odin gazed upward to the heavens; the giant silver moon was about two-thirds of the way across the star-filled night.  Checking the straps of his pack and bed-roll tightly fastened to the rump of the huge black Battle mare and giving a final examination of the buckles on the saddle he placed a foot in the stirrup then pulled himself into the freshly oiled leather saddle.
    With a slight nudge of his heal, the horse tossed its head with a neigh then broke into a slow gallop.  Tyrell’s thoughts dwelled on the beautiful woman in his dreams, a memory of some one he once knew long ago.  He reminded himself how foolish he was to allow such a treachery as hers to slip by him.  He gritted his teeth against the painful memories.  His anger swelled and he swore under his breath he would not allow a woman to use him again.
    The years had honed his instincts and innate abilities.  Tyrell was no easy man to fool.  He could detect lies well and sense poor qualities in those he encountered.  He was especially proficient in sensing evil, even at a distance.
    Odin turned his gaze from his long time companion upon seeing Tyrell’s hardened features relax.  He was satisfied that Tyrell was cooping with his turmoil much better than when they first met.
    After several moments of silence, Odin’s deep voice broke the air in a low growl.  “Is this prize pretty?” He asked Tyrell referring to the princess that was offered up as a reward.  
    “I’ve not seen her.” The man replied in a dry voice, still concentrating on keeping his mind busy.
     “What is her name?” Odin asked after another couple of moments in an attempt to side track his friend’s thoughts.
    Tyrell gave his horse a slight kick to quicken their pace as he muttered, “The girl is of no interest to me only what is in her possession.”  Odin took the hint and decided to pursue another line of interest for light conversation.  
    “Well the good thing about it is we’ll be in Mid-haven in record time.”  Odin said in a rough chuckle.  
    Tyrell smiled, “Yea-it’ll give us some time to rest.”  The large knight pulled on the reins urging his mount to halt abruptly. He turned to Odin with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Race you to the bottom of the hill.” He said challenging his companion.  
    “In the dark?” The rough voice answered.  “OHhh you’re so gonna lose.”
    At that Tyrell gave the huge battle Mare a quick spur of his heal and leaned forward in his saddle.  His horse sprang into a fierce speed down the hill.  Odin hesitated long enough to hear his friend laugh, then he raced after him.

       
 

Reviews

[Lorelee Tate]

Much better! Only two suggestions for this one.

First, the active descriptions are much better than the prologue. Still, some of the phrasing is a bit awkward. For example, "Checking the straps of his pack and bed-roll tightly fastened to the rump of the huge black Battle mare and giving a final examination of the buckles on the saddle he placed a foot in the stirrup then pulled himself into the freshly oiled leather saddle." You have several and's here. Consider breaking this, and other sentences like it, up into two smaller sentences, just to ease the flow.

Dialogue. The phrase, "OHhh you're so gonna lose," is sort of an anachronism. This sounds more like something you'd hear from a modern-day teenager than a medieval warrior. Also, you use a lot of different dialogue tags, such as smiled, answered, goaded, etc. These are referred to as said bookisms. Using one occasionally is fine, but using them too often distracts the reader from the rest of the writing. The thing with using a simple said or asked is that they're practically invisible. Readers hardly take notice, allowing them to focus in on the actual dialogue and the story itself.

Still, well done! I look forward to reading the next chapters.