Chapter One: Little Town, Little People

“The world of Aven was one of rich, bountiful Magic.

It once was said by the beings of old that every inch of the planet was infused with great power, from the trees to the soil itself. Though people had ideas, nobody ever truly knew exactly where the Magic came from. Was it a gift from the Gods? A chemical reaction with the planet’s core? It was impossible to know. Nevertheless, whether they be from the grand city of Nockum or the tiniest villages in Giloven, all beings born within the world of Aven were once capable of harnessing Magic with ease, using her gifts to create and prosper.

Notice the past tense there.

Just as creatures never quite understood where Magic came from, not a single being had any answers when one day, it began to vanish. Magic, the craft that once bound together the lands and the creatures that dwelled upon on them, was dying. Over the course of this past Sol Cycle, Magic has significantly drained from every corner of Aven. Magic is the very fabric of life itself, and if it disappears completely from Aven, then our world itself will die. Those who once basked in the glory of Magic now suffer as each passing day as they must complete tasks without help of their innate abilities, all while demise lingered just around the corner.”

Cassia stopped reciting as soon as she felt Orin tap on her hand. She drew her gaze away from the long sheet of parchment that rested closeby on her wooden end table and met his inquisitive gaze.

  “The last part, right? A bit too cruel?” She asked, already knowing her friend’s thoughts. Orin nodded. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” She picked up the quill that was lying nearby and scratched out a line on the parchment.

  “Okay, I’ll just go from the next part.” She cleared her throat. “The world was sent into a panic, and though Scholars from near and far tried to come up with an answer, there was none to be found. It wasn’t until eight months to the day that Magic initially began to disappear when the world got its answer.

Aldebar.

Once thought to be a myth, Aldebar earned his title as “The Magic Eater”  for good reason. Nobody quite knows what he is or even where he came from; some believe that he was once a God, but was cast out of the Skye due to unimaginable crimes. Some claim him to be a malevolent spirit from the darkest pits of the Underworld. Whatever he may be, Aldebar is real and is the one solely responsible for the loss of Magic. Only the prophecy states that a hero of pure valor will be the one to end Aldebar’s reign of terror-”

Once again, Cass was interrupted by a swift tap on her hand. She slowly inhaled through her nose and met Orin’s eyes again.

  “What now?” She asked, readying herself for a lecture. Orin made a disapproving look that Cass knew all too well and swiftly moved his hands, communicating through the different motions.

  “You didn't cite any sources that Aldebar was the one behind the Magic loss,” he signed. “And you barely even explored his background or the stories about him before going into the prophecy.”

  “Why do I have to cite a source? It’s not like there’s a written paper giving all the evidence that Aldebar is destroying Magic.” Cass argued. 

  “There’s plenty of written papers, you’re just too lazy to read them. Use a newspaper, that should count as something.”

  “I don’t think Professor Fleck really cares if I use sources,” Cass huffed, shaking her head. “Either way, what do you think so far? Passable?”

  “Definitely passable. But it could be better. I just think you should-'' Cass waved her hand dismissively at Orin, stopping him mid-sign.

  “Look, I didn’t ask for advice on making it better. I just asked to make sure it’s good enough to pass.” She said. Orin raised an eyebrow. “It’s a report I forgot to hand in before graduation. I already left the Academy, I don’t need full marks here. I just need to get it in.”

  “If you’re just looking for mediocracy, then yes. It’s fine.” Orin signed reluctantly. Satisfied with this answer, Cass grabbed her parchment and rolled it up tightly into a scroll. 

  “Well, thank you for indulging me,” said Cass. “It’s pretty handy when your friend is the local Wizard.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not, I was being honest! Gods, why are you always convinced that I’m making fun of you?” Cass huffed. The two stared at each other, silently sharing the same message. “Noted. Anyway, you want to come with me to drop this off at Fleck’s office?”

  “I don’t want to, but sure.” Orin signed, patting his legs and standing up from the wooden chair he was sitting in. The dark violet robes- which until that moment had been crumpled together in a mess of fabric on his lap- flowed gently back into shape and covered Orin’s feet from few. Though Cass often teased him over his choice of garment, she secretly thought the robes were rather cool. The clothes of a novice Wizard; a way for all to know of your inordinate Magic ability…

Cass’ report, though a tad bland, had been nothing but facts- before Aldebar’s recent appearance almost a year ago, the world of Aven was positively ripping at the seams with Magic power. Everything in the world was capable of harnessing it: Plants, animals, beings, even certain inanimate objects. That is, everything, it seemed, except Cassia Graeson.
It threw her for a loop every time she thought about it. While it was true that Elves in general weren’t exactly renowned for their high-level abilities, Cass should’ve at least been able to cast a basic spell by now. Like Levitation or Healing, something even the youngest members of her town could achieve with ease.

But she had nothing. Cass had been alive for seventeen Sol Cycles, and she had never managed to cast any sort of spell or hex; she couldn’t even get a basic rune to work! Honestly, it was downright humiliating. Her shortcomings were made even worse by her friendship with Orin. Gilvoish Elves had even less inherent Magic abilities than Novinian Elves, but Orin had managed to push himself past his own weaknesses and flaws and was now merrily on his way to becoming a full-fledged Wizard! It was crazy. Cass was so proud of him, of course- no amount of her own baggage could prevent her from supporting Orin. But it didn’t change the fact that it made her feel pretty pathetic compared to him. 

Though nobody had directly told her this, Cass was pretty positive that her lack-of-Magic had something to do with her legs. In the sense that she didn’t have any. 

It had happened when she was just about to turn eight. She foolishly wandered far too close to the mountains her town neighbored and ended up contracting a deadly parasite from an apparently tainted stream. She only went to see the town’s Healer once she discovered she had no feeling, and was informed the parasite had destroyed pretty much all of the muscle tissue and nerves in her legs. Cass had to have both legs amputated in order to stop the parasite from spreading to the rest of her body. That day was… nothing like she had ever experienced before.

Luckily for her, the Healer had a close associate well-versed in carpentry. Within the next few weeks, she was given prosthetics made out of Fae Wood: one of the sturdiest and only-known Magical woods in existence. Though recovery took many years, Cass was rather proud of herself now that she could get through a basic day with minimal hindrance. Though the case of her mobility was solved, her Magic was not.

Many ancient scholars and Wizards reported that Magic flowed through every part of your body; every bone, muscle, and vein. To be the strongest Magic-user, you needed to train your body just as much as your mind. Though the Healer refused to confirm it, Cass was fairly sure that her massive lack of body was the direct cause of her Magic inability. While her prosthetics did have Magical essence, evidently that wasn’t enough.

Cass broke free from her train of thought to Orin tapping on her shoulder. Had she been lost in a daydream that entire time? She thought she had been getting better with that...

  “Sorry. Let’s go.” She said, her fingers gripping the rolled parchment tightly. She pushed open the creaky wooden door that sat at the front of her house, stepping out into the bright light. It was warm and clear today- the typical norm for their little corner of the world. Novinia was sometimes referred to as “the Sunshine Region,” cleverly named for the long Warm Seasons the small country received throughout the course of a year. It had to do with their location point or the ellipses of the Twin Suns... or something. Cass had fallen asleep during that particular lesson.

Much like every sunny day they had had for the past couple months, the village was positively bustling with life. Elves were farming folk by trade, and that’s what Cass’ puny town was full of. In fact, it was so commonplace for Elves to dwell in agriculture that some scholar reports claimed that Elvish Magic had even evolved to cater to growing and harvesting crops. Though Cass felt rather neutral about the whole “farmers by blood” concept, she found more enjoyment from the stories of the olden days; of Elves who hunted with the masterful skills of a bow and arrow, who traveled all throughout Aven to defeat hulking monsters that threatened the balance of the world. Nowadays, the stories of daring Elven warriors was just that: a story. Folks nowadays stuck to the busy but safe farming life, their once blood-stained weapons now forgotten artifacts.

Cass and Orin struggled to maneuver through the crowds, Elves pushing and shoving every which way in order to get to where they needed to be. On a normal day, Cass would be a part of this crowd- running to and fro, trying to buy the best-priced seeds or make deliveries on time. Luckily though, Cass’ parents were lenient when it came to her academy work. “School comes first,” her Father always said. Though his preaching would sometimes get annoying, it came in handy on days like this. Instead of working from dawn to dusk in a hot field, Cass got to stay inside her home with Orin and write a mediocre report.

  “Cassia! Orin!” A booming voice called from somewhere in the crowd. Cass stopped Orin from walking, quickly signing to him that someone was calling them. Mr. Bocker, a close friend of Cass’ dad, was standing on the side of the unpaved street, waving them over. His other large hand was clasped around a cart packed to the brim with wheat.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Bocker.” Cass greeted politely as soon as her and Orin had escaped from the tizzy. 

Mr. Bocker had a strikingly similar appearance to her own father- same broad build, same dark skin, same bright emerald eyes; even their long black beards had a similar style. Then again, apart from a few small differences, Novinian Elves shared many of the same attributes. 

  “Good afternoon, you two,” Mr. Bocker boomed, his eyes twinkling behind his tangles of hair. “Off to make some deliveries for yer old man, eh?”

  “Actually, I was just going to drop off this report at Professor Fleck’s office. Forgot to do it before graduation.” Cass informed him with slight embarrassment. Mr. Bocker flashed a mostly-white grin.

  “Well congratulations! You must be right excited to finally be free of that place, eh?” Cass nodded. “I remember how excited my Ponja was to finally get out of that place. He could barely wait to work the family business full time.”

  “How is Pon? I haven’t seen him around lately.” 

  “Oh, he’s actually making deliveries down South. We managed to pull in a few clients from Hamlok and Sea Pair.” Mr. Bocker puffed out his chest with pride.

  “Sea Pair? That’s a long way to go.” Cass observed. Sea Pair was a moderately-sized city almost on the Southern border between Novinia and Yo’ludo. Without a cart or horse, that was probably a minimum of two weeks from there and back.

  “Eh, the boy is capable of handling himself. At least that’s what he convinced the missus and I.” He laughed jovially. “Anyway, what about you? Any ideas of what to do now that yer graduated?”

The dreaded question. Cass had been bombarded with that very same question every day for the past Lunar by her loving parents and pretty much every other adult in the community. Deep down, she knew it was because nobody really knew any other subjects to talk to her about. But it was also because around here,  “graduation” just meant you were finally free to work out in the fields full time. That’s what everyone did, lest the few “stragglers” who went off to the big cities to be musicians or whatever.

  “Er… not yet,” Cass swallowed. “I’m still weighing my options.”

  “Well, you’d better decide quick,” Mr. Bocker chortled. “Yer folks ain’t getting any younger. And someone needs to take over the Graeson business, right?”

  “Right,” Cass replied, her heart twinging. “But… I don’t know, I guess I haven’t really decided if that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. I’ve never ventured out of the village on my own before. I’d at least like to see my options before I make one.” Mr. Bocker’s elated expression flattened, but only for a split second.

  “I suppose that’s a good enough point. Can’t make a choice if ya don’t have options.” Mr. Bocker said, stroking his beard in thought. He picked up his cart with both hands now, moving around to push it in the opposite direction. 

  “Well, I wish you luck with whatever you decide to do, Cassia! But a word of advice from an old man. The world is dangerous and cruel, and if you put too much hope on one plate you’ll only end up disappointed. Sometimes it’s better to just go down the path that’s already been carved for you.” He said in a much more defeated voice than his jolly tone from before. Cass watched him go, feeling her heart sink down into her stomach. 

He had a point, and she knew he did. The Graeson family tree had been farmers for thousands of Sols. And they were damned good at it, too! Why should Cassia break that winning streak for a feeling she couldn’t even describe? She didn’t hate farming; in fact, she was actually quite fond of the process of growing a crop. She had an entire successful life laid out before her, and yet for some reason she was hesitant to take it. But why? It wasn’t like she had any other interests or talents to launch her into some different career, so what was stopping her?

Once again, Cass’ train of thought was interrupted by a swift tapping on the back of her hand. She had almost forgotten Orin was standing there, his posture so rigid and still he almost looked like a statue. 

  “What were you two talking about?” He signed. Shoot. Mr. Bocker- along with some of the other Elvish men in town- had long, wild beards that covered their mouths. Which in turn pretty much made it virtually impossible for Orin to read their lips. Cass’ dad always kept his mouth clear of any facial hair, so she often forgot that full-beards were an issue.

  “Nothing important,” Cass said, making sure her words were clear so Orin didn’t feel left out again. “Just asking me about my future. You know, gross stuff.”

  “Have you decided on what you’re going to do?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Cass sighed, clutching the scroll tightly to her chest as they made their way back into the bustling crowds.

  “Why not go off the grid for a while? See the world, get some ideas, become independent, and then decide after a year or two?” Orin asked helpfully.

  “Gods, I wish. That sounds great, but I doubt my parents would ever let me.”

  “To be fair, the last time you were alone you kind of lost your legs. And you’ll never know unless you try.” Orin smiled.

  “Wow, you are so clever. And you’re in training to be a Wizard?” Cass grinned right back, pushing his shoulder playfully. Orin pushed her right back, waggling his fingers at her. Before the two could start an impromptu all-out shoving match, a voice began to shout just up ahead.

All heads turned at once, the criss-crossing crowds ceasing their movement in order to find the source of the sudden booming sound. Cass immediately stopped her roughhousing with Orin, lifting her chin up as high as she could to see what was going on. Orin, who had noticed the sudden change in mood, was looking around in abstract confusion.

Once the crowd had settled its movement, Cass could finally see what- or more accurately, who- had been shouting to draw everyone’s attention. It was Mayor Tyvolt, standing atop the stone platform that made up the “town square” and cupping her hands around her mouth to gather everyone who was near. Ever since the Calling Bell had broken last Sol, this had been their method of alerting the townspeople of major news. 

  “My citizens, everyone please gather around! I have an announcement to make!” Tyvolt shouted, waving her arms around wildly to garner more attention. Orin and Cass pushed towards the front of the crowd to hear- and see- better. Elves were even coming out of their homes to see what the commotion was about, whispers passing up and down the streets of what could possibly be happening. Orin hung closely to Cass’ shoulder, looking about the gathered crowd with abject nervousness. Cass, meanwhile, kept her eyes locked on the Mayor and awaited whatever news was to be shared.

As a small farming town in the middle of pretty much nowhere, nothing major ever really happened. Maybe there would be the occasional wild animal spotting, but nobody ever saw that as a major event. Besides, usually one of the outer-field workers would’ve made the report if that had been the case. For Mayor Tyvolt herself to be calling a town meeting… Something big had happened.

  “Thank you, my community, for quickly gathering on such short notice.” Tyvolt announced once most of the town had gathered around the stone stage. She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. From where Cass was standing, it looked like the older woman was… crying? “As you all are aware, over this past Sol Cycle, Magic in all parts of our beloved world have dwindled. And sadly, our small corner of the world has not been unaffected by these tragic turn of events. Everyday, I feel our Magic growing weaker and weaker all because of the selfishness of a lone individual that none of us have the power to vanquish. The scholar’s prophecy states that a lone hero, hand-chosen by the mighty Gods themselves, will venture forth with the aid of their mighty companions and finally smite Aldebar back to where he came from.” Cass glanced downwards at her scroll, then over to Orin.

  “How’s that for a coincidence?” She signed as to not disturb any of the other townspeople. Orin smiled.

  “But I know that none of you need reminding of our obvious plights. For far too long, we innocent beings have suffered because of our dying world. But… the Gods have finally decided to smile upon us on this day. I am beyond elated to announce to you here, in our tiny village, that we will suffer no longer. Our woes, our troubles, everything will be over. Because the Gods, in all of their power and glory, have chosen their hero to come from our very town! Our small, hard-working community has raised the valored and powerful hero who will save us all from devastation! My Elven brethren, it is my absolute honor to present to you our champion from the Skye! 

  Vala Coshrew!”

Author's Note

Looking for constructive criticism on how to improve this story. Thanks!

Reviews

[JayG]

You did ask for comment, and since there are some significant issues getting in your way, I thought you’d want to know—especially since the problems aren’t your fault and are unrelated to your talent or how well you write.

Here’s the biggie: True to your school-day training, you’re telling the reader a story, in the form of a report. That makes perfect sense given that we spend over a decade sharpening our skills by writing endless reports and essays in school.

But…did one single teacher spend even a minute on the three issues we must address quickly on entering any scene in order to provide context for what’s going on? Because of they didn’t, how can you open a scene that makes sense to the reader?

Of course, if they didn’t explain what a scene is, and why a scene on the page is so different from one on the screen…if things like the short-term scene-goal, and what I does for you weren’t mentioned, how can you write a scene?

See the problem? Because the entire purpose of public education is to ready us to be self-sufficient and employable adults, the skills we’re given in school are related to making us useful to employers by providing a set of predictable, and general, skills useful to employers. And what kind of writing do employers need from us? Reports, essays, and letters. ALL nonfiction.

What no one ever tells us is that nonfiction informs, while fiction provides an emotional experience so strong it feels as if we’re living the scene. As E. L. Doctorow puts it, “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” And NOTHING in the techniques you were given will do that.

Look at the structure of the story at present.

The first three paragraphs are a report, not a story. None of it is required knowledge for the action. None of it relates:

• Cassia stopped reciting as soon as she felt Orin tap on her hand.

Cassia? Who's she? And who’s Orin? They could be 5 years old or 95. They could be indoors or outside. The reader has zero context for where we are, who we are, and what’s going on, so while it has perfect meaning to you, all a reader can say is, “Huh?”

That matters a great deal, because there is no way to retroactively remove confusion.

And...to get to that line, the reader has to plow through 229 words that have nothing to do with the the scene or the characters. So we’re well down on page two of a standard manuscript before anything happens. And when it does it’s meaningless to the reader. Not to you, of course. And the people in the story know what’s going on, too. But who did you write it for? Shouldn’t they have context, too?

• She drew her gaze away from the long sheet of parchment that rested close by on her wooden end table and met his inquisitive gaze.

Here, you tell the reader what you see happening on the screen of the film version. But to the reader? What’s a long sheet of parchment? A foot long or a scroll? And why dies it matter that someone we know nothing about stopped doing something because someone unknown touched her? You know, She knows, but...

See the problem? Exactly as you’ve been taught you’re reporting and explaining. The viewpoint? Always yours. But if you read a horror story, do you want the narrator to tell you that the protagonist feels terror? Or do you want the writing to terrorize YOU? Learn that our heroine has fallen in love, or have the writing make you fall in love? In short: Telling doesn't work. Show the reader the events as the protagonist perceives them.

Everything we do and say is the result of our perception if the situation, as interpreted through our resources and needs. So if you don’t make your reader know HER perception and evaluation of the situation, how can they understand her actions? How can they be made to care?

The solution? Simple. Pick up the tricks the pros take for granted, then practice them till they feel as natural to use as the nonfiction tools you now own,

Unfortunately the words simple and easy aren’t interchangeable, so as with any profession, there’s a fair amount of study and practice involved. But given that you like to write, and you’ll often find yourself saying, “But that’s so…how could I not have seen it myself? And given that the practice is writing better and better stories, what’s not to love?

As for the how, there are workshops, seminars, and more. But my personal suggestion is to begin with the library’s fiction-writing section. And, the best book I’ve found to date is available free at a college site, whose address is below. This site doesn’t support links, so copy/paste the address into the URL window at the top of any Internet page and hit return. It’s the book that got me my first contract, so maybe it can do that for you:

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

For what it might be worth, the articles in my WordPress writing blog are mostly based on the teachings of that book.

So...I’m pretty certain this wasn’t what you were hoping for. But since it is what you need to know, and you can’t fix the problem you don’t see as being one, I thought you’d want to know.

So jump in. And as you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

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