reviews

Ok…I hope I don’t bore you with my tedious reviews of the said pieces that I am reviewing.
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First review: Rainy Day Dilemma
The craft in which you conveyed your idea was unique. I enjoyed the thoughts of his anticipated profession and his feelings about wet feet. It was an enjoyable piece and I have no technical errors to point out, but…(the crowd pauses with a gasp) If I met with this dilemma I would as I have seen others do consent to get my already wet feet another helping of copious amounts of water. In all Bravo!!
Beufford
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Second review: My Mothers Kitchen
I like poetry. This is a lonely piece and to me it seems to settle on the older child who sees things a little more clearly as how the parents relationship with out communication has deteriorated. The point at which the child comes in with the “yellow phone” tells me that there is a jealousy factor because the author is not the “favorite” anymore. The MC seems to be making up for being cherished by “daddy” with sympathies toward “Mom.” Overall, an enjoyable although depressing piece. Good job, if that was your intention.
Beufford
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Third review: Untitled by ipfan16
It depresses and alarms me that the poetry I have read so far speaks of broken relationships. Depression seems to me to be the best time to write poetry anyway, but I am still disturbed.
I thought the imagery was fantastic…I could practically smell the smoky atmosphere and hear the laughter. The vodka was a painful point in the piece showing that we have the misconception that our solutions lay at the bottom of liquor bottles. Depressing yet artistically well done.
Beufford
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Fourth review: The diary moans
This piece, in the beginning, is like a telling of many married couples woes. At times I felt I was remembering instead of reading. I was so caught up in my own feelings and memories that the…unfortunates at the end really threw me. The thoughts that ran through my mind when I was at the end was if there should be a time that I felt I could never forgive “her” just the thought of this happening would change all the anger. The description of pain was awesome! I can swear I have felt that pain before. The love that is prominent at the beach was a cool and refreshing wave of bliss in story dominated with pain and sorrow. I really liked this piece; depressing as it may be. It was beautiful. If I have anything negative to say it would be to repetition of the word sledgehammer. Well written and the imagery was extremely vivid.
Beufford

The Diary Moans

Chris,

Reading on Rateyourwriting.com...and I saw this story, called The Diary Moans. It was a good story, and I wanted to send you my favorite part, it was so lovely.:

Then he said an absent prayer-a distant one, a hollow thought that resonated through the dark room, the metal and concrete prison that had kept him concealed for so long. It slid under the door and floated through the dark hallway, down the stairs, caused a lady to drop her groceries and flew out, far out, way out where it got caught in a breeze that took it around the entire earth, above every hill and valley; it made the neighbors talk again. It made him feel heavy and light at the same time; it made him feel above and below, up and down, in between and in the context of all things, it gave him relief so that he forgot the pain.

Wow...I just really wanted to share that with you because I loved it. :)

Epilogue

So I decided not to post the Epilogue here on the website.

 

Since the main purpose of this portion is to clear up any lose ends, I'm going to reserve it as a copyright of sorts. Email me if you want to see it, and I'll send it to you.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Eve

Chapter 15

Her primary concern, Olivia would tell people later, was that they not be separated.

Very quickly it became clear that the Ty’Goth intended only to climb the fortress walls – as opposed to knocking them down – and large numbers of additional fighters were ordered to join the archers on the wall. Durran and Kite, both renowned swordsmen, had been among those so dispatched. Olivia had kept her head down and followed right behind them, hoping that no one would recognize her and force her to stay behind.

As her feet replaced Kite’s going up the narrow stone steps that led to the battlements, she steeled her heart and tried not to admit that she felt a little ill. Her father, Xander the Red, used to call it “kicking back the boundary line,” this confronting of a great fear. So she repeated to herself, I’m kicking back my boundary line, and set her teeth.

Up ahead, she heard Durran exclaim, "What the devil!"

***

Kaisef was beginning to die, but he did not feel it. Doctor Merrill whipped around and cursed at him in angry surprise, but he didn’t hear it. He was looking past the doctor, past the window, past the battlements, to the Ty’Goth below.

***

Olivia tightened her grip on her blade and rushed up the last of the steps. Here she expected to meet the Ty’Goth, but there were none, only a crowd of warriors silently looking down on the plain. She squeezed in next to Kite and leaned over the stone railing, to see the very last thing she had expected.

The Ty’Goth were fighting each other.

***

Eve struggled at last to her feet and joined Kaisef at the window, her face shining with wonder. “To you was given authority to wield the Sword of Flame. My Father's prophecy...it’s coming to pass,” she breathed, gripping his hand. “You’re doing it!”

Kaisef was moments from death, but was not aware of it. He raised his black-scaled arms into the air and continued to quote.

Slowly, Doctor Merrill looked away from the girl and beast, to his armies below. “Fool! Do you think this curse has the power to destroy only your brothers, but leave you safe?” he spit fiercely.

“A little while, and the wicked will be no more,
Though you look for them, they will not be found.
The wicked will perish –“

Yes, Kaisef realized, becoming aware of the icy fingers that tightened around his heart, I feel it now. I am dying too. But it is right that I should die.

Doctor Merrill's hand closed around a knife. He shouted in triumph. "Not another word, traitor! You may not care to live, but what about the princess?” He pointed the knife at her throat. “Once you are dead, who will prevent me from killing her? Cease this now, while you still have the chance.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said simply.

Kaisef hesitated only a moment. While there is still a trace of human left in me, I will serve the King. He closed his eyes and voiced the final words:

“The enemies of the Lord will vanish –
Vanish like smoke.”

Like an autumn leaf falling to the earth he collapsed, his last breath rattling out from between his fangs.

***

In front of the gates of Yasalle, as quick as thought, the Ty'Goth vanished. Only the trampled grass in all direction gave evidence that they had ever cast a shadow on the plain.

***

Doctor Merrill rounded on the princess, madness glittering in his eyes. "I am exceedingly sorry, your Highness," he said, brandishing the knife point. His tone, thin and precise, conveyed every impression except apology.

Jeed's sword rang from its sheath, cutting a wide arc through the air. It sliced through the doctor's neck and sent his head thudding against the wall.

Eve uttered a cry and fell sobbing into his embrace.

Chapter 14

“What have you done?” cried Eve in terror, struggling unsuccessfully to rise to her feet.

“Don’t you like it, my dear? Oh, I think he’s much improved.” Doctor Merrill flexed his fingers. “You see the kind of power I have at my disposal. How far I have come – surely now there can be little doubt that it is I who am most fit to rule. And you – you never even suspected that your savior Archen was an enemy all along!” He laughed to himself, stroking his chin. “Of course, even I was surprised at how well that worked – the spell that disguised him as the King’s slain messenger. I did not foresee how completely he would take on a human nature and forget his old ways. That was a little alarming, at first. But it was necessary, I realized, once I found the King’s letter on the dead man and read about the Sword of Flame. Had there actually been a weapon of such power that it could defeat my armies, it would have wreaked all. But no matter. He’s quite himself again, aren’t you, Kaisef? I know that look. You’re imagining how you’d like to tear me apart, hungering for the feel of my flesh ripping in your teeth. That’s the beast in you – your evil nature coming back. But hold, slave. To what end would you destroy me? Don’t forget, you’re Ty’Goth, and your very life is in my hands. Those pathetic people down there, who this morning you considered your friends, would run you through without a second thought. That’s’ right, animal. Retract your claws with me, if you can. I will have a use for your savagery in a moment.” With a sneer he turned to watch the progress of the battle raging below.

Kaisef remained where he had fallen, his body turned to lead, the fight in him, utterly gone. Every word the doctor spoke was a dagger his heart. It was all true. He was the very thing he loathed.

“Archen!” Eve cried to him in despair. “But – you’re Archen. Aren’t you?”

“Archen is dead,” Kaisef replied in empty tones. “I killed him myself.”

Something touched his hand. He looked, amazed, at Eve’s soft hand lying in his rough palm. She lay on her side facing him, every trace of fear wiped from her face.

“The King will return,” she whispered.

Deep inside Kaisef, something strange occurred. Hope ignited and surged, like the first traces of thaw after a long winter. He wondered at it. I am the King’s enemy. I killed his messenger. His return would only mean my certain death. Why then does my heart jump in hope at her words?

The doctor is wrong, he realized, drawing in a quick breath. Inside this shell of a brute there is a human still, struggling for survival. A human who longs for good to conquer evil, even if it means my own death. So what if the King kills me? Does not a murderous, depraved beast deserve to be killed?

A verse from the Book of Peace came to his mind, and he whispered it back to Eve, his voice growling low, “Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him.”

Instantly, as if in immediate response to his words, a force of conviction flooded his heart and pried open his mind. He thinks the Book of Peace is only a book, but he’s wrong. I read it when no one else could, and I’ve felt its power. It’s a weapon, and it is in my power to wield. While there is a trace of human left in me, why should I not serve the King? He rose to his feet, facing the doctor. I wonder, how many words can I remember before I die? His gravely voice intoned:

"The wicked have drawn their sword and bent their bow
But their sword will enter their own heart
And their bows will be broken."

Chapter 13

Doctor Merrill’s mouth widened into a grin. “A book? A book? Are you quite sure?”

“I am.”

The doctor shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t believe it. All this time, I was afraid of…a book!” He crossed the room to rummage through a volume-lined cabinet, still chuckling. “The last obstacle to my plan, and all this time it was just – a book!”

“Traitor,” Eve said quietly, through clenched teeth.

“Am I, my dear? Or am I a patriot? It all depends on your point of view. The strong rule over the weak, do they not? I have just proven myself stronger than your father. Even he, with all his acclaimed prophetic ability, is no match for a brilliant mind like mine. Yes, it was I who studied the secret of the Ty’Goth and learned the spell that would awaken them. And I who use them now to accomplish my purpose.”

Archen stood to face the doctor. “But you’ve betrayed your King. Your people will be slaughtered—“

“Only as many as refuse to surrender,” the doctor said gently. “All who agree to swear allegiance to me will be spared. History will judge me kindly for that, I believe.”

Archen drew his sword. “History may. I do not.”

“Ah, yes. And now we come to the comedy act of our little play.”

Archen frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“They really made you believe you were something fine, didn’t they? Archen, our hero! The man who would save the world!” He slammed shut the cabinet door and approached the young warrior, one hand concealed in the folds of his robe. “Oh, I do think this will be my favorite part of all.”

***

With a savage cry, the battle was joined before the gates of Yasalle. Clawed hands and feet found holds and began to scale the walls. The archers had done their work and four out of five tumbled to the ground with an arrow through the heart. Yet as the minutes progressed and each dead Ty’Goth was replaced immediately with two living, those brave men on the fortress walls felt their courage begin to melt.

***

Doctor Merrill’s hand shot forward as he cried out, “Revelitas!” A cloud of fine blue powder flew into Archen’s face and the sound of an explosion rocked the room. He collapsed to the ground in white hot agony. The surface of his skin burned, and he felt as if every bone in his body had been broken. He could not see, could not think, as he lay helpless on the floor, waiting for death.

It did not come. Instead, his vision gradually cleared and new strength infused his limbs. As he looked up at the doctor’s mocking smile, he felt the prison walls of his memory crumble away.

In a flash he recalled his nightmare. He had been there, he remembered. He had watched the frightened young man run through the woods, pursued on every side. Archen had waited patiently under the tree for his prey – his prey, the messenger the King had sent! In horror, Archen examined his body, finding not smooth flesh but leathery, reptilian skin and cruel, clawed hands. He felt the sharp fangs of his jaw and heard his own rasping breath.

He remembered it all now – he was a monster. He was a Ty’Goth.

His name was Kaisef. And he had killed the King's messenger.

Chapter 12

“So this is our savior,” she said, offering her hand. “Archen, I presume? It is about time we met.” Her eyes explored his face as though in search of a mystery there.

He took the hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I am only a plain warrior, your Highness. What greater assistance can I give you, than to die today in battle?”

Eve turned her back on him, facing the window. “Your life may yet be required of you. Who can say? All our lives may be poured out before an hour has passed. Still, my remaining confidence is in you, and the Sword of Flame my Father spoke of.”

Doctor Merrill looked up sharply, “Your Highness has discovered it?”

“I mean to.” She turned around, the vial in her hand.

“No, your Highness. I must protest! A second dose – the effect may be disastrous. You may not survive it!”

“No, do not look at me that way, doctor. I am neither saint nor martyr. What chance do I have to survive if I do not risk it?” She took a step backward, “WHERE IS THE SWORD OF FLAME?” The doctor started forward, his hands raised. But it was too late. The vial was already at her lips.

Her eyes opened wide in shock. As if thrust by an invisible power, her body flung backwards against the window and crumpled to the ground. Instantly the crimson bottle flew from her hand to shatter against the wall.

The doctor reached her first and bent over her convulsing form. Her mouth moved wordlessly. As the potion flowed through her body, her eyes shuddered in a silent plea.

From all around them the vaporous response shrieked. “Within bone, muscle and pounding heart, you will find the two-edged blade.”

***

The stableboy swallowed hard. The moment for recanting had long since passed. “Doctor Merrill, Sire. I’m sure it was him.”

***

The doctor cursed, looking first at the girl struggling with pain on the floor, then at Archen. “What devilry is this? Can you decipher the riddle?”

Archen was silent, as if he heard nothing. He seemed to see a vision on every side, etched in fiery letters on the wood-paneled walls, the very words he had read by firelight that morning.

I have hidden your word in my heart
That I might not sin against you
For the word of the Lord is quick and powerful
Sharper than any double-edged sword
It penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit
Joints and marrow

“The Book of Peace,” he whispered, returning the doctor’s questioning glance. “The sedja molenko. The Sword of Flame is not a sword at all – it’s a book.”

Chapter 11

“Out of the way, boy, if you please!” Jeed commanded with irritation.

“I beg your pardon, Sire,” the boy said meekly, crushing a frayed cap between his hands, “But there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“I have no time for idle talk, my son. We’re on the verge of a battle.” Jeed pushed past the boy and continued his hurried stride. “You know the order – to the Armory with you.”

Undaunted, the boy trotted after Jeed, “Yes Sire, of course Sire. I will go, but first I’ve got to tell you. Because if there’s a traitor, well then, you’ve got to know.”

Jeed stopped abruptly, turning to face the boy with interest. “What was that again?”

***

Archen took the sword and shield the unit commander held out to him. They were weak, ill-made instruments, but Archen didn’t notice it. His heart was tightened like a coil about to spring, every muscle and nerve on high alert. It was an odd, familiar feeling, this rushing of blood through his head, this single consuming focus: Find the enemy and destroy it.

“You there!” Something slipped and clicked out of place. Archen looked up, displaced. For half a lightening moment, he did not know who, or where, he was. “Yes, you there!” The commander motioned to him, “You are wanted in the palace. Go with the doctor here, he’ll escort you.”

***

The terrible ranks of Ty’Goth grew steadily nearer. Five hundred yards. Four hundred yards. The glint of steel flashed as every beast drew his sword and every yellow eye gleamed with the hunger to kill. Three hundred yards. The archers on the wall drew back their bows and held their breaths. Two hundred yards from the Royal city, the creatures broke into a run.

***

“Yes, Sire, and that’s what I wondered, too,” the stableboy flushed under the governor’s stare and looked at his feet. “I know it isn’t a crime, strictly speaking, to be outside the city walls. I was myself, you know. We all were, but it wasn’t just then. It was after that, when I went back to get the King’s standard. Didn’t seem right to leave it on the ground, but they’d all forgotten it with the excitement of—“

“What are you talking about, son?”

The stableboy was flustered. “Behind the tree, he was hiding behind the tree. You know the big old oak out there? He was hiding on the other side of it, but when I went back for the flag he slipped around the side and I saw him, not a stone’s throw away.”

Jeed bent down and grabbed the boy’s shoulders with both hands. “Saw who?”

Changes to Chapter 9

If you have already read chapter nine, please read it again. I made a few minor yet significant changes to it today.

Thank you.

~Eve

Chapter 10

Thousands upon thousands of Ty’Goth were pouring from the forest. It was as if a giant’s hand had laid a dark shroud over the plain, blotting out any glimpse of grass, shrub or flower. Only this mantle seethed, it boiled, a teeming beehive of intensity coming steadily closer. Our doom, Eve thought. That black sea will break upon our walls, and the walls will not hold it.

“How long until they reach us?”

“Perhaps ten minutes. Not more.” His hand was on the door to leave, but she beckoned for him to stay.

“My friend, I tell you plainly that our one hope rests in finding Archen at once, before it is too late,” she said.

“That is no hope at all, then,” replied the doctor tensely. “By what means could we hope to do that now?”

“By Suffering.”

***

Jeed made it only as far as the gate of the courtyard. There he was stopped short by a boy in common clothes who barred his way. "Please Sire," he said, and Jeed recognized him for the castle's youngest stableboy. "A word first."

***

“I don’t follow, your Highness.”

“Suffering.” She put a hand to her neck, pulling out the silver chain that had been concealed under the bodice of her gown. On the end of the chain flashed a small glass bottle, the color and size of a strawberry. “You know that my Father has a gift of Prophecy. I also have a gift. This is the Vial of Suffering. I am told that with a drink of this, I can get an answer to any question I ask.”

He peered at the bottle, turning it over and holding it up to the light. “How is this accomplished? Have you used it before?”

“I have not. My father charged me to employ it only at great need.” Trembling slightly, she took the vial back in hand and removed the stopper. A faint scent of cinnamon rose into the air. “I think our need may never again be this great.” With her lips pressed to the bright glass, she hesitated. "I wonder, do I drink first, or ask first?"

"I am inclined to think, ask first, then drink for the answer."

She nodded, threw her head back, and called out, "WHERE IS MY FATHER'S MESSENGER ARCHEN?" then gave a solemn toast and drank.

Fire. Eve choked and sputtered as the liquid flames licked down to her belly, spreading fingers of agony through her veins. She stumbled and collapsed against the doctor's arms, and he carefully lowered her to the floor.

A soft hissing sound came from her hand. With some difficulty she pried open the fist she had closed around the vial. Inside the glass the potion swirled a murky black, and a high inhuman voice issued out. "He passes under the likeness of your grandfather."

"He passes...?" Eve struggled for breath and clarity, the pain ebbing to memory. "What does it mean?"

"It is a riddle, of course."

"A riddle. Yes. Then the likeness...must refer to--"

"The statue!"

"Outside the Armory! Doctor, you must fetch him to me, quickly!"

He was already running for the door.