Draft prologue of Lands of Oreliathor Novel.

[Shadowz123]

This is the prologue chapter of the as of yet unnamed first novel, set during The Great War.

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Prologue

He felt one of the links failing. Panicking, he turned his mind to it, struggling to keep it in check, but he felt the other links snapping, even as he wrenched the failing link back into place.
“No, Idan!”
The cry seemed to come from another world, and he slowly wrenched his mind from his complicated work, back to reality. His father stood glaring at him. He, of course, was the one who had called him. “Always the same, Idan, you feel the slightest problem with one and take your concentration from the others! I have told you before, you must look on all at once, as if from a distance.”
Idan Tarune Brea scowled. His abilities far outstripped those of his former peers, which was the reason that his family had pulled him from the Hearthengale School of Magic to teach him themselves, yet they drove him too hard for even his brilliant mind. He longed for some middle ground, a place where he could go and be challenged and yet not be driven. His family was renowned for their mastery of magic, and his father, Tarsel Motran Brea was one of the greatest mages that the family had seen in centuries, and yet to him their mastery only meant that they were that much harder to please. Turning on his father, he muttered “Father, if I am to learn you must not drive me so hard! Please, I can not think with you constantly at me!”
His father’s face softened, but only momentarily. “Son, you must understand our reasoning. We know how hard we drive you, but we believe that it is for the best. I do not doubt that before long you will be called to the aid of the armies in the war against the Rhadra, and if you do not want to be a mere piece of meat on the front lines you must have some other talent to offer.”
“They cannot enlist me until I reach the age of 17, and that is another seven months yet,” Idan retorted.
“And do you think mastery comes in mere months?’ snapped Tarsel. ‘Mastery is something that even the greatest of wizards can spend decades trying to achieve! So you are going to stop your complaining and get on with your lessons!”
Idan may have argued, but deep down he saw the wisdom in his father, and dreaded being sent to the front lines. The war had lasted ninety-two years already, and despite all the damage that had been done to the world of Oreliathor showed no sign of abating or even slowing down. Men were constantly sent to the battle only to die and be replaced.
So once again Idan reached out with his mind, locating the several members of his family who had been stationed throughout the household, and then one by one linking his mind with theirs. They made no effort to help him hold the links, as they understood that if he were to do this in the real world, he would be likely to have to link minds with people of very little understanding of magic.
Almost half an hour had passed before his father was satisfied, but not once did Idan lose control of any of the links. Even his critical father had nothing negative to say of his attempt.
“Well well, what a change is here! We may well make a master of you yet, boy!” was his approving statement.
Idan was granted a short break from his education. This was his favourite time of every day, and he eagerly asked whether he could go and join Broma, a good friend of his. His father smiled.
“Certainly, you can. But you may not leave the grounds.”
“What? But how can I…”
His father glared. “Have you registered nothing of what I have taught you, boy? Do you consider my instruction mere lessons to be learned and then forgotten once away from them?”
Idan started. “Father, linking minds with people in the same house is not the same as linking with a person at least two miles away. Besides, Broma’s never had me link minds with him before, it’ll startle him to no end.”
His father shrugged off Idan’s excuses. “If you can link minds with so many people at once you can link minds with one a short distance away. As for startling him! You’ve never been worried about startling your friends. In fact, I’ve seen you go out of your way to do so! So there’ll be no more of your excuses! If you want to join him you must call him yourself!”
Biting back his retort, Idan reached out with his mind. His consciousness passed one mile, then two, then he began to search around, probing the area, searching for the presence he had felt several times before but never linked with. He was interrupted by a loud bang from within the house, which quickly brought him back to reality.
His father had already run towards the front door, which is where the sound had come from, and ran back swiftly, shouting, “The Rhadra are here! The war has come to our residence!”
From all over the mansion came members of the household, along with several friends of the family, and all shared the same panicked look. At Tarsel’s word, they fled the mansion. Tarsel weaved a simple spell to fortify their muscles and allow them to move more quickly, but there were hundreds of Rhadra, and all seemed intent on ending the lives of the Brea family.
Idan was terrified. He had heard the tales of the Rhadra, and was shocked to find out just how much truth there was in them. The majority stood at over eight feet, with skin as dark as the blackest night, save for the red lines covering their body from which Idan could sense naught but pure energy. On their head sat great black horns and they were far more muscular than any Human Idan had ever had the fortune (or misfortune) of meeting.
The Rhadra who appeared to be their leader put out his hand, and the ground erupted underneath the feet of the Brea family. With a roar, Tarsel retorted by sending the chunks of rock created by the Rhadra’s spell back at their pursuers with a spell of his own. The rocks collided with the Rhadra, and some fell down and were not seen to stand up again.
Several of the Brea family cast their own spells. Some of the Rhadra felt their limbs slowing and others found their sight gone while others were swept backwards by sudden and ferocious gusts of wind. However, the Rhadra were what they were through mastery of magic, and would not allow this family to escape after such an insult. Their bowmen readied their bows, and the larger of them drew swords more than twice the length of a Human arm. Their mages combined their might, and the ground before the Brea family trembled and rose, forming an impenetrable barrier through which the family could not pass. The family turned, and were met by the Rhadra.
Their archers fired, and many of Idan’s friends and family fell. Idan cried out, and looking past the Rhadra bore witness to a sight that pushed a dagger further into his heart. The mansion burned, and much had already collapsed. Even if they survived this, life would not go back to the way it had been. But as Idan looked on all he had ever known burning away to nothing, he noted further movement beyond the house.
With great cries the army of Hearthengale charged the Rhadra, who turned away from the family to deal with this new threat. Tarsel let loose a great cry and put out his hand, clearly intending to cast some deadly spell, but he failed to notice the movements of a particular Rhadra archer, who put an arrow through his chest before he could let loose the spell. With a groan, Tarsel fell to the ground.
Idan watched in horror as his father fell, and ran to his aid immediately. Tarsel attempted a chuckle as he came near, but failed. He gazed dreamily up at Idan, and muttered, “Now’s your chance boy. Get this arrow out of me and show me that some of what I have taught has made a difference.”
Idan grabbed the arrow and wrenched it out, prompting a gasp of pain from his father. The shaft remained embedded deep within his skin. Reaching out with his mind, Idan located the shaft in his father’s body, but came upon a problem – if he pulled it out directly, it may pass through his father’s heart. Placing his hand on his father’s chest, he mentally moved the shaft to the right, then, once it was clear of the heart, began pulling it towards the surface. His father groaned and arched his back, clearly suffering from severe agony. Finally, after several seconds, the shaft reached the surface, and Tarsel let loose a great gasp as the shaft left his body. Then another problem presented itself: The act had left a great wound, and blood was gushing freely from it. Idan mentally reached towards the wound, then as quickly as possible pulled the wound closed and sealed it, but not before his father had fainted from blood loss. After completing the deed, Idan fell to the ground, exhausted from the chase combined with his work, and promptly fainted himself.

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Comments and suggestions would be nice.

~Tiranasta~

 

[HermanTheGibbon]

Overall it's very good Perhaps it moves a little too quickly if it is to be made into an entire novel, and you could've spent more time on description. I think you need to give descriptions of characters and surroundings to set the scene up for your readers, but other than that, it's good, so keep up the good work!

 

[Tiranasta]

I have rewritten the prologue for the first time. As Shadowz is not currently online, I am posting it here:

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Prologue

He felt one of the links failing. Panicking, he turned his mind to it, struggling to keep it in check, but as he did so, he could feel the other links snapping even as he wrenched the failing link back into place. Just as he lost the last remnants of focus, a voice pierced the silent blackness, like a knife slicing butter.
“No, Idan!”
The cry seemed to come from another world, calling him back to his own, and he slowly returned to reality from his complicated work. Idan blinked at the sudden light, slowly taking in his surroundings. He was in the centre of a long room, the perimeter of which was covered in various tools and unusual objects. A thin yet tall and imposing man stood before him, a glare fixed on his face and his arms crossed irritably. The man had short black hair and an angular face that gave him a permanently accusing look. He, of course, was the one who had called to him. “Always the same, Idan, the slightest problem is enough to tear apart your focus, narrowing it down until you cannot hold the others in check! I have told you before, you must look on all at once; visualize them as if from a distance.”
Idan Tarune Brea scowled at his father, frustrated as ever by the man’s apparent inability to accept anything but perfection. His abilities far outstripped those of his former peers, whom he had studied alongside at the Hearthengale School of Magic until his family had become engaged in an argument with Martel Trown, the master of the school. His father, Tarsel Motran Brea, had felt that Idan should be granted special training in order to foster the talents that his brilliant mind possessed, but Trown had refused on the grounds that they lacked the staff and did not want to show special attention to any student, prompting Tarsel to pull his son from the school to be taught by the family.
In a matter of days, Idan’s studies had gone from being simple and easy to being ridiculously difficult. Idan longed for some middle ground, a place where he could be challenged and yet not be driven. The Brea family had long been renowned for their mastery of magic, and his father was a brilliant mage, one of the greatest that had been seen within the Brea family for generations. To Idan, however, this merely meant that they were harder to please and more likely to catch him on his mistakes. Turning on his father, he muttered, “Father, I do wish to learn, but you simply drive me too hard! I should likely have mastered his exercise long ago had you not been at me for every minute mistake. Please, give me some room, and I’ll do my best to learn as fast as you want me to.”
In an unusual precedent, his father’s face softened slightly, and looked down at Idan with a mixture of irritation, understanding and exasperation. “Son, I know how hard we drive you, and I would not have it so in different circumstances, but you must take time yourself to understand our reasoning. If you do so, you shall see that it is for the best. You know as well as I do that you shall likely be called to the aid of the armies in the war against the Rhadra before long, and you must have some useful talent to offer or else you shall be made to serve as a mere piece of meat, to fight and die on the front lines like so many others!”
“They cannot enlist me until I reach the age of 17, and that is another seven months yet,” Idan retorted.
Tarsel’s face immediately snapped back to its usual hard, irritable glare. “And do you think that mastery comes within mere months? Mastery is something that even the most talented of individuals can spend decades trying to achieve! So then, you are going to stop your insolence and get on with your lessons.”
Idan opened his mouth to retort, but his father snapped ‘Now!’. Silenced and chastised, Idan prepared to resume his work with much grumbling, but deep down he could see the wisdom in his father, and dreaded being sent to the front lines. The war had lasted ninety-two years already, and, despite all the damage that had been done to the world of Oreliathor, showed no sign of abating or even slowing down. Men were constantly being sent to battle, only to die and quickly be replaced.
So once again Idan closed off his senses and reached out with his mind, locating the several members of his family who had been stationed throughout the mansion, and then one by one linking his mind with theirs. For their part, they made no effort to help him hold the links, as they understood that if he were to do this in the real world, he would be likely to have to link minds with people of very little understanding of magic.
Suddenly, the voice of his grandfather, Motran Brea, echoed through his head, stating twenty-seven numbers at random. When he finished, Idan spoke the numbers out loud, struggling to exercise his memory whilst still holding the links in check.
Almost half an hour had passed before his father was satisfied, but not once did Idan lose control of any of the links, nor pass on an incorrect number. Even his ever-critical father had nothing negative to say of his success. A broad smile covered his father’s hawklike face, a sharp contrast to his usual appearance.
“Well well, what a change is here! We may well make a master of you yet, boy, providing you keep this up!” was his rare statement of approval.
Idan was at least as pleased as his father with his success, and was even more pleased when his father saw fit to grant him a two-hour break from his education. This was always his favourite time of each day, and he eagerly asked for permission to go and join Broma, a good friend of his. His father half-smiled.
“Certainly, you can. But you may not leave the grounds.”
“What? But… how can I…?”
His father glared. “Has nothing of what I have taught you registered, boy? Do you consider my instruction to be mere lessons to be learned and then forgotten once away from them?”
Idan started, suddenly understanding. “Father, linking minds with people in the same house is not the same as linking with a person at least two miles away. Besides, Broma’s never had me link minds with him before; it’ll startle him to no end!”
Tarsel shrugged off Idan’s excuses. “If you can link minds with so many people at once, you can link minds with a single person a short distance away. As for startling him! You’ve never been worried about startling your friends. In fact, I’ve seen you go out of your way to dos so! So there’ll be no more of your excuses. If you wish to join him, you’re going to have to call him yourself!”
Biting back his retort, Idan reached out with his mind. His consciousness passed one mile, then two, at which he began to search around, probing the area, searching for the familiar presence that he knew must be present. After several seconds he located his friend, and linked minds in an instant. He could feel Broma’s mind tense, as he could feel something that he could not quite discern. Finally, Idan spoke. “Hey Broma!”
The reaction was just as expected. Idan, his mind linked to his friend’s, felt Broma’s sudden shock at the intrusion. “Idan? Is that… how did you…?”
Idan never did answer this question, as he was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang from within the house, which pulled him back to reality with a jolt. He regained awareness of his surroundings just in time to see his father run from the room in the direction of the noise. Several seconds later, a loud ‘bang’ was heard from the general vicinity of the front door. Tarsel’s voice rang through the house, summoning all residents to him. Idan hurried into the room, and received a shock at the sight before him. A man lay dead on the ground, a large brick having shattered his skull. The man could almost be mistaken for a Human, but there were certain discerning factors. When standing, he must have been at least eight feet tall. The man’s skin was as dark as the blackest night, save for the red lines covering his body in which Idan could sense naught but pure energy. The creature’s head was throne to two great black horns, and the man was far more muscular than any Human that Idan had ever had the fortune (or misfortune) of meeting. Idan had heard the tales of the Rhadra. He was shocked to find out just how much truth there was to them.
By this time, the numerous residents of the household had assembled within the front room. All, without exception, looked to Tarsel with panicked looks. Tarsel spoke.
“At my feet is one of the Rhadra. He may have been alone, but we can’t take that chance. I fear that the war may have come to our residence. We must leave at once, and make for the city of Akranast. There we shall…”
His voice died out and he turned quickly to the door. In the distance across the green plains, emerging from the Forest of Hearthengale could be made out several large, moving shapes. Tarsel stood, staring for several seconds before he suddenly turned and shouted, “It’s the Rhadra! Run, run to Akranast!”
With that, he ran through the door, abandoning the mansion, followed by all the residents of the Brea mansion. Immediately, Tarsel weaved a simple spell to fortify their muscles and allow them to move more quickly, but the Rhadra were great in number, and were making with great speed towards the family, apparently intent on ending the lives of the Brea family.
Idan was terrified. Small sections of numerous tales involving the Rhadra flicked through his mind, breaking his resolve, causing him to panic. By this time, the Rhadra were no more than twenty metres behind, and the one who appeared to be their leader raised his hand. The ground erupted beneath the feet of the Brea family. Tarsel turned with a roar, sending the chunks of rock created by the spell back at their pursuers with a spell of his own. Several of the Rhadra put up a shield around themselves, but some were not so quick, and the rocks collided with them. Many fell down and were not seen to rise again.
Several of the Brea family cast their own spells, determined to escape their foes. Some of the Rhadra felt their limbs slowing, others found their sight gone, and others found their resolve breaking while others were swept backwards by sudden and ferocious gusts of wind. However, the Rhadra had become what they were through mastery of magic, and this display merely caused them greater anger, for it was an insult after which they could never allow the family to escape. Their bowmen readied their bows while the larger of them drew swords more than twice the length of a Human arm. Their Mages reached out together, combining their might, causing the path before the Brea family to tremble and rise, forming an impenetrable barrier through which the family could not pass. The family turned, and were immediately met by the Rhadra.
Their archers fired, and many of Idan’s friends and family fell. Idan cried out, and looking past the Rhadra bore witness to a sight that pushed a dagger further into his heart. The mansion had become engulfed in fire, which threatened to burn it to the ground. Much had already collapsed, and Idan realised with a pang of grief that even if they were to survive this battle, life would not go back to the way it had been. Idan made to turn away from the house, unwilling to see everything he had ever known burned away to nothing, but some small movement in the distance caught his eye. The blue banner of the army of Hearthengale was raised high in the air, bring new hope to the Brea family. The Rhadra, their backs to the army, were taken by surprise from behind, but nevertheless quickly turned to face the new threat. Tarsel brought both his hands out in front of him, clearly planning some deadly spell, but he failed to notice the movements of a particular archer of the Rhadra, who put an arrow through his chest, interrupting the spell at once. With a deep groan, Tarsel fell to the ground.
Idan watched in horror as his father fell. He moved immediately to run to his father, but an unarmed Rhadra charged him, smashing into his side, knocking him to the ground. The Rhadra moved to leap onto Idan, who, in a second of terror, used magic to hurl a nearby rock at his attacker, who reared backwards, before again starting towards him angrily. Dazed, Idan rose as quickly as he could, hoping to formulate some resistance against his attacker. Just as the Rhadra again neared him, he stopped in his tracks, a jagged rock having penetrated his neck, killing him instantly. Idan’s rescuer, his grandfather Motran nodded to him swiftly before moving on.
Idan hurried to his father’s side, who gazed dreamily up at Idan, muttering, “Now’s your chance boy. Get this arrow out of me and show me that some of what I have taught has made a difference.”
Oblivious to the events around him, Idan grabbed the arrow and wrenched it out, prompting a gasp of pain from his father. The shaft remained embedded deep within Tarsel’s skin. Reaching out with his mind, Idan located the shaft in his father’s body, but came upon a problem – if he were to pull it out directly, it may pass through or at least damage his father’s heart. Placing his hand on his father’s chest, he mentally moved the shaft slowly towards the surface, making sure to keep it away from anything that could be fatal. His father groaned and arched his back, clearly in severe agony. Finally, after several seconds, the shaft reached the surface, and Tarsel let loose a great gasp as it left his body.
Idan knew his task was not yet done. The act had left a terrible wound, and blood was gushing freely from it. Idan mentally reached towards the wound, then as quickly as possibly pulled the wound shut and sealed it, but not before his father had passed out from blood loss. After completing the deed, Idan, exhausted from the chase combined with his work, glanced around just enough to see that the army of Hearthengale had defeated the Rhadra before he fell to the ground and promptly fainted himself.

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Again, comments and suggestions would be nice.


~Tiranasta~