Here you go. I've finally posted this. An excerpt from my Nanowrimo novel (and the synopsis).
want your honest opinion. Note the honest. If there's something you don't like, then tell me. We can only improve after correction, otherwise we could keep on doing the same thing, over and over again, never realizing it was wrong.
But remember, it's unedited right now. (And unfinished, I might add)
Eirad lives in a world where power has corrupted even the most pure of people. Those who have technology are the gifted ones...but those who know nature are even more so.
Rogue teams have joined up, all in hopes that they will be able to overthrow the one who caused all the pain that ravaged their world. Alliances are formed, trust is broken, and a betrayal nearly ruins all chance that they have.
In a place so broken and destroyed, is it possible for it to be started anew? Or will it crumble and die...broken with the evil that engulfs. The one way for it to be reborn is to be remixed; to be cleansed of as much damage as possible, in order for balance to once again be achieved.
The odds against them, the rogue teams become an army, and amasses enough men to carry through their plan; with the help of several Nature Singers, they stand a chance against the technology and frightening forces of the enemy.
But when Eirad doubts; when she begins to lose faith...that is the most crucial moment of all. And before she continues, she must be remixed. Or else all chance of fixing the world will be gone.
Forever.
Hannah Nicole, 2009
And an excerpt from Chapter Eight...
You are in danger. Eirad fingered the weathered paper she held in her hand. It was crumpled and dirty, but the ink was new.
Who could have sent such a thing? She wondered quietly, pocketing the note as she heard footsteps coming upstairs, silently praying that it was not Rormo who was coming to order her about.
The door swung open and Ronan swept in, his face red and his eyes flashing angrily.
“That—pig!” He spat out in rage. “That—vile—evil—son of a pig!”
Eirad sat calmly, used to Ronan’s tirade. She was not at all afraid of Rormo overhearing, for Ronan would never state such things when Rormo was near the house.
“What did he do now?” She sighed and braced herself for what he would say.
Ronan turned to her and grabbed her shoulders; she stiffened in his grasp as his fingers squeezed her.
“What—what is it?” Eirad gasped.
“You are in danger.” He only replied, and Eirad went cold as she recognized the same words from the scribbled note.
You are in danger.“What makes you say that?” She asked, taking care to keep her voice calm.
“Because it’s true.” He answered, letting go of her and pacing her room.
She stifled a groan. “Ronan, just because you say it’s true—that does not make it mean that it’s. What proof do you have? What reason do you have for stating such a thing?”
“I overheard Rormo talking to someone about it. I was in town, and—lurking—in the shadows. I didn’t want Rormo to see me, for I was supposed to be at the shop.” He paused and shook his head angrily.
She nodded for him to go on.
“He was talking to someone about you, and I heard him say that, ‘I don’t like her, I don’t like the looks of her, I want her gone.’”
“Ronan, that could just be—he could be referring to—someone else, or—” Eirad could find no words. She put a hand to her head which came back strangely clammy; the room seemed to spin a bit and she reached out her hand to steady herself.
“Stop babbling, Eirad,” Ronan cried, stopping his pace mid-walk. “This is not something that I am making up! I heard Rormo say so—I heard it, Eirad.”
“I’m not babbling!” Eirad snapped angrily; glad that she could turn to an emotion other than fear. She waited for Ronan to respond but he was starting out the window, deep in though, his eyes burning. Finally, she spoke again, a slight tremor in her voice. “Are you—do you know for sure?”
He snapped his eyes from the window and turned his body to face hers. “Yes, I’m completely sure. I know not to whom he was talking to—and I am to much of a coward to stay and try to find out—but his meaning was clear. Too clear.”
“What are you going to do?” Eirad asked calmly. “We don’t know for sure that he means to kill me.”
“No, I know—I don’t know what to do. Perhaps,” He ran his hand through his hair tiredly, “perhaps we should just wait until something shifts—we’ll know something’s wrong. It will be—” He stopped abruptly and cocked his ear, and his face paled.
Eirad stilled and listened, her heart sinking as she heard heavy footsteps tromping up the stairs slowly, but purposefully.
Hannah Nicole, 2009And from another part in the same chapter...later on...
Eirad was standing outside, facing away from the house and towards the trees—she was far from her home and any man-made structure; wanting a silent conclave with nature, to “hear” as Ebba would say.
The squish of footsteps in the warm mud snapped Eirad’s attention back to the conversation that she had had with Ebba.
Is Rormo acting already? Will he kill me now—will I die? She thought grimly. Her heart racing, she turned, bracing herself for the sight she thought to see—that of Rormo, leering wildly at her, ready to take her life.
Instead, Ronan’s face met hers—his jaw clenched and eyes smoldering.
“Oh.” She put her hand onto her heart. “Oh, it’s just—you.” She could not help but breathe out in relief, though she sought to disguise it by giving a cough afterwards.
“Ebba told me of how you must—” He clenched his jaw tighter and his hands curled at his side, “—she told me of how you must go.”
“Oh.” Eirad said flatly. “Yes. She spoke to me of it as well.”
“It’s not right—not right than Rormo should tyrannize over our home—you should not have to go.” He spat at the ground to the side of him and breathed out angrily.
“Ronan,” Eirad put her hand onto her cousin’s shoulder, “a great deal of things are not right in this world—this dying world of ours—but there is nothing that we can serve to do that would change them.”
“Yes, there are!” He cried fiercely. “You don’t have to go—we could threaten Rormo, expose him, we could—”
Eirad cupped his chin in her hands and pulled him sharply. “Ronan. Listen to me. There is nothing that we can do. I do not—I still do not fully understand the reasons as to why I have to leave, but my heart—” She paused and flushed a bit, “—my heart is telling me that it’s the right thing to do.”
“Why?” Ronan cried in a voice wrought with anguish. “You desire so greatly to leave? Why would this be the right thing?”
“Ronan, I already told you—I do not fully understand the reasons for this. But something tells me that this is right, and that it will lead to something—something that I cannot yet fathom.”
“You are beginning to sound like Ebba,” Ronan said bitterly, “with riddles lacing your tongue.”
“Why are you so angry about this?” Eirad snapped, her eyes burning, “there is nothing that we can do. I have to leave.”
“Because it isn’t right—it’s not right at all.” He growled and gave her a scowl.
“We’re talking in circles, Ronan.” Eirad said irritably.
Ronan stopped and stared at her, a faint smile touching his lips.
Eirad smiled back.
And it was in that moment that she knew she loved him.
Hannah Nicole, 2009Ronan and Eirad are cousins, and Rormo is Ronan's stepfather. Ebba is the healer...and more than that. (not gonna say anything else on that right now though. ;) (As for the love between Ronan and Eirad, I'm using the fact that in olden times, cousins would marry cousins--families were intermingled. And so in my world, it "works" like that as well. Just so you don't go, "wait, cousins...in love? ew...weirdo." ;)
Comments? I'd love to be critiqued on it. Like I said, it's nice to know what you need to improve.
But if there's something you like about it, don't hesitate to tell me as well. :)
Everyone likes a good review. ;)
