I am writing a new book called "The Sorceress." Here's the first chapter. Tell me what you think! :D As you already know, I am open to all honest criticism.
Anya ran through the woods, fear beating against her heart in a rhythym worthy of a drum.
She wiped sweat off her forehead, breathing hard. She was sure the goblins had seen her. How could they not have noticed the immistakable glint of green as she stole the emerald?
Anya quickly climbed a tree and removed her pack. She pulled out the precious emerald and clutched it tightly, hardly daring to believe that it was real. Was this the actual emerald she had been attempting to steal for months now? Anya pressed her ear to the emerald. Sure enough the familiar buzz of energy that meant the emerald was real was there.
Anya replaced the gem carefully, wrapping it in the cloth she had with her. She closed her pack and slid down the tree, scratching her elbow as she went.
Anya heard a branch snap and leapt behind a bush, landing lightly on her feet. She moved a few branches out of the way so she could peer through at what had just followed her.
Ten naked green creatures were running through the woods on all fours. They were extremely skinny and their arms and legs were long and fragile looking. Their ears were long and pointed like an elf’s. Their eyes were small and always black. Their voices were either very high-pitched or very low. It was never in between. They were obviously angry.
Anya squinted her eyes and strained to hear what the goblins were talking about. They were speaking in loud whispers. One goblin was pushing another goblin to the ground agrily and seemed to be accusing him of something. The other eight were huddled in a circle and were talking a little more calmly. They seemed to be plotting something.
“I told you to stay by the emerald!” a goblin said to another goblin lying in the dirt. “Where were you when you were on guard?”
“I-I- was guarding the C-Captain,” the goblin in the dirt stammered. “H-he needed p-protection.”
“No he didn’t, you brainless git. We can get another Captain. What we can’t do is get another emerald!”
“Please! Please!” A goblin armed with a smaller version of the sword Anya held pulled the goblin off of the terrified creature cowering on the ground.
“Stop wasting time, Snorc,” the deep-voiced goblin growled. He grabbed Snorc’s arm. “We need to find the human.”
Snorc pulled his arm away from the other goblin and bared his teeth.
“I want to make sure I don’t get punished for this,” Snorc said. “When we inform the Captain of what happened, I want it to be made clear that I didn’t do anything.”
Goblins, Anya thought. Always looking out for others.
“We might not have to tell him anything if we find that girl fast and get the emerald back.”
“You don’t understand,” Snorc protested, fear visible in his eyes. “You don’t have to be scared of anything. The Captain won’t punish his second in command. You don’t know the means of torture he punishes us with.”
“I know full well what the Captain does for punishment,” the goblin retorted. Anya saw his ugly green face draing of color slightly. “And I agree full-heartedly. Now let’s get a move on.”
Anya waited with baited breath for the goblins to gallop off into the woods. Unfortunately, they were going the same way Anya needed to go to get to the King’s castle.
Anya peeked around the bush for any remaining goblins and, spotting no danger, set off down the woods, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. Anya sticked to the shadows, hoping if she ran into trouble that the goblins wouldn’t notice her in the darkness.
Any noise that Anya heard made her jump: a squirrel scurrying across the leaves, a bird singing loudly, an occaisonal deer that snapped a branch in half.
The woods were darkening faster and faster as the sun set. The trees rich with leaves blocked out most of the sunlight, making it harder to navigate the large woods.
Anya had no trouble though. She could walk through the woods with her eyes shut and her feet would take her right where she needed to go. Anya couldn’t keep track of how many times she had walked this path. She had come to these woods many times to hunt for food with a poorly made bow an arrow before the king had sought her help. Those days were the worst. Anya remembered the times where she had to beg for scraps from the garbage can and people felt bad for her and tossed her change for food. She remembered when her ribs were poking through her skin and half a loaf of stale bread was a feast. She remembered a soldier coming through the woods on horseback and watched her fight off two goblins that had swords. She remembered his stunned face as she finished them off with a flourish. The soldier didn’t explain anything but told her to climb on behind him. She was taken to the castle and was given a bath, some proper clothing, and more food than she could ever imagine she’d be able to eat. Then she was brought to the king and the soldier was right next to him. She listened to the soldier explain to the king was he had seen her do and how she seemed to glow when she was fighting. The king had listened thoughtfully and then told her all about the emerald and the goblins want to take over the kingdom. He had told her that the emerald gives the holder magical powers and that the king needed it back so the goblins wouldn’t over throw him and leave the kingdom in ruins.
Anya made it out the entrance of the forest and saw no goblins. She hurried down the lane and into town where most of the shops were closing up for the day. She ran to the castle and the guards let her in, closing the gate behind her.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I am an 18-year-old homeschooler, author, daydreamer, voracious reader, introvert, feminist, klutz, fangirl, and overuser of tape. I love the impossible (which might explain my obsessions with fantasy novels and Harry Potter) but I dip into the real world . . . occasionally. I tend to get overly emotional over my OTPs and eat sushi or listen to Taylor Swift to soothe the pain. If all else fails, reruns of “Doctor Who” or “Supernatural” is sure to help. I’m a big fan of mismatched socks, Cheez-Its, and bittersweet endings. I believe anything Rainbow Rowell, Felicia Day, or Lin-Manuel Miranda touches turns to gold. If you want to win the way to my heart, help me adopt a baby elephant. Or a llama. Or both. I write to survive and will often yell at my characters if they aren’t behaving, which is always. It doesn’t usually help. I am a contributor to the "Fauxpocalypse" anthology. You can follow me on Twitter at @Magic_Violinist.