Swords of Fire: Book I

The other day I posted the final Prologue from Book I on SOF - The People (http://sofpeople.blogspot.com). That Prologue no longer exists in Book I. Book I no longer has a Prologue.

Yesterday I wrote about 'spoilers'. I'm still not entirely sure how I want to proceed, but I think I am going to put something of Book I here. Mostly, it will be synopsis type things, but some of it will be snippets from the actual book.

Today I will begin with the (now departed) Prologue and the (still in place) Interlude I.

The Prologue's original purpose was to set the stage. I include it because it has important information which has yet to be incorporated in the book itself. The Interlude's original purpose was to set the mood. It also provides the key with which to unlock a good portion of what is taking place in Book I. I submitted the first 300 words or so of Interlude I to Evil Editor's blog (http://evileditor.blogspot.com). I got around 60 detailed comments on why/how it should be changed. I have made no changes to it at this time. I will mark the end of the Evil Editor submission with "* * *".

So, without further ado, here is Swords of Fire: Book I.

PROLOGUE:

The Great Sea. An ancient artifact of the High King, hanging in darkness for time uncounted. Lifeless, its ring of earth remained coated with a thick, unforgiving layer of ice until the Fire came, slipping into it like a finger into a ring. From the Fire came warmth – and life. The waters teemed with it.

The Great Sea. Playground to the Children of Fire, offspring of the High King’s thought. The Children played upon the waters and drew land from its depths. Life spread from the water to the land, and from the land to the air. All the Sea was covered in life. And the High King made the Free Peoples, beings of limited stature, but possessed with creative thought and power. The land, the air, the water: it would be their own to share.

The Great Sea. Battleground to the Children of Fire, for not all were willing to share. The Sea was ravaged and torn, bringing Death, the last to arrive. The High King stayed the wars of his children, and He bound them to the Sea to repair what they could. But the Sea would be theirs no more. It would be given to the Free Peoples – when they were ready. The sign will be this: One comes, the Madatar, who will have the power of Fire, which is the power of the High King. Thus far he is hidden, and by many Free People forgotten. But the Children of Fire have not forgotten. To the Faithful, Madatar is their own hope of redemption, and they seek to help his rise to power. To the Unwilling, he represents judgment, and they seek his destruction. But he is still hidden.

FIRST INTERLUDE:

In the deep darkness he brooded, but it was not the darkness that oppressed him. Indeed, darkness was his ally. Darkness was merely a weapon he used to his advantage. He had long ago learned when the image he had taken was shrouded in darkness the so-called Free People found it even more terrifying to behold than in the light.

He looked at his hand. It was deathly grey. Drawn and haggard, it was still more powerful than any creature on the Sea. Perhaps the dragons had greater physical strength, but they lacked his raw power. His face was a living skull with unblinking eyes and a taught covering pulled and stretched to reveal the form beneath. To those lesser things across the Sea he was seen as the living dead, and all but one would cower before him. This Other, though. Where was he and when would he appear?

Time moved forward. Time was his enemy. He was trapped in time, but to be anywhere else was to risk assault. In Time he would crush his enemy. He would crush all who opposed him. Meanwhile, what was he to do? He lacked advantage. It had been taken from him. Curse Kensington! He had to get it back. How could he gain the advantage over his adversary? Then he felt it! It was the feeling of new inspiration. A plan was forming. With a thought he summoned his servant.

* * *

A smaller entity, also grotesque in its appearance of a shriveled, sickening, yellow-green gnome, came through the shadows to bow in his presence. He was a nearly useless thing, having spent much of his power in the wars of a previous age. He was still strong enough to avoid the Isle of Nether Gloom, though, and so he was useful to communicate with others. No one would pay heed to the small ripples of air this one would make, and his close proximity meant he could be called without using the winds.

“My Lord calls?” Vitchkl asked, the voice a grating whisper, repulsive in its vibrations.

“A plan, Vitchkl. A plan is forming at last.” His own voice was a deep, echoing bass that made things nearby tremble – especially his servant.

“He has shown himself then, Lord Shatahar?”

Shatahar regarded his servant with disdain. “You do not hide your fear well, Vitchkl. But who is it you fear most: him - or me?”

“Surely you, my Lord,” Vitchkl quaked.

“Surely,” he said with sardonic dislike. He did not have time for this. “No. He has not shown himself. But that is all the better for us, for it means he is not ready. He is still preparing. If we act now we can draw him out before he is ready. He will be in our trap.”

“Excellent, Lord! Shall I alert the forces?”

“No. I still do not know where he is, but that no longer matters. I do not need to find him. He will come to me.”

“You are bringing him here?” Vitchkl could not hide his terror.

“Do not be a fool, Vitchkl! He will not be coming here. We will choose a place from which there is no escape. We will lure him there. Then he will be ours.”

“What place shall we choose, my Lord?”

His spirit sighed. What place? Yes, what place should they choose? With another thought an image of the Sea was before them. It was incomplete, though, revealing only what he knew of it. Curse Zenophone as well for his secrets! How was he to find their enemy if he did not have a complete image? Even what he had was not from his Master. He had made this on his own by moving from world to world. That was risky. It was impossible for him to travel and not be noticed. That was the negative side of the terror he projected. But changing form required so much energy, and he needed to save his energy while his enemy remained loose. He did not wish to draw his foe to him on his enemy’s terms, so he was left with limited knowledge. Curse Zenophone!

“We have some knowledge,” he told his servant. “We know his people are here, here and here.”

As he spoke certain worlds were highlighted in bright red, standing out clearly against the blue that represented the ocean. All were on the large side, accompanied by smaller worlds, most of which showed green, forming small girdles around their larger counterparts. Grey areas indicated the Cloud, the barrier that separated worlds. What he did not know was black - most of the map. Vitchkl indicated a fourth world, colored in purple.

“And here, my Lord. He has this small and isolated outpost which sits alone. It is, of course, of no account. And Geomahn is already there.”

“Yes,” he paused and found himself considering this distant, out of the way world floating at the Sea’s edge, with the very small and insignificant outpost. But – was it insignificant? He had never given it great consideration. It was small and certainly no threat. Why should his enemy bother with it when he had great hoards of followers on these other worlds? And, as Vitchkl had indicated, Geomahn was already there, periodically harassing them with the servants he barely controlled. Yet…

“There!” he indicated the small outpost, and suddenly the world upon which it sat glowed a flaming bright red. “That is where we will set the trap.”

“There, my Lord?” Vitchkl’s doubt could not be hidden. “But that outpost is so small. How could be draw him there? And Geomahn is there.”

“Geomahn!” he snorted his contempt. “The lazy fool! Thralls dare call him Warlord. Geomahn is weak and fearful. He remains there to give himself the illusion of power. He has not even rid himself of the small force occupying his very shores. Instead, he contents himself with harassment. But that is just as well, for we shall need that force to draw our enemy to us.”

“You will enlist their aid, my Lord?”

“No, you fool. We will launch an attack on them. We will put such pressure on them they will cry out for help. Then he will come. He will come.”

“For such a small force, my Lord? Surely he would not bother.”

“He will not come for the people, Vitchkl. It is not the people who make this world so important to him. It is what they guard. That is what is precious to him.”

“Kensington’s pillar?”

He flinched at the name. Kensington had been one of the Three, the first of the Children of Fire to come to the Sea. He had been named Lord of the Sea and given its regency. The others had been Draem, who had given her allegiance to Kensington, and Zenophone, his own master. But he did not have time for this. He ignored Vitchkl’s stupidity. “No. The portal.”

“The portal? I do not understand, my Lord.”

“Of course not, Vitchkl. You are a fool. But you serve your master so I tolerate your stupidity. Consider the portal: its direction has never been altered. Look where it leads.”

He focused on one of the worlds in red and its brightness quickly matched that of the outpost’s world.

Vitchkl gasped. “That is true! It leads to their world! You have always believed it would begin there!”

“Yes. I have been taking special care to watch that world. Look! He has three groups there. Three! I bet there is no other place on all the Sea where he has three. How convenient! A distant world, a small outpost, and what does the outpost guard? It guards a portal to the place where he has forces strong enough to inflict great damage to our cause. Why did I not see it before? This outpost is part of his plan! He needs this outpost because he needs this portal. We shall threaten his plans by threatening his portal.”

“And when he comes we shall close the portal!” Vitchkl now had the plan.

“Yes, Vitchkl. We will take the portal and he will be trapped with a small force and there he will die. Send word to Geomahn at once! He must begin an earnest threat against the outpost. We must not delay. Now that we have the advantage we must make full use of it.”

As Vitchkl departed Shatahar caressed the world’s image with great satisfaction. At last he had a plan. He had the advantage. Finally he would win. And with this victory he would become more powerful and be even closer to Zenophone. One day the plan would come which would allow him to rise to the very height.

“Oh, Madatar! You are in trouble now. How will you escape?”

I would be interested in any comments. After all, in my foolish ignorance this was what I once believed would actually be accepted by an agent and, eventually, a publisher. I have since been told this hope was a child's hope and that it is time for me to grow up and write something better. But if you have any comments - bad or good - let me have them.

Thanks.