Alright, business first. For this novel (Architect of Legends), I'm currently sitting on it at about 55k words, and am now running outlining and redrafting for it. I don't really like posting superfluous pieces, so I'll post what backlog i produce for Sanderson's class in part, but I'll also be posting from either my First Quarter wotf submission, or my Second Quarter Submission, depending on where I am with it.
I'm told by Mark Twain that my new redraft is "simply stunning", and Lord Tennyson claimed it was "marvelous".
Done with business, now back to business.
Previously: Saul and Mert came to Koldar's Hollow looking to recruit a former enemy general turned freelancer. The general signed on for shifty unexplored reasons and sent them to go fetch two of his... employees, Lilo, a marksman, and Malchanor, an alchemist who inhaled a few too many fumes. They killed some bandits who were more or less caught by surprise, and Saul gathered them back to meet with Sargoth who was dealing with several other matters. Now they're back at the town.
“I think you may have gotten relaxed a far bit too early,” Mert said.
Saul followed the man’s gaze to the collection of tall figures encircling the inn. Each sylthanian stood almost two feet taller than he did, and was armored head to toe in glittering scale plates. The imposing figures were wielding enormous weapons, and each stood poised, ready to obliterate anyone who crossed them. From their positioning, they were both blocking and guarding the entrance to the inn. No one goes in or comes out.
Saul paused for a moment where he stood. He turned to speak to Mert when the sound of clinking glass filled the air. Saul looked back to see Malchanor rummaging through his enormous pack. The alchemist muttered to himself as he rooted through his bag. Already looking for his explosives.
Thankfully, Mert took the initiative before Saul could say anything and grabbed the alchemists’ hands and withdrew them. Malchanor gave Mert a gaze that would melt ice and scare children, but he withdrew his hand. All I need right now is the crazy alchemist starting a fight by lighting someone on fire.
“You think they’re here for Sargoth?” Mert asked.
“Of course,” Saul said. “And I don’t think they’re here for him. I think they already have him.”
Prelate Sargoth walked out of the inn a moment later alongside both his life-ward and a tall sylthanian marked as an Executor, a specialist commander. Sargoth was comically shorter than the rest of the sylthanians, a fox among the wolves. Even so as he walked past the tall females, his stride and posture suggested a commander who would not be cowed. An interesting notion given sylthanian males are virtual breeding stock.
“Oh, so good to see you, Master Rawne,” Sargoth called out. “Apparently I’ve been activated and called to return home. As it turns out my commission never ran out and Executor Kayda here has come to collect me.”
Saul ignored the dripping sarcasm. “And so you’re gladly going with them?”
The one that Sargoth had named Executor Kayda walked up to him. The commanding sylthanian was a large warrior, easily two feet taller than Saul. In one hand, she gripped a sylthanian longsword larger than most greatswords. She looked down on him like a scholar scrutinizing an insect.
He didn’t back down from the intimidation. Unlike a gnome who would gut you for breathing too heavily, sylthanians shrugged off most insults and challenges.
“By order of the High Shamans,” Kayda said through the opening on the skull-faced helmet. “The Prelate has been remanded back into active duty.”
“Well you can tell your High Shamans to wander off a cliff,” Saul said. “The Prelate and I have prior business arrangements.”
Careful. Don’t push too hard. They may not be as touchy as gnomes, but they still had boundaries.
The Executor paused and then pulled her helmet off. When compared to Sargoth her green skin was darker in hue and her cranial spikes were far more pronounced. Her nauseating azure-colored hair was wrapped a tight bun at the back of her head. Sylthanians weren’t terribly appeasing to the eyes and this one was no exception.
“I’m not interested in beating your scrawny head in, but if you press me I will splatter you through this town,” Executor Kayda said
.
Saul was not impressed. “If you think to awe me, think again. I’ve killed dozens of your kind, and I’m willing to do so here. When I’m done with the Prelate, you can have him, not until then.”
She paused then spoke. “I figured as much. Why you Easterners always remain so resolute, I’ll never understand. If you want him, then we’ll make some sport out of this. I’ll try and bash your skull in. You do the same to me.”
A duel? What kind of a preposterous notion was that from a sylthanian? This sort of nonsense is something I’d expect from gnomes. Saul sensed a trap.
“And the winner gets Sargoth?” Saul asked.
“Exactly,” the Executor said. “Do you accept?”
“How enjoyable,” Sargoth said. “Being fought over like a piece of meat. This brings me back.”
“Fine,” Saul said to the Executor.
He flung himself at the sylthanian, warmace gripped in his hand. The Executer’s sharp reflexes were all that saved her from a headshot that would have pulped her brains. Her sword spun out in a flash of steel, knocking his mace away before it imbedded itself in her skull.
She took of her helmet; she gets to reap the consequences. I’ll take any advantage I can. Sylthanian Executers didn’t get to where they were by being poor fighters and if he wanted to break free of any sort of trap, he’d need to kill her fast.
Muscles that had been retrained over the past years burned with the fire of combat. He struck like a viper, hammering at her defenses. She easily dodged the blow but his strike had been a feint. As she ducked back from his attack, he dropped to one knee and spun like a top with one leg outstretched, knocking the Executor off her feet. She regained her footing a split second before she would have collapsed. Saul took advantage of her recovery to slam at her defenses like a blacksmith at the forge. Each blow he threw at her would have been enough to crush someone’s skull, and the Executor’s only saving grace was her reflexes and quick parries.
He spun and twisted as he struck at every opportunity he could find. His sudden onslaught had caught her off guard and she was paying for it. Her own strength kept back his hammer-blows but by the concentration on her face, she was on the verge of breaking. He feinted left then right, before striking home. His warmace caught only a glancing blow on her but it was enough to force her back.
As she moved, the Executor struck with her left leg. The well-muscled kick had a tremendous force behind it, like being slammed by a battering ram. Saul rolled with the blow, avoiding being knocked off his feet, but he skidded to a halt four paces away.
She paused, letting him take the offense which would force him to come within her superior reach. He grinned at her and threw his mace like a hatchet, aiming straight at her head. The mace scythed through the air, but the Executer deflected the weapon with her sword. It spun over the heads of the watching sylthanians and crashed through the wall of the nearest building.
Even while the Executor was still deflecting the blow, Mert had thrown Saul his claymore. He caught the big sword and slashed like a madman at the Executor while she swatted away the mace. She barely brought her sword up in time to parry his blows. She finally got in some attacks of her own, but Saul’s reflexes let him dodge or parry them away. For his trouble, he still got a gash down his cheek which ran red with warm blood.
He took advantage of her long reach and scythed in and out of close melee range. The constant shifting of angle kept her confused, judging by the desperation of her attacks. Saul moved to slice in a vertical swing. Her sword moved to parry and he shifted his strike into a horizontal swing. She leapt out of reach of the slash that would have cut her in half.
Her dodge moved her into perfect placement for his next blow. Saul put out a burst of speed and then high-kicked her in the abdomen. She fell and crumpled to the ground.
Sylthanians were vicious opponents, but only if they got the initiative. If you struck first and never let up, they quickly lose their endurance and present an opening.
Saul closed the distance and brought the claymore down like an executioner at the chopping block. A moment before the blow would decapitate the Executor, a flicker of movement caught his attention. The huge warhammer wielded by Sargoth’s life-ward blocked his blow a moment before he took the Executor’s head off.
Saul looked from the life-ward, and then to Sargoth. “What is the meaning of this, Prelate?"
1. Is the action very vague?
2. How about specific details? Are they clear or not?
3. How is the pacing? Does it slow anywhere?
4. Anything else?
