My Novel

Here is a Novel I started to write when I was in the military 9 years ago.

CHAPTER ONE

The girl crouched on the moonlit sand listening to the baying of the slavehounds. The unearthly howling seemed to match the heaving of her air-starved breasts as they thrust against the skimpy cotton of her shift, moving the soft material over the cuts decorating her lithe body. The cuts hurt, and she could feel blood thickening along her back and buttocks. She ignored the pain, thrusting to her feet, steeling her body to make the impossible effort of outrunning the slavehounds.
Once she had seen the hounds bring down a runaway slave. The man had broached the walls of the Orphan slavepen at noon, trusting in the desert sun to keep the guards asleep. He had omitted remembrance of the dogs. And along the high picketed walls, there were small exit holes that allowed the gaunt, grey beasts ready access to the blank wastes beyond the walled city. The hounds had gone out, three of them, with weird, unholy cries, their great red-lipped jaws slavering a joyful anticipation of the unexpected sport. They had brought the man down in sight of the city, and the slave guards had lined their squads upon the wall; to watch. The hounds stood high as a man's hip and their mouths were lined around with ivory fangs that pierced flesh as easily as a vorpal sword. They were near as fast a deer, and they had brought the runaway down no more than a quarter kli from the walls.
They had played with him for too long.
The girl rose up and ran. She ignored the pain that seemed to shred her feet to bloody, spoor-filled ribbons of blood over the desertland of the Southern Kingdoms. She ignored the aching agony that threatened to burst her lungs beneath her jouncing breasts. She ignored the stinging pain of the lash marks. She ran.
She could imagine the slavehounds at her rear. Even feel, in her mind, the wet-painful kiss of those great jaws, the ivory fangs closing and tugging on her skin; shredding and ripping until she was brought down, yet alive, for the sport of the hounds, and their Orphan masters.
Terrified, hating, she ran.
She ran over the sands surrounding the walled city of Orphan, heading towards...something. She had no clear idea of what it might be, knew only that she must escape the slavery that had destroyed her parents. And never again face the lash.
Behind her, the slavehounds closed in.
They spread out, the six of them, into a confining semi-circle. It was a pattern bred by the expert slavemasters of the city: the hounds ran down their prey until it was so weary, then they moved out to form a horned pattern, so that the victim ran within a half circle of inescapable pursuers.
Then the slavehounds completed the circle. And fed.
The girl wanted no part of that dread circle, and yet saw no way by which she might escape it. Lacking plan-almost lacking thought-she ran as a animal runs: blind, desperate, seeking only the unattainable. Her feet thudded over the burning sand, hot even now in this southern clime, here eyes darted around the moonwashed dunes, seeking a refuge she knew could not be found.
But refused to give in. She had no hope, nor any weapons except her soft limbs. But she would not resign herself to death anymore than she would agree to slavery, the whip, and the brand.
She ran. And the hounds drew closer.

If some people do not like some of the words I have used just let me know and I will delete this Topic.
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By Clanggedin. What does a Dwarf have to do to get a drink around here.


http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/evermeet

[This message has been edited by BladeMaster (edited 06-12-2001).]

[RudeDawg]

Wow, great hook...

Where's the rest?

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Originally posted by RudeDawg: Wow, great hook... Where's the rest?

Still working on it.

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By Clanggedin. What does a Dwarf have to do to get a drink around here.


http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/evermeet

Here is somemore of it.

Their baying wafted on her ears, culling the nightsounds from the desert until there existed only the weird howling, and the soft swift pad of stealthy feet. She sensed, rather than saw, the shapes close in around her; but the waft of fetid breath, the clacking of the fangs, they were real enough. Then, out of the darkness, came a great black shape. Slavering jaws spread wide to take her, and she hurled herself away, tumbling hopelessly over the sand as huge, clawed paws drew fresh blood from her skin. She screamed-for raw fear is a hard emotion to suppress-and rolled down the dune towards the waiting, gaping eyes glowing crimson in the waning light. She came to her feet and clenched her fists, knowing it was useless-nothing could stand against the slavehounds of Orphan. But still she rose up and readied herself to die, hoping to hook one hand at least into the eye sockets of a demon-dog.
The slavehounds sat back on heavy-muscled haunches, their tongues lolling out from between curved teeth. Their eyes were red with blood lust, an almost human sadism glinting in the scarlet orbs.
Their waiting was their undoing. Had they charged in, they might have changed the course of history; cut a line of evolution of from the start; ended an empire and given birth to a new order.
But they were trained to wait, to anticipate, to savour.
And so they failed.
They closed in slowly around the panting, helpless girl, their great jaws gaping wide to rend suppliant flesh, crunch bone, teach suffering to a recalcitrant slave.
And the girl watched them come, prepared to sell her worthless life as dear as she might, knowing she had no hope, that no benevolent god would stoop down to lift her clear of the slavering death surrounding her quaking body.
But then something came. Perhaps not a god, but equally effective.
It came out of the night, and it was black as the night, so black she could no more make out its shape than she could tell what it did. All she heard was the sudden yelping of the slavehounds: howls of rage and squealings of pain, whimpers of fear and barks of frustration. She saw a blackness dart across the moon, plummet downwards. A larger shape rose into the sky, split apart, one section falling as the other swooped towards the nearest slavehound. There was a howl agony, close followed by a second, and a sound of wings beating like war drums on the desert air. She smelt blood, thick and salt as the cuts on her back, and knew that something attacked the dogs. It moved faster than any beast she knew, turning in one black wingbeat to rake talons over the muzzle of a darting hound, lifting to drop a moon-brightened beak to the eyes of another. Then back into the air, and down again, beak and talons and wings flailing like a hellstorm around the slavehounds.
Four of the great beasts added their blood to the shadows on the sand. The remaining two turned tail and ran, pursued by the... thing; she could give no name to it. Only feel gratitude, allied with fear, for she had no idea what it might be, nor if it fought to save her for itself or herself.
She climbed to her feet again and began to run eastwards.


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By Clanggedin. What does a Dwarf have to do to get a drink around here.


http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/evermeet

[Jafin]

This is pretty cool... Keep writing! If you ever get this published, I think I'd buy it. I'm wondering what the black things are.... Oh now look what you've done! You've got me hooked!

-Jafin

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I may look like an old man now, but just you wait until I take off my fake beard and wig and show you Tiltowait!

Thanks for the encouragement guys. I will just have to make sometime to continue on with the story.

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By Clanggedin. What does a Dwarf have to do to get a drink around here.


http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/evermeet

Just pushing this to the top to get everyones opinion on the start of my novel

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By Clanggedin. What does a Dwarf have to do to get a drink around here.


http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/evermeet