The Word Cloud

Ok, here goes.
This is the first chapter of my book.
I hope many of you will take a look at it and tell me what you think.


The sun was sinking behind the horizon as the messenger emerged from the lush woods surrounding the southern part of Duman - the capital of the Morgona.
He reined in his mount and looked across the stretch of well-tended fields, covering the area of fertile soil up to the city gates. East of the city the fields made room for seemingly endless fenced meadows; home to the pride of the Morgona - the fabled Lamary steeds. The Lamary were sought after by almost every race of Borealyn for their high spirits and great stamina. To the west the Ikaris Cliffs closed in fast upon the city, melding with it where the knoll the city was situated upon sloped up to nearly half the height of the cliffs. On the highest point of the slope, nestled against the cliff, the castle of King Aeanon stood.
From within the gates the messenger heard a clear clarion call, reminding the populace that it was curfew and closing-time for the gates. He gritted his teeth in determination, grasped the reins of his mount firmly and spurred it into action. The mount fell into a gallop and the fields flew by fast as he closed in on the city.

When the messenger finally rode up to the city gates he nearly toppled from his saddle from exhaustion, clinging to the reins of his mount with the sheer strength of an unbending will.
It was now well after curfew and the gates of the city already closed. He mustered the last remnants of his strength and called out to the warden with a firm voice, only the faintest quiver belying his forceful demeanour.
“Humble greetings I offer, I seek entrance and shelter in your fine city.”
“What business does a Terocai have in our city?”, came the cautious reply.
“I bear a message of great import for your king. I mean no harm and my weapons are sheathed and peace-bound.”
The messenger bore the flag of truce – as white as freshly fallen snow – in his left hand, the pole resting in his left stirrup.
Girded around his waist was his sword; now showing the white-and-red intricately knotted band wound around the scabbard and hilt.
Both symbolised a peaceful intent.
The Terocai ground his teeth in frustration, then offered.
“If you insist I will surrender my weapons, but I have to speak to King Aeanon urgently.” Stressing the last word.
A few minutes passed, then a reply came in form of a small door in the left gate-tower opening.
A burly man stepped out and walked up to the stranger.
“What kind of important message could a run-down Terocai like yerself have for me liege?” he asked in a sneering voice.
For a fleeting moment the messenger was tempted to teach this puny Morgona a lesson in humility, but the moment of outrage passed and his diligent consciousness came back.
“It is none of your business, lackey”, the Terocai answered in a deadly-calm voice, “just lead me to your sovereign and be quick about it.”
The hand of the Morgona shot to his blade, but just as he was about to draw his weapon his eyes fell on the peace-knots of the Terocai’s sword. Suppressing his anger he slowly let go of it.
“You are lucky that we Morgona respect the flag you ride under, but I have to demand that you hand over your weapon.”
The Terocai nodded, unbuckled his scabbard and handed it to the guard. A slight shudder ran down his spine with the knowledge that he just entrusted his life into the hands of this biased sentry.
The guard took the scabbard, turned and walked to the city gates, which now opened.
On the other side an entourage of royal guards waited silently. The burly man walked up to them and handed the strangers weapons to one of them. A man in robes stepped forward and gave the Terocai a scrutinizing look. He then introduced himself.
“My name is Tarmin Lysanter, member of the mages council. My sovereign bids you welcome and has ordered me to escort you to the castle proper. I apologise for the rude treatment you received outside, but given the history of both our people, mistrust is an all too familiar trait to the common folk. I am afraid I have to ask forgiveness for this too”, he said apologetically, whilst procuring a small polished silver mirror from the folds of his sleeves, showing it to the prince. The mirror now displayed the image of the prince in front of the mage counsellor.
“You have been watched, ever since you left the woods”, the mage counsellor explained earnestly.
“Well met then Mage Counsellor Lysanter, I am Prince Orcan Amarra. I accept both your apologies and I too apologise for disturbing your sovereign at such a late hour, but I truly bear an urgent message from my father for him.”
“Agreed, but first allow me to silence the hooves of your mount, we would not want to disturb the well-earned rest of our fine citizens”, Mage Counsellor Lysanter replied prudently.
He moved his hands and arms through intricate gestures while chanting a phrase in the arcane language. From his hands little fluffy balls of light drifted towards the hooves of the horses and settled there, silencing any sound coming from them. When he was done Lysanter stepped to a waiting steed and led the way into the city. The royal guard escorting him fell in behind Prince Orcan.
“It is quite a way to the castle”, he explained, “let us make haste.”
After a few moments of riding quietly through the city, Mage Counsellor Lysanter looked at Prince Orcan and asked.
“Are you at liberty to disclose any information to me about the nature of your message?”
Now it was Orcan’s turn to take a scrutinizing look at the mage counsellor.
“I am afraid I can only tell you that I carry grim tidings for all of the Morgona, maybe even for all of the folk of Borealyn”, answered the prince.
The mage counsellor took another look at the prince.
“What about your wounds? Shall I have a medicus waiting for you at the castle?”
“I am alive”, came the answer through clenched teeth, “time is of the utmost importance in this matter, even more important than the welfare of a prince.”
They rode on in silence until the group arrived at the castle grounds.
Mage Counsellor Lysanter led Prince Orcan into the castle and again the royal guards silently fell in behind them. He moved hurriedly through the hallways, heading towards the king’s private receiving chamber.
Here King Aeanon waited. Ever since the news arrived that a single Terocai was travelling towards his city he wondered what prompted that Terocai to undertake such a perilous journey. And just now one of his mage counsellors told him that it was Prince Orcan, heir to the throne of the Terocai.

Aeanon settled back into his chair. His thoughts wandered along the hallways of time. Nine years into the past, to his first encounter with Prince Orcan at the end of the last war between the Morgona and Terocai.

After a long and arduous day of fighting the Morgona finally won the day. King Aeanon was sitting atop his steed on a hill overlooking the battleground, watching his healers tend to the wounded. A singular figure finally caught his gaze, a figure carrying the flag of truce.
Turning in his saddle he addressed his Captain of the Royal Guards.
“Rokan, bring the messenger to me and see that his safety is ensured.”
“Yes, my liege!”
Rokan pointed out four guards and rode swiftly down the hill, passing the healers and wounded, heading straight towards the figure steadily drawing nearer. It did not take them long to reach him. The captain reigned in his horse, raising his hand to order the four guards behind him to do likewise. Rokan was astounded when he finally stood in front of the messenger. It was a Terocai, that much was clear but this Terocai was no grown warrior, in front of him sat a boy. Captain Damyr guessed he was approximately in his tenth year. Suppressing his amazement he finally saluted the messenger.
“Greetings, I am Captain Rokan Damyr, my liege has bid me to escort you safely to him.”
“Greetings to you too Captain Damyr, I am Prince Orcan Amarra. My father sent me to offer a truce. I appreciate King Aeanon’s concern and accept your company gratefully”, replied the boy with a light voice, bowing ever-so slightly to Captain Damyr.
The captain turned his steed and the four guards took their places to the sides of the messenger, while Rokan took the point position. Then the escort rode on towards the hill where the king was waiting.
As they reached the king’s encampment, Rokan moved his horse to the side, turning to the messenger he proclaimed.
“I present his majesty King Aeanon Charakha, ruler of the Morgona.”
Turning to his sovereign he introduced the messenger.
“My liege, I present his Royal Highness Prince Orcan Amarra, heir to the throne of the Terocai, emissary for his father King Ingmar Amarra.”
Aeanon was amazed that his adversary sent his own heir on such a dangerous errand. He eyed him closely, but nothing in the demeanour of this boy gave any hint if he was afraid. He sat on his mount, calmly holding the reigns in one hand while the other carried the flag of truce.
The young prince was wearing a finely crafted suit of mail armour and a slender sword rested comfortably at his hip. At the moment this sword showed the intricately woven white-and-red knots of peace.
King Aeanon focused again on the face of this very unusual emissary, just as he spoke.
“I bid you heartfelt greetings your majesty, my father wishes to discuss a truce between our people. He sent me to you with a proposal on how to divide the land in dispute and hopes that your majesty will see the wisdom in his proposal.”
King Aeanon could not suppress a smile of amusement; the boy had courage, that much was sure.
“I as well offer heartfelt greetings, your royal highness. Let us see this proposal you talk about.”
The prince handed a scroll case to Captain Damyr and the captain in turn passed it on to his sovereign. King Aeanon took out the parchment and unrolled it. On the parchment was a map showing a rather straightforward proposal of dividing a stretch of land the two races fought over for years. King Ingmar offered most of the land in question to the Morgona, in return asking for land that was not in dispute. It was a rather small piece of land and the Morgona never used it. King Aeanon looked at the boy.
“Your father sent a rather daring proposal young prince. Do you know what is on this parchment?”
“Of course I know the map that is on the parchment, it was my idea”, he stated with a broad smile appearing on his boyish face.
“Although my father disapproves when I travel too far from the castle, I do know that the Morgona never use that piece of land. For us on the other hand, it would add a much needed water source to our lands.”
“A wise perception young prince.”
King Aeanon smiled again.
“Ride back to your father and tell him I agree and that he should be proud of his son who is wise beyond his years.”
“I thank you, your majesty, and will bear your answer to my father.”
Prince Orcan smiled again at King Aeanon.
“And I thank you for your praise, may the agreement we just struck ensure the peace between our people for many years to come.”
King Aeanon rode towards the prince and reigned in his Lamary steed beside him.
“Here is my hand on our agreement; the Morgona will honour it from this day on.”
Prince Orcan took the hand and returned King Aeanon’s grasp firmly.
“Just as the Terocai will keep to it too.”
Turning to Rokan the king said.
“Escort his royal highness back to his father.”
“As you wish my liege. He will be safe.”
With that the escort turned and Captain Damyr took his place on the far side again, as point position. He prompted his horse into a swift gait and then rode down the hill towards the far side of the battlefield.
Reaching the bottom of the hill Prince Orcan turned in his saddle, again a broad smile lightened up his boyish features and he gave a final salute to King Aeanon. A smile spread over Aeanon’s features too and he returned the salute.
When Rokan returned, King Aeanon looked at him questioningly.
“All went well, my liege. King Ingmar was grateful for the safe return of his son. He will leave with his forces tomorrow morning.”
“A spirited youngster he has there.”
“Indeed he has, my liege.”
Smiles now broadening the faces of both men.

King Aeanon smiled in recollection of that day and wondered what brought the prince to him on this day. If he was again an emissary for his father then some great calamity must have befallen the Terocai. King Ingmar was no fool, and he would never send his heir alone on a dangerous mission into the heart of enemy territory. But the prince was alone, meaning that either his companions died along the way – given the wounds the prince carried this was not unlikely – or the news he carried were grim beyond measure.
He shook his head; there was no way of telling what had happened without asking the prince. King Aeanon would have to wait until the prince was here. He straightened himself in his chair and prepared for a long night.
He sent a page to the healers and another one to the kitchen to have them prepare some mulled wine for him and his guests. Then he sat back again and waited for the arrival of Prince Orcan.

Hi Stormbride - from this, I can tell that you have read a lot of fantasy (and, dare I say, a lot of Salvatore? I can definitely detect a hint of Icewind Dale in some of turns of phrase!). It is very much squarely in the vein of 'traditional fantasy', with all the appropriate 'my Liege's and the like - nothing in terms of your vocabulary felt out of place for this kind of fantasy tale.

An awful lot happens here, very quickly: a lot of characters are introduced, a prince is revealed, a battle fought... slow down, lady! Each one of these things could easily fill a chapter each. Now, I know that's not necessary sometimes (sometimes, things need to be contracted and 'told', otherwise we'd end up with tomes so large and heavy you could stun camels with them), but in this case, I think you're galloping ahead of yourself. Take time to establish the central characters. Let us get to know them, let us decide who we like and who we don't, let know a little bit more about their motivation. As it stands, I know there's a disguised Prince called Orcan, a Mage Counsellor called Lysanter, a King called Aeanon - but I don't know enough about each to make a decision whose side I am on. I'll be honest - it took me a couple of goes to figure out who the messenger was (the Prince or the Mage Counsellor), and I'm still not quite sure if Orcan is meant to be the hero of the piece? This is quite important, because without knowing who I am rooting for, I can't commit to the story. I want to be there with your hero, urging him on, desperate to know if he succeeds or not. As it stands, I don't really know who your hero is, and so I can't do any of these things.

As with a lot of fantasy, there are a lot of names to learn, but some of them have been put in because you want to make sure they are mentioned, rather than leaving it until they actually serve the story. Believe me, I know how it feels when you've built up a whole mythology from scratch and you want to make sure your reader has all the information to immerse themselves in that world as soon as possible, but if you're not careful, you'll end up bombarding them with names, places and random facts about your world, and coming to it cold, it's a bit confusing. I can see you've got a rich vein to mine here - you've obviously given your mythology a lot of thought and are keen to establish it, but take your time. You don't have to get it all out in one chapter! Drip the information in as the story progresses, and the reader won't even realise you're feeding them mythology.

You've got a lot to work with here - lots of history, lots of characters, lots of mythology, which all promises to turn into a rich tale. But slooooow down. The revealing of Prince Orcan alone is enough for one chapter - take time to allow the reader to establish a connection with him (if he is indeed the hero - I am assuming he is?) and with his place in the world. Then take us off into tales of battles and valor! :-)

Hi Stormbride...have read this through and would like to add to what Elysia's already noted.

I wasn't sure who the main character is in this story? I'm assuming the Prince, but if so, check the POV, as it wasn't always clear - I'm sure we saw things from others point of view a few times...
I like the olde-worde language, though be wary in your dialogue of using too many tags for 'said' and how they said it. eg asked in a sneering voice, said in a deadly calm voice... the words your characters speak can do as much to show how they are saying them as you telling us how they said it.
There is some fantastic imagery here - I particularly liked the idea of a sword being tied up to symbolise it arrives with no intent for harm.
Mainly though, I think it does need to slow down to introduce the characters more fully...

Hi, you've clearly immersed yourself in a well thought out world full of places and characters that don't mean much to the reader. Who is your MC and why should we care about him? What are the stakes? How is your story different from your competitors in this genre (as portrayed in this chapter)?

These are the sort of questions a busy agent would ask when reading your first chapter. If the answers are not apparent, then maybe he or she won't feel inclined to read on.

Having said that, I thought it was well written, and there was plenty of drama, conflict, tension, and mystery built in. You could take more time to explore those themes, especially the flashback, which seems better presented either as a prologue or in a following chapter. But that's only my POV.

I hope that helps
kind regards

Thanks for the feedbacks Squidge and Stephen, they are appreciated.
I'm still digesting all of it at the moment.
I've made a private group for this and if you 2 want I'll throw an invite.

Cheers,
Stormbride

Would be happy to see it develop...