My Book--Chapter One

I admit, deciding what to post for this month has been a bit of a struggle for me. However, I have come to a difficult decision--I'm going to share with you the first chapter of my book. I did consider posting the entirety of my book on my blog, but doing so could potentially hurt the chances of my book getting published. So instead, I am only going to share the first chapter.

Please forgive any errors, but feel free to comment with any corrections or advice. I am always open to suggestions. Also, just so you know, this story is geared toward a young adult age group, although anyone can read it :)

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Thick morning mist hangs over the countryside like a heavy, gray shroud.  Nothing stirs. There isn’t even a breeze.  The tall, dark trees and lush, dew-covered grass stands motionless and silent.  The sun announces its rising with a soft pink glow that lingers over the distant horizon.  However, the light doesn’t penetrate the damp, cool mist of a sleep-quieted valley.  Then, like the shocking flash of lightning ripping across a black night sky, the peace is broken as the sound of huge, powerful wings—straining for more speed—echoes through the valley.
            The Chosen leans over the neck of his Ferres, his eyes stinging as the wind from their speed beats against his face. He glances over his shoulder. The pursuers still follow on their own winged and horned horses. He guides his Ferres low to the ground, the mist parting before them like the opening to a great chasm. And the pursuers still follow, their black capes lunging out behind them and their dark eyes seeming to burn holes into his back.
            Ahead, somewhere through the mist, there would be safety and shelter in the cover of the Shades.  But he can’t see the forest.  Only a sixth sense told him that they head in the right direction.
            But will they be too late?

The first of his three pursuers is gaining, his mighty black Ferres charges headlong through the mist just a few feet behind the Chosen.  He releases the animal’s reins and lifts a scarlet and silver bow from the folds of his billowing cloak.  Then slowly, almost mechanically, he strings a single white arrow, and draws his arm back.
            The Hunter can see the Shades now, rising from the mist like a wall, menacing and dark. The Shades promise shelter and cover, if only temporary, for the Chosen.  He watches with dark eyes as the Chosen glances once again behind him.
            The Hunter smiles to himself as he takes careful aim. “There is no escape for you now, young Chosen,” he let the arrow fly.

            Elsmar Rethgan sat up with a jerk, drenched in a cold sweat. She shuddered, pushing tangled black hair off her forehead. She looked around in the darkness of her room. Something wasn’t right.
            There was a hint of smoke to the air.
            She was suddenly fully alert. Was that a scream? She bounded from her bed and dashed to the curtained window, peering out toward the nearby town of Roen. Orange flames lit the night sky. Her blood pounded cold through her veins. The town was burning. That could only mean one thing.
            Shadow Riders.
            She turned away from the window, frozen in shock. She had to wake Heldr. Their farm was just a few miles away from the town, on the crest of a tall hill. It was only a matter of time before the Shadow Riders arrived.
            Before she could reach the door, a knock sounded and it burst open. Heldr stood in the entrance; his red hair still messed up from the night’s sleep. In his arms he held a pair of saddlebags, hurriedly stuffed with various necessities.
            “Elsmar, quickly,” he pulled her forward, throwing her heavy cloak over her shoulders. “I’ve saddled Commander, take him and ride to Hartleville. Go to your aunt’s inn there.”
            “But dad—”
            “I’m staying here,” he cut her off. His eyes were dark. She knew it was no time to argue. “Stay with your aunt, I will contact you as soon as it is safe,” he paused to glance out the window. A small group of black-cloaked riders with torches in hand could be seen riding up the road toward their farm. “Now, go!” He drove her forward, opening the back door and sending her out into the darkness. “Go, child, ride will all speed.”
            “I love you dad,” she cried out, looking behind her as she ran to the barn where Commander was waiting. Hot tears blurred her vision as she fastened the saddlebags. Moments later, she was galloping away as the Shadow Riders neared the only home she had ever known.
            Her tears dried as she concentrated on guiding the speeding horse down the hill and toward the Shades. The dark forest appeared like an eerie black wall rising up under the silvery light of the full moon. A thin layer of mist hugged the surface of the earth and swirled around her horse’s churning legs. Everything about the night was menacing, as if nature itself had succumbed to the evil that enveloped the land. Elsmar shuddered and was thankful for her heavy cloak. It was early spring and the night air still held a touch of winter’s cold.
            She knew if she followed the edge of the Shades, she could reach Hartleville in a three days’ ride. Staying so close to the forest bothered her, but it was the only guide she knew that would lead her to her intended goal. The Shades was an ancient forest, fabled to be inhabited by Shadow Riders and a notorious elven sorcerer. Few had entered the heart of the forest and lived to return. The bold among Hunters and Merchants had traveled through the borders of the woods, but none dared to venture much farther into its mysterious depths.
            The darkness of night faded into the gray of early morning. The mist thickened and made it impossible to see very far ahead. Elsmar had no choice but to slow the horse to a walk. The mist swirled and shifted, causing every object to come alive. Elsmar guided Commander forward, careful to stay close to the boarder of the Shades. If she lost sight of the forest, she would be hopelessly lost.
            She pulled Commander to a halt and twisted in her saddle, looking behind her. Had she seen something move? The heavy fog teased her mind. It’s nothing, keep going. She forced herself to send the horse forward at a walk. The hushed rush of wind through powerful wings announced the approach of the Ferres before Elsmar saw it.
            At that moment, her dream became reality.
            Elsmar watched, stunned, as the Ferres’ rider glanced over his shoulder. He glanced to the side—at her—as the huge winged and horned horse soared past. His glance had been just a split second of time, but Elsmar saw it as if it was several minutes. Those icy hazel eyes didn’t plead for aid or reflect terror. They simply held a warning and a message; “You have been called.”
            Then it was gone, shattered, as a white arrow rocketed toward the Chosen. Elsmar saw the rider jerk as the arrow drove into his flesh. Then she lost sight of them as a mixture of fog and the shadows of trees enveloped them.
            The dark-cloaked pursuers burst into view. The foremost of them was stringing another white arrow to his dark bow; his black cloak billowed behind his shoulders. A shiver raced Elsmar’s spine as the hooded figure turned his head toward her. She couldn’t see his eyes but she felt his gaze hit her. It was like a cage of icy metal closing around her.
            The dark rider released the second arrow and vanished from view.
         Terror hit her like a wave. She drove Commander into a gallop, riding away from the scene she had witnessed. Everything that had occurred that morning hit her anew. Overwhelmed tears slid down her face. The town she had grown up in had been burnt, and she didn’t know if the same fate had come to the only home she had ever known and her beloved stepfather. And now, she had witnessed the final moments of a young Chosen’s life.
            She realized that he was probably the same Chosen that the people of Madoma had been whispering about. She knew from stories that there hadn’t been a Chosen seen since the early days of Draetagh’s reign. They had done everything in their power to stop him . . . but they had failed. The Chosen were a symbol of hope, and hope had faded away with the Chosen.
            A sinking feeling echoed in her chest. Would she live to see things like the town elders had described? Peace, life, freedom, and prosperity—not just for the ruling tyrant and his puppet lords. She couldn’t imagine being able to sleep at night without being afraid of Shadow Riders attacking her home, or being taken away without warning to whatever horrid fate awaited her. Heldr had always said they had it easy, that it was much worse in the settlements near Ishlain Varr, the city where Draetagh himself resided. Roan, part of the Central Plains, was on the eastern side of the Shades while Ishlain Varr resided on the western side.
            A sudden sound, like a wild animal’s cry or perhaps a woman’s wail, tore Elsmar out of her thoughts. She looked up, realizing that she was riding just within the edge of the Shades. Commander sprang into a desperate gallop, not listening to Elsmar’s cues to slow. Something huge and dark crashed through the underbrush to her right. Commander twirled and tore madly deeper into the forest.
            “Whoa, boy, Whoa!” Elsmar’s cries did nothing to slow the frightened animal. She could feel her balance thrown off as the horse sprang over a low hedge, stumbling upon landing, and lurching Elsmar to the side. A low hanging branch tore Elsmar from the saddle, knocking her to the ground, and slamming her head against a log.
            Everything went black.
         

Consciousness slowly reclaimed Elsmar. The first thing that she realized was that it was very dark. The second turned her blood cold. She was in the Shades—alone. Her head pounded in protest as she slowly sat up. She gently prodded where it had struck the log and found the spot sticky with blood. Horrified, she drew her hand away.
            Don’t be afraid.  A deep voice echoed through her mind, like a thought that was not her own.
            Something large was standing not far from her; a huge black shape looming in the darkness. She recoiled, scooting away until her back was against the trunk of a cool, moss-coated tree.
            There is no need to fear. The form shifted forward, closer to her.
            Elsmar could almost see it now, even though it was dark, she could see its general shape. A horse? No—
            —a Ferres, It moved forward another step. She could see its huge white wings now. I’m a Ferres.
            Startled, Elsmar stared at the animal. Did it just finish my thought?
            This is how I can speak. I can speak to you through my thoughts. The Ferres walked closer, until he was standing right in front of her. She could see his long, silvery mane hanging down to powerful gray shoulders. His horn glinted in the moonlight, stark against the night sky.
            You can read minds? Her vision blurred momentarily. She felt very light headed. Perhaps she was seeing things.
            No, I can hear your thoughts. He leaned forward, and blew through his nose. His warm breath tickled her scalp, leaving behind a tingling sensation. That should help.
            Elsmar reached up as he drew his head back and prodded her head for the wound. It was gone. Her vision had cleared and head didn’t throb in protest to every move she made. How did you do that? She realized the answer before he said it—magic.
            Yes, Elsmar, magic. Like the elves and fairies, Ferres are magical beings. That is what allows us to have such a close bond with our Chosen. His silver ears pricked as something small rustled past in the nearby brush.
            Elsmar stared at the stunning animal, wondering what sort of luck it was that she would meet a Ferres. She didn’t even realize that he had known her name. How did you find me?
            That, was probably the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Finding you was like smelling out water when I am thirsty. I’am drawn to you.
            You’re drawn to me? What is that supposed to mean?
            The Ferres shifted his weight, lifting his wings and arching his glistening neck. I wished to find you at a better time, but I see that we both have no choice in this. He paused, as if preparing himself, I am Keldiar and you, Elsmar Rethgan, are my Chosen.
            Chosen! She drew in a deep breath. The image of the Chosen, fleeing from the Shadow Riders flashed before her eyes. Her stomach turned as she re-lived seeing him jerk in the saddle as the arrow found its mark. I’m a Chosen?
            She stared at him for a moment, enveloped in complete shock, and then the shock eased away, leaving her to feel absolutely nothing. As if she were numb.
            Ignoring her reaction, he continued. These are desperate times. The Ferres studied her with his large, liquid eyes, we must go. There is much to do.
            Elsmar blinked and closed her eyes. This has to be another dream.
            Its not, Keldiar’s voice rumbled.
           I have to get to my aunt’s house. I have to know if Heldr is ok. For some reason, her excuses struck her as trivial compared to the obviously enormous task that the Ferres referred to—freeing Madoma from Draetagh.
            We can go to your aunt’s home. We will need supplies for the trip.
            What trip?
            To the Crystal City, of course.
            The Crystal City! Elves! Elsmar straightened. She had always dreamed of meeting an elf, but the majority of the race had vanished long before she was born. It was rumored that the elves lived in a secret city of crystal, somewhere in northern mountain range known as The Heights.
            Yes, elves, lifting his silver head, he glanced over his muscular shoulder. We should get moving. It’s not safe in the woods this night.
            Wait, she stood. What about the other Chosen? Are their more?
            Only one other. . . and as for his fate, that does not rest in our hands. It is likely much too late now.
            So, I’m the only one? How am I supposed to be a Chosen? I’m only seventeen. I’m no hero.
            He cocked his head to the side, studying her, maybe not yet. But it is who you are on the inside which truly matters. In time, you will find yourself. He gracefully lowered to his knees. Now, come, we must hurry. There are dark ones who will wish to bring you harm. We should go.
            Elsmar hesitantly slid onto Keldiar’s silky back, tucking her knees between his shoulders and powerful wings. She gathered a handful of his silver hair, don’t go too fast.
            The Ferres chuckled, and hurtled into the air.

© Copyright Charity K, 2014

Also, I am looking for a few people (preferably not family members) who would be willing to read the entire story and give me feedback--if you are interested let me know!