Open Question: What think so far of my prologue to a fantasy novel?
Miata tried not to breath in the repugnant air surrounding the crowd she was a part of: Outlying farmers fresh from the field, shopkeepers still trying to peddle their wares among the crowd, there wasn?t a single person willing to miss this spectacle, it seemed. So much noise from the crowd hadn?t been seen since the king had taken the throne from his father. Or that?s what her father thought.
She couldn?t help but stare at the procession of guards on foot, keeping the crowd away from the nobles trotting their beautiful horses through the market. She was amazed by the fine clothes and jewels the nobles paraded in, to mark his Majesty?s birthday. Her father had insisted she leave her trousers and tunic behind and wear a dress. A horrible, impractical dress.
Tightening her grip in her father?s hair with one hand, she waved the other happily, to all the pretty women and powerful men. Some waved back merrily, while others sat hunched, shielding themselves with hoods for the men and fans for the women. Perhaps they didn?t get out into the sun much.
Though Miata?s eyes stung from the sunlight reflecting off jewels, armor and the marble buildings closely packed together, she wouldn?t close them. She didn?t want to miss this, which even had her Da leaving the forge.
Her father always spoke of the King?s final birthday procession. He said that, as a magus he could choose his time to pass, and he?d decided on his sixtieth year of life. Mia didn?t understand fully what he meant, but she looked forward to the festivities nonetheless.
Her knees were securely against the sides of her father?s chin. It gave her a view better than the rest, the giant beneath her holding her up above everyone else. She could see clearly the servants on the roofs, tossing down handfuls of Arjent petals. She could even make out the shadowed figure slumped within an alcove, holding a longer, thinner shadow.
?Da, what?s he doing?? A thin finger pointed out the shadow to the people around who heard her bewilderment.
Her father stiffened below her, his shoulders shaking as his gaze followed her finger. While she carried on staring and waving at everybody, the shadow forgotten, he murmured something to the guard stationed closest to him. The guard took one look at the skyline before shaking his head, hands tightening around the shaft of his spear. He glared at the father and child, stepping forward as he raised the butt of his spear from the ground, quickly.
She felt her father hunch over as he was struck, but then she was airborne, flying over her Da?s shoulders and into the path of an oncoming noble and their horse. She wouldn?t be noticed, nobles never noticed anything. She wanted to scream, but the terror that gripped her heart and froze her limbs stopped any sound from coming.
?
The boy was situated on the edge of the column of nobles, riding through on his gelding, Marn, and offering a few curt nods in the direction of the crowds. He?d only agreed to leave his studies for this parade because he enjoyed riding his horse. Still the size of a mature pony, Marn was not upset by the hundreds of people out to see the nobles. He was definitely going to get extra sweet feed after this.
Thinking about his mount, given attention only because of his status as a noble?s pony, made the boy feel like an animal on display. His face didn?t betray his thoughts, keeping to the nonchalant smile his father had taught him.
What he wouldn?t give for a hint of breeze, or a downpour of rain, rather than the stupid pink petals and blistering midday sun. Surely everybody knew the flowers were a waste, destined to be trampled into the dirt street once the procession moved forward?
He noticed, from the corner of his eye, a guard seeming agitated, standing before a man with his daughter on his shoulders. The guard struck the man in the belly three times; knocking the wind out of him and sending him rocking to his knees from the pain. The girl didn?t seem to have enough intelligence to hold onto her father properly, as she was sent over his head when he fell, directly into the path of his horse.
Sprawled out on the dirt, he figured her to be two or three years younger than him, wearing a simple servant?s dress in light blue. A gentle pull on the reins stopped Marn with the minimum of fuss. Thankfully the gelding was used to his sudden stops, and didn?t fight him. He was small enough, trained enough, that horse and rider could stop where the common noble?s stallion couldn?t.
Sliding his leg over the saddle, he dropped down onto the street. Everyone was muttering, and even some of the nobles paused to watch what would happen. Idiots with nothing better to do.
When the girl looked up, her eyes flinched; her body stiffened as she frantically mumbled an apology. He knew some nobles beat commoners because they were richer, superior. He hated people; hated being dragged from his library, but mother wanted him to get some sun, some friends. Silly Duchess tha
Not finished of course

Fri, 29 May 2009 19:37:13 GMT

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