Serp
11-26-2008, 11:54 AM
Ok here is the first part, after my introductory chapters, of my novel "The Blood in the Stone". I would like your comments and criticisms. If anything is missing please tell me, and if you would like to read the introductory chapters please say so, but as of now I am working on them :P
1
Vermistra.
I poked my head out of my room door, looked onto the marble floored corridor that linked the rooms on this floor and listened carefully. No one was coming. I crept out into the corridor, my dress shuffling at my feet and I quickly walked towards fathers main study room, as I crept along the corridor I found myself stopping to admire the portraits of my family members, throwing all sneakiness I had tried to build up out the window. The pictures that caught my attention were those of my ancestor, the child of the two founders of the Delarbok family, Oldas Delarbok. I looked at the pictures of him on the wall, the portraits ranged from him being in his early teens to his senior years he aged gracefully as the pains of aging were being held behind a barrier of his beauty, the fact that interested me so was that he reminded me so much of myself, his features feminine yet stern. Oldas the first was mixed race, half Ghanaian and half Japanese, he had long silk like black hair and a complimentary golden brown complexion. With his Asian eyes and darkened skin he gave off a mysterious aura made him in some ways resemble something mysterious but not altogether secret, the resemblance was not directly in looks, but a faint similarity between the two. I on the other hand, despite being of both Japanese and Ghanaian lineage was white, my bloodline being diluted over time with generations of Greek, I had long dark hair and a complexion that could only be called Greek with a hint something exotic.
I twisted my head sharply, I hadn’t heard footsteps, but I swear I had heard something or maybe saw something, or at the very least felt something from the other end of the corridor, or it could just be paranoia was setting in. I listened carefully, no sound made its way back to me, but I kept still for a few more moments, trying not to jynx the situation. Then I made my way to fathers study room, and quickly twisted the knob. “Fuck!” it was locked with a locking spell. I had to think quickly I could hear footsteps approaching again, be it my brother or a servant I could not take that chance. I needed an opening spell, “Shit, shit, shit! Think!” Finally after a few flustered seconds I had it in my mind. I muttered the words of the spell and waved my hand over the lock, the hand gesture wasn’t needed, when a simple thought in that direction would suffice, but it was a force of habit, as many spells needed direction I had come to use the gesture for all my spells. I placed my hand on the knob and twisted expecting the door to open now, my hand twisted the knob and still no progress, fuck it was still locked, had I thought it would be this easy, what a fool I was. I tried the unlocking spell over and over each with no luck, this locking spell was either cast by my father or brother, not that my brother was that much better at magic than I, he just had a little quirk about his spells that made it all the more harder for my magic to counter it. I was starting to get very annoyed, and was running out of time the footsteps were getting far too close for comfort and I feared to imagine what trouble I would be in if found. The large oak wood door in stood in front of me and behind it, the spell books I yearned for, a chance to teach myself real magic like what my brother learned, what my father knew. But no as a girl I was deemed with the task of mastering such simple spells, that even since I was eleven could cast flawlessly. All the useless magic I had learnt so far, Beauty Magic as I called it, was just as the name suggested, it made pretty beautiful things, but that was all, no substance no real aura of magic about it, just flowers and glitter.
“Fucking magic!” My rage now getting uncontrollable, mixed in with all the anxiety was growing, I could feel it inside me, like the feeling you get when magic flows from your centre to your fingers and out, in a glorious explosion of energy and power, but only this felt more primal, rage feeding it. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to put all my force into wrenching the door open and barging in, I knew it was a feeble attempt but I was so pissed off and felt so powerful my anger giving me a boost in strength. My grip on the handle was tight and all my strength was put into trying to break the spell and open the door, a lot more physical strength than what I had was needed to break such a magical spell but I still tried. The skin of my palm, rubbing against the silver of the doorknob, a warm prickly feeling started to sweep across my palm, the light sound of a vacuum and a few purple sparks fizzling around the doorknob and my hand appeared. I pulled my hand away from the door instantly like a reflex, I looked down at my hand, everything seemed normal, my hand did not seem damaged, what kind of defensive spell had been cast on the door, I could not help but wonder, but reminded myself not to bring it up in lessons.
While being caught up in the awe inspiring normality of my hand, I hadn’t noticed the door had opened, until I heard a creak. A low, but distinguishable creaking sound of a door opening. I stuck my head in and surveyed the room, looking left to right and back to left. Everything seemed normal, I snuck inside the large room closing the door behind me, the room was vast, larger than I had ever imagined the room to be, yes I had walked past this room countless times in my life but had never been inside, only my father and his advisor Argen ever entered this room. The room was filled with over 10 large bookselves, filled with volumes upon volumes of books, different shapes and sizes, 2 large oak desks and a small bed in the corner. Ok enough dithering, I had to find the grimoires, my fathers most powerful spell books, I looked over my fathers bookshelves, old dusty spell books, classification guides to herbs, nothing of real interest. There they were on a pedestal at the back of the room, I guess my father had no need to hide it seeing as he locked the room himself.
Two large and bound in red leather spell books, one written in Japanese, and the other written in Akan, with one smaller but still quite large one in between them. That was the one I needed the middle one, it held our families most guarded spells a cross between both sides of our ancestry. I grabbed the middle book, it was old and the red leather was fading, I opened the cover the scent of magic filled my nostrils, the words curly and curvy almost illegible, the last few 100 pages blank waiting new editions. The spells in the book either written in Akan or Japanese were just the kind of magic I wanted, the diagrams were beautiful and informative. “Vermistra!” My father’s voice filled the house, it was a skill unique to him, I don’t know if it was magic or just the power my father’s voice contained.
“Shit!” I was going to get caught, I daren’t think what kind of punishment I would get.
“Yes papa!” I called out. All different thoughts running through my head, how would I get out of it, what excuse could I use. Fuck.
“Vermistra, come down here at once, we need to talk!” I carefully closed the grimoire and exited the room, making sure no one was in the area I cast a locking spell on the door, it quick and lazy nowhere near as powerful as my fathers but a bluff wouldn’t hurt. I walked along the Persian carpeting down the corridor and past the grand portraits towards the staircase. The staircase was large made of carved ebony the tree itself had been grown by our ancestor Oldas Delarbok I, it was engraved with a wide range of patterns, symbols and kanji, it branched off at places and connected the many floors of the Delarbok manor. At the bottom of the stairs I continued to walk throughout the endless labyrinth of corridors until I reached the main hall. The main hall was easily the largest room in the building, the crest of the Delarbok family spread largely across the wall at the rear of the room. The Delarbok crest showed the union of the two families that years ago formed the Delarbok family, a Cobra representing the African tribe the “Cobra Léd” which is Delarbok name is derived from, wrapped around the Japanese kanji for spirit representing the Sayuri family.
The Delarbok family had only moved to Greece 224 years ago and commissioned the building of this castle years before, which included the movement of the grand staircase. My father sat at the back of the room, seated upon chair that only the current head of the family was permitted to sit upon. My fathers dressed in his most regal robes, a cross between African textiles and Japanese clothing style a very vibrate version of a male Kimono, my family still engulfed in our past and culture to which our magic stemmed...
I had to snip a bit of the end but just tell me what you think so far.
1
Vermistra.
I poked my head out of my room door, looked onto the marble floored corridor that linked the rooms on this floor and listened carefully. No one was coming. I crept out into the corridor, my dress shuffling at my feet and I quickly walked towards fathers main study room, as I crept along the corridor I found myself stopping to admire the portraits of my family members, throwing all sneakiness I had tried to build up out the window. The pictures that caught my attention were those of my ancestor, the child of the two founders of the Delarbok family, Oldas Delarbok. I looked at the pictures of him on the wall, the portraits ranged from him being in his early teens to his senior years he aged gracefully as the pains of aging were being held behind a barrier of his beauty, the fact that interested me so was that he reminded me so much of myself, his features feminine yet stern. Oldas the first was mixed race, half Ghanaian and half Japanese, he had long silk like black hair and a complimentary golden brown complexion. With his Asian eyes and darkened skin he gave off a mysterious aura made him in some ways resemble something mysterious but not altogether secret, the resemblance was not directly in looks, but a faint similarity between the two. I on the other hand, despite being of both Japanese and Ghanaian lineage was white, my bloodline being diluted over time with generations of Greek, I had long dark hair and a complexion that could only be called Greek with a hint something exotic.
I twisted my head sharply, I hadn’t heard footsteps, but I swear I had heard something or maybe saw something, or at the very least felt something from the other end of the corridor, or it could just be paranoia was setting in. I listened carefully, no sound made its way back to me, but I kept still for a few more moments, trying not to jynx the situation. Then I made my way to fathers study room, and quickly twisted the knob. “Fuck!” it was locked with a locking spell. I had to think quickly I could hear footsteps approaching again, be it my brother or a servant I could not take that chance. I needed an opening spell, “Shit, shit, shit! Think!” Finally after a few flustered seconds I had it in my mind. I muttered the words of the spell and waved my hand over the lock, the hand gesture wasn’t needed, when a simple thought in that direction would suffice, but it was a force of habit, as many spells needed direction I had come to use the gesture for all my spells. I placed my hand on the knob and twisted expecting the door to open now, my hand twisted the knob and still no progress, fuck it was still locked, had I thought it would be this easy, what a fool I was. I tried the unlocking spell over and over each with no luck, this locking spell was either cast by my father or brother, not that my brother was that much better at magic than I, he just had a little quirk about his spells that made it all the more harder for my magic to counter it. I was starting to get very annoyed, and was running out of time the footsteps were getting far too close for comfort and I feared to imagine what trouble I would be in if found. The large oak wood door in stood in front of me and behind it, the spell books I yearned for, a chance to teach myself real magic like what my brother learned, what my father knew. But no as a girl I was deemed with the task of mastering such simple spells, that even since I was eleven could cast flawlessly. All the useless magic I had learnt so far, Beauty Magic as I called it, was just as the name suggested, it made pretty beautiful things, but that was all, no substance no real aura of magic about it, just flowers and glitter.
“Fucking magic!” My rage now getting uncontrollable, mixed in with all the anxiety was growing, I could feel it inside me, like the feeling you get when magic flows from your centre to your fingers and out, in a glorious explosion of energy and power, but only this felt more primal, rage feeding it. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to put all my force into wrenching the door open and barging in, I knew it was a feeble attempt but I was so pissed off and felt so powerful my anger giving me a boost in strength. My grip on the handle was tight and all my strength was put into trying to break the spell and open the door, a lot more physical strength than what I had was needed to break such a magical spell but I still tried. The skin of my palm, rubbing against the silver of the doorknob, a warm prickly feeling started to sweep across my palm, the light sound of a vacuum and a few purple sparks fizzling around the doorknob and my hand appeared. I pulled my hand away from the door instantly like a reflex, I looked down at my hand, everything seemed normal, my hand did not seem damaged, what kind of defensive spell had been cast on the door, I could not help but wonder, but reminded myself not to bring it up in lessons.
While being caught up in the awe inspiring normality of my hand, I hadn’t noticed the door had opened, until I heard a creak. A low, but distinguishable creaking sound of a door opening. I stuck my head in and surveyed the room, looking left to right and back to left. Everything seemed normal, I snuck inside the large room closing the door behind me, the room was vast, larger than I had ever imagined the room to be, yes I had walked past this room countless times in my life but had never been inside, only my father and his advisor Argen ever entered this room. The room was filled with over 10 large bookselves, filled with volumes upon volumes of books, different shapes and sizes, 2 large oak desks and a small bed in the corner. Ok enough dithering, I had to find the grimoires, my fathers most powerful spell books, I looked over my fathers bookshelves, old dusty spell books, classification guides to herbs, nothing of real interest. There they were on a pedestal at the back of the room, I guess my father had no need to hide it seeing as he locked the room himself.
Two large and bound in red leather spell books, one written in Japanese, and the other written in Akan, with one smaller but still quite large one in between them. That was the one I needed the middle one, it held our families most guarded spells a cross between both sides of our ancestry. I grabbed the middle book, it was old and the red leather was fading, I opened the cover the scent of magic filled my nostrils, the words curly and curvy almost illegible, the last few 100 pages blank waiting new editions. The spells in the book either written in Akan or Japanese were just the kind of magic I wanted, the diagrams were beautiful and informative. “Vermistra!” My father’s voice filled the house, it was a skill unique to him, I don’t know if it was magic or just the power my father’s voice contained.
“Shit!” I was going to get caught, I daren’t think what kind of punishment I would get.
“Yes papa!” I called out. All different thoughts running through my head, how would I get out of it, what excuse could I use. Fuck.
“Vermistra, come down here at once, we need to talk!” I carefully closed the grimoire and exited the room, making sure no one was in the area I cast a locking spell on the door, it quick and lazy nowhere near as powerful as my fathers but a bluff wouldn’t hurt. I walked along the Persian carpeting down the corridor and past the grand portraits towards the staircase. The staircase was large made of carved ebony the tree itself had been grown by our ancestor Oldas Delarbok I, it was engraved with a wide range of patterns, symbols and kanji, it branched off at places and connected the many floors of the Delarbok manor. At the bottom of the stairs I continued to walk throughout the endless labyrinth of corridors until I reached the main hall. The main hall was easily the largest room in the building, the crest of the Delarbok family spread largely across the wall at the rear of the room. The Delarbok crest showed the union of the two families that years ago formed the Delarbok family, a Cobra representing the African tribe the “Cobra Léd” which is Delarbok name is derived from, wrapped around the Japanese kanji for spirit representing the Sayuri family.
The Delarbok family had only moved to Greece 224 years ago and commissioned the building of this castle years before, which included the movement of the grand staircase. My father sat at the back of the room, seated upon chair that only the current head of the family was permitted to sit upon. My fathers dressed in his most regal robes, a cross between African textiles and Japanese clothing style a very vibrate version of a male Kimono, my family still engulfed in our past and culture to which our magic stemmed...
I had to snip a bit of the end but just tell me what you think so far.