Another fragment
Doing edits on Chapter Six, I thought this passage came off pretty good:
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At first, the road led more or less straight up through open land, until it reached the first and lowest of the forested ridges of Dimmeld. There it turned forth and back, through wood and round outcroppings, until the crest was overtopped. Then the road plunged, by turn and twist, into the first and shallowest of the valleys. Then it rose again, to turn and twist and plunge again, and again. Otheron’s patience grew thin as progress slowed. By noon only a few miles had been gained.
Otheron called another halt and rode angrily to the front of the column. He flew by the men of the vanguard, sitting in long lines on the curb on both sides of the road. The pace must quicken, he fumed as he rode, barely seeing or hearing the soldiers rise and cheer him as he passed. At the front the prince-general stalked the road, sending warriors scrambling to find Cenith, and before long the prince came trotting down the road. Otheron, seeing him, would not wait but hurried out to meet his brother. Though the two sat apart upon their horses, those nearest them could hear their heated words.
“Cenith,” Otheron started, ignoring the tired look on his brother’s face, “what is the matter? Galila tells me that you bade her keep the vanguard five hundred yards behind the scouts. You know we must make time, we must reach Corlen to meet Raev.” He raised his voice even further, “your scouts are moving too slowly.”
Cenith said nothing at first but took a long pull at his canteen. He gestured vaguely off to the side. “Do you see these woods, this terrain?” Otheron snorted derisively. “We cannot make the time you desire in this terrain. A horse cannot be ridden at speed on a slant, over boulders, and around the boles of trees so closely set.” Cenith now gestured with both arms, “we have to cover a wide swath of forest on both sides of the road. It cannot be properly done at the pace you have demanded.”
“It is not I but our father’s blood that demands this,” Otheron said more lightly, if not more patiently. Cenith reddened but said nothing. “You must do this.” Otheron turned his horse but added, over his shoulder, before leaving, “I will accept no excuses for failure.”
Cenith sat on his horse in the middle of the road, watching the receding back of the general who now rode slowly and chatted with the soldiers who greeted him. He looked at the sky, more than half worried about the roiling plumes of black smoke spanning the sky to the west. Eventually, he cast a last glance at the diminishing figure of Prince Otheron, then spun his horse around and went back to his duties.
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At first, the road led more or less straight up through open land, until it reached the first and lowest of the forested ridges of Dimmeld. There it turned forth and back, through wood and round outcroppings, until the crest was overtopped. Then the road plunged, by turn and twist, into the first and shallowest of the valleys. Then it rose again, to turn and twist and plunge again, and again. Otheron’s patience grew thin as progress slowed. By noon only a few miles had been gained.
Otheron called another halt and rode angrily to the front of the column. He flew by the men of the vanguard, sitting in long lines on the curb on both sides of the road. The pace must quicken, he fumed as he rode, barely seeing or hearing the soldiers rise and cheer him as he passed. At the front the prince-general stalked the road, sending warriors scrambling to find Cenith, and before long the prince came trotting down the road. Otheron, seeing him, would not wait but hurried out to meet his brother. Though the two sat apart upon their horses, those nearest them could hear their heated words.
“Cenith,” Otheron started, ignoring the tired look on his brother’s face, “what is the matter? Galila tells me that you bade her keep the vanguard five hundred yards behind the scouts. You know we must make time, we must reach Corlen to meet Raev.” He raised his voice even further, “your scouts are moving too slowly.”
Cenith said nothing at first but took a long pull at his canteen. He gestured vaguely off to the side. “Do you see these woods, this terrain?” Otheron snorted derisively. “We cannot make the time you desire in this terrain. A horse cannot be ridden at speed on a slant, over boulders, and around the boles of trees so closely set.” Cenith now gestured with both arms, “we have to cover a wide swath of forest on both sides of the road. It cannot be properly done at the pace you have demanded.”
“It is not I but our father’s blood that demands this,” Otheron said more lightly, if not more patiently. Cenith reddened but said nothing. “You must do this.” Otheron turned his horse but added, over his shoulder, before leaving, “I will accept no excuses for failure.”
Cenith sat on his horse in the middle of the road, watching the receding back of the general who now rode slowly and chatted with the soldiers who greeted him. He looked at the sky, more than half worried about the roiling plumes of black smoke spanning the sky to the west. Eventually, he cast a last glance at the diminishing figure of Prince Otheron, then spun his horse around and went back to his duties.
posted by Brian Malone at 10:12 AM
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