readsalot
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Here's an excerpt from Redeemer Chronicles: Awakening.
Let me know what you think. Sorry about the formatting issues. PM me if you'd like to be a beta reader once I get the first draft finished (estimated finish time is about a week.)
Chapter 1
Vic
Victoria Saveron
Temporary Camp, Foot of the Karnok Mountains
I suppose I should not be surprised that my life has gone the way it has thus far. Some people are just doomed that way. I—Victoria Amaryllis Saveron—am not a complainer, honest, but there comes a time when one has to examine the hand dealt by Fate and draw some conclusions. My conclusion: life’s not fair.
Let’s examine the cards.
Cards one and two: a dark maternal legacy and a paternal legacy of eternal strife. Without going into the whole sob story, I’ll just say my parents’ short love story and marriage wasn’t exactly favored by the Saroth—Mom’s folks—or the Arkonai—Dad’s folks.
Marina Castaloni-Saveron—Mom—was a witch. I mean that in the most literal way possible. I’m not talking about a society of old ladies who have an affinity for large black cooking pots, a bad complexion, creepy cats, and a depressing taste in clothes. Nor am I talking about fairy tale floozies fluttering about on cleaning supplies. I’m talking about an ancient and powerful, often dangerous people with Gifts far beyond this world. Mom was the black sheep of the family, which means she secretly taught herself the healing arts and devoted herself to helping those in need.
It should come as no surprise that Daniel Saveron—Dad—descends from the Arkonai, those proud guardians of the Bereft—those without magical powers. I asked him why they’re called ‘Bereft’ if they never had any power to speak of. He grunted and said I’d understand one day. I really hate it when he says things like that. It makes me feel like an ignorant child. Why can’t he just answer questions straightforwardly like a normal human being? Never mind that he’s not normal.
Cue sappy music.
Short version: Dad met Mom because he was tricked into hunting her by Uncle Jack, Mom’s crazy younger brother. I’m told nearly everybody has a crazy uncle named Jack. Not quite sure I believe that, but I do know that I have an uncle, his name is Jack, and he’s definitely a few dozen cards shy of a full deck with an evil bent to boot. Someday I’ll have to ask him why he bothered going to the trouble of impersonating an Arkonai Huntmaster just to put out a hit on his sister. That’s just wrong. It’s no way to treat anybody, especially not somebody related to you. I don’t have a sister, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t hire somebody to kill her if I did.
After a patient hunt and rousing chase, Dad inevitably caught his prey, solved the mystery in time to avoid killing her, got past the whole awkward sorry-for-almost-killing-you phase, and successfully won her hand fair and square. That pretty much made nobody except Mom happy. She was ecstatic to marry for love, though her former fiancé was rather put out, her family officially disowned her and put a bounty on her capture, and Dad’s family snubbed her. The Saroth are all about bloodlines, lineage, and birth order, so they’d tried to arrange her marriage to Marcus Polani. Personally, I’m just as happy not being his daughter. Carmen Polani’s all right, but she bit down hard on the whole I-am-better-than-everybody-else-because-I-have-magic Saroth nonsense.
Card three: I should be dead. The optimist in me says that the fact that I’m not dead is an accomplishment in and of itself, but the pessimist says that’s just delaying the inevitable. With all the cheery goodwill going around, it’s no surprise that my parents fled to the woods to hide out, raise a family, etcetera. A horde of Radafs—raised dead and/or annoying foot soldiers, better known as zombies or simply undead—attacked my parents when I was just a cute, squishy baby. My parents, of course, prevailed in that fight, but Mom and I were both bitten. Why the blasted creatures bite is far beyond me. They carry supernatural swords, yet they still insist on biting. It’s so uncivilized. Stupid zombies. They lose their arms all the time anyway. I don’t know why they bother conjuring the swords.
Mom could heal herself or me, not both, so she chose the stupid, noble path and saved me. Dad found a powerful friend to make me a pair of magical bracers that would keep me from turning into one of those nasty little biters, hence the metal bracers—that often look like simple silver bracelets—and gloves I wear. I don’t really have to wear gloves on both hands, just the one that’s all gray and corpsified, but I find it less conspicuous to just wear the pair.
Card four: people want to kill me. It’s not my fault that I have two magical bloodlines within me. As far as I know, they’ve all but canceled each other out. Otherwise, I’d have cool powers like Carmen’s ability to shapeshift or Tellen’s ability to fry things with lightning. What did I get? The most useless power ever. I glow when Radafs or other dangerous beings are near. The glow is not all over, thank goodness, but the whites of my eyes, my teeth, and my bracers light up like beacons if something possessing dark magical properties or powers draws too close. These days, more often than not, that’s when something is trying to kill me.
Card five: my two closest friends, Carmen and Tellen, hate each other. Hate might be too strong a word, but it’s easier to say than they ‘have a strong aversion’ to each other. I’ve already explained that Carmon’s Saroth through and through, so as Fate would have it, Tellen’s an Arkonai. He’s an outcast of sorts among his people because of his destructive magical abilities, but that doesn’t mean his upbringing didn’t leave him with a well-developed prejudice against Saroth. Dad says that the idea that all Saroth delve into dark magic and all Arkonai stick solely to light magic is complete rubbish. Though I hate to admit it, I think he’s right. In any case, Carmen and Tellen are both cool with me because their masters—Carmen’s father, Marcus Polani, and the current Arkonai Supreme Huntmaster, Jordan LeCross—sort of ordered them to be my companions. I think they—the elders—know something they’re not telling any of us.
Card six: I have no idea where the heck I’m going or how to get there. This whole crazy thing started when my father disappeared on another one of his hunts, leaving me with Carmen and Tellen. I sense a conspiracy. The first few days went find. Then, yesterday we were having a nice game of darts when my bracers lit up, my eyes felt like they were on fire, and light started pouring from my mouth like airy drool. Zombies came, zombies died, we hastily packed parcels, and ran like cats with our tails on fire.
Card seven: I have this very uncomfortable feeling I’m supposed to save the world. Since when did I sign up to be a hero? Since never! Somebody up there messed up the roll call. I demand—oh, fine. One quest, got it? One.
Where do I begin?
Let me know what you think. Sorry about the formatting issues. PM me if you'd like to be a beta reader once I get the first draft finished (estimated finish time is about a week.)
Chapter 1
Vic
Victoria Saveron
Temporary Camp, Foot of the Karnok Mountains
I suppose I should not be surprised that my life has gone the way it has thus far. Some people are just doomed that way. I—Victoria Amaryllis Saveron—am not a complainer, honest, but there comes a time when one has to examine the hand dealt by Fate and draw some conclusions. My conclusion: life’s not fair.
Let’s examine the cards.
Cards one and two: a dark maternal legacy and a paternal legacy of eternal strife. Without going into the whole sob story, I’ll just say my parents’ short love story and marriage wasn’t exactly favored by the Saroth—Mom’s folks—or the Arkonai—Dad’s folks.
Marina Castaloni-Saveron—Mom—was a witch. I mean that in the most literal way possible. I’m not talking about a society of old ladies who have an affinity for large black cooking pots, a bad complexion, creepy cats, and a depressing taste in clothes. Nor am I talking about fairy tale floozies fluttering about on cleaning supplies. I’m talking about an ancient and powerful, often dangerous people with Gifts far beyond this world. Mom was the black sheep of the family, which means she secretly taught herself the healing arts and devoted herself to helping those in need.
It should come as no surprise that Daniel Saveron—Dad—descends from the Arkonai, those proud guardians of the Bereft—those without magical powers. I asked him why they’re called ‘Bereft’ if they never had any power to speak of. He grunted and said I’d understand one day. I really hate it when he says things like that. It makes me feel like an ignorant child. Why can’t he just answer questions straightforwardly like a normal human being? Never mind that he’s not normal.
Cue sappy music.
Short version: Dad met Mom because he was tricked into hunting her by Uncle Jack, Mom’s crazy younger brother. I’m told nearly everybody has a crazy uncle named Jack. Not quite sure I believe that, but I do know that I have an uncle, his name is Jack, and he’s definitely a few dozen cards shy of a full deck with an evil bent to boot. Someday I’ll have to ask him why he bothered going to the trouble of impersonating an Arkonai Huntmaster just to put out a hit on his sister. That’s just wrong. It’s no way to treat anybody, especially not somebody related to you. I don’t have a sister, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t hire somebody to kill her if I did.
After a patient hunt and rousing chase, Dad inevitably caught his prey, solved the mystery in time to avoid killing her, got past the whole awkward sorry-for-almost-killing-you phase, and successfully won her hand fair and square. That pretty much made nobody except Mom happy. She was ecstatic to marry for love, though her former fiancé was rather put out, her family officially disowned her and put a bounty on her capture, and Dad’s family snubbed her. The Saroth are all about bloodlines, lineage, and birth order, so they’d tried to arrange her marriage to Marcus Polani. Personally, I’m just as happy not being his daughter. Carmen Polani’s all right, but she bit down hard on the whole I-am-better-than-everybody-else-because-I-have-magic Saroth nonsense.
Card three: I should be dead. The optimist in me says that the fact that I’m not dead is an accomplishment in and of itself, but the pessimist says that’s just delaying the inevitable. With all the cheery goodwill going around, it’s no surprise that my parents fled to the woods to hide out, raise a family, etcetera. A horde of Radafs—raised dead and/or annoying foot soldiers, better known as zombies or simply undead—attacked my parents when I was just a cute, squishy baby. My parents, of course, prevailed in that fight, but Mom and I were both bitten. Why the blasted creatures bite is far beyond me. They carry supernatural swords, yet they still insist on biting. It’s so uncivilized. Stupid zombies. They lose their arms all the time anyway. I don’t know why they bother conjuring the swords.
Mom could heal herself or me, not both, so she chose the stupid, noble path and saved me. Dad found a powerful friend to make me a pair of magical bracers that would keep me from turning into one of those nasty little biters, hence the metal bracers—that often look like simple silver bracelets—and gloves I wear. I don’t really have to wear gloves on both hands, just the one that’s all gray and corpsified, but I find it less conspicuous to just wear the pair.
Card four: people want to kill me. It’s not my fault that I have two magical bloodlines within me. As far as I know, they’ve all but canceled each other out. Otherwise, I’d have cool powers like Carmen’s ability to shapeshift or Tellen’s ability to fry things with lightning. What did I get? The most useless power ever. I glow when Radafs or other dangerous beings are near. The glow is not all over, thank goodness, but the whites of my eyes, my teeth, and my bracers light up like beacons if something possessing dark magical properties or powers draws too close. These days, more often than not, that’s when something is trying to kill me.
Card five: my two closest friends, Carmen and Tellen, hate each other. Hate might be too strong a word, but it’s easier to say than they ‘have a strong aversion’ to each other. I’ve already explained that Carmon’s Saroth through and through, so as Fate would have it, Tellen’s an Arkonai. He’s an outcast of sorts among his people because of his destructive magical abilities, but that doesn’t mean his upbringing didn’t leave him with a well-developed prejudice against Saroth. Dad says that the idea that all Saroth delve into dark magic and all Arkonai stick solely to light magic is complete rubbish. Though I hate to admit it, I think he’s right. In any case, Carmen and Tellen are both cool with me because their masters—Carmen’s father, Marcus Polani, and the current Arkonai Supreme Huntmaster, Jordan LeCross—sort of ordered them to be my companions. I think they—the elders—know something they’re not telling any of us.
Card six: I have no idea where the heck I’m going or how to get there. This whole crazy thing started when my father disappeared on another one of his hunts, leaving me with Carmen and Tellen. I sense a conspiracy. The first few days went find. Then, yesterday we were having a nice game of darts when my bracers lit up, my eyes felt like they were on fire, and light started pouring from my mouth like airy drool. Zombies came, zombies died, we hastily packed parcels, and ran like cats with our tails on fire.
Card seven: I have this very uncomfortable feeling I’m supposed to save the world. Since when did I sign up to be a hero? Since never! Somebody up there messed up the roll call. I demand—oh, fine. One quest, got it? One.
Where do I begin?
