WYATT'S FANTASY NOVEL: A BREATH OF JUSTICE
It seems we're breeding writing talent here, in our Loony Bin (it's how we like to call our house). Royce's 19-year-old son Wyatt, who is graduating from high school this summer, has started writing his first fantasy novel, and it's got everything to become big and epic, dwarves and elves and magic and murder and...well, here is the opening of the first chapter, and Wyatt said he's cool with you commenting on his Google Doc and giving him feedback. He wants to finish it. At the moments the story is almost at 5K words. I encourage you to encourage him to keep writing. We need more art in this world, more stories, more compassion. Here it is, for your enjoyment. (Up next a post on how I plan to reactivate my business muscles to sell more books, and what writing full-time for 5 years has taught me).
A BREATH OF JUSTICE
A novel by Wyatt Daniel
Chapter One, opening
There was a city called Breling, in that city lived a Dwarf that went by the name of Eoben Bronzehammer. Eoben was a stout man, with a chest the size of a barrel and arms that are sturdy and strong. His hair was a golden brown like the wheat fields at sunset and shaped in a long pony tail. His beard is that of the earth in color, was close kept but fairly long and was in a twin braid. He was a hardened Dwarf, he saw much of battle and death was something of an old friend to him. Eoben was a smithy and he was the king's smith at that. He had been working at the forge for little over a hundred years now and was constantly working on something.
During the middle of summer when he was working on armor for the guards Eoben heard a scream that pierced the air and chilled the person to the bone. Eoben rushed out the shop dropping the helmet he was working on he bumped into a lady on his way out. “Oh, excuse me my apologies.” He said. He then made his way to the town square. As he got there, there was a huge crowd already around the scene, he tried to rush past the crowd to see what had happened but an Elf was holding him back.
"Make way!” Eoben said trying to force his way past. He brushed the Elf's arm that had been holding him back off his shoulder and tried to move forward.
"Sir, don't go please. You will not like what you find." said the Elf, as he proceeded to grab Eoben’s shoulders and hold him back again this time with more force.
"I said, move!" Eoben pushed the Elf and made his way to the center. When Eoben got to the center he saw in horror that it was his wife that had screamed initially. He looked around trying to see if he could find the assassin but made no sense of where he could be. Eoben left it for now and turned his attention to his dying wife. "Arlen?, Arlen? can you hear me" He said wrapping his arm under her head. She looked pale as snow and her lips were blue. Her skin was cold as well, there was no sign of any blood on the ground or on Arlen.
"Eoben?" she said feebly. "You must find the one who did this. there is something I never told you about my past. I never meant for this to happen, I am so sorry..." her eyes slowly fluttered and then shut.
"Arlen! Arlen!" He shook her, hoping she would open her eyes and stay with him. He began to sob and moan.