I'd like to share with you an excerpt from my revision of Book 2 of The Legend of Draconite: Gift Search. I've found that as I've edited and revised this book, I've had to do a lot of rewriting of scenes. There were holes in the plot and more detail about the characters, world, and how magic works that needed to be worked in. It's been a lot of work to rewrite, but it's been fun too.
The below excerpt isn't the final product. I'm still in the editing stage and have modified little of the original draft of this excerpt. This is a rewrite of Leader's escape from the imprisonment Luna put him in, and it was a great opportunity to explain more of the nature of magic, as well as involve an antagonist that originally didn't play much of a role, the demon Alalt.
Without further ado, please enjoy!
~~~
Leader, buru-kithi of
the Black Darts, awoke in a realm of white. Bands of gold wove in
and out of the glowing mists. Disoriented, he tried to swing his
body around, but the golden bands bound him by his wrists and ankles,
his limbs spread slightly to the sides.
He snapped his hooded head to
one side when he saw a human with two swords emerge from the mist,
her whole body rolling through the strange tunnel, and then she
vanished back into another section. Seconds later came another
sentient from different section of the wall or hall or whatever it
was, a black Hakaan who sent a red-eyed glance at him before gliding
back into the whiteness.
That's when Leader realized
where he was. This was a sort of limbo, the strange realm a
magic-maker normally experienced between one place and another when
casting a teleportation spell. And here he was, stuck in it by a
god's meddling, caught amid some sort of transportation spell or
banishment, he didn't know what to call it.
Imprisonment. A jolt of fear
stiffened his whole body. Though he normally crushed his fear,
considering fear childish and weak, his mind worked slower than he
could wish. It dwelt upon one of his worst nightmares, being stuck
in one place and having to face what he had done.
His face. He automatically
tried to feel his face, but of course the bands derived from the
whiteness held him. Growling, he finally sensed his mask was gone.
Unpleasant shivers tickled him violently. Without that mask, that
gift, he would be weaker than them again. It was his Gift, his
might, the thing that connected him to the lady across the sea.
The thought of being separated
from her came very sharply to him, sharper than being bound or
realizing what his prison was. A longing lust erupted in his bosom,
and he didn't try to stop it. He roared and writhed, but the bands
gave way very little.
He stopped, and when he was
still, the fear slithered back in. He shook his head furiously and
willed forth his manna, imagining a teleportation spell of his own.
It felt like sizzling through his blood, as if electricity danced
along all his skin. It felt different than it did in Libera, but he
continued the spell anyway, imagining a destination while willing the
magic out of his body.
The manna seemed to know it
was already in the limbo, so it tried to yank his body towards a part
of the wall. The bands stretched several feet and stopped. The
spell couldn't resist anymore and canceled itself out. Leader was
flung back to where he started as if he were on a broken slingshot.
He gasped in breaths and let
himself hang still again as he fought off the dizziness that normally
accompanied magic-making. He didn't know how much time passed as he
glared at people going in and out of the limbo. He watched them in
case he recognized any, or any recognized him. Not that they could
do anything about Leader; no magic-maker could stop mid-spell in the
limbo, for the limbo wasn't controlled by mortals.
Once in awhile Leader
struggled against his bands. His body didn't stay exhausted for
long; over time he noticed that his body seemed to absorb whatever
energy the limbo possessed. He didn't even grow hungry or thirsty.
The enlivening realm only strengthened his resolve to break free and
pass through that infuriatingly close white barrier with its
interweaving bands of flowing magic.
He worked his fingers,
thinking of one possible solution. He could use one of his more
powerful forms of magic and break one of the bands. Leader was
reluctant, though; his mask had granted him the extra boost he needed
to summon this particular manna without overreaching his physical
strength. It was one weakness he had never had control over, and he
had already given away one Gift and lost his ability. This time, his
Gift had been taken away.
Nevertheless, Leader dwelt on
the idea of summoning the spell even as his red eyes followed the
gold bands of light or the random magic-makers that passed by.
He spotted someone in
particular that made him squint. A completely black humanoid, a
living shadow with two white, glowing eyes, appeared in the mists
about a dozen feet off in front of Leader. Unlike the other
magic-makers, they seemed to struggle to enter the limbo, emitting a
low groan that didn't stop. Leader stiffened at the strangeness of
it. As they managed to press through, he saw golden bands attached
to its back, drawn taut.
Once they had pulled their
whole body in, they mercifully stopped the groaning, head hanging.
“Who are you?” Leader
demanded, instinctively wanting to hunch and back away. The
blackness looked up. It resembled a muscular male Unia'a, and the air
around its body seemed blurred. Black smoke rose from its back where
the cables of manna leashed it.
“I
am Alalt, curse of the Ascendant, father of the Ghostwall,”
it replied in a vaguely masculine voice. “You
are not my destroyer.”
“Alalt...” Leader
murmured. He had never heard the name, but the more he looked at
Alalt, the heavier his stomach grew. He could almost hear that
unending groan again, and he could feel something wrong about Alalt's
countenance. Alalt's darkness was drawn-in, alone, and selfish. He
couldn't be trusted. “What are you doing here? What went wrong
with your spell?”
“I
am forever bound to my prison of stone by the foul magicks of Zarem,
even though I have been released by the Father Ascendant,”
Alalt muttered, shoulders hunching. “But
sometimes I am able to visit here, to drink in a little energy for
when the time comes to destroy the his Descendant. Little by little
I store it, and I am strong.”
“Not strong enough to break
free,” Leader pointed out, almost spitting as he reveled in
derision. “You're still pathetic.”
“So
are you, mortal,”
Alalt replied blankly.
“But I will gladly leave you to rot.”
“Are you implying you have
something I might want?” Leader replied a bit more softly. “How
about a trade?”
This time the being laughed,
but it was mirthless, almost cruel.
“Give
me my destroyer,”
Alalt said, lifting a hand. “If
I give you something, you drive my destroyer to me. I would play
with him awhile before eating his spirit.”
“Tell me his name, and I
will do it,” Leader agreed. “What is his name, and where must he
go?”
“He
is the father of the Abomination, the goddess flesh, known to you as
High Priest Aaron,”
Alalt replied.
“I would gladly drag him to
your doorstep,” Leader grinned. “I have power in Libera, if only
I am free. I can bring him to you, and destroy his little anathema
of a daughter.” He hummed, watching Alalt bend over and manage to
take a step forward to Leader. “How do you know Aaron?”
“I
may be chained to a Havi'thal...”
Alalt pushed closer to Leader. “...but
I can still hear the words that travel the Southern Isles. Most are
refuse like their mortal, sentient owners, but they have spoken of
the holy one...he can't be anyone else other than my destroyer.”
Leader found Alalt's misled
confidence in rumors amusing, but he hid it, staying silent as the
creature finally stood before him. He could hear the manna of
Alalt's bands letting off a low-pitched, screaming vibration. Alalt
was so sure that Leader would help him...Leader had no intention of
keeping his end of the deal, even if Alalt proved to be enough to
grant him escape. Alalt must have been driven madly desperate by his
imprisonment to trust a complete stranger with his delicate
situation.
It made Leader want to burst
out laughing.
“What
can I give you to help me?”
Alalt said slowly.
“I need a boost, some of
that stored energy of yours,” Leader hissed. He struggled to keep
the laughter from his voice; he had to keep up the bluff. “Can you
transfer it?”
Alalt stared at him, and then
reached into Leader's hood and pressed his shadowy hand on the crown
of his head. Leader gasped and froze as not only a torrent of energy
passed through his skull, down his neck, and throughout his body, but
images of a dark valley and fog and mangled corpses and maniacal
laughter and fire and smoke and blood, so much blood, rivers of blood
where there should be water ––
“STOP!” Leader screamed.
Alalt pulled away at once, and then walked backwards, the bands
drawing him to that mystical kennel he talked about. Leader shook
his head, eyes just barely adjusting to the limbo. “You lunatic, I
wanted manna, not your life's story!”
“Hurry,”
Alalt replied.
Leader reined back his anger
enough to concentrate on his spell, feeling the new reservoir of
manna bubbling within. He took deep breaths and bowed his head, his
fingers and toes curling. He made the image in his mind, imbuing it
with certain properties, and then willed his manna to create it.
A golden light appeared a foot
from his breastbone, where the manna was channeling from his body and
outward to the air. Leader watched it carefully. A sphere began to
form, glowing hot white amid the gold. He perfected the sphere, its
great light and intense heat, and changed the image.
This was the most dangerous
part of the spell. Though it was possible to change a normal object
into a different substance using a spell, it was a whole different
game using a spell to change a state of another spell's power and
nature into higher state. He was one of the few that could do it if
he had an outside boost of manna to his normal reserves.
He was one of the few that
could morph manna without the use of those cursed Draconite machines,
the Gifts, and not kill himself.
Leader focused all his will on
morphing the manna, imagining it going to a higher place of existence
and absorbing everything solid around it. His last reservoir of
manna, Alalt's gift, gave a sudden surge to obey the mental image.
The golden light dulled as an opaque whiteness molded over the
sphere, veined with glowing purple and green.
Leader huffed out a breath as
the manna finished morphing into a solid object. He had done it! A
giddiness fireworked throughout him, but he didn't celebrate too
long. He focused all his mental willpower on holding the orb and
using a second spell to shield all his body, only leaving his wrists
and ankles exposed where the bands held him. He took a deep breath,
and with his next exhalation, let go of the spell keeping the orb in
existence.
It left with a nova of
screaming light. The release of raw power ripped through the golden
bands and beat at his shield. It managed to rip some of the shield
away, leaving his cloak partially burned away, before finally fading
away.
Alalt was already partway
through the white wall at this time, reaching out to Leader. Leader
already felt energy replenishing him from the limbo, and he shook
away the remnants of his bands before leaping forward and grabbing
Alalt's hand.
The being jerked him through
the barrier, and Leader landed belly-down with a grunt. Cool rain
pattered across his body, and he tasted grass in his mouth. The
inherent energy of the limbo dissipated from his body, and dizziness
bloated in his skull even as he laid on the ground.
“Go, and bring my
destroyer to me.”
Leader remembered the images
the monster had sent to him, and he stood with a groan. He stood
above a grassy alcove with a dais and a stand with two flutes sitting
atop. A little beyond was a waterfall, most of the pool shrouded in
a strange gray fog.
Leader looked around,
straightening his coat and hood. There were some mountains looming
above him to the southeast. He recognized the island, and with
another grin, started his trek into the foothills.*
~~~
Have you ever had to rewrite any of your work? What was the experience like? Please share your experiences or observations in the comments below!
*© 2015 by Sarah Bailey
All rights reserved.
For me, rewriting a book has been simultaneously exhaustive and rewarding. It has taken a lot more time and effort than I thought it would, and sometimes I want to just say it's done so I don't have to deal with it anymore. My sense of dignity as a writer won't let me quit, though. I'm driven by the excitement of sharing the finished product with others.
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