Saturday, 28 May 2011

The Bow of Time

Yep, I'm here with another poem.
This one is in the traditional Shakespeare style sonnet.
And yeah, i wrote it for English homework.
But i really liked it and decided to upload it.

The Long Lost Promise

Well, poetry isn't usually my thing, but when I had to write a poem for my English homework, well, I kind of got back into it.
The poem i wrote is called The Long Lost Promise.
It is quite sad at the end, but i don't want to tell you more or it'll spoil it!

Sunday, 22 May 2011

Maybe I'll Get Brave

I have never made a promo thread before, and i'm thinking maybe it would be a good idea, then i can get up a notification list and hopefully get more comments.
So once i've rewritten my prologue and finished chapter 1 of The Legend Awakened, i'll be making my first promo thread. *fingers crossed i'll get some interest*

Saturday, 21 May 2011

Writing a New Prologue

I've decided to write a new prologue for my book, The Legend Awakened. A lot of people were saying when commenting that my current one is a bit of an info dump and would be better if i showed not told.
So that is what i am trying to do.
Here is what i have so far:

     She crept into the dark room, her pointed ears listening for even the quietest sound. But there was silence. Her elven sight meant that she could see perfectly well, despite the lack of light. Her feet tread lightly on the stone steps that led up to the ancient, wooden door at the end of the tiny room. Her pale fingers traced lightly over the dusty surface, tracing the grooves until she found the lock. Sliding the key in its hole she peered around to make sure she wasn’t being watched. But of course, who would be watching?
     The lock clicked open and with a little shove the door swung slowly open.
    “Salfartha.” She whispered, a small flame sparked in her hand, and grew into a small orb, pulsating and flickering as she stepped further into the room, her feet fleeting gracefully across the floor.

The Legend Awakened

My book, The Legend Awakened (previously called The White Archer) is now on inkpop in a preview! Yipee! *cheers*

SP: Bane of Elves -- Book I: And so the quest begins….
LP: During the Fifth Age, a jewel was forged in the forests of Akarest by the elves and dragons in a time when their alliance was strong. The jewel was like nothing ever seen before. It had unbelievable power, power to someone a storm at ones will, to bring light to the darkest places or bring darkness to the lightest places. The jewel even had the power to resurrect the dead. It was named the Everlyne Jewel, for it was believed that the jewel was indestructible and its power would last for an eternity.
Arrowan has a quiet life in the forest of Uarlden, living in solitude with only a few close allies, and living by trading with the local village. But that will change when a band of elven messengers come for the aid of the White Archer, and Yagurak forces plunder the local village. Arrowan must journey on a quest fraught with danger, as he battles to find the missing half of the Everylne Jewel before the forces of evil can claim it for their own devices.   

Extract from chapter 1:
    He stalked through the forest swiftly, his bow in one hand, and in the other he twirled around his fingers an arrow with white feathers for fletching. Intricate patterns and designs laced the bow, running through the hard, brown wood like a flowing river.

    Suddenly, he stopped. He felt the odd sense of being watched. The smell of herbs from a nearby bush drifted over to him on the wind accompanied by another smell, a more faint smell. He swung his head from side to side, his keen sense of hearing picking up a tiny rustle of a cloak from beside him.

    In one, smooth motion he knocked his arrow and spun round, the bowstring pulled tight to his cheek. His eyes searched the forest around him then settled on a startled rabbit that was staring at him from behind a tree. The rabbit scampered away and Arrowan was once again alone.          

    He tied his bow back onto his belt and returned his arrow to the quiver on his back. He sighed and was about to carry on his way when he saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. He whirled round, drawing his one-handed sword. The blade was a silver sheen with engravings on the blade and hilt. The grip was shaped to resemble a twisting vine with silver leaves and embedded in the pommel was a single, shimmering emerald.

     His sword clashed into something hard and the sound of metal on metal rang through the woods. He stared into a pair of bright blue eyes the colour of the summer sky. The boy standing in front of him came no higher than Arrowan’s waist and had the cheeky sought of grin that always meant trouble. His mop of hair was dark brown in colour, enhancing his pale skin. His cream coloured cotton shirt had mud stains along the front and his breeches were ripped around his knees. The boy had bare feet that were stained with the soil that seeped between his toes.

    The boy held a dagger with a long, grey blade. The hilt was made from old wood and the way the whole weapon was put together made it seem ancient. There were no patterns or decorations on the dagger; it was simple and plain, as if made by an untrained farmer.  

     Arrowan flourished his sword and the dagger flew in to the air, he caught it with his free hand and pointed his sword at the boy. The boy looked down the tip of the sword at Arrowan, his eyes wide with surprise.

     “Don’t kill me Arrowan, I didn’t mean to make you jump or anything…” The words tumbled from the boy like a waterfall, the words jumbled up together.

     Arrowan sighed and sheathed his sword. “What are you doing here?” He glared down at the boy who grinned mischievously. He turned and continued walking through the forest as if he had never met the boy who was trailing along behind him.

     “Well, you see Master Arrowan, I was just sat at the edge of the field and I was getting rather bored. Then I saw you at the edge of the forest with that big tree thing that moved and the earth vibrated when it moved and…” The boy jogged along beside Arrowan as he increased his pace, never ceasing his tale, even when branches lashed at his face, “… and so I followed you into the forest and, well, you know, because I was just wondering, well, if…”

     Arrowan turned to face the boy who skidded to a halt abruptly. “Melot, please listen to me.” He said kindly. “I know what you want, I know you want to live in the forest like me, but I can’t allow you to…”      


     “Think of your parents, your friends and family, think about how they’d feel about you disappearing off into the wood. You know what some people think about Uarlden, you’ve heard them tell stories of the wood, I do not want for you to be taken away from them, just like that,” He snapped his fingers in the air and looked down at the boy before him, “,please Melot, for your families sake, do not enter the wood again.” He handed the knife back to the boy.

      Melot sighed, “Ok then.” He turned to leave then paused, “The stories of the wood, they’re not all bad you know.” He grinned and sprinted through the wood.

      Arrowan shook his head then carried on through the trees, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He looked up at the canopy of branches and leaves above him and smiled, for he was as much part of the wood as the trees around him, moving effortlessly through them as if he knew every twig and root. The wood was his home, and the wood welcomed him like a brother.

    Soon Arrowan came to a large glade with bright green grass and yellow and white daisies dancing about the surface. A large river ran through the glade and was swallowed by the forest on either side. The sun was still low in the cloudless sky which was brushed with reds and oranges. The river water was tinted red, reflecting the colour of the sky.

    Red sky in the morning shepherds warning. Arrowan thought solemnly to himself as he stepped into the silent glade. He traced his way towards the river until he came upon its bank. Stretched out across the river was a broken bridge, only the tips of slabs of rock could be seen above the water. On the bank was the crumbling start of a bridge, the stone was grey and covered in bright green moss and lichen.  

     Arrowan closed his eyes, focusing all of his attention on the spidery words which he muttered softly under his breath “Aduha sebriger.” He opened his eyes.

     The ground shook slightly, the wind blew leaves up into the air and Arrowans hair whipped his face. He held up his hands, slowly and commandingly, holding them in front of him so they were pointing to the broken bridge. There was the sound of something heavy scraping along the riverbed and then a white bridge emerged from the water causing waves to roll and water to splash onto the bank. The bridge was made of stone, and covered in algae and other green plants. The bridge made a complete arc over the river with no supports of any kind; the stone was wet and glistened in the sun.

     Arrowan walked gracefully over the bridge, and as soon as he was on the other side with a wave of his hand the bridge collapsed into the river and sunk to the bed once again.

    Arrowan strode through the forest for about half an hour before he reached his destination. He emerged in a large glade with bright green grass; daises were dotted about among their blades. Around the glade the trees were spread out unlike the rest of the dense forest. Resting in the boughs of some of the trees closest to the glade were small buildings made from wood, with rope ladders hanging through holes in their base for someone to easily climb up to them. In the centre of the glade was a small fire, around which were sat three elves.

     The first was strong and well built with hooded eyes the colour of the midnight sky. The silver scar that ran down his neck shimmered in the firelight, like a calm river. He was sharpening a two-handed sword, with such delicacy that seemed odd for his size and build. The only thing that gave him away as an elf were his pointed ears, for he didn’t have the elegant, slanting face and high cheek bones associated with elves.

     The second was younger than the first, with a tall and lithe frame, his long, blonde hair falling around his shoulders like silk. His perfectly smooth skin was young, and glowed with an inner radiance; he had the typical high cheekbones and angular features of the elves. His shiny eyes were like two gold coins, and as he looked up at Arrowan he smiled wide. He placed his long, thin bladed sword lightly on the ground next to his bow and quiver before standing and gracefully walking up to him.

     “Lanendill, you are looking bright this morning.” Arrowan said politely.

     “That I am, Arrowan. We were beginning to wonder if you were coming back or not. You do realise its trade day, don’t you?” Lanendill asked as they walked towards the fire, his voice was like a song.

     “Arrowan! You really must stop wondering off without a word, we’ll think you’ve got into some trouble.” The first elf interrupted.

     “And when have you known me to get into trouble, Serideih?” Arrowan asked.

     Serideih grinned, “Many a time, my friend.”

     The only one not to speak during the conversation had been the third elf, Eraledist. He sat quietly, and close to the fire, wrapped in a grey cloak. His skin was pale but not sickly, and his harsh features may have been described by some as handsome. His intent, grey eyes were the colour of tree bark, the colours merging and changing from grey to green in the light.

    “The cart is ready.” Eraledist said without looking up. In his hands he held a small spark of blue light which he studied intently, all his focused bent on maintaining its light.

    Arrowan nodded but said nothing, he knew better than to interrupt the elf’s concentration.

    Lanendill walked with Arrowan to the small cart at the edge of the glade and rubbed the nose of the white mare that the cart was hitched to. The horse whinnied happily at the elf’s touch; Lanendill had always had a way with animals.

    Arrowan looked over the cart, checking all that was needed was there. He and his three elven friends traded with the local village. The villagers swapped greeneries and other crops for arrows for hunting, and carefully selected firewood; for the villagers were not advised to enter the wood, on account of the unknown dangers that lurked there.

    “Eraledist is sensing things again.” Lanendill said quietly.

    Arrowan halted in his tracks to look at his friend. Eraledist was strong in magic and could often sense the dark forces and other bad things; not once had he been incorrect.

    “What did he sense?” Arrowan asked.

    “He said the dark was growing in power and that Ilidbahr had returned.” Lanendill said.

    “How can this be? Ilidbahr was slain.” Arrowan replied.

    The mare, as if sensing the dark mood of the conversation, shifted her hoofs nervously, and Lanendill patted her comfortingly.

    “He said that the Bane of Elves willed it, and said no more.”

    Arrowan shook his head. He had heard of the Bane of Elves in legends of old, it was feared by many, but from what he had heard before he left the elven lands, it was a weapon of evil that had been destroyed long ago.

    “Let us talk of it no more, until the time comes when we must.” Arrowan said, before mounting the white mare.

    Lanendill nodded. “Fare thee well, my friend. Let the wind fly with you.”

    “And let the sun bless you, my friend.” Arrowan replied before setting off through the wood.

Friday, 20 May 2011

Welcome to Shards' Secret Sanctuary, although to be honest it isn't very secret, I just thought it sounded cool. Anyway...
I'm ShardsOfGlass from inkpop. This is my blog, no duh! I am here to share info on my projects, other inkies projects and other awesome stuff.
Have a whirl.
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Whatever you want.
This blog is open for all.
So have fun.
Enjoy what you read.
Be nice.
And thanks for visiting! *hands cupcake*