Here’s a snippet. Just because I can.
This is from a fantasy story I’m working on (E1, if you want to know) and I’m enjoying it. No background is needed, really, or will be provided, because I’m considering starting the novel with this. Haven’t decided yet, but very strongly considering…
Anyway, happy Friday, and enjoy!
Life was good — or it would be, if Alan had chosen this life. The sun was shining, a cool breeze carried the perfume from the blossoming fruit trees, and all he needed to do was be social and play sports. Assuming, of course, that the sports involved hitting people with swords and dodging spears. Hell, I know guys who would kill to actually live this life.
Too bad I’m not one of ‘em.
Staring out across the river didn’t really help matters. Alan wasn’t used to this much green. It felt unreal, so very alien from the red-brown mountains surrounding the town where he’d lived all his life. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.
Yet here he was. And there was no end to this “visit” in the foreseeable future.
From behind him he heard voices, but he didn’t have to turn to know they weren’t people he knew. They weren’t speaking a language he recognized, so he refused to acknowledge them. The handful of people he’d met here already knew that if they wanted to talk to him, they needed to use his language.
At times, it seemed odd that they’d accepted that. He was on their land, living at their expense. They’d be within their rights to demand he learn their tongue. Just one problem with that… they want me to fight their war. Not gonna happen if they don’t make nice.
Of course, it might not happen anyway.
Copyright 2010 by Nicole Tom, do no re-print or re-post without permission, rough draft so expect errors, etc, etc, etc.