Frostbite

[vovan]

Well, I started writing a little something here in the little time that I actually have nowadays. So, here is the first chapter. I just sorta had a burst of inspiration here, so I don't know how long it will last, and I have tons of work coming up next week, so I don't know when I'll be able to continue... So, consider this a teaser of sorts. I'd like feedback, though, more than anything, as it has been a while since I wrote anything creative last, and, while writing this, I thought I was getting rusty.

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Frost covered the land as far as the eye could see. The snow was touched only by a set of footprints going down towards the river. There, a boy was breaking the ice. A bucket stood beside him. With every swing of the shovel, the boy exhaled a large cloud of vapour and grinned – it was always fun to watch one’s breath. He also liked to break the ice. Although the shovel he used was ill fit for this task, the process nonetheless brought the boy great enjoyment. He was doing something important. No house could do without water at the town, and here, upriver from it, the water was best to collect, for it was still clean.

The boy’s name was Alexander. His father, a poor worker, whose parents were released from slavery, worked from dusk till dawn every day toiling for the government. The man built roads, helped with the construction in the town, dug mines – in a word, did everything he was instructed to do – and barely made enough money to feed his family. For the past month or so, he had been working on something new – planting a forest. The idea seemed ridiculous – there were plenty of trees around as it were, and it was quite a daunting task to even plant anything in this glacier, for the ground was frozen and hard to dig, not to speak of keeping a tree alive.

Alexander turned around to look at the large pines across the hill from him – the ones that had been here for a few hundred years at least – and smiled: he wondered when the trees his father was planting now would grow as tall. The boy turned back towards the river and resumed his work. With each hit of the shovel, larger and larger chunks of ice broke off, and, in some places, it was becoming really thin. At one such hit, an almost perfectly cubic piece broke off. The boy looked at it and smiled at the thought of telling his friends at the town how he was able to make perfectly shaped pieces of ice with such a crude instrument as a shovel. He took off his mitten, and took the cube. The boy brought it close to his face, and felt the cold against his cheek. He breathed at the ice and watched it change its shape under the hot air. It always fascinated Alexander to watch the ice melt. He never quite understood why this substance would suddenly turn to water at his touch or breath, but he always enjoyed melting ice, because it gave him a certain feeling of satisfaction. Power almost. To control nature. To change something solid into water.

When the cube finally melted, and Alexander’s right arm was wet from wrist to the elbow, he put in the mitten, took the shovel and resumed work. After a while, he finally made a hole large enough for the bucket to fit in and without looking, stretched his hand out to get it. Just as he grabbed the handle, something cold gripped his wrist. The boy turned around, but before he could tell what was going on, he felt a strong push in the chest, and fell on his back. He sat up and saw a large man, covered in an animal skin.

The skin did not look like it was even made for being worn – more like just ripped off of some animal in a hurry, and scraped clean of flesh. If did not have any shape, but was sitting oddly on the man’s shoulders. He was holding a large sword in his right hand. Blood was dripping from the sword onto the snow, making little round holes in it. The man’s expression did not promise any good, ether – his face looked like that of an animal – twisted with rage, and unspoiled by any sign of intellect. He was grinning wildly staring blankly at the boy in front of him.

Alexander started to retreat slowly, never taking his eyes off the man’s face. But as he got a certain distance away, it was as if something suddenly clicked in the barbarian’s brain: he roared something, which Alexander could not quite understand, grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked him to his feet. Alexander brushed his hair with his hand quickly, with disgust – the man’s hand was bloodstained, and the boy suddenly felt sick at the thought that there was someone’s blood on his head. The warrior suddenly laughed, and Alexander almost thought that he saw the man wink at him. But he must have been mistaken, as the barbarian continued speaking in rather harsh voice, and now his mouth began twisting into that animal grin of his again. The warrior stopped speaking just as suddenly as he had begun and looked questioningly at Alexander. The boy hadn’t the least clue as to what was enquired of him, so he just shook his head wildly. At that, the barbarian grabbed him by his clothes, lifted off the ground, took the bucket in the other hand and started across the river.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Great teaser Vovan! great idea

This has the makings of an exceptional story

Just one thing. I thought there were rather. A lot of full stops. Just my. Opinion really.

Where commas, may have flowed better, at least, thats the way I see it.

[vovan]

Thanks, Chris.

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Just one thing. I thought there were rather. A lot of full stops. Just my. Opinion really.

Where commas, may have flowed better, at least, thats the way I see it.

I suppose the following would be one example of this?

Originally posted by vovan
He never quite understood why this substance would suddenly turn to water at his touch or breath, but he always enjoyed melting ice, because it gave him a certain feeling of satisfaction. Power almost. To control nature. To change something solid into water.

This particular piece was just my attempt at mimicking the boy's simple thought process. I don't write it as if he is thinking it, but it is still meant to convey his thoughts. So, here, what I was trying to convey with the short incomplete sentences was this lack of knowledge, lack of understanding - Alexander's simple thought process. He is looking at this ice cube melt and thinking: "Why is it that this ice cube fascinates me so much." Then he stops to consider. He comes to the conclusion: "I can feel the power." But then the question is: the power over what? He stops to consider again... "To control nature!" But how? Why does this ice cube let met exert some control? "I can turn a solid into a liquid!"

Any way, that was my idea. And for other places, there were other reasons, too. But I'll try to work on that, and see how I can convey what I want to convey without breaking up the sentences too much. Thanks again for the feedback.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Yes I could see that was your intention, but still a few too many full stops I think.

The full stops and short sentences are a good way to show someones thoughts as they occur, I myself have used a similar technique in places in Fight for Freedom.

It does work, but I think you have more than you need thats all.

Looking forward to what happens next

[SKILORD]

Great Start!

[Paddy]

Thanks Vovan

[Richelieu]

Good start. Looking forward to more.

[vovan]

Thanks, all.

I have gotten quite rusty with writing, but I hope you like this new installment. As always, I'd like comments.

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The chieftain was sitting in his tent, reflecting upon his past battles – his victories and his defeats, his successes and his failures. He had just eaten, and the full stomach, as well as the warmth and darkness of the tent, rather conduced to reflection.

The man, named Burkhan, thought back towards his very first kill. He was still about twelve years of age then and lived in a small village in the mountains, helping his father with a herd of sheep his family had. One day, the boy and his father returned to the home in the evening to find the village half-empty, with the women’s breaking the otherwise silent evening. It turned out that the village had been attacked by the Persian army. They didn’t take anything of value – just killed every male present and claimed that the place now belonged to them – after which, the main army left a dozen guards behind and marched on. At this news, Burkhan’s father grabbed his dagger and ran off in search of those soldiers. He didn’t have to search long, and was able to catch them off-guard. Needless to say, he was unable to win that fight, although he did take four men with him to the other world. Burkhan himself was witness to the fight, and as the Persians watched his father on the ground, bleeding to death, he snatched a dagger and stabbed one soldier in the back. The boy then ran off to the woods and spent there some weeks, hiding from the Persian troops. Since then, Burkhan had vowed to devote his life to eradicating the Persians.

The political situation was helping Burkhan fulfill his vow… His nation, Mongolia, was pretty much in constant warfare with Persia, and the chieftain was always in the front lines. Persia was the largest country in the known world, and no doubt, the most powerful. It never really considered Mongolia, its small neighbor, any real threat, and thus, never bothered to expends enough troops to take it over. Neither did it rally care for Mongolia’s land, for it was mountainous, few resources and could sustain a very small population. The Mongols, however, felt intimidated and threatened by Persia and never ceased to attack their strong neighbor. The attacks never resulted in a declaration of official war – they were more targeted at weakening the infrastructure of border towns and villages. And yet, the attacks were often brutal and some fights lasted for a few days on end. The Mongols never quite understood why these did not generate a proper response from the Persians, and that made them even more bitter. Furthermore, the Mongols felt that the Persians didn’t give them enough consideration – all their political requests and demands were either left unanswered or met with irony rather than serious consideration.

The upcoming attack was going to change things, Burkhan thought. The chieftain and his army were camped just outside a rather small Persian village called Eretria. This time, the plan was to take over the village and show the Persians that the Mongolian authority is not to be discarded lightly. He must show the hated enemy what it is like to piss of a Mongol.

Just as Burkhan’s thoughts were turning bitter, they were interrupted. A man looked into the tent and smiled. “The scouts have just finished in a map of the region, Chieftain, and I bring it to you,” he informed. “Very good. Give it to me, Subetei”, replied Burkhan. The young man handed over the map and retreated.

Subetei was new to the field had never before seen any fighting. He was in many ways different from Burkhan. He grew up in the capital of Mongolia, a rather large city, was from a rather wealthy family, well-educated, with mild manner. He shared one thing only with the chieftain – a deep hatred towards the Persians, and that was all that mattered.

The plan wasn’t quite finished, but showed the area around the camp and even more importantly – the surroundings of Eretria. The Mongols hid in the forest, just across the river from the village. Their location wasn’t too bad for a surprise attack, however, since it was winter and the river was frozen over and would be quite easy to cross. Additionally, the Mongolian warriors didn’t wear much in the way of heavy armour and rather relied on their mobility, which would allow the ice to support more men at once.

While Burkhan was studying the map, another man looked into his tent with a gleeful expression on his face. “What is it Temur?” asked the chieftain, a little annoyed – he never liked to be interrupted while considering the plan for an upcoming battle. “Come out, Chieftain, we’ve got something to show you!”

[SKILORD]

interesting.

I want to see more.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good stuff Vovan, is the boy in part one the same boy as Bhurkan ?

If not how does this tie in or are you getting to that later.

Persia I just love to slap Persia around myself

[vovan]

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Good stuff Vovan, is the boy in part one the same boy as Bhurkan ?

No.

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
If not how does this tie in or are you getting to that later.

You will see him again in the next chapter.

[PLATO]

This is really interesting vovan. I've got an idea or two on how the boy may tie in. Can't wait to see if I'm right!

[vovan]

Well, I have some time this weekend, so here is another chapter.

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Burkhan followed Temur out of the tent. He was in a foul mood, because his thoughts about the upcoming battle were interrupted so unceremoniously. The chieftain kept on grumbling about how is a general supposed to win battles, if he can’t even spend a few hours in meditation. But then he saw what it was Temur wanted to show him. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, looking around with large eyes, filled with fear. Temur pointed a finger at the boy and said: “Look what I found by the river! A Persian boy!” Burkhan’s lips curled in disgust.

The warrior then proceeded to tell the story of how he caught the boy. As one of the strongest and most trustworthy men in the surrounding of the chieftain, he was sent with the scouts to map out the region surrounding the enemy village. It all went well first, as they went to the west around the forest and towards the river. No one was around while the scouts put down on paper the configuration of the bend of the river just to the south-west of the village, and in fact, there weren’t any human tracks in the snow, either, suggesting the villagers were hiding within the walls. The Mongols then crossed the river and headed towards the hills and discovered an abandoned mine. Or at least they thought originally that the mine was abandoned, and went in to explore and determine what the mine had been used for and how long it had been since it was abandoned. Inside, the mine was in poor condition, and even though one could tell that it was used to extract some metal, the scouts thought best to exit it promptly, as the supports didn’t look very encouraging and one could smell the rotting of wood.

However, just as the men approached the exit, they heard worried voices. They spoke in Persian, and even though Temur himself could not understand what they said, he claimed one of the scouts could make out a couple words and said that the men had spotted the tracks and that alarmed them. Temur peeked out and saw three men, standing next to the mine entrance, arguing about something rather heatedly. His bloodlust and hatred towards the Persians took over him then, he unsheathed his sword and charged. The men were caught off-guard, but still put up quite a resistance.

Just as Temur got into a colorful description of his fight, undoubtedly slightly overestimating his valor, Burkhan’s face twisted in anger and he interrupted: “Have you lost your mind?!” Temur was surprised. He never expected such reaction from the Chieftain, but instead thought he would be praised.
- Why no… I have killed some Persians. Isn’t that what we are here for?
- And have you thought of the consequences of that?
- I don’t understand what you are talking about…
- Clearly. We attack their village tomorrow. But some of their men have been killed today. Surely, they’ll notice that and go looking for them. They’ll find the bodies and be alerted to our presence. The whole factor of surprise we’ve been working so hard to get is hereby destroyed. And then this boy! Where did you get him?
- Well, I was just going to tell you about that.

After the three Persians had been slain, the scouts crossed the river again, and headed back to camp through the forest. Just as they reached the bank, Temur heard a sound. He ordered the scouts back to camp, and, thinking they would be safe in the forest, headed back. He hid behind a hill, and looked at the river. There was a boy, trying to break the ice with a shovel. He was apparently sent to get some water. The warrior approached the boy from behind, grabbed him, and brought him back to camp.

Burkhan cursed again and hit Temur in the chest. If there was some remote chance that the men’s disappearance would not be noticed, with the boy, the whole matter is spoiled. His mother would surely raise alarm and gather up villagers to search for her son. Now, there is good chance the camp would be discovered, and then the whole idea of the attack would be spoiled.

“Well, what’s done is done,” said Burkhan, “Bring the boy to my tent. I’ll see if I can get some information about the village from him, though he looks much too young to be of any use to us. And you, Temur… Try to use your head next time you go out in the field, or I will take it off your shoulders myself.”

[PLATO]

Seems like Temur is in some hot water, hmm? This one has got me. I want to see more!

[ChrisiusMaximus]

nice addition Vovan, getting exciting now. I wonder what will happen next, looking forward to some more

[vovan]

Thanks, PLATO, Chris.

[vovan]

Well, I don't know when I'll get the time to write something again, so here is the next installment.

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Alexander was sitting on the ground, looking around. He had been dragged by the barbarian into some sort of camp, which he knew must have been close to the village. By the speech of the men around him, he understood that they were Mongols, and could even make out a word or two, but not much really to make sense out of the situation. The place, the men, and their voices scared the boy. His parents used to tell him stories about the brutality of the Mongols and about their terrible acts of violence. In those stories, they always seemed almost inhuman in their cruelty.

When Alexander was very small, he used to have nightmares about the Mongols. It would always be the exact same dream. He would find himself in the dark on a hill outside the walls of the village. He wouldn’t know how he got there or what he was doing there – as it almost always happens in dreams – but would feel only the strong feeling of fear. He would look around, but the darkness would be so thick, he would not be able to see anything. And then, all of a sudden, he would hear a roar. An almost animal roar, and yet, somehow, subconsciously, he would know that it is, in fact, a man. He would then hear heavy steps behind him. Every time he would tell himself that it is just a dream and try to make himself look around to confront the enemy, yet he would never have enough courage. A tiny spec of a doubt somewhere in the subconsciousness – the doubt that it is *not* really a dream, that it is, in fact, reality – would push him forward and down the hill. He would start running. Running faster and faster down the hill. In the end, he would be running so fast, his legs would barely be able to keep up, and then, suddenly, he would trip. He would throw his hands forward and see the ground approach… And then he would wake up. Not once would he be able to force himself to look back and see who it was that was chasing him, but he would never doubt it was a Mongolian warrior.

As Alexander grew up, such fear of the Mongols in him subsided and gave way to a strange kind of admiration. He grew up in a small village, where nothing much happened. His father didn’t have the most exciting occupation in the world either – he dug roads, mined hills, and planted forests. So, Alexander really didn’t have the kind of heroic warrior father that a lot of the boys of his age used to admire and boast with. Many times the same conversation would take place: one of the boys would boast about his father killing numerous Mongols, and ask Alexander what his dad did, and the boy wouldn’t respond with anything, because such lowly occupation wasn’t anything to be proud of. Thus, being a sort of an underdog himself, Alexander came to like and even admire the Mongols. He couldn’t understand why it was that people hated them so much. And indeed, the hatred, and the stories about them was part of his fascination. He felt there was maybe something more to them. Maybe they were like him – misunderstood, and disliked – rather that, indeed, brutal and cruel, as they were painted to be.

Thus, as Alexander found himself in the Mongolian camp, his fear was mixed with excitement. He was quite intimidated by the huge barbarian that had brought him here, but at the same time, he was excited to be here. He thought maybe he could talk to the Mongols, and figure out why it was people didn’t like them, and then – go back to the village and the people the truth. Show the people how wrong they were. Show them that the Mongols aren’t really that bad. He was excited also, because the surroundings were new to him. He had been on this side of the forest with friends numerous times, of course, but the men themselves, their dress, their manner of speech, their tents – it was all new and exciting. And so, as time went on and the people seemed to not pay attention to him, the boy started forgetting his fears and looked around more and more freely. Especially he liked that fact that the big brute that brought him here seemed to have forgotten all about him. The man was standing a few meters away, talking with another guy – dressed a little neater, but still mostly in animal fur. Not only that, but he was being shouted at, and Alexander could even make out a few curse words.

Then apparently, the lecture was over and the barbarian headed towards the boy again with the apparent intention to yank Alexander to his feet by the hair again. The Persian definitely didn’t want to experience that again, so he crawled back a little bit, and as the warrior approached even closer – jumped to his feet. The man’s face was grim and that didn’t promise anything good. The barbarian grabbed Alexander by the clothes and pushed him towards the man he had been talking to before so hard, that the boy stumbled and fell face-first on the ground.

Alexander was now facing the Mongolian man’s boots. He raised his eyes and met the gaze of the man himself. It was stone-cold, and the face seemed as if cut from stone. Alexander could tell no emotions from that face, and thought there probably were none. The man’s face was much different from the Persian faces and the boy stared at it for a while, until he received a swift kick in the chest that sent him tumbling over and falling on the back. He was now eying the sky, still blue – the kind of blue you only get in winter, when it is really cold and there are no clouds in the sky. Alexander immediately realized that it was best to get up from that position, however, for who knows what kick he might receive next, so he jumped back to his feet.

The Mongol shook his head, and pronounced: “Tent” in Persian, and bowed his head towards a big tent a few meters away from him. After the kick in the chest, Alexander didn’t need to be asked twice, so he proceeded promptly.

[PLATO]

Likeing it! Very Much!

[vovan]

Thanks, PLATO.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Thats a cracking chapter there vovan, you are a master with describing the fear factor and the inner goings on of the mind.

Well after all you are Boris Karlof incarnate

Seriously though an excellent addition

[vovan]

Thanks, Chris. That's encouraging.

[SKILORD]

Very nice work so far.

[vovan]

Thanks, SKI.

[unscratchedfoot]

...formulaic yet compelling...

We need more material.

[vovan]

Thanks, scratch.

Formulaic... I know what you mean. I guess your comment about the lack of unpredictability in SKI's story applies to an extent here as well. Although, I'd say it's a bit too early to judge this piece on unpredictability.

Regarding more material... I'm going to be away from the computer for the next week. But hopefully, when I am back, I'll be able to continue providing the goods on a regular basis.

[Space05us]

that was great! hurry back and write more

[vovan]

I wonder if anyone still remembers this.

Now just to remember where I was going with this.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I do and Ive been patiently waiting for you to return