Loyalty and Valor

[Duke Tritus]

Hello all! I'm new to this site, and I too have a passion for writing. This is my first short story I've written and shown to other people, so. Please, any constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. I really do seek to improve my writing skills. Also, a warning to readers. My short stories are nearly always based in a medieval or ancient setting. So, they may have some details that one would expect when based in a battle or skirmish. That is all, so enjoy the story!

Galaf's palms were now as dark as the burnt earth below him, and he still lay in pain in the scorched grass and his blood stained the dirt. Blood ran in little rivers through all the filth on the backs of his hands, and yet Galaf was still in a daze. He still lay for nearly a minute, or so it felt, as time went by ever so slowly and painfully. All he could hear was the incessant blur of cries of pain, shouting, and the clanging of steel all about him. Suddenly he was aware of all around him, and through all the pain that he felt, he leaped up from the ground in fear of death and quickly sprung to his sword that lay a few feet away from him. Still though, Galaf was only partially aware of all around. His head ached and Galaf staggered backwards in confusion. He stopped and looked around quickly. Men. Men were all around him, fighting, killing. The constant shrieks and slamming of blades and tearing of flesh rang in his ears.

Galaf then saw a man, bearing the colors and the arms of the enemies. And he only knew of the loyalty to his lord and country, and so he charged. His sword swung forward and met with steel. His enemy heaved forward and threw him back from his position and then slammed his blade downwards. Galaf was desperate, very desperate, to feel brave. He raised the blade in front of him horizontally and struggled to hold his enemy's sword in place, and through all of Galaf's will, he had not the strength to fight. The man swung his sword again and the steel shrieked under the blow. The steel skidded across to the right, and Galaf had only the hilt and a fragment of his blade. How feebly Galaf felt bravery and loyalty, and yet he clung so heroically to it. He thought of the Great Lord and of heaven above, and he flung his sword towards his enemy. The man clutched his chest, now streaked with blood. He bellowed in agony and knelt to the ground. Galaf, almost bewildered with joy, managed to stand up and face his enemy. He grasped his broken blade and raised it, and he looked down towards his foe. The cruel, jagged fragment of the sword seemed to grin with malice as the man looked up towards it in fear.

A figure crumpled lifelessly to the ground before the final blow was struck, and the body lay strewn across the grass. An arrow protruded from the body's heart, and then all the land was deathly silent. Galaf was dead, yet bravery and valor still blazed in his heart in his final moments.

[hillwalker]

First impressions – You’ve taken a big step in posting this on here, and certainly shown as much valour as your hero. But you need to look at ways of injecting some pace into this story. Long rambling sentences and constantly switching the focus from action to internal thoughts are the kiss of death to this kind of story.

Keep your sentences short and snappy during the action sequences. Don’t make the reader have to work in trying to figure out who’s doing what – the detailed choreography is just a distraction. And you should certainly cut down on the contemplative episodes in a story of this length.

For example, the opening paragraph moves far too lethargically to grab the reader’s attention. Repeating the fact that he is ‘still lying’ and adding he is ‘still in a daze’ in the first 3 sentences isn’t the best way to showcase your writing skills.

Telling us how slowly and painfully time went by is taking a huge risk – does that mean your story is also going to drag?

Then there’s an abrupt shift to him ‘suddenly’ becoming aware of everything, leaping to his feet. It seemed an unnatural action for someone who’s supposedly in a daze – rather than creating dramatic effect the word ‘suddenly’ leaves us bewildered. Especially as you then tell us he is ‘still’ only partially aware…

The entire paragraph needs trimming down to one or two sentences. Constantly describing how confused Galaf feels – and repeating the sounds he can hear – you’re just spinning your wheels instead of getting on with the story. Spedning so much time describing very little is called over-writing.

Then there’s the sword fight. Again you drag it out interminably. Instead of conveying the drama of it all – the thrust – the parry – the sneaky shift of the eyes – the sharp intake of breath – the stench of sweat and filth - we get a complicated blow by blow account of one man placing his sword here and the other placing his sword there. And in between trying to keep track of who’s doing what we are plunged into Galaf’s internal thoughts – him wanting (‘desperate, very desperate’) to feel brave. You don’t bring the fight to life… and it’s your job as a writer to do that through your use of words and expressions.

I’m also unsure how a body can lie ‘strewn’ across the grass unless it was cut into little pieces.

Overall a gallant attempt – but you need to sharpen that pen until it’s like a dagger, cutting to the heart of the story rather than flapping at shadows.

H