With great trepidation, here's a sample chapter from my first novel titled On The Backs of Dragons. Not really sure where the title came from, but it sounded good at the time and has kind of stuck. Dragons are not a particularly big part of the book, but big enough to justify the name I think.
Anyway, this is a section that I've placed around the middle of the book- much like JRR Tolkien split the three Lord of the Rings books in half I've chosen to do the same in order to kind of reset the stage at this point and properly introduce our antagonist, Maldazor, who only looms in the shadows for most of the story. Oh, and that will be the last time I compare myself in any way to Tolkien in basically any fashion..... Hopefully this section makes sense to any who read it- it's a tough decision deciding a proper entry point. For now I am calling it an interlude until a better way to phrase it comes along. If it ever comes along... (Note: I don't really care for the format this blog displays in for something like this, but it is what it is! Feel free to let me know your thoughts, all criticisms/critiques welcome.)
Interlude:
Maldazor
Fritz tapped lightly on the door though he hoped that his knocking would go
unheard. They had traveled a long way to meet the person behind said
door- never uncertain that their plan would work- yet now that they
were here his confidence had wavered. There would be a rich reward if
the plan came off, but a voice inside Fritz kept reminding him that
there were more important things than money- and he was starting to
believe it. There were much more important things.
Like
breathing, for example.
However,
the voice next to him, which belonged to his partner Frederick, had
been telling Fritz throughout their entire journey that money was
the only thing that mattered, and thus they had to see this through.
Fritz had been convinced, yet noticed that he was the one
carrying the bundle of bones and small treasures removed from the
grave atop Cemetery Hill, not Frederick, and more, he was carrying
them at Frederick’s insistence.
Fritz
looked towards his co-conspirator as the door remained closed and
unanswered, hoping that they could turn around and leave. Instead
Frederick gestured at him with his hand in a fist, air motioning for
Fritz to knock again. “Harder this time,” he whispered, his face
wrapped in a nervous mask. It didn't help Fritz's unease to see that
Frederick was as nervous as he was- and pretending not to be.
