I am seeking a beta reader for a novel-in-progress. The story is adult [no sex, no blood-and-guts type of gore, and no vulgarities; just written for an audience more mature than YA] sword-and-sorcery with strong Christian elements, thought NOT to the exclusion of a strong plot and strong characters. The main character is a nineteen-year-old male, so I would prefer a reader who likes young male protagonists. I am not looking for detailed critique! All I want and need at this stage are the answers to the following questions: (1) does the story grab your interest? (2) Do you find the characters interesting, engaging and believable? (3) Do you want to know more about them? (4) Do you enjoy the pace, overall elements, and general flow of the plot? (5) If you came across the story in a bookstore, would you buy it?
I am including the opener below, to assist any potential readers in making an informed decision. If you are a lover of Christian fantasy, and if you would like to beta read for a story with both strong adventure and interpersonal themes, I would be delighted to hear from you. I would just ask, however, for serious replies only. My schedule is such that I cannot comfortably handle more than one beta reader at this time, and so I am looking for someone who, providing they like the story, is willing to make a commitment. Thank you in advance!
PS: I am specifically seeking a Christian beta reader. No offense to anyone else, but that is the kind of reader that would be most helpful at this point.
* * *
Prologue
Hes dying, beyond all doubt, the dark-haired man muttered. The speaker stood at the mouth of a large cave. Outside driving sheets of rain pounded down; to his rear stood three tall, hungry horses, and further back in the shadows lay a second, younger and fairer man. The latter lay upon a pallet, covered with a magnificent cape yet shaking from head to toe. Hed been unconscious for nearly three hours, and showed no signs of awakening.
The man at the mouth of the cave, a Rescuer, stared out into the rain. The unseen sun had lately set, and full darkness enveloped the sodden landscape. The worst of it, the dark-haired man reflected, was not having any idea where he was. The road on which he and the sick man had been traveling ran uphill in a westerly direction. For all the Rescuer knew, a sprawling city lay just beyond the bluff or a hundred mekem night separate them from the nearest tiny village.
The dark-haired man sighed. If ever a man had deserved to escape alive and well, that man now lay on a pallet, trembling so hard his teeth chattered. Or so the Rescuer believed, though he saw little chance of it happening now. He had no Healing skills, and wouldnt know where to start even if he had. A more mysterious illness hed never seen or heard of; only a few hours ago the young man had seemed healthy and vibrant; now he shook like a terrified horse, and seemed to worsen with each passing moment.
Why did it seem, the Rescuer wondered, that scoundrels and other neer-do-wells typically made good their escapes, but decent, commendable youths so often died in the effort? Did God want such menand this one in particulardead? Granted, the fair-haired youth didnt believe in God, but was that really his fault? Hed been raised under the all pervasive-heel of a vindictive religion, and quite likely had never known a different way. Was he now to die before he even had a chance?
The Rescuer sighed a second time, more deeply than at first. Hed already done what he could for the horses, and he knew of nothing more he could do for the ailing man. He wondered if it would help, were he to lie down next to his trembling body? It seemed hard to believe, in the humid warmth of an oncoming summer night, the fair-haired man could be chilled. He certainly gave every impression of suffering cold, however, and the Rescuer thought it worth a try.
He shoved his right hand into his pocket, and withdrew it a moment later. His fingers glowed like fire, and by their light he made his way past the horses and deeper into the cave. He knelt and, lifting the edge of the heavy cape, lay down next to the younger mans trembling form. I just hope, he whispered, as he sought a comfortable position, I dont wake up next to a corpse.
Thecat drew rein at the top of the ridge and turned in the saddle. Shading his eyes with the flat of his hand, he gazed down the slope for one last, long look at Azgaárd. The immense castle sprawled in the golden light of a late summer afternoon. Only its opulence overshadowed the sheer size of the citadel, while the surrounding grounds seemed to stretch on forever. Orchards, ponds, stables and gardens marked the nearer reaches, while further a field lay pastures, lakes, planted fields, servants quarters, and woods. Furthest of all rose the dark and magnificent peaks of the GolDrung Mountains, honeycombed beneath with labyrinthine mining shafts and tunnels.
The grand, sweeping sight touched the young Selph in his soul and sent a pang through his heart. For a moment he wavered and almost turned back; then with a scowl he dropped his hand and gathered up his horses reins.
What good is an inheritance, even one as vast and incalculable as Azgaárd, he muttered, with undisguised bitterness, if theres no hope of living long enough to enjoy it?
With that, he put his heels to his horses sides and set off down the far slope at a canter.
By the time Thecat reached a large, bustling inn, he had donned the guise, prepared beforehand, of a petty gemtrader. He made himself at home in the Common Room where, in a celebratory mood, he called for a bowl of strong spirits.
He cut a fine figure, seated alone at a table near the open, western window. He had a sturdy, well-proportioned frame, skin that combined a light, golden tan with a faint dusky hue, wavy golden-brown hair, greenish-gray eyes, even, pleasing facial features, and a way of carrying himself that suggested confidence, agility and strength, all blended together. Though he had discarded the attire that identified him as the heir of Azgaárd, he retained a fine, well-bred look about him, for a single half-days travel wasnt sufficient to erase nearly two decades of grooming as scion to the regions most powerful Gorlord. The glitter of many rings, crushed together on the fingers of his right hand, lent a final, magnificent touch.
Thecat contented himself with his own company, savoring both his newfound freedom and the rare, almost unique pleasure of sipping a bowl of spirits. He took in the long, low ceilinged room, the exposed rafters, the sawdust floor, and the intermingled scents of meat roasting, bread baking and tallow candles burning.
Yet he felt no displeasure when, a short time later, a richly attired middle-aged man approached his table; Thecats expansive mood inclined him to sociability.
Manhéal dRöywn, murmured the man, touching his heart with the fore and middle fingers of his right hand. And I have the honor of?
Théondyr, said Thecat, pulling a name out of an imaginary hat. Théondyr the Gemtrader, filled with all delight at your acquaintance.
Be pleased, he added, with a gesture toward an empty chair, to join me.
Manhéal dRöywn did so. A gemtrader, he murmured, as he fixed Thecat with a steady, penetrating gaze. And yet, somehow you have not the look of a merchant.
Caution, go slowly, a voice in Thecats head warned. The man displays an unwholesome interest in your identity; proceed with care.
Relax and enjoy yourself, countered a louder voice. Youre no longer a slave in the prison of Azgaárd; act the part of a freeman!
Thecat smiled. Looks can be deceptive, he said. I am a gemtrader sure enough. Why, just this afternoon I made a spectacular sale, and that is the reason I am celebrating to-night.
Manhéal dRöywn cocked his head. A spectacular sale in this region? he said. But that hardly seems likely, given one thing and another. To whom, if I may be so bold, did you sell?
Thecat spread his hands. It could have been anyone, he said. A fellow traveler happened upon me on the road, and recognizing me for what I am, asked to see my wares. As it happened, I had just what he desired.
And now I am here, making merry.
The dark-haired man was silent a moment, then he gestured toward the bowl. With what, may I inquire, are you merrymaking?
Vipers Venom, said Thecat, with a grin. It just seemed right for the occasion.
Manhéal dRöywn frowned. I wont say its bad, he murmured, but it is definitely inferior. Turning, he gestured toward the proprietor. Here, Publican, he called out. Two bowls of Pryns Poison, quickly please.
Thecat, in anticipation, drained the last of his Venom. The fatigue that had building in his body for what seemed an eternity felt not so much abated as mellowed. He hoped it would mellow further still, as the evening wore on.
The bartender arrived with alacrity, bearing two brimming bowls. Thecat gazed at the glimmering, blood red contents of the one that swirled before him, then, with a meaningful smile he raised it to his lips. To my new and heartily delightful companion, he murmured; then he drank.
Thecat felt, as the strong spirits entered into him, a deep tingling sensation that was both warm and pleasant. It seemed to flow from his head to his toes and back again, bringing a wider smile to his face. Pryns Poison, he murmured, under his breath. I must remember the name for future use.
The dark-haired man returned his smile, then leaned forward in a companionable gesture. And now, if were getting to know and like each other, perhaps youll tell me who you really are, he said. After all, it wouldnt do to mislead a friend, now would it?
Caution, caution, said the first voice, more faintly than before. Its a trapbeware!
You can outsmart him! insisted the second voice, drowning out the other. Youre brilliant! Use your wits to joust with him, and dont worry about coming out on topyou know you will!
The young Selph favored his companion with a lazy, almost insouciant smile. Not who am I, he murmured. What am I?
Something thats never been seen before, and never will be again, he continued, answering his own question. Something, in other words, altogether unique.
And, of incalculable value, he added, as he took another sip of the Poison. But only to those to recognize the value, of course. Only to those with sufficient insight to grasp what it is theyre dealing with. To all others, Im just another comely youth, seeking fame and fortune wherever he can find them.
Manhéal dRöywn inclined his head, then lifted his bowl. To fame, to fortune, and to youth, comely or otherwise, he murmured.
The Gorlordian heir was only too happy to drink.
I am including the opener below, to assist any potential readers in making an informed decision. If you are a lover of Christian fantasy, and if you would like to beta read for a story with both strong adventure and interpersonal themes, I would be delighted to hear from you. I would just ask, however, for serious replies only. My schedule is such that I cannot comfortably handle more than one beta reader at this time, and so I am looking for someone who, providing they like the story, is willing to make a commitment. Thank you in advance!
PS: I am specifically seeking a Christian beta reader. No offense to anyone else, but that is the kind of reader that would be most helpful at this point.
* * *
Prologue
Hes dying, beyond all doubt, the dark-haired man muttered. The speaker stood at the mouth of a large cave. Outside driving sheets of rain pounded down; to his rear stood three tall, hungry horses, and further back in the shadows lay a second, younger and fairer man. The latter lay upon a pallet, covered with a magnificent cape yet shaking from head to toe. Hed been unconscious for nearly three hours, and showed no signs of awakening.
The man at the mouth of the cave, a Rescuer, stared out into the rain. The unseen sun had lately set, and full darkness enveloped the sodden landscape. The worst of it, the dark-haired man reflected, was not having any idea where he was. The road on which he and the sick man had been traveling ran uphill in a westerly direction. For all the Rescuer knew, a sprawling city lay just beyond the bluff or a hundred mekem night separate them from the nearest tiny village.
The dark-haired man sighed. If ever a man had deserved to escape alive and well, that man now lay on a pallet, trembling so hard his teeth chattered. Or so the Rescuer believed, though he saw little chance of it happening now. He had no Healing skills, and wouldnt know where to start even if he had. A more mysterious illness hed never seen or heard of; only a few hours ago the young man had seemed healthy and vibrant; now he shook like a terrified horse, and seemed to worsen with each passing moment.
Why did it seem, the Rescuer wondered, that scoundrels and other neer-do-wells typically made good their escapes, but decent, commendable youths so often died in the effort? Did God want such menand this one in particulardead? Granted, the fair-haired youth didnt believe in God, but was that really his fault? Hed been raised under the all pervasive-heel of a vindictive religion, and quite likely had never known a different way. Was he now to die before he even had a chance?
The Rescuer sighed a second time, more deeply than at first. Hed already done what he could for the horses, and he knew of nothing more he could do for the ailing man. He wondered if it would help, were he to lie down next to his trembling body? It seemed hard to believe, in the humid warmth of an oncoming summer night, the fair-haired man could be chilled. He certainly gave every impression of suffering cold, however, and the Rescuer thought it worth a try.
He shoved his right hand into his pocket, and withdrew it a moment later. His fingers glowed like fire, and by their light he made his way past the horses and deeper into the cave. He knelt and, lifting the edge of the heavy cape, lay down next to the younger mans trembling form. I just hope, he whispered, as he sought a comfortable position, I dont wake up next to a corpse.
The Gorlords Revenge
Thecat drew rein at the top of the ridge and turned in the saddle. Shading his eyes with the flat of his hand, he gazed down the slope for one last, long look at Azgaárd. The immense castle sprawled in the golden light of a late summer afternoon. Only its opulence overshadowed the sheer size of the citadel, while the surrounding grounds seemed to stretch on forever. Orchards, ponds, stables and gardens marked the nearer reaches, while further a field lay pastures, lakes, planted fields, servants quarters, and woods. Furthest of all rose the dark and magnificent peaks of the GolDrung Mountains, honeycombed beneath with labyrinthine mining shafts and tunnels.
The grand, sweeping sight touched the young Selph in his soul and sent a pang through his heart. For a moment he wavered and almost turned back; then with a scowl he dropped his hand and gathered up his horses reins.
What good is an inheritance, even one as vast and incalculable as Azgaárd, he muttered, with undisguised bitterness, if theres no hope of living long enough to enjoy it?
With that, he put his heels to his horses sides and set off down the far slope at a canter.
By the time Thecat reached a large, bustling inn, he had donned the guise, prepared beforehand, of a petty gemtrader. He made himself at home in the Common Room where, in a celebratory mood, he called for a bowl of strong spirits.
He cut a fine figure, seated alone at a table near the open, western window. He had a sturdy, well-proportioned frame, skin that combined a light, golden tan with a faint dusky hue, wavy golden-brown hair, greenish-gray eyes, even, pleasing facial features, and a way of carrying himself that suggested confidence, agility and strength, all blended together. Though he had discarded the attire that identified him as the heir of Azgaárd, he retained a fine, well-bred look about him, for a single half-days travel wasnt sufficient to erase nearly two decades of grooming as scion to the regions most powerful Gorlord. The glitter of many rings, crushed together on the fingers of his right hand, lent a final, magnificent touch.
Thecat contented himself with his own company, savoring both his newfound freedom and the rare, almost unique pleasure of sipping a bowl of spirits. He took in the long, low ceilinged room, the exposed rafters, the sawdust floor, and the intermingled scents of meat roasting, bread baking and tallow candles burning.
Yet he felt no displeasure when, a short time later, a richly attired middle-aged man approached his table; Thecats expansive mood inclined him to sociability.
Manhéal dRöywn, murmured the man, touching his heart with the fore and middle fingers of his right hand. And I have the honor of?
Théondyr, said Thecat, pulling a name out of an imaginary hat. Théondyr the Gemtrader, filled with all delight at your acquaintance.
Be pleased, he added, with a gesture toward an empty chair, to join me.
Manhéal dRöywn did so. A gemtrader, he murmured, as he fixed Thecat with a steady, penetrating gaze. And yet, somehow you have not the look of a merchant.
Caution, go slowly, a voice in Thecats head warned. The man displays an unwholesome interest in your identity; proceed with care.
Relax and enjoy yourself, countered a louder voice. Youre no longer a slave in the prison of Azgaárd; act the part of a freeman!
Thecat smiled. Looks can be deceptive, he said. I am a gemtrader sure enough. Why, just this afternoon I made a spectacular sale, and that is the reason I am celebrating to-night.
Manhéal dRöywn cocked his head. A spectacular sale in this region? he said. But that hardly seems likely, given one thing and another. To whom, if I may be so bold, did you sell?
Thecat spread his hands. It could have been anyone, he said. A fellow traveler happened upon me on the road, and recognizing me for what I am, asked to see my wares. As it happened, I had just what he desired.
And now I am here, making merry.
The dark-haired man was silent a moment, then he gestured toward the bowl. With what, may I inquire, are you merrymaking?
Vipers Venom, said Thecat, with a grin. It just seemed right for the occasion.
Manhéal dRöywn frowned. I wont say its bad, he murmured, but it is definitely inferior. Turning, he gestured toward the proprietor. Here, Publican, he called out. Two bowls of Pryns Poison, quickly please.
Thecat, in anticipation, drained the last of his Venom. The fatigue that had building in his body for what seemed an eternity felt not so much abated as mellowed. He hoped it would mellow further still, as the evening wore on.
The bartender arrived with alacrity, bearing two brimming bowls. Thecat gazed at the glimmering, blood red contents of the one that swirled before him, then, with a meaningful smile he raised it to his lips. To my new and heartily delightful companion, he murmured; then he drank.
Thecat felt, as the strong spirits entered into him, a deep tingling sensation that was both warm and pleasant. It seemed to flow from his head to his toes and back again, bringing a wider smile to his face. Pryns Poison, he murmured, under his breath. I must remember the name for future use.
The dark-haired man returned his smile, then leaned forward in a companionable gesture. And now, if were getting to know and like each other, perhaps youll tell me who you really are, he said. After all, it wouldnt do to mislead a friend, now would it?
Caution, caution, said the first voice, more faintly than before. Its a trapbeware!
You can outsmart him! insisted the second voice, drowning out the other. Youre brilliant! Use your wits to joust with him, and dont worry about coming out on topyou know you will!
The young Selph favored his companion with a lazy, almost insouciant smile. Not who am I, he murmured. What am I?
Something thats never been seen before, and never will be again, he continued, answering his own question. Something, in other words, altogether unique.
And, of incalculable value, he added, as he took another sip of the Poison. But only to those to recognize the value, of course. Only to those with sufficient insight to grasp what it is theyre dealing with. To all others, Im just another comely youth, seeking fame and fortune wherever he can find them.
Manhéal dRöywn inclined his head, then lifted his bowl. To fame, to fortune, and to youth, comely or otherwise, he murmured.
The Gorlordian heir was only too happy to drink.
