Manuscript Title: KINGLET
Manuscript Genre: Fantasy
Manuscript Word Count: 92,100
Is Manuscript finished? YES
Hook:
Kristan Gemeta has lost everything: his crown, his kingdom, his courage – even his name.
In the vast wilderness of the Exilwald, he’s known only as Kinglet, after a reclusive bird with a secret crown of red feathers. As long as Kristan keeps himself and his real identity hidden, he can elude the bounty hunters, brutal soldiers and terrifying spells of Daazna, the Wichelord who took his throne. But when a new band of pursuers comes looking for him, Kristan's wariness gives way to intrigue. For bounty hunters they’re oddly inept, and a young woman in their company is leaving enigmatic drawings everywhere they go. Kristan shadows the hunters through the Exilwald and discovers that they possess a secret that could give Kristan the chance to defeat Daazna and regain his name and his throne – but to obtain that secret, he must reveal his identity, at the risk of his life.
First 750 words:
The soldiers were shimmering again.
Daazna scowled. All fifty men stood on the deck of the ferryboat just as he had placed them, in a neat rank five across and ten deep. They held their pikes precisely upright and gazed obediently toward their destination, but in the waning moonlight their silhouettes gave off a faint, erratic glow.
Daazna out held both hands, as if balancing a book on his palms. "Ch’amoqaros," he whispered. "Fold, you sons of whores." He brought his hands together with a slap that echoed across the River Mor. The shivering light flickered and faded out.
"What’s the matter?" a harsh voice demanded. Daazna’s upper lip curled with contempt, but he controlled himself and faced Ravelin with an expression of bland courtesy.
"Nothing, my lord. An adjustment. Some are resisting, and I’ve reminded them of their duty."
"Resisting?" Ravelin's sharp features went tight with displeasure. "I thought you knew what you were doing, Wichieman."
Daazna flinched at the name, but kept his manner servile. "I do, my lord. But it's a complex spell and hard to maintain when a subject is unwilling."
"Magic," Ravelin muttered, and thumped one fist against the deck rail. "Not even children believe in magic these days, and yet I’ve put all my trust in it."
Daazna smiled. "Ah, children. Aren’t they the whole point?"
Ravelin glared at him. "I am king. When you address me, you call me ‘my lord.’"
"Of course, my lord. My apologies."
With a snort, Ravelin turned away. Daazna squinted toward the approaching shore. Even in the thin light, Fandrall’s meadows were lush and beautiful as they had been the day he had left nearly a dozen years before. He had been young then; young and creeping with shame. Cast out of the court on false charges, Daazna thought, and was startled at how the memory still festered.
It was a pity old Simeon had left Fandrall long ago and would not be present to witness his apprentice’s return; that would have added sauce to the dish of revenge. But Robert Gemeta still ruled Fandrall: Robert Gemeta, who had kindly, almost sorrowfully, expelled Daazna from the castle.
It must have been a great temptation, he’d said, sitting on his throne with his knights and courtiers in disinterested attendance. Only Simeon had really listened, his mouth grim and his brow furrowed, his hands resting protectively on the shoulders of the king’s little dark-eyed son.
Daazna ground his teeth as he remembered how he had revered Simeon; how he had struggled to impress the great Savárd with his thirst to learn, how he had snatched up each morsel of knowledge Simeon had grudgingly doled out, how desperately he had craved Simeon’s approval. But the Savárd had rebuffed Daazna's awkward teenaged admiration. All his attention had been focused on the king’s son, a mere child with a face still baby-soft and innocent. Simeon had even given the boy a precious scrying ball to play with, to play with, while Daazna had watched with hurt, hungry eyes and a resentful heart.
It must have been a great temptation, the Gemeta had said, holding the shining blue orb in the hollow of his hand and considering it. It’s a pretty thing, and shouldn’t have been left about. But we simply cannot have a thief in the castle. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I’m sure you must understand the situation. Then he had stepped down from the throne, his expression stern yet pitying, and had placed the ball in his son’s hands as he passed. In front of everyone, he had delivered the final blow to Daazna’s shattered pride: he had put one hand on Daazna’s shoulder and with the other, handed him a gold coin. Perhaps this will ease your journey onward, he’d said.
Without thinking, Daazna had closed his hand about the coin and stood numbed with disbelief as Robert Gemeta and Simeon and the rest of the court turned away, finished with him, the memory of him already slipping from their minds – all except the Gemeta’s son, who watched him with solemn eyes, the scrying ball cupped in his small hands. Daazna had slunk from the great hall and out of the keep, over the drawbridge, through the town and across the fields, seeing none of it.
What do you look for in a beta?:
I don't need a line by line, but if I make the same errors over and over I'd love to have them pointed out, along with plot holes, lapses in logic and anyplace where the reader's interest lags. Mostly, I want to know if these characters are intriguing enough that you'd want to read more about them. While I have pretty thick skin, I don't respond well to snark, so if that's your style we probably won't be a very good fit.
Manuscript Genre: Fantasy
Manuscript Word Count: 92,100
Is Manuscript finished? YES
Hook:
Kristan Gemeta has lost everything: his crown, his kingdom, his courage – even his name.
In the vast wilderness of the Exilwald, he’s known only as Kinglet, after a reclusive bird with a secret crown of red feathers. As long as Kristan keeps himself and his real identity hidden, he can elude the bounty hunters, brutal soldiers and terrifying spells of Daazna, the Wichelord who took his throne. But when a new band of pursuers comes looking for him, Kristan's wariness gives way to intrigue. For bounty hunters they’re oddly inept, and a young woman in their company is leaving enigmatic drawings everywhere they go. Kristan shadows the hunters through the Exilwald and discovers that they possess a secret that could give Kristan the chance to defeat Daazna and regain his name and his throne – but to obtain that secret, he must reveal his identity, at the risk of his life.
First 750 words:
The soldiers were shimmering again.
Daazna scowled. All fifty men stood on the deck of the ferryboat just as he had placed them, in a neat rank five across and ten deep. They held their pikes precisely upright and gazed obediently toward their destination, but in the waning moonlight their silhouettes gave off a faint, erratic glow.
Daazna out held both hands, as if balancing a book on his palms. "Ch’amoqaros," he whispered. "Fold, you sons of whores." He brought his hands together with a slap that echoed across the River Mor. The shivering light flickered and faded out.
"What’s the matter?" a harsh voice demanded. Daazna’s upper lip curled with contempt, but he controlled himself and faced Ravelin with an expression of bland courtesy.
"Nothing, my lord. An adjustment. Some are resisting, and I’ve reminded them of their duty."
"Resisting?" Ravelin's sharp features went tight with displeasure. "I thought you knew what you were doing, Wichieman."
Daazna flinched at the name, but kept his manner servile. "I do, my lord. But it's a complex spell and hard to maintain when a subject is unwilling."
"Magic," Ravelin muttered, and thumped one fist against the deck rail. "Not even children believe in magic these days, and yet I’ve put all my trust in it."
Daazna smiled. "Ah, children. Aren’t they the whole point?"
Ravelin glared at him. "I am king. When you address me, you call me ‘my lord.’"
"Of course, my lord. My apologies."
With a snort, Ravelin turned away. Daazna squinted toward the approaching shore. Even in the thin light, Fandrall’s meadows were lush and beautiful as they had been the day he had left nearly a dozen years before. He had been young then; young and creeping with shame. Cast out of the court on false charges, Daazna thought, and was startled at how the memory still festered.
It was a pity old Simeon had left Fandrall long ago and would not be present to witness his apprentice’s return; that would have added sauce to the dish of revenge. But Robert Gemeta still ruled Fandrall: Robert Gemeta, who had kindly, almost sorrowfully, expelled Daazna from the castle.
It must have been a great temptation, he’d said, sitting on his throne with his knights and courtiers in disinterested attendance. Only Simeon had really listened, his mouth grim and his brow furrowed, his hands resting protectively on the shoulders of the king’s little dark-eyed son.
Daazna ground his teeth as he remembered how he had revered Simeon; how he had struggled to impress the great Savárd with his thirst to learn, how he had snatched up each morsel of knowledge Simeon had grudgingly doled out, how desperately he had craved Simeon’s approval. But the Savárd had rebuffed Daazna's awkward teenaged admiration. All his attention had been focused on the king’s son, a mere child with a face still baby-soft and innocent. Simeon had even given the boy a precious scrying ball to play with, to play with, while Daazna had watched with hurt, hungry eyes and a resentful heart.
It must have been a great temptation, the Gemeta had said, holding the shining blue orb in the hollow of his hand and considering it. It’s a pretty thing, and shouldn’t have been left about. But we simply cannot have a thief in the castle. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I’m sure you must understand the situation. Then he had stepped down from the throne, his expression stern yet pitying, and had placed the ball in his son’s hands as he passed. In front of everyone, he had delivered the final blow to Daazna’s shattered pride: he had put one hand on Daazna’s shoulder and with the other, handed him a gold coin. Perhaps this will ease your journey onward, he’d said.
Without thinking, Daazna had closed his hand about the coin and stood numbed with disbelief as Robert Gemeta and Simeon and the rest of the court turned away, finished with him, the memory of him already slipping from their minds – all except the Gemeta’s son, who watched him with solemn eyes, the scrying ball cupped in his small hands. Daazna had slunk from the great hall and out of the keep, over the drawbridge, through the town and across the fields, seeing none of it.
What do you look for in a beta?:
I don't need a line by line, but if I make the same errors over and over I'd love to have them pointed out, along with plot holes, lapses in logic and anyplace where the reader's interest lags. Mostly, I want to know if these characters are intriguing enough that you'd want to read more about them. While I have pretty thick skin, I don't respond well to snark, so if that's your style we probably won't be a very good fit.