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Certainty's End
The air around Liar hung motionless; damp and oppressive. It stank of stale bread, wet stone and the filth of bodies long deprived of soap. Yet more than the smell was the weight of the air. Seeming to physically press upon him; feeling as though he were attempting to breath through a wet cloth. Liar sat in what could be described as nothing more than a six foot by six foot cube. Seated in the center of the cell, with legs folded up underneath and arms resting on his thighs. His scraggly black hair fell upon his face as Liar mediated, draining his mind of all feeling and thought. Seeking an escape from his surroundings, from his fate. Over and over, painful thoughts of the past, and fearful thoughts of the future surfaced behind his closed eyes. Threatening to break what small semblance of peace he had scraped together. Throughout the night the internal battle continued.
The cell around him held little to bring him comfort. To one side lay a mat, worn thin by years of condemned men tossing and turning through their last nights. To the other, a pail meant to serve as a bathroom for his bodily needs. As few resources as possible were wasted upon the condemned. Which, to Liar, hardly made things worse. Sentenced as he was, material things could provide no release for him. Better to find peace among one's mind then to desperately strive for protection and comfort in possessions. In fact, Liar had nothing to his name, even the rags upon his back belonged to the prison within which he rotted.
Tonight was to be his last night alive; a fact the guards would not soon let him forget. At dawn, he would be marched out into the courtyard above. Brought before hundreds of people, none of which would know his name. Yet, all would be there to watch his death. And Liar could hardly find fault for their actions. Perhaps it were better that they did not know who he was. Even without the knowledge of his past, there was precious little about him that spoke to being redeemable. In fact, the few redeemable parts were long gone. Strangled by who he had become. He had simply fallen to far, wholly out of the reach of any saving grace.
So instead, Liar sat. Clearing his mind and bringing himself to a peaceful acceptance of what Fate had set before him. At some point, one had to accept the reality of their situation. Sooner or later everyone eventually finds themselves backed into a corner. All options exhausted, no escape available. It had been long in coming, with far too many close calls and near dead ends. But at last that day had caught up to Liar.
Breathing deeply, he sat up a little straighter. Flexing his tired muscles, stretching his weakened frame. Oddly enough, as Liar battled internally to keep peace, fear and sorrow held little sway upon his thoughts. Anger sat at the foremost, anger at allowed himself to be caught. Anger at failing to protect those around him and to accomplish all he had set out to do. Followed closely by a sadness directed towards those who relied upon him. And pain, a deep cutting pain. As if, by same strange means his death were a betrayal to those he held so dear. He was abandoning them and there was nothing he could do about it. And that hurt most of all.
The sounds of booted footsteps drifted through the cell door, temporarily drawing Liar back from his contemplations. He cracked one eye ever so slightly, watching as the shadows beneath the door came and went. The footsteps topped farther down the hallway. Followed by the distant sound of a door swinging open. Some other poor soul had no doubt found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. As the silence resumed, Liar allowed himself to drift back into the world of his thoughts. Not yet time.
Again the silence closed in around him. His ears straining to catch a sound were none lurked. His breath began to slow as peace again took hold of his body. Or perhaps Fate had felt the need to lay hands on him this night. Bringing him this sense of acceptance. Bestowing upon his lost soul the ability to cope with what lay ahead. Liar fixed his posture, squaring his shoulders and correcting his slouch. If Fate’s eyes were upon him, then he should at least make himself presentable before that gaze.
The sudden eruption of noise as the door to his cell flew open sent Liar sprawling across the floor in surprise. He throw up one hand to ward off the intense light now focused upon him. Liar heard more than saw the guards move around the cell to grab him by the arms. One, off to his left, let out a cough as the scent of Liar’s unwashed body fell over him. The other laughed at his counterparts discomfort. Limp between the two men, Liar was carried from his confines out into the hallway. With his eyes finally adjusted he noticed there were two more guards accompanying them … And a Priest.
They walked for a short time down the hall. Taking a couple turns and up a flight of stairs, all while still holding Liar between them. The walls held nothing but torches to light the way. The deep gray of the stone a constant reminder of Liar’s situation. Turning down one last hallway the guards stopped at an open door, revealing a room only slightly larger than the holding cell. Despite being Sparsely furnished, with a couple chairs and a desk, the room felt cluttered.
Liar was tossed unceremoniously into the room. Long been deprived of sufficient nutrients, he struggled to retain his footing. Stumbling sideways he reached desperately for something to stabilize him. His reaching hands landed upon one of the chairs and Liar thankfully slumped into it. Moments later the door swung closed. Liar sat, blankly staring at the desk before him as he regained his composure. Slowly he becoming aware that he was the object of close scrutiny. Glance at the door he found the priest standing there, watching him. The priest had no hair and was clean-shaven, standing perhaps six feet tall. His gaunt white face held no emotion, though his bright purple eyes shone with a hard intensity not easily dismissed. His black robes hung around him in layers. About his waste a black sash tied the robes loosely about his person. His hands were clasped at his stomach, hidden inside his sleeves.
As Liar studied the priest, he continually found himself drawn to those purple eyes. Eyes that held no sympathy or pity for the poor soul sitting before him. Eyes that shone with a bright intelligence that cut through Liar’s being. Rendering him bare for all to see.
Abruptly the priest moved, he seemed to glide rather than walk, so gracefully were his motions. His movements caused his robe to shift, catching the light of the torches. Where the light caught, his robes shimmered. Revealing deep purple reflections. Mesmerized, Liar watched in silence until the Priest had seated himself. Laying clasped hands, heavily tattooed with ancients runes and symbols, upon the desk between them. Again those eyes pierced Liar, seeking the core of his very being.
“I see you have resigned yourself to the journey before you.” The Priest spoke, breaking the silence between them. His voice carrying with it the weight of years and years in service to his god.
The words brought Liar back into the moment. Letting out a long breath, he leaned back, “There is precious little I can do about it.” He spoke softly, letting his statement fade back into the silence.
The Priest studied him for a moment, clearly not feeling rushed in any way. “And yet,” He began, “I find more often than not, those set upon this path will fight it every step of the way. Desperate to control that which is beyond their reach.” The Priest closed his eyes, “Odd. That they would seek the unknown instead of proceeding into a future where the end is certain.”
Liar’s scoff brought the Priest’s eyes snapping open, “Everyone is fully aware of their end, priest. Life ends kneeling in the courts of Death.”
The Priest smiled.
They sat in silence again. One watching, one waiting.
“Though I know the answer, I will ask anyways. Perhaps you will surprise me.” The Priest shifted in his chair, then continued, “Do you seek my guiding hand through the journey before you?”
A smile leapt, unbidden, to Liar’s face. It was a smile born of a life lived in complete contradiction to all things the priests held dear. At Liar’s expression, the Priest’s eyes narrowed slightly . The only indication to the thoughts present behind that blank face. “No priest.” Liar finally replied. A hint of a levity present in his voice. “I do not require your services.”
The Priest did not move, yet something in his eyes gave Liar pause. Then it was gone, nothing but an unreadable expression. “As you see fit, condemned, so shall it be. You are relieved of this council. Your time here ended.”
On cue the door opened. Admitting the two guards who had so kindly escorted Liar early. They nodded in respect towards the Priest, who ignored them all together, then grabbed Liar again by the arms. Liar made no effort to resist. What little strength was left to him would be need at the noose. The guards dragged him out of the room, and down the hallway. Shafts of light could be seen through barred windows, lending credit to Liar’s time being short.
Shortly they come to a set of large wooden doors. Though closed, Liar knew where they led; for inscribed upon them were the symbols of the house of Death. At their crux, inlaid in gold, sat the Crown of shade. Liar’s eyes lingered upon that crown, held to it by an understanding. At that moment, the despair he had fought so hard to keep at bay crept into his mind.
Distracted by the door and what lay beyond, Liar was unprepared for when the guards dumped him into yet another cell. This one void of anything save for his haggard form. The door rang out as it shut. Sounding to his hears as the final chime of a bell. His time, indeed, had come to an end.
Mercifully the wait in this new cell was short. Though he put the time to good use, regaining control over himself. Two new guards found Liar, once again seated with legs folded underneath him. Eyes closed. Slow deep breaths bringing calm to his turbulent thoughts. These guards did not grab Liar. Instead they waited for him look up.
“You may walk out of your own willpower condemned. Or we can carry you to your death. The choice is yours to make.” The guard spoke in a harsh tone, though his posture betrayed the words unspoken. Do you go to death with dignity or shame.
Softly Liar replied, “I will carry myself to my death. That burden is mine alone to bear.” The guards nodded then stepped out, one to either side of the door.
With more than a little effort, Liar brought himself to his feet while the guards waited patiently for him. He stumbled forward, cursing all the while his weakening body. The Guards fell into step on either side of him, clearly at ease. They had little to fear from him.
The pace was slow, yet the guards made no demands of speed. Despite his status, they still allowed him a certain amount of honor. Finally they reached the large wooden doors. Liar pointed kept his gaze ahead. A crack of light appeared where the two doors touched. Growing larger with each second as the doors opened out. Giving way to the courtyard beyond, and the light of a new day.
With the light came the unmistakable sounds of hundreds of people shuffling about to get a view of the condemned. Already Liar heard onlookers shouting curses upon his head, or mocking and insulting him. The doors stopped moving, resulting in a deep thud the resounded throughout the courtyard. Fully open to the outside world, Liar could see the bodies pressed together. So many had turned out to see the death of man that none knew.
Liar resumed his slow pace, keeping his back straight and his arms at his sides. He concentrated on each step while keeping his eyes fixed ahead. The shouts and cries of the crowd fell upon him with little effect. Never before had he placed stock in the opinions of others, it seemed like now would be a poor time to start.
It took him several minutes to work his way to the raised platform that marked his destination. Throughout the walk the crowd called for his speed, mocking the slow pace he set. Despite the calls, the guards matched his steps. Never pressing him to move faster. They even went so far as to help him keep his footing when one onlooker through a tomato at Liar. The sudden unexpected impact nearly dropping him to his knees out of sheer surprise.
Finally arriving at the base of the platform, Liar ascended the wooden steps alone, while the guards placed themselves between the crowd and the condemned. The platform sat along the back wall, opposite the gates that lead out into the city. Multiple guards stood by those gates, while others formed a line between with the two who had escorted Liar out. Compared to the packed courtyard the platform held only two other people. The Priest who stood to the side, still watching Liar with those cold purple eyes. And the executioner, waiting beside the dangling noose. Liar’s heart jumped at the sight, but he pressed on. Betraying no emotion as he positioned himself upon the trapdoor. The execution came to stand behind him, a black hood in his hands.
“You have one opportunity to speak, if you wish to do so, now is the time.” The statement was made with no emotion. This was a man who cared little for the lives of others.
Liar opened his mouth, resulting in the crowd quickly quieting. Curiosity silencing their tongues. As words formed in his throat, Liar noticed some of the onlookers moving through the crowd. Something odd about their movements stood out to him. Then he noticed one man in particular, the one who had thrown the tomato, making a symbol with his hands. A ward meant to protect his person from the House of Death.
The words died in Liar’s throat, and instead he shook his head. The executioner grunted then placed the hood over Liar’s face. Obscuring the slight smile spreading across his face. Time seemed to slow as the noose was placed around Liar’s neck and his hands tied behind his back. The platform creaked slightly as the executioner moved to the lever off to the side. The crowd’s noise level increased. Soon they would have their entertainment.
Liar closed his eyes, relaxing his body.
The energy of the crowd continued to escalate as the point of death drew close.
Liar’s breathing slowed.
A silence swept over the crowd.
The trapdoor clicked, sending Liar falling towards his death.
A heavy thud sounded from above.
Liar landed in a roll, tucking his knees and propelling himself forward. The now limp rope swinging behind him. Chaos erupted around him. Screams could be heard throughout the crowd and the sounds of fighting echoed off the high stone walls. Gaining his feet, Liar launched himself forward. Putting all of his remaining energy into his legs. He could make out nothing through the dark hood, yet he had faith. The gate, directly opposite the platform. All he had to do was run in a straight line. His strides awkward, Liar pushed himself as hard as he could.
Around him people panicked and guards shouted. The sounds of sorcery entered the cacophony. Waves of heat and energy rolled over Liar, nearly driving him to his knees. yet he did not let up. Behind and around him he could hear the scuffing of boots on the stone as guards fought to regain control. Steel on steel rang out, some alarmingly close. Stone erupted off to his side, sending pieces of the courtyard tumbling around him. I am close. He could feel his energy waning, his steps becoming slower. Liar was more stumbling then running at this point, allowing gravity and his forward motion to drive him as much as his legs. Something nicked his shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling on the stone. The only thing saving him was a strong hand that grabbed the severed end of the noose and hauled him upwards.
For a second he hung in the air, then he was pulled onto the back of a horse. He felt its strength beneath him as it took off, hooves echoing off the stone. Liar felt the hood being pulled, then the veil was removed. Before him, and fading quickly, stood the open gate to the courtyard. What few members of the crowd remained were either dead or dying. Smoke billowed from a large fire dominating the courtyard where the platform used to stand. Guards scrambled about. Some helping the wounded, others staring blankly at the retreating figures.
Liar smiled again as the horse raced on wards. Buildings flew past on either side as a blur. Fate truly had placed a hand upon him. Behind and to his sides sped other horses, carrying members of his band. Those come to rescue him against all odds. Each nodded to Liar as he made eye contact. Each with a smile painted on their face.
Looking again at the courtyard, now a good distance away, Liar felt the smile fall from his face. Outside the gateway stood the Priest. Even from that distance Liar felt his gaze. Felt his hate and his anger. Liar’s heart stopped cold in his chest, his breathing quick and panicked. For the first time, Liar felt a deep growing fear in him. Though the Priest made no effort to give chase, Liar knew he would see the Priest again.
The Courtyard disappeared behind a bend, leaving only the smoke questing into the sky as a marker. And yet, Liar continued to feel the eyes of the Priest upon him.
He had cheated Death, but the Crown of Shades did not accept defeat lightly. Deep inside, Liar knew his time.. was still Short.
The cell around him held little to bring him comfort. To one side lay a mat, worn thin by years of condemned men tossing and turning through their last nights. To the other, a pail meant to serve as a bathroom for his bodily needs. As few resources as possible were wasted upon the condemned. Which, to Liar, hardly made things worse. Sentenced as he was, material things could provide no release for him. Better to find peace among one's mind then to desperately strive for protection and comfort in possessions. In fact, Liar had nothing to his name, even the rags upon his back belonged to the prison within which he rotted.
Tonight was to be his last night alive; a fact the guards would not soon let him forget. At dawn, he would be marched out into the courtyard above. Brought before hundreds of people, none of which would know his name. Yet, all would be there to watch his death. And Liar could hardly find fault for their actions. Perhaps it were better that they did not know who he was. Even without the knowledge of his past, there was precious little about him that spoke to being redeemable. In fact, the few redeemable parts were long gone. Strangled by who he had become. He had simply fallen to far, wholly out of the reach of any saving grace.
So instead, Liar sat. Clearing his mind and bringing himself to a peaceful acceptance of what Fate had set before him. At some point, one had to accept the reality of their situation. Sooner or later everyone eventually finds themselves backed into a corner. All options exhausted, no escape available. It had been long in coming, with far too many close calls and near dead ends. But at last that day had caught up to Liar.
Breathing deeply, he sat up a little straighter. Flexing his tired muscles, stretching his weakened frame. Oddly enough, as Liar battled internally to keep peace, fear and sorrow held little sway upon his thoughts. Anger sat at the foremost, anger at allowed himself to be caught. Anger at failing to protect those around him and to accomplish all he had set out to do. Followed closely by a sadness directed towards those who relied upon him. And pain, a deep cutting pain. As if, by same strange means his death were a betrayal to those he held so dear. He was abandoning them and there was nothing he could do about it. And that hurt most of all.
The sounds of booted footsteps drifted through the cell door, temporarily drawing Liar back from his contemplations. He cracked one eye ever so slightly, watching as the shadows beneath the door came and went. The footsteps topped farther down the hallway. Followed by the distant sound of a door swinging open. Some other poor soul had no doubt found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. As the silence resumed, Liar allowed himself to drift back into the world of his thoughts. Not yet time.
Again the silence closed in around him. His ears straining to catch a sound were none lurked. His breath began to slow as peace again took hold of his body. Or perhaps Fate had felt the need to lay hands on him this night. Bringing him this sense of acceptance. Bestowing upon his lost soul the ability to cope with what lay ahead. Liar fixed his posture, squaring his shoulders and correcting his slouch. If Fate’s eyes were upon him, then he should at least make himself presentable before that gaze.
The sudden eruption of noise as the door to his cell flew open sent Liar sprawling across the floor in surprise. He throw up one hand to ward off the intense light now focused upon him. Liar heard more than saw the guards move around the cell to grab him by the arms. One, off to his left, let out a cough as the scent of Liar’s unwashed body fell over him. The other laughed at his counterparts discomfort. Limp between the two men, Liar was carried from his confines out into the hallway. With his eyes finally adjusted he noticed there were two more guards accompanying them … And a Priest.
They walked for a short time down the hall. Taking a couple turns and up a flight of stairs, all while still holding Liar between them. The walls held nothing but torches to light the way. The deep gray of the stone a constant reminder of Liar’s situation. Turning down one last hallway the guards stopped at an open door, revealing a room only slightly larger than the holding cell. Despite being Sparsely furnished, with a couple chairs and a desk, the room felt cluttered.
Liar was tossed unceremoniously into the room. Long been deprived of sufficient nutrients, he struggled to retain his footing. Stumbling sideways he reached desperately for something to stabilize him. His reaching hands landed upon one of the chairs and Liar thankfully slumped into it. Moments later the door swung closed. Liar sat, blankly staring at the desk before him as he regained his composure. Slowly he becoming aware that he was the object of close scrutiny. Glance at the door he found the priest standing there, watching him. The priest had no hair and was clean-shaven, standing perhaps six feet tall. His gaunt white face held no emotion, though his bright purple eyes shone with a hard intensity not easily dismissed. His black robes hung around him in layers. About his waste a black sash tied the robes loosely about his person. His hands were clasped at his stomach, hidden inside his sleeves.
As Liar studied the priest, he continually found himself drawn to those purple eyes. Eyes that held no sympathy or pity for the poor soul sitting before him. Eyes that shone with a bright intelligence that cut through Liar’s being. Rendering him bare for all to see.
Abruptly the priest moved, he seemed to glide rather than walk, so gracefully were his motions. His movements caused his robe to shift, catching the light of the torches. Where the light caught, his robes shimmered. Revealing deep purple reflections. Mesmerized, Liar watched in silence until the Priest had seated himself. Laying clasped hands, heavily tattooed with ancients runes and symbols, upon the desk between them. Again those eyes pierced Liar, seeking the core of his very being.
“I see you have resigned yourself to the journey before you.” The Priest spoke, breaking the silence between them. His voice carrying with it the weight of years and years in service to his god.
The words brought Liar back into the moment. Letting out a long breath, he leaned back, “There is precious little I can do about it.” He spoke softly, letting his statement fade back into the silence.
The Priest studied him for a moment, clearly not feeling rushed in any way. “And yet,” He began, “I find more often than not, those set upon this path will fight it every step of the way. Desperate to control that which is beyond their reach.” The Priest closed his eyes, “Odd. That they would seek the unknown instead of proceeding into a future where the end is certain.”
Liar’s scoff brought the Priest’s eyes snapping open, “Everyone is fully aware of their end, priest. Life ends kneeling in the courts of Death.”
The Priest smiled.
They sat in silence again. One watching, one waiting.
“Though I know the answer, I will ask anyways. Perhaps you will surprise me.” The Priest shifted in his chair, then continued, “Do you seek my guiding hand through the journey before you?”
A smile leapt, unbidden, to Liar’s face. It was a smile born of a life lived in complete contradiction to all things the priests held dear. At Liar’s expression, the Priest’s eyes narrowed slightly . The only indication to the thoughts present behind that blank face. “No priest.” Liar finally replied. A hint of a levity present in his voice. “I do not require your services.”
The Priest did not move, yet something in his eyes gave Liar pause. Then it was gone, nothing but an unreadable expression. “As you see fit, condemned, so shall it be. You are relieved of this council. Your time here ended.”
On cue the door opened. Admitting the two guards who had so kindly escorted Liar early. They nodded in respect towards the Priest, who ignored them all together, then grabbed Liar again by the arms. Liar made no effort to resist. What little strength was left to him would be need at the noose. The guards dragged him out of the room, and down the hallway. Shafts of light could be seen through barred windows, lending credit to Liar’s time being short.
Shortly they come to a set of large wooden doors. Though closed, Liar knew where they led; for inscribed upon them were the symbols of the house of Death. At their crux, inlaid in gold, sat the Crown of shade. Liar’s eyes lingered upon that crown, held to it by an understanding. At that moment, the despair he had fought so hard to keep at bay crept into his mind.
Distracted by the door and what lay beyond, Liar was unprepared for when the guards dumped him into yet another cell. This one void of anything save for his haggard form. The door rang out as it shut. Sounding to his hears as the final chime of a bell. His time, indeed, had come to an end.
Mercifully the wait in this new cell was short. Though he put the time to good use, regaining control over himself. Two new guards found Liar, once again seated with legs folded underneath him. Eyes closed. Slow deep breaths bringing calm to his turbulent thoughts. These guards did not grab Liar. Instead they waited for him look up.
“You may walk out of your own willpower condemned. Or we can carry you to your death. The choice is yours to make.” The guard spoke in a harsh tone, though his posture betrayed the words unspoken. Do you go to death with dignity or shame.
Softly Liar replied, “I will carry myself to my death. That burden is mine alone to bear.” The guards nodded then stepped out, one to either side of the door.
With more than a little effort, Liar brought himself to his feet while the guards waited patiently for him. He stumbled forward, cursing all the while his weakening body. The Guards fell into step on either side of him, clearly at ease. They had little to fear from him.
The pace was slow, yet the guards made no demands of speed. Despite his status, they still allowed him a certain amount of honor. Finally they reached the large wooden doors. Liar pointed kept his gaze ahead. A crack of light appeared where the two doors touched. Growing larger with each second as the doors opened out. Giving way to the courtyard beyond, and the light of a new day.
With the light came the unmistakable sounds of hundreds of people shuffling about to get a view of the condemned. Already Liar heard onlookers shouting curses upon his head, or mocking and insulting him. The doors stopped moving, resulting in a deep thud the resounded throughout the courtyard. Fully open to the outside world, Liar could see the bodies pressed together. So many had turned out to see the death of man that none knew.
Liar resumed his slow pace, keeping his back straight and his arms at his sides. He concentrated on each step while keeping his eyes fixed ahead. The shouts and cries of the crowd fell upon him with little effect. Never before had he placed stock in the opinions of others, it seemed like now would be a poor time to start.
It took him several minutes to work his way to the raised platform that marked his destination. Throughout the walk the crowd called for his speed, mocking the slow pace he set. Despite the calls, the guards matched his steps. Never pressing him to move faster. They even went so far as to help him keep his footing when one onlooker through a tomato at Liar. The sudden unexpected impact nearly dropping him to his knees out of sheer surprise.
Finally arriving at the base of the platform, Liar ascended the wooden steps alone, while the guards placed themselves between the crowd and the condemned. The platform sat along the back wall, opposite the gates that lead out into the city. Multiple guards stood by those gates, while others formed a line between with the two who had escorted Liar out. Compared to the packed courtyard the platform held only two other people. The Priest who stood to the side, still watching Liar with those cold purple eyes. And the executioner, waiting beside the dangling noose. Liar’s heart jumped at the sight, but he pressed on. Betraying no emotion as he positioned himself upon the trapdoor. The execution came to stand behind him, a black hood in his hands.
“You have one opportunity to speak, if you wish to do so, now is the time.” The statement was made with no emotion. This was a man who cared little for the lives of others.
Liar opened his mouth, resulting in the crowd quickly quieting. Curiosity silencing their tongues. As words formed in his throat, Liar noticed some of the onlookers moving through the crowd. Something odd about their movements stood out to him. Then he noticed one man in particular, the one who had thrown the tomato, making a symbol with his hands. A ward meant to protect his person from the House of Death.
The words died in Liar’s throat, and instead he shook his head. The executioner grunted then placed the hood over Liar’s face. Obscuring the slight smile spreading across his face. Time seemed to slow as the noose was placed around Liar’s neck and his hands tied behind his back. The platform creaked slightly as the executioner moved to the lever off to the side. The crowd’s noise level increased. Soon they would have their entertainment.
Liar closed his eyes, relaxing his body.
The energy of the crowd continued to escalate as the point of death drew close.
Liar’s breathing slowed.
A silence swept over the crowd.
The trapdoor clicked, sending Liar falling towards his death.
A heavy thud sounded from above.
Liar landed in a roll, tucking his knees and propelling himself forward. The now limp rope swinging behind him. Chaos erupted around him. Screams could be heard throughout the crowd and the sounds of fighting echoed off the high stone walls. Gaining his feet, Liar launched himself forward. Putting all of his remaining energy into his legs. He could make out nothing through the dark hood, yet he had faith. The gate, directly opposite the platform. All he had to do was run in a straight line. His strides awkward, Liar pushed himself as hard as he could.
Around him people panicked and guards shouted. The sounds of sorcery entered the cacophony. Waves of heat and energy rolled over Liar, nearly driving him to his knees. yet he did not let up. Behind and around him he could hear the scuffing of boots on the stone as guards fought to regain control. Steel on steel rang out, some alarmingly close. Stone erupted off to his side, sending pieces of the courtyard tumbling around him. I am close. He could feel his energy waning, his steps becoming slower. Liar was more stumbling then running at this point, allowing gravity and his forward motion to drive him as much as his legs. Something nicked his shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling on the stone. The only thing saving him was a strong hand that grabbed the severed end of the noose and hauled him upwards.
For a second he hung in the air, then he was pulled onto the back of a horse. He felt its strength beneath him as it took off, hooves echoing off the stone. Liar felt the hood being pulled, then the veil was removed. Before him, and fading quickly, stood the open gate to the courtyard. What few members of the crowd remained were either dead or dying. Smoke billowed from a large fire dominating the courtyard where the platform used to stand. Guards scrambled about. Some helping the wounded, others staring blankly at the retreating figures.
Liar smiled again as the horse raced on wards. Buildings flew past on either side as a blur. Fate truly had placed a hand upon him. Behind and to his sides sped other horses, carrying members of his band. Those come to rescue him against all odds. Each nodded to Liar as he made eye contact. Each with a smile painted on their face.
Looking again at the courtyard, now a good distance away, Liar felt the smile fall from his face. Outside the gateway stood the Priest. Even from that distance Liar felt his gaze. Felt his hate and his anger. Liar’s heart stopped cold in his chest, his breathing quick and panicked. For the first time, Liar felt a deep growing fear in him. Though the Priest made no effort to give chase, Liar knew he would see the Priest again.
The Courtyard disappeared behind a bend, leaving only the smoke questing into the sky as a marker. And yet, Liar continued to feel the eyes of the Priest upon him.
He had cheated Death, but the Crown of Shades did not accept defeat lightly. Deep inside, Liar knew his time.. was still Short.
Certainty's End
My main problem here is that there's very little substance to this story. The plot is very simple. which would be fine if you gave us something else to chew on, like worldbuilding or character depth, but you don't. Nothing unexpected, and no surprises.
What takes up the bulk of the story instead? Cliches. Fantasy cliches like bright purple eyes and “the sounds of sorcery” are added for no reason. The priest seems like he might be a decent character at first, barring the eyes-showing-every-other-personality-trait cliché, but then all his does is … offer repentance. Then look angrily at Liar as he escapes.
As a particular criticism, let me pull out this:
I don't actually have a problem with telling emotions; plenty of good writers do. But here, we're told sorrow holds little sway … then a load of stuff about the sadness he feels.
There're other problems with the prose, but those are less important than the lack of substance.
My main problem here is that there's very little substance to this story. The plot is very simple. which would be fine if you gave us something else to chew on, like worldbuilding or character depth, but you don't. Nothing unexpected, and no surprises.
What takes up the bulk of the story instead? Cliches. Fantasy cliches like bright purple eyes and “the sounds of sorcery” are added for no reason. The priest seems like he might be a decent character at first, barring the eyes-showing-every-other-personality-trait cliché, but then all his does is … offer repentance. Then look angrily at Liar as he escapes.
As a particular criticism, let me pull out this:
Oddly enough, as Liar battled internally to keep peace, fear and sorrow held little sway upon his thoughts. Anger sat at the foremost, … Followed closely by a sadness directed towards those who relied upon him. … And that hurt most of all.
I don't actually have a problem with telling emotions; plenty of good writers do. But here, we're told sorrow holds little sway … then a load of stuff about the sadness he feels.
There're other problems with the prose, but those are less important than the lack of substance.
There's a lot of minor errors scattered throughout, as well as a recurring problem with sentence fragments that prevents any forward momentum from being built. Normally, I'd overlook that and try to jump to more important concerns, but really, proofreading is your #1 problem. There's enough constant issues that it makes it hard to actually get through the rest of the story.
For the actual story, from the very beginning and the name of 'Liar,' it seems like you're trying to draw out a more allegorical approach. That's difficult to do well, and the way this particular story resolves makes the choice of names and capitalization of Death and Fate seem a little heavyhanded rather than essential to the narrative. It's not necessarily a bad idea, by any means. I think the problem is that it's hard to comprehend the central narrative here: the bandit is captured and awaiting execution, he goes to meet his end, but then is rescued by his fellow highwaymen and flees, knowing that eventually it will catch up to him again. It would help the story if you placed that more at the forefront. The thing with allegory is that it works by being clear and allowing the reader to draw the right connections; used in conjunction with a story that only slowly reveals what's going on leaves the reader lost throughout. Too much mystery, you know?
I think there's some promise here, but you need to figure out your exact goals in writing, and then rework a lot of the prose to suit those needs.
For the actual story, from the very beginning and the name of 'Liar,' it seems like you're trying to draw out a more allegorical approach. That's difficult to do well, and the way this particular story resolves makes the choice of names and capitalization of Death and Fate seem a little heavyhanded rather than essential to the narrative. It's not necessarily a bad idea, by any means. I think the problem is that it's hard to comprehend the central narrative here: the bandit is captured and awaiting execution, he goes to meet his end, but then is rescued by his fellow highwaymen and flees, knowing that eventually it will catch up to him again. It would help the story if you placed that more at the forefront. The thing with allegory is that it works by being clear and allowing the reader to draw the right connections; used in conjunction with a story that only slowly reveals what's going on leaves the reader lost throughout. Too much mystery, you know?
I think there's some promise here, but you need to figure out your exact goals in writing, and then rework a lot of the prose to suit those needs.
This story has a bunch of malapropisms, instances where the wrong word is used in the place of a homophone (word that sounds the same as another). Through instead of threw, to instead of too, ect.
However, the largest issue here is that the story feels kind of empty. It is very focused on the action, but it doesn’t really lend them much meaning. Who is Liar? What did he do? Why is he condemned to death? What is the House of Death? Who are his friends? Who is the Priest?
The problem is not that these questions aren’t answered so much as that they have no meaning at all. In the end, who the Priest is doesn’t matter. But no one in the story ultimately does, not even Liar, because I’m given no context as to why I should care. What are the stakes here? Why is this important? Why was this something I needed to read?
The story didn’t really answer those questions. It was a lot of action, but lacking in emotional context. I was given no reason to care about Liar emotionally, so I didn’t. Lack of understanding of the setting is one thing, but I don’t even understand the protagonist’s mindset here.
However, the largest issue here is that the story feels kind of empty. It is very focused on the action, but it doesn’t really lend them much meaning. Who is Liar? What did he do? Why is he condemned to death? What is the House of Death? Who are his friends? Who is the Priest?
The problem is not that these questions aren’t answered so much as that they have no meaning at all. In the end, who the Priest is doesn’t matter. But no one in the story ultimately does, not even Liar, because I’m given no context as to why I should care. What are the stakes here? Why is this important? Why was this something I needed to read?
The story didn’t really answer those questions. It was a lot of action, but lacking in emotional context. I was given no reason to care about Liar emotionally, so I didn’t. Lack of understanding of the setting is one thing, but I don’t even understand the protagonist’s mindset here.
I can really only echo >>TitaniumDragon here. I just couldn't make myself interested in Liar, nor his situation. Sorry.
This fic impressed me, despite some flaws and rough edges.
My first impression was that it felt choppy. I’m not a grammar expert, but I think that you frequently used periods in places of commas, resulting in fragmented sentences. It almost felt intentional, as it did enforce a certain mood, but I don’t know that it helped more than it hurt. Generally, I think it would read much smoother with a grammar pass to be more conventional.
As well, for all that it feels choppy, it’s also overly wordy at times; I saw a lot of redundancies. For example, “If Fate’s eyes were upon him, then he should at least make himself presentable before that gaze.” Great sentence - I love the meaning it conveys. However, I feel that the ‘before that gaze’ section at the end doesn’t really add anything, and would be better left off.
Another example:
“His black robes hung around him in layers. About his waste a black sash tied the robes loosely about his person” could be rephrased as: “His black robes hung in layers, tied loosely by a black sash about his waist.”
These grammar snags are a shame, because the imagery you’re conveying is otherwise excellent. For example, ‘To one side lay a mat, worn thin by years of condemned men tossing and turning through their last nights’ is an absolutely sterling line. Indeed, despite my earlier caveats, I had a vivid mental image of his trip through the prison.
TitaniumDragon already mentioned the malapropism issue, so I won’t reiterate, except to say that I noticed it too.
The plot was simple, but the imagery was enough to carry my attention, until at the end there was suddenly a whole lot more going on and I didn’t have the context to understand it. I ended up just knowing that something had happened, but without any idea of who or why.
In the end, I can tell that this was the product of a first rate imagination. The scenes you portray are vivid, the story is well-paced, and it cultivates an emotional tone. I’d advise working on the grammar to make it smoother and easier for the reader, as well as throwing us a few bones of backstory so we know what’s going on at the end.
My first impression was that it felt choppy. I’m not a grammar expert, but I think that you frequently used periods in places of commas, resulting in fragmented sentences. It almost felt intentional, as it did enforce a certain mood, but I don’t know that it helped more than it hurt. Generally, I think it would read much smoother with a grammar pass to be more conventional.
As well, for all that it feels choppy, it’s also overly wordy at times; I saw a lot of redundancies. For example, “If Fate’s eyes were upon him, then he should at least make himself presentable before that gaze.” Great sentence - I love the meaning it conveys. However, I feel that the ‘before that gaze’ section at the end doesn’t really add anything, and would be better left off.
Another example:
“His black robes hung around him in layers. About his waste a black sash tied the robes loosely about his person” could be rephrased as: “His black robes hung in layers, tied loosely by a black sash about his waist.”
These grammar snags are a shame, because the imagery you’re conveying is otherwise excellent. For example, ‘To one side lay a mat, worn thin by years of condemned men tossing and turning through their last nights’ is an absolutely sterling line. Indeed, despite my earlier caveats, I had a vivid mental image of his trip through the prison.
TitaniumDragon already mentioned the malapropism issue, so I won’t reiterate, except to say that I noticed it too.
The plot was simple, but the imagery was enough to carry my attention, until at the end there was suddenly a whole lot more going on and I didn’t have the context to understand it. I ended up just knowing that something had happened, but without any idea of who or why.
In the end, I can tell that this was the product of a first rate imagination. The scenes you portray are vivid, the story is well-paced, and it cultivates an emotional tone. I’d advise working on the grammar to make it smoother and easier for the reader, as well as throwing us a few bones of backstory so we know what’s going on at the end.
I'll echo a lot of what has been said already, Writer. I'd like to add that I found it frustrating how, as the story is written, Liar oscillates from calm meditation to strained, turbulent doubt. For example:
Are his senses turned inward or outward? Is he focusing on his thoughts, or is he listening for the guards' inevitable return? For much of the first half of this story, his actions are written as though he is simultaneously succeeding and failing at meditation, alternating almost every other sentence. I found it jarring, and would recommend condensing his successes and failures into their own paragraphs at the very least. Ideally, I think you should portray him either mostly succeeding at introspection, or mostly failing, depending on how conflicted you want to portray his character.
Also, I had hoped to finally learn more about Liar through his encounter with the Priest, perhaps through a recitation of his ostensible crimes. Alas, no. By the end of the piece, I still know next to nothing about why Liar was imprisoned. If I had to hazard a theory, it would be based off of this line:
Between that line and his name, I suppose Liar is some form of heretic? A blasphemer, guilty of leading members away from the flock, in defiance of the powers in charge of society? I'm given so little context as to the situation at hand that I can't even decide if this is a good thing, or if I want to side with the Priest or the prisoner. Ultimately, I'm left with no guidance.
Final Thought: Rudderless and Adrift in a Sea of Prose
Again the silence closed in around him. His ears straining to catch a sound were none lurked. His breath began to slow as peace again took hold of his body.
Are his senses turned inward or outward? Is he focusing on his thoughts, or is he listening for the guards' inevitable return? For much of the first half of this story, his actions are written as though he is simultaneously succeeding and failing at meditation, alternating almost every other sentence. I found it jarring, and would recommend condensing his successes and failures into their own paragraphs at the very least. Ideally, I think you should portray him either mostly succeeding at introspection, or mostly failing, depending on how conflicted you want to portray his character.
Also, I had hoped to finally learn more about Liar through his encounter with the Priest, perhaps through a recitation of his ostensible crimes. Alas, no. By the end of the piece, I still know next to nothing about why Liar was imprisoned. If I had to hazard a theory, it would be based off of this line:
It was a smile born of a life lived in complete contradiction to all things the priests held dear.
Between that line and his name, I suppose Liar is some form of heretic? A blasphemer, guilty of leading members away from the flock, in defiance of the powers in charge of society? I'm given so little context as to the situation at hand that I can't even decide if this is a good thing, or if I want to side with the Priest or the prisoner. Ultimately, I'm left with no guidance.
Final Thought: Rudderless and Adrift in a Sea of Prose
I agree with earlier commenters, particularly >>TitaniumDragon and >>Icenrose, about the early going of this story. I was looking for something to hook me — some reason to feel like there was a greater context which made this man's execution matter — and never found it. The thinness of the scene with the priest in the particular was rough — that was the perfect excuse to insert the exposition we never got — but I was skimming restlessly through long before that; an awful lot of words are expended before anything really happens.
So let's talk conflict and stakes.
Providing a hook is all about getting readers invested. There's a million ways to do that — some audacious writers can provide a crazy narrative framework and hook on the strength of their prose, for example — but typically this is going to involve providing readers with characters they care about and/or a central question the story promises to answer.
Early on, one of those is ruled out, because we're told in no uncertain terms that there's no reason to root for Liar:
There's a little dissonance here you can work with — he's calm, accepting, and meditative, for example; and a character doesn't have to be good to be sympathetic — but I felt like he was never fleshed out enough to drive the story, and if that was your goal you need to establish that connection. Some questions you might ask and answer to do that: Why was he in jail in the first place? Did he regret his actions? Are the judgments you make in the quoted paragraph his, or yours-the-author's, or is it his (possibly evil) social system telling us he's beyond redemption? What's important to him, and how — in this place where he's almost powerless — does he go about attempting to achieve it? Is calm in the face of death something that's important enough to him that he might try to evangelize his fellow prisoners, or his guards? If not, what is important enough to drive him from introspection and make him take action? That "taking action" is pretty crucial — if he only ever reacts to the situation around him, then Liar lacks agency and can't drive the story forward, and that's pretty dangerous ground for the person you're focusing the story around.
Another type of hook you can build is setting up some greater conflict that the story is actively working to resolve. The core of a conflict is posing a question with multiple plausible outcomes, and some sort of stake that your readers care about that will keep them flipping pages as the story unfolds and you answer the question. Both "multiple plausible outcomes" and "stakes the reader care about" are important in increasing tension, and it's that tension of needing to know the resolution that "hooks" the reader into continuing onward.
For example, the cliché conflict of (say) a stereotypical Daring Do adventure is "will Daring survive?" Admittedly that's a pretty compelling question if you like reading about her, because no more Daring means no more stories — but we've also been conditioned by a lifetime of adventure tales to expect that no self-respecting series will kill its protagonist off, so "multiple plausible outcomes" is a tough sell. When that happens, the tension drains away, which is why simply putting Daring Do in a death trap isn't enough. Often it's fruitful to refine the question and put less at stake — such as "Will she be able to save the priceless artifact from being destroyed?" or "will she escape the trap before it cripples her wing?" — because those are things we can see going either way while leaving the story able to continue. That re-introduces the tension while still keeping the stakes significant.
Here, when the story starts, I'm not certain what the tension-generating question was meant to be. We're shown a condemned man in a jail cell, but he seems resigned to his fate, so "Will he survive?" doesn't have a lot of room to assume multiple outcomes. There might be something going on like "Will he make peace with his crimes?", but there's a couple of factors working against you there, the main one being that you need to find stakes the reader cares about, and that drives back into the issue of there being no particular reason to root for him. This is where grounding his crimes in more specifics might suggest a compelling conflict — like maybe he committed some major sin in order to ward off something even worse, and has to struggle with the morality of it? More grounding might also suggest other avenues for your conflict, like "Will the injustice of his arrest be corrected?" — which, even if the main character dies, might be resolved via e.g. discussion with the priest.
Ultimately, though, in the context of the whole story, you are working toward the escape scene at the end — which is a good thing! That's the best part of your story, with a lot of high-stakes action, a tight reversal, and setting up some specific conflicts to bear fruit later on. What that implies to me is that maybe your conflict should be "Will Liar survive?" right from the start! And what that means is you've got a very easy way to punch this story up, right from the beginning: Add foreshadowing that orients the reader to that major conflict.
Right now, the existence of Liar's compatriots is barely even hinted at until right before the end, with one notable exception:
I think what you should do is take that tiny little nugget of information and wrap your entire first half around it. What happened to Liar? We don't now know, but there was at least some way in which it involved his friends. If he's dealing with guilt and angst, it should be about them. But more importantly, keep in mind that you want to set up a conflict around that friend angle. If it's "Will Liar survive?" then we should be seeing him do everything possible to cheat fate. If it's "Will his friends be OK even though he's gonna die?" then we should be exploring his relationship with them and the way in which his capture hurt them. Either way, that scene with the priest should be a major, pivotal moment — crucial information should come out, or Liar should take some action, that ties directly in with your conflict and pushes the story significantly forward.
So the bad news is that right now, the text as written feels like a miss. The good news is, more importantly, I think this has the solid foundation you need for some story-defining edits that will coalesce this into something engaging.
Tier: Needs Work
So let's talk conflict and stakes.
Providing a hook is all about getting readers invested. There's a million ways to do that — some audacious writers can provide a crazy narrative framework and hook on the strength of their prose, for example — but typically this is going to involve providing readers with characters they care about and/or a central question the story promises to answer.
Early on, one of those is ruled out, because we're told in no uncertain terms that there's no reason to root for Liar:
Even without the knowledge of his past, there was precious little about him that spoke to being redeemable. In fact, the few redeemable parts were long gone. Strangled by who he had become. He had simply fallen to far, wholly out of the reach of any saving grace.
There's a little dissonance here you can work with — he's calm, accepting, and meditative, for example; and a character doesn't have to be good to be sympathetic — but I felt like he was never fleshed out enough to drive the story, and if that was your goal you need to establish that connection. Some questions you might ask and answer to do that: Why was he in jail in the first place? Did he regret his actions? Are the judgments you make in the quoted paragraph his, or yours-the-author's, or is it his (possibly evil) social system telling us he's beyond redemption? What's important to him, and how — in this place where he's almost powerless — does he go about attempting to achieve it? Is calm in the face of death something that's important enough to him that he might try to evangelize his fellow prisoners, or his guards? If not, what is important enough to drive him from introspection and make him take action? That "taking action" is pretty crucial — if he only ever reacts to the situation around him, then Liar lacks agency and can't drive the story forward, and that's pretty dangerous ground for the person you're focusing the story around.
Another type of hook you can build is setting up some greater conflict that the story is actively working to resolve. The core of a conflict is posing a question with multiple plausible outcomes, and some sort of stake that your readers care about that will keep them flipping pages as the story unfolds and you answer the question. Both "multiple plausible outcomes" and "stakes the reader care about" are important in increasing tension, and it's that tension of needing to know the resolution that "hooks" the reader into continuing onward.
For example, the cliché conflict of (say) a stereotypical Daring Do adventure is "will Daring survive?" Admittedly that's a pretty compelling question if you like reading about her, because no more Daring means no more stories — but we've also been conditioned by a lifetime of adventure tales to expect that no self-respecting series will kill its protagonist off, so "multiple plausible outcomes" is a tough sell. When that happens, the tension drains away, which is why simply putting Daring Do in a death trap isn't enough. Often it's fruitful to refine the question and put less at stake — such as "Will she be able to save the priceless artifact from being destroyed?" or "will she escape the trap before it cripples her wing?" — because those are things we can see going either way while leaving the story able to continue. That re-introduces the tension while still keeping the stakes significant.
Here, when the story starts, I'm not certain what the tension-generating question was meant to be. We're shown a condemned man in a jail cell, but he seems resigned to his fate, so "Will he survive?" doesn't have a lot of room to assume multiple outcomes. There might be something going on like "Will he make peace with his crimes?", but there's a couple of factors working against you there, the main one being that you need to find stakes the reader cares about, and that drives back into the issue of there being no particular reason to root for him. This is where grounding his crimes in more specifics might suggest a compelling conflict — like maybe he committed some major sin in order to ward off something even worse, and has to struggle with the morality of it? More grounding might also suggest other avenues for your conflict, like "Will the injustice of his arrest be corrected?" — which, even if the main character dies, might be resolved via e.g. discussion with the priest.
Ultimately, though, in the context of the whole story, you are working toward the escape scene at the end — which is a good thing! That's the best part of your story, with a lot of high-stakes action, a tight reversal, and setting up some specific conflicts to bear fruit later on. What that implies to me is that maybe your conflict should be "Will Liar survive?" right from the start! And what that means is you've got a very easy way to punch this story up, right from the beginning: Add foreshadowing that orients the reader to that major conflict.
Right now, the existence of Liar's compatriots is barely even hinted at until right before the end, with one notable exception:
Breathing deeply, he sat up a little straighter. Flexing his tired muscles, stretching his weakened frame. Oddly enough, as Liar battled internally to keep peace, fear and sorrow held little sway upon his thoughts. Anger sat at the foremost, anger at allowed himself to be caught. Anger at failing to protect those around him and to accomplish all he had set out to do. Followed closely by a sadness directed towards those who relied upon him. And pain, a deep cutting pain. As if, by same strange means his death were a betrayal to those he held so dear. He was abandoning them and there was nothing he could do about it. And that hurt most of all.
I think what you should do is take that tiny little nugget of information and wrap your entire first half around it. What happened to Liar? We don't now know, but there was at least some way in which it involved his friends. If he's dealing with guilt and angst, it should be about them. But more importantly, keep in mind that you want to set up a conflict around that friend angle. If it's "Will Liar survive?" then we should be seeing him do everything possible to cheat fate. If it's "Will his friends be OK even though he's gonna die?" then we should be exploring his relationship with them and the way in which his capture hurt them. Either way, that scene with the priest should be a major, pivotal moment — crucial information should come out, or Liar should take some action, that ties directly in with your conflict and pushes the story significantly forward.
So the bad news is that right now, the text as written feels like a miss. The good news is, more importantly, I think this has the solid foundation you need for some story-defining edits that will coalesce this into something engaging.
Tier: Needs Work