A request for criticism and feedback on a story I'm working on.
I've seen that one other person in this community has asked for feedback on their story and I was hoping to ask the same.
To give some context, my story is of the fantasy genre and I am attempting to go with a Conan The Barbarian/pulp fantasy sort of tone and feeling for it. I've written most of it out, but I've never actually shown it to anyone for feedback or comments (mostly because I was too nervous for that). I want to know if what I've got so far is at least somewhat decent or if I totally have rethink everything I've done so far. I'm just going to paste the very beginning of the story and see what you think. Hopefully what I've written is at least a smidgen better than Paolini's work.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
Arcadius Bassus sat in the last wagon of the caravan rolling along the cobblestone road. He hummed a tune while examining the sword and scabbard lying across his lap, unsheathing the blade slightly to inspect it for rust. It was a good, well-crafted sword, but nothing special. Thousands of blades just like his were forged in military factories all across the Varantine Empire for its armies.
He craned his neck to look at the road in front of him. He could see only another wagon about a dozen feet ahead of him and tall trees on either side of the road; the woods were quite thick here. Everything else was obscured by a heavy fog.
An uneasy feeling settled in Arcadius' stomach; the Varantine Auxiliary Guard was stretched too thin across the province to keep the roads safe from bandits and marauders. After all, that was why the merchants had hired him in the first place. He reached for the helmet that lay beside him and quickly placed it on his head.
Arcadius’ attention was pulled away from the road ahead when heard a faint snore come from the woman sitting across from him. He turned his head and saw her slumped against the wagon, her eyes closed; she’d been asleep for most of the trip.
The woman’s olive skin and the auburn colour of her short, unkempt hair marked her as hailing from Meletia in the east, the largest and richest territory in all the Empire. Her head was resting on the padded linen armour that covered her torso--a bambakion was what the Meletians called it in their tongue. Arcadius thought she would have been good looking if it weren’t for the numerous scars that marred her face, and the missing piece of her left ear that looked like it had been torn out by something or someone.
The wagon jerked to the side and Arcadius was jolted in his seat before it became level again; they had probably driven over a hole in the road. The sudden movement caused the sleeping woman to fall hard to the side of the wagon and then onto its bottom.
She stirred, blindly rolling from side to side. Her eyelids opened to reveal hazel coloured eyes before quickly closing shut again, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. She muttered an incoherent stream of sounds that Arcadius guessed were supposed to be harsh obscenities.
He grinned in amusement as the woman lifted her head and looked at him. Arcadius set his sword aside and offered her a hand.
“Good morning, Eirene,” he said, still grinning.
“Fuck you,” she greeted back.
She took the hand.
“I didn’t know they taught such fine manners at the ludus,” Arcadius said as he pulled her up to her feet.
Eirene shot him a glare as she sat down, her scars doing an excellent job of enhancing the expression. She kept it up for a few seconds before the corners of her mouth lifted into a grin of her own. She leaned back against the side of the wagon and stretched out her arms.
“How much longer until we reach the city?” she asked.
“It’s not too far, now. We passed by a marker stone a while back. We’ll be there in an hour, maybe less.”
“About fucking time. We’ve had nothing but biscuits for the last three days. When we’re in the city, we can get ourselves some real food,” Eirene said as she rubbed her eyes.
Arcadius reached into the bag beside him and produced a biscuit from it.
“You don’t like them?” he asked, grinning at her again.
“I’ve seen pieces of dogshit that looked better than those things. How can you even stand to look at them after the one you bit into yesterday?”
“Which one?”
“The one that had the worms inside it.”
Arcadius shrugged. “Five years of eating Guard rations will accustom you to shit, I suppose.”
He took a bite out of the biscuit, carefully inspecting it to make sure there were no worms inside. Once he was satisfied there were none, he took another bite. Eirene stuck her tongue out and made a face of disgust.
“What’s with the helmet?” she asked, gesturing to the one resting on Arcadius' head.
“I’m afraid we might be attacked by bandits,” he said, glancing at the path behind him.
“We’re always in danger of being attacked by bandits when we go down this stretch of the highway. It never seemed to bother you all those other times.”
“That’s because there wasn’t any fog all those other times,” Arcadius said. “Easier for someone to set up an ambush now that we can’t see as well. Could be that we just blunder into a bandit gang without knowing until they’re right in our faces.”
He turned around to look at the trees behind him. He strained his eyes trying to see if anything was lurking in them, but it was no use.
“I wouldn’t mind a fight. Been a while since I’ve killed anything,” she said, rolling her shoulders.
“Is fighting all you ever think about?” Arcadius said before taking another bite.
“Nah, only half of what I think about.”
“And the other half?” he asked once he’d finished chewing.
Eirene smirked. “Drinking.”
“So that’s it, then?”
She gave a shrug. “What the fuck else would I do? Don’t act like your tastes are any better than mine. All you ever seem to do for fun is whoring.”
“That’s not true; I also read books,” Arcadius said, crossing his arms in indignation.
“I’ve never seen you reading a book.”
“That’s because you’re always passed out drunk when I am!”
Eirene opened her mouth to respond when their wagon came to a sudden halt. She and Arcadius exchanged confused looks with each other.
“We’ve stopped,” he said.
“No shit,” Eirene replied. “Does the Guard train you to say the obvious?”
Arcadius ignored her, standing up from his seat and moving to the front of the wagon while she followed behind him.
“What’s going on?” he asked the driver.
“Don’t know,” he said, a noticeable tremble in his voice. “The wagons in front have just stopped.”
Arcadius looked ahead, peering into the fog. He could make out the vague silhouettes of people in the distance.
“Fellow travellers looking for directions?” the wagon driver asked in a hopeful tone. Arcadius noticed him tightening his grip on the reins.
“Nah, they’re bandits for sure,” Eirene said, grinning like someone who’d just discovered a hidden stash of gold.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Arcadius said.
“Let’s check anyway.”
Eirene moved to the back of the wagon and began donning her weapons and armour. Arcadius decided to do the same, grabbing his sword and picking up his shield.
He hopped off the wagon and Eirene stepped off a moment later. Eirene was quite tall for a Meletian woman, almost matching Arcadius’ own height.
She rolled her shoulders and stretched out her back before covering up another yawn. She walked over to him, and the two of them headed toward the front of the wagon train.
“Are you coming?” Arcadius said to the driver of their wagon.
“Wh-w-what? N-no. I’m not a fighter,” he stammered out.
“You’re travelling in the Savage Lands without a weapon?” Eirene asked, stopping in place. Arcadius stopped as well.
“N-no. I’ve got a dagger.” He placed his hand on the hilt of the one strapped to his belt.
“If you’ve got a weapon and can use it, you’re a fighter,” she said.
“B-b-but I-I’ve never been in a fight before, I don’t have any training,” he said.
Eirene replied with a shrug. “Then you’re a shit fighter, but a fighter all the same.”
“Look, if this goes badly, what’re you going to do? Run off into the woods with bandits chasing after you? You won’t last very long out there without any food or water,” Arcadius said.
He knew the man wouldn’t be of much use in a fight, but he’d be one more person for any potential highwayman to deal with.
The driver looked toward the road before quickly glancing back to Arcadius and Eirene. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingers wrapped tightly around the dagger. He sat there for a few seconds before he gave an answer.
“Alright, I’ll go.” He climbed out of the wagon and followed them, though Arcadius noticed he was staying well behind.
As they approached closer to the front of the wagon train, the figures in the fog became clearer. The other fifteen members of the caravan were arrayed in a semi-circle around the lead wagon. Some wore fine clothes; the merchants who had hired Arcadius and Eirene. Then there were others who were dressed more plainly; the assistants of the merchants and wagon drivers of the caravan. Lastly, there were men clad in padded armour and shirts of mail. Swords, daggers, axes, and maces hung from their baldrics or were stuffed into their belts. They were sellswords like Arcadius and Eirene, hired by the merchants to guard the caravan as it travelled.
Of the seven gathered in the front, one of the mercenaries stood out from the rest. He wore a mail hauberk with a tattered surcoat over top. The surcoat looked like it might have been pure white at one time, but had now become a dirty grey. A longer sword hung from the man’s belt and a triangular shield was slung across his back; a blue horse on a white field was painted on its face. The man was dressed like a knight from the kingdoms of the west. Arcadius had seen him before when the caravan began its trip to Valerianople but had never spoken to him. What was he doing here in the Empire?
It wasn’t until he had reached the back of the second wagon that Arcadius saw what had brought the caravan to a stop. Standing just ahead of the of the wagons were a large group of men dressed in ragged looking clothes. The fog made it difficult to tell exactly how many, but Arcadius guessed about two dozen, maybe a little more.
As he walked behind the merchants standing close to the side of the wagon, their hands resting over their swords, Arcadius could see that the men gathered in front of them were armed with axes, knives, clubs, daggers, and a few swords. These people were definitely not fellow travellers.Arcadius heard two people speaking somewhere to his right. He walked over to the front of the caravan and leaned slightly forward to get a look at who was talking.
“We aren’t paying any toll,” said the trader who was standing in roughly the middle of the semi-circle.
The man looked older than the other merchants and dressed better than them too. He was probably the wealthiest of the traders, and so had seen fit to appoint himself the leader of the caravan.
“It’s alright if you don’t have the coin to pay it, you can throw in some those goods you’ve got to make up the difference,” said the man standing a few feet ahead of the other bandits in a friendly manner that belied his intentions.
He spoke in an accent that was foreign to the Empire; it sounded like it belonged to one of the neighbouring kingdoms, perhaps Amarian or Tabarrian if Arcadius had to guess. The man seemed to be the leader of these brigands since he was the one doing the talking and was the only one among the group to wear armour; a worn looking shirt of mail with several holes in the rusted links.
Arcadius shifted his gaze from the argument to the other bandits. They had gotten closer to the wagons. Close enough that he could see their leers and crooked smiles.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Eirene draw her sword out of its scabbard. It was a paramerion, a weapon of Meletian make. It had a slightly curved blade with a full edge at the front and a false edge that ran down the back of the tip. Eirene had probably spent the better part of her life training and fighting with it. Arcadius took some comfort in that.
An angry shout drew Arcadius' attention back to the argument between the brigand and the trader. It seemed the merchant had said something to upset the bandit because he stalked up to him until he was only a few feet away. The sellswords beside the merchant stepped forward and reached for their weapons.
Any pretense of friendliness had gone from his voice when he spoke. “We’re not leaving empty-handed. Give us what we want, or we’ll take it from you!”
Arcadius looked back at the bandits in front of him. They had gone from a slow stroll to a much faster pace, their weapons in hand.
He drew his sword and raised his shield. Arcadius glanced back to see the merchants unsheathe their own blades, he hoped they knew how to use them. There were several shouts before the sounds of fighting erupted further to his right.
Arcadius was tempted to look at what was happening but thought better of it. He needed to focus on the enemy in front of him. The bandits facing his side broke out into a sprint toward the caravan.
One of them came charging at him with a long knife in hand. Arcadius dashed forward, smashing the iron boss of his shield into the bandit’s hand before he could bring it down. He yelped in pain and dropped the knife.
Arcadius thrust his sword into his opponent’s midsection and twisted the blade before withdrawing it. He slammed his shield boss into the bandit’s face and knocked him down. Arcadius stabbed him again, this time through the chest.
There was a yell from nearby. In the corner of his eye, Arcadius saw another enemy rush toward him.
He brought his shield up just in time to catch the axe aimed at his head. Arcadius lowered his sword and thrust up into the brigand’s stomach. As with the last foe, Arcadius twisted then withdrew. He shoved the dying man to the ground with his shield and buried his sword into the bandit’s neck.
Arcadius whipped his head from side to side to see if any more brigands were approaching him. He spotted Eirene to his right, engaged with two opponents.
Eirene jumped back, avoiding the brigand’s axe. The man had overextended himself with his strike, and now there was nothing he could do to stop Eirene’s counterattack. Her paramerion lodged itself into the bandit’s head, cleaving through scalp, skull, and brain. He stood still for a moment, then dropped like a stone.
Eirene stepped over the corpse toward the next bandit. He made an attempt to stab her, but she only swatted the dagger away with her shield and ran the paramerion through his chest. The brigand sunk to his knees and blood began to flow from his mouth like a stream. Eirene kicked the man back and wrenched her sword from his torso.
Arcadius quickly made his way to Eirene. He noticed several bodies lying close to her; three other bandits and what looked like two of the merchants. She saw him coming and spun around to face him, her sword poised to strike. Realizing who he was, she left the blade raised for a moment before lowering it to her side.