For nearly two hours Colton raced through the tunnels, forgetful of his wounds and the stabbing pain in his ankle, certain only that somewhere in the darkness Tyran was deeply in danger. He had followed Valdis through the tunnels, being careful to mark the place in his mind as he watched them leave—though there was nothing but doubt in his mind as to whether he could again find it. Hoping to find the messenger, perhaps to be led to Tyran, he searched the tunnels endlessly, but minute after minute passed agonizingly into hours, and still he found nothing.
>>For nearly two hours Colton raced through the tunnels, forgetful of his wounds and the stabbing pain in his ankle,
I think what is meant here is 'ignoring'. The impression I get is that he was very much aware of his wounds, including the ankle (which kept reminding him. Hard to forget. Especially when nothing it happening'.
And I find 'raced' and 'the tunnels' a bit bland and unhelpful. I am forced to choose between one long tunnel, through which one can 'race' (altho not on that ankle) for two hours... or a frustrating series of short tunnels, dead end, turn around, go back, choose another tunnel, rinse and repeat.
And is this while wading hip deep in sewage? Well, no, because of 'raced'. Scaring the occasional rat which one ignores because one is 'racing'? Do the tunnels go up and down, or are they boringly flat....
Maybe forgetful isn’t quite the right word, but the point I’m trying to convey here is that he’s not thinking about his wounds because his attention has moved elsewhere. Yes, earlier (see the previous chapters) they were more of a pain to him, but now he’s solely focused on the fact that his friend is in danger and may be about to die. That kind of thing tends to make you forget about physical pains, at least for a little while.
As far as lack of detail, I explain the tunnels more in the preceding chapter, when Colton first comes across them:
“Colton continued down the corridor, and the next, and so on deeper into blackness and the underground maze… He had thoroughly lost his way within a very short while, though along with his bearings he had lost any sense of the time. Stumbling down the corridors, he found himself undeniably trapped, defeat and death waiting for him no matter what course he took. He was now at a fork in the tunnel, not the first he had crossed, but this one seemed somehow more forbidding, each path not merely a possibility of straying farther from daylight, but a lurking, waiting mouth. Who could tell what lay within their caverns—perhaps some terrible beast, or a dozen men waiting silently in the dark with knives gleaming?”
This tells the readers that it is not just one long tunnel, but full of forks and caverns and twists and turns. Since this has already been established, I wanted to keep the focus more on him searching for his friend.
I seem to find this kind of thing all over the place in modern writing, at least writing I critique. Someone says something, often a question, and the 'answer' has nothing to do with the question. Old Boomer that I am, I just don't get it.
>>“That would be Lord Valdis to you, would it not?”
“Why—why are you here?”
So, to clarify, why doesn't he answer either, "Oh, My Lord... but... why are you here?"
Or, "I'm not calling you lord, you upstart! And why are you here anyway?"
IOW why doesn't the 'answer' have anything to do with the 'Lord' issue?
The reason I wrote it like this (with the question not being answered) is, first of all, because that’s often how people talk in real life. A question is asked, but the other person’s attention is elsewhere, and they respond without really answering it. Add to this the fact that we are in a fantasy world, where both characters are surprised and on edge (another character is potentially about to be killed). Colton asks this question to make himself seem superior to the boy. The boy, who is certainly not expecting anyone to come raging in just as their victim is to be executed, has bigger concerns than calling a lord by his proper title. That’s why he responds as he does.
To come back to my earlier question... can you see your favourite author doing this? Does Jane Austen do it? Does Wodehouse? How about Arthur Yeomans? ;)
In a society with strong 'Lord' type issues, there are typically no bigger concerns. Cause getting that wrong can get you killed.
Your reasons work both ways... the Lord might not be worried about it, but he said it. But my issue was more for you, as an author. What do you wish to accomplish by bringing up the 'Lord' thing that is accomplished by having it ignored?
It is something that I see a lot, and I see it weakening the story. Remember, as an author... you decided to have him bring up 'Lord'... you, not your character. You decided that it advanced your plot, characterizations, etc.
These are really good points. Throughout most of the story, calling officials by their proper titles is extremely important. As you said, ignoring that could get characters killed. But in writing this scene I decided that the seriousness and suddenness which the scene opens with trumps the smaller issue of correct titles. Besides, I wanted to make the boy out to be someone young, ignorant, jumpy, unaccustomed to typical life around lords and high ranking officials.
Loving where this is going!
So, on the word 'forgetful'...
>>For nearly two hours Colton raced through the tunnels, forgetful of his wounds and the stabbing pain in his ankle,
I think what is meant here is 'ignoring'. The impression I get is that he was very much aware of his wounds, including the ankle (which kept reminding him. Hard to forget. Especially when nothing it happening'.
And I find 'raced' and 'the tunnels' a bit bland and unhelpful. I am forced to choose between one long tunnel, through which one can 'race' (altho not on that ankle) for two hours... or a frustrating series of short tunnels, dead end, turn around, go back, choose another tunnel, rinse and repeat.
And is this while wading hip deep in sewage? Well, no, because of 'raced'. Scaring the occasional rat which one ignores because one is 'racing'? Do the tunnels go up and down, or are they boringly flat....
Inquiring minds want to imagine.
Maybe forgetful isn’t quite the right word, but the point I’m trying to convey here is that he’s not thinking about his wounds because his attention has moved elsewhere. Yes, earlier (see the previous chapters) they were more of a pain to him, but now he’s solely focused on the fact that his friend is in danger and may be about to die. That kind of thing tends to make you forget about physical pains, at least for a little while.
As far as lack of detail, I explain the tunnels more in the preceding chapter, when Colton first comes across them:
“Colton continued down the corridor, and the next, and so on deeper into blackness and the underground maze… He had thoroughly lost his way within a very short while, though along with his bearings he had lost any sense of the time. Stumbling down the corridors, he found himself undeniably trapped, defeat and death waiting for him no matter what course he took. He was now at a fork in the tunnel, not the first he had crossed, but this one seemed somehow more forbidding, each path not merely a possibility of straying farther from daylight, but a lurking, waiting mouth. Who could tell what lay within their caverns—perhaps some terrible beast, or a dozen men waiting silently in the dark with knives gleaming?”
This tells the readers that it is not just one long tunnel, but full of forks and caverns and twists and turns. Since this has already been established, I wanted to keep the focus more on him searching for his friend.
Is it just me? Am I old fashioned or something?
I seem to find this kind of thing all over the place in modern writing, at least writing I critique. Someone says something, often a question, and the 'answer' has nothing to do with the question. Old Boomer that I am, I just don't get it.
>>“That would be Lord Valdis to you, would it not?”
“Why—why are you here?”
So, to clarify, why doesn't he answer either, "Oh, My Lord... but... why are you here?"
Or, "I'm not calling you lord, you upstart! And why are you here anyway?"
IOW why doesn't the 'answer' have anything to do with the 'Lord' issue?
The reason I wrote it like this (with the question not being answered) is, first of all, because that’s often how people talk in real life. A question is asked, but the other person’s attention is elsewhere, and they respond without really answering it. Add to this the fact that we are in a fantasy world, where both characters are surprised and on edge (another character is potentially about to be killed). Colton asks this question to make himself seem superior to the boy. The boy, who is certainly not expecting anyone to come raging in just as their victim is to be executed, has bigger concerns than calling a lord by his proper title. That’s why he responds as he does.
To come back to my earlier question... can you see your favourite author doing this? Does Jane Austen do it? Does Wodehouse? How about Arthur Yeomans? ;)
As for that last...
In a society with strong 'Lord' type issues, there are typically no bigger concerns. Cause getting that wrong can get you killed.
Your reasons work both ways... the Lord might not be worried about it, but he said it. But my issue was more for you, as an author. What do you wish to accomplish by bringing up the 'Lord' thing that is accomplished by having it ignored?
It is something that I see a lot, and I see it weakening the story. Remember, as an author... you decided to have him bring up 'Lord'... you, not your character. You decided that it advanced your plot, characterizations, etc.
These are really good points. Throughout most of the story, calling officials by their proper titles is extremely important. As you said, ignoring that could get characters killed. But in writing this scene I decided that the seriousness and suddenness which the scene opens with trumps the smaller issue of correct titles. Besides, I wanted to make the boy out to be someone young, ignorant, jumpy, unaccustomed to typical life around lords and high ranking officials.