Little Book: Fateweaver
Author
W.S. Montgomery
Author Bio
My name is William Stuart Montgomery, I’m a 26 year old Irish writer from Belfast. I have always been interested in the process of writing and the positive effect it can have on children and young adults, this more than anything was the thing that drove me to teaching. I am currently employed by one of the largest private schools in
Belfast, it is an all boys school and has given me a fantastic platform from which to write from due to it’s rich literary history including being part of the inspiration for C. S. Lewis’s Narnia. I feel that the teacher holds a uniquely powerful position in the lives of many boys and girls all over the world as they can not only inspire and challenge their pupils but also learn from them. My position has given me a spectacular insight into the interests and reading habits of a huge range of children and in particular boys from the ages of 5-18. I have been able to explore the types of fiction boys enjoy and this has had a lasting effect on my writing.
If I had to categorise myself I feel that I would be classed as an adventure writer. I like to track a story from a meagre beginning to a superb climax and go through many interesting and exciting trials and tribulations in the process. In my position I am lucky enough to be able to view the types of books that children, especially boys, have access to and I would truly love to add to this selection by writing a classic adventure novel that, crucially, takes place in a new and unexplored land that children and adults are unfamiliar with.
I have just finished my first novel ‘Fateweaver’ which will I hope be the first of three.
Description
In truth Thea is a place much like Earth, the people resemble our own and to any ignorant onlooker there would be no discernible difference, until you see what most people have strapped inside their coats, cloaks and jackets.
On Thea, for as long as anyone can remember people have found a way of transferring their thoughts, feelings, actions, and words into their own personal book. This book is referred to as a Journal. Journals are the single most important thing in Thea, they act very much like diaries except unlike a diary they are completely unfiltered. Everything one thinks, does and says is recorded on the pages thanks to the mysterious link created between the Journal and it’s owner upon grafting at birth.
There are times however when Theans do not graft with their prospective Journal and if this occurs then that child is seen as unworthy in the eyes of all, they are outcasts and are abandoned in the expansive area of wasteland that lies in between the three nations, this area is known as the Castlands.
The Castlands are home to the Laccuna, the name given to Theans who do not have the moral guidance and continual reminders of their own actions that come from Journals, as such they are savage, wild and reviled by those on the Mainland.
If you were to sit in your room and read your own Journal you could track your own thoughts and actions right from your birth up until the moment you sat down to read in your room. If you wished to read another’s Journal however it would be quite blank, another’s thoughts and feelings remain privately guarded to all but one person; the Regalis. The Regalis is a person with an often sporadic gift that requires a great deal of skill and concentration, Regalis have the ability to read anyone’s
Journal, however they usually take years to decipher the thoughts and actions of others from these great books.
Charity Walters is a thirteen year old girl who finds herself, thanks to an extremely fortunate lottery win, attending St. Augut’s School for Young Ladies, a private boarding school, far from the comforts of home. One night she falls asleep in the school library and wakes to find that she has been locked in. She is drawn by a mysterious black leak to an unexplored section of the library and finds an extremely old, leather bound book which, at her touch, transports her to the land of Thea.
Unbeknownst to Charity Walters, she is in fact the most naturally gifted Regalis in the history of Thea.
Upon arriving, she is taken in by the Ivory Order, a group that has always supported the rulers of the three nations and enforces the law throughout Thea. The Order is also responsible for handing out the Journals, ‘grafting’ new-borns and ensuring that Laccuna are kept out of the Mainlands.
Charity soon finds a similarly shy girl named Sophie and they bond over their shared feelings of solitude. Charity eventually confides the secret of her Regalis skills to her. A local Clergyman of the Order soon finds out Charity is, in fact, a gifted Regalis and she is charged with a task of finding the item known as the Fateweaver feather.
The Fateweaver is a quill that has long passed into myth and was supposedly able to write in a Journal, meaning one could change your past and present, feasibly doing anything. It has long been considered nothing more than a fariytale and all who have went in search for it have long since disappeared without a trace. The last, a man named Charles Calville left only his Journal behind but it was previously blank to all who read it. Charity is the key to unlocking the mystery of Calville’s quest and perhaps the only one who can find the feather.
Book excerpt
Charity could hear something, something new. The terrible noise that had split her ears moments ago had stopped, but she kept her eyes shut tight, afraid to open them, afraid of what she might see. What had happened when she opened that book? This is a nightmare, she thought desperately. “If I stay here and don’t move, don’t open my eyes everything will be alright. I’ll just wait here on the floor and soon I’ll wake up in my bed”, Charity promised herself but deep down she knew that this was nothing like any nightmare she had had before. Everything was too real, too vivid, the way the floor felt beneath her, the beating relentless pounding of her heart, was all too horrible to be a mere product of her over active imagination. The noise was growing louder now, Charity strained her ears despite herself. “Panting, heavy breathing, sounds like some sort of animal”, she surmised logically. She kept speaking to herself resolutely inside her head, willing herself to keep calm. “Ok Charity open your eyes, just open them on the count of three. Ok one!” Charity steeled herself, “Two”, she spoke the word in her own head once more and then, “Three!” This time Charity spoke the word out loud and for the first time since she touched that old book, she opened her eyes.
It took a few seconds for Charity’s senses to adjust to her surroundings; she noticed with rising apprehension that she was definitely not in the library. She was lying on the filthy, dust covered wooden floor of a small room. The old oak panelled walls were bare and infested with mould and the windows patchily boarded up allowing only a small amount of light to shine through in thin shafts. Charity wiggled her toes checking if her legs still worked which thankfully they did. She righted herself and looking around began to panic. This was definitely not the room she had been in thirty seconds ago. “Or had it been thirty seconds?” she asked herself desperately. Time was not something she could be completely confident with at the moment. The panting noise was still audible and it was coming from a small armchair in the far corner of the room, it increased in volume as Charity slowly moved closer to the back of the chair, her hands outstretched. Dread flooded her body as she reached for the chair, she held her breath once more and pulled it roughly around to face her. Instantly she fell backwards in horror, a blood soaked old man was slumped in the chair, his breathing was ragged and his face blotched with sweat and patches of dried blood. “I – I what what’s wrong?!” Charity gasped horrified, righting herself once more and moving closer to the stricken man. “Oh my! You’re hurt, I know, I can help, I think I can help, wait!” Charity pulled off her school blazer and pressed it softly on the man’s chest, there was so much blood, she thought. The old man grimaced in pain as she patted his wound and with difficulty he seemed to control his erratic breathing.
“You…” he croaked, “I knew, knew it…would…” to Charity’s utter bewilderment the man’s face had broken out into a watery eyed smile.
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