Yep, I need you... to give me feedback, or point out mistakes. :D
This is one part I actually decided to edit, as this is probably the worst written part in my short story. So that means it deserves your scrutiny. Look over it. Evaluate it. Or just ignore this part of the intro and read the story. :D
The Dark King
Roughly an hour after the attack, all of the villagers crowded into Haas's house. Kadif had taken temporary charge, and told the villagers what had happened while the others were fighting on the other side of the village.
The villagers were now debating on whether or not to rescue Haas. Most wanted to, but a few were worried about the gray being, including the village storyteller, who said it was a Servant of the Evil One. Jarz had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but it apparently worried the villagers. The storyteller also seemed to hint that Haas was the only one who had any idea of how to defeat the thing.
"I th'nk w' shud ignore th' man altogeth'r," suggested one of the newer villagers, as the argument gained momentum.
He was immediately met with a chorus of indignant protests at his suggestion.
"Why 'n th' name o' dead Sadaar** shud w' agree t' that?" another man asked hotly.
As arguments went back and forth like the rolling of the tides, Jarz felt despair pushing him down. Haas had briefly given him hope that Szifa and Jarz would be able to get back to their own country, but now he was in the hands of the apparent enemy.
Szifa nudged Jarz, jolting him back to the 'debate'-- if it could be called that.
Among the discussion about the rescue, there was the question of why the people had attacked in the first place. The most obvious answer to the villagers would have been that the attackers were tribes that wanted revenge on their stolen homelands***. But there had been no tribes in the area when it was settled, so that answer could be scratched from the list.
Jarz had sudden, chilling thought. He shouted urgently, “Everyone quiet, please!”
The room was silenced at the tone in Jarz's voice, startling even Szifa.
Jarz took a deep breath and continued, “Isn't it possible that the people attacked the town to distract Haas and capture him?”
There wasn't a movement in the still room. Quietly, each person in the small living room affirmed that it could be a possiblity. An idea began to form in Jarz's mind as he silently searched his memory for some hint at what to do.
“And what do you plan to do about it?” a voice called from somewhere in the room, as if on cue.
This was what Jarz was waiting for. “Listen up.” he said. “This is what we will do....”
**The Sadaar were a people that were driven out of the country that Haas and the other villagers lived in [the name being secret from you readers for a number of reasons]. Not one of the native tribes (see next note). They were believed to have strange powers. The last of the Sadaar was killed by a king some time before this story takes place.
***The country where Haas and the other villagers lived in had begun many years before this story takes place, as a colony of coastal towns. As they gained power, they pushed the native inhabitants farther back into the wilds. Eventually, most of the tribes had been defeated and/or driven far, far back into their lands. At the time of the story, it had been uncommon, but not unknown, for some avenging tribes to strike out at frontier towns like the one that Haas lived in.
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