Gypsie Eyes

gyrfalcon · 2006-10-09T02:05:10Z

Prologue The little gang of kids was not, as any casual observer would think, watching the storyteller. Instead their eyes were focused on the thin, frail boy who sat nearest her, who would make little sounds of annoyance whenever she lied. The children trusted him more than any adult, for he knew everything and could talk to the gulls by the river-port. His name was Avarn. He had slick black hair and vaguely effeminate features, which made the bigger boys pick on him, and disconcertingly pale blue eyes, which made them stop. No one, adult or child, strong or cowardly, could look Avarn in the eyes without feeling that to disobey him would be to disobey a king. And he was their king. Sitting to his right, half a head taller than he but about a year younger, was his second-in-command. She had long, curly brown hair that she refused to put in braids, as all the other girls were made to do. Normally, her dark brown locks hung in front of her face, hiding her eyes behind the wispy curtain. But all of them, even those who had never seen , knew what the brown curtain hid. They were even more afraid of her. Her name was Karenna. Finally the storyteller came to the end of her tale, unaware that she had been caught out in all the little human-superiority lies she had slipped in. All the children knew the real story; Avarn had told them often enough, and he would tell them again tonight. But for now they scattered, called to their separate homes for lunch by the tolling of the noon bell. Avarn and Karenna didn’t scatter. They obeyed the bell only when it suited them. They went together down to the docks and walked along the riverside until they came to the place where the fishermen dumped their garbage. There were gulls there, hundreds of them, calling and screaming and fighting over a scrap of fish or a half-rotten skeleton. Avarn gave a call in their own language, and one of the gulls fluttered over to him. This gull flew badly, for he had broken his wing only last week, and Avarn and Karenna had barely been able to set it properly. He looked scrawny and harassed and when Avarn gave him a crust of bread from his pocket, the gull swallowed it hungrily. Karenna smiled and stroked his head. The gull would have snapped at anyone else, but he knew Karenna, and knew that if he hurt her the boy with the water-like eyes would not feed him again. He was quite bright, for a gull. At length, Avarn spoke. “Karenna,” he said quietly, “do you think there’s something wrong with me?” She looked at her leader sharply; he had never said anything like this before. “No, of course not!” He smiled and looked at her. “My parents aren’t my real parents.” This was a well-known fact; the two people who had raised him were an elderly leather-merchant and his sister, both kind if fading people. “Neither are mine,” she rebuffed. He shifted his gaze back to the gull. “I think,” he said softly, “I think there may well be something different about me. I think that I may not be here much longer.” “Why?” demanded Karenna. “I saw a lady yesterday, a new lady. She had long black hair like mine and she said she was my real mother, that I was special, and that tonight, after the story, I must go away to stay with her and her husband.” “Your father?” Avarn shook his head. “No. She said she didn’t know who my father was but she was lying.” "How do you know she's your real mother?" Karenna demanded. Avarn gave her a half-smile. "Karenna, it's me." Karenna stayed quiet for a few moments, absently stroking the bird. “I don’t want you to go,” she said at last. She would probably be the only one in the village who wouldn't; even his adopted caretakers were slightly wary of him. “I don’t want to go.” “Then stay!” At her cry the gull squawked and threatened to fly off. “Why can’t you stay here, my parents can keep you, or you can hide with the gulls and tell them to attack anyone but me who comes near. Or we could—“ He held up a hand, and his eyes were serious. “Karenna,” he soothed, “I won’t be gone forever.” “I’ll never see you again.” She was close to tears, but she fought them back. “Of course you will,” he said. “I promise. Once I learn all I need to be a magician, for that’s what she said I was, I’ll come back to you. I promise, Karenna.” “Is she a magician?” Karenna knew how rare that particular mage was, and the thought of Avarn as one made the idea of parting a little less bitter. “Yes. And she says that’s why I can talk to gulls and things, because I have an afin…an affin-i-ty for them, for water and air things. She says she has an affin-i-ty for fire things.” Karenna considered. “But what if, once you’re a magician, she locks you up in a tower so you can’t be a better magician than her?” He thought about this for a moment. “Well then,” he said, “I’ll send a gull to come and get you and bring you to me, so you can free me from her and we can stop whatever evils she’s doing together.” She liked the thought. “Like they do in the stories?” Avarn smiled. “Yes, in all the best stories. But you have to promise to follow the gull when I send him.” Karenna clasped her hands to her heart. “I promise.” He put his hands over hers. “And I promise to never, never forget you, Karenna Morn.” Chapter One Tannar watched the young woman as she slept, wondering idly how much damage a well-placed hailstone could do to that long, willowy body. He decided against it, not only because a solitary hailstone in the middle of spring would be suspicious, but because he had been given specific instructions as to her safety. As he continued to watch her, scratching instinctively at the bronze bands around his wrists, he decided he didn’t really want to hurt her. He just wanted her to never have been born. The wagon they were in trundled along in its caravan, the ground beneath the wheels growing muddy from the mounting rainstorm. The water dripping through the canvas overhead inevitably woke her and she started, drawing her bag closer to her body and glaring at him. He didn’t stop staring. There was something about her eyes… “I’m Karenna Morn,” she said, snapping him out of his study of her. “How nice for you,” he said, a little harsher than he had meant to. He couldn’t see her eyes properly now, she had stopped looking directly at him. “What’s your name?” she asked. He wondered why she was so forward, introducing herself to a stranger, but perhaps knowing the name of the person you would be traveling hundreds of miles with in a confined space was some human custom he wasn’t aware of. For a moment, he considered the hailstone again. “Tannar.” She waited, presumably for a surname. He sighed. It wasn’t her fault, not really. It hadn’t been her idea to send him hundreds of miles from the mountains on this crazy task. “That’s it,” he said, waving his arms expansively, “just Tannar.” “Doesn’t that mean Windstorm?” He blinked. “How do you know Elemental?” Her cheeks reddened, but not out of embarrassment. She averted her gaze. “I know a few words.” He watched her with renewed interest. Maybe there was something special here. Avarn hadn’t mentioned any mage talents. Of course, Avarn hadn’t mentioned the eyes either. Tannar settled back, scratching at the flesh around his bronze wristbands again. This might be interesting after all. * * * Karenna didn’t like him. She didn’t like the dark, staring eyes and she didn’t like the way he kept scratching his wrists. It had been a mistake to look him that long in the eyes, she knew better. And the Elemental? She was smarter than that. He still hadn’t stopped staring at her, but at least the rain had slackened off. She tried not to stare back, but his dark eyes sought hers relentlessly. She held her bag tighter, feeling for the comforting shape of the oblong wooden box inside. It was there, sure and solid. She resisted the urge to bring it out and open it; that would be foolishness supreme. The wagon jerked suddenly, sending a wine barrel toppling down on top of her. It pinned her, some of the liquid sloshing through a crack onto her face. She spluttered, spitting the disgusting substance out of her mouth. Tannar watched her for a moment, then leaned forward and shifted the barrel off her with little discernable effort. For an instant he was above her, his soft black eyes looking directly down into hers. That small, treacherous part of her, the part that had driven her to spend three years saving up to buy the box and its contents, purred like a cat near a hearth fire. And then he was back on his side of the wagon, and she was able to squash that part of her back into the dark corner of her mind that it occupied. Slowly, she sat up, her hand still clutching the bag. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, and the traitorous part inside her wished that he would. With the strength born of long practice, she shut the door on those emotions and settled back to sleep. * * * That night the three wagons of the caravan drew together in a circle around the fire that one of the workmen had started. The handsome black coach that had joined them that morning sat a good distance away, its occupant not deigning to join his fellows. Tannar couldn’t blame him. There were five other youths heading for the Dirantyr Training Academe, all of them sixteen and most of them, from the way they huddled together, had never been more than a few miles from home before. While the Dirantyri government made it mandatory that all of their citizens attend the Academe for two years, beginning at age sixteen, they did not provide transport for those who had to travel from the middle-lands or even the coast to where the Academe was situated on the westernmost boundary of the kingdom. So most students hitched rides on the supply wagons that streamed westward every spring, in caravans for safety. The Academe would provide a somewhat higher degree of education than the reading, writing, and arithmetic that these children had learned at home, as well as generously training them in the basics of war-making such as archery, drill, and horsemanship. Of course, they would not do it for free. The cost was not exorbitant, but high enough to be felt, especially by families who already had trouble paying royal taxes. It was the cost, in fact, that kept many of the poorer children home, even with the threat of imprisonment. On top of that, Dirantyr was not quite as large and prosperous a nation as it would have its neighbors believe. But it knew how to use resources, and how to train its children. Those students who wanted to join the army or showed talent for senseless killing would be sent to a different location for further training. Their families would be reimbursed for their “investment in their child’s education.” And for those who showed mage talents—well, half the teachers were mages of one kind or another, and all Possible Mages were earmarked almost from the first day of classes. This was not a country where magic was wasted. But the five clustered around the bonfire didn’t look promising. Tannar hated fire. But he could not be seen acting like he didn’t need its warmth, especially as the night was a chill one for spring. So he sat as far away from the dancing flames as he could while still being touched by the heat. Karenna, sitting directly across from him, apparently had no more love for the element than he did. She was perched on the offending wine barrel, watching the flames with a definite air of malice. A man next to her, scarred and carrying a sheathed sword—apparently some kind of security—offered her a piece of cheese. She turned to accept it, but as soon as he saw her face he started, dropping the cheese to the muddy ground. “You’ve got Gypsie Eyes!” he exclaimed, more out of surprise than fear. Tannar tensed. If the caravan chose to make an issue of it, his job would get a lot more complicated. “It’s just a fluke!” Karenna shouted above the rising din of panic. “My father had green eyes and my mother had blue, that’s all!” The group around her still looked skittish. “I’m not a Gypsie,” she insisted. Slowly they settled down, all of them giving the girl a wide berth. She looked around at her suddenly distant companions, then stared, dead-eyed, at the fire. In a way he was not surprised that they calmed as quickly as they did. Once people got the idea of you as human fixed in thier minds, it was hard for them to change it, no matter their panic. He relied on much the same mindset. Tannar had learned the price of compassion; the bands around his wrists spoke volumes about the folly of pity. And yet he felt sorry for her. So, inwardly berating himself for his stupidity, he caught her gaze and waited until she put her full attention on him. Then he shifted his head slightly and tucked a lock of unruly black hair behind one slightly pointed ear. * * * Karenna lay, pretending to be asleep, in the wagon that had been her home for the past three days. That first night had been terrible, the fear of attack pressing down on her until she couldn't sleep. But as time went on and no one noticed her eyes, she had relaxed. Yet even now that they knew, or at least one of them had seen, she wasn't afraid. Perhaps it had something to do with the other person in the wagon with her. She heard Tannar’s breathing, steady and low, but it was not the breathing of someone who was asleep. It was more the breathing of someone who had only watched other people sleep. She opened her eyes a slit. “Having trouble sleeping?” he asked. Karenna’s heart thumped at the unexpected sound of speech. “Having trouble yourself?” she growled. He, or rather, his silhouette, shrugged. “I’m not tired.” No, of course you’re not , she thought. You haven’t slept for the past two nights in a row, ever since you joined. Why should this night be any different? The wagon wasn’t moving, the driver, at least, having the usual human requirements for rest. Karenna sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. It was dark, outside and in, and the thin layer of canvas and the homespun weave of her dress did nothing to stave off the cold. She shivered. He cocked his head to one side. “Are you cold?” Karenna bit back the urge to snap. At least he sounded like he meant it. “Yes.” Wordlessly, Tannar slipped off the dark cloak she had always seen him wear and passed it across to her. Karenna took it reluctantly. The fabric was thick, soft wool lined with something that felt like silk. Her mother was a weaver, and so she knew the world of fabric inside and out, but she refused to believe that a boy with a silk-lined cloak would travel to the Dirantyr Training Academe in a rickety, leaky wagon. She wrapped it around herself, feeling the slick fabric against her skin. Definitely silk . The cloak was not particularly warm, but it helped. “Thank you,” she said. Again, the silhouette shrugged. “You can keep it if you like.” Karenna gaped. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her expression, she said, “You’ve got to be joking.” Tannar did not answer for a long time, and Karenna got the impression that he was staring at her again. She folded the cloak more tightly around herself, aware for the first time that she was alone with him in a small, enclosed space. “What?” she snapped. He shook his head slightly. “Nothing,” he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Sorry for staring…yes, go ahead and keep the cloak, I don’t need it.” With that he lay down and rolled over so he wasn’t facing her. Karenna watched him for only a moment before doing likewise. * * * High in the mountains north of Dirantyr stood an enormous castle. Most of it was carved directly into the mountain behind it, and its spines jutted up to pierce the sky with more malice than any mountaintop. It was dark and looming and currently the home of two people only. One of them was in her study, pouring through huge leather-bound tomes as she always seemed to be doing. The other, her son, sat at a magnificent black piano in what passed for his bedroom. The ivory keys of the instrument glowed in the light of the roaring fireplace and the polished black surface gleamed. His fingers, long and thin, danced across the keys, sending beautiful music up to echo around the high, vaulted ceiling above him and through every room of the deserted palace. His eyes, as he played, were closed, but when he finished, they opened. Pale, pale blue, they stared at the spartan room around him. Avarn stood, keeping one hand on the top of the piano, and listened. He could just barely hear it, the sound of another’s heartbeat, the sound that had constantly filled his mind for the past six years. It was faint now, and very far away, but he could still hear it. Slowly he smiled, and felt his way to his favorite chair next to the fire. Sitting down, he picked up a slim book and leafed through it until he came to his bookmark. He lightly ran his fingers over the pages; he could feel the slight texture of the ink, but without the owner of the heartbeat he had no idea what it said. He sighed and gently closed the book, setting it carefully aside. His pale, pale blue eyes gazed unfocused into the fireplace as the heartbeat lulled him into a dreamless sleep. * * * Ravage stood in human form at the top of the cliff. Below him, the caravan was tucked in for the night, drivers and horses and pupils sleeping soundly. He could smell the all-too-inviting scent of warm flesh. Their numbers and the wagon-drivers’ whips may make thieves think twice, but his kind were beyond the mettle of such vagabonds. Keesha, his favorite mate, padded up next to him on all fours, her magnificent black furred body gleaming in the light from the half-moon. She licked his hand and whimpered. Ravage smiled down at her, and then changed until he too stood on four legs instead of two. He knew the stupid, human stories about Werewolves only being able to change on full-moon nights. They were always cause for a laugh among his pack. He grinned, showing long yellow canines, and howled. * * * Tannar had been lying on his back, staring sleeplessly at the canvas above his head, when the cry rent the still night air. In an instant he was up and shaking Karenna vigorously. “Wake up,” he hissed. She muttered something and rolled over. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was peeking through an open flap or rip, then doused her with a quick, controlled handful of ice water. She came up spluttering, “What in the name of—” “Werewolves,” he snarled. For a moment she stared at him. “Oh god.” He didn’t have time for her to come to grips. “Get whatever’s in that bag of yours and have it ready to defend yourself. The horses will have woken with that howl; the others won’t be far behind them.” “And what are you going to do?” “I’m going to try to make sure that at least this wagon and horse survive to get us to the Academe.” He slipped quickly out of the wagon; the horses whinnied when they saw him and pranced nervously away, jingling their harnesses. Like him, they knew what approached. Then, in the eerie half-moonlight, he saw them; over ten huge, wolf-shaped animals charging the caravan. Their leader was a big gray he-wolf, with long, powerful legs and mad red eyes. He stared directly at Tannar and let loose a challenging howl. There was no point in being subtle; the humans were only now waking up and it would be unlikely that any of them would be alive afterwards to report what he did. Massive storm-clouds gathered quickly in the previously clear sky and a great gust of wind shoved at the Werewolves, if not halting them then at least slowing them down. The enormous he-wolf locked eyes with Tannar for an instant and then, muscles bunching, he leapt at him. A concentrated beam of powerful blue light connected with the Werewolf’s chest, sending him sprawling in the thick mud. Tannar glanced over his shoulder to see Karenna, standing next to the wagon, her long brown hair streaming with water and her dress and cloak lashing back and forth in the driving wind. She held a wand. * * * All the occupants of the wagons, once they realized the danger they were in, rushed to the wagon that had been last in line as they traveled and was now nearest the center of the circle. Jataal watched them flock to him like chicks to be hidden under a hen’s wings, and watched the Werebeasts draw ever nearer. He sighed, climbed wearily down from the wagon seat where he had been dozing, and said, “Get into my wagon, you’ll all fit.” They obeyed without question, even the wagon-masters. Jataal was a battle mage, now a retired warrior and professor at the Academe. He was also one of those who volunteered to guard the caravans that brought batches of students and supplies every year. He was, moreover, half the reason it had been nearly five years since the last Werebeast attack. So it was to be Wolves this time, was it? Jataal drew his sword, a magnificent blade as scarred as he. One of the lead Wolves snarled and leapt at him. Jataal flicked his sword arm almost casually; the Wolf darted back, whining and licking a deep cut in its leg. The others approached more slowly. Jataal swung his blade casually. “Come on,” he said, “it’s been awhile since I had a workout against live targets.” * * * Keesha howled mournfully over the body of her fallen mate, but only for a moment. The rest of the pack did what they were supposed to do; they converged on the heart of the caravan. Only two she-Wolves stayed with her to seek vengeance—Ravage’s other two mates. As one, they charged the boy. He leapt higher than any man should have been able to leap, and landed several feet behind them. The three Wolves yelped and turned sharply, their claws digging into the soft earth. The young man smiled at them as they began to charge him again, then ran towards the cliff she and Ravage had just stood on, away from his fellows in the besieged caravan. Coward , thought Keesha. Only when they had gone nearly forty yards from the wagons without catching him did she register that something was wrong. He came up short against the cliff wall and spun to face them, still grinning widely. Before Keesha could tear his throat out, there was a strangled cry from the she-Wolf to her right. The damned girl with the wand had followed them. Keesha snarled a command for the remaining Wolf to deal with her, and didn’t look back again. She pounced on the boy, shoving him to the ground with her superior weight. Snarling, she clawed at him and tried to bring her tooth-filed mouth around to connect with his neck. He struggled, and he was stronger than she had expected, but fury filled her and made her stronger still. Just as she was about to close her jaws around his throat, something sharp and very cold pierced her side. She moaned and backed off him, blood streaming from the wound. He lay in the mud, one hand closed around the hilt of a knife that had not been there before. The weapon looked as if it had been made out of ice. Suddenly, Keesha realized what she had been fighting. Human wizards with wands she could deal with, but this was something entirely different. Without noticing that her remaining companion had fallen to a burst of blue magic from that same wand, she howled the retreat and ran. Her pack, yes it was her pack now, didn't even hesitate before following her. * * * Jataal watched the last of the Wolves scamper off with a small glow of satisfaction. Only one of them would probably die of the wounds he had inflicted, and that was a pity, but still. Not too bad for a man over three times the age of these youths. He stretched, cracking his back, and coolly sheathed his sword. “You can come out now,” he said to those cowering within the wagon. Slowly they emerged, and Jataal did a quick headcount and frowned. Two missing. He glanced up, and saw a young woman with long brown hair trying to move into the group without attracting attention. His frown deepened. He looked around for the second absent youth. He could see a young man, near the cliff, moving as if dragging something out of sight. If he had not been a battle mage and still coming down from the high battle always gave him, Jataal would not have been able to see what the boy was so carefully shoving into one of the niches the cliff afforded. Two Werewolf corpses. Slowly, the frown became a smile. That would be one worth watching. * * * Karenna had been lucky. Part of the cliff had been between them and the wagons, and the darkness and confusion of the attack had helped distract the workmen from the freak storm and flashes of blue light. She tucked her wand away inside her cloak and slipped in among the other students. One of the men, older and more scarred than the drivers, was checking that each student was all right. His eyes locked with Karenna’s for an instant, and she saw him smile, just barely. “You all right, miss?” “Yes, thank you.” He smiled his imperceptable smile again and moved on to check on the others. “Quite the adventure,” said a voice from behind her. Karenna turned to see a human girl about her own age with waist-length blonde hair and a fair complexion. She wore tight-fitting black trousers instead of a skirt and held a riding crop in one hand. All her clothes were black, come to that. The girl smiled like a snake with a bird’s egg, and extended a gloved hand. “I’m Shanna Liam, I’ve been riding in the coach.” Karenna took the hand gingerly, wondering if she was the bird’s egg. Shanna’s smile told her she was. “I wanted to say thank you,” she said. “For what?” asked Karenna carefully. “Why, for driving the Wolves away, of course.” Shanna’s smile didn’t even waver. “I’m sorry,” said Karenna, easing away. “I think you must have—” she was interrupted by the arrival of Tannar, who glared openly at Shanna. “Who are you?” he demanded. Karenna never thought she would be so glad to see him. This time, the girl did not extend her hand to shake. “I’m Shanna Liam. My father is Maraso Liam, advisor to the king.” “How nice for you,” said Tannar, as if she had told him her father was a common shopkeeper and not one of the most powerful men in Dirantyr. Karenna restrained a grin. Shanna’s eyes narrowed, but the smile remained fixed in place. “And who, may I ask, are you?” “You may not ask,” said Tannar, as he took Karenna’s arm and gently steered her away from the young aristocrat. Once they were a safe distance away, he said, “Friend of yours?” Karenna scowled. “I bloody hope not.” He smiled. “So…” Karenna looked at him sideways. “That was some interesting weather back there.” “So…” said Tannar without even glancing at her. “Those were some interesting flashes of blue light back there." Karenna said nothing, but smiled quietly to herself.

Saphira

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Tue May 15, 2007 4:59 pm

Saphira says... · Tue May 15, 2007 4:59 pm

This is Amazing! I love it so much that i can't find anything wrong with it! Keep up the good work and i can't wait to read more!

Come to the dark side. We have cookies!

Myth

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Sat May 26, 2007 10:07 pm

Myth says... · Sat May 26, 2007 10:07 pm

Green = Commen/Correction
Black = Review

*

It wasn’t Karoon. Karoon would not have left the job undone a second time.

‘Karoon’ so close together! Maybe replace it with ‘The Elementar’ or ‘He’?

From there he took [s]the[/s] four halting steps to his chair by the fireplace, which was now cold and empty. He shivered. “Mensha?” The word echoed around the huge, empty stone room.

^^^ See quote. Only reason I cut it was because it reads better. Also, rather than saying ‘word’ for Mensha, why not use ‘name’? Up to you.

He put his grubby face close to hers, his eyes—[s]one[/s] purple and [s]one[/s] gray—intense.

I might have mentioned this before, it makes sense to cut out ‘one’ since we know by now they have mismatched eye colours.

But that wasn’t possible; the two hadn’t seen each other in eight years, and this was his Avarn, the scarred, black-clad young man he had joined to.

I’m thinking that ought to be ‘was’.

The pain from the …had it been a dream?...returned, harsh and exquisite.

Looks wrong, somehow. Could just be me but I’ll think of something next time.

A harsh, grinning face thrust itself into his field of vision. “Good morning little demon, demon, demon,” sang the musical voice of Dosh.

It has been some time since I last read any of GE but do they know the name of their captors? From Tannar’s point he doesn’t, unless Dosh introduces himself. Let me know if I’m wrong.

*

Bird!

Managed to get to this at last. There are a couple of ‘was’ and ‘were’ in there that could be taken out, sentences read fine without hem and a few obvious clues like the Gypsie eyes being different colours can be given a miss as the story progresses.

I liked this part, stands out to me:

He saw Avarn lean forward and kiss Karenna tenderly on the lips. A pain, severe and unanticipated, shot through him and he cried out.

Could be jealousy or actual pain, you don’t really give it away, or could be both =]

Nothing else to pick out really. Expect for that odd sentence which I’ll try my hand at when I’m not so tired. Will get the next part done soon.

Myth

.: ₪ :.

'...'

gyrfalcon

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Sat May 26, 2007 11:29 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sat May 26, 2007 11:29 pm

Myth, have I mentioned how much I've missed you? :-)

I really need to get in the habit of NOT mentioning the "one __ and one ___" thing with the Gypsie eyes. I think I've got a solution to that awkward sentence--check back in a couple days and all should be well!

"In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function...We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." ~C.S. Lewis

Myth

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Sun May 27, 2007 12:55 pm

Myth says... · Sun May 27, 2007 12:55 pm

Green = Cooment/Correction
Black = Review

*

He heard the Elementar shift. “Are you all right?” she asked. “I heard you cry out, but the mistress…”

Is there a certain sound when they shift? Or would he rather feel the Elementar shift, like something in the air changing?

Avarn received an image of Dosh and the sense of cage bars surrounding him. Gypsies, he thought.

Again with the identity of Dosh. Read the last part of my previous critique.

*

Big Bird!

Loved the ending, all their minds connected =]

I went back a few pages to read the earlier parts, like you would do with books, and I find I’ve missed something and reading again refreshes the story. Each chapter is given a special scene that’s memorable and you’re drawing readers in the more you write. Wish I could write so much without stopping.

Now, about this sentence:

The pain [s]from the …had it been a dream?...[/s]returned, harsh and exquisite.

I think you can take out most of the in-between words and start another sentence where he tries to guess what it had been, a dream or if it had been real. Does he look around or try to see if there’s something going on with Karenna, since she’s part of it all?

Myth

.: ₪ :.

'...'

gyrfalcon

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Sun May 27, 2007 7:09 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sun May 27, 2007 7:09 pm

You're a peach, Myth.

Oh, just a note: yes, they know Dosh and Jaan's names because they name each other when our heros are first captured. Something to the effect of:

Jaan: "Dosh, she's got the Royal Eyes!"
Dosh: "Shut up, Jaan."
(hey, I'm the author, I can paraphrase

)

"In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function...We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." ~C.S. Lewis

Skell

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Fri Jun 01, 2007 4:32 am

Skell says... · Fri Jun 01, 2007 4:32 am

I love your writing. I dont have any comments to make about grammer or corrections or anyhting, Myth does a good job of going through it. But really it is a good story and i think you are a great writer, i hope you keep it up.
but for a selfish reason, lol becausei want to read the rest of the story. *grins*

In the shadows i walk, through the light of life.

sworddance

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Fri Jun 01, 2007 9:00 am

sworddance says... · Fri Jun 01, 2007 9:00 am

Hi

You may remember me popping into this thread for a brief rant to skell about getting my hopes up, but I never did give you an actual crit. If I may be so bold, I'd like to do that for this one. :oops:

I've been browsing around and giving crits for a couple hours now, so I thought, oh, what the heck.
Obviously, I don't need to go all the way back to the beginning, so this crit shall be confined to chapter 16 only.

Mind if I start on a completely useless and nonconstructive note by saying I love this story? Really really really love it?
<3

Now that that's out of the way...

bit by bit then.

"...he said, for perhaps the hundredth time."
--> a bit too informal, imho. 'the hundredth time' seems out of place in the more sophisticated narration. Maybe change the tag to "he repeated yet again," "said yet again," "yet again, as he had several times already," or w/ev you like.

" The broad-shouldered, black skinned woman before him, her eyes large and yellow, gave a canine-filled smile. “Keesha is the leader now,” she growled."
-->'canine-filled'. Awkward, I think. 'Canine' to me means the dog/wolf genus, if that's the right term, so canine-filled was odd; then again, realizing that you probably meant her smile was all canine teeth, that was odd too, because even canines have teeth other than 'canines'. To cut to the point, I think 'canine-toothed' or 'canine-sharp' would be a better phrase for that particular point.
--> 'growled'. A bit odd. I understand that she is supposed to be wolf-like, but growled usually is used to imply anger, and she was smiling. Unfortunately, I have no idea what you could do about it.
--> as a random suggestion, maybe you could have them say she's 'packleader' now, not just 'the leader', because that also adds the wolf-like element- unless you feel they do not travel in 'packs' and want to avoid that usage. *shrug*

"The wolves around her, all in human form for this meeting, grinned as well."
--> odd, that you refer to them first as wolves then say they were in human form. I'd say just change it to werewolves, but that might be too repetitive with that word's usage elsewhere in the paragraph, so idk.

"The assassin couldn’t storm the Palace alone, and he would need a distraction in any event."
--> two ways to look at this one- either it should just be "distraction, in any event" with a comma, or...
-->It should be tweaked overall, to better get across what you want to say. Personally, I'd say "he would, at the very least, need a distraction" (with or without the commas, it doesn't matter).

"He had hoped the Werewolves’ over-developed sense of vengeance could help him in this area."
-->hang on a sec; you went from the wolves' point of view, grinning as well, to suddenly it being his point of view. Confusing, at first, as we won't catch the transition as easily as you'd like. Numerous ways to fix this- I'll leave that up to you haha

"Apparently the loss of Ravage, who had been actual leader to only one tribe but a renowned chief to many, had already been mourned and recovered from."
-->too long in explaining his position. I vote cut the 'who had been', maybe the 'actual' as well, and the 'a' before renowned. It would read "...Ravage, leader to only one tribe but renowned chief to many, had already been mourned..."
-->on the other hand, you may wish to emphasize the fact that he'd already been recovered from by saying 'though leader to one tribe and renowned chief to many...'

" “Then we all track them,” Keesha declared."
--> you may want to emphasize that what she's saying is, they have no need for him. Maybe have her shrug and say that line, but add "No need for you, human," or something, maybe just testing him or w/ev. Just imho, again, and you may easily disagree with that.

"But, despite her broken speech, Keesha wasn’t stupid."
-->nice, but her speech doesn't seem very broken to me. Clipped, cryptic, concise, short-worded, yes, but not broken.

" Again Nadak smiled. “All I want,” he said, “is a couple corpses.”"
-->cheers; lovely.

"so he must have slept long enough to let it burn down."
--> this doesn't imply well enough that he was confused by it and looking for the answer which you say he got. I'd change "must" to "should", and maybe, though this is just speculation, change the end of that sentence to a "..." or, for even more active voice and wondering, "...?"
-->if you make either of the ellipses changes, you'd definitely want the next sentence to start another paragraph, and upon flipping back and cocking my head thoughtfully at it, I'd say start another paragraph ellipses or no ellipses.

"“No worries,” Avarn waved her guilt away."
--> period, not comma. "waved her guilt away" is not how he said it, but an action in and of itself. New sentence.

"Avarn caressed his facial scars meditatively."
-->caressed? caress is like... lovingly. I dunno if that's quite what you wanted... traced, perhaps?

"Surely that wasn’t just Tannar’s input? Again he started. Tannar!"
--> At 'again', I think you need a new paragraph. It's a definite transition in thought, almost as though another voice in his mind is popping in.

"Avarn hesitated. I see.

Tannar could not restrain a mental laugh.

The magician bristled. You know what I mean.
-->rofl love it!

"Kalab smiled at him as Cerreno sat down on a broad limb next to his, “To what do I owe the honor, my lord?”"
--> period, not comma. 'smiled' is not a speaking verb; he did not smile those words at him ....I assume....

"“A man might but a king dares not,” replied Kalab, still smiling."
--> might, but

"He was also a reader, a kind of fate able to interpret the prophecies of others and the signs of nature."
--> a kind of fate? I'm not sure what you mean here. It sounds like you're using the noun 'fate' to be synonymous with 'seer'. If so, that's a usage I've never heard before. I could be wrong, but if you intended that synonym, it would be colloquial to the culture of your book and might require more of an explanation, or at least a repeated usage in order to clarify that to the reader.

"Cerreno had often come to him for help in translating Mimoa’s foresights, as well as his opinions on the workings of the nation in general."
-->I'm not certain this sentence is necessary; it wavers on borderline info dump, but not quite there, so...
-->the last part of that sentence, the workings of the nation in general, sounds too much like you were searching for something to put there, as it's too generic- especially with the 'in general' there. I suggest rewording.

"Cerreno wondered how he could be sure the Gyspie wizard was female."
-->careful here. That 'he' sounds like it could be referring either back to himself or to Kalab. You intended Kalab, so it might help if you would specify- how the other Gypsie knew the wizard in question was female, or something along those lines. Insert something little to clarify, heyla?

"Kalab, who never cursed, said, “Damn.”"
--> a wee bit odd, contrived-ish, but I'm not sure what to do about it. Maybe make the 'who never cursed' a little less direct; say instead "Kalab, uncharacteristically, said..."
--> just imho...

"Cerreno could not restrain a small smile."
-->uh oh. Look at this:
"Tannar could not restrain a mental laugh."
-->close enough together that they're repetitive...

"leaf-and-frost covered ground"
--> I'm thinking it should be "leaf- and frost-covered"

"unlike their captives. But Dosh, after much persuasion, had allowed warming spells to be worked on them, though not to a degree where they would be really comfortable."
--> collapse those two sentences. "captives, but Dosh..."
-->then you'd need to change the comma after 'them' and before 'though' to a dash
--> at least use a semi-colon, if you don't like the comma and dash change

"...though Elkarn was put within a few feet of her this time."
--> I vote "though this time Elkarn was..." instead of putting it on the end.

"...headache that had been pressing on her all day and he talked to her nearly endlessly..."
-->"...all day, and..." [comma]
-->ye would then need a dash instead of a comma to help the flow/voice, like "...nearly endlessly- mostly nothings, but..."
-->nearly endlessly- a bit awkward. "almost endlessly", or just use "incessantly" or something.

"Jaan’s eyes found hers again and this time their gazes locked."
-->"again, and"

"He didn’t gag her. They had learned that she was a useless mage without her wand, which Dosh had Palla carry for fear of being burned again."
--> I vote for a semi-colon instead of a period, linking these two since ones is led into by the other.

"He knelt before her, his knees on either side of her folded legs."
-->you told us a sec ago that he crouched, so you've told us the same thing twice.

"Along with his sour smell, a pulsing fear swamped her."
--> a wee bit awkward. "His sour smell swamped her, and with it- pulsing fear." I dunno, just throwing it out there.

"What, little pretty witch."
-->shouldn't that be a question?

"...his slender body was all-too-close to hers."
--> take out the hyphens there

"...he was shoved aside by Jaan crashing into him with all his strength."
--> I vote "as Jaan crashed into him" etc.

"“I, I…” he faltered. The rapier dropped from his hands and made a clang as it hit the nearly-frozen ground."
-->I don't like the "I,I" thing. A dash, better than a comma, or an ellipsis, perhaps.
-->I vote "and clanged as it hit"
-->that's, what, three, four times you've described the ground to us? Be careful, for it can seem repetitive, although you definitely need it here to explain the clang.

"Thin streams of tears, like liquid silver against his copper-colored skin, ribboned down his cheeks. He made no sound as the sorrow poured noiselessly from his eyes. The teardrops fell from his chin and splashed quietly on the frosty earth."
-->hmmm. Not quite enough variation here. I'd say combine that whole thing into one. Semicolon first: "...cheeks; he made no..." Then later, "...eyes, and the teardrops..." But again, up to you. Any combination would work, but imho you do need a combination.
-->and you've described the ground yet again

"even though the tears were only now drying on his cheeks his voice didn’t waver at all."
-->"his cheeks, his voice"

"More likely they’re just too afraid of him to risk their own necks yet."
-->new paragraph, because it seems like that's her thought.

Hello, we're at the end.... how depressing. ='(

Anyways, now that my ever-annoying long-sheka pick-apart is over, I feel the need to repeat to you the fact that I really love this. I got caught up in this piece just like I do when I read a good published work- I was laughing, certainly, but I was also following anxiously when I knew something bad was going to happen, and definitely was reacting when Dosh was moving too close to her. That fact alone is a good indication of how well this is written.

...and how much you need to write more of it. >.<
Hate to have to resort to this, but, as I did to baronessink once...
*sword begins to slide from sheath; eyebrow lifts meaningfully*

*sing-song* we're waiting....

*cough*
...bei'theh!

~sworddance

Last edited by sworddance on Sat Jun 02, 2007 4:21 am, edited 1 time in total.

Drummer, beat, and dancer, fly
The floods of war are crashing nigh
Raise the mountain, blade the fire
And woe to they who voked your ire…
-----People do speak in semicolons; they just don't know it.------

Fan

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Fri Jun 01, 2007 5:33 pm

Fan says... · Fri Jun 01, 2007 5:33 pm

I would kiss you for a very good story but I haven't quite got the hang of 'human-turns-to-code-and-pops-up-in-someone-else's-room' technology yet. Plus I think I would earn myself a suit for sexual harassment and several restraining orders.

Poltergiest

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Fri Jun 01, 2007 11:00 pm

Poltergiest says... · Fri Jun 01, 2007 11:00 pm

Hey Gyr, You know me and I've already read this part.

Just felt like saying hi!

:elephant:

(Snigger)

~Pol

I used to rule the world, see it rise when I gave the word, now in the morning I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own

-Coldplay, Viva La Viva

gyrfalcon

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Sat Jul 14, 2007 3:43 am

gyrfalcon says... · Sat Jul 14, 2007 3:43 am

So sorry it's been so long!

Chapter 17

Avarn stared up through the branches to the cerulean blue sky. A wind rustled the leaves that were only just turning red with the onset of autumn, and the smell of fall filled his senses. Karenna’s young face thrust itself into his field of vision, grinning, with dirt stains on her cheek. “Avarn, this is boring,” she whined. “Let’s go swimming or something, the river’s lovely.”

He smiled at her and sat up. The breeze sent a few errant leaves dancing towards them; one of them got tangled in his shoulder-length black hair and he paused to tug it out. “It’s too cold for swimming,” he said. “And it’s too nice for anything else.”

“Just cause you’re ten and I’m eight doesn’t mean you know everything,” she said defensively, but he saw her shiver a bit when the breeze tickled the exposed skin on her arms.

Something in the back of his mind told him that this wasn’t really happening. He ignored it. “Do you want to climb the maple by the schoolyard, then?” he asked, trying to appease her.

She grinned shyly. “All right.”

He stood and held out his hand to her. But it was larger than it should have been, with long fingers scarred by fire. Ugly. He snatched it back and hid it behind his back.
“What’s wrong?” Karenna asked, and it seemed that the high voice of the young girl he knew wavered, mixed with the older, adult voice of the woman he had never met.

Her voice wasn’t the only thing to waver.

As he watched he saw the scene before him fade as if clogged in smoke, thick smoke that poured from the fire that was burning, burning, burning so close that it seared his eyes. His eyes. He screamed. “No! No, please! Karenna!”

The pain passed in an instant and he felt the cold wind buffeting his blind body against rocks that were slick with rain. Sheets of rain poured down, turning the burning fire of his pain to sodden ashes of fear. And the rocks were no less sharp for the moisture clinging to them; he cut his arm, his side, his feet that were shod in thin-soled shoes not meant for these mountains. “Karenna!” he screamed, but that wasn’t right. He had been crying for his mother, not his childhood friend, on that most terrible of all nights. He was soaked, through his clothes, through his skin down to his soul. It didn’t matter. Even if a thousand seas poured in on him, no amount of water could quench the burning, burning, burning fear that welled up inside him, the pain.

And then…

Silence. Perfect stillness. He couldn’t see anything but he had the impression of light, soft light gently caressing his burned, ruined face. And then a hand, smooth and cool and comforting, added its caresses to those of the light. “Avarn…” came the whisper.

And he knew that it wasn’t right, that he didn’t deserve it, this light that broke through all pain. Darkness was his birthright, shadow was his home. He knew that. And yet…

“Avarn,” came the voice of the girl who had been his best friend. “Promise you’ll never forget me, Avarn.”

The light dimmed slowly, and with it the gentle touch on his cheek. “I promise.”

* * *

The first night of the Gypsie Winter Festival was in full swing by the time a perimeter sentry came jostling through the noise and the dancing, eating, talking, laughing crowd to where his king sat at the head of the mahogany table, observing it all with a quiet smile. “Hisht Cerro,” said the sentry, touching his forehead and giving a brief bow before looking Cerreno in the eyes and telling him what he had come here to report.

The king’s smile slowly dissolved into an expression just short of a scowl. “How soon?” he asked.

The sentry shrugged, wilting in the glare of Cerreno’s anger, “Within the hour, I think, majesty.”

“Thank you.” The king leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arms of his throne-like seat. Noticing the sentry’s nervousness he smiled once more. “You have done nothing wrong, my friend. You may return to your post until your watch is up. When it is, help yourself to an extra serving of plum cake for your services.”

“Thank you my lord,” said the sentry, his eyes now alight with the prospects of extra plum cake. He bowed once more, then turned on his heel and vanished back into the milling chaos.

“Is something wrong?” asked Nearn, who sat to the king’s right but had barely heard the conversation over the din of CavernLights.

Cerreno shook his head meditatively. “Nothing, Nearn. Dance with your wife.”

* * *

Laroo had never been more terrified in his life. The powerful Gypsie at his back held the knife so close to his throat that each breath was a careful, precise exercise. The darkness was what frightened him most, though; after the lamps of the sentries at the cave entrance, there had been no light for what felt like miles as they walked down an ever-declining path. Dosh, the mad one who had threatened Karenna, had exchanged a few words with them, and for a moment Laroo was filled with the irrational hope that it had all been a mistake, that they could go now. But Dosh had won whatever the argument was, and here they were, descending into nothingness.

He knew that Menee was nearby to his right, and even with strict orders against it he decided to try a whisper. “Are you all right?” he asked his brother, barely even breathing the words.

The knife tightened at his throat and for a terrifying moment Laroo and his guard were out of step, but the Gypsie did not say anything. “Yes,” squeaked Menee, and Laroo could hear the tears in his younger brother’s voice. True, Laroo was only six minutes older than he, and neither could be accused of exceptional acumen, but Laroo had always considered himself responsible for his younger twin.

He heard a groan and turned to look, forgetting for a moment about the blade. But the Gypsie turned with him, and Laroo could make out, through the encompassing gloom, the faint golden lines that were Tannar’s magical bonds. If they were any indicator of the Elementar’s position, he was kneeling on the hard stone ground. “I can’t breath,” he gasped.

“Shut up,” snapped Dosh. “The bonds aren’t too tight.”

Tannar shook his head. “Not that, the magic here…so thick…”

“All the Gypsies together in one place,” Boom rumbled, his deep voice amplified by the tunnel. “I can feel it, too.”

“Live with it,” said Dosh, “we don’t have much farther to go.”

“Please,” came Karenna’s voice, soft but commanding. “Let me go to him, I can help.”

“Running here will do worse than no good.”

“I know.”

For a long moment the party stood there, still in the deafening darkness. Then, from Dosh, “Fine.”

Laroo heard the rustling of Karenna’s cloak as she moved to Tannar’s side, then he saw her silhouette against the eerie glow of his magical ropes as she came down next to him.

* * *

I’m right here. Karenna’s voice, kind and soothing, broke through the terror of magical blindness. Tannar had never needed his eyes to see before, and now even their enhanced vision was useless against the sheer weight of blackness around him. The pressure of so many Gypsies so nearby pressed down on him, blocking out the senses that made him more than mortal. I’m right here, it’s all right.

I’m right here, came Avarn’s voice, the faintest whisper from far away. Now it’s my turn to help you see. Your ears, Tannar, your nose. Neither of these is of mortal quality, neither of these is blocked. Smell the world, my friend. Hear it, as I do.

The rhythmic thud of Avarn’s heartbeat came to him, and like a drum that keeps the orchestra in time, Tannar molded his panic around that steady beat. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Slowly the panic subsided. Tannar inhaled deeply through his nose. Rich earth, cold stone, the inhuman-smelling bodies of the Gypsies, Mirnar’s feathers, Elkarn’s fur, the twins’ fear, Karenna’s nearness…a new range of senses swamped him, and it were as if the world exploded back into color. He was still for a moment, letting the new perspective take over. Cautiously, he focused on his ears, his hearing. The silence dissolved into arrays of sound no human could experience. He smiled, a slow, delighted grin that split his face.

He stood, carefully because of the bonds. He wouldn’t be able to use his magic here, and that was annoying. More annoying was the constant buzz in his mind of the Gypsies’ presence, but there was nothing he could do about either. Are you all right? Karenna asked, and he abruptly wondered how, with all his other powers blocked out, he could still hear the thoughts she sent to him.

Yes, he said. Then, to Avarn, Thank you.

My pleasure. His master’s voice faded out of hearing and the heartbeat with it.

Tannar could hear Dosh hopping softly from foot to foot with impatience. “Well? Are you done?” Before either could answer he barked, “Grab her then, we’re nearly there!” As Jaan gently took Karenna’s arms from behind and the party began to move off down the tunnel again, Dosh continued to sing, “Nearly there, nearly there, nearly there.” The words echoed around them like the unceasing chant of a damned soul.

* * *

Nadak had watched them enter the Palace. Smiling, he fixed the place and route in his memory, then worked his way slowly back to the rendezvous with Keesha.

* * *

CavernLights went slowly silent as Dosh and his party made their way through the crowded space towards the far end. Laroo glanced left and right; all the Gypsies were staring at them, most of them at Boom and Mirnar, but a few pointed to the twins and whispered to each other. Laroo’s guard seemed nervous, and he wasn’t so tight with the blade as he had been. Eventually they reached a table that was smaller than the others, made of a rich red mahogany wood and carved with intricate designs. In the center of that table sat a very tall Gypsie with long black hair and piercing eyes the same color as Karenna’s, but with a solid black diamond tattoo over one of them. On his head was a simple golden crown, set with diamonds, and one large sapphire and one large emerald that complemented his mismatched eyes perfectly. He didn’t appear pleased, and Laroo was glad that his gaze remained fixed on Dosh.

Dosh bowed to him, almost mockingly, and said “Hisht Cerro.”

The Gypsie—their king, Laroo abruptly realized—replied, “Yeahnne, Dosh. Pharenal quistatt?”

The mad Gypsie spun and threw out his arms to encompass his “prizes,” before turning back and beginning a long oratory. His sing-song voice was the only sound besides the crackling of the four huge fires, no one so much as breathed. While Dosh spoke, Laroo saw Jaan quietly slip away from Karenna and steal to the king’s side, where he began to whisper quietly in his ear. With every word, the king’s face hardened until it seemed but a mask of stone. Dosh appeared not to notice; he continued his speech until the king rose suddenly and held up a hand.

“That is quite enough.” The Dirantyri words fell like a hammer-blow; Dosh stopped in the middle of a word and stared, pale-faced, at his king. The tall, crowned Gypsie clasped his hands at the small of his back and made his regal, unopposed way around the mahogany table. “Your brother tells me,” he said as he walked, his eyes never leaving Dosh, “that you attempted to force yourself on this human girl.”

There was a collective gasp from every Gypsie present, and whispers began to fill the silence. The king cut them off with one sweep of his gaze. Even Headmaster Tavrinal had not been so commanding. “Is it true?” the king demanded calmly, returning his scrutiny to Dosh.

Dosh licked his lips. “My Lord Cerreno—” he began.

“Is it true?” Each word rang like a single bell-toll; even the fires quieted in the force of the king’s displeasure. Cerreno now stood to one side of the mahogany table, perhaps seven paces from Dosh.

The mad Gypsie hesitated for only a moment. “Of course it’s true!” The words tore from him and anger poured through the hole they made. “She’s a witch, she’s a whore! Deceiving, lying, mendacious little—” Abruptly, he cut off, and looked down to where a mahogany-handled throwing dagger was protruding from his chest. The king’s hand was still outstretched, but he had drawn and flung the weapon faster than Laroo could follow.

Cerreno’s face was still an immovable mask as he crossed the seven paces between himself and Dosh in three easy strides. The mad Gypsie’s mouth was open but no sound emerged. He began to sink slowly but the king caught him and held him upright. Dosh gurgled. “We are Gypsies,” the king hissed, and though his voice was a whisper his words echoed. “We do not take from a woman what she does not wish to give.”

He released Dosh and the mad Gypsie fell to the stone floor with barley a thump, and as his lifeblood formed a dark stain around his cooling body, no one moved.

Cerreno took a deep breath, then raised his head and opened his mouth as if about to say something. But before he could, he saw Karenna.

"In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function...We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." ~C.S. Lewis

Shireling

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Sat Jul 14, 2007 4:09 am

Shireling says... · Sat Jul 14, 2007 4:09 am

Another great chapter to a great story. I read the previous chapters awhile ago but since you had already recieved several excellent reviews and critiques I didn't know what to add. I'll try and give this chapter a critique if you don't mind but I don't have time right now. Maybe tomarrow.

Once again great story!

Shireling

Calling all Ringers, your presence is required at the Middangeared group...Please?

Shadowsun

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Sat Jul 14, 2007 10:16 am

Shadowsun says... · Sat Jul 14, 2007 10:16 am

There's more!

I've read it all through and the only thing I could find wrong with it was:

gyrfalcon wrote:He released Dosh and the mad Gypsie fell to the stone floor with barley a thump, and as his lifeblood formed a dark stain around his cooling body, no one moved.

I think that that was meant to be barely.

Apart from that one little thing, it's fantastic

.

~ Shadowsun

Before you judge someone, walk a mile in their shoes... Then who cares? You're a mile away and you've got their shoes.

Twit

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Sat Jul 14, 2007 3:17 pm

Twit says... · Sat Jul 14, 2007 3:17 pm

Woop! Cliffhanger, LOVE the cliffhanger! This was the only error I could find.

Gyr wrote:A wind rustled the leaves that were only just turning red with the onset of autumn, and the smell of fall filled his senses.

The most of the sentance is about the leaves and the smell bit seems tacked on. Semi-colon it, or start a new sentance?

Otherwise, fab.

"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this. We have you." -Abed Nadir

Shireling

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Sun Jul 15, 2007 4:52 am

Shireling says... · Sun Jul 15, 2007 4:52 am

I found some time, so here is my review.
First of all I want to say that I have really enjoyed your story. You are great at creating characters and keeping them consistant.

I have just gone through the previous chapters and noticed something about Tanner. In the first chapter he seems somewhat resentful of his bond with Avarn and has a habit of scratching around his wristbands. He seems to lose the resentment very quickly and his habit disappears after the first chapter if I remember right. I just noticed that and wondered why you dropped the nervous habit, it seemed like a good characterization tool. Just a thought.

Anyway.

Hmmm, I can't find anything. I'm looking my hardest but I don't see anything except the typo already mentioned. I'm very impressed.

Well that was a short crit. Maybe somebody more eagle-eyed than I can find something.

I look forward to the next installment.

Write On!

Calling all Ringers, your presence is required at the Middangeared group...Please?

gyrfalcon

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Sun Jul 15, 2007 6:04 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sun Jul 15, 2007 6:04 pm

Thanks much, Shireling! Just a note: Tannar's only scratching his wristbands when we first see him because this is the first time in a long time he's had to take human form; he gets used to his new body relatively soon. Thanks for catching that, though, I may have to go back and let people know why he stops.

"In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function...We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." ~C.S. Lewis

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