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.

gyrfalcon

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Fri Oct 20, 2006 3:45 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Fri Oct 20, 2006 3:45 pm

The bloody speech is not, in fact, over, but I couldn't wait anymore! Myth and Aero, your catches have been integrated (though I left some of the things you mentioned b/c of style/stubbornness ;-)

)
So, here goes, Chapter 4 at last!

"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

gyrfalcon

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Fri Oct 20, 2006 3:55 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Fri Oct 20, 2006 3:55 pm

Chapter 4

Headmaster Tavrinal sat bent over a few sheets of parchment, his quill pen scratching as he wrote. The candle set beside him dripped wax onto the oak desktop and the flame spluttered lower and lower. Finally he returned the pen to the inkwell and set aside the pile of papers. Massaging his neck, he glanced into the mirror that perched on the corner of his desk. There was only a hint of gray leaking into his long brown hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes were mostly shallow. Not too bad for a younger wizard.

Ashter Tavrinal had managed to become headmaster by one simple technique: he knew exactly when not to use magic. Too much spell-muttering tended to make those who administered the school a little nervous. While not a training center for mages, it was traditional that the Academe should always have a wizard as headmaster. And so the Normals, who really ran things, had been glad to find one without too many wrinkles who also had a tendency to keep his powers to himself. Ashter was, of course, proud of his wrinkles; they were a badge of honor, the price that magic demanded of those wizards who used it. But still, it was nice that he looked like he belonged to the same generation he was born in. He knew forty-year-olds who could pass for eighty.

As he brought the candle to his lips to blow it out, he felt a slight shiver run down his spine. He had learned to trust that shiver. Hastily turning the breath that would have ended the flame into a short spell to hide its light from all but he, Ashter Tavrinal rose and left his study.

The spring night was warm and comfortable, and the moon overhead cast a wan light that painted the Academe in silken shadows. The campus was huge, even after years as its headmaster, Tavrinal was still constantly amazed by its size. The buildings were all at least two stories high, taller in some places, made from blocks of reddish sandstone. The three buildings in the middle of the property were the tallest, five stories, and housed the main classrooms. In the grassy fields closest to the Gypsies' Forest the students practiced archery and horsemanship, in the main courtyard outside the mess hall they gathered to hear the speeches and exchange a few brief moments as simply children. Ashter had been to the palace, and he knew that his institution rivaled even it in size and sheer impressiveness. He glanced up at the full moon overhead, then around him for the origin of his telling shiver.

All mages could see better by moonlight than Normals, and so Ashter had no trouble spotting the source of his magical premonition. A huge, human-shaped form was lurking at the edge of the Academe’s borders. At least, it was trying to lurk, and not doing a very good job of it due to the fact that it was hopping nervously from foot to foot, sending little tremors through the ground.

Ashter approached it warily. As the candle illuminated its face, he saw that it was a boy, not much older than eleven. He stood no shorter than twelve feet tall with shoulders broader than a normal man’s arm-span, but there was no mistaking the child-like quality of that large, round face. His bright, innocent blue eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. Despite the headmaster’s spell, the boy could apparently see the light clearly. Tavrinal barely needed to suppress the desire to run—all of his instincts told him this child was no threat.

“I’m sca-sca-scared of the dark,” whispered the child. His voice was a boy’s voice, true, but so deep that you felt it could rattle stone.

The headmaster took a hesitant step forward. “What’s your name son?”

“I don’t gotta name. They call me Boom cause they say my voice is like thunder.”

To Ashter’s unease the boy started to cry softly. This was well outside his area of experience. He patted the child awkwardly on one huge forearm. “There, there,” was the best he could manage. In spite of his massiveness, the boy seemed harmless and not a little silly.

Boom brought one head-sized fist into the light and opened it. Two broken halves of an arrow lay there. “I just wan-wanted to give this back,” he said, wiping his nose and managing to stop weeping.

Instantly, Ashter’s fiercely retentive memory came to his aid. Unit Thirty-two had been out on the shooting range this afternoon. He quickly brought up a mental register of names and faces…and smiled. “Just wait here,” he said, patting the boy again. “Don’t move.”

“Can I keep the candle?”

The headmaster placed the remains of the candle carefully on the open hand and dashed away with as much dignity as a dashing wizard could manage.

He knocked softly on the door to her dormitory, praying she would be awake. She opened the door for him, and he saw that she was already dressed. So she had felt something.

She stiffened when she saw him. “What is it, headmaster?”

“I need your help, Miss Morn,” he said. “Please come with me.”

Karenna came. She didn’t ask questions and didn’t hesitate. She started when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows, but Ashter saw her calm as he had, the magic inside her connecting with the calm, steady, undamaging magic that pulsed ever-so-gently from the child-giant.

“Boom,” he said softly, “this is Karenna Morn. Miss Morn, this is Boom.”

The child-giant waved one hand sheepishly. The candle had burned down in his other hand, leaving a small pool of molten wax. “Who are you?” she asked, approaching Boom cautiously. “I thought giants were just a fairy tale.”

“They are,” Boom rumbled gently. “When I was little, I accidentally stepped between two wizards who were fighting. The spells made me grow, my clothes too, and now no one wants me.” Ashter had heard of accidents like this before, but never in his memory had the consequences been so extreme.

Karenna took his wax-free hand in both her slim ones. She was taller than Ashter; her head came to about the middle of Boom’s torso. “How old are you?” she asked.

“I was eleven when I grew,” he said. “That was…” he lapsed into silence as he thought, “twenty-four years ago.”

“You’re thirty-five years old?”

Boom shrugged. “A doctor, a Normal doctor, not a Healer, said my brain and my body won’t grow anymore. He said I’m stuck at eleven, but I know more things than most kids do. I know about…” he paused again, and Karenna could have sworn he blushed, “about where babies come from, and I know about Gypsies and Werebeasts, and about Werenna and Scharon. I know how to live on my own and take care of myself.” He hung his head sheepishly. “I’m not stupid.”

Karenna stepped closer to him and examined the waxy hand. She began to chip the hardened puddle away, being careful not to scratch him. “No,” she said quietly. “No, you’re not stupid, Boom. You’re just very different, and sometimes humans have trouble dealing with people who aren’t like them. They can be…very cruel.”

Ashter Tavrinal nodded quietly to himself. Every mage, however powerful or accepted, experienced that kind of prejudice at one point or another. And he didn’t even want to imagine what Karenna had had to live with because of her eyes.

Boom sniffed. “You’re not cruel.”

Karenna smiled. “Thank you, Boom.”

The headmaster stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can you handle this?” he asked, knowing the answer.

She nodded, and he left silently.

* * *

Karenna watched Headmaster Tavrinal go. She wondered, for a moment, why he had chosen her. Because he knows, said a traitorous little voice inside her. He knows what you won’t even admit to yourself.

“Are you alright?” asked Boom.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“Can I pick you up?”

“What?”

He scooped her up gently in one massive hand. She managed not to cry out as her feet left the ground and her legs dangled over the edge of his palm. Boom lifted her until they could see each other face to face. “All right,” she said breathlessly.

Boom smiled. “You’re pretty. You have nice eyes.”

“Not many people think so.”

“Are you a Gypsie?”

Karenna shifted her position on the wide hand. Finally she said, “I don’t know.” It was probably the most honest answer she had ever given that question.

Boom cocked his head to one side. “You look like a Gypsie, tall and coppery-skinned. How come you don’t know?”

“Because I don’t,” she snapped.

Boom winced and put her down quickly. Karenna took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Boom; I’m not mad at you.”

“I like Gypsies,” he said, almost as an apology. “They think I’m kinda funny and harmless and let their kids play with me ‘cause their magic doesn’t hurt me. No playing anymore, though. Not since I dropped one.”

“You dropped one of their children!” asked Karenna, surprised at her concern for this Gypsie child she had never met.

“I didn’t mean to,” exclaimed Boom, looking ashamed and guilty. “He bit my hand really hard. I didn’t mean to.”

“Was he hurt?” she said, trying not to smile. He just looked so very comical, standing there, huge and unthreatening, nearly crying like the little boy he was.

Boom hiccupped. “No, only bruised a bit.”

Karenna sighed a little in relief, but she was becoming rapidly aware that someone was going to hear him. She took the still wax-marked hand and tugged him towards the deeper darkness of the Gypsies' Forest. “Come on, Boom,” she whispered frantically, “we can’t have anyone finding you here.”

Boom came obediently, like an elephant following a fox. She closed her eyes when they first entered among the forbidding trees, praying silently that the Gypsies either wouldn’t see them or wouldn’t care. They went a few yards into the Forest and then Karenna stopped. She looked around nervously at the unfathomable shadows around her. “Will you be all right in here for tonight?”

He nodded. “I live in here. Will you come and visit me tomorrow?”

“I’ll try.” She smiled at him and turned to leave.

Boom put one hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, and for a moment there was a hint of more than eleven-year-old maturity in his voice and manner.

She pressed her cheek to the hand. “Goodnight, Boom.” And as she stole away back to her own bunk, the forest didn’t seem quite so frightening.

* * *

Tannar heard her open and shut the door quietly as she snuck back into the dormitories. He had wanted to follow her, had known he should, but he hadn’t. He would follow her tomorrow, he decided.

He sighed and rolled over, pressing his face to his pillow. Oddly enough, the thing he was glad about was not that she had returned safely from whatever errand she had been on—it was the knowledge that Obern had not gone on that errand with her. Still puzzling about why this made him happy, he closed his eyes and rolled over, bracing himself for another long, boring, sleepless night.

* * *

Vishna turned her head at the sound of footsteps. Avarn entered her study, walking slowly with his hands held out so as not to collide with the haphazard piles of books. “What is it?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy, mother,” said Avarn, that infuriating little smile on his lips.
Vishna scowled, but only because she knew he couldn’t see her. “Where’s your little pet? Off playing with the clouds again?”

Avarn’s smile vanished. “Tannar is…running an errand for me,” he said, his blank blue eyes glaring at her.

Against her will, she squirmed in his stare. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye once in the past six years. “Why you allow him such freedom I’ll never know,” she said. “Their kind need to be kept on a short lead, you of all people should know that.” She didn’t regret the words, exactly, but as Avarn’s long, thin fingers lightly caressed the old burn scars that formed a mast-like pattern on his face, she felt a pang of guilt. Vishna knew the scars still pained him; she herself had dozens all over her body. “I’m sorry…” she said, for once truly meaning it.

Avarn exhaled softly. “Meensha sent me to say dinner’s ready.” He turned away from her and began to navigate his way back to the door.

Vishna reached out a hand to grab his arm, and stopped. “Avarn,” she said, but he was gone.

* * *

Karenna watched from the other end of the mess hall as Obern and Shanna talked together animatedly. The twins sat next to her, discussing their classes. She did not touch the bland meat and bread in front of her, nor did she hear the conversation of the two young boys next to her. Her variegated eyes were fixed upon her unit-mates, and they flashed as Shanna laughed at something the handsome young man said and laid a hand casually on his shoulder.

Before her better judgment could stop her, she closed her eyes and whispered a few short words in Elemental. It was a spell she hadn’t tried before, but it worked as it should. Every word of Shanna and Obern’s conversation became clear and almost sharp in her ears, while the ambient noise around her faded away.

“..and with those eyes,” Shanna was saying, almost playfully.

“I don’t know,” said Obern. “I don’t think they’d let her in if she really was a Gypsie; Tavrinal’s not some idiot Class 1 wizard to be fooled by a kid.”

I’m older than you are, she thought angrily, but kept her irritation in check. In truth she was seventeen, a year older than the required age. Her parents had lied to try to keep her away from this place, from all these people who would judge her as these two were doing.

“Tavrinal may be powerful,” Shanna said, as if she doubted the fact, “but you just have to look at his face to see that he’s barely touched a spell-book since he was appointed headmaster—he gets by on reputation. And if she really is a Gypsie, kid or not, she should be strong enough to pull the wool over the eyes of a lazy old wizard like that.”

Again, Karenna had to restrain the desire to let her anger loose. But she was glad she’d decided to eavesdrop; this conversation could affect her safety.

“Well, if Tavrinal couldn’t see through her, what could? An Elementar?” Obern’s tone was a half disapproving, half mocking. “Anyway, she hasn’t even shown enough magical potential to rate even a Possible Wizard Class 1, and you’re a Class 2 yourself.”

If Shanna was pleased by the roundabout compliment she didn’t show it; she almost seemed not to have heard him. “You weren’t there when those Werewolves attacked our caravan. She’s a mage all right, but whether a decent human wizard or one of those Gypsie soothsayers I don’t know. And you should have seen the weather that sprang up; it was almost like those stories about the air-water Elementars and the storms they could conjure on cue.”

“So now we’re back on Elementars,” sighed Obern, and while Karenna couldn’t see them in her auditory-enhanced state, she knew he had flung an arm around Shanna’s narrow shoulders and embraced her carelessly. “Make up your mind, Shan, either she’s a Gypsie-born soothsayer out to infiltrate the Dirantyr military or she’s an abnormally powerful magician with weird eyes who’s managed to gain control of an Elementar before she’s even of age.”

“I never said she was a magician,” Shanna retorted.

Before Karenna could hear more of their conversation, Tannar’s voice broke her out of the spell, “This seat taken?”

She started and stared up at him, the world around her seeming all-too loud after her focused eavesdropping. He grinned that not-quite-human grin of his, balancing his lunch tray effortlessly on one hand. She moved over to make room for him, her senses slowly coming back into clarity. But she continued to glare at the table across the mess hall from hers, and she felt her body’s weariness as the price of her magic.

Last edited by gyrfalcon on Wed Oct 25, 2006 9:48 pm, edited 4 times in total.

"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

aeroman

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 12:01 am

aeroman says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 12:01 am

Hey Gyr!

Well I've really been looking forward to this chapter, I liked it a lot! But anyways here is my critique!

Blue Italics= comments on quotes

Red= thoughts while I'm reading

Chapter 4 Critique

First of all I liked the whole 'knowing when not to use magic' for Tavrinal. That was unique and something original.

Something I think would be cool would be if you described Tavrinal's office more. I mean he is the headmaster, it must be unique in some way.

Ashter was, of course, proud of his wrinkles; they were a badge of honor, the price that magic demanded of those wizards who used it. / she felt her body’s weariness as the price of her magic.

Interesting...how magic in your world causes stuff to happen to their bodies.

The spring night was warm and comfortable, and the moon overhead cast a wan light that painted the Academe in silken shadows.

Okay, well I've noticed that you haven't mentioned a whole lot of description of the outer lying grounds of the acadame. At first I figured you would be giving more info later, but now that we're in chapter 4 I think you should do a little more describing. That way we have a better picture of the environment we're in. All I know at the moment is that the acadame is a bunch of terracotta buildings with a courtyard and a gypsie forest. I know the Gypsie Forest is mysterious, but other than that I really don't have a good image of things. I find myself actually substituting in environments from Harry Potter and this is very bad because your story needs to be very original, but in order for people to separate the world from similar stories (Not that your story isn't original, but there are a lot of stories about wizards, magic, etc...) you need to describe the world more. The environment of your story is vital to the reader's vision.

I know infodumps are usually bad in stories, but you haven't given enough description throughout for me to really get a good picture of the outerlying grounds. Maybe give some more description here since its a good opportunity.

Okay, as I'm reading the portion where the headmaster comes upon 'Boom' you give me little insights to how he feels about the giant boy, with the words...hesitant, and he approached warily...but i'm still not really quite sure how he feels about the situation. I'm getting mixed emotions that he is calm/apprehensive and I'm not sure what to think... This may just be because I'm tired at the moment, but anyways, I think his dialogue is giving me the calm image and your description is trying to bring forth nervousness.

he was supposed to get children who were old enough to have passed this stage.

I understand the image you're trying to give us here, but I don't think this sentence fits in because Boom is not one of the students.

He quickly brought up a mental register of names and faces…and smiled. “Just wait here,” he said, patting the boy again. “Don’t move.”

Two things about this quote! First I like the mental register, that is very cool and original

Second, I don't like how he immediately goes and gets Karenna, its very sudden and kind of caught me offguard completely. I was like what? I understood more as I read on, but I dunno maybe look it over see if you can make it seem not so sudden. Maybe he ponders or something? Anyways, there is nothing really wrong with it, I just felt it was sudden.

She was already awake when he opened the door to her dormitory room. Awake and dressed. He smiled again.

Yeah, okay, is this guy a pervert or something? He's just opening the girls' dormitory door?

“I need your help, Miss Morn,” he said. “And I know that you’ve felt something, too. Come with me.”

I don't like this dialogue at all, it seemed very choppy and awkward to me. Reword it somehow. Also I don't like how he just reveals that he knows that she has felt something. Maybe have Karenna reveal that she felt something when she actually starts talking to Boom. How you reveal it here feels totally random and doesn't fit the context for me.

Karenna came. She didn’t ask questions and didn’t hesitate. She would make a good wizard someday. She did start a bit when she saw Boom looming at the edge of the Academe, but he could forgive her for that.

'

Okay, the thing I have a problem with here is that you start three sentences in a row with the same word...She! Reword them so that doesn't happen.

“Who are you?” she asked, approaching Boom without flinching. “I thought giants were just a fairy tale.”

In these two sentences you tell us two things. You tell us that Karenna is very brave in the face of danger and also that giants are complete fairy tales. They seem to contradict each other, if giants are only things of fairy tales, why isn't she a little scared? a little nervous? Do you seem my point? I don't care if you're some guy that has seen a billion things. If something totally out of the ordinary, alien, appears wouldn't you be a little nervous? Heck if I saw a giant, I wouldn't say "I thought giants were only things of fairy tales." I would be more like..."Uhhhh..."

Now I understand if its her personality, but I think she should at least be a little nervous? You need to play a little along the lines of natural human tendencies or it seems completely fake.

Karenna stepped closer to him and examined the waxy hand. She began to chip the hardened puddle away, being careful not to scratch him. “No,” she said quietly. “No, you’re not stupid, Boom. You’re just very different, and sometimes humans have trouble dealing with people who aren’t like them. They can be…very cruel.”

I like this paragraph, it reveals a lot about karenna

“You dropped one of their children!” asked Karenna, with a horror that surprised her.

Umm yeah, with a horror that surprised her? lol, that sounds funny. I would just say asked Karenna in horror.

“I didn’t mean to,” sobbed Boom, and he was sobbing now, long, deep rolls of sorrow.

First, you say sob twice here. Second, I don't like the whole sobbed Boom, and he was sobbing now (sounds funny). Third long, deep, rolls of sorrow? Rolls of sorrow? Yeah I don't thinkt hat works, sorrow is an emotion, not something that rolls. You're putting a visual description with an emotion and it sounds awkward (for me anyways).

“Was he hurt?” she demanded.

You're using demanded here, and it doesn't fit what just happened. You just said she asked horrified and now you're saying she demanded. I would think she would barely dare to ask not demanded, especially if she's horrified.

Boom hiccupped loudly before continuing his drawn-out blubbering. “No, only bruised a bit.”

Maybe have Karenna sigh in relief instead of just jumping into how she knew someone was going to hear him if they stayed there, right after you say this.

like an elephant following a fox

Interesting image...

She pressed her cheek to the hand, solid as a fortress wall. “Goodnight, Boom.” And as she stole away back to her own bunk, the forest didn’t seem quite so frightening.

I don't think 'solid as a fortress wall' fits here because I'm getting more of an emotional setting and then you add in this imagery that ruins the tender emotion in my opinion.

Also another thing, you mention how the forest didn't seem quiet so frightening. But before now you have barely mentioned that she is frightened of the forest. If you're going to add in that little end piece, you need to convey that she is frightened of the forest a lot better!

Still puzzling about why this made him happy, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Why did he pretend to be asleep? She goes into the girls' dormitory and he's in the boys' dormitory. He doesn't need to pretend to be asleep.

Their kind need to be kept on a short lead

I think you should change lead to leash.

Instantly, she regretted the words.

Why did she regret her words? Because he was touching his scars? Does Tannar have to do with the scars? Sorry, the reason I ask a lot of questions in my critiques is because I want to make sure you're asking yourself these questions when you add in something to the story. I'm not sure why she regretted her words so I wasn't sure if you really knew. But yeah just make sure you always ask yourself these questions as long as you know, then I'm happy wondering...for now.

I don't like how Meeshna and Vishna both end in the 'shna', I would change one of the names so they don't seem so similar.

The twins sat next to her, discussing their first drill practice

Whats a drill practice? You don't tell the reader what this is so you leave us at a blank of what to imagine.

I liked the conversation she eavesdropped on. That was a cool effect and brought some more knowledge of what people are thinking about her.

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Overall it was very good, and I liked it a lot! I love to read your writing, its all very imaginative and makes me want to read more. As usual you portrayed your characters beautifully. Hopefully this critique helps you. Keep up the amazing work!

~Aero

They haven't invented the missile that can kill an ideal.

Broken Wings

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 2:00 am

Broken Wings says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 2:00 am

I've only read the first chapter, because I don't have time to read the rest (but I do want to, and will get to it! Don't worry!) and so far, so good! It's slightly boring at the beginning but then again, what great books aren't? It got better though, and I was quite sad when I had to unglue my eyes from the computer screen to clean the dishes =[. I hope you keep writing this and have fun doing it! You'll be sure to see me back here! ...if I can find this thread again, that is >.>;

"Admitting that you don't like reading is admitting that you don't have an imagination." -- Broken Wings

Sage

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:24 am

Sage says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:24 am

*impish Duranni grin*
Boom knows where babies come from...!

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for telling us what happened to the child he dropped! But why should Karenna be surprised to be horrified?
And I agree with Aero, about the fortress wall bit...yeah, it's a wall, all right, one that we come up against rather sharply in the middle of this soft little scene...yes, and have Master T. at least knock. That's all I have for today. *curls up on kitty blanket*

True friends stab you in the FRONT. (Oscar Wilde)

gyrfalcon

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 2:58 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 2:58 pm

sorry, Karenna's surprised that she's horrified because the child was a Gypsie, and according to human standards she's not "supposed to care" what happens to Gyspie kids. will change, though, not worth the confusion. shall also change the "fortress wall" part and...yes, in my head Tavrinal does knock, I think I forgot to add it somewhere in there, though...HE IS NOT A PERV!!!
enjoy your kitty blanked, Sage, and call me whenever you get a chance!

"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

Emerson

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:22 pm

Emerson says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:22 pm

Well, I've only read the prologue but I'm swooning with excitement! You brought the two main characters in a lovely way, I think the only sentence I'd be picky with is where you describe the boys physical features and use the word "disconcertingly" but that's because I have a thing against Adjectives.

I like how the boy stumbled over the word affinity, it showed what level of education he had, but then he tried it again. it was a real 'moment' for me as a reader :-p I enjoy it a lot, It was very good. You set the plot up amazingly, and do well with characters and dialogue and the like. I'll get to rest when I can :-D

I'm sort of jumping around and critiquing a lot of things.

“It's necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”
― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

gyrfalcon

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Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:45 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sat Oct 21, 2006 5:45 pm

yay! the editing of chapter 4 (according to aero's crits) is achomplished. let me know what you think, aero (I left the elephant/fox analogy, it makes me smile every time I read it, and Sage and Shafter get the joke and smile too, so I'm just going to be stubborn.) ;-)

thanks so much! *gives cookies to all the loverly people who have crited/commented*

"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

Jiggity

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Sun Oct 22, 2006 5:36 am

Jiggity says... · Sun Oct 22, 2006 5:36 am

I havent got much to say on this one, other then for an 11year old giant who has lived for 34years, Boom sure cries a lot. Thing is, most 11 year olds I know of, especially boys, do everything they can to avoid crying, especially in public and especially in front of girls. I know your trying to make him seem all gentle and harmless, but lay off the crying thing, as I think you achieved that in the very first description of him.

As the candle illuminated its face, he saw that it was a boy, not much older than eleven. He stood no shorter than twelve feet tall with shoulders broader than a normal man’s arm-span, but there was no mistaking the child-like quality of that large, round face. His bright, innocent blue eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying .....

“I’m sca-sca-scared of the dark,” whimpered the child."

One other thing:

He would follow her tomorrow, he decided. Something gave him the feeling that she would go somewhere worth following tomorrow.

Yuk. I didn't like that at all, I think it would be better if you changed all that to, 'he would follow her next time he decided.' There's no way he could know she would do anything tomorrow related to that particular excursion.

Apart from those two things: Excellent. I'm really enjoying it.

That was an awesome intro to Boom.

Mah name is jiggleh. And I like to jiggle.

"Indecision and terror, thy name is novel." - Chiko

Emerson

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Sun Oct 22, 2006 7:17 am

Emerson says... · Sun Oct 22, 2006 7:17 am

It was there, sure and solid. She resisted the urge to bring it out and open it; that would be foolishness supreme.

I don't like the word supreme here. it just seems really out of place. maybe if you said 'foolishness to a supreme." or something?

The handsome black coach, the one which had joined them that morning sat a good distance away, its occupant not deigning to join his fellows.

this sentence falters a bit, whether due to puntuation or the way its worded.

She held a wand.

this line made it a bit too harry potter for me. I don't really like stories like this. but yours may be good.

You're a good writer :-)

I read the most of this earlier in the day and am just now finishing it, so I pretty much forget anything I was going to say..sorry...but, its good. I like your chacacters.

“It's necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”
― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

gyrfalcon

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Mon Oct 23, 2006 12:50 am

gyrfalcon says... · Mon Oct 23, 2006 12:50 am

Thanks everyone!!!! Chapter 5 to come out soon--in the meantime I've tried to go back and change the things you mentioned. A lot of them really, REALLY needed changing ;-)

Thanks again, and Claudette, I agree with you about the black coach descript, I originally had it simpler, but changed it, and now I've gone back and changed it back to the way I like better! Ha. so there ;-)

*sets out Halloween candy for all the nice criters*

"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

aeroman

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Wed Oct 25, 2006 1:38 am

aeroman says... · Wed Oct 25, 2006 1:38 am

Yea! I'm here Gyr, I will look over the changes.

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The campus was huge, even after years as its headmaster, Tavrinal was still constantly amazed by its size. The buildings were all at least two stories high, taller in some places, made from blocks of reddish sandstone. The three buildings in the middle of the property were the tallest, five stories, and housed the main classrooms. In the grassy fields closest to the Gypsie’s Forest the students practiced archery and horsemanship, in the main courtyard outside the mess hall they gathered to hear the speeches and exchange a few brief moments as simply children. Ashter had been to the palace, and he knew that his institution rivaled even it in size and sheer impressiveness. He glanced up at the full moon overhead, then around him for the origin of his telling shiver.

Sweet, I'm glad you added this. Now I have a better picture of the Academe than before.

Tavrinal barely needed to suppress the desire to run—all of his instincts told him this child was no threat.

Good.

He knocked softly on the door to her dormitory, praying she would be awake. She opened the door for him, and he saw that she was already dressed. So she had felt something.

Great changes, it doesn't seem so sudden anymore.

but he saw her calm as he had, the magic inside her connecting with the calm, steady, undamaging magic that pulsed ever-so-gently from his being.

Interesting...I like it!

She pressed her cheek to the hand, soft and solid

I realize what you're trying to do here. But just get rid of the soft and solid, it ruins the effect of the mood.

bracing himself for another long, boring, sleepless night.

lol, awesome, great characterization

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Well I believe I caught all the changes; they were all done really well Gyr. Keep up the great work! I'm excited to see Chapter 5!

~Aero

They haven't invented the missile that can kill an ideal.

Myth

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Wed Oct 25, 2006 10:48 am

Myth says... · Wed Oct 25, 2006 10:48 am

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Headmaster Tavrinal sat bent over a few sheets of parchment, his feathered quill scratching as he wrote.

Gry, you know I love your work but I find ‘feathered quills’ annoying. People only use feathered quills for fancy stuff but in real life the feathers are stripped—I know this because OP is a lot like reality and I hated the idea of using quills with feathers as I didn’t want to go down the false direction. But if you feel you want to keep it I would suggest giving an explanation as to why the feathers were kept. Maybe it somehow helps the writer keep a grip on the quill or something else.

Ashter Tavrinal had managed to become Headmaster of the Dirantyr Training Academe by one simple technique: he knew exactly when not to use magic.

It is pretty obvious what school he was Headmaster of so you ought to take out the school’s name.

But still, it was nice that he looked like he looked like he belonged to the same generation he was born in.

Woah! Repetition of ‘he looked like he looked like’.

The campus was huge, even after years as its headmaster, Tavrinal was still constantly amazed by its size.

You capitalised ‘headmaster’ previously, you should continue or change it.

In the grassy fields closest to the Gypsie’s Forest the students practiced archery and horsemanship, in the main courtyard outside the mess hall they gathered to hear the speeches and exchange a few brief moments as simply children.

I assume there are a lot of Gypsies in the forest, having the apostrophe after the ‘e’ suggests there is only one. If there are more the apostrophe should be after the ‘s’.

By the way, use students and not children, you make out they're 11 or so XD

“Can I keep the candle?”

I don’t know if you intended to make this humorous but I did laugh at this point, also you have added the touch of ‘childish’ behaviour perfectly well.

By the way, how is it that the headmaster doesn’t know about this boy yet the archery teacher did? Wouldn’t the teacher have reported the presence of a giant just to keep on the safe side no matter how harmless Boom appeared?

He knocked softly on the door to her dormitory, praying she would be awake. She opened the door for him, and he saw that she was already dressed. So she had felt something.

Er... Who is she?

She stiffened when she saw him. “What is it, headmaster?”

“I need your help, Miss Morn,” he said. “Please come with me.”

Right, I see.

She started when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows, but he saw her calm as he had, the magic inside her connecting with the calm, steady, undamaging magic that pulsed ever-so-gently from his being.

This was awkward to read and a little confusing: 'She started when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows, but he saw her calm as he had,'
I thought the ‘he’ was Boom and then read the next part to find it was the headmaster.

Boom shrugged. “A doctor, a Normal doctor, not a Healer, said my brain and my body won’t grow anymore. He said I’m stuck at eleven, but I know more things than most kids do. I know about…” he paused again, and Karenna could have sworn he blushed, “about where babies come from, and I know about Gypsies and Werebeasts, and I know about Werenna and Scharon. I know how to live on my own and take care of myself.” He hung his head sheepishly. “I’m not stupid.”

The ‘I know’ was a little annoying after a while. To me I think Boom needs something in his speech to make him speak like a child. Do you notice how children usually would say ‘and’ a lot or stumble over their words, especially when they are the centre of attention—unless Boom is confident with Karenna and the headmaster.

“Are you alright?” asked Boom.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“Can I pick you up?”

“What?”

That needs a little emption, perhaps: “What?” she ejaculated. Or something similar.

He sighed and rolled over, pressing his face to his pillow. Oddly enough, the thing he was glad about was not that she had returned safely from whatever errand she had been on—it was the knowledge that Obern had not gone on that errand with her. Still puzzling about why this made him happy, he closed his eyes and rolled over, bracing himself for another long, boring, sleepless night.

Ach! Why doesn’t he sleep! Tell me, please! *bats her eyelids*

Again, Karenna had to restrain the desire to let her anger lose.

Did you mean ‘loose’?

“Well, if Tavrinal couldn’t see through her, what could? An Elementar?” Obern’s tone was a half disapproving, half mocking. “Anyway, she hasn’t even shown enough magical potential to rate even a PW Class 1, and you’re a Class 2 yourself.”

PW what? A little information on the class/level of power would be a whole lot better as I’m not sure I can get my head around all these classes and such.

And you should have seen the weather that sprang up; it was almost like those stories about the air/water Elementars and the storms they could conjure on cue.”

What’s the forward slash doing? If the two are combined it ought to be a dash.

I love how her power ‘drains’ her energy, I did the same with OP. But this would mean she’ll have to eat quite a bit and stay healthy in order for her power to always be available to her. Which reminds me, after the Werebeast incident she should have eaten something, she was shattered right?

Gry, keep up the great work. I want to see more from Tannar’s point of view, he, in my opinion, is one of the main characters yet he is always in the background reflecting on what has already happened. It appears you only include him for that purpose and nothing else, no wonder he rebels against you.

I agree with Aero about the forest frightening Karenna, I suggest adding it in during the archery class.

-- Myth

Last edited by Myth on Thu Oct 26, 2006 9:46 am, edited 2 times in total.

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'...'

gyrfalcon

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Wed Oct 25, 2006 6:24 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Wed Oct 25, 2006 6:24 pm

agian, thanks so much to everyone who took the time to crit my stuff! myth, as usual, you are your annoyingly eagle-eyed self ;-)

I have saved your catches to a word document and will be working on them just as soon as Latin decides to leave me alone. chapter five is coming soon people, I promise!

"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

adt903

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Wed Oct 25, 2006 9:22 pm

adt903 says... · Wed Oct 25, 2006 9:22 pm

A few notes on peripheral stuff from chap. 4:

It's good that you've been able to use the school environment to slip some new characters into the story. Make sure, though, that Karenna doesn't integrate too quickly; she's a strange girl in prejudiced surroundings.

Boom was a great touch, not so much because of what he is doing right now, but rather because thus far, your secondary sympathetic characters have been consistenly cunning, subtle, and shrewd people in one way or another. Boom breaks the mold.

Tannar is delightfully confusing. He rocks.

Chapter four is a perfect introduction to Headmaster Tavrinal. In rapid sequence, we see some of his life story and we see him under a variety of circumstances; being meditative, having a conversation, in his element (school business and school politics), out of his element (with a child), and then he caps it all by realizing so quickly that Karenna is the person he needs.

This is fun. Keep it coming!

"Me fail English? That's unpossible!"
-??

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