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.

Roaming Shadow

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 50

Sun Nov 19, 2006 1:12 am

Roaming Shadow says... · Sun Nov 19, 2006 1:12 am

Huh, wow. I need to give myself more credit on my critiqueing abilities I guess. It seems I was more helpful than I thought. Thanks for the compliments.

Chapter 2

I liked the opener with Karenna. Very nice :wink:

Now, on the class 1,2,and 3 explanation, that doesn't seem to be something Tannar would know ahead of time, unless Avarn told him. While the timings nice, it just didn't seem like a fact Tannar would know, but I could be mistaken.

Their domitory consisted of the two rooms,...

I don't think you need the "the" in there.

I like the actual paranoia Karenna feels at being confined with people. It's perfectly logical and breaths a little life into the story, as it is not essential to drive the story forward, but looks into the character.

While not a whole lot happens in the chapter, it sets up the next few chapters well. You introduce several characters logically and establish the turning of the story, Karenna's new place in the Academe,. Interesting you end it with an "e". And you do it all in a relatively short amount of time without seeming to rush it. It's not exciting, but it gets the job done. There's not much more I can say about it but, I liked it.

"In a fair fight I would have killed you."
"Well that's not much insentive for me to fight fair now is it?" (PotC: TCftBP)

I'm probably dead already, but that doesn't mean I can't take a few scumbags with me. ~Jak

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Sun Nov 19, 2006 1:19 am

gyrfalcon says... · Sun Nov 19, 2006 1:19 am

Thanks a lot, Shadow!!! :oops:

note: Tannar did hear about the class 1,2,3 thing from Avarn, or rather read it--later I talk a little about the rather massive library in the castle.

"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

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Mon Nov 27, 2006 7:34 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Mon Nov 27, 2006 7:34 pm

Chapter 8

Fakir awoke at dawn. He stood, stretched and looked around him at the thirteen or so still-sleeping forms. He kicked one of them. “Get up, Dosh.”

Dosh got up, moaning. “What’d you do that for?”

Fakir ignored him. He kicked a different form. “Jaan, come on, up, up.”

“We’re not even moving until tonight,” said Dosh.

“Get these others up,” commanded Fakir. He was a quiet man in general; he let what he didn’t say carry the message. “We need to get under better concealment; the Firehearts practice near here.”

Dosh glowered at him and went about waking the rest of the clan. Jaan raised his head sleepily. He was the youngest brother; Fakir had always favored him and Dosh had always resented him because of it. Ever since their father had been killed three years ago, Fakir had taken control of the clan. Jaan looked about him. “What is it?”

Fakir allowed his features to soften. “Just moving camp, baby brother.”

Jaan smiled and immediately began helping. Dosh made a face at him when he thought Fakir wasn’t looking, then came over to his older brother. He licked his lips before speaking; they were chapped and badly scarred. “Cerreno’s not going to like it,” he said at last.

“We’ve talked about his,” said Fakir. “I don’t care what his majesty’s policy is on the training school; all I know is that the wand Jaan senses will make a rich trophy at the Winter Festival. Agreed?”

The tongue flicked over the parched lips again. “Of course, but how are we to find it?”

He really should have seen the slap coming. “You will leave that to me,” Fakir hissed.

Dosh cowered more out of habit than true fear. “As you say, Fakir.”

* * *

Tannar had never been an especially popular student, but now he was avoided with a passion. Shanna and Obern seemed to have built up a club for the sole purpose of teasing and tormenting him, Karenna, and the twins. Lunch trays were spilled, hair got tangled in other people’s fingers and yanked, twins were tripped, all the hundred and one things that made any academic environment miserable were rolled out.

The Elementar took it all in uncharacteristic silence and the twins, baffled by his attitude, clustered close to Karenna wherever they went. When she asked Tannar what was wrong, he looked to the sky and said, “A storm’s coming, one I can’t control. I think the first lightning bolt will strike tonight.”

An hour after dusk, the entire Academe was roused by ringing alarms.

* * *

Karenna had to admit that she was proud of them. Instead of running or hiding like some of the other students, her entire unit grabbed their weapons and charged towards the sounds of battle. Karenna grabbed her wand, just in case.

When she reached the edge of the forest, she saw about forty of the Academe teachers and students—including the headmaster and Jataal—ranged against only ten men. But their height and patchwork clothing meant they were Gypsies. They all wielded thin rapiers that moved through the air like darting, stinging insects. Rains of arrows poured out of the depths of the forest behind them, each shaft finding flesh somewhere.

The Gypsies’ inherent magical ability had brought another dimension to the battle; flashes of light and bursts of deadly energy peppered the already-charred ground. She saw the headmaster fighting with one who was apparently the leader.

All this she took in as if watching through smoked glass. No sound filtered into her consciousness, and the combatants moved as if through water. She saw Charn Kadaz, the fat, red-faced boy, one of the few who had not joined in Shanna’s ostracizing of them, go down with the tip of a sabre peeking out the back of his shirt. And then the sword withdrew and Charn’s killer turned to face her. He was tall, like all Gypsies, with wild brown hair and blazing different-colored eyes. The left was a transparent, almost glowing green, the right a smoldering red. They seemed to pin her to the ground and as he raised his rapier to attack she could barely move her own to parry.

And then sound returned to her in a rush and she could move again.

* * *

Jaan, standing just inside the trees with the archers, watched the tall girl battle with one of his clan members. She was good with a rapier, very good, and the Gypsie’s small magical jabs didn’t seem to affect her. More than once he saw her free hand go to her belt and then stop, as if she had changed her mind.

She’s the one, he thought. She’s got the wand.

He opened his mouth to tell Dosh, who stood beside him shooting arrows into random Firehearts. But there was something different about the girl. He shouldn’t have been able to see her eyes from this distance, but he could. Green and blue, shining bright in the light of the rising moon. Gypsie eyes. Royal eyes.

“Do you sense it yet?” demanded Dosh, licking his lips like a serpent as he loosed arrow after arrow. “Has the wand-bearer entered the fight yet?”

Jaan stared at the girl for a moment, his heart pounding. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not yet.”

* * *

Tannar cursed vehemently, but only in his own mind. He was good with a broadsword, true, inhumanly good, and Jataal’s training had made him nearly flawless. But the presence of humans around him prevented him from abandoning himself to the swordplay he was capable of. He hated being limited, he could have taken all of these bloody vagabonds himself if he were allowed to be himself.

A sound rent the air. More than a scream, more than a simple cry of pain, it seemed to rip apart the very fabric of sound. All the Gypsies dropped to the ground, covering their ears and wailing; all of the humans staggered back, their faces pale. Headmaster Tavrinal had found the heart of the Gypsie leader with his sword, and now the dying man gave a death cry that would have caused the stars to weep. Tannar knew, in the part of him not going through agony because of the intense, magic-charged death cry, that all Gypsies could scream so, but even dying Gypsies tried not to use it as it deeply wounded any of their kin nearby. He saw Karenna, out of the corner of his eye, grinding her teeth, her face twisted in an anguish that surpassed that of her classmates.

Finally the scream cut off and most of the Gypsies fled into the forest before the humans could recover. Three of the attackers lay dead, besides the leader, and Karenna had a wounded but live one on the ground under sword point. Tannar rushed over to her, belatedly aware that he should have been protecting her. But she looked all right—a little shaky from the effects of the scream, but all right. Her opponent lay spread-eagled, breathing hard. His eyes were fixed on Karenna’s face. Tannar cursed inwardly again. Of course, she had Gypsie eyes. The Elementar had the vague impression that the different colors meant something to their people, identified clan or heritage or whatever. Perhaps Karenna’s eyes were special.

Headmaster Tavrinal strode towards them, sheathing his now-cleaned rapier and looking as serious as the Elementar had ever seen him. “Keep your sword on him, Miss Morn,” he said sternly, looking not at Karenna, but at her opponent. He sang a few words in what sounded like Gift, the Gypsie’s language. It was a beautiful tongue, but his tone and grave face made the words seem clipped.

The Gypsie answered harshly, still staring at Karenna. “What did he say?” she asked.

Tavrinal gave a brief, authoritative glance. “I am not going to translate, Miss Morn, it would take too long.” Then he spoke again to the Gypsie.

Silver moonlight shone off his mismatched eyes as he gave a grin a hunting cat would have been proud of. “Whoo-at trhikery?” he said in breathy, broken Dirantyri. He waved one bloody hand towards Karenna. “Rhoyal Ehyes.”

Tavrinal gritted his teeth and stepped towards the Gypsie, drawing his sword. Then, before anyone could move to stop him, ran the tip of it swiftly into the man’s chest and withdrew it in one smooth motion. The strange eyes did not close, but stared unseeing at the waving branches as the last breath left the lean body, and a dark stain spread over the grass where it lay.

The Headmaster sheathed his sword, turned, took Karenna’s arm, and gently dragged her out of earshot. At least, out of human earshot. Tannar didn’t even need to shift to hear every word.

“Why did you bring your wand here, Miss Morn?” Tavrinal hissed.

Tannar saw Karenna’s eyes go wide as she stared first at the headmaster, then at the faint outline of the wand hidden beneath her tunic. “How—?” she began, but Tavrinal cut her off.

“More people than Miss Liam will have seen now,” he said, his whispered words low and uncharacteristically harsh. “And far too many will have heard that creature’s words. You are my student, Miss Morn, and I will protect you if I can, but things are fast spiraling out of my control. I know Boom will do what he can to defend you, and Tannar, whatever he is, is capable. But you will all of you have to be alert. Tonight has wrought more damage than you know.”

* * *

High in a nearby tree a smoldering pair of eyes spied on the scene below, and two stone-like ears heard words not intended for them. A gravely, triumphant chuckle escaped from the beak of a mouth. Two enormous gray wings spread and pumped, sending a blast of unseasonable hot air down on the little group at the edge of the forest, before the figure sped away towards the mountains.

* * *

Dosh knelt in the shadow-speckled darkness, rocking slowly from side to side with his hands over his ears. He moaned and muttered, his tongue flicking out over his raw lips. Jaan knelt beside him and tried to put a hand on his brother’s back. Dosh flinched and scrambled away, his eyes screwed shut, his hands still over his ears. “No, no, no, no, no…” he groaned.

The rest of the clan was assembled around the two brothers, shifting uneasily as they watched. Jaan glanced around at them, nervous. “Dosh, come on,” he urged.

Dosh’s eyes snapped open and he stared wildly at his brother. “Did you hear it,” he rasped. “Did you hear it?”

Jaan took his brother’s arm. Dosh didn’t resist. “Come on,” Jaan said again. “We need to get out of here.”

Dosh sprang back, his eyes blazing. “I’m clan leader now,” he all-but-screamed. After a couple clumsy attempts he drew his rapier and held it shakily before him. “Fakir was my brother! I’m next in line!”

“Yes, yes,” said Jaan, moving forward carefully. “Yes, of course you’re the Governor now, of course, Dosh. No one’s trying to take that away from you.”

His brother’s eyes were wide and roving. “All right,” he said, “all right, let’s get moving.” He took a few steps deeper into the forest. No one moved to follow him. “Move!” Dosh commanded, and because he was a Gypsie and he was frightened, little licks of flame ran up and down the length of his waving sword. Some flew off and landed on the ground, where they smoldered quietly before burning down.

The clan moved suddenly, jerkily to follow. Dosh grinned maniacally at his brother. “You see, you see!” he shrieked. “I’m Governor now; they obey me!”

Jaan followed the clan, half out of fear, half out of pity. “Yes, Dosh,” he said sadly. “They obey you.”

Myth

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 820

Wed Nov 29, 2006 12:15 pm

Myth says... · Wed Nov 29, 2006 12:15 pm

Green = Comment/Correction
Black = Review

*

It was a subject rarely spoken of and never mentioned except in the sunny clearing were Boom lived.

‘were’ = where

Bellow him, at the hidden mouth of a cave, his sister looked up at him.

‘bellow’ = below

“Daddy had it sent to me as a birthday present. A famous fordge made it; it’s supposed to calm the soul of the even the most savage animals.”

What is a fordge?

Tannar had told her about that war when they began studying Nemekar; it was the first and only war between mortals and his people. He had even shown her parts of what his own ancestral memories had told him of it. She had been sick for days afterwards.

This idea reminds me of how Bartimaeus showed Nathaniel (from Ptolemy’s Gate) an old war scene, he was only able to do it because they were connected. How about expanding that idea and explaining how Tannar was able to do the same with Karenna.

The only reference to anyone named ‘Tannar’ was in one of the old prophesies Werenna made when Sharon planted fire in the hearts of humans.”

Sharon is spelt Scharon.

Karenna’s rage ebbed away slowly.

How about replacing rage with a synonym?

I’m sorry I wasn’t picking anything out from Chapter 8. I may have to look over it again before I spot anything but right now I’m exhausted.

You have a lot of names with double letters: Tannar, Werenna, Karenna, Shanna, Jataal, Jaan and I think a few others. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing but change some of them as at times I didn’t know who was who and had to check back to the other chapters, of course, you being the writer, it is entirely up to you.

I’ve looked over C7 as you previously requested and managed to find a few typos.

What I like about C8 is Karenna is given a mysterious identity and the ‘royal eyes’ stick out, and I hated it that the Gypsie was killed by Tavrinal. I knew Gypsies and the humans did not get along but I didn’t think they fought against one another.

.: ₪ :.

'...'

Myth

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 820

Wed Dec 06, 2006 12:35 pm

Myth says... · Wed Dec 06, 2006 12:35 pm

Green = Comment
Black = Review

*

Fakir awoke at dawn. He stood, stretched and looked around him at the thirteen or so still-sleeping forms. He kicked one of them. “Get up, Dosh.”

Lol, the name actually makes me smile. Fakir is a pauper some Muslims think of as a holy man.

The Gypsies’ inherent magical ability had brought another dimension to the battle; flashes of light and bursts of deadly energy peppered the already-charred ground. She saw the headmaster fighting with one who was apparently the leader.

Was there something about this Gypsie that made him the leader?

Jaan, standing just inside the trees with the archers, watched the tall girl battle with one of his clan members. She was good with a rapier, very good, and the Gypsie’s small magical jabs didn’t seem to affect her. More than once he saw her free hand go to her belt and then stop, as if she had changed her mind.

[...]

“Do you sense it yet?” demanded Dosh, licking his lips like a serpent as he loosed arrow after arrow. “Has the wand-bearer entered the fight yet?”

Jaan stared at the girl for a moment, his heart pounding. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not yet.”

A little confusion here. Karenna was fighting but Jaan says she hasn’t entered the fight yet?

Dosh got a little crazy towards the end.

I still am not sure what will happen next. I was hoping Avarn would finally met Karenna once again and feel it is taking far too long for Tannar to carry out whatever Avarn asked him to do. Is he waiting for the Academe to close for the end of year, etc, or until Karenna has finished with her education?

.: ₪ :.

'...'

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Thu Dec 07, 2006 3:50 am

gyrfalcon says... · Thu Dec 07, 2006 3:50 am

Mwahahahah.... :-)

You'll just have to wait to find out--wontcha? hehe....thanks for the catches--an especially good one with Jaan saying that Karenna hadn't entered the fight--he DID do that on purpose, even though he knew she had. Merry Christmas, everyone!

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Sun Dec 10, 2006 6:53 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Sun Dec 10, 2006 6:53 pm

Chapter 9

The whole next day Karenna watched Shana watch her. As the aristocrat’s eyes followed her, sneering behind the false smile. As her perfectly-shaped lips whispered vicious little tidbits to her companions. Karenna watched everyone slowly melt away until all that remained were Laroo, Menee, Tannar and herself. During lunch hour, the four of them sat together at an otherwise empty table. Menee picked disconsolately at his food, his bright gray eyes flicking nervously from his plate to the harsh stares of the other tables and back again. “I’m scared,” he whispered quietly.

Tannar looked at him. “I know.”

“What’s going to happen?” Laroo almost whined.

Karenna and Tannar exchanged a look. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “But we’re going to be all right.”

The small, fourteen-year old twin shuffled closer to her, like a kitten trying to nestle under its mother. Karenna smiled and put an arm around him, stroking his ash-blonde hair gently. Menee, sitting on the other side of the table with Tannar, glanced at the Elementar, thought better of it, and returned his attention to his uneaten food.

* * *

Four days passed before the consequences of that night caught up with them. The Gypsies’ Forest changed into its autumn garb quickly, as if it had just been waiting for the excuse of the cold air, and soon the trees were resplendent in their magnificent reds and oranges and yellows. The fall had come early this season, and colder than usual, making the trees erupt into the full, fiery beauty they normally wouldn’t have achieved for weeks. Karenna and the others visited Boom on a daily basis, and his enormous, simple solidity within the burning glory of the Forest anchored them firmly to the reality that had all-but-vacated their lives.

Then, early in the morning of the fourth day, a small party of humans, well-dressed and grave-faced, arrived at the Dirantyr Training Academe. Ashter Tavrinal met them at the gates, his black robes dusty from the dirt road and his eyes hard. “Is it really necessary for you to be here,” he said firmly, his body blocking entrance to his campus.

“Maraso Liam was very clear,” said the tallest of them, an apparently old man with heavy wrinkles and flowing silver hair. One gnarled hand was thrust into a deep pocket, where Ashter knew the dry fingers were caressing a wand. “And his daughter is not the only one who is now willing to testify.” He took a step forward, apparently expecting the Headmaster to move. He didn’t.

“The child is a student of mine,” he said darkly. “And until I am convinced she is a danger, no harm will come to her.”

Inside the pocket, he saw the fingers tighten around the magical weapon. Try it. I may not have a wand, but I’m more powerful than you on my worst day, Ekano, and we all know it. We all know you dye your hair and put on fake wrinkles, too, do you think anyone’s impressed?

Ekano, oblivious to the internal monologue, relaxed his grip. “No one said anything about harming her,” he said lightly, and his voice had lost a little of its assumed scratchiness. “We merely wish to investigate.”

Ashter shifted his gaze to the wizard’s three companions. One was a short, fat man he did not know, probably a legal expert of some kind. One was a broad-shouldered man he recognized vaguely from palace functions as some kind of lord or other, and the last was a nondescript man with lanky brown hair, simple worn clothing, and far too many scars on his face. A battle mage, Ashter fumed inwardly, he’s brought a mercenary battle mage to my school.

The man didn’t look particularly strong or dangerous, but the casual way his hand rested on his sword hilt and the faint red outline to his scars told the world that this man was no common soldier. He and Ashter locked eyes for a few tense seconds, and then the Headmaster stepped aside to let the party in.

* * *

Vishna sat in her darkened study, her eyes closed, her body still. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the hot, fiery mind of Karoon with her own, like a child edging towards a roaring bonfire. He was there, and his burning bloodlust somehow made connecting with him easier. She could see through his eyes now, a view of the Dirantyr Training Academe from high in a nearby tree. Gingerly, she thought to him. Are you sure this is necessary?

His voice came back to her, deep and eager, like the rumble of an enormous furnace. She has the wand, Mistress. The wand. Our only chance is now, while she is still untrained.

She was still hesitant. But what if she—

Karoon shifted and grunted angrily. Mistress, a party of humans has just arrived, including a wizard with a wand. Doubtless they have come to train her; can we afford to wait?

Vishna breathed deep, braced herself, and thought, Go.

* * *

Karenna entered the room slowly, as if negotiating hidden traps. The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, with his hands clenched on top of the wood and his face stern. Three men, seated before him, craned their necks to face her as she stepped inside. A fourth man, looking thin and much travel-worn, leaned against one wall, arms crossed and naked sword gleaming at his belt.

In a reaction that owed nothing to thought and everything to years of fear and hiding, Karenna’s eyes fixated on the floor and her lashes came down to half cover them. “Come in, my dear,” said a voice heavy with affected age. Karenna did not look up at him, but she had seen enough wizards strutting around trying to look older than they were to have a good idea about his appearance. Such men, knowing that outward signs of age were the main hallmark of powerful wizards, thought that badly applied false wrinkles could match a single silver hair on the head of someone like Tavrinal.

She sat in the chair farthest away from the visitors, legs together but not crossed, hands folded demurely in her lap. “Hello,” she all-but-whispered. Tannar and, oddly enough, Laroo had coached her as well as they could in the days since the attempted Gypsie raid. They had known that some kind of investigation was forthcoming, and had come up with a strategy to protect her.

“You’ve got to make it seem ridiculous that you could be a real Gypsie,” Laroo had said. “And equally ridiculous that you could use a wand. The fact that the one means the other’s impossible hasn’t helped us so far, so you can’t rely on that. Rely on being small, on being timid, on being all the things that Gypsies and wizards aren’t.” Both she and Tannar had stared at him until he had explained his unexpected proficiency: “Being too small to bother about is the only thing that kept Menee and I intact in a home full of battle mages.”

Karenna hazarded a glance at the battle mage now in the room with her. His brown hair was greasy and ill-cut, falling forward to shadow his much-scarred face. She looked down again.

“Do you know why we’ve called you here?” asked the voice of the wizard.

She swallowed and fidgeted with her fingers. Only part of her fear was affected. “No sir,” she said softly. “All I did was help my unit and my school, sir. I don’t understand, sir.” Perhaps there were a few too many 'sirs' in there, but better too many than too few.

Tavrinal was watching her with a mixture of disbelief and sly approval. He gave her an encouraging little smile when he knew the others couldn’t see.

The visiting wizard gave a little pent-up breath of annoyance. “You are brought before us on the charges of being a Gypsie and carrying a wand on restricted grounds.”

“May I remind you, Ekano, that one cannot be a Gypsie and use a wand. Also that you yourself are carrying a wand on what is, as you say, ‘restricted grounds.’” Tavrinal’s face was hard, his eyes unwavering. “As I told Miss Liam, you will have to pick your charge.”

“There have been recorded incidents of Gypsies with some human heritage using wands before now,” Ekano all-but-snapped, all trace of false age gone. He sounded not much older than the Headmaster.

“'Recorded incidents'?” Tavrinal scoffed. “Baseless rumors more like, and you know it. There has never been concrete proof that Gypsies, even Gypsies who are part human, can use wands. Not even all human wizards can operate wands, Ekano, come off it.”

His informal language had angered the other wizard, and Karenna heard the sting in his voice, “You are here purely as a courtesy, Ashter. That courtesy can be—” he was cut off by a shuddering rumble nearby, and a series of loud screams.

Karenna didn’t wait for anyone’s attention to return to her; she bolted up and out of the room before the last of the screams had been cut off.

* * *

With a speed of reaction that surprised even him, Tannar had ferried the twins to Boom and told the giant to protect them and to hide no matter what. The kid may be a hulking mass of muscle immune to mortal magic, but nothing corporeal would be able to challenge the power that now attacked them. He ran into Karenna coming out of their dormitory, wand in hand, bow and full quiver slung over her back, and determined set to her face. He grabbed her and began to drag her none-too-gently towards the woods, dodging between falling fireballs.

She resisted him. “What’s going on?” she yelled over the tumult of screams and crashing masonry.

Tannar glanced upwards to where a distant gray figure was dancing in the sky, sending down blasts of fire and magical energy with a power that could and now was toppling buildings. “Karoon,” he said simply.

After that, she didn’t resist. He left her with Boom, who stood as if ready to defend her from all the forces of Hell and darkness, then strode to the edge of the Forest. The Academe was burning. The almost entirely stone Academe was burning as if made of thatch and timber.

Go back, said the voice of self-preservation. You’ve got her safe, go back and hide.

But a hatred, only half his own, rose within him. He hurt me, said a bitter but sorely-missed voice. He blinded me, he threatened me, I hate him.

Your mother’s got to be watching, he argued, but only half-heartedly.

I don’t care, said Avarn in his mind. Do you?

He didn’t.

An all-out battle with Karoon could mean a long and painful death for both of them. But Tannar was tired. He was tired of hiding, of lying, of being less than he was. He began to run towards the Academe. With every step, his body blurred, little flecks of dark, insubstantial light detaching from him and flowing out behind him until they fluttered into nothing. After five long strides he leapt, pushing off from the ground with all the growing strength within him. As he rose smoothly through the air, the last vestiges of his human façade dissolved.

His body thinned, stretched, lengthened. His unruly black hair grew and paled until it was a cascade of silver-white streaming out behind him. Skin that had been rough and sun-tanned shimmered, shivered and became a pale, moon-lit blue. His ears, only slightly pointed before, swept back until they were long and sharp; and his eyes, his dark, staring eyes that had wakened Karenna’s magic grew wide and slanted and began to glow with a mounting blue light until they were two solid cerulean orbs. A pair of enormous, semi-transparent wings sprang from his now-slender shoulder blades and quivered in the air. It was not necessary to pump them to continue rising; the Elementar shot upward until he floated level with Karoon.

It did not take long for the gargoyle-shape to notice him. Karoon’s dragon-like wings flapped a few times until he hovered only a few yards away from Tannar. The fire-air being held a large flaming scimitar in one hand, and he gestured expansively with it as he spoke. “I should have expected to find you here,” he grated. “Don’t worry; the ‘Mistress’ isn’t watching. She has no stomach for this.”

Tannar, still himself behind his all-but-forgotten natural form, sneered. “You think that all this takes courage? Attacking innocent students and destroying random buildings?”

Surprisingly, Karoon did not rise to the jibe. He tapped his thick, heavily corroded bronze wrist bands. “I see you keep yours nicely polished, water-boy. Whatever for?”

Tannar glanced down at his own slim shackles. No matter what form he took, they were always there, a testament of his slavery. “Why do you care?”

It was Karoon’s turn to sneer. “You actually care for him, for that sniveling little blind excuse for a—”

A huge, gleaming broadsword of sharpened ice appeared in Tannar’s hand and he lunged. Karoon parried, the fire of his scimitar cutting a notch in the straight blade. The older Elementar laughed and swung his sword. Tannar shifted, moving through the air like a breeze until he was facing Karoon’s unprotected back. His broadsword sliced a section from the gray wing before the owner of the wing could get it out of range. Karoon laughed again and sprang back, far out of Tannar’s reach. His burning sword vanished.

“I think we can dispense with the human-copied frivolities, water-boy,” he called. Two great fireballs appeared around his gray fists.

Tannar’s sword also disappeared, dissolved back into the air. He raised one slim arm and spread his fingers as if holding a large sphere above his head.

Karoon laughed, oblivious to the quickly-gathering storm clouds around him. “Is that your surrender, little river lily?” Tannar did not answer. Karoon snorted. “It is not accepted!” he yelled, and threw the fireballs.

* * *

The wind whipped viciously at Karenna, sending her long brown hair into a dancing tangle and lashing her long tunic against her body. The twins stood on either side of her, cringing in the force of the gale and staring, like her, at the two tiny figures in the air above the Academe. Karenna’s knuckles were white on her wand, and all the spells she’d ever learned or picked up were clamoring to be let out. But she gritted her teeth and refused to utter even a syllable of any of them. This was Tannar’s battle.

They all saw Karoon cannon the fireballs towards their friend. Mere feet from Tannar, the fireballs spluttered and dissolved. Karoon started to roar in anger, but he didn’t do so for long. A concentrated torrent of hailstones as huge as fists connected, driving him down and down. His monstrous wings fluttered uselessly as he tried to escape the crippling downpour. Jets of flame like lightning balls sparked from Karoon, hitting the ground, the remains of the Academe, and several trees in the Gypsies’ Forest. Before these trees could start to burn, however, it began to rain.

* * *

Tannar circled the fallen body of his opponent. He still floated several feet from the ground, unwilling, after finally escaping gravity, to succumb to it again. Karoon didn’t even twitch. He knew the Elementar wasn’t dead, and, despite his hatred, had no real desire to see him so. The hail had punched two holes through the one wing he could see, and Tannar wondered idly how that particular pain would translate back to Vishna.

It was raining now, really pouring. Tannar didn’t stop the deluge, he reveled in it. With any luck, it would keep any would-be firefighters or rescuers away long enough for him to get Karenna and the others out of here.

Avarn’s voice came to him, distant now, and faint. I can hear her sobbing, he said.

Tannar felt a slight twinge of guilt. Even if she was the terrible mother he knew her to be, she didn’t really deserve to experience the pain he had subjected Karoon to. Not really. You should go to her, He thought.

Mensha’s already with her.

Now real guilt gave a pang. Tannar had always liked Mensha, and without him there he had relied on her to protect Avarn. He had forgotten that hurting Karoon would hurt her, too. Still, he could have done worse. Then maybe you should go to Mensha.

I will. Now that the shared hatred and desire for vengeance had subsided, the miles between Tannar and his master began to reassert themselves. Bring her to me, Tannar. Avarn’s voice was barely a whisper now. Bring her to me. Protect her.

I will, Tannar promised. But the contact was gone. He was alone again.

* * *

Karenna eyed him steadily as he walked towards them. The twins were huddled behind Boom, staring around the giant’s sides at the apparition that had taken Tannar’s place. He stopped just in front of her, not speaking. The Academe uniform he had been wearing was gone. In its place Tannar was wearing white leather leggings and a long white leather loincloth. His feet and slim, blue torso were bare. The large, glowing blue eyes showed not a hint of the boy she had known. But then he grinned, and Tannar shone through.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, and voice was the same, young and slightly cynical. “You had to know what you saw wasn’t my true form.”

She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, but I don’t think the twins did.”

Tannar glanced to where Laroo and Menee were gaping at him from behind the impassive Boom. He sighed. “Come on, boys,” he wheedled, holding out his long, graceful arms. “It’s still me.”

Neither twin moved. Karenna snorted. “Maybe it would help if you changed back. They didn’t even know you were an Elementar before this.”

He glared at her. “It’s not that easy, you know. I’d like to see you try to squeeze all of this into a body the size of a human boy. My back’s been aching for months; do you have any idea what it feels like to suddenly not have wings?” For a moment, some of his true pain translated to his face, and Karenna considered the agony of being forced into a shape not your own.

And then he was once again the Tannar she knew, irreverent and boyish. “Anyway, they can either get over it or be left behind. Come on.”

He reached out to take her arm but she stepped back. Boom shifted slightly, just enough to remind the Elementar that all twelve feet of him was still there and still determined to protect Karenna against all the magical forces that could be brought to bear. It was amazing how eloquent the boy-giant could be without speaking. “Where are we going?” Karenna demanded, her fingers still tight around the wand. The rain had slackened off, but only barely. It still dripped from the branches overhead and splattered onto their heads.

“Just about anywhere except here would be good, yes?” Tannar said dryly. “Unless you want that wizard and his buddies to find us here. And you with a wand and a water-air Elementar.”

Karenna thought about the battle mage and his many scars. They only got facial wounds when they killed someone; like wrinkles for wizards, scars were the price for magic. That man had had far too many of the red-tinged marks for comfort. “All right,” she said reluctantly. Glancing at Laroo, Menee, and Boom, she said, “What about them?”

This time she didn’t move when he gripped her arm, his fingers cool and inhumanly smooth. “They follow or stay,” he said. “But that’s their choice, let’s go.” Tannar and Karenna moved off deeper into the forest. Boom followed immediately and after only a moment’s hesitation, the twins did likewise.

* * *

Mirnar, perched in bird form in a nearby tree, watched the odd little party move off. Boom she knew, all the creatures of the Forest knew Boom, but the three humans and the Elementar were strange to her. Spreading her wings she made a brief, undignified swoop to another tree, keeping the group and especially the girl in view. Mirnar peered at her from the safely hidden boughs of her tree. Interesting. Perhaps there were only two humans in the party after all.

Last edited by gyrfalcon on Mon Jan 15, 2007 4:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Myth

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 820

Thu Dec 14, 2006 2:20 pm

Myth says... · Thu Dec 14, 2006 2:20 pm

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

The whole next day Karenna watched as Shana watched her.

Shana = Shanna

That first sentence is awkward; I think you wrote it out incorrectly. What about something like: Throughout the whole of the next day, Karenna and Shanna watched each other. Or anything that suits better.

She watched everyone save the twins slowly melt away until all [s]that[/s] who remained were Laroo, Menee, Tannar and herself.

I was thinking this was Shanna, after reading twice I figured it was Karenna. Also you might want to think about putting commas after ‘everyone’ and ‘twins’ as this is excluding them. Note that I’ve taken out ‘that’ as referring to people would require ‘who’. Lastly, you spoke of the twins and then mentioned their names as though the said twins were not Menee and Laroo.

Menee, sitting on the other side of the table with Tannar, glanced at the Elementar, thought better of it, and returned his attention to his uneaten food.

Fine thing to do Madam Bird! Here I am, trying to recover from a nasty cold and then, having read this, I erupt into a fit of coughs from laughing. Anyway, that is a good thing XD

The Gypsies’ Forest changed into its autumn garb quickly, as if it had just been waiting for the excuse of the cold air, and soon the trees were resplendent in their magnificent reds and oranges and yellows.

With this brilliant description, I think you can go a little further by comparing the autumnal colours to fire/blaze, etc as it gives the reader (in my opinion) something to relate the scene to.

Ashter Tavrinal met them at the gates, his black robes dusty from the dirt road and his eyes hard.

‘dirt’ = dirty?

Or wouldn’t it be the other way around, his cloak dirty from the dusty road?

Ashter shifted his gaze to the wizard’s three companions. One was a short, fat man he did not know, probably a legal expert of some kind. One was a broad-shouldered man he recognized vaguely from palace functions as some kind of lord or other, and the fourth was a nondescript man with lanky brown hair, simple worn clothing, and far too many scars on his face.

As you have used ‘three companions’ then I think ‘the fourth’ ought to be ‘the last’.

Perhaps there were a few too many “sirs” in there, but better too many than too few.

Use apostrophes: ‘sirs’

“’Recorded incidents’?” Tavrinal scoffed.

The first apostrophe is incorrect.

She resisted him. “What’s going on!” she yelled over the tumult of screams and crashing masonry.

I think the exclamation mark should be a question mark, with ‘yelled’ in there the reader is aware that Karenna ‘yelled’, with the question mark we know she is ‘yelling’ the question.

Go back, said the voice of self-preservation. You’ve got her safe, go back and hide.

Is this Avarn or Tannar? *confused*

You’re mother’s got to be watching, he argued, but only half-heartedly.

You’re = You are, this should be ‘Your’

An all-out battle with Karoon [s]could[/s] would mean a long and painful death for both of them.

^^^ See quote

It did not take long for the gargoyle-shape to notice him. Karoon’s dragon-like wings flapped a few times until he hovered only a few yards away from Tannar.

Yards is more appropriate for measuring distance on the ground, how about metres(ers)?

Mirnar, perched in bird form in a nearby tree, watched the odd little party move off.

‘bird form’ = bird-form

Gry, you have a knack for keeping readers interested and I applaud you for that. Each time I read Gypsie Eyes I want to get to the next part but I hate having to wait.

You’ve brought out the real Tannar, the Elementar who has not really shown his ‘true’ self until now. He is, in some ways, cocky but there is a side to him that is caring—he feels bad for Vishna and Mensha when it was only Karoon who he wanted to hurt. This makes him, say, more human.

Towards the end I didn’t really find many faults, the battle between Karoon and Tannar was gripping and, because I like you and Tannar so much, I read it a couple of times and I have to say the description is ‘beautiful, darling’.

One thing I’m still don’t know about is how a Elementar and human ‘come together’, how does it work? And what stops the Elementar from taking off their bands?

I really can’t wait to read the next part.

-- Myth

.: ₪ :.

'...'

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Thu Dec 14, 2006 3:55 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Thu Dec 14, 2006 3:55 pm

I'm so glad you liked it, darling! And your catches are (as ever) imenseley helpful--they shall be integrated as soon as the Finals mayhem is over. One note: Shanna is in fact "Shana" now--people kept saying how I have too many names with double letters, so I changed "Shanna" to "Shana" and "Meensha" to "Mensha."

Thanks so much! Look for the next installment coming soon!

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Tue Jan 02, 2007 7:29 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Tue Jan 02, 2007 7:29 pm

Chapter 10

That night they stopped in a tiny clearing a hundred yards or so from the Academe. Karenna would have been worried about Gypsies or rescue parties from the school had it not been for the fact that she was nearly too exhausted to even walk straight. Their uniforms, with the stiff boots and full-length pants, were not the most comfortable things to spend a wet night in. But there was, of course, nothing they could do about that.

In any case the twins were snoring soundly within a few minutes of lying down. Boom was reclining against a large tree, his eyes closed, with Laroo on one side of him and Menee on the other. Tannar sat at the edge of the clearing, his back hunched and his wings folded. The rain had dissolved to a fine mist.

Karenna came over to the fallen trunk where he sat unmoving. He didn’t look up at her. She sat down next to him, as close as she dared, and laid a hand lightly on his arm. He flinched and shook her off, still not looking at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

He bridged his thin blue fingers in front of his face and stared through them like a prisoner through bars. “Can you imagine,” he said softly, “what it’s like to have another’s mind connected to your own your whole life, and then he’s just suddenly not there?”

“Was it sudden?”

He shook his head. “No, with Avarn it happened slowly, gradually, like having your grip slide down a slick rope. And then he just wasn’t there anymore.”

She regarded him seriously. “Are you taking me to him?”

He glanced at her. “I can’t tell you that right now.”

“Is it somewhere safe?”

Tannar thought for a moment. “No, not really.”

Karenna grinned. “Good.”

* * *

Vishna lay, half-conscious, in her bedroom. Avarn stood over her. He could hear the irregular inhale and exhale of breath as she tossed and turned, one foot in the dreamworld and one in reality. He ran his fingers lightly over her face, trying to recall what she looked like. He couldn’t. He had only the impression of long, billowing black hair and hard olive green eyes that bore little kindness. He knew he shouldn’t feel sorry for her. If Karoon had been the one to win it would be Avarn lying there, helpless and hurting. And his mother would certainly not be standing over him, waiting hopefully for him to be all right. Instead, he would awake to the dry furnace breath and the smell of brimstone that meant the pain was just beginning.

And he loved her. Despite everything, he loved her. Wondering silently if this made him less dangerous than she, or more, he left her and returned to his own quarters, his footsteps echoing and re-echoing in the huge empty castle.

* * *

The next morning, Karenna opened her eyes to see two large yellow orbs staring at her, inches from her face. She managed not to scream and had just brought her wand up when she heard Boom’s deep, resonant laughter. Scrambling backwards, she managed to bring the owner of the yellow eyes into focus. It was a woman, small and slightly knobbley, with a bristle of gray hair and, of course, two wide, slitted yellow eyes. She cocked her head to one side and blinked. “Jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Her voice was harsh and had a certain screech to it, but was, for all that, not unpleasant.

“Karenna,” said Boom, in the manner of one making formal introductions, “this is Mirnar. Mirnar, this is Miss Karenna Morn.” He leaned over Karenna and whispered loudly, “She’s a Wereeagle.”

The girl evaluated the odd little woman, still not putting away the wand. Yes, that made sense. Her eyes were those of a bird of prey and her clothing was all worn leather and suede which looked suspiciously feather-like. “How nice to meet you,” Karenna said, not unkindly.

Mirnar grinned. She could only be about four feet tall when she straightened up, and straightening up was not something that seemed to come naturally to her. Karenna looked around to see what the others thought of the newcomer. Boom, obviously, already knew her, and the twins were ready to accept anyone the giant did. Tannar had managed to resume human form and was eyeing the Wereeagle carefully, but not suspiciously.

“What are you doing here?” Karenna asked, feeling that someone should act the voice of caution.

“I’d like to join up,” said Mirnar.

“Join up with what?”

The Werebeast grinned again. “With this little journey you’ve got going on. If you’re planning to pass through Gypsie territory with a wand, a giant, an Elementar, and two human boys who’d figure out how to trip over a crumb, you’ll need a guide.”

“I don’t really like Werebeasts,” said Karenna, trying hard not to sound mean. It was just the way things were.

Mirnar’s grin acquired an edge. “That makes two of us.”

A second time, Karenna glanced around the clearing. Her eyes met the once-again-dark ones of Tannar. “What do you think?” she asked.

Tannar shrugged. “Boom trusts her. And I think the twins are dead-set that she should come.”

“Please,” said Menee from Boom’s side.

Laroo clasped his hands in front of him, “Please, please, please.”

“And, what do you think?” Karenna repeated.

He shrugged again. “She’s nothing I can’t handle.” There was no boasting in that statement, no pride. It was merely a declaration of fact.

Karenna thought of the concentrated volley of hailstones, of his blazing blue eyes, of the fireballs fizzing into oblivion. She shivered. Returning her attention to Mirnar, she saw the Wereeagle watching her, all traces of humor gone. “Both condemned because of our eyes,” she said, so softly that only Karenna could hear. “Both shunned by our own people because we are different.” She shifted her head slightly and Karenna could see a long, ragged scar running from the woman’s left ear down her neck and disappearing into her leather jerkin.

“What is it you want with me?” she whispered.

Mirnar did the head-cocking thing again. It looked, Karenna realized belatedly, very bird-like. “I like to observe things,” said the Werebeast. “You promise to be very good entertainment.”

Despite herself, Karenna smiled. “Well then,” she said, “I’d hate to ruin the show.”

* * *

Cerreno, King of the Gypsies, looked out over his territory. From the towering pine where he perched he could see almost everything. The Gypsies’ Forest spread out below him, a million shades of green with a million depths of shadows. He liked being high up, being able to breath the clear, now rain-sweetened, air. Mimoa had spoken at great lengths last night about the Windstorm and the Wand. Cerreno had paid little attention; his sister’s prophesies rarely made sense until after they came true.

And now he watched the sun rise higher and higher in the cloudless blue sky and wondered what to do about Dosh.

* * *

“You don’t look sixteen,” said Mirnar to Karenna as they fought their way through the thick, unrelenting underbrush.

The Wereeagle was out in front, slipping through the worst of the tangles, leaving the rest to sort it out for themselves how to proceed. Karenna came next, then the twins, then Tannar, and finally Boom. Karenna was still trying to disentangle an obstinate twig from her hair while she replied, “Don’t I?”

Mirnar grinned and hopped easily over a thorny bush that Karenna just barely managed to avoid. “No,” said the Werebeast. “I’d say more seventeen or eighteen.”

“Good guess,” Karenna said, tired of avoiding Mirnar’s constant probes. “My parents wouldn’t let me got to the Academe last year, I’m seventeen. They’re a little…over protective.

“Because of your eyes?”

“Yes.”

The woman paused to help her over a thick fallen trunk, then continued. “Are they your birth parents?”

“No I’m adopted.” Then, tired of being the one always answering, she said, “So, how old are you?”

“Fifty-seven,” replied Mirnar promptly. “That’s middle-aged for a Werebeast.” After pulling the first twin over the trunk, she left him to help the second and again took the lead. “Where’d you get the wand?”

Karenna didn’t say anything for awhile as she struggled through the forest. “You’d think the Gypsies would have trails or something. I don’t see how they can manage.”

“They don’t always move at ground-level,” said Mirnar. “It’s strange that you’re powerful enough to wield a wand like that at this age; do you know who made it?”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t always move at ground-level’?” asked Karenna.

“They’re good at branch-to-branch travel,” Mirnar explained. “How long have you owned the wand?”

“What, you mean scampering around like squirrels?”

“It’s a little more dignified than that. What spells can you work with it?”

“So whole clans of them just…climb their way around?”

“Pretty much; Gypsies are excellent climbers. If you really do have Gypsie blood then how is it you can even use a wand?”

“I’m not a Gypsie!” As Karenna’s angry words fell into silence she saw the rest of the group looking at her. Laroo and Menee were now finally over the log, but Tannar was perched atop it, his dark eyes once again awakening the latent magic that lurked at the back of her deepest thoughts. She could feel the wand, tucked into her belt under Tannar’s old cloak, begin to grow warm and vibrate. I’m not even touching it and it’s reacting to me, she thought. The only reason I’m not answering Mirnar is that I don’t know half the answers myself.

The Wereeagle was watching her warily with her large yellow eyes. “Sorry,” she said softly, “I think I got a little carried away.”

Karenna pulled herself together. “If Gypsies move through the trees, then why aren’t you in eagle form watching for them?”

“Because it wouldn’t do any good,” said Mirnar. “If they really wanted to take us, even I wouldn’t be able to tell they were coming.”

“Then what good are you?”

Mirnar grinned her wide, slightly worrying grin. She reached up and plucked a leaf off a nearby tree, twirling it around and around in her fingers. “What color would you say this is?”

“Green turning to red; it’s really getting into autumn now,” Karenna answered. She knew better than to say something as ignorant as, “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you know what Gypsies do in the fall?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, a lot of the berries or whatever it is that they live on would be ripe now. Probably some last-ditch hunting to prepare for the winter?”

“Very good. It’s the Gypsies main hunting season, autumn. Very few humans are keen on entering their territory when they go about armed, or rather, more heavily armed than usual and are looking for prizes for the Winter Festival. Except, of course, for us. So long as we steer clear of the Palace and their main hunting grounds, we should be safe.”

“Palace?” asked Tannar from the fallen tree. “Winter Festival?”

Mirnar looked around the group. “Why have we stopped?” she demanded, and set off again.

Karenna moved to follow her. There was a scramble behind her as the twins tried to catch up, and a crash as Boom tried to climb over the tree and landed heavily on the other side. Laroo managed to catch Karenna’s arm. “Winter Festival?” he asked.

She sighed. “Every winter the Gypsies come together for some kind of big celebration,” she explained. “It’s a bit like a Harvest Fair. Except instead of prize hogs or pies, they bring in…other things.” Stories abounded about exactly what it was the Gypsies did during their Festival. Most of them were horror stories that had developed into ledged that had ripened into myth. And none of them were pleasant.

Laroo did not seem to take the hint. “What kinds of things?”

“No one really knows, for sure,” said Karenna. It was truthful enough. No one wandering in the Gypsies’ Forest near winter had ever been heard from again. Karenna hadn’t realized they began preparations so early.

That night she spoke again to Tannar. “Where are we going?” she demanded.

They had cleared a space large enough at least for Boom, and Boom lying down had cleared space enough for the rest of them. Tannar, as usual, stood at the very edge of the clearing. His inability to sleep and better-than-human senses made him the perfect choice to stand guard. Now he crossed his arms and glanced sideways at her. “I said last night, I can’t tell you.”

Karenna took a step forward. He took two hurried steps back, still wary of her wand. “Were crossing the land of people who would very much like to find us, kill us, and bring our heads back as prizes to their king. Back there,” she waved a hand in the general direction of Dirantyr, “are people who want to find us, talk to us, and put us in a big stone room. Given the choice…” she trailed off, letting him finish the though for himself.

Tannar’s eyes were serious. “No,” he said, “back there are people who want to find us, kill Mirnar, dissect Boom, terrify the twins, manipulate me, and do magic-knows-what with you. Given the choice, I’ll follow and intelligent Werebeast guide over the territory of a race you look like you belong to and who will, if they kill us, at least do it quickly.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Tannar,” she said at last. “Are you taking me to the mountains?”

He looked out blankly at the dark, impenetrable depths of the forest. Finally he spoke, his voice low and calm, and somehow so unlike Tannar that it frightened her more than his blue skin had. “Only to begin with.”

Last edited by gyrfalcon on Mon Jan 15, 2007 4:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Swires

Gender

Points 1106

Reviews 614

Tue Jan 02, 2007 7:47 pm

Swires says... · Tue Jan 02, 2007 7:47 pm

Ok, You will have to forgive me as I am going to critique chapter 10 without reading the other stuff as I am new to the world of Gypsie's eyes

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
That night they stopped in a tiny clearing about seventy yards or so from the Academe.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Ive never seen Academy spelt like that before, however it isn't coming up as a typo word so you must be right.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Karenna would have been worried about Gypsies or rescue parties from the school had it not been for the simple fact that she was far too tired. Their uniforms, with the stiff boots and full-length pants, were not the most comfortable things to spend a wet night in. But there was, of course, nothing they could do about that.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Is tiredness really an excuse for lack of worry? I would say she would be worrying in her sleep etc...

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The rain had degraded to a fine mist.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I dont imagine rain "degrading" at all... perhaps another past tense verb instead?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
He flinched and shook her off, still not looking at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

To make this more active I think a reorder is needed. "Flinching, he shook her off" - it makes it much more abrupt.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
He steepled his thin blue fingers in front of his face and stared through them like a prisoner through bars. “Can you imagine,” he said softly, “what it’s like to have another’s mind connected to your own your whole life, and then he’s just suddenly not there?”
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

No such word as steepled, or I've never heard of it. Either way I would opt for another word there.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
She regarded him seriously. “Are you taking me to him?”

He glanced at her. “I can’t tell you that right now.”

“Is it somewhere safe?”

Tannar thought for a moment. “No, not really.”

Karenna grinned. “Good.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

One word: Wow. This little snippet demonstrated awesome characterisation, I loved the speech mechanics that you probably unconsciously wrote. Great. Just great.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Vishna lay, half-conscious, in her bedroom. Avarn, standing over her, could hear the irregular inhale and exhale of breath as she tossed and turned, one foot in the dreamworld and one in reality.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

This is a run-on sentence. Restructure and break it up a little bit.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
He had only the impression of long,
////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Reorder: "He only had the impression..."

////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The next morning, Karenna opened her eyes to see two large yellow orbs staring at her, inches from her face. She managed not to scream and had just brought her wand up when she heard Boom’s deep, resonant laughter. Scrambling backwards, she managed to bring the owner of the yellow eyes into focus. It was a woman, small and slightly knobbley, with a bristle of gray hair and, of course, two wide, slitted yellow eyes. She cocked her head to one side and blinked. “Jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Her voice was harsh and had a certain screech to it, but was, for all that, not unpleasant.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There could be too much, unecessary description of the woman here. Maybe space it out over the scene?

Most other things seem to be in order, I dont have alot of time to go through the rest.

What strikes me is story line:

You have a giant, twins a school of wizardry, wand magic. Mmm... Harry Potter. It all seems very Potterish.

However these gypsies seem a unique addition, maybe Ill have chance to read all of it and understand that the piece is original later.

The character's speech seems good, although you seem to write very speech heavy works and fall into something called "Talking Heads". You may want to have your characters doing something while they talk to add interest to a piece instead of just plain talking.

Regards, I may visit this topic later.

Previously known as "Phorcys"
Witherwings Harry Potter RPG

Myth

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 820

Tue Jan 09, 2007 2:33 pm

Myth says... · Tue Jan 09, 2007 2:33 pm

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

That night they stopped in a tiny clearing about seventy yards or so from the Academe.

This seems just too close to the Academe, you can instead not give any approximate estimate of how far they had traveled and just state they were within the sight of the Academe. That’s just a maybe suggestion though.

The rain had degraded to a fine mist.

I don’t think ‘degraded’ is the right word here. Wouldn’t it be ‘condensed’?

He steepled his thin blue fingers in front of his face and stared through them like a prisoner through bars.

I looked up the word on the internet and got this: Furnished with, or having the form of, a steeple; adorned with steeples. So I don’t understand how he could have ‘steepled’ his fingers in front of him. Maybe something else to describe how he connects his fingers like those of a prison bar?

It was a woman, small and slightly knobbley, with a bristle of gray hair and, of course, two wide, slitted yellow eyes.

How about replacing ‘slitted’ with ‘slit’ or rephrasing ‘yellow slit eyes’? Just a little awkward getting the ‘slitted’ to roll off the tongue.

The Wereeagle was out in front, slipping through the worst of the tangles, leaving the rest to sort it out for themselves on(?) how to proceed.

^^^ See quote

Karenna came next, then the twins, [s]then[/s] followed by Tannar, and finally Boom.

^^^ See quote

The woman paused to help her over a thick fallen trunk, then continued. “Are they your birth parents?”

“No I’m adopted.” Then, tired of being the one always answering, she said, “So, how old are you?”

I think you’ve got a few unneeded ‘then’ in there.

Karenna didn’t say anything for awhile as she struggled through the forest. “You’d think the Gypsies would have trails or something. I don’t see how they can manage.”

“They don’t always move at ground-level,” said Mirnar. “It’s strange that you’re powerful enough to wield a wand like that at this age; do you know who made it?”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t always move at ground-level’?” asked Karenna.

“They’re good at branch-to-branch travel,” Mirnar explained. “How long have you owned the wand?”

“What, you mean scampering around like squirrels?”

“It’s a little more dignified than that. What spells can you work with it?”

“So whole clans of them just…climb their way around?”

Haha, clever of Karenna getting the woman to answer her questions and avoiding the ones fired at her

Most of them were horror stories that had developed into ledged that had ripened into myth.

I think you mean ‘legend’ there

Karenna took a step forward. He took two hurried steps back, still wary of her wand. “Were crossing the land of people [...] Given the choice…” she trailed off, letting him finish the though for himself.

‘Were’ = We’re, ‘though’ = thought?

Tannar’s eyes were serious.

“No,” he said [...] Given the choice, I’ll follow and intelligent Werebeast guide over the territory of a race you look like you belong to and who will, if they kill us, at least do it quickly.”

‘and’ = an?

I'm more than curious about this Wereeagle person (the lack of sleep makes me forget names easily) and I think you have someone that Karenna can, in some ways, relate to as the woman mentioned they were both 'outcasts' and her scar.

I think you could slow down just a little and give a bit more information on what they discussed about the Gypsies in that paragraph about the Winter Festival.

.: ₪ :.

'...'

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Tue Jan 09, 2007 2:56 pm

gyrfalcon says... · Tue Jan 09, 2007 2:56 pm

Myth: thanks bucket loads! *gives box of cookies* I said I would integrate your LAST crit after the Finals mayhem was over, and *hits herself on head* I still haven't done that. Now it's the Beginning of Semester mayhem that must subside. But this is a three-day weekend coming up, I will do my best to get it done in there. Thanks again!

Swires

Gender

Points 1106

Reviews 614

Tue Jan 09, 2007 4:58 pm

Swires says... · Tue Jan 09, 2007 4:58 pm

Alternative to constant updates is just keep this thread in your favourites and change the corrections en mass - a daunting task.

Previously known as "Phorcys"
Witherwings Harry Potter RPG

gyrfalcon

Gender

Points 5890

Reviews 440

Tue Jan 16, 2007 5:33 am

gyrfalcon says... · Tue Jan 16, 2007 5:33 am

Chapter 11

Cerreno sat on his wood-carved throne and looked down at the man pacing in front of him. The King of the Gypsies didn’t speak, but waited patiently for Dosh to break the silence. Cerreno was a tall man, even by Gypsie standards, with long black hair and a black diamond tattoo over his right eye. Dosh, on the other hand, was abnormally short, and had ill-cut hair and nervous, twitching eyes. He strode back and forth in front of the king, muttering quietly to himself and rubbing his hands together. Finally, Cerreno’s patience waned. “Dosh,” he said kindly, “What is it you want?”

The man halted in front of him but didn’t look up. “I am,” he said, his voice as shaky as the rest of him, “the leader of my clan now. I will, I will, I will,” he hissed as if he had been stung but continued. “I will do with them as I like.”

The king’s eyes, one blue and one green, hardened. “They are my subjects,” he said, letting a measure of ice creep into his tone. “As are you.”

Dosh began to pace again, licking his cracked lips furiously. “You weren’t there,” he hissed below his breath, still not looking at his king, “you didn’t hear it, you didn’t hear.”

Cerreno stood and descended the three shallow steps of the dais until he stood in front of Dosh. He grabbed the man by both shoulders and gently shook him. “You will look at me when you speak to me,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.

“Wasn’t there, didn’t hear,” Dosh muttered. He glanced up at the king and quickly down again. “I am sorry, sire,” he said, only slightly more lucid. His voice had a sing-song quality Cerreno had never heard in him. “I am, I am, I am sorry. I am tired, I am, I just need some sleep, a little sleep and I can do, do, do better, I can. I will.” For an instant, his eyes, gray and brown, met Cerreno’s and then looked away. But in those eyes the king saw a madness he had only ever observed in humans. “Can do better, wasn’t there,” Dosh’s voice began to fade back into a mutter, “didn’t hear it, didn’t hear, couldn’t know, wasn’t there.”

Cerreno released him and gave a long, gentle sigh. “For now,” he said, “I am assigning you and your clan to help guard the entrances to the Palace. Can you do that?”

Dosh blinked. “Yes.”

“Good.” As soon as the self-appointed Governor was out of the room, the guards escorted in a different Gypsie. This one was similar in appearance to Dosh and had the same gray left eye as his brother. But his right was a clear, unsoiled blue that put the king’s mind at ease about his sanity. With another sigh, Cerreno flopped, very un-kinglike, onto the stairs of his dais and motioned Jaan to do the same. “Your brother is not well,” he said bluntly.

“Yes, sir. I know.” Jaan, at least, had the sense to look his monarch in the eye when he spoke. To hide one’s eyes was to hide one’s intentions, and one did not hide one’s intentions from the king. “I am worried about him.”

“You understand the situation is very…delicate,” said the king. “Fakir never secured my blessing to become clan leader, but because of the circumstances, I let it pass. And now that Dosh has taken over, again without coming to me,” Cerreno paused and looked at the young man seriously. “You understand?”

“I do, sir,” he said. “Even though clan leadership is hereditary, you need to have authority over the Governors to keep them in line. I’m afraid my family is setting a bad president.”

Cerreno smiled a little to put the boy at ease. “I may have to take steps to see that Dosh does not misuse my people. If it becomes necessary, are you capable of taking over the leadership of your clan?” He did not ask “are you willing?” or “would you care to?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jaan.

Cerreno smiled. “Thank you, Jaan. We shall see how this plays out.”

* * *

Vishna, when she awoke from her coma, did not speak of what had caused it. She hardly spoke at all; if she had been a secretive scholar before, now she was a recluse. Avarn tried to get in to see her on several occasions, but she had locked the door firmly and without sight it was hard enough for him to open the unlocked doors of the twisting castle. Karoon had not returned yet, and that was worrying. But even though it was difficult to maintain contact with Tannar for very long, he knew he would have felt it if the fire-air Elementar had attacked.

Winter came early in the mountains and barely softened for the rest of the year. Avarn had not planned on Tannar heading here so soon, and he worried about how they would manage to find him once the snow settled in. But he told himself that Tannar would be able to figure it out, and so he spent most of his days sitting before the always-burning fire in his room or at his piano, trying to drown away the emptiness inside him with music.

* * *

It had been four days since Karoon’s attack. The twins’ and Karenna’s clothes were little more than rags now, mud-caked and ripped. They had survived on whatever animals Mirnar or Karenna’s arrows could kill for them and whatever nuts or berries Boom found. Karenna had never been anything approaching overweight, but the excess few pounds she possessed were trimmed by the unrelenting forest. Tannar especially was very uncomfortable below the canopy of branches, and would glare jealously at Mirnar when the Wereeagle changed shape to fly freely above the trees. Tannar himself couldn’t change shape, of course, on risk of attracting unwanted attention.

The woods were treacherously thick, with widely-spaced trees giving tall underbrush a chance to flourish, and they progressed at what felt like a snail’s pace. While the wand might have helped in this area, Karenna was reluctant to use it. She knew that there were most likely people from the Academe searching for them, though Mirnar had seen no one, and was afraid that too much magic might give them away to any mage sent to hunt them.

She still kept the wand close to hand, though. It was always warm, and in the increasingly chill weather Karenna was glad to have it near. Sometimes, too, it would vibrate gently in her hand, sending out a low hum. Mirnar had stopped asking questions about it; now Karenna wanted to ask them of the Werebeast.

On the morning of the fifth day, Karenna awoke first. Tannar, the unable-to-sleep Elementar, was sitting on the thick leaf litter, staring up angrily at the imprisoning branches. He glanced at her as she rose. “Your hair’s a mess,” he commented. Karenna knew it was true; despite her best efforts to keep her long, curly brown hair above the squalor of her clothes, it was just as disheveled. She was sure there must be something living in it by now. “I could cut it if you like,” said Tannar, and one of his ice-daggers appeared in his hand.

Karenna stepped back, eyeing the semi-transparent blade warily. “I’d like to keep trying to live with it, if you don’t mind,” she said coldly.

Tannar shrugged and the dagger dissolved. “Your headache.”

She was about to reply when a rustle from a nearby bush cut her off. Tannar sprang up, the dagger re-appearing. Karenna felt for her wand but didn’t draw it. A head, large and sleek, emerged from around the branch. It flicked out a black forked tongue and its small glittering black eyes evaluated them. Then it moved forward and the whole snake came into view. It was huge. The body was at least ten inches in diameter and from snout to tail-tip the creature could not measure less than fifteen feet. It was, predominately, green, but with a complex pattern of black and gold scales on its back and the wide, pale green under-scales that lined its belly. When it came within five feet of Karenna it began to coil until the head was nearly level with her own atop a mass of long body. She didn’t move. Mirnar had described Weresnakes to her: cold, smooth, and cunning, one of the most human-like of all the Werebeasts.

The Weresnake inclined its head to her as if in a bow, then changed. She had seen Mirnar change often enough that it was not all-together unpleasant to watch. Merely strange and little unsettling. When it finished, a thin, pale man with beady black eyes stood before her. He wore tight-fitting brown trousers and a gold-embroidered vest; as Werebeasts were not really naked in animal form, nor were they naked in their human shape. He bowed to her and spoke, “Welcome, Karenna Morn.”

“How is it you know my name?” she asked, stiff but un-panicked.

The Weresnake smiled, revealing rows of little white teeth, all very sharp. “The Forest is buzzing with your name, Miss Morn, but I assure you news of you has not reached the Tall Ones.” Karenna recognized the Werebeasts’ term for the Gypsies. “The Werewolves seem to hold a grudge against you for your defeat of them in the spring, but the rest of us are merely curious.” His eyes flicked to the dozing form of Mirnar. “Though you already seem to have picked up a gawker.” There was a venom in those words beyond that hidden in his fangs. Suddenly Karenna remembered Mirnar’s ugly scar.

“What is your name?” she demanded.

He placed a thin, triple-jointed hand on his chest. “I am Ishtarash.”

“What are you doing here, Ishtarash?”

His eyes flicked surreptitiously to Mirnar and he lowered his tone to a whisper. “We Werebeasts are largely anarchists, except for the Wolves in their packs and the Lions in their prides. But we do have a kind of law. And in every society I have encountered, murder is a crime.”

Karenna didn’t even glance at the Wereeagle. “You’re telling me Mirnar’s a murderer?”

“Yes.”

“Who did she kill, why, and what proof do you have?”

Ishtarash’s forked tongue flicked out in annoyance. “I do not have to justify our laws to you, child.”

“You do if you want Mirnar.” Karenna hoped her anxiety didn’t show in her words. The wand practically thrummed in her belt, but she resisted. Instead, she crossed her arms, putting on a cockiness she didn’t really feel. “I’m guessing you’re working alone; you yourself said that the Werebeasts aren’t very organized. And if you’ve heard about me, you must have heard about him.” She gestured to Tannar, who grinned wickedly. Ishtarash glanced nervously from one to the other and Karenna knew he had heard of Tannar, or at least had heard enough.

But he recovered well. “You would impede justice by threats of violence? I had heard better things of you, Miss Morn.”

Karenna put one hand nonchalantly on the hilt of her wand. “What have you heard?” she asked casually.

He grinned. “I have heard about unusual eyes….”

“Enough of your games,” said Tannar. “Either get out or give us a reason to let you stay.”

“Ishtarash?” They all turned to where Mirnar was staring bleary-eyed at the Weresnake, blinking away sleep. “Ishtarash, what are you doing here?”

He hissed. “Bringing you to justice, Mirnar.”

Her amber eyes hardened. “You want to talk about justice, Ishtarash? Fine. Let’s talk about the Kadaz family, shall we?” Karenna recognized the name. The fat boy who had fallen in the Gypsie raid, his surname had been Kadaz.

“Be silent!” the Weresnake snapped.

“I will not,” she said calmly. “Is it murder to defend the innocent and helpless? Is it murder to protect children? Was it murder when I killed your grandfather before he could swallow the baby whole!”

“Silence!” Ishtarash screamed. “They were human, they were worthless. They set out poisoned meat—”

“For rats! They never expected Werebeasts to eat dead meat.”

“They over-hunt the land, they forced my mother to scavenge like a dog and then they killed her with their rat-traps!” Ishtarash was shrieking now, and he seemed to waver between his two forms. The others were awake, staring at the scene. Boom seemed dumbfounded and the twins were scared frozen.

In an instant, Mirnar changed. She clawed and snapped at Ishtarash and managed to wound him several times before he too changed. The snake reared up, long fangs extended. Karenna’s wand all-but-leapt to her hand, but Tannar held her back. “You let me fight my own battles,” he said, “let her fight hers.”

The fight didn’t last very long. Even with the poison and the superior strength of his coils, Ishtarash never managed to quite reach Mirnar. But she had no trouble reaching him, and before even a few minutes were out he was bleeding in several places, ripped open by the Wereeagle’s merciless beak and claws. He lay on the ground, twisting and writhing. He changed and began to moan. Mirnar, herself in human form, stood over him. Karenna knew that Werebeast fights were to the death; outside of family groups they had very little capacity for mercy or grace. If you let an enemy live, he might come back to hurt you again, so you kill him. Simple.

So she was surprised when Mirnar turned her back on the wounded Ishtarash. The Wereeagle caught Karenna’s look, and shrugged. “It’s not our first battle, it won’t be our last. He’s a pathetic excuse for a Werebeast now, all he has to live for is our feud. If I killed him, it would justify him.”

“But I thought…” Karenna trailed off, and really took in the scene for the first time. She turned to Ishtarash and made a small dismissive gesture, “Get out of here. Mirnar is my friend, and if you try to hurt her again, it will be I who decides your fate.”

He didn’t argue; after changing he slithered away.

Mirnar caught Karenna’s eye and bowed. “As you say, Hisht Cerro.”

“What?” Her head was swimming, she felt suddenly and supremely tired.

“Hisht Cerro,” Mirnar repeated, holding her gaze. “It’s Gift, Gypsie-speak, for Royal Eyes.” She gestured to Karenna’s face. “Your eyes, one blue and one green, they are the symbol of royalty among the Gypsie clans. Only the king and his family possess them.”

“As do certain human flukes,” said Karenna coolly, her mind clearing.

Mirnar smiled her not-quite-human smile. “As you say.”

Last edited by gyrfalcon on Thu Feb 08, 2007 4:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Gypsie Eyes

About / Info

Forums & RPG

Literary

Resources