Gypsie Eyes

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Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

“You weren’t there,” he hissed bellow his breath, still not looking at his king, “you didn’t hear it, you didn’t hear.”

‘bellow’ = below

For an instant, his eyes, [s]one[/s] gray and [s]one[/s] brown, met Cerreno’s and then looked away.

From previous reading I’m well aware that Gypsies’ have mismatched eyes so you wouldn’t really need to have ‘one’ in there.

This one looked a bit like Dosh and had the same gray left eye as his brother.

Oh dear, this sentences looks as if you planned to edit it but never got around to doing so. It was the ‘a bit like’ that I dislike and I suggest you change it to something else: This one was similar, in appearance, to Dosh with the same gray left eye and the king knew this Gypsie was none other than Jaan, Dosh’s brother.

You might want to think about the last part of the sentence I suggested, rather than simply saying ‘his brother’ make the king recognise him as the brother of Dosh.

With another sigh, Cerreno flopped, very un-kinglike, onto the stairs of his dais and motioned Jaan to do the same.

‘un-kinglike’ = Perhaps ‘unkingly’ or ‘very unlike a king’?

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.

Try using a dash as the Elementar is both fire and air: fire-air. With the slash there it is as if he could be either one.

Sometimes, too, it would vibrate gently in her hand, sending out a low [s]sort of[/s] hum.

^^^ See quote. Don’t ever use ‘sort of’, it seems as if you were indecisive of what the sound resembled. Or you can always go for ‘hum-like’?


What I especially liked about this part was the character of Dosh. I was thinking you would have him becoming arrogant and ‘I’m the leader now and I’ll do as I please,’ but you’ve kept his ‘madness’ in and his speech which shows there is something seriously wrong with him.

I’m curious as to what will happen to him and what he’ll do if/when he finds that Jaan is taking over, definitely some conflict involved?

I’m uncertain why Mirnar is an outcast, surely a scar isn’t enough to set her apart and don’t other Werebeasts have scars that they rather forget existed?

And the chapter is 11 not 10 XD

-- Myth

As ever, you save me from myself, Myth darling! Your catches have been saved, and they shall be worked upon forthwith. Thank you!

Chapter 12

Pagrin stood on the battlements of the stone wall that surrounded his home, watching the colorful trail of Gypsies wind through the gates and into his main courtyard. He was painfully aware that he was the closest thing to an ambassador to the Gypsies that the Dirantyri government had. Every fall, before the Winter Festival, the king’s own clan would visit his manor to put on a fair for his household and the commoners who worked the land around it. They had an arrangement.

Pagrin charged them no rent for the use of his land and, more importantly, made sure his people didn’t cause trouble with the clan. In return, all the little valuables that the humans might be careless with during the course of the fair were still with their owners when the Gypsies left, and Cerreno was strict that none of his people gave cause for human violence. That was not to say that skirmishes and the occasional fistfight didn’t erupt, but humans were a lot more wary of Gypsies in numbers and in the flesh than they were of the tall, patch-work-clothed fools of Dirantyri propaganda.

Now the human noble could see the king’s great black horse approaching at the end of the line. As a rule Gypsies disliked horses, seeing the beasts as unfit to move through the dense forest they called home. But every Gypsie king for the past hundred years had owned a black charger. Some said it was the same horse, magicked into immortality, passed down from generation to generation. Pagrin didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

Cerreno raised a hand in greeting when he was still a good way off. Pagrin returned the salute. His niece, Naasha, a girl of thirteen, had been watching the Gypsies enter below with him. Now she squealed in delight and darted down the stairs and into the courtyard, where most of the Gypsies were assembling. She pounced on a young, dark-haired boy about her age but much taller, and the two embraced like old friends. Pagrin smiled. That would be Karsh, the king’s nephew and a shy boy. Karsh and Naasha had been friends for as long as Pagrin could remember.

Now the king himself entered and the gates were closed behind him. Pagrin descended the stairs calmly until he stood before the king, holding the mane of his horse in one hand. Gypsies did not believe in saddles or bridles.

Pagrin bowed low—royalty was royalty—and said, “You grace my household by your presence, King Cerreno.”

The Gypsie looked down at him, rather far down, for Pagrin was short by even human standards and Cerreno stood nearly seven feet tall. He smiled, a wide genuine smile with nothing of the politician about it. “You welcome myself and my people most graciously, Gantos Pagrin. We always know that we will find nothing but hospitality and honesty when we come here.”

It was amazing, thought Pagrin, how the king could make such sincere thanks sound like a threat. “Of course, sire,” he said. “You and your people are always welcome here.” So long, he thought, as you stick to our arrangement and keep the unofficial war between our peoples outside these walls.

Cerreno smiled as if he had read the man’s mind. Pagrin was fully aware that this was a possibility; the king was one of the most powerful soothsayers alive. With that happy thought, Pagrin escorted the King of the Gypsies into his manor.

* * *

On the fifth day after the burning of the Academe, Shana Liam spoke quietly with a man at the edge of the Gypsies’ Forest. “The pay is more than fair,” she hissed angrily, holding a small but heavy black bag in one gloved hand.

“The pay is not the problem,” he said, his voice young but harsh and gravely.

“You’re supposed to be the greatest warrior and tracker for hire; I fail to see the problem.”

The man growled and gestured with a scarred hand at the looming Forest. “That’s the problem. Five days head start is the problem. Gypsies armed to the teeth and out for human prizes is the problem.”

Shana scoffed. “The wizard Ekano himself chose you to be his escort to the Academe, and you’re afraid of a few forest nomads?”

He took a threatening step forward. “I am afraid,” he grated, “of no one.”

She didn’t move, but stared defiantly up at his cutting-board of a face. “I’ll add half again to the price, but that’s all. Half of the total now and half when you finish.”

He stood as if considering, then nodded. “Fair.”

Shana smiled and handed him the bag. As he turned to enter the Forest, she said, “Dead or alive, Nadak, don’t forget.”

* * *

Karenna was growing very sick of the Forest. Mirnar had described to her how the Gypsie clans managed to move through the trees, and she was by now determined to give it a try. So here she stood, on a thick branch over ten feet from the ground, staring determinedly at another branch about seven feet away. Mirnar was perched in bird form beside her, a beautiful honey-gold eagle with red pinions and tail-feathers, and jet black beak and talons. The Wereeagle was here merely as moral support. Boom was lying down below her to provide a soft landing should she fail.

One of the simplest and most common spells the Gypsies used was a weightlessness enchantment. It allowed them to carry far greater loads than should be possible, an important asset for a nomadic people who carted their livelihoods on their backs.

They also used such spells on themselves, to make possible their above-ground movement through the forest. Used on living beings, the spell’s effects weren’t permanent, but lasted about five hours. Karenna had just worked the spell on herself, and if she was successful she would work it on the twins as well. Even without wings, Tannar needed no help to defy gravity, and Mirnar, of course, could keep up. Boom was going to present problems, but Karenna would deal with those when they came.

Now she took a deep breath, crouched, and leapt. For a single, terrifying moment her feet and hands were resting on nothing and she seemed to hang in the air just waiting to fall. Then the magic took her and she glided serenely in the direction she had jumped, stopping as her feet hit the desired branch and her hands gripped the trunk tightly.

A wide, unstoppable smile split her face. Again she jumped, and landed back on the branch she had come from. It felt wonderful. She was tired, and could feel the magic taking its toll on her youth, but it was well worth it. She stepped out over empty air and began to drift slowly down, like one of the many falling leaves around her. Then a chill breeze caught her and the leaves both and sent the many-colored flecks dancing.

It slammed her against a tree.

“Why look at that,” came Tannar’s voice from below, “a floating wizard.”

Karenna dropped, undignified, to the ground, rubbing the arm that had taken the brunt of the tree. Laroo and Menee rushed to her, talking excitedly at the same time. “That was amazing!” “You really flew!” “I want to try it!” “I want to fly!”

Tannar stood apart, a face-splitting smirk speaking for him. Mirnar landed next to her and changed. She was grinning as usual. “It’ll take a good deal of practice, but you’ll get the hang of it.

Karenna smiled at the twins. “Yes, all right, calm down,” she ordered. “You’ll both get to try it.”

A few moments later the two of them were bobbing from tree to tree and ground to branch, whooping and yelling with delight. “Shut up!” Mirnar berated them. “Do you want every Gypsie from here to the mountains to hear you?” They bobbed more quietly.

This still left the problem of Boom. The weightless spell didn’t work on him; since his little growth spurt he had been immune to the spells of all wizards. Even if the ground had been cleared of all obstructions, the giant’s plodding pace couldn’t have hoped to keep up with the flyers.

Finally, Tannar sighed and stepped forward. He placed his hands on the giant’s back, as high as he could reach, and closed his eyes. Boom and Tannar floated gently off the ground, hovering in the small space that was free of both underbrush and tree branches. Slowly Boom’s body rotated, until he was lying on his belly in the air. His face was less than a foot from the clawing undergrowth. Tannar sat, cross-legged, on the boy’s back, his eyes open and gleaming faintly blue. His arms were extended straight at his sides, his hands still flat against Boom’s shoulder blades. Karenna could feel the familiar tingle of the Elementar’s magic. Boom was smiling just as widely as the being riding him. He turned his head to examine one massive hand. “I’m flying,” he told Karenna.

She looked accusingly at Tannar. “If you could do that the whole time,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, “why didn’t you save us the trouble?”

He shrugged. “You seemed to be having so much fun.”

* * *

Pagrin was not sure what he thought of the Gypsie King. Most of the time Cerreno acted like a king should: regal and graceful, as if he knew how much power he wielded. But sometimes, with his own people…

Pagrin was fairly sure a king shouldn’t juggle. Or let children ride around clinging to his legs. Or give crying babies wet raspberries to cheer them up. His people loved him, that was clear. But Pagrin was sure that if his own king had asked for his help in a food fight against a mob of Gypsie and human kids, he would have fainted. And yet Pagrin was still digging pudding out of one ear. Strange.

He thought all this as he climbed the wide spiral staircase to his bedroom. Pagrin’s chambers were in the tallest tower of his small castle. The tower also served as a lookout point and had a flat roof with a waist-high stone wall ringing it. It was a clear night, and Pagrin had a fancy to see the stars before going to bed. He climbed up the little ladder through the trapdoor in his ceiling, and froze before he was halfway out.

Cerreno was standing at the wall, looking out over the nearby Gypsie forest. His back was to the trapdoor, and at first Pagrin thought the king was simply pinning for his home among the trees. Then the wind shifted, and Pagrin could hear that Cerreno was singing softly in his native language. Pagrin, one of the few humans fluent in Gift, recognized it as a lullaby.

“Little one, little lovely eyes
Tiny feet and tiny hands
You reach for me as I sing my song
I sing my song for you
My little one.”

The king’s smooth tenor voice carried a deep sorrow that pulled at Pagrin’s heart.

“Little one, such a little life
Tiny ears and tiny nose
You seem to sing it back to me
You sing my song for me
My little one.

Little one, such a little time
To tell you all you need to know
How I love you, little one
I’d give my life for you,
My little one.”

Pagrin tried to withdraw quietly, but the trapdoor creaked treacherously. Cerreno turned to face him, not like a thief caught in the act, which was how Pagrin would have reacted, but like a tired man who has been interrupted during his few moments of rest. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like a cat’s, the right one all the more bright against the black diamond tattoo over that eye. “What is it you want, Pagrin?” As if this were his castle and Pagrin the foreign guest.

But no superior remarks came to mind. “I…” he faltered. Those eyes were disconcerting enough in daylight; in the dark they were positively eerie. “I just came up to see the stars.”

Cerreno glanced upwards. So did Pagrin. There were the stars.

“You’ve seen them,” said the King, weary but not because of Pagrin. “Good night, my friend.”

Since there seemed to be nothing else to say, Pagrin said “Goodnight.” He went down the ladder, dressed for bed, and lay awake most of the night, listening for Cerreno to descend. He didn’t. The next morning, when he checked, the King of the Gypsies was no longer on his roof.

* * *

Dosh stood out under the dark shadows of the trees, his back to the low stone slope of the Palace. He knew that, scattered around him, were the members of his clan. But they didn’t matter. He was still alone. The echo of his brother’s death scream still reverberated within his skull, sometimes louder and sometimes softer, but always there. In Dosh’s mind was fixed the image of the man who had killed him, the wizard in the black robes. I’m going to kill him, he thought. Kill, kill, kill and hear him scream. Hear him scream and cry out and Fakir’s scream will go go go away.

Dosh knew he was crazy. He was quite comfortable with the fact.

Out of the shadows to his left came Palla, one of the three unmarried girls in his clan. Gypsie women were never much for excessive modesty, and Palla was beautiful enough to justify her outfit. As with all his clan, Dosh made her kneel before him before speaking. “Governor,” she said softly, using the traditional title for a clan leader. Dosh would not answer to anything else. He let her stay down for a few moments, enjoying the sight of her, and then signaled that she could rise.

As she spoke, she kept her head down. Dosh would not allow any of his clan to meet his eyes. “Governor, we are hearing rumors of a party of humans traveling in the Forest. They have with them the giant-child Boom, and three are dressed in the uniform of the Academe.”

He hissed. “What is being done to capture them?”

Palla shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing, Governor. They are being careful not to come close to the Palace and are heading for the mountains; the king has decreed they are not a threat.”

Dosh barked a laugh. “No threat! No threat! What of vengeance? What of honor? What of prizes for this our glorious festival?”

She winced at his angry words. Dosh laughed again and shoved his face close to hers, his harsh, foul-smelling breath brushing her cheek. “You do not believe they are no threat, do you Palla?”

The girl tried desperately not to meet his eyes as her own filled with tears. “Of course they are a threat, Governor.”

He watched as a thin stream of tears ribboned down her cheek. He chuckled. “Why Palla,” he said, suddenly all concern, “you’re crying.” Without warning he licked her cheek, wiping away the tears with his rough tongue. She flinched. “Gather my clan, Palla,” he rasped, his voice now low and menacing. “We move to collect these trespassers.”

* * *

It’s her birthday tomorrow.

Tannar and Avarn were having one of their rare conversations as the Elementar stood at the edge of his group’s little clearing. It was the middle of the night, but his eyes were several orders of magnitude more powerful than human’s. Your memory scares me sometimes, thought Tannar back to him. You only knew the girl a few years and it’s been, what, eight since you saw her last and you still remember her birthday? I thought she was adopted.

Technically, it’s her Found Day tomorrow, thought Avarn. Same thing.

So, what, you want me to get her a present?

If it’s not too much trouble.

Tannar snorted mentally. Sure, why don’t I just go to the nearest candy shop and get her some peppermint?

She hates peppermint.

Of course.

Avarn’s voice became slightly more serious. I was actually thinking of something else.

Tannar spread his hands helplessly even though he knew that Avarn couldn’t see him. I’m listening.

Gypsie heritage or not, she’s going to be a wizard, not a soothsayer. She’s got a wand, and—

Actually, Tannar interrupted, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. There’s nothing…special about her wand I need to worry about, is there?

We don’t have time to talk about that, just listen to me.

The Elementar sighed. Fine, go ahead.

It used to be a tradition that a promising wizard-in-training would receive an animal Familiar for their eighteenth birthday. For some reason, it fell out of fashion about a hundred years ago. You know wizards.

Tannar just snorted.

Yes. Anyway, all the most powerful wizards of history have had Familiars. I want Karenna to have one.

Fine. I’m sure there’s an exotic pet shop right next to that candy store.

There was an edge of annoyance to his master’s voice now, but Tannar couldn’t tell if he was the cause or not. Don’t’ be an idiot, Tannar. You’re in a forest. Animals live in forests.

So I’m just supposed to pick the first squirrel I see and ask it if it wouldn’t mind upping its intelligence by a few hundred notches and acquiring magical influence so it can serve a teenage girl the rest of its life?

Mensha’s looked up the spell to create Familiars for me. It’s extremely difficult and complicated, something for only really high-level wizards to attempt, Avarn explained.

Should be simple enough.

Also, it doesn’t work on all animals. The name of the person who is to receive the Familiar is very important to the spell, and if the animal isn’t compatible to the person, it’ll die.

Again, Tannar snorted. So I’m looking for a very special squirrel.

He heard Avarn sigh. You know, thought the magician, there are times when I really don’t miss you at all.

* * *

Nadak made good progress through the constricting forest. He was thin and flexible, and managed to slip between gaps in the underbrush that wouldn’t have admitted a normal person. He lived on what he could catch, and each rabbit roasted over his little fire meant another red-tinged but small scar on his face.

He had started out life as a handsome man, third of five brothers in a family of noted battle mages. But unlike him, his father and his brothers could go hunting and come back with several deer but no scars. It was strange for a battle mage to acquire scars for wounding or killing anything other than humans—or Gypsies or Werebeasts, as the case may be. Nadak’s father had thought the quirk meant that his son would be a great battle mage, one of the remembered warriors of history. But his mother, a wise woman and a mender of some power, had known that the “quirk” boded no good for her son.

She had been right.

Nadak thought, as he chewed the meat of a young fawn, about the first time he had killed a human. About the rush of power, of exhilaration, as the other man’s life left him and poured into Nadak. He had hardly even felt the pain as the flesh of his face tore, forever marring his good looks. A battle mage was not supposed to feel power at a kill. The pain of the new scar was normally intense enough to almost knock the weaker ones unconscious. Nadak was an anomaly.

His parents had taken him to a well-reputed mender, and then to a wizard. Both said the same thing: he was a fluke, an abomination, a strange freak of nature who must be killed lest he become a mass murderer. Or worse: breed.

Nadak had been annoyed at what they said. So after each visit he had gone back to the two mage’s houses and killed them.

Now he looked around him at the dark, menacing forest that held no threats for him. This would be fun, he decided. He had not killed in far too long.

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Cerreno raised a hand in greeting when he was still a good ways off.

Minor typo: ‘ways’ = way

So here she stood, on a thick branch over ten feet from the ground, staring determinedly at another branch about seven feet away.

I think you’ve moved into the present tense with ‘here’, you could have ‘there’ instead?

Boom was lying down below her to provide a soft landing should she fail.

*chuckles* I can just about imagine the twins trying this out to check if Karenna would really bounce back up.

Her, it slammed against a tree.

No idea what that means.

“Why look at that,” came Tannar’s voice from bellow, “a floating wizard.”

‘bellow’ = below I think you’ve done this before

Dosh knew he was crazy. He was quite comfortable with the fact.

That’s um... a little weird, also I think I’m glad that you’ve not gone for the “I’m not a loony,” routine.

He watched as a thin stream of tears ribboned down her cheek. He chuckled. “Why Palla,” he said, suddenly all concern, “you’re crying.” Without warning he licked her cheek, wiping away the tears with his rough tongue. She flinched. “Gather my clan, Palla,” he rasped, his voice now low and menacing. “We move to collect these trespassers.”

That was disgusting, even though I was just reading it the thought was enough to make me feel sick.

*

I especially loved the Tannar/Avarn scene, Tannar never ceases to give up his slightly cocky tone.

And Nadak sounds interesting, his strange scar ‘curse’ of course brings forth questions such as “Why does it happen?” and “Will he ever get rid of this ‘curse’?”

I don’t really have much else to say, expect Dosh is, now, probably my favourite character. Crazy talk and his insisting on being called Governor, he simply won’t give up on his title and role as clan leader even though he knows it is against the king’s wishes.

One other thing, will the reader find out why the humans and Gypsies have an ‘agreement’?

-- Myth

Um...yeah, "below" not "bellow"...you think I'd remember that one........ Thanks again for the vonderful crit, darling, this and your catches for ch. 11 shall soon be integrated and posted! *hugs*

WOW, I just read the story from chapter one to twelve. That is a great piece of writing, you have written it to perfection, apart from the mistakes that Myth pointed out it was brilliant.

The characters are so real you have there personalities constant throughout the story. I really cannot wait for the next chapter. You have earned yourself a dedicated reader. Seriously I have been glued to my computer screen, and now its like 1:30 am, so my compliments of your work are a bit sluggish. But still brilliant work. Hope to read the next chapter soon.

Skell

Yay! A new fan! I hope to be posting more soon--look for the next chapter before the end of the week.
Myth: *shame* I'm sorry!!!! I will get to work integrating your marvolous catches SOON!

Chapter 13

Karenna awoke to feel an extra few pounds of weight resting on her stomach. She looked, and saw a half-matured fox cub curled up on her tummy, sleeping peacefully. Its fur was reddish-brown, its four paws and bushy tail-tip black as if they had been dipped in paint. As she slowly shifted position, it yawned, displaying a pink tongue and two rows of small sharp white teeth. She stopped moving. It regarded her with unusually intelligent dark eyes. Happy birthday?

She scrambled up, the lanky cub falling from her stomach to the ground. The others were still sleeping, and Tannar was nowhere to be seen. The fox sat on the ground, looking up at her reproachfully. It yapped. There was no reason to do that.

Finally her brain caught up with her alarm. “Are you…talking to me?”

The fox blinked. I think so. Sort of.

This time she heard the barely suppressed snicker from behind her and whirled. Tannar was standing there, trying to hide a smile and failing miserably. “Happy Birthday?” he said.

“What kind of game are you playing?” she growled.

“Meet your birthday present.”

Karenna looked back at the fox who, she could have sworn, smiled at her. “What are you?” she demanded.

“I believe the term is ‘Familiar,’” said Tannar.

She scoffed. “Wizards haven’t had Familiars for about a hundred years.”

Um, excuse me. The fox took a step forward. He was small for his kind, even as a cub she could tell he wouldn’t grow much larger.

“Yes,” said Karenna.

The fox sat down, pointing its muzzle up at her. I understand you’re annoyed. But I like you.

Karenna examined the little fox. “What’s your name?”

“You can hear him?” asked Tannar.

“Yes, can’t you?”

He was grinning with pride. “It worked,” he said. “It really worked.”

“You mean there’s some sort of spell to create Familiars?”

Tannar nodded. “Avarn gave it to me. He's the one who remembered your birthday.”

Karenna felt a surprising glow of happiness. Even she had forgotten. “Tell him thank you for me, will you?”

“I did all the work,” clarified Tannar huffily.

She turned back to the fox. “What is your name?”

Don’t have one. Why would I?

She bent down cautiously. He trotted boldly into her arms and she lifted him, snuggling his matted fur to her face. He whined a little and licked her chin. Karenna had battled Gypsie mages and survived the attack of a fire Elemental, but, for all her eighteen years, she was still a girl. Anything furry and cuddly could melt her. “What shall I call you?” she sang softly.

He was still for awhile, as if thinking. What about Elkarn? That was the name of Nemekar’s Familiar, wasn’t it?

She started and held him out at arm’s length. Nemekar. He was the first wizard to make a wand, the first to take a Familiar, it was even said that his son was the first magician. Nemekar had made war upon Tannar’s people. A legend. His Familiar, Elkarn, had been a black wolf, a fierce and wise creature with little resemblance to the scrawny fox before her. “How do you know of Nemekar and Elkarn?”

The little fox, his back legs dangling, seemed to shrug. I don’t know. I’ve only been a Familiar for a few hours, it’ll take me awhile to get up to speed.

Despite herself, Karenna smiled. “Elkarn it shall be then.”

Tannar made a hmmm noise behind her. “A tad ambitious, isn’t it? Naming your Familiar after the greatest?”

She shot him a look. “His choice, not mine.”

Karenna brought Elkarn close to her again, and he managed to balance himself on her left shoulder without digging his claws in. Nice view he commented.

The twins, when they awoke, fell instantly in love with the creature. While they couldn’t hear him as Karenna could, they were no less immune to the charm of something soft. But they learned, very quickly, that Elkarn did not like to be cuddled by anyone but Karenna. He bit Laroo’s hand, not hard, but enough to draw blood. The twin stuck the injured fingers in his mouth and stared nervously at the animal. Karenna apologized for him and placed Elkarn back on her shoulder. Boom, wiser to the ways of forest creatures than the twins, didn’t try to hold the Familiar, but ran one huge finger gently down the fox’s spine in a friendly caress. Elkarn seemed to approve of the giant. Mirnar was the only one he more than approved of, even staying calm in her arms for several moments before fidgeting. His acceptance of the Wereeagle gave Karenna confidence in her choice to allow Mirnar to travel with them.

That day they moved slowly along the forest floor. The constant effort of the weightlessness spell had wearied her, and she was grateful for the slow-moving pace of walking. Boom carried her and Elkarn most of the day, and she dozed in his arms as the Familiar kept a keen eye out for trouble.

* * *

Karsh and Naasha dashed, hand in hand, among the brightly colored tents and lanterns of the Gypsie fair. Naasha spotted two jugglers and laughed, pulling Karsh to a halt in order to watch them. They passed nearly fifteen balls between them with such speed that the balls became blurring lines of movement, forming pictures and patterns in the air between the Gypsies. The balls also changed color as they flew, exhibiting the magic that the jugglers—indeed all the performers—used without inhibition. In the middle of his routine, one of the jugglers snatched a ball out of the pattern and tossed it expertly to Naasha with a wink. She squealed with delight and caught it, to discover that it was a plump and juicy orange, such as only grew in the orchards of Simaron across the sea. Karsh grinned to see her eyes go wide and gave a nod of thanks to the juggler.

Naasha had only brought a few coins to the fair, but she dropped most of them into the handsomely carved wooden bowl that rested before the jugglers, smiling brighter than the sun. Karsh put his thin arm through hers and grinned, leading her away from the jugglers. She went with him, but gave a farewell wave to the one who had given her the orange.

The Gypsie and human child found a secluded spot to peel and share the orange. Naasha savored each delicious bite, leaning against the taunt canvas of the tent they hid behind and smiling. Karsh watched her with his blue and gray eyes. “I don’t know how you do it!” Naasha explained once the fruit was well and truly devoured. “All your people are so amazing!”

Karsh felt a strange, awkward glow of pleasure at her words. “Oh, it’s not much,” he mumbled.

“Of course it is!” Naasha exclaimed. “I wish I were a mage.”

The Gypsie boy looked at his hands, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Like his father, Nearn, husband to the king’s sister, he was a chantier, able to create such magical trinkets as talismans and amulets and crystal balls. Crystal balls were a bit beyond him yet, but he was good at charging simple bits of jewelry with basic magic. Naasha wore a plain copper ring around her right pinkie. “May I see that?” he asked, pointing to the ring.

She worked it off immediately and handed it to him. He held it flat in his palm and concentrated as hard as he could. Presently the metal began to glow with warmth, with the magic pouring into it. It wasn’t much, hardly anything really, but he hoped it would make her happy.

He took it and slid it back onto her finger. “Smell it,” he said.

Naasha looked at him quizzically, but raised that hand to her nose and sniffed. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and pounced on him, hugging him tightly. “Oranges! It smells just like a whole orchard full of them!”

Karsh, embarrassed, embraced her back. This was how it should be between Gypsies and humans, he thought. Look how well we can get along.

She pulled back from him suddenly and pressed her ear to the tent behind her. “Listen,” she said, putting a quieting finger to her lips.

He came up next to her and mimicked her position. There was a voice inside the tent, falling and rising with the force of a story. Karsh smiled. That would be Barshno, the king’s herbalist and practically his adopted uncle. The old Gypsie had a knack for tale-telling; Karsh had grown up listening to Barshno’s legends and stories and fables. This was a well-known story to him, but apparently Naasha had never heard it before.

“And Nemekar wept for Karem, his son, who had been killed in an instant, without thought, by the leader of the Elementar delegation.” It was the tale of when Nemekar, weary of the war he had made on the Elementars, had called a parley. At the talks, one of the Elementars had made a snide remark about Nemekar and the wizard’s only son, Karem, had stepped forward and defended his father’s honor in the Elementar’s own language, rebuking and binding him. Without meaning to, Karem had become the first magician, the first to bind an immortal spirit to a mortal mage. In the shocked moment that followed, the leader of the Elementar side had killed the boy in a rage, and of course the bound Elementar had perished as well.

The war had, of course, not ended there. It had worsened and thickened, boiling like stew left too long over the fire. “And many Elementars fell to Nemekar’s wand that day, for in his fury he became as two wizards, and his Familiar, Elkarn, rent the spirits with his iron jaws and claws of sharpened steel. That was the day the Elementars still call the Day of Fire and Blood, or Kareemone, in their own tongue.”

There was a pause and the rustling of robes, most likely as Barshno shifted position, pretending not to notice the audience who leaned forward, their ears hungry for more. “To this day, the Elementars still observe Kareemone as a day as mourning, though no mortal can now remember the time of this date. It is said that any magician who tries to bind an Elementar on Kareemone will find himself trapped in the power of that first bound Elementar, whose leader killed him by accident when he slew the boy Karem. And it is said that you can hear the screams of these foolish magicians when the wind blows neither from the north, west, east, or south, but still blows with the force of a gale.”

It was here that the story ended, and Naasha, after straining to make sure there wasn’t more that she was missing, eased back from the tent, no longer smiling. Karsh noted her expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Naasha wrapped her arms around her knees. “We humans seem to cause nothing but trouble,” she whispered. “The pain we caused the Elementars, the pain our magicians still cause them when the bind them. The pain we cause your people. I wish I were something other than human, you must hate me.”

Karsh had never heard her speak this way. He put a hand on her arm. “No, Naasha,” he said earnestly. “Of course I don’t hate you. It wasn’t anything you did. It’s nothing you can change, anyway.”

The girl sniffled and wiped her nose, but smiled at him. “I suppose so.”

“Of course,” said Karsh again, and helped her to her feet. “Come on, they’ll be serving dinner soon.”

Naasha smiled at this and took his hand in hers, raising her right hand to inhale the smell of oranges as they walked back along the fair towards the manor.

* * *

The slap shocked Avarn out of a light sleep. He moved back instinctively, stumbled over something and fell hard on the stone floor. He heard booted feet stride towards him and scrambled back until he came to the wall. The footfalls stopped and he could feel someone standing over him. A hand reached down, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and hauled him roughly to his feet.

“Do you know what you are?” hissed Vishna’s voice in his ear. He could feel her unbound hair brush his cheek.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” said Avarn calmly.

She slammed him against the wall. “You are an ungrateful, conniving, lying little bastard.”

His head rung with the impact but he didn’t try to resist her. “You have only yourself to blame for that last bit.”

She slammed him again and his grip on consciousness slipped. He forced himself to remain alert; he could not remember the last time she had been so angry. Her temper must have a cause. “Do you know what you’ve done!” she screamed.

His pounding head prevented him from further wit; he remained silent.

“You have sent Nemekar’s Wand into the Gypsies’ Forest!” she roared, spittle hitting his face.

He froze, his whole body going stiff. Surely she must be mistaken, surely there must be some error. Nemekar’s Wand was a fable, more mythic than the wizard himself. Before it wands had been only a theory; all human wizards had used spoken spells to do their work. Nemekar’s Wand was the first. And now Karenna had it.

Avarn shoved the thought away; that was impossible, impossible. Tannar would have felt it, would have sensed its power, surely Tannar could never be so blind. Never be so blind as Avarn. “That’s impossible,” he said breathlessly.

She tried to slam him again but he grabbed her hand and tore it away from his collar. She wouldn’t let go, and he felt his shirt rip as he forced her hand away. Finally she released him and he overbalanced, fell. One foot kicked out, connected. He curled into a ball, shielding his head.

“You meddling little rat,” she shrieked. “You could never keep your grubby fingers out of my business! You could never just let—me—do—what—I—want!” Her words were emphasized with more kicks, each more vicious than the last. Avarn flailed out blindly with his legs, trying to trip his mother up. Finally he felt one of his feet connect and heard her fall with a squawk.

Quickly he rose and stumbled back away from her, limping slightly. He stopped once he was sure that the piano was between them. Only then did his mind catch up with him. Forget her claim about the wand, that was absurd. She had never beat him before. She had slapped him occasionally when he had been pert, but she had never laid a hand on him beyond that.

He heard her sobbing now, weeping where she had fallen. He stayed behind the piano. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded angrily. His body hurt, ached from where she had kicked him. He had never been strong, had always been frail, she knew that. Avarn could feel fury, hot and potent, rise within him. It came out like ice. “You took me away from the only one who had ever shown me kindness,” he said, his voice cold and stinging. “You thought you could be a mother, and up to this point I was willing to let you try.”

She was still sobbing. She didn’t answer.

Avarn suppressed the urge to rant, to list all the things she had done to hurt him. It would do no good, he knew that. He knew her. With as much aloofness as he could muster, he said, “What do you think you’re doing, coming here like this? What have I done?”

“You,” she said shakily, “you ruined everything. He—” Avarn knew she was speaking of her late husband “—he would have made me famous. We would have changed history together.”

Avarn’s voice had chilled beyond ice. “You would have destroyed history.”

“What do you know of it!” Vishna shrieked, still crying. “What can you know of the plans of those wiser and stronger than you! Would that I had the strength to kill you, or let my slaves do it for me but I cannot. I cannot be free of your meddling, of your traitorous plans; this damnable motherhood in my heart won’t let me.” She had stopped her weeping, and he had the uncomfortable sense that she was staring at him. “Stay out of my way, Avarn,” she rasped.

He shook his head, “I can’t mother. I can’t let you continue any more than you can have me murdered. I will fight you mother.” He sighed, fully aware of what this oath would yet cost him. “To my last breath, I swear I will fight you.”

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Its fur was reddish-brown, its four paws and brushy tail-tip black as if they had been dipped in paint.

Was that meant to be ‘bushy’?

Happy Birthday?

Birthday should not be capitalised.

She scrambled up, the gangly cub falling from her stomach to the ground.

Lol, ‘gangly’ is not the right word to use here. Maybe you could do without describing it at all: She scrambled up, the cub coiled into a ball and rolled down to the ground.

“Yes,” said Karenna.

The comma should be a question mark.

Tannar nodded. “Avarn gave it to me. It’s he who remembered your birthday.”

There is nothing wrong with the sentence but try: He’s the one who remembered your birthday.

Just a suggestion so you really don’t have to change it.

Karenna felt a small, surprising glow of happiness. Even she had forgotten. “Tell him thank you for me, will you?”

Up to this point you’ve used ‘small’ quite often, here it is unnecessary.

“[s]It’s[/s] I [s]who[/s] did all the work,” clarified Tannar huffily.

Eek, makes Tannar sound like an old man wanting some praise XD

He trotted unafraid into her arms and she lifted him, snuggling his matted fur to her face.

I don’t know why but ‘unafraid’ doesn’t really flow. Try: boldly?

He whined a little and licked her chin. Karenna may have battled Gypsie mages and survived the attack of a fire Elemental, but she was still just a girl, for all her eighteen years. Anything furry and cuddly could melt her. “What shall I call you?” she sang softly.

Sounds like you’ve changed the tense from past to present. And, after reading my kid siblings work and fretting over tense changes, I’ll poke you next time

Maybe: Karenna had battled Gypsie mages and survived an attack from a fire Elementar(?), but she was still just a girl, for all her eighteen years. Anything furry and cuddly could still melt butter(?).

Well, something like that anyway. Or you can always change the ‘melt butter’ phase and make your own one up to suit your world.

He was the first wizard to make a wand, the first to take a Familiar, it was even said that his son was the first magician. It was he who had made war upon Tannar’s people.

Who made war against the Elementars? Nemekar or his son? I wasn’t too sure, I thought it was Nemekar at first then you mentioned his son so I thought it was the son.

Tannar made a hmmm noise behind her.

Tannar hummed behind her?

Nice view he commented.

Comma after ‘view’.

The twin stuck the injured fingers in his mouth and stared nervously at the animal.

Wouldn’t that be... unhygienic?

Karenna apologized for him and placed Elkarn back on her shoulder. Boom, wiser to the ways of forest creatures than Laroo and Menee, didn’t try to hold the Familiar, but ran one huge finger gently down the fox’s spine in a friendly caress.

I think it would be easier to call Laroo and Menee ‘the twins’, so you don’t have to mention their names all the time, unless you talk about them individually.

Karsh watched her with his one-blue, one-gray eyes.

By now the reader knows that Gypsies have miss-matched eyes. Put it simply: blue and grey eyes.

“The pain we caused the Elementars, the pain our magicians still cause them when the bind them.”

‘the’ = they

Naasha smiled at this and took his right hand in her left, raising her own right hand to inhale the smell of oranges as they walked back along the fair towards the manor.

Take these out, if Karsh lifts her right hand to smell the oranges then you’ll know she is holding Naasha with her left hand.

“Do you know what you are?” hissed Vishna’s voice in his hear.

‘hear’ = ear

She slammed him against the wall. “You are an ungrateful, conniving, lying little bastard.”

Dear Lord, his own mother insults him in that way?

She had never beat him before.

‘beat’ = beaten

He heard her sobbing now, weeping where she had fallen. He stayed behind the piano. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded angrily. His body hurt, ached from where he had kicked him. He had never been strong, had always been frail, she knew that. Avarn could feel fury, hot and potent, rise within him. It came out like ice. “You took me away from the only who had ever shown me kindness,” he said, his voice cold and stinging. “You thought you could be a mother, and up to this point I was willing to let you try.”

‘he’ = she

What did you mean by ‘It came out like ice’? His anger, since you used hot’ would be like a roaring fire, right?

‘only who’ = only one who

*

The story of Nemekar and his son is interesting, the history is becoming clearer and I think I’m beginning to understand why Vishna’s Elementar might hate Avarn so much.

I had never though Vishna would hurt her son, she is cold but I didn’t think it was something she would do even in anger. And yet Avarn still wants to give her the chance to be a mother. And he’s blind, she still lashes out. You mentioned ‘her late husband’, wasn’t this dead husband Avarn’s father?

Last thing, how does Karenna’s Familiar know about Nemekar, etc? Did the spell also inform him of details or did Tannar put on a different ‘informative’ spell? Or is it something that he just knows and can’t explain how he comes to know it?

Enough questions for now. I especially liked the orange-smelling ring, wish I had one

-- Myth

Yay! bird has edited, bird is happy.
Myth: yeah, about Vishna......she has some.........."problems". she's not really all okay in the mental realm if you know what I'm saying. Oh, and by the way, I go to lengths at the beginning of the story (see prologue) to clarify that Vishna's (late) husband is NOT Avarn's father. NOT. very important, that.

I loved it! each charater is well developed and has a depth that gets the readers hooked. I like that you introduced more than 1 main character. Another thing i like is the mystery and suspition that eveyone feels all the time. It makes you think what is going to happen. I will definatly want to read more of this story.

I seem to have forgotten some parts of the earlier story, I'll go to reading it and if I find anything I'll point it out.

You know that this is great, don't you? Absolutely awesome, in fact.

Quote
The weightless spell didn’t work on him; since his little growth spurt he had been immune to the spells of all wizards.

Quote
Don’t’ be an idiot, Tannar.
You have two apostrophes up there.

Quote
“I can’t mother.
Comma there.

Quote
I will fight you mother.”
Comm there.

Anyways, awesome again. Read the whole thing, and now I kind of wish that I didn't read it so fast. I hope that you will post more soon...

-elein

I've read you're story up to about chapter 10 and I love it! I can't wait to read the rest!
I haven't really got anything to say on grammer and the like, cause that doesn't really matter to me. If I read something and I like it, that's pretty much all that matters to me!!
Keep on writing this story, I'm thouroughly enjoying reading it!!

I'm amazed. I printed of a copy and read through it, I couldn't put it down!

I want more! I want to find out what happens next!!
Its a fantastic story.

I also took 2 minutes to make a cover for my printed out version.

See it here:

http://s133.photobucket.com/albums/q52/ ... ieEyes.gif

hope you all like it....