Demon Caller

Prologue, Chapter One + The Updated, Chapter Two


Prologue


It was a beautiful night. The silky darkness which crept into the place of day was lightened by the sparkling stars and gleaming moon overhead. Those accustomed to the sun’s shine lay deep asleep, giving way to dusk’s creatures.

“Listen to her, Seth.” The man speaking, burly and muscular in posture, had a contrasting, high-pitched voice. His glinting underneath oily black hair eyes showed cunning intelligence. “Listen to her and all will be well. Just answer our question and we will let you go, won’t we, Dan?”

The other person, Dannar, winced as he heard the name his mother had thought for him many years before. He could have been called handsome if not for greasy hair and sunken dark eyes, the color from which had long since bleached because of the overuse of magic. Tall and slender, he was dressed in floor length wizard’s robes. He gave a bark-like laugh as he carelessly leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving the huddled silhouette of a woman in the corner.

She was more of a girl than a woman, though one would have never guessed when looking at her. The color was drawn from her face, which was littered with numerous cuts and bruises. Blood spilled from her nose and mouth so that the greyish rags in which she was dressed became deep crimson. Her right arm was fixed in an unnatural position; her whole person gave the idea of being thrown there. Sporadic moans could be heard as she regained and lost consciousness.

“Dan?” The man who had spoken first turned to his companion, cross.

"Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, Vyth.” Dannar took out a dagger and started playing around with it.

Seth, the man in question, was sitting oddly still in front of the girl. Unable to avert his gaze, he was struck by the intensity of the hatred in the girl’s eyes on the rare occasions that she manage to open them.

Tied to the chair, he remained silent, long since having realized that his explanations and lies were no use. He was in his early thirties, also dressed in black wizard’s robes with the sole difference that a blue crown was added onto the hem. It was impossible to make out what he was feeling; all emotions hid under his clear blue eyes were carefully masked.

“Seth, Seth, Seth… What are we supposed to do with you?” Vyth asked in a conversational tone.

“Let her go, Vyth.” Seth repeated for the hundredth time. “Let her go… She has nothing to do with this…”

Vyth laughed.

“Those verbal attempts of trying to rescue her are enough for you, aren’t they? You aren’t material for a hero, no…” He smirked before continuing. “You know, this really is your fault, up to a point. If you would just tell us…”

The words stung. They hurt all the more because they were true. –But he couldn’t tell them, he just couldn’t… They had no right to bring the girl. They could torment him all they liked, but the girl…

He knew her only from short glimpses from his cell, when some guards were taking her past it somewhere. She was always unconscious, blood dripping from the tips of her fingers.

“Last call,” said Vyth almost cheerfully. “No? You sure? Very well, remember that it is you who made us do this… Dan?”

Dan hid his dagger and flexed his fingers. He called for his power and woke the girl, with an invisible hand opening Seth’s eyes when the latter closed them. He raised his hand, a glint of fascination as he saw her whimper.

“Tell them,” she pleaded, her voice barely more than a murmur in between the doses of Dannar’s power. “Please, tell them…”

“I can’t,” Seth whispered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t…”

“No?” Dan smiled for the first time and muttered something under his breath.

Her bloodcurdling screams echoed throughout the whole Citadel, and were followed by an unnatural silence until Vyth's voice cut in once again.

“Wake her. We’ll start again.” The chatty tone was for now forgotten.

----

Pain. Unbearable, intolerable… Pain. Overflowing, overwhelming…

Her own shrill screams, shrieks. Pain.

Why won’t it stop? Why? Why were they doing this to her? What had she done?

Another screech given out with her voice. She was shouting? Yes, that was her. Again?

No! Let it stop! Let it stop…

It won’t stop.

Laughter. Someone was laughing. A man. Why was he laughing? Why wasn't he helping her? Somebody was shouting. What was it? To stop? Stop what?

Pain. Go! Leave me! Kill me, just let it stop hurting…

It won’t stop.

Colors. Vivid ones, a swarm of them. Brightness. Then darkness. There was nothing. Nothing.

Just the pain. Unstoppable, inescapable…

They’ll pay.
---

Okay, so that’s it. I’m taking a break from “The Queen’s Family,” this was the first thing that came to my mind, lol. I’ve never written anything like this before, especially the middle part, so all critiques are more than welcome. One thing is bothering me: isn’t this a little melodramatic? Anyways, thanks for taking your time and reading this.

“Listen to her, Seth.” The man speaking, burly and muscular in posture, had a girlish almost voice. His glinting underneath oily black hairr eyes showed cunning intelligence. “Listen to her and all will be well. Just answer our question and we will let you free, won’t we, Dan?”

He had a girlish almost voice? Besides that, the extra "r" in hair, and the misplaced "eyes" this is a good beginning. It just lacks details like why Seth was being held against his will in a tower and sorts of things like that which will probably show up in the next chapter. It is a little vague with supporting details, but please continue. So maybe it is a little melodramatic, but does that ever really hurt when it's worded almost perfectly?

This is really good! I love it! I do agree, though, it is a little vague. Maybe more detail or explanations? Also, I found a few things that needed to be changed.

"Unable to avert his gaze, he was struck by the intensity of the hatred in the girl’s eyes on the rare occasions that she manage to open them."
This is a little confusing the way it is worded. If you reword this sentence, your meaning will be clearer for your reader.

"Seth repeated this or the hundredth time"
"for" instead of "or".

The other mistakes were already caught, so I will not repeat them. I really enjoyed this and look forward to reading the next chapters. Writergirl

Okay, first of all, thanks for taking your time and reading this.

As to the lack of details... Well, this is a prologue, lol. I suppose that I'll explain it better a bit later, though I still have to figure out why exactly Seth was imprisoned. Lol.

quote:
Besides that, the extra "r" in hair, and the misplaced "eyes" this is a good beginning.
Yeah, I agree on the 'r' subject, but why is the 'eye' misplaced?

Again, thanks,

-elein

Chapter One


Darkness all around her, and amidst of it all was the pain. Everything hurt her, every bone seemed to be broken, every muscle was throbbing. –But that became nothing as the dryness in her mouth and throat reminded her of the thirst. Hunger was long forgotten when the longing for water came. And she was tired, so very tired…

Why was she tired? Why couldn’t she remember anything? Who was she?

She didn’t know that, but one thing she did: She had to go on, flee, not let herself be found. Go, just go, anywhere but here…

There? Where?..


“Oh, you’re in a state, aren’t you?” The sympathetic voice of a woman was the first thing that she heard when she once again regained consciousness. “Hush, don’t move,”

Why? Why shouldn’t she move?

The answer became perfectly clear as she tried to open her eyes to get rid of the darkness. A searing pain shot through her already throbbing head to the tips of her fingers, crushing everything on its way. Somewhere next to her, she felt Power being summoned.

“Hush,” the woman’s voice said again. “I’ll help you, just don’t move. You’ll make it worse. Though I really don’t know how you could get yourself into such a state… Never in my life…”

No! Not again! She won’t let magic be used on her, not again, not after what she went through!

What did she go through?

Memories, a flood of them. No, she didn’t want them! Let them go, let them leave her! Let her just die…


She was four or five years old, and was once again on that cliff. She was standing next to a wooden barrier, on the spot where it ended, with fascination watching the waterfall below. Monstrous waves, higher than her, rapped at the red-colored stones that made the cliff on which she was standing.

The child was not alone; right next to her stood her mother, talking to a man. Ma was dressed in her best dress, a vivid scarlet with imitations of gems sewn here and there. The man was broad-shouldered and tall, but those details escaped the girl’s eyes – all she knew about him was that he was one of the many men that her mother brought home.

“We can start a new life, think about it!” Mother’s voice was soft and cooing, with a tenderness that was never used when speaking to her only daughter. “This is our chance! We’ll never get an opportunity like this, never again. Think about it, Sam!”

“I don’t know, Lissa… I have a good job, we can make do as we are…You do have a daughter, after all…” The final sentence was used as the last argument; he had never talked about the dratted girl with Clarissa.

“Jobs can be changed! Sam, this is our chance,” she repeated, a smile curling onto her lips. “But there’s still my daughter, yes…”

The girl was only half listening to the conversation, her eyes still fixed on the raging water below. Beautiful, so beautiful… Nothing was as pretty as those waves, nothing.

Suddenly, she noticed something bright purple amid the blue. What was it? She craned her neck to see, dangerously balancing on the cliff’s edge. Just as she regained balance, a strong hand caught hold of her. Instead of pulling her towards land, though, it tried pushing her towards the water. Someone else tugged at the end of her sleeve, miraculously saving her from drowning or crushing her head on one of the numerous rocks below.

“What the hell were you trying to do?” Sam’s angry voice was the last thing she heard before she broke into a run. Somewhere, anywhere.

Her own mother had tried to kill her.


She was about eight, her mother had left her about a year ago. From then on she was left to rely only on herself. It was then that she got interested in theft.

From the spot where she went out to beg, the whole of Aire Plaza could be seen. As always, it was crowded with traders shouting out their wares, merchants making deals and a whole hoard of customers, clients, and just passersby.

She saw him just nearly every day, though to the lot in which he mingled in he was almost invisible. The boy looked about two years older than herself, but had a knack for relieving people from their smaller possessions.

One day she decided to go ask him if he could teach her how to do it. William, as he was called, turned out to be a very good teacher. He became the closest thing she had to a friend in years.

But Will, as she nicknamed him, was soon caught by a haughty looking woman when rummaging in her purse. Two days later he died of blood loss because no one had bothered to call a healer when they cut off his right hand, a pickopeckets punishment.

She saw it, the whole execution. Heard the sickly sound when the axe made contact with skin and bone, heard the screams of her friend, heard the cheering of the small crowd which stopped to have a look. She saw the crimson everywhere, she saw how he fainted afterwards, she saw how everyone left him where he was. She called for a healer, called to anyone for help, but no one listened. Except for a few smirks, she got nothing.

So she took him to her ‘home’. Watched him die. Slowly, painfully.


Memories, so many memories… That already happened, why won’t they leave her alone?

“You’ve woken?” It was that voice again, soft and soothing. “Girl, have you woken? Do you understand me? Say something, open your eyes, move a finger. Do something, so I know that you understand me.”

She tried to say something, anything, but the only thing that escaped her lips was a moan.

“Good. Now open your eyes. Slowly, mind you!”

Light poured into her world, fighting off the darkness. It was a few seconds before she could see anything. She was in a tent, laying on a cot and under a warm blanket. On her right side sat a woman of about forty years of age, numerous worry lines on her high forehead.

“Very well, now sit up. Slowly,” the woman said. “I healed what I could, but you’re still going to be stiff and sore for the next couple of days.

The girl cringed when she heard the word ‘healed’, but followed the orders, wincing as pain exploded through every muscle of her body.

Apart from being in a tent, where was she? How did she get here? Her last memory ended at being pushed into her cell at the Red Citadel.

-No, something else happened… Something important, but what? It was a whirlwind, those memories. Nothing seemed to make sense,

“Girl? What is your name? No, that was a stupid question, you can’t talk. Do you know how to write?

Automatically, she shook her head. Then the meaning of what the woman said came to her. She couldn’t talk? Why couldn’t she talk? How come?

She tried saying that that was nonsense, that of course she could speak, but the only thing that went out was undecipherable gurgle which meant nothing.

Looking around wildly, the girl tried to stand up, panic-stricken. Unable to do so, she started to gesticulate something. Why couldn’t she talk? Why? She tried moving her tongue, but found that there was something odd to it. Terrified, she raised a shaky hand to her mouth, but stopped, not really wanting to find out… -Find out what? She already knew…

At least half of her tongue had been cut off.

“Calm down, you’ll hurt yourself! Everything will be fine, just calm down…”

No! No, she won’t calm down! Never, she won’t, she won’t ever…

She fainted.


The woman was called Medea Sanive, and was a healer, as indicated her snowy white robes. Being in her early forties, she had a light carnation with did not contrast with her fair hair and light blue eyes. Medea worked in Aleisyn, but set out to the Alarian Desert to find rare herbs needed for her work.

The woman was worried about her patient. The bruises and cuts were healing nicely, but that could not be said about the girl’s psychic. All the latter did for the last two days was lie on the cot, eyes half-closed, occasionally eating the gruel that she was given. Her gaze was indifferent, uncaring. From time to time she played with one or two daggers which she had insisted on being given back to her from the very beginning. The girl would toss the knife high, then catch it by the blade right above her face. She did this almost mechanically, being fairly good at it, even Medea had to admit that.

But the healer would talk. Talk about anything, really. About herbs, her life, Aleisyn; nothing received a response. Just those eyes, all emotions hid behind a barrier of iciness and the flipping up and down daggers.

Only once did the healer manage to catch her absolute attention: when talking about how she found her. Other topics were regarded with indifference, coldness even, but this one was listened to.

“You have a beautiful horse," she had started, but cut off as the girl shook her head.

“It’s not your horse?”

The girl shook her head, but Medea saw a spark of recognition. –But it was short, very short, and disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“You sure?”

A nod and a cold glint in the eye, as if daring her to tell that it was indeed her horse.

“I was sure of it… It was that horse that took me to you. Not literarally, of course, but since it was in a horrible state, I went after it to see if it’s rider wasn’t hurt. Funny thing, you know, that the mare was perfectly fine, besides being dead tired… She’s right outside the tent, do want to see her?”

A shake of the head. After that one sided conversation, the nameless young woman once again sunk back into her own world, one that was closed to everyone else.

Medea tried communicating with the girl, but the latter’s apathy was not the only problem. Her patient, as far as she was concerned, did not know how to write. Sign language wasn’t recognized, either.

Now, sleeping in her cot at the other end of the tent, the healer wondered what the girl had been through. How had she gotten here? Where from? Questions, many questions, but no answer… Half-asleep, she was wondering how everyone back at home was doing, when she heard a soft sob.

The woman sat bolt up. What was that? Suddenly, she remembered her patient. Slowly, she inched towards the girl’s cot.

The blankets were thrown away, feathers were flying from the dagger-slashed pillow and the cot itself seemed to be torn. The healer’s patient lay amidst of it all, clenching and unclenching her fists, streams of tears running down her cheeks. When Medea tried to touch her, the girl started punching and kicking the air, as if trying to free herself of something.

“Girl? Girl!” Medea hesitated before shaking her by the arms. “Wake up! Girl!”


At first she saw her mother. The beautiful Clarissa was wearing her favorite dress and had a genuine smile on her face – the same dress and smile that her daughter saw before she left her.

Ma was looking at her, squarely in the eyes. Instead of the usual indifference, there was worry in them. Before she could say anything, though, in the place of her mother an old man appeared. Greasy grey hair and a mask-like face with a sickly tint to it characterized him as he stared reproachfully at her.

The scenery changed, though the man remained. He was not standing anymore, no. He was sitting behind his desk in a study. A silent shadow appeared behind him, one that he had no chance of seeing or hearing. Light appeared out of nowhere and the silhouette of a person turned out to be a girl. It was her.

She was holding one of her daggers, the one with the curved edge.

“Hello,” she said. She always said it, the ‘hello’.

The man whirled around, but before he could do anything to stop her, the dagger made contact with his heart. It was messy, yes, but somehow it was her favorite way. She gave her prey time to go through their life, see what they did wrong, see what they did right. Remember moments of happiness, recall their worst moments…

Blood, blood everywhere… On the floor, on the walls… It was everywhere, everywhere…

She was in the Red Citadel again. She heard the shouts of other prisoners kept there, knowing that soon she too would join them. The screams, shrieks… The silence… The laughter…

Another shadow, this one more eerie, evil. It loomed over the ruins of the Citadel, watching her, observing. What was it? Somehow she felt that she knew, knew very well…

But she couldn’t remember! She couldn’t remember anything!


Breathing heavily, she woke up, sitting bolt up.

Questions, so many questions and no answers… She flinched as she realized that she was holding someone’s hand. –It was that woman’s, Medea’s.

“Hush, it’s alright, everything will be fine…”

-Why was that woman talking to her as if she were a five year old? Or as if there was something wrong with her?

She suppressed a smirk, the blank look still on her face. Yes, there was many things wrong with her, but at least she was sane. –Or she liked to think that.

Reviewing the last two days, she had to admit that, being in the healer’s place, she would have thought the same.

That was not going to happen again. Never. No one was ever going to make her get in that state, ever.

She had, after all, something to look forward too. She’ll find her, she’ll find that woman who brought her to the Citadel. That man, Seth, will pay, too.

In a sudden burst of anger, she snatched her hand away, turned around, and went back to sleep.


Carolyn li Seyir, Lady Aleitrac, sat comfortable in her favorite armchair next to the enormous fireplace, blood red gown spread before her. She was ninety eight, but her age by no means showed. No creases befouled her sharp features, no grey tinted her glossy brown hair. The Red Sorceress’s youth was not bothered by time.

“Read on,” she commanded impatiently, the fan in her hand opening and closing.

“I am most regretful to notify my lady that the magician in question, Sethasarin Vereyin, had escaped-"

“What do you mean they escaped?” she asked, taken back. Escaped from the Red Citadel? Her Citadel? Impossible!

“Yes, my lady. That is what the letter says.” The person reading the letter, a tall woman dressed in a maid’s uniform, replied in as calm a voice she could. –The sorceress had a nasty habit of giving vent to her frustration on the nearest person available.

All at once, the importance of the letter struck her. The sorcerer, Seth, broke free?

“Well, go on, what are you waiting for?”

The woman standing, countless times shouted at for reading before her lady’s say-so, read on. “I am sorry to inform my lady that not long after, the Red Citadel was destroyed-”

“What? Read that again!”

“I am sorry to inform-"

“Yes, yes, I know. Do I look like an idiot in your opinion?” Carolyn drummed her fingers on the armrest. “Who? Who did it?”

The maid skimmed through the letter swiftly. “Felix does not know.”

“Idiot! What happened to the bodies? Guards? Prisoners?”

“That is also not known. They have disappeared. Only Vyth O’hass and Dannar Mehiel were found. In a horrible state, as Felix emphasized.”

“Really? They were overseers, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes. They were the ones responsible for the mage and someone else… Some girl… Felix does not say…”

“Felix is an idiot,” repeated Carolyn, closing her eyes.

All her plans were ruined. Ruined. Months of study, of plotting, and nothing! Just because those idiots let Seth escape!

“Give me that and go, now!” Caro felt her temper rise. Not waiting for the servant’s reaction, knocked the parchment out of the woman’s hand. The letter flew straight to the sorceress, stopping right in front of her eyes and burst into flames after she read it.

The servant who entered the chamber after Carolyn had left it stopped right in his tracks. All draperies and curtains were torn, furniture was knocked over, the carpet on the floor turned into rags, and the windows were shattered.

---

Ugh, I have a feeling that this is melodramatic. Hate the word.

Hey, great story. . I thought you had a lot of detail, actually, considering this is a prologue. Specifics:

I really don't think you need the first paragraph... it doesn't have much of a hook and, no offense, I don't care much about the weather or the time of day... I've heard in a lot of places that it's not good to start with that. I think the second paragraph provides a better hook.

“Listen to her, Seth.” The man speaking, burly and muscular in posture, had a girlish almost voice. His glinting underneath oily black hair eyes showed cunning intelligence. “Listen to her and all will be well. Just answer our question and we will let you free, won’t we, Dan?”

I think what Crystal Shadow meant about misplaced eyes is that it sounds as if you're talking solely about the hair, and the reader gets sidetracked I think that putting a prepositional phrase between an adjective and the noun it describes doesn't work very well... Perhaps "His eyes, glinting underneath oily black hair," would work better. Or "Underneath oily black hair, his glinting eyes". Maybe.

Oh, and when I first read that paragraph, I thought that the man was laughing at her... maybe it would work better if you mentioned a name? Or is there not supposed to be a name?

The other person, Dannar, winced as he heard the name his mother had though for him many years before.

though => thought

“Those verbal attempts of trying to rescue her are enough for you, aren’t there? You aren’t material for a hero, no…” He smirked before continuing. “You know, this really is your fault up to a point… If you would just tell us…”

I think the first sentence here is a bit repetetive. If they're attempts, it's clear he's only trying, and if he's trying, it's clear they're only attempts, so I think one or the other would suffice.

there => they ?

Two nights later the mage known by the name of Seth escaped from the Red Citadel. Thirteen hours after his flight the Citadel ceased to be. The corpses of two men identified as Vyth O’hass and Dannar Mehiel were found next to its remnants, presumably untouched by the explosion but in a nasty state nevertheless. They were recognized only by the rings on their fingers. Bodies of guards and prisoners kept in the Citadel were not found.

You have a lot of passive voice here, which means a lot of telling and practically no showing. Who found the bodies? Who identified them? Try making it more active and see if you like it that way better. Maybe you could describe the explosion more... I'd like to know what "happened", because "explosion" is a pretty generic word, if you know what I mean.

Overall, I liked, I'll be looking out for the next chapter of this...

Umm... okay, so much for looking our for the next chapter...

This was good, if not a little confusing.

"Sam’s angry voice was the last thing she hear before she broke"
Heard instead of "hear"

"The post in the kitchen in one of the numerous taverns that littered the city she acknowledged as the answer to her prayers."
This is long and confusing to the reader. How about this "The post in the kitchen in of the verious taverns around town told her the answer to her prayer." Still long and I'm not sure if I like that sentence either, but it makes more sense than yours. At least to me.

"The seven-year-old was no difference – what she was given for her work was not enough to survive. On time, however, she was caught."
On should be "one"

"boy looked about two year solder than herself"
Two years older

"William, as he was called, turned out to be a very good teacher. William was the closest thing she had to a friend in years. But Will, as she called him,"
You have that William was called two different things. Try this, "William, as he was entitled, turned out to be a very good teacher. He was the closest thing she had to a friend. But, Will, as she nicknamed him,"

"Two day later he died of blood loss"
Two days

"having thrown the though of Will out of her head."
Thought of Will

This was sad, but interesting. I love all the detail. The last paragraph was okay, but could use a little work. And I don't like how you ended this chapter. Many? Just leave out that last word....perhaps? I don't know. For some reason, I just don't like the ending. But, it was good! I can't wait for more!

Ah, nickname! The word I was searching for… Thanks for reading this, I really appreciate it!

I love you guys. Need I say more, lol?

-elein

P.S. I have no idea what is going to happen next. Should the girl be the bad one? Oh, the possibilities… Lol

Woo hoo, I'm on chapter two xD

One thing is bothering me though: Are all those retrospections necessary?I'm thinking of cutting of the last one. Maeybe something more, i don't know. -Is this a good idea ???

I mean, they don't do much in the story, I think...

-elein

Chapter Two


Medea was taken aback by the change that had taken place in her patient over the night.

Well, well, she thought, amused. -A thief, and a good one, in fact. Medea rarely saw someone move so silently or be able to rummage in one’s things when that particular person was a couple inches away, sleeping as lightly as she slept.

“The ones in the right compartment are poisonous. I’d watch out if I were you.”

The reaction was immediate. The girl dropped whatever she was holding and whirled around, right hand automatically moving closer towards the sleeve of the left one. When she recognized Medea, a relaxed smile appeared on her lips, though wariness never left her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re not going to murder me, are you?” Medea attempted a joke, but did not achieve the wanted result. She sat down, gesturing at the girl to follow her suit. “Do you want to know how I found you?”

Her patient pointed at her, before doing this also to her mouth.

“You heard? Yes, that was about the only thing you heard… Your attitude towards the world seems to have drastically changed since yesterday, hasn’t it?”

The girl shrugged.

“You don’t know how to read or write, do you? Yes, I though so. Sign language? Ah, this is going to be hard… You can’t tell me anything about yourself, can you? No, I suppose not… Though I take from the ease that you play with those daggers and the fact that you’re here that your life has been pretty eventful…”

The smile never wavered.

“Okay, at least try to tell me what your name is. Point to something; describe it with your hands… Wait a second, can you mind-speak? Do you know any kind of magic?”

A shake of the head. Medea thought she saw contempt in her eyes.
“Alright, let’s start… Try showing me your name.”

The girl though for a moment, then pressed her pointing finger and thumb together, swinging them back and forth.

“You’re holding something… Ringing! You’re ringing a bell? You’re name is Bell?”

No, her name was not Bell. Medea’s patient placed an open palm in the air before her, then pointed with her other hand to the space behind it.
“Something before ‘Bell’? Yes? Elaizabel? Arabell? Arabella? Oh, I don’t know…”

The girl heaved a sigh of resignation before showing the healer to go on.
“Mirabel? Mirabella? Isabell? Cairabell?” Medea stopped as she saw frantic waves in the air. “I said it? Yes? Uh, now what did I say… Mirabel? No, not Mirabel… Mirabella either, I gather? Isabel?

A nod.

“Well, at least we have that… Pretty name, Isabel. I am Medea, the friendly neighborhood healer… But that you know… What I do not know, on the other hand, is where you are from? Are your parents waiting for you somewhere? How old are you?

To the first question Isabel started to draw something in the air, but resigned seeing the puzzled expression on the healer’s face. The second one was regarded with a smirk, while the third one with a shrug.

“Very well, it was worth a try,” Medea sighed. “How did you get yourself into such a state? In my whole life, I have never seen such injuries… I won’t bore you with the whole list… And that tongue…”

At the word tongue, the girl absently raised her hand to her mouth. After realizing what she was doing, Isabel quickly lowered it.

“Yes… More than half of it cut off… How did you end up in the middle of Sven Desert? A portal, maybe?

All Medea got was a shrug.

“One, you don’t know.” The healer raised her finger accordingly. “Two, you don’t remember, or three, you don’t want to tell me. Which one?”

Number two. After a short pause, Isabel pointed at Medea, then gestured at the air around them.

“What are we doing here? What I am doing here? Where are we? Yes? Well, we’re in the middle of Sven Desert, half way between Aleisyn and Torunouv. Or Aleisyn and Dynav, choose whichever. I’m here because of the herbs that you were kind to observe, though you’re presence remains a question mark…”

That smile again. That pretty, telling nothing smile.

“We are heading towards Aleisyn, which we will reach in about six days time, not counting today and tomorrow, when I will still be gathering my herbs. And healing you-" Medea stopped as she saw the girl reverently shake her head in protest. “Your wounds still need healing. I did most when you where unconscious, but I haven’t finished. Healing is hard business. If you catch an infection-”

Isabel continued to shake her head, a scared expression on her face. She stood up, as if to emphasize her stance. Barely opening her lips, she mouthed the word ‘no’.

“Why not? This won’t hurt, if that’s what’s frightening you… No?” The healer looked at Isabel quizzically. “You’re scared of magic, aren’t you? Some sorcerer did this to you? Isabel, a healing can undo what has been done. This can only help you.”

The girl continued to stand, though she stopped protesting. Instead, a defiant expression crossed her face. Cold glints in her eyes dared Medea to try to do anything against her will.

-Medea didn’t, half because she was very aware of the daggers, and half because there was terror underneath all the rebelliousness. The healer decided not to mention what happened last night.

“Very well…” The woman caught herself sighing again. “If not magic, will herbs do?”

Isabel nodded slowly. Then she smiled, and, pointing at the box of plants in the corner, made a cutting gesture at her throat.

“No, not all of them are poisonous. -Though even the ones that are deadly, in small portions, could save a life. Well, we have the healing settled… Herbs only, though with magic I could fix you up in no time.” She looked at Isabel hopefully. The answer was ‘no’. “Oh, well, at least I tried… Now, back to the course of our journey: As I said, I am heading for Aleisyn. Or I will be, the day after tomorrow. I would like you go with me, though in your present state you won’t be able to ride off anywhere…”

The girl sat down again, her face expressionless. She nodded, then pointed at Medea and herself.

“So you’re going with me? Splendid. You can help me gather the herbs, some exercise will do you much good.” Medea grinned. “In return I’ll teach you more about plants that you’ll want. I would offer teaching you how to read and write, but there won’t be enough time… Deal?”

Isabel nodded.

“Good.” The healer looked at her patient critically. “Since you were able to stand up, helping me with breakfast won’t be such a feat, will it?”


“That is an Atharot. When fresh it is harmless, but when dried and cut in the right way – deadly.” Medea pointed at a vividly purple flower which thorns seemed to be bigger that its petals. “Its also called Larigon, but that name is used rather rarely. When one mixes its roots with those of an Eaglefeather – look! A Water Vine, right over there!”

Isabel lazily turned her gaze towards the Water Vine, only half listening to Medea, whom she had gotten to like. She found that the healer was a fanatic when it came to herbs – the woman could find a plant when she, Isabel, was completely sure that nothing was there. Also, Medea tended to explain with details every spotted herb, only to break off in mid sentence when she saw another one.

It was curious how many plants one could find in a desert.

Medea, on the other hand, was thrilled that she had found a listener and companion. Admittedly, a companion that did not speak much, but the healer was always of the talkative sort.

They hunted for herbs until dusk, with only short breaks for meals and drink. The day passed quickly, and only one incident disrupted it.

It was Medea’s horse who started it, really.

The moment Isabel stepped out of the tent, Chase started to act strangely. Looking wildly around and ending on rolling his eyes, the horse started neighing loudly and kicking at the sand with his hoofs. At last Chase managed to free himself of the rope that was tied around his neck, and at a gallop rode away. He came back, eventually, after an hour or so of looking and calling for him, only to rear at the sight of Isabel.
For the girl this was nothing new. She was used to how animals reacted to her presence, how they avoided her if they could. Stray dogs stared whimpering and howling at her sight, cats ran away with hisses, rats and mice scuttled away as if seeing their greatest foe.

What interested her was they way the other horse responded. The girl found that it was eerily familiar, but she could not tell why.

The mare next to Chase remained calm, if not indifferent. Isabel almost took a step back when she saw that the horse had pity, yes, pity, in its eyes when she looked at the horse beside her.

Pity? No, she must have imagined it…

The whole situation would have been difficult to explain should she had been able to speak. As it was, she merely shrugged, knowing that Medea could not expect more.

That was also when she decided to tell her rescuer that she did not know how to ride. After fifteen minutes of gesticulating wildly, she managed to pass on what she wanted. The healer’s reaction was burying her face in her hands.

“So now at least I know that you come from the city. Oh, never mind, you’ll learn…”

Half of the next morrow passed on at trying to make Isabel ‘learn’.
Points had to be given to Envy, though, as the girl called the mare. Envy stood as still as stone when she tried mounting her, and went into the smoothest trot a horse could go. -But Isabel still barely held on.

It was suspicious how the horse acted, when one came to think about it. A Horsemaster would have been sincerely interested, but then again, there was no Horsemaster in the nearest vicinity.

Just sand. And those dratted herbs.

-Not ‘dratted’ to Medea, of course. The healer was absolutely thrilled with every new find and treated each one with the tenderness of a mother towards her child. The discovery of some rare plant called Apple Bane ended in Medea talking about it for the rest of the day.

However, herbs were not the only thing that the healer talked about. Tries to communicate with Isabel were much more fruitful than on the beginning, but nevertheless, they brought to light only so much information.

After various attempts to understand her maim patient, Medea deduced that Isabel’s last name was ‘Oraiska’. From the surname Medea reasoned that her patient was probably from Dynav or its surrounding. –Not that it did her much good, really.

Isabel also consented on being called ‘Isa’ by the healer, which Medea welcomed happily. She had a feeling that not many called her that.

To her, Isa remained a mystery. Underneath the girl’s smiled an iciness hid itself; behind those brown eyes there was hurt and something else. –But what was it? That was another question added to the already long list.


Huddled underneath two layers of blankets, Isabel stretched in the bliss of warmth and full stomach. She was happy, as happy as she had never been before. Medea had become the closest thing to a friend to her, ever since the era of Will. Even the silhouettes of her plans of revenge had been postponed – after all, what could she do in the middle of a desert?
She cast the thought of what they did to her at the Red Citadel out of her mind, just as all other painful memories. Isabel knew from her own experience that crying over them again and again had no sense and did nothing.

The girl was already half asleep when the loud neighs of horses made her sit bolt up, wide awake. She turned around – Medea heard it, too.
Isabel looked at her questioningly, as if asking what to do. When she saw the healer inch over to the tent clap, she did so also, dagger in hand. Medea with her bow would not be able to do much if it came to physical contact.

It was dark outside; the moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, while the stars seemed to shine less brightly than usual. Isabel barely saw the healer, who was edging her way to the spot were the horses were tied.
Both Chase and Envy were rearing, causing an earsplitting tumult at the same time. Sand was everywhere as their hooves kicked at the ground and not only – amidst of it all was a panic-stricken man, doing his best to avoid blows from the two beasts. Preoccupied with the animals, he did not hear Isabel sneak up behind him until it was too late.

With a swift movement she caught him by the wrists and set the dagger to his neck, assuming that she did not need to speak for the gesture to be acknowledged in the right way. She was not wrong; the man froze.
“You have attacked a messenger of the Aleisynian Crown-” he started, his voice muffled.

“Isabel! Are you all right?” Medea, out of nowhere, appeared at her side. “Aleisy-” She stopped in mid-word, her eyes wide. “Lian!”

“Medea?” The response was equally disbelieving. Lian tried to free himself of Isabel, but the latter did not remove the knife. He stopped as he felt the blade cut his neck; a drop of blood fell onto the sand below. “Medea, it’s me! Tell her to-”

“Yes, yes, Isa, free him…” She turned her startled expression to Isabel, then once again to their unexpected visitor. “My goodness, Lian! What are doing here? How did you get here? Where’s your horse? Since when did the Crown start using mounted messengers instead of sorcerers? And whatever were you doing just now?” The questions were asked in a rush, one after another. “Ah yes, introductions… Lian, this is Isabel Oraiska, Isabel – Lian Sylein.” By this time Isa had freed her captive and slipped the blade into its hiding place in her sleeve. Leaning against Envy, arms folded and eyes narrowed, her stance towards to the newcomer was clear.

“Isabel – beautiful name worthy of such a beautiful person. Though for some reason she refuses to speak to me-” Once again, he cut off, seeing the warning glints in her eyes and those of Medea.

“Skin and bones, I’ll say…” The healer went on, not letting Lian answer her and ignoring Isabel’s behavior. “When was the last time you ate? Isa, go fetch something to eat for the poor boy, there should be something left from supper… Oh, and what horrible cuts! Here, I’ll heal them in a minute…”

“No, I really should be-“

“Nonsense! You’re in a pointless situation, being, as I think, without a horse? Yes, I thought so… Though trying to steal one really isn’t the right course of action, darling. Your mother would have been horrified…”
“Yes, I suppose so… But I really am in that pointless situation, you see. You remember that storm yesterday?”

Medea frowned. “No. There was no storm…”

Isabel smirked. If there was a storm yesterday then she was sorceress. Probably his horse ran off.

“Yes, there was… I couldn’t have been that far away… The lightning scared Coral off.”

“So to all intents and purposes you’re in the middle of Sven Desert without your horse, and food, water, and probably weapon or else you would have some how tried to defend yourself from Isa here…”

Liam unconsciously raised his hand to the cut on his throat, his clear blue eyes catching the black ones of Isabel. He grinned.

“I’m tired, that’s all. Not in my best condition. And that horse is creepy. I could swear that it was kicking the sand right into my eyes on purpose.”
It was Isa’s turn to smile. Her’s, though, was not as wide and friendly.
“Yes, well, let’s go into the tent… It’s chilly out here… I’ll get you something to eat…”

“Ah, I forgot that being Head Healer gives one some privileges! Not like the rest of us, who associate the term ‘camp’ with exactly that out-door chilliness next to the mournful memories of a fire.”

Medea laughed, passing him a bowl of gruel.

“Yes. Comfortable, isn’t it? I had Caid enchant it before I left Aleisyn, so that it is always the right size for the people in it.” Isa flinched instinctively at the scrap of information. She shrugged away the hand that Medea out on her shoulder. Clenching her fists so tight that the knuckles became white, she made herself calm down.

The healer decided to change the subject.

“Lian, I haven’t heard answers to my questions yet! How’s everyone back home? And how on earth have you been made a messenger? Where are you coming from?”

“I don’t know if I should-” started Lian hesitantly, but Medea cut in once again.

“Yes you should.”

“But-" Isabel did not notice the meaningful look he gave her. Darting suspicious glances throughout the tent, she paid no heed to the conversation.

Yes, magic was here. A powerful, familiar power that she cast out of her head once she noticed it.

She noticed it? -No! She did not feel it, she did not feel anything!
Breath. Take deep, deep breaths. Calm yourself. Close your eyes. Breath. Just breath. Concentrate. Focus on the conversation. Yes, that’s it. Listen. Forget about the magic, listen.

“Tournouv is mobilizing an army, Carolyn was seen talking to Aliv… If she started to meddle in, then we have a sure war on our hands.”

Medea seemed to not listen to the last part. “Carolyn is blocking communication between Aleisyn and Tournouv?”

Lian shrugged. “Those are probably just rumors. Even she can’t control that much power, can she? Eleyna is working on opening the channels, but she can’t. ”

“With Carolyn everything is possible… You do not know her, she will use every means to get what she wants.” Medea grimaced. “Eleyna will not break through until Caro decides that she wants it. Which won’t be any time soon, I suppose… Though you are right at one point: even she can’t block contact between two countries… All those sorcerers trying to break through at the same time… No, she has help…:” The last sentence was barely a thoughtful murmur. “You have anything else interesting for me, Lian?”
“Well, not really… But-

Liam continued, but Isabel stopped listening. The pulsation in her ears was getting louder and louder, spots appeared before her eyes. –Red spots. She turned her gaze at Medea, but averted it almost immediately – the woman, dressed as always in her healer’s robes, was radiating with a white light., which seemed to come from inside of her.

Breath. Calm yourself, breath. You can control this. You have too. Breath.
Isabel looked at her bruised hands. Medea’s magic was still visible on the healing cuts – a fading aura of the white could be seen all over her palm.
Panic exploded in her, she wanted to laugh. Laugh out loud, laugh her heart out. Hysterically, but she wanted to laugh.

Isa stopped herself self, making her face remain expressionless.
“And how, may I ask, are you so well informed, my boy?” Isabel made herself listen to Medea’s soothing voice.

“A friend of my friend’s friend has a friend who knows someone who knows the person who saw it.”

Medea raised an eyebrow, her lips curled into a smile. “Yes, I though it was something like that… By this time half of the world knows about it, I suppose…”

“Wrong! More than half, it’s just you, cooped up in Sven Desert, who was still in sweet ignorance.” Liam laughed.

“Very funny, positively hilarious. I’ll take the liberty of adding that right now you are one of are number now, right, Isabel?”

Isa nodded, her face pale white. Even though she was not looking at the healer, she saw Medea’s white aura in the corner of her eyes.
Something was coming; it was not just the tent, whose walls still remained blood red. It was not the healer. It was something else, something strong, very strong.

-Like a storm.

“Isabel? Isabel, are you alright?” The healer’s voice was muffled, as if from somewhere far, far away.

Blood red… Scarlet colors swirling around her, taunting her, daring her to do something, anything. -But what? Glowing, pulsing, they stung her eyes, making her avert her gaze. Amidst of it all, the whites sung humming their own unique melody.

Breath. In and out, in and out. Breath.
Her hand hurt because of the force with which she was clutching it. Her head throbbed, eyes stung…

Out, she needed to get out.

She stood up, and, ignoring Medea and Liam, lunged for the tent clap. Outside, she stopped dead. Making place for the two who had followed, she felt almost physical pain at the sight of what was happening.

Black clouds started to race on the sky at an unbelievable pace, swirling and spinning, covering the violets and oranges of the setting sun. Dark purple exploded on the heavens, turning into hundreds of separate particles which after a second of glimmering and shimmering fell down to the ground, each making an earsplitting noise as it hit the ground. Small wisps of smoke that appeared out of nowhere turned into a heavy white mist as thunder sounded.

Isabel watched the spectacle, fascinated. Her mind shrieked at her to run, hide, but she was unable to do anything but watch. Her vision made the colors more vivid, bright. They hurt her eyes, but she was incapable of averting her gaze.

“Carolyn,” whispered Medea under her breath; she too appeared to be unable to move.

The sparks of vivid purple appeared once again, vanquishing off the fog, which had by now almost disappeared, turning into a faint tint of red. As the crimson and amethyst battled overhead, a second crack of lightning could be heard. A horse appeared, followed by another animal of the same race. This one, however, had a rider on its back.

“She’s using her power through someone else… What is she up to, though?” The healer stood up, squinting her eyes.

Isabel’s fingernails dug deep into her skin as she clenched her hands into fists once again. Drops of blood fell to the ground, but she was not even aware of the pain. The colors… Glowing, shining, shimmering, turning her eyes blind to anything that was free of magic. Vibrant purples of the rider were trying to swallow the fading slowly scarlets of the galloping before him rider-less horse. The distance before the two was gradually getting smaller and smaller, until at last the two colors swirled into one. Lilac flames exploded around them, indifferent to the feeble wisps of crimson, pathetic when compared to the fire.

At a snail’s pace, however, the red seemed to once again escape its enemy. The horse, galloping out of view, left the rider behind. The latter tried to follow it, sending out flows of its own color.

Another crack of thunder followed the dissolved in thin air rider.

“She’s too far away to do anything more… Her prey escaped…” It was Medea again.

The eerie silence that hung over the desert seemed to be less welcome than the fireworks exploding seconds ago. The characteristic atmosphere of tension did not leave, neither did the shades of red and purple which glowed in the horizon.

Isabel barely stood on her feet. Wobbly legs barely supported the weigh of her shaking body, fists still clenched. She was breathing as deeply as she wanted in the first place, but that did not stop the dizziness that soon overwhelmed her. Blood washed throughout her veins with twice the quickness it normally did, while her heart was beating at a crazy rate. She did, however, regain her normal vision.

“Liam?” The healer’s voice was shaky. “Liam, did that horse… That horse had… Did it have…”

“A star on its forehead,” finished Liam darkly.

“Seth!” Discarding the shock, Medea added a purposefulness to her voice. Determination was scrawled over her face. “Gods, we have to find him!”

Seth? That horse was Seth? Isabel almost smiled inwardly. Yes, they had to find him. She had to find him.

-Then he will see how it is to be so vulnerable, defenseless, if he isn’t feeling that already. She’ll make him feel what she went through at the Citadel – literarily.


Crash.

A porcelain figure of a white unicorn, both beautiful and costly, collided with the wall.

“Escaped!” Carolyn li Seyin, currently in the middle of an outburst, shrieked the word out with rage. “The idiot escaped!”

Another figure, this time a dwarf holding hands with an elve, was smashed into pieces. It was followed by a dark purple vase, of which contents left wet marks on the draperies. Then came the turn of a full size monument of a bear, which was without ceremony toppled over. “I almost had him! Two or three meters more and I would have had him, you understand?!”

The man standing in the corner of the chamber remained quiet, patiently waiting for the end of the tantrum, now and again nodding or shaking his head.

“He escaped!” This time it was more of a hiss than a shout. Flames burst in the fireplace, two armchairs wobbled dangerously in their place.

Carolyn closed her eyes, making herself calm down. There will be other occasions; she will get him, eventually.

–But she almost had him! Caro kicked one of the armchairs furiously, cursing as pain surged up her leg.

Calm down.

“Felix,” she called, a slip of parchment appearing in her hand out of nowhere. The man appeared before her at once. “It is too far to resign because of this petty… inconvenience. You will give Aliv this letter. Only to Aliv’s hands, you understand? No one else’s. Only to Aliv.

The man bowed. “Anything else, my lady?”

Carolyn considered before she answered. “Yes. Tell him that this is a matter of no importance. Sethasarin will die one way or another. Tell him also that our allies are waiting for the signal.”

----

So that is chapter two. Ty for reading, really. If you write anything other than poetry, you can expect a review from me. PM me if you don't see one in two weeks. Lol

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

The silky darkness which slithered in the place of day was lightened by the sparkling stars and gleaming moon overhead.

I didn’t understand that sentence. Did you mean the darkness was creeping in to replace the daylight?

“Listen to her, Seth.” The man speaking, burly and muscular in posture, had a girlish almost voice.

Either he has a girlish voice or he doesn’t, which one?

His glinting underneath oily black hair eyes showed cunning intelligence.

Here you describe the hair when you were actually saying how his glinting eyes showed his intelligence. You could try changing it around to something like: His glinting eyes, underneath oily black hair, showed cunning intelligence.

“Listen to her and all will be well. Just answer our question and we will let you free, won’t we, Dan?”

How about: ... we’ll let you go / you’ll be free [to go]...

The other person, Dannar, winced as he heard the name his mother had thought for him many years before.

Thought for him? Do you mean his mother used the short form of his name?

He could have been called handsome if not for the smell of ale around him and sunken dark eyes, the color from which had long since bleached because of the overuse of magic.

You can’t say someone is not beautiful/handsome because of the way they smell. Looks has nothing to do with smell, you can say he looked like a noble but because he smelt bad it gave the impression that he was a beggar/pauper.

Tall and slender, he was dressed in floor length wizard’s robes.

Try: full length

He gave a bark-like laugh as he carelessly leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving the huddled silhouette of a woman in the corner.

Sorry to be a bother, but why would he ‘carelessly’ lean against the wall? Was there anything jutting out from the wall that could have bruised him? You can take it out though, it doesn’t fit with the sentence.

The color was drawn from her face, which was littered with numerous cuts and bruises. Blood spilled from her nose and mouth so that the colorless rags in which she was dressed became deep crimson.

Firstly, ‘littered’, to me, doesn’t seem the right word here. I’m trying to find a way or a word to replace it but can’t find one. I’ll come back if I can help.

Secondly, it isn’t really a repetition but ‘color’ and ‘colorless’ are quite alike. You could use: plain

But it is really up to you.

“Dan?” The man who had spoken first turned to his companion, cross.

Suggestion: The man, who had spoken first, turned angrily to his companion.

[-]Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, Vyth.” Dannar took out a dagger and started playing around with it.

The dash needs to be a speech mark.

Seth, the man in question, was sitting oddly [s]still[/s] in front of the girl. Unable to avert his gaze, he was struck by the intensity of the hatred in the girl’s eyes on the rare occasions that she managed to open them.

^^^ See quote

What was meant by ‘oddly’? Was he in a strange position? Was he squatting in front of her?

He was in his early thirties, also dressed in black wizard’s robes with the sole difference that [s]on his[/s] a blue crown [s]was added on[/s] bordered the hem.

^^^ See quote

It was impossible to make out what he was feeling; all his emotions [s]hid under his clear blue eyes[/s] were carefully masked.

^^^ See quote

“Let her go, Vyth.” Seth repeated this for the hundredth time.

‘this’ is unnecessary, take it out.

[–]But he couldn’t tell them, he just couldn’t…

Why is the dash there? Take it out.

He knew her only from short glimpses from his former cell when some guard were taking her past it somewhere. She was always unconscious, blood dripping from the tips of her fingers. That’s what he remembered: the blood dripping from the tips of her fingers.

Suggestion: He knew her only from short glimpses, guards used to drag her past his old cell.

You can, of course, come up with something better. And the repetition of ‘the blood [...] her fingers’ didn’t work well.

Her bloodcurdling screams echoed throughout the whole Citadel, and were followed by an unnatural silence until Sid’s voice cut in once again.

Here you just throw in a name and I don’t know who Sid is. Wasn’t that meant to be Vyth?

*

Hello Sari!

Sorry if I repeat anything other critics have said because I didn’t read their comments. Since this is quite long I’ll be critiquing in parts.

I like how you keep the reasons why Seth and the girl are in the cell a secret. This makes the reader willing to read further, wanting to find out why they would be tortured.

It didn’t really give much of an introduction to the characters but the way Vyth speaks shows he can be playful—in a cruel way—and also the tormentor he is. He is the only character I can ‘see’, the others are not so true—meaning they don’t appear in my mind and so I can’t really feel for Seth or the girl when she is tortured.

So far I like it. The rest is getting done soon.

-- Myth

First of all, thank you thank you thank you thank you for the critique and taking your time and reading what I wrote. I so appreciate it.

Ah, and to Dan’s name, did I use a bad phrase there? The ‘thought of’, that is? Would ‘made up for him be better’?

Anyways, thanks so much again.

-elein

The boy looked about two years older than herself, but had a knack of relieving people from their smaller possessions.

Should it be 'from' or 'of'?

She was about eight, her mother has left her about a year ago.

'had' not 'has', I think.

“It’s not you’re horse?”

Not 'you're', 'your'

“I was sure of it… It was that horse that took e to you.

You missed the 'm' in 'me'.

“I was sure of it… It was that horse that took e to you. Not literarily, of course, but since it was in a horrible state, I went after it to see if it’s rider wasn’t hurt. Funny thing, you know, that the mare was perfectly fine, besides being dead tired… She’s right outside the tent, do want to see her?”

'me' and 'literally'

Breathing heavily, she woke up, sitting bolt up.

“I am most regretful to notify my lady that the magician in question, Sethasarin Vereyin, had escaed-

'escaped'

“You don’t know how to read or write, do you? Yes, I though so. Sign language? Ah, this is going to be heard…

'hard'

Herbs only, though with magic I could ix you up in no time.

'fix'


The story was really good though, I loved the description.

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Pain. Unbearable, intolerable… Pain. Overflowing, overwhelming…

This is just an idea. Why not have the above in italics, it seems a lot like it is the thoughts of someone.

[-]Why won’t it stop? Why? Why were they doing this to her? What had she done?

You did this before, is there a reason to have a dash there?

Another screech given out with her voice. She was shouting? Yes, that was her. Again?

No! Let it stop! Let it stop…

It won’t stop.

Laughter. Someone was laughing. A man. Why was he laughing? Why wasn't he helping her? Somebody was shouting. What was it? To stop? Stop what?

Pain. Go! Leave me! Kill me, just let it stop hurting…

It won’t stop.

Colors. Vivid ones, a swarm of them. Brightness. Then darkness. There was nothing. Nothing.

Just the pain. Unstoppable, inescapable…

They’ll pay.

Actually, I think a lot of this could be in italics, as it is the girl’s thoughts.

Two nights later the mage known by the name of Seth escaped from the Red Citadel. Thirteen hours after his flight the Citadel ceased to be. The corpses of two men identified as Vyth O’hass and Dannar Mehiel were found next to its remnants, presumably untouched by the explosion but in a nasty state nevertheless. They were recognized only by the rings on their fingers. Bodies of guards and prisoners kept in the Citadel were not found.

O’Hass

The end of the prologue was, in my opinion, rushed. You seemed to put a whole event in one paragraph, as if you did not want to write it and just put it in to say Seth escaped and the story had to move on.

A way to improve this would be to have a minor character. Maybe he/she arrives where the bodies are, are there any reports he/she makes and how does the person know someone escaped? Were there any records of Seth’s imprisonment? That way the reader gets detail of events instead of you having to say a few lines and expect the reader to know exactly what took place, and how it happened.

She didn’t know that, but one thing she did: She had to go on, flee, not let herself be found. Go, just go, anywhere, but as far from there…

Put this a lot more simply: She only knew one thing ...

The next part could be: Go, just go, anywhere but here.

Have it in italics, it would be better to have this as her thoughts.

She was four or five years old, and was once again on the banks of that river.

Replace ‘that’ with ‘a’.

This is a memory, right? Then you could have another sentence in there, something like: She was four or five years old, and was by the banks of a river—a place she remembered even now.

She was standing next to a wooden barrier, on the spot where it ended, with fascination watching the waterfall below. Monstrous waves, higher than her, rapped at the red-colored stones that made the cliff on which she was standing.

First she is by the banks of a river and now she is on a cliff? Waves in a river are not, commonly, very big unless there is something on the surface, like a boat.

Ma was dressed in her best dress, a vivid scarlet with imitations of gems sewn [s]on[/s] here and there.

^^^ See quote

“Jobs can be changed! Sam, this is our chance,” she repeated, a smile curling onto her red [s]as blood[/s] lips.

Eek! Don’t do that. Take out ‘as blood’, it makes the ending too much to read.

The girl was only half listening to the conversation, her eyes still fixes on the raging water below.

‘fixes’ = fixed

Suddenly, she noticed something bright purple amid the blue. What was it? She cringed her neck to see, dangerously balancing on the cliff’s edge.

Wrong word here, I think you meant ‘craned’

She was about eight, her mother has left her about a year ago.

Don’t change tense, this should be ‘had’.

It was then when she got interested in theft.

‘then’ and ‘when’ are very similarly spelt, replace ‘when’ with: that

From the spot where she went out to beg, the whole of Aire Plaza could be seen. As always, it was crowded with traders shouting out their wares, merchants making deals and a whole hoard of customers, clients, and just passerby’s.

As you refer to many people this should be: passersby

She saw him just about every day, though to the lot in which he mingled in he was almost invisible. The boy looked about two years older than herself, but had a knack of relieving people [s]from[/s] of their smaller possessions.

You could change the first ‘about’ to ‘nearly’ or the second ‘about’ to ‘at least’.

But Will, as she nicknamed him, was soon caught by some haughty looking woman when rummaging in her purse.

‘some’ is a No-No. Why is it a No-no? Because it seems as if you were not sure who this woman was, people use it in everyday speech but for writing you should avoid doing it. Try: a

Two days later he died of blood loss because no one had bothered to call a healer when they cut off his right hand, the punishment for theft.

It is your choice whether you want to considering changing this but I have a suggestion: the punishment for picking pocket’s / the pickpockets punishment

The latter suggests it is done to all pick pockets.

She saw it, the whole execution.

Maybe: She watched the execution?

Heard the sickly sound when the small axe made contact with skin and bone, heard the screams of her friend, heard the cheering of the small crowd which stopped to have a look.

You should take out the first ‘small’.

She was in a tent, laying on a cot and under a warm blanket.

‘laying’ = lying

“Very well, now sit down. Slowly,” the woman said.

The girl was lying down so the woman would have to say: “... sit up...”

[-]No, something else happened…

^^^ See my review

[-]Find out what? She already knew…

^^^ See my review

At least half of her tongue had been cut off.

Did her tongue really get cut off or did it feel as if it had?

[-]She fainted.

^^^ See my review

Being in her early forties, she had a light carnation with did not contrast with her fair hair and light blue eyes. Medea worked in Aleisyn, but set out to the Alarian Desert to find some rare herb.

‘with’ = which

Remember what I said about ‘some’?

All the latter did for the last two days was lay on the cot, eyes half-closed, occasionally eating the gruel that she was given. [...] From time to time she played with one or two daggers which she had insisted on being given back to her on the very beginning.

‘lay’ = lie

‘on’ = from

[-]But the healer would talk.

^^^ See my review

“You have a beautiful horse, “ she had started, but cut off as the girl shook her head.

The end speech mark is incorrect.

The girl shook her head, but Medea saw a spark of recognition?

The question mark should be a period.

It was that horse that took e to you.

‘e’ = me?

After that one sided conversation, the nameless young woman once again sunk back into her own world, one that was closed for everyone else.

‘for’ = to

“I am sorry to inform-

^^^ Needs to end with a speech mark.

“Felix is an idiot,” repeated Carolyn, closing her eyes.

Carolyn, or any other character, did not say Felix was an idiot so the ‘repeated’ should be taken out.

The servant who entered the chamber after Carolyn had left it stopped right in his tracks. All draperies and curtains were torn, furniture was knocked over, the carpet on the floor turned into rags, and windows were shattered.

Try: The/A servant, upon entering the chamber after his/her mistress had left, found the draperies and curtains torn, all the furniture had been knocked over, the carpet turned to rags, and the windows shattered.

*

Ah, and to Dan’s name, did I use a bad phrase there? The ‘thought of’, that is? Would ‘made up for him be better’?

I think ‘short name’ would be the correct one to use.

Firstly I would like to ask you about the dashes. Why do you use them? I only see it in historical fiction and I think it maybe be incorrect in your cases, I’m not too sure but you should take them out if they are not supposed to be there.

I liked how sometimes it was a little confusing to know whether the girl was sleeping/dreaming or if the events were happening at that time, I think this is what you wanted to achieve because the girl is remembering—her mother, a friend, the Red Citadel.

I don’t have much else to say but try to keep a few descriptions out of some places and give descriptions for others. An example is the girl’s mother’s lips. You only needed to use ‘red lips’ rather than compare it to being ‘red as blood’. See?

-- Myth