A Fool's Hope

Quote:
“Good?” inquired Brod’ewedh. He was keeping the record for this flock, and his stub of charcoal hovered over the roll of hide that he was using to take notes on.

“Good,” I replied, and he wrote a number down.

“How many bad ewes in this flock?” Cadhan asked.

Brod’ewedh counted and said, “Twelve so far, out of 54.”



OK, so you're starting to talk again here, but it's hardly riveting stuff. Monosyllabic words and boring answers, to do with the work. This is a perfect opportunity for some character development with these new characters, and you're not using it. I get the feeling that you are finding this bit boring to write, and therefore I am finding it boring to read. Use these boring periods to develop characters, that is what they are there for - that is their use!

Boring is good sometimes. Character developement HAS happened in chapter 2, just not in this particualr senario. And speech isn't always mindblowing because it's just that - speech. Brod'ewedh clearly has a heavy duty on his hands so why would he especially be talkative or attempt to enage in dialogue? In fact, speaking might be one big distraction for him.

In a nutshell, I'm opposed. I'd have to read chapter 3, then decide on the developement of the character's profiles. As such, I'm still waiting for the third installment.

Kyle - Well done on the editing. I enjoyed reading your comments. Quite scary . XD I think you enjoyed "ripping the piece to shreds" a little too much. lol!

Twit - I know you'd like to hear my opinions but I've been sluggish these days. I'll try and get my butt in gear though and see what I can accomplish. I'd very much like to read chapter 3.

“Yes you will,” Thas says, unperturbed. “It all comes with practise.”

It's practice.

gold and white, the blue and ruby

Try to replace this with something. It gets too dull reading that over and over.

It's all good to my eyes (which doesn't notice grammar mistakes easily). Good story otherwise. Continue writing it and make it awesome.

*pawprint*
Lethero the Werewolf

*pokes*

When's Chapter 3 going up? I'm ready and willing to read more!

Lol, Lethro, remember that she's British, so the spelling of some words is going to be different from what Americans are used to (personally, I prefer British spelling, but there you go).

Oh, and in case you, twit, thought I was gonna let you off the hook: wherewherewherewherewhereischapterthreeee!

Chapter Three

‘War! Huh-yeah. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Uh-huh.’ –Edwin Starr


‘What say you, your majesty?’

The unfamiliar honorific no longer sounded strange; the Kioni emissaries had used it so often during the last few hours that I had become used to it. The Kioni - both blond, rather burly men - spoke enough Elftongue, and Thas knew enough Kioni to fill any gaps that arose from the language differences. Thas looked very regal, I thought, in his brown and orange checked tunic and red cloak. He was also wearing the feathered baldric that showed him to be chief of the Éan-log, the Bird People. Standing behind his chair with Mav, I could see how the golden eagle’s feathers on the baldric fluttered a little in the breeze from the Gall Dun’s open window. It was strange, I thought. The future of the Danann might depend on this audience, and yet it looked just like countless others that I been to; Thas, Mav, I and two others to stand witness to what was said. So ordinary, yet so potent.

‘What is your word, Athrachan cin?’ the tallest Kioni repeated. I tried to remember his name. Dalton Fiske, that was it, and the other, younger man was Sir Wilton Stowe.

Thas tapped his second finger softly on the carved arms of his chair and took a deep breath. ‘This is my word, Dalton Fiske. Do you take it back to King Amory Burchard. The Danann cannot enter this war.’

Fiske and Stowe stared at him. ‘But sir!’ Fiske took a step forward, his eyes wide and pleading. I was surprised at his lack of control. ‘Sir, the Kioni need allies. His Majesty is willing to forget all old quarrels - ’

‘But I am not.’ Thas’ face was calm, his voice cool. ‘As you know, the Kioni and the Danann have never been allies and I remember the disputes we have had in the past. The matter of the Elven hybrids springs to mind. And quite apart from old disagreements, the Danann simply do not have enough troops to enter a war that is not their own.’

‘If you join with Kiona, you will have more than enough supplies and weapons. In exchange for the services of the Ebren-Chadyorä --’ he stumbled over the unfamiliar word, ‘the Danann would be armed with Kioni percussion cap guns, instead of your current flintlocks.’

I frowned. And what’s wrong with flintlocks? Not good enough for the Kioni, is that it?

Fal. Mav was disapproving, Sensing my emotions. Don’t be so quick to fire up on the Danann’s offence when they don’t need it! Our flintlocks work well enough, but percussion caps are far better.

I know, Mav, but…

The EC is our strength, Fal, as Fiske says. No other country has an air force -

Very true.

- but that doesn’t make everyone else weak as a matter of course.

I know, I know all that!

Fal.

Yes, Mav.

‘I have already told you my word,’ Thas was saying. ‘We cannot give you the help you ask. Kiona must look to other places for help in her fight. Surely Daenon will aid you?’

‘Daenon has already pledged its support, but against the sheer numbers of Sersura’s army… Seczuin refuses to give an answer to our King’s request, so we cannot rely on that quarter.’ Fiske’s eyes brightened momentarily. ‘But with the force of the Ebren-Chadyorä, the Sky-Hunters, behind us! Any war would be over in a few months.’

‘I fear that you are too optimistic, Fiske-ner. I repeat: the Danann cannot enter this war.’

There was a moment of silence, then Fiske said stiffly, ‘Very well. If that is your final word…’

‘It is.’

‘Then we shall leave to inform our king as soon as our ship is ready to sail.’

‘I’ll set workers to help your sailors,’ Thas said. He smiled. ‘You should be able to leave tomorrow, but tonight we will feast. I’ll send word when the evening meal is ready.’

Both the Kioni bowed, keeping their backs straight and their heads up. They went to the door, turned, bowed again - once to Thas, once to Mav and once to myself - and left the Dun.

Thas sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. ‘Hai Mai.’

‘You did the right thing, Athrachan.’ Mav put her hand on his shoulder, and he reached up and stroked it.

‘Of course you were right, Thas,’ I said stoutly. ‘Let the Kioni fight their own petty squabbles.’

‘Hardly petty…’ Thas got up, rubbing his back. ‘Next time I have an audience this long, I’m stealing a numnah from one of the horses. Aed,’ this to the first witness, ‘go and set workers to prepare the Kioni ship to sail tomorrow. And send Cei to me. Fal, go and see how the grey mare is doing.’

I ducked out the door, and went down to the horse pens. The air smelt like it was going to rain, and the cold breeze nipped through my tunic, making me wish that I’d brought a thicker cloak. I blew on my hands and stood looking at the horses grazing quietly in the nearest pen. The grey mare had been having her foot treated after joint trouble some time before. She stood placidly, head down as she grazed, the wind lifting wisps of her pale mane and playing with them. I slipped between the bars of the fence and went to her. She let me stroke her neck and then I took hold of her woven headcollar, leading her out of the pen to walk her up and down on the hardened ground outside. She seemed sound, so I turned her sharply to the left, to check that the joints in her ankle had healed.

‘What do you do that for?’

The voice was Sir Stowe’s; he was standing a little distance away. I had been concentrating on the horse and so had not Sensed his approach. Stowe came closer and patted the mare’s nose, rubbing between her eyes. ‘Why do you turn her like that?’ he asked again.

‘It’s to test the ligaments in her ankle,’ I explained. ‘If there’s something wrong with them - the ligaments, that is - she bobs her head. She didn’t, so I know she’s fine, now.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded interested. ‘How does that work, exactly?’

I didn’t like to admit that I didn’t know, so I shrugged and said, ‘Its because it hurts.’

I led the mare back to her pen and turned her loose. Stowe eyed the other horses appreciatively. ‘I’m no horse expert, but you Elves certainly breed some fine beasts.’

‘Thank you.’ I accepted the compliment on behalf of all the Danann who were not present and added, ‘It’s the Horse People who are the best at it, really.’

‘The Horse People. They’re the tribe west of here, aren’t they? The Bird People are the royal family’s tribe?’

‘Sa. You have studied our society?’

He grinned. ‘Only a little. Not enough to teach a class about it.’

I smiled politely. There was a pause.

Stowe shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. ‘Why is,’ he began, then stopped.

‘Why what?’

He sighed. ‘Why won’t your father agree to help us? It’s as much his struggle as ours.’

‘I cannot answer for my father,’ I answered coldly. ‘But he knows the right thing to do, and he does it. He will always do what’s best for Aval-lón.’ I resisted a childish impulse to add, ‘So there!’

Stowe lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, but said nothing more. After a little while, Mav called me. Fal? Where are you?

Down by the horse-pens.

What have you been doing all this time?

Talking with Stowe. He came and we started talking about horses. And politics.

Don’t you say anything rashly.

Chew my words before letting them out?

Something like that.

‘Is your horse here?’ Stowe indicated the pen.

‘Just a minute,’ I said, and to Mav, Why did you call me?

The evening meal will be ready soon. Haven’t you noticed that it’s getting dark?

Na. Shall I tell Stowe to come back as well?

Tell him that the meal will be ready shortly. He may want to stay outside for a little longer. Be polite.

Da lowr. I looked at Stowe, who was staring at the ground again. ‘What were you saying?’

‘I merely asked if your horse was here.’

‘Oh! No, he isn’t. There are more pens on the other side of the hamlet and Sweff - that’s my horse - is stabled there.’

‘Ah.’

I tried to remember what the Kioni called the evening meal. ‘The meal -- dinner -- will be ready soon, so I’ve got to go, now.’

‘All right. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye.’ As I walked through the hamlet, I noticed a lot of activity around the Dybry Dun. Elves were carrying snowy white cloths in to spread over the tables, others were bringing covered plates and dishes. The firelight spilled out through the open doorway and made a golden rectangle on the grass, an illuminated patch in the gathering darkness. There were a few streaks of pink and orange low on the horizon; all that was left of the sunset, and a few dim, early stars were beginning to show in the darkest part of the sky. I shivered and quickened my step.

** ** **

‘Fal?’

‘Mm?’

‘Here’s your belt.’ Mav’s hand came around the screen that surrounded my bed to give me privacy whilst dressing.

‘Diolch…’ I took the belt and fastened it around my waist. Squinting down at the brown leather, I decided that it went very well with my blue check tunic and dark red trousers. I tucked in my shirt tail and looked in the full-length mirror at my bedside. It was a very expensive mirror, made of the best Florian glass and I smiled, a little smugly, at my reflection, pleased by what I saw. The bright tunic set off the deep gold of my skin, and it fitted snugly, but not too tightly, over my shoulders. I turned my head sideways and pushed a stray wisp of black hair behind my ear. Seeing its dark colour and the gold of my eyes made my thoughts turn towards our guests. They were so very different to us. Of course, I had known that already, but seeing them today and talking to Stowe at the horse pens had made it seem more real, somehow. Their features were so small and round. The Danann have large ears, noses and eyes, and these Kioni seemed to have their sizes muddled up, with round, almost flat ears and such small, blinking eyes. Admittedly, Fiske did have rather a big nose, but it was the wrong shape – round and pointing downwards. And as if that was not enough, their arms and legs were different lengths. I stretched out my own arm, mentally comparing it to that of a human’s. Longer, I decided. But our legs were shorter, to balance it out.

I looked at my reflection again and stuck my tongue in my cheek, creating an odd-looking bulge. What did it matter about humans, anyway? Let them squabble with each other if they wanted to. We didn’t need to be dragged into it.

** ** **

‘Your records sound most interesting.’ Fiske patted his lips with his napkin and took up his flagon of wine. He paused for a second, eyeing its carved and polished wooden sides appreciatively, then raised it to his lips. Setting it down again, he continued, ‘I have often heard of your seanachaidh who keep the records and history of each clan.’

I wonder where? I thought idly. The meal had been a singularly boring affair, with the talk centred chiefly on politics. This might not have been so bad if Mav had not instructed me very firmly beforehand that if politics of past history came up, then I was to keep quiet. So I had focused my whole attention on the slices of roasted mutton filling my plate and tried to earwig unobtrusively on the conversation. Only now that the meal was almost over had Fiske brought up other topics.

‘The seanachaidh is one of the most respected members of the clan,’ Mav told Fiske. ‘Nothing is more important than the written record.’

‘But you have storytellers and bards who use verbal methods,’ Stowe said.

‘All our stories are written down, so that the storiawrae may use them. Passing important history down by word of mouth is very risky.’ Mav laughed lightly. ‘What if they forgot something?’

‘The majority of Kioni ballads have only been preserved through word of mouth and the long memories of our story tellers,’ Stowe said. ‘You don’t do this, then?’ He half laughed. ‘Such short memories?’

I winced.

‘No.’ The word came from Thas, and that one syllable dampened the conversation as effectively as a bucket of cold water. There was an awkward silence.

Sa dirboen, I thought half pitying, half furiously angry. Did no one tell this boy about taboo topics of conversation before he came?

Stowe’s face had gone very red as he realised just how seriously his attempt at a joke had backfired. He got up from his seat, bowed and said, ‘I thank you very much for your hospitality. King Athrachan, Queen Awhesyth, Prince Fal’ebren, I bid you good evening.’ He turned and left the Dun. Fiske followed suit and we were left, still sitting in our places at the table.

I raised my flagon and said, mimicking Stowe’s pronunciation, ‘Your very good health, Queen Awhesssyth.’

‘Stop it,’ Thas snapped.

‘But you would have thought that he’d have -’

‘I said, stop it!’

I frowned. Getting up, I pushed back my chair and strode out of the Dybry Dun. It was very cold outside and I had left my cloak behind, but I could not go back and get it now. Instead, I went through the other duns, dark, shapeless shadows in the night, and came to the East Gate, set in the hamlet wall.

The Gate stretched far above me, an endless, smooth path of wood that seemed to carry on until it touched the ends of the sky. The sky. A deep, dark blue of no dimension, sprinkled with the cold, burning snips of light that were the stars. A million pinpoints of white fire, a thousand diamonds against midnight velvet.

What went wrong at dinner? Codahüti’s words slipped into my mind. Here at the Gate, it was easy to contact her, with not too many hills and high rocks to get in the way and block off the Sense-waves of thought.

Practically everything. Well, not really. It was all right until the end, then Stowe started talking about how wonderful the Kioni storytellers are, because they hand their stories down by word of mouth, and then he asked what our memories were like.

Oh.

Sa. Oh.

It might have helped if you Danann were not quite so touchy about your short memories.

We are not touchy! We have very good memories – just as good as the humans have!

See what I mean?

No. What?

Ah, never mind. It’s a beautiful night.

Yes! Yes, it is.

Do you –

Without warning, her words vanished and our link broke. Alarmed, I tried to reach her, but was stopped by the sudden, blinding pain in my head.

Mav! I tried to call. Thas! It’s the Sark, but –

The world lurched and spun, the stars high above began to sway in their sockets, dancing and whirling. There was a ringing in my ears, and my vision blurred; the ground seemed to slide sideways. My last thought was that there had been no warning. Then the stars, the sky – everything vanished into shadows.

Chapter Four

‘They came, the birds flighting the dark,
Hundred on hundred, a king’s army.
They landed on the water, a fleet of ships,
Of king’s ships, proud with silver, silver masted,
Swift ships, fierce in battle,
Crowding the water in the moon’s dark.’ –Merlin Emrys


Child of Air. The voice was huge, yet quiet. It was the echo of sound that comes after a bell is struck. It was the whisper of an ant in its colony, the howl of a wolf running under the moon. It was the beginning and the end. Child of Air.

Ow El?

Child of Air, you have been given the gift. Use it.

Sa, ow El.Ý tiyra tyr focalae.

In the darkness, a spot of light appears. Yellow light. It gets bigger and brighter, chasing away the shadows. Yellow. Yellow light, yellow cloth. A yellow cushion. It lies on the grass, somewhat grubby and pushed out of shape, and seems to soak up the rays of sunlight that shine down into the garden. A small figurine is half-hidden in one fold of the cushion’s cover, dropped there and forgotten for the moment. I float above the scene, hovering, an unobserved watcher. Human children run and play, waving sticks and shouting. They dash around like excited puppies, around the trees and behind the bushes. Sometimes one falls, rolling to the ground with a mock injury, only to leap up again a second later, laughing and invincible. A voice, maternal and warm with amused exasperation, calls, ‘Boys! Not on the flowers!’

They hastily remove themselves from among the bright patches of rather knocked-about looking flowers and yell back, ‘Sorry!’

Five minutes later, and the rebuke comes again. ‘Boys!’

‘Sorry!’

I want to stay and listen to their chatter, but the air pulls me on. I pass over the garden fence and into the street outside. There are darkened lamps set on tall, thin metal poles; they form a strict, ordered line as far as I can see, forming an arch, or a passageway. Between the poles rush gleaming metal boxes on wheels that tear along and away with a loud noise and a distasteful smell. A few people walk next to the houses; there seems to be an invisible line that separates the humans from the moving vehicles, keeping them safe.

I fly on. I fly over land and over sea, over mountains and waterfalls, through air and darkness, through the lining of each world. Through the void, piercing the veil. A grey mist rolls over me, blocking my vision. When it clears, I have left the other world and am back in my own. I am flying over wide plains, full of waving brown grasses. There are mountains, blue-grey and craggy, in the distance. I know this place. This is Carathara.

I can see tiny villages dotted over the plains, filled with ramshackle tents made of animal hide. Filthy, half-breed children play with sticks and pebbles outside their homes. Some have deformed and missing limbs or twisted, distorted faces. The adults are no better; some have reached maturity while still retaining a child’s body. One male has been born with no eyes and simply sits in the dirt, mumbling to himself, lifting his face to feel the warmth of the sun that he cannot see. These are the half-breeds, the results of a few misguided matches between humans and Danann. They are hideous, their bodies deformed, as though Nature itself is protesting at the bestial cross breeding that should have never been.

I see a girl, about fourteen years of age. She crawls on her hands and knees, licking the ground and sniffing at everything she encounters. A small child looks at her, understanding her madness and feeling pity. He gets up from where he has been playing with the other half-breed children and walks over to her. She sniffs at his bare toes, licks them, snuffling curiously. He giggles and pats her head. Immediately she leaps up on her knees and sinks her teeth into his thigh. He screams, and she growls deep in her throat, shaking her head and backing away, trying to worry the chunk of flesh free. The other children and nearby adults look on and the boy screams and screams, too terrified to do anything else as his blood spatters into the dirt. The girl growls again, tugging at the boy’s leg and bringing him down to the ground. She puts her hands on his chest, pinning him down, her eyes – one gold and one black – glazing over with bloodlust. She releases his leg and gazes down at the ragged wound she has made. She blinks in surprise as the severed artery pumps a wave of blood into her face, the black end of it twitching like something alive. The boy’s screams have died away and she settles down on her haunches, waiting, hoping they will start again. The tip of her tongue rests on her lower lip and she cocks her head expectantly, still waiting.

** ** **

Child of Air. You have seen, but do you understand?

Na, ow El. Pýth gül trae, eilunae mýnya?

They mean what will be. They are that which is to come. This is the future, Child of Air, you know that. When are you ever shown anything not pertaining to the future?

Sa, ow El. Ý dallt.

You do not understand, Child of Air, not yet. But you will. Tell the Children this, and do what you must.

A whirling confusion. Pictures and images slide through the soft grey mist, showing me things I cannot understand, things I never dreamed even existed, things that I never Saw before. They dash through my mind, calling to me, promising wonders if only I obey them. I try and follow, but cannot. Something holds me back. Someone else is calling, repeating my name, over and over again.

** ** **

There was an odd knot in one of the ceiling beams. It made a strange little face, grinning down at me from above, and I so liked the look of it that I grinned back. ‘Hou,’ I greeted it.

‘Fal!’ Someone bent over me, eyes wide and staring intently into mine.

‘You’re not the face,’ I said, disappointed. ‘You’re Dai. I was talking to the face.’

Dai vanished; I did not see where he went as I was looking back at the face on the ceiling beam. ‘Have you been there long?’ I asked it.

It grinned and made no reply.

‘Fal!’

‘Still here.’

‘Fal, look at me.’

‘I don’t want to. I’m talking.’

‘Fal’ebren, you do as you’re told this minute!’

‘Yes, Mav,’ I said meekly and dragged my gaze away from the face. Mav was kneeling next to me on the floor, and it was then I realized that I was in bed.

‘You were Dai a minute ago,’ I said, and looked around. I was in our Dun and the door was half-open, letting in the warm, early morning sunlight and the smell of fresh dew on already damp earth. Dai was standing near the door, fastening his cloak. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked him.

‘To get Athrachan,’ he replied, before pushing the door wider and stepping out.

I looked back at Mav. ‘Is it morning? I thought it was night. It was night.’

‘Was, yes. You’ve been in the Sark since late last night.’

‘Oh, I say!’

‘Sa. The healers and seers said we shouldn’t worry, they didn’t think that staying in the Sark for too long would be harmful, but… Fal, you are all right, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, sure,’ I replied cheerfully. ‘Perfect. Splendid. Cool beans. Uber swell. Dandy. Great. Fab. Completely and utterly in the pink.’

‘Fal. Stop burbling rubbish.’ Mav’s brow was creased with worry.

‘It’s not rubbish,’ I said, offended. ‘They’re being dropped all over the continent. Some of them are even disguised as nuns!’

Mav took a deep breath, but was saved from replying by the arrival of Thas and Dai. Thas came straight over and bent down. ‘Fal, how are you feeling?’

‘Athrachan, I think he might be –’

‘But then again,’ I interrupted Mav. ‘He might not be. Who thinks there’s a third option?’

Dai poked his head around Thas’ shoulder. ‘Fal…’

‘Salutations,’ I told him sweetly. ‘My name is Charlotte. Charlotte A. Cavatica.’

‘Send for the healer, now!’

The head healer was called and I told him that Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold and who but my lady Greensleeves? After listening to this statement, he coughed, stroked his chin and looking at his assistant, said, ‘And what’s your opinion, Lughes?’

Put on the spot without a moment’s notice, Lughes cleared his throat, licked his lips, cleared his throat again, began, ‘Well,’ and stopped.

‘Well?’ I encouraged him. I was still in bed, with my hands behind my head, taking a cheerful interest in everything that was happening.

‘Well… a herbal remedy?’

‘All you have is herbal remedies,’ I pointed out. ‘No aspirin, Calpol, penicillin or roller compacted tablets here. You don’t even have herbal cigarettes.’ I put my head on one side, considering this. ‘Maybe you’re not really tobacconists. Maybe you really are healers!’

Lughes fumbled in his bag. ‘I can give him this… it should help to calm him down.’ He produced a small flask which he uncorked and then said, ‘Take one – hey!’

I snatched the flask, raised it, exclaimed, ‘Cheers!’ and drank half of it before they could get it away again. After which, I settled back with a sigh and drew the bed-fur up under my chin. ‘Goodnight old f. and b. Not eggs and b., in case you were wondering. But you are all very good eggs.’ And with that, I fell asleep.

** ** **

Later, after I had woken and finally managed to convince everybody that whatever had been the matter had now gone and that there was no nothing to worry about, I went to the library.

‘You need rest!’ Mav exclaimed.

‘I’ll rest when I come back,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Mav, but… I need to go and look up something. About what I Saw. I’ll tell you when I get back, sa?’

‘What did you See?’ Thas’ black eyes looked at me closely, making me uncomfortable.

‘The half-breeds. On Carathara. And the first future.’

That silenced them. Mav started to say something, then stopped. Thas shook his head.

‘Now you see? I’ll only be quick, but I want to look at the records… and Myrddin’s book.’

‘Da lowr.’ Mav sighed. ‘Take your cloak. The wind’s cold.’

‘Yes, Mav.’

And so, cloaked and curious, I entered the library. The seanachaidh who let me in, eyed me a little warily. Word of my collapse had gone around the hamlet and he told me, ‘Just call if you need anything, mael. Guen’cu is over there and there’s always someone within earshot, if you…’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured him, smiling inwardly. I went over to the shelves on the opposite wall. The library was the largest dun in the hamlet and it was divided into sections, with shelves on the walls and wooden cases creating aisles running down its length. When you came in through the door, the first things you saw were the cases stretching away before you, like a million corridors to knowledge. The books were sorted alphabetically by the name of their author and I headed for the ‘M’ section. I knew this part of the library as well as our own dun and I soon found the book I wanted. Liath lib ag Myrddin, the Grey Book of Myrddin.

I took the book to the end of the aisle, where a long, narrow bench ran the width of the library. Sitting down, glad of the soft rug cushioning the wood, I opened the Grey Book and began to read.

‘In my dealings with these two worlds, many wonders and tales have been brought to my attention. Among these, the tale of Artos is most note-worthy, as I had dealings in its happenings more than any other man. Artos’ father, Uthra the Terrible…’ I flicked the page over. Fascinating as the history of Artos was, it was not what I had come to seek. More pages turned, more beginnings of records. ‘The tale of Elen and Macsen Wledig began with the dream of an emperor…’ An interesting thing, I reflected, was Myrddin’s way of calling the histories ‘tales’ and recounting them as such. Nothing wrong with that, of course and it made the reading of them even more enjoyable.

‘The first Elven-human crosses date back to before the Crossing.’

Fal?

What? Codahüti?

Sa da, you’re sensible.

I’m always sensible! What do you mean?

I mean that for the past few hours, your thoughts have been as coherent as sheep fodder. First you were in the Sark, which is always confusing, and then… I don’t know what happened.

I woke up, I said with dignity.

And burbled complete nonsense with the strangest images in your head at the same time. They were all of humans, your thoughts were. Why was that?

They’re so strange. So different.

Which means that you have no idea whatsoever.

Mumbler!

You can’t mumble in thought.

I bet you could if you tried hard enough.

Go back to your reading. Fine out why you Saw the hybrids – and the other, first world.

Yes, sir!

Shut up.

She broke the link and I read again. ‘Elven-human crosses have always been anomalies and should be avoided.’ No duh, I thought, then blinked. Where had that come from? Never mind…

‘Elven-human half-breeds or hybrids are always born deformed. Sometimes the mind is affected, leaving the creature severely mentally disabled; some retain the logic and reasoning of a small child even when full grown; some have difficulty grasping the simplest of concepts, and some are simply mad. More often, the half-breed’s body is twisted. I have seen many born with missing limbs, hideous features and bodies tortured into all types of contortions. Even those less afflicted than others can never be called fair of face. The Elves are sometimes called fair, not for any great physical beauty that the race possesses, but because of their singular gift for understanding the world around them and –’ Hastily I turned over a page. No need to read anymore than was necessary about the shame of the Danann; here and now, it was less than unnecessary. Myddrin had not shed much light on the half-breed situation and I was still at a loss to understand why I had been shown such foul creatures. But the first future – there might be something about that?

Then check.

All right, all right. I read about the half-breeds, didn’t I?

I flicked back to the first chapter. I knew this bit practically off by heart; all about how our ancestors had first lived peacefully alongside all humans in one world – that was the one that Artos and Bedwyr and Macsen Wledig had lived in – and all had been peace and harmony until some humans had started to think that the Danann were evil, and their sciences witchcraft. Quite reasonably, other humans had disagreed with the first lot and things were getting rather sticky until someone had the bright idea of moving back in time. How they had known just how to do that, Myrddin did not explain. Still, they had come here, all the Danann and as many of their breeding experiments as they could gather together. A loss for that time, really.

Of course.

What?

Of course it’s the first future’s loss. After all, they are now deprived of the might and cunning of the Danann race.

Very true. Our knowledge of genetics –

Enough, already!

What?

There was a pause. Then, I don’t know. It just slipped out. Fal –

Sa?

I don’t like this.

What don’t you like? The Seeing into another time?

There was a reason that your forebears left it. Na, I don’t like it. Trust the bird.

I can’t control what I See. If I See into the first world, then I See it.

But you don’t need to encourage it.

Why not? It’s fun and it doesn’t hurt anyone.

But what use is it?

What use is a Sense-familiar?

It keeps the Sense in constant use and opens one up to the world around them. So?

So.

That’s no answer!

Oh, yes it is!

Codahüti left in disgust.

For Chapter 3:

‘War! Huh-yeah. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Uh-huh.’ – Edwin Starr, War

o-kay then…

feathered baldric that showed him to be chief of the Éan-log, the Bird People

coolness.

Whenever anyone requested an audience with Thas, they had it in the Gall Dun

just a little confusion on who “they” are; perhaps it would be clearer if you said “it took place in the Gall Dun”

to stand witness, and they stood

The Kioni and the Danann have never been close; there has been trouble in the past that I remember all too clearly.

While I realize it’s not exactly redundant, it might be best if you just picked one side of the semicolon or the other.

I frowned. Flintlock pistols work just fine! So what if we haven’t made as progress as the Kioni have in perfecting murder weapons? We’ve discovered more of the art of making new creatures than the Kioni ever will!

Um, this feels an awful lot like an expo dump. If you want to limit it to Fal’s annoyance at the insult to flintlocks, I think that’d be okay, but more just feel…*whump!*

the force of the Ebren-Chadyorä, the Sky-Hunters

Aha! So this is the EC! As I didn’t realize that until, literally, this point, you might want to avoid initializing it until you’ve got the definition firmly in your readers’ heads.

“Aed, go and set workers to the Kioni ship and make it ready to sail. And send Cei to me. Fal, go and see how the grey mare is doing.’

The command to Fal just seems rather out of place here; everything else sounds so…kingly. Then again, that may be the point.

I ducked through the door, and went through the Duns to the horse pens, stood with my elbows on the fence top of one, looking at the horses grazing quietly there.

Long sentence alert, please chop.

I resisted a childish impulse to add, ‘So there!’

Wise move.

talking to Stowe at the horse pens had really brought the reality home.

Nix, sounds too modern.

do your research in advance so you don’t embarrass everyone with your cultural faux pas.

1. I would hardly call it a “faux pas,” he was just asking, and 2. “faux pas” doesn’t seem like a word Fal would use

-----

Ah! Cliffhanger!

Overall, a very good chapter, a lot of good world-building and plot-setup, as well as some fun character stuff. I missed Codahüti, but that’s about it.

Well, here I go again. I'm glad you put this up - has been a long wait!

Chapter Three

I enjoyed this - some good dialogue, character development, description, all that shizz. However, as always, there's stuff to improve on, so here are my thoughts. I've skimmed over Gyr's critique, so hopefully I won't repeat her too much ^.^

‘War! Huh-yeah. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Uh-huh.’ – Edwin Starr, War

Not your typical opening quotation for a chapter in a fantasy novel, but unusual = good!

Good opening line - opening in dialogue always gets my attention, and opening on a question is even better.

The unfamiliar honorific no longer sounded strange; the Kioni emissaries had used it so often during the last few hours that I had become used to it. The Kioni - both blond, rather burly men - spoke enough Elftongue, and Thas knew enough Kioni, to fill up any gaps that arose from the language differences.

Good start. A couple of commas are needed, methinks. I've put them in bold on where I think they should go. Also, I think you should get rid of the 'up', as the resulting sentence is smoother.

Thas looked very regal, I thought, in his red tunic and white cloak. He was also wearing the feathered baldric that showed him to be chief of the Éan-log, the Bird People. Standing behind his chair with Mav, I could see how the golden eagle’s feathers on the baldric fluttered a little in the breeze from the open window of the Gall Dun.

Not much to change here. You come close to a mini-dump ('...that showed him to be chief of the...'), and I would perhaps alter the end of the sentence to '...in the breeze from the Gall Dun's open window', but that's about it.

Whenever anyone requested an audience with Thas, they had it in the Gall Dun, with only Thas, Mav, myself and two other witnesses to what was said. Thas had picked Aed and Lugh’ebren to stand witness, and they stood on either side of the door, watching the whole proceedings with calm, controlled faces.

I'm unsure as to whether this fits into the 'info-dumping is good' category or not. It could stay as it is, but I think perhaps you could reword it so that it's not so much a bog-standard 'this is why they're here' statement, but that it becomes part of Fal's thoughts. I'd alter the first sentence mostly, though, as the second is fine.

Stowe looked to be about twenty four, the same age as I.

This sounds odd, unnatural even, like it's only been put there so as to impart Fal's age to the reader. Either get rid of it, or find some other way to slip it into the story.

Thas tapped his second finger softly on the carved arms of his chair and took a deep breath. ‘This is my word, Dalton Fiske. Do you take it back to Valiad Kiona, king of Kiona. The Danann cannot enter this war.’

Fiske and Stowe stared at him. ‘But sir!’ Fiske took a step forward, his eyes wide and pleading. I was surprised at his lack of control. ‘Sir, the Kioni need allies. Valiad is willing to forget all old quarrels - ’

Is the underlined sentence a question or a command? If the former, add a question mark, if the latter, remove the 'Do you'. Also, I'd remove 'king of Kiona', as it's redundant in the context of the conversation - surely they'd know who their own king is, no? Instead, I would replace the 'Valiad' in bold with 'Our King' - it seems somewhat unlikely for an emissary of a country to refer to his king by name, and would solve any problems the reader would have of knowing who Valiad is.

‘But I am not.’ Thas’ face was calm, his voice cool. ‘The Kioni and the Danann have never been close; there has been trouble in the past that I remember all too clearly. The matter of the Elven hybrids springs to mind. And quite apart from old disputes, the Danann simply do not have enough troops to enter a war that is not their own.’

‘If you join with Kiona, you will have more than enough supplies and weapons. In exchange for the services of the Ebren-Chadyorä,’ he stumbled over the unfamiliar word, ‘the Danann would be armed with Kioni percussion cap guns, instead of the flintlocks you currently use.’

‘The Kioni and the Danann have never been close;' - I dunno, it sounds like a pointless statement to make in this conversation. Perhaps alter it, to something like ‘The Kioni and the Danann, as you are well aware, have never been close, and...' which brings me on to the next part of the sentence - I'd imagine these people would know of the trouble in the past, so I recommend you rephrase the statement: 'I remember all too clearly the trouble in the past' sounds less like an obtuse statement made only for the reader's benefit.

I'd change the comma in bold to a dash, which would make the transition into 'he stumbled...' less smooth, emphasising the 'stumbling' he's having over the word. Finally, I'd reword the last sentence to something like '...instead of your current flintlocks', as it seems to me that, as he's in a state of semi-desperation, he would be dropping some of the formalities.

So what if we haven’t made as much progress as the Kioni have in perfecting murder weapons?

You're very adept at writing informal conversation - it's easy to read, realistic, conveys different emotions clearly... Very good.

Seczuin refuses to give an answer to Valiad’s request

Again, I'd replace 'Valiad' with 'our/my King', as it's coming from Fiske.

Fiske-ner

Perhaps another glossary would come in handy hear, is it isn't ultimately clear what 'ner' means - is it a minor insult, a sign of respect...? (Unless you've listed it in a previous chapter

There was a moment of silence, then Fiske said stiffly, ‘Very well. If that is your final word…’

‘Then we shall take it back to our king as soon as our ship is ready to sail.’

'take it back' sounds a little juvenile - 'leave to inform our king' seems a little better, methinks.

‘You should be able to leave tomorrow, but tonight we shall feast. I shall send word when the evening meal is ready.’

The repetition of 'shall' sounds a bit off. Also, as they've ended their formal discussion, one would assume that they would start being a little more casual in their speech - use of contractions ('I'll send word...') and that sort of thing.

Aed, go and set workers to the Kioni ship and make it ready to sail.

'make it ready' is a rather long-winded way of saying prepare, no? Although perhaps you could rework the sentence a bit more substantially: '...set workers to prepare the Kioni ship to set sail tomorrow.' Something along those lines.

I ducked through the door, and went through the Duns to the horse pens, stood with my elbows on the fence top of one, looking at the horses grazing quietly there.

Are doors particularly low here? I'd replace the 'ducked' with a different verb. 'Stood' needs changing to 'standing' - or perhaps 'leaning', which would mean you don't need the 'elbows on...'. The middle part of the sentence is slightly confusing - 'the fence top of one' makes little sense when reading it through, so it needs changing. The whole thing could eventually read something like '... to lean on one of the fences of the nearest enclosure.'

the light wind lifting wisps of her pale mane and playing with them.

I'd remove 'wind'. And 'headcollar' is one word (however much Firefox spellcheck disagrees with me ).

She seemed sound, so I turned her sharply to the left, to check that the joints in her ankle had healed. They had.

The 'They had' seems a tad dramatic - perhaps soften it up with an adverb in front?

‘Oh.’ He sounded interested. ‘How does that work, exactly?’

I was not completely sure myself, but I said, ‘A reflex action,’ which was fairly non-committal.

Not that it's integral to the plot or anything, but they bob their heads 'cause it hurts - the foot can't take the weight. Like when we limp because of a strained ankle.

I led the mare back to her pen and turned her loose among the ten or so other horses there.

Perhaps leave it at 'turned her loose.' It sounds better, and we don't need to know how many other horses are in there.

‘Thank you.’ I accepted the compliment on behalf of [s]all the rest of[/s] the Danann [s]that[/s] who were not present and added, ‘It is mostly the Horse People who breed the horses we use, as they are the finest.’

This mostly just needs trimming. I've done so with the genius of strike-throughs! Also, the last bit of dialogue is jarring, too formal ('It is' instead of 'It's') and a touch nonsensical (are the Horse People the finest, or their horses?). Change it to something more like 'It's the Horse People who breed them - they have a natural talent for it.'

My main comment with this conversation is that it's too stiff - Stowe is obviously trying to be casual, and Fal doesn't seem to have any objection to his being there, but it still sounds too formal. I think it's the lack of contractions that I notice most - try to use lots of "it's"s, "you're"s, etc.

He grinned. ‘Only a little. I know the six tribes of the Elves: Bird, Horse, Cat, Seal, Whale and Wolf, but that’s about it.’

‘Not whale,’ I corrected him. ‘The word is tómrallsen, for which your language had no equivalent. It includes certain sea animals, like dolphins, whales, narwhals and porpoises.’

The first part just seems like a disguised info-dump, but as a result it sounds unnatural - would you just start listing off something you weren't too sure about, in front of an expert without, any hint of tentativeness? There should be a couple of 'er's and 'um's in that list, and perhaps an 'isn't it?' at the end, trying to get a comfirmation from Fal. Again, the 'for which your language had [should be 'has'] no equivalent' sounds too formal and stiff. You need to make it more casual: '...which your language doesn't have a word for', or something like that. The same is true of 'It includes certain sea animals, like dolphins, whales, narwhals and porpoises.' It sounds like it's coming out of a school textbook - deformalise it.

‘Na. Sharks are not the same. Their blood is cold and their thoughts are cold.’

I would have it as 'Their blood and thoughts are cold.' It's more effective, as the repetition of 'cold' that you have at present makes it sound cumbersome, and as a result weakens the overall effect.

I wanted to touch his mind and find out why, but that would have been grossly impolite. Even though I could not help but Sense his emotions, reading his mind was another matter entirely. There was a pause.

Info-dumping here. You can do better than this - find a way to integrate these thoughts and feelings into the story without stating them outright - difficult, but not beyond your ability.

Stowe shuffled his feet and clicked his tongue quietly. I doubted he even knew he was doing it.

This seems a little pointless, particularly the second sentence. Is there any reason he shouldn't shuffle his feet and click his tongue?

‘I cannot answer for my father,’ I answered coldly. ‘But he does that which is best for Aval-lón. He knows better than I of what is the right thing to do.’ I resisted a childish impulse to add, ‘So there!’

Had a more casual tone been used for their conversation beforehand, you could have reverted back to formality to good effect here. As it is, however, there's little difference suggested except for the fact that he answers 'coldly'. You're also going about things very long-windedly in this particular piece of dialogue: '...he does that which is best...' This isn't how anyone talks. '...he does his best for...' sounds much more natural. I like the last sentence - adds a bit of character to Fal which we haven't seen so far in this chapter.

‘I merely asked if your horse was here.’

The 'merely' makes it sound as though he's on the defensive. It's more of a 'I was just wondering if your horse was here' sort of thing, no?

‘Oh! No, he isn’t. There are more pens on the other side of the hamlet and Sweff - that’s my horse - is stabled there.’

Good, more casual.

‘The evening meal will be ready soon, so I must go.’

And now you've slipped back into this horrible formality. It's too wooden. Imagine someone saying this. It's the 'so I must go' that brings the whole thing down. 'I'll have to go, the evening meal will be ready soon' is far softer.

‘Alright. ’bye.’

Ironically, this somehow seems too casual - a simple 'Goodbye' would be more in keeping with the character (and the time period), I'm thinking.

I was not sure what response was expected to this, so I left him without saying anything.

Another 'goodbye', perhaps?

...all that was left of the [s]missed[/s] sunset, and a few dim, early stars were beginning to show in the darkest part of the sky. I shivered and increased my pace.

'missed' needs to go. 'increased my pace' sounds a bit too robotic in this instance. Something like 'quickened my step' would suffice.

Mav’s hand came around the screen that surrounded my bed [s]and gave[/s] to give me privacy [s]in[/s] whilst dressing.

Edited accordingly.

I tucked in the tail of my tunic and looked [s]at[/s] in the full-length mirror that stood next to my bed.

We generally look 'in' the mirror (for some obscure reason), and I think 'at my bedside' would do to replace 'that stood next...'

really brought the reality home.

This doesn't seem like something that Fal would say. It sounds too modern. Either change it to suit the time and place, or leave it out. I suggest you change it, as the idea is good, but it just doesn't sound good the way it is.

I like your description here - vivid and clear.In fact, your use of imagery has been very good throughout all these chapters. Very good.

Here again you prove your prowess at informal dialogue - very enjoyable, smooth, and natural. I'd suggest replacing 'earwig' with 'eavesdrop', but that's merely a personal preference.

No.’ The word came from Thas, and that one syllable dampened the conversation as effectively as a bucket of cold water. There was an awkward silence.

Smug, I thought venomously, looking at Stowe from the corner of my eye. Next time you come to negotiate with the Danann, do your research in advance so you don’t embarrass everyone with your cultural faux pas.

Hmmm. This behaviour all seems a little strange. He was, after all, only asking a question. I agree with Gyr here, it's not really a faux pas, and nor would I expect Fal to use it - it is French, after all.

The Gate stretched far above me, an endless, smooth path of wood that seemed to carry on until it touched the ends of the sky.

'path of wood' is a strange metaphor for a gate - when I hear path, I think of winding, gravelly paths - not a straight line. 'ends of the sky' seems a little curious as well, but not unacceptable. I like your description after this again. 'million pinpoints of white fire'. 'thousand diamonds' - both contrast with and set each other off nicely.

Here at the Gate, it was easy to contact her, with not too many hills and high rocks to get in the way and block off the Sense-waves of thought.

'block off Sense-waves of thought' seems a little too Star Trek to me. And 'hills and high rocks' seem too solid obstacles for something that is completely lacking in solidity - the senses.

I like your conversation here - light-hearted, easy to read again. Very good.

And good cliff-hanger ending. Looking forward to the next chapter (the critique of which I shall attempt tomorrow)!

So here endeth my critique!

Hope it helped in some way, shape or form,

-Kyle

Back again!

Chapter 4

Actually, I'm quite disappointed with this, because there's practically nothing for me to critique. This is by far your best Chapter out of the four. The quality of the writing is as good as most (indeed, it's better than some) published books, and I really got into this - I really wanted to know what happened next. It was funny (the middle part in particular), the description in the italics was beautiful, and the overall package was as close to perfect as you can get without going through and editing every word with a fine-toothed comb.

All this, of course, makes my job much, much easier (if a little less fulfilling ), as all I've got to do is point out a couple of grammatical and spelling errors.

‘But then again,’ I interrupted Mav.

When you came in through the door, the first thing you saw [s]was[/s] were the cases stretching away before you, like a million corridors to knowledge. The books were sorted alphabetically by the name of their author and I headed for the ‘M’ section.

. Among these, the tale of Artos is most note-worthy, as I had dealings in its happenings more than any other man.

And that's all I could find. Really, excellent chapter. I tried, but there was nothing more to do with it!

-Kyle

Chapter Five

‘I like fighting… it is knightly.’ --The Wart

‘I am a mole, and I live in a hole.’ I rubbed the soft cloth over the leather bridle in time with the words. ‘I am a mole and I –’

‘Fal,’ Dai pleaded, ‘please, please, please, please stop saying that. You’re making me mazed.’

‘It’s in my head!’

Dai sighed. The stable was very quiet; it smelled of hay and old manure and there was a sprinkling of motes in the sunlight that fell on the floor through the half-open door. Dai was repairing a tear in a woven head collar, and he paused in his work, looking at me sorrowfully. ‘Ever since the Kioni left, you’ve been – I don’t know. So strange. You say things and I don’t know what they mean.’

‘I told you, they’re from another time. The first future.’

‘I know, but… It’s been fifteen hundred and seventy seven years exactly since we left, so why bring it up now?’

‘Ripe for a change, sa?’

‘Na. I don’t see why there’s any need at all.’

I pointed the cloth at Dai accusingly. ‘Your trouble is, Dai, that you are sedentary. You’re placid. You’re too… puddle-like.’

‘Too puddle-like?’ Dai echoed. He grinned and held out his hand. A round globe of water gathered itself together over his palm, gleaming and sparkling where the light caught it.

‘Sa, water!’ I exclaimed.

‘There’s water in air, though, isn’t there?’

‘Well, yes…’

‘And air’s the most important element.’

‘To the Danann.’

‘So that makes air important, sa?’

‘Of course!’

Dai levitated the small sphere of water into the air, spun it around in a spiral and made it fly into his mouth, where it collapsed back into liquid form.

‘Show off,’ I commented.

Dai swallowed, wiped his chin and said, ‘You’re just jealous.’

‘Of not being able to play with water?’

Dai smirked and repeated, ‘Jealous. You’ve seen how the girls flock around the Danann with Elemental-gift, rather than Seeing-gift.’

‘Flirt!’ I rolled my eyes in mock horror. ‘Trip no further, pretty sweeting, journeys end in lover’s meeting.’

‘Very quaint.’

‘You know, that can actually mean --’

Fal!

I stopped in mid sentence. Thas? What’s the matter?

We’ve just had a relayed message from the Wolf People, on the far east coat. Three Sersuran ships have attacked the villages there, in the unprotected area.

‘What?’ In my shock, I spoke the words aloud as I thought them. ‘How did they get there?’

From the east, so it looks as though they must have come from Carathara –

‘Have they violated the Aquila-Leighton Agreement? They can’t –’

Fal, I don’t care if they’ve murdered King Amory in cold blood! Take your squadron and teleporter and get there now! Scramble!

‘Sa, saraigh!’ I leaped for the door. Outside, elves were bursting out of dun doors, grabbing guns and tying belts as the word spread.

Dai ran beside me. Fal, what’s wrong? Is it the Sersurans?

They’ve attacked the coastline in Wolf territory. My squadron’s going to help.

Aren’t there any soldiers there?

Everyone’s demobilized – we weren’t expecting anything like this! By now we were at the North Gate with a crowd of others. We poured out of the gate and sprinted for the teleportation field – a space of ground where the grass was clipped very short and somewhat scorched in places. A tall, golden haired she-elf stood in its very centre, calmly watching us all pound towards her. This was Las’uthran, and my squadron’s best teleporter.

At the edges of the field we began sorting ourselves into some kind of order. I felt Codahüti’s presence and seconds later, she swept around an outcrop of rock with the rest of the squadron’s beasts. They landed and divided into four groups of six. I was seething with impatience, even though I knew that this made it easier to get organized.

‘Here, Fal.’ It was Dai. He thrust a belt into my hands and I strapped it around my waist, feeling the reassuring pressure of the brace of pistols and filled canister pouches.

Danann were mounting their beasts and Las’uthran moved among them, making sure that everyone was in their correct positions. I ran to Codahüti and climbed on her back, my feet braced against the base of her wings. A bareback ride on this hunt, sa, Codahüti?

I will make sure you don’t fall off. Her thoughts were teasing. Fresh blood.

You’re not supposed to eat the enemy.

Why not?

Fal. Dai’s mind joined ours. Fal, be careful. And you, Codahüti.

When am I ever not careful?

All the time? Oh I wish I were going with you. I feel so helpless here, stuck on the ground.

‘Ready?’ Las’uthran shouted. One by one, everyone raised their hands. She looked to me, waiting.

There’ll be fights enough after this one, I assured Dai. You’ll end up wishing there weren’t any at all, by the end of it.

Trem menta ebren ebolae.

I raised my arm and Las’uthran returned the salute. Then she teleported, taking the squadron with her. Having gone through many teleportations, I was used to the tingling, faintly nauseating sensation of my body vanishing in one place and reappearing instantly in another. The landing was smoother, without any hitches. Some teleporters manage to lose passengers on the way, but Las’uthran was one of the best.

She brought us down near the beach, where the grass began to show sand around its roots instead of earth. I could hear the sounds of fighting nearby, probably less than half a mile away.

‘Everyone?’ I called, looking around. The others signalled and I shouted, ‘Alayachae, up!’ The twelve winged horses turned and began their run up. I watched them gallop up the grassy slope behind, building up enough speed to take flight. Once they were in the air, I shouted, ‘Mérae! Up!’

Codahüti crouched and leaped up, the other eagles following her lead. Her huge wings pumped through the air, rushing the wind against my face. Las’uthran raised her arm in the salute and the blast from Codahüti’s wings blew her hair back behind her like a comet’s tail.

We joined the rest of the squadron above us and from the air, I could see the fighting. Three ships were pulled up onto the beach and smoke from the burning duns hung in the sky in a sullen white-grey cloud.

Spread out. Attack whatever you can. Silence now. If they have archers, we don’t want to give them warning. I could Sense the other beasts behind us, but the air was roaring in my ears and all I could see was the burning village, the drawn up ships, the running, screaming Danann, all getting closer and closer.

Are there others coming? Codahüti asked.

What? Irritated, as my intense concentration on the moment wavered.

Are there others coming? Other squadrons?

Yes, no – how should I know?

Closer, close enough to see the drops of blood flying from whirling sword blades, and still they had not seen us. I fumbled in my back pouch, found a small, smooth canister, brought it out.

Now! I threw the canister as hard as I could and screamed the first thing that came into my head. ‘Galileo!’

The canister hit the ground and exploded, sending up a huge cloud of black smoke and bright orange flame. More troopers dropped their canisters and I heard more than one shout, ‘Galileo!’

The Sersurans scattered, for a moment panicked and unorganized, but then one man with a red crest to his helmet shouted something and they regrouped. The squadron overshot them, then broke formation and wheeled back. Codahüti angled towards the ground and I flung another canister.

Too much fire. Codahüti managed one coherent thought.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention…

Codahüti screamed and, seeping low, clutched at a Sersuran with her talons. I Sensed the man’s agony, terror and death before she dropped him.

The scarlet crest burned like a bright coal, urging and encouraging the soldiers. There was a shrill bark from behind and something went thwizz over my head. We veered left, only to dodge another arrow.

Kill the red-crest.

I fumbled at my hip and found my pistol. Codahüti swept low over the fighting mob of Danann and Sersuran. I leaned over her side, the faces blurring together into a wide, continuous smudge of red, white, black and brown. The red crest suddenly appeared, waving his arms and shouting orders.

Another bark-thwizz and I clutched a handful of feathers as Codahüti lurched left and up.

Now!

The red-crest turned, his mouth open wide and panting, tiny flecks of red spotting one side of his face. I fired and Codahüti shrieked, talons outstretched.

The red-crest crumpled under the double attack and blood splashed in my face as Codahüti tossed his body into the air, snapping her beak and crying in triumph. I yelled with her, my eyes and mouth wide open as the red-crest’s blood blew on the wind into my face and burned my skin.

A javelin narrowly missed my head and as the red-crest’s body hit the ground, Codahüti thrust down hard to gain height and momentum.

Fal’ebren-ner! It was Ron’uthrie, my first Flight Leader. Look, behind!

The sky behind us was empty, save for a cluster of dark dots on the horizon that were getting bigger and bigger.

I raised my pistol in the air. ‘The eagles!’ I cried. ‘The eagles are coming!’

Within seconds, it seemed, the air was full of beasts, mérae and alayachae from the two new squadrons tearing, kicking and killing anything that even smelled Sersuran.

The fire from the explosions was spreading. A mér dropped its canisters on one of the Sersuran ships and it immediately caught fire, wood cracking and exploding upwards.

Kill most, but take a few prisoners for questioning. The thought came from the second Squadron Leader. Those are my orders.

They are not mine, I replied.

They are direct form Athrachan-cin himself. He said especially for you to obey, Fal’ebren-ner.

Oh, very well.

** ** **

‘The orders did say a few prisoners, Fal-ebren-ner,’ Ron’uthrie said respectfully.

‘And what’s two if not a few?’ I demanded.

We were in one of the less damaged duns, along with Squadron Leaders Gwyn’bre and T’shaa.

T’shaa picked at a spot of loose plaster on the wall. His golden brown hair was singed at the ends and he reeked of smoke. ‘Two will do, I suppose. Where are they?’

‘Out there, with my squadron,’ I answered. The fighting had come to an end with the death of the red crest and the arrival of the other squadrons. Most of the troopers were now on the beach, helping to organize the teleportation of the dead and wounded. Our casualties had not been heavy, but there were few of the villagers who had not suffered some injury.

Eb’raire? I sent to my second Flight Leader.

Sa, saraigh?

Bring the prisoners in. Ron’uthrie, go and help him.

Is there a particular reason why you have not bugged me so I remembered that there was a chapter I hadn't gotten to! And now another one! Well, this is to mark my place, for I'm coming back to fill it with a crit just as soon as I can!

Chapter Six

‘This is it ladies and gentlemen, we are at war!’ --Captain Jack Harkness

The prisoners were very battered and blood-stained. One with a dirty rag knotted around his head swayed on his feet and his companion, looking around at us earnestly, asked in halting Kioni: ‘Please – he sit down?’

Gwyn’bre nodded and the second soldier propped the wounded one against him, then gently slid him down onto the floor.

Drop the count of prisoners available for questioning down to one, T’shaa said dryly.

Still the one, though, I replied and aloud, asked in Kioni, ‘Where did the ships come from?’

The soldier shook his head jerkily. ‘I no intellegeno… No speak big Kioni.’

‘Mallaigh.’ T’shaa blew out his breath in exasperation, then began slowly, ‘Where – ships – come –’

The Sersuran spat on the ground. ‘I no speak big Kioni, I no speak little Kioni to you!’

‘Well, what does that mean?’ I asked impatiently.

‘I think he means he won’t tell us. He won’t talk.’ Gwyn’bre ran the pointed tip of his tongue over his lips. In Elftongue he said, ‘What about his mind? I don’t have the Sense, but…’

‘We couldn’t do that!’ I was shocked. ‘We just couldn’t! Not force the information from his mind!’

Gwyn’bre’s eyes were like amber – smooth and hard and golden. There was a heavy silence. T’shaa looked from one to the other of us, then drew his dirk and knelt down before the wounded Sersuran. The soldier stared at him, his eyes looking very dark with pain and fear.

T’shaa did not look at the other soldier standing slouched a few paces away, but he spoke to him. ‘If you do not tell us what we want, I will hurt your brother here.’

‘He – he no brother.’

‘He is your brother.’ T’shaa’s voice was almost gentle. ‘I can tell when you lie to us. Your mind speaks to me. Tell me where the ships came from.’

‘No tell, no know where!’

‘That is a lie.’

Another silence. The wounded Sersuran’s breathing sounded very loud and ragged. T’shaa looked at the other Sersuran for the first time. ‘Do you know about the spine?’ He touched the side of the flinching Sersuran’s neck. ‘The backbone? If it is damaged here, near the neck, your brother will probably die. If it is damaged lower down, he will never be able to sit upright again. If you do not tell us, your brother will be a cripple for the rest of his life. He will not be able to feed himself or move by himself. He will suffer shame and misery until he dies, always dependant upon the charity of others. All because you would not tell us what we want. All because of you.’

The Sersuran’s face had turned a dirty grey and he stared at his wounded brother, his mouth moving soundlessly.

So, T’shaa is against simply entering his mind, but has no problem with crippling his brother?

Shut up, Codahüti. This is complicated enough without you butting in.

Oh, we are important!

‘I tell.’ The Sersuran’s head was bowed, and he sounded hoarse.

‘Good.’ T’shaa straightened, sheathing his dirk and stepping back. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Caius Pius Milus.’

‘Where did the ships come from?’

‘Vastidas. Land to the southwest of here… You say Carathara.’

‘Why?’ Gwyn’bre rapped out. ‘The Aquila-Leighton Agreement said that Carathara is neutral ground, to be used only for keeping the part Elves. Why has Sersura broken the Agreement?’

Caius’ lip curled. ’Sersura is big - big! Getting more powerful all days. Old agreements - pff! We grow strong. We take Atatzuin from Seczuin, we move into Vastidas, we take Aval-lón and Belua both!’

‘Belua?’ T’shaa murmured.

‘Kiona,’ Gwyn’bre said. Then, ‘But why now? Sersura has been “big” for decades - why have you suddenly started fighting now?’

Caius blinked. ‘I no speak big Kioni.’

‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ I muttered.

‘What?’ T’shaa asked, momentarily distracted.

I sighed. ‘It’s an expression.’

An expression from a place that you shouldn’t be thinking of. Keep your beak in Aval-lón’s troubles and don’t –

Will you shut up! I can’t say a single thing without you making unhelpful comments!

You need comments.

There was a knock at the door. As the door was been half broken and was hanging by only one leather hinge, the knock was simply a polite nothing. Ron’uthrie lifted the sagging door and said, ‘Fal’ebren-ner?’

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘A relayed message, saraigh, from Carraig Éanä.’

‘From Athrachan? What does he say?’

Ron’uthrie held out a ragged square of skin, smudged with a few lines written in charcoal. I took it, adding a few more smudges from my fingers and read it.

‘What does Athrachan-cin say?’ T’shaa asked.

‘He says that we are to return to our Bases and make ready to fly at a moments’ notice. The dead and wounded have been brought back safely. He is sending a messenger to Kiona immediately.’

‘A messenger saying what?’

‘That we agree to Amory’s offer.’ I felt the thickness of the rough skin under my fingers. The charcoal writing was smeared; it made an odd little flat squeak when I rubbed it. ‘We are at war.’

Chapter Four:

‘They came, the birds flighting the dark,[i]

Not sure if this is a typo, but you have “flighting” here—if you meant “fighting” or “flying,” you may want to change it, but if you did mean “flighting,” then that’s a cool word.

It was the echo of sound that comes after a bell is struck.

Beautiful description, but please find a better (i.e. more descriptive) word than “sound.”

[i]Sa, ow El.Ý tiyra tyr focalä.

Humph, now you get all ancient-language-ey on us. *crosses arms*

Dai vanished; I did not see where he went as I was looking back at the face on the ceiling beam.

A rather confusing sentence, perhaps tidying up the structure would make it less so. Then again, considering that Fal is now seeing things in the ceiling beams, maybe not.

‘Oh, I say!’

This bugs me. You want to know why? It bugs me because it should feel rather awkward and a bit old-fashioned. It doesn’t. Thus—I am bugged.

‘Oh, sure,’ I replied cheerfully. ‘Perfect. Splendid. Cool beans. Uber swell. Dandy. Great. Fab. Completely and utterly in the pink.’

0.0 *rubs eyes, stares* …ummmm *blinkblink*

‘But the again,’ I interrupted Mav.

I’m pretty sure you mean “then again.”

‘Salutations,’ I told him sweetly. ‘My name is Charlotte. Charlotte A. Cavatica.’

‘Send for the healer, now!’

Smart option.

The head healer was called and I told him that Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold and who but my lady Greensleeves?

Oh. My. Word. He’s mad. Totally and completely bonkers. A mad Elf with a giant eagle. This is going to get interesting….*laughs hysterically* *shivers a bit in fear*

And so, cloaked and curious, I entered the library.

“cloaked and curious” is one of the most wonderful phrases I have ever read. Thought I should tell you.

The books were sorted alphabetically by the name of their author and headed for the ‘M’ section.

I do believe you need an “I” between “and” and “headed for.”

Which means that you have no idea whatsoever.

Mumbler!

You can’t mumble in thought.

I bet you could if you tried hard enough. [i]

Have I mentioned that I love this bird?

[i]No duh, I thought, then blinked. Where had that come from? Never mind…

Be afraid, be very afraid. The ‘duh’ has invaded the Isle of Avalon!!!

More often, the half-breed’s body is twisted. I have seen many born with missing limbs, hideous features and bodies twisted into all types of contortions.

Why not? It’s fun and it doesn’t hurt anyone.

Famous last words.

Codahüti left in disgust.

As well she might. Fal is being an idiot.


General

I must say, I rather enjoyed this section, darling! One thought—you might want to mention about the first world (our world) before Fal starts jabbering on about nuns and Greensleeves, if only so that we’re slightly prepared for the appearance of “cool beans” and so on. Quite a lot of fun!

. . .

Darling, please don't be shy about reminding me that I haven't critiqued your work yet! *hug*

Chapter Five

of hay and dust and leather

Commas are your friend!

‘And air’s the most important element.’

‘To the Danann.’

‘And that’s important, too.’

And what’s important too?

the Danann with elemental-gift, rather than Seeing-gift.’

Is there a reason why one is capitalized and the other isn’t?

Fal, I don’t care if they’ve murdered Valiad and Charana both!

1. Who are Valiad and Charana?
2. Shouldn’t we care if they’re dead…?

You’re not supposed to eat the enemy.

Why not?

My question exactly.

Having gone through many teleportation

Need an ‘s’ on the end there, methinks.

faintly nauseating sensation of my atoms and molecules

Wait a minute, we’ve discovered atoms and molecules? And they have the exact same names as they do in “our” world? Anachronism alert!

The twelve winged horse

“horses”

I watched the gallop

“them gallop”

We joined the rest of the squadron

Who are “we”? You just described Codahüti’s takeoff—are there other winged things, big eagles, the like?

smoke rose from the burning duns like a dirty finger.

I don’t think the red bit’s necessary—it’s a rather awkward word-picture.

Spread out. Attack whatever you can. Silence now. If they have archers, we don’t want to give them warning.

Is this supposed to be in quotes? Or italics?

Of course! No - how should I know?

I should just stick to “How should I know?” otherwise it all gets very confusing.

The canister hit the ground and exploded, sending up a huge cloud of black smoke and bright orange flame. More troopers dropped their canisters and I heard more than one shout, ‘Galileo!’

The astronomer would be so proud…Elves throwing bombs in his name…

The red-crest crumpled under the double attack and blood splashed in my face as Codahüti tossed his body into the air, snapping her beak and crying in triumph.

See, you can eat the bad guys!

as the red-crest’s blew on the wind

The red-crest’s what?

It was Ron’uthrie, my first eochaidh.

Okay, I understand why you use their language for as much as is plausible, but there comes a point where “lieutenant” (or whathaveyou) would really just do the trick so much better without jerking the reader out of the flow of the story.

‘The eagles!’ I cried. ‘The eagles are coming!’

*head/desk* That has better be a deliberate quote…

éanallä and oll’iolarä from the two new squadrons

See above. (the one above the one above, obviously)

sqaud leaders

“squad”


Overall

Good battle, wonderful war-cry, you got a very nice sense of flight going, and too many words we don’t know. Quite a lot of fun, seeing those two in action.

Chapter Six

Drop the count of prisoners available for questioning down to one, T’shaa said dryly.

Hmm…I have a small problem with the word “said” being applied to mental discourse…but only a small one.

Another silence. The wounded Sersuran’s breathing sounded very loud and ragged. T’shaa looked at the other Sersuran for the first time. ‘Do you know about the spine?’ He touched the side of the flinching Sersuran’s neck. ‘The backbone? If it is damaged here, near the neck, your brother will probably die. If it is damaged lower down, he will never be able to sit upright again. If you do not tell us, your brother will be a cripple for the rest of his life. He will not be able to feed himself or move by himself. He will suffer shame and misery until he dies, always dependant upon the charity of others. All because you would not tell us what we want. All because of you.’

Ohhh, very nice, just the right touch of malice wrapped in lots of calm.

‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ I muttered.

‘What?’ T’shaa asked, momentarily distracted.

I sighed. ‘Expression.’

I had to read this twice to figure out what they meant—perhaps if Fal said “It’s an expression” it might flow better.

Will you shut up! I can’t say a single thing without making unhelpful comments!

Don’t you mean “without you making unhelpful comments”?

the knock was a polite nothing, more than anything.

Nix.


Overall

Oooo….