Blood of the Jhe'emlien

So this is as the description says the third of a series of short stories, the first two of which are not posted anywhere at all but are going to be put to heavy revision once this story is finished beginning-to-end.
As such, I realize that you have absolutely no idea who the hell these characters are and why some of them seem to be so godawful overpowered, but this is an experiment--I need to know if it can survive on its own without the reader knowing beforehand the connections these characters hold among each other and their past conflicts and yadda yadda. Anyway, thank you so much if you take the time to read all of this, as it kinda has to be a long first post XD

Oh, and by the way, "jhe'emlien" means oathkin or kin-by-oathblood; jhe'emetra means oathsister, and jhe'emtaren means oathbrother, in case that isn't immediately obvious... and it may not be, cuz as I said, this is the third of a series set in that world and with those people. Edit: this may or may not help, but those are words used only by the gypsy-rogues in reference to each other, never by or to anyone outside of the oathblood they share.


Blood of the Jhe’emlien

A red sun was rising.
Instinct hides the innocent; the creatures of night and day were not to be seen. The road wound its way east, striving toward the ill omen that was its harbor, risen dust turned red with the rays that warned it away—it cared not for omen, but for the chance that it might escape into the trees that waited it.
Darkness chased it. Night was its refuge, darkness its enemy—darkness that could not be banished by the rays of the sun, darkness which followed it, chased it, surrounded it. The creatures of the night ran from it; the creatures of the day hid, waiting for it to pass.
The stillness of the night had been angered. Now, the red sun heralded the end of anger, the beginning of vengeance, as though it knew what it would look upon when its presence finally loomed over the shrouded scene below. Night had told its secrets, kicked the darkness from its midst, bade the sun protect its children.
Thunder approached the rising sun, following the road as it fled. Thunder was the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the wagon which ran upon the road, hurtling toward the rising sun; like the road, it sought the protection of the trees before it.
Such roads are made by those who walk upon it. Neither would make it to the trees without choking on the darkness that enclosed it.
“Jhe’emetra!”
The cry rang above the thunder of the hooves as the darkness converged greedily, tasting of their blood, pulsing, swooping inward to steal the life from its quarry.
The red sun’s prophecy had been fulfilled.

*****

The trees loomed ahead; Railita could see them through the mist, their branches straining and moving as though trying to reach those they sensed coming in need of their protection. She ducked as an arrow whistled by her head, noting its trajectory and praying it struck no one. They had already suffered one loss; if the others could just make it to those trees they would be safe.
“Shatahi’la!”
She urged her horse faster, leaning into it as far as her swollen stomach would permit, and the poor creature quickened its step even when it was already straining into a full-out gallop.
The first riders were almost to the trees—there, the wagon had made it, the children were safe; Railita grinned with savage elation as she saw those of the enemy who were stupid enough to follow, crushed where they stood by the enormous branches or flung forcefully away with many a broken bone.
“Gypsy caz’drin!” she heard the enemy swear in their language, and triumph flooded her for one brief moment.
Then the horse beneath her jolted violently, letting out a high, chilling scream; it stumbled—tripped—plowed into the earth—Railita had only time to think one desperate thought of her husband and second-in-command before she was thrown wide at full gallop, only the dusty road to break her fall, and the sight of the blade… descending….

*****

“Jhe’emetra!”
The peace of the elven citadel rent itself in two for all those in hearing range as Saravonya’s shriek blasted the blankets off her and she leapt up, ripping both blades from their sheathes as she went. “Emetra!” she screamed, crashing through the adjoining door to her twin’s room. Her mind still tuned on the dream, she felt it when the enormous power was released miles away from her and her sister, an echo of magic that rocked her back and made her stagger, flashing to the scene—blood, a scream, a crack of lightning that blinded her, a yell of fury from a voice she knew, a blade—then her mind came back, and she saw her sister’s face before her, alarmed enough that one hand was raised and humming with the lightning of her power, ready to strike.
“Emetra, what have you seen?” Silvera demanded, making Saravonya focus so suddenly on her that the intensity of the gaze silenced her.
Then the single, chiming note of a glass bell resonated through their minds; their eyes locked, one set wide with realization and the other set burning with grim intensity. Howling wind enveloped them; thunder crashed, surrounding them with stormy skies for the scant instant before lightning illuminated and took hold of them.
Gypsies charged past them toward the trees, less than two minutes from their destination. Beyond them it looked like a battlefield, strewn with the dead, earth churned up beneath galloping hooves, the enemy bearing down on them swift and deadly—and faster, much faster; they would reach their quarry in moments.
Saravonya cut loose her cry of challenge, slicing clean through the girdle of the nearest two horses and toppling their riders. Silvera’s staff appeared in her hands—one word that cracked with power brought up a shield between the enemy and the fleeing gypsy-rogues.
A metallic ring—Saravonya had sheathed her blades, flinging out a finger at the enemy, and she too spoke a word; a wave of power crashed into every one of them, knocking them flying from their horses and making their freed mounts bolt in the opposite direction, leaving them behind.
“Kill them, sister.”
Silvera raised her hands, dark storm-laden clouds gathering above.
“Except… this one.”
One man rose into the air, lifted as though an invisible hand gripped the collar of his tunic.
Her hands dropped; lightning snaked down from the sky and struck the prone bodies of each and every one of those upon the ground, those marked by evil, silencing them forever.
The living man slowly moved toward Saravonya as though drawn in, until her amethyst-blazing eyes were staring into his. His face paled; hers was unreadable, emotionless, even as she clenched her fingers and tore from his mind what information she could glean, dispassionately unsheathing her sword to run him through.
“Shehfah’tha.” The blood on the blade disappeared as though wiped clean.
She sheathed her blade, releasing her hold on the corpse. The storm clouds had long since vanished, leaving silence and the rays of the red dawn in their wake.

*****

<Here!>
The urgency of her sister’s mental shout brought Silvera at a run, abandoning her own search to the north.
<What did you find?> she asked hurriedly, calling up her healing magic.
The silence that met her query chilled her to the bone, making her run faster until she was leaping the corpses in her path haphazardly; some feet from the body of an elven mare, Saravonya was crouched over its rider, an elf rogue who lay prone and still upon the ground.
Silvera stopped dead in her tracks, feeling her heart plummet into the coldest recesses of her stomach.
Her sister had found Railita.
“Saravonya—” Silvera took three halting steps forward, falling to her knees beside her twin.
“Take her.” Saravonya’s face was stony, her hand withdrawing from the rogue’s bloodied forehead. “I will stay and search for the others.”
Silvera nodded, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she reached to take hold of her.
“And Silv,” Saravonya said quietly, gripping her twin’s wrist to pause her. “Do not attempt to heal. Healing magic does strange things to an unborn child—affects its ability to heal itself naturally. Take her, and summon Lady Ha’lori; she is the only one who can help without causing harm.”
Silvera’s shaking hand gingerly touched the shoulder of her gypsy-rogue friend; both vanished, leaving nothing but an abandoned sword and a deep crimson stain soaking into the earth where had lain their sister-by-oathblood.

*****

The queen’s eyes were dark and brooding beneath the circlet that served as her crown; wisps of brown hair stirred across her face in the faint breeze that passed through the hall, but she did not bother brushing them aside. The wing was silent; her daughter’s hand turning the page of her book and the lazy flick of the great dragon’s tail were the only things that moved, save for the soft motions of the healer on the other end of the wide hall.
She had not moved from her place since her second daughter had appeared, holding her dearest sister-by-oathblood limp and crimson-stained beneath her hand. Six years she had ridden with the woman before her; the rogue had not then had the lines about her eyes and brow that she now possessed, but it was the same woman, the one who had accepted her, taught her, and loved her, and whose blood had forged the oath of the rogue jhe’emlien the day Shiva had been bound to the gypsy-rogues.
She felt more than heard it when her eldest daughter raised her head just slightly, the magics she had held in her meditation receding slowly. The queen’s gaze flicked back toward her, wordlessly questioning.
“The bird gives me nothing, Mother,” she said, rising from amongst the coils of her dragon. “But she has come back to us, it seems.”
Silvera hurriedly cast aside her book, rising as well. “Look, Mother, she awakens.”
The rogue was stirring, a movement imperceptible to the untrained eye as her hand slipped soundlessly beneath the sheets toward her belt, instinct guiding her to find her blade; Shiva smiled with evident relief and reached out to touch the forehead of her gypsy friend, sketching a small sign with her index finger, saying softly, “You’re among friends, jhe’emetra.”
A hand suddenly seized Shiva’s wrist; the rogue’s eyes were wide and anxious, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “The baby?”
“Safe.” The queen stroked her friend’s forehead, reassuring her. “The babe has not come to harm, gods be thanked. And you will live to fight another day, jhe’emetra.”
Railita sagged back into the pillows, relief crossing her face briefly as she closed her eyes, but she soon sobered. “I don’t know what they wanted, Shiva; I never have. I thought we destroyed them, and I can think of none else who would so directly target our bloodkin, much less within the lands of the elves, but they came after us so suddenly that I didn’t have time to guess at who they might be, much less look for their marks—”
The queen’s hand stopped, and she looked slowly into the face of her sister-by-oathblood. “What are you saying, jhe’emetra?”
Railita opened her eyes, her gaze falling beyond the queen and onto Saravonya, looking around until she spotted Silvera as well. She chuckled weakly. “And you two. I have you and your mother to thank for my life once more, I see.”
The queen shook her head. “Not me, beloved friend. My daughters.”
The gypsy-rogue smiled faintly. “Your get, and blood will tell as it has before. If there was blood debt between jhe’emlien, sisters…”
“But there is not, no more than between trueborn sibs,” Saravonya said gently, coming forward. “You may say it all you want, but you owe us no more than you give any other of our kin-by-oathblood.”
“Which is to say, anything and everything.”
“Bloodsister,” Shiva said, urgency in her voice as she closed a hand around Railita’s wrist, “What did you say about those who chased you?”
Railita looked up at her, shaking her head. “Who else would go after us but the Wyvern’s Hand, jhe’emetra? I know of no other.”
“But—we killed them, every last one,” Silvera said, but she sounded uncertain, glancing at her twin sister for confirmation.
Saravonya was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “We did, all the way up to their leader. But they were humans; those who chased you…”
“Were not?” Railita asked. “We did not see them properly, sister, they were cloaked and masked all the way to their eyes and the changing light had us a bit blinded. If they were not human…”
“Shukvanct,” Saravonya answered the unspoken question. “Dark elves, of their goddess’s favorite variety. Evil that serves her vilest purpose without question and without conscience. There were humans among them, yes, but most… shukvanct, no question of it.”
“The shukvanct, on our lands?” Shiva growled, her face hard. “This cannot be allowed, daughter. If what you say is true, the dark elves have grown bolder of late, as though they ask for war.”
“Perhaps they do,” Sairin’s voice said from the open hall.
They turned to look at him; he held in his hand a bundle of papers, each, as far as Silvera could see, bearing different seals from elven Houses across the nation.
“Beloved husband,” Shiva addressed him, eyes narrowed, “If you have something more specific to say other than ominous statements of dubious dramatic timing, we’d appreciate it if you’d share.”

****
<end of clip>

So yeah, bad place to end the clip but I kinda had to cut it off before it got too long. Thanks for reading and if you did enjoy this or if you're merely curious, I can provide a brief explanation as to the background of these characters--provided the general consensus is that it doesn't work without knowing that information.

Thanks again, and I'm off to do a bunch of reviews so I don't feel so guilty about putting up this long thing lol XD

What up mon ami.

Loved Shiva's statement at the end there. XD Freaking hilarious.

Hm. There were only a few things I saw in this piece. The beginning was really fast compared to the part where Shiva comes in.

This-

The peace of the elven citadel rent itself in two for all those in hearing range as Saravonya’s shriek blasted the blankets off her and she leapt up, ripping both blades from their sheathes as she went

and this-

Howling wind enveloped them; thunder crashed, surrounding them with stormy skies for the scant instant before lightning illuminated and took hold of them.
Gypsies charged past them toward the trees, less than two minutes from their destination.

Sound a bit confusing so close together.

Silvera nodded, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she reached to take hold of her.

Also, this part doesn't really hit me as a reader. Since things are happening so fast, It's hard to feel for Silvera.

That's all I saw really. So, my suggestion is that you draw out the beginning a little more, so it's a little less confusing.



*Seraph*

EDIT: this top part was written the next day, and with a more civil mind.
Ok, this was taken by a 'stupid idiot' standpoint, in reality I sort of understand it. Jeehemelein or whatever you said means 'oathblood'. the S sisters are 'sisters by oathblood' with that Rain person. Since Rain dies (and it would be awlfully lame if she didn't die-I didn't read the entire story) The Jeehemelign blood has been spilled, hence the title.
The characters really can't stand on their own. Here, all three of the characters are displayed as the cliched, stereotyped, woman warrior. I can't explain how much I hate female warriors. Even in LoTR, I hated how Eowyn was fighting. I think feminists must have drugged Tolkien and written that part for him.
You don't really understand anything about the characters, besides they are all 'sisters' and can somehow teleport.(?) Are any of the characters male? Are the ones that are going out with the S sisters?
Again, I'm going to stress the excess semi-colons and commas. They are really annoying? You had a sentence that was FOUR LINES! I think you really need to explain that whole 'red sun omen prophecy' thingy. Does it have anything to do with 'the red sun has rises, blood has been spilled this night'?
I also don't understand how pregnant maniac Rain died. did she accidently stab herself with her own sword when she fell? You need to be more clear with that. Merely falling off a horse doesn't kill you-trust me I work at a horse ranch. And why wasn't Railin in the cart with all the children? She's carrying a child inside of her!
And who should jekehemgl! at the very beggining?

Blood of the Jhe’emlien I don't mean to be harsh, but nobody likes names that are hard to pronounce

A red sun was rising. cliche

[s]Instinct hides the innocent; the creatures of night and day were not to be seen. The road wound its way east, striving toward the ill omen that was its harbor, risen dust turned red with the rays that warned it away—it cared not for omen, but for the chance that it might escape into the trees that waited it.[/s] maybe i'm just really really stupid but I didn't understand any of that....

[s]Darkness chased it. Night was its refuge, darkness its enemy—darkness that could not be banished by the rays of the sun, darkness which followed it, chased it, surrounded it. The creatures of the night ran from it; the creatures of the day hid, waiting for it to pass.[/s] you should combine those two paragraphs, although I would take them both out because only rocket scientists could understand what the heck you're talking about

[s]The stillness of the night had been angered. Now, the red sun heralded the end of anger, the beginning of vengeance, as though it knew what it would look upon when its presence finally loomed over the shrouded scene below. Night had told its secrets, kicked the darkness from its midst, bade the sun protect its children.

Thunder approached the rising sun, following the road as it fled. Thunder was the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the wagon which ran upon the road, hurtling toward the rising sun; like the road, it sought the protection of the trees before it.

Such roads are made by those who walk upon it. Neither would make it to the trees without choking on the darkness that enclosed it.[/s] I would just take all that much out because nobody really cares. All you really need to say is 'it was morning'. Well, maybe a little more description. If I was reading your book, I would have skipped that entire section and gotten straight to the dialogue. NOTE: I didn't edit this, but I think you need to watch your 'had's ie: 'The stillness of the night had been angered.' It sounds clunky. Try to rephrase it w/o the 'had been'

“Jhe’emetra!” Oh god. More dashes.

The cry rang above the thunder of the hooves as the darkness converged greedily, tasting of their blood, pulsing, swooping inward to steal the life from its quarry. What? What are these hooved things?

The red sun’s prophecy had been fulfilled. what prophecy???

*****

The trees loomed ahead; Railita could see them through the mist, their branches straining and moving [s]as though trying to reach those they sensed coming in need of their protection[/s]. She ducked as an arrow whistled by her head, noting its trajectory and praying it struck no one. They [s]had[/s] already suffered one loss[s];[/s]. if the others could just make it to those trees they would be safe. Why would they be safe? And you overuse semicolons

“Shatahi’la!” ugh.

She urged her horse faster, leaning into it as far as her swollen stomach would permit[s],[/s]. and the poor creature quickened its step even when it was already straining into a full-out gallop. I thought you urged horses on by kicking/switching them in the butt. Leaning is for when you jump. I think.

The first riders were almost to the trees—there, the wagon had made it, the children were safe[s];[/s]. Railita grinned with savage elation as she saw those of the enemy who [s]were stupid enough to[/s] followed[s],[/s] crushed where they stood by the enormous branches[s] or flung forcefully away with many a broken bone[/s].

“Gypsy caz’drin!” [s]s[/s]She heard the enemy swear in their language[s], and[/s] triumph flooded her for one brief moment.

[s]Then[/s] the horse beneath her jolted violently, letting out a high, chilling scream[s];[/s]. it stumbled—tripped—plowed into the earth—Railita [s]had[/s] only had time to think one desperate thought of her husband [s]and second-in-command[/s] before she was thrown wide at full gallop, only the dusty road to break her fall, and the sight of the blade… descending…. women NEVER refer to their husbands as second in command, unless talking about military strategy.

*****

“Jhe’emetra!”

The peace of the elven citadel [s]rent[/s]ripped itself in two for all those in hearing range as Saravonya’s shriek blasted the blankets off her and she leapt up, ripping both blades from their sheathes as she went. I really didn't get this sentence. is Jhemetra a person? I"m confused. Who is 'she'? Oh, and the word 'rent' is only used as a verb when you loan something out to someone. When you are talking about splitting something in half, its a noun. So it doesn't work here.

“Emetra!” she screamed, crashing through the adjoining door to her twin’s room. Her mind still tuned on the dream, she felt it when the enormous power was released miles away from her and her sister, an echo of magic that rocked her back and made her stagger, flashing to the scene—blood, a scream, a crack of lightning that blinded her, a yell of fury from a voice she knew, a blade—then her mind came back, and she saw her sister’s face before her, alarmed enough that one hand was raised and humming with the lightning of her power, ready to strike. Wow. That was all one huge sentence. That is the longest sentence I've ever seen, and I live with a 3rd grader. Break that up into 5-7 separate sentences, please

“Emetra, what have you seen?” Silvera demanded, making Saravonya focus so suddenly on her that the intensity of the gaze silenced her. You've introduced 3 characters way too quickly. I'm soooo confused.

Then the single, chiming note of a glass bell resonated through their minds[s];[/s] their eyes locked, one set wide with realization and the other set burning with grim intensity. Howling wind enveloped them[s];[/s] thunder crashed, surrounding them with stormy skies for the scant instant before lightning illuminated and took hold of them. NO MORE SEMI-COLONS. is that how you spell that? You have more semi-colons in this piece than periods. Replace every ; in this paragraph with a .

Gypsies charged past them toward the trees, less than two minutes from their destination. Beyond them it looked like a battlefield, strewn with the dead, earth churned up beneath galloping hooves, the enemy bearing down on them swift and deadly—and faster, much faster; they would reach their quarry in moments. Wait... I thought they were just in their beds? Now they are running around with gypsies in the forest?

Saravonya cut loose her cry of challenge, slicing clean through the girdle of the nearest two horses and toppling their riders. Silvera’s staff appeared in her hands—one word that cracked with power brought up a shield between the enemy and the fleeing gypsy-rogues. I'm so confused. Who is Saravonya? Where did she get her magic? Who are these gypsies? dude...im part gypsy...

A metallic ring—Saravonya had sheathed her blades, flinging out a finger at the enemy, and she too spoke a word; a wave of power crashed into every one of them, knocking them flying from their horses and making their freed mounts bolt in the opposite direction, leaving them behind. Nobody likes heroes that are all-powerful and can kill all their enemies by just pointing at them. yawn. And what is up with that metallic ring stuff?

“Kill them, sister.”

Silvera raised her hands, dark storm-laden clouds gathering above.

“Except… this one.”

One man rose into the air, lifted as though an invisible hand gripped the collar of his tunic.

Her hands dropped; lightning snaked down from the sky and struck the prone bodies of each and every one of those upon the ground[s], those marked by evil[/s], silencing them forever.

The living man slowly moved toward Saravonya as though drawn in, until her amethyst-blazing eyes were staring into his. His face paled; hers was unreadable, emotionless, even as she clenched her fingers and tore from his mind what information she could glean, dispassionately unsheathing her sword to run him through. Again, if your hero has such awesome magic, why doesn't she just kill all the bad guys right now? and banish 'those marked by evil' forever?

“Shehfah’tha.” The blood on the blade disappeared as though wiped clean.

She sheathed her blade, releasing her hold on the corpse. The storm clouds had long since vanished, leaving silence and the rays of the red dawn in their wake.

*****

<Here!>

The urgency of her sister’s mental shout brought Silvera at a run, abandoning her own search to the north.

<What did you find?> she asked hurriedly, calling up her healing magic. ooo more magic. of course the good guys ALWAYS win.

The silence that met her query chilled her to the bone, making her run faster until she was leaping the corpses in her path haphazardly; some feet from the body of an elven mare, Saravonya was crouched over its rider, an elf rogue who lay prone and still upon the ground.

Silvera stopped dead in her tracks, feeling her heart plummet into the coldest recesses of her stomach.

Her sister [s]had[/s] found Railita. Remove all hads. they bad.

“Saravonya—” Silvera took three halting steps forward, falling to her knees beside her twin.

“Take her.” Saravonya’s face was stony, her hand withdrawing from the rogue’s bloodied forehead. “I will stay and search for the others.”

Silvera nodded, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she reached to take hold of her. What is the relationship between the S sisters and this Rilita? What is railita? What are the S sisters? how come all the good guys are girls?

“And Silv,” Saravonya said quietly, gripping her twin’s wrist to pause her. “Do not attempt to heal. Healing magic does strange things to an unborn child—affects its ability to heal itself naturally. Take her, and summon Lady Ha’lori; she is the only one who can help without causing harm.” Woah. Female warriors and pregnancy DO NOT MIX.

Silvera’s shaking hand gingerly touched the shoulder of her gypsy-rogue friend; both vanished, leaving nothing but an abandoned sword and a deep crimson stain soaking into the earth where had lain their sister-by-oathblood. I'll ignore 'oathblood' but what is a gypsy rogue? a mean gypsy? then why are the good guys fighting with her? if you mean gypsy as in the ethnic class (the proper term is Roma) they are more of a traveling people, who don't take part in much fighting, and the women don't fight.

I'm sorry I was so harsh. This is the harshest I've ever been in a review, I think. Probably because I didn't focus much on your grammar, which was very good apart from the semi-colons and run-on sentences. You are a very talented writer, but you fail in telling us what the heck is going on.

You forget that the reader doesn't know everything you do, so you neglect to write everything in thinking that the reader autmoatically knows that the S sisters are elves (or whatever they are)

You have good ideas, but need to work on carrying them out. We don't know why the gypsy-rogues were moving, why the were attacked (hate crime? jkjk. gypsies have problems with that nowadays), where they are, why the S sisters can teleport, what the S sisters are, what that weird prophecy thingy was... we don't know ANYTHING except that Ralisgjlks died. (How do you spell her name? I can't even say it?)

you can message me and tell me how big of a meanie-pooper i am. I dont care

LOL

<3
Lena

This story is very hard to understand and I don't think it can stand on its own. I am sure it is a great story but it is very hard to keep up with and this is the 3rd part so... let me know though when you get the first two up I will definately read them.

A red sun was rising.

Instinct hides the innocent; the creatures of night and day were not to be seen. The road wound its way east, striving toward the ill omen that was its harbor, risen dust turned red with the rays that warned it away—it cared not for omen, but for the chance that it might escape into the trees that waited it.

Darkness chased it. Night was its refuge, darkness its enemy—darkness that could not be banished by the rays of the sun, darkness which followed it, chased it, surrounded it. The creatures of the night ran from it; the creatures of the day hid, waiting for it to pass.

The stillness of the night had been angered. Now, the red sun heralded the end of anger, the beginning of vengeance, as though it knew what it would look upon when its presence finally loomed over the shrouded scene below. Night had told its secrets, kicked the darkness from its midst, bade the sun protect its children.

Thunder approached the rising sun, following the road as it fled. Thunder was the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the wagon which ran upon the road, hurtling toward the rising sun; like the road, it sought the protection of the trees before it.

Such roads are made by those who walk upon it. Neither would make it to the trees without choking on the darkness that enclosed it.

“Jhe’emetra!”
These names are a little hard to pronounce, maybe change them to where they are different and all of them aren't so alike.

The cry rang above the thunder of the hooves as the darkness converged greedily, tasting of their blood, pulsing, swooping inward to steal the life from its quarry.

The red sun’s prophecy had been fulfilled.


*****


The trees loomed ahead; Railita could see them through the mist, their branches straining and moving as though trying to reach those they sensed coming in need of their protection. She ducked as an arrow whistled by her head, noting its trajectory and praying it struck no one. They had already suffered one loss; if the others could just make it to those trees they would be safe.

“Shatahi’la!”

She urged her horse faster, leaning into it as far as her swollen stomach would permit, and the poor creature quickened its step even when it was already straining into a full-out gallop.

The first riders were almost to the trees—there, the wagon had made it, the children were safe; Railita grinned with savage elation as she saw those of the enemy who were stupid enough to follow, crushed where they stood by the enormous branches or flung forcefully away with many a broken bone.

“Gypsy caz’drin!” she heard the enemy swear in their language, and triumph flooded her for one brief moment.

Then the horse beneath her jolted violently, letting out a high, chilling scream; it stumbled—tripped—plowed into the earth—Railita had only time to think one desperate thought of her husband and second-in-command before she was thrown wide at full gallop, only the dusty road to break her fall, and the sight of the blade… descending….


*****


“Jhe’emetra!”

The peace of the elven citadel rent itself in two for all those in hearing range as Saravonya’s shriek blasted the blankets off her and she leapt up, ripping both blades from their sheathes as she went. “Emetra!” she screamed, crashing through the adjoining door to her twin’s room. Her mind still tuned on the dream, she felt it when the enormous power was released miles away from her and her sister, an echo of magic that rocked her back and made her stagger, flashing to the scene—blood, a scream, a crack of lightning that blinded her, a yell of fury from a voice she knew, a blade—then her mind came back, and she saw her sister’s face before her, alarmed enough that one hand was raised and humming with the lightning of her power, ready to strike.
Very confusing scene because the reader knows none of these characters.

“Emetra, what have you seen?” Silvera demanded, making Saravonya focus so suddenly on her that the intensity of the gaze silenced her.

Then the single, chiming note of a glass bell resonated through their minds; their eyes locked, one set wide with realization and the other set burning with grim intensity. Howling wind enveloped them; thunder crashed, surrounding them with stormy skies for the scant instant before lightning illuminated and took hold of them.

Gypsies charged past them toward the trees, less than two minutes from their destination. Beyond them it looked like a battlefield, strewn with the dead, earth churned up beneath galloping hooves, the enemy bearing down on them swift and deadly—and faster, much faster; they would reach their quarry in moments.

Saravonya cut loose her cry of challenge, slicing clean through the girdle of the nearest two horses and toppling their riders. Silvera’s staff appeared in her hands—one word that cracked with power brought up a shield between the enemy and the fleeing gypsy-rogues.

A metallic ring—Saravonya had sheathed her blades, flinging out a finger at the enemy, and she too spoke a word; a wave of power crashed into every one of them, knocking them flying from their horses and making their freed mounts bolt in the opposite direction, leaving them behind.

“Kill them, sister.”

Silvera raised her hands, dark storm-laden clouds gathering above.

“Except… this one.”

One man rose into the air, lifted as though an invisible hand gripped the collar of his tunic.

Her hands dropped; lightning snaked down from the sky and struck the prone bodies of each and every one of those upon the ground, those marked by evil, silencing them forever.

The living man slowly moved toward Saravonya as though drawn in, until her amethyst-blazing eyes were staring into his. His face paled; hers was unreadable, emotionless, even as she clenched her fingers and tore from his mind what information she could glean, dispassionately unsheathing her sword to run him through.

“Shehfah’tha.” The blood on the blade disappeared as though wiped clean.

She sheathed her blade, releasing her hold on the corpse. The storm clouds had long since vanished, leaving silence and the rays of the red dawn in their wake.


*****


<Here!>

The urgency of her sister’s mental shout brought Silvera at a run, abandoning her own search to the north.

<What did you find?> she asked hurriedly, calling up her healing magic.
What is the<> for?

The silence that met her query chilled her to the bone, making her run faster until she was leaping the corpses in her path haphazardly; some feet from the body of an elven mare, Saravonya was crouched over its rider, an elf rogue who lay prone and still upon the ground.

Silvera stopped dead in her tracks, feeling her heart plummet into the coldest recesses of her stomach.

Her sister had found Railita.

“Saravonya—” Silvera took three halting steps forward, falling to her knees beside her twin.

“Take her.” Saravonya’s face was stony, her hand withdrawing from the rogue’s bloodied forehead. “I will stay and search for the others.”

Silvera nodded, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she reached to take hold of her.

“And Silv,” Saravonya said quietly, gripping her twin’s wrist to pause her. “Do not attempt to heal. Healing magic does strange things to an unborn child—affects its ability to heal itself naturally. Take her, and summon Lady Ha’lori; she is the only one who can help without causing harm.”

Silvera’s shaking hand gingerly touched the shoulder of her gypsy-rogue friend; both vanished, leaving nothing but an abandoned sword and a deep crimson stain soaking into the earth where had lain their sister-by-oathblood.


*****


The queen’s eyes were dark and brooding beneath the circlet that served as her crown; wisps of brown hair stirred across her face in the faint breeze that passed through the hall, but she did not bother brushing them aside. The wing was silent; her daughter’s hand turning the page of her book and the lazy flick of the great dragon’s tail were the only things that moved, save for the soft motions of the healer on the other end of the wide hall.

She had not moved from her place since her second daughter had appeared, holding her dearest sister-by-oathblood limp and crimson-stained beneath her hand. Six years she had ridden with the woman before her; the rogue had not then had the lines about her eyes and brow that she now possessed, but it was the same woman, the one who had accepted her, taught her, and loved her, and whose blood had forged the oath of the rogue jhe’emlien the day Shiva had been bound to the gypsy-rogues.

She felt more than heard it when her eldest daughter raised her head just slightly, the magics she had held in her meditation receding slowly. The queen’s gaze flicked back toward her, wordlessly questioning.

“The bird gives me nothing, Mother,” she said, rising from amongst the coils of her dragon. “But she has come back to us, it seems.”

Silvera hurriedly cast aside her book, rising as well. “Look, Mother, she awakens.”

The rogue was stirring, a movement imperceptible to the untrained eye as her hand slipped soundlessly beneath the sheets toward her belt, instinct guiding her to find her blade; Shiva smiled with evident relief and reached out to touch the forehead of her gypsy friend, sketching a small sign with her index finger, saying softly, “You’re among friends, jhe’emetra.”

A hand suddenly seized Shiva’s wrist; the rogue’s eyes were wide and anxious, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “The baby?”

“Safe.” The queen stroked her friend’s forehead, reassuring her. “The babe has not come to harm, gods be thanked. And you will live to fight another day, jhe’emetra.”

Railita sagged back into the pillows, relief crossing her face briefly as she closed her eyes, but she soon sobered. “I don’t know what they wanted, Shiva; I never have. I thought we destroyed them, and I can think of none else who would so directly target our bloodkin, much less within the lands of the elves, but they came after us so suddenly that I didn’t have time to guess at who they might be, much less look for their marks—”

The queen’s hand stopped, and she looked slowly into the face of her sister-by-oathblood. “What are you saying, jhe’emetra?”

Railita opened her eyes, her gaze falling beyond the queen and onto Saravonya, looking around until she spotted Silvera as well. She chuckled weakly. “And you two. I have you and your mother to thank for my life once more, I see.”

The queen shook her head. “Not me, beloved friend. My daughters.”

The gypsy-rogue smiled faintly. “Your get, and blood will tell as it has before. If there was blood debt between jhe’emlien, sisters…”

“But there is not, no more than between trueborn sibs,” Saravonya said gently, coming forward. “You may say it all you want, but you owe us no more than you give any other of our kin-by-oathblood.”

“Which is to say, anything and everything.”

“Bloodsister,” Shiva said, urgency in her voice as she closed a hand around Railita’s wrist, “What did you say about those who chased you?”

Railita looked up at her, shaking her head. “Who else would go after us but the Wyvern’s Hand, jhe’emetra? I know of no other.”
The reader has no idea what the Wyvern's Hand is.

“But—we killed them, every last one,” Silvera said, but she sounded uncertain, glancing at her twin sister for confirmation.

Saravonya was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “We did, all the way up to their leader. But they were humans; those who chased you…”

“Were not?” Railita asked. “We did not see them properly, sister, they were cloaked and masked all the way to their eyes and the changing light had us a bit blinded. If they were not human…”

“Shukvanct,” Saravonya answered the unspoken question. “Dark elves, of their goddess’s favorite variety. Evil that serves her vilest purpose without question and without conscience. There were humans among them, yes, but most… shukvanct, no question of it.”

“The shukvanct, on our lands?” Shiva growled, her face hard. “This cannot be allowed, daughter. If what you say is true, the dark elves have grown bolder of late, as though they ask for war.”

“Perhaps they do,” Sairin’s voice said from the open hall.

They turned to look at him; he held in his hand a bundle of papers, each, as far as Silvera could see, bearing different seals from elven Houses across the nation.

“Beloved husband,” Shiva addressed him, eyes narrowed, “If you have something more specific to say other than ominous statements of dubious dramatic timing, we’d appreciate it if you’d share.”
I would be best if you put the first two chapters up so the reader knows what is going on, because well it gets so confusing it is boring. PM ne when you get the first two up. I hope I didn't critique it too hard.

Thanks all for reviewing =D

Seraph-- <3 you for reading, especially since you're the only one who has ever met these characters before. I'm going to work on the parts you pointed out, as I said; the stuff in the beginning does go by pretty fast--and it was intended to--so I'm going to read it over a couple times and see what I can throw in.

Lena--I was laughing my @$$ off as I read through your post. Thanks for the rip apart haha I actually rather appreciate it when people do that to my stuff. A couple things I'd like to say in answer to it, though: 1) if you hate female warriors then you've soooo come to the wrong post, though yes, there are male characters, and one rather prominent one; 2) this doesn't take place on this world (as should have been obvious no matter how little you read) and so they are most definitely not this world's gypsies, but a people of their own; 3) the whole first part is merely a poetic metaphor (apparently not a terribly good one, though most others seem to like it =P); 4) Railita's husband is ALSO her second-in-command, and therefore yes, she does think of him that way; 5) rent is the past tense of the verb "rend," and 6) I never, ever, misuse semicolons, and I do not know how to write a run-on sentence because my brain would explode with horror if I ever did. I do write long sentences, and I do use semicolons a lot, but I do not write/use them incorrectly. On a semi-related note, please do not tell me you didn't understand anything and couldn't identify with any of the characters and whatnot unless you actually read through the whole thing... it's not very helpful. *end of rebuff*
I'm sorry to argue with my reviewers; I know it's kind of counter-productive, but hey, I follow the philosophy that it helps to debate dubious points, and I generally encourage those for whom I review to debate and argue and disagree all they want. But beyond all that, I do appreciate the rip-through, because that sort of thing is actually very helpful to any writer; after all, I'll have to get used to negative reviews and rejections sometime! XD

Kaylyn--this isn't the third part, but the third story in a series, and I'm afraid it will be a while before I rewrite those enough for them to be fit to be seen in public. But I would definitely appreciate it if you wouldn't mind continuing to read, even if all you tell me is that you don't bloody understand who the heck these people are XD I'm getting a general sense here that this story won't stand on its own, but the stubborn part of me thinks it might be worth posting more of it, because you do learn more about the characters and their backgrounds later in the story.


Hmm, I feel like... I don't know, Yoda, maybe, or Obie-wan (sp?), with this sort of "patience, Luke" thing, this "all will be revealed in due time" thing going on here. XD anyways, thanks again for the crits guys ^.^
I might post more of this later, once I get to tweaking the beginning a bit. (And once I get to tweaking the next bit, as it's kind of... melodramatic, I suppose, in places.)