Untitled - part 3

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***Please help me to make this better! Don't just read it and leave no comment. No one reviewed my previous part, which made me less than thrilled... but after several weeks, I decided to post the next part. So please help me make it better!***


Sun filtered through a crack in the curtains when Calimyr woke, head pounding painfully. She sat up and noticed her fingers were curled into a fist. Unclenching them, she saw the small starry vile and furrowed her brow. For the life of her, she couldn’t recall much of what happened before she passed out. She remembered dinner, seeing Jessiah again, and meeting Shaun, but mostly everything else was hazy. Suddenly his words hit her and her eyes widened. “I’m psychic. I had a vision of you… you died trying to save the other girl… it won’t do to live in fear of death.”

She tied the vile around her neck, tucking it under her shirt. Maybe that was why Shaun had talked to her out in the hall. He’d said something about escaping and another job, but she couldn’t remember much else.

Somehow she’d gotten from the hall with the windows into a large, plush canopy bed. Sitting up, she climbed out of the bed and stepped onto the cool marble floor. Her boots had been polished and left by her bed, along with a new set of clothes and her saddlebags.

Jessiah was at the door, his hand on the knob. “Uncle Jessie, wait!” she called. “Ow.” She cursed under her breath and held her head.

Turning, Jessiah smiled. “Loud noises are never good when you drank too much the night before,” he chastised, walking over to her. He placed his large hand on her shoulder and chuckled. “I suppose I should have remembered the effects of Av’ry’s Fireberry nectar, but it escaped me for a moment then,” he apologized.

“It’s alright. But I have to talk to Shaun, the son of the ambassador from Av’ry,” she said, her mind still clouding over.

“Well, that could be a problem. You see, Ambassador Laurunt and his party left early this morning,” Jessiah said, giving her a sad smile. “Shaun brought you in here last night; you were completely passed out.”

Her face flushed again. “I see. I should get going too. I’d never intended to remain here this long.”

“Well, I won’t lie; I do wish you’d stay longer. But I see that you’re mind is made up. Just like your father in that way,” he said gently, his voice low so her head wouldn’t hurt worse.

“I’m not really much like him. At least, I try not to be sometimes. Anyway, where can I find Rhys?” she mumbled, her mind still fuzzy and throbbing from the night before.

“Would you like me to—?” A harsh rapping on the door made him stop short. “Come in,” he sighed. The door was pushed open and a breathless messenger appeared in the entrance. He clasped his fist over his shoulder and rushed forward. Whispering something in Jessiah’s ear, the messenger then stepped back and repeated his gesture, bowing slightly. “As it would seem, I am unable to accompany you. Instead, we’ll let Rye here take you; he knows the way just as well as anyone,” Jessiah apologized.

Calimyr nodded. “I just want to leave,” she admitted.

“Rye, escort her to the western wing stables,” Jessiah said firmly. “I’m sorry my dear, but I must go,” he said, his smile now apologetic.

“It’s fine, I understand. You must be busy now that you’re a Duke.” Turning to the messenger, Rye, she said, “Let’s go then.”

The boy nodded. He was only about her age, so how he passed for a messenger was beyond her. “Come,” he said stoically. Calimyr was grateful for the change of attitude; it reminded her of home.

“Wait, one second. I have to get my things,” Calimyr said. She turned and went back to the bed, slipping her feet into the boots and slinging the packs over her shoulder, abandoning the new set of clothes provided. Jogging back to Rye, the smell of leather once again filling her nose having slightly minimized her headache, Calimyr nodded and said, “Alright, we can go.”

Rye said nothing, but turned sharply on his heel and walked away from the duke and Calimyr. “Farewell Calimyr. And give your father my best wishes,” Jessiah said.

“Alright, I will. Good luck, Uncle Jessie,” Calimyr said, jogging to catch up with Rye. She didn’t bother to turn or wave to Jessiah; they were both too busy and both knew it. Jessiah was probably called away to some council or another and was already leaving the room; Calimyr was anxious to get home and tired of the cramped indoors.

She must not have been paying much attention to where Rye was leading her, because the next things Calimyr knew, the hallway was dark, he’d wrenched her arm around her back and had a small knife pressed against her neck. “We need to talk,” he hissed in her ear.

Calimyr rolled her eyes. “Sure we do. Now, my head’s killing me and I’ll be killing you if you don’t let go,” she said sarcastically.

“I have a little job for you; I hear you’re quite infamous for them among your own people,” he said harshly, almost mockingly.

“What makes you think you can force anything on me? Don’t go butting in on my life, and don’t aggravate me when my head hurts!” she snapped. She slammed her free elbow into his gut and slapped the knife out of his hand. “And don’t play games with someone who can play better. All I want is my horse.”

She turned and began walking back the way she had come. “Don’t turn your back to me!” he growled, lunging at her. She swung around and blocked his blow, swiping his legs out from under him and holding her straightened fingers mere centimeters from his neck. “What will I have to do to convince you to take the job?” he asked angrily. His determination amused her. In the position he was in, his life should’ve been the only thing important to him.

“Um, a different face, a different time and place, maybe even a different life,” Calimyr said sarcastically.

Rye leaped to his feet and stood in a defensive position. “I will fight you if I have to. Anything to get your help; you’re the only one who can save her!”

“And what makes you think that?” Calimyr shot.

“Because you were destined to! Others know it too, and you should by now! Calimyr Riovan of the Seven Tribes, your fate is to bring her back!”

Eyes narrowing, Calimyr clenched her hands into fists. “How is it you know my name?” she asked icily.

“Because you aren’t the only one with a fate,” he said firmly.

Shaun’s words again rang in her mind, but Calimyr forced them aside. He had said she died, and she had no intention of dying any time soon. “We can change our fates, you know. Someone tried to change mine just last night. So I see no point in attempting this.”

“You’ve been a bounty hunter, right? Then you ought to know about the paying end of this job. What your price?” he asked, switching tactics.

“A rescue mission? You honestly think I’d stoop so low…?” she spat.

“Yes, I do. Despite what you say, you know you will, too. And so did Shaun Laurunt.”
I gave up telling people I hear voices. So now I talk to the voices instead.




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I liked it. A lot. I don't know why you didn't post anything on it yet?
"The secret to staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." -Lucille Ball




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Hey Addiction! (May I call you Addy?)

It's Tanya, back again!

“Well, I won’t lie; I do wish you’d stay longer. But I see that you’re mind is made up. Just like your father in that way,” he said gently, his voice low so her head wouldn’t hurt worse.
It should be 'your'

“You’ve been a bounty hunter, right? Then you ought to know about the paying end of this job. What your price?” he asked, switching tactics
It should be 'what's'

Ah ha! The plot thickens! Seriously, Addy, this was wonderful! You really need to send out PM's to those who have followed you because this is a piece worth following! You've got a great heroine, mystery, a bad-ass attitude and a great plot, so far. I'm really interested and intrigued. You've painted everything so beautifully and I just can't wait to get my hands on more of this!

I'm going to be *following* you from now on so if you don't think of Pming, I'll know anyway.

It was a pleasure to review your chapters for you, great job, you obviously have talent!

Tanya :D



Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.
— Mark Twain