'There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope.' –Gandalf
Chapter One
‘When does one first begin to remember? When do the waving lights and shadows of dawning consciousness cast their print upon the mind of a child?’ --Winston Churchill
When setting down an account of one’s own life, there are always difficulties. Obviously, the first one is where to start.
Before the war started, there were many times that are very good to remember. I mind them now, looking back over the years and savouring them, like the sweet taste of wild honey on my tongue. Helping to care for the sheep that roam on the high, misty hills of Aval-lón; the island of apples and the place that I still call home. Learning to ride my first pony, a dumpy but steady little grey creature with a habit of holding her breath whenever I tried to tighten her girth. Trying to master the language of the humans who lived across the sea, and whose knowledge of our Elftongue was rudimentary, to say the least. Standing with my father in the library and looking up at the swords hung on the wall there. ‘These are the weapons of our ancestors, the previous rulers of Aval-lón,’ my father tells me. ‘One day, my sword will be up there, and you will be the king.’ I look at him, then back at the swords, wide eyed with wonder and excitement.
So many memories of so many things learnt, and yet in spite of all of them, I could still be as ignorant and foolish as a newly whelped hound pup.
A happy memory surfaces. It is summer and the day is as warm as Aval-lón ever gets. Not for nothing does the island of the elves have a reputation for bad weather. But in this memory, the sun is shining, and there are only a few faint wisps of cloud drifting aimlessly across the sky, like tufts of sheep’s wool in the breeze. I am sitting on a rock by the side of the river that runs near Carraig Éanä, the rock of birds that stands next to the hamlet where the king of the elves and his family always lives. The sun is warm on the back of my neck as I bend to pull off my boots; it makes the river water gleam and the edges of the tiny waves breaking the surface sparkle like the silver scales of a fish. I can hear plovers calling in the long yellow-brown grass, and the wild scream of a hawk soaring over the distant hills, softly purple with heather under the sky.
‘I think Lórlan’s coming.’ The voice is Dai’s, who is getting his fingers caught in the buttons of his shirt.
‘Oh, bother,’ I say impatiently. ‘Why’s she here? Why isn’t she playing skip rope or something?’ I am young enough not to want a girl’s company, and old enough to feel self conscious by it, and this makes me cross, in spite of the bright day. ‘Hurry up, Dai, and we can get in before she comes.’ So speaking, I pull my shirt off, nearly ripping it in the process, drop it onto the grassy bank with my trousers, and leap into the river, naked save for my loin cloth.
Dai jumps after me and the water springs up into the air in a glittering arch of shattered silver. The river is so cold that immediately my arms roughen with gooseflesh, and I bounce around on one toe, my teeth beginning to chatter. Dai slaps the water and grins. ‘Come on, Fal! We'll freeze if we don't move about!’
‘I'm moving!’ I dive to the pebbly river bottom and grab Dai’s legs. He turns and pulls me up, only to splash water in my eyes. Yelling and kicking the water into white foam, we dive and dunk each other, twisting and turning like two seals, until, in a pause for breath between war whoops, I hear a small voice from the bank.
‘Your clothes are wet now.’
I push Dai’s head underwater and see Lórlan standing on the bank. There are spots of wet on her tunic and she looks gravely down at the wet pile of our clothes on the ground. Try as I might, I could never understand how Dai had managed to have such a boring sister. They were alike enough, I supposed, and they both had the same quiet black eyes and smooth, fine black hair, but Dai was much more fun. Even though he was respectful, he didn’t let the fact that I was a prince and next ruler of Aval-lón stop him from giving me a ducking whenever he could manage it.
Lórlan’s grave manner annoys me, and I say, ‘Why didn’t you move them then, if you saw they were getting wet?’
‘Then I’d have got wet too.’
‘You already have got wet on your front.’
Lórlan’s hand brushes automatically over her clothes, and she sighs. Dai surfaces, spitting water through his teeth with a skill born of long practice. ‘Come on Fal’ he says to me. ‘Go ’long, ber-ber, go play somewhere else.’
She does not move, so I turn my back and make a wave on the surface of the water with my arm. The current tugs at my legs and the sun warms my cold back and shoulders.
‘Swimming is gey fun,’ Dai says, putting my feelings into words.
‘And so’s dunking!’ I say and try to push him down. He resists, grabs my arm, and another watery romp ensues. I don’t even notice when Lórlan leaves us.
*** *** ***
And in a way, that memory brings me to another one. This second one is just as important as the first. Maybe more so.
In this memory, I am older, about thirteen years. It is evening, and I am sitting on the floor by the fire in the Royal Dun, whittling a stick with my knife. The flickering firelight moves on the wall, distorting my shadow and making it very black against the grey stone. It leaves the corners of the room dark, and plays over the loom, the table, the bed skins and the weapons on the wall. The wind moans outside, and I can hear faint lashings of rain against the thatched roof. One of the dogs, sleeping near the door, sighs and scratches itself, then settles down again, squirming among its two brothers to get comfortable.
Mav is at the table, polishing a buckle on a harness, singing softly under her breath and Thas is sitting on a stool near me, reading a book on sheep cleansing. He looks up as my knife slips and splits the stick down the centre. ‘Patience,’ he says, as I throw the stick into the fire, frowning in annoyance. ‘You were cutting too deep.’
‘I always end up doing that!’ I rub the groove on the ball of my thumb where the knife has dug into my skin. ‘I’ll never get it right.’
‘Yes you will,’ Thas says, unperturbed. ‘It all comes with practise.’
I make a noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff, and glare at the fire. It leaps and burns, sparks snapping up the chimney. The logs are charred black, and one is burnt nearly all the way through. It falls down among the hearth stones with a crack that makes me jump. A headache begins somewhere behind my eyes, a painful nag deep inside my brain.
‘Mlanann it all,’ I mutter, digging the heel of my hand into my eyes. The pain only gets worse.
‘What’s the matter, Fal?’ Mav asks.
‘I’ve… got a headache.’ The words come with difficulty, forcing their way out between my clenched teeth. ‘It came on all of a sudden… ah, it hurts!’
‘Do you want to lie down? Come on, lie on your bed.’ When I do not answer her, Mav asks, ‘Fal?’ Her voice is sharp with sudden anxiety.
I scrunch my eyes tight shut. Almost without realizing it, I am rocking back and forth on my stool, and in the darkness of my closed eyelids, I see mad bursts of colours, like demented fireworks. Gold and white, blue and ruby. From far away, I hear Mav cry, ‘Fal, what is it? Talk to me! Athrachan, help him!’
Thas’s hand grips my shoulder tight. Too tight. ‘Fal…’
I shudder, and the pain seems to burst inside my head, and it is not like a firework anymore, but like an unfurling flower, each petal clear and perfect, traced with intricate and minute veins. My eyes are still closed, but I See.
I See an elf, standing on the sea shore. I do not know him, but he seems faintly familiar. He is still young, but his face is worn and lined, his black hair starting to silver at the sides. He stares out at the sea, the wind whipping his clothes and there is such a longing in his face, such a sad, aching loneliness, as though the ocean separates him from all that he knows and loves.
In a detached, unimportant way, I can hear my voice talking. It is saying strange things that I cannot understand, but I do not waste effort trying to fathom the meaning.
The gold and white, blue and ruby swirl across my sight and I See more.
I See another baby, held in a she-elf’s arms. She holds the baby close, and her golden hair falls across her face, creating a protective curtain over the child. Then she straightens, and I See tears on her cheeks, making silver trails on her tanned skin. She hands the baby to someone I cannot See, and then turns away, scrubbing at her face with her hands, weeping quietly.
The gold and white, the blue and ruby are blotted out by black shadows. All the scenes fade, and all that is left is darkness. Darkness that goes on for ever and ever. Darkness that never ends.
But the darkness did end, of course. The next morning I woke up feeling no different from normal, except for a slight reminder of last night’s headache. Mav and Thas had been more than a little worried when I collapsed and then started talking aloud of babies and precious secrets, so they had immediately called the healer. He had listened to what they had to say, shrugged and said, ‘I’m thinking here’s a case for the seers and not for me. The boy’s fine, and so is his mind. Just call me when he wakes up.’
So, when I did awake, I found I had an audience waiting to hear any tale I had to tell. The healer looked into my eyes and asked me how I fared. I replied that I felt all right, except that my eyes hurt and they were very bleary, so I couldn’t see very well. The seers nodded, and said that was natural after prophesying.
‘Prophesying?’ I exclaimed. ‘You mean I’m… a prophet?’
‘So it would seem,’ came the placid reply.
And so it was. With and time and teaching, I learned to recognize the signs before I went into the Seeing-Sark and this helped me avoid embarrassing scenes. It’s much more comfortable obliviously prophesying in private, rather than surrounded by gawking onlookers. Some people who are able to enter the Seeing Sark call it a curse. Not only is it uncomfortable, but it can be a terrible burden to bear, knowing the fate of others. I revelled in my ability, though, feeling that it marked me out, made me unique. I suppose it did, in a way, but as time went on, I began to realise that my pride was not the wisest thing to have. Seeing works both ways, as I found out to my cost.
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140,552 Literary Works • 673,427 Reviews
Hey Twitty! I really like this story, but since everyone already covered everything for the first few chapters, I'll really only be critiquing this last chapter you have posted. And the chapters that come after, of course.
Er, what's a mér?
And what exactly is an alayachae?
How do they know there's going to be a battle?
You use 'tops' twice and it gets a bit repetitive.
Ok. Now on to part two.
Your grammar and spelling is perfect. I didn't catch one mistake.
Your dialog is incredibly natural and it looks like you don't have a problem there, either. It flows together nicely and it's effective. *Claps*
So, really, the only other thing I want to make a comment on is your description. You seem to be lacking a bit in this point. For all seven chapters so far, you haven't included much description as to the setting. What does Fal's home look like? What does the battle site look like? Is it more wooded, or out on a field or plain?
But otherwise, I enjoyed reading this and will most definitely check back for more. You have real talent.
-May
Mwahaha! *is first critiquer of new chapter*
Um…what’s an ulster?
After awhile, I think “the” would do the trick, yes?
“not too far away”?
I don’t know that you need this—it makes her seem snappish and a little childish. Possibly nix.
Cool salute!
A coat of some kind? *continues to puzzle at the mystery of the ulster*
But I thought blue was bad! You just said that blue check would get him shredded—I don’t want a shredded Dai!
I’m so very happy for you, you poor idiot.
Aha! It must be a coat!
May I assume that a “mér” is the same kind of thing that Cod. is? You’ve just never made it clear whether the whole “air force” rides eagles or not.
Again with the words we don’t know—if it has a parallel word in English, please start out with that and then introduce the Elvin word.
Deeefffinately not eagles, then.
Please give us more description! I have no idea what these things look like—if I can’t see them, I can’t visualize your awesome battle scenes!
This would make me think it looks something like a horse, but shouldn’t it have wings? Sorry, darling, but I really think we could benefit from a more detailed description here.
This. *points* Is amazing. You have such a wonderful gift for description, darling (when you chose to use it
Overall
Yay! I’m really enjoying myself! Let me know when you post the re-writes of the early chapters, so I can give them a once-over as well. I can’t tell you how awesome it is to spend only three pages critiquing a nine-page chapter. *hug*
Chapter Seven
‘Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work we go.’ –The Seven Dwarfs
I rocked on my feet impatiently outside Resek’myr’s quarters. The cold wind whipped down my neck and through my ulster. How much longer are they going to be? I wondered. How long did it take for me to swear the oath and get all the papers sorted out? I couldn’t remember. Dai had been in there with the Base Captain for what seemed like hours.
Huddling down in my coat in an attempt to keep warm, I tore my gaze away from Resek’myr’s door and instead looked out over the Base. A little further away from Resek’myr’s hut was a row of long, low wooden buildings – the officers’ quarters, the ordinary troopers’ quarters and the messes. My gaze drifted over the landing field, a spread blanket of green-brown grass clipped short and clean. The ragged peak of Carraig Éanä rose dark and somehow comforting in the distance; a reminder that home was not that far away.
You are impossible, Codahüti said in exasperation. When you were at home, you were itching to get out onto the Base. Now you’re here, you want to go home!
I don’t want to go home! It’s just nice knowing that it’s there – and that I can go back if I want to.
I know that, stultissow.
I heard the door open behind me and quickly turned to see Resek’myr and Dai coming out. Base Captain Resek’myr was short but stocky, with a face that seemed longer than his body was. The studs on his jerkin gleamed in the weak sunlight.
‘Hou, Fal’edhen,’ he greeted me.
‘Hou saraigh. Is Dai finished?’
‘Sa.’ He nodded to Dai. ‘Just get yourself kitted out and meet your beast. Then you’re ready to fly. Get yourself prepared for when we move to Carathara.’ He smiled for the first time.
‘Lyres mur ras, saraigh.’ Dai saluted, three fingers of his left hand tapped on his opposite shoulder. Resek’myr returned the salute and went back inside his quarters.
‘Come on,’ I said to Dai. ‘Your uniform’s in your hut.’
‘Where do you sleep?’ he asked, falling into step beside me.
‘There.’ I jerked a thumb at the first row of huts we passed. ‘Officers in there. We get our own rooms, but only the Base Captain and Air Commander get their own huts. Here’s the troopers’ quarters.’ I pushed open the door and led the way in. Rows of wooden double bunks were set against the low, white washed walls. The floor was covered with fresh new rushes and the whole place smelt sweet and clean.
‘Where is everyone?’ Dai asked.
‘Out,’ I replied. ‘Exercising and things. Here, I got you the bunk by the window.’ I went over to it and thumped the heather stuffed mattress. ‘You’re on top, and Odhran’s going to be sleeping under you. He’ll help if you need anything when I’m not around.’
Dai put his satchel on the bed. ‘Fal,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful for all this – I really am. Only I don’t want…’
‘What?’
Dai’s pale face flushed in embarrassment. ‘I don’t want you to… make me a favourite, just because I’m your friend.’
I poked him in the shoulder. ‘I’m not making you a favourite, aswon. I’m just looking out for you. I’ll be horrible to you if you like.’
‘If you’re horrible to the others as well –’
‘It was a joke!’
‘And so was what I said,’ Dai pointed out peacefully.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Just get your uniform on. And take your ulster, it’s freezing outside.’
‘I had noticed.’ Dai knelt down and felt under the bottom bunk. ‘It’s not that I don’t want your help, Fal, it’s just…’
‘Not that trunk, that’s Odhran’s. Your’s should be next to it.’
Dai pulled out the other trunk. ‘Oh yes, it’s got my name on it…’ He opened it and began taking out clothes. ‘I do want your help, Fal, but I want to fit in as well.’
‘You’re making this sound like your first day at school,’ I commented.
‘It is, in a way.’
‘The army isn’t school.’
Dai sighed. ‘Oh Fal, you’ve got no imagination.’
‘I have!’
Dai pulled off his trousers and held up the plain black ones of his uniform. He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not very colourful, are they?’
‘Well, if you want to go into battle wearing blue check,’ I said, ‘you’ll get yourself shredded.’
‘All right, Fal, I was only saying. Anyway, nice tunic.’
‘Blue for the EC. You know the other colours?’
‘Sa, schoular,’ Dai grinned. ‘Red tunic for the cavalry, yellow for the infantry. You want to know the colour of their loincloths as well?’
‘No!’ I said, scandalized. ‘Do up your jerkin.’
Dai tied the laces of his stiff leather jerkin and fastened his belt around his waist. He opened one of the pouches. ‘Empty. Where do I get my guns?’
‘Should I be worried by your eagerness to grab a firearm?’ I asked him.
He laughed. ‘It’s just…’ He raised his hands in the air, then dropped them to his sides again. ‘I’ve waited to join the EC for so long. You got in quicker because you’re a prince and you’re older, but I had to wait… And now we’ve got a real war to fight in! A real threat to Aval-lón!’
‘I know!’ I grinned, sharing his enthusiasm. ‘You wait till your first battle, Dai. Then you’ll see how it really is.’
Dai nodded. ‘Have I got everything on?’
‘What about your testril?’
Dai bent to look in the trunk again, but I stopped him. ‘Na, try your pocket.’
‘Oh yes, it’s here.’ Dai brought out the small metal disk stamped with his name, rank and squadron number. He fastened the cord around his neck, shoving the disk inside his tunic. Then he straightened. ‘There. Ready?’
I gave him the once over and saluted. ‘Trooper Dai’myr Tewlwolow, you are ready for duty.’
He saluted back. ‘Squadron Leader Fal’ebren Barrlynenner, it is a pleasure to serve.’
For a moment we managed to remain serious, and then we began grinning at each other like naughty schoolboys.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go find your beast.’
Outside in the cold wind, Dai quickly buttoned up his ulster. ‘Oh, cold.’
‘The pens are just over here,’ I said, then squinted up into the pale grey sky. ‘Look, there’s Ron’uthrie.’
Ron’uthrie was exercising his beast – a huge, all golden mér – in the sky above us, wheeling and soaring in the biting wind.
‘No low acrobatics,’ I instructed as we reached the pens. ‘You don’t want to loose your legs through showing off.’
‘That’s the sort of thing you would do, not me.’
I sniffed and scanned the pen of alayachae. Hou. I sent the thought out to all the beasts in the field, and they immediately stopped grazing and lifted their heads, ears twitching back and forth. Hou, I said again. Where is alayach number 35210?
Alayach 35210. A dappled beast left the others and walked over to the fence. It looked first at me, then at Dai.
Dai looked back and, very slowly and carefully, reached out his hand and touched its forehead. It continued to gaze at him with large, soft dark eyes, and Dai stroked its nose, then scratched around its ears, his fingers getting lost in its pale, coarse mane.
Love at first sight.
I looked up into the sky and saw Codahüti. She circled once, landed and hop-walked to my side. I stroked her neck lightly, watching Dai.
I think they like each other, Codahüti said.
I think they do, too.
Dai ran his hand down the alayach’s neck to its shoulder, scratching around the base of its wings. ‘Tarth,’ he said. ‘That’s your name. Tarth.’
Tarth pushed his nose against Dai’s chest and tossed his head up and down. Dai put his hand on Tarth’s forehead and closed his eyes. For a moment his lips moved soundlessly. I could feel something niggling in the back of my brain, the beginnings of a headache behind my eyes.
Fal… Codahüti warned.
I winced, trying to find whatever it was, dig out the grain of sand in the cog, the pebble in the shoe. ‘Swift… Swift he…’
Fal!
‘Fal?’ Dai turned, his hand still on Tarth’s neck.
‘Swift he bestrode his firefly steed; He bared his blade of the bent-grass blue; He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed, And away like a glance of thought he flew, To skim the heavens, and follow far, The fiery trail of the rocket star.’
Dimly, like an echo from centuries past, I could feel someone nudging my mind. Someone nagging. Fal. Fal. Fal. Fal. Fal.
‘Fal,’ I murmured.
A hand flicked in front of my eyes, and I blinked. Dai waved his hand again and I shook my head irritably. ‘Hey, stop it.’
‘Firefly steed?’ he demanded.
‘Pardon?’
‘What was that? Was it the Sark?’
‘The Sark? What’re you talking about?’
Dai gave an incoherent squeak.
I think, Codahüti said, that he may be talking about you going into a kind of half trance and reciting something about some person who follows stars with a blade of grass.
Really?
Really.
Oh. I don’t remember.
Tell that to Dai, not me.
Gee, you’re bossy.
Shut up.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Dai. ‘I don’t remember. What did I say?’
Dai sighed. ‘Nothing. Some poem. It doesn’t matter.’ Tarth pushed his nose against Dai’s arm, and Dai stroked his new mount’s neck.
You really do have a knack for making a spectacle of yourself, Codahüti mused callously. Dai’s having a wonderful private moment with his beast and you bring all the attention back to yourself –
I didn’t do it on purpose!
It’s like when the Kioni came. That was their evening, and you got all the sympathy by going into the strangest Sark anyone had ever seen and making all of Carraig Éanä talk of nothing else for days afterwards.
I glared at her. She glared back. I appealed to Dai. ‘You know I don’t do this on purpose, don’t you Dai?’
‘Of course. Do what?’
‘Go into the Sark and disrupt things.’
‘Oh, that. No, I don’t see how you could, really. All the same,’ he added with a sigh, ‘it does make being around you a little… unexpected. Having a friend who goes into trances and fits without a moment’s notice –’
‘I do try and tell in advance,’ I protested. ‘Normally I can, you know that. It’s only when I See really far into the future. The first future and the first past, that is. That’s when it comes on sudden.’
‘Well it makes it gey difficult.’
I felt hurt and snapped, ‘I told you – I can’t help it.’
Oh, stop being so prickly.
I have a right to prickle!
Hedgehog.
‘I know, Fal. I’m sorry.’ Dai gave me a hopeful smile and, as if to make peace, he asked, ‘Have you Seen anything, Fal? About the war?’
Put your prickles back in, princeling.
Be quiet, canary. ‘No,’ I answered Dai. ‘I’ve seen nothing about the war. Nothing at all.’
***
Fal’ebren-ner, do you know where the corn is?
Saraigh, must my beast go with the others?
Fal’ebren-ner, I think my pistol needs a new flint.
Fal’ebren-ner, there’s a weevil in the flour.
‘Squadron Leader Fal’ebren, have you got your troopers sorted out yet?’
‘No!’ I almost yelled.
T’shaa raised an eyebrow.
I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. ‘Sorry, sorry… It’s just that everyone’s been asking about where they should go and who they should go with and… Do you know where the corn is?’
‘Tell them to go see Squadron Quartermaster Al’thrie; he’s in charge of this section of the camp.’
‘Mur ras.’ Who needed corn?
I felt about half a dozen minds touch mine, almost as though we were in a class and they were raising their hands in the affirmative.
If you need corn or any other supplies, go and find Squadron Quartermaster Al’thrie. I’m busy right now, so don’t try and reach me, sa? Ask for directions, hijack a passing trooper, but don’t come to me.
Half a dozen minds gave a collective response: Sa saraigh.
I sighed in relief. ‘That’s that done. Thanks, T’shaa.’
T’shaa grinned. ‘Hectic, isn’t it? Awful to think of what it’ll be like after the battle.’
‘Hopefully, everyone will be too drunk on Kioni wine and shared victory to make too much trouble,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘That’s what we’d hope. Well, I’ll be seeing you around.’ He saluted and left, weaving his way through the rows of tents that had already been set up. Quite a few troopers were still juggling with ropes and canvases, putting up the last few tents on the outskirts. The Danann camp and the Kioni camp were only a little way apart, but the Sersurans were a mile or two to the north. The battle – and there was going to be one in the next few days – would take place somewhere between the two groups.
I looked out over the vast expanse of plain beyond the camps, all waving brown grasses that reached to the foot of the enormous blue grey mountains that soared up into the skies. Carathara had such amazing skies – blue and cold and empty. The whole place was beautiful in a savage, untamed way, and the huge openness of it made my heart thump. It had a mad feeling about it, as though all things were possible there, and anyone could become anything if they tried hard enough.
Isn’t it wonderful? I asked Codahüti. It’s so… so wide.
It’s the sky, she said. It’s like a huge bowl that needs to be filled.
And we can fill it.
I thought ‘pleasure flights’ weren’t allowed?
They’re not, but wouldn’t it be amazing to get up there and just fly?
And see if we could reach the tops of those mountains. Some of them have snow on their tops.
Must be a wonderful view from up there.
And probably no air to breathe, either.
Oh yes. I didn’t think of that.
No, I didn’t think that you had.
There was a pause. Someone putting up a tent shouted a curse as his thumb got caught under the mallet. A cook fire nearby sent plumes of smoke and the scent of barley soup wafting into the sky.
Marching rations? Codahuti asked in amusement, my awareness of the smell of the food passing across to her through our link. That won’t put spirit into your soldiers for the fight ahead.
There’s going to be meat with the soup as well. Just not too much of it.
I caught a rabbit earlier. Small and full of tendons, but very sweet.
As a smackerel?
A what?
It’s like a snack.
Fal, for all our sakes, keep your head in this time, this present, this day, this war. Seeing someone else’s war won’t help this one.
You make it sound like I have a choice about what I See!
You encourage it. You like Seeing the first future.
And what of that? It’s really funny, some of the things that I’ve seen. At one time, everyone wore these really fancy clothes – all waistcoats and big hats. Then later on, people wore their hair really long and said that it was a hip. Isn’t that funny, calling their hair a hip?
It shows a marked lack of discernment.
Sa, it’s funny.
Even if it’s funny, leave it alone. Please, Fal.
What? I was startled. Codahüti never said please. Dai said that that was another thing we had in common.
Please try and keep out of the Sark. Keep your mind focused on the battle. What if you become unfocused and… what if something happens while you’re in the battle? Remember, you have responsibilities to Aval-lon, not just to yourself. You’re the next in line. If something should happen to you, the leadership would pass out of the direct bloodline. She let this sink in, then said gently, Just keep yourself safe, Fal. For me and for Aval-lon. I want you to be safe more than anyone else does.
The wind lifted my hair and blew it into my eyes and mouth. I had a warm feeling in my stomach. It was very comforting, knowing that someone cared about me in the way that Codahüti did. Before I could get completely mushy about it, she added, And look out for Dai as well. Don’t forget that this will be his first battle.
Oh, yes I know. I wonder if he’ll enter the Sark?
The Sark? Oh, the Battle Sark. I don’t know actually. He’s not the kind of person who gets that worked up about things, but then you hardly ever enter that Sark, and you could get worked up over a feather in the wind.
That’s because I go into the Seeing Sark so readily, I replied, a little huffily. Anyway, the Battle Sark is madness. Bloodlust. It’s not exactly civilized.
Sour grapes, she teased. If I gambled – and I don’t – then I would bet that Dai will enter the Battle Sark.
And I bet that he won’t. No offence to Dai, but he’s too puddle like.
Puddle like? Fal, you’re daft.
I am not! Anyway, I know Dai. You wait and see.
---
I know it looks like I've just cobbled their last names together, but they do actually mean something. And if you can, just ignore the first chapters; they'll be getting rewrites sometime soon.
– chapter four.
‘But the again,’ I interrupted Mav. ‘He might not be. Who thinks there’s a third option?’
“Then”
Chapter five.
Fal, I don’t care if they’ve murdered Valiad and Charana both! Take your squadron and teleported and get there now! Scramble!
“teleport”
“a space of ground with the grass clipped very short and somewhat scorched in places”
Could be re-worded somewhat, feels a little stilted.
“Some teleporters manage to loose passengers on the way, but Las’uthran was one of the best.“
“lose”
“The twelve winged horse turned and began their run up.”
“Horses”?
“. I watched the gallop up the grassy slope behind, building up enough speed to take flight.”
“Them” gallop?
“I yelled with her, my eyes and mouth wide open as the red-crest’s blew on the wind into my face and burned my skin.”
- Is this meant to be “red-crests” or “red-crest’s – something-“? It
doesn’t seem to make sense, as is.
“We were in one of the less damaged duns, along with sqaud leaders Gwyn’bre and T’shaa, with their flight leaders.”
- “squad”
You mention red-crests a lot, by the last mention I’m confused about whether or not you mean one person in particular or all the Sersuran. – I just re-read it for the third time and it makes sense now. But perhaps you could look at that, anyway? Just a little look. ^^
Chapter six:
“The prisoners were both very battered and blood-stained.”
I almost feel as though the “very” here need to be repeated before “blood-stained” or needs to go. I think it’s the “both” that is throwing me off.
“‘We couldn’t do that!’ I was shocked. ‘We just couldn’t! Not force the information from his mind!’”
But has no issue with a low number of prisoners. How very sweet of him. ^^
“I felt the thickness of the rough skin under his fingers”
Under whose fingers? O.o
Oh, I’m so interested in this. xD
Keep writing. ^^ I think your sentence structure needs work sometimes, but that can all be attributed to how the characters talk, and the narrators voice. I’m really enjoying this, though! Once again, I’m sorry it took me so long to get this to you. ><
Hit me up when you have more! I’d love to read it. ^^
*Hearts* Le Penguin.
Ah, so interesting, Twitter.
You’ve got me hooked so easily. How traumatic. ^^ I separated this into two parts. The first consisting of your first three chapters, and the second of your last three. I’m afraid I’ve only got the first part for you right now; uni is trying to kill me. So I apologies for this taking so long to get to you, it’s a failing on my part, time restrictions. ^^
This kept me so engaged, although it took a minute to get into it, and it just flowed from there on. Easy to slip from one page to the next. You have a good handle on the events and you obviously understand the world you have created. I’ll tell you now; I found very few things to pick out here, not just because I zipped through it like a greedy piggy, so I could devour all the narrative I could. ^^ You’ve obviously taken on the comments of those who have read it, and self edited yourself.
You use cliff hangers well. Perhaps this is just because I was cut off at chapter three this time, but I really do want to read more. However, the feeling of left hanging isn’t there. It’s a solid, concrete movement into the next chapter, while keeping the murky feeling of wanting to know what comes next.
You have an interesting writing style, I’m not sure as yet if that’s making any negative effects on my reading, but I am enjoying your syntax and sentence structure.
I should have the last three chapters done for you soon. Apologies once again on the lateness.
*Hearts* Le Penguin.
Chapter Six
Hmm…I have a small problem with the word “said” being applied to mental discourse…but only a small one.
Ohhh, very nice, just the right touch of malice wrapped in lots of calm.
I had to read this twice to figure out what they meant—perhaps if Fal said “It’s an expression” it might flow better.
Don’t you mean “without you making unhelpful comments”?
Nix.
Overall
Oooo….
Chapter Five
Commas are your friend!
And what’s important too?
Is there a reason why one is capitalized and the other isn’t?
1. Who are Valiad and Charana?
2. Shouldn’t we care if they’re dead…?
My question exactly.
Need an ‘s’ on the end there, methinks.
Wait a minute, we’ve discovered atoms and molecules? And they have the exact same names as they do in “our” world? Anachronism alert!
“horses”
“them gallop”
Who are “we”? You just described Codahüti’s takeoff—are there other winged things, big eagles, the like?
I don’t think the red bit’s necessary—it’s a rather awkward word-picture.
Is this supposed to be in quotes? Or italics?
I should just stick to “How should I know?” otherwise it all gets very confusing.
The astronomer would be so proud…Elves throwing bombs in his name…
See, you can eat the bad guys!
The red-crest’s what?
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.
*head/desk* That has better be a deliberate quote…
See above. (the one above the one above, obviously)
“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 Four:
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.
Beautiful description, but please find a better (i.e. more descriptive) word than “sound.”
Humph, now you get all ancient-language-ey on us. *crosses arms*
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.
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.
0.0 *rubs eyes, stares* …ummmm *blinkblink*
I’m pretty sure you mean “then again.”
Smart option.
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*
“cloaked and curious” is one of the most wonderful phrases I have ever read. Thought I should tell you.
I do believe you need an “I” between “and” and “headed for.”
Have I mentioned that I love this bird?
Be afraid, be very afraid. The ‘duh’ has invaded the Isle of Avalon!!!
Famous last words.
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 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.’
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 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.
Back again!
), as all I've got to do is point out a couple of grammatical and spelling errors.
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
And that's all I could find. Really, excellent chapter. I tried, but there was nothing more to do with it!
-Kyle
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 ^.^
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
‘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.
You're very adept at writing informal conversation - it's easy to read, realistic, conveys different emotions clearly... Very good.
Again, I'd replace 'Valiad' with 'our/my King', as it's coming from Fiske.
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
'take it back' sounds a little juvenile - 'leave to inform our king' seems a little better, methinks.
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.
'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.
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.'
I'd remove 'wind'. And 'headcollar' is one word (however much Firefox spellcheck disagrees with me
The 'They had' seems a tad dramatic - perhaps soften it up with an adverb in front?
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.
Perhaps leave it at 'turned her loose.' It sounds better, and we don't need to know how many other horses are in there.
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.
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.
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.
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.
This seems a little pointless, particularly the second sentence. Is there any reason he shouldn't shuffle his feet and click his tongue?
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.
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?
Good, more casual.
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.
Ironically, this somehow seems too casual - a simple 'Goodbye' would be more in keeping with the character (and the time period), I'm thinking.
Another 'goodbye', perhaps?
'missed' needs to go. 'increased my pace' sounds a bit too robotic in this instance. Something like 'quickened my step' would suffice.
Edited accordingly.
We generally look 'in' the mirror (for some obscure reason), and I think 'at my bedside' would do to replace 'that stood next...'
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.
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.
'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.
'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
For Chapter 3:
coolness.
just a little confusion on who “they” are; perhaps it would be clearer if you said “it took place in the Gall Dun”
While I realize it’s not exactly redundant, it might be best if you just picked one side of the semicolon or the other.
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!*
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.
The command to Fal just seems rather out of place here; everything else sounds so…kingly. Then again, that may be the point.
Long sentence alert, please chop.
Wise move.
Nix, sounds too modern.
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.
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.
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.
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!
*pokes*
When's Chapter 3 going up? I'm ready and willing to read more!
It's practice.
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
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.
Well, here I go again. Hopefully the internet will behave.
Now, I haven't read any of Gyr's critique (apart from the first couple of lines - I can see a critique speed-war breaking out!), so forgive me if I repeat her.
Firstly, some general comments: I liked this, though I didn't think the first half was as good as the previous chapter. Fortunately, though, you got back to your old standards during the last half, and I very much enjoyed that bit.
Now, for the in-depth stuff.
Not a bad opening paragraph. I agree with Gyr on the broken teeth 'staring' bit being a bit odd, but not overly so. Also, I think it brings us quickly into the chapter, to get us interested - but perhaps a little too quickly. I have no idea where I am currently, which isn't a bad thing for the opening sentence or paragraph, but you fail to rectify this in the next one.
'X' should be in apostrophes. Also, I would modify the next sentence. You tell us she joins the flock, then you describe the flock, and then you tell us she joins it a second time, albeit in a reworded fashion. Perhaps replace the beginning of the sentence with the end: '...she ran away and burrowed in among her fellows in the rest of the flock, which was being kept in a tight knot by the dogs.' Something like that.
You tell, instead of show, slightly in the last couple of sentences, though it's at an acceptable level. You have to be careful not to over-do this though, as you do later on in the chapter.
'...fine and big' sounds rather weird - I have this image of a sheep with Bugs Bunny teeth! 'Fine' also sounds rather unnecessary. Perhaps just leave it at something like '...teeth were straight...' Short, sweet, simple.
Also, there a disappointingly small amount of dialogue thus far. Instead of saying that Dai brought up the next ewe, have Dai say 'Here comes the next one' or something of the sort. Have them joke together. This is a mundane task, surely they'll be wanting to relieve the boredom somehow?
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!
You're telling here, but only for a sentence or two, which is forgiveable. Then, however, we're hit with this:
There's a lot to say for this bit. Right, you talk about the ewe - fair enough. Then, however, you go off on a tangent, saying who the other characters are and how Fal has got the most authority, and then, in the next paragraph, you jerk back to the sheep again. It doesn't run smoothly, and slows down the pace considerably.
This, too, is a prime example of telling instead of showing. Why tell us that 'The next ewe was recognized as one with a history of weak and infected feet that no amount of caring was able to quite cure.'? Have one of the characters say it - "Oh, look, it's the dodgy one," though something not as crude, obviously, and with more detail. Have the way the characters act around Fal show that he's the most authoritative figure there, instead of simply telling us it's so. Give your characters something to do, at present they're standing in the background twiddling their thumbs.
In addition to this, you've given us a long list of names that are rather difficult to pronounce, even in our heads. Having so many such names in such quick succession jars the pace to a grinding halt, forcing us to slowly say each name in our heads. Perhaps introduce the characters and names individually throughout the chapter - it would be more interesting (to get to know each character) and wouldn't create such a sticky moment in the pacing as it is currently.
Finally, I'm not quite sure why all this drama is occurring because of one dodgy sheep? I mean, they've been callously sentencing the broken-toothed ones to death without a care in the world, yet when it comes to this one, which has, apparently, been some trouble for a while now with its infected feet, Fal has to bite his lip in indecision. Why? I could understand if they needed to reserve the sheep for food, and these dodgy ones they're just going to throw away, but that theory is batted down not much later on, as these will be eaten. As I can find no logical reason to find the killing of one more sheep so difficult, it looks to me to be a means of padding the chapter out. If, instead, you used these mundane jobs to develop character through actions and dialogue, you wouldn't need to pad it out with this over-analysis of something that doesn't appear to really matter.
Ah, finally, some speech! And proper, characterised speech. The instant you have your characters talk, your whole style relaxes and becomes much more enjoyable to read, as opposed to the stiffness of the chapter up 'till now. No other big comments for this bit, apart from the fact that Fal seems to change his mood fairly rapidly, from 'bristling' to 'gracious', though that may be just part of his personality. Again, 'X' needs to be put in apostrophes.
There's some internal character development here, which is good. It's interesting, more so than reading about marking sheep, so no big problems here. I'm going to assume that 'the Sense' is part of the 'Seeing' in the first chapter - it's been a while since I read it, but I do believe that, if I were to read this without taking long intervals between each chapter, then I would be perfectly aware, or at least be able to give a good guestimate, as to what 'the Sense' is. So, yeah, no problems here.
Again, some nice dialogue here. It's fairly obvious that dialogue is a strength of yours, you should use it more often during the otherwise more boring parts of writing. I like Codahüti's character, she seems the right sort for a gigantic bird.
I let it go with 'the Sense', but, I do think you should clarify exactly what a 'Sense-link' is before this chapter (perhaps have a small chapter in between this and the first to get that and other things clearly into the reader's mind). As it is, you've just thrown that phrase in here, with the apparent assumption that the reader will know what it means. Otherwise, the chapter is picking up - I'm liking it better already, just with a bit of dialogue!
You tell a bit here - have the two talk about how she is more than able to carry sheep away, but the danger of doing so (character development opportunity!!!). Otherwise, you're getting back up to your previous standard.
Again, nothing bad here. When you actually give them something to talk about, you seem really confident in your characters, and they're very strong characters. Perhaps you need to build the same level of confidence in action scenes, where not as much talk is done? I'm not overly sure about that, as we haven't seen a proper action scene as of yet (we are only two chapters in, after all), but it should be interesting to see when the time comes. One little comment - shouldn't it be 'she-who-holds-all-power commands', as 'commands' is the verb, not part of the name?
There are cases when telling as opposed to showing can be effective, and I think you achieve that here. Again, however, you refer to being 'bonded' with Codahüti, which should really be addressed earlier on, as we have no idea what this bonding is.
'Imbedded' should be 'embedded'. I like your use of 'lumpy rug' for description, it creates a pleasant image. Instead of 'half-hills' I would say 'hillocks', as it is a more accurate term. Also, 'green so dark they looked black' sounds rather clumsy and awkward - perhaps extend the 'moss green' metaphor to describe the hills as 'the colour of old mould', or something along those lines. Also, you say 'green' a lot - a bit too much, I think, it becomes very repetetive. Perhaps use a different name for green - I'm sure there's a thread on the site somewhere for that, so it could come in handy.
I don't see much point in quoting the next bit, as there's a lot of pretty much good stufff - very little to comment on. I would, however, question the necessity of describing Fal stepping over a rock - it's unimportant, and doesn't further the pace in any way. Also, 'I declared' needs, I think, to be un-italicised.
All good here, though I don't think you need to mention the names of the dogs. It sounds like you're just putting in names for the sake of it, and it doesn't serve any importance to anything. Just say something like '...guarded by the many hounds.'
Now, this second half is the bit I really liked - you'd settled back into writing about what interested you, or what you were comfortable with, and it shows.
Good, except that you say 'we could see the hamlet' twice.
'...to add emphasis to my words' sounds a little odd. Perhaps just 'waving it around to emphasise my words' runs a little smoother.
There's not really much to comment on in the rest of this. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the entire history/geography lesson - it's encouraging to see you have such knowledge of your world, and you managed to give a lot of information without the reader being overloaded with it. You sue the 'showing through speech' technique - of which, I'm a big fan! Yes, very good.
Your dialogue, though generally very strong, does have weaknesses - for instance, you tend to be use random overly formal words when they sound awkward - 'pondered' being an example. 'Thought' works much better in that particular instance. Also, I'd like to draw attention to this one metaphor:
It sounds awkwardly phrased. I think 'in seeing your life through' is what brings it down. "I'm merely shedding a little light in order to break through the clouds of ignorance which you revel in" would work better, I think.
Overall, this is a good chapter. I think you seem to enjoy the more poetic style of your first chapter - your style suited that type of prose, whereas you attempted to carry on with the same style initially with this chapter (telling was both effective and necessary there, where it only drags down the pace here). I get the impression that, when you reach a boring subject to write about, you try to rush it as much as possible in order to get to the interesting parts, where your writing then picks up.Instead, use these boring parts for character development - through dialogue is the best way of doing so, I think (though the odd character action doesn't go amiss).
So, yeah. I'm glad I've finally finished this, and my internet has held fairly steady throughout writing. I hope this helped you to some degree, and I look forward to the next chapter!
-Kyle
Unfortunately, if it's a memoir, we already know the ending- he lives. Also, his tone can tell us whether or not he comes out happy.
However, this can be easily remedied. You can suprise the readers at the end by having him die, so that he's writing from this world's heavan or something. You can also make it where somebody else is writing about him.
Otherwise, very, very good. It sound professional, even. Only 15? If you want to be a writer, you could consider publishing. You know, start early.
Very interesting, it was easy to read and had a steady pace to it. The first paragraph caught my attention quickly and I can place myself in the character's shoes because of the memories. I've yet to know what your character looks like though and would like to read more about the two siblings. If you could, please pm me when you have the next part available for reading.
I am so incredibly sorry. Actually, I don't know why I'm apologising, it's this stupid internet that should be. You have no idea how difficult it is to stop myself from swearing right know. *posts a blog entry* Yeah, don't go there *points to blog* It does not show a very pretty side to Kyle.
Anyways, in explanation to all this, my internet crashed and, despite what Firefox is supposed to do, it came up with some message saying 'No post mode specified', whatever the hell that means. Anywho, what I had of the critique up until the crash was very in-depth - a comment for every paragraph, that sort of thing. And I feel that I will be doing both you and myself a disservice if I do not post the critique as it was intended. Therefore, I won't be posting a general critique, I will re-write my original. I won't, however, be doing this tonight, as it is now 10.45pm, and I need to go to bed. So, I will post it tomorrow. So, if you've written Chapter 3, could you wait until after tomorrow before you post it? I will try my very best to do this critique by then. If I fail, then go ahead with the next chapter - I'm sure I will catch up.
A short comment on the piece - the first half wasn't, I think, up to par with your first chapter. The second half, however, was immensely enjoyable, and back to your original standard!
Again, I'm very sorry,
-Kyle
So...where's the next chapter!
I just dropped in quickly to say I'm really enjoying the story. Like immensily. Until the Holidays kick the bucket, I'm afraid I cannot do any editing, not even on my own work.
PM 3rd chapter??? *puppy dog eyes*
But I wanted to let you know I read chapter 2, and I'm offcially hooked.
Mwahahaha! *sings* I got here before Smuuuurf! I got here before Smuuuurf!
Two little things, 1) “gripped,” at least to me, seems to indicate something done with the hands, perhaps you could say “braced” or “squeezed”? 2) The imagery of the mouthful of broken teeth staring at him suggests he’s facing those teeth, and it confused me a moment ‘cause I was like, “Wait, isn’t he…over the sheep?”
Um…this may just be me, but what’s “tupping”?
Redundant, we don’t need to know both “difficult” and “didn’t want to be sorted,” as the one indicates the other
You already mention that he’s keeping records, so you don’t need to add that the roll is for the notation of those records.
Don’t need “recognized as”
Just feels like a rather long, slightly awkward sentence, especially if you consider it without the list of names in the middle: “Out of the seven…we all had the same amount of experience.” It just feels off. Oh, I also think you need a dash, not a comma, between “flock” and “we.”
“any hot temper on my part” seems out of place, as we know he’s bristling, so there’s obviously some hot temper there.
Probably just be easiest to eliminate the first “them.”
Yay! I was wondering when we were going to see her!!!
In this context, I think it’s supposed to be “contentment,” but I could be wrong.
Ahhh…beautiful description, darling.
Smart sheep…
I’m not sure “change” is the word you want, as they obviously are starting to make trouble; you could pick a different word, but it would work just as well to cut that whole bit off and just say “What’s happened?”
While I’m sure this is all very accurate, I found it difficult to follow so much information at once, especially with so many unfamiliar words thrown in. Even if I did understand, I doubt I’d be able to remember much past this scene; do you think you could possibly cut it down to just the really important bits, the bits that will directly affect Fal and the story?
I think this sentence needs a little trimming. For instance, you could chop the whole second half down to “the clouds of ignorance in which you seem to revel.” You get the idea.
General Comments
Really excellent chapter here, darling! I liked to see Fal getting his hands dirty, as it were, and it felt like a kind of “calm before the storm” buildup, done very well, I might add. Where did you learn sheep husbandry?
One little question: I wasn’t entirely sure where we were! For awhile, I thought Fal had left Avalon (forgive me, I can’t spell it as you do), especially with that talk of some kind of ED and Base Captain, which sounded, to me, very modern-military.
Afraid I don’t have much else to say, darling! Good work, and keep it up!
Chapter Two
‘In order to be an immaculate member of a flock of sheep, one must above all be a sheep oneself.’ --Albert Einstein
The ewe squirmed between my knees, cross and uncomfortable. I pulled its head back and lifted its upper lip. A mouthful of broken teeth stared back at me, and I said to Cadhan, ‘Here’s another one. Broken teeth.’
‘Sa.’ He took the dye stick and drew a big red ‘X’ on the ewe’s rump. I released her, and with an indignant shake of her head, she ran away down the hillside to join the rest of the flock, which the dogs were keeping in a tight knot. I wiped my sweaty forehead with dirty hands. Even though the day was a cold one, sweat was running freely into my eyebrows and off the end of my nose. It was Mis Gwynngala, the month when we sorted the flocks before that year’s tupping, and wrestling with smelly, uncooperative ewes that didn’t want to be sorted was a task that everyone took part in.
Dai brought up the next ewe, whistling to Cleren, his wolfhound, who deftly herded the protesting sheep into my arms. I held her under the throat, and lifted her lip. The teeth were all large and straight, so I checked her hooves, mouth and udder before releasing her.
‘Is she all right?’ inquired Brod’ewedh. He was keeping the record for this flock, and his stub of charcoal hovered over the roll of parchment like a hunting sparrow hawk.
‘Da, she’s fine,’ I replied, and he wrote a number down.
‘How many bad ewes in this flock?’ Cadhan asked, massaging his right shoulder. ‘Hai mai, my arms are sore.’
Brod’ewedh counted and said, ‘Twelve so far, out of fifty four.’
‘Twelve for the butcher’s knife.’ Cadhran flapped his hand about. ‘I am so hot!’
‘Nesh,’ Dai called over his shoulder, on his way back to the flock.
The next ewe’s feet were red and sore: footrot. Brod’ewedh looked at me. ‘Do we keep this one, Fal’ebren-ner? We kept her in last season and she had those twins that were born with liver damage -- remember?’
‘They died,’ Cadhran said, rather unnecessarily.
I nodded. ‘Sa… Mark her, then.’ Cadhran did so, and she ran to join her flock fellows, oblivious to the red ‘X’ on her back that meant she was destined for the butcher’s knife.
‘Would Athrachan approve?’ Dai asked. ‘Shouldn’t you ask him?’
‘I think I can decide for myself,’ I retorted, bristling.
‘Da, da lowr.’ Dai raised his hands and fanned them in the air, as though trying to cool any hot temper on my part. ‘I was only thinking.’
‘Alright then,’ I said graciously. ‘Next.’
We finally got through that flock, and sent them on their way. A few of the ewes had the Sense, so we could make it known the way we wanted them to go without too much help from the dogs. Sheep did not have very interesting minds, I reflected, watching them stream away down the slope and up the opposite hill. They were intelligent in their own way, but it was difficult trying to make them keep another’s idea in their heads for more than a few minutes.
Now, birds… I smiled and reached out with my mind to touch Codahüti’s. She was back at Carraig Éanä, but her thoughts came clearly to me. Sheep? Have you not finished with sheep yet?
Na, only with this flock.
Through our mental Sense-link, I felt the giant bird’s amused contempt. Pathetic woolly creatures. And yet you depend on them to live.
That’s stretching it a bit! I don’t need to depend on sheep. We keep them to support us. As much say that you depend on them, because you eat them.
When I can get away with it. Will I get a share in the twelve that will be killed?
If I can manage it.
Sa da.
I could feel her anticipation clearly. Too lazy to get your meat yourself? I teased. Or too feeble?
As if. If I can cope with you on my back, then I think I’m strong enough to carry off a full grown sheep.
What’s that it says about a haughty spirit before going before a fall?
I can’t fall. I have wings.
‘Fal…’
‘Mm.’
‘Fal.’
‘Yes!’
‘Have you finished talking with Codahüti?’
‘Yes, since you interrupted.’
Dai grinned. ‘Tell her that if we don’t get a move on, she won’t get any roast sheep at the slaughter feast.’
I grinned back and relayed the message. Codahüti said, Then get a move on! What are you waiting for?
‘That bird,’ I said to Dai, ‘is bossy.’
‘She’s a perfect match for you,’ Dai said.
‘Are you suggesting…’
‘No, no, of course not. Come on and do as she-who-holds-all-power commands.’
Tell him I object strongly to that name.
He knows you do already.
We went down the hill side, stepping over embedded rocks and odd holes and hollows in the grass. The others were already climbing the next hill, and we joined them at the top. Beyond this hill, the ground levelled out and looked like a lumpy rug, with small hillocks and mounds rising out of the green-brown grass. More hills rose in the distance, ranging in colour from mossy to deep green, with the farthest ones coloured a mottled brown, laced with purple and red heather, mist curling around their tops.
Uthra’mol pointed left. ‘There’s another lot along there; I can Sense them.’
More sheep. Succulent and dripping fresh blood from warm flesh…
Na, roasted and dripping grease! Aloud I said, ‘Get a move on, then.’
I said you two were well matched, Dai murmured in my mind.
You just wait until you meet your own Sense-partner, I replied. Then I can jeer at you.
I’m not jeering!
Are you not? Then you’re doing a remarkably good impression of it.
Don’t prickle, Fal. I haven’t found anyone yet. I’m waiting still.
Maybe when you join the EC, you’ll find one who you can bond with.
I will.
You will?
Yes! I meant to tell you. Base Captain Resek’myr approved my application, and because you and your father put in a good word for me, I’m to join your squadron.
Oh wonderful!
Just don’t be too harsh on me, will you? As I’ll be under your command and everything.
I always treat my troopers fairly! I declared. You’ll be no exception.
Diolch.
When are you to join up?
Some weeks from now; I’m not sure exactly when. Resek’myr said that I should wait for a bit. Something about trouble across the seas?
We could see the sheep now, busily grazing, spread out over the land. Some of them looked up uneasily as we approached, and I sent out a reassuring message to them, telling them that we meant no harm. Not fully convinced, a few of them began to drift away.
I’ll tell you when we break at noon, I said to Dai. For now, send Cleren after those stragglers.
Sa. Dai whistled, and Cleren streaked to obey him. The others had already sent their dogs to round the sheep up, and within a short time, they were gathered into a tight bunch. Cleren brought up the first ewe, and the sorting began all over again.
** ** **
‘Now will you tell me?’ Dai asked.
I stretched out my legs in front of me, feeling my muscles ache. We were sitting on an outcrop of rock near enough to Carraig Éanä to be able to see the wall of the hamlet where we lived. The hamlet took its name from the huge, rugged rock it was built next to; a dark mass against the sky with harsh edges and jagged points.
‘Tell what?’ Cadhran asked, untying the strings of the bag that held our lunch and Brod’ewedh’s notes. He laid out seven small bundles of cloth, and we each took one.
‘About the trouble,’ I replied, then bowed my head and recited the Maker’s Blessing over the food. ‘Gans hanow ag a Dhéanamh, ny iarr tabhartas war seo sosten.’
‘What trouble?’ Cadhran asked again, after the Blessing had finished.
‘Oh, you know,’ I said, biting into an oat cake, and waving it around in the air to emphasise my words. ‘Everyone - the old men and the captains and people - are shaking their heads and murmuring about trouble over the seas.’
‘Oh that trouble. I thought you meant something wrong with the sheep.’
‘You’re too much of a shepherd, Cadhran,’ I said dismissively. ‘This is more important that a ewe’s foot trouble. Thas is worried about the Sersurans.’
‘They’ve said that they’ll make trouble for years, though. What’s new about that?’
‘They’re gathering their forces together like they actually mean to march. Kiona’s preparing for any trouble, and she’s sending messengers to Aval-lón to discuss an alliance.’
That made all the others stop short in amazement. Dai put down his bannock, and Odhran exclaimed, ‘Really?’
‘Of course really,’ I replied, nettled. ‘Do you think I’d say it if it wasn’t true? Thas thought for some time about it, but he agreed to see them. They should be here in the next week or so, and he was going to announce it publicly in a few days.’
‘Does he mind you telling us?’ Dai asked.
‘Oh, I don’t think he will.’ I shrugged. ‘After all, it’s important. The Kioni and the Danann have never been exactly friendly with each other. An alliance - if we do end up with one - is like a milestone in our history.’
‘Will Athrachan agree to an alliance?’ Uthra’mol asked.
‘I don’t know. Aval-lón doesn’t really need one at present. We’re an island, and the Sersurans are right at the bottom, way beyond Kiona and the other lands. Kiona seems to be the only country that’s getting worried about this.’
‘Shouldn’t they? The other lands, I mean,’ Hebask’breä asked.
I grinned; Heb had no sense of direction and could get lost trying to find his way out of a paper bag. ‘Not if they know their geography or their history.’
Heb lifted one shoulder and smiled without saying anything. I drew my knife and scratched on the rock beside me. ‘Look, here’s the Isle of Aval-lón. We’re up north. Below us, across the sea, there’s Kiona and all the other countries are joined onto it, see?’ Heb nodded, and I continued, ‘Below Kiona is Daenon, Torn and Lavra. If they side with anyone, it’ll be Kiona, as they have trade agreements. Below Daenon is Sheiss. Sheiss is neutral, always has been, and probably always will be. Under Sheiss are Florian and Raouil. These two,’ I pointed to them on my crude, scratched map, ‘count as one, as they are governed under one monarch. For now, they’re also neutral, but I’m thinking they’ll turn to Sersura if she looks like winning.’
‘I never did like geography,’ Heb said thoughtfully. ‘Now I see why.’
‘To the west of Kiona,’ I said, ignoring him, ‘is Carathara - you know about that. Only the part Elves inhabit the land there. Next to Carathara is Seczuin, which stretches down to meet Atatzuin, which joins onto Sersura. Seczuin is anxious to get back Atatzuin, which the Sersurans managed to capture in the last war, but they aren’t particularly friendly towards Kiona either.’
‘You sound like a history book,’ Dai observed.
‘I’ve finished now,’ I said indignantly. ‘If the Kioni want war, they’ll get help from Daenon, Torn and Lavra. And, possibly, the Danann. Us.’
‘Well, now that you’ve finished with the lecture, what about eating your lunch?’
I sighed, rolled my eyes and finished my half eaten oat cake. ‘I’m just trying to educate you a little. Dig your head out of the sand, that sort of thing.’
Heb shrugged. ‘I think I understand now. People are making alliances and getting tense towards each other, and they want to drag us into it. Athrachan will decide when the Kioni emissaries come.’
‘Sa. What’s not to get?’
Heb blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s a saying.’
‘Not one that I’ve ever heard of.’
‘That’s hardly impressive.’
Heb gave his silent shrug and shoved the last of his food into his mouth. ‘Shall we start again?’ he asked.
The others and I all hastily finished. Whistling to the dogs, who had waited patiently throughout the whole history and geography lesson, we packed up and went in search of the next flock.
A Winston Churchill quote. Great for pulling me in
.
Although gyr and Smurf have sorted it throughly with precision, I felt like I need to add my two pence.
I disagree with seeminglymeaningless on the memoir argument. I haven't read Scarab yet, but from what gyr says about Fal being a brash, young man in that, this really does read like the POV of someone much wiser, and experienced. You've subtly shown he's learned from the previous events by your style of writing.
Talking of style, I love it. It carries a sense of maturity around, furthering Fal's character. Your ending also struck true for me, having often pondered on such matters.
~Fan~
Well, I hope I don't repeat Smurf too much, but you asked for a falcon's eye, so here we go!
lol, this just made me smile, darling, ‘cause I’ve ridden horses who do this!
Why isn’t “thas” capitalized.
If he’s advising patience, I think we get it that he’s impatient
I don’t think you need “I exclaim” as there’s an exclamation point.
Just a thought—it might have more punch if you ended this sentence with an exclamation mark
This sentence just feels a little awkward, especially the last bit, “sharp with sudden alarm.” Perhaps if you said “her voice sharp with sudden alarm” or something like that, but the phrase just jerked me out of the flow of the story, which is never a good thing.
I think this sentence could be better if you split it in two, describing the baby in one sentence and its carrier in the next: as it is, it just feels like a lot of visual description all scrunched into one place and I don’t have time to process it all.
While I realize the general rule of “show don’t tell” doesn’t quite apply here, you could do with a little more showing than telling, especially in the second sentence. Even just presenting it differently, maybe more as a bombardment of emotions or sensations rather than just bare facts, might help.
I really like the way you say “It is saying” rather than “I am saying”—a very good distinction under the circumstances. The clause that comes at the end, however, after “but,” has a slightly clunky feel, like the words aren’t all pulling towards the same meaning. Maybe trying to reword that would give it a smoother flow; perhaps something like “but I don’t even try to fathom its meaning” or…something. Hmmm….this is a tough one.
Okay, two things. First, you name four colors, yet use a singular verb. What if you said “the gold, white, blue, and ruby swirls sweep across my sight” or something like that, as it’s difficult to describe just pure color. Also, you have two “more”s in close proximity, as I have highlighted.
The “I realize” jerks us out of the pure experience, reminding us that we are but outside observers. Perhaps this was what you were going for, I just wanted to let you know.
There you go! That’s the way to describe pure color! Very well done.
I’m afraid ‘tis redundant, darling. If you really want to keep the “never ends,” tag it onto the end of the first sentence: “ever and ever, that never ends.” All the same, I’d say pick one or the other, not both.
I have an issue with the word “fine” in general, and mostly it’s because the word is simply too general, and there are so many other wonderfully descriptive words and phrases that you could use instead! “feeling like myself again”, “feeling as if nothing had changed”, even “feeling normal”
How do we know this? Does someone tell him? If so, who, and when, and how does that person react to/treat him?
Minor thing, but as far as I know, “all right” is meant to be two words, not one. Might be different for British grammar, but that’s how the Yanks do it.
Do they all say this at the same time? ‘Cause right now I’ve got a vision of 3-5 hooded men all chorusing it in union, in very dry, chant-y voices.
I’m not entirely sure that you need this last bit. Of course, it depends on your next chapter, but I think the place you ended before this, about Fal finding out at his cost, set us up very nicely for the rest of the story without this little interjection.
General Comments
Okay, I really enjoyed this snippet of Fal’s story, darling! You did his character very well, and I could really see a contrast between the slightly wiser, more tired man looking back on all this and the rather brash young man in the middle of it. I am a little curious about the lack of capitalization for thas and may, especially as they seem to be the only two you don’t capitalize. Also, while I thought the Winston Churchill quote at the beginning was very good, it did rather set a certain tone that was a little difficult to overcome: naturally, when one sees a Churchill quote, one expects something set or at least based around his time period or general situation. Just a note there.
Your beginning was very good, very intriguing, but not exactly what I’d call a hook. You started out slow, which is fine for the kind of material you were handling in this chapter, but perhaps not for the very beginning of a book. Perhaps throw something into that first sentence that will surprise us a little more, intrigue us, make us go “What the heck?” and keep reading.
The world you’ve created is very good, but I think it could have used a little more description, a little more to give us a better sense of where we are. What you have on that count is excellent so far, which tells me you’re fully capable of bringing us more fully into your world, just add a few more little details here and there. The note about the warm sun on the back of Fal’s neck before he swims is just such a detail, and a great example of what you’re capable of. What does the water feel like when he jumps in? Warm and soothing? Or a welcome coolness from the heat of the day? How deep is it? How wide? You say it’s evening when he has his first Seeing episode, and that there’s a fire. Are there windows that let in the sun’s dying light, or is it all shadows from the hearth? Is it a chill evening, a warm one, a wet one? Is he sitting on a bench near the fire, on the stones before it, on a special chair just for him? I don’t mean to bombard you with questions, but it’s these kind of things that bring us more fully and solidly into the moment, and of course I’m not saying you should answer all of them. These are just a few ideas.
Overall, though, a really great start to what promises to be a very intriguing story. Keep at it, darling!
*dances stupidedly*
However... I disagree with seeminglymeaningless in the manner of the memoir fortelling Fal's obstacles. It may sound like Fal overcame all these obstructions but it doesn't mean that he's still alive. 
Perhaps Fal IS dead, and it is his spirit telling his tale. Perhaps Fal died upon a battlefield...
You've began writing it! Yay! *tackles*
I agree with all of Smurf's suggestions. They're right on par.
The opening is worthy for me to keep on reading for it caught my attention wholly.
Last thing I can suggest is to setup a dictionary for the reader to lookup your definations of the Elfish Language. This will help a little in restricting confusion, thus halting the interuption of flow as Smurf mentioned.
PM me when more is posted please.
Hello Twitters. Well, I promised I'd read Scarab, which I did, though only half of it. Time constraints (and a shameful habit of losing things) are a curse. Anywho, I saw this and decided, rather than rushing with rubbish critiques for a story you're right in the middle of, I'll start from the beginning. Assuming you continue this, of course.
I hope you do - I like this. I'm interested already, because, in contrast to seeminglymeaningless, I do like the memoir style of the opening. Not all stories have to end in Harry Potter fashion with it being a mystery as to whether the MC survives or not. It's what happens in the middle that's most interesting to read.
Your style, I love. It's easy to read, yet sophisticated at the same time - the perfect mix. So, yeah, this was not a chore to read through. I do, however, have some suggestions - what would a critique be without them after all?
I love this opening. Short, sweet, grabs my attention, makes me want to read on.
I really like your imagery here - 'sweet taste of wild honey' and 'island of apples' have a very pleasing quality to them. Maybe I'm just being a simpleton, but 'mind them now', whilst sounding good, doesn't appear to make sense in context. 'I remember them now' may be a good substitute, and I believe the repetition of 'remember' isn't unbearable. You mention tightening a 'saddle girth'. Remove 'saddle' and leave it as '[...]tighten her girth'. Saying 'tighten her saddle girth' is like saying 'loosen my trouser belt', it's not needed. Also, you say how they try to learn the tongue of the humans who 'could not be bothered' to learn theirs. 'Not be bothered' sounds oddly informal and out of place here, I suggest revising it. '[...]looking up at the swords hung up on the wall there.' The repetition of 'up' makes this sentence awkward. 'looking up at the swords hung on the wall there' would be fine.
Again, nice imagery and use of simile. I particularly like 'newly whelped' - it has a nice sound!
'[...]in the whole year' sounds a tad awkward. 'The day is as warm as Aval-lón ever gets' sounds just as good, I think.
'Glittering arch of wetness' amuses me, for some reason. The term 'wetness' brings a smile to my face. It's sort of like 'well, it is water!' I think removing 'wetness' and using something along the lines of 'Glittering arch of shattered silver' has a nice effect to it - focus on the silver, not the wetness.
'Front' doesn't need to be there, 'spots of wet on her tunic' is fine. Also, I would substitute 'He and she' for 'they', I think it'll run smoother that way. Subtlety - I like it! You just slip in a tiny bit of information about who the narrator is, and it works this way.
'Now, Lórlan’s grave manner makes annoyed'. I assume you mean 'makes me annoyed' here. If so, I suggest you change it to 'Lórlan’s grave manner annoys me', which again runs more smoothly.
Perhaps put 'have' in italics, to emphasise the emphasis (lol!) on the word.
It's use of 'gey' here that I'd like to comment on. I know what it means, after a quick Wiktionary search, and therefore I know you've used it in the right context. But that's the point, isn't it - I had to look on Wiktionary to find out what it means. In addition to that, the word seems so obscure that the spell-check on Firefox is putting a squiggly red line underneath it. So, yeah, I know censoring your work for the sake of the reader is no good at all, but it's also pointless using words that the reader is going to have to go searching through a dictionary to find the meaning of, or at least be a little confused and stop reading for a second in order to work it out. It interrupts the flow.
Now, I'm guessing that mav and thas mean mother and father, but it might be nice to clarify that in some way beforehand, before confusing the reader and clotting up the flow. Maybe I'm a simpleton, but I had to stop, think over it for a second, go back and check, before accepting that 'maybe thas means dad'. Even now, though, it's a very weak guess.
'Out from between my clenched teeth' reads better, it's not as jarring.
I very much like this imagery - very effective, poetic even. Very good.
Now, you've gone from 'see' to 'See' - the consistency needs to be more consistent! As 'See' is obviously important, I'd use '[...]but I See' to take us into the next paragraph.
As you've used 'See' for the past few paragraphs, and sight is a sense, I think 'Hear' would also be consistent with this. Although that's just personal preference.
I like this, it adds a touch of humour to the end, and ends it on a light note.
Now, I'm not sure if that last sentence is a note from you (an in-joke that I don't get, perhaps?), in which case then it's not part of the critique. I like the last paragraph, it sets us up for the rest of the story, leaves us eager for more. If, however, that last line is part of the end, then I suggest either removing it completely or modifying it - it's the 'laughing her head off' that really clashes with the rest.
Again, I like this. You have a confident style and write clearly and well. You have some fantastic use of imagery which is really pleasurable to read, and you are confident in your extensive vocabulary skills - over confident at times, to the point where we don't understand the odd word! The same applies to your world - you tend to immerse yourself so much in your own world that you seem to unconsciously take it for granted that the reader will know a certain word (such as mav and thas). This can all be fixed on revision. This obvious (but not over-obvious) knowledge of your world is attractive to the reader, who is eager to learn more as a result.
This was great work! You're a very talented writer. I hope you take some of my suggestions into consideration, but otherwise, keep writing!
-Kyle
That's not always the case. It's not David Copperfield, it's not Lawrence of Arabia, and I'm afraid I can't very well change it now, but I'll give it some thought. Thank you for reviewing!
Good story.
though awkwardly written.
first off, because it starts off as a memoir, the reader know that the story teller isn't dead. Therefore, we know he's overcome all the problems that had hurdled his way, so we already know then ending.
we know it's a peaceful ending as he's recalling all these memories in a slow drawl.
your actual writing is quite good - hardly any mistakes and such at all.
i suggest not writing it as a memoir, but as an actual story, beginning, middle and end, not end, beginning, middle, end again - that's just somewhat annoying.
have fun - and i hope you take into account my suggestions.
jai