Prologue
The little gang of kids was not, as any casual observer would think, watching the storyteller. Instead their eyes were focused on the thin, frail boy who sat nearest her, who would make little sounds of annoyance whenever she lied. The children trusted him more than any adult, for he knew everything and could talk to the gulls by the river-port. His name was Avarn. He had slick black hair and vaguely effeminate features, which made the bigger boys pick on him, and disconcertingly pale blue eyes, which made them stop. No one, adult or child, strong or cowardly, could look Avarn in the eyes without feeling that to disobey him would be to disobey a king. And he was their king.
Sitting to his right, half a head taller than he but about a year younger, was his second-in-command. She had long, curly brown hair that she refused to put in braids, as all the other girls were made to do. Normally, her dark brown locks hung in front of her face, hiding her eyes behind the wispy curtain. But all of them, even those who had never seen, knew what the brown curtain hid. They were even more afraid of her. Her name was Karenna.
Finally the storyteller came to the end of her tale, unaware that she had been caught out in all the little human-superiority lies she had slipped in. All the children knew the real story; Avarn had told them often enough, and he would tell them again tonight. But for now they scattered, called to their separate homes for lunch by the tolling of the noon bell.
Avarn and Karenna didn’t scatter. They obeyed the bell only when it suited them. They went together down to the docks and walked along the riverside until they came to the place where the fishermen dumped their garbage. There were gulls there, hundreds of them, calling and screaming and fighting over a scrap of fish or a half-rotten skeleton. Avarn gave a call in their own language, and one of the gulls fluttered over to him. This gull flew badly, for he had broken his wing only last week, and Avarn and Karenna had barely been able to set it properly. He looked scrawny and harassed and when Avarn gave him a crust of bread from his pocket, the gull swallowed it hungrily.
Karenna smiled and stroked his head. The gull would have snapped at anyone else, but he knew Karenna, and knew that if he hurt her the boy with the water-like eyes would not feed him again. He was quite bright, for a gull.
At length, Avarn spoke. “Karenna,” he said quietly, “do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
She looked at her leader sharply; he had never said anything like this before. “No, of course not!”
He smiled and looked at her. “My parents aren’t my real parents.” This was a well-known fact; the two people who had raised him were an elderly leather-merchant and his sister, both kind if fading people.
“Neither are mine,” she rebuffed.
He shifted his gaze back to the gull. “I think,” he said softly, “I think there may well be something different about me. I think that I may not be here much longer.”
“Why?” demanded Karenna.
“I saw a lady yesterday, a new lady. She had long black hair like mine and she said she was my real mother, that I was special, and that tonight, after the story, I must go away to stay with her and her husband.”
“Your father?”
Avarn shook his head. “No. She said she didn’t know who my father was but she was lying.”
"How do you know she's your real mother?" Karenna demanded.
Avarn gave her a half-smile. "Karenna, it's me."
Karenna stayed quiet for a few moments, absently stroking the bird. “I don’t want you to go,” she said at last. She would probably be the only one in the village who wouldn't; even his adopted caretakers were slightly wary of him.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay!” At her cry the gull squawked and threatened to fly off. “Why can’t you stay here, my parents can keep you, or you can hide with the gulls and tell them to attack anyone but me who comes near. Or we could—“
He held up a hand, and his eyes were serious. “Karenna,” he soothed, “I won’t be gone forever.”
“I’ll never see you again.” She was close to tears, but she fought them back.
“Of course you will,” he said. “I promise. Once I learn all I need to be a magician, for that’s what she said I was, I’ll come back to you. I promise, Karenna.”
“Is she a magician?” Karenna knew how rare that particular mage was, and the thought of Avarn as one made the idea of parting a little less bitter.
“Yes. And she says that’s why I can talk to gulls and things, because I have an afin…an affin-i-ty for them, for water and air things. She says she has an affin-i-ty for fire things.”
Karenna considered. “But what if, once you’re a magician, she locks you up in a tower so you can’t be a better magician than her?”
He thought about this for a moment. “Well then,” he said, “I’ll send a gull to come and get you and bring you to me, so you can free me from her and we can stop whatever evils she’s doing together.”
She liked the thought. “Like they do in the stories?”
Avarn smiled. “Yes, in all the best stories. But you have to promise to follow the gull when I send him.”
Karenna clasped her hands to her heart. “I promise.”
He put his hands over hers. “And I promise to never, never forget you, Karenna Morn.”
Chapter One
Tannar watched the young woman as she slept, wondering idly how much damage a well-placed hailstone could do to that long, willowy body. He decided against it, not only because a solitary hailstone in the middle of spring would be suspicious, but because he had been given specific instructions as to her safety. As he continued to watch her, scratching instinctively at the bronze bands around his wrists, he decided he didn’t really want to hurt her. He just wanted her to never have been born.
The wagon they were in trundled along in its caravan, the ground beneath the wheels growing muddy from the mounting rainstorm. The water dripping through the canvas overhead inevitably woke her and she started, drawing her bag closer to her body and glaring at him. He didn’t stop staring. There was something about her eyes…
“I’m Karenna Morn,” she said, snapping him out of his study of her.
“How nice for you,” he said, a little harsher than he had meant to. He couldn’t see her eyes properly now, she had stopped looking directly at him.
“What’s your name?” she asked. He wondered why she was so forward, introducing herself to a stranger, but perhaps knowing the name of the person you would be traveling hundreds of miles with in a confined space was some human custom he wasn’t aware of.
For a moment, he considered the hailstone again. “Tannar.”
She waited, presumably for a surname. He sighed. It wasn’t her fault, not really. It hadn’t been her idea to send him hundreds of miles from the mountains on this crazy task. “That’s it,” he said, waving his arms expansively, “just Tannar.”
“Doesn’t that mean Windstorm?”
He blinked. “How do you know Elemental?”
Her cheeks reddened, but not out of embarrassment. She averted her gaze. “I know a few words.”
He watched her with renewed interest. Maybe there was something special here. Avarn hadn’t mentioned any mage talents. Of course, Avarn hadn’t mentioned the eyes either. Tannar settled back, scratching at the flesh around his bronze wristbands again. This might be interesting after all.
* * *
Karenna didn’t like him. She didn’t like the dark, staring eyes and she didn’t like the way he kept scratching his wrists. It had been a mistake to look him that long in the eyes, she knew better. And the Elemental? She was smarter than that.
He still hadn’t stopped staring at her, but at least the rain had slackened off. She tried not to stare back, but his dark eyes sought hers relentlessly. She held her bag tighter, feeling for the comforting shape of the oblong wooden box inside. It was there, sure and solid. She resisted the urge to bring it out and open it; that would be foolishness supreme.
The wagon jerked suddenly, sending a wine barrel toppling down on top of her. It pinned her, some of the liquid sloshing through a crack onto her face. She spluttered, spitting the disgusting substance out of her mouth.
Tannar watched her for a moment, then leaned forward and shifted the barrel off her with little discernable effort. For an instant he was above her, his soft black eyes looking directly down into hers. That small, treacherous part of her, the part that had driven her to spend three years saving up to buy the box and its contents, purred like a cat near a hearth fire. And then he was back on his side of the wagon, and she was able to squash that part of her back into the dark corner of her mind that it occupied.
Slowly, she sat up, her hand still clutching the bag. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, and the traitorous part inside her wished that he would. With the strength born of long practice, she shut the door on those emotions and settled back to sleep.
* * *
That night the three wagons of the caravan drew together in a circle around the fire that one of the workmen had started. The handsome black coach that had joined them that morning sat a good distance away, its occupant not deigning to join his fellows. Tannar couldn’t blame him.
There were five other youths heading for the Dirantyr Training Academe, all of them sixteen and most of them, from the way they huddled together, had never been more than a few miles from home before. While the Dirantyri government made it mandatory that all of their citizens attend the Academe for two years, beginning at age sixteen, they did not provide transport for those who had to travel from the middle-lands or even the coast to where the Academe was situated on the westernmost boundary of the kingdom. So most students hitched rides on the supply wagons that streamed westward every spring, in caravans for safety.
The Academe would provide a somewhat higher degree of education than the reading, writing, and arithmetic that these children had learned at home, as well as generously training them in the basics of war-making such as archery, drill, and horsemanship. Of course, they would not do it for free. The cost was not exorbitant, but high enough to be felt, especially by families who already had trouble paying royal taxes. It was the cost, in fact, that kept many of the poorer children home, even with the threat of imprisonment. On top of that, Dirantyr was not quite as large and prosperous a nation as it would have its neighbors believe. But it knew how to use resources, and how to train its children.
Those students who wanted to join the army or showed talent for senseless killing would be sent to a different location for further training. Their families would be reimbursed for their “investment in their child’s education.” And for those who showed mage talents—well, half the teachers were mages of one kind or another, and all Possible Mages were earmarked almost from the first day of classes. This was not a country where magic was wasted.
But the five clustered around the bonfire didn’t look promising.
Tannar hated fire. But he could not be seen acting like he didn’t need its warmth, especially as the night was a chill one for spring. So he sat as far away from the dancing flames as he could while still being touched by the heat. Karenna, sitting directly across from him, apparently had no more love for the element than he did. She was perched on the offending wine barrel, watching the flames with a definite air of malice. A man next to her, scarred and carrying a sheathed sword—apparently some kind of security—offered her a piece of cheese. She turned to accept it, but as soon as he saw her face he started, dropping the cheese to the muddy ground. “You’ve got Gypsie Eyes!” he exclaimed, more out of surprise than fear.
Tannar tensed. If the caravan chose to make an issue of it, his job would get a lot more complicated.
“It’s just a fluke!” Karenna shouted above the rising din of panic. “My father had green eyes and my mother had blue, that’s all!” The group around her still looked skittish. “I’m not a Gypsie,” she insisted. Slowly they settled down, all of them giving the girl a wide berth. She looked around at her suddenly distant companions, then stared, dead-eyed, at the fire.
In a way he was not surprised that they calmed as quickly as they did. Once people got the idea of you as human fixed in thier minds, it was hard for them to change it, no matter their panic. He relied on much the same mindset.
Tannar had learned the price of compassion; the bands around his wrists spoke volumes about the folly of pity. And yet he felt sorry for her. So, inwardly berating himself for his stupidity, he caught her gaze and waited until she put her full attention on him. Then he shifted his head slightly and tucked a lock of unruly black hair behind one slightly pointed ear.
* * *
Karenna lay, pretending to be asleep, in the wagon that had been her home for the past three days. That first night had been terrible, the fear of attack pressing down on her until she couldn't sleep. But as time went on and no one noticed her eyes, she had relaxed. Yet even now that they knew, or at least one of them had seen, she wasn't afraid. Perhaps it had something to do with the other person in the wagon with her.
She heard Tannar’s breathing, steady and low, but it was not the breathing of someone who was asleep. It was more the breathing of someone who had only watched other people sleep. She opened her eyes a slit.
“Having trouble sleeping?” he asked. Karenna’s heart thumped at the unexpected sound of speech.
“Having trouble yourself?” she growled.
He, or rather, his silhouette, shrugged. “I’m not tired.”
No, of course you’re not, she thought. You haven’t slept for the past two nights in a row, ever since you joined. Why should this night be any different? The wagon wasn’t moving, the driver, at least, having the usual human requirements for rest. Karenna sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. It was dark, outside and in, and the thin layer of canvas and the homespun weave of her dress did nothing to stave off the cold. She shivered.
He cocked his head to one side. “Are you cold?”
Karenna bit back the urge to snap. At least he sounded like he meant it. “Yes.”
Wordlessly, Tannar slipped off the dark cloak she had always seen him wear and passed it across to her. Karenna took it reluctantly. The fabric was thick, soft wool lined with something that felt like silk. Her mother was a weaver, and so she knew the world of fabric inside and out, but she refused to believe that a boy with a silk-lined cloak would travel to the Dirantyr Training Academe in a rickety, leaky wagon. She wrapped it around herself, feeling the slick fabric against her skin. Definitely silk.
The cloak was not particularly warm, but it helped. “Thank you,” she said.
Again, the silhouette shrugged. “You can keep it if you like.”
Karenna gaped. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her expression, she said, “You’ve got to be joking.”
Tannar did not answer for a long time, and Karenna got the impression that he was staring at her again. She folded the cloak more tightly around herself, aware for the first time that she was alone with him in a small, enclosed space. “What?” she snapped.
He shook his head slightly. “Nothing,” he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Sorry for staring…yes, go ahead and keep the cloak, I don’t need it.” With that he lay down and rolled over so he wasn’t facing her. Karenna watched him for only a moment before doing likewise.
* * *
High in the mountains north of Dirantyr stood an enormous castle. Most of it was carved directly into the mountain behind it, and its spines jutted up to pierce the sky with more malice than any mountaintop. It was dark and looming and currently the home of two people only. One of them was in her study, pouring through huge leather-bound tomes as she always seemed to be doing. The other, her son, sat at a magnificent black piano in what passed for his bedroom. The ivory keys of the instrument glowed in the light of the roaring fireplace and the polished black surface gleamed. His fingers, long and thin, danced across the keys, sending beautiful music up to echo around the high, vaulted ceiling above him and through every room of the deserted palace.
His eyes, as he played, were closed, but when he finished, they opened. Pale, pale blue, they stared at the spartan room around him. Avarn stood, keeping one hand on the top of the piano, and listened. He could just barely hear it, the sound of another’s heartbeat, the sound that had constantly filled his mind for the past six years. It was faint now, and very far away, but he could still hear it. Slowly he smiled, and felt his way to his favorite chair next to the fire. Sitting down, he picked up a slim book and leafed through it until he came to his bookmark. He lightly ran his fingers over the pages; he could feel the slight texture of the ink, but without the owner of the heartbeat he had no idea what it said.
He sighed and gently closed the book, setting it carefully aside. His pale, pale blue eyes gazed unfocused into the fireplace as the heartbeat lulled him into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
Ravage stood in human form at the top of the cliff. Below him, the caravan was tucked in for the night, drivers and horses and pupils sleeping soundly. He could smell the all-too-inviting scent of warm flesh. Their numbers and the wagon-drivers’ whips may make thieves think twice, but his kind were beyond the mettle of such vagabonds.
Keesha, his favorite mate, padded up next to him on all fours, her magnificent black furred body gleaming in the light from the half-moon. She licked his hand and whimpered. Ravage smiled down at her, and then changed until he too stood on four legs instead of two. He knew the stupid, human stories about Werewolves only being able to change on full-moon nights. They were always cause for a laugh among his pack. He grinned, showing long yellow canines, and howled.
* * *
Tannar had been lying on his back, staring sleeplessly at the canvas above his head, when the cry rent the still night air. In an instant he was up and shaking Karenna vigorously. “Wake up,” he hissed.
She muttered something and rolled over. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was peeking through an open flap or rip, then doused her with a quick, controlled handful of ice water.
She came up spluttering, “What in the name of—”
“Werewolves,” he snarled.
For a moment she stared at him. “Oh god.”
He didn’t have time for her to come to grips. “Get whatever’s in that bag of yours and have it ready to defend yourself. The horses will have woken with that howl; the others won’t be far behind them.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to make sure that at least this wagon and horse survive to get us to the Academe.” He slipped quickly out of the wagon; the horses whinnied when they saw him and pranced nervously away, jingling their harnesses. Like him, they knew what approached. Then, in the eerie half-moonlight, he saw them; over ten huge, wolf-shaped animals charging the caravan. Their leader was a big gray he-wolf, with long, powerful legs and mad red eyes. He stared directly at Tannar and let loose a challenging howl.
There was no point in being subtle; the humans were only now waking up and it would be unlikely that any of them would be alive afterwards to report what he did. Massive storm-clouds gathered quickly in the previously clear sky and a great gust of wind shoved at the Werewolves, if not halting them then at least slowing them down. The enormous he-wolf locked eyes with Tannar for an instant and then, muscles bunching, he leapt at him.
A concentrated beam of powerful blue light connected with the Werewolf’s chest, sending him sprawling in the thick mud.
Tannar glanced over his shoulder to see Karenna, standing next to the wagon, her long brown hair streaming with water and her dress and cloak lashing back and forth in the driving wind. She held a wand.
* * *
All the occupants of the wagons, once they realized the danger they were in, rushed to the wagon that had been last in line as they traveled and was now nearest the center of the circle. Jataal watched them flock to him like chicks to be hidden under a hen’s wings, and watched the Werebeasts draw ever nearer. He sighed, climbed wearily down from the wagon seat where he had been dozing, and said, “Get into my wagon, you’ll all fit.”
They obeyed without question, even the wagon-masters. Jataal was a battle mage, now a retired warrior and professor at the Academe. He was also one of those who volunteered to guard the caravans that brought batches of students and supplies every year. He was, moreover, half the reason it had been nearly five years since the last Werebeast attack.
So it was to be Wolves this time, was it? Jataal drew his sword, a magnificent blade as scarred as he. One of the lead Wolves snarled and leapt at him. Jataal flicked his sword arm almost casually; the Wolf darted back, whining and licking a deep cut in its leg. The others approached more slowly.
Jataal swung his blade casually. “Come on,” he said, “it’s been awhile since I had a workout against live targets.”
* * *
Keesha howled mournfully over the body of her fallen mate, but only for a moment. The rest of the pack did what they were supposed to do; they converged on the heart of the caravan. Only two she-Wolves stayed with her to seek vengeance—Ravage’s other two mates. As one, they charged the boy.
He leapt higher than any man should have been able to leap, and landed several feet behind them. The three Wolves yelped and turned sharply, their claws digging into the soft earth. The young man smiled at them as they began to charge him again, then ran towards the cliff she and Ravage had just stood on, away from his fellows in the besieged caravan. Coward, thought Keesha.
Only when they had gone nearly forty yards from the wagons without catching him did she register that something was wrong. He came up short against the cliff wall and spun to face them, still grinning widely.
Before Keesha could tear his throat out, there was a strangled cry from the she-Wolf to her right. The damned girl with the wand had followed them. Keesha snarled a command for the remaining Wolf to deal with her, and didn’t look back again. She pounced on the boy, shoving him to the ground with her superior weight. Snarling, she clawed at him and tried to bring her tooth-filed mouth around to connect with his neck. He struggled, and he was stronger than she had expected, but fury filled her and made her stronger still. Just as she was about to close her jaws around his throat, something sharp and very cold pierced her side.
She moaned and backed off him, blood streaming from the wound. He lay in the mud, one hand closed around the hilt of a knife that had not been there before. The weapon looked as if it had been made out of ice.
Suddenly, Keesha realized what she had been fighting. Human wizards with wands she could deal with, but this was something entirely different. Without noticing that her remaining companion had fallen to a burst of blue magic from that same wand, she howled the retreat and ran. Her pack, yes it was her pack now, didn't even hesitate before following her.
* * *
Jataal watched the last of the Wolves scamper off with a small glow of satisfaction. Only one of them would probably die of the wounds he had inflicted, and that was a pity, but still. Not too bad for a man over three times the age of these youths.
He stretched, cracking his back, and coolly sheathed his sword. “You can come out now,” he said to those cowering within the wagon. Slowly they emerged, and Jataal did a quick headcount and frowned. Two missing. He glanced up, and saw a young woman with long brown hair trying to move into the group without attracting attention. His frown deepened. He looked around for the second absent youth. He could see a young man, near the cliff, moving as if dragging something out of sight.
If he had not been a battle mage and still coming down from the high battle always gave him, Jataal would not have been able to see what the boy was so carefully shoving into one of the niches the cliff afforded. Two Werewolf corpses. Slowly, the frown became a smile. That would be one worth watching.
* * *
Karenna had been lucky. Part of the cliff had been between them and the wagons, and the darkness and confusion of the attack had helped distract the workmen from the freak storm and flashes of blue light. She tucked her wand away inside her cloak and slipped in among the other students. One of the men, older and more scarred than the drivers, was checking that each student was all right. His eyes locked with Karenna’s for an instant, and she saw him smile, just barely. “You all right, miss?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He smiled his imperceptable smile again and moved on to check on the others.
“Quite the adventure,” said a voice from behind her.
Karenna turned to see a human girl about her own age with waist-length blonde hair and a fair complexion. She wore tight-fitting black trousers instead of a skirt and held a riding crop in one hand. All her clothes were black, come to that. The girl smiled like a snake with a bird’s egg, and extended a gloved hand. “I’m Shanna Liam, I’ve been riding in the coach.” Karenna took the hand gingerly, wondering if she was the bird’s egg. Shanna’s smile told her she was. “I wanted to say thank you,” she said.
“For what?” asked Karenna carefully.
“Why, for driving the Wolves away, of course.” Shanna’s smile didn’t even waver.
“I’m sorry,” said Karenna, easing away. “I think you must have—” she was interrupted by the arrival of Tannar, who glared openly at Shanna.
“Who are you?” he demanded. Karenna never thought she would be so glad to see him.
This time, the girl did not extend her hand to shake. “I’m Shanna Liam. My father is Maraso Liam, advisor to the king.”
“How nice for you,” said Tannar, as if she had told him her father was a common shopkeeper and not one of the most powerful men in Dirantyr. Karenna restrained a grin.
Shanna’s eyes narrowed, but the smile remained fixed in place. “And who, may I ask, are you?”
“You may not ask,” said Tannar, as he took Karenna’s arm and gently steered her away from the young aristocrat. Once they were a safe distance away, he said, “Friend of yours?”
Karenna scowled. “I bloody hope not.”
He smiled.
“So…” Karenna looked at him sideways. “That was some interesting weather back there.”
“So…” said Tannar without even glancing at her. “Those were some interesting flashes of blue light back there."
Karenna said nothing, but smiled quietly to herself.
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140,564 Literary Works • 673,441 Reviews
Well, my darlings, my incredibly wonderful readers and fans and critiquers--we find ourselves in an interesting place. Gypsie Eyes has grown a great deal since I started posting it, and now that I'm aiming to have it published, I need everyone's help more than ever. To that end, I'm going to lock this thread and begin posting the very latest versions of my chapters, starting at the beginning. Whether I post each chapter in a different thread is a decision I haven't made yet--I'll figure that out when I come to it.
For now, thank you all, and I hope to see your comments on the newest installations!
Prologue and 1st Chapter: topic31678.html
Nietje. "How don't you know?" might be better... or something along those lines.
The "snapped" and then "more serious" seem at odds with each other, as "snapping" is pretty serious already.
I don't know why, but I got this really nice picature of Tannar from this.
...No. Just - no. Not good.
---
And... everything as usual.
Chapter Twenty-four
The door to his chambers slammed open, interrupting Avarn in the middle of the composition he had been playing. His hands jerked off the keyboard and he pivoted sharply to face the invader. Quick, light footsteps—his mother. She stopped a few feet away from him, breathing hard. “Have you seen Karoon anywhere?” she demanded.
He smiled. “No, I can’t say I’ve seen anyone recently.” The slap was easily avoided.
“You know what I mean!” Vishna screamed.
“How is it that you don’t know where he is?” asked Avarn. “You are mentally joined to him.”
He could feel her scowl. “He’s blocking me. He can do that sometimes.”
“Well, I haven’t noticed him around for awhile, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s obviously not in any actual trouble or you would feel it; stop worrying.”
Again he effortlessly evaded the slap. “You—” Vishna seemed to catch herself and stopped. She took several deep breaths. “Never mind,” she spat, and turned on her heel. He could hear her muttering “useless brat” and suchlike as she stormed out.
Avarn returned to the piano.
* * *
Regos, the King of Dirantyr, awoke to an unfamiliar smell in the room. He shifted, and heard his wife move beside him in response, murmuring in her sleep. Gently, he reached over and stroked her hair, whispering “Go to sleep.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, wrapping his robe around him. The smell persisted: brimstone. He felt discreetly in the pocket of his robe for the wand that never left him. His fingers closed around its familiar handle and he felt it warm to his touch, charging.
Then, his eyes still scanning the darkness in all directions, he carefully turned the knob up on the oil lamp. There was something lurking in the far corner, filling the shadows cast by the dim light. It stirred as the light spread towards it, and the scent intensified. Two glowing red eyes glared out at him, and the beak-like mouth split in a horrible smile, revealing the inferno that pulsed in the throat beyond it.
Regos moved without thinking, the wand coming out and up, targeting the intruder. The silent spell burst from the tip before the target could act, pinning him in place. “Who are you?” the king hissed, still unwilling to wake his wife.
The creature growled, pressing against its magical bonds with a sound like a grindstone. “I come from the black-haired one you once loved,” he replied.
The king’s face went as white as his nightshirt. “Vishna sent you?” he demanded.
A chuckle, and the subsequent red glow, answered him. “No, she doesn’t know I’m here. Though I am her slave I can hide things from her. Just as she can from you, apparently.”
Regos’s brow creased. “What do you mean? What is your purpose here and how did you penetrate the defenses?”
Despite its powerful bonds, the creature managed to wave a hand dismissively. “Trivialities. I am here to warn you.”
“Of what?”
“The Windstorm has arrived.”
The king scoffed. “A fairy tale. Your ‘warning’ would have more of an effect on my small children than on any adult in Dirantyr.”
The creature chuckled deep within its throat. “It seems it already has.”
Regos was fast losing patience. “Tell me your business now, or so help me I won’t even call in the guards to help exterminate you.”
“I believe, some years ago, rumors reached you that a princess had been born to the Gypsies.”
“Yes; I heard she was killed with her mother; the Gypsies very nearly went to war with us.”
“That war may not be as averted as you like, highness. She has returned.”
The king gaped. “What?” he demanded, forgetting to be quiet.
The creature lunged forward, its bindings snapping like twine. Regos threw up his wand to defend himself, but before he could even think the spell, the intruder had vanished. Only the strong scent of brimstone remained.
His queen had been wakened by his shout; she sat up abruptly as the guards rushed in. “Regos—” she began, but was cut off.
“Your majesty, what happened?” demanded a guard.
For a moment the king stood there, wand in hand, staring at the shadows. “Nothing,” he snapped. “Get out.” Then, after they had gone, he spoke more gently to his wife, “Go back to sleep, Fira, it was nothing.”
She took some convincing, but finally consented to calm down. He paused before joining her in their grand bed, staring hard at the space the intruder had just occupied. “What are you playing at, Vishna?” he whispered to the shadows. Then he hung up his gown and slid under the covers.
* * *
Tannar, perched at the top of the same oak in which he had spoken to the king, watched the sky go gray with pre-dawn. The rising light illuminated a clear sky, and yet only a few minutes after sunrise wisps of cloud formed in the blue expanse, and gentle puffs of snow drifted down to wrap the world in cold.
There was a rustling of feathers to the Elementar’s right, and he turned to see Mirnar, just shifting from eagle to human form. She sat on a thin branch that looked too weak to hold her weight, and swung her legs unconcernedly. “Seems we have something else in common,” she said. “A liking for heights.”
Tannar didn’t answer for a long time; he sat there, gazing steadily at the rising sun. “And what’s the other thing?”
“Eh?” The Wereeagle turned her yellow eyes on him.
“You said ‘something else in common.’ What’s the other thing?”
Mirnar’s lips twitched in a smile. “Oh, just a loyalty to a certain Gypsie wizard.” She paused, and almost seemed to whisper the next words, “The kind of loyalty we’d both lay our lives down for.”
“Werebeasts are more easily killed than Elementars,” he pointed out, almost nonchalantly.
“True,” she conceded. “But, in my own way, I have as much a stake in that girl as you do.”
Tannar jerked his head around to face her. “How’s that?”
The Wereeagle sighed and shook her head at the ignorance of six-year-olds. “I guess you haven’t noticed,” she said, speaking slowly as if he would have trouble with the longer words, “but my people—Werebeasts, I mean, not just Eagles—are not on the best of terms with either the humans or the Gypsies.”
The Elementar snorted. “I guess that’s what comes of raiding the former and regularly trespassing on the land of the latter.”
“Ah, so you have noticed,” said Mirnar, her voice wry.
“But what does this have to do with Karenna?”
Mirnar hopped up, planting her feet on the branch she had been sitting on and gripping the trunk with her claw-like hands. Her raptor eyes were intense on Tannar. “Why should I tell you?”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he snapped, shifting as a breath of wind blew some flurries in their direction. Then, more seriously, “Because, as you said, I have a stake in her. And I will protect her.”
“Well then.” The Wereeagle shook her head, scattering the flakes that had accumulated in her bristle-like hair. “If you must know, I don’t think it’ll hurt anything for the human-raised princess of the Gypsie people to have good memories of at least one Werebeast.”
Tannar’s expression hardened. “You pretend friendship for her, then?”
Mirnar threw back her head and laughed a piercing sound full of delight. “You stupid boy,” she said, grinning indulgently. “Catch me.” Faster than thought, she changed. A flash of sunlight on her ebony beak, and she was off into the endless reaches of sky.
“Hey!” Tannar sprang to his feet and, forgetting all restraints of caution, allowed his true form to emerge, his translucent blue wings billowing out behind him as he rose. He darted after the Eagle, sure he would catch her in the first instant. But even though he was faster, his earth-bound weeks had kept him out of practice with the finer points of aerial maneuver. He caught up with her almost immediately, but she changed direction faster than he could have imagined, and it took him a moment to find her again in the ever-thickening snowfall. Impatient, he gestured, and the snow around him exploded away from his body. Then—the glint of light on golden feathers, and he was off again. He laughed and whooped in delight as he chased, loving the three-dimensional freedom offered to him by flight.
How long the chase lasted he didn’t know, and he only slowed when something in the distance caught his eye. He hovered there, his long silver hair blowing back from his face. Mirnar came and beat the air beside him, struggling to stay stationary against the buffeting wind. In Eagle form she couldn’t talk, but she squawked a question nevertheless. Tannar drifted forward a few feet, his huge eyes trained on something at the very edge of the Gypsies’ Forest, just visible to his better-than-human vision. “What is that?” he asked.
Mirnar turned her sleek head to look where he was facing. The Elementar knew that her raptor eyes were as good as his own at this height, and he waited while she flapped and fought to stay beside him. Without thinking, he calmed the wind to give her an easier time. But as soon as he had she was off again, streaming in the direction he had been looking. She gave the high-pitched scream of her kind, one hunter urging the other on towards prey, and he obeyed.
Before long the two had reached the outskirts of the Gypsies’ Forest, and Tannar allowed himself an annoyed moment. If only he had been allowed to fly, it wouldn’t have taken them the weeks it did to cross this wooded territory. But that thought quickly gave way to confusion. “What’s a human dwelling doing this close to the Forest?” he demanded.
Mirnar nodded to the ground, and the two of them descended slowly, until they stood just within the confines of the Forest’s trees. Tannar, with difficulty, took his human shape again, as did Mirnar. “I think that’s Pagrin’s manor,” she said.
“Who?”
“A man named Gantos Pagrin. He’s a human nobleman who acts as a kind of stationary ambassador to the Gypsies. I’ve heard his name mentioned around.”
Tannar eyed the manor. It was surrounded by a smooth stone wall a good fifteen feet high, but from the air he had seen the sizable, turreted manor house and several smaller lodgings within the fortification. “Why would Dirantyr want an embassy to the Gypsies? I thought the two races hated each other.”
“Not so much with the current king, I hear, and anyway, neither side ever wanted an all-out conflict. Once a year the king’s clan comes here to put on a fair and Cerreno and Pagrin talk politics. Mostly Pagrin asks Cerreno to return humans captured over the course of the year and Cerreno does—those who really want to go, anyway, or who have family in Dirantyr. Often, Pagrin will arrange to have extra game released into the Forest around autumn, as a way to keep the Gypsies from raiding nearby settlements. Cerreno pays him for it, of course, with Gypsie baubles like talismans and amulets.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Tannar demanded, creeping forward to get a better look at the place.
“Because I’ve lived in or near the Gypsies’ Forest for fifty-three years and I have good ears and a good brain between them. What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Without retaking his natural form, Tannar hovered, ever-so-slightly, off of the ground and glided forward noiselessly. “Getting a better look.”
“You’re crazy,” said Mirnar, who nonetheless followed.
There was no entrance to the manor from the forest side; they had to follow the rough curve of the wall around to where the road from Dirantyr—little worn but broad and obviously used—met it. The gates were open, and two very cold-looking guardsmen stood to either side. The men were doing their best to ignore the weather, however, keeping as alert as they could with snow sticking to their metal helmets and piling up in slightly comic lumps.
“You’ve had your look, let’s get going,” hissed Mirnar. The two of them stood with their backs pressed to the wall, just barely out of sight of the guards.
Tannar knew she was right. But there was something…familiar coming from within the walls. Like the faintest hints of a well-known smell. “I want to see inside,” he said.
“And perhaps inside the dungeons as well? Come on, you idiot immortal, Karenna will be wondering where we’ve gone.” She placed a clawed hand on his arm and tugged him back a step, towards the Forest.
“Stay outside if you’re scared,” he said, and levitated out of her grip, floating up until his head was nearly level with the top of the wall.
“You are such a child,” she hissed up at him, trying to be quiet. But apparently one of the guards had heard her voice; there was the sound of a brief conversation at the gate and then the noise of heavy boots approaching. Mirnar snarled at him, then changed and flew up to perch on the battlements above his head. Below, the guard reached the spot where she had been, looked around in confusion, then returned to his post.
Tannar chuckled. “See? They can’t hurt us.” Then, like an acrobat, he flung his body over the wall and down to land on the other side. Fortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so no one saw him. Unfortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so he came down feet-first into a pile of very used straw. With several disgusted noises he hopped out of it, using his magic to fling the filth away from his boots with perhaps more vigor than was necessary.
Mirnar landed silently beside him and resumed human form, muttering, “Stupid, stupid child.”
“And yet you follow me,” said Tannar, not really paying attention to her. He finished with his boots, straightened up, tugged at his tunic, and walked out from behind the stable.
He nearly ran into Jataal.
actually i do have a story up...its just called "the preface to my new story" sometime today im putting up the first chaper and i would love to get your opinion....and sorry
i dont know any agents
Uh-oh. Hooked another one. *sigh* Well, welcome to the mad-house, darling, your adoration would be even more welcome if you happened to know an agent who would like to represent me...?
Anyway, glad you like, lemme know if I can return the favor and take a peek at your work!
so its 10 am where i am and i just finished your whole story (having stayed up all night). you are a FANTASTIC storyteller...your characters are well thought out and well rounded...the plot is working itself out in a lot of good ways...i couldnt stop reading even though i knew i needed to sleep lol. i dont have any critiques i dont think....maybe the beginning was a little confusing...and that stuff about the gull...whether or not it was tannar...im going to read the first chapter or two tomorrow when i get up and see if im still confused....PLEASE PLEASE continue with your story!!
As i have said a few times before, i love your writing, i have been busy so have missed a bit but i will hopefully get a chance to read through it all again some time soon, too get a better feel for the story but too me it still feels like it flows well. I hope to see more of it soon.
-Skelly
Chapter 23
Avarn.
His head jerked up, the word wrenching him from the half-sleep he had fallen into before his warm hearth. His blind eyes searched for something that wasn’t there. “Karenna?”
Not quite. The thoughts were similar to hers, but flavored with an animal mischievousness and cunning that gave the thinker away.
Elkarn. Avarn smiled. He had never before spoken directly to the fox. What can I do for you, my friend?
The Familiar’s senses were sharp; the magician could smell the merrily blazing fires in CavernLights and the roasting meat that spun gently over them. His stomach rumbled, and he could feel Elkarn’s amusement. You would probably be able to feel it if I ate some, he offered.
No, said Avarn. To have the taste without the sustenance would be delicate torture. But thank you.
Elkarn was silent a moment, and his next words felt carefully chosen. You know what tonight is?
Yes. You have a query to put to me, little fox?
I can only have one question, Elkarn said, and I want you to understand that there are many, many things I would like the answer to. Know that I consider this to be more important than any of those. I’m sure you understand.
Avarn nodded, knowing that the essence of the gesture would carry over. Ask.
Will you penalize me if I phrase it in two parts?
Of course not.
Again there was a pause as the fox considered. Why did you wait so long to send Tannar to my lady? Woven in with that: why did you not wait long enough, until her training was complete?
Avarn could have laughed. You need not waste such an important question on such a simple answer, fox. I will let you have this one for free.
I’d rather you didn’t, replied Elkarn evenly. His tone was not cold, exactly, but Avarn was suddenly aware that he was conducting this conversation without Karenna’s knowledge. “My lady,” the Familiar had called her. As if he were some kind of spymaster to a noblewoman. Avarn was startled to realize that this was very nearly true.
But if Elkarn was going to take this seriously, so was he. I was afraid, he stated, without preamble or pretense. At first, it was a combination of fear and pain that kept Tannar constantly at my side, healing me, keeping me from retreating into myself and dwelling on my loss. By the time I could operate on my own, I had become so used to him, so dependant…I was afraid of losing him, fox.
Eventually, after more years than I care to consider, it was Tannar who reminded me of my pledge. The gull I had promised had to call me to fulfill my word. I was shamed, Elkarn, and my fear intensified. How could I operate without him? How could I live with the distance between us and his inevitable pain in a human shape? It took him far too long to bring me out of that fear, and once I had emerged, I acted before it could overcome me again. I did not consider the timing as I should have…even so, he mused, perhaps it was all for the better anyway. Karenna has received some basic teaching, and Tannar was there to protect her from Karoon, and from Shana’s malice.
Avarn had expected scorn from the fox, or at least the mental equivalent of an eye-roll. Instead, he felt satisfaction. It’s a good thing that you both answered and acted honestly, Elkarn said. If I’d felt that either your answer or your motives were…insincere, well, there are things a Familiar can do through magic to a mind that you wouldn’t want to think about.
The grisly details were hanging there at the edge of Elkarn’s consciousness; Avarn forced himself to turn away from them. I have answered well, then?
You have answered truth, the fox corrected. And it will do.
* * *
Tannar brooded at the end of one of the main oak dining tables, right next to the dais and mahogany table where Karenna sat. His shoulders were hunched, his plate clean and untouched by even the hint of food, and his dark eyes stared at the tabletop without seeing it. The Gypsies wisely left him alone.
The clamor of the Night of Questioning went on all around him. From simple and expected questions like “Will you marry me?” to complex and unforeseen ones such as “Who ate the last of the plum cake?” the Gypsie people were becoming steadily better informed. What a lot of drama for something as simple as a question. Why did they even need a special night for these—didn’t Gypsies always get along well enough to ask them anytime?
Gradually, he became aware that all noise had abruptly cut off and that everyone was staring at him. He lifted his head to meet the violet and hazel eyes of Kalab, the man who had helped Laroo find Menee during the Werewolf raid. “What?” asked the Elementar irritably.
“I asked you my question,” said Kalab.
“I didn’t hear you; what do you want?” demanded Tannar, wary and intrigued.
“When is Kareemone?”
Tannar froze. For an instant, his natural form flickered like a shadow over his human body, but he suppressed it. “You have no right,” he said, each word a soft hammerfall in the silence, “to ask that of me.” Slowly he stood, his wooden chair scraping across the stone floor. He could feel the primal magic of this night reaching out, trying to bind his answer to truthfulness. It was nothing compared to his anger. “Where were you the day Karem bound the first of us by magic, cursing a being that had walked the clouds to walk the mud?”
There was fearful silence all around him; every being present knew what Kareemone meant. Tannar ignored them, “Where were you when we first felt the pain of a mortal death? Not the blazing nonexistence as we had known it, oh no, but the searing agony of wounded flesh. Where was your oh-so-powerful nation when the humans began a cycle that would enslave the intangible forces of water, fire, wind, and earth to serve mere mortals!” Despite his best efforts, he knew that the silhouette of his wings hovered over his back, making him seem larger than he was at present. “You, whom Werenna called her Chosen, were hiding in the trees when the children of her brothers and sisters fell to the whims of magicians!”
His last word echoed around the empty space, filling the hushed void. Tannar’s eyes were fixed on Kalab, burning with their inner blue light. His own rage surprised him as much as it did those assembled. But Kareemone was not a thing to be discussed in such a place, and his magical helplessness in this place made him tense.
Shhh, came a voice in his mind. His head jerked to one side, and he saw Karenna, sitting at her father’s right hand, watching him. Anyone else would have thought her face was blank, but Tannar, who had spent nearly every moment for months by her side, saw the pain and sorrow in her expression. In the same way that he had shown her his own birth, he had once shown her what he “remembered” of Kareemone. He could see those images flickering at the edge of her mental vision.
I’m sorry, he whispered mentally. Then, to Kalab, “I’m sorry. I cannot answer that question.”
For a long, long moment there was silence. Then, “It is for me to apologize,” said the Gypsie. “I retract my question.” The Night of Questioning magic relented its fruitless attempts on the Elementar.
Tannar sat and stared at his empty plate as if it held the secrets of the cosmos. Gradually, the noise began again, mounting until it was as if nothing had happened. The Elementar glanced over to Karenna, saw her concerned look, and sighed. I’m all right, he assured her.
She didn’t respond.
Just edgy, he explained. He felt something nudge his leg and looked down to see Elkarn staring up at him. And what do you want? he demanded of the fox.
Just to sit on your lap and maybe take a bite or two from your plate, replied the Familiar.
My plate is empty, Tannar said. But he glanced back over to Karenna, and saw her smiling slightly in his direction. Again he sighed, and lifted the creature onto his lap.
* * *
Pagrin leaned back in the comfortable chair, setting his emptied plate aside. The fire, crackling away to his right, filled the modest sitting room with warmth, and Tavrinal and Jataal had shed their cloaks to better soak up the heat. “These must be some very special students, Ashter, if you are willing to risk the Forest to find them.”
“They are, my friend, trust me. Not so much the twins, of course, but both Karenna and Tannar are…unique. Especially Karenna. She had the Royal Eyes, Pagrin, you know that doesn’t just happen by accident. You know the king’s clan better than any human alive; tell me, did they lose a child at some point, one who might have been taken in and raised under the name Karenna Morn?”
Pagrin was quiet for a long time, running a hand along the arm of his chair. “I did hear…rumors,” he said. “But of a killed child, not a missing one.”
Jataal leaned forward eagerly. “Tell us.”
* * *
“Allarhana and I married while my father was still alive, and she died before I took the throne, so technically she was never queen.” Cerreno and his daughter had repaired to his chambers after the feast, Karenna badgering him ceaselessly about her mother until he relented. “She was…” he faltered, sitting down on the grand four poster bed. “No word in either of our languages suffices. Beautiful? Amazing? They pale in comparison to her. Only a few days after meeting her I was entranced.”
* * *
“Incredible as this woman was,” Pagrin explained, “it was considered unusual for the heir to the Gypsie throne to marry outside his clan. But there was a factor that tipped the scales: Allarhana had the Royal Eyes.”
* * *
Cerreno stood and paced the room several times. “Our people had rarely encountered a non-royal Gypsie with the Royal Eyes, and we had never seen the Eyes in any Gypsie with human blood. Because of them, and the fact that my child would have to possess the Royal Eyes to rule, my father and his councilors decided that it would be all right for us to marry. Oh, we were so in love, two poor young fools with no idea what to do with ourselves.” The king was smiling as he spoke, chuckling at his own youthful bliss.
“For three years I lived in what could only be called a dream. I thought nothing could make my life better. But then…”
* * *
“Allarhana became pregnant.” Pagrin took a sip of his re-filled tea cup and set it aside. “As I’m sure you’re both aware, Gypsie women rarely have more than two children.”
“Yes,” said Tavrinal, “they say Werenna put that restriction on them so that her favorite people would not become so numerous that they would dominate over her other two creations.”
The nobleman nodded. “And they very rarely start having children until they’re at least twenty-five; remember that Gypsies live longer than us. The king’s bride was only twenty-two when she conceived. I’ve heard there was something akin to panic in the royal court, herbalists being called in and all that. Apparently they were afraid that if she gave birth so early, either she or the baby might die.
“It was Cerreno who came up with a plan.”
* * *
The king paused in his pacing. “I knew that human women were often capable of giving birth to healthy children as early as fourteen or fifteen years.”
“Yes, but that’s rare these days,” said Karenna.
Cerreno shrugged. “Still, I thought it might be the human blood in her that allowed her to conceive that young. So I proposed that Allarhana and I go, in disguise, to a human doctor or healer, in order that the child might be born safely.”
* * *
“No one’s sure how long it took for the couple to convince the royal court to go along with this, or where they actually went to find the doctor. Of course, healers and doctors have come forth claiming the credit, and some unlucky fellows have taken the blame, but I suppose humans won’t really ever know for sure. Either way, the two of them apparently lived in hiding for the last few months right up to the birth. Then, when the time came, Allarhana gave birth to a baby girl.”
* * *
Cerreno sat next to his daughter and put a hand to her cheek. “You were such a lovely little thing, so perfectly formed. You had hair on you even then, a great mop of dark brown hair just like your mother.”
Karenna saw the gleam of tears in her father’s eyes. She sniffed back her own. “What happened then?”
The king leaned back, crossing his arms. “For a long time, nothing. We lived among the humans for several months after you were born, just in case any more complications arose from your human blood. Nothing did, and when you were about four months old we decided to head back to the Forest. I couldn’t wait to present my father with his granddaughter. Oh, Karenna, he would have been so proud of you.”
The girl looked confused. “So what went wrong?”
* * *
“They were found out.” Pagrin sighed and ran a hand wearily over his face. “I never heard who discovered them or how, but suddenly the entire town knew there were Gypsies in their midst.”
Tavrinal and Jataal flinched; they had heard all too often what happened to such Gypsies. The battle mage leaned forward, and, like a child begging for more of a bedtime story, said, “What happened then?”
“Well, fortunately the townspeople didn’t know it was the prince of the Gypsies and his bride who had deceived them. And because it was Cerreno, a great soothsayer even in his youth, he was able to ward of their attacks, protecting his wife and child as far as the outskirts of the settlement, to the bridge across the river that separated the town from the Forest.”
This time it was the former headmaster who demanded, “And?”
* * *
“There was a battle mage waiting for us, just inside the edges of the Gypsies’ Forest.” Cerreno spoke stiffly. His body shook with suppressed rage, and his eyes seemed to gleam, cat-like, in the light of the hearth fire.
“He took me by surprise, and I was already exhausted from warding of those idiotic villagers. He was powerful as well, no ordinary mercenary.” The king looked sideways at his daughter and said, “I learned later that he was called Heneshan Vocilia, the father of the man in our prisons.”
Karenna sucked in her breath sharply. “I had no idea…” she whispered.
Cerreno sighed and once again ran his hands over his face. “I know; it’s not your fault.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence filled only by the crackling of the fire. After awhile, he began again, “As I said, he took us by surprise. Somehow he knocked me out, I don’t know how he did it, he moved faster than any human I’d ever seen. I suppose he thought he’d killed me.” The king swallowed. “The last thing I heard was Allarhana screaming, and a splash.”
* * *
“They say,” Pagrin’s voice was heavy with weariness, “that he found her body half in the river, her blood staining the water and her arms out as if she had dropped the child into the flow. His people found him a few days later, lying next to her, nearly dead himself from blood loss. They never found the child.”
Tavrinal leaned forward eagerly, as if this was exactly what he had wanted to hear. “What did she look like, the baby?”
Pagrin snorted. “How should I know? Quite frankly, I’m not even supposed to know the things I’ve just told you, but Gypsies can’t handle human liquor and I’ve had more than one blabber on to me after he’d had a few at the fair I hold here.”
“Do you at least know how long ago this was?” asked the former Headmaster.
“About seventeen or eighteen years ago, I think.”
Tavrinal rubbed his chin. “That would make her a little older than the required age for the Academe, but she could have easily been kept home a year or so, because of her eyes…” he trailed off.
“If she is the long-lost daughter of the Gypsie king,” said Jataal, “what actual impact will that have on anything?”
Both Pagrin and Tavrinal gaped at him. “Are you joking?” demanded the nobleman. “A Gypsie princess, raised by humans her entire life? She’s a political anomaly, I don’t even want to think about the kind of chaos her existence would cause at Regos’ court, especially since so many of the nobles are against his desire for peace with them.”
Jataal snorted. “Good thing we’ll get to her first, eh?”
“If we can get to her first,” rebuffed Tavrinal. “And if she is this princess, and if we can actually find her in that huge expanse of Gypsie-infested Forest without freezing to death.”
Again, the battle mage snorted. “Pessimist.”
Lol. Nixnixnix...ad infinitum.
Tis okay, and more than okay, as verbosity is one of my worst faults. Bless you for an eagle-eyed twit!
P.S. "cloud-clogged" is mine, mine I tell you, MINE!!!
I'd say change this to a new sentence. It don't feel quite right, somehow.
Is this an Americanism or a typo?
The the the here is too much. The to her works fine.
Nix the sitting.
Do you need that comma?
Considering the context, adding in "your" might have more force. "I am your mistress." Or "the mistress".
So = as
This might have more force if it was two sentences. Change the comma to a full stop.
This just doesn't feel right, but I can't think of anyway to change it.
Some might say that the "regarded" is redundant and all, as you say that she looks at him in the next breath. I think it's alright, but it's something to think about.
Nix it man, nix it.
May I say just how much I like this?
How can she run her hand through her hair if it's tied back? She can run her hand over the top of her head, but she couldn't run it through her hair, and it's too awkward to run it through the ponytail itself.
The "she" here is jarring. You've started to talk about Cerreno, now you jump back and look at the ceiling through Karenna's viewpoint.
Comma here?
Nix it.
I'm normally in favour of never ever using that phrase.
Comma.
Nix it.
Enchanted slippers...
I am envious of that phrase. I command you to remove it so I can use it instead.
This is rather a long sentence... Dinning = dining.
You have a few double spaces where there should be none.
So! Need I stress that this was enjoyable and very well written?
Chapter 22
Tavrinal and Jataal rose before the sun was up, packed their few possessions and the provisions they had bought, and paid the innkeeper for their rooms before saddling their horses. The former Headmaster’s was a sensible tan gelding called Brass, who had been with Ashter for several years. Jataal had bought his just the other day—a three year old mare with a dappled gray coat and plenty of spirit. He had affectionately named her Dapper.
The two men set out of the capitol just as the sun breeched the horizon, drawing the city into another day. Tavrinal looked back over his shoulder as the center of his government fell behind the rolling green hills of the middle lands.
“You going to miss it?” asked Jataal, who rode just ahead of him, Dapper’s hooves clattering on the well-paved road.
“What, the city or my position?”
Jataal shrugged.
They rode for a ways as Tavrinal considered. “No to the former,” he said at length. “Perhaps just a little the latter.”
The battle mage smiled and kicked Dapper into a trot; Brass instantly changed pace to stay with her. “That’s good then,” he said.
* * *
Vishna shifted, and came awake as her elbow hit something sharp. She sat up, rubbing the elbow and glaring at the pen that had poked her. Once again, she had fallen asleep sitting at the desk in her study, surrounded by books and the stale smell of old paper. She stifled a yawn and tried to take a draft from a cup that was empty. She glared at the dried brown residue that clung to the inner edges.
Rising stiffly, she massaged her neck and paced back and forth in the crowded study, maneuvering expertly around the piles of books. She scanned the shelves; she had read all of these volumes at least twice, and was still no closer to her goal. Maddeningly, there always seemed to be fewer of them every time she checked. For all her threats to Avarn, she knew that he probably wouldn’t even have the opportunity to interfere if she couldn’t get more information.
The heavy wood door opened and Karoon ground his way in. She turned sharply to him. “Yes, what is it?”
“The boy is still stubborn,” he growled, his dark red eyes blazing.
She gestured briefly, dismissing the matter. “It’s not of any real importance; the girl and that pet of his will take days to get here, even if they were to set out now.”
“I think they are more of a threat than you realize, mistress—” began Karoon, but Vishna cut him off.
“I am mistress, you lump of fire-hardened stone,” she snapped. “And I have given you an order; leave them alone for now.”
She flung herself down in the leather-covered chair she had spent the night in, trying to work the taste of sleep out of her mouth. Perhaps she should try some of the upper libraries again; she might have missed something.
For a moment Karoon just stood there, and she could feel him fuming. Ever since his defeat at the Academe, he had become more surly than usual. And after she had recovered from the pain that had come to her across their link, she had found she was less afraid of him than she realized. If an Elementar as young as Tannar could defeat him, however much agony it caused her, then perhaps he was not so all-powerful as he seemed. “Was there something else you wanted?” she demanded of her servant.
“No.”
“Then leave me, I have work to do.”
* * *
The fluttering of wings awoke Nadak. He opened his eyes and saw a small, bent woman standing outside of his bars, peering in at him with large yellow eyes. He shifted, unwilling to admit, even to himself, how uncomfortable those eyes made him. “What do you want?” he growled.
The figure shifted until she was more fully in the light, and as he saw her face he was able to remember her name: Mirnar, the Wereeagle who had acted as a guide for his prey. She regarded him, looking him up and down as if he were a product on sale in the market, one whose value she was unsure of.
“What do you want?” he repeated, louder.
Mirnar’s lip twisted, just a fraction, in a scowl. “Murderer,” she breathed.
“Is that all?” he demanded.
“This is the fifth day of the Gypsie Winter Festival,” she said. “For the first four days there is feasting, dancing, all the things one would expect from the word ‘festival.’ But on the fifth night…”
“Yes?” asked Nadak, mildly curious in spite of himself.
“They call this their ‘Night of Questioning;’ I can’t pronounce it in their language. Tonight everyone may ask a single question of any person, even the king, and that person must answer truthfully, or be disgraced and perhaps even exiled from their clan. A word given on this night goes beyond these peoples’ normal commitments—to break a Night of Questioning promise is to forfeit your life. The Gypsies spend all year coming up with the perfect question for tonight; in a few hours, at dinner, they will ask them.”
“And?”
“And so I have a question for you, murderer,” snapped the Werebeast.
Nadak half smiled, half snarled. “I have no clan to disgrace, beast. I’ll be dead in a few days anyway.”
“Then what will you lose by answering this one question honestly?”
“Ask. I do not guarantee that I will answer.”
She was silent for a long moment, as if pondering the phrasing. Then, forming each word carefully, she spoke.
For a moment Nadak could only stare. He considered laughing, or telling her to get out. But what did he really have to lose, after all? So he answered, “Yes.”
That seemed to satisfy her; she left without another word.
* * *
“Tell me about my mother.”
“That’s not really a question, Cerenna.”
“My name’s Karenna. Please, father.”
“Please call you by your human name or please tell you about Allarhana?”
Karenna sighed and kicked her feet against the legs of the handsomely carved wooden chair she was sitting on in the king’s royal apartments. Dropping her head, she ran a hand through her long hair, which had been tied back into a high ponytail as most of the Gypsie womens’ were.
He glanced over at her, smiled slightly, and came to sit beside her. “I’m sorry,” he said. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Do you truly prefer your human name?”
She raised her head and looked him with eyes with same pattern of color as his own: the right one blue, the left green. “It is my chosen name, not my ‘human’ one. Please.”
Cerreno sighed. “Very well, then.”
Karenna gave a wan smile. “Thank you. Now, my question…”
“Yes, about your mother.” The king stood and began pacing back and forth across his chamber floor. The ceiling, like all the ceilings in the Palace, was high, the Gypsies having no more love for enclosed spaces than she did. Aside from this the room was not very large, barely bigger than the guest quarters Mirnar and the twins had been given. Boom slept in CavernLights—the Gypsies had set up a make-shift sort of nest for him in a corner with sheets and bedding—and only Werenna knew where Tannar spent his nights.
“You know she was part human. Her grandfather was captured in the Forest near the Winter Festival many, many years ago. Eventually he worked his way into membership in the clan, eventually marrying Allarhana’s grandmother, who was half human herself, though I don’t know her history. It is their blood that allows you to use that wand,” he added, nodding to it. Karenna glanced down at it again. With Nearn’s help, she had made a kind of holster that fastened it to the underside of her left arm, tight enough that she could pull a long sleeve over it and have no one notice it was there. As long as it touched her skin, and as long as the tip was pointing away from her, she could use it with only a thought.
The comment about the wand hung in the air a moment, Cerreno letting it ferment into an unspoken question. Karenna ignored the brief awkwardness, and gestured for her father to continue. He took a breath and continued pacing. “She was not a member of my clan,” he said.
“Which clan was she, then?” interjected Karenna before he could continue.
Cerreno’s face split in a wry grin. “The rule is only one question, little one.”
“But I’ve missed my first seventeen Nights of Questioning, I should be allowed seventeen questions besides this one,” explained Karenna.
The king laughed out loud at this, a wonderful, full sound, not as deep as the laugh of Karenna’s adopted father, but somehow merrier. “Very well,” he consented, unable to avoid spoiling her. “Seventeen extra questions it shall be. But this is your second—you have only sixteen left. Use them wisely.”
Karenna nodded solemnly, fighting to keep the hint of a smile from her face, and Cerreno continued. “Hers was one of the clans destroyed in the Werewolf attack,” he said. “They called themselves the Shre Whinds, the Emerald Wind.” Seeing a small opportunity for education, he added, “My own clan are the Ohl Cerro, the Royal Oaks, because we consider the oak to be the king of the trees. All of our clan names come in some part from the Forest; for instance, Jaan’s clan are the Kesh Seshee, the Sun Leaves. You see?”
His daughter nodded patiently, but he could see her eagerness. He continued “Marriage between the Emerald Wind and my clan was not uncommon, but her eyes were. Though she had no royal blood that we knew of, somehow she had our eyes.”
Karenna leaned forward, her gaze focused, her lips parted in an intent smile. It made Cerreno pause to fight back the sea of memories that came every time Karenna imitated Allarhana without knowing it. Karenna, noting his expression, stood and crossed to him, her forehead creased in concern. “Are you all right, father?”
Cerreno screwed his eyes shut to block out her all-too-familiar face. He had tried so hard, had worked so much to keep from her, from everyone, how much he still missed his wife. And how much Karenna brought her back to him. He pulled away, keeping his expression under control this time. “Perhaps we may speak more of this after the banquet, little one—we will be late.”
She seemed a little hurt by his reaction, and while his heart went out to her he did not reverse it. “All right,” she said, and followed him out of his chambers.
* * *
Pagrin was awakened out of a pleasant dream by a page shaking him earnestly. He surfaced groggily. “What is it?”
“There are two travelers at the front gate, my lord,” said the servant nervously. “They seek lodgings for the night.” He hesitated, then added, “One of them is a battle mage for certain. I believe the other is a wizard.”
“Did they give their names?” asked Pagrin, throwing the covers aside to sit up and instantly regretting it as a wave of cold broke over his night-gowned body. He pulled the warm quilts back up, feeling foolish but not caring.
“No, my lord.”
“Well, let them in, give them something hot to drink. By Werenna, it must be cold enough out there to freeze blood in the veins.” The page scuttled away and Pagrin dressed hurriedly, stuffing his cold feet into the fur-lined boots that Cerreno had given him as a gift three years ago. He had not found any human-made ones to be warmer, and wondered vaguely if they were enchanted. He strode out of his chambers and paused at one of the few landings with a glass-set window. The night was dark as pitch, and no stars shone through the cloud-clogged sky. He could feel the snow about to fall, and shivered slightly within his thick clothes.
He entered the small, private dinning room the page had ushered the strangers into, and found two travel-worn men still wrapped in dark cloaks sipping at the steaming tea before them. Just as Pagrin was about to speak, one of the figures lifted his head and threw back the hood of his cloak. The breath caught in Pagrin’s throat as a surprised smile split his face. “Ashter!” he managed finally.
The wizard returned his smile and stood to embrace his old friend. “It’s been too long, Gantos,” said Ashter Tavrinal.
“I’ll say it has,” said Pagrin, taking a seat next to the former headmaster. “And who is your traveling companion?”
“This is Jataal Dynos,” he said. “Professor of armed melee combat from the Academe. Jataal, this is my old friend, Lord Gantos Pagrin.”
“A pleasure, my lord,” said Jataal, also flicking back his hood. Pagrin just managed not to flinch at the man’s scars.
The battle mage stuck out one hand and the noble shook it warmly. “You are welcome here, Professor Dynos.”
“Just Jataal, please,” he replied, chuckling.
Pagrin took the chair next to Tavrinal, across from Jataal, and accepted the mug that a servant offered him. “What brings you out so far, my friend?” he asked after a sip.
The wizard grinned wryly. “Ask Jataal. He’s the one who talked me into this crazy adventure.”
“Oh, and your schedule was just so packed, was that it?” Jataal was grinning. “You had too many things to do, and I dragged you away from your oh-so-important tasks to accompany me on this ‘crazy adventure’?”
“I assume you heard about my…early retirement,” said Tavrinal, not looking Pagrin in the eyes.
“Yes. Normally we wouldn’t get news like that so soon, all the way out here and with winter setting in so early. But we’re only ten or so miles north of your—of the Academe, rumor gets around. I’m sorry, Ashter, I know how much you loved it there.”
Tavrinal waved a hand. “It was getting boring anyway,” he said, but by his face Pagrin knew he had not fully stopped missing his former position.
“So I come back to my question,” said the nobleman. “What brings you two all the way out here with the weather like this?”
The two mages exchanged a look. “It’s a bit of a long story, old friend,” said Tavrinal.
“Well, I’ll have the fire stoked in one of the sitting rooms, order us some real food, and let’s have it,” responded Pagrin, standing.
Jataal turned, grinning, to Tavrinal. “I like him,” he said.
Lol, I just totally spotted one of my own mistakes in the bit you quoted; "read" should be "red."
Thanks so much, my twiterling! ONE WEEK!!!
I think I like this chapter best, I'm not sure why.
To = too?
Vsih = vish?
I like that bit with Elkarn and Karenna. Nice... "character development"... to be pretentious. "Sympathetic relationship that reminds me of my own characters" to be frank and earnest.
Oh, I see you've reached popular topic status, well done! I think that's a first for a story.
Nadak, I think, will never go fully good. But he does go useful, which is better.
Thanks much to all you wonderful editing people! *scatters toffee* Shall try to get the next up "soon."
Only found one thing I have a problem with.
It might be better to put this into italics as it runs as a line of thought rather than a narration.
Nice chapter gyr, well done!
I'm actually quite glad you've done a chapter like this as after a battle is one of the best ways to emotionally search your characters. Very few are callous enough to not feel anything and because your characters do, it makes them more life-like. But please don't do a Paolini and have them fine and dandy a minute later.
Also, can I see a hint of Nadak being bad guy gone good in the distance? Overall, good job.
I didn't read the bit before this! Shock and horror!
W00t! Tannar in action!
Two "ed" words too close together.
I'll try and do the next chapter as soon as I can.
Chapter 21
Nadak floated through dreams, half-memories, half-fantasies. A proud father, welcoming him home; the terror on the faces of those he killed; his smiling mother stroking his hair and singing; the blood caking his arms and legs. He couldn’t distinguish the reality from the wishes as he drifted through them; he only knew that he was afraid.
“A monster!”
No, that one was real enough; he recognized Heneshan Vocilia’s angry voice, his father’s voice. “The work of a battle mage is honorable. The work of this creature is murder!”
“Heneshan,” his mother’s voice, soothing.
“No! Even the twins are better than he; they may not bring honor the Vocilia name, but at least they will not shame it as he has! He has already killed three men, Balaa, in cold blood—murder! You yourself predicted this—I should have listened! Would you keep such a monster under our roof?”
“He’s just a boy—”
“He’s sixteen! That’s old enough to be tried as a man!”
“Hadn’t you made you first kill by the time you were that age, Heneshan?” Balaa’s voice was calmly accusing.
Heneshan took a deep breath. “He can’t stay.”
“Where will he go?”
“That’s not our concern anymore, Balaa.”
The ripping pain in his shoulder called him back to reality. He struck out, only to find that he was chained. The seat below him was hard wood, cushioned by a thinly-stuffed mattress. Intense light filled his closed eyes and he cried out, thrashing violently against his bindings.
“Calm down!” commanded a voice.
He threw an arm over his eyes, pulling against the shackles. “Remove the light,” he growled.
The light retreated; he dared to open his eyelids a slit. He was in a small cell carved from stone. The offending light came from a candle in the hand of…a girl. A Gypsie girl, by her eyes, and with long brown hair that curled beautifully down her back. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. Then he thrust himself back, again straining against the chains. “You.” It would have been a shout if he had had the strength to raise his voice above a whisper.
She stood there calmly, no longer dressed in the muddy, torn uniform he had last seen her in. Now she wore the tight, patchwork clothing of her people, though the fabric was of better quality than most and thick for winter. “How long have I been down here?” he demanded.
“Only two days,” she said.
Nadak licked his lips. “I’m thirsty.”
She set the candle down on a rickety table that, along with a wobbly stool and the bench he had apparently slept on, made up the furniture in his cell. Carefully, she picked up a bowl of liquid and helped him bring it to his lips. When he sipped he was surprised—it wasn’t the stale prison-water he had expected, but fresh and flavored with some kind of herb that probably had healing qualities. He gulped it down eagerly then stared at her. “You’re the princess,” he said flatly.
She blushed a little in surprise. “So it seems.”
“What’s your name? Shana told me…I can’t remember.”
“Karenna Morn,” she said. “But here, they call me ‘Cerenna’, from the words Hisht Cerro, meaning—”
“Royal Eyes, I know. And for your father, King Cerreno.” He looked around the cell again. “Why am I still alive? And…whole?”
Karenna smiled a little. “No one’s quite sure what to do with you. Between Mimoa and Laarhana’s assurances that you have a place in my future and the twins’ begging for your life…well, everything’s quite confusing.”
“So sorry to cause you trouble,” he ground out.
She grinned wryly. “Was that a joke?”
He scowled. “Why are you here? Why am I being so well treated?”
“My doing,” she explained.
His scowl deepened. “I don’t appreciate pity.”
Karenna didn’t answer for a long time. She just stood there, looking at him. “Strange,” she said. “The twins told me you were only about twenty or so. You look older.”
“Life of a battle mage, highness,” he sneered.
“You’re very flip to one who’s preserving your life.”
“No one asked you to.” He settled back and closed his eyes. “It’s not like you can really change the king’s mind anyway, not after what I’ve done.”
“Can’t I then?” He heard her flounce out and slam the barred door behind her.
* * *
Tannar sat in human form at the top of one of the huge oaks that surrounded the Palace. He stared out across the snowy expanse of the Gypsies’ Forest, the setting winter sun caressing his shoulders and tousled hair. She’s a princess.
He set his back against the thick trunk, braced one leg against a branch opposite him, and wrapped his arms around the other knee. And not just any princess, but a Gypsie princess. A Gypsie after all, one with a wand.
A Gypsie princess believed dead for seventeen years had now resurfaced and she wielded Nemekar’s Wand. No one, not even her father, had yet asked her how she came by the magical weapon of the most powerful wizard of all time. There were other things to see to. Like the burial of almost a third of the Gypsie nation. Three whole clans had been wiped out, and none of the remaining ones had escaped without casualties. Nearly a hundred Gypsies dead because of the actions of one man.
The Elementar started as he realized there was someone settling onto the branch next to him. Cerreno smiled wryly. “You are in my tree, you know,” he informed the boy.
Tannar shrugged. “Did you want something?” He didn’t use any of the normal honorifics, but there was respect in his voice nevertheless. This was a man he had fought alongside, had killed next to.
The King of the Gypsies arranged his long body over several thick branches and seemed more comfortable on the hard wood than he had in CavernLights. “Karenna has told me of you and Avarn and your mission in regards to her.”
“Yes.”
“So, basically, you mean to separate the princess of the Gypsie nation from her people when she has only just been recovered, as it were, from death.” There was no threat or accusation in the words, only inquiry.
Tannar looked the man straight in the eyes. “I have to. But I don’t mean to do it immediately.”
“Why did your master wait six years to send you after her?”
The question surprised Tannar, he had not expected the king to know so much. “As I told your daughter, that is for Avarn to say, not I.”
Cerreno leaned back against the rough bark of the tree and closed his eyes, his breath coming out in visible puffs. For a long time he stayed like that, perfectly motionless except for his gentle, steady breathing. Tannar watched him in silence. “You know the prophesy concerning you, boy?” said the king at length.
“I do.”
“And are you prepared to live up to it?”
“If I have to.”
The king opened his eyes and sat upright again. He looked Tannar up and down, and the Elementar didn’t speak or squirm in the man’s gaze. At length, Cerreno said, “That’s good.” And then he was gone, climbing down the mighty tree as swiftly and silently as he had ascended it.
* * *
Karsh walked through the silent corridors of the Palace, shivering from the unnatural stillness. Normally, with over three hundred Gypsies gathered in one place, the hallways and caves would be ringing with noise: laughter, singing, squabbles, reunions, conversations, the hundred and one sounds he had come to associate with the Winter Festival. He wandered more or less aimlessly, encountering few of his people as he walked. Eventually, he found his way to the infirmary.
He poked his head in and saw that most of the Gypsies that had been in there yesterday were now gone, the herbalists having done their work well. There were still two small figures lying on beds in the far corner, one sleeping and one sitting up and reading something. For a moment Karsh thought they were just Gypsie children, but when he took a second glance he saw that they were the human twins who had come with Karenna.
For a moment, he hesitated. But then natural curiosity took over and he ambled in and down towards the beds, nodding to the herbalists as he passed. Old Barshno, sitting by the entrance with his feet up, winked at him.
The twin who was awake started when he saw him, then smiled broadly. “Yeshne,” he said, the word for “hello” in Gift.
Karsh blinked in surprise. “Lrhey grettene fra Gifte?” he said. “You understand Gift?”
The boy shook his head. “I’m sorry, I only know a few words.” He waved the book, “Out of this.”
Karsh saw that it was an old Gift-to-Dirantyri dictionary. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Why are you studying our language?”
The twin shrugged. “There’s not much else to do here, and I thought it might be useful.” He set the book aside. “My name’s Laroo, what’s yours?”
“Karsh. My father is husband to the king’s sister.”
He watched Laroo figure out the relationship. “So, you’re next in line then? The king’s nephew.”
“Thank Werenna, no!” Karsh laughed. “Your friend, Karenna, will be queen after her father. I would hate being king.”
Laroo looked puzzled. “A woman can rule alone?”
“Of course. But I have heard it is not so in your country.”
“No, we’re always ruled by a king. Or sometimes a queen, but she always has a prince or consort or husband of some kind to rule alongside her.” He settled back into the comfortable white sheets and pillows and smiled at Karsh. “So how does succession work for the Gypsies? Bloodlines?”
Karsh loved having an opportunity to show off his knowledge. “Yes, the ruler is always a member of the king’s clan. But more importantly than that, they must have the Royal Eyes. That’s another reason why I could never rule.” He gestured at his own eyes, gray and blue.
“You aren’t upset about it?”
The Gypsie looked puzzled. “Why would I be? I’m a chantier, like my dad. I can make things or fill things with magic, not rule a kingdom!” He shifted. “But why are you so curious?”
Again, Laroo shrugged. “Like I said, there’s not much else to do.”
Karsh frowned a little. He was only now remembering that this boy’s brother was the one who had brought the Werewolves down on them. “You’re kin to Nadak, aren’t you?” he demanded, suddenly regretting that he had revealed so much.
Laroo’s face flushed. “He’s my brother, I can’t change that.”
“But you could deny him.”
The twin’s gray eyes flashed with a fire that seemed out of place in them. “Would you deny your own blood?”
For a moment Karsh felt his own cheeks flush. “If a member of a clan has done something to hurt his family or his people, we do not consider him a Gypsie any longer.”
“What about Dosh?”
This time the blush turned the Gypsie’s coppery cheeks scarlet for several seconds. He hung his head and mumbled, “He was executed.”
“Trah vish,” said Laroo.
Karsh’s head snapped up. “What? Why do you want a drink? Aren’t you too young for alcohol?”
The twin’s eyes widened. “What did I say?”
“Vish is the imperative form of ‘give;’ trah is one of our fermented berry juices.”
Laroo’s face turned bright read with embarrassment. “I meant to say ‘I’m sorry,’ I thought ‘trah’ was ‘apologies;’ ‘trah vsih,’ ‘give my apologies,’ ‘I’m sorry.’”
Karsh chuckled. “That would be treeh vish.” He tried to hide his snickers behind a hand, but they grew into deep rolls of laughter and soon he was shaking back and forth with the force of his mirth.
Laroo grew even redder. “Whoops,” he said.
The Gypsie boy managed to get control of himself. “Why apologize anyway?”
“I didn’t mean to get into an argument with you; you and your people are very kind to let us stay here. But,” he paused, hung his head, “I cannot abandon my own brother.”
Karsh placed a wiry, copper-toned hand over Laroo’s scratched white one. “I understand. I am sorry for thinking less of you because of loyalty.”
Laroo smiled. “Ashirr?” Then his face twisted with panic, “That does mean ‘friends,’ right?”
Again, Karsh could not stifle his laughter. “Yes,” he managed. “Ashirr.”
* * *
Karenna sat outside the Palace, her back set against the rough stone slope that was the outside of the huge cave. Despite the thick motley she was dressed in and the warming spells she had worked, she shivered in the dark night. Everything around her was pitch black, but through the bare branches above, starlight and moonlight spilled down to paint the black with silver shadows. Her breath hung in white clouds before her face.
In the black midnight that enfolded her, the princess of the Gypsie nation shivered.
Elkarn trotted up to her from the depths of the Forest, a scrawny rat hanging limp in his jaws. He dropped it at her booted feet and whined a little.
She smiled and scratched behind his ears. “Have a good hunt?” she whispered; somehow saying anything in louder than an undertone seemed disrespectful to the perfect silence of the night.
Not much there in the winter.
“Of course.” She leaned back again. Elkarn pawed his way up onto her lap, and she began to stroke his thick coat. “They gave you a bath, I see,” she murmured.
Yes. For another moment the silence persisted, then Elkarn said, Karenna, why are you hiding things from me?
“Is it too much to ask that I have a little privacy? Right now there are three distinct entities with access to my mind—is it such a bad thing that I keep my own consul on some matters?”
Elkarn licked her chin. What’s bothering you?
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the air like frozen crystals in her throat. “My father wants to kill Nadak for brining the Wolves to the Palace.”
The Familiar didn’t say anything.
Karenna closed her eyes and he could see the tears forming at their corners. “But it wasn’t Nadak’s fault,” she said. “It was mine.”
Elkarn shifted. How can you think that?
“If he hadn’t been following me, Nadak never would have been anywhere near the Forest. If it hadn’t been for me he would never have found this place. And now dozens of Gypsies have died and a human is about to die because of me.”
The fox could hear the tears in her voice and felt her shudder as she drew in breath. He growled deep in his throat. It is not your fault, he snarled.
Karenna seemed not to hear him. “And now the relatives of the people I’ve killed smile and bow to me, and call me ‘Cerenna,’ and ask how they may please me. Everybody wants to see my eyes but no one wants to hear my voice.”
They love you. And you did not kill any of them, indirectly or otherwise.
She took another quivering breath. “Then why does this love hurt so much?”
Partly because it’s new, said the fox. You’ve never been truly accepted before, never been truly loved. Certainly your adopted parents loved you, but even they were afraid or your eyes, weren’t they? That’s why they held you back, kept you inside. He paused, and glanced at her sideways with his intelligent eyes. That’s why you bought the wand.
She felt for it; ever since the day they had fled the Academe she had always had it close to hand. Gently she fingered it where it lay, tucked away beneath her tunic. “I didn’t know what it was.”
You sensed.
Karenna rose, spilling Elkarn from her lap. He didn’t complain as he hit the frozen ground, but re-gathered himself and looked up at her. “I want to go home,” she whispered to the darkness. “But I don’t know where that is any more.”
Elkarn nudged her leg. Then make a home.
She looked down on him, smiled a little, and picked him and the dead rat up, setting him on her shoulder and the rat in his mouth. Elkarn trapped the rodent between his paws and gnawed at it, quickly stripping it of what little meat still clung to its bones.
Karenna gave one more glance at the dark and shadow-painted Forest before turning to go back inside the Palace.
sorry it's taken so long to get this up!
First off i still love the characters and the story, but just one thing, the gypsies go from revengful and angry at what happened to suddenly seeing compassion ect for the brothers. Its seems like a bit of a quick jump to me.
Plus he (Nadak) was stabbed in what you pointed out was a fatal wound but he is taking his time in dying, i mean almost any wound is fatal if you give it enough time, with infection ect. So when you said fatal i thought you ment he was not going to last more then a minute or two.
they were just two things i noticed, over all i still love the story.
Chapter 20
“Did you miss me, little master?”
Avarn, curled in his chair before the fire, awoke to the smell of brimstone, burning, and the dry, desert-like breath that he knew all-too-well. “So,” he said calmly. “You’re back.”
Karoon chuckled. Avarn felt the heat from the beak-like mouth singe his eyelashes. “Yes, little master, I’m back.”
“I would have thought you’d be out there chasing Tannar right now.”
He could feel Karoon lean down over him and place his massive clawed hands on either arm of the chair. “You’re not in a position to be smart, little master. The mistress isn’t what I’d call pleased enough with you to stop me turning your bones to ash.”
“And I’m not what you’d call interested enough to care.”
The furnace breath came closer. “Shall I remove your speech next, little master? I can melt your mouth shut with only my breath. Blind and mute, that sounds just about right.”
“You won’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because you need me to be able to talk to tell you where Tannar is. And you don’t dare burn the information out of me because you know he’ll feel it and be warned. How can you be sure I haven’t mentally warned him already?”
Karoon chuckled. “Because, when I last saw him, he was headed into a place where even my magic would be choked out by the presence of so many mages. The Palace.”
“So you do know where he is. Why the interrogation then?”
“Mistress wants to know who the wench with Nemekar’s Wand is,” said Karoon bluntly.
Avarn crossed his arms over his chest and snuggled down into the chair once more. “Ask me when I wake up.”
Karoon beat his wings threateningly. “Maybe I decide I don’t care whether that water-boy can feel your pain through the Palace. Maybe I decide I can kill you fast enough.”
The young magician yawned, enjoying the impudent sense of power that rose within him. He was right, and he knew it. “Let me know when I wake up, then,” he said, and fell back asleep.
* * *
For what seemed an infinity, CavernLights was silent. And when the silence was finally broken, it was not the clamor of many voices that Karenna had expected; only Cerreno spoke. “You claim this man as blood-kin?” he asked Laroo.
The twin looked directly at the wounded Nadak. “He is our brother, your highness. If I may beg mercy—“
“You may not!” The words rang through the high, empty cavern. What Gypsies had survived shifted, making their bloody weapons ready should their king command more killing. “I will ask you once more, and I advise you to answer carefully, do you claim this murderer as kin?”
“Shut up, boys,” growled Nadak. “Father won’t thank me for getting you killed as well.”
“We do claim him!” Menee announced, only barely trembling with fear.
“He is our brother!” said Laroo, looking Cerreno directly in the eye.
“Can you comprehend the carnage this man has wreaked!” the king all but screamed. “Nearly half of my people have died here today—because of him! One death will not be enough to revenge this massacre!”
There was a rumble as Boom took one, solid step towards the twins. “Not their fault,” he said.
Again the Gypsies shifted, and this time there was genuine intent in the movement. Mirnar, who had been gliding above their heads, gave a raptor cry and landed abruptly in front of Laroo and Menee, changing to human form as she hit the floor. She said nothing, but her flashing yellow eyes and outstretched clawed hands spoke well enough.
“I thought Gypsies didn’t go in for petty vengeance,” commented Tannar, twirling his stolen sword.
“You call this petty!” roared Cerreno, sweeping a hand out to encompass the bloody scene. A murmur of hostility swept through the remainder of his people. “Our laws demand blood for blood, water-sprite.”
“No,” said Karenna. All eyes turned to her.
“What.” The king was staring at his daughter.
And as what was left of the Gypsie nation watched, the beautiful sword in her hand shrank and darkened until it became fourteen inches of intensely magic-charged wood.
* * *
The gavel came down with all the finality of eternal judgment. The former Headmaster watched the judge calmly as his fate was decided. “Wizard Third Class Ashter Tavrinal?” the judge said, peering over his half-moon spectacles.
“That’s me, your honor,” said Tavrinal, wondering who else the old man thought he was speaking to.
“Do you deny that on the aforementioned date you did allow a fire Elementar of considerable power to terrorize and destroy the Dirantyr Training Academe, did indeed do nothing to abate the attack?”
“As I have said before, many times before, there was nothing I could do. My dear associate Ekano has, I’m sure, told you as much. He was there as well, and with a wand, which, as you know, does more damage to an Elementar than any spoken spells. I have been trying to discern why he is not on trial with me.”
“That is enough!” the judge snapped.
Tavrinal sighed. He had known this was coming for a long time—a seemingly indestructible establishment had been razed, and the government needed someone to blame. Tavrinal was the perfect choice—as headmaster, care of the grounds and buildings came under his jurisdiction, and as such it was, technically, he to blame if they were destroyed by the most powerful fire Elementar to show his face in a hundred years.
The judge regained his composure quickly, and gave a haughty sniff. “Your friends in the government,” he said disdainfully, as if being on a nearly first-name basis with the king was something to blush about, “have prevented you from receiving what I would consider the full force of judgment in this matter. As such you are hereby officially stripped of your rank as Headmaster, removed of those honors and citations you have garnered in your lifetime, and no longer have the right to purchase or bear any magical paraphernalia beyond those trinkets allowed to Normals. This means no powerful amulets or talismans, no wand—though I know you don’t own one—and, of course, all your magical tomes are now the property of the government. Is that quite clear?”
Tavrinal knew that had he been just that tiny bit more distant from the king, or if even one student had died in the attack, that the judge would be reading his death sentence now. As it was, only the loss of his books really hurt, and there were ways to get those back. “I do, your honor.”
Again the gavel banged. “Then this court is dismissed and this case closed. Good luck, Tavrinal.” He seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in not saying “Headmaster.”
The wizard swept out of the court room before the judge could make it to the door, drawing stares once he was in the corridors of the main justice building. “That’s Ashter Tavrinal,” they would be whispering. “The one who let the Academe burn.”
He gritted his teeth and speed up until he was outside in the biting cold. Snow began to fall gently down, and he hadn’t brought a cloak. Fighting back the instinct to work a simple warming spell—here it would be perceived as arrogance—he rubbed his arms and walked down the broad flight of steps to the main street. There he stopped, looking first to his right, towards the Palace District, then to his left, towards the Marketplace. Dirantyr’s capitol city wasn’t its largest or its most architecturally impressive, but Ashter had always felt it had a more subtle sense of wealth and power than any of the costal metropolises he’d visited. Still, he hesitated, unsure for the first time in a long time about where to go.
“Headmaster!” called a voice from behind him, and Ashter turned instinctively—to see Jataal hurrying after him out of the justice building. He gaped; he hadn’t even known the old battle mage was in the city.
“What—?” he started, but Jataal grabbed his arm for support and breathed heavily, waving a hand for silence.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the trial,” he said. “The trip here took longer than I though.” He straightened, looked the wizard square in the eyes. “How are you doing, Ashter?”
The wizard shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”
“I always hated that saying.” Jataal grinned.
“What brings you here?”
The battle mage clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me take you out to lunch, Headmaster,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
* * *
“Nemekar’s Wand.” The whisper blazed through CavernLights like wildfire, until it was on the lips of every Gypsie present.
Tannar stared. Karenna didn’t seem to notice any of the excitement; her gaze was firmly fixed on her father. “You will not hurt the twins.”
“You do not yet understand our ways, little one,” he said softly.
“I don’t care. They are my friends; it’s my job to take care of them. If you mean to harm them, you will have to go through me.”
“Not to mention an Elementar, Boom, and I,” said Mirnar off-handedly.
“My lord.” All eyes turned to the dark-skinned Gypsie who helped support Laroo. He looked pleadingly to Cerreno. “This boy helped save my life, then selflessly took on his brother’s pain to heal him. They are not like this monster that has brought the Werewolves into feud with us. Please, my lord.”
“You as well, Kalab?” said Cerreno quietly. He took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped. “You all make your points well, and show me the sense of compassion. The twin humans will not be harmed for their brother’s crimes.” He straightened, turned to Nadak. “But this battle mage must die.”
“A quick death, highness,” growled Nadak, still bleeding pools onto the stone floor. “My cunning, at least, has earned me that.”
“Indeed.” Again, the sword went up, ready for the killing blow.
“Wait.” The one word echoed around the enormous cave, and once again every being looked to where Karenna stood, hand clasped tightly around the most powerful article of magic to ever be created. She was trembling slightly, the hand that held the wand shaking. She took a step towards the king. “Please,” she said. “Laroo has asked mercy for his brother. I now ask the same.”
Cerreno’s eyes went steely. “Why?”
“He still has a part to play.” The words were not Karenna’s, and the king spun sharply to see Laarhana, his little blonde-haired niece, sitting against the far wall of CavernLights, hugging her knees. There was a dead Werewolf on either side of her, and in one of her small hands she held a long, bloody dagger. In the silence of the huge hall, her soft voice echoed like an oracle’s. “I have seen him standing beside her in my visions,” she whispered. “Protecting her. Serving her. He still has a part to play, uncle.”
“Whatever her vision,” said Karenna, “I ask you for his life. If only for the sake of Laroo and Menee, who have been my loyal friends and followed me through trials they didn’t have to endure.”
For a long time, the hall was silent. The Gypsies, as ever, looked to their king. Cerreno stood there, looking from Laarhana to his daughter to Nadak and back again. At length, he said, “Have the murderer taken to one of the lowest dungeons until this matter can be resolved. We have the dead to tend to, among other things.”
Two Gypsies moved hesitantly towards Nadak, who didn’t struggle, but cried out in pain as he was lifted from the floor. Laroo lurched towards him, leaving Kalab and Menee’s support. “Wait,” he said, “please, let me just heal him enough so he won’t die.”
Cerreno didn’t say anything, so the two Gypsies allowed Laroo to approach. Menee came up next to him, cradling his injured hand to his chest. “You’re too weak,” he told Laroo. “You just healed me, let me help.”
“Stand aside.” Karenna strode through the carnage to where the Vocilias stood. Elkarn trotted by her side, his left ear in tatters and his body bleeding from half a dozen places, but looking as determined as a half-grown fox cub could manage to look. The daughter of the king of the Gypsies knelt next to the dying battle mage, and looked him in the eyes.
* * *
What are you planning to do? asked Elkarn in her mind as they stopped in front of Nadak. You’re not a healer and you’re practically dead on your feet as it is.
Please just be quiet, she said wearily. I don’t know what else to do.
There was a cool breeze at her shoulder and she half-turned to see Tannar in his natural form beside her. Same question, said the Elementar.
“What about you?” she asked aloud, too tired to keep up the mental dialogue.
“You’re asking me to heal the wound I just inflicted on a man who was trying to kill me?” he said.
Karenna didn’t answer. She dropped to her knees in front of Nadak. “I don’t know what to do.” The battle mage knelt down until he was on her level. He didn’t speak, but she managed to raise her eyes to meet his. They were grey, like his brothers’, and unwavering despite the pain he had to be in.
“Before I die,” he rasped, his voice so low that only she could hear it. “You deserve to know who wants you dead.”
She started. “Who?”
He groaned and pitched forward. Karenna caught him by the shoulders, being careful not to touch the hole Tannar had made in his chest. “Shana Liam,” he ground out.
“Shana…” she repeated.
“What?” snapped Tannar. “That blonde wench?” He stepped forward, grabbed Nadak none-too-gently and hauled him to his feet. “Why?” he demanded.
Nadak didn’t answer, his scarred fact growing pale. “Please,” Laroo begged, “let me try to heal him.”
Without a word Tannar stepped forward, splaying his long, blue fingers around the wound he had inflicted. His large, glowing azure eyes flashed, and there was a swift flare of blue light around the open hole. Nadak cried out and pitched forward, unconscious. The skin where the wound had been smoked for a moment, wreaths of cerulean vapor rising from his shoulder. And then the smoke cleared, and the whole assembly could see that where the wound had been was only a circular, faintly blue scar.
I had a real nice review writ, and then I lost it.
*head/desk*
However...
Great bombshell (again)... great chapter (again)... very enjoyable (again).... not much to nitpick (AGAIN?)
Lol, there were a few things:
*cringe* Too soppy.
Most of this fight scene was very well done indeed, but it got confused towards the end about who you were talking about, Tannar or the mage. When I first read, Not a killing blow, but he would be dead in a few minutes anyway, I thought you were talking about Tannar!! *recovers* Fix that, so you don't submit your readers to the possibilty of a nervous breakdown. ^_~
Semi colon instead of comma?
Maybe nix the last bit?
Methinks that was all.... nothing major, and another of your bombshells that you love to torture your readers with.
hehe...yes, I do have a nice way to kill him, just not now. Oh, and btw, I did that "Not a killing blow" twice on purpose, parallellism, you see. *taps nose* However, if others also think it's a bad idea, I shall scrap.
Thankee much! *cookies*
Goodness! That was unexpected. I thought you said you had a way to kill him? or is that not who you were talking about.
Anyway, nice chapter. I like the way you describe the battles, well done there. In the paragraph where you're describing Nadak's wound, though, you say 'Not a killing blow, but..." twice. Cut out the second time.
Anyway, nice job and keep it up!
~Madame Kool
Chapter 19
Nadak ran at the back of the Wolf-pack. Good thing, too, they were in a state to rip anything even vaguely Gypsie-shaped to pieces. He had no idea where Keesha had found them all, there must be nearly a hundred, but he didn’t care. He had his bow in his hand, quiver strapped across his back, his naked sword at his side and four throwing knives hidden about his person. He had privately bet himself that he would take down at least as many Gypsies as the berserking Werebeasts. And he never lost a bet to himself.
As they emerged out of the darkened tunnel into the huge, bright open space of CavernLights, he howled with the Wolves and let the battle mage’s bloodlust overtake him.
* * *
The last thing Karenna clearly remembered was Palla throwing her wand to her, and then the Wolves had poured into CavernLights, howling like demons. But now she doubted even that solid memory, for it was a sword in her hand now, not a wand, a sword she had never seen but that was still somehow familiar. All this was background thinking, however. At the forefront of her mind was Don’t die. And, just behind that, Kill the fanged bastards.
The sword, longer and slightly broader than the rapiers she was used to but remarkably light, sliced through fur and bone like water. It hummed when bloodied, and the longer she fought the warmer the handle grew.
Time became meaningless after that first howl, but at one point, Karenna felt her back hit something, and risked a glance to discover that she and the King of the Gypsies were fighting back to back in the middle of the largest Werebeast battle in a century. There must be hundreds of them. The black ones were the most frightening, huge and seemingly invincible they darted through CavernLights like dark fire, spreading and raging and consuming.
The motley-colored crowd of Gypsies was strewn with the grays, browns, whites, and blacks that were the attacking Werewolves. The din was incredible, Karenna was sure she would be deaf afterwards. Several times, though, the sound of Mirnar’s scream as she dove like a golden-feathered arrow or Boom’s heavy steps rose above the clamor. Aside from these moments she had no concept where her friends were. Her world consisted of the Gypsie at her back, the weapon in her hand, and the nearest growling monster she could reach.
* * *
“Menee!” Laroo screamed above the deafening noise of battle. “Menee!” He held the dagger his guard had dropped, but no one seemed to notice him. He was surrounded by unfamiliar smells—the smoke-like residue of magic attacks, the Gypsies’ sweat, the Werewolves’ reeking bodies, the blood. Oh god—the blood!
He slipped in a puddle of it, screamed in shock and hit the hard stone floor, cutting his arm with the dagger by mistake. He fought to sit up and found himself looking right into the face of a severed Werewolf head, the tongue lolling out and the mad eyes wide and staring.
Again, he screamed. A Gypsie tripped over him and a Werewolf leapt on the prone man as he tried to rise. Laroo yelled, half in terror, half in rage, and struck out blindly with the knife. There was a whimper; the Wolf backed off. The Gypsie, an exceptionally dark-skinned one with a shock of blonde hair, vaulted to his feet and finished the huge beast off with one swing of his rapier. He turned to Laroo, and the boy could see he was bleeding from the shoulder and forehead.
“You’re one of the twins, aren’t you?” said the Gypsie, helping Laroo to his feet. “Where’s your brother?”
“I can’t find him!” Laroo sobbed, shaking, with the bloody dagger still in his hand.
“I’ll help you.” He smiled, the expression robbed of all pleasantness by the dark blood that caked half of his face. “You did save my life. I’m Kalab.”
“Laroo,” said Laroo.
Kalab grabbed his arm and jerked him, almost nonchalantly, out of the way as two Gypsies and a Werewolf locked in combat barreled by. Then, above the immutable din of fighting, came a thin, weeping cry. “Laroo! Laroo!”
“That’s him!” Laroo shouted, and surged into the fray. Kalab snatched him back just in time to avoid a swipe from a rapier.
“Together!” he said, then plunged in, dragging the twin behind him.
The next few seconds were a whirl of absolute chaos. Laroo could distinguish nothing through the confusion until, again, he heard his name being called.
And then, suddenly, there was Menee, sitting on the floor against the wall, crying at the top of his lungs. His left hand was caught in the crushing jaws of a half-conscious Wolf. Kalab moved before Laroo could even register this, stabbing his weapon down through the brown-and-black streaked body. The Wolf released a groan and slumped, falling onto Menee’s small figure. Laroo yelled and rushed to him, shoving the beast off with a strength born of panic. “Menee,” he wept, “Menee!”
Tears blurred his vision for a moment and all he could hear was his brother’s cries of pain. “Sheai Werenna, boy,” said Kalab. The next thing Laroo saw was the Gypsie kneeling next to Menee, cradling the twin’s twisted, bloody left hand. “I’m no herbalist,” Kalab said as Menee whimpered.
“I am!” The words were out of Laroo’s mouth before he could think. “Not a herbalist, I mean, a mender, I have healing magic, a little.” He was nearly hysterical by now.
“Are you sure you can—” Kalab began.
“Let me try!” Laroo cut him off and tenderly took Menee’s hand in both of his.
“I trust you,” whispered Menee, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
Laroo closed his eyes and reached for that tiny, locked-off part of his mind where he could sometimes find the magic to heal. He prayed he would find it now.
Taking a deep breath, he began to chant the most advanced spell for wound-healing he knew. Unlike when he had done it in class, the words came out steady and whole, each syllable falling into place. He felt the warm glow of power that he had only ever touched in the Academe. Now it flooded him, filling his mind and streaming through his arms and into a nearly tangible sphere around Menee’s wounds.
Suddenly, agonizingly, Laroo’s left hand erupted in pain. He cried out and gritted his teeth, but didn’t stop focusing the magic on his brother. This was the price of the healer’s craft; he had known it going in. Gradually the pain mounted, threatening to block out all else in his mind. The only thing that made it bearable was the knowledge that as long as he hurt, Menee didn’t.
And then came cessation. The magic, the pain, and all sound cut out. Laroo was vaguely aware of falling to one side, of Kalab catching him. And then he blacked out entirely.
* * *
Tannar heard the Werewolf coming from behind and sprang up, letting his translucent wings billow out as the beast charged through the space where he had just been. Tannar coldly stabbed it through the heart. He had taken a rapier off of one of the dead Gypsies, cursing the fact that he could use none of his powers besides those inherent in his original form. He wanted a broadsword so badly; Jataal had only trained him in the very basics of fencing. And it wasn’t as if hovering over the battle and slashing at whatever Werewolf was in range could be called fencing anyway.
Another Wolf jumped at him, but a Gypsie cut it down mid-leap. He grinned up at Tannar, who smiled back, then froze as an arrow suddenly protruded halfway through the man’s skull. The Gypsie crumpled, and Tannar spun in midair, seeking the killer. None of the Gypsies were using bows, it was too close combat for that, and of course the Werewolves wouldn’t—there. Crouching behind the piled corpses of several Gypsies and Wolves was a young man, a battle mage by the scars, bringing down Gypsie after Gypsie with perfectly precise arrows. He caught Tannar’s gaze and smiled, before sending an arrow whizzing up to hit him between the eyes.
The Elementar shifted, feeling the projectile speed past him, far too close for comfort. He grunted as he felt another arrow, sent seconds after the first one, pierce his right wing. It flew through the thin membrane and the fabric of his wing closed quickly over the hole, but it hurt. Time to end this.
He dove at the battle mage, weaving to avoid the shower of arrows the man sent up at him, each one brushing the air around his body in deadly caresses. The battle mage dove to one side as Tannar came down on him, abandoning his bow and drawing a naked sword faster than thought. It was longer than a rapier and looked heavier. One edge was minutely serrated. Tannar planted his bare blue feet wide apart, bracing himself for the attack.
The battle mage grinned, and his red-tinged scars seemed to glow. “I’ll go down in history for killing you.”
“I’ll say ‘sorry to disappoint’ in advance, then, shall I?”
The mage attacked. Tannar, full of the calm fury Jataal had taught him to harness, slid to one side and brought his looted weapon around in a sweep that would have left a normal man with nothing bellow the knees. The mage leapt, vaulting over Tannar’s head and slashing at it in one smooth motion. Tannar ducked, but felt the saw-toothed weapon slice a good length off his flowing silver hair.
What followed was like a dance, smooth and rhythmic and the closest to death Tannar had ever been. The blades never met, each combatant was too fast to let the other land a blow. Tannar tucked his wings in close, wary of further injury, and forced his long body to occupy as little space as possible. This man was more than a battle mage, more than a berserker. Jataal was a Class 3 battle mage; this man would have killed him in five minutes. As it was, he nearly killed Tannar, far more times than the Elementar was entirely comfortable with.
Gradually, Tannar became aware that the noise of battle had died down. He risked a glance around him, to discover a corpse and blood-covered hall, with the winter forest illusion half-collapsed in places. All the Werewolves and perhaps half the Gypsies were dead; those that survived watched him and his opponent with expressions ranging from shock to confusion to rage. Tannar was not sure to whom the latter emotion was directed.
He was brought back to the reality of his current danger by a sharp pain in his leg. He moved instinctively—right into another attack. This one he barely managed to avoid, and he slipped his sword into the tiniest of openings that the battle mage had left in attacking him.
Silence, and the feel of blood flowing from the cut in his leg. The sound of the battle mage’s sword falling to the floor. Tannar looked up and saw that his pilfered rapier had pierced his opponent’s left shoulder, had gone straight through to peek out of his back like a long, red blade of grass. Not a killing blow, but as the man’s thick shirt became dark with his blood, his face grew pale. Tannar released his rapier and the mage dropped to his knees. He gripped the blade in his bare hands and pulled, barely groaning as the sword slipped gently from his body. Tannar’s rapier dropped from his hands, which he pressed uselessly to his shoulder to stop the blood loss. Not a killing blow, but he would be dead in a few minutes anyway.
A tall Gypsie that Tannar recognized as the king, Cerreno, strode up, his own bloody weapon in his hand. He looked from Tannar to the kneeling battle mage. “What is your name?” he asked, his voice like the coldest winter night that ever claimed a life.
“Nadak,” grunted the man.
“How did you find this place?”
“I followed a band of your people who had taken prisoner two individuals I was hired to kill. One was this creature, the other was the brown-haired girl.”
“That girl is my daughter, you sheczkall,” replied Cerreno calmly.
“Does it matter now?”
“No. Did you tell any besides those here dead our location? And be warned, I shall know if you lie.”
Nadak groaned and pitched forward, large drops of his blood flowing between his fingers to drop onto the hard stone floor. He took a few deep breaths. “No one outside this hall, besides your sentries, knows of the Palace’s location. You are secure, highness.”
“Good.” Cerreno lifted his rapier high, the tip pointing down so that it would pierce Nadak through the heart in one clean move.
Before he could deliver the blow, however, a voice rang out through the dead silence of the cave. “Wait, that’s our brother!” All eyes turned to where Laroo stood, supported by a dark-skinned Gypsie and a bandaged Menee. His eyes were wide and fixed on the condemned battle mage. “That’s our brother, Nadak Vocilia!”
Thanks, I like it too. Have you ever read 'The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?" It's a crappy book, but the author starts every chapter with a new quote from somewhere. That's where I found it. So just get the book and flip through it, looking for good quotes for your quote book, but don't read the actual thing.
Unless you like that sort of book, which I guess some people do...
Anyway, seeya!
Yours,
Ooo, this is the first time I've ever gotten a threat from a reader.
Yay!
As for the romance angle, even I have no idea which way it'll swing right now. Currently I'm leaning towards her choosing Tannar, but Avarn is the one who's been waiting for her these 8 long years....
ShadowTwit: you are, as ever, my eagle-eyes. I'm also REALLY glad you liked the part when Karenna sings with her father, it was disgustingly cheezy for the longest time and I had to scramble like a mad thing to make it work. I'm glad that you, at least, think it works.
Sokool: again, thank you for giving my ego an unecessary stroking.
Edit: Sokool, I love your sig. Its is now in my quote book.
So, so good! I'm very glad you are continuing this, and despite the brevity, I enjoyed the chapter. I do hope the whole love thing with Tannar gets untangled...he's like my favorite character, so it had BETTER end happily for him!!! Or else...
So yeah.
Anyway, good job! Please keep posting!
Yours uselessly but fawningly,
WHEEEEEE!!!
Luverly!! And so nice - now Karenna's fitting in, and... wheee!!
Nitpick?
Well...
Dosh's corpse would sound better, I think.
Slightly weird wording here. Perhaps, Suddenly a boy, dark-haired and dark-eyed but brimming with magical presence put himself between the girl and the oncoming king. I don't know, you decide, but I think this sould be tweaked.
Should this be a comma? Maybe start a new sentance after I will not hurt her.
Question mark instead of exclamation mark?
I really like this bit. It's sweet and tender, and just makes me smile.
And foreshadowing.... dun-dun-dun-dun-dun....
Chapter 18
“Allarhana!” The word exploded into CavernLights and Cerreno, who had screamed it, dropped to his knees next to the corpse of Dosh. Kalab had launched himself from his chair and was at the king’s side before anyone else could move. He stared at the girl, who’s Royal Eyes were wide with fear and shock.
“Can it be?” he breathed.
“No,” whispered Cerreno. “Not Allarhana. Not my wife, but…”
He stood, unsteadily, and took a few halting steps towards the girl. She didn’t move, but gaped at him.
Suddenly a boy, dark-haired and dark-eyed but brimming with magical presence had imposed himself between the girl and the oncoming king. The shredded remains of golden bands were rapidly disintegrating on his body, and his protective arms, flung wide to shield her, were as solid as a stone wall. There was a faint rumble in CavernLights as the boy-giant, whom Kalab had heard was called Boom, took a single, unyielding step forward, his round face as hard as marble.
“You killed the man I swore to kill,” said the dark-haired boy. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or kill you in his place.”
A hundred Gypsies reached discreetly for their weapons.
Cerreno waved a hand. “Stand aside.”
“Make me,” said the boy. Boom took another, earth-shaking step.
“Child, you do not understand. I swear to you I will not hurt her, now stand aside!”
“Make me!” The form of the human boy wavered, and for a moment every Gypsie saw the silver-haired, translucent-winged Elementar who stood in their midst, and took a step back. Kalab felt his breath catch in his throat; the Windstorm!
The king stopped his advance, so did Boom. They stood in a stalemate for a moment until the girl said, quite softly, “Tannar, it’s all right.”
The Elementar whirled and stared at her. “Karenna, are you crazy!”
She looked over his shoulder at Cerreno, and said again, “It’s all right.”
Hesitantly, Tannar lowered his arms and stepped to one side. Karenna, her eyes fixed on the Gypsie king, took one cautious step forward. “I don’t know who you are,” she whispered. “But I feel as if I should.”
“You only knew me for a few short weeks,” said Cerreno, his voice trembling as no king’s voice should tremble before his subjects. “There’s no reason you should remember, you were just a baby.”
Kalab could feel the energy, the uncontrollable hope rising in the Gypsies around him. Could this be?
“Little one, little lovely eyes,” said Karenna softly. “Tiny feet and tiny hands. You reach for me as I sing my song, I sing my song for you, my little one.”
In the next instant Cerreno had swept her up in his powerful embrace and spun her. His clear, strong voice rang out, choked with tears and an overwhelming joy, “Little one, such a little life. Tiny ears and tiny nose. You seem to sing it back to me, you sing my song to me, my little one!”
Karenna was sobbing now, but she sang out with the king, with her father, as he spun her around and around and around, sang out the song that had lurked at the back of her mind for seventeen long years. CavernLights erupted as a hundred Gypsies cheered at the top of their powerful lungs.
And went silent as the chillingly near sound of Werewolves howling cut through any joy.
--- --- ---
Sorry it's so short...
hehe...sorry you stayed up so late, darling, but I'm glad you like the story!
CURSE YOU!!!
You sucked me into reading this story and I had to finish it so I stayed up until 3:00 A.M. !!!
*hem* anyway, congrats on a GREAT story! I spied a few typos here and there, but don't want to bother to go back and find them (good, aren't I)...and when you publish it, your editor will find them anyway, right? *meaningful grin*
Anyway, next part soon! Please?
Yours ingratiatingly,
Thanks much, Shireling! Just a note: Tannar's only scratching his wristbands when we first see him because this is the first time in a long time he's had to take human form; he gets used to his new body relatively soon. Thanks for catching that, though, I may have to go back and let people know why he stops.
I found some time, so here is my review.
First of all I want to say that I have really enjoyed your story. You are great at creating characters and keeping them consistant.
I have just gone through the previous chapters and noticed something about Tanner. In the first chapter he seems somewhat resentful of his bond with Avarn and has a habit of scratching around his wristbands. He seems to lose the resentment very quickly and his habit disappears after the first chapter if I remember right. I just noticed that and wondered why you dropped the nervous habit, it seemed like a good characterization tool. Just a thought.
Anyway.
Hmmm, I can't find anything. I'm looking my hardest but I don't see anything except the typo already mentioned. I'm very impressed.
Well that was a short crit. Maybe somebody more eagle-eyed than I can find something.
I look forward to the next installment.
Write On!
Woop! Cliffhanger, LOVE the cliffhanger! This was the only error I could find.
The most of the sentance is about the leaves and the smell bit seems tacked on. Semi-colon it, or start a new sentance?
Otherwise, fab.
There's more!
I've read it all through and the only thing I could find wrong with it was:
I think that that was meant to be barely.
Apart from that one little thing, it's fantastic
~ Shadowsun
Another great chapter to a great story. I read the previous chapters awhile ago but since you had already recieved several excellent reviews and critiques I didn't know what to add. I'll try and give this chapter a critique if you don't mind but I don't have time right now. Maybe tomarrow.
Once again great story!
Shireling
So sorry it's been so long!
Chapter 17
Avarn stared up through the branches to the cerulean blue sky. A wind rustled the leaves that were only just turning red with the onset of autumn, and the smell of fall filled his senses. Karenna’s young face thrust itself into his field of vision, grinning, with dirt stains on her cheek. “Avarn, this is boring,” she whined. “Let’s go swimming or something, the river’s lovely.”
He smiled at her and sat up. The breeze sent a few errant leaves dancing towards them; one of them got tangled in his shoulder-length black hair and he paused to tug it out. “It’s too cold for swimming,” he said. “And it’s too nice for anything else.”
“Just cause you’re ten and I’m eight doesn’t mean you know everything,” she said defensively, but he saw her shiver a bit when the breeze tickled the exposed skin on her arms.
Something in the back of his mind told him that this wasn’t really happening. He ignored it. “Do you want to climb the maple by the schoolyard, then?” he asked, trying to appease her.
She grinned shyly. “All right.”
He stood and held out his hand to her. But it was larger than it should have been, with long fingers scarred by fire. Ugly. He snatched it back and hid it behind his back.
“What’s wrong?” Karenna asked, and it seemed that the high voice of the young girl he knew wavered, mixed with the older, adult voice of the woman he had never met.
Her voice wasn’t the only thing to waver.
As he watched he saw the scene before him fade as if clogged in smoke, thick smoke that poured from the fire that was burning, burning, burning so close that it seared his eyes. His eyes. He screamed. “No! No, please! Karenna!”
The pain passed in an instant and he felt the cold wind buffeting his blind body against rocks that were slick with rain. Sheets of rain poured down, turning the burning fire of his pain to sodden ashes of fear. And the rocks were no less sharp for the moisture clinging to them; he cut his arm, his side, his feet that were shod in thin-soled shoes not meant for these mountains. “Karenna!” he screamed, but that wasn’t right. He had been crying for his mother, not his childhood friend, on that most terrible of all nights. He was soaked, through his clothes, through his skin down to his soul. It didn’t matter. Even if a thousand seas poured in on him, no amount of water could quench the burning, burning, burning fear that welled up inside him, the pain.
And then…
Silence. Perfect stillness. He couldn’t see anything but he had the impression of light, soft light gently caressing his burned, ruined face. And then a hand, smooth and cool and comforting, added its caresses to those of the light. “Avarn…” came the whisper.
And he knew that it wasn’t right, that he didn’t deserve it, this light that broke through all pain. Darkness was his birthright, shadow was his home. He knew that. And yet…
“Avarn,” came the voice of the girl who had been his best friend. “Promise you’ll never forget me, Avarn.”
The light dimmed slowly, and with it the gentle touch on his cheek. “I promise.”
* * *
The first night of the Gypsie Winter Festival was in full swing by the time a perimeter sentry came jostling through the noise and the dancing, eating, talking, laughing crowd to where his king sat at the head of the mahogany table, observing it all with a quiet smile. “Hisht Cerro,” said the sentry, touching his forehead and giving a brief bow before looking Cerreno in the eyes and telling him what he had come here to report.
The king’s smile slowly dissolved into an expression just short of a scowl. “How soon?” he asked.
The sentry shrugged, wilting in the glare of Cerreno’s anger, “Within the hour, I think, majesty.”
“Thank you.” The king leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arms of his throne-like seat. Noticing the sentry’s nervousness he smiled once more. “You have done nothing wrong, my friend. You may return to your post until your watch is up. When it is, help yourself to an extra serving of plum cake for your services.”
“Thank you my lord,” said the sentry, his eyes now alight with the prospects of extra plum cake. He bowed once more, then turned on his heel and vanished back into the milling chaos.
“Is something wrong?” asked Nearn, who sat to the king’s right but had barely heard the conversation over the din of CavernLights.
Cerreno shook his head meditatively. “Nothing, Nearn. Dance with your wife.”
* * *
Laroo had never been more terrified in his life. The powerful Gypsie at his back held the knife so close to his throat that each breath was a careful, precise exercise. The darkness was what frightened him most, though; after the lamps of the sentries at the cave entrance, there had been no light for what felt like miles as they walked down an ever-declining path. Dosh, the mad one who had threatened Karenna, had exchanged a few words with them, and for a moment Laroo was filled with the irrational hope that it had all been a mistake, that they could go now. But Dosh had won whatever the argument was, and here they were, descending into nothingness.
He knew that Menee was nearby to his right, and even with strict orders against it he decided to try a whisper. “Are you all right?” he asked his brother, barely even breathing the words.
The knife tightened at his throat and for a terrifying moment Laroo and his guard were out of step, but the Gypsie did not say anything. “Yes,” squeaked Menee, and Laroo could hear the tears in his younger brother’s voice. True, Laroo was only six minutes older than he, and neither could be accused of exceptional acumen, but Laroo had always considered himself responsible for his younger twin.
He heard a groan and turned to look, forgetting for a moment about the blade. But the Gypsie turned with him, and Laroo could make out, through the encompassing gloom, the faint golden lines that were Tannar’s magical bonds. If they were any indicator of the Elementar’s position, he was kneeling on the hard stone ground. “I can’t breath,” he gasped.
“Shut up,” snapped Dosh. “The bonds aren’t too tight.”
Tannar shook his head. “Not that, the magic here…so thick…”
“All the Gypsies together in one place,” Boom rumbled, his deep voice amplified by the tunnel. “I can feel it, too.”
“Live with it,” said Dosh, “we don’t have much farther to go.”
“Please,” came Karenna’s voice, soft but commanding. “Let me go to him, I can help.”
“Running here will do worse than no good.”
“I know.”
For a long moment the party stood there, still in the deafening darkness. Then, from Dosh, “Fine.”
Laroo heard the rustling of Karenna’s cloak as she moved to Tannar’s side, then he saw her silhouette against the eerie glow of his magical ropes as she came down next to him.
* * *
I’m right here. Karenna’s voice, kind and soothing, broke through the terror of magical blindness. Tannar had never needed his eyes to see before, and now even their enhanced vision was useless against the sheer weight of blackness around him. The pressure of so many Gypsies so nearby pressed down on him, blocking out the senses that made him more than mortal. I’m right here, it’s all right.
I’m right here, came Avarn’s voice, the faintest whisper from far away. Now it’s my turn to help you see. Your ears, Tannar, your nose. Neither of these is of mortal quality, neither of these is blocked. Smell the world, my friend. Hear it, as I do.
The rhythmic thud of Avarn’s heartbeat came to him, and like a drum that keeps the orchestra in time, Tannar molded his panic around that steady beat. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Slowly the panic subsided. Tannar inhaled deeply through his nose. Rich earth, cold stone, the inhuman-smelling bodies of the Gypsies, Mirnar’s feathers, Elkarn’s fur, the twins’ fear, Karenna’s nearness…a new range of senses swamped him, and it were as if the world exploded back into color. He was still for a moment, letting the new perspective take over. Cautiously, he focused on his ears, his hearing. The silence dissolved into arrays of sound no human could experience. He smiled, a slow, delighted grin that split his face.
He stood, carefully because of the bonds. He wouldn’t be able to use his magic here, and that was annoying. More annoying was the constant buzz in his mind of the Gypsies’ presence, but there was nothing he could do about either. Are you all right? Karenna asked, and he abruptly wondered how, with all his other powers blocked out, he could still hear the thoughts she sent to him.
Yes, he said. Then, to Avarn, Thank you.
My pleasure. His master’s voice faded out of hearing and the heartbeat with it.
Tannar could hear Dosh hopping softly from foot to foot with impatience. “Well? Are you done?” Before either could answer he barked, “Grab her then, we’re nearly there!” As Jaan gently took Karenna’s arms from behind and the party began to move off down the tunnel again, Dosh continued to sing, “Nearly there, nearly there, nearly there.” The words echoed around them like the unceasing chant of a damned soul.
* * *
Nadak had watched them enter the Palace. Smiling, he fixed the place and route in his memory, then worked his way slowly back to the rendezvous with Keesha.
* * *
CavernLights went slowly silent as Dosh and his party made their way through the crowded space towards the far end. Laroo glanced left and right; all the Gypsies were staring at them, most of them at Boom and Mirnar, but a few pointed to the twins and whispered to each other. Laroo’s guard seemed nervous, and he wasn’t so tight with the blade as he had been. Eventually they reached a table that was smaller than the others, made of a rich red mahogany wood and carved with intricate designs. In the center of that table sat a very tall Gypsie with long black hair and piercing eyes the same color as Karenna’s, but with a solid black diamond tattoo over one of them. On his head was a simple golden crown, set with diamonds, and one large sapphire and one large emerald that complemented his mismatched eyes perfectly. He didn’t appear pleased, and Laroo was glad that his gaze remained fixed on Dosh.
Dosh bowed to him, almost mockingly, and said “Hisht Cerro.”
The Gypsie—their king, Laroo abruptly realized—replied, “Yeahnne, Dosh. Pharenal quistatt?”
The mad Gypsie spun and threw out his arms to encompass his “prizes,” before turning back and beginning a long oratory. His sing-song voice was the only sound besides the crackling of the four huge fires, no one so much as breathed. While Dosh spoke, Laroo saw Jaan quietly slip away from Karenna and steal to the king’s side, where he began to whisper quietly in his ear. With every word, the king’s face hardened until it seemed but a mask of stone. Dosh appeared not to notice; he continued his speech until the king rose suddenly and held up a hand.
“That is quite enough.” The Dirantyri words fell like a hammer-blow; Dosh stopped in the middle of a word and stared, pale-faced, at his king. The tall, crowned Gypsie clasped his hands at the small of his back and made his regal, unopposed way around the mahogany table. “Your brother tells me,” he said as he walked, his eyes never leaving Dosh, “that you attempted to force yourself on this human girl.”
There was a collective gasp from every Gypsie present, and whispers began to fill the silence. The king cut them off with one sweep of his gaze. Even Headmaster Tavrinal had not been so commanding. “Is it true?” the king demanded calmly, returning his scrutiny to Dosh.
Dosh licked his lips. “My Lord Cerreno—” he began.
“Is it true?” Each word rang like a single bell-toll; even the fires quieted in the force of the king’s displeasure. Cerreno now stood to one side of the mahogany table, perhaps seven paces from Dosh.
The mad Gypsie hesitated for only a moment. “Of course it’s true!” The words tore from him and anger poured through the hole they made. “She’s a witch, she’s a whore! Deceiving, lying, mendacious little—” Abruptly, he cut off, and looked down to where a mahogany-handled throwing dagger was protruding from his chest. The king’s hand was still outstretched, but he had drawn and flung the weapon faster than Laroo could follow.
Cerreno’s face was still an immovable mask as he crossed the seven paces between himself and Dosh in three easy strides. The mad Gypsie’s mouth was open but no sound emerged. He began to sink slowly but the king caught him and held him upright. Dosh gurgled. “We are Gypsies,” the king hissed, and though his voice was a whisper his words echoed. “We do not take from a woman what she does not wish to give.”
He released Dosh and the mad Gypsie fell to the stone floor with barley a thump, and as his lifeblood formed a dark stain around his cooling body, no one moved.
Cerreno took a deep breath, then raised his head and opened his mouth as if about to say something. But before he could, he saw Karenna.
Hey Gyr, You know me and I've already read this part.
Just felt like saying hi!
(Snigger)
~Pol
I would kiss you for a very good story but I haven't quite got the hang of 'human-turns-to-code-and-pops-up-in-someone-else's-room' technology yet. Plus I think I would earn myself a suit for sexual harassment and several restraining orders.
Hi
You may remember me popping into this thread for a brief rant to skell about getting my hopes up, but I never did give you an actual crit. If I may be so bold, I'd like to do that for this one.
I've been browsing around and giving crits for a couple hours now, so I thought, oh, what the heck.
Obviously, I don't need to go all the way back to the beginning, so this crit shall be confined to chapter 16 only.
Mind if I start on a completely useless and nonconstructive note by saying I love this story? Really really really love it?
<3
Now that that's out of the way...
bit by bit then.
"...he said, for perhaps the hundredth time."
--> a bit too informal, imho. 'the hundredth time' seems out of place in the more sophisticated narration. Maybe change the tag to "he repeated yet again," "said yet again," "yet again, as he had several times already," or w/ev you like.
" The broad-shouldered, black skinned woman before him, her eyes large and yellow, gave a canine-filled smile. “Keesha is the leader now,” she growled."
-->'canine-filled'. Awkward, I think. 'Canine' to me means the dog/wolf genus, if that's the right term, so canine-filled was odd; then again, realizing that you probably meant her smile was all canine teeth, that was odd too, because even canines have teeth other than 'canines'. To cut to the point, I think 'canine-toothed' or 'canine-sharp' would be a better phrase for that particular point.
--> 'growled'. A bit odd. I understand that she is supposed to be wolf-like, but growled usually is used to imply anger, and she was smiling. Unfortunately, I have no idea what you could do about it.
--> as a random suggestion, maybe you could have them say she's 'packleader' now, not just 'the leader', because that also adds the wolf-like element- unless you feel they do not travel in 'packs' and want to avoid that usage. *shrug*
"The wolves around her, all in human form for this meeting, grinned as well."
--> odd, that you refer to them first as wolves then say they were in human form. I'd say just change it to werewolves, but that might be too repetitive with that word's usage elsewhere in the paragraph, so idk.
"The assassin couldn’t storm the Palace alone, and he would need a distraction in any event."
--> two ways to look at this one- either it should just be "distraction, in any event" with a comma, or...
-->It should be tweaked overall, to better get across what you want to say. Personally, I'd say "he would, at the very least, need a distraction" (with or without the commas, it doesn't matter).
"He had hoped the Werewolves’ over-developed sense of vengeance could help him in this area."
-->hang on a sec; you went from the wolves' point of view, grinning as well, to suddenly it being his point of view. Confusing, at first, as we won't catch the transition as easily as you'd like. Numerous ways to fix this- I'll leave that up to you haha
"Apparently the loss of Ravage, who had been actual leader to only one tribe but a renowned chief to many, had already been mourned and recovered from."
-->too long in explaining his position. I vote cut the 'who had been', maybe the 'actual' as well, and the 'a' before renowned. It would read "...Ravage, leader to only one tribe but renowned chief to many, had already been mourned..."
-->on the other hand, you may wish to emphasize the fact that he'd already been recovered from by saying 'though leader to one tribe and renowned chief to many...'
" “Then we all track them,” Keesha declared."
--> you may want to emphasize that what she's saying is, they have no need for him. Maybe have her shrug and say that line, but add "No need for you, human," or something, maybe just testing him or w/ev. Just imho, again, and you may easily disagree with that.
"But, despite her broken speech, Keesha wasn’t stupid."
-->nice, but her speech doesn't seem very broken to me. Clipped, cryptic, concise, short-worded, yes, but not broken.
" Again Nadak smiled. “All I want,” he said, “is a couple corpses.”"
-->cheers; lovely.
"so he must have slept long enough to let it burn down."
--> this doesn't imply well enough that he was confused by it and looking for the answer which you say he got. I'd change "must" to "should", and maybe, though this is just speculation, change the end of that sentence to a "..." or, for even more active voice and wondering, "...?"
-->if you make either of the ellipses changes, you'd definitely want the next sentence to start another paragraph, and upon flipping back and cocking my head thoughtfully at it, I'd say start another paragraph ellipses or no ellipses.
"“No worries,” Avarn waved her guilt away."
--> period, not comma. "waved her guilt away" is not how he said it, but an action in and of itself. New sentence.
"Avarn caressed his facial scars meditatively."
-->caressed? caress is like... lovingly. I dunno if that's quite what you wanted... traced, perhaps?
"Surely that wasn’t just Tannar’s input? Again he started. Tannar!"
--> At 'again', I think you need a new paragraph. It's a definite transition in thought, almost as though another voice in his mind is popping in.
"Avarn hesitated. I see.
Tannar could not restrain a mental laugh.
The magician bristled. You know what I mean.
-->rofl love it!
"Kalab smiled at him as Cerreno sat down on a broad limb next to his, “To what do I owe the honor, my lord?”"
--> period, not comma. 'smiled' is not a speaking verb; he did not smile those words at him ....I assume....
"“A man might but a king dares not,” replied Kalab, still smiling."
--> might, but
"He was also a reader, a kind of fate able to interpret the prophecies of others and the signs of nature."
--> a kind of fate? I'm not sure what you mean here. It sounds like you're using the noun 'fate' to be synonymous with 'seer'. If so, that's a usage I've never heard before. I could be wrong, but if you intended that synonym, it would be colloquial to the culture of your book and might require more of an explanation, or at least a repeated usage in order to clarify that to the reader.
"Cerreno had often come to him for help in translating Mimoa’s foresights, as well as his opinions on the workings of the nation in general."
-->I'm not certain this sentence is necessary; it wavers on borderline info dump, but not quite there, so...
-->the last part of that sentence, the workings of the nation in general, sounds too much like you were searching for something to put there, as it's too generic- especially with the 'in general' there. I suggest rewording.
"Cerreno wondered how he could be sure the Gyspie wizard was female."
-->careful here. That 'he' sounds like it could be referring either back to himself or to Kalab. You intended Kalab, so it might help if you would specify- how the other Gypsie knew the wizard in question was female, or something along those lines. Insert something little to clarify, heyla?
"Kalab, who never cursed, said, “Damn.”"
--> a wee bit odd, contrived-ish, but I'm not sure what to do about it. Maybe make the 'who never cursed' a little less direct; say instead "Kalab, uncharacteristically, said..."
--> just imho...
"Cerreno could not restrain a small smile."
-->uh oh. Look at this:
"Tannar could not restrain a mental laugh."
-->close enough together that they're repetitive...
"leaf-and-frost covered ground"
--> I'm thinking it should be "leaf- and frost-covered"
"unlike their captives. But Dosh, after much persuasion, had allowed warming spells to be worked on them, though not to a degree where they would be really comfortable."
--> collapse those two sentences. "captives, but Dosh..."
-->then you'd need to change the comma after 'them' and before 'though' to a dash
--> at least use a semi-colon, if you don't like the comma and dash change
"...though Elkarn was put within a few feet of her this time."
--> I vote "though this time Elkarn was..." instead of putting it on the end.
"...headache that had been pressing on her all day and he talked to her nearly endlessly..."
-->"...all day, and..." [comma]
-->ye would then need a dash instead of a comma to help the flow/voice, like "...nearly endlessly- mostly nothings, but..."
-->nearly endlessly- a bit awkward. "almost endlessly", or just use "incessantly" or something.
"Jaan’s eyes found hers again and this time their gazes locked."
-->"again, and"
"He didn’t gag her. They had learned that she was a useless mage without her wand, which Dosh had Palla carry for fear of being burned again."
--> I vote for a semi-colon instead of a period, linking these two since ones is led into by the other.
"He knelt before her, his knees on either side of her folded legs."
-->you told us a sec ago that he crouched, so you've told us the same thing twice.
"Along with his sour smell, a pulsing fear swamped her."
--> a wee bit awkward. "His sour smell swamped her, and with it- pulsing fear." I dunno, just throwing it out there.
"What, little pretty witch."
-->shouldn't that be a question?
"...his slender body was all-too-close to hers."
--> take out the hyphens there
"...he was shoved aside by Jaan crashing into him with all his strength."
--> I vote "as Jaan crashed into him" etc.
"“I, I…” he faltered. The rapier dropped from his hands and made a clang as it hit the nearly-frozen ground."
-->I don't like the "I,I" thing. A dash, better than a comma, or an ellipsis, perhaps.
-->I vote "and clanged as it hit"
-->that's, what, three, four times you've described the ground to us? Be careful, for it can seem repetitive, although you definitely need it here to explain the clang.
"Thin streams of tears, like liquid silver against his copper-colored skin, ribboned down his cheeks. He made no sound as the sorrow poured noiselessly from his eyes. The teardrops fell from his chin and splashed quietly on the frosty earth."
-->hmmm. Not quite enough variation here. I'd say combine that whole thing into one. Semicolon first: "...cheeks; he made no..." Then later, "...eyes, and the teardrops..." But again, up to you. Any combination would work, but imho you do need a combination.
-->and you've described the ground yet again
"even though the tears were only now drying on his cheeks his voice didn’t waver at all."
-->"his cheeks, his voice"
"More likely they’re just too afraid of him to risk their own necks yet."
-->new paragraph, because it seems like that's her thought.
Hello, we're at the end.... how depressing. ='(
Anyways, now that my ever-annoying long-sheka pick-apart is over, I feel the need to repeat to you the fact that I really love this. I got caught up in this piece just like I do when I read a good published work- I was laughing, certainly, but I was also following anxiously when I knew something bad was going to happen, and definitely was reacting when Dosh was moving too close to her. That fact alone is a good indication of how well this is written.
...and how much you need to write more of it. >.<
Hate to have to resort to this, but, as I did to baronessink once...
*sword begins to slide from sheath; eyebrow lifts meaningfully*
*sing-song* we're waiting....
*cough*
...bei'theh!
~sworddance
I love your writing. I dont have any comments to make about grammer or corrections or anyhting, Myth does a good job of going through it. But really it is a good story and i think you are a great writer, i hope you keep it up.
but for a selfish reason, lol becausei want to read the rest of the story. *grins*
Oh, just a note: yes, they know Dosh and Jaan's names because they name each other when our heros are first captured. Something to the effect of:
Jaan: "Dosh, she's got the Royal Eyes!"
Dosh: "Shut up, Jaan."
(hey, I'm the author, I can paraphrase
Green = Cooment/Correction
Black = Review
*
Is there a certain sound when they shift? Or would he rather feel the Elementar shift, like something in the air changing?
Again with the identity of Dosh. Read the last part of my previous critique.
*
Big Bird!
Loved the ending, all their minds connected =]
I went back a few pages to read the earlier parts, like you would do with books, and I find I’ve missed something and reading again refreshes the story. Each chapter is given a special scene that’s memorable and you’re drawing readers in the more you write. Wish I could write so much without stopping.
Now, about this sentence:
I think you can take out most of the in-between words and start another sentence where he tries to guess what it had been, a dream or if it had been real. Does he look around or try to see if there’s something going on with Karenna, since she’s part of it all?
Myth
Myth, have I mentioned how much I've missed you?
I really need to get in the habit of NOT mentioning the "one __ and one ___" thing with the Gypsie eyes. I think I've got a solution to that awkward sentence--check back in a couple days and all should be well!
Green = Commen/Correction
Black = Review
*
‘Karoon’ so close together! Maybe replace it with ‘The Elementar’ or ‘He’?
^^^ See quote. Only reason I cut it was because it reads better. Also, rather than saying ‘word’ for Mensha, why not use ‘name’? Up to you.
I might have mentioned this before, it makes sense to cut out ‘one’ since we know by now they have mismatched eye colours.
I’m thinking that ought to be ‘was’.
Looks wrong, somehow. Could just be me but I’ll think of something next time.
It has been some time since I last read any of GE but do they know the name of their captors? From Tannar’s point he doesn’t, unless Dosh introduces himself. Let me know if I’m wrong.
*
Bird!
Managed to get to this at last. There are a couple of ‘was’ and ‘were’ in there that could be taken out, sentences read fine without hem and a few obvious clues like the Gypsie eyes being different colours can be given a miss as the story progresses.
I liked this part, stands out to me:
Could be jealousy or actual pain, you don’t really give it away, or could be both =]
Nothing else to pick out really. Expect for that odd sentence which I’ll try my hand at when I’m not so tired. Will get the next part done soon.
Myth
This is Amazing! I love it so much that i can't find anything wrong with it! Keep up the good work and i can't wait to read more!
Goodie! The next bit! I know that it's more helpful to say what wrong with this, but I honestly can't.
Never mind, Myth, or someone else will be more eagle-eyed than I am.
I like the way you put such depth into the Gypsie culture. When Jaan says that he'll scream, and everyone freezes, that bit just says how real their way of life is, and I like that a lot.
Tannar's my favourite character in this - partly from hearing so much from him in the character dialogue.
Very good, and sorry that I couldn't find anything wrong with this. But if you think about that, it's a compliment.
-Twit
Hey, if you guys like Gypsie Eyes so much, you might enjoy my other works:
Symposium: viewtopic.php?t=15585&highlight=
Born of the Stars (Rewrite): viewtopic.php?t=13968&highlight=
In Thrall: viewtopic.php?t=12580&highlight=
Just a note, "Symposium" is a sort of fan-fic introduction of my main characters from Gypsie Eyes, Born of the Stars, and In Thrall; if you're not sure you'd like the full-length stories, you can read it to get a better idea. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 16
Nadak, standing in a small clearing in the middle of the Gypsies’ Forest, marveled at the stubbornness of Werewolves. “She killed your leader,” he said, for perhaps the hundredth time.
The broad-shouldered, black skinned woman before him, her eyes large and yellow, gave a canine-filled smile. “Keesha is the leader now,” she growled.
The wolves around her, all in human form for this meeting, grinned as well. The assassin couldn’t storm the Palace alone, and he would need a distraction in any event. He had hoped the Werewolves’ over-developed sense of vengeance could help him in this area. Keesha and her tribe were nomads, traveling the wide plains in the spring and summer and retiring, like most Werebeasts, to the Gypsies’ Forest in winter. Apparently the loss of Ravage, who had been actual leader to only one tribe but a renowned chief to many, had already been mourned and recovered from.
The battle mage tried a different angle. “The Gypsies have food in the Palace,” he said, forcing his harsh voice low and enticing.
Keesha’s triangular ears, retained even in human form, flicked forward. The other Wolves stopped fidgeting. “No way to get at the food,” said Keesha, but he could tell that she wasn’t sure of this. “No way to get into the Palace. No one even knows where main entrances are.”
He smiled. “If you leave that to me, I can supply the answer in only a few days. I’m tracking a band of Gypsies now, and I know for a fact that they will lead me to the Palace.”
“Then we all track them,” Keesha declared.
Nadak waved a hand. “You know that won’t work; the Tall Ones would detect your presence in an instant. I’m a human mage, they can’t pick me up so well. Let me follow them and then I’ll give you the location of the main Palace entrance. For free. And then all that food is yours, and all those Gypsies sitting targets.”
The Werewolf was all but drooling now. The Werebeasts had never been on really wonderful terms with any of the other sentient races in Dirantyr, and any chance to cause any non-Werebeasts trouble was a good chance. But, despite her broken speech, Keesha wasn’t stupid. “What’s in it for you, human?”
Again Nadak smiled. “All I want,” he said, “is a couple corpses.”
* * *
Avarn awoke to a gentle shaking at his shoulder. He started, amazed that he was still alive. The fire, he could feel, was still blazing as merrily as it had been when he had first started it. But he felt rested, so he must have slept long enough to let it burn down. “Avarn?” said a familiar voice above him, and he had his answer.
“Mensha,” he said, nearly choking with relief on the word.
He heard the Elementar shift. “Are you all right?” she asked. “I heard you cry out, but the mistress…”
“No worries,” Avarn waved her guilt away. “You’ve still saved my life. I would have died if you hadn’t rekindled the fire.”
“Are you all right?” asked Mensha again.
The burns on his hands still ached, but he said, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. What time is it?”
“Near midday.”
Avarn caressed his facial scars meditatively. Had it been a dream then? But his fingers still remembered stroking her face, and in his mind he had mapped out her features as clearly as if he could have seen her. Surely that wasn’t just Tannar’s input? Again he started. Tannar!
Here, came the distant voice.
Are you all right? Is Karenna safe?
The Elementar was a long time answering. It’s…not looking too good at the moment.
Avarn received an image of Dosh and the sense of cage bars surrounding him. Gypsies, he thought.
They’re taking us to the Palace, as prizes.
Don’t abandon her, Avarn commanded.
Tannar snorted. That seemed sufficient answer.
How is she?
As well as can be expected. The crazy one’s younger brother is carrying her through the trees, so it’s not as bad as if Dosh himself were. The twins are guarded by a Gypsie each, and Mirnar and Elkarn are both in enchanted cages.
And you?
There was the image of Karenna with a sabre at her throat.
Avarn hesitated. I see.
Tannar could not restrain a mental laugh.
The magician bristled. You know what I mean.
Sorry. At this point, I’ll grasp at anything to stay sane.
Too late for that, Avarn murmured.
Anyway, said Tannar, his voice heavy with sarcasm, they aren’t actively trying to kill us yet, and Karenna’s eyes seem to be causing a greater stir the farther we go. More and more of them are calling her Hisht Cerro and doing that bowing thing. We might have a chance.
Avarn was silent.
Is there something I need to know here? Tannar demanded.
Nothing I’m certain about.
As I said, I’ll grasp at anything.
Again, Avarn was a long time answering. Where’s her wand?
* * *
Cerreno made his way up the towering oak tree to where Kalab stood watch among the uppermost branches. Kalab smiled at him as Cerreno sat down on a broad limb next to his, “To what do I owe the honor, my lord?”
The king smiled. “A man can’t visit his best friend without an excuse?”
“A man might but a king dares not,” replied Kalab, still smiling.
“You know of the trouble with Dosh and his clan?”
The smile faded. Kalab was a handsome man, with darker skin than most Gypsies and blonde hair, which was rare for them. He was also a reader, a kind of fate able to interpret the prophecies of others and the signs of nature. Cerreno had often come to him for help in translating Mimoa’s foresights, as well as his opinions on the workings of the nation in general. “It’s always bad when a Gypsie screams,” he said softly.
“Worse when a Gypsie goes mad.”
Kalab nodded. “What is it you wanted to ask?”
“Laarhana’s talking about a Gypsie wizard. She says that this…individual is with ‘the traitor.’”
Kalab was silent for a long time. “A Gypsie wizard…” he said.
“Yes.”
“And Dosh has her?”
For only the briefest moment, Cerreno wondered how he could be sure the Gyspie wizard was female. “Yes.”
Kalab, who never cursed, said, “Damn.”
Cerreno could not restrain a small smile. “Yes.”
“But he’s got to be bringing her here, hasn’t he? He won’t let the chance of a prize like that get away.”
“That’s what I think.”
“Then why exactly did you come here asking for my advice?”
The king took a deep breath. “Mimoa believes that the Windstorm is traveling with them.”
Again, there was a long silence before Kalab spoke. “So let me get this straight. A Gypsie wizard, captured by the first mad Gypsie in over thirty years, is traveling towards the Palace, and the Windstorm is with them?”
“If one trusts the accounts of two of the most powerful entranceds in the history of our people, then yes.”
“Damn.”
* * *
Night had fallen by the time Dosh finally decided to make camp. “Camp” was, perhaps, too generous a term for blankets spread out on leaf-and-frost covered ground. The Gypsies seemed hardly to notice the cold, unlike their captives. But Dosh, after much persuasion, had allowed warming spells to be worked on them, though not to a degree where they would be really comfortable.
Again, Karenna was tied to a tree separate from the rest of her group, though Elkarn was put within a few feet of her this time. His nearness helped alleviate the headache that had been pressing on her all day and he talked to her nearly endlessly, mostly nothings, but comforting nothings. It was Jaan who tied her, perhaps the only Gypsie who had treated her with neither Dosh’s haughty scorn nor Ragin’s fearful awe. “Too tight?” he asked as he worked. Like his brother, he had little discernible accent.
“No, that’s fine,” she whispered, exhausted from strained nerves and emotions.
Jaan came around the tree and crouched in front of her, looking her in the eyes. Karenna was too tired to worry about offending him; she dropped her gaze and shifted away from his prying look. “What does he want with us?” she asked point-blank.
This time it was Jaan who dropped his scrutiny. “I really don’t know,” he said. “He says prizes, but…this isn’t our way.” Jaan sat back, resting his elbows on his bony knees. “Lone hunters, glory-seeking warriors, those we take without remorse. But children…Werebeasts…this is not our way at all.”
Karenna, brought part-way out of her fatigue by curiosity, asked, “What do you mean?”
Jaan’s eyes found hers again and this time their gazes locked. “My brother is…he is not well. Even the king knows this; he has asked me to take over if Dosh gets…out of hand.”
“I’d say this qualifies.”
The Gypsie shook his head, rubbing his hands together. Despite the warming spell that protected him from the cold, his breath still came out in visible puffs. “This is where your kind surpasses ours,” he said, with a small note of regret. “Gypsies do not enjoy confrontation amongst our own people.”
Karenna snorted. “Yes, that’s one of those wonderful human qualities everyone should have. Civil wars are so very enjoyable, after all.”
Jaan gave a wan smile. “’To be human is to strive,’” he quoted.
“Are you saying Gypsies don’t strive?”
“Not like you.” With this, the dialogue seemed ended. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. In this, if nothing else, the Gypsies had been generous. They were excellent cooks, and had no qualms about sharing their fare. Jaan fetched a loaf of brown bread and a flask of some warm drink she had yet to identify. It had a bitter taste and gave her a rush of energy for a few moments after drinking it. Jaan had called it coneffee.
When the meal had vanished into her hungry mouth, the Gypsie took the empty containers away and brought back a blanket that helped stave off that chill that the spell didn’t prevent. He didn’t gag her. They had learned that she was a useless mage without her wand, which Dosh had Palla carry for fear of being burned again. Jaan inquired if she needed anything else, and left silently when she said she didn’t.
“Little witch,” said a voice behind her. Dosh came slowly into view, grinning the whole time until he crouched in front of her. “Clever little word-witch, twisting, twining, turning words to do your bidding.” He knelt before her, his knees on either side of her folded legs. “Yet, for all that,” he mused, “you are a very pretty witch.”
Karenna pressed her back against the tree she was tied to, trying to get as much distance as possible between them. Along with his sour smell, a pulsing fear swamped her.
The mad Gypsie laughed musically. “What, little pretty witch. Are you afraid, afraid, afraid of harmless Dosh?”
“More afraid of crazy Dosh.”
Again the laughter rang out, high and irregular. Without warning, Dosh slapped her viciously. She sat there, too stunned to cry out. “A sharp tongue makes for a sharp pain, little witch,” he sang. And then, again without any warning, he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his cracked lips.
She screamed, but the sound only reverberated through her own mind. She heard Tannar try to move to help her and Elkarn growled. Bite him, snarled the Familiar. Quicker than thought she did so, clamping her teeth down hard, and was rewarded by the sickening taste of blood.
Dosh cried out in surprise and sprang back, droplets of his blood spattering on her face. She didn’t care. Well done, said Tannar’s voice in her mind. Before the shock of hearing the Elementar’s thoughts could hit her, Dosh did. He had, like all Gypsies, a wiry strength hidden beneath his lean appearance, and the blow hurt. But the satisfaction of the space between them soothed the pain.
“Treacherous human witch!” Dosh screamed, his tone courting the higher edges of inaudibility. He lunged at her again. His fingers twisted into her hair and he pulled hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. But Karenna refused to cry out. “I might have been gentle,” he ground out, his voice little more than a whisper in her ear. “I might have been kind, kind, merciful. Not so now.” The room that her attack had won was gone now, and his slender body was all-too-close to hers.
Before he could close the distance, however, he was shoved aside by Jaan crashing into him with all his strength.
The Gypsie camp froze.
Dosh stared at his brother from the leaf-covered ground, gaping as if he couldn’t understand. Jaan was breathing hard, and seemed almost as surprised by his actions as everyone else. He recovered quickly, however. “We are Gypsies,” he said, his breath hanging in the ever-darkening air. “We do not take from a woman what she does not wish to give.”
Slowly, almost stiffly, Dosh stood and drew his rapier, the cold metal rasping on the leather sheath as his voice rasped on Karenna’s ears, “You dare to defy me?”
“I dare to defy any man who would harm the honor of any woman,” replied Jaan. He did not draw his weapon, and the use of the word “man” had escaped neither Karenna’s notice nor Dosh’s.
“I am, I am, I am,” chanted the Gypsie, “I am Governor.” He lunged at Jaan, who sprang out of the way faster than any human could have.
“You may be Governor,” said Jaan, shifting away from another attack, “but you are still a Gypsie. Or did Fakir’s scream drive that out of you as well?”
Dosh’s cry was an unintelligible howl as he dove at his brother, rapier swinging. Still Jaan kept his own sword sheathed as he dodged his brother’s thrusts, moving his lean body with a speed that made Karenna’s mind spin. Finally, inevitably, Dosh landed a glancing blow on Jaan’s leg, slicing through the winter clothes and skin beneath. Jaan gave a strangled cry and went down on one knee, clutching the injured leg to stop the bleeding. Dosh gave a triumphant shout and raised his rapier above his head for the killing blow.
Before Karenna or anyone else could move or speak, Jaan said quietly, “I will scream.”
And again the Gypsie camp froze. Dosh was as rigid as a statue, the tip of his blade wavering not an inch, his eyes wide and unmoving. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered the sword. He staggered back, eyes still large and staring. “I, I…” he faltered. The rapier dropped from his hands and made a clang as it hit the nearly-frozen ground.
And then, suddenly and with such perfect silence that Karenna could not be sure if it were really happening, Dosh began to cry. Thin streams of tears, like liquid silver against his copper-colored skin, ribboned down his cheeks. He made no sound as the sorrow poured noiselessly from his eyes. The teardrops fell from his chin and splashed quietly on the frosty earth.
Jaan rose steadily to his feet, the cut in his leg no longer bleeding. He crossed the two steps to his older brother and paused in front of him. Dosh did not seem to see him, and the tears continued to flow gently from his insane, mismatched eyes, like blood from an open wound. Gently, almost tenderly, Jaan enclosed Dosh in a brotherly embrace. “Harsht firhir, Dosh. Firhir shann lirhirra. Haa lirhaman,” he said, almost singing the Gypsie words.
For an instant, everything was peace. Then Dosh stirred, and pushed Jaan away from him, but not so roughly as to make him fall. “Sleep, sleep, time for sleep,” he chimed, and even though the tears were only now drying on his cheeks his voice didn’t waver at all. He looked around at his unmoving clan. “Sleep!” he screamed, and everyone jumped to obey.
Karenna wondered what they would have done if Jaan had not stopped Dosh with his words. Did they hate conflict so much that they would allow their Governor to kill his own brother? More likely they’re just too afraid of him to risk their own necks yet.
The voice was Tannar’s. Karenna looked at where he sat against a tree, golden bands of magic binding him to it as her ropes bound her. His dark eyes were fixed on her. How is it I can hear your thoughts? she whispered in his mind.
I think it has to do with him, Tannar nodded at Elkarn, who shifted his gaze to the Elementar. I…created him, so to speak, something I’m willing to bet none of my kind has done before. Maybe it has…consequences that no one’s encountered before. My mind to his and his mind to yours, so my mind to yours.
And my mind to Avarn’s, thought Karenna in the private, locked-off part of her psyche that she allowed no one access to.
Like a chain, said Elkarn.
Or a web, replied Tannar.
And Karenna, too tired and exhausted to think of webs and chains and magic, fell asleep leaning against the rough bark of the tree.
I'll have something new up soon (today) everyone, I promise!!!
CURSE YOU SKELL!!!!!
I saw it up in the thread with a 'new' icon next to it and nearly jumped through the roof...
I read this story all through the first time I found it, which was before I joined, and it's half of what made me suddenly decide to join....
/cry
what a letdown.....
*sniff*
~sworddance
awww you still havent posted anymore of the story.
its been ages, *shakes* see withdrawal symptoms.
You are a good author and i want to read mroe of it. please *puppy dog eyes*
ok well i think i have made my point.
Sorry, Fantasyartist. It seems that that kind of thing just happens, people sit down to just read a bit of my story and end up devouring the whole thing. I once gave my manuscript notebooks to a freind for her to have something to read on vacation, and when she got to the end of them (also a cliffhanger) she got so mad that she read the notes in the back and knew the end of the story!
Anyway, I guess it is a sort of compliment...
Wow, I was in a hurry and planning to just scan stuff but when I delved furthur in and found your story, I had to read it all! And now you've made me late!
This. Is. Totally. AMAZING!!!
Seriously, Gyr, you need to get this published. It's great! I don't think there's any mistakes/grammer/typos in here, and anyway if there are, someone else can point them out to you. I'm waiting eagerly for the next bit! And it's at a cliffie! *waves switch-blade menacingly* Put the next bit up soon! And soon . . .
-ST
This just keeps on getting better and better.
Chapter 15
Avarn regained consciousness slowly. His whole body ached with the familiar pain of burns, and his neck felt sore and nearly crushed. For a moment he lay on the cold floor, waiting for the panic to pass before moving. Tannar was hurt, badly. At first he thought that Karoon must have attacked, and fear swelled within him. He fought it down. It wasn’t Karoon. Karoon would not have left the job undone a second time.
Slowly, cautiously, he rose, feeling around himself, unsure where he was. His fingers found the sleek surface of the grand piano, and he worked his way around to the keyboard. From there he took the four halting steps to his chair by the fireplace, which was now cold and empty. He shivered. “Mensha?” The word echoed around the huge, empty stone room.
He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself. His shivering was getting uncontrollable, the cold creeping into his blood. “Mensha?” Without a fire, he knew he would freeze to death. He needed her powers to start one. “Mensha!” he yelled, his voice cracking. Perhaps this was his mother’s plan: let him freeze to death, less guilt for her. He curled up in his chair, piling another blanket atop himself.
Tannar’s mind was floating at the edge of his consciousness. He reached out to it, Please, I need your help. There was nothing. No response, no warmth channeling from the Elementar’s body to his own. Nothing.
His burns still gave pain, but none of the searing heat that had kept him alive while he was unconscious. And now that that pain had faded he noticed a new one in his cheek. Lightly, he traced the course of a scar he hadn’t had a few hours ago. Only a magical weapon could have given Tannar a physical scar that would translate back to Avarn.
Moving stiffly from the cold and phantom wounds, he went to the large wooden chest of drawers and blindly pulled on all the clothes he could manage, trying not to imagine how ridiculous he looked. It probably helped that all his outfits were black. He waddled his way to the fireplace and knelt down, pulling off the two pairs of gloves he was wearing. Gingerly, he ran his bare hands though the ashes, searching for a live coal.
Finally he found one, burning his fingertips but reveling in the hot pain. Carefully, he piled wood shavings and kindling on it, waiting for the small wumph of ignition and smiling when he heard it. Feeling each piece of wood thoroughly for size and dryness, he built up the fire, badly burning his hands. The warmth of the blaze began to fill up the room, seeping through Avarn’s many layers and driving away the cold. He curled up in his chair and dared to sleep, praying silently that the fire would not die down before he awoke.
* * *
Boom had been shot several times with drugged darts. Gypsie magic could no more effect him than human magic could, and so despite Dosh’s harsh commands and smoldering anger, they made camp that night around the giant’s sleeping body. Laroo and Menee, like Karenna, were gagged and bound to separate trees. Mirnar, still in bird form, shifted angrily within the rusty iron cage. Tannar lay where he had fallen, breathing and at least semi-conscious, but making no effort to move. The five soothsayers took shifts binding him with their magic.
Karenna, unable to talk or move much, watched their captors carefully. There were about twenty in the clan, fifteen adults and four or five small children who stayed in the shadows and looked on with fascinated eyes. One of them, a boy with messy brown hair and dark copper skin like the rest of them, marched boldly up to her when he thought no one was looking. He put his grubby face close to hers, his eyes—one purple and one gray—intense. She fought down the instinct to drop her gaze; somehow she knew that trying to hide her eyes would not be a good idea. He stayed there, staring at her, for some time. At length he whispered, “Hisht Cerro, Mu sallahs fle trha, fle Cerro.” He touched two fingers of his right hand to his forehead respectfully and bowed.
“Ragin!”
The boy whirled, squeaked, and fled as a tall, vaguely plump Gypsie woman, presumably his mother, bore down on him. She was ranting away in Gift, and her face was red with the anger of mothers dealing with naughty boys everywhere. Ragin vanished into the trees and the woman paused in front of Karenna. Karenna stared up at her, testing her theory of maintaining eye contact.
The woman glanced around fearfully, touched her forehead as her son had done, and muttered “Hisht Cerro” under her breath. Hisht Cerro. Royal Eyes. She moved off after Ragin.
Laroo, bound to a tree to Karenna’s right, whimpered slightly and tried to get comfortable. They had been forced to sit while the Gypsies tied them, and so things were not as bad as if they had been standing. Karenna wished she could comfort him, but the dirty canvas of the gag blocked any attempt at speech. They needn’t have bothered to gag her. She had been spoiled for spoken spells since she had bought her wand; she knew the words in terms of the energy they produced, not their spoken sounds.
She forced herself to relax as much as the ropes would let her, and despite the adrenaline pumping through her, was soon asleep.
* * *
No sooner had she closed her eyes than Karenna found herself in a dark, cavernous stone room dominated by a sleek black object she had never seen before. Along one rounded wall was a massive fireplace where a fire crackled and smoldered contentedly, filling the cold room with warmth. I must be dreaming, she realized.
Apparently, said a voice at her feet.
She looked down to see Elkarn, sitting on his haunches, watching the fire. He had, in the real world, been put in a cage much like Mirnar’s and set far away from her. So now you’re in my dreams? she demanded.
He glanced up at her. I think this is more than a dream, he said. Look
She looked. There was a large, comfortable-looking chair set by the fire. An indistinct figure slumbered in it. He was covered in layers and layers of black clothing, and two blankets lay atop. She took a few halting steps towards him.
His face was pale, but there were mask-like burn scars over his eyes that ruined what might have been a delicate handsomeness. “Avarn.” She breathed the name.
He shifted, blinked, and looked up at her with well-remembered blue eyes. “Karenna?” he said, his eyes darting back and forth.
And she remembered. She remembered the small, thin boy who had befriended her when no one else would. He had a regal grace and precocious cunning that made the younger children of their village follow him as they would have followed a king. And he had made her his second-in-command, her, the Gypsie-eyed little maverick who refused to braid her hair like a proper girl. She had always used the unbound curtain to shield her eyes. But he had loved her eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered, wishing he could see her. “Yes, it’s me.”
He put out one slender hand slowly, until his thin fingers brushed her cheek. She realized that his hands, too, were burned and discolored. But his touch was gentle. Slowly, tenderly, he ran his fingertips over her face, his unseeing blue eyes staring straight ahead. Then, gently, but so suddenly she couldn’t react, he leaned forward and kissed her.
The dreamscape blurred, the sound and the warmth of the fire fading away. Karenna slipped quietly into the black dreamlessness of true slumber.
* * *
Cerreno strode to the room called CavernLights, which served as the core dining hall, ballroom, and meeting place. The room was huge, with the unseen ceiling towering over forty feet above him. Even with its size, CavernLights was, essentially, a great big stone prison. No Gypsie felt truly comfortable enclosed by walls, but they had found a way around this a long time ago.
So it was that when Cerreno came through the high stone archway and into CavernLights, he walked, not into a cave, but into a snow-covered forest. The trees around him were bare of leaves, but winter had dressed each bough and twig with frost and powdered snow. The sky above was webbed with naked, reaching branches and cobalt blue as a sapphire. It was not as cold as it should have been, though, for there were four great fireplaces—marked by holes in the illusion—that kept the whole Palace as warm as a womb. In the middle of the snowy wood was a large clearing, exactly the size of CavernLights’ floor, set with five huge oak tables and one, smaller, mahogany table set on a dais.
Gypsies buzzed around like bees in a hive, correcting imperfections in the illusion, setting the tables for the first great feast—which would take place three days from now—and tending the fireplaces. No Gypsie really liked fire, but these four hearths had chimneys that stretched and twisted for miles in each of the four directions, carrying the smoke to places where it wouldn’t give away the Palace’s position. If the fireplaces weren’t properly enchanted, CavernLights, and eventually the whole Palace, would fill with smoke.
As Cerreno entered, Nearn, his brother-in-law, came forward to greet him, touching his forehead respectfully. Nearn had remained in the Palace while the king’s clan had visited Pagrin’s manor, in order to oversee the preparations for the Winter Festival. “My king,” said Nearn.
“My brother,” said Cerreno, and he smiled and embraced him. “How goes things here?”
They walked together slowly, Nearn describing the progress that had been made and the short-comings that had to be addressed. Cerreno listened mostly in silence, allowing the younger man to ramble on unhindered. Nearn was a good man and devoted to his king and his people, and this was important for Nearn would most likely be king one day.
If Cerreno died, heirless as he was now, then the closest relative with Royal Eyes would take over. Technically that was Mimoa, his younger sister, but the woman would doubtless leave the running of the kingdom to her husband, and who would object?
As they walked, a small, blonde-haired girl came towards them. This was Laarhana, Mimoa and Nearn’s second and youngest child. While she was thirteen years old she looked barely ten, and was small for her age even by human reckoning. Unlike her older brother Karsh, who had gone with Cerreno to Pagrin’s manor, she had the Royal Eyes, shining bright and brilliant beneath the fair curtain of hair that she left unbound. She touched her forehead as her father had and said, in her soft, serious voice, “Welcome home, dearest uncle.”
Cerreno gathered her up in his arms and hugged her, and she giggled uncharacteristically. He set her down and crouched so he could speak to her face to face. “And how are you, my little gehellah, my golden-head?”
Laarhana’s smile melted. “I’m all right uncle,” she said gravely, “but I don’t think the Gypsie wizard is doing too well.”
“The what?”
“The Gypsie wizard,” Laarhana said again. “She’s not doing so well.”
All traces of joking left Cerreno. Like her mother, Laarhana was an entranced, a type of fate. Fates were a type of mage unique to Gypsies; they could sometimes see the future, or even what was happening miles away. “Where is the Gypsie wizard?” he asked, suddenly very serious. He did not point out that such a person could not exist.
Laarhana’s eyes misted over, and her answer was a barely audible whisper, “With the traitor.” And then she fell like an autumn leaf. Nearn caught her and lifted her in his arms, rocking her and murmuring to her softly.
“I’m sorry, sire,” he said, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was sorry for.
Cerreno shook his head. “No need, my friend. I will ask Kalab about it.”
* * *
Tannar had never been unconscious in his life, and it frightened him. He seemed to hear Avarn’s voice, calling to him from high up and far away, but he couldn’t answer. He saw brief glimpses of Avarn, curled in a chair, with Karenna standing over him. But that wasn’t possible; the two hadn’t seen each other in eight years, and this was his Avarn, the scarred, black-clad young man he had joined to. He saw Avarn lean forward and kiss Karenna tenderly on the lips. A pain, severe and unanticipated, shot through him and he cried out.
And then, for the first time in his life, Tannar awoke.
The sky was gray with predawn and the Forest had not yet roused itself. The air was biting cold, and by now most of the branches were bare.
Boom still slumbered, drugged, where he had fallen the day before; apparently they had not yet discovered how to move him. Tannar could feel the magical bindings that held him down, but only one soothsayer was working the spell now. He could have escaped easily, broken the enchantment and flown like a hawk.
But there was Karenna, roughly tied to a tree in the early morning light. Her clothes were ripped, worn, and muddy, her hair a hopeless tangle. The pain from the …had it been a dream?...returned, harsh and exquisite. He knew he could never leave her. Even if it killed him he would never leave her.
A harsh, grinning face thrust itself into his field of vision. “Good morning little demon, demon, demon,” sang the musical voice of Dosh. Tannar saw where Elkarn had ripped off almost half the Gypsie’s right ear. He knew there was something he liked about that fox. “I’m willing to bet you’ve never slept before; how do you like it? Would you like to try it again?”
Tannar glanced to where Karenna sat, no longer dozing, with a Gypsie holding a rapier to her throat. Dosh’s face split into a wide, menacing smile. “Pretty little witch,” he said. “Witch and demon, witch and demon, which will be the first to die?” Suddenly the enchanted dagger was in his hand again and Tannar could feel the freezing aura of deadly power that surrounded it. “Move the giant, little demon,” Dosh chimed. “Move the giant. I know you can, and don’t think long on escape or mercy.”
The golden bonds around him faded slowly, and Tannar stood. He glanced from Karenna to Dosh and back again. “Better get moving little demon,” whispered Dosh. “I know you’re fast, but fast enough?”
Without a word Tannar turned on his heel and strode towards Boom. The boy blinked slowly as the Elementar touched his forehead. “What…?” he looked around, dazed.
“Don’t move,” said Tannar quietly. “If we try to fight or escape, they’ll kill her.”
Boom’s large, baby blue eyes were fixed on Karenna, and his lips pulled back from his square, white teeth in a snarl as dangerous as a wolf’s. “When we can move,” he whispered, “I get the one with the sword.”
Tannar glanced briefly at the Gypsie in question. “Fair enough. I get the crazy one.”
wow. its amazing I really like it...
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
*
Since words come out of the mouth, maybe: mouthful?
Repetition of ‘breath’ from previous sentence. Try something like: Inhaling deeply...
You’ll come up with a better beginning.
A little unsure here, because it could be either way, shouldn’t think end with a question mark? Perfectly all right the way it is, but I read it as a question.
I’m banning ‘somehow’, ‘sort of’, and ‘kind of’. You know, and I’ve said this a lot to other members, these are used in everyday speech, conversations you would have with friends and it isn’t right to use in writing. Unless it is in dialogue. “Some guy told me,” gives the impression that the speaker probably doesn’t know the ‘guy’ but has met him.
So please take it out, or find a better way to illustrate that Pagrin was glad of the compliment.
‘with’ = which?
‘breath’ = breathe
*
Hello Bird!
Apart from a few typos and such this was another great installment—yay, you have Dosh in it! I get the feeling he may be just a little jealous of Karenna’s eyes and I’m wondering what Cerreno will say when she arrives at the Palace. Her eyes must mean something, whether they are just a spell—as Dosh assumes—or if they are real.
I’m also questioning why they were not able to detect Nadak, he’s human and isn’t it easier to sense them than Gypsies?
-- Myth
Chapter 14
Pagrin watched as the Gypsies packed up their belongings and prepared to leave. Cerreno loaded his black charger in silence, and the gray clouds that covered the sky seemed to reflect the mood of the proceedings. Naasha and Karsh hugged goodbye, and Pagrin noticed uncomfortably that his niece held onto the boy a heartbeat longer than really necessary. The air was cold and the wind bit harshly through furs and cloaks. The long, thick red cape that Cerreno wore flapped like a banner and his black hair lashed around his face like a personal storm-cloud. He hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to the human since Pagrin had seen him on the roof.
The Gypsies took loads on their backs that would have crushed a similar-sized human, and Pagrin had to remind himself that they all possessed the magical ability for this, one of their simplest spells. Remembering the antics of their fair—the fire-breathing, the fortune-telling, the illusions—he wondered, not for the first time, why the Gypsies allowed themselves to be treated like outcasts. True, any human performer with a torch could make it look like he could breathe fire. But no human he knew could roast a whole chicken with only his enchanted breath.
Taking a deep breath, he strode to Cerreno and waited for the tall man to notice him. The Royal Eyes regarded him disinterestedly. “Yes, Pagrin?”
“If it is not too presumptuous, sire,” said Pagrin, feeling very presumptuous indeed, “I was wondering if I might ask a question.”
Cerreno nodded. “You may.”
Pagrin swallowed. “During these past few days, as in every time you have graced my household, I have observed the power of your people.”
The king gestured him to continue.
“And, I was wondering,” Pagrin stammered, feeling as if the mismatched eyes were running him through like a pig for roasting, “why—” he faltered. He couldn’t very well say “Why you let humans treat you like dirt?” or “Why, even though we kill every lone Gypsie we can grab, you prefer to take live captives and treat them well?” Finally, he rallied, “Why, with the power of magic in every one of your people, do you let humans rule this land?”
The king smiled and his eyes instantly softened. Pagrin felt himself sag with relief. Cerreno took his arm in black-gloved fingers and directed him gently away from the scene of packing. “Let us walk together, my friend.”
They strode in silence for a long time, until they came to the solid stone wall that encircled his manor. Cerreno rested a hand on it lightly, at a place where the mortar and stone blocks had begun to crumble. He closed his eyes and murmured something, and when he drew his hand away that part of the wall was as good as new. Pagrin didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for the king to speak.
“There are the obvious answers of course,” said the Gypsie. “Such as our love of the forest, the small number of children our women can safely deliver. But the true answer to your question is two-fold.”
Cerreno’s voice fell into a cadence that Pagrin had often heard from lecturing teachers, “First, it is our very power that restricts us from ruling this continent. We cannot survive without using our magic, but every day thousands of humans manage it. What would we do with a society of which nearly sixty-five percent cannot access the power we need to merely exist?”
“That makes sense,” said Pagrin slowly. He had never thought of it in that light before.
“Secondly,” Cerreno continued, and he gave Pagrin a half-apologetic glance, “we are not Firehearts. When the Elemental Sharon planted a part of his fire in the souls of your ancestors, he cursed you to be always ambitious, always seeking power. Is it not said, ‘To be human is to strive’? My people have no such goals. All we want is to be fed, safe, dry, happy, and surrounded by those we love. Those who are skillful and needed will lead when they must, but for a Gypsie to have delusions of power, to want to rule a clan more than he wants, say, a good night’s meal and the love of his wife, is to be, to us, insane.”
Pagrin felt that he should have been insulted, but Cerreno’s face was open and honest, and Pagrin felt any annoyance melt away. “I understand, sire.”
“Yes,” said the king softly. “I truly believe that you do understand, more than most men I have met. I pray that Dirantyr may someday have more citizens such as you.”
The human noble felt a strange glow of pride stir within him, and somehow Pagrin knew that he had never been given a more sincere compliment. “Thank you, your majesty.”
* * *
They were being tracked; Nadak knew this for a certainty. Just as he was following the small group from behind, a larger number were watching it from all around. For a while, Nadak considered making his move before the leader of the other trackers could interfere with his plans. But then he caught a glimpse of one of the trackers: a long body wrapped in motley clothing, moving silently and expertly through the tree-tops. Gypsies.
After a few days of flying, during with Nadak had almost lost them, the group he followed had settled down to walk. Nadak was glad of this. It meant his target was tired, worn-out, a good state for a wizard he intended to capture. He still hadn’t worked out how to get past the giant and the Elementar, but perhaps the Gypsies would handle that for him. Indeed, after a couple days of watching the forest-dwellers pull closer and closer to his target, he had decided that the Gypsie Governor’s “interference” would turn out the better for him. He could deal with mortals, even magic-wielding mortals, better than he could deal with a spirit of air and water.
And so, with an attitude of controllable impatience, he calmed himself to wait.
* * *
Elkarn was nervous. It had been three days since her birthday, and already Karenna could not imagine life without him. But he fidgeted, he squirmed, and his sparkling little eyes never stayed long on one thing. His behavior put Tannar on edge. “Why won’t he just calm down,” the Elementar muttered under his breath. “Mirnar hasn’t spotted anyone, we’re fine.”
Boom, plodding slowly along behind, said, “We passed the Palace a couple days ago. Gypsie security is always tightest around it; we should have been spotted.”
Mirnar, perched on his shoulder in human form, snorted. “Unless they did spot us and decided we weren’t a threat.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Menee. “Just let humans wander through their land?”
“And why do they have a castle out here in the middle of the Forest?” Laroo demanded. “I thought its location was secret; how could anyone not notice a castle?”
“I never said it was a castle,” snapped Mirnar, herself uptight because of Elkarn’s nervousness. “The Palace is a huge underground cave, or a series of caves, no one’s certain. The Gypsies only ever use it in the winter; they don’t like being cooped up within anything besides trees.”
Karenna remembered her own paralyzing claustrophobia, and shuddered at the thought of low, grimy stone walls all around her and tunnels so small one could barely move through them. She was tired, and a glance into a puddle of standing water told her that the spells had taken their price from her. Her eyes looked sunken, deeper, older, but beyond that she could discern nothing through the mud and hardships of the trail.
She had never been strictly uncomfortably with forests, but every story she had heard about this one made her tense. Elkarn licked her hand. It’ll be all right.
“Then why are you so fidgety?’ she whispered.
I don’t know, just a feeling.
Karenna, her attention on the fox, wasn’t watching her steps. A protruding tree-root tripped her up and she fell, scattering leaf litter. She laughed at herself and began to rise. “Well, that was certainly gracefu—”
Elkarn gave a low, dangerous growl. She looked up to find a rapier-tip at her throat. Time went slow, watery, as it had during the aborted Gypsie raid. She saw Boom falter and crash to the ground before he could even raise a fist; she saw Mirnar, in bird form, screaming a war cry from within a far-too-small iron cage. She saw Laroo and Menee struggling with two taller, stronger men with knives, and Tannar…
Tannar was on his knees in the middle of it all, five chanting figures surrounding him and golden bands of light holding him down like chains.
Time returned in a loud, deafening rush and her wand seemed to leap into her hand. In an instant the Gypsie threatening her was down in a shower of blue and green energy. Karenna rose like a demon, sword in one hand and wand in the other. Her vision was blurred with rage but her body seemed to know what to do: parry, lunge, block, duck, blast! Another Gypsie went down. She had no way of knowing if he was dead or not, and in her current state she didn’t care. She could hear Elkarn’s voice in her mind, as enraged as hers, but before she could take down a third Gypsie, he said, Wait. Look.
She looked. A Gypsie, shorter than the others and with a wide, maniacal smile on his face was holding a broad-bladed dagger to Tannar’s throat. The bands of light curved around him like snakes, squeezing, constricting, choking. One twisted from his left wrist, up his arm, across his chest, around his neck and pressed against his forehead, forcing his head back and his neck exposed. Other bands writhed and tightened all over him, dragging his arms to the ground and forcing him to fight for every breath. Did Elementars need to breath? She didn’t know.
The five softly chanting soothsayers around him had their eyes closed and their right hands stretched out towards him. Sweat stained their foreheads and chests, and she could see that each one was breathing as hard as their captive.
The clearing was silent, a pregnant, waiting silence that seemed outside of time. At length, the Gypsie with the dagger spoke. “I know, know, know your face,” he sang, with barely a trace of an accent. “You were there, you have heard.”
She scowled at him. “Let my friend go,” she said, “or I swear I’ll vaporize every one of you.”
He laughed, a high, musical, intensely unstable sound. Karenna shivered. “Hold your threats, pretty thing,” he said. “See what you have truly accomplished.”
Karenna shot a quick glance behind her. The two Gypsies she had taken down were rising unsteadily to their feet. The second one, who happened to be closest to her, saw her face and gasped. “Hisht Cerro!” he cried, and turned to their leader. “Dosh, she has Royal Eyes.”
“Silence,” the man, Dosh, raged. “It is magic, it is sorcery! You have let your fears delude you, Jaan.”
Jaan glanced at her, a quick, apologetic look. He’s all right, said Elkarn, still on her shoulder. But I’m pretty sure the other one’s insane.
She looked again at Dosh. “Let him go.”
“Let me explain things to you, pretty thing,” he said, his voice changing pitch with almost every word. “The giant is the only one of his kind, we rarely have Werebeast captives, and twins are considered good luck. All these are made safe by their value as prizes. This creature, on the other hand,” he pressed the blade closer to Tannar’s throat, and the Elementar gurgled, “we have no need of. What good is a prize we can barely control? His only value now, his only value, value, value is as a tool to control you.” Dosh shrugged. “But if you continue to resist, pretty thing, it will be clear that there is no controlling you, and therefore no need of a tool to do that.” He smiled again, and there was more in the expression than just the power of a captor.
“Let me talk to him,” Karenna said.
Dosh nodded to one of the soothsayers and the band around Tannar’s throat relaxed, just barely. The Elementar gulped air, and all of a sudden Karenna realized, He’s a water-air being, of course he needs to breath.
“They’re bluffing,” Tannar rasped. “No Gypsie has managed to kill an Elementar yet.”
“Then maybe I’ll be the first,” sang Dosh, happily keeping the blade close.
Tannar ignored him. “No Gypsie has ever brought back an Elementar prize before, either. No way will our host here give up that honor. Trust me,” his eyes were imploring, “if you give in, you’ll become a tool to keep me quiet. He’s got us anyway, but if you willingly give into him, he will press his advantage.”
“Enough,” Dosh snapped, and the band tightened around Tannar’s throat once more. The Elementar’s body twitched as the other bands constricted, and his mouth opened in a silent cry of pain. Dosh smiled amiably at Karenna. “Little lying creature,” he said, as casually as if they were discussing a recipe for bread. “He’s no real mortal like you or me; he doesn’t understand that magic bands and a magic blade can kill him just like they could kill a human.” He giggled, and hopped lightly from foot to foot. “Magic bands and a magic blade,” he chimed. “Magic bonds and magic blade and blood enough to spill.” With a quick, darting movement he drew the sharp edge across Tannar’s left cheek. Even through the crushing pressure he managed a brief groan. Blood began to stream from the wound, but not the thick red liquid Karenna knew as blood. This was a thin, silvery-blue fluid that flowed freely down his dark cheek like tears.
Dosh brandished the bloody dagger. “Made by our best chantiers for such his kind,” he intoned lightly. “It’ll kill him quick as any wand.” He sneered at the length of wood in her left hand. “Give it up, pretty thing. We both know you don’t want this creature dead.”
Karenna made the mistake of looking at Tannar. The blood, thin as it was, had begun to slow and clot, glistening on his face. She knew that he would always have a scar there. He was still gasping for air and his face, his familiar, wry face was contorted in agony. She knew, she knew that what he had said was true, that if she gave in she would become simply a pawn to keep him quiet. The part of her that had blasted those two Gypsies without a thought called for her to fight.
But another part, an unknown but somehow familiar part of her, moved her hands to drop her sword and wand and watch without moving as a Gypsie woman carefully took them from the ground. She offered them gingerly to Dosh, who sneered knowingly at her. “Pretty Palla,” he chimed. “Pretty Palla thinks I’m mad, thinks I’m mad, mad, mad as a hare in spring.” His hand darted out and took the sword, holding it out in front of him and admiring the steel. His other hand sheathed the knife and reached to snatch the wand. He sprang back, screaming, waving the free hand wildly. “Burning, burning, burning!” he cried. “Treacherous human witch!”
Suddenly he was there, right in front of her, his variegated eyes blazing. He was only a little taller than she, but he loomed as effectively as Boom ever had. She scrambled back but he advanced with her until her back was pressed against a tree. She felt the bow and quiver strapped to her back and remembered them for the first time, but dared not draw them. Elkarn, on her shoulder, made warning noises in his throat, but Dosh took no notice. His lips were dry and cracked and the sickening sour smell of his breath swamped her. “Treacherous human witch,” he ground, his face inches from hers. “Drop the spell that hides your eyes.”
Elkarn bit him, hard, in the ear. Dosh screamed again and lurched backwards, the fox dangling but holding on for all he was worth. The Gypsie grabbed the angry cub and flung him away, apparently not noticing that Elkarn had taken most of his right earlobe with him. Dosh didn’t waste time on the Familiar, though. He slapped Karenna, hard, his own blood leaving a red handprint on her cheek.
Tannar surged forward, several of the golden bands snapping and two of the five Gypsie soothsayers dropping unconscious. Dosh spun and let fly a spell. The Elementar screamed as his body was consumed by a blue-hot fire. All the bands had vanished and his back arched in pain, his screams ringing out through the cold air. Suddenly the fire and the screams cut off and Tannar dropped in a heap to the forest floor. His human form seemed to crumple, like paper turning to ashes in a fireplace, and the long-limbed, translucent-winged Elementar lay there, breathing hard and not trying to rise.
It had all happened too fast for Karenna to move, let alone help. Her cheek stung from Dosh’s slap, and her ears rang with the reverberations of Tannar’s screams. Before she could recover enough to let her anger overcome her caution, she felt wiry Gypsie hands gag her tight against any spells and tie her wrists together behind her back.
Dosh was swaying unsteadily. The energy needed to drop even a weakened Elementar might have killed an average human mage. Karenna wished it had killed him. As she watched, Dosh’s eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled silently into the arms of the Gypsie called Jaan. Jaan held his Governor gently and whispered a spell. Dosh’s eyelids flickered, and he managed to stand upright.
His eyes opened fully and fixed on Karenna. “Move them out,” he rasped, all music gone from his voice. “We make for the Palace.”
and the great writing continues. I love your work. if you write this book to the end i really think you could get it published. But be sure not to post the entire thing on young writers or no one would need to buy it.
I only wish that you could write it as fast as i read it. good luck with the next chapter.
Skell
I'm amazed. I printed of a copy and read through it, I couldn't put it down!
I want more! I want to find out what happens next!!
Its a fantastic story.
I also took 2 minutes to make a cover for my printed out version.
See it here:
http://s133.photobucket.com/albums/q52/ ... ieEyes.gif
hope you all like it....
I've read you're story up to about chapter 10 and I love it! I can't wait to read the rest!
I haven't really got anything to say on grammer and the like, cause that doesn't really matter to me. If I read something and I like it, that's pretty much all that matters to me!!
Keep on writing this story, I'm thouroughly enjoying reading it!!
You know that this is great, don't you? Absolutely awesome, in fact.
Quote
The weightless spell didn’t work on him; since his little growth spurt he had been immune to the spells of all wizards.
Quote
Don’t’ be an idiot, Tannar.
You have two apostrophes up there.
Quote
“I can’t mother.
Comma there.
Quote
I will fight you mother.”
Comm there.
Anyways, awesome again. Read the whole thing, and now I kind of wish that I didn't read it so fast. I hope that you will post more soon...
-elein
I seem to have forgotten some parts of the earlier story, I'll go to reading it and if I find anything I'll point it out.
I loved it! each charater is well developed and has a depth that gets the readers hooked. I like that you introduced more than 1 main character. Another thing i like is the mystery and suspition that eveyone feels all the time. It makes you think what is going to happen. I will definatly want to read more of this story.
Yay! bird has edited, bird is happy.
Myth: yeah, about Vishna......she has some.........."problems". she's not really all okay in the mental realm if you know what I'm saying. Oh, and by the way, I go to lengths at the beginning of the story (see prologue) to clarify that Vishna's (late) husband is NOT Avarn's father. NOT. very important, that.
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
*
Was that meant to be ‘bushy’?
Birthday should not be capitalised.
Lol, ‘gangly’ is not the right word to use here. Maybe you could do without describing it at all: She scrambled up, the cub coiled into a ball and rolled down to the ground.
The comma should be a question mark.
There is nothing wrong with the sentence but try: He’s the one who remembered your birthday.
Just a suggestion so you really don’t have to change it.
Up to this point you’ve used ‘small’ quite often, here it is unnecessary.
Eek, makes Tannar sound like an old man wanting some praise XD
I don’t know why but ‘unafraid’ doesn’t really flow. Try: boldly?
Sounds like you’ve changed the tense from past to present. And, after reading my kid siblings work and fretting over tense changes, I’ll poke you next time
Maybe: Karenna had battled Gypsie mages and survived an attack from a fire Elementar(?), but she was still just a girl, for all her eighteen years. Anything furry and cuddly could still melt butter(?).
Well, something like that anyway. Or you can always change the ‘melt butter’ phase and make your own one up to suit your world.
Who made war against the Elementars? Nemekar or his son? I wasn’t too sure, I thought it was Nemekar at first then you mentioned his son so I thought it was the son.
Tannar hummed behind her?
Comma after ‘view’.
Wouldn’t that be... unhygienic?
I think it would be easier to call Laroo and Menee ‘the twins’, so you don’t have to mention their names all the time, unless you talk about them individually.
By now the reader knows that Gypsies have miss-matched eyes. Put it simply: blue and grey eyes.
‘the’ = they
Take these out, if Karsh lifts her right hand to smell the oranges then you’ll know she is holding Naasha with her left hand.
‘hear’ = ear
Dear Lord, his own mother insults him in that way?
‘beat’ = beaten
‘he’ = she
What did you mean by ‘It came out like ice’? His anger, since you used hot’ would be like a roaring fire, right?
‘only who’ = only one who
*
The story of Nemekar and his son is interesting, the history is becoming clearer and I think I’m beginning to understand why Vishna’s Elementar might hate Avarn so much.
I had never though Vishna would hurt her son, she is cold but I didn’t think it was something she would do even in anger. And yet Avarn still wants to give her the chance to be a mother. And he’s blind, she still lashes out. You mentioned ‘her late husband’, wasn’t this dead husband Avarn’s father?
Last thing, how does Karenna’s Familiar know about Nemekar, etc? Did the spell also inform him of details or did Tannar put on a different ‘informative’ spell? Or is it something that he just knows and can’t explain how he comes to know it?
Enough questions for now. I especially liked the orange-smelling ring, wish I had one
-- Myth
Chapter 13
Karenna awoke to feel an extra few pounds of weight resting on her stomach. She looked, and saw a half-matured fox cub curled up on her tummy, sleeping peacefully. Its fur was reddish-brown, its four paws and bushy tail-tip black as if they had been dipped in paint. As she slowly shifted position, it yawned, displaying a pink tongue and two rows of small sharp white teeth. She stopped moving. It regarded her with unusually intelligent dark eyes. Happy birthday?
She scrambled up, the lanky cub falling from her stomach to the ground. The others were still sleeping, and Tannar was nowhere to be seen. The fox sat on the ground, looking up at her reproachfully. It yapped. There was no reason to do that.
Finally her brain caught up with her alarm. “Are you…talking to me?”
The fox blinked. I think so. Sort of.
This time she heard the barely suppressed snicker from behind her and whirled. Tannar was standing there, trying to hide a smile and failing miserably. “Happy Birthday?” he said.
“What kind of game are you playing?” she growled.
“Meet your birthday present.”
Karenna looked back at the fox who, she could have sworn, smiled at her. “What are you?” she demanded.
“I believe the term is ‘Familiar,’” said Tannar.
She scoffed. “Wizards haven’t had Familiars for about a hundred years.”
Um, excuse me. The fox took a step forward. He was small for his kind, even as a cub she could tell he wouldn’t grow much larger.
“Yes,” said Karenna.
The fox sat down, pointing its muzzle up at her. I understand you’re annoyed. But I like you.
Karenna examined the little fox. “What’s your name?”
“You can hear him?” asked Tannar.
“Yes, can’t you?”
He was grinning with pride. “It worked,” he said. “It really worked.”
“You mean there’s some sort of spell to create Familiars?”
Tannar nodded. “Avarn gave it to me. He's the one who remembered your birthday.”
Karenna felt a surprising glow of happiness. Even she had forgotten. “Tell him thank you for me, will you?”
“I did all the work,” clarified Tannar huffily.
She turned back to the fox. “What is your name?”
Don’t have one. Why would I?
She bent down cautiously. He trotted boldly into her arms and she lifted him, snuggling his matted fur to her face. He whined a little and licked her chin. Karenna had battled Gypsie mages and survived the attack of a fire Elemental, but, for all her eighteen years, she was still a girl. Anything furry and cuddly could melt her. “What shall I call you?” she sang softly.
He was still for awhile, as if thinking. What about Elkarn? That was the name of Nemekar’s Familiar, wasn’t it?
She started and held him out at arm’s length. Nemekar. He was the first wizard to make a wand, the first to take a Familiar, it was even said that his son was the first magician. Nemekar had made war upon Tannar’s people. A legend. His Familiar, Elkarn, had been a black wolf, a fierce and wise creature with little resemblance to the scrawny fox before her. “How do you know of Nemekar and Elkarn?”
The little fox, his back legs dangling, seemed to shrug. I don’t know. I’ve only been a Familiar for a few hours, it’ll take me awhile to get up to speed.
Despite herself, Karenna smiled. “Elkarn it shall be then.”
Tannar made a hmmm noise behind her. “A tad ambitious, isn’t it? Naming your Familiar after the greatest?”
She shot him a look. “His choice, not mine.”
Karenna brought Elkarn close to her again, and he managed to balance himself on her left shoulder without digging his claws in. Nice view he commented.
The twins, when they awoke, fell instantly in love with the creature. While they couldn’t hear him as Karenna could, they were no less immune to the charm of something soft. But they learned, very quickly, that Elkarn did not like to be cuddled by anyone but Karenna. He bit Laroo’s hand, not hard, but enough to draw blood. The twin stuck the injured fingers in his mouth and stared nervously at the animal. Karenna apologized for him and placed Elkarn back on her shoulder. Boom, wiser to the ways of forest creatures than the twins, didn’t try to hold the Familiar, but ran one huge finger gently down the fox’s spine in a friendly caress. Elkarn seemed to approve of the giant. Mirnar was the only one he more than approved of, even staying calm in her arms for several moments before fidgeting. His acceptance of the Wereeagle gave Karenna confidence in her choice to allow Mirnar to travel with them.
That day they moved slowly along the forest floor. The constant effort of the weightlessness spell had wearied her, and she was grateful for the slow-moving pace of walking. Boom carried her and Elkarn most of the day, and she dozed in his arms as the Familiar kept a keen eye out for trouble.
* * *
Karsh and Naasha dashed, hand in hand, among the brightly colored tents and lanterns of the Gypsie fair. Naasha spotted two jugglers and laughed, pulling Karsh to a halt in order to watch them. They passed nearly fifteen balls between them with such speed that the balls became blurring lines of movement, forming pictures and patterns in the air between the Gypsies. The balls also changed color as they flew, exhibiting the magic that the jugglers—indeed all the performers—used without inhibition. In the middle of his routine, one of the jugglers snatched a ball out of the pattern and tossed it expertly to Naasha with a wink. She squealed with delight and caught it, to discover that it was a plump and juicy orange, such as only grew in the orchards of Simaron across the sea. Karsh grinned to see her eyes go wide and gave a nod of thanks to the juggler.
Naasha had only brought a few coins to the fair, but she dropped most of them into the handsomely carved wooden bowl that rested before the jugglers, smiling brighter than the sun. Karsh put his thin arm through hers and grinned, leading her away from the jugglers. She went with him, but gave a farewell wave to the one who had given her the orange.
The Gypsie and human child found a secluded spot to peel and share the orange. Naasha savored each delicious bite, leaning against the taunt canvas of the tent they hid behind and smiling. Karsh watched her with his blue and gray eyes. “I don’t know how you do it!” Naasha explained once the fruit was well and truly devoured. “All your people are so amazing!”
Karsh felt a strange, awkward glow of pleasure at her words. “Oh, it’s not much,” he mumbled.
“Of course it is!” Naasha exclaimed. “I wish I were a mage.”
The Gypsie boy looked at his hands, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Like his father, Nearn, husband to the king’s sister, he was a chantier, able to create such magical trinkets as talismans and amulets and crystal balls. Crystal balls were a bit beyond him yet, but he was good at charging simple bits of jewelry with basic magic. Naasha wore a plain copper ring around her right pinkie. “May I see that?” he asked, pointing to the ring.
She worked it off immediately and handed it to him. He held it flat in his palm and concentrated as hard as he could. Presently the metal began to glow with warmth, with the magic pouring into it. It wasn’t much, hardly anything really, but he hoped it would make her happy.
He took it and slid it back onto her finger. “Smell it,” he said.
Naasha looked at him quizzically, but raised that hand to her nose and sniffed. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and pounced on him, hugging him tightly. “Oranges! It smells just like a whole orchard full of them!”
Karsh, embarrassed, embraced her back. This was how it should be between Gypsies and humans, he thought. Look how well we can get along.
She pulled back from him suddenly and pressed her ear to the tent behind her. “Listen,” she said, putting a quieting finger to her lips.
He came up next to her and mimicked her position. There was a voice inside the tent, falling and rising with the force of a story. Karsh smiled. That would be Barshno, the king’s herbalist and practically his adopted uncle. The old Gypsie had a knack for tale-telling; Karsh had grown up listening to Barshno’s legends and stories and fables. This was a well-known story to him, but apparently Naasha had never heard it before.
“And Nemekar wept for Karem, his son, who had been killed in an instant, without thought, by the leader of the Elementar delegation.” It was the tale of when Nemekar, weary of the war he had made on the Elementars, had called a parley. At the talks, one of the Elementars had made a snide remark about Nemekar and the wizard’s only son, Karem, had stepped forward and defended his father’s honor in the Elementar’s own language, rebuking and binding him. Without meaning to, Karem had become the first magician, the first to bind an immortal spirit to a mortal mage. In the shocked moment that followed, the leader of the Elementar side had killed the boy in a rage, and of course the bound Elementar had perished as well.
The war had, of course, not ended there. It had worsened and thickened, boiling like stew left too long over the fire. “And many Elementars fell to Nemekar’s wand that day, for in his fury he became as two wizards, and his Familiar, Elkarn, rent the spirits with his iron jaws and claws of sharpened steel. That was the day the Elementars still call the Day of Fire and Blood, or Kareemone, in their own tongue.”
There was a pause and the rustling of robes, most likely as Barshno shifted position, pretending not to notice the audience who leaned forward, their ears hungry for more. “To this day, the Elementars still observe Kareemone as a day as mourning, though no mortal can now remember the time of this date. It is said that any magician who tries to bind an Elementar on Kareemone will find himself trapped in the power of that first bound Elementar, whose leader killed him by accident when he slew the boy Karem. And it is said that you can hear the screams of these foolish magicians when the wind blows neither from the north, west, east, or south, but still blows with the force of a gale.”
It was here that the story ended, and Naasha, after straining to make sure there wasn’t more that she was missing, eased back from the tent, no longer smiling. Karsh noted her expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Naasha wrapped her arms around her knees. “We humans seem to cause nothing but trouble,” she whispered. “The pain we caused the Elementars, the pain our magicians still cause them when the bind them. The pain we cause your people. I wish I were something other than human, you must hate me.”
Karsh had never heard her speak this way. He put a hand on her arm. “No, Naasha,” he said earnestly. “Of course I don’t hate you. It wasn’t anything you did. It’s nothing you can change, anyway.”
The girl sniffled and wiped her nose, but smiled at him. “I suppose so.”
“Of course,” said Karsh again, and helped her to her feet. “Come on, they’ll be serving dinner soon.”
Naasha smiled at this and took his hand in hers, raising her right hand to inhale the smell of oranges as they walked back along the fair towards the manor.
* * *
The slap shocked Avarn out of a light sleep. He moved back instinctively, stumbled over something and fell hard on the stone floor. He heard booted feet stride towards him and scrambled back until he came to the wall. The footfalls stopped and he could feel someone standing over him. A hand reached down, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and hauled him roughly to his feet.
“Do you know what you are?” hissed Vishna’s voice in his ear. He could feel her unbound hair brush his cheek.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” said Avarn calmly.
She slammed him against the wall. “You are an ungrateful, conniving, lying little bastard.”
His head rung with the impact but he didn’t try to resist her. “You have only yourself to blame for that last bit.”
She slammed him again and his grip on consciousness slipped. He forced himself to remain alert; he could not remember the last time she had been so angry. Her temper must have a cause. “Do you know what you’ve done!” she screamed.
His pounding head prevented him from further wit; he remained silent.
“You have sent Nemekar’s Wand into the Gypsies’ Forest!” she roared, spittle hitting his face.
He froze, his whole body going stiff. Surely she must be mistaken, surely there must be some error. Nemekar’s Wand was a fable, more mythic than the wizard himself. Before it wands had been only a theory; all human wizards had used spoken spells to do their work. Nemekar’s Wand was the first. And now Karenna had it.
Avarn shoved the thought away; that was impossible, impossible. Tannar would have felt it, would have sensed its power, surely Tannar could never be so blind. Never be so blind as Avarn. “That’s impossible,” he said breathlessly.
She tried to slam him again but he grabbed her hand and tore it away from his collar. She wouldn’t let go, and he felt his shirt rip as he forced her hand away. Finally she released him and he overbalanced, fell. One foot kicked out, connected. He curled into a ball, shielding his head.
“You meddling little rat,” she shrieked. “You could never keep your grubby fingers out of my business! You could never just let—me—do—what—I—want!” Her words were emphasized with more kicks, each more vicious than the last. Avarn flailed out blindly with his legs, trying to trip his mother up. Finally he felt one of his feet connect and heard her fall with a squawk.
Quickly he rose and stumbled back away from her, limping slightly. He stopped once he was sure that the piano was between them. Only then did his mind catch up with him. Forget her claim about the wand, that was absurd. She had never beat him before. She had slapped him occasionally when he had been pert, but she had never laid a hand on him beyond that.
He heard her sobbing now, weeping where she had fallen. He stayed behind the piano. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded angrily. His body hurt, ached from where she had kicked him. He had never been strong, had always been frail, she knew that. Avarn could feel fury, hot and potent, rise within him. It came out like ice. “You took me away from the only one who had ever shown me kindness,” he said, his voice cold and stinging. “You thought you could be a mother, and up to this point I was willing to let you try.”
She was still sobbing. She didn’t answer.
Avarn suppressed the urge to rant, to list all the things she had done to hurt him. It would do no good, he knew that. He knew her. With as much aloofness as he could muster, he said, “What do you think you’re doing, coming here like this? What have I done?”
“You,” she said shakily, “you ruined everything. He—” Avarn knew she was speaking of her late husband “—he would have made me famous. We would have changed history together.”
Avarn’s voice had chilled beyond ice. “You would have destroyed history.”
“What do you know of it!” Vishna shrieked, still crying. “What can you know of the plans of those wiser and stronger than you! Would that I had the strength to kill you, or let my slaves do it for me but I cannot. I cannot be free of your meddling, of your traitorous plans; this damnable motherhood in my heart won’t let me.” She had stopped her weeping, and he had the uncomfortable sense that she was staring at him. “Stay out of my way, Avarn,” she rasped.
He shook his head, “I can’t mother. I can’t let you continue any more than you can have me murdered. I will fight you mother.” He sighed, fully aware of what this oath would yet cost him. “To my last breath, I swear I will fight you.”
Yay! A new fan!
I hope to be posting more soon--look for the next chapter before the end of the week.
Myth: *shame* I'm sorry!!!! I will get to work integrating your marvolous catches SOON!
WOW, I just read the story from chapter one to twelve. That is a great piece of writing, you have written it to perfection, apart from the mistakes that Myth pointed out it was brilliant.
The characters are so real you have there personalities constant throughout the story. I really cannot wait for the next chapter. You have earned yourself a dedicated reader. Seriously I have been glued to my computer screen, and now its like 1:30 am, so my compliments of your work are a bit sluggish. But still brilliant work. Hope to read the next chapter soon.
Skell
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
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Minor typo: ‘ways’ = way
I think you’ve moved into the present tense with ‘here’, you could have ‘there’ instead?
*chuckles* I can just about imagine the twins trying this out to check if Karenna would really bounce back up.
No idea what that means.
‘bellow’ = below I think you’ve done this before
That’s um... a little weird, also I think I’m glad that you’ve not gone for the “I’m not a loony,” routine.
That was disgusting, even though I was just reading it the thought was enough to make me feel sick.
*
I especially loved the Tannar/Avarn scene, Tannar never ceases to give up his slightly cocky tone.
And Nadak sounds interesting, his strange scar ‘curse’ of course brings forth questions such as “Why does it happen?” and “Will he ever get rid of this ‘curse’?”
I don’t really have much else to say, expect Dosh is, now, probably my favourite character. Crazy talk and his insisting on being called Governor, he simply won’t give up on his title and role as clan leader even though he knows it is against the king’s wishes.
One other thing, will the reader find out why the humans and Gypsies have an ‘agreement’?
-- Myth
Chapter 12
Pagrin stood on the battlements of the stone wall that surrounded his home, watching the colorful trail of Gypsies wind through the gates and into his main courtyard. He was painfully aware that he was the closest thing to an ambassador to the Gypsies that the Dirantyri government had. Every fall, before the Winter Festival, the king’s own clan would visit his manor to put on a fair for his household and the commoners who worked the land around it. They had an arrangement.
Pagrin charged them no rent for the use of his land and, more importantly, made sure his people didn’t cause trouble with the clan. In return, all the little valuables that the humans might be careless with during the course of the fair were still with their owners when the Gypsies left, and Cerreno was strict that none of his people gave cause for human violence. That was not to say that skirmishes and the occasional fistfight didn’t erupt, but humans were a lot more wary of Gypsies in numbers and in the flesh than they were of the tall, patch-work-clothed fools of Dirantyri propaganda.
Now the human noble could see the king’s great black horse approaching at the end of the line. As a rule Gypsies disliked horses, seeing the beasts as unfit to move through the dense forest they called home. But every Gypsie king for the past hundred years had owned a black charger. Some said it was the same horse, magicked into immortality, passed down from generation to generation. Pagrin didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.
Cerreno raised a hand in greeting when he was still a good way off. Pagrin returned the salute. His niece, Naasha, a girl of thirteen, had been watching the Gypsies enter below with him. Now she squealed in delight and darted down the stairs and into the courtyard, where most of the Gypsies were assembling. She pounced on a young, dark-haired boy about her age but much taller, and the two embraced like old friends. Pagrin smiled. That would be Karsh, the king’s nephew and a shy boy. Karsh and Naasha had been friends for as long as Pagrin could remember.
Now the king himself entered and the gates were closed behind him. Pagrin descended the stairs calmly until he stood before the king, holding the mane of his horse in one hand. Gypsies did not believe in saddles or bridles.
Pagrin bowed low—royalty was royalty—and said, “You grace my household by your presence, King Cerreno.”
The Gypsie looked down at him, rather far down, for Pagrin was short by even human standards and Cerreno stood nearly seven feet tall. He smiled, a wide genuine smile with nothing of the politician about it. “You welcome myself and my people most graciously, Gantos Pagrin. We always know that we will find nothing but hospitality and honesty when we come here.”
It was amazing, thought Pagrin, how the king could make such sincere thanks sound like a threat. “Of course, sire,” he said. “You and your people are always welcome here.” So long, he thought, as you stick to our arrangement and keep the unofficial war between our peoples outside these walls.
Cerreno smiled as if he had read the man’s mind. Pagrin was fully aware that this was a possibility; the king was one of the most powerful soothsayers alive. With that happy thought, Pagrin escorted the King of the Gypsies into his manor.
* * *
On the fifth day after the burning of the Academe, Shana Liam spoke quietly with a man at the edge of the Gypsies’ Forest. “The pay is more than fair,” she hissed angrily, holding a small but heavy black bag in one gloved hand.
“The pay is not the problem,” he said, his voice young but harsh and gravely.
“You’re supposed to be the greatest warrior and tracker for hire; I fail to see the problem.”
The man growled and gestured with a scarred hand at the looming Forest. “That’s the problem. Five days head start is the problem. Gypsies armed to the teeth and out for human prizes is the problem.”
Shana scoffed. “The wizard Ekano himself chose you to be his escort to the Academe, and you’re afraid of a few forest nomads?”
He took a threatening step forward. “I am afraid,” he grated, “of no one.”
She didn’t move, but stared defiantly up at his cutting-board of a face. “I’ll add half again to the price, but that’s all. Half of the total now and half when you finish.”
He stood as if considering, then nodded. “Fair.”
Shana smiled and handed him the bag. As he turned to enter the Forest, she said, “Dead or alive, Nadak, don’t forget.”
* * *
Karenna was growing very sick of the Forest. Mirnar had described to her how the Gypsie clans managed to move through the trees, and she was by now determined to give it a try. So here she stood, on a thick branch over ten feet from the ground, staring determinedly at another branch about seven feet away. Mirnar was perched in bird form beside her, a beautiful honey-gold eagle with red pinions and tail-feathers, and jet black beak and talons. The Wereeagle was here merely as moral support. Boom was lying down below her to provide a soft landing should she fail.
One of the simplest and most common spells the Gypsies used was a weightlessness enchantment. It allowed them to carry far greater loads than should be possible, an important asset for a nomadic people who carted their livelihoods on their backs.
They also used such spells on themselves, to make possible their above-ground movement through the forest. Used on living beings, the spell’s effects weren’t permanent, but lasted about five hours. Karenna had just worked the spell on herself, and if she was successful she would work it on the twins as well. Even without wings, Tannar needed no help to defy gravity, and Mirnar, of course, could keep up. Boom was going to present problems, but Karenna would deal with those when they came.
Now she took a deep breath, crouched, and leapt. For a single, terrifying moment her feet and hands were resting on nothing and she seemed to hang in the air just waiting to fall. Then the magic took her and she glided serenely in the direction she had jumped, stopping as her feet hit the desired branch and her hands gripped the trunk tightly.
A wide, unstoppable smile split her face. Again she jumped, and landed back on the branch she had come from. It felt wonderful. She was tired, and could feel the magic taking its toll on her youth, but it was well worth it. She stepped out over empty air and began to drift slowly down, like one of the many falling leaves around her. Then a chill breeze caught her and the leaves both and sent the many-colored flecks dancing.
It slammed her against a tree.
“Why look at that,” came Tannar’s voice from below, “a floating wizard.”
Karenna dropped, undignified, to the ground, rubbing the arm that had taken the brunt of the tree. Laroo and Menee rushed to her, talking excitedly at the same time. “That was amazing!” “You really flew!” “I want to try it!” “I want to fly!”
Tannar stood apart, a face-splitting smirk speaking for him. Mirnar landed next to her and changed. She was grinning as usual. “It’ll take a good deal of practice, but you’ll get the hang of it.
Karenna smiled at the twins. “Yes, all right, calm down,” she ordered. “You’ll both get to try it.”
A few moments later the two of them were bobbing from tree to tree and ground to branch, whooping and yelling with delight. “Shut up!” Mirnar berated them. “Do you want every Gypsie from here to the mountains to hear you?” They bobbed more quietly.
This still left the problem of Boom. The weightless spell didn’t work on him; since his little growth spurt he had been immune to the spells of all wizards. Even if the ground had been cleared of all obstructions, the giant’s plodding pace couldn’t have hoped to keep up with the flyers.
Finally, Tannar sighed and stepped forward. He placed his hands on the giant’s back, as high as he could reach, and closed his eyes. Boom and Tannar floated gently off the ground, hovering in the small space that was free of both underbrush and tree branches. Slowly Boom’s body rotated, until he was lying on his belly in the air. His face was less than a foot from the clawing undergrowth. Tannar sat, cross-legged, on the boy’s back, his eyes open and gleaming faintly blue. His arms were extended straight at his sides, his hands still flat against Boom’s shoulder blades. Karenna could feel the familiar tingle of the Elementar’s magic. Boom was smiling just as widely as the being riding him. He turned his head to examine one massive hand. “I’m flying,” he told Karenna.
She looked accusingly at Tannar. “If you could do that the whole time,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, “why didn’t you save us the trouble?”
He shrugged. “You seemed to be having so much fun.”
* * *
Pagrin was not sure what he thought of the Gypsie King. Most of the time Cerreno acted like a king should: regal and graceful, as if he knew how much power he wielded. But sometimes, with his own people…
Pagrin was fairly sure a king shouldn’t juggle. Or let children ride around clinging to his legs. Or give crying babies wet raspberries to cheer them up. His people loved him, that was clear. But Pagrin was sure that if his own king had asked for his help in a food fight against a mob of Gypsie and human kids, he would have fainted. And yet Pagrin was still digging pudding out of one ear. Strange.
He thought all this as he climbed the wide spiral staircase to his bedroom. Pagrin’s chambers were in the tallest tower of his small castle. The tower also served as a lookout point and had a flat roof with a waist-high stone wall ringing it. It was a clear night, and Pagrin had a fancy to see the stars before going to bed. He climbed up the little ladder through the trapdoor in his ceiling, and froze before he was halfway out.
Cerreno was standing at the wall, looking out over the nearby Gypsie forest. His back was to the trapdoor, and at first Pagrin thought the king was simply pinning for his home among the trees. Then the wind shifted, and Pagrin could hear that Cerreno was singing softly in his native language. Pagrin, one of the few humans fluent in Gift, recognized it as a lullaby.
“Little one, little lovely eyes
Tiny feet and tiny hands
You reach for me as I sing my song
I sing my song for you
My little one.”
The king’s smooth tenor voice carried a deep sorrow that pulled at Pagrin’s heart.
“Little one, such a little life
Tiny ears and tiny nose
You seem to sing it back to me
You sing my song for me
My little one.
Little one, such a little time
To tell you all you need to know
How I love you, little one
I’d give my life for you,
My little one.”
Pagrin tried to withdraw quietly, but the trapdoor creaked treacherously. Cerreno turned to face him, not like a thief caught in the act, which was how Pagrin would have reacted, but like a tired man who has been interrupted during his few moments of rest. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like a cat’s, the right one all the more bright against the black diamond tattoo over that eye. “What is it you want, Pagrin?” As if this were his castle and Pagrin the foreign guest.
But no superior remarks came to mind. “I…” he faltered. Those eyes were disconcerting enough in daylight; in the dark they were positively eerie. “I just came up to see the stars.”
Cerreno glanced upwards. So did Pagrin. There were the stars.
“You’ve seen them,” said the King, weary but not because of Pagrin. “Good night, my friend.”
Since there seemed to be nothing else to say, Pagrin said “Goodnight.” He went down the ladder, dressed for bed, and lay awake most of the night, listening for Cerreno to descend. He didn’t. The next morning, when he checked, the King of the Gypsies was no longer on his roof.
* * *
Dosh stood out under the dark shadows of the trees, his back to the low stone slope of the Palace. He knew that, scattered around him, were the members of his clan. But they didn’t matter. He was still alone. The echo of his brother’s death scream still reverberated within his skull, sometimes louder and sometimes softer, but always there. In Dosh’s mind was fixed the image of the man who had killed him, the wizard in the black robes. I’m going to kill him, he thought. Kill, kill, kill and hear him scream. Hear him scream and cry out and Fakir’s scream will go go go away.
Dosh knew he was crazy. He was quite comfortable with the fact.
Out of the shadows to his left came Palla, one of the three unmarried girls in his clan. Gypsie women were never much for excessive modesty, and Palla was beautiful enough to justify her outfit. As with all his clan, Dosh made her kneel before him before speaking. “Governor,” she said softly, using the traditional title for a clan leader. Dosh would not answer to anything else. He let her stay down for a few moments, enjoying the sight of her, and then signaled that she could rise.
As she spoke, she kept her head down. Dosh would not allow any of his clan to meet his eyes. “Governor, we are hearing rumors of a party of humans traveling in the Forest. They have with them the giant-child Boom, and three are dressed in the uniform of the Academe.”
He hissed. “What is being done to capture them?”
Palla shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing, Governor. They are being careful not to come close to the Palace and are heading for the mountains; the king has decreed they are not a threat.”
Dosh barked a laugh. “No threat! No threat! What of vengeance? What of honor? What of prizes for this our glorious festival?”
She winced at his angry words. Dosh laughed again and shoved his face close to hers, his harsh, foul-smelling breath brushing her cheek. “You do not believe they are no threat, do you Palla?”
The girl tried desperately not to meet his eyes as her own filled with tears. “Of course they are a threat, Governor.”
He watched as a thin stream of tears ribboned down her cheek. He chuckled. “Why Palla,” he said, suddenly all concern, “you’re crying.” Without warning he licked her cheek, wiping away the tears with his rough tongue. She flinched. “Gather my clan, Palla,” he rasped, his voice now low and menacing. “We move to collect these trespassers.”
* * *
It’s her birthday tomorrow.
Tannar and Avarn were having one of their rare conversations as the Elementar stood at the edge of his group’s little clearing. It was the middle of the night, but his eyes were several orders of magnitude more powerful than human’s. Your memory scares me sometimes, thought Tannar back to him. You only knew the girl a few years and it’s been, what, eight since you saw her last and you still remember her birthday? I thought she was adopted.
Technically, it’s her Found Day tomorrow, thought Avarn. Same thing.
So, what, you want me to get her a present?
If it’s not too much trouble.
Tannar snorted mentally. Sure, why don’t I just go to the nearest candy shop and get her some peppermint?
She hates peppermint.
Of course.
Avarn’s voice became slightly more serious. I was actually thinking of something else.
Tannar spread his hands helplessly even though he knew that Avarn couldn’t see him. I’m listening.
Gypsie heritage or not, she’s going to be a wizard, not a soothsayer. She’s got a wand, and—
Actually, Tannar interrupted, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. There’s nothing…special about her wand I need to worry about, is there?
We don’t have time to talk about that, just listen to me.
The Elementar sighed. Fine, go ahead.
It used to be a tradition that a promising wizard-in-training would receive an animal Familiar for their eighteenth birthday. For some reason, it fell out of fashion about a hundred years ago. You know wizards.
Tannar just snorted.
Yes. Anyway, all the most powerful wizards of history have had Familiars. I want Karenna to have one.
Fine. I’m sure there’s an exotic pet shop right next to that candy store.
There was an edge of annoyance to his master’s voice now, but Tannar couldn’t tell if he was the cause or not. Don’t’ be an idiot, Tannar. You’re in a forest. Animals live in forests.
So I’m just supposed to pick the first squirrel I see and ask it if it wouldn’t mind upping its intelligence by a few hundred notches and acquiring magical influence so it can serve a teenage girl the rest of its life?
Mensha’s looked up the spell to create Familiars for me. It’s extremely difficult and complicated, something for only really high-level wizards to attempt, Avarn explained.
Should be simple enough.
Also, it doesn’t work on all animals. The name of the person who is to receive the Familiar is very important to the spell, and if the animal isn’t compatible to the person, it’ll die.
Again, Tannar snorted. So I’m looking for a very special squirrel.
He heard Avarn sigh. You know, thought the magician, there are times when I really don’t miss you at all.
* * *
Nadak made good progress through the constricting forest. He was thin and flexible, and managed to slip between gaps in the underbrush that wouldn’t have admitted a normal person. He lived on what he could catch, and each rabbit roasted over his little fire meant another red-tinged but small scar on his face.
He had started out life as a handsome man, third of five brothers in a family of noted battle mages. But unlike him, his father and his brothers could go hunting and come back with several deer but no scars. It was strange for a battle mage to acquire scars for wounding or killing anything other than humans—or Gypsies or Werebeasts, as the case may be. Nadak’s father had thought the quirk meant that his son would be a great battle mage, one of the remembered warriors of history. But his mother, a wise woman and a mender of some power, had known that the “quirk” boded no good for her son.
She had been right.
Nadak thought, as he chewed the meat of a young fawn, about the first time he had killed a human. About the rush of power, of exhilaration, as the other man’s life left him and poured into Nadak. He had hardly even felt the pain as the flesh of his face tore, forever marring his good looks. A battle mage was not supposed to feel power at a kill. The pain of the new scar was normally intense enough to almost knock the weaker ones unconscious. Nadak was an anomaly.
His parents had taken him to a well-reputed mender, and then to a wizard. Both said the same thing: he was a fluke, an abomination, a strange freak of nature who must be killed lest he become a mass murderer. Or worse: breed.
Nadak had been annoyed at what they said. So after each visit he had gone back to the two mage’s houses and killed them.
Now he looked around him at the dark, menacing forest that held no threats for him. This would be fun, he decided. He had not killed in far too long.
As ever, you save me from myself, Myth darling!
Your catches have been saved, and they shall be worked upon forthwith. Thank you!
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
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‘bellow’ = below
From previous reading I’m well aware that Gypsies’ have mismatched eyes so you wouldn’t really need to have ‘one’ in there.
Oh dear, this sentences looks as if you planned to edit it but never got around to doing so. It was the ‘a bit like’ that I dislike and I suggest you change it to something else: This one was similar, in appearance, to Dosh with the same gray left eye and the king knew this Gypsie was none other than Jaan, Dosh’s brother.
You might want to think about the last part of the sentence I suggested, rather than simply saying ‘his brother’ make the king recognise him as the brother of Dosh.
‘un-kinglike’ = Perhaps ‘unkingly’ or ‘very unlike a king’?
Try using a dash as the Elementar is both fire and air: fire-air. With the slash there it is as if he could be either one.
^^^ See quote. Don’t ever use ‘sort of’, it seems as if you were indecisive of what the sound resembled. Or you can always go for ‘hum-like’?
What I especially liked about this part was the character of Dosh. I was thinking you would have him becoming arrogant and ‘I’m the leader now and I’ll do as I please,’ but you’ve kept his ‘madness’ in and his speech which shows there is something seriously wrong with him.
I’m curious as to what will happen to him and what he’ll do if/when he finds that Jaan is taking over, definitely some conflict involved?
I’m uncertain why Mirnar is an outcast, surely a scar isn’t enough to set her apart and don’t other Werebeasts have scars that they rather forget existed?
And the chapter is 11 not 10 XD
-- Myth
Chapter 11
Cerreno sat on his wood-carved throne and looked down at the man pacing in front of him. The King of the Gypsies didn’t speak, but waited patiently for Dosh to break the silence. Cerreno was a tall man, even by Gypsie standards, with long black hair and a black diamond tattoo over his right eye. Dosh, on the other hand, was abnormally short, and had ill-cut hair and nervous, twitching eyes. He strode back and forth in front of the king, muttering quietly to himself and rubbing his hands together. Finally, Cerreno’s patience waned. “Dosh,” he said kindly, “What is it you want?”
The man halted in front of him but didn’t look up. “I am,” he said, his voice as shaky as the rest of him, “the leader of my clan now. I will, I will, I will,” he hissed as if he had been stung but continued. “I will do with them as I like.”
The king’s eyes, one blue and one green, hardened. “They are my subjects,” he said, letting a measure of ice creep into his tone. “As are you.”
Dosh began to pace again, licking his cracked lips furiously. “You weren’t there,” he hissed below his breath, still not looking at his king, “you didn’t hear it, you didn’t hear.”
Cerreno stood and descended the three shallow steps of the dais until he stood in front of Dosh. He grabbed the man by both shoulders and gently shook him. “You will look at me when you speak to me,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.
“Wasn’t there, didn’t hear,” Dosh muttered. He glanced up at the king and quickly down again. “I am sorry, sire,” he said, only slightly more lucid. His voice had a sing-song quality Cerreno had never heard in him. “I am, I am, I am sorry. I am tired, I am, I just need some sleep, a little sleep and I can do, do, do better, I can. I will.” For an instant, his eyes, gray and brown, met Cerreno’s and then looked away. But in those eyes the king saw a madness he had only ever observed in humans. “Can do better, wasn’t there,” Dosh’s voice began to fade back into a mutter, “didn’t hear it, didn’t hear, couldn’t know, wasn’t there.”
Cerreno released him and gave a long, gentle sigh. “For now,” he said, “I am assigning you and your clan to help guard the entrances to the Palace. Can you do that?”
Dosh blinked. “Yes.”
“Good.” As soon as the self-appointed Governor was out of the room, the guards escorted in a different Gypsie. This one was similar in appearance to Dosh and had the same gray left eye as his brother. But his right was a clear, unsoiled blue that put the king’s mind at ease about his sanity. With another sigh, Cerreno flopped, very un-kinglike, onto the stairs of his dais and motioned Jaan to do the same. “Your brother is not well,” he said bluntly.
“Yes, sir. I know.” Jaan, at least, had the sense to look his monarch in the eye when he spoke. To hide one’s eyes was to hide one’s intentions, and one did not hide one’s intentions from the king. “I am worried about him.”
“You understand the situation is very…delicate,” said the king. “Fakir never secured my blessing to become clan leader, but because of the circumstances, I let it pass. And now that Dosh has taken over, again without coming to me,” Cerreno paused and looked at the young man seriously. “You understand?”
“I do, sir,” he said. “Even though clan leadership is hereditary, you need to have authority over the Governors to keep them in line. I’m afraid my family is setting a bad president.”
Cerreno smiled a little to put the boy at ease. “I may have to take steps to see that Dosh does not misuse my people. If it becomes necessary, are you capable of taking over the leadership of your clan?” He did not ask “are you willing?” or “would you care to?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jaan.
Cerreno smiled. “Thank you, Jaan. We shall see how this plays out.”
* * *
Vishna, when she awoke from her coma, did not speak of what had caused it. She hardly spoke at all; if she had been a secretive scholar before, now she was a recluse. Avarn tried to get in to see her on several occasions, but she had locked the door firmly and without sight it was hard enough for him to open the unlocked doors of the twisting castle. Karoon had not returned yet, and that was worrying. But even though it was difficult to maintain contact with Tannar for very long, he knew he would have felt it if the fire-air Elementar had attacked.
Winter came early in the mountains and barely softened for the rest of the year. Avarn had not planned on Tannar heading here so soon, and he worried about how they would manage to find him once the snow settled in. But he told himself that Tannar would be able to figure it out, and so he spent most of his days sitting before the always-burning fire in his room or at his piano, trying to drown away the emptiness inside him with music.
* * *
It had been four days since Karoon’s attack. The twins’ and Karenna’s clothes were little more than rags now, mud-caked and ripped. They had survived on whatever animals Mirnar or Karenna’s arrows could kill for them and whatever nuts or berries Boom found. Karenna had never been anything approaching overweight, but the excess few pounds she possessed were trimmed by the unrelenting forest. Tannar especially was very uncomfortable below the canopy of branches, and would glare jealously at Mirnar when the Wereeagle changed shape to fly freely above the trees. Tannar himself couldn’t change shape, of course, on risk of attracting unwanted attention.
The woods were treacherously thick, with widely-spaced trees giving tall underbrush a chance to flourish, and they progressed at what felt like a snail’s pace. While the wand might have helped in this area, Karenna was reluctant to use it. She knew that there were most likely people from the Academe searching for them, though Mirnar had seen no one, and was afraid that too much magic might give them away to any mage sent to hunt them.
She still kept the wand close to hand, though. It was always warm, and in the increasingly chill weather Karenna was glad to have it near. Sometimes, too, it would vibrate gently in her hand, sending out a low hum. Mirnar had stopped asking questions about it; now Karenna wanted to ask them of the Werebeast.
On the morning of the fifth day, Karenna awoke first. Tannar, the unable-to-sleep Elementar, was sitting on the thick leaf litter, staring up angrily at the imprisoning branches. He glanced at her as she rose. “Your hair’s a mess,” he commented. Karenna knew it was true; despite her best efforts to keep her long, curly brown hair above the squalor of her clothes, it was just as disheveled. She was sure there must be something living in it by now. “I could cut it if you like,” said Tannar, and one of his ice-daggers appeared in his hand.
Karenna stepped back, eyeing the semi-transparent blade warily. “I’d like to keep trying to live with it, if you don’t mind,” she said coldly.
Tannar shrugged and the dagger dissolved. “Your headache.”
She was about to reply when a rustle from a nearby bush cut her off. Tannar sprang up, the dagger re-appearing. Karenna felt for her wand but didn’t draw it. A head, large and sleek, emerged from around the branch. It flicked out a black forked tongue and its small glittering black eyes evaluated them. Then it moved forward and the whole snake came into view. It was huge. The body was at least ten inches in diameter and from snout to tail-tip the creature could not measure less than fifteen feet. It was, predominately, green, but with a complex pattern of black and gold scales on its back and the wide, pale green under-scales that lined its belly. When it came within five feet of Karenna it began to coil until the head was nearly level with her own atop a mass of long body. She didn’t move. Mirnar had described Weresnakes to her: cold, smooth, and cunning, one of the most human-like of all the Werebeasts.
The Weresnake inclined its head to her as if in a bow, then changed. She had seen Mirnar change often enough that it was not all-together unpleasant to watch. Merely strange and little unsettling. When it finished, a thin, pale man with beady black eyes stood before her. He wore tight-fitting brown trousers and a gold-embroidered vest; as Werebeasts were not really naked in animal form, nor were they naked in their human shape. He bowed to her and spoke, “Welcome, Karenna Morn.”
“How is it you know my name?” she asked, stiff but un-panicked.
The Weresnake smiled, revealing rows of little white teeth, all very sharp. “The Forest is buzzing with your name, Miss Morn, but I assure you news of you has not reached the Tall Ones.” Karenna recognized the Werebeasts’ term for the Gypsies. “The Werewolves seem to hold a grudge against you for your defeat of them in the spring, but the rest of us are merely curious.” His eyes flicked to the dozing form of Mirnar. “Though you already seem to have picked up a gawker.” There was a venom in those words beyond that hidden in his fangs. Suddenly Karenna remembered Mirnar’s ugly scar.
“What is your name?” she demanded.
He placed a thin, triple-jointed hand on his chest. “I am Ishtarash.”
“What are you doing here, Ishtarash?”
His eyes flicked surreptitiously to Mirnar and he lowered his tone to a whisper. “We Werebeasts are largely anarchists, except for the Wolves in their packs and the Lions in their prides. But we do have a kind of law. And in every society I have encountered, murder is a crime.”
Karenna didn’t even glance at the Wereeagle. “You’re telling me Mirnar’s a murderer?”
“Yes.”
“Who did she kill, why, and what proof do you have?”
Ishtarash’s forked tongue flicked out in annoyance. “I do not have to justify our laws to you, child.”
“You do if you want Mirnar.” Karenna hoped her anxiety didn’t show in her words. The wand practically thrummed in her belt, but she resisted. Instead, she crossed her arms, putting on a cockiness she didn’t really feel. “I’m guessing you’re working alone; you yourself said that the Werebeasts aren’t very organized. And if you’ve heard about me, you must have heard about him.” She gestured to Tannar, who grinned wickedly. Ishtarash glanced nervously from one to the other and Karenna knew he had heard of Tannar, or at least had heard enough.
But he recovered well. “You would impede justice by threats of violence? I had heard better things of you, Miss Morn.”
Karenna put one hand nonchalantly on the hilt of her wand. “What have you heard?” she asked casually.
He grinned. “I have heard about unusual eyes….”
“Enough of your games,” said Tannar. “Either get out or give us a reason to let you stay.”
“Ishtarash?” They all turned to where Mirnar was staring bleary-eyed at the Weresnake, blinking away sleep. “Ishtarash, what are you doing here?”
He hissed. “Bringing you to justice, Mirnar.”
Her amber eyes hardened. “You want to talk about justice, Ishtarash? Fine. Let’s talk about the Kadaz family, shall we?” Karenna recognized the name. The fat boy who had fallen in the Gypsie raid, his surname had been Kadaz.
“Be silent!” the Weresnake snapped.
“I will not,” she said calmly. “Is it murder to defend the innocent and helpless? Is it murder to protect children? Was it murder when I killed your grandfather before he could swallow the baby whole!”
“Silence!” Ishtarash screamed. “They were human, they were worthless. They set out poisoned meat—”
“For rats! They never expected Werebeasts to eat dead meat.”
“They over-hunt the land, they forced my mother to scavenge like a dog and then they killed her with their rat-traps!” Ishtarash was shrieking now, and he seemed to waver between his two forms. The others were awake, staring at the scene. Boom seemed dumbfounded and the twins were scared frozen.
In an instant, Mirnar changed. She clawed and snapped at Ishtarash and managed to wound him several times before he too changed. The snake reared up, long fangs extended. Karenna’s wand all-but-leapt to her hand, but Tannar held her back. “You let me fight my own battles,” he said, “let her fight hers.”
The fight didn’t last very long. Even with the poison and the superior strength of his coils, Ishtarash never managed to quite reach Mirnar. But she had no trouble reaching him, and before even a few minutes were out he was bleeding in several places, ripped open by the Wereeagle’s merciless beak and claws. He lay on the ground, twisting and writhing. He changed and began to moan. Mirnar, herself in human form, stood over him. Karenna knew that Werebeast fights were to the death; outside of family groups they had very little capacity for mercy or grace. If you let an enemy live, he might come back to hurt you again, so you kill him. Simple.
So she was surprised when Mirnar turned her back on the wounded Ishtarash. The Wereeagle caught Karenna’s look, and shrugged. “It’s not our first battle, it won’t be our last. He’s a pathetic excuse for a Werebeast now, all he has to live for is our feud. If I killed him, it would justify him.”
“But I thought…” Karenna trailed off, and really took in the scene for the first time. She turned to Ishtarash and made a small dismissive gesture, “Get out of here. Mirnar is my friend, and if you try to hurt her again, it will be I who decides your fate.”
He didn’t argue; after changing he slithered away.
Mirnar caught Karenna’s eye and bowed. “As you say, Hisht Cerro.”
“What?” Her head was swimming, she felt suddenly and supremely tired.
“Hisht Cerro,” Mirnar repeated, holding her gaze. “It’s Gift, Gypsie-speak, for Royal Eyes.” She gestured to Karenna’s face. “Your eyes, one blue and one green, they are the symbol of royalty among the Gypsie clans. Only the king and his family possess them.”
“As do certain human flukes,” said Karenna coolly, her mind clearing.
Mirnar smiled her not-quite-human smile. “As you say.”
Alternative to constant updates is just keep this thread in your favourites and change the corrections en mass - a daunting task.
Myth: thanks bucket loads! *gives box of cookies* I said I would integrate your LAST crit after the Finals mayhem was over, and *hits herself on head* I still haven't done that. Now it's the Beginning of Semester mayhem that must subside. But this is a three-day weekend coming up, I will do my best to get it done in there. Thanks again!
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
*
This seems just too close to the Academe, you can instead not give any approximate estimate of how far they had traveled and just state they were within the sight of the Academe. That’s just a maybe suggestion though.
I don’t think ‘degraded’ is the right word here. Wouldn’t it be ‘condensed’?
I looked up the word on the internet and got this: Furnished with, or having the form of, a steeple; adorned with steeples. So I don’t understand how he could have ‘steepled’ his fingers in front of him. Maybe something else to describe how he connects his fingers like those of a prison bar?
How about replacing ‘slitted’ with ‘slit’ or rephrasing ‘yellow slit eyes’? Just a little awkward getting the ‘slitted’ to roll off the tongue.
^^^ See quote
^^^ See quote
I think you’ve got a few unneeded ‘then’ in there.
Haha, clever of Karenna getting the woman to answer her questions and avoiding the ones fired at her
I think you mean ‘legend’ there
‘Were’ = We’re, ‘though’ = thought?
‘and’ = an?
I'm more than curious about this Wereeagle person (the lack of sleep makes me forget names easily) and I think you have someone that Karenna can, in some ways, relate to as the woman mentioned they were both 'outcasts' and her scar.
I think you could slow down just a little and give a bit more information on what they discussed about the Gypsies in that paragraph about the Winter Festival.
Ok, You will have to forgive me as I am going to critique chapter 10 without reading the other stuff as I am new to the world of Gypsie's eyes
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That night they stopped in a tiny clearing about seventy yards or so from the Academe.
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Ive never seen Academy spelt like that before, however it isn't coming up as a typo word so you must be right.
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Karenna would have been worried about Gypsies or rescue parties from the school had it not been for the simple fact that she was far too tired. Their uniforms, with the stiff boots and full-length pants, were not the most comfortable things to spend a wet night in. But there was, of course, nothing they could do about that.
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Is tiredness really an excuse for lack of worry? I would say she would be worrying in her sleep etc...
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The rain had degraded to a fine mist.
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I dont imagine rain "degrading" at all... perhaps another past tense verb instead?
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He flinched and shook her off, still not looking at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
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To make this more active I think a reorder is needed. "Flinching, he shook her off" - it makes it much more abrupt.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
He steepled his thin blue fingers in front of his face and stared through them like a prisoner through bars. “Can you imagine,” he said softly, “what it’s like to have another’s mind connected to your own your whole life, and then he’s just suddenly not there?”
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
No such word as steepled, or I've never heard of it. Either way I would opt for another word there.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
She regarded him seriously. “Are you taking me to him?”
He glanced at her. “I can’t tell you that right now.”
“Is it somewhere safe?”
Tannar thought for a moment. “No, not really.”
Karenna grinned. “Good.”
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
One word: Wow. This little snippet demonstrated awesome characterisation, I loved the speech mechanics that you probably unconsciously wrote. Great. Just great.
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Vishna lay, half-conscious, in her bedroom. Avarn, standing over her, could hear the irregular inhale and exhale of breath as she tossed and turned, one foot in the dreamworld and one in reality.
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This is a run-on sentence. Restructure and break it up a little bit.
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He had only the impression of long,
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Reorder: "He only had the impression..."
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The next morning, Karenna opened her eyes to see two large yellow orbs staring at her, inches from her face. She managed not to scream and had just brought her wand up when she heard Boom’s deep, resonant laughter. Scrambling backwards, she managed to bring the owner of the yellow eyes into focus. It was a woman, small and slightly knobbley, with a bristle of gray hair and, of course, two wide, slitted yellow eyes. She cocked her head to one side and blinked. “Jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Her voice was harsh and had a certain screech to it, but was, for all that, not unpleasant.
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There could be too much, unecessary description of the woman here. Maybe space it out over the scene?
Most other things seem to be in order, I dont have alot of time to go through the rest.
What strikes me is story line:
You have a giant, twins a school of wizardry, wand magic. Mmm... Harry Potter. It all seems very Potterish.
However these gypsies seem a unique addition, maybe Ill have chance to read all of it and understand that the piece is original later.
The character's speech seems good, although you seem to write very speech heavy works and fall into something called "Talking Heads". You may want to have your characters doing something while they talk to add interest to a piece instead of just plain talking.
Regards, I may visit this topic later.
Chapter 10
That night they stopped in a tiny clearing a hundred yards or so from the Academe. Karenna would have been worried about Gypsies or rescue parties from the school had it not been for the fact that she was nearly too exhausted to even walk straight. Their uniforms, with the stiff boots and full-length pants, were not the most comfortable things to spend a wet night in. But there was, of course, nothing they could do about that.
In any case the twins were snoring soundly within a few minutes of lying down. Boom was reclining against a large tree, his eyes closed, with Laroo on one side of him and Menee on the other. Tannar sat at the edge of the clearing, his back hunched and his wings folded. The rain had dissolved to a fine mist.
Karenna came over to the fallen trunk where he sat unmoving. He didn’t look up at her. She sat down next to him, as close as she dared, and laid a hand lightly on his arm. He flinched and shook her off, still not looking at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
He bridged his thin blue fingers in front of his face and stared through them like a prisoner through bars. “Can you imagine,” he said softly, “what it’s like to have another’s mind connected to your own your whole life, and then he’s just suddenly not there?”
“Was it sudden?”
He shook his head. “No, with Avarn it happened slowly, gradually, like having your grip slide down a slick rope. And then he just wasn’t there anymore.”
She regarded him seriously. “Are you taking me to him?”
He glanced at her. “I can’t tell you that right now.”
“Is it somewhere safe?”
Tannar thought for a moment. “No, not really.”
Karenna grinned. “Good.”
* * *
Vishna lay, half-conscious, in her bedroom. Avarn stood over her. He could hear the irregular inhale and exhale of breath as she tossed and turned, one foot in the dreamworld and one in reality. He ran his fingers lightly over her face, trying to recall what she looked like. He couldn’t. He had only the impression of long, billowing black hair and hard olive green eyes that bore little kindness. He knew he shouldn’t feel sorry for her. If Karoon had been the one to win it would be Avarn lying there, helpless and hurting. And his mother would certainly not be standing over him, waiting hopefully for him to be all right. Instead, he would awake to the dry furnace breath and the smell of brimstone that meant the pain was just beginning.
And he loved her. Despite everything, he loved her. Wondering silently if this made him less dangerous than she, or more, he left her and returned to his own quarters, his footsteps echoing and re-echoing in the huge empty castle.
* * *
The next morning, Karenna opened her eyes to see two large yellow orbs staring at her, inches from her face. She managed not to scream and had just brought her wand up when she heard Boom’s deep, resonant laughter. Scrambling backwards, she managed to bring the owner of the yellow eyes into focus. It was a woman, small and slightly knobbley, with a bristle of gray hair and, of course, two wide, slitted yellow eyes. She cocked her head to one side and blinked. “Jumpy little thing, isn’t she?” Her voice was harsh and had a certain screech to it, but was, for all that, not unpleasant.
“Karenna,” said Boom, in the manner of one making formal introductions, “this is Mirnar. Mirnar, this is Miss Karenna Morn.” He leaned over Karenna and whispered loudly, “She’s a Wereeagle.”
The girl evaluated the odd little woman, still not putting away the wand. Yes, that made sense. Her eyes were those of a bird of prey and her clothing was all worn leather and suede which looked suspiciously feather-like. “How nice to meet you,” Karenna said, not unkindly.
Mirnar grinned. She could only be about four feet tall when she straightened up, and straightening up was not something that seemed to come naturally to her. Karenna looked around to see what the others thought of the newcomer. Boom, obviously, already knew her, and the twins were ready to accept anyone the giant did. Tannar had managed to resume human form and was eyeing the Wereeagle carefully, but not suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” Karenna asked, feeling that someone should act the voice of caution.
“I’d like to join up,” said Mirnar.
“Join up with what?”
The Werebeast grinned again. “With this little journey you’ve got going on. If you’re planning to pass through Gypsie territory with a wand, a giant, an Elementar, and two human boys who’d figure out how to trip over a crumb, you’ll need a guide.”
“I don’t really like Werebeasts,” said Karenna, trying hard not to sound mean. It was just the way things were.
Mirnar’s grin acquired an edge. “That makes two of us.”
A second time, Karenna glanced around the clearing. Her eyes met the once-again-dark ones of Tannar. “What do you think?” she asked.
Tannar shrugged. “Boom trusts her. And I think the twins are dead-set that she should come.”
“Please,” said Menee from Boom’s side.
Laroo clasped his hands in front of him, “Please, please, please.”
“And, what do you think?” Karenna repeated.
He shrugged again. “She’s nothing I can’t handle.” There was no boasting in that statement, no pride. It was merely a declaration of fact.
Karenna thought of the concentrated volley of hailstones, of his blazing blue eyes, of the fireballs fizzing into oblivion. She shivered. Returning her attention to Mirnar, she saw the Wereeagle watching her, all traces of humor gone. “Both condemned because of our eyes,” she said, so softly that only Karenna could hear. “Both shunned by our own people because we are different.” She shifted her head slightly and Karenna could see a long, ragged scar running from the woman’s left ear down her neck and disappearing into her leather jerkin.
“What is it you want with me?” she whispered.
Mirnar did the head-cocking thing again. It looked, Karenna realized belatedly, very bird-like. “I like to observe things,” said the Werebeast. “You promise to be very good entertainment.”
Despite herself, Karenna smiled. “Well then,” she said, “I’d hate to ruin the show.”
* * *
Cerreno, King of the Gypsies, looked out over his territory. From the towering pine where he perched he could see almost everything. The Gypsies’ Forest spread out below him, a million shades of green with a million depths of shadows. He liked being high up, being able to breath the clear, now rain-sweetened, air. Mimoa had spoken at great lengths last night about the Windstorm and the Wand. Cerreno had paid little attention; his sister’s prophesies rarely made sense until after they came true.
And now he watched the sun rise higher and higher in the cloudless blue sky and wondered what to do about Dosh.
* * *
“You don’t look sixteen,” said Mirnar to Karenna as they fought their way through the thick, unrelenting underbrush.
The Wereeagle was out in front, slipping through the worst of the tangles, leaving the rest to sort it out for themselves how to proceed. Karenna came next, then the twins, then Tannar, and finally Boom. Karenna was still trying to disentangle an obstinate twig from her hair while she replied, “Don’t I?”
Mirnar grinned and hopped easily over a thorny bush that Karenna just barely managed to avoid. “No,” said the Werebeast. “I’d say more seventeen or eighteen.”
“Good guess,” Karenna said, tired of avoiding Mirnar’s constant probes. “My parents wouldn’t let me got to the Academe last year, I’m seventeen. They’re a little…over protective.
“Because of your eyes?”
“Yes.”
The woman paused to help her over a thick fallen trunk, then continued. “Are they your birth parents?”
“No I’m adopted.” Then, tired of being the one always answering, she said, “So, how old are you?”
“Fifty-seven,” replied Mirnar promptly. “That’s middle-aged for a Werebeast.” After pulling the first twin over the trunk, she left him to help the second and again took the lead. “Where’d you get the wand?”
Karenna didn’t say anything for awhile as she struggled through the forest. “You’d think the Gypsies would have trails or something. I don’t see how they can manage.”
“They don’t always move at ground-level,” said Mirnar. “It’s strange that you’re powerful enough to wield a wand like that at this age; do you know who made it?”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t always move at ground-level’?” asked Karenna.
“They’re good at branch-to-branch travel,” Mirnar explained. “How long have you owned the wand?”
“What, you mean scampering around like squirrels?”
“It’s a little more dignified than that. What spells can you work with it?”
“So whole clans of them just…climb their way around?”
“Pretty much; Gypsies are excellent climbers. If you really do have Gypsie blood then how is it you can even use a wand?”
“I’m not a Gypsie!” As Karenna’s angry words fell into silence she saw the rest of the group looking at her. Laroo and Menee were now finally over the log, but Tannar was perched atop it, his dark eyes once again awakening the latent magic that lurked at the back of her deepest thoughts. She could feel the wand, tucked into her belt under Tannar’s old cloak, begin to grow warm and vibrate. I’m not even touching it and it’s reacting to me, she thought. The only reason I’m not answering Mirnar is that I don’t know half the answers myself.
The Wereeagle was watching her warily with her large yellow eyes. “Sorry,” she said softly, “I think I got a little carried away.”
Karenna pulled herself together. “If Gypsies move through the trees, then why aren’t you in eagle form watching for them?”
“Because it wouldn’t do any good,” said Mirnar. “If they really wanted to take us, even I wouldn’t be able to tell they were coming.”
“Then what good are you?”
Mirnar grinned her wide, slightly worrying grin. She reached up and plucked a leaf off a nearby tree, twirling it around and around in her fingers. “What color would you say this is?”
“Green turning to red; it’s really getting into autumn now,” Karenna answered. She knew better than to say something as ignorant as, “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you know what Gypsies do in the fall?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, a lot of the berries or whatever it is that they live on would be ripe now. Probably some last-ditch hunting to prepare for the winter?”
“Very good. It’s the Gypsies main hunting season, autumn. Very few humans are keen on entering their territory when they go about armed, or rather, more heavily armed than usual and are looking for prizes for the Winter Festival. Except, of course, for us. So long as we steer clear of the Palace and their main hunting grounds, we should be safe.”
“Palace?” asked Tannar from the fallen tree. “Winter Festival?”
Mirnar looked around the group. “Why have we stopped?” she demanded, and set off again.
Karenna moved to follow her. There was a scramble behind her as the twins tried to catch up, and a crash as Boom tried to climb over the tree and landed heavily on the other side. Laroo managed to catch Karenna’s arm. “Winter Festival?” he asked.
She sighed. “Every winter the Gypsies come together for some kind of big celebration,” she explained. “It’s a bit like a Harvest Fair. Except instead of prize hogs or pies, they bring in…other things.” Stories abounded about exactly what it was the Gypsies did during their Festival. Most of them were horror stories that had developed into ledged that had ripened into myth. And none of them were pleasant.
Laroo did not seem to take the hint. “What kinds of things?”
“No one really knows, for sure,” said Karenna. It was truthful enough. No one wandering in the Gypsies’ Forest near winter had ever been heard from again. Karenna hadn’t realized they began preparations so early.
That night she spoke again to Tannar. “Where are we going?” she demanded.
They had cleared a space large enough at least for Boom, and Boom lying down had cleared space enough for the rest of them. Tannar, as usual, stood at the very edge of the clearing. His inability to sleep and better-than-human senses made him the perfect choice to stand guard. Now he crossed his arms and glanced sideways at her. “I said last night, I can’t tell you.”
Karenna took a step forward. He took two hurried steps back, still wary of her wand. “Were crossing the land of people who would very much like to find us, kill us, and bring our heads back as prizes to their king. Back there,” she waved a hand in the general direction of Dirantyr, “are people who want to find us, talk to us, and put us in a big stone room. Given the choice…” she trailed off, letting him finish the though for himself.
Tannar’s eyes were serious. “No,” he said, “back there are people who want to find us, kill Mirnar, dissect Boom, terrify the twins, manipulate me, and do magic-knows-what with you. Given the choice, I’ll follow and intelligent Werebeast guide over the territory of a race you look like you belong to and who will, if they kill us, at least do it quickly.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Tannar,” she said at last. “Are you taking me to the mountains?”
He looked out blankly at the dark, impenetrable depths of the forest. Finally he spoke, his voice low and calm, and somehow so unlike Tannar that it frightened her more than his blue skin had. “Only to begin with.”
I'm so glad you liked it, darling! And your catches are (as ever) imenseley helpful--they shall be integrated as soon as the Finals mayhem is over. One note: Shanna is in fact "Shana" now--people kept saying how I have too many names with double letters, so I changed "Shanna" to "Shana" and "Meensha" to "Mensha."
Thanks so much! Look for the next installment coming soon!
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
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Shana = Shanna
That first sentence is awkward; I think you wrote it out incorrectly. What about something like: Throughout the whole of the next day, Karenna and Shanna watched each other. Or anything that suits better.
I was thinking this was Shanna, after reading twice I figured it was Karenna. Also you might want to think about putting commas after ‘everyone’ and ‘twins’ as this is excluding them. Note that I’ve taken out ‘that’ as referring to people would require ‘who’. Lastly, you spoke of the twins and then mentioned their names as though the said twins were not Menee and Laroo.
Fine thing to do Madam Bird! Here I am, trying to recover from a nasty cold and then, having read this, I erupt into a fit of coughs from laughing. Anyway, that is a good thing XD
With this brilliant description, I think you can go a little further by comparing the autumnal colours to fire/blaze, etc as it gives the reader (in my opinion) something to relate the scene to.
‘dirt’ = dirty?
Or wouldn’t it be the other way around, his cloak dirty from the dusty road?
As you have used ‘three companions’ then I think ‘the fourth’ ought to be ‘the last’.
Use apostrophes: ‘sirs’
The first apostrophe is incorrect.
I think the exclamation mark should be a question mark, with ‘yelled’ in there the reader is aware that Karenna ‘yelled’, with the question mark we know she is ‘yelling’ the question.
Is this Avarn or Tannar? *confused*
You’re = You are, this should be ‘Your’
^^^ See quote
Yards is more appropriate for measuring distance on the ground, how about metres(ers)?
‘bird form’ = bird-form
Gry, you have a knack for keeping readers interested and I applaud you for that. Each time I read Gypsie Eyes I want to get to the next part but I hate having to wait.
You’ve brought out the real Tannar, the Elementar who has not really shown his ‘true’ self until now. He is, in some ways, cocky but there is a side to him that is caring—he feels bad for Vishna and Mensha when it was only Karoon who he wanted to hurt. This makes him, say, more human.
Towards the end I didn’t really find many faults, the battle between Karoon and Tannar was gripping and, because I like you and Tannar so much, I read it a couple of times and I have to say the description is ‘beautiful, darling’.
One thing I’m still don’t know about is how a Elementar and human ‘come together’, how does it work? And what stops the Elementar from taking off their bands?
I really can’t wait to read the next part.
-- Myth
Chapter 9
The whole next day Karenna watched Shana watch her. As the aristocrat’s eyes followed her, sneering behind the false smile. As her perfectly-shaped lips whispered vicious little tidbits to her companions. Karenna watched everyone slowly melt away until all that remained were Laroo, Menee, Tannar and herself. During lunch hour, the four of them sat together at an otherwise empty table. Menee picked disconsolately at his food, his bright gray eyes flicking nervously from his plate to the harsh stares of the other tables and back again. “I’m scared,” he whispered quietly.
Tannar looked at him. “I know.”
“What’s going to happen?” Laroo almost whined.
Karenna and Tannar exchanged a look. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “But we’re going to be all right.”
The small, fourteen-year old twin shuffled closer to her, like a kitten trying to nestle under its mother. Karenna smiled and put an arm around him, stroking his ash-blonde hair gently. Menee, sitting on the other side of the table with Tannar, glanced at the Elementar, thought better of it, and returned his attention to his uneaten food.
* * *
Four days passed before the consequences of that night caught up with them. The Gypsies’ Forest changed into its autumn garb quickly, as if it had just been waiting for the excuse of the cold air, and soon the trees were resplendent in their magnificent reds and oranges and yellows. The fall had come early this season, and colder than usual, making the trees erupt into the full, fiery beauty they normally wouldn’t have achieved for weeks. Karenna and the others visited Boom on a daily basis, and his enormous, simple solidity within the burning glory of the Forest anchored them firmly to the reality that had all-but-vacated their lives.
Then, early in the morning of the fourth day, a small party of humans, well-dressed and grave-faced, arrived at the Dirantyr Training Academe. Ashter Tavrinal met them at the gates, his black robes dusty from the dirt road and his eyes hard. “Is it really necessary for you to be here,” he said firmly, his body blocking entrance to his campus.
“Maraso Liam was very clear,” said the tallest of them, an apparently old man with heavy wrinkles and flowing silver hair. One gnarled hand was thrust into a deep pocket, where Ashter knew the dry fingers were caressing a wand. “And his daughter is not the only one who is now willing to testify.” He took a step forward, apparently expecting the Headmaster to move. He didn’t.
“The child is a student of mine,” he said darkly. “And until I am convinced she is a danger, no harm will come to her.”
Inside the pocket, he saw the fingers tighten around the magical weapon. Try it. I may not have a wand, but I’m more powerful than you on my worst day, Ekano, and we all know it. We all know you dye your hair and put on fake wrinkles, too, do you think anyone’s impressed?
Ekano, oblivious to the internal monologue, relaxed his grip. “No one said anything about harming her,” he said lightly, and his voice had lost a little of its assumed scratchiness. “We merely wish to investigate.”
Ashter shifted his gaze to the wizard’s three companions. One was a short, fat man he did not know, probably a legal expert of some kind. One was a broad-shouldered man he recognized vaguely from palace functions as some kind of lord or other, and the last was a nondescript man with lanky brown hair, simple worn clothing, and far too many scars on his face. A battle mage, Ashter fumed inwardly, he’s brought a mercenary battle mage to my school.
The man didn’t look particularly strong or dangerous, but the casual way his hand rested on his sword hilt and the faint red outline to his scars told the world that this man was no common soldier. He and Ashter locked eyes for a few tense seconds, and then the Headmaster stepped aside to let the party in.
* * *
Vishna sat in her darkened study, her eyes closed, her body still. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the hot, fiery mind of Karoon with her own, like a child edging towards a roaring bonfire. He was there, and his burning bloodlust somehow made connecting with him easier. She could see through his eyes now, a view of the Dirantyr Training Academe from high in a nearby tree. Gingerly, she thought to him. Are you sure this is necessary?
His voice came back to her, deep and eager, like the rumble of an enormous furnace. She has the wand, Mistress. The wand. Our only chance is now, while she is still untrained.
She was still hesitant. But what if she—
Karoon shifted and grunted angrily. Mistress, a party of humans has just arrived, including a wizard with a wand. Doubtless they have come to train her; can we afford to wait?
Vishna breathed deep, braced herself, and thought, Go.
* * *
Karenna entered the room slowly, as if negotiating hidden traps. The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, with his hands clenched on top of the wood and his face stern. Three men, seated before him, craned their necks to face her as she stepped inside. A fourth man, looking thin and much travel-worn, leaned against one wall, arms crossed and naked sword gleaming at his belt.
In a reaction that owed nothing to thought and everything to years of fear and hiding, Karenna’s eyes fixated on the floor and her lashes came down to half cover them. “Come in, my dear,” said a voice heavy with affected age. Karenna did not look up at him, but she had seen enough wizards strutting around trying to look older than they were to have a good idea about his appearance. Such men, knowing that outward signs of age were the main hallmark of powerful wizards, thought that badly applied false wrinkles could match a single silver hair on the head of someone like Tavrinal.
She sat in the chair farthest away from the visitors, legs together but not crossed, hands folded demurely in her lap. “Hello,” she all-but-whispered. Tannar and, oddly enough, Laroo had coached her as well as they could in the days since the attempted Gypsie raid. They had known that some kind of investigation was forthcoming, and had come up with a strategy to protect her.
“You’ve got to make it seem ridiculous that you could be a real Gypsie,” Laroo had said. “And equally ridiculous that you could use a wand. The fact that the one means the other’s impossible hasn’t helped us so far, so you can’t rely on that. Rely on being small, on being timid, on being all the things that Gypsies and wizards aren’t.” Both she and Tannar had stared at him until he had explained his unexpected proficiency: “Being too small to bother about is the only thing that kept Menee and I intact in a home full of battle mages.”
Karenna hazarded a glance at the battle mage now in the room with her. His brown hair was greasy and ill-cut, falling forward to shadow his much-scarred face. She looked down again.
“Do you know why we’ve called you here?” asked the voice of the wizard.
She swallowed and fidgeted with her fingers. Only part of her fear was affected. “No sir,” she said softly. “All I did was help my unit and my school, sir. I don’t understand, sir.” Perhaps there were a few too many 'sirs' in there, but better too many than too few.
Tavrinal was watching her with a mixture of disbelief and sly approval. He gave her an encouraging little smile when he knew the others couldn’t see.
The visiting wizard gave a little pent-up breath of annoyance. “You are brought before us on the charges of being a Gypsie and carrying a wand on restricted grounds.”
“May I remind you, Ekano, that one cannot be a Gypsie and use a wand. Also that you yourself are carrying a wand on what is, as you say, ‘restricted grounds.’” Tavrinal’s face was hard, his eyes unwavering. “As I told Miss Liam, you will have to pick your charge.”
“There have been recorded incidents of Gypsies with some human heritage using wands before now,” Ekano all-but-snapped, all trace of false age gone. He sounded not much older than the Headmaster.
“'Recorded incidents'?” Tavrinal scoffed. “Baseless rumors more like, and you know it. There has never been concrete proof that Gypsies, even Gypsies who are part human, can use wands. Not even all human wizards can operate wands, Ekano, come off it.”
His informal language had angered the other wizard, and Karenna heard the sting in his voice, “You are here purely as a courtesy, Ashter. That courtesy can be—” he was cut off by a shuddering rumble nearby, and a series of loud screams.
Karenna didn’t wait for anyone’s attention to return to her; she bolted up and out of the room before the last of the screams had been cut off.
* * *
With a speed of reaction that surprised even him, Tannar had ferried the twins to Boom and told the giant to protect them and to hide no matter what. The kid may be a hulking mass of muscle immune to mortal magic, but nothing corporeal would be able to challenge the power that now attacked them. He ran into Karenna coming out of their dormitory, wand in hand, bow and full quiver slung over her back, and determined set to her face. He grabbed her and began to drag her none-too-gently towards the woods, dodging between falling fireballs.
She resisted him. “What’s going on?” she yelled over the tumult of screams and crashing masonry.
Tannar glanced upwards to where a distant gray figure was dancing in the sky, sending down blasts of fire and magical energy with a power that could and now was toppling buildings. “Karoon,” he said simply.
After that, she didn’t resist. He left her with Boom, who stood as if ready to defend her from all the forces of Hell and darkness, then strode to the edge of the Forest. The Academe was burning. The almost entirely stone Academe was burning as if made of thatch and timber.
Go back, said the voice of self-preservation. You’ve got her safe, go back and hide.
But a hatred, only half his own, rose within him. He hurt me, said a bitter but sorely-missed voice. He blinded me, he threatened me, I hate him.
Your mother’s got to be watching, he argued, but only half-heartedly.
I don’t care, said Avarn in his mind. Do you?
He didn’t.
An all-out battle with Karoon could mean a long and painful death for both of them. But Tannar was tired. He was tired of hiding, of lying, of being less than he was. He began to run towards the Academe. With every step, his body blurred, little flecks of dark, insubstantial light detaching from him and flowing out behind him until they fluttered into nothing. After five long strides he leapt, pushing off from the ground with all the growing strength within him. As he rose smoothly through the air, the last vestiges of his human façade dissolved.
His body thinned, stretched, lengthened. His unruly black hair grew and paled until it was a cascade of silver-white streaming out behind him. Skin that had been rough and sun-tanned shimmered, shivered and became a pale, moon-lit blue. His ears, only slightly pointed before, swept back until they were long and sharp; and his eyes, his dark, staring eyes that had wakened Karenna’s magic grew wide and slanted and began to glow with a mounting blue light until they were two solid cerulean orbs. A pair of enormous, semi-transparent wings sprang from his now-slender shoulder blades and quivered in the air. It was not necessary to pump them to continue rising; the Elementar shot upward until he floated level with Karoon.
It did not take long for the gargoyle-shape to notice him. Karoon’s dragon-like wings flapped a few times until he hovered only a few yards away from Tannar. The fire-air being held a large flaming scimitar in one hand, and he gestured expansively with it as he spoke. “I should have expected to find you here,” he grated. “Don’t worry; the ‘Mistress’ isn’t watching. She has no stomach for this.”
Tannar, still himself behind his all-but-forgotten natural form, sneered. “You think that all this takes courage? Attacking innocent students and destroying random buildings?”
Surprisingly, Karoon did not rise to the jibe. He tapped his thick, heavily corroded bronze wrist bands. “I see you keep yours nicely polished, water-boy. Whatever for?”
Tannar glanced down at his own slim shackles. No matter what form he took, they were always there, a testament of his slavery. “Why do you care?”
It was Karoon’s turn to sneer. “You actually care for him, for that sniveling little blind excuse for a—”
A huge, gleaming broadsword of sharpened ice appeared in Tannar’s hand and he lunged. Karoon parried, the fire of his scimitar cutting a notch in the straight blade. The older Elementar laughed and swung his sword. Tannar shifted, moving through the air like a breeze until he was facing Karoon’s unprotected back. His broadsword sliced a section from the gray wing before the owner of the wing could get it out of range. Karoon laughed again and sprang back, far out of Tannar’s reach. His burning sword vanished.
“I think we can dispense with the human-copied frivolities, water-boy,” he called. Two great fireballs appeared around his gray fists.
Tannar’s sword also disappeared, dissolved back into the air. He raised one slim arm and spread his fingers as if holding a large sphere above his head.
Karoon laughed, oblivious to the quickly-gathering storm clouds around him. “Is that your surrender, little river lily?” Tannar did not answer. Karoon snorted. “It is not accepted!” he yelled, and threw the fireballs.
* * *
The wind whipped viciously at Karenna, sending her long brown hair into a dancing tangle and lashing her long tunic against her body. The twins stood on either side of her, cringing in the force of the gale and staring, like her, at the two tiny figures in the air above the Academe. Karenna’s knuckles were white on her wand, and all the spells she’d ever learned or picked up were clamoring to be let out. But she gritted her teeth and refused to utter even a syllable of any of them. This was Tannar’s battle.
They all saw Karoon cannon the fireballs towards their friend. Mere feet from Tannar, the fireballs spluttered and dissolved. Karoon started to roar in anger, but he didn’t do so for long. A concentrated torrent of hailstones as huge as fists connected, driving him down and down. His monstrous wings fluttered uselessly as he tried to escape the crippling downpour. Jets of flame like lightning balls sparked from Karoon, hitting the ground, the remains of the Academe, and several trees in the Gypsies’ Forest. Before these trees could start to burn, however, it began to rain.
* * *
Tannar circled the fallen body of his opponent. He still floated several feet from the ground, unwilling, after finally escaping gravity, to succumb to it again. Karoon didn’t even twitch. He knew the Elementar wasn’t dead, and, despite his hatred, had no real desire to see him so. The hail had punched two holes through the one wing he could see, and Tannar wondered idly how that particular pain would translate back to Vishna.
It was raining now, really pouring. Tannar didn’t stop the deluge, he reveled in it. With any luck, it would keep any would-be firefighters or rescuers away long enough for him to get Karenna and the others out of here.
Avarn’s voice came to him, distant now, and faint. I can hear her sobbing, he said.
Tannar felt a slight twinge of guilt. Even if she was the terrible mother he knew her to be, she didn’t really deserve to experience the pain he had subjected Karoon to. Not really. You should go to her, He thought.
Mensha’s already with her.
Now real guilt gave a pang. Tannar had always liked Mensha, and without him there he had relied on her to protect Avarn. He had forgotten that hurting Karoon would hurt her, too. Still, he could have done worse. Then maybe you should go to Mensha.
I will. Now that the shared hatred and desire for vengeance had subsided, the miles between Tannar and his master began to reassert themselves. Bring her to me, Tannar. Avarn’s voice was barely a whisper now. Bring her to me. Protect her.
I will, Tannar promised. But the contact was gone. He was alone again.
* * *
Karenna eyed him steadily as he walked towards them. The twins were huddled behind Boom, staring around the giant’s sides at the apparition that had taken Tannar’s place. He stopped just in front of her, not speaking. The Academe uniform he had been wearing was gone. In its place Tannar was wearing white leather leggings and a long white leather loincloth. His feet and slim, blue torso were bare. The large, glowing blue eyes showed not a hint of the boy she had known. But then he grinned, and Tannar shone through.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, and voice was the same, young and slightly cynical. “You had to know what you saw wasn’t my true form.”
She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, but I don’t think the twins did.”
Tannar glanced to where Laroo and Menee were gaping at him from behind the impassive Boom. He sighed. “Come on, boys,” he wheedled, holding out his long, graceful arms. “It’s still me.”
Neither twin moved. Karenna snorted. “Maybe it would help if you changed back. They didn’t even know you were an Elementar before this.”
He glared at her. “It’s not that easy, you know. I’d like to see you try to squeeze all of this into a body the size of a human boy. My back’s been aching for months; do you have any idea what it feels like to suddenly not have wings?” For a moment, some of his true pain translated to his face, and Karenna considered the agony of being forced into a shape not your own.
And then he was once again the Tannar she knew, irreverent and boyish. “Anyway, they can either get over it or be left behind. Come on.”
He reached out to take her arm but she stepped back. Boom shifted slightly, just enough to remind the Elementar that all twelve feet of him was still there and still determined to protect Karenna against all the magical forces that could be brought to bear. It was amazing how eloquent the boy-giant could be without speaking. “Where are we going?” Karenna demanded, her fingers still tight around the wand. The rain had slackened off, but only barely. It still dripped from the branches overhead and splattered onto their heads.
“Just about anywhere except here would be good, yes?” Tannar said dryly. “Unless you want that wizard and his buddies to find us here. And you with a wand and a water-air Elementar.”
Karenna thought about the battle mage and his many scars. They only got facial wounds when they killed someone; like wrinkles for wizards, scars were the price for magic. That man had had far too many of the red-tinged marks for comfort. “All right,” she said reluctantly. Glancing at Laroo, Menee, and Boom, she said, “What about them?”
This time she didn’t move when he gripped her arm, his fingers cool and inhumanly smooth. “They follow or stay,” he said. “But that’s their choice, let’s go.” Tannar and Karenna moved off deeper into the forest. Boom followed immediately and after only a moment’s hesitation, the twins did likewise.
* * *
Mirnar, perched in bird form in a nearby tree, watched the odd little party move off. Boom she knew, all the creatures of the Forest knew Boom, but the three humans and the Elementar were strange to her. Spreading her wings she made a brief, undignified swoop to another tree, keeping the group and especially the girl in view. Mirnar peered at her from the safely hidden boughs of her tree. Interesting. Perhaps there were only two humans in the party after all.
Mwahahahah....
You'll just have to wait to find out--wontcha? hehe....thanks for the catches--an especially good one with Jaan saying that Karenna hadn't entered the fight--he DID do that on purpose, even though he knew she had. Merry Christmas, everyone!
Green = Comment
Black = Review
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Lol, the name actually makes me smile. Fakir is a pauper some Muslims think of as a holy man.
Was there something about this Gypsie that made him the leader?
A little confusion here. Karenna was fighting but Jaan says she hasn’t entered the fight yet?
Dosh got a little crazy towards the end.
I still am not sure what will happen next. I was hoping Avarn would finally met Karenna once again and feel it is taking far too long for Tannar to carry out whatever Avarn asked him to do. Is he waiting for the Academe to close for the end of year, etc, or until Karenna has finished with her education?
Green = Comment/Correction
Black = Review
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‘were’ = where
‘bellow’ = below
What is a fordge?
This idea reminds me of how Bartimaeus showed Nathaniel (from Ptolemy’s Gate) an old war scene, he was only able to do it because they were connected. How about expanding that idea and explaining how Tannar was able to do the same with Karenna.
Sharon is spelt Scharon.
How about replacing rage with a synonym?
I’m sorry I wasn’t picking anything out from Chapter 8. I may have to look over it again before I spot anything but right now I’m exhausted.
You have a lot of names with double letters: Tannar, Werenna, Karenna, Shanna, Jataal, Jaan and I think a few others. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing but change some of them as at times I didn’t know who was who and had to check back to the other chapters, of course, you being the writer, it is entirely up to you.
I’ve looked over C7 as you previously requested and managed to find a few typos.
What I like about C8 is Karenna is given a mysterious identity and the ‘royal eyes’ stick out, and I hated it that the Gypsie was killed by Tavrinal. I knew Gypsies and the humans did not get along but I didn’t think they fought against one another.
Chapter 8
Fakir awoke at dawn. He stood, stretched and looked around him at the thirteen or so still-sleeping forms. He kicked one of them. “Get up, Dosh.”
Dosh got up, moaning. “What’d you do that for?”
Fakir ignored him. He kicked a different form. “Jaan, come on, up, up.”
“We’re not even moving until tonight,” said Dosh.
“Get these others up,” commanded Fakir. He was a quiet man in general; he let what he didn’t say carry the message. “We need to get under better concealment; the Firehearts practice near here.”
Dosh glowered at him and went about waking the rest of the clan. Jaan raised his head sleepily. He was the youngest brother; Fakir had always favored him and Dosh had always resented him because of it. Ever since their father had been killed three years ago, Fakir had taken control of the clan. Jaan looked about him. “What is it?”
Fakir allowed his features to soften. “Just moving camp, baby brother.”
Jaan smiled and immediately began helping. Dosh made a face at him when he thought Fakir wasn’t looking, then came over to his older brother. He licked his lips before speaking; they were chapped and badly scarred. “Cerreno’s not going to like it,” he said at last.
“We’ve talked about his,” said Fakir. “I don’t care what his majesty’s policy is on the training school; all I know is that the wand Jaan senses will make a rich trophy at the Winter Festival. Agreed?”
The tongue flicked over the parched lips again. “Of course, but how are we to find it?”
He really should have seen the slap coming. “You will leave that to me,” Fakir hissed.
Dosh cowered more out of habit than true fear. “As you say, Fakir.”
* * *
Tannar had never been an especially popular student, but now he was avoided with a passion. Shanna and Obern seemed to have built up a club for the sole purpose of teasing and tormenting him, Karenna, and the twins. Lunch trays were spilled, hair got tangled in other people’s fingers and yanked, twins were tripped, all the hundred and one things that made any academic environment miserable were rolled out.
The Elementar took it all in uncharacteristic silence and the twins, baffled by his attitude, clustered close to Karenna wherever they went. When she asked Tannar what was wrong, he looked to the sky and said, “A storm’s coming, one I can’t control. I think the first lightning bolt will strike tonight.”
An hour after dusk, the entire Academe was roused by ringing alarms.
* * *
Karenna had to admit that she was proud of them. Instead of running or hiding like some of the other students, her entire unit grabbed their weapons and charged towards the sounds of battle. Karenna grabbed her wand, just in case.
When she reached the edge of the forest, she saw about forty of the Academe teachers and students—including the headmaster and Jataal—ranged against only ten men. But their height and patchwork clothing meant they were Gypsies. They all wielded thin rapiers that moved through the air like darting, stinging insects. Rains of arrows poured out of the depths of the forest behind them, each shaft finding flesh somewhere.
The Gypsies’ inherent magical ability had brought another dimension to the battle; flashes of light and bursts of deadly energy peppered the already-charred ground. She saw the headmaster fighting with one who was apparently the leader.
All this she took in as if watching through smoked glass. No sound filtered into her consciousness, and the combatants moved as if through water. She saw Charn Kadaz, the fat, red-faced boy, one of the few who had not joined in Shanna’s ostracizing of them, go down with the tip of a sabre peeking out the back of his shirt. And then the sword withdrew and Charn’s killer turned to face her. He was tall, like all Gypsies, with wild brown hair and blazing different-colored eyes. The left was a transparent, almost glowing green, the right a smoldering red. They seemed to pin her to the ground and as he raised his rapier to attack she could barely move her own to parry.
And then sound returned to her in a rush and she could move again.
* * *
Jaan, standing just inside the trees with the archers, watched the tall girl battle with one of his clan members. She was good with a rapier, very good, and the Gypsie’s small magical jabs didn’t seem to affect her. More than once he saw her free hand go to her belt and then stop, as if she had changed her mind.
She’s the one, he thought. She’s got the wand.
He opened his mouth to tell Dosh, who stood beside him shooting arrows into random Firehearts. But there was something different about the girl. He shouldn’t have been able to see her eyes from this distance, but he could. Green and blue, shining bright in the light of the rising moon. Gypsie eyes. Royal eyes.
“Do you sense it yet?” demanded Dosh, licking his lips like a serpent as he loosed arrow after arrow. “Has the wand-bearer entered the fight yet?”
Jaan stared at the girl for a moment, his heart pounding. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not yet.”
* * *
Tannar cursed vehemently, but only in his own mind. He was good with a broadsword, true, inhumanly good, and Jataal’s training had made him nearly flawless. But the presence of humans around him prevented him from abandoning himself to the swordplay he was capable of. He hated being limited, he could have taken all of these bloody vagabonds himself if he were allowed to be himself.
A sound rent the air. More than a scream, more than a simple cry of pain, it seemed to rip apart the very fabric of sound. All the Gypsies dropped to the ground, covering their ears and wailing; all of the humans staggered back, their faces pale. Headmaster Tavrinal had found the heart of the Gypsie leader with his sword, and now the dying man gave a death cry that would have caused the stars to weep. Tannar knew, in the part of him not going through agony because of the intense, magic-charged death cry, that all Gypsies could scream so, but even dying Gypsies tried not to use it as it deeply wounded any of their kin nearby. He saw Karenna, out of the corner of his eye, grinding her teeth, her face twisted in an anguish that surpassed that of her classmates.
Finally the scream cut off and most of the Gypsies fled into the forest before the humans could recover. Three of the attackers lay dead, besides the leader, and Karenna had a wounded but live one on the ground under sword point. Tannar rushed over to her, belatedly aware that he should have been protecting her. But she looked all right—a little shaky from the effects of the scream, but all right. Her opponent lay spread-eagled, breathing hard. His eyes were fixed on Karenna’s face. Tannar cursed inwardly again. Of course, she had Gypsie eyes. The Elementar had the vague impression that the different colors meant something to their people, identified clan or heritage or whatever. Perhaps Karenna’s eyes were special.
Headmaster Tavrinal strode towards them, sheathing his now-cleaned rapier and looking as serious as the Elementar had ever seen him. “Keep your sword on him, Miss Morn,” he said sternly, looking not at Karenna, but at her opponent. He sang a few words in what sounded like Gift, the Gypsie’s language. It was a beautiful tongue, but his tone and grave face made the words seem clipped.
The Gypsie answered harshly, still staring at Karenna. “What did he say?” she asked.
Tavrinal gave a brief, authoritative glance. “I am not going to translate, Miss Morn, it would take too long.” Then he spoke again to the Gypsie.
Silver moonlight shone off his mismatched eyes as he gave a grin a hunting cat would have been proud of. “Whoo-at trhikery?” he said in breathy, broken Dirantyri. He waved one bloody hand towards Karenna. “Rhoyal Ehyes.”
Tavrinal gritted his teeth and stepped towards the Gypsie, drawing his sword. Then, before anyone could move to stop him, ran the tip of it swiftly into the man’s chest and withdrew it in one smooth motion. The strange eyes did not close, but stared unseeing at the waving branches as the last breath left the lean body, and a dark stain spread over the grass where it lay.
The Headmaster sheathed his sword, turned, took Karenna’s arm, and gently dragged her out of earshot. At least, out of human earshot. Tannar didn’t even need to shift to hear every word.
“Why did you bring your wand here, Miss Morn?” Tavrinal hissed.
Tannar saw Karenna’s eyes go wide as she stared first at the headmaster, then at the faint outline of the wand hidden beneath her tunic. “How—?” she began, but Tavrinal cut her off.
“More people than Miss Liam will have seen now,” he said, his whispered words low and uncharacteristically harsh. “And far too many will have heard that creature’s words. You are my student, Miss Morn, and I will protect you if I can, but things are fast spiraling out of my control. I know Boom will do what he can to defend you, and Tannar, whatever he is, is capable. But you will all of you have to be alert. Tonight has wrought more damage than you know.”
* * *
High in a nearby tree a smoldering pair of eyes spied on the scene below, and two stone-like ears heard words not intended for them. A gravely, triumphant chuckle escaped from the beak of a mouth. Two enormous gray wings spread and pumped, sending a blast of unseasonable hot air down on the little group at the edge of the forest, before the figure sped away towards the mountains.
* * *
Dosh knelt in the shadow-speckled darkness, rocking slowly from side to side with his hands over his ears. He moaned and muttered, his tongue flicking out over his raw lips. Jaan knelt beside him and tried to put a hand on his brother’s back. Dosh flinched and scrambled away, his eyes screwed shut, his hands still over his ears. “No, no, no, no, no…” he groaned.
The rest of the clan was assembled around the two brothers, shifting uneasily as they watched. Jaan glanced around at them, nervous. “Dosh, come on,” he urged.
Dosh’s eyes snapped open and he stared wildly at his brother. “Did you hear it,” he rasped. “Did you hear it?”
Jaan took his brother’s arm. Dosh didn’t resist. “Come on,” Jaan said again. “We need to get out of here.”
Dosh sprang back, his eyes blazing. “I’m clan leader now,” he all-but-screamed. After a couple clumsy attempts he drew his rapier and held it shakily before him. “Fakir was my brother! I’m next in line!”
“Yes, yes,” said Jaan, moving forward carefully. “Yes, of course you’re the Governor now, of course, Dosh. No one’s trying to take that away from you.”
His brother’s eyes were wide and roving. “All right,” he said, “all right, let’s get moving.” He took a few steps deeper into the forest. No one moved to follow him. “Move!” Dosh commanded, and because he was a Gypsie and he was frightened, little licks of flame ran up and down the length of his waving sword. Some flew off and landed on the ground, where they smoldered quietly before burning down.
The clan moved suddenly, jerkily to follow. Dosh grinned maniacally at his brother. “You see, you see!” he shrieked. “I’m Governor now; they obey me!”
Jaan followed the clan, half out of fear, half out of pity. “Yes, Dosh,” he said sadly. “They obey you.”
note: Tannar did hear about the class 1,2,3 thing from Avarn, or rather read it--later I talk a little about the rather massive library in the castle.
Huh, wow. I need to give myself more credit on my critiqueing abilities I guess. It seems I was more helpful than I thought. Thanks for the compliments.
Chapter 2
I liked the opener with Karenna. Very nice
Now, on the class 1,2,and 3 explanation, that doesn't seem to be something Tannar would know ahead of time, unless Avarn told him. While the timings nice, it just didn't seem like a fact Tannar would know, but I could be mistaken.
I don't think you need the "the" in there.
I like the actual paranoia Karenna feels at being confined with people. It's perfectly logical and breaths a little life into the story, as it is not essential to drive the story forward, but looks into the character.
While not a whole lot happens in the chapter, it sets up the next few chapters well. You introduce several characters logically and establish the turning of the story, Karenna's new place in the Academe,. Interesting you end it with an "e". And you do it all in a relatively short amount of time without seeming to rush it. It's not exciting, but it gets the job done. There's not much more I can say about it but, I liked it.
Thanks very much, Shadow!
You bring up some really good points, it's always great to have another set of eyes look over my earlier parts. As to my viewpoint changes--frankly I've never read a book on them either, that's just naturally how I write. I'm copy/pasting your comments and shall probably apply them over Thanksgiving break, school right now is a pain!
Thanks again!
I printed off up to chapter six for critique a while ago, so if you've already worked out things I point out, I apologize. I just don't want to reprint and reread everything, as it's a fair amount of paper and ink. It just took me a while for me to find the time. Anyway, I'll do these chapters one at a time.
Prologue and Chapter 1
Well, looking at the prologue, there's nothing helpful that I can say. It sounds good to me. You have the personalities set, the story set up, and you do it concisely. Personally don't know how to improve it myself. It ain't perfect, but nothing is and I don't know how to make it better. Nice work.
The start of chapter 1 is a different story. Starting with Tanner isn't bad, but the way you introduce the two seems odd. It's like Karenna hadn't seen him until then. Then she just introduces herself to him after waking up. Wouldn't she have been a bit startled to find a stranger starring at her in her sleep? Just a thought. That, and there's the fact that we have no idea who, or what, Tannar is. But that does get your attention, especially his attitude. Just, their introduction to each other just seems a little too set up. If Kareena were to get up more startled or annoyed, I think it would sound more realistic.
Another note; make it clearer about how much time has passed. According to what you have later in the story, it's been at least six years, meaning she wasn't even a teenager in the prologue and she's pretty much a young woman in the main story. With that much time passing, I think you should make some reference to about how much time has passed.
Later on, though Tannar makes note of the price of compassion, he still can't seem to help himself. And since she doesn't really seem to take note of the ears, or that she doesn't seem to think anything of him until after the werewolf attack. So, what exactly is the point of showing her, except for showing the reader?
This sentance just seems awkward. How about something like "His eyes remained closed as he played, and slowly opened as the last note died away." Perhaps not as wordy, but you get the idea. I thought his introduction here works well for the story flow, and certainly puts a lot of questions in the readers mind, most noteably "Is he blind and why?" Nice.
Now, with Ravage, this is your fourth perspective, and he dies before too long. Yet, the way you move around kind of feels like a movie, the way I visualize it in my mind, while not making it sound omnipresent. I like the feel it gives. You actually have six different viepoints in the first chapter alone, and you only add more. But like I said, I like it, since it doesn't detract from any of the characters and helps the reader understand what's going on (at least, as much as you want them to understand). I haven't read many books that have viewpoint changes like your's and I'm interested to see how it continues to work out.
I personally like this part. It's differesnt and really sets up the mood well.
The first part from Jalaar's POV says a lot and really sets up his character for the rest of the book. Plus, you say a lot in a little. The casual remark of it being wolves this time makes the implication that there are many other kinds of were-creatures without you having to say so. I really like it when authors can do that. However, you make mention of Jalaar using his blade "casually" twice in a very short time. Either find a different term, like "with ease", or don't bother describing it again.
With the wolf fight, you say that Keesha clawed Tannar. First, his clothes would be relatively tattered from that right? And had he been human he would have several bloody cuts. Wouldn't she have noticed that fact, or did she and I just missed it?
I love how you ended the first chapter, introducing Shanna and having Karenna and Tannar give little "knowing" comments to each other. Very nice.
Overall, I like how you started the whole thing. You take your time without being slow, much like the caravan, and make several important points and give important information and clues without being blatently obvious about it. Nice work.
Yeah, I will give it a thorough look through if you need me to. I probably won't be able to for a week though. I'm leaving on a week long snowboarding trip and I don't know if I'll have access to the internet. If I do, then it won't take that long.
~Aero
Yay!!!! Thank you so much aero--your catches were fantastic, thanks so much! I have integrated them into the master copy, they shall soon be here for all to enjoy.
<
Oh, one thing: I went through and gave more physical descriptions of emotion in the Jataal/Tannar scene, but I had trouble finding spots like that in the other scenes, do you think you could give me a hand?
>haha, the catches have been integrated!
Hey Gyr! I'm so so so so sorry for being late in this critique. I will get to Chapter 7 asap. I have been very sick of late with the flu for the past two weeks and have had barely any time with trying to catch up in school and my other stuff. (I haven't had any time to really further develop the Veil yet, I will be getting to that this week
) Anyways here ya go!
Chapter 6 Critique
As you know...
Red=thoughts while reading
Blue Italics=comments on the quotes
Read that first clause. You will notice that you say 'him' and 'Tannar' in the same clause. This adds to confusion as to whether 'him' is really Tannar or whether it is someone else entirely. Of course we know it is Tannar but it is just funky. I would change it (suggestion) to...Jataal tossed Tannar the broadsword he had the used the other day; he caught it instinctively...also, you may consider getting rid of the semi-colon and making it a completely new sentence. I think it would make a bigger impact, if that is what you were going for.
This is just another suggestion (most will be), make the 'holding the sword down to one side,' to...holding the sword to his side. I think it adds more of a 'personal' feel if that makes sense. Using 'one side' makes it sound less human like for me. Of course, this is just nit-pickish and really just my weird ideas, haha.
Okay, there is nothing really wrong with this, but I just think it could be better. You say he did not like where this was going. But up till now, you haven't shown me any action or movement really that says that he doesn't like where it's going. Perhaps, cross out that and show it in some sort of action. Body language tells so much more than you telling me what he's feeling. Of course, there is the proper time to tell me. But, I think it would be better here if you showed the reader. So we could feel Tannar's apprehension (nervousness). Because, so far we have gotten the feeling that Tannar doesn't get nervous easily. You have to prove to me that he doesn't like where this is going.
Again, you're telling me his emotion. Prove it to me. Perhaps, he is so annoyed he literally just walks away and then the teacher charges him bringing him back to the fight. You could make this scene so much better than it is! Right now, you're introducing me (the reader) to the new chapter and you really have the opportunity to make me want to keep reading. You're doing fine, mediokre, but you have much better stuff inside of you, that could make this superb.
Again, you're telling me the emotion. Show it to me! Maybe have him grin, or chuckle or something. (sorry my creative juices are a bit downed from being sick). Anyways, like I said, there is the proper place for telling stuff and I don't think it is in the beginning here.
You repeat again twice to start both clauses, I don't like this at all. Figure out a better way of conveying it.
I like this, reveals some stuff about Tannar. (That he is even better than he seems, which is really cool
Okay, now I get to the point I was trying to give about showing rather than telling. You've been doing a lot of emotional telling up to this point and then you shove a narrative telling on us. It all works fine how it is right now, but if you did a lot of showing and then did this telling I think everything would roll even better.
I don't like the flow of this sentence. Finally and suddenly? That sounds redundant to me. If it were me, mind you this is just a suggestion, I would reword it...possibly...Suddenly, Jataal leaned against the wall, breathing hard and put a hand up. (or something similar. You make your simplistic point much too complex.)
I would get rid of the 's' on eyes.
The bolded sentence sounds a bit weird. You're going from third person to omniscient pov. Well, at least, that is how it sounds to me. Sounds very awkward and left me puzzled for a second. I would recommend just getting rid of the bolded sentence.
Okay, I really don't think you need to tell his emotion. I think we already have the 'feel' of the atmosphere. If you just said Tannar stopped suddenly or something, we would still get the picture. So far, you have a lot of emotional 'goo' it seems. The reader is not stupid Gyr
For some reason, either I'm stupid or this is written wrong, I don't understand this phrase. This phrase is too complicated for me, lol. I understand what you're trying to say, but I don't know. I would reword it. But then again, I'm really tired so pardon me if I missed the obvious meaning. I think what I don't like about it is the whole 'maybe' word and the fact that it seems like he's trying to answer a question. The before dialogue never says anything or implies it being complicated. To tell you the truth...I really don't like the whole paragraph that this phrase is in. I think the dialogue is worded badly, at least for me. I would rewrite it, personally.
I'm wondering if the Forget it and the I've had enough should only have single quotation marks? 'Forget it', 'I've had enough'. Right now, it gets confused as dialogue?
Okay, I've read through the entire thing from here on and most of the stuff I would bring up would just be repetitive things that I've already mentioned. You do a lot of emotional 'goo' telling. You need to show us the emotions, don't tell us! The reader is not stupid and all of us can read simple body language. (Of course as long as the reader has had a social life
~Aero
um...wow. thank's so much, guys...wow.
>added later< doesn't any one esle have something to say!<
Wow! That chapter was fabulous! I haven’t critiqued it as well as I usually do.
I can really feel the tension between Karenna and Shanna and the connection shared by Avarn and Tannar. I loved the description of what happened as Tannar felt Avarn’s pain and how his true form was almost coming through, that was brilliant. I’m sorry I couldn’t be much of a help for this part but keep writing!
-- Myth
Wow! What a cliffhanger! And instead of critiquing this, I shall leave that to people better suited for the job and be your cheer team instead. Good chapter! If not a bit short. I think you could have expanded the scenes a bit, particularly the one with Shanna in the office with the Head Wizard. But that's merely my opinion.
Can't wait for the next chapter!
LUNA
Chapter Seven
Spring melted into summer. The members of Unit Thirty-two learned both the arts of war and its history. In the classroom they were pumped full of propaganda about Dirantyr’s superiority, and on the training field they were bruised and battered until they could hardly walk. But they learned.
Within three months, both Laroo and Menee could hit the target seven times out of ten, though Karenna would always be the unit’s best archer. Tannar and Obern were, officially, tied for the honor of the greatest broadsword fighter, and while they had many, often unauthorized duels, the issue was never truly resolved. Shanna was the best fencer, though Karenna could generally hold her own with a rapier.
Those with some Possible Mage classification began the very basics of training; Shanna as a wizard, the twins as healers, and Phara, the slight, warlike girl, as a battle mage. With Tannar’s help, Karenna managed to study from her rival’s books when Shanna was otherwise occupied, and while she never tried any of the plethora of spells she found in them, she remembered. Tannar himself was able to instruct her a little, for as an Elementar he could perform almost any spell known to mortals; his trouble came in trying to teach her.
Tannar himself progressed in his private lessons with Jataal. He was never again as foolish as on the day of their first duel—always he kept up a pretense of purely human talent. But he advanced.
After a few weeks and much discussion, Laroo and Menee were introduced to Boom and loved him instantly. The boy-giant took it upon himself to rectify the faulty teaching they received at the Academe, and so the twins lost a little of their wide-eyed innocence through Boom’s descriptions of “the real world.”
No one save Karenna and Boom were ever told of what Tannar really was. It was a subject rarely spoken of and never mentioned except in the sunny clearing where Boom lived. The Gypsies didn’t seem to take an interest in that part of their territory. Karenna never saw one when she was there.
* * *
The last deluge of summer poured down, drenching the tall tree and its sole occupant. But Cerreno was all but oblivious to the wet; he looked out over the vast expanse of the Gypsies’ Forest like a father taking pride in his homestead. Below him, at the hidden mouth of a cave, his sister looked up at him. She was small, only about six feet tall, with long hair and large, soulful eyes. Her husband came up next to her and, putting an arm around her shoulders, looked upwards through the rain to where the dim figure of his brother-in-law was perched.
“Why not come inside, Mimoa?” he asked quietly. “He’ll be all right.”
Mimoa didn’t move. Her slender body was shaking slightly. “Water and wind,” she whispered.
Her husband tenderly steered her inside, walking slowly and rubbing her back. “Come on, sweet. He can take care of himself, as can the future.”
“The Windstorm is coming,” she murmured. “He’s going to come soon. Water and wind, the bane of Fire. He’ll be here soon.”
“Yes,” her husband said, “yes, I know.”
Cerreno watched them go. Then slowly, carefully, he made his way down from the tree and joined his family inside the cave.
* * *
A shrill, quavering sound jerked Karenna’s head up from the book she had been reading. She was perched on one of the low stone walls that circled the Academe’s courtyard, trying to study for a test tomorrow. Shanna came sauntering across, holding a carved flute to her lips and murdering the soul of music with every harsh note. Karenna rolled her eyes and tried to ignore her.
Shanna came and leaned against the wall next to Karenna, the tune—if it could be called that—growing obnoxiously louder until it ended, finally, mercifully, in a sharp crescendo. “What do you think?” asked Shanna through her stitched-on smile. “Daddy had it sent to me as a birthday present. A famous fordge made it; it’s supposed to calm the soul of the even the most savage animals.”
Karenna didn’t answer. She was careful to keep her eyes downcast; the last thing she needed was for Shanna to see them.
The aristocrat twisted her neck to see the title of the book Karenna was reading. “’Nemekar, Father of Modern Magic,’” she read aloud, then scoffed. “It’s pathetic that you’re still reading such basic history: Nemekar creates the first wand, the first Familiar, his son is the first magician and kills the first Elementar by accident. Big war, lots of Elementars killed, the end.”
Karenna had to call on all her practiced calmness to keep from tearing Shanna’s head off. Tannar had told her about that war when they began studying Nemekar; it was the first and only war between mortals and his people. He had even shown her parts of what his own ancestral memories had told him of it, the same way he had shown her his birth. She had been sick for days afterwards.
As if she had plucked the thoughts of the Elementar out of Karenna’s mind, Shanna said, oh-so-casually, “You know, the whole unit’s been buzzing with curiosity over where you and the twins go in your free time. And that dark-haired boy, too, what’s his name…”
“Tannar,” said Karenna automatically, still not looking up, still smothering her anger.
“Right,” said Shanna slowly, the disturbing false smile twitching. “You know, I told my daddy about him in a letter and he said he made some inquiries…” she left the word hanging in the air like the bait on the end of a hook. Karenna didn’t bite. Shanna continued. “Oddly enough, he couldn’t find anything about the boy, not a home or a family, he couldn’t even find a last name. The only reference to anyone named ‘Tannar’ was in one of the old prophesies Werenna made when Scharon planted fire in the hearts of humans.”
Karenna tensed. She knew the story, she had known it even before Tannar had told her—it was one of Avarn’s favorites. They had been afraid that someone might make the connection, but there was noting for it now.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the tale,” Shanna continued, almost wheedling. “Werenna created the Werebeasts, to whom she gave her name and the changing power; then the Gypsies, to whom she gave her beauty and most of her magic…”
Something wasn’t right here. Shanna was reciting the original mythology, not the cropped, human-centered, human-praising version that was taught nowadays.
“And then she created humans, who were to be her last creation. She gave them the wisdom and the strength to rule the other two races in peace, but Scharon, the Elemental of Fire, stole to where she had hidden their birthing flower and planted a spark of fire in their heart. So that they would always dominate by war and conquest, and would always thirst for blood. Firehearts.” Shanna said the last word as if speaking the name of a lover.
Karenna stared, unseeing at her book. Shanna’s voice was measured, almost hypnotic. The treacherous part of Karenna began to growl.
“Werenna wept, and the other Elementals made war on Scharon to avenge her, and they finally succeeded, imprisoning him at the heart of the earth. But Werenna would not be comforted. She made prophesies, quite a lot of them. Some of them everyone knows, such as the one where the Firehearts, where we would split and be separated by water, which has already happened. But some of them are…quite obscure.”
Karenna’s mind was fuzzy, her muscles seemed limp. Could you work a spell without saying the words in Elemental? Only with a wand, she knew, but… Moving entirely on instinct and what strength of will she had left, Karenna pounced and grabbed the flute from Shanna’s hands. The blonde’s lesson last week had been how to control with a wand and the soothing power of a voice. Being careful not to damage the instrument, Karenna twisted the end off and pulled something from the inside of the hollow flute. A wand. Her wand.
Rage, blinding, burning rage filled her like she had never before been filled. She wanted to hurt this girl, wanted so badly to see her pain, to see her burn. The wand grew warm in her hand and began to glow with a faint blue light. Shanna backed away from her, eyes wide and hands out. “Now Karenna,” she stammered, “I didn’t mean anything…just a bit of a joke…”
A hand landed on Karenna’s shoulder. She jerked her head around to see Tannar, his dark eyes solemn. He glanced at the cowering Shanna and then back to her. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice carefully blank.
Karenna’s fury ebbed away slowly. She looked from Shanna to the wand in her hand. No, she didn’t want to hurt this coward. The aristocrat, arrogant and superior, that was the person she wanted to hurt, but not this cowering wretch. “Nothing,” she said.
Tannar glanced around the abandoned courtyard; everyone else was having dinner. He took the flute from Karenna’s other hand, reassembled it, and blew a few pleasant notes. He grinned. “For me? Why thank you so much, I don’t know how you do it; it’s just what I wanted.”
“That’s—” Shanna was cut of with one look from Tannar.
“Now, you know it’s not good for you to miss a meal, highness,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Why don’t you just run along and eat with your equals, then. We’re poor, so we’re used to missing a meal or two, but we can’t have it said that the most noble Shanna Liam is skipping dinner just to spend time with a couple of commoners, can we?”
Shanna proved that not all members of the nobility were as stupid as normally assumed; she went. Karenna found that she was shivering, and not just from tension. The breeze had acquired an edge that knifed through her uniform and the cloak Tannar had given her.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I think Shanna suspects.”
“Really, what tipped you off?”
“She could make trouble.”
Tannar snorted. “I’m shaking.”
“Tannar, listen to me,” Karenna wrapped her arms around herself to help ward off the early chill. “You haven’t told me why Avarn waited to send you and I haven’t asked. In truth, I don’t want to know, not yet. But if she finds out what you are and who your master is, how long do you think it’ll be before they find him?”
“Karenna, trust me,” Tannar’s eyes were serious again. “With me and Boom here to protect you and Avarn tucked away in the mountains, nothing is going to happen that we can’t handle.”
“I want to talk to him,” she said, asking the thing she had not dared to ask in all these months. “I want to see Avarn; I know he and you are linked.”
Tannar shook his head. “Barely, it’s too far. And if I tried to strengthen the connection here, someone might sense it.” A flicker of pain flitted across his features and then was gone. “I’ve barely been able to talk with him for the whole time I’ve been here.”
Karenna took his hand and steered him towards their dormitories. “Come on,” she said. “It’s getting dark.”
* * *
Headmaster Tavrinal shuffled some papers before looking up at his visitor. “Ah, Miss Liam,” he said. “Please have a seat.”
Shanna sat, her shoulders visibly quaking. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Headmaster.”
As if I had a choice when your father donates fifty thousand marks to the school each year. Aloud, he said, “Certainly, Miss Liam. What is it you need?”
“Well sir,” she said, “it’s about two fellow students in my unit—Karenna Morn and that boy Tannar.”
“Yes.”
“She held a wand on me!” The statement came out shrilly, like a whistle. “Students at the Academe are not allowed to own wands, much less threaten other students with them!”
“I think I am aware of that rule, Miss Liam.”
“There’s more,” Shanna hissed. “She’s a Gypsie, I’m sure of it. Have you seen her eyes?”
Ashter let the silence ferment for a moment. “Miss Liam,” he said slowly, “you are aware that Gypsies cannot use wands?”
Shanna blinked. “They can’t?”
He passed his hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, Miss Liam, they cannot. They don’t have wizards, Miss Liam, they have soothsayers, which are the Gypsie equivalent of wizards in all but the matter of wands. Sayers, you understand, they must speak their spells aloud. I’m surprised you haven’t learned this in your basic magic classes.”
Shanna sat there for a moment with her mouth open like a frozen fish. Ashter took a degree of pity on her. “You’re going to have to pick your charge, Miss Liam. Either you suspect she is a Gypsie spy or she held a live wand on you, which is it?”
She appeared to think for a moment. “Which will get her in the most trouble?”
“Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Liam. Do not let me detain you.”
“But—”
“Do not let me detain you, Miss Liam.”
Shanna stood in a huff. “Fine,” she snapped. “There are others who can do something about her.”
“Not on my campus there’s not.” Ashter’s tone was abruptly sharp. He did not take kindly to threats to his authority, few wizards did.
“Fine.” Shanna stormed out.
Ashter sat back and let his anger cool. The tingling sensation at the back of his neck told him that things were going to get quite a lot worse, and he had learned to trust that sensation.
* * *
Avarn’s fingers flew across the polished ivory keys, trying to fill the void within him with music. He had been connected to Tannar for six years, had had the other’s thoughts and emotions constantly in his head, had been able to see through his eyes. Now there was a great emptiness inside of him, a tearing loneliness that clawed at his soul. He had never had time to mourn the loss of his sight; Tannar had come along too quickly for that. And he had hardly ever wanted for company; the first two years in this sanity-forsaken castle had been full of new experiences and learning, and then there had been Tannar.
“Feeling lonely, little master?” said a deep, gravely voice behind him.
Avarn stiffened. He could feel the creature’s furnace breath on the back of his neck. “Not for missing you,” he managed.
Karoon laughed, a sound like the echo of thunder underground. He was an ancient Elementar of fire and air, a being of almost unrivaled maliciousness and power. It was he who had widowed Avarn’s mother and blinded Avarn himself. And now, theoretically, he served Vishna. He was huge, nearly seven feet tall and broader in the chest and shoulders than two mortal men. His skin was dark, stone-like gray, and he had huge leathery wings that spanned more than fifteen feet when unfurled. His perpetual stoop, vulture-like face, and slow, grinding approach made him seem to be more a gargoyle than anything. Avarn would never be able to forget what he looked like; his face was the last thing he had seen with his own eyes.
“Think you’re funny, little master?” Karoon took another step closer.
Avarn stood and backed away, hating the fear that rose within him. “Stay back,” he commanded, hoping his voice didn’t waver as much as he heard it do.
There was another grinding step. “Why should I?”
Avarn’s foot caught something and he fell hard on the marble floor. He heard Karoon chuckle and move forward again. “My mother is your master,” he said, knowing how feeble this threat was; Vishna could hardly give Karoon an itch, much less unleash the real Punishing Spells on him.
“You’ve fallen down, little master.” Avarn felt Karoon’s huge fist close around his arm and he screamed from the burning, searing touch of the Elementar.
* * *
The screams woke Karenna and she darted out of bed and into the boys’ room without stopping to think or throw on a robe over her nightdress. Tannar was screaming himself raw and writhing on his top bunk. She saw his outline waver and then he fell to the floor, still squirming. The others were awake now and someone had lit a lamp. Tannar’s human façade was beginning to melt; two large, shadowy wings flickered into and out of existence on his back. Karenna grabbed and lifted him without thinking. “I’m taking him to the Healer,” she lied, and rushed out of the dormitories.
* * *
Avarn’s breath came in quick, shallow gasps. His left arm dragged uselessly as he tried to scramble back from the Elementar. He couldn’t see and for the first time since that night six years ago his blindness terrified him. Karoon took another step. “What’s wrong, little master?” There was a leathery sound and a blast of desert wind as Karoon unfurled and beat his wings. “I thought you’d like a little company.”
“Back off, stonebeak,” came a voice from the doorway.
Tannar exhaled. It was Meensha, the second Elementar his mother had bound. She was younger than Karoon, but not by much. He had only ever seen her through Tannar’s eyes and he would have given nearly anything to see her now.
Karoon growled. “Stay out of this, Meensha.”
Avarn heard her stamp one of her heavy feet threateningly; her legs were stronger than most men’s entire bodies. “Now, I know I’m not as strong as you,” she said, “and I know the mistress can’t do much via the Punishing Spells. But I’m willing to bet that the two of us together might cause you some grief.”
There was a deep snort. Karoon’s grinding steps began to move away from him. “We’ll talk later, little master.” And then he was gone.
* * *
She took him to Boom. She didn’t know why—the giant was certainly no healer—but he was big and solid and undauntable and those were the qualities that she needed at this point. Tannar hadn’t screamed for long; now he lay limp and unconscious on the grass between them. Boom nudged him with a finger. “What happened?”
Karenna was hugging her knees to her chest, Tannar’s old cloak around her, glaring at the prone form as if the very force of her will could help him. “I think something must have happened to Avarn,” she said quietly. “The link between them is stretched as it is; any pain trying to cross it must have been made stronger by the mere shock of it.”
Boom nodded in that slow, deliberate way he used when he didn’t understand but wanted to be supportive.
Tannar groaned and shifted slightly. The shadow wings had vanished and his human form had solidified. He opened his eyes. “What happened?”
“You don’t know?”
The Elementar struggled upwards until he was almost sitting. “Avarn,” he said. “I think something happened to him.”
He winced and fingered his left arm gently. Then his face darkened. “Karoon.”
*sighs* Ah, I love it when I finally integrate your guys' wonderful catches--everything looks so much better!
Thanks to all you fantastic people who have read Gypsie Eyes!
The next chapter to follow soon!
>well, since no one seems intent on ripping chapter six to pieces, I'll see if the miracle continues with chapter seven....<
Ooh, I'll have to read that... ^_^
I read the rest, too, Gyr and I really like it. Tannar's awesome, but he seems to be getting on Kareena's nerves, which is interesting to read.
Pros: have you died and gone to a heaven that doesn't allow you to play the RPG's character game?
Gyrfalcon Keevin Stormsinger, don't make me come over there...*makes ineffectual threatening gestures*
And for anyone who cares, the name is pronounced Oh-SEER, and he's flipping flaming awesome. I must go and write him now.
Thanks to everyone!!!
Myth, Pros, your catches shall be integrated forthwith. Um, Pros, the reason he's not acting like he's 16 is because he is, in fact, NOT 16...
Yeah.
Hey, want some fun? Go ask Sage about a new charactor named Osir. *evil laugh*
Here's my crit for Chapter 2:
change "in a" to "with a"; change "kind of way" to "look on his face"
just then, a boy, indentical to...
good simile
I think that there are to many doubled letters in the character's names. cut it down a little
Tannar seems much to old and reserved. Make him seem like he's 16.
I loved it. I will crit chapter three as soon as possible. Keep up the good work. ^_~
Green = Comment/Correction
Black = Review
*
‘say after’ = stay after
You also missed a few words, stay after what?
Is 'fordges' a made up word? I think you could have explained what this type of mage was.
Yes, you're now getting to bring out Tannar and the reader is able to understand who/what he is and why he is quite secretive about things. I still love the connection a Elemental has with a magician.
There wasn't much else I noticed to critique so well done!
-- Myth
Chapter 6
The next day, near the end of their class with Jataal, the battle mage asked Tannar to stay after the hour was up. The Elemental waited suspiciously while his fellows left the armory, talking amongst themselves. Karenna shot him a look, half of caution, half of pity. He grinned wryly at her, pretending a confidence he didn’t fully feel. She was the last to leave the classroom, and Tannar turned to face the teacher once they were alone. “Well,” he said bluntly, “what do you want?”
Jataal tossed Tannar the broadsword he had used the other day; he caught it instinctively. “On guard,” said the battle mage, and tugged a similar weapon free from its display sheath.
Tannar didn’t move, holding the sword to his side. “What do you want?” he repeated, shifting his weight.
Jataal didn’t answer; he attacked, bringing his sword around in a simple thrust. Tannar blocked it without thinking. “Good form,” commented the teacher. “Excellent reaction time. Where did you learn to fight like this?”
“What business is it of yours?” Tannar demanded, frowning slightly. He shoved Jataal’s blade away with his own and attacked in a graceful swipe that should have caught the old man lightly on the shoulder. The battle mage laughed and moved his body fractionally so that the sword split the air mere inches from his skin.
“But not perfect, for all your style,” said Jataal, still jovial. His next attack was no beginner’s move; Tannar had to scramble to counter it.
“Won’t someone complain if you slice up the students?” Tannar said, grinning in spite of himself.
“So don’t let me slice you up.” Again, the sword moved faster than Tannar had expected; he was just barely able to block it. He smiled and, knowing it was stupid, abandoned the human-leveled pretense. If his opponent was going to fight on a higher level than most mortals, well then so was he.
The next few moments were pure joy. Tannar had been born with the strength, speed, and instincts to defeat any Normal opponent, but he had never truly been trained, instead learning what he could from the books in the vast libraries that filled Avarn’s home. Jataal, for all his mortality, was better than he, and the thrill of a challenge overcame all concepts of common sense.
Suddenly, Jataal stopped and leaned against the wall, breathing hard and putting a hand up. Tannar halted his attack mid-swing. “What’s wrong?”
Jataal smiled. “Fifty-three years, that’s what’s wrong. Not as young as I used to be. By Werenna you’re a talented thing.”
And the common sense Tannar had abandoned came crashing in too late to do him any good. “Not as talented as you,” he tried anyway, knowing how hopeless it was.
The battle mage laughed, wheezing slightly with fatigue. “Not as educated, yes. Not as talented, well, I don’t know about that.” He straightened and looked Tannar in the eyes. “I want to start training you, kid. Personally. You’re better than any Possible Battle Mage here, and the first student to come along in years who’s worth my time.”
For a moment Tannar ached to accept. “I can’t,” he said.
“Why not? The government would love someone like you; they’d pay you whatever you’d ask—”
“I just can’t,” snapped Tannar. “It’s…complicated.”
“Ah…” said Jataal. He replaced his sword and took a seat on one of the few wooden chairs scattered about. “It’s complicated, is it? So complicated you’d throw away a job many people would kill for?”
“A job that many people would get killed for,” returned Tannar.
Jataal smiled, and this time the expression was knowing. “It’s not the violence you have a problem with, my boy.”
“Well then,” said Tannar, annoyed again. “Pray tell what it is then.”
“There, there now. I’m no Gypsie fate, I can’t tell the future or what’s in a man’s heart. I’m a battle mage. I tell what’s in a man’s attack stance, his strategy, his tactics. And your tactics are all evasive.”
Tannar snorted. “I’ve heard enough. I said no and that’s that.” He turned his back and started to leave.
“It doesn’t have to be official.”
Slowly, Tannar revolved until he faced Jataal again, a barely controlled eagerness burning in his eyes. “How’s that?”
“If it’s complicated, then maybe it’s complicated,” Jataal said. “Then maybe I don’t get the credit for training one of the best natural-born warriors to come along in fifty years. But maybe I get the satisfaction of seeing him get better, maybe I get the satisfaction of being the only one who can say ‘I beat him once.’ And maybe that’s good enough for me.”
“Maybe I don’t want to risk it.”
Jataal shrugged. “It’s up to you. The offer stands, however long it takes.”
For a moment, far too long of a moment, Tannar hesitated. And when he finally spoke it wasn’t “Forget it” or “I’ve had enough.” It was, “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.”
* * *
Karenna walked the twins to the door of their first healing-magic class and waited with them while they worked up the courage to go inside. “It’s not like they’ll make you actually use any of the spells today, not for months as I understand it,” she said as they all but cowered behind her.
“We know,” replied one of them, probably Menee.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Um,” said the other, Laroo. “The teacher knows our father.”
“So?”
They gulped in unison. “Well, you see,” Laroo explained hesitantly. “The fact that we didn’t turn out as battle mages was…frankly a disappointment to our father. But our mother’s a healer, and she convinced him that healers can do just as much important stuff as battle mages.”
“So now,” Menee picked up the account, “he’s rather…convinced that we’re going to be fantastic healers. The words ‘Class 1’ don’t register with him.”
“And he’s told this teacher to give him regular reports on what he calls ‘our progress.’”
“Which we will consider very good if we manage not to kill the first animal we try the spells out on,” finished Menee.
Karenna sighed. “I see. Well, I have class, too, boys, I’m afraid I can’t hold your hands all the way.”
“We know,” said Menee.
“Thanks anyway,” said Laroo.
She shoved each of them gently into the class room and waved before continuing on to her own class. They stood there for a moment, then moved tentatively to two seats in the far back corner. The door at the front of the room opened violently and a tall, sallow, red-haired man strode in, his dark teacher’s robes fluttering. Again, the twins gulped.
“I am Professor Nebonava,” he announced, glaring around with large, washed-out brown eyes. “And I understand that I have two members of the famous Vocilia family in my class.”
This time, the twins groaned.
* * *
Shanna’s hand shot up for perhaps the hundredth time that period, and Karenna sighed as the teacher beamed and called on her. Not as though Karenna herself wanted the attention, she was still jittery and tired from the magical exhaustion of the day before. But she knew the answers as well as the young aristocrat did, and not being able to show her up rankled. “There are five types of human mages,” said Shanna primly. “Wizards—general magic uses, magicians—who bind Elementals, fordges—makers of magic items, battle mages—the warriors, and healers, who are also called menders.”
“Very good,” said the teacher, a thin woman with straight black hair. “Now, would anyone care to name more of the specific talents of each mage?”
The blonde girl’s hand rose again, but she didn’t wait for permission before she spoke, “Miss Illitta, why are we bothering with this? All of us know the answers already.”
Several heads nodded surreptitiously, and there were various murmurs of agreement.
Illitta flashed a look at Shanna. “Not everyone has your privileged upbringing, Miss Liam, or your magical talent.” Her gaze flicked around the room quickly before coming to rest on Karenna. “Miss Morn, for instance,” she said, “can you tell us the specific talents of a type of human mage?”
Karenna felt her cheeks flush, and this time there were suppressed chuckles from around the room. She knew the information, but she had been foolish with her knowledge before and the ordeal of Tannar’s revelations yesterday had made her wary. But because Avarn was on her mind, and she didn’t want to appear stupid whatever the consequences, she said, “Magicians control Elementars, right? The two are bound together, and whatever one feels, so does the other.”
“Very good,” said Illitta, a thin-lipped smile twisting her mouth. “Can anyone tell me how many Elementars one magician can control at a time?”
“The most recorded is four,” said Shanna without bothering to even raise her hand. “But that has only happened in rare cases. Most average magicians can only manage one or two, perhaps three if they’re very talented. Of course, most die trying to gain control of their first. And even if they don’t, they feel whatever pain their slave goes through in the process.”
“Shouldn’t they?” said Karenna quietly. “The magicians do steal their freedom.”
Shanna scoffed. “It’s not as if they’re human that you have to worry so.”
Karenna bit back a retort. She lowered her head and said demurely, but with a trace of venom, “Whatever you say, of course.”
She heard Shanna open her mouth for an angry comeback, but the teacher interrupted. “Girls, girls,” she said, waving her hands for peace, “debate is not the object of this class.”
“But truth is,” said Karenna softly. “Or it should be.”
“What was that, Miss Morn?” snapped Illitta.
“Nothing, ma’am.”
Miss Illitta went back to her lecture. Shanna, who sat in the front row, waited until the teacher’s attention was elsewhere then twisted in her seat to throw a glance back at Karenna. She smiled sweetly, and didn’t meet the aristocrat’s eyes.
* * *
Tannar sat amongst the constant bustle and noise of the mess hall, picking at the food before him and thinking. “And he made us stand up in front of the whole class and introduce ourselves,” Laroo wailed.
“And he said, ‘I only hope the rest of you can measure up to the natural talent of these Vocilias,’” Menee added, pitching his voice to imitate the offending teacher.
The late afternoon sun that filtered through the high slitted windows darkened with the gathering storm-clouds. Still the twins talked, babbling about their simple anxieties and temporary problems. A peal of thunder ripped through the noise of the dinner chaos, and for a moment there was silence.
Karenna glanced from the ever-thickening clouds outside to Tannar. He didn’t look at her. Another thunderclap, louder than the first, resounded, again silencing the hundred conversations that buzzed through the large room. “Tannar,” said Karenna softly.
“Frustration,” he muttered. “Let me get it out in a thunderstorm or it’ll come out in a hurricane.”
There was the noise of a million raindrops slamming into stone. Several of the students jumped, and those sitting near the windows shuffled away from the pervasive rain that clawed its way through the glass-less slits. “Tannar,” said Karenna again.
But Tannar wasn’t listening. Jataal’s offer tore at him; he wanted so badly to accept. To learn from a real warrior, to train under a master battle mage such as he: it was a dream he had never dared have. Then why don’t you?
Tannar started, another thunderclap manifesting his surprise. Avarn?
Why not let him train you, my friend? The magician’s voice was faint and very distant, but achingly familiar. If this will make you happy, I trust you. For a few perfect seconds Avarn’s heartbeat filled his mind, soothing the ever-present pain of the distance that separated them. Then it faded to silence and with it the clamor of the storm died and the constant pounding of rain-drops became the pitter-patter of isolated showers.
Karenna put a hand on his arm and he started again. “What’s wrong?” she said.
He realized that he was breathing hard, and for an instant he felt his eyes glow blue. Then he was back in control. “Nothing,” he said, standing and carrying his tray of untouched food to the waste bins. He strode out into the fading afternoon light and stopped. The buildings around him were drenched, every slab of stone dark with moisture. Tannar inhaled the clear, alive scent of after-rain air. He glanced up at the dissipating storm-clouds, smiled, and saluted them before swaggering off.
* * *
Jataal was sitting alone in the corner of the armor, watching the quickly-dissipating storm-clouds, when the door behind him slammed open. He turned and caught the hilt of the broadsword that Tannar flung at him. The boy held the same sword Jataal had tossed to him that morning.
Tannar grinned impishly. “On guard.”
oy! Pros, you and Shafter keep giving me conflicting advice on the "comma before a quotation mark" thing!
Oh well, I'm sure it'll work out. Thanks so much, darling, I'm blushing! Chapter Six to come soon.
Here's my crit for chapter 1:
should be a comma after again.
same here:
comma after gaze
Other than the stuff mentioned, it was wonderful. You, Gyr, are probably one of the best writers I've ever seen. Next, I'll do chapter 2.
Claudette: your suggestions for Karenna's claustrophobia attack were wonderful!!! I went back and changed it--hope it's better, that scene's been bugging me for awhile
Thanks so much.
Aero: darling, what would I do without you?
Thanks again to everyone! I am actually in the process of finishing up chapter six (I've written several, SEVERAL chapters beyond chapter six, but I needed to interject a new chapter so six will be mostly first draft stuff)
Shafter, darling, you are so right about the prologue. I shall give it a more thourough look-through soon.
*gives cake to everyone!*
Chapter 3: (Hopefully more to go into the master copy!)
With tanner she could as least have commiserated (could you find an easier word to use? No point in using big words if you can use smaller ones) , albeit silently, about the....(the above is from the first part...I have to go do some things, I'll finish up when I get the chance.)
Darling, you were supposed to let me know when you updated! Now I have about a bazillion chapters to crit! I just finished reading them all, and I must say that I'm quite impressed. I'll get down to the nitty-gritty when I have time again, but I promise you a critique soon.
Keep writing!
Chapter 5 Critique
Blue Italics = Comments on Quotes
Red = Thoughts While Reading
I'm not a fan of the double and
I think this should be a question instead of a statement because he waits to speak, so the other children can file out. As well as Karenna is trying to hide the food she took. So I think she would be questioning more.
I don't like the second clause of this sentence; the second part, really doesn't flow well at all.
I like this line
This sentence feels comma overloaded for me. Think about changing it.
I like how the scene doesn't go how I thought it would go. I personally thought she would be oh thats so cool, at first; and then when she was kind of wary about it I figured she would agree in the end. But then she didn't! Interesting... Obviously she doesn't want to be noticed.
You never state who 'she' is in this paragraph. I know the reader knows who it is, but it might be just nice for you to say Karenna hadn't come all day...first. It just seems like the right thing to do.
Why does he call her Miss Morn? I'm unsure if he does it like a child trying to sound proper or whether its a mistake in character. If its the first, then you need to communicate that to the reader. If its the second, then just have him call her Karenna.
I'm curious as to why he eats leaves and bark and wood? Last I checked the guy was a human who just had a bad run-in with magic. Wouldn't he want to eat the same stuff that humans do, unless the magic changed his taste buds. Or is this just a weird quirk he developed?
I personally am thinking its a weird quirk that just makes him 'Boom'. If it is this, you need to establish how he developed this quirk possibly and why. Otherwise it seems kind of random, at least to me. Most readers probably wouldn't analyze this, but I tend to go into analyze overdrive when I critique.
Over imagery here. I had to read it three times before I understood that she was talking about her anger. It might just be the mood I'm in, but I don't think you need this here. It just might make the reader a bit confused. At first I was like what was she holding? A butterfly? A bug? A what? And then I realized it was her anger. Anyways just something to think about.
Yeah...uh huh...this seemed totally fake to me when I read it. Want to know why? Again, last time I checked...Boom is human. Unless he developed some quirky things when that magic affected him. How does Boom see it and nobody else does?
I realize that you're trying to tell us that she's tired, but basically the reader already knows that she is when you told us she used all of her energy. Having the...'She was so tired...'...ruins the emotional scene that is taking place at the moment. It takes the reader out of that realm where he is literally sucked into the book. I would get rid of it.
The 'and' problem again.
I like how you have your own little saying that they say in their world.
Cool, I never expected that.
But her training at the academe isn't done. So obviously he didn't wait. This contradicts.
I loved it! Absolutely wonderful. I could really feel their emotions and I liked the cheerful ending to this chapter. It was uplifting
Amazing job, once again! Hopefully my critique will help you bud!
~Aero
Hey, Gyr!
I haven't had time to read much so far, but I do see where you've improved it a lot. Great job!
The only thing I have to take issue with you at the moment is the first paragraph. Good idea, but when I read it, I am overwhelmed with a flood of commas!
See what I mean? It was just a little... comma overload.
Also, a little of the dialogue in the prologue seemed... not contrived, but as if it's there solely for the reader's benefit. Karenna (sp?) already knows that Avarn doesn't know his real parents and vice versa. It just didn't seem right. You know what I mean?
Sorry, I'm a bit foggy-headed today. Two hours of drama class will do that, I suppose...
Cheers! ~Shafter
write it this way: The small group of children...
use group, cluster or a similarly good adjective.
change kids to children. It's too informal.
change kids to children again
change gulls to seagulls. It describes better.
write it like this: This gull flew badly, he had broken his wing only last week. Avarn and Karenna had...
Avar shook his head, "No. She...
get rid of the semi colon. Make it a period.
remove water. It doesn't really fit.
put a comma after doing and before together.
That's all I have done right now. I'll crit chapter 1 today or tomorrow and get back to you as soon as possible. Nice story so far. I'm lovin it.
Chapter 2:
'rather more warmly' doesn't really work. if you're going to say 'Karenna smiled more warmly' you would also have to say 'more warmly at the twins than she had at the others' or something. I think you should take out 'rather' either way.Alright, we get it! She's trapped, and has claustrophobia! I'd suggest finding a better way to give the reader the same feeling
I like your story, I want to know whats with the girls eyes. And Tanner seems a little strange.
But I keep getting the feeling that your story is taking a long time to start up, like this is just filler until we get to the real plot, your just explaining things. But I may be wrong, this is just what I'm getting so far.
>added later< *sings* the catches have been integrated, the catches have been integrated!
Green = Comment/Correction
Indigo = Quote
Black = Review
*
Capitalise ‘class’. For a moment I thought the last sentence was part of the speech. It seems a little out of place there.
I’m not sure whether it should be ‘rising’ or ‘risings’. I think ‘rising’ would fit better.
I’m always so keen to know why Karenna won’t accept that she is a Gypsie (am I right?) so there is another mystery to solve. You’re keeping me hanging off my chair!
Use a space after using ellipses.
Separate the dialogue spoken by the two characters with spaced paragraphs.
Take out the semi-colon there.
I’m not sure I understand what ‘too-long moments’ means.
You can probably imagine me grinning like mad right now. XD
I don’t know if I’m right here or not but shouldn’t there be a comma after ‘me’?
Wow! Now I know why you began Tannar’s introduction with: As he continued to watch her, scratching instinctively at the bronze bands around his wrists, he decided he didn’t really want to hurt her. He just wanted her to never have been born.
This should end with a question mark.
What can I say? As you progress with each chapter I’m pulled further into this world you have created.
You and I seem to have similar ideas and I love how you’ve portrayed Elementars (in my case I have the pera) and how Tannar was willing to give himself to Avarn. This shows he cares, even if he doesn’t appear to most of the time. I still think he is my favourite character, I’m drawn to creatures rather than humans and I had a feeling he wasn’t really what he was supposed to be.
I absolutely loved it when Karenna visualised the thoughts/vision inside Tannar.
There is nothing bad I can say. Like you said, I have ‘eagle eyes’ and usually spot a lot of things, in this chapter you’ve done extremely well to bring out the real Tannar.
One more thing, I beat Aero to critiquing first! XD
-- Myth
Cool chapter. Again, I like Tavrinal, even though he really can't deal with other people. He's still smart.
Of course Tannar and Boom had to meet. I was waiting for that encounter.
Now we know what Tannar is, which is something of a relief.
More importantly, Karenna knows who and what Tannar is--an ally.So life is good.
You might try and toss another ball in the air here--everything seems very resovled.Your best when nobody has any idea what the heck is going on.
More posts later.
I have a bit to say on this. I'll come back and deliver the crit, when I have time.
Chapter 5
“Miss Morn.” Karenna stopped and turned around, holding her hands behind her to hide the napkin-wrapped leftovers she had pinched from lunch. Headmaster Tavrinal approached her across the courtyard, walking with the sedate grace she had noticed before. He paused when he was a few feet away, waiting for the other students to file out of the mess hall and out of earshot before speaking. “Miss Morn,” he said again.
“Headmaster?” she replied.
“I am not one to avoid the obvious, so let me just say that your behavior last night impressed me, as did certain…reports concerning your journey here. I should like to have you officially classified as a Possible Wizard Class 3.”
Karenna felt the panic rise within her. She dropped her eyes, trying to act indifferent. “Why ask me first, then?”
“Because of your eyes,” he said bluntly.
She started, and raised her head to stare at him.
His gaze was steady. “I know it can’t have been easy for you, growing up with eyes like yours. I want you to know right now that I don’t much care how you came by them. But we both know it would be difficult for you to avoid unpleasantness if you were officially classified and began taking classes in advanced magic. I have no desire to see you suffer, Miss Morn.”
She meant to say thank you. What came out was, “Why do you care?”
He blinked. For a moment, she saw his expression waver between a smile and a frown. It remained neutral. “Despite what you may think, Miss Morn, not all men like me, not all wizards or—dare I say—humans have a desire to see every person with Gypsie eyes beheaded, hung, or enslaved.”
“I’m not a Gypsie,” she hissed, not meeting his gaze.
“I’ve already said I don’t care,” he replied coolly. “But may I take your reaction as a ‘no’ to my proposal?”
Karenna forced herself to be calm. “You may.”
“Very well, then.” With that, he turned and left. She watched him go for a long time, then shoved him from her mind and continued to where she was headed.
* * *
Boom sat happily munching leaves at the edge of the Gypsies’ Forest. Karenna hadn’t come all day, and now it was well into the afternoon. He hadn’t moved from the spot she had led him to, but the day hadn’t been boring. Boom had a very hard time getting bored. He could watch the shadows move and lengthen; he could listen to the rustle of the wind in the leaves and the distant sounds of Gypsie movement; he could smell the sweet, vibrant scent of the carpets of leaf litter that covered the ground; he could feel the activity of the tiny insect communities moving below and around him. Boom knew what the word “dull” meant, but he had never had occasion to use it.
Just as he reached for another fresh twig, there was Karenna. She looked tired and faintly annoyed, but she smiled at him all the same. “Hello, Boom.”
“Hello, Miss Morn.” He extended the leafy twig towards her. “Would you like some?”
Karenna looked at the twig. “You eat leaves?”
Boom smiled. “And bark, but leaves are better. Sometimes in winter I’ll eat the wood as well, but leaves are the best.”
"Um, why do you eat leaves at all?”
“The spell did more to me that make me grow,” he said, smiling. “I don’t eat or sleep like normal people, and I can see magic as a kind of glow.” He cocked his head, “Like the glow coming from your wand.”
She had tucked her wand in her belt beneath her tunic, and now she grabbed for it. Boom raised a massive hand dismissively. “No worries, Miss Morn.” The comfortable, un-threatening magic he pulsed with calmed her. “So, do you want some?”
Karenna gave him a weary smile and sat down next to him, setting the leaves carefully to one side. “No, thank you, Boom. I brought some leftovers, though, if you like.”
He eyed the slightly squashed contents of the napkin she held out to him. It wouldn’t have even registered in his digestive system. “That’s all right.” She shrugged and tucked the napkin away before leaning back against a nearby tree.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” she said. The fading sunlight and dancing leaves above sent vibrant shadows swirling across her face. She closed her eyes and exhaled a long, frustration-laden breath. “It’s been very… tiring.”
Boom had noticed her tendency to pause before select words. He wasn’t sure if this was to draw attention to them or make sure that they were the right ones. “Tiring?”
Karenna shook her head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Boom. I’m just glad to have the chance to rest.”
The giant glanced in the direction of the Academe. “Won’t they wonder where you are?”
“It’s our ‘free time’ now.”
“Oh.”
They sat in silence for a long time. Not an uncomfortable silence, but the silence that comes when two people have said all that is necessary for the moment. Boom listened to the trees grow for awhile and then said, “Do you know yet?”
Karenna’s eyes were still closed and she was breathing slowly. “Know what, Boom?”
“If you’re a Gypsie or not?”
The two different-colored eyes opened very deliberately. “What?”
“I said, ‘Do you know if you’re a Gypsie yet?” Boom repeated patiently.
She stared at him for a few long moments, until Boom began to worry that he had said the wrong thing. Finally, she said, “No, Boom.”
“Oh.”
A very different sort of silence filled the space between them this time. A third voice, cheerful and from high above, broke it, “Well, you two are certainly some of the most sparkling conversationalists I’ve ever encountered.” Tannar dropped languidly into the small clearing, grinning like a cat.
* * *
Karenna rose instantly, a little unsteady on her feet. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of a small, inward curse. She knew better than to use magic that long when she’d never tried the spell before. But she quickly turned what energy she had on the intruder. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
To his credit, Tannar sobered quickly. “I know you snuck off last night,” he said. “I didn’t follow you because…well, I really don’t know why not. But I had the feeling you’d do the same thing today. So here I am.” With that, he sat down cross-legged on the carpet of leaves and looked up at her expectantly.
Her anger slipped away. She didn’t let it go, it wriggled out of her grasp and slid away before she could catch it again. She snorted, just for show, and then sat down heavily on the leaf litter. “What do you want with me, Tannar?” she asked, almost pleading. “Why don’t you just go find someone else to bother?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just looked at her in that penetrating way he had. That treacherous part of her began to purr again. Finally he broke eye contact and scratched at his bronze bands. “No reason,” he whispered.
“It’s because you’re an Elementar,” said Boom, addressing Tannar with something akin to awe.
Tannar stood quickly and backed away; Karenna stared at him. “What are you talking about?” he said, trying to sound scornful and failing.
“You’re glowing,” said Boom, still fascinated. “I can see the magic just…just pouring off you, even more than it pours from Miss Morn’s wand. And I can see your real form, too, at first I thought it was just a trick of the light.”
Now Karenna stood as well and drew her wand. She saw Tannar flinch slightly at the sight of it. That’s right, Elementars had always been afraid of a wizard with a wand; only magicians, with their power to capture and control the immortal spirits, could hurt them like a wand could. Karenna was still weary from her extended eavesdropping and knew she couldn’t put much energy behind a spell. Even if she could have she knew few attack spells. But that was all right. The virtue of a wand was that you didn’t have to say the words aloud.
She pointed the sixteen inches of magic-charged wood at him and he froze. “Is it true?” she demanded, surprised at her own calmness.
He put his hands out, palms up. “Look, Karenna, I…”
“Is it true!”
He swallowed, lowered his hands. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, it’s true.”
Panic gripped her, and she seemed to hear Obern and Shanna’s conversation again in her mind, she seemed to hear Shanna talking about what a threat an Elementar—or, more specifically, their magician—could be to a Gypsie in hiding. And Tavrinal, he had protested he didn’t care whether she was a Gypsie or not. What wizard wouldn’t care? “Who is your master?” Karenna’s wand hand was shaking now, but she didn’t notice. She knew what happened to solitary Gypsies the government found on their territory. “Some politician in the capitol, some bloody magician to the king, who!”
Tannar scoffed. “Yes, right, some big nob at the palace sent a member of the most powerful race in the world to track down a single, Gypsie-looking student.”
“Who!” Fear found one of the spells in Karenna’s head and shot it out the tip of the wand. A bolt of blue light hit Tannar in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Smoke rose where the blast had burned a hole through his clothes, but the skin beneath it was undamaged. He half lifted himself and looked at her. “Karenna, listen…”
“Who!” Another blast connected, even weaker than the first. The use of magic and the fear drained her like no amount of physical labor could, but she knew that even in this state two attack spells like that should have had a normal human groaning in pain. “Who sent you!” Another blast, charged with all the energy left in her and the terror of discovery connected, and this time Tannar let out a soft cry.
Tears were blurring Karenna’s vision and her hand was shaking violently. This wasn’t like with the Werewolves; she had never before used her magic to hurt anyone, only defend herself and others.
“This isn’t you,” said a voice. It took her a moment to realize it was Tannar’s. “This isn’t who you are, Karenna, this is the human-bred fear they’ve forced on you.” His eyes, dark and depthless, were looking up at her, almost pleadingly. Gently, he took the hand not holding the wand and drew her towards him. She went down on her knees by his side, still crying quietly.
Almost tenderly, he placed her hand over one of the smoldering holes in his shirt and pressed it to the skin beyond.
There was a flash of darkness, of the nearby rumbling of thunder and the pounding rhythm of a thousand raindrops. “This is my birth,” said Tannar, a mere voice in her ear now. The storm was building around her, dark, cold, and windy. She was inside the thunderhead. “This is who I am.” The clouds grew darker, the sky beyond them black and starless. Below her, far below, she could see mountains rising from the swirling sable mists.
Then suddenly there was a pain as if she were being ripped apart, and just as abruptly it stopped. She floated, motionless, only a few feet above the craggy mountainside. Rain poured down around her, soaking her through. Somewhere in the distance, she heard someone crying.
“You asked me about my master,” Tannar’s voice was barely audible over the thundering rain. The crying, more a sound of fear than sorrow, came closer, and Karenna could faintly see a shape in the gloom. The figure came closer, stumbling over every loose rock and falling with every other step. His hands gyrated wildly as if he were trying to keep his balance. Karenna could see him clearly now; he was only about twelve years old with long, streaming black hair and pale skin that almost glowed in the dark. The breath left her body. Avarn! She tried to cry out to him but no sound emerged. Avarn!
And suddenly she was back, in the Gypsies’ Forest, in her own body, in the present time. Tannar lay on his side below her, his dark eyes serious. She was breathing hard, her exhaustion forgotten in a rush of adrenaline. “What happened!” she screamed. “That was Avarn, that was my friend, what happened!”
Tannar was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, he didn’t fully answer her question. “I…I pitied him,” he said quietly. “He had just been blinded, painfully, and I had compassion. I…joined to him. Willingly.”
Karenna stared, her panic forgotten. Never in the history of their world had an Elementar willingly submitted to a human. Magicians had to train for years until they could control even the weakest of Tannar’s race, and even then many died in their first attempt. “You’re the gull,” she whispered.
“What?” Tannar looked annoyed. “Just because I’m a being of air and water doesn’t mean you can go around name-calling.”
She smiled faintly and shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. By the three flowers, it’s been so long since I saw him…” her voice trailed off for a moment. Abruptly, she demanded, “What happened to him?”
“You remember when his mother came for him, to train him as a magician. You remember she was married, to a man not Avarn’s father.”
Karenna nodded.
“It turned out the husband was just about totally insane, with plenty of arrogance to complement it. He tried to take control of an Elementar more powerful than he anticipated. It killed him and blinded Avarn before his mother could take control. He fled, and…well, you saw.”
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. “I should have been there,” she said despairingly.
“No offense, but what could you have done?”
Karenna glared at him sharply.
He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, all right. But even if I’d been there I probably couldn’t have stopped it, we’re talking about a serious magical power-house of a being.”
For a moment, her face lost its accusatory look as she calculated in her head. “But, if I last saw him eight years ago and you found him when he was twelve, then you’d be only—”
“Six years old, yes, I know,” said Tannar, levering himself to a sitting position.
“Six years,” she said softly. “Why did he wait so long to send you to me?”
Tannar stared at her. “How do you know he wanted to send me?”
Again, she smiled her own, private little smile. “Something he said to me just before he left.”
The Elementar looked a little suspicious. “Well, to answer your question, he waited because if I’d left him too soon, he might have died. My joining to him gave him the strength to survive his burns and his fear, and because of the way we were joined I could act as his eyes as well. He probably could have sent me a couple of years afterwards, but I convinced him to wait until your training at the Academe was done.”
“Then why are you here now? My training isn’t done. And why wait in the first place?”
Deliberately, Tannar closed his mouth and looked at her. “That’s for him to tell you, not me.”
Tired, overwhelmed, crashing from her adrenaline rush, Karenna sank back to a cross-legged position, her hands pressed to the ground behind her for balance. It was all too much, all at once. She glanced at Tannar. “So you’re only six years old?”
“It’s not that strange,” said Boom. Karenna started—she had forgotten he was there. “Look at me,” the giant continued. “I’m thirty-five and I look like I’m eleven.”
Tannar laughed and fell back again. “I like him,” he declared, fighting his way upright once more. “He’s almost as strange as me.”
Boom chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the earth. With one hand he reached out and picked up the Elementar, bringing him close to his face. “Friends?” said the giant.
“Friends,” said Tannar, dangling between the solid fingers.
Boom grinned, revealing large white baby teeth that could probably bite through bone. He put Tannar down carefully and turned to Karenna. “Friends?” he asked, holding out one huge hand palm up. She dragged herself into a sitting position on it and he brought her to his shoulder, where she perched like a skinny, wingless parrot.
“Friends,” she whispered in his ear.
Tannar stood on the ground with his fists on his hips and looked up at her. “And is all forgiven?” he inquired.
She waved a hand in assent. “But not forgotten. I still have questions.”
He smiled a little. “But later.”
“Later.”
A few notes on peripheral stuff from chap. 4:
It's good that you've been able to use the school environment to slip some new characters into the story. Make sure, though, that Karenna doesn't integrate too quickly; she's a strange girl in prejudiced surroundings.
Boom was a great touch, not so much because of what he is doing right now, but rather because thus far, your secondary sympathetic characters have been consistenly cunning, subtle, and shrewd people in one way or another. Boom breaks the mold.
Tannar is delightfully confusing. He rocks.
Chapter four is a perfect introduction to Headmaster Tavrinal. In rapid sequence, we see some of his life story and we see him under a variety of circumstances; being meditative, having a conversation, in his element (school business and school politics), out of his element (with a child), and then he caps it all by realizing so quickly that Karenna is the person he needs.
This is fun. Keep it coming!
agian, thanks so much to everyone who took the time to crit my stuff! myth, as usual, you are your annoyingly eagle-eyed self
I have saved your catches to a word document and will be working on them just as soon as Latin decides to leave me alone. chapter five is coming soon people, I promise!
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
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Gry, you know I love your work but I find ‘feathered quills’ annoying. People only use feathered quills for fancy stuff but in real life the feathers are stripped—I know this because OP is a lot like reality and I hated the idea of using quills with feathers as I didn’t want to go down the false direction. But if you feel you want to keep it I would suggest giving an explanation as to why the feathers were kept. Maybe it somehow helps the writer keep a grip on the quill or something else.
It is pretty obvious what school he was Headmaster of so you ought to take out the school’s name.
Woah! Repetition of ‘he looked like he looked like’.
You capitalised ‘headmaster’ previously, you should continue or change it.
I assume there are a lot of Gypsies in the forest, having the apostrophe after the ‘e’ suggests there is only one. If there are more the apostrophe should be after the ‘s’.
By the way, use students and not children, you make out they're 11 or so XD
I don’t know if you intended to make this humorous but I did laugh at this point, also you have added the touch of ‘childish’ behaviour perfectly well.
By the way, how is it that the headmaster doesn’t know about this boy yet the archery teacher did? Wouldn’t the teacher have reported the presence of a giant just to keep on the safe side no matter how harmless Boom appeared?
Er... Who is she?
Right, I see.
This was awkward to read and a little confusing: 'She started when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows, but he saw her calm as he had,'
I thought the ‘he’ was Boom and then read the next part to find it was the headmaster.
The ‘I know’ was a little annoying after a while. To me I think Boom needs something in his speech to make him speak like a child. Do you notice how children usually would say ‘and’ a lot or stumble over their words, especially when they are the centre of attention—unless Boom is confident with Karenna and the headmaster.
That needs a little emption, perhaps: “What?” she ejaculated. Or something similar.
Ach! Why doesn’t he sleep! Tell me, please! *bats her eyelids*
Did you mean ‘loose’?
PW what? A little information on the class/level of power would be a whole lot better as I’m not sure I can get my head around all these classes and such.
What’s the forward slash doing? If the two are combined it ought to be a dash.
I love how her power ‘drains’ her energy, I did the same with OP. But this would mean she’ll have to eat quite a bit and stay healthy in order for her power to always be available to her. Which reminds me, after the Werebeast incident she should have eaten something, she was shattered right?
Gry, keep up the great work. I want to see more from Tannar’s point of view, he, in my opinion, is one of the main characters yet he is always in the background reflecting on what has already happened. It appears you only include him for that purpose and nothing else, no wonder he rebels against you.
I agree with Aero about the forest frightening Karenna, I suggest adding it in during the archery class.
-- Myth
Yea! I'm here Gyr, I will look over the changes.
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Sweet, I'm glad you added this. Now I have a better picture of the Academe than before.
Good.
Great changes, it doesn't seem so sudden anymore.
Interesting...I like it!
I realize what you're trying to do here. But just get rid of the soft and solid, it ruins the effect of the mood.
lol, awesome, great characterization
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Well I believe I caught all the changes; they were all done really well Gyr. Keep up the great work! I'm excited to see Chapter 5!
~Aero
Thanks everyone!!!! Chapter 5 to come out soon--in the meantime I've tried to go back and change the things you mentioned. A lot of them really, REALLY needed changing
Thanks again, and Claudette, I agree with you about the black coach descript, I originally had it simpler, but changed it, and now I've gone back and changed it back to the way I like better! Ha. so there
*sets out Halloween candy for all the nice criters*
this sentence falters a bit, whether due to puntuation or the way its worded.
this line made it a bit too harry potter for me. I don't really like stories like this. but yours may be good.
You're a good writer
I havent got much to say on this one, other then for an 11year old giant who has lived for 34years, Boom sure cries a lot. Thing is, most 11 year olds I know of, especially boys, do everything they can to avoid crying, especially in public and especially in front of girls. I know your trying to make him seem all gentle and harmless, but lay off the crying thing, as I think you achieved that in the very first description of him.
One other thing:
Yuk. I didn't like that at all, I think it would be better if you changed all that to, 'he would follow her next time he decided.' There's no way he could know she would do anything tomorrow related to that particular excursion.
Apart from those two things: Excellent. I'm really enjoying it.
That was an awesome intro to Boom.
yay! the editing of chapter 4 (according to aero's crits) is achomplished. let me know what you think, aero (I left the elephant/fox analogy, it makes me smile every time I read it, and Sage and Shafter get the joke and smile too, so I'm just going to be stubborn.)
thanks so much! *gives cookies to all the loverly people who have crited/commented*
Well, I've only read the prologue but I'm swooning with excitement! You brought the two main characters in a lovely way, I think the only sentence I'd be picky with is where you describe the boys physical features and use the word "disconcertingly" but that's because I have a thing against Adjectives.
I'm sort of jumping around and critiquing a lot of things.
I like how the boy stumbled over the word affinity, it showed what level of education he had, but then he tried it again. it was a real 'moment' for me as a reader :-p I enjoy it a lot, It was very good. You set the plot up amazingly, and do well with characters and dialogue and the like. I'll get to rest when I can
sorry, Karenna's surprised that she's horrified because the child was a Gypsie, and according to human standards she's not "supposed to care" what happens to Gyspie kids. will change, though, not worth the confusion. shall also change the "fortress wall" part and...yes, in my head Tavrinal does knock, I think I forgot to add it somewhere in there, though...HE IS NOT A PERV!!!
enjoy your kitty blanked, Sage, and call me whenever you get a chance!
*impish Duranni grin*
Boom knows where babies come from...!
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for telling us what happened to the child he dropped! But why should Karenna be surprised to be horrified?
And I agree with Aero, about the fortress wall bit...yeah, it's a wall, all right, one that we come up against rather sharply in the middle of this soft little scene...yes, and have Master T. at least knock. That's all I have for today. *curls up on kitty blanket*
I've only read the first chapter, because I don't have time to read the rest (but I do want to, and will get to it! Don't worry!) and so far, so good! It's slightly boring at the beginning but then again, what great books aren't? It got better though, and I was quite sad when I had to unglue my eyes from the computer screen to clean the dishes =[. I hope you keep writing this and have fun doing it! You'll be sure to see me back here! ...if I can find this thread again, that is >.>;
Hey Gyr!
Well I've really been looking forward to this chapter, I liked it a lot! But anyways here is my critique!
Blue Italics= comments on quotes
Red= thoughts while I'm reading
Chapter 4 Critique
First of all I liked the whole 'knowing when not to use magic' for Tavrinal. That was unique and something original.
Something I think would be cool would be if you described Tavrinal's office more. I mean he is the headmaster, it must be unique in some way.
Interesting...how magic in your world causes stuff to happen to their bodies.
Okay, well I've noticed that you haven't mentioned a whole lot of description of the outer lying grounds of the acadame. At first I figured you would be giving more info later, but now that we're in chapter 4 I think you should do a little more describing. That way we have a better picture of the environment we're in. All I know at the moment is that the acadame is a bunch of terracotta buildings with a courtyard and a gypsie forest. I know the Gypsie Forest is mysterious, but other than that I really don't have a good image of things. I find myself actually substituting in environments from Harry Potter and this is very bad because your story needs to be very original, but in order for people to separate the world from similar stories (Not that your story isn't original, but there are a lot of stories about wizards, magic, etc...) you need to describe the world more. The environment of your story is vital to the reader's vision.
I know infodumps are usually bad in stories, but you haven't given enough description throughout for me to really get a good picture of the outerlying grounds. Maybe give some more description here since its a good opportunity.
Okay, as I'm reading the portion where the headmaster comes upon 'Boom' you give me little insights to how he feels about the giant boy, with the words...hesitant, and he approached warily...but i'm still not really quite sure how he feels about the situation. I'm getting mixed emotions that he is calm/apprehensive and I'm not sure what to think... This may just be because I'm tired at the moment, but anyways, I think his dialogue is giving me the calm image and your description is trying to bring forth nervousness.
I understand the image you're trying to give us here, but I don't think this sentence fits in because Boom is not one of the students.
Two things about this quote! First I like the mental register, that is very cool and original
Yeah, okay, is this guy a pervert or something? He's just opening the girls' dormitory door?
I don't like this dialogue at all, it seemed very choppy and awkward to me. Reword it somehow. Also I don't like how he just reveals that he knows that she has felt something. Maybe have Karenna reveal that she felt something when she actually starts talking to Boom. How you reveal it here feels totally random and doesn't fit the context for me.
'
Okay, the thing I have a problem with here is that you start three sentences in a row with the same word...She! Reword them so that doesn't happen.
In these two sentences you tell us two things. You tell us that Karenna is very brave in the face of danger and also that giants are complete fairy tales. They seem to contradict each other, if giants are only things of fairy tales, why isn't she a little scared? a little nervous? Do you seem my point? I don't care if you're some guy that has seen a billion things. If something totally out of the ordinary, alien, appears wouldn't you be a little nervous? Heck if I saw a giant, I wouldn't say "I thought giants were only things of fairy tales." I would be more like..."Uhhhh..."
Now I understand if its her personality, but I think she should at least be a little nervous? You need to play a little along the lines of natural human tendencies or it seems completely fake.
I like this paragraph, it reveals a lot about karenna
Umm yeah, with a horror that surprised her? lol, that sounds funny. I would just say asked Karenna in horror.
First, you say sob twice here. Second, I don't like the whole sobbed Boom, and he was sobbing now (sounds funny). Third long, deep, rolls of sorrow? Rolls of sorrow? Yeah I don't thinkt hat works, sorrow is an emotion, not something that rolls. You're putting a visual description with an emotion and it sounds awkward (for me anyways).
You're using demanded here, and it doesn't fit what just happened. You just said she asked horrified and now you're saying she demanded. I would think she would barely dare to ask not demanded, especially if she's horrified.
Maybe have Karenna sigh in relief instead of just jumping into how she knew someone was going to hear him if they stayed there, right after you say this.
Interesting image...
I don't think 'solid as a fortress wall' fits here because I'm getting more of an emotional setting and then you add in this imagery that ruins the tender emotion in my opinion.
Also another thing, you mention how the forest didn't seem quiet so frightening. But before now you have barely mentioned that she is frightened of the forest. If you're going to add in that little end piece, you need to convey that she is frightened of the forest a lot better!
Why did he pretend to be asleep? She goes into the girls' dormitory and he's in the boys' dormitory. He doesn't need to pretend to be asleep.
I think you should change lead to leash.
Why did she regret her words? Because he was touching his scars? Does Tannar have to do with the scars? Sorry, the reason I ask a lot of questions in my critiques is because I want to make sure you're asking yourself these questions when you add in something to the story. I'm not sure why she regretted her words so I wasn't sure if you really knew. But yeah just make sure you always ask yourself these questions as long as you know, then I'm happy wondering...for now.
I don't like how Meeshna and Vishna both end in the 'shna', I would change one of the names so they don't seem so similar.
Whats a drill practice? You don't tell the reader what this is so you leave us at a blank of what to imagine.
I liked the conversation she eavesdropped on. That was a cool effect and brought some more knowledge of what people are thinking about her.
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Overall it was very good, and I liked it a lot! I love to read your writing, its all very imaginative and makes me want to read more. As usual you portrayed your characters beautifully. Hopefully this critique helps you. Keep up the amazing work!
~Aero
Chapter 4
Headmaster Tavrinal sat bent over a few sheets of parchment, his quill pen scratching as he wrote. The candle set beside him dripped wax onto the oak desktop and the flame spluttered lower and lower. Finally he returned the pen to the inkwell and set aside the pile of papers. Massaging his neck, he glanced into the mirror that perched on the corner of his desk. There was only a hint of gray leaking into his long brown hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes were mostly shallow. Not too bad for a younger wizard.
Ashter Tavrinal had managed to become headmaster by one simple technique: he knew exactly when not to use magic. Too much spell-muttering tended to make those who administered the school a little nervous. While not a training center for mages, it was traditional that the Academe should always have a wizard as headmaster. And so the Normals, who really ran things, had been glad to find one without too many wrinkles who also had a tendency to keep his powers to himself. Ashter was, of course, proud of his wrinkles; they were a badge of honor, the price that magic demanded of those wizards who used it. But still, it was nice that he looked like he belonged to the same generation he was born in. He knew forty-year-olds who could pass for eighty.
As he brought the candle to his lips to blow it out, he felt a slight shiver run down his spine. He had learned to trust that shiver. Hastily turning the breath that would have ended the flame into a short spell to hide its light from all but he, Ashter Tavrinal rose and left his study.
The spring night was warm and comfortable, and the moon overhead cast a wan light that painted the Academe in silken shadows. The campus was huge, even after years as its headmaster, Tavrinal was still constantly amazed by its size. The buildings were all at least two stories high, taller in some places, made from blocks of reddish sandstone. The three buildings in the middle of the property were the tallest, five stories, and housed the main classrooms. In the grassy fields closest to the Gypsies' Forest the students practiced archery and horsemanship, in the main courtyard outside the mess hall they gathered to hear the speeches and exchange a few brief moments as simply children. Ashter had been to the palace, and he knew that his institution rivaled even it in size and sheer impressiveness. He glanced up at the full moon overhead, then around him for the origin of his telling shiver.
All mages could see better by moonlight than Normals, and so Ashter had no trouble spotting the source of his magical premonition. A huge, human-shaped form was lurking at the edge of the Academe’s borders. At least, it was trying to lurk, and not doing a very good job of it due to the fact that it was hopping nervously from foot to foot, sending little tremors through the ground.
Ashter approached it warily. As the candle illuminated its face, he saw that it was a boy, not much older than eleven. He stood no shorter than twelve feet tall with shoulders broader than a normal man’s arm-span, but there was no mistaking the child-like quality of that large, round face. His bright, innocent blue eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. Despite the headmaster’s spell, the boy could apparently see the light clearly. Tavrinal barely needed to suppress the desire to run—all of his instincts told him this child was no threat.
“I’m sca-sca-scared of the dark,” whispered the child. His voice was a boy’s voice, true, but so deep that you felt it could rattle stone.
The headmaster took a hesitant step forward. “What’s your name son?”
“I don’t gotta name. They call me Boom cause they say my voice is like thunder.”
To Ashter’s unease the boy started to cry softly. This was well outside his area of experience. He patted the child awkwardly on one huge forearm. “There, there,” was the best he could manage. In spite of his massiveness, the boy seemed harmless and not a little silly.
Boom brought one head-sized fist into the light and opened it. Two broken halves of an arrow lay there. “I just wan-wanted to give this back,” he said, wiping his nose and managing to stop weeping.
Instantly, Ashter’s fiercely retentive memory came to his aid. Unit Thirty-two had been out on the shooting range this afternoon. He quickly brought up a mental register of names and faces…and smiled. “Just wait here,” he said, patting the boy again. “Don’t move.”
“Can I keep the candle?”
The headmaster placed the remains of the candle carefully on the open hand and dashed away with as much dignity as a dashing wizard could manage.
He knocked softly on the door to her dormitory, praying she would be awake. She opened the door for him, and he saw that she was already dressed. So she had felt something.
She stiffened when she saw him. “What is it, headmaster?”
“I need your help, Miss Morn,” he said. “Please come with me.”
Karenna came. She didn’t ask questions and didn’t hesitate. She started when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows, but Ashter saw her calm as he had, the magic inside her connecting with the calm, steady, undamaging magic that pulsed ever-so-gently from the child-giant.
“Boom,” he said softly, “this is Karenna Morn. Miss Morn, this is Boom.”
The child-giant waved one hand sheepishly. The candle had burned down in his other hand, leaving a small pool of molten wax. “Who are you?” she asked, approaching Boom cautiously. “I thought giants were just a fairy tale.”
“They are,” Boom rumbled gently. “When I was little, I accidentally stepped between two wizards who were fighting. The spells made me grow, my clothes too, and now no one wants me.” Ashter had heard of accidents like this before, but never in his memory had the consequences been so extreme.
Karenna took his wax-free hand in both her slim ones. She was taller than Ashter; her head came to about the middle of Boom’s torso. “How old are you?” she asked.
“I was eleven when I grew,” he said. “That was…” he lapsed into silence as he thought, “twenty-four years ago.”
“You’re thirty-five years old?”
Boom shrugged. “A doctor, a Normal doctor, not a Healer, said my brain and my body won’t grow anymore. He said I’m stuck at eleven, but I know more things than most kids do. I know about…” he paused again, and Karenna could have sworn he blushed, “about where babies come from, and I know about Gypsies and Werebeasts, and about Werenna and Scharon. I know how to live on my own and take care of myself.” He hung his head sheepishly. “I’m not stupid.”
Karenna stepped closer to him and examined the waxy hand. She began to chip the hardened puddle away, being careful not to scratch him. “No,” she said quietly. “No, you’re not stupid, Boom. You’re just very different, and sometimes humans have trouble dealing with people who aren’t like them. They can be…very cruel.”
Ashter Tavrinal nodded quietly to himself. Every mage, however powerful or accepted, experienced that kind of prejudice at one point or another. And he didn’t even want to imagine what Karenna had had to live with because of her eyes.
Boom sniffed. “You’re not cruel.”
Karenna smiled. “Thank you, Boom.”
The headmaster stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can you handle this?” he asked, knowing the answer.
She nodded, and he left silently.
* * *
Karenna watched Headmaster Tavrinal go. She wondered, for a moment, why he had chosen her. Because he knows, said a traitorous little voice inside her. He knows what you won’t even admit to yourself.
“Are you alright?” asked Boom.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“Can I pick you up?”
“What?”
He scooped her up gently in one massive hand. She managed not to cry out as her feet left the ground and her legs dangled over the edge of his palm. Boom lifted her until they could see each other face to face. “All right,” she said breathlessly.
Boom smiled. “You’re pretty. You have nice eyes.”
“Not many people think so.”
“Are you a Gypsie?”
Karenna shifted her position on the wide hand. Finally she said, “I don’t know.” It was probably the most honest answer she had ever given that question.
Boom cocked his head to one side. “You look like a Gypsie, tall and coppery-skinned. How come you don’t know?”
“Because I don’t,” she snapped.
Boom winced and put her down quickly. Karenna took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Boom; I’m not mad at you.”
“I like Gypsies,” he said, almost as an apology. “They think I’m kinda funny and harmless and let their kids play with me ‘cause their magic doesn’t hurt me. No playing anymore, though. Not since I dropped one.”
“You dropped one of their children!” asked Karenna, surprised at her concern for this Gypsie child she had never met.
“I didn’t mean to,” exclaimed Boom, looking ashamed and guilty. “He bit my hand really hard. I didn’t mean to.”
“Was he hurt?” she said, trying not to smile. He just looked so very comical, standing there, huge and unthreatening, nearly crying like the little boy he was.
Boom hiccupped. “No, only bruised a bit.”
Karenna sighed a little in relief, but she was becoming rapidly aware that someone was going to hear him. She took the still wax-marked hand and tugged him towards the deeper darkness of the Gypsies' Forest. “Come on, Boom,” she whispered frantically, “we can’t have anyone finding you here.”
Boom came obediently, like an elephant following a fox. She closed her eyes when they first entered among the forbidding trees, praying silently that the Gypsies either wouldn’t see them or wouldn’t care. They went a few yards into the Forest and then Karenna stopped. She looked around nervously at the unfathomable shadows around her. “Will you be all right in here for tonight?”
He nodded. “I live in here. Will you come and visit me tomorrow?”
“I’ll try.” She smiled at him and turned to leave.
Boom put one hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, and for a moment there was a hint of more than eleven-year-old maturity in his voice and manner.
She pressed her cheek to the hand. “Goodnight, Boom.” And as she stole away back to her own bunk, the forest didn’t seem quite so frightening.
* * *
Tannar heard her open and shut the door quietly as she snuck back into the dormitories. He had wanted to follow her, had known he should, but he hadn’t. He would follow her tomorrow, he decided.
He sighed and rolled over, pressing his face to his pillow. Oddly enough, the thing he was glad about was not that she had returned safely from whatever errand she had been on—it was the knowledge that Obern had not gone on that errand with her. Still puzzling about why this made him happy, he closed his eyes and rolled over, bracing himself for another long, boring, sleepless night.
* * *
Vishna turned her head at the sound of footsteps. Avarn entered her study, walking slowly with his hands held out so as not to collide with the haphazard piles of books. “What is it?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”
“You’re always busy, mother,” said Avarn, that infuriating little smile on his lips.
Vishna scowled, but only because she knew he couldn’t see her. “Where’s your little pet? Off playing with the clouds again?”
Avarn’s smile vanished. “Tannar is…running an errand for me,” he said, his blank blue eyes glaring at her.
Against her will, she squirmed in his stare. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye once in the past six years. “Why you allow him such freedom I’ll never know,” she said. “Their kind need to be kept on a short lead, you of all people should know that.” She didn’t regret the words, exactly, but as Avarn’s long, thin fingers lightly caressed the old burn scars that formed a mast-like pattern on his face, she felt a pang of guilt. Vishna knew the scars still pained him; she herself had dozens all over her body. “I’m sorry…” she said, for once truly meaning it.
Avarn exhaled softly. “Meensha sent me to say dinner’s ready.” He turned away from her and began to navigate his way back to the door.
Vishna reached out a hand to grab his arm, and stopped. “Avarn,” she said, but he was gone.
* * *
Karenna watched from the other end of the mess hall as Obern and Shanna talked together animatedly. The twins sat next to her, discussing their classes. She did not touch the bland meat and bread in front of her, nor did she hear the conversation of the two young boys next to her. Her variegated eyes were fixed upon her unit-mates, and they flashed as Shanna laughed at something the handsome young man said and laid a hand casually on his shoulder.
Before her better judgment could stop her, she closed her eyes and whispered a few short words in Elemental. It was a spell she hadn’t tried before, but it worked as it should. Every word of Shanna and Obern’s conversation became clear and almost sharp in her ears, while the ambient noise around her faded away.
“..and with those eyes,” Shanna was saying, almost playfully.
“I don’t know,” said Obern. “I don’t think they’d let her in if she really was a Gypsie; Tavrinal’s not some idiot Class 1 wizard to be fooled by a kid.”
I’m older than you are, she thought angrily, but kept her irritation in check. In truth she was seventeen, a year older than the required age. Her parents had lied to try to keep her away from this place, from all these people who would judge her as these two were doing.
“Tavrinal may be powerful,” Shanna said, as if she doubted the fact, “but you just have to look at his face to see that he’s barely touched a spell-book since he was appointed headmaster—he gets by on reputation. And if she really is a Gypsie, kid or not, she should be strong enough to pull the wool over the eyes of a lazy old wizard like that.”
Again, Karenna had to restrain the desire to let her anger loose. But she was glad she’d decided to eavesdrop; this conversation could affect her safety.
“Well, if Tavrinal couldn’t see through her, what could? An Elementar?” Obern’s tone was a half disapproving, half mocking. “Anyway, she hasn’t even shown enough magical potential to rate even a Possible Wizard Class 1, and you’re a Class 2 yourself.”
If Shanna was pleased by the roundabout compliment she didn’t show it; she almost seemed not to have heard him. “You weren’t there when those Werewolves attacked our caravan. She’s a mage all right, but whether a decent human wizard or one of those Gypsie soothsayers I don’t know. And you should have seen the weather that sprang up; it was almost like those stories about the air-water Elementars and the storms they could conjure on cue.”
“So now we’re back on Elementars,” sighed Obern, and while Karenna couldn’t see them in her auditory-enhanced state, she knew he had flung an arm around Shanna’s narrow shoulders and embraced her carelessly. “Make up your mind, Shan, either she’s a Gypsie-born soothsayer out to infiltrate the Dirantyr military or she’s an abnormally powerful magician with weird eyes who’s managed to gain control of an Elementar before she’s even of age.”
“I never said she was a magician,” Shanna retorted.
Before Karenna could hear more of their conversation, Tannar’s voice broke her out of the spell, “This seat taken?”
She started and stared up at him, the world around her seeming all-too loud after her focused eavesdropping. He grinned that not-quite-human grin of his, balancing his lunch tray effortlessly on one hand. She moved over to make room for him, her senses slowly coming back into clarity. But she continued to glare at the table across the mess hall from hers, and she felt her body’s weariness as the price of her magic.
The bloody speech is not, in fact, over, but I couldn't wait anymore! Myth and Aero, your catches have been integrated (though I left some of the things you mentioned b/c of style/stubbornness
)
So, here goes, Chapter 4 at last!
Always a pleasure =) Keep me updated.
Hehehe.....Boom rocks. You'll love him, really. He's one of the few charecters that I ever had a dream about, and he's been in my head ever since. So, yeah, Boom is wonderful. Thanks again, so much for the crit!!! *gives the chocolate-ist chocolate cake possible*
The posting of Chapter 4 and the editing of Chapters 2 and 3 shall occur with all speed once the bloody speech is over!!!!!!!!!!!
I've been known to catch the little things.
And cake? Chocolate is my favourite.
*
Green = Comment/Correction
Black = Review
*
Chapter Two
‘laps’ = lamps
Chapter Three
Why is it that only Tannar and Obern get to battle it out? Was it for conflict? As a lesson wouldn’t the other students at least attempt to try the weapons?
The headmaster reminds me of Mr Tull from OP, the way they influence their students/apprentices and capture their audience.
As you can see I didn’t really have much to critique because I thought it was great as it is. Now I’m wondering who this Boom is, a giant perhaps. And what the students’ reactions will be to a giant.
What a way to keep the reader in the dark about Tannar, he's not human so what is he?
Write more!
-- Myth
Myth and Areo, you guys are wonderful (in an annoying kind of way
). Great catches, both of you, and thanks muchmuch. *gives cake* The next couple of days are going to be crazy with working on a speech I have due Friday, but after that disagreeable task is out of the way, Gypsie Eyes and the editing thereof is priority 1! (behind, you know, eating, sleeping, ect.)
note: awww, Myth! You caught all the little things I wrote just on the edge, wondering if it was all right. blah. thanks for keeping me on the better side of the line!
Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review
*
Prologue
I was a little confused here. What had the kids never seen? A mark of some sort?
I’m not a fan of repetition. I think the second ‘gulls’ ought to be ‘them’ or ‘the birds’. That’s just a suggestion you might like to consider.
Usually ‘skinny’ would be used to describe a being quite close to humans and for a bird it doesn’t really work. I can’t imagine a ‘skinny bird’, maybe ‘scrawny’ or something else?
I like that, it had a touch of sarcasm in it so don’t edit it out.
Chapter One
Do you know what I love about this beginning? It kept me interested in reading it. I didn’t know who this Tannar was but immediately I know he may have kidnapped/captured someone and he possibly regrets it (I may be wrong here) so well done with that.
Hmm… Why does she introduce herself right away? I would have thought she would react to him being there, plus since she is introducing herself to him for the first time I’d have expected her not to say who she was. They’re strangers and it’s a little ‘unbelievable’ for now.
‘that’ so close to each other. I would suggest a little alteration: The handsome black coach, the one that had joined them earlier in the morning, sat a good distance away, its occupant not deigning to join his fellows.
Wow, how big is the Academe? It’s as if a one school is supporting an entire nation of kids and I can’t get my head around that.
You’re adding the background to the mage school and such and then in the same paragraph you have the above line. I assume this is about the kids around the fire so it should start a new paragraph.
‘chill’ ought to be ‘chilly’.
‘their’ = their
Isn’t that a thought? If so it should be in italics.
I don’t think repeating ‘pale, pale’ again was necessary.
Nice job at changing the old ‘werewolf’ story.
‘and’ = an
You’ll need to break this into paragraph when he speaks.
Remember italics.
imperceptible
Tannar said this to Karenna, why not go for something more original?
You missed the end speech mark there.
I’ve only managed to get up to there. I don’t really like prologues much but you used yours to state the story behind Avarn and Karenna.
If I could pick a favourite character it would have to be Tannar (maybe you guessed that already), he’s the ‘tall, dark and handsome(?)’ one with a mystery behind him.
So far I’m keen to read more, you have a way of drawing the reader in and adding necessary explanations when it is needed.
-- Myth
Hey Gyr!
Sorry that its taken me so long to do a real critique. I've been very busy with school and swim team, but now things are slowing down. So I've gotten the chance, yea!
Ready?
Okay, here we go! Italicized will be commenting on quotes, and the regular writing will just be my random thoughts as I'm going...
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Chapter 3
First of all as I begin, I really like your first two paragraphs. Lots of great imagery and really brings you into the chapter, good job
One thing I noticed though in the second pargraph was this...
I would change that his to her.
Okay now for the paragraph where you're explaining the spirits and spiritresses (kind of a cool word).
Well here's my problem. You tell us what she gave the other two races, but what did she give the humans?
I'm curious to know why she's so smart...is there a particular reason? Are you going to convey why she's so smart later on?
Okay, I'm sort of confused here and I'll tell you why. In the end of the last paragraph you talked about how she thought it would be stupid to be shamed and how it would be stupider to display lots of knowledge more than locking eyes with the professor. So why did she say too much? Its kind of contradicting herself in my opinion, but maybe I'm not looking at it right.
Is there a reason werewolf is capitalized?
This is more of a preference, but I think it would sound better if you made it...that perhaps humans in general were not as hopeless as they seemed.
I like this a lot haha! Show a lot about both of the characters personalities.
This one is a preference as well...I don't like how you say grin twice so close together. I would change the second one to smile, but again its just a preference. Do whatever you feel you like.
As I was reading the last scene I was thinking that it might be a good idea to elaborate on why he called the kids Sallahs. I was curious if this was a tradition of his homeland or a weird quirk of his.
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Character Development
So far, I'm really liking your characters. You have a keen sense of what each individual acts like for every situation. I am really getting a feel for all of their personalities and how unique each individual is. It is absolutely wonderful, not one complaint about your characters
Quality
Your writing is superb, very grammatically correct (unlike mine
Conflict
Your main conflict has yet to truly surface, but I can tell it is on the breaking point as we move along through the story. So its going really well, keeping me in suspense with all your tidbits of clues that I'm sure lead up to something big with Karenna, Tannar and Avarn.
Story as a Whole
Simply wonderful, can't wait to read more! I can definitely see this getting published.
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Well, hopefully my comments will help you Gyr!
~Aero
Lol, thanks much Jiggity! I think the "feminine dance of terror" is something only girls might know/understand, so I shall change it. Good catch with Laroo giving up info too quickly, and the need for a bit more expo there. It's one of those things where I know, and I forget the reader doesn't, thank you! *gives cookie*
Aero, he beat you to finding mistakes!
added
I really appreciate all the comments I've gotten so far--but I'd like a few more before I post Chapter 4! Anyone? pretty please......
Awkward sentence. Maybe: No one knew why the rulers of Dirantry had chosen to build the Academe (Academy?) so close to Gypsie territory...
my
met
Why? What was it about Tanne that suddenly made the boy confess? Being questioned? If that was the case they wouldn't have made it so far without being turned back. Describe what it was about Tanner's demeanor that made them confess. Further more explain why under age students are not allowed, and the punishment for lying. Is there an examination that tests age? Can anyone juts walk in and enrol, having claimed to be 16? None of this is even broached. Why was Tanner the only one to remark on their youthful appearance? How did they fool everyone else?
I dont like your explanation for their early appearance either; you mention that they come from a powerful family, but themselves are not powerfull or even inclined to their family's traditional branch of magic. So what? How does that explain their leaving? How does that explain their being accepted into the Academe? Did they run away, or did their father pull some strings to get them in.
Obviously you dont have to tell all this at once, but some indication, some explanation would be good.
Why? And what is remarkable about that?
Repition of 'trapped'. This sentence, I feel, should be redone.
You make mention of some things but as I pointed out above, there was not enough explanation of some things; however, I still enjoyed this very much.
CH 3.
dumber
WTF is the feminine dance of terror? lol, funny but I think its a terribel description. Think about changing it.
The battle mage, a man named Jataal
This was a very good chapter, I liked it very much. I don't know about the term spiritess, which I've never heard before, but I really enjoyed this chapter. BRAVO! Excellent writing, well done.
Oooo you did an amazing job like usual Gyrfalcon! I really can't find something wrong with it. I read it over twice and it is just written perfectly for me. But I'm going to go over it more when I have more time. Keep up the great work!
~Aero
Chapter 3
“Elementals are, as you know, the source and the beginning of magic in our world.” Karenna sat with her head in her hands, listening in bored dismay to lessons every student in the room had learned when they were four. She was sandwiched between the twins behind a large table made of—what else?—stone, and this did not help. With Tannar, at least she could have commiserated, albeit silently, about the tediousness, but the Vocilias listened with rapt faces and Menee was practically mouthing the words with the teacher.
Madame Lokskrip, a formidable woman with flaming red hair and rather too-large a nose, paced back and forth in front of her pupils, eyes flashing like those of a general addressing his troops. “There are, or were, as you know, five original Elementals: Lashloon, the spirit of water; Minevera, the spiritess of air; Allamani, the spiritess of earth; Sharon, the spirit of fire; and, of course Werenna, the one called the Garden Queen and mother of the three intelligent races of our world.”
Perhaps, Karenna reflected, it wouldn’t be so bad if Lokskrip didn’t keep saying “as you know,” driving home the knowledge that they did, in fact, know and did not need or want to hear all of it again. But that was the Academe for you.
For a moment, Karenna seemed to remember a different teacher, a boy about ten years old, telling this story as it should be told. How all the Elementals save Werenna bred and birthed as they wished, peopling the world with those now called Elementars and Elementaras. How the spiritess of the forest, Werenna, tired of her companions’ wild offspring, had formed the three flowers from which came, in order, Werebeasts—to whom she gave her name and the magic to change; Gypsies—to whom she gave her form, her love, and the magic to live in her forests; and then the Humans—
"Karenna Morn!" Karenna jolted out of memory as she heard the teacher snap her name. Lokskrip was frowning, a very large frown that was half-hidden by her downward-sloping nose.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Karenna, not meeting the woman’s eyes.
“Perhaps you can tell us what the name of our country, Dirantyr, means in the Elemental tongue? Since you seem to know enough of magical history already to feel confident daydreaming in my class!”
I could tell you the Elemental names for five different kinds of trees, three magical attacks, at least one kind of fire spark, levitation, and how to make a white dress red, green, or even purple, thought Karenna angrily. She could, too; it was amazing what one could hear in a weaver’s shop. And what one could find by sneaking into the restricted library sections. But it would be stupider to display such knowledge than to hold the eyes of the teacher too long. Still, she was not going to be shamed for letting her attention wander during a lesson that belonged in nurseries.
“Dirantyr translates, roughly, as ‘Ashland’ in the Elemental language. It was given to us by Werenna herself, because we had become Firehearts, and our ambition had turned, if not the actual forests into actual ash, than the Garden Queen’s hopes for us into no more than chaff in the wind.” She knew she had said too much and too daringly, but she had not slept well and was, momentarily, tired of hiding. Still, she immediately regretted the words, stupid, stupid, stupid!
Lokskrip’s face turned such a dark shade of red that Karenna thought she would choke. But before the teacher could unleash the full weight of her disapproval and wrath onto the girl, a shriek directed all attention to where Shanna was suddenly on her feet, dancing the dance of terror at small crawling things that all women, no matter how strong, experienced at one point or another. They could see the spider, no larger than a copper coin, swinging from her long blonde hair by a strand as Shanna screeched.
But none save Karenna noticed that the sunlight from the high, narrow windows flashed on the spider’s body, or that, when the offending pest was at last shaken off, Tannar caught it deftly in one hand. A moment later he opened his hand and a few drops of clear water dripped from his palm to the stone beneath it. The spider was gone.
* * *
Tannar hefted the gleaming broadsword easily, admiring the polished steel blade that shone like a mirror despite the many scratches and scrapes along its edge. The master of the melee weapons, a retired battle mage as scarred as the sword, smiled at him. “You hold the old girl well, but be careful; that blade and I go way back.” Tannar recognized him as the man who had defended the caravan during the Werewolf attack. He was not quite sure he liked how the old warrior smiled at him.
Around him the others in his unit browsed the large armory admiringly, though none dared, as Tannar dared, to touch any of the expensive weapons. There were no spears or bows here—those would be covered later—but Tannar did not mind their absence. He knew that his own weapon far exceeded these simple creations of metal and wood, but it gave him a kind of faint hope that perhaps humans in general were not so hopeless as they seemed.
The battle mage, a man named Jataal with a well-trimmed black beard shot through with white where his scars ran, gestured with one weathered hand around his little kingdom. “Don’t be afraid to touch; about half of you will be soldiers anyway, you need to get used to handling weapons.” Obern lifted a broadsword almost immediately when given permission, and didn’t seem to strain under the weapon’s weight.
Jataal smiled again. “I see we have two young men with some interest in the heavier weapons. Do you think you two could give the unit a little demonstration of some basic techniques; I’ll be here to instruct, correct, and protect if need be.”
Tannar let a wide, diabolic grin spread across his face, ignoring Jataal’s knowing glances towards him. He saw Karenna, standing near the rapiers, give him a sharp look but he ignored her as well. Obern seemed merely pleased to be of help to his teacher, and took up a basic defensive stance in the middle of some clear space. Tannar twirled the sword easily in one hand and brought it around to hover unmoving only a few feet away from Obern’s. “Just a friendly match, no advanced or fast moves, boys,” said Jataal, and Tannar knew he had seen the eagerness in his stance.
With almost mocking slowness, Tannar brought his weapon around in the first form of attack any broadsword fighter was taught. Obern blocked it with an equally elementary move. Jataal explained the exercise and bade them do it again. Tannar obliged, but moved just a little bit faster and placed his blade just a little bit closer to Obern’s heart than before. This time there was a faint ping when the blades met and the battle mage shot Tannar a look. He couldn’t tell if it was warning or approving. They advanced thus through the first exercises in broadsword combat, and Jataal wrapped up the lesson.
Before he dismissed his students to their next class, however, Tannar said, “What better way for them to understand the danger and difficulties of real combat than by giving them a sample of it?”
Jataal hesitated at this, but the unit latched onto the idea and clamored to see a real match. It was obvious that both boys knew their stuff, and anyway, Jataal’s magic laid half in protection from battle wounds, at least from life-threatening ones. To Tannar’s surprise, it was Obern who pointed this out. “I’m sure, master, that with your experience and abilities you will not let it get out of hand, even if either I or my classmate should wish to let it progress so.”
The teacher gave in a little faster than Tannar had anticipated, murmured a simple spell and touched each weapon in turn, guarding it and dulling its edge so it would do no more than bruise. Obern and Tannar faced each other across the now-widened circle of spectators, the unit hushed and waiting. He could see the twins wavering between disapproval and eagerness, and could just as clearly see that Karenna had landed on the former side. He winked at her and her frown deepened.
And then Obern came at him, faster than he had expected, and he blocked the sweep instinctively. Tannar fell into defensive posture almost without thinking about it, and realized as he did so that Obern had wanted this chance to show him up almost as much as Tannar had. Too bad for Obern, then.
Tannar didn’t want to make the win look too easy, especially not with a trained warrior watching, so he let the other boy nearly catch him on the shoulder once or twice, and faltered unnecessarily in his attacks. Obern was good, better than Tannar had given him credit for, and so he almost felt a little sorry when he finally slipped past his guard to rest the dulled tip of his weapon lightly against the other’s collar-bone. It would be, he knew, hard for Obern to understand where he had gone wrong in his almost-perfect form, so Tannar said, out of a burst of half-malicious pity, “Not bad, kid, but you move too slowly in the third defensive position.” It wasn’t true, but it made Tannar feel warm inside to know that Obern would practice hours to correct a mistake he hadn’t really made.
But for now, Obern only grinned his dazzling, toothy grin and shook his opponent by the hand. He then turned and winked at Karenna, still grinning, but left with the blonde wench Shanna on his arm instead. Tannar watched Karenna watch them go, and felt a small, a very small, stab of guilt that he might have ruined her chances with the handsome youth.
* * *
Late in the afternoon, Karenna and her unit stood outside in a line facing a row of round, straw-stuffed targets. Each student had a bow in their hands and a quiver full of arrows slung across their backs. Only Shanna, Tannar, and herself had professional bows—hers had been a going-away present from her adopted parents—the others were using the Academe’s worn equipment. The archery instructor, a pleasant old man called Olasso, walked up and down behind them, patting the odd shoulder with a leathery hand.
“Now, no worries, sallahs,” he said, his voice creaking like a familiar old door. Both his accent and his dark skin proclaimed his homeland to be Simaron, that half-island, half-desert kingdom of humans across the ocean. “We just want to know how well you can shoot already. No worries, sallahs, no worries; no one will be grading you on this.”
As Karenna drew her bowstring back, she decided that Olasso must have kept his job, not because he was particularly good at it, but because no one could muster the heart to let the sweet old man go. The bow felt good in her hands, solid and new if not of the same expensive stock that Shanna now drew. Karenna had always been good at archery, and her arrow hit near the center of the target.
Tannar and Shanna also shot well, and everyone but the twins managed to hit the misshapen lumps of cloth-covered hay. Laroo’s arrow stuck into a nearby tree trunk, but Menee’s shot off into the deep green shadows of the Gypsie’s Forest. The unit stared uneasily at where it had disappeared; none of them had been happy about the fact that the shooting range was so close to the menacing woods. After a moment they heard something, something big, shift in the depths.
“No worries, sallahs, no worries,” said Olasso, tottering up and down the line and constantly patting shoulders. “All sorts of strange noises come from the Forest, no worries.”
* * *
Inside the Gypsie’s Forest, Boom rolled over and felt something snap underneath him. He reached down and pulled a broken arrow from where he had rolled onto it. He examined it carefully, bringing it close to his huge, honest face.
Finally, he mumbled to himself, “Somebody has lost an arrow.”
Holding the two halves delicately in one massive fist, he stood. The sun was dipping low on the far horizon, and for a moment or two Boom just watched it happily, forgetting about the broken projectile in his hand. Then, moving with slow, ground-shaking steps, he walked towards the Academe.
Hello, this is my first post. I have already read Gypsie Eyes, as you know, but I like how you've rewritten the parts I've read! Thanks for helping me sign up!
Ahem.
To quote something a friend wrote to me once:
That. Was. Awesome. I love every second of it. and I couldn't stop reading! I printed it out and sat down, going "I'm just going to read the Prologue tonight, I'll look at the rest later" and the next thing I knew I was at the end and I wanted to read more. ^_~
Kudos on the dormitory scene(s). I've noticed that lately the dormitory/magic academy market has been cornered by J.K. Rowling. I mean, every time I read this kind of scene, little alarms start going off because everyone is so very familiar with the Harry Potter dormitories and the school that I think they often find it hard to write their own stories uniquely. Now I personally am more a fan of Chekhov and Dostoyevsky, but still, it was really refreshing to read a dormitory scene that could stand on its own. ^_^
I like your characters a LOT. Kudos [dahling], kudos. Lol.
I've got Chapters 1 and 2 printed out, so you'll be hearing from me at some point. ^_~
i have nothing to add. good job
Chapter 2
As Karenna got out of the wagon in the main Academe courtyard, she could not help but marvel at the institution’s size. The buildings looked like massive blocks of terra-cotta colored stone, and for the most part that’s what they were. The courtyard was bare of either grass or trees, but a squat, ungraceful fountain gurgled in the center. Through the main bulk of the buildings Karenna could see the dark, leafy green of the Gypsie’s Forest. She shivered. No one was certain why the rulers of Dirantyr had decided to build the Academe so close to Gypsie territory, but the woods looked harmless enough.
Tannar, clambering out of the wagon behind her, was not very impressed. He stared around the courtyard in a “this is it?” kind of way. There were students everywhere, and more streaming in through the big double doors into the open-aired courtyard all the time. Karenna did not like crowds. Pack too many people together and one of them was bound to notice your eyes. But these children represented nearly every sixteen-year old boy and girl in the kingdom of Dirantyr. There were farmers’ sons, whore’s daughters, the offspring of shopkeepers and nobles and merchants and bakers. And here they would be taught side by side, very nearly as equals.
Karenna sighed. Of course, the class distinctions would shine out, even through the uniforms they would be given. But as the enormous courtyard began to grow ever more crowded, she felt, just for a moment, the exhilarating sense of being a part of something larger than herself.
Someone tripped and fell on her. Karenna caught him, helped steady him. He looked at her with big, mournful gray eyes. “Tank ou,” he snuffled, and wiped his nose. Both it and the skin around his eyes were red and it was hard to tell if he had a cold or homesickness. “Sorry for fa-a-a,” and then he sneezed. He sniffed and wiped his nose again, then extended his clean hand towards her. “I’m Menee Vocilia,” he said, his diction slightly better. “Have you seen my brother?”
Just then a boy, identical to Menee, stumbled into the little group. “Oh, there you are,” he said breathlessly to Menee. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Karenna looked from one of them to the other. She had never seen twins before, and now realized that she had never quite believed they existed. Both the boys had long blonde hair and slightly sunburned faces. Both of them, while short, seemed to have extremely long legs that they were constantly tripping over. And both of them had those wide, unusual gray eyes.
“I’m Karenna Morn,” she said, deciding there was not much else to do. “And this,” she gestured at where Tannar stood, watching the scene with vague disgust, “is Tannar.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” said the second twin, pumping her hand vigorously. “I’m Laroo Vocilia, and you’ve already met Menee.”
A trumpet blast called all attention to the far end of the courtyard, where two trumpeters stood flanking a man in flowing black robes. “Headmaster Tavrinal will now address the students,” announced one of the trumpeters. The robed man stepped forward, gazing over the crowd. Karenna had heard of Ashter Tavrinal, but she had expected an older man with long gray hair and a waist-length beard. One always did when meeting a wizard. Tavrinal couldn’t be much older than thirty-five, and his dark, shoulder-length brown hair showed only a hint of gray.
“Welcome to the Dirantyr Training Academe,” he said. He did not shout. He did not need to. His piercing eyes seemed to find every single student, slipping past their defenses and finding all the dirty little things they had hidden away. Karenna could have sworn he held her gaze a heartbeat longer than any of the others.
* * *
Tannar watched Headmaster Tavrinal address the students, talking about patriotism, honor, and the unique opportunities these students would experience here. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded like propaganda. Coming from him it sounded like truth. Of course, Tannar knew that the Academe was more than just a machine for finding soldiers or mages. Literally hundreds of craftsmen, merchants, and shop owners watched promising students and offered them positions after graduation. Expensive as it was, it could not be denied that the Academe gave its students more options in life than they would have found at home.
Tannar glanced over at Karenna, who caught his gaze and cocked an eyebrow. He shrugged. Tavrinal’s voice continued to wash over them, instilling a quiet stillness rarely seen in adolescents. The twins, Laroo and Menee, listened with rapt faces. They looked too young to be sixteen. Far too young.
Tannar leaned over and whispered to the nearest one, “So, what’s your story?”
The twin looked at him, horrified. “We can’t talk during the Speech.”
Tannar heard the capital letter. “How old are you, kid?”
“Sixteen.”
Liar. “How old are you?” he said again.
The twin caught his gaze. Tannar cheated—he focused his dark stare on the boy and let his eyes flash blue for an instant. Laroo lost all resolve. He swallowed. “I’m fourteen,” he whispered. “So’s Laroo.”
“Yeah, I figured that part. What are you doing here two years early?”
Menee glanced fearfully at the talking headmaster and then around at the crowd. No one was noticing them. “Have you ever heard the name Vocilia before?”
Tannar shook his head.
“Laroo and I are the youngest of five boys. All our brothers and our dad are famous battle mages.” He sniffled, then sneezed again. “Laroo and I are just Possible Healers Class 1!” He said the words like a curse. Students who had mage potential were classified as Class 1, 2, or 3, Class 3 having the greatest probability of becoming powerful in their field of magic.
Tannar regarded Menee. If he was a Possible Healer of any class, he wasn’t doing his powers much justice. Not with a cold.
“So, what, your father sent you here early?” he asked.
The twin nodded, the picture of dejection. “He thinks that getting a jump on the Academe might…well, help somehow. Menee and I aren’t sure why but we’re not going to argue, naturally.”
“Naturally.” Tannar glanced towards Tavrinal, who was still speaking with the even, unhurried calm of one who knew how to keep a courtyard full of nervous youths still for minutes on end. “What happens if you get caught?”
Laroo didn’t answer for several seconds, and it took Tannar a moment to realize he was waiting for a sneeze to finish. The achoo came as expected, and the twin wiped his nose before answering. “Most of our teachers already know, the Headmaster probably does, too. They just sort of pretend they don’t. Father pulled strings to get us in early, and he’s the sort of man with a lot of strings to pull.”
“Ah,” said Tannar.
* * *
As the speech wound down, Karenna could hear the spell of the headmaster’s voice loosing its power. The students began to talk quietly amongst themselves and shift uncomfortably in the crowded conditions. Karenna glanced back at the gate they had come through. It was closed; they were all here.
A small, balding man stepped forward and called over the heads of the crowd. “Attention, everyone, attention please!” Hardly anyone heeded him but he went on. “If you will all please listen to me a moment, I will be dividing you into your units now.” The students began to take an interest. He cleared his throat and began to read from a scroll. “If the following students would please step over here:” he rambled off a list of names and ten students gathered at one corner of the courtyard. Presently an older student, doubtless one of the second-years, came and led them away to the dormitories.
The process was repeated several times until the ranks in the courtyard began to thin. The balding man coughed and peered over the scroll at the diminishing crowd, a sign they had learned meant he was beginning a new unit. “Ahem, Karenna Morn.” Karenna stepped over to where he indicated, looking around nervously. “Shanna Liam.” She watched as the blonde-haired girl came up next to her. The smile was still fixed firmly in place, as if it had been sewn onto her lower face. Karenna returned it, showing perhaps more of her teeth than was really genuine. “Charn Kadaz. Larch Ferris. Seema Loan.” A fat, red-faced boy; a sly-looking boy; and a thin, nervous girl joined them. “Laroo and Menee Vocilia.” Karenna smiled rather more warmly as the twins came and clustered around her like kittens around a mother cat. “Phara Batte.” A young woman, almost as tall as Karenna, approached the group warily, looking at each of them as if they had value only as target practice. “Obern Nouth.” A well-built young man with a handsome face and broad shoulders approached them. He gave Karenna a dazzling smile and her heart thumped. She looked around at her unit. There were only nine. The man cleared his throat again, peered at the paper, and said, “Tannar.”
Karenna saw him swagger towards the groups, her emotions wavering between irritation and relief. Irritation won out. She glowered at him. He smiled. The older student, a young man with a hint of a beard, came and led them away from the uninviting stone courtyard.
* * *
Their dormitory consisted of the two rooms, one for the girls and one for the boys, each furnished with three sets of bunk-beds. These were joined to the other three dormitories in the building, and all four connected to a large communal privy. Surprisingly enough, it was not too foul-smelling.
The walls were stone, the floor was stone, even the ceiling was stone. Karenna had to fight back a mounting claustrophobia. It wasn’t right, being surrounded by all this heavy, oppressive stone; it wasn’t natural. Her breath came in short gasps and she felt as if her lungs were on fire from want of air. Shudders wracked her body as she tried to breath, she was trapped.
“Are you all right?” A gentle voice near her head broke her out of her terror. She looked at the handsome boy, Obern. His hand was resting gently on her arm, his face full of concern.
Instinctively, she lowered her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Karenna blushed crimson. “Yes, I’m all right.”
He released her. She looked self-consciously around her. They stood in the hallway just outside the girl's room; boys weren't allowed in. Shanna had already claimed the highest bunk of the one near the door. The two others, Seema and Phara, had taken bottom bunks, leaving one pair of bunk-beds, the one wedged in a corner, unoccupied. Tannar was standing in the doorway to the boys’ room, his arms crossed, glaring at Karenna and Obern.
“I’d better be going,” said Obern. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Yes,” said Karenna vaguely, “tomorrow.” There were windows in the room, of a sort—only slits set high in the thick stone walls, no more than a couple inches wide and glass-less. The main light in the room came from the gas lamps that burned on each wall, and now the sun was setting and the room grew ever darker and gloomier. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her pointedly that she had not eaten since a breakfast of stale bread and cheese in the wagon that morning, after the nightmarish Werewolf attack. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, the kitchens wouldn’t be open until next morning.
Squashing another surge of claustrophobia, she slipped out of her worn cotton dress into the nightclothes laid out for her. Tomorrow she would put on one of the two dark green uniforms that, along with a pair of sturdy sandals for warm weather, boots for cold, and leather leggings, were provided to each student upon arrival. Even though the spring night was a mild one and the thick stone retained the heat of the sun, she wrapped herself in Tannar’s cloak and slipped onto the top bunk of the unused set, clutching her bag in both hands. She fell asleep with her head resting on the shape of the oblong box within.
*gives long, contented sigh* Ah, there we go. Jataal works wonderfully, although I do have a few nit-picky issues about your telling instead of showing about him and the rather obvious seams around his patch into the story...if that metaphor makes any sense at all.
But I'm glad you put him there. Now just...flesh him out a little. That observation about Tannar, for instance; that was promising. What's he going to do about it?
were not,
Get rid of the 'and' after 'my real mother'.
I think you reveal a lot of information far too quickly; information that would have had an impact normally but its released too early. What about his other parents? The ones he just realised were not his birth parents? This didnt have an impact on him? You could consider showing those parents, the reaction he has to this shocking news. And for that matter how does he know this random woman is telling the truth?
As for Chapter 1, The only part I dissaproved of, was the (note: several years have passed). You dont need that. Integrate it. Overall, I liked it. The werewolf scene was random, but good. I really enjoyed this, it is, in my opinion, the best fantasy story that has been posted on this site. It is fantastic. Oh and I'd leave the piano scene, I thought that was masterful. I didnt know he was blind, so it is a necessary scene.
Brava.
To all the loverly people who have posted:
I went back and changed the (frankly horrible/confusing) Werewolf attack scene! Let me know what you think, and if anything else needs to be changed. Aero: you get your cliff. Also, trying to think of ways to say more about the world, I do a lot of that in the very next chapter, to be posted shortly!!!
>Added on later<
Griff, I really appreciate the time you've put into this, and thank you much for the pm, but....I don't think we see eye-to-eye on this. Um...yeah, thanks very much for all the effort, and I do hope you keep reading, but, well, I just don't agree on several points.
And, at the end of the day, it is my story. Hope this doesn't put you off my stuff forever.
You may disregard my earlier critique, it was given on the fly.
The prologue was very well constructed. No problems.
Chapter One moves a little too quickly. Some time for development is needed.
First, where are they going? They don't have to end up there, but we should at least have an idea. I kind of doubt that they are heading to the academy.
If you have a story about people on a trail, you should at least say why they are there.
Speaking of trails:
We have all these people that must go to the academy. 16 year olds mostly. Why about the dangers to them from robbers and slavers? Not that they aren't a danger already, but what makes travelling in wagon trains safer? It might be worth addressing.
Werewolves and such: Why are they necessary?
I assume there is some reason you showed us them before they came, but I can't find one. If the only reason you put them into the story was to reveal Tanner's abilities, then you might want to reconsider it.
You are showing us a lot of things from many perspectives. Tannar, Avarn, Karenna, even that werewolf dude.
I agree that showing is better than telling, but it doesn't mean you should show everything.
Some of the things you're showing us doesn't really make sense as far as continuity goes. How does Avarn playing an instrument contribute to the next scene? How does Ravage turning into a werewolf do anything for the story?
Were I in your shoes, I would cut the Avarn scene and the Ravage scene out. Avarn's because it answers the question "Where is Avarn now?" and Ravage's because he's going to die soon and it gives away the imminent attack.
If you are going to make a story, you don't want to answer all the questions initially. Quite the contrary, for every question you answer, you should have at least two more pop up. The Avarn question is one that should be answered much later.
The thing that bothers me about the Werewolf scene is that it seems to be, well, predictable. If you must have an attack, make it a sudden one. During the night, werewolves would have the advantage of deciding where and when to attack. Attacking during the daylight is silly because Werewolves only take their form when the full moon is out.
What good does a daylight attack do anyways? Visibility is substantially reduced during the night, making detection over distance much more difficult. People aren't as likely to move during the night and you're more likely to catch people when they are most tired.
You really make your characters look bad when you have them routing a stupid enemy. If your characters were caught in the middle of the night, against a superior force, and managed to rout the enemy after extensive casualties, then you would have established your characters not merely as mages, but as survivors.
Eliminate the werewolves, they don't challenge your characters and they reveal too much about the plot.
I love Tannar!!!
And yes, you already know this, but I shall say it again for the record: that first line of his makes him sound like a real jerk. But an intriguing jerk, so we don't full-on hate him right off. Good. Oh, and I'm glad you got rid of the 'touche'; it was rather jarring.
Love triangle, Wiggy? Really? Well, fancy that. *sniggers knowingly*
Oh, and one more thing...um, Grif? I'm with 'falcon on this one; what's up with the 'scandal' and the 'mysterious stranger'? No one's all that mysterious at this point; everyone's got a name and a wee bit of explanation. Explain, please?
Well...I have to say, I liked it a lot! From the prologue it really intrigued me with Avarn and Karenna. One of the things I really liked about it, was how you developed your characters. I really got a good picture of their personalities, especially Tannar. Your descriptions were all really good, and everything that you described really kept to the structure of the story.
One thing I did have a problem with though, this is probably just me, is how the caravan just so easily shoved off the blue lights and the werewolves. That just doesn't sit right with me, unless blue lights in a storm and werewolves running off because of a storm is a common thing in Dyrantir. And it may be, since magic is so common and looked upon as a good thing, but you'd at least think the caravan would take more of a notice. Wouldn't you? I really doubt they were all just hiding in their wagons and not looking, except for that aristocratic girl (still not sure what to think about her). Anyways, just something to think about!
Overall I really enjoyed it and would love to read more!
-Aero
...scandal? stranger? um....griff, I would love to oblidge but I don't think I understand. I do totally understand what you mean about spending more time describing "normal", I did that originally but the people I read it too thought it started out way too slow, and it did. um...could you pm me or something and explain the stranger and scandal bit? sorry if i'm just not getting it.
I looked over the prologue. It was pretty good. The dialogue was just right. The only part that seemed over done was the exclamation "Then stay!" Something a little less dark would be appropriate.
The prologue was constructed well, but the jump from the prologue to the first chapter was a big one.
I think you need to spend more time describing what is normal for this society. Werewolves, magic, and all sorts of scandal and battle is way too much.
I liked the prologue a lot because it gae you a sense of the character before you even really heard them.
This isn't the case with Chapter One. We know that the mysterious stranger is dangerous, so it isn't a surprise when he turns out to be some mage.
Describe other elements of the stranger. The condition of his clothing, what he is drinking, how he's drinking it, his company, and his money, etc.
This way you can give an indication about who he is without telling us anything.
Thank you, everyone! Snoink: you are vonderful, dahling, thank you so much! I went back and did my best to change those things you caught (great catches, btw). Some of them I was just like, "duh!" and hitting myself in the head, but, yeah....I wondered if touche were a bit much, thanks for letting me know. And I know, I know, I KNOW that "Elemental" is a very over-used fantasy term, believe me, I'm working on it. But it may be awhile.
Thanks everyone!
*gives slices of pie all around*
Um... yeah. I didn't read the prologue. I usually skip prologues in real fantasy books, so never fear!
Um... language!
Touche is too French.
You have to come up with better names... Elemental is just so generic of all fantasy stories that it really doesn't make this story stand out.
It was perhaps a alittle random, and I'm not quite convinced about this society. Everybody is taught at this one academy? Yeah... how? To give free education indicates a wealthy government. I mean, free education? That also indicates a society that isn't very class-structured. But they don't appear to be a command government either because everyone has to get to this place using their own means. So it doesn't really make sense.
There has to be a special reason why this happens.
If her gypsie eyes are really a problem, why hasn't anyone gouged them out by now?
Why isn't Karenna afraid that some guy comes into the place she's sleeping. In the dark. She doesn't appear to be stupid, so I have to wonder...
Nice writing style. Just a couple lof plot holes.
Hey Goose! And I'll have to second what these two've said: fantastic job! You've got a definite style, and you work it well; every word has its place. It's very poetic in that sense--there's little excess, which creates an almost exotic pacing... at least, it's definitely not the sort of prose one sees every day. And I'm very well aware I'm probably making little sense now (as it is 1:15, I think I can be forgiven that much
) so I'll end by saying that the detail about the corner of Karenna's mind--the one that purred like a cat--made me seriously wish I'd thought of it first. Brilliant, and I can't wait for more!
*smiles and blushes* thank's peoples! *sets out box of Oreos for all nice people who comment on her stuff*
I loved it too! Especially at the beginning, when you described Avarn. He was definitely enigmatic and cool.
I also liked Tannar, whom you characterized well (ie, staring, fiddling with wrist-thingies). Now that I mention it, Karenna was characterized well too. So you definitely have description and characterization going for you!
Sorry for that completely unhelpful and highly repetitive post. I'll be sure to post something constructive and slightly more tangible tomorrow when I can think straight.
I liked it! The only part was at the end, when Karenna (says) Touche. I think it'd be better if you mentioned somehow she thought "Touche." It's just kind of a misplaced statement, but an excellent one.
I really liked the story, and I hope that you continue it! I think I foresee a love triangle between Karenna, Tannar, and Avarn. I like, I like! You've got great talent, gyr, and I know you'll improve even more!