Welcome to Gaia! ::

If I did think I was right and if I was being childish then I give you my deepest apologies, as I am prone to being childish at times, and even more prone to thinking that I am right when it is merely a matter of opinion - though I try to catch myself best I can.


My main complaints, regardless, yet still MY complaints and mine alone, are that I think you need to re write the beginning, and re write the earlier chapters to make it appear as though your going somewhere, I still think you should make your chapters a little more brief by gutting the description and paraphrasing in dialogue when needed, and finally I still think some of the adults sound a bit childish, though they are elf people and I suppose you can make them childish if you want to, since they do not obey human psychology - If that is the case then I still think you should explain it somewhere, perhaps by putting the two races side by side and explaining briefly.

I would also like to know what kind of story you would describe this as, and I would like to know what your target age group is.


as some psychologists have said: we read for two reasons, those are information and experience. I cannot comment on whether this is true or not, but it is what I look for in a book, and unless I think I can gain one oF those things, or so I've found, I cannot enjoy myself while reading.

I need to see either human nature or an enjoyable story, or just something that looks interesting and allows me to focus on that interesting thing for a period of time, or I cannot continue on reading.


So... what can you elaborate on?

And more importantly, what ensures me that when I point out something that I don't like, you will actually take heed of your readers complaint?
We comment on the works of others because we think those words we relinquish will be valued by the author, don't we?

Good, your writing got loads better during the later chapters, and I'm sure it will do the earlier chapters some good - as you have already corroborated.

~~~

ermmm which teenager did I mistake as an adult??



You should try to emphasize that more, if you think it's an important part of the book's world.



no

I don't recall a lot of fighting, or swords, I do recall the witch though. I suppose I would call this fantasy and just that.

-shrug-



It may have been that I came off a little too aggressive, so there's no need to apologize. But remember, those things I pointed out were only my opinions, I cannot be right or wrong when it comes to them.

~~~


On a final note: Thank you for keeping your response mellow. I've had to put up more fights than I would have cared to have in this guild. I had feared that in reigniting this conversation I was adding more fuel to that belligerency.

First two rewritten chapters right here. The others after that would just be redundant as I didn't change much.

Chapter One: Wings of Gold

Midmorning, and silence reigned in the forest but for the chirping birds and the rustling of squirrels in the pines. The two children held their breath, motionless in the shadows. Silence was imperative, no sound could be made; and not before their huntress passed them by would they dare to even blink.
The huntress in question, a teenage elf, seethed with frustration that clearly showed as she called their names. "Kamilé! Everan!"
Not a movement from the two, as every soft motion of hers echoed in the stillness.
"I know you're there!" she insisted to the ash a score of yards away. "And you had better come out right now!"
Kamilé exchanged an amused glance with her companion, who elbowed her in the ribs before she started to laugh. Shh, quiet, he warned. She nodded solemnly, her expression belying the mischievous shine in her eyes as their huntress passed within feet of their hiding place. The elfin girl sighed.
"Fine," she snapped, viciously kicking a daisy in very un-elfin behavior. "I give up, I'm going back."
Muttering darkly to herself, she stalked off into the shadows of the forest. Kamilé and Everan waited—Kamilé impatient, and Everan always alert—until she seemed, by the absence of her footsteps, long gone. When it was safe, Everan nudged Kamilé, and she pulled him out with her into the bright summer morning.
They would have appeared to the casual eye not so much twins as mirror images; though one was a boy and one a girl, one quiet and bright and one just the opposite, their appearance could have fooled anyone. They were small for their age, appearing seven or eight instead of almost eleven; they bore the pointed ears of their race and were as scrawny and tough as two wild, mangy cats, clothed in boy’s clothes that were old, worn, and ill-fitting but (Everan’s at least) were neat and clean. Between then there were few obvious differences: Kamilé’s hair was long, tangled, and curled into dozens of loose ringlets while Everan’s was neat and straight and fell gracefully into his eyes; he was dressed neatly, his outfit complete with a belt and small bag, while she was clothed only in an oversized sleeveless shirt, belted like a tunic, and boots; and a crescent-moon scar each, thin and white against their dirt-stained skin, faced to the left with Everan, and to the right with Kamilé.
But the greatest difference was the eyes, always the eyes; both burning, both watching, both a clear shade of brilliant silver, hers white-hot and passionate, his icy and calculating. A studier of eyes, one who knew that they guided strangers to the soul, would have known right away that in the twin sets of misty silver orbs lay two souls that were entirely contrasting, opposite, yet equal in intensity and strength; eyes that would always be facing identical directions.
The twin pairs of bright silver eyes looked out into the forest; Everan’s darting this way and that and ever wary, and Kamilé’s following anything that moved, from a tree branch to a squirrel to the tiniest shift of a mouse in the undergrowth. After a heartbeat of motionless silence, they glanced at each other, nodded, and disappeared into the woods. Hardly a single leaf was disturbed by their presence; they were familiar with the trees and animals alike, and their tiny, light footsteps made no sound.
Kamilé laughed aloud, dizzy with triumph and delirious with the passions of summer sunlight, breaking into a light, swift run. Everan smiled a rare smile and caught up to her easily with a similar gait. They raced neck-and-neck, dodging through the closely-knit trees and ducking under low branches. After a while, without anyone really winning, they slowed simultaneously into a walk, breathless from exertion and laughter alike.
As they reached the edge of a small clearing, a shadow fell over them.
“There you are,” said the huntress’s voice. They turned, coming face-to-face with their teacher, Marli, whose smile told them that they were in trouble.
“I’ve been looking for you since the end of break,” Marli informed them brightly, “I was afraid you had gotten lost.”
This wasn’t true, of course, and they knew it; no one knew the forest better than they did. Marli tried and failed to stare them down with her lacking height; small as they were, she was hardly taller than them.
“So….” She arched an eyebrow. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
They kept their silence; fate threw unexpected twists from the norm every day, after all, especially to mischievous twins.
“Nothing, huh?” she said slowly. “Kamilé? Everan?”
Kamilé gave Marli her best innocent face, and Everan turned his eyes to the ground, scuffing the grass with his boot in a passable semblance of reluctant shame. Neither attempt worked on their teacher.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, as if no more could be expected. “That’s what I thought.” She straightened herself, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Let’s go back to class.” They nodded, offering big smiles and looks of pure relief to have escaped punishment. She smiled; they knew perfectly well that she would let them get away with anything.
“Oh, and you lead the way…I’m completely lost.”

Despite many discreet attempts at escape, Marli had foiled them time and time again, and Kamilé and Everan still found themselves with their shoulders in her tight grip as they approached Kocha’s schoolhouse. Much to their displeasure, Marli shoved them ahead of her into a room that was already full of elves, every age and size from tiny to adolescent. The classroom erupted with laughter at the sight of them; shy, quiet-loving Everan both rolled his eyes and blushed at the noise.
“Got you this time, didn’t I?” Marli whispered to them, ruffling their hair. “All right, settle down,” she called to the rest of them, heading for her desk at the front of the room. “We’ve got an hour of class left, so we had better make this quick.”
Kamilé and Everan took a seat in the back, trying their best to ignore the knowing glances aimed their way. Kamilé stuck her tongue out to one girl in particular, who stopped giggling at once, scandalized.
Marli took a piece of parchment off her desk, unrolling it. “Today we’ll try to cover more of this lesson. Now, let’s see, where were we…?”
“We were just starting the Thousand Years’ War, Professor.”
Marli’s brightened at once. “Ah, yes. Very interesting subject, you know.” She twirled a charcoal stick absently between her fingers as she read the parchment. The class eyed it warily, hoping that the scroll was not as long as it seemed; Marli was infamous for her never-ending lectures.
She rolled the parchment up and set it on her desk, starting to write on the slateboard on the wall. “To many in Ametris, it is impossible to imagine that there ever was a war.” The class caught the change of her tone and prepared themselves wearily for yet another dragging lesson. “After all, we are a country of peace, everyone knows that. Over four thousand years ago Ametris started to battle itself, and was nearly destroyed from the inside out; but one day, a millennia later, the deities bestowed a gift of peace to the country so it would never happen again.” She nodded to the wide-eyed six-year-olds, the only ones who might, just might, have never heard the story before. “As for the cause of the war…. Well.”
She gave a single harsh laugh. “Someone had to cause it, I suppose, one idiotic scapegoat for the do-gooders to burn. Every one of you is going to see him as the one who destroyed peace, but believe it or not, Ametris wasn’t always peaceful back then; no country can be for long without help. Peace was created…but haven’t I always taught you that anything that was created can be destroyed?”
The children stared at each other. Marli’s maxim, repeated often in some strange subject called “physics,” was repeated to them regularly to drill it into their heads; but Marli had never used it before now in a way like this that really gave them chills. They put it from their minds as she smiled, pleased with herself, and started to write once more.
“No, Ametris was not always at peace, nor was it always at war. But, war happens, and we have someone to blame as usual for the Thousand Years’ War, the most destructive and stubbornly persistent war the world had ever seen. No one could ever forget the one who caused it all, naturally…. Does anyone know who it was?”
Jerked awake, the class performed its customary glance around the room, as if perhaps the answer was carved on the wall; finding nothing, they shrugged. One boy toward the back hesitantly raised a hand.
“It was someone named Askan, or something, wasn’t it, Professor?”
Marli beamed at him. “That’s right. A man named Askan, or something, of unknown race came from one of the countries outside the mist to Ametris and to Merista—our capital, as you should all know by now. He had been someone in power, and was a strong individual, but we know little about him as a person after all this time. Not three days later, a random civil uprising overthrew the struggling ruler of the time and killed him…definitely no coincidence. And then he moved; city after city revolted, killing each other and their rulers, throwing the country into chaos. It’s never been proven, but most historians believe that Askan himself was killed in one of these revolts; but by then the fighting had gone too far already. Since there wasn’t a king anymore, the people felt that his laws no longer applied, and they were free to do as they pleased, namely to steal and kill to get whatever they wanted or to settle old scores—the petty misconception that cost us a million lives and a thousand years of war.”
A grave, heavy silence; then: “There was a king?” someone asked, amazed.
“A basic monarchal government,” Marli replied, waving it off as insignificant. She was met with blank looks; smiling, she added, “Yes, there was a king. But that’s—”
“Wow!”
“A king? We had a king?”
“Like the merpeople do?”
“Were there queens too?”
“Whoa, hold on, hold on!” Marli called over the noise. The class fell silent. Where in the world do you hear things like this? her expression demanded. “I can see there is still a lot about the other races that you don’t know…the merpeople don’t have a king or queen. Once, when all of Ametris was under one leader, they too obeyed the royal family, but since the war ended, things have changed. My advice would be to ask the races about themselves at the festival—you never know what you’ll find out.”
She smiled as the elves’ eyes lit up, watching them exchange delighted looks. “The Elders wanted me to inform you that the festival will be held here this year. They’re planning it to take place a week after midsummer. This will be a great chance to—”
But the explosion of excited chatter drowned out her efforts at further speech. “—completely ignore me.” She sighed and sat behind her desk, snatching her ever-present book while she waited for the noise to recede.
In the back of the class, Kamilé and Everan grinned at each other. A week from tomorrow—that’s our birthday! Kamilé thought. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as Marli stood up, losing patience at last.
“All right, that’s enough!” she said, annoyed that she couldn’t even concentrate on her book. “Gods, I’ll never hear the end of it….”
The chatter faded away.
“Now, back to the war.
“With no leadership, Ametris quickly fell apart. Everybody turned against everybody else; race against race, enemy against enemy, friend against friend. There was no good or evil side—there were only humans, elves, dwarves, and merpeople striving to hold their own in a decaying country, and as the war continued, it became hereditary, a hatred and prejudice new generations learned as infants. After a few generations had passed, nearly everyone forgot what the war was even about. And yet, the fighting went on.
“This is, invariably, what happens in a country at war. The anger and oppression will live on even after the people have forgotten why, until someone stands up to end it. It is the nature of mortals, and if not for one person, Ametris might still be at war. Does anyone know who that person was?”
Faced with the blank silence that followed, Marli sighed. “Come on…not even a name?”
Much to her astonishment, and to that of the entire room, Kamilé raised her hand.
“Haenir!” she said triumphantly, delivering the first answer she had ever voluntarily given with appropriate amounts of cuteness and confidence to convince Marli that she really was right, the historians were just being silly. But she looked and saw that even Everan was blinking in surprise; she was right, and he hadn’t even had to help her.
“Right,” Marli affirmed, eyebrows raised. “Do you know what he did, Kamilé?”
She had no idea, but she took a guess. “He…stopped the war!” She found as she got older that being cute fixed almost any disability.
Marli alone was the only one not too stunned to speak; “Exactly,” she told Kamilé with a hint of what sounded like pride. The class looked at one another, then at Kamilé, in what could only be described as astonishment that she still existed, and in the same room as them, too. She gave them a cheerful smile, but they glowered and sneered at her, snatching her moment of triumph away.
“Of course.”
“Trying to be a teacher’s pet….”
“Good luck, I say.”
“Marli’ll let ‘em get away with anything, though….
“Dunno why she even lets them in….”
“Now she wants to be smart….”
Kamilé opened her mouth to scream at them, or cry, and Everan seemed just as angry; Marli judged that it was a good time to step in. “Okay, back to the lesson now, yeah?”
Everan placed his hand on Kamilé’s forearm beneath the desk to comfort her as her eyes brimmed with tears; she sniffled quietly and resolved to keep her mouth shut in here for the rest of her life.
“Haenir was the first chosen, and if anyone deserved the title, he did. He stopped the Thousand Years’ War single-handedly—and he was only sixteen at the time. How he did it, no one is quite sure…. The people of Ametris remembered nothing when the War was over. Haenir spent the rest of his life telling scribes everything he knew, as he was the only one who could recall it; Ametrisan history is flawed and incomplete, and without thousands of years of information, the people were forced to start all over again. But as far as they know from what he told them, the very deity who gave us our gift of peace gave Haenir the title of chosen, and his successors are still around even now, after three thousand years. And it appears that they always will be.
“After the war, the entire country—”
“Professor, who’s the chosen now?” someone interrupted eagerly, and the rest of the class nodded.
Marli frowned. “I can’t say,” she said with a sour look. “the Elders forbade it. Really, it hinders everything you should know about this country in general—”
“Why not? Why won’t you tell us?”
“It’s against the law. I’m not supposed to say much about the chosen at all, but it is part of history. There’s a book on it in the library if anyone’s interested. Anyway, as I was saying—”
“What do chosen do?” Kamilé inquired on a sudden curiosity, breaking her new resolve to herself…anything to stall the lesson further.
Marli gave her a strange look and a sudden laugh. “Kamilé, you have no idea.”

As Marli went on, expanding on the four races and their differences, Kamilé grew bored and rested her chin on her folded arms with a yawn.
So boring… she thought sleepily.
I don’t think so, the thought that was not her own echoed in her mind.
You wouldn’t, Everan, she sniffed. You’re smarter than she is.
Since before they could talk, Kamilé and Everan had found that they could communicate with each other using telepathy—conveying a message in images and ideas using brain waves, which automatically translated to words—though they never thought about it quite like that. It was commonplace to them, despite the fact that they had never met anyone else who could do it; but then, they hadn’t looked, surrounded as they were by rather dull-minded and boring people.
But she’s a teacher, Everan objected.
Kamilé shrugged. That doesn’t mean nothin’. She yawned again. You wouldn’t be boring, would ya?
I think this is really interesting—
Well it in’t, it’s boring. Why should we listen to all this when we can just ask ‘em? Aren’t they gonna be here soon?
Yeah, and on our birthday, too. A shadow of his contentment reached Kamilé across their connection.
Isn’t it great? The sky people are being nice for once!
Don’t say that. It’s disrespectful.
Dis…what?
Never mind. Everan sighed, resolving to use smaller words. We’ve always been taught that the deities care about everyone, right?
No one’s taught us nothin’, that’s just what everyone SAYS.
Good point. I wonder if they learn it from their parents…
Yeah, that’s just it! If—
“Kamilé! Everan! Shut up, you two!”
“We weren’t talkin’, Professor!” Kamilé lied indignantly.
“Well, you were going to. Pay attention, please.” And with that, she resumed the lesson.
Kamilé and Everan glanced at each other, in silent agreement that whatever seventh sense Marli possessed was very scary indeed.
Class ended at midday, and most of the children dashed out, eager to run home and share the news of the festival with their families. Kamilé and Everan took their time, checking to be sure they left nothing behind; the other kids sometimes took their things, and it was pure hell getting them back. In the front of the room, Marli sat back in her chair and opened her book once more. As they turned to sneak away, she called without looking up, “Hey. Make sure you wear your uniforms next class.”
Everan swung his bag onto his shoulder as if he hadn’t heard. Kamilé winced, knowing the comment was directed at her, thanks to all the attention she had brought to herself that day. She muttered an assent, and hastily followed Everan out of the schoolhouse, insulted—she liked her tunic, it had once been a shirt of Everan’s and it still smelled a bit like old books and soap.
D’you think we’re in trouble? she fretted, genuinely worried this time. Marli scared her sometimes—what could she do? What other strange powers did she have?
Everan shrugged. It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing we can do about it, anyway.
If she keeps on about it, though….
We can’t buy clothes with money we don’t have, he said shortly, sounding annoyed; though, she knew, not at her.
Least I was wearin’ shoes this time, she muttered. But Everan, where are we goin’? Back home?
They stopped, realizing that they were automatically heading in that direction. No, Everan said, I don’t want to. Wanna go to the square?
‘Kay! she agreed, leading the way south down the dirt path. She skipped ahead of him, intoxicated by the sweet scent of summer, though Everan walked to fully enjoy the beauty of the forest. Around them, a chorus of birds sang, praising the efforts of the bright sun as it finally surmounted the mists curving over the entire island. They saw the tips of pure white clouds sliding across the azure sky to disappear again into the thick mist, and on the ground hundreds of bright flowers poked through newly-grown grasses and bushes and vines of every shade of green. Serra Woods, named long ago when it still was a wood, was a world of color in the summer season, and everything that breathed in the warm, scented air could feel the life rushing through its veins.
Kamilé was full to bursting with energy and quickly lost patience with anything that slowed her down—namely, Everan. She was forced to stop and wait for him at intervals as he stubbornly continued with his slow pace, no matter how much she tried to pull him along. Today, right then, everything about him was too serious, too Everanish… to save him from eternal boringness, she danced around him, ruffling his hair with her hand so it stuck up everywhere and giggling like mad. He flattened it with one hand, frowning.
C’mon, Everan, she said cheerfully, we aren’t in school no more, stop bein’ so NEAT.
I like it this way, he insisted, dodging her as she reached out to ruffle it again. She shrugged and gave up, running ahead of him again.
You’re so slow, Everan, come ooooooon!
I’m not walking any f—
I’ll race you, then! Come ON!
Taking the challenge with a small smile, Everan ran after her, racing her the rest of the way to the very center of the elfin capital. They had no idea as they flew unheedingly past that they glanced over scores of houses, stepped into dozens of gardens, tripped and fell (in Kamilé’s case) into someone’s forsaken vegetable patch. It was a curious truth about Kocha, the elfin city: unless one knew where to look, one would never know that the cleverly crafted elfin houses extended for miles, even leagues in every direction. As far as most knew, the only definite boundary was the Iiyana River to the west…though no one was quite sure, all the same.
Once the center of the city came into view, the path turning to cobblestones beneath her feet, Kamilé and Everan stopped as they decided where they would go next. The library, of course, suggested Everan; he wanted to find that book Marli had mentioned. Kamilé complained as always, but didn’t really mind—the library was an adventure, after all. They resumed their race through the square, weaving between houses, stalls, and disapproving adults who threw nasty glares and insults after them. They ignored it as always, exhilarated by the speed as they flew through the shady streets.
The square was nothing more than a league of patchy stone covering the earth, on which had been built rather human-like houses of stone and dead wood. Some were shops, some were homes; they lay wherever the owners had chosen to build them, crooked and scattered, with stalls filled with goods and sweet food set wherever there was room. A few random trees and endless flowers sprouted from earthy patches here and there like gardens, on which people scattered seeds or unfinished chunks of bread for the birds. It was a messy, unorganized place, but a happy one.
The square, ages ago, had been built on a league of open space, the top of a rise near the Serra Falls. The ground curved slightly, dropping dramatically at the waterfall but sloping smoothly to flat ground in all other directions. Hardly any trees grew here, save for one drastic exception; a giant sequoia reaching up to heaven, its branches throwing the entire street into shade. Half a mile wide and of immeasurable height, the Great Tree was legendary; it could be seen towering over all the trees of the forest from far into the plains. The Tree was revered as a lesser deity; the impassible pathway to the heavens above the mist; and to the elves of Kocha, a guide home.
The elves even believed that its web of roots was the fabled Great Root, the giant conscious organism at the center of the world from which all plant life sprouted. Another belief was that when the body was returned to the earth after death, the soul would travel further downward until it found the Great Root, a world beneath the earth filled with light and peace and endless plants where the dead lived happily for all eternity. This was the reason that Kocha’s people had buried in the graveyard in the Great Tree’s shadow since it had been discovered thousands of years ago. Since then, the Tree had never decayed; if anything, it had gotten bigger.
But what interested the twins (mainly because it interested Everan, and Kamilé mimicked his beliefs for the most part, having none of her own,) was not the spiritual aspect of the Tree—it was the library carved into its base.
Sometime before the War, before anyone’s living memory, a team of clever craftselves had carved an enormous web of rooms into the living tree; or perhaps the tree had simply grown that way as a blessing. No one knew for sure how the seemingly natural formation of the tree’s xylem formed perfectly straight walls, floors, and stairs. But regardless, since the times long before Haenir, the place had been inhabited and used for various means, the most recent and enduring of them being a library. Shelves were placed everywhere, from towering ceiling to floor, organized carefully and guarded for hundreds of generations by the same family of librarians. It was a beautiful place, tastefully decorated, and Everan’s favorite place in the world. He told Kamilé often that he could easily live there for the rest of his life, had he not had to take care of her. She didn’t really know what to think of that, so she let it go, wondering why in the world people bothered to learn how to read.
The entrance was not grand, merely a small grownup-sized door that was part of the natural bark of the tree; it was as thick as Kamilé’s arm, and she and Everan had to pull together to get it open. They tumbled into the library, cool shade enveloping them as the smell of old books, dust, and ancient grandeur wafted toward their noses.
“Hi, Kayle!” Kamilé called to the empty library as they approached the desk in the center of the room, the dim echo reverberating off the smooth walls. A muffled voice answered indistinguishably from another room up the wide, curving stairs, and in seconds a young man appeared in the upstairs doorway, waving cheerily to them as he stumbled down the stairs and wiped his dusty crystal glasses on his sleeve. His arms were filled with yellowed scrolls, which he at once dumped unceremoniously in the chair beneath the huge desk, and he was covered in the dust of ages long gone.
“Good afternoon!” said Kayle, straightening his glasses and blinking as his eyes focused. “How may I…um….”
Kamilé muttered a swear word and waved her hand over the top of the desk; she and Everan were too short to be seen over it. Kayle’s grinning face appeared as he leaned over them.
“Hey, you two. Sorry…didn’t see you down there.”
They scowled up at him; Kamilé poked out her tongue. “Jus’ you wait ‘til we’re big an’ strong, we’ll show ya then!” she threatened.
Laughing lightheartedly, Kayle came around the desk and leaned against the polished front. “I haven’t seen you two in a long time,” he told them with mock sternness, waving a dusty finger. “What’s it been, like, two days? I’d’ve thought you died if people’d stop complaining about you in here.”
“They c’n whine all they wanna,” Kamilé sniffed. “What’s their problems anyways?”
“This time, I believe it was stealing.” Kayle sighed, but he seemed amused all the same. “But they’ll always find something to complain about, I guess. So, what d’you need today, Everan?” He knew better than to assume Kamilé would touch anything from here.
“Just lookin’ around,” Kamilé replied, speaking for Everan as always. “Got somethin’ new?”
He thought about it, polishing his glasses on his jerkin’s sleeve. Shaking his mop of messy black hair with a shower of dust that made Kamilé sneeze, he said, “I do, actually, I was waiting for you to come by so I could show you….” Kayle was the closest thing to a friend Everan had aside from Kamilé; Kayle shared every new discovery or valuable tome with him, and often took Everan’s advice about a book’s quality before reading it himself. When Kamilé relayed it right, Kayle was usually impressed with Everan’s expertise on the subject. They would have been friends, but friendship goes both ways, and Everan never offered courtesy or the smallest bit of information voluntarily to anyone.
“It’s this history of Ametris, right, only it’s so complete, I flipped through it—no time to read the whole thing right now, busy you know—and it gives amazing detail on the entire history, I’m impressed, I really am. It even has an extensive record of each race’s creation stories, this girl—Vane Ilean, a human, and rather young—she must have done so much research on the subject, absolutely fascinating…c’mon, I’ll show you….”
He led them up the stairs to the wing on the left, through a web of spacey rooms, the walls lined with paintings from various eras, and out of a small door that led to the outside part of the library. At once they were dazzled by a web of light filtered through the leaves, consisting of every shade of green; green was everywhere, from the branches overhead to the vines crisscrossing along the bark to the fallen leaves carpeting the pathway. A long chain of steps that seemed to grow from the tree spiraled upward for several hundred feet, until the altitude could no longer support Kayle’s delicate books.
Everan kept carefully close to the wall as Kamilé skipped ahead, answering Kayle’s questions distractedly as they climbed.
“What’d you two do today? School?”
“Yup.” Kamilé made a face.
“And how’s Marli?” he asked in an odd tone, giving her a shifty glance. “She okay?”
“She’s so mean!” Kamilé pummeled the air furiously with her fists, her hair flying in every direction. “Jus’ when we were gonna escape, we were really gonna this time, Kayle! And she ruins it!”
“Escape? From what?”
“They were all being so damn mean!” Kamilé kicked the wall with her heel, careful to avoid hurting the tree, as it was elfin blasphemy. “So so mean, pickin’ on us all the time, all those stupid kids—”
“Oh.” Kayle had heard things like this before. “What about this time?”
“Everan,” Kamilé choked, frustrated and furious enough to cry. “They were bein’ mean to Everan. How could they be so…so….”
“They’ve got guts, I’ll give them that,” Kayle muttered; Everan had been angry at him before for asking too many questions, and it was not an enjoyable experience. He looked back, but Everan was ignoring the conversation, keeping a careful, steady pace behind them. “What’d they say?”
“They…both of us, they were so mean, Kayle…just ‘cause we don’t got any parents….”
And she really did burst into tears, more angry than devastated but crushed all the same. “Ohh,” Kayle sighed with a frown, having seen this before; he scooped Kamilé up and hugged her, letting her ride comfortably on his back, which cheered her up in no time. What they liked best about Kayle was that they had known him for ages; he was eight years or so older than them but never acted like a grownup—he acted like a person.
Neither of them saw it, though Kamilé was aware of it, as Everan stood very still, clenching his fists, fighting his emotions; then he ran ahead and kept a faster pace, keeping close enough to touch and comforting Kamilé endlessly through their minds. After a few minutes of persistent cheering, Kamilé stopped crying and felt much better—well enough to poke the top of Everan’s head lazily as he walked beside Kayle. He wrinkled his nose at her, and she grinned, and something passed between them that neither could define; a sort of mutual agreement with intangible terms that filled them with the peace of normalcy. Filled with energy again, Kamilé wriggled away from Kayle and twirled-hopped-skipped circles around both of them; she rarely walked, and rarely stopped chattering given the chance.
Kayle let her go on for awhile, then engaged Everan into a conversation about a few more books that Kamilé, once she was told that they had no pictures, quickly lost interest in. She had a staring contest with a squirrel and tried to count the steps she walked on and the leaves she past to entertain herself until they reached the little compartment where Kayle kept random books—ones that could withstand the humidity, he had often said, though what that meant she couldn’t even guess.
There were little indentations at head height for Kamilé dotted all around the walkway, and Kayle stopped at one of these, slid his fingers into the groove, and pulled a thick section of the bark wall away. Inside was a small room with a single lantern, lined with bookshelves that were only half-full; these books were relatively new.
Kayle scratched his head as he searched; he had some sort of sophisticated organization system, but it seemed that not even he could remember it sometimes, so to all present his bookshelves seemed ordered chaotically, books grouped here and there in no particular order.
Kamilé and Everan knew better than to try and help—they’d only get in the way—so they waited outside for him. Kamilé grew bored and peered over the edge of the walkway, trying to catch a glimpse of the tiny people eighty feet below, but a shard of bark beneath her feet shifted, and the ground swayed beneath her as she wheeled her arms to push herself back. Everan grabbed the neck of her tunic, pulling her back from destruction, and told her sternly to keep away from the edge.
“Ah, here it is,” Kayle proclaimed at last, procuring a book from a cloud of dust. Dust seemed to follow him wherever he went; it was his natural state of being. Everan reached for it, but Kayle waved it teasingly above their heads; Kamilé jumped at it like a kitten until Kayle laughed and gave up, leading them back down the walkway.
“I’ve gotta write you down, remember? ‘S the whole point of the place. But after that it’s yours—she said you’d like it, Everan….”
“Who did who did?” Kamilé demanded, pulling Everan along.
Kayle grinned. “Pilori says hi.”
“Pilori!” Kamilé squealed, clapping her hands in excitement and grabbing Everan’s hands as she danced. He pulled them away, scowling at the name; Pilori had been their foster mother for a few years, but had gone away to unknown places with unknown people, for an unknown purpose. They had been young, and details blurred over the years. “Pilori’s here Pilori’s here she’s here, right? She came to tell us happy birthday!”
“Yep,” Kayle confirmed with a smile. “She came around yesterday looking for you, but I told her you two were in school—you were in school, right?”
“Nah, didn’t feel like it yes’rday.”
“Eh, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And I gave her the news, told her all about you two, but it wasn’t enough for her—she said she wants to hear from you two at the Festival.”
“She’s coming?” Kamilé giggled excitedly, poking Everan so he would feel the same. He still held a grudge, though far be it from her to know why.
“Yep, she said she missed the chance to come last time the elves had it, and since it was your birthday…well, she couldn’t miss the chance. She got you a present, too.”
“What is it?” Kamilé demanded, pulling on his sleeve. He laughed.
“I’m not telling you, you can wait. Deities, I can’t believe it…eleven, right?”
“Yep!”
“Hmm…well, come around here in a few days, all right? I’ll find you something good…it doesn’t have to be a book,” he added with a smile as Kamilé pulled a face. “Whatever it is, you’ll like it, I promise.”
“Better be good, Kayle,” Kamilé ordered him, but inside her heart was soaring—after years of stolen birthday dinners and only their own presents to give, perhaps reminding scatterbrained Kayle and receiving sweets or an old book, they already had two presents just waiting for them to open! Kamilé writhed and twirled with pleasure, and even Everan could not deny that he was pleased.
I hope it’s something useful, he thought. Something we could use. Like a new blanket….
But that’s boring, Everan, Kamilé objected. What ‘bout…mm…they need to make a book with pictures, nothin’ but pictures just for me….
I’ll draw you something if you like, Kamilé, Everan offered. For your present. I’ll have to find the materials…who would have a lot of paper, and wouldn’t notice it missing? he wondered. This was often his train of thought before they went on a raid for supplies; they tried to steal from people who didn’t need the food or the clothes. It was not as if they were being selfish or cruel when the stole—they really needed it. There was no reason for someone else to suffer in their place.
Kayle led them back to the annex and told them to stay put while he searched for his missing list.
“Did you want anything else?” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared upstairs.
“Nah, we’re—ooh! Kayle!” Kamilé called as Everan reminded her of the book they had come for.
“Yeah?”
“Marli said….” She paused as Everan repeated the information. “She said you had a chosen book in here! You do, doncha?”
Silence fell over the peaceful library, and then Kayle’s head appeared in the doorway. “No,” he answered in a strangely guarded tone. “Some took that weeks ago, it’s out.”
“Aww,” Kamilé whined. “Who?”
“I dunno, some….” His voice trailed off. “’S not like they’d give it to you anyway!” he added in a shout. “Little kleptomaniacs….”
Kamilé blinked; long words confused her. She didn’t like it; Everan was disappointed, and she felt somehow that he didn’t need to be—Kayle had been hiding something. She hummed a little to herself as she drifted sideways, then darted behind the desk and started ferreting around. Everan looked around for Kayle, then stood on his toes and pulled himself up so he could watch her search through the endless piles of books.
Get out of his stuff, Kamilé, what’re you doing?
Looking,
For WHAT? That’s really rude, you know it—
Found it! she cried, as Kayle’s voice called the same words above; jumping, she snatched something from a stack of books and dashed to the other side again, arranging herself into the adorable-innocent-Kamilé position. Kayle’s head appeared over the desk, and the end of a thick scroll spilled over the side as he rummaged for a quill.
“’Kay,” he told himself. “Right. Today is…what’s today?”
“Last day of spring?” Kamilé guessed.
“Oh yeah, tomorrow’s midsummer…76 spring…7074…A.T., duh…Complete History of Ametris. All right,” he told them, hitching the scroll out of sight again and waving. “Remember to bring it back soon so I can read it, ‘kay? See you two later!”
“Bye!” Kamilé called, hugging the book to her chest—it looked like the one he had given them, but that one was sitting safely in Everan’s bag. She sighed in relief as the door closed behind them, then pulled Everan around a huge protruding root of the Great Tree until they found shade and quiet. They sat to examine the loot.
It was, of course, a book. Wood-bound, written with aging parchment, it would have been nondescript but for the symbols painted on the cover.
It’s the chosen book, Everan clarified, giving her a look. How did you know?
Kamilé shrugged. There ya go, Everan, she said triumphantly. Got you your book, didn’t I?
Oh no, he objected, half-rising to his feet. I’m giving this back, Kayle’s too nice to us for—
No! She rescued it from him with a stern glare. No, he can’t have it back!
Kamilé! Kayle’s saved us a hundred times, you know he has, if it wasn’t for him we could’ve starved last winter!
I don’t care, Kamilé insisted. He lied to me.
Maybe he didn’t realize it was there—
No! He was lying, did you hear him?
Everan sighed. We can’t keep it, that’s just mean. I’m taking it back.
Kamilé shook her head. Let’s jus’ keep it…you can jus’ read it once, Everan, she pleaded. Jus’ until we know why he lied to me.
She was obviously offended, and stubborn, and she could easily win a fight if it came to that…Everan sighed and put the book in his bag.
One time. I don’t keep stolen merchandise.
Kamilé nodded eagerly, pleased that she had gotten her way. It didn’t happen often; Everan won every argument unless it came to a fistfight or she started to cry. And even then, his better judgment defeated her.
Where do you want to go? Everan asked her. She peered critically at the sun; then a happy grin split her face in two.
Race you!
Hey, no head starts—where’re you going?
Kamilé veered off course as she smelled something delicious—sugar rolls, her favorite. She lost Everan as she dashed into the crowd, listening to the blurred shouts and complaints slide past her; to slow down in Kocha’s square was not only perilous, but annoying, as someone they’d stolen from might notice them and start yelling.

I would love to read these, but I gotta go babysit. gonk

She's also fifteen. She's overage for them, though.

Edit:

You should elaborate on that fact from the start and then you should make sure to explain that fifteen is in elf years (or that fifteen is old in elf years -which ever it may be.)

Is she supposed to sound like an adult or a teenager?

okay now for more: [ still opinions and comments, and only that.]

12a. To introduce the children you may want to introduce them as "Two children" instead of "the two children."

12b. To avoid confusion you may want to describe Marli as a predator and not a hunter as a hunter may be found to be synonimous to something which can track and thus pay careful attention to her path.

13. Kamile's and Everan's placement in the schoolhouse and their actions there make them appear like everyday characters until you get to Kamile, and then the style transitions into focus on her and her perspective, without any proper transition (that is, you don't let the reader know that your going to switch perspectives.) You may want to begin at Kamile's perspective to keep your style consistant.

14. Disrespectful is not a difficult word to recall unless you have Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (the fear of long words - humurously) The least you could do is make her mispronounce it.

15. If Everan was smart in the terms of a school boy, he would correct Kamile by informing her that "taught" doesn't make it right, it just means that someone imparts knowledge to you.

16. Is this really being told from Kamile's perspective? There are a few places where you inserted Narative speech.

17. If you want to gut your book some to make it more comprehensive for young readers, you can just have them decide to go to the library and describe the village from one of the higher levels of the tree.

18. You shouldn't use "human like" before you introduce humans and human dwellings.

19. You should have elaborated on the speculation as to how the tree was hallowed out, which was probably a more relavant talking point among the villagers.

20. Filter language is specific to a time period and the society, try to keep that in mind when you use your likes and uhs and other words of that nature.

21. You should make it clearer that Kayle knows that Everan is the one who usually takes out books and/or that Kamile is illiterate.

22. You should show character traits, not inform the reader in passing about them (You say that Everan shows no courtesy and never reveals information to anyone.)

23. Where did they steal the dinners from?

24. You should work on a way to better explain, or imply, the workings of their society (it's diffictult to latch on to how it's structured. For instace, there is a teenager as a school teacher, a young man who reads and speaks in english, despite the fact that they are elfs, a random society who's means of sustenance are not explained, a great tree that no one questions, an authority whose' means of enforcement is unclear, a curious lack of adults, and other things I can't place my finger on...)

25. There's not much conflict, nor is there much hint of conflict in the first chapter.

26. The bit about Kamile never winning the arguments is superfluous.

27. If your not going to describe the inside of places, don't describe the outside.

28. I would lead away from the history lessons if I were you, as most of yours seem too simple to be of much use or of much enjoyment. Since it's from Kamile's perspective, you should just paraphrase, say it was boring to her, and then throw it in the river.

29. Nothing important happened in chapter 1. You said there was a festival, and that it was their birthday.

30. Chapter 2 is more interesting but you go off into that historical tangent again. This makes the background to your book seem to simple. I would suggest leaving out the comments on the social workings here, and just elaborating on the horror the queen felt with respects to the event it's self.

31. Its hard to focus in on the thing that you want the reader to make note of......

and........I give.


I can't spend my time checking this over anymore - I'm sorry.

I think you should rewrite the first two chapters so that the reader can see consistancy in your style and transitions, and so that you can add or fix any context involved in your story.

I also think you should pay more attention to your characters, and describe them and their actions more than you do the enviornment and any other objects.

Rewriting the first few chapters (perhaps completely) can also allow you to add points that correlate to later chapters so as to give your readers something to connect when they come across those things later on. These must be apparent things though, as mundane and sloppy comments made on passing by the narrator run the risk of being ignored.

lastly I think you should leave the history alone and describe the society around them. The history can come later when it seems relevant, for now it makes the background story to this world sound superfluous and cumbersome in it's context and also blunt in other contexts.

[Good luck. I'm sorry to say that I will not be reading the rest of this book. The first few chapters are your first impressions on the reader, and this first chapter says that it will be slow, and that conflict will either be simple or non existent.]

[If you rewrite the first few parts, and stun me in doing so, I will complete your book, until then I remain adamant that you need to extablish more firmly the beginning of your plot.][Just bare in mind your readers....please?][oh well ta ta.]