The Lost History of Sathyriel, Part Seven

I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't subtitle this "Cyra talks to her Psychologist".

Part Seven, two days worth of writing, over 2,400 words, and finally the end of this scene. This is really the centerpiece of the whole story, so I knew it would probably run long. There's some interesting stuff in this part. As with magic, I feel like it was better not to spell everything out completely and I hope that works. I also realize that Cyra does a lot of not talking over the course of this scene, but I think that makes sense with where her mental state is.

We're definitely entering the home stretch. Part Eight or Nine should be the end.

Comments blahdy balh.


Cyra didn’t say anything for a while. She continued to stand with her back to Joren. He waited.

“What did you see,” she asked slowly, “when you looked at me?”

She turned her head slightly to look at Joren. His eyes met hers with a calm, steady gaze.

“Pain. And sadness. It’s a kind of dark energy; looks like something between lightning and water. It was concentrated around that scar on you cheek.”

Cyra brought her left hand up to her cheek. She traced the scar with a shaky finger.

“It’s nothing,” she said self-consciously.

“That may be,” Joren admitted. “Sometimes the apparent source of the energy is just a particularly painful wound. Or it could be completely meaningless. But still, that much negative energy isn’t good. It prevents the body from healing.”

“What causes it?” Cyra asked with a little hesitation.

“Any number of things. I’ve actually seen people who were so frightened by whatever had happened to them that they weren’t able to take the healing and recover. It can be anger, fear, sadness, or something else.”

“What do you think is causing it with me?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. Like I said, it can be all kinds of things, so I can’t really know.”

“But what do you think?” Cyra turned so she was almost facing him. Her blue eyes watched him expectantly. Joren sighed.

“I don’t like making guesses. But if I had to, I’d suppose something happened that you hadn’t experienced before, something you weren’t prepared to deal with. And now you’re not certain if you can go back and face it again.”

Cyra just looked at him. She didn’t move. She didn’t say anything. She just stood looking at Joren for what seemed a very long time. The, slowly, she walked over to the rock Joren was leaning against and sat down near it. Joren sat too.

“I’ve been fighting for a long time,” Cyra began, her voice soft. “Even before the war I was always wrestling with my brothers and sisters. I still have scars from those days.”

“Your dragon family,” Joren said, just to make sure he understood. Cyra nodded.

“So it’s not like I’ve never been hurt before. I’ve been in plenty of battles where I could have died if something had happened just a little differently. But this….”

She trailed off and sat silent, hugging her knees to her chest. Joren said nothing, waiting for when she was ready to continue.

“It wasn’t just the pain,” she said at last. “It hurt more than anything, but I could have dealt with that. But, I guess it just never seemed that…. personal. He….”

Joren looked as her quizzically. Cyra winced, as if even saying the name was painful.

“Talshak. He didn’t just want to stop the rebellion or kill me. He wanted to hurt me. He seemed convinced that once I was…gone, the rebellion would fall apart.”

“Do you think that’s true?” Joren asked, trying to make it clear by his tone that he didn’t expect any particular answer.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it was, but now I just don’t know. Talshak said it was total chaos when I fell on the battlefield, that everyone either ran or surrendered. And the people from the village, the ones who organized the people to help with the fight, he said they were executed.”

Joren bowed his head solemnly.

“War has its price, even a just war,” he said. “I imagine you’ve seen more than your share of death.”

“Of course I have, and I always felt bad when our people died. But this time, it just felt like they died because of me.”

“Not all of your fights have been victories. I don’t know the details of every battle, but there will always be time when you can’t win no matter how hard you fight. When that’s the case, soldiers die, even under the best command.”

“I know. It isn’t that. Before, I always felt like all of us were fighting for something bigger: freedom, our own kingdom, the ones we cared about. But now, I just don’t know. Maybe they just fight because I convince them to, or because they think I can make life better for them somehow. It just wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

“What was it supposed to be then?”

“All I wanted at first was to kill the dragons who killed my parents. After my mother told me what happened to them, it was all I could think about for the longest time. I wasn’t even thinking about Talshak at first; he wasn’t there when my village was destroyed. I just wanted revenge.
“After a while, I just started thinking about it differently. I guess I just realized that my parents weren’t going to come back even if I killed everyone responsible for them dying. I started thinking about my family, and how they always had to be so cautious and stay so close to the weyr. The older dragons used to tell stories about the old days before Talshak, when dragons could fly anywhere they wanted without being afraid. They talked about the other clans and how some of them were gone because of Talshak and the rest might be too. We didn’t have any way of knowing if they were all right because we couldn’t travel that far safely. So I still wanted to make Talshak pay for what he’d done. But more than that, I wanted to make life better for my clan.

“And then when we started fighting the Keltarians and trying to get them out of Vaar territory, we kept meeting people who thought I was some kind of hero because of the sword and because we were winning battles. Honestly, I just didn’t know how bad the odds were back then. I didn’t understand how amazing it was that we were even surviving, let alone beating back the Keltarians. I just figured we could use the help so I let people join us if they wanted to. So I was getting to know them and I started realizing how bad things were for them too. And I thought that they had just as much right to be free as may clan did. So we started talking about what it might be like if we could get the Keltarians out for good and have our own kingdom.

“I always thought that the idea of being a free country was what brought everyone to the fight and kept them going. I though I was just the leader because I was there from the start and the sword made a good symbol. It wasn’t ever supposed to be about me. Now I even hear some of the generals talking about me being queen of our new country.”

“And you don’t want that?” Joren asked.

“No! I never asked for any of this. I don’t want all the responsibility. I don’t even want it now. The war shouldn’t hang on whether I survive or not. The people – they’re the ones doing the fighting and winning the battles. They’re strong. They shouldn’t need me and they don’t.”

“So you want to show them that they don’t need you?”

“No, that’s not it. I want them to understand that, but it’s not…it’s not what I want.
“I always thought that when all of this was over, if we actually won, I’d just go back home. It would be like it was before all the fighting, only better because nobody would have to be afraid anymore. But now, I just don’t feel like I have that choice. They look at me and they see a leader, a human, maybe even a future queen. And maybe they’re even right. I used to think my job was just to win the war, but what if it’s more than that?

“It just all feels like too much. I can’t be queen. I don’t even know if I want to. But I can’t just go home either. So I thought maybe it would be better just going…there.”

Cyra was looking up at the stars. Joren did the same. As he watched the distant lights he started to see something. Around each star there was a faint outline, a soft glow in a particular shape. As Joren continued to focus, he could make out various forms. Some were people, some animals, some were even plants. Some even appeared to be stones and water and other things. They weren’t constellations; every star had its own image surrounding it. Then Joren noticed something else. There were thin, near invisible beams of light coming down from the stars. Each star saw sending several of these beams of light down to the darkened world below. Stranger still, there were other beams of light coming up from the waking world into the sky. Joren followed the path of one and watched as it ended with the formation of a tiny new star. Every trail of light coming up into the sky did the same. Some of the new stars shone more brightly than others, but the birth of each seemed to make the night sky a little brighter.

“It’s beautiful,” Joren said softly. Cyra said nothing as they continued to watch the stars. Joren nodded silently to himself. This was definitely progress. He now fully understood the geography of this place: what lay below, what waited above, and where it was that they stood. Understanding the places he found himself in seldom pointed directly to a solution, but it usually helped.

“So,” Cyra said after a long silence, “is this the part where you take me back?” There was still a slight hesitation in her voice, but it was not as strong as it had been when she had first asked the question.

“I’m not here to take you back,” answered Joren, still looking up at the stars. Cyra’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You aren’t?”

Joren shook his head.

“I’ve never dragged anybody back kicking and screaming. Not sure it’s even possible. Sometimes I’ve had to lead people back because they couldn’t find the way on their own. But you seem quite clear on where to go if you want to get back to the world.

“At this point, there’s really not much left for me to do. You aren’t confused about your situation. You know what your choices are and what will happen in basic terms when you choose one or the other. I could spend a lifetime sitting on this mountain and talking to you, but I still wouldn’t completely understand what it is to be you. You’re the only one who knows that and you’re the only one who can make the decision.”

“So it’s my choice then. I can either go back and get better and keep fighting, or I can go up there and….die.”

It was the first time she had said the word, the first time she had admitted aloud what it was that she had considered doing. It was a good sign to Joren. People who just talked about “leaving” or “going away” were more likely to do so than people who called it by it’s true name.

“It’s your choice.”

“What would you do, if it was you?” Cyra asked. Joren sighed.

“Like I said, guessing doesn’t suit me and I can’t make this decision for you.”

“I know. I just want to know what you think.”

Joren didn’t answer right away. He looked up at the stars again and took a deep breath.

“I think you’re frightened, both from what happened to you and what you think might happen in the future. And I think that’s a very reasonable way to feel given your situation. It’s a very heavy burden for anyone to bear. You feel like others see you as something greater than you are and you feel like you can never live up to that image they have of you. Maybe it’s true; maybe you aren’t who they think you are. But I think it’s also possible that you are greater than you believe you are. There are people who depend on you in the world, yes. But there are people ready to support you too. There are people who gave their strength to send me to you.

“I know you are strong. It takes strength to live survive what you’ve been through for as long as you have. If I thought you were weak, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving the decision to you just yet. But you are strong, so I trust you will make the right decision for you and not be influenced by other worries.

“I’ve never been a fighter myself, but we healers see nearly as much violence and war as soldiers do. I know war is a hard thing and likely much worse for the ones fighting it. But I’ve also learned that wars aren’t always won by great heroes who do things others can’t. Wars can because of a single lowly soldier, or one particularly fast horse, or a shield that held or broke, or one very small thing that no one even realizes was the reason the battle went the way it did.”

Joren paused for a moment. Cyra was watching him intensely.

“I don’t know how it works for you,” he continued, gesturing up at that sky. I don’t know if you get to see what happens after you die, whether the last battle is won or lost. But from the little I know, I think it would be very hard not knowing if you could have been that one small thing that made the difference.”

Cyra didn’t say anything. She looked up into the sky, then back down to the earth below. Joren stood.

“I think now is the time for me to go,” he said.

“You’re not going to stay until I decide?” Cyra asked, confused.

“As I said, the decision is yours now. I think you deserve to be alone when you make it.”

Cyra nodded. Joren took a few steps towards the edge of the plateau.

“Joren?” Cyra called. He stopped and turned to her.

“Yes?”

“If I decided to die, what would you tell everyone?”

Joren thought it over for a just a moment.

“I would tell them that we both did what we could, but the wounds were too great for you to go on.”

Cyra smiled at him, a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

Joren nodded. He didn’t turn away from her this time. He took a step backwards, then another, then the last one off the edge of the plateau. He smiled up at Cyra looking down after him as he fell back down towards the waking world far below.