The Lost History of Sathyriel, Part Three

The latest estimate is six parts, assuming I don't post two sections in one post. The interesting part gets underway very soon, so hang in there. And can you believe I nearly forgot to write the part where who the dragon is gets revealed? I am fully aware of how Joren found that out, but I'm not sure whether it will be revealed in the story or not.

I'm planning to write an explanation of how magic works in Sathyriel and its surrounding world. I thought I'd get to it today but I haven't had time.

Comment always welcome.


The waiting was the hardest thing for Marehnu. He felt no less tense than he had just before a battle. What if Peren and Garel couldn’t find the dwarf? What if Peren’s limited knowledge of Rannak wasn’t enough to direct the dragon to Orkanholt? What if the dwarf refused to come? Marehnu tried to keep himself busy. He sent some of his men to the nearest towns to try and replenish the healers’ diminishing supplies. He helped to sort out bandages and potion ingredients when his men finally returned. He checked in with his troops on the perimeter to make certain there were no signs of Keltarian forces. He stayed out of Tolla’s way as much as possible. Between fatigue and continuing unhappiness about Joren’s impending arrival, the head healer’s temper was short. Marehnu did his best to only speak to her when it was absolutely necessary. He did his best to stay occupied, but still he often found himself scanning the skies for the approaching dragon or waiting for one of his troops to come and tell him the dragon had been sighted.

Marehnu was passing the time chatting with a few of the resting healers who were unable to sleep when the code knock interrupted their conversation and one of Marehnu’s troops burst in.

“They’re here!” he exclaimed. “The dragon’s coming in from the southwest and it looks like the dwarf is with them!”

“Meet them near the woods and escort them here,” Marehnu said, trying to hide the relief he felt. “Tell Peren to make certain the dragon stays hidden.”

The soldier nodded briskly and rushed back out the door. Marehnu excused himself to the healers and went into the back room.

Tolla had been hiding her fatigue well aside from becoming more irritable, but looking at her now, Marehnu could hardly believe she was still standing. Her brow was furrowed as she poured fresh ointment onto a cloth and applied it to a gash on Cyra’s leg. Despite the lack of heat in the hidden rooms, her face shone with sweat. Her eyelids fluttered as she continued fighting the urge to let them close. She didn’t even look up at Marehnu as he came into the room.

“The dwarf is here, I take it?” she said sourly.

“He’s on his way,” confirmed Marehnu.

Tolla roughly tossed a dirty bandage into the corner of the room that was being used for garbage. She headed over to the table and busied herself helping another healer grind herbs for a potion. Marehnu was contemplating whether or not he should say something to her when the code knock sounded once more. Marehnu turned and headed to the front room just as Peren, Garel, and the dwarf healer were coming down the stairs.

Joren seemed old, though Marehnu found it hard to guess at the age of dwarves. Still, the large number of white hairs in his silver-grey beard and the small fringe of hair that ran from just above his ears around the back of his head suggested that he was no longer young. He wore a simple light grey cloak over a plain white shirt and baggy black pants. Affixed to his simple leather belt were all shapes and sizes of pouches, likely full of herbs and potions and small tools. That and the pocket-lined bag Joren had slung over his left shoulder were typical of healers. Perched on Joren’s right shoulder was a small falcon. Its large eyes blinked as its head turned this way and that to take in its surroundings. Marehnu was a little surprised. Familiars were not uncommon among healers; some of the ones who were here already had cats or dogs or smaller creatures with them. But hawks were unusual. Marehnu had never seen any kind of mage with a falcon as a familiar.

Marehnu bowed to Joren as he finished descending the stairs.

“Healer Joren. Thank you for coming.”
Joren returned the bow and the falcon flapped its wings to keep balanced on his shoulder.

“Your people were quite persuasive,” the dwarf said. “Though from what they told me, we don’t have much time to waste on chatting.”

Marehnu nodded in agreement and led the dwarf into the back room. Peren and Garel followed after them. Some of the resting healers got up from their makeshift beds and made their way to the back room door, curious to see what was going to happen.

Tolla was standing against the back wall as they entered. Though no one would have dared suggest it, Marehnu suspected that she was glad for the measure of rest that leaning against it provided. She eyed the dwarf as a baker setting out fresh pies might eye a group of hungry children. The other two healers in the room stopped what they were doing and stepped back towards where Tolla stood. The dwarf gave no sign that he was aware of Tolla’s animosity. He walked over to the bed where Cyra lay and began to look her over. He walked up and down the length of the bed, checking the dressings and nodding to himself. Once or twice, he reached out and laid a hand on Cyra, usually over a bandaged wound. Marehnu could see Tolla’s hands form into tight fists every time Joren did this, but she said nothing. Joren paused for the longest time near Cyra’s head. He touched a single finger to the scar running down her cheek. After a moment, he left the bedside, heading to the small table where the healers had crafted potion after potion. He removed both the pocket-covered satchel and his belt and set them on the table. Then he returned to Cyra’ side.

“Not making any potions today?” Tolla asked, he contempt clear. Joren looked up at her.

“You’ve done everything traditional healing can do for her,” he said simply. “If you hadn’t, she would have died already.”

Tolla’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Marehnu wondered if much of her dislike for the dwarf came from her believing that he had no respect for the traditional healing that she practiced. Perhaps knowing that wasn’t the case would calm her some. Tolla still didn’t look happy, but Marehnu noticed that she wasn’t glaring at Joren anymore.

Joren grabbed hold of the room’s single chair and pushed it over to Cyra’s bed. He hoisted himself into the chair.

“I’ll need you all to leave the room,” he said. “The less distraction I have while I’m working, the easier this will be. I can’t say how long it will take, probably until sundown at least. I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Garel asked. He seemed disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to watch Joren work.

“Well, Anaskida and I will be pretty hungry once we’re through,” answered Joren, motioning towards his falcon. “A good meal for when we’re done would be nice. Other than that, you could talk to the mother.”

“The mother?” Marehnu repeated, confused.

“The white dragon in the woods,” said Joren. “Cyra’s mother.”

“Oh!” The assembled crowd turned to look at Peren. Her hand was at her mouth and her eyes were wide with horror.

“Of course! ‘Roma’ – it means ‘daughter’! I thought she was saying ‘leader’ all this time! I can’t believe I…”

Peren trailed off and shot a desperate look at Marehnu. He did feel sorry for her. She only spoke a little Rannak by her own admission and she’d been unexpectedly thrown into a situation where she was their only translator. But this wasn’t the time to reassure her.

“Go talk to the dragon,” Marehnu ordered, waving his hand in dismissal. Peren raced from the room and up the stairs, the door banging shut behind her.

Once Peren was gone, the healers slowly began to file out of the back room. Marehnu dismissed his soldiers and they left to take up posts in the front room or outside. Only Tolla made no motion to leave. She remained standing against the back wall.

“Tolla,” Marehnu said, hoping she wasn’t going to put up a fight.

“I’m staying here.”

“Tolla, you can’t stay.”

“Someone we know needs to be here keeping an eye on her condition and making sure nothing goes wrong. I’ll stay.”

Marehnu walked over to the back wall and pulled Tolla aside. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, hoping he wouldn’t have to raise it.

“Tolla, you have done amazing work keeping everyone organized and keeping Cyra alive. Even Joren knows it. But you need to rest.”

“I won’t leave him alone with her.”

“Then chose one of the healers to come in here and watch him for you. If anything goes wrong, my men will be in here immediately.”

“And if that isn’t soon enough?”

“Like I told you, whatever Joren does is my responsibility. Now go pick out another healer to watch him and get some rest!”

“Is that an order?”

“It will be if you don’t cooperate.”

Tolla scowled at him, but she stepped away from the wall and made her way to the door. Her footsteps were heavy and her pace was slow. Marehnu doubted that she could have remained awake to supervise Joren. Once Tolla had left the room, Marehnu turned to the dwarf.

“We’re going to need one of our healers in here, just to supervise.” He felt awkward saying it, but even if he didn’t share Tolla’s suspicions, he had take reasonable precautions. Joren nodded his head.

“I understand. Might make things a little harder at first, but I’ll manage. Just try not to let anyone else come in.”

Marehnu nodded and left the room himself. One of the healers slipped past him and into the back room. He shut the door between the two rooms. Nearby a couple of the healers were helping Tolla into one of the beds. She didn’t look to be protesting any longer. Marehnu sat down at the bottom of the stairs and settled in for another long wait.