The Lost History of Sathyriel, Part One

What's this, aside from the result of increasing frustration with the visual arts? It's an idea I've had for quite a while, and yet another way of working on "The Last Battle" without actually working on "The Last Battle". What you're about to read is a story from Sathyriel's past that didn't make it into the history books. With time, Memories fade, stories change, and some events are just never spoken of. This is a case where those involved believe the incident in question is better not shared with the general public and best forgotten by everyone, Of course, since this take place about thirty years before "The Last Battle", you'll already know how it turns out, if not how we reach that point.

I'm not sure what effect ths is going to have on the "real" story. Certainly it will require altering physical descriptions of Cyra. I almost wish I could fir it into "The Last Battle" somehow, since I like it and I think it could reveal some interesting character parallels. But as of now, I can't see any good and organic way to fit a nine page (and growing) flashback into a story that already has pacing issues.

Comments encouraged.

Official History

By the year 708 of the Fourth Age, Cyra’s small band of freedom fighters had grown into a full-fledged army. Under the guidance of Cyra and her generals, the warriors of the future Sathyriel began taking their land back from the Keltarian forces. Though there were defeats for Cyra’s forces along the way, the growing army only seemed to come back stronger from each loss. Despite the rising attentions of the Keltarian invaders, battles were won more often than lost and Cyra herself was never captured.


The Lost History

It was a chilly evening in late autumn when Talshak first learned that Cyra had been captured. Almost as soon as the messenger breathlessly gasped out the news, Talshak began preparations to leave for Fortress Ullok. He was still cautious. He traveled by night and took strange, winding flight paths avoiding main roads. The last thing he needed now was for the public to wonder why Lord Talshak had left the capitol, heading towards a fortress of minor strategic interest.

Talshak arrived at Fortress Ullok three days later, near dusk. The fortress’s commanding general and a small company of soldiers came to meet him as he touched down a short distance from the fortress proper. It was far less of a greeting than befitted someone of Talshak’s rank, but a full formal welcoming might have attracted attention. Under the circumstance, Talshak was pleased.

“Sire.” The general, a stout troll with a broken right horn, stepped forward and bowed deeply. Talshak eyed the kneeling troll. Just a few seasons ago, he would have paid this underling no attention, taken his loyalty for certain. But the changing mood of the land was beginning to affect even his own troops. Talshak was not unaware of the growing concern in his ranks that the rebellion was gaining strength. He heard the whispered tales of victories won by their troops, of desertion and betrayal by his own. His most trusted envoys brought back the beginnings of rumors from Keltaria that Talshak’s sanity was slipping, or that he had designs on ruling Keltaria itself. So when Talshak looked at this troll bent low before him, he scoured his every movement, his every breath, anything that might betray some hint of disloyalty. Trust was a luxury Talshak could no longer afford.

“General,” he answered at last, sweeping aside any further formalities. The troll rose, rolling his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. Talshak turned from him and started towards the fortress. The troll dismissed his men and hurried after Talshak, struggling to match his gait.

“Have you increased the guard?” Talshak asked, not looking to see if the troll was keeping up with him.

“The guard on the main entrance was increased by half as soon as we had her and the guard on the dungeon itself is double. All from within the fortress, as you requested, sire.”

“Good.” Talshak had sent orders ahead of him to that effect. It would stretch the watch and patrols around the fortress thin, but at this point he could not risk bringing in outside forces. The rebels could not be allowed to discover where their leader was being held.

“What is the status of the village?” Talshak asked, though he was fairly certain of the answer.

The troll gave a snort, which Talshak assumed was a laugh at the expense of the village in question.

“It’s been ours since we retook it, sire. No sign of the rebels, and the villagers won’t be turning on us again.”

“Make certain that they don’t. I grant you full authority to exercise force in advance of another potential uprising.”

“Yes, sire”. Talshak could hear the pleasure in his general’s voice. The messenger had spoken of casualties on Talshak’s side and the general and his men would be eager to take their revenge in full.

“What happened to the sword?” Talshak continued. His general’s pace slowed for a moment.

“The sword was lost when she fell,” he began slowly. “We searched the battlefield afterwards, but there was no trace of it. We think one of the rebels might have recovered it during the fight.”

Talshak said nothing. It did not matter, really. Deslordian would have made a good trophy, another symbol of his victory over the rebellion. But if the legends about the sword were true, it would be of no use to the rebels and possibly even less use to him. As long as it stayed out of Cyra’s possession, Talshak didn’t care where the sword was.

“Now,” Talshak said, tuning back to the troll at last. “Bring me to the dungeons. I wish to see the prisoner.”


Fortress Ullok, the troll general explained, had been built from the remains of a winery. The expansive wine cellar had been quickly converted into the fortress dungeons, where local dissidents were held and interrogated prior to their near inevitable execution. The stairs leading from the armory down into the dungeons had been widened when the winery became a fortress, but it was still a tight squeeze for a dragon. But Talshak managed to navigate the narrow passageway. He had to see for himself this creature that had managed to best his troops time and time again and pose the first real threat to his rule.

The dungeon was darker than night, even to Talshak’s sharp eyes. Windowless and completely underground, the cavernous space could only be seen as far as the light from the troll’s torch would carry. Beyond the fire’s glow, everything dissolved into black nothingness. It was cold, and the bare walls and floors of stone did nothing to lessen the chill. Judging by the way the troll was covering his nose, the dungeon’s scent was equally inhospitable.

Despite the dark, Talshak did not take long to find the prisoner’s cell. The rest of the dungeon was empty. Any insurgents taken in the battle had been executed quickly to discourage further uprising by the villagers. Talshak’s eyes slowly grew accustomed to the near total darkness and soon he could make out a small shape at the back of one cell, leaning slightly forward as he and his guide approached. They drew nearer and Talshak could hear the metallic jangle of chains as the figure in the cell strained to get a better look at them.

The troll stopped in front of the cell and set his torch into a sconce on the opposite wall. The cell was still only dimly lit, but it was enough. For the first time, Talshak faced his enemy, Cyra.

Talshak nearly laughed at the sight of her. He’d known for a long time that she was human, but he had expected some freakishly large giant of the species. Cyra seemed even smaller than most humans he had encountered before. She looked strong enough, he supposed, for one of their kind. But certainly no match for even an average dragon. This was the great rebel leader? This tiny, weak little human had evaded capture and defeated his armies repeatedly? This was the challenge to his reign?

“You got a visitor!” The troll banged loudly on the bars of the cell with the flat of his short sword. Only Cyra’s eyes moved in response. She seemed to take no notice of the troll, but her eyes widened at the sight of Talshak. He smiled, confident that even if Cyra did not recognize him, she had a healthy fear of the Keltarian dragons. But if she was afraid of him, she gave no further sign. She settled back against the far wall of the cell.

“Unlock the cell and leave us,” Talshak ordered quietly without taking his eyes from Cyra. “I will summon you if I need you again.”

The troll seemed about to protest, but stopped before he said anything. Dutifully, he drew a ring of keys from his belt and turned one in the lock. He took one last look at Talshak and, when the dragon gave no further orders, made his way back to the stairs.

Talshak remained where he was, watching Cyra. It was difficult to know if his orders that she not be harmed had been followed. She was pale, but nearly every report said she always looked that way and her almost white hair seemed to confirm that she was naturally fair. She had a few fresh injuries: a slash on her sword arm, a mace wound of her left side, and a gash on her head mostly indicated by dried blood. All three had been crudely dressed in an effort to keep her condition from deteriorating before Talshak arrived. The important thing was that she was alive, and in no danger of being otherwise just yet.

The chains worried Talshak. There were far too many. He could understand caution, certainly, but this was overdone. Her forearms were manacled to the wall so that they hung slightly above her head when she sat as she did now. Multiple chains ran around her arms and back to the wall behind her. Her ankles were secured in much the same manner, the main cuffs supported by numerous encircling chains. There were more chains still wrapped around her body: waist, chest, neck, and anywhere else the guards had though to put one. Their attachment to the wall was relatively slack, but Talshak doubted they allowed Cyra to stand very well. It troubled him because it meant his troops still feared her, even after seeing that she was just an ordinary human. They could have bound her with far less and she still could never have escaped. Talshak disliked the idea that his men still considered Cyra a threat, but that concern would soon be dealt with.

Cyra was meeting his gaze as he watched her. The blue eyes betrayed no fear. Her brows were drawn low in a severe glare, but not the fury he’d seen from so many other prisoners. Whatever she felt looking at him, she was hiding it well. But she had to know by now. She may even have guessed it when she was first taken captive. It was over. She would not escape. No help was coming and her remaining days were few.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked at last.

She may not have known at first, but now the torchlight fell on his various decorations and symbols of rank. Talshak was not surprised when she nodded slowly, still saying nothing.

“I know you, too,” continued Talshak. He grinned, stepping casually back and forth in front of the open cell door.

“You’re the Vaar’s little pet, aren’t you?”

Cyra gave a noncommittal grunt in response. She probably took it as an attempted insult, but Talshak was quite certain it was truer than she wanted to acknowledge. If the legends were true the Vaar took her in out of some sense of obligation to that tiny dragoncaller village Talshak had his men obliterate years ago. But after all this time, no dragon could find this little human anything more than an amusement. The local clans were all perfectly willing to rise up against the Keltarian forces, as Talshak had been brutal with the dragons. But that was it. They cared for their freedom, not Cyra.

“You’ve been causing some trouble lately, I hear,” Talshak went on lightly. “But nothing to worry about. We’ll soon have things right again.”

Of course it wasn’t as minor an issue as Talshak made it sound. He had brushed off the first reports of an uprising in the north, even when dragons were mentioned. It had seemed like all the others: easily handled by the local forces, nothing he needed to take a personal interest in. But time went on and the reports of rebellion only grew worse. Talshak had spent nights and days scouring the maps charting the most recent battles, trying to detect a pattern and devise an effective counterattack. He had been worried, but he could already feel his concerns subsiding.

“Oh!” he remarked as though he had just thought of it. “Has anyone told you what became of that little village you fought so hard for?”

Cyra looked up, likely before she could think to stifle her emotion and feign disinterest. Talshak smiled to himself. He’d found a crack in her armor.

“Naturally, your people were completely shaken when you fell,” explained Talshak as if he were describing something of absolutely no consequence. “A few of them fought on, but most either fled or surrendered as soon as you were taken. I’ve been told the ringleaders were put to death publicly the next day. We’ve had troops searching the surrounding area for any remaining dissidents, but they seem to have run off to some far distant retreat. So the village is fully under our control again, as it will stay.”

Talshak watched in satisfaction as Cyra’s head lowered.

“Perhaps you were hoping some of them might come to rescue you,” Talshak mused. “Or were you counting on the Vaar? That would be interesting. We haven’t killed a dragon in some time.”

Cyra suddenly lunged forward and roared at him. As Talshak had predicted, the chains kept her from getting very far, but still he was taken aback. Her furious scream wasn’t just a random howl of rage. Talshak knew it well, from the days when the clans still fought against his armies, before repeated defeats forced them to resign themselves to the safety of the weyrs. It was the Vaar’s honor cry; the traditional response to a threat against the clan. And when Cyra roared it at him, the sound, the motion of her lunge, the spark of fury in her eyes, everything about her made Talshak think of his confrontations with the Vaar. He knew full well the creature before him was a human, but everything about her as she answered his threat with the honor cry told him this was a dragon. He’d known humans to imitate dragons in the past, but this was different. It was too perfect, too natural, even as it seemed so wrong coming from that diminutive form. Talshak drew back, but quickly stepped forward again, hoping Cyra hadn’t noticed. He would never admit it to her, but he was starting to believe that the Vaar might actually consider this human foundling to be one of their own.

“It must be difficult for you,” Talshak began softly. He lowered his head and began to enter the cell.

“You want to be rescued, of course. But you know full well there’s no hope. And anyone who comes for you will certainly be killed. Which you wouldn’t want, I suppose. And you know by now you can’t escape on your own.

Talshak now stood close enough to touch Cyra. She could have reached him as well, but he wasn’t concerned about it. Even if she were free, armed and armored, Talshak could have torn her apart before Cyra even landed a blow on him. He reached out a clawed finger and touched her cheek.

“I know,” he murmured, his mock sympathy sounding nearly genuine. “I know.”

He began stroking Cyra’s cheek, from the far corner of her left eye to her hard, set jaw. She did not react. Her head remained perfectly still, turned to the side as if the dragon’s touch had no effect on her. It was exactly the reaction Talshak had hoped for. Let her think he was only mocking her. Better if she never guessed what was coming.
He began so gradually that Cyra didn’t even notice the change. Just a little more pressure, not enough to hurt, barely enough to notice. Then a little more. Then a little more. Even in the faint torchlight, dim already and mostly hidden by Talshak’s body, Talshak could see the muscles in Cyra’s face tensing. The blue eyes narrowed and the already tight jaw clenched tighter still. She was trying to keep up the façade of indifference when everything in her wanted to react. Talshak persisted, watching Cyra’s face, waiting for the sign. He didn’t quite know what he was looking for, what threshold he wanted her to cross. And then he saw it. It only lasted a second, an almost imperceptible flash of teeth behind a curled lip. But it was enough, and Talshak struck.

The dragon changed nothing in his demeanor. No motion or expression gave him away. He touched the corner of Cyra’s eye, just like every other time. But he didn’t stop. His sharp claw tore into her soft skin, rewarding him with a hot burst of wet blood.

Cyra’s brave face evaporated. She still cut off her shocked cry of pain halfway, but she couldn’t fight her instincts any longer. She thrashed, struggled, strained against the chains in a futile attempt to get away. Of course it was useless. Talshak easily pinned her head back against the wall with one hand and continued his work. Her flesh opened easily and he could have cut her face open in an instant, but he took his time, slowly dragging his claw down her cheek and pressing increasingly deeper. Cyra stared at him wide eyed in horror. She didn’t scream. Her mouth remained tightly shut; lips curled back, breath coming in and out from between her teeth in hisses or air almost as hot as the blood dripping down onto Talshak’s hand. Her whole body shook with all the pain and terror and rage she couldn’t hold back anymore. But she didn’t scream.

Talshak finished at her jawline, ending the gouge in Cyra’s cheek with a particularly deep dig into her skin. He released her from his grip. Cyra gasped and flung her head to the side, shielding her torn cheek against the cell wall. She still drew the same hissing breaths in, but released them in sharp gasps that were cut off by a fierce snap of her teeth, as if she were biting back screams. Talshak observed all of this, calmly wiping the blood from his claw and hand. He considered saying something to Cyra, but thought the better of it. Nothing he said would be as effective as what he had just done.

Talshak turned his back to Cyra and left the cell. The torch had nearly burned down now and he could just barely make out Cyra’s slumped body in the back of the cell. Only the sound of alternating hisses and raspy exhales told Talshak that Cyra was still there, still alive. He called for the troll general.

The general rushed down the stairs with a fresh torch. He grabbed the spent one from the wall and snuffed the remaining embers. He stole a quick glance a Cyra, but if he could even tell what Talshak had done to her, he said nothing.

“Double the guard over the next three days,” Talshak ordered. “Pull troops from as many of the local towns and villages as you can reach over the next three days. Just a few from each area. Not enough to arouse any suspicions.”

“Yes, sire,” answered the troll. He took another furtive glance into Cyra’s cell.

“I will be returning to the capitol immediately,” Talshak continued. “I will be sending the First Battalion out and they will arrive here in six days to collect the prisoner.”

Talshak paused. He didn’t say what would happen next. But it didn’t matter. She knew. She had to know. He leaned in closer to the guard, but did not lower his voice.

“She is to be handed over to the First Battalion alive, but I don’t care what you do with her otherwise. Just so long as she survives the trip back to the capitol. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sire.” The general answered automatically, but Talshak was certain he would be happy to give his men the news. As much as they hated anyone who had turned against Talshak’s regime and took up arms against them, his troops hated Cyra, the one who gave this latest uprising its strength even more. Letting them take out their anger on her would be good for morale, though not nearly as good as Cyra’s public execution. The general took a last look into the cell. Cyra hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked up. Talshak hadn’t expected her to. She had nothing left.

“Dismissed,” Talshak finished simply. He had no desire to drag out his stay any longer. He could take a more direct path back to the capitol while still keeping largely out of sight. He’d be there in two days, but the battalion traveling by land would take at least four to reach the fortress. There would be anxious moments in those next few days, but for now, Talshak felt content. Soon enough, Cyra would be dead, the rebellion would fall, and he would be in control again, as it should be.


Four days after Talshak’s departure, Fortress Ullok came under attack. Working off of information from their scouts, the rebel generals were able to detect unusual activity at the fortress and gather troops for a raid. The surprise attack was successful and all Keltarian forces were either killed or taken prisoner.

Cyra was freed from the fortress dungeon roughly ten days after being captured. She was not conscious when her forces reached and was suffering from numerous untreated injuries, many of them severe.

Though no one dared to say it, most believed she would not survive.

The Last Battle: Part 9, Draft 1

A little bitty transtional section, taking us through some of Kata's ride to the border. I've been told the pace of the story is a little slow, a point which I do not dispute. My plan right now is to plow through and get the whole thing written start to finish before I start making edits (with the possible exception of Apex 1, which may get edited when I reach it chronologically). But I think you'll all be happy to know that the pace is going to pick up in the next few segments. We're going into a flashback showing how Kata and Santok meant. And given that they're soldiers from warring countries, you can probably guess it was in less than pleasant circumstances. Also, a story that I hinted at earlier will be told, though possibly not for a few posts yet.

Oh and "Dray Fandhil" is the name of the captiol city of Sathyriel (subject to change as always). "Dray" was a dragon caller term for "village". As it says in the history, Cyra built the capitol on the site of the dragon caller village where she was born. In reality, it's a weird version of "dragon foothills", a reference to the capitol's proximity to the dragon mountain.

Comments happily accepted.

Departing from Dray Fandhil after the Sending always took a long time. Even the roads that were normally little traveled seemed crowded with knights traveling all over the kingdom and beyond. Knights returning home with their families traveled at a leisurely pace to accommodate the young children. Knights who were traveling in groups often stayed in town for just a little while to finalize the plans for the coming mission, though some had worked this out ahead of time and were on their way immediately. Knights on solo missions like Kata chose a pace to fit their mission and destination. Some even stayed at the local inns and taverns for a few days, seeking to avoid the crowds from the Sending and still get away from the castle for a while.

Kata knew by now the fastest way to leave Dray Fandhil and get to the roads heading southwest. It was a roundabout route winding through the town: left at the central fountain, down Temple Cross, right two turns before the ruins, through too alleyways so narrow that Kata always worried that Tally would get stuck, past Wolf’s Hollow tavern, two more rights, and out the Southern Gate.

“Never ride faster than you need to,” Brogan had told Kata years before. “It wears you out and it wears the horse out and you never know when you might need the speed you wasted. Besides that, it riles the villagers. Knight charging along to get somewhere attracts attention. Starts rumors that something bad’s up.”

So Kata rode a little slower than she might have. There was no way to let Santok know she was coming until she was quite near the border anyways, so the rush wasn’t necessary. Riding when she didn’t have to be somewhere at a set time was a rare pleasure for Kata, so she made certain to enjoy it. She chose roads that took her through the most picturesque countryside. The southwestern roads crossed through the edge of the great forests of the beastmen. Even when she passed through the fringes of the vast wood, the leafy canopy was thick enough all but to block the sun entirely. Kata watched the tiny spots off dappled light on the dusty road and Tally’s mane pass by and grow progressively smaller. She spent a night in a tiny forest village as the chief’s guest and feasted on a roast caught fresh that very evening. She came out of the forest the next day and was greeted by fields of wildflowers coming into bloom. She met a small band of centaurs heading west to Evonstal and joined them for a while. They talked of the beauty of spring and the signs of the coming weather. The youngest centaur didn’t speak a word the whole trip and stayed close to his mother’s side. But just before they parted ways, he handed Kata a little bundled of herbs, which he whispered were “for your horse”. Tally devoured them that night at a small inn and seemed eager to go the next morning.

But still, there were long stretches of road with little to occupy Kata’s mind. Tally knew where they were headed, so she only had to direct him when she was ready to stop for a rest. So Kata found herself thinking of Santok, and the time they had first met.

The Last Battle: Part 8, Draft 1

I'm trying to finish scenes before I post the though I don't know how long that will last. Later scenes may be longer, so you'll either be getting fragments again or have long waits between new segments.

I think I'm still getting back into the swing of things, given how long it took me to write this. I'm not getting around to it every day, but this is certainly more productive than I've been in a while. I'm not 100% staisfied with a lot of things, like parts of Cyra's speech. And I haven't decided what Kata ends up doing during the moment of silence. But I'm really trying to make myself get the whole thing down before I start worrying about the editing.

This is the first mention of Kata's religion, Orutet, which may later get a name change. It's a polytheistic faith with patron gods for pretty much all aspects of life. Oruteian devotees regularly worship a maximum of three gods, each of which is chosen at a different point in their lives. Three times a year, there are ceremonies to honor the entire pantheon, which help retain the unity of the faith. Kata's two patron goddesses are the goddess of justice and the goddess of battle. I have some notes on Orutet written several months ago, but there's not a whole lot more there than what I just told you.

"The Last Battle" is currently 14.044 words and roughly 39 regular 8.5 x 11 pages long, counting the scene i haven't posted yet (though I do use 14 point font which is easier for me to read). I think it is going to be a novel when it's done. Who knew?

Comments welcome, as always.



The castle grounds were already crowded with knights by the time Kata had retrieved Tally from the stables. She made her way towards the other mounted knights, who were assembled at the far end of the grounds near the main gate. Knights who brought their steeds to the Sending would be departing as soon as the ceremony ended and typically had a long way to travel. When the gates were opened, the mounted knights traditionally exited first.

Kata greeted a few of the knights she was friendly with before picking a spot to the left of the gates. She climbed up into Tally’s saddle. Even though she was far from the castle itself, being on horseback gave Kata a good vantage point. She could see knights talking to their friends, giving their armor a final check, or steadying their horses. Some were with their families, either preparing to travel home together for a local assignment or saying goodbye before a mission in some far off location. Knights who were just arriving squeezed carefully through the crowd, searching for familiar faces in the sea of armor. Most knights wore full armor to the sending, regardless of their plans afterward, but some who wouldn’t be leaving for a few days opted for the formal garments instead. The bright morning sun reflecting off of so much metal was dazzling bright and Kata frequently had to shield her eyes as she surveyed the crowd.

The trumpeters at the castle windows blew a sudden fanfare and a cheer went up from the knights. The fifteen members of the Knights’ Council filed out onto the lower balcony. They saluted the cheering knights who returned the salute. It was hard to identify the individual members of the Council from Kata’s distant vantage point. But she could make out Sir Argonios, due to his great height. Sir Mardet, the current head of the Council, stepped forward and began his speech. His voice carried well, but Kata was only half listening. She’s been to numerous Sendings before and though the various heads of the Council were usually eloquent, they often said much the same things. She tried to pay attention, but Mardet’s words about how each knight’s mission was of great importance to the kingdom’s well being were nothing new. In Kata’s mind, she was already riding up the faint dirt path to the main gates of Santok’s fortress, watching for him to come and greet her.

Sir Mardet concluded his speech and the knights cheered and applauded. Now the religious leaders began to assemble on the middle balcony. One by one, they stepped forward and gave their blessing to the faithful among the crowd. Kata listened politely until the Oruteian guide stepped up to speak. As he reminded the followers of her faith to respect the influence that all the gods had on their lives and the world entire and to seek harmony with the whole pantheon through their patron deities, Kata silently asked Idro and Sethato to set her path and guide her sword in her coming journey.

The blessings ended and the crowd observed a moment of reflective silence. It still amazed Kata that such an enormous gathering could fall so completely silent all together. The silence was not beholden to any particular religion. It was meant for private introspection in whatever form each individual wished. Kata knew many knights who used the moment to remember fallen comrades. Some prayed, and others thoughts of their families.

The trumpeters marked the end of the silence with a rousing fanfare. The knights began cheering louder than ever. Kata looked up at the castle towers. An excited cry rose up as Brenn came swooping around from the back of the castle. The arrival of the visiting dragon was always a highlight of the Sending. Kata felt it was the only part that really changed from year to year. Some dragons made a single stately circle around the castle before landing, with no embellishment. Brenn was clearly not one of those dragons. He made a wide arc away from the castle wall and flew out over the crowd. He came so low that some of the knights might easily have touched his feet as he streaked overhead. With a magnificent twist of his body, he launched himself skyward again, circled the castle one last time, and came to rest at last on the high balcony. The cheering continued and even seemed to gain fervor as Cyra herself slowly proceeded onto the balcony to meet her brother. Brenn repositioned himself behind Cyra so as not to block her from the crowd. The cheering slowly died down and Cyra began to speak:

“I thank Sir Mardet for his wonderful speech. I fully believe, as he does, that the missions every one of you will set out on this day are of vital importance to your kingdom. By undertaking these duties, you are helping to ensure the safety and well being of Sathyriel.

“Yet you yourself are of equal importance, and not just because I know you will carry out your missions with honor and dedication, however challenging they may be. You are knights of Sathyriel. Wherever you may find yourselves and whatever task may come to you, you are representatives for your country and your fellow knights. Before all else, it is the task of each and every one of you to uphold the code of knighthood and the honor of your kingdom.

“Your standing as a knight does not come from me or the Knight’s Council. It comes from the people of Sathyriel. In taking on the responsibility of knighthood, you have sworn to defend these people. Serve them well. Be worthy of the respect and admiration they will give you. Know that it has been earned by the knights who came before you. Honor their deeds and set an example to inspire the knights yet to come.”

Cyra drew her sword. The crowd began to stir with anticipation.

“Knights of Sathyriel,” Cyra called, her voice growing louder, “I hold you to the vows you have made. I call upon you to serve your country. I send you to where you are needed to defend Sathyriel.”

Cyra raised Deslordian in salute to the knights. Brenn gave a thunderous roar and breathed an impressive plume of flames into the air. The knights roared and cheered, raising up their own weapons until the castle grounds were a shimmering sea of metal. Kata lifted her own sword, so entirely caught up in the excitement that she almost didn’t hear the call to assemble into formation. Guiding Tally carefully as the other mounted knights made their way to the gates, she managed to secure her correct position. The gate guards saluted and the knights responded in kind. Sir Mardet called out the order to hold formation as the gates began to move. At last, Kata could see full stretch of Castle Way as the gates creaked open and settled. The local citizens lined the streets to watch the procession while castle guards kept them at a safe distance. Sire Mardet gave the forward order and Kata set off with her fellow knights, on her way at last.

The Last Battle: Part 7, Draft 1

Ye olde change of plans. This is obviously not the next part of "New Story". It's not even the part of "Last Battle" I already had written but didn't put up here. That one takes place after Apex 1 and I decided that posting it now would reveal something I don't quite want to tell you about before it comes up in the story. So you probably won't be seeing that one for a long time.

What you've got here is me plowing through the second half of the last scene I posted on the blog. I'm trying to work on just getting the thing written, as I know it's going to need editing whether I plow through without regard to quality or spend 27 minutes crafting each sentence into perfection. If you do want a bit of a spoiler, this is the last time Cyra and Rayna will be together before Apex 1 happens.

Comments greatly desired. Seriously. If nobody's reading this, I can just skip posting it and play more Zelda.

Brenn said something to Argonios and Cyra began to translate. Kata wasn’t fully paying attention. She had seen dragons at past Sendings before and even attended a hatching once. But this was really the closest she had been to a dragon. As far as Kata could tell, Brenn was a full-grown dragon. Even when his head and neck were lowered, he was substantially taller than even Sir Argonios. The dragon wasn’t merely blue, he was a variety of blues. Every individual scale seemed to contain multiple hues that shifted and changed as he breathed and the sunlight caught them differently. Like most dragons, his body was mainly a dark shade, while his underbelly was lighter to make him less visible from beneath as he flew. He had four horns, two larger ones near where his head and neck met, and two smaller ones above his brow ridges. Cyra had told Kata that the smaller horns were particular to male dragons, a fact that had come up when Kata was trying to determine the gender of newborn dragons at the last hatching. Brenn slowly drew his head up and away from Argonios, regaining his full towering height. He seemed to always move slowly, though Kata wondered if that was just a side affect of being among what he perceived as small and delicate company.

Brenn and Cyra moved to stand in front of Kata. The dragon lowered his head again and Kata found that having his extremely large face so close to hers was a little unnerving. As Cyra finished growling out an introduction, Brenn puffed out his heated air greeting. The two regarded each other for a moment. Then Brenn turned to Cyra with a few deep vocalizations.
“He wants to know how you got your scar,” Cyra explained.

Cyra pointed and Kata glanced down at her arm. She vaguely recalled from Cinnet’s material on proper etiquette when meeting a dragon that dragons regarded scars as signs of a great warrior. Kata figured it was because their tough, scaly hides prevented them from getting many.

“I got it fighting a rogue Tals clan dragon while I was returning from the Battle of Faell.”

Kata spoke to Brenn as she answered. Cyra already knew the story, or at least, the part that she told people about. Brenn rumbled deep in his throat, apparently finding this explanation acceptable.

“Where did you get that one?” Kata asked, indicating a long mark across Brenn’s lower neck and chest. Cyra translated for the dragon and he gave his response.

“He got it during the Independence War. He was protecting a civilian from a Keltarian soldier.”

Kata didn’t know much about dragon expressions, but she almost felt like Brenn was smiling at her. Cyra certainly looked happy to see her brother sharing war stories with Kata.

The pair moved on to the Suto Teg priest. He repeated his bent elbowed bow again and pulled out a scroll. He then launched into a lengthy recitation in Rannak, which Kata guessed to be the official Suto Teg greeting to a dragon. Again, Kata couldn’t be certain of Brenn’s emotions, but she though he looked a little uncomfortable, repeatedly shifting his weight from one side to another. It seemed to confirm her suspicions that both Cyra and the dragons were somewhat mystified by the Suto Teg faith.

The three spoke for a bit longer, and then it was Cinnet’s turn to be greeted. To Kata’s surprise, Cinnet began with a few words of Rannak. She hadn’t been aware that Cinnet spoke it, but it did seem like him to make he effort to greet a dragon in the most formal and proper way.

Cinnet was asking about how long Brenn would be staying for and if any special accommodations beyond the usual ones made for visiting dragons were required, when the western tower door opened. Rayna, dressed in full armor, rushed out onto the field towards the assembled group of welcomers. Cinnet looked displeased at being interrupted by an unscheduled late arrival to the event. Cyra paid no attention to his irritated looks. Kata noticed the expression that came over the queen’s face: the soft smile that shook just the tiniest bit and the eyes that were ever so slightly too bright. It was a look that Kata had seen many times before when parents saw their children ready to ride off on their first assignments as knights. She remembered getting that same look from her own father when she had climbed up on Tally’s back and prepared to leave for the castle and her first Sending.

Cyra went to meet her daughter, with Brenn following close by. With his considerably longer stride, the dragon was the first to greet Rayna. He nudged her very gently and she stroked his nose in return. Cyra stood next to Brenn and the three were soon engaged in lively conversation.

After a few moments, Argonios motioned to Kata, Cinnet, and the priest.

“I think it would be best if we left them alone for awhile,” he suggested softly

Kata nodded in agreement. The Suto Teg priest looked nervous, likely concerned that he would be neglecting his duty to transcribe the dragon’s words. But eventually, after checking over his notes one more time, he rolled up his writings and started towards the tower door. Even Cinnet didn’t protest the idea too much.

As they were leaving the field, Kata turned back and took one last look at the queen, the princess, and the dragon. They made a strange group: the massive blue beast padding slowly along to allow the humans to keep pace, the young knight tall and dark haired and brimming with excitement, and the queen, walking between the two, looking smaller than usual by comparison, and constantly talking to one or the other or both. But there was something there that Kata couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was something in the way they walked, or their posture, or just how happy all three of them seemed to be together. It wasn’t really anything tangible enough to describe, but still Kata ran up to Argonios and tapped his arm.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the three when Argonios had turned. “They look like each other, don’t they?”

Argonios stared at the little group. He said nothing at first and Kata wondered if she should have said anything, if her observation was just some trick of her own mind. But the beastman’s face soon brightened in understanding.

“Yes,” he answered at last. “They do.”

I Guess I Spoke Too Soon

So of course, just as I say that "Last Battle" ain't happening, it works its way back into my head. I guess I shouldn't be surprised; this is a nearly ten year old story which means it has to be pretty tenacious. So as part of my goal to do more writing in the new year, I'm getting back to it a little. I stayed up last night and wrote up an outline of the whole thing. I'm not planning to show it to anyone; it's not partcularly interesting, it ruins the surprises of the story in a very dull form, and it may well not make sense to anyone but me. I think I may have accidently left out a scene or two, but it's current 53 items long. Six of these have been written in some form or other. In mathematical terms, that means I'm somewhere between and eigth and a ninth done with the story. Of course, this is probably a pretty meaningless figure, since some of those numbered story points cover a lot of ground and are probably nowhere near the same legnth as others. I have to look up the length requirements again, but i think this is going to be a novella, assuming it ever gets finished.

Anyways, what I'm going to do right now is write down some of my issues with the story. Some of them are probably the reasons that I dropped it in the first place. Other are stuff that I'm worried about for future installments.

Comments still welcome. Very minor spoilers ahaead.


New Title

This has been an issue pretty much since day one. Not only is "The Last Battle" already the title of the seventh Narnia book, it also make absolutely no sense until pretty near the end. This is not a huge worry of mine. "Last Battle" is a perfectly good fill-in title and the story can go on fine with it until I can come up with something better. But so far, nothing I've thought of feels like an improvement.

First Part Rewrite

There's a lot of stuff that needs rewriting, but I think this needs a complete overhaul. I really like the idea of Cyra and Cinnet talking about Kataya and her request before we actually meet her, partly because it establishes early on that we'll be using multiple POVs in the story. But I got worried when Jen asked me further into the story when we would be getting back to Cyra. And that fact is, we're really not. She's an important character and she's going to be mentioned a lot even when she's not there. But after the Sending of the Knights, we really don't see her again until quite a bit later. By introducing her first, I may have accidently given the impression that she's the main character, when in fact she's more like an extremely important secondary character. I'd like to hear people's thoughts on this one, just to see if a change really is in order.

Apex 1 Rewrite

Again, rewrites are needed all over the place and this is probably the least surprising, since it's the first thing I wrote. Aside from the usual stuff that needs correction (repetitive phrasing, awkwards places, stuff that needs punching up, etc.), there's all the problems that come out of writing the middle of the story first. The description of Cyra has got to go for two reasons. One is that she's going to be described earlier in the story, so the audience doesn't need such a full physical description of her. The other is that the reason Santok was noticing her appearence originally is because he hadn't really seen Cyra up close outside of battle before. As I've been working on the story, I've realized that Santok would have seen Cyra in a non-battle setting when he went to Sathyriel with a Keltarian delegation and met Kataya for the second time. On top of that, the description doesn't really reflect how Cyra should look at the moment. It needs to show that she's very strong mentally and used to being in highly stressful situations, but she's also pretty dishevelled from riding for a couple of nights straight with no sleep and having the worst several days of her life from knwing that her daughter is being held captive by a guy who seriously dispises her. Should be an interesting challenge.

Time

Ah, time. My old enemy. Not time as in the huge amount of time it will take to write this whole thing, or the time I waste playing Legend of Zelda, or the time I spend at work and the gym that leaves me too tired to wite when I get home. I'm talking about time in the story and getting everyone where they need to be when they need to be there and have it be believable. There's a lot of coming and going between Keltaria and Sathyriel, especially between Santok's fortress and the capitol of Sathyriel. (I have to check my notes to see if I named it yet.) And there are points where certain characters have to get to one place before another character gets to a different one, but the timing doesn't always seem to make sense. I need to figure out how long it takes to get to Santok's fortress from Sathyriel's capitol. Other than that, I'm hoping I can use individual speed of travel to make things work out. Kataya's pretty excited when she's going to see Santok, so she's going pretty fast, but she's also stopping to eat and sleep and to let Tally rest. Cyra, when she rides to Santok's fortress, is not sleeping, probably eating what little she does on the road, and getting fresh horses when she needs them. So I can probably figure her trip takes less time than Kataya's.

Kata or Kataya

Most people call the protagonist of the story "Kata" including the narration. Cinnet, ever the stickler for doing things properly, calls her by her full name, "Kataya". You don't know this yet, but so does Santok. This bothers me. I like having Santok call Kata by her full name because it goes to showing the respect he treats her with. Their relationship is almost courtly in nature. So I kind of want him to be the only one who calls her Kataya to keep it special. But on the other hand, I like Cinnet's character and it just doesn't make any sense for him to call her by anything but her full name and title. (By the way, in earlier versions of the story, Kata was "Kate" and the Santok character called her "Katherine". That version didn't have a Cinnet. Lucky it.)

Names

I'm frequently concerned that I have too many names that start with the same letters and are too easily confused. Cyra and Cinnet, Brogan and Brenn, Santok and Sathyriel, Kataya and Keltaria. Most of them are probably not an issue; I don't think Brenn and Brogan ever have a scene together and it's pretty easy to tell people from kingdoms just by context. But Cyra and Cinnet currently both appear in the first scene and they're together a lot. And I'm pretty attateched to both of their names.

Language

I like the idea of the Keltarians and Sathyrians speaking different languages. I especially like how it works during Apex 1. But the more I think about upcoming scenes, the more I worry about the problems it would cause. If their are two languages, I figure Cyra, Kata, and Santok are all bilingual. That doesn't leave too many major characters for the language barrier to be a problem for, calling the usefulness of having two seprate languages into question. Rayna does not speak Keltaric (please ignore the stupid name I gave it in Apex 1), but since a lot of upcoming scenes are from her perspective and feature a lot of Keltarians, most of whom don't speak Sathyric, it would really cut down on my ability to show what's going on with these characters. Much as I enjoy the idea, I think I may have to drop it. However, the dragons still speak a different language, a fact which figure heavily into a scene very late in the story.

Rayna's Story Arc

The main issue hear is that I don't know what it is. I know what happens to Rayna and what she does, but I'm not sure what the ultimate purpose of it all is. If this story is going to work, Rayna needs to be a good character in her own right and for that, I feel she needs to have some way in which she changes over the course of the story. This is proving difficult. The last time we're actually with Rayna (seeing events from her point of view), is either when she overhears two of the guards saying that Cyra is riding towards the fortress or right before she gets dragged into Santok's throne room in Apex 1. Neither of these are good moments for Rayna, since she's well aware that this is a trap and believes her mother is going to be killed because of her and she can't do anything about it. That would suggest that the arc is getting her from that point to where she saves her mother's life at the cost of her own. But it's too fast, it's not a premeditated act on her part, and we don't get to see things from her POV. (I suppose I could insert a Rayna scene right before Santok tries to kill Cyra, but I don't like breaking up that scene and I feel it's very important that the readers know that Santok chooses to kill Rayna rather than being unable to stop the blow meant for Cyra.) Besides, I don't think Rayna intends to get herself killed when she saves her mother, so she ends up as much a victim as a hero. The other possible arc is Rayna coming to the realization that the circumstances of her birth are not important because her mother loves her regardless. (I did figure out what Rayna's real origin is and no, I'm not going to tell you. I also figure out what Cyra tells her about where she came from. Maybe they're the same thing, maybe they aren't. Maybe it doesn't even get addressed in the story.) It'd be tough to fit that in with what has to happen at the end of Rayna's scenes, but it might be doable.

Okay, are you entirely sick of "Last Batlle" now? I hope not, because I intend to write more. I'm even thinking about posting a scene that I wrote but never put up here. But for the time being, you get to ponder my story issues. I'm also thinking about posting the second part of "New Story" to see if that gets any response.

Please forgive my typos, as Blogger's spell check is not working right now.

New Story, Part One: Here We Go Again

OK, I know. As far as writing goes, I have not been good about finishing anything. This is actually kind of par for the course in my life. But on the writing front, I think I've got a fresh inspiration. On the down side, that means I won't be finishing "Last Battle" anytime soon, but that's been pretty much off the table for quite some time. The good news is that you get to read some new material here.

You may notice that this story has no title. This is for two reasons. One is that I don't like the title I currently have and will probably change it when I've written more. The other is that the current title ruins one of the plot points that I haven't even written yet. So for the time being, it's just called "New Story".

I'll probably throw in some thoughts on my process as this goes on. What I'm posting now is about a third of what I have written so far, so don't be surprised if there's a lot more very soon. Comments welcome as always.

Once upon a time there was a woman who lived alone near the edge of a great forest. She had been married to a soldier, but he had died in the last war and so she was left alone and longing for children. She had friends in the village and they came and chatted with her and brought their children for her to look after from time to time, so she was never entirely isolated. But when her friends came to retrieve their children and gathered them up in their arms, the woman would sigh and get a sad, far away look in her eyes. Some of her friends suggested that she marry again, but the woman had loved her husband dearly and couldn’t bring herself to even think of having another. So in time, as they saw how desperately she wanted a child, each of her friends in turn suggested she go to see the Lady of the Wood.

The Lady of the Wood was something of a mystery, though the whole village knew about her. They called her a healer or wise woman or sorceress, and some, very quietly, even called her a witch. Nearly everyone at least knew someone who had been to see her, or claimed they had. She lived deep in the wood, the very wood right near this poor childless woman’s home. That everyone was clear on. But exactly where in the wood she lived, no one could exactly say. Stranger still, no one could seem to agree what her home or the Lady herself looked like. Some said she was a horrible, green-skinned old had who lived in a grass hut by a swamp. Others said she lived in a pure white tower and was more beautiful than the fairest princess. Still others said she lived at the center of a maze of greenery and looked no older than a child. There were more stories than the woman could count. But all her friends agreed that she could definitely help the woman, for a price.

So one clear morning in the early spring, the woman set off into the wood to ask the Lady for help. Now the woman knew most of the woods quite well, having lived their for many a year. So she was certain that she could easily find the Lady’s home just by searching the places she had never been to before. But the search did not prove so easy. The woman found herself twisting and turning through unfamiliar territory, only to end up back in the middle of a place she knew quite well. Even familiar stretches of the forest didn’t seem to connect up the way they usually did. For long hours, the woman wove through the trees, marking her trail and retracing her steps and never ending up where she expected. Then, just as she was sure that she was lost without hope, she came to a small clearing and there was the house of the Lady of the Wood.

It wasn’t anything like any of the stories she had heard. It was a simple little cottage of gray stone in a wooden frame. There were large window, but it seemed too dark inside for the woman to see. Vines grew up along one side of the house, snaking wildly around the stone and up over the thatched roof. All along the wood frame were carved figures of all manner of animals. The woman was admiring a deer at the base of one corner when it suddenly raised its head and looked up at her. It was alive, not a carving at all. As she approached, the woman saw other real animals hidden among the wooden ones. A fat squirrel darted across the lintel carrying a nut. A small falcon perched on the edge of the roof flapped its wing and settled again. The woman recalled a tale she had heard about how the Lady tended to the sick and injured animals of the wood. She was starting to believe it was true.

The woman reached the door and a lizard that was definitely wooden eyed her from the frame. Taking a deep breath, the woman made three load taps upon the door.

“Come in.” The voice was soft but definitely commanding. There was nothing to do but obey. The woman pushed the door open and stepped into the Lady’s house.

It was rather dark inside. There were no candles, no light of any kind except what sun the trees failed to block from the windows. The menagerie of animals the woman had seen outside clearly had free range of the cottage as well. An owl perched in the darkest corner half opened one eye to regard the woman irritably before closing it again. A pair of little finches chirped from the sill of one window. A handsome red fox sat by a dusty cupboard. A little hedgehog played in the dirt floor beneath the table, circling the Lady’s feet.

The Lady of the Wood was seated at a small table stirring some sort of mixture in a small bowl. She was an old woman, with long tangles of gray hair, spindly, bony fingers, and wrinkled, craggy skin. Her clothing was dull gray and ragged and she wore no shoes. She set down her spoon and turned to look at the woman. Her sharp green eyes seemed as bright as candleflames peeking out from the leathery face. The Lady stood and the woman was surprised to see that she did not stoop or hunch over. Between her upright stance and her sharp features, there was something strong and almost regal.

“Now,” said the Lady, “what are you here for?”

Clearly the Lady was not looking to chat. The woman swallowed hard and began.

“I want to have a child. My husband is gone and I’m alone in the world. Please, good Lady, can you help me?”

The Lady stared at the woman for what seemed a very long time. The fierce gaze of her bright green eyes made the woman very uncomfortable. She wondered if the Lady was going to say anything at all. Perhaps she was trying to show the woman that her request was stupid. Perhaps she would be better off leaving now.

Just as the woman was making up her mind to leave, the little hedgehog looked up from its spot beneath the table. It scurried over to the woman, circled around her once, and began digging a hole by her feet. The woman wasn’t sure if there was any connection, but the Lady suddenly dropped her piecing gaze and nodded her head.

“I can help you,” she said.

The woman broke into a smile. The Lady’s words made her so full of joy that she hardly knew what to

“Thank you,” she stammered at last, waving her arms awkwardly to try to show just how overjoyed she was. “Thank you so much.”

The Lady was walking back over to her seat at the table. She settled back into the chair and resumed stirring her concoction.

“But before I can do anything,” she began, turning to the woman again, “I need something from you.”

The woman had nearly forgotten about the price, but it hardly diminished her happiness. Nothing seemed like it could be too much to pay for her fondest wish come true.

“Of course,” the woman answered. “Anything I have is yours.”

The Lady held up a hand in caution.

“I know. But it’s not that simple. I need you to fetch me a moon.”

The woman’s smile faded just a little and she raised a brow in confusion.

“A moon?”

“A moon.” The Lady lifted the spoon up from the liquid and scooped what looked like ground herbs out of a small pot nearby. “I want you to return with it in three days time. If you can do that, I can help you.”

“But…”

The woman stopped mid-sentence as the Lady looked up at her questioningly.

“…how will I found your house again?” the woman finished. It was not at all what she had intended to ask, but she couldn’t find the words to question the task the Lady had set her.

“It won’t be so hard next time,” the Lady answered, already more engrossed in her stirring than in the conversation. “Now that you have business with me, my home will be easier to find.”

Dozens of questions sat on the tip of the woman’s tongue. But the Lady seemed oblivious to her presence now and she couldn’t think of any way to start talking again. The woman went to the cottage door, more than a little concerned. The hedgehog once again abandoned its digging and trotted over to the door to watch the woman leave.

“Wish me luck,” the woman said half-heartedly.

The hedgehog looked at her and gave a little squeak. The woman laughed in surprise as the little creature went back into the cottage. She hoped the hedgehog’s good wishes would help her, somehow.

Background: Rayna Rumors

Continuing my series of background tidbits for the still in need of retitling "The Last Battle", I'm now going to delve into the mystery of Rayna's origins. This is a little bit tricky, because unlike the history of Sathyriel's founding, Rayna's parentage is something I haven't really decided on yet. So if you were hoping to get the real dirt on the favorite discussion topic of Sathyrian gossips, you will likely be disappointed. What I'm going to do instead is to go through every known theory of how Cyra ended up with a child who looks very little like her with no father in sight. This, of course, is the main reason why people like to speculate about Rayna so much. But the other is that Rayna always seems to fall short in comparison to what Cyra had accomplished at the same age. Given Cyra's reputation, of course, it would be hard for anyone to measure up, but the difference in both appearance and achievements helps many of the various rumors alive.

Aside from which - if any - of these stories is true, the thing about covering this piece f the story that is challenging is figuring out why Cyra doesn't simply put the controversy to rest by at least saying whether or not Rayna is her legitimate daughter. Right now, my best guess is that she doesn't see any good outcome from it. If Rayna is in fact her own flesh and blood, the unfavorable comparisons to Cyra will only continue. If Rayna is not Cyra's biological daughter, not only could it legitimize criticisms of Rayna ("Well, of course she's not like the queen; she's not he real daughter."), it could call into question her right to inherit the throne. (Though to be fair, I don't know if Sathyriel has a law of primogenature or not.)

So there are still a lot of unresolved questions around this issue. Heck, I don't even know if Cyra has told Rayna where she came from (though my gut feeling is that she has) or if what she told her was the truth (which it might not be if the real story is particularly painful). Still, I think it'll be useful to have the various theories down and I'm hoping you'll find it interesting.

Comments welcome as always.


The Wish

This theory is nearly identical to the start of numerous fairy tales: a queen wishing with all her heart for a child. After the initial wishing, this story branches off into numerous variations. Some follow the fairy tale tradition and bring in a benevolent magical creature who grants Cyra's wish out of gratitude for a good deed. People who see Cyra as having a close relationship with the land itself will say that her wish was granted by some spirit of the natural world. Often, the deed is attributed to a powerful mage of some kind. Centaurs are popular candidates since many people know very little about them, though in truth they are not known for practicing magic. Some people will tell you that the mage was from somewhere far away, possibly even outside of Sathyriel, while others claim the spellcaster was local to their particular town. The geography of where these two variations show up most frequently seems completely random however, so there is no way of telling where this mysterious mage may actually have come from, assuming that he or she even existed. Another variation on this theme is that Cyra's wish was granted by a dragon. Though dragons are not known to practice any true magic, Cyra's ties to the dragons make this a popular story. In all versions, Cyra is magically able to bear a child without a male partner.

The Wish story is mostly told to young children, as it is one of the most benign and gentle explanations of Rayna's origins. As they grow older, children usually start to question the story and eventually stop believing it. Though magic is a very real part of life in Sathyriel, there is no known spell that could cause a woman to bear a child on her own. Even if such a spell were possible, the skill of the mage who performed it would have to have been tremendous, which makes it difficult to believe that his or her name and deeds would have been lost to history and survive only in legend. Though a few people stick solidly by one version or another of this story throughout their lives, most tend to discount it as a children's tale.


The Orphan

Both during and after the Keltarian occupation, war orphans were not uncommon in Sathyriel, giving this theory some credibility. Though Rayna is too young to have been born before the liberation of Sathyriel, fighting between Keltaria and Sathyriel, sometime involving other countries as well, frequently broke out, especially near the border.

In this scenario, Rayna is an orphaned child who ends up in Cyra's care. Usually, the story has Cyra coming to a village or town on the border with Keltaria and discovering the child. In some versions, Rayna is the sole survivor of a village that has been completely wiped out, a direct parallel to Cyra's own history. Aside from being almost too much of a coincidence to be believed, attacks resulting in the destruction of an entire population were extremely rare after Sathyriel became a free kingdom. A more likely version has the child's parents among a much smaller number of victims of a Keltarian attack. The other villagers are either unable or unwilling to care for the baby themselves, so Cyra takes the child to raise as her own. Sometimes, the story takes place in another kingdom under attack by Keltaria, usually Baren Vol which has a largely human population. This is a particular popular setting for the version where no one in the town is willing to take the child in. Sad to say, some Sathyrians still harbor animosity towards neighboring countries, especially those citizens who remember the days of the Keltarian occupation when those countries stood aside and offered no help to Sathyriel until Cyra's campaign was well on its way to victory.


The Search

Though very similar to "The Orphan", "The Search" is a rather distinct tale with several iterations of its own. In this story, Cyra comes upon a dying or gravely injured parent. Sometimes it is a Sathyrian soldier, sometimes it's a civilian. The injuries come from a Keltarian attack, a local rampaging monster, or sometime a natural disaster. There s even a version in which Cyra and a group of knights liberate captives bound for slavery in Keltaria and discover the person in question among them. The gender of the parent is also variable. The common thread is that this person extracts a promise from Cyra to find a daughter - and sometimes a spouse as well that this person has become separated from. In some versions, the person dies after giving Cyra a clue as to where this lost daughter might be. Others claim that the worried parent survives long enough to insist on traveling with Cyra to find the missing child. In either case, Cyra embarks on a long journey to keep her word and find the girl. The search is, after a variety of adventures along the way, successful. The spouse - if the story mentioned one - has inevitably died, leaving the child alone in the world. In the versions where the one parent has survived, he or she is able to see the girl one last time, then dies after asking Cyra to watch over the child. In versions where the parent has already died, Cyra finds the daughter at an orphans' home or in the care of a wicked stepmother type relative, and, with varying degrees of difficulty, adopts the child as her own.

This story is a highly popular one, as it can be expanded into a lengthy epic and fits in with the almost worshipful regard Sathyrians have to their queen. Whether it's actually true is another matter. There are numerous legends about Cyra's heroic deeds which have little or no basis in reality, and confirming the veracity of this story is nearly impossible. Though a situation like this may have occurred at some time, the idea of Cyra pursuing the matter herself is somewhat improbable. While Cyra has a reputation for being honorable and showing great concern for her people, it seems unlikely that she would leave an active battlefront to see to the welfare of a missing child personally. Sending a group of knights to investigate would have been more feasible. Still, the story has great staying power and might in fact contain a grain of truth.


The God Father

Since Cyra's coronation, Sathyriel has been home to a number of diverse faiths. Several of them are polytheistic and followers of those faiths are more likely to embrace this particular idea. In this tale, Rayna is the daughter of Cyra and a deity. The god in question is usually one that devotees think of as a potentially suitable mate for Cyra. There are warrior gods, gods of protection, and gods though to have ties to Sathyriel. Some followers of Suto Teg claim that Rayna's father was a dragon turned human for a single night, or that Cyra became a dragon for a night.

It is interesting to note that this is the only theory of Rayna's parentage that Cyra actively denies. Cyra has long gone out of her way to keep any faith that she herself follows a secret to avoid the appearance of a state religion. She has tried to discourage any implications that she is associated with any divine forces or is anything other than an ordinary human (aside from being raised by dragons). This theory was highly popular when Rayna was very young, but has less of a following nowadays. Cyra's denial and the fact that Rayna has not shown any superhuman qualities have made it less of a favorite than other guesses.


The Lover

This story and the following one are thought to be the closest to what really happened. As it is often said, the simplest explanation is often the correct one.

Like many of these theories, this one is set during a time of battle. Between the fighting, Cyra develops a close friendship with a particular man. Sometimes he is an ally from another country, sometimes he is a knight of Sathyriel, but most often, he is an ordinary Sathyrian soldier. Some tellers say that their affair was only a single night's tryst, which did happen among soldiers seeking comfort the night before a battle, uncertain if they would ever return. But others insist that it was a lengthy romance that saw them through many battlefields. The fate of Cyra's lover is also a subject of dispute. Sometimes he dies in the fighting. In one version Cyra discovers that she is carrying his child before his death and tells him the night before the final battle. In another, she decides to wait to tell him, but she never sees him alive again. In still another, Cyra only discovers that she is pregnant after her lover dies, leaving he to raise the child alone. The other main variation spare the soldier. But when Cyra tells him he has fathered her child, she gives him a choice: he can marry her and raise their baby alongside her as king of Sathyriel, or he can return to the life he had before becoming a soldier and live out his days in relative anonymity. After much thought, he chooses to go back to the life he knew. Cyra agrees to keep his identity a secret and they part, never to see each other again. Some people say that he is now dead, a casualty of war or victim to some illness or accident in whatever occupation he went back to, But others say that he still lives, keeping the secret of his love affair with the queen and the daughter he has never met to this very day.


The Jerk

Our last story bears some similarities to "The Lover", but the tone is very different. Once again, Cyra falls in love, but this time, she is wronged by the object of her affections. Sometimes he is a foreign nobleman with designs on the throne, taking advantage of a rather young queen. Other times, he turns out to be a Keltarian spy, or even an assassin. There are even stories of Sathyrian lovers who turned on Cyra for various reasons. Understandably, Cyra has a number of easily visible battle scars, and people who tell these stories often claim that one particular scar or another is from a physical attack by this wicked lover. His fates are many: incarceration, exile, death in battle, death by Cyra's hand in self defense, death from a guard or a knight defending Cyra, and a few other suitable ends. But none of these happen before Cyra becomes pregnant with the man's child. This, proponents of this theory claim, is why Cyra never explains where Rayna came from: the story is too painful to her and would cause too much pain to Rayna.

Trying Something New: A Brief History of Sathyriel

I know, it's been a while. During that time, I've realized that putting my first drafts up here isn't really helping me to write more. The more time passes between sections, the more I feel like I have to get something up. And when I feel like that, I tend to write stuff that I'm not at all happy with, which is not encouraging. So I'm going to try continuing it without posting for a while. This also frees me up to write more out of order and not feel like I'm confusing anyone.

In the meantime, I thought I'd try using the blog for various tidbits; information that pertains to and informs what I'm writing, but won't necessarily show up in the final piece. As usual, it's subject to change, so don't be shocked if something I write here ends up being contradicted in the story itself.

What follows is the back story for Sathyriel (sath-EAR-ee-el), the kingdom where our story has taken place so far. (It's called that for now, at least.) This all takes place several decades before the events of our current story.

As always, comments welcome.



Long ago, the land that is now Sathyriel was a number of small territories held by various races. None of them were truly kingdoms, though monarchs of one region or another would sometimes rise up and shortly fall. For these lands were plagued with instability. Small armies fought for control of the local resources and land of value would change hands frequently. Prejudice and mistrust existed between certain races. At worst, they fought. At best, they had no dealings with each other, making trade nearly impossible. The more well established kingdoms bordering these territories did little to encourage true stability. They too coveted the natural resources: metals and gems, fertile land, towering forests, and waterways with passage to the ocean. But each believed that the best way to profit from these resources was to claim them in the name of their particular country. So the kingdoms merely added to the unrest.

Yet even as the wars over land persisted, small civilizations emerged. Dwarven towns sprung up near rich mineral deposits, dotting the landscape with farms and mines. The elves constructed great buildings and monuments of stone and wove cloth that was prized in every land. Tribes of beastmen hunted in the deep forests and even kept invaders at bay with their skill as warriors and their deep knowledge of their homeland. The centaurs, though too small and nomadic a population to attract much attention from the major kingdoms, lived off the land and developed an extremely through knowledge of its plants and creatures, kept alive through oral tradition. The humans seemed able to adapt to almost any landscape, but they gravitated to the trees for building shelter and water where the fishing was plentiful. Many human societies also devoted much energy to the study of magic. To say that humans were the only practitioners of magic is an oversimplification; other races were often familiar with some small number of spells. But humans were the first to consider magical study of major importance and to learn nearly all aspects of magic.

One human society of particular note originated along the northern mountain ranges. The dragon callers, as they were known, were characterized by their close relationship with the nearby dragon clans. Tall towers were built to call the dragons down from the mountains. The language of Rannak was created, allowing for communication between the species. In return for protection from their foes, the humans treated the dragons with great respect and care. This civilization grew and flourished for a time, but as the various territories made their first strides towards meaningful contact with one another, the close connection with the dragons was lost, until only a few villages situated particularly close to dragon weyrs still practiced dragon calling. The dragon callers may well have been only a historical footnote, if not for their crucial role in the ultimate destiny of these lands.

Though the land wars still persisted, these small areas of emerging culture were just beginning to have a measurable stabilizing effect on the area. Though they lacked any centralized leadership to encourage strong trade and diplomatic relations with the neighboring kingdoms, they proved a reliable enough source of goods to convince the larger kingdoms that small scale trade was a better option than trying to seize and hold the land themselves. So in these more developed cultural centers, the kingdoms began to cease military activity. Except for one.

Keltaria, a country on the southwestern border of this fractured region, had long been growing its strength as a military power. The Keltarian army was known and feared throughout the land, giving Keltaria a great deal of freedom in its actions. What no one outside of Keltaria knew was that the Keltarian leadership had made an alliance with the native dragons. This turned an already formidable army into a nearly unstoppable one. With the aid of the dragons, Keltaria was able to achieve a long held desire: to capture every piece of land between itself and the other major kingdoms. The battles were brutally one sided; with the dragons raining down flame from above and the forces of Keltaria charging in, the unprepared defenders could do nothing to save their lands from invasion. The small civilizations that traded with the larger kingdoms begged for help, but their pleas gained them little or no assistance. The other kingdoms feared Keltaria's might and, having no formal diplomatic ties with any part of the territories, did not want to risk war with an even more powerful Keltaria. One by one, every one of the small territories fell to Keltarian rule.

Under the terms of Keltaria's pact with the dragons, the newly acquired Keltarian territories were ruled by Talshak, leader of the Keltarian dragons. Talshak's main task was to keep order in the territories and ensure that the native population continued working for the benefit of the Keltarian empire. The surrounding kingdoms saw the stability that they had craved, but now Keltaria controlled all trade. Prices on goods from the territories grew astronomically and the nobles of Keltaria reaped the benefits. Talshak and his army kept the citizens of the territories at work, providing for Keltaria and any country willing to pay their prices. Rebellion, or even the perception of rebellion was not tolerated. A few small resistance movements sprung up, but they stood no chance against the well-organized and merciless armies of Talshak. In addition to quashing rebellion, Talshak devoted his forces to ridding the land of certain elements he felt too dangerous to go unchecked. Though they had always been a peaceful society, the centaurs suffered greatly under Talshak. Their ease at disappearing into the landscape and their lack of any permanent settlements marked them as too hard for the dragon to control. During Talshak's reign, centaurs were routinely killed on sight. The native dragons were also considered a threat, though Talshak was reluctant to deal with them as directly. Even with the vast forces he controlled, laying siege to the dragon weyrs would be a grueling task. And though it was never said in his presence, in was rumored that he feared some of the dragon clans. So Talshak contented himself with isolating the dragons. His troops were quick to attack any dragon foolish enough to venture too far from the weyr. Talshak further cut off the dragons from the rest of the world by systematically seeking out and destroying the remaining dragon callers. What had been a declining culture became a nonexistent one, as even those suspected of sympathizing with the dragon callers were in danger of being executed. Yet this dying way of life would give birth to the instrument of Talshak's downfall.

It was some decades after the beginning of Keltarian rule that Cyra first emerged. She appeared at first mostly near the northern mountains, though it was not long before her story had spread much farther. She was said to be the sole survivor of the destruction of the last dragon caller village, rescued by the nearby dragon clan and raised as one of their own. She spoke to them in the forgotten tongue of Rannak and treated them as her family. Safely hidden away in the dragon's weyr, she grew to maturity and slowly learned of her heritage, of the world outside and the people living under Talshak's tyrannical rule. So she left the weyr with a purpose: to free the land from Keltaria.

By itself it was a compelling story. But what really made people take notice and start to believe that just maybe this stranger and her dragons could actually drive Keltaria out, was the sword. Deslordian, the legendary blade of light. Few remembered the last time it had been seen and many called it a myth. But the story went, the dragons had retrieved it when the last champion fell, keeping it safe until the coming of the next champion. And at long last, the sword had chosen the very child the dragons had saved from the smoldering remains of the last dragon callers village.

Convincing people that the fight against Keltaria could be won was still a hard battle. There were those who pledged their loyalty the first time they saw Cyra with her sword and her entourage of dragons. Avery few even sought her out based solely on the tales they had heard of her. But even as the tiny band of warriors won a few skirmishes against Keltarian soldiers, most people remained skeptical. They were certain that Talshak would crush this uprising, as he had all the others.

Exactly why Talshak did not act immediately against Cyra's forces is still not known. Granted, it was not until several attacks by Cyra and the complete liberation of a major town that the dragon ruler was informed of her existence. Yet still, his response to the news was slow. It is possible that he simply did not believe that she was worthy of his personal attention and chose to leave the matter to more localized forces. Many military historians point out Talshak's continued reluctance to confront the dragon clans head on, which may have made him unwilling to risk fighting a force sad to include dragons. Complacency may have played a part as well. Talshak's rule had gone unopposed for many years and there was less and less need for the dramatic shows of force Talshak had employed shortly after the occupation began. Then there is the story, especially common in Keltaria, that Talshak was slowly going mad and could not see the threat Cyra posed through his clouded mind. Whatever the cause, Talshak did not see Cyra as a serious threat until it was too late.

As Cyra and her troops had more successes, they had more recruits as well. People were starting to believe that this resistance would not be immediately crushed and might even succeed in liberating a small chunk of territory, for a while at least. So old veterans and would-be soldiers sought out Cyra to join her. Most of these new fighters later said they had come because of the stories: of battles or dragons or Deslordian. But they stayed because of Cyra. Some said it was because of her presence, a sense of nobility and leadership that came from something other than her small frame and bloodline devoid of royals. Some were taken with her relationship with the dragons or her troops. She never treated anyone as lower than her, and the dragons were clearly her family. Others were taken with how she would fight in every battle she was present for, rather than sitting and strategizing from some safe location. But nearly all of them were won over by Cyra's vision for the land after the war. No resistance leader who had come before had ever mentioned a plan for after the Keltarians left. Cyra had a dream for shaping the land into a unified kingdom for everyone, a strong kingdom that would never again be fought over and exploited by its neighbors. And the way she talked about it, the soldiers with her believed in it, and it became their dream too.

But Cyra realized that winning over a few new fighters at a time would not be enough to create an army that could defeat Talshak. She needed to win the confidence of the leaders of the people. This was no easy task. Many of the local leaders had been killed in the early days of the Keltarian invasion to demoralize the population. There were some leaders who had sided with the Keltarians in exchange for favorable treatment. Those who remained, the ones who the people truly respected, were carefully guarded secrets. They were almost always treated like ordinary people by their followers, so that the Keltarians wouldn't discover them. For an outsider to get an audience with a community's leader was very hard. But Cyra persisted and her reputation eventually earned her audiences with the leaders. There was still a lot of mistrust at first. Cyra was a human and some of the races worried that she would favor humans before and after the war. Others feared being removed from power when Cyra formed a new government. But Cyra was fair handed and worked hard to assuage these fears. Her army welcomed anyone willing to fight and her generals were the greatest warriors and strategists from all the land's races. And as she laid out her plan for the new kingdom, she made it clear that local leadership would hold an important and respected place. As a result, more and more people became followers of the woman they would one day call their queen.

The centaur posed an altogether different challenge for Cyra. It was often difficult to find them at all since they had no permanent homes and their numbers were small due to Talshak's campaign to eradicate them. They lived in small groups with no leaders to appeal to for help. And they did not fight. Even as Talshak's forces slaughtered their kind, few were willing to break their culture's taboo against harming another creature. Most of those who had fought back had been killed. Many of Cyra's generals advised her to simply ignore the centaurs, but Cyra wanted them to be a part of her new kingdom and to have a stake in the outcome of the war. The eventual solution was to have the centaurs act as scouts. Their swiftness and knowledge of the land made them extremely adept at monitoring the movements of Keltarian troops and relaying the information back to Cyra, all without having to fight at all. Thanks to the centaurs' help, Cyra's army was frequently able to surprise Keltarian forces as they moved from town to town.

By the time Talshak began to pay real attention to Cyra, she had recruited a formidable army. To make matters worse for the dragon, the neighboring kingdoms had taken a surreptitious interest in the fighting. Though no one wanted to declare war on Keltaria outright, they were eager to see the territories become a free and stable kingdom with which fair trade would be possible. Many of them were secretly supplying Cyra's army with weapons and armor. So when Talshak began sending stronger forces to crush Cyra, they found a much better equipped force than they had expected. Cyra's army continued gaining ground and Talshak was losing troops. His attempts to further demoralize the population in areas he still controlled through executions and shows of force were only serving to incite the people. In desperation, Talshak appealed to the grand dukes of Keltaria for more troops.

As news of the rebellion and its growing success came back to Keltaria and the grand dukes, Talshak had begun to fall out of favor. Keltarian citizens were upset by the length of the war and the number of casualties. The fighting had caused major disruption of the trading that had been Keltaria's original reason for capturing the territories. The grand dukes felt that Talshak's inability to end Cyra's rebellion was making the kingdom seem weak and inept. Facing a lengthy and costly war, the dukes decided amongst themselves that Talshak should be cut off and the territories given up, for now.

It was around this same time that the rumors about Talshak began in Keltaria. There were many of them, all questioning Talshak's fitness to command, but two in particular seemed to catch on. One was that Talshak had gone mad and was simply not stable enough to keep the territories in line effectively. The other, which often traveled with the first, suggested that the reason Keltaria's great army was faring so poorly against a group of common, untrained rebels was that they were distracted elsewhere. Talshak, the rumor claimed, has designs on ruling not just the territories, but all the neighboring kingdoms and possibly even Keltaria. The army could not successfully quell the resistance because Talshak was staging secret attacks on the borders of the other countries which stole troops from the fight in the territories. Some people later wondered if the grand dukes had spread these rumors themselves as an excuse to withdraw the army and abandon Talshak. It is also possible that one or both of them were true. Either way, the grand dukes denied Talshak's request for more troops, effectively dooming the occupation.

With no reinforcements coming, it was only a matter of time before Talshak was overwhelmed. It was early fall of the occupation's final year when Cyra's army stormed Talshak's fortress. Talshak was killed by Cyra and the independence of the new kingdom of Sathyriel was declared. The remainder of Keltaria's forces retreated soon after. Any hopes Keltaria had harbored of regrouping and retaking Sathyriel were crushed when the neighboring kingdoms declared themselves allied with Sathyriel and sent support troops in to help defend its borders. Negotiations for a peace treaty began within weeks.

With the country's immediate future secured, Sathyriel began to take shape. Cyra was crowned queen. (Whether this was her desire from the beginning or the decision of the people has never been clear.) She began the process of finding suitable representatives from all parts of the kingdom to serve on the new Council of Knights. She and the Council crafted the laws of the kingdom, taking care to respect the original laws and customs of the different areas and races. The local leaders were charged with overseeing their regions and towns and representing the queen and the law. A system of education and codified training for knighthood were set up. Cyra moved the kingdoms capitol to her birthplace, near the mountain where the dragons had raised her. Over time, a suitable palace was build there and the once small grew into a bustling city. Trade was established with other countries. Roads were built to connect the various regions to each other and Sathyriel to its neighbors. As travel around the kingdom became easier, the major cities became more multicultural. The citizens now thought of themselves mostly as Sathyriens, justifiably proud of the kingdom they had helped to build and to free.

The Last Battle: Part 6, Draft 1

This is, again, half a section. It's starting to drive me nuts and I haven't posted anything in a while, so up it goes. Hopefully starting the next part with a clean slate (to a degree) will help me feel more inspired and less disenchanted and blocked. I want to have a short conversation between Brenn and Kata, a brief moment of connection. But I honestly have no idea what they would talk about.

Comments welcome, as usual.


The Great Feast ran long into the night, so Kata had no trouble sleeping once she finally turned in. After the Feast, there were a few uneventful days to allow the knights time to recover before the Sending. As a rule, knights who had helped prepare for the Feast did not assist with the cleanup, but Kata would still pitch in from time to time. Her need to be busy seemed less desperate now that the Great Feast had passed. Whenever she felt anticipation for the Sending start to build, she just went out riding for a while. Besides, she didn't have much longer to wait.

It was the evening before the Sending when Kata had a visit from Cinnet. Kata had long felt that Cinnet did not like her, though she was never sure why. Of course, Cinnet was never known for being warm and friendly. Still, Kata felt he seemed especially irritable when his business required him to deal with her.

"Her Majesty," Cinnet began, reading from a scroll he had probably written only minutes ago, "wishes your presence for the Welcoming of the Dragon prior to the Sending of the Knights. Your response is requested upon receipt of this invitation."

Cinnet looked up from the scroll expectantly.

"Tell Her Majesty that I would be happy to attend," Kata answered. Cinnet gave a curt nod and returned to the scroll.

"The Welcoming of the Dragon shall take place at the second bell after sunrise on the palace grounds behind the western tower. Formal attire or armor is required. Please review and observe all standard rules of conduct for interactions with a dragon."

Cinnet quickly rolled the scroll back up and snapped a ribbon around it before handing it to Kata.

"And don't be late!" he added. He turned his back to her and left the knight's quarters.

Kata just smiled as he left. There were times when Cinnet's attitude bothered her, but his surliness couldn't darken her mood now. Though she still awaited the Sending eagerly, being present to welcome the dragon for the ceremony was a great honor and very exciting in its own right. Kata checked with the armory smiths to make certain her armor would be ready first thing in the morning. Once that was settled, she retired early with thoughts of flying dragons and riding to the border swirling in her head.


Kata was delighted to see that Cinnet hadn't even arrived when she reached the back of the western tower. Only Cyra was there already. She was engrossed in scanning the skies above and didn't even notice Kata until she was quite close.

"Sorry," Cyra said as she greeted her friend. "I get kind of single minded when a dragon's coming."

"Do you know who it's going to be?" asked Kata. Cyra shook her head.

"They surprise me. It's usually someone I've met before, but sometimes it isn't."

"Who else is going to be joining us?"

"Well, Cinnet, of course. Sir Argonios will be represent the Knights' Council. And the Suto Teg priest will be here. This one just arrived, so I doubt you've met him."

Kata had not, though it didn't surprise that a Suto Teg priest would be in attendance. The Suto Teg were commonly thought of as "dragon worshippers", though Kata had been told that was oversimplifying things. Their faith held that dragons were the highest form of life and unknowing representatives of the divine powers. They also held Cyra in high regard beyond her status as queen, claiming that she was the reincarnation of no less than nine dragons. Suto Teg was often guessed to be the faith that Cyra herself followed, though Cyra had never publicly said anything to confirm or deny it. Officially, all religions were held in equal favor and Cyra kept a representative from each at the palace. Personally, Kata had her doubts about Cyra being a Suto Teg follower. She didn't think the queen was the type to follow a religion that looked on creatures she considered friends and family as saints.

The tower door creaked open and Cinnet bustled out. He held the door open as Sir Argonios and the Suto Teg priest came through. Sir Argonios came down the tower stairs first, followed by the priest with Cinnet and a armload of scrolls bringing up the rear.

Sir Argonios was one of the Southverden beastmen. In many other countries, they would have divided themselves into various subspecies: wolfmen and minotaurs and the like. But the beastmen of Sathyriel didn't make much of such distinctions, so very few of them looked like any one animal. Argonios had a face that suggested a canine ancestry. He was tall and lanky and moved with the easy grace most beastmen seemed to posses. Kata noted that he had chosen formal attire over full armor; a wise choice since council members did not leave at the Sending. He soon reached the spot where Cyra and Kata stood awaiting the dragon's arrival. He saluted Kata, who did the same for him. To Cyra, he lifted his head so he looked up towards the sky, then bowed in a deep salute. Kata had been told the first gesture was a sign of respect and trust, displaying the unprotected throat to a superior.

The priest came hurrying along in Argonios's wake. He was young; probably;y no older than Kata. He looked like most of the priests of his order: mottled blue robes, long hair tied back, bare feet. He was looking up at the sky as he came towards them and he tripped more than once. He was clearly excited and perhaps a little nervous. Even at the castle, with the dragon's home so nearby, a visiting dragon was not an everyday occurrence. As the resident Suto Teg priest, he would be responsible for recording the event and representing the faith to the dragon. He bowed before Cyra, elbows bent and fingers splayed. Cyra nodded in acknowledgement. The priest turned back to the skies, scanning for any sign of movement.

Cinnet arrived last, eyeing the assembled group suspiciously for anything improper. When he had decided that everything was up to his standards, he pulled a quill and a fresh scroll from his bag to start the official record of the dragon's arrival. They all talked a little about the upcoming sending and goings-on around the castle. Mostly, though, they looked up at the morning sky.

"There!" the Suto Teg priest cried suddenly. He pointed up and away from the castle, roughly in the direction of Mount Kel. Cyra took a step forward, squinting up at the sky where the priest pointed. Kata kept glancing at the sky, then Cyra, then back again, hoping for either confirmation from the queen or to see what had caught the priest's attention. At last, she caught sight of it. At first, it was almost nothing, an impossibly tiny dot in the sky. As it came a little closer, Kata could make out its dark blue coloring, more visible against the white cloud than the sky itself. The tiny speck grew larger and Kata could start to make out the long, slender shape and the arcing wings. Faster and faster it came closer in a wide circle around the castle grounds.

Kata snuck a quick look at Cyra again. The queen was grinning up at the approaching dragon with all the excitement of the Suto Teg priest and none of the nervousness.

"Is it someone you know?" Kata asked.

Cyra nodded vigorously. "It's my brother!"

The dragon was now almost directly overhead, though still high above them. He soared effortlessly above the high tower and out towards the field. Cyra, her face bright with joy, broke suddenly into a run and took off after the dragon. As he neared the end of the field, the dragon turned sharply, dropping closer to the ground as he did. He let out a long, thunderous roar that rose suddenly into a short high trill. Cyra answered the call with something that sounded remarkably similar, though much softer. The dragon skimmed low over the field as Cyra rushed to meet him. As she watched them speed towards each other, Kata grew a little nervous. The dragon seemed to be slowing his approach a little, but maybe not enough. Kata doubted the dragon intended to hurt Cyra, but might he accidentally crash into her?

The dragon's wings spread wide as Cyra bounded towards him. Without fully stopping, he caught the queen between his massive forepaws. Carrying Cyra, he flew up a short distance, then fell backwards, landing on his back with Cyra cradled safely on his stomach.

Argonios laughed aloud and Kata hid a small chuckle. The Suto Teg priest stared at the pair in wonder, scribbled rapid notes on his scroll, then stared again. Cinnet looked ill and turned a very pale color as the dragon began playfully tossing Cyra up into the air. He slowly began to write something, then crossed it out. He repeated this several times before putting the quill away to massage his forehead.

Cyra slid off her dragon brother's stomach and back to the ground. He carefully righted himself and crouched down so Cyra could climb onto his back. Once she managed to scramble up, he rose and began walking slowly towards the small audience.

Kata watched the two so closely that she was a little startled when Argonios tapped her one the arm. He had knelt down next to her, bringing his great height closer to her level.

"She really does look like one of them," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Argonios waved a paw towards queen and dragon.

"Well, looks at them. Their faces."

It took a moment longer for Kata to see what Argonios's shap eyes had already spotted. The dragon's lips were pulled back from his teeth and his tongue hung out slightly, a sign of happy weariness from his exuberant greeting. Kata looked up to where Cyra was sitting and saw almost the same face, exposed teeth and panting tongue.

"You're right," Kata said after a while. It made sense of course. Cyra would have picked up dragon mannerisms before she learned human ones. But it wasn't something Kata would have though of if she hadn't seen it. Strange, that this panting grimace might seem more natural to the queen than a questioning raised eyebrow or other more human expressions.

The dragon strode closer and Kata could hear Cyra conversing with her brother. Kata had tried on occasion to learn Rannak, the language of deep growls that served as a bridge of communication with the dragons. It was not easy; the Suto Teg themselves would spend decades learning its subtleties. For Cyra, of course, it came quite naturally. Kata wondered to herself whether Cyra's thoughts were in human or dragon tongue.

Cyra slid easily off of the dragon's back and returned to the ground. It seemed like a long distance to jump, but Kata imagined the queen was well practiced at it. She remained close to her brother, one hand resting on his right foreleg.

"This is my brother, Brenn," Cyra announced. Kata and the others bowed and saluted. The Suto Teg priest performed the same respectful gesture he had for Cyra.

Cyra and Brenn both turned to Sir Argonios and Cyra growled out what was likely an introduction of the knight. Argonios bowed again. Brenn lowered his head and puffed heated air from both of his nostrils. Cyra had once explained to Kata that this was a respectful greeting among dragons. Argonios looked a little surprised at having his fur ruffled by warm dragon breath, but he kept his composure like a good knight.