A Scale of Sapphire

Matt

I was tired. God, I was tired. We’d been on the goblin’s trail for weeks now, and hardly anything had changed. They kept pushing forwards, we strove to keep up, and the world kept trying to kill us. When there wasn’t some mountain lion with an exposed skull or a literal, actual hydra trying to rip us to pieces, thirst and hunger were just around the corner, nagging at the back of my mind and the pit of my stomach.

We ran out of rations last week, and while we had supplies to purify water, the further we got from the river, the less that mattered anyway. You can’t purify water you don’t have, after all. To make things even worse, the local foliage was beginning to feel increasingly… hostile. It wasn’t just the predatory, intelligent plants that were causing problems now. Even the mundane, ordinarily immobile plants had increased in their density, seeming almost deliberate in how they crowded around us, making the goblin’s trail harder and harder to pick up.

“Are you doing alright, Matt?” Chelsea looked capable and confident as ever. If she was worried about our fruitless foraging, the dryness of our throats, or the still healing gash in her arm, courtesy of the mountain lion, she didn’t show it. She seemed much more concerned with my wellbeing.

That was just like her.

“I’m fine, Chel.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. “Just thinking, y’know? I just wanna find that stupid dragon already so we can go home.”

“Or we could get eaten. There’s always that.” Her cheery smile was a little tighter than normal. Maybe this really was getting to her.

“I don’t think dragons eat people. At least, not these two.” I was trying to do my part. I was trying to smile and pretend I was better than I was. I needed to. We both needed to. The odds we’d make it back to Sunrise alive were… poor, and I’d rather face death with a smile, though that was easier said than done.

“I dunno, Matt. I haven’t seen my great aunt Martha in a bit, and is it just me, or has Cyrus put on a few pounds since we met him.”

“You don’t even have a great aunt Martha.”

“Not anymore…” Her solemn facade lasted all of two seconds before she cracked a grin once more, lightly punching my shoulder as she did. “It’s a shame too, she made great cookies.”

I actually laughed. It was only a little, and only for a moment, but I laughed. Not only that, but I laughed at Cyrus. If we were back home, we practically would’ve been crucified for that.

I guess the forest wasn’t all bad, was it?

Even if most of it does want to kill you.

It was only like, 80% bad, as opposed to the 95 I’d have figured previously.

Something about being this far away felt freeing, in a sense. It was like some kind of pressure or weight that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying had been lifted, and without it, my thoughts were free to wander wherever they liked. I could do or say or be whatever felt right to me.

That wasn’t always a good thing, the nightmares were proof of that, but somehow, it was all worth it. The life of a hunter was all I wanted, and this was my first real taste.

We walked on in silence for a few more minutes, pressing forward through the tangled vines and dense brambles. It still sucked, but joking around with my best friend had made it bearable.

“So what do you think she’s like?” Chel’s voice cleaved through my thoughts once again.

“What?”

“Aoife. What do you think she’s like?” She was hacking through the undergrowth with her sword, hardly sparing me a glance. That question felt dangerous, but she barely seemed to care.

“That doesn't seems important right now, Chel.” I kept following close behind. “She’s a big-ass, scary dragon, who’s gonna destroy humanity if we don’t stop her. That’s all that matters, right?”

“Maybe…”

She didn’t seem so sure. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she almost seemed disappointed. What the hell had gotten into her?

“Chelsea…”

She just kept hacking away. Moving forward step by step.

“Chel, I think I know you well enough to tell when you’re upset. What’s up?”

She stopped moving, but she didn’t answer. Not at first.

She turned towards me, her sword arm hanging limp at her side. She took a few deep breaths and relaxed, sitting down on the forest floor and leaning against one of the many many trees nearby.

“Matt…” She paused again, clearly searching for the words, clearly nervous once she found them. “What do you think of Cyrus?”

What?

“He’s our leader. He saved me. He saved all of us! We’re all-”

“Stop.” She cut me off, her eyes searching my own for… something. “I want you to think about him. I want you to really think, and then I want you to tell me how that compares to how you felt about him back home.”

“Chel, I’m-”

“Do it, Matt.”

“Ok.”

I wasn’t sure what’d gotten into her, but I knew that this was serious. Whatever this was about, she was obviously worried. Even if I didn’t understand, I needed to try. For her. So how did I feel about Cyrus?

He was our leader. He saved my life. He saved Chelsea. All that was true. I thought he was strong, that he was confident. He seemed remarkably put together, all the time. I figured that last one was just the dragon-ish part of him coming through. He was the man I trusted, and I’d follow his lead. How did I feel about him at home?

Standing in his presence was like being bathed in the warmth of the sun. Every last one of your worries was swept away because he was there. As long as you trusted him, he would take care of everything. He was like a god.

 

My head hurt.

 

“When you killed those goblins, that was the lowest I’d ever seen you, Matt, and when we came out here, you started having nightmares again, but while we were in Sunrise, while Cyrus was praising you, you were practically preening.”

“Chelsea, what’re you saying? You’re not making any se-”

“I'm not a violent person, Matt! I like to talk to people! To figure things out! But he fucking broke that part of me! He took that kind, soft piece of me and ripped it apart!” She was practically screaming. Out of nowhere, her hands had balled into fists, tears streamed down her face, and she was drowning in the throes of a panic attack. “When I think about the shit I would’ve done for him, just for a fraction of his stupid fucking appreciation! When I think about what I’ve already done! The fucking people I’ve already killed! It makes me wanna hurl!”

I didn’t know what to do. She’d always been the strong one. She’d always had a plan. She was hurting though, and I needed to do something. I had to help her. I could process what she’d just said later. I dropped to the ground at her side, and looked her in the eyes.

“Can I hug you, Chelsea?”

She didn’t answer, just throwing her arms around me in response. She clung to me, desperately, as her wordless sobs and panicked shaking continued building in intensity. I held her just as tight, rubbing her back, telling her I was here, that I wouldn’t leave, that she’d be ok. It took a long time for the shaking to stop, for the wails to give way to whimpers, but eventually they did. Even still, we held each other tight, kept each other grounded. As what she said had sunk in, I began to realize what it all meant, what Cyrus was. I was holding her as much for my own comfort as for hers.

“He fucked with our heads, Matt.” Her voice was shaky, holding none of her usual bravado. It was raw and weak and afraid, a far cry from the Chelsea I knew. She’d been strong for me, hadn’t she? Because she knew I couldn’t take it. “He fucked with our heads. He made us feel things that weren’t real so we’d do what he wanted.” 

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say she was wrong, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t be sure of that, so I just kept holding her.

Then a pair of silver, reptilian eyes met my own. A pale woman, with deep blue hair and a pair of bull-like horns was standing there, watching us.

“You’re not wrong. It’s how he makes people follow him. Save their lives, show them something remarkable, and then take control of their emotions so the adoration never fades.” Aoife, because there’s no one else this could be, frowned, baring her teeth as she spoke. “He tried to do the same to me. That’s why I’ll never forgive him, and it’s why I can’t let you leave. Not yet.”

A gust of wind rushed through the trees, sounding almost like a whispering voice, and the vines that surrounded us bound us up tight.