Even if you have not read Flames of any of Tears, I would really value some impressions on this!
So, I wrote this scene yesterday (I think; I don't know anymore), and it's driving me crazy. I've been asking around for impressions, but I would love as many eyes as possible. I need to know if am conveying the right thing.
The narrative is still a bit rough, though I've touched up a little on it, so I know there are some fixes needed there and some pace issues, but impressions would be awesome!
A few background notes as this is an excerpt: Rebstin told Strick that because he was supposed to die, he should kill himself and not be a threat to the world. He also told him that as long as he lived, Lusien would die.
~
Strick was exhausted. The shade of the trees crept over him like an oppressive pall, and he drew his cloak more tightly around him. With each step, pain erupted where his healing legs had been broken by the guards, but he would not stop walking. He was very cold; no amount of insulation could seem to dull the biting chill which washed through his body. Sighing, he stared at the ground, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and trudging through the mud. You’ve been alone before, Strick. Now should not be much different, he assured himself, but he knew that yes, this time was much different.
Strick glanced at the trees on all sides of him, remembering the trees on the journey to Oceanstone, how they had seemed so small in the light of his companions. Now they were enormous, clawing into the sky like giants. When he was not looking, Strick’s foot caught in a protruding root, and he tripped, twisting his leg as he fell to the forest floor.
Inhaling sharply, Strick broke his fall with his hands and rolled with a groan into a sitting position. His teeth clenched, he dragged his aching leg closer to him and felt the healed break with two thumbs, wincing when he applied pressure. Walking was harder than he had expected. He dragged himself over to a tree and leaned against it, exhaling in relief when the pain in his leg abated. Wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm, Strick shivered uncontrollably and closed his eyes. Perhaps he should have stayed with Rebstin another night.
“Stay with Rebstin?” Strick muttered to himself. “Never. I won’t kill myself.” He ripped some cloth off his cloak and wrapped it around his stiff leg, hoping it would serve as a crude brace. “I’m not Isterick,” Strick whispered. He winced as he tightened the cloth around his leg. “I don’t care what prophecy says.” Digging his fingers into the rough bark of the tree behind him, Strick staggered to his feet and gasped when pain lanced through his leg. “I don’t care what prophecy says,” he tried to convince himself. Taking a deep breath, he limped on.
Rebstin’s words raced through his mind, and Strick’s heart raced along with it. Senzieda had never trusted him on his own. She had been afraid he would do something reckless, something rash. Strick was beginning to agree with her.
“Stricken Eszröv, I thought I might find you in the forest. I did not think you would risk taking the main road.” A voice sliced through the darkness behind Strick, and he turned slowly to see Larckes was standing there, grinning.
Strick glared at him, his defenses shooting up and fear crawling through his veins. “Why are you following me?”
“First, you look awful,” Larckes remarked and approached him, his grin fading to a crooked smile. “Second, I still have a favor to ask of you.” He circled Strick inconspicuously, poking at the ground in front of him with a stick.
“I said no.”
“Yes, but you didn’t explain why.” Larckes stopped in his pacing and faced Strick, sitting down in the shade of a tree and waiting for a response. “My daughter is in danger. I expect more than a ‘no’ in response from you.”
Strick stared down at him in frustration. An image of Lusien filled his mind, and he looked away, his chest tightening with pain. “If I could, you know I would do anything to save Lusie, but I can’t. I pledged my life to the queen; as long as I live, I still belong to her.” He looked off into the distance and straightened his mouth into a thin, white line. It was better to die than to live in the Queen’s claws.
To Strick’s surprise, Larckes’s face softened. “My daughter needs you, Stricken–”
Shuddering at the way the name slipped through Larckes’s teeth, Strick cut him off. “Strick will do just fine.” Ice crawled through his heart and made him shudder. “You can just call me Strick.”
Larckes raised one eyebrow. “All right then, Strick, my daughter needs you. She is in danger.”
“Lusie can defend herself; she’s strong,” Strick said, remembering Rebstin’s warning. How could he explain what Rebstin had said to Larckes?
“She loves you.”
Shudders raced through Strick’s frozen body and he lowered his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, remembering her beautiful violet eyes, the gorgeous lines on the side of her face. And the way she had looked at him – he had not forgotten it – that look which saw him as more than just a Lecräesan. He remembered her tears when he had been dragged out of the cell, her screams. If it meant wiping the tears from her eyes, Strick would die all over again. In a shaking voice, he whispered, “I won’t go back.”
“You will go back,” Larckes insisted stiffly, his eyes flashing. “You have to help her.”
Confining the emotions that raged in him to an impassive mask, Strick glared at Larckes scathingly. “No, I don’t,” he lied, fighting to hide his exhaustion.
“Yes, you do. I know you do.”
Shivering, Strick met his gaze with a challenge. “And how do you know that?”
“Because you love her and because you are a better man than to let her suffer. Hiajan, the person who is hunting her, is a warped man; he wishes to hurt her as much as he can for how she fled from Svarë. She will trust only you.”
“I won’t go back.” Strick averted his eyes from Larckes’s face.
“Yes, you will. Lusien still loves you.”
“I won’t go back.”
“What are you afraid of, Strick?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie!” Larckes shouted.
Strick glared at Larckes. “And why would you care whether it is a lie or not? Why don’t you just find somebody else? She trusts Markus. She trusts Creiha. Why don’t you talk to them?” He waited for Larckes answer, challenging him to say something worthwhile.
Larckes drew a deep breath and lifted his head in contrived confidence. “Because I don’t want you to do die. I don’t want you to do something rash. You sacrificed everything for my daughter, and so I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. I’m trying to help you.”
Shock coursed through Strick and he stepped backwards. His legs ached terribly from standing so long. “What?”
“I know what Rebstin told you, Strick. He asked you to take your own life. I won’t let that happen,” Larckes said, his eyes burning with tenacity. “You can’t survive on your own – no one can.”
“I never considered taking my own life,” Strick muttered, shaken by Rebstin’s words.
“Yes, you did.”
“You don’t know that,” Strick shot back, panicking when Larckes only smiled. He was digging too deep, learning too much. Calm – why can’t I be calm? Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? It isn’t supposed to be like this. I can’t master it anymore – what is wrong with me? Why am I–
“Son, I want to help both you and Lusien. Can’t you understand that?”
Strick was jerked from his thoughts, and he stared at Larckes blankly, his heart trembling within him. He stepped backwards. “What did you just call me?” he whispered. Larckes only smirked; he did not have to repeat the word. “I–I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help, so leave!” Strick said, his stony voice failing and beginning to waver. “You know nothing about me, so why don’t you just find Markus and ask him to–”
“But I want to know about you.”
Strick panicked, his swirling gray eyes darkening to a deep blue and turning faster with panic. “Leave!”
“No. I’m not going to let you kill yourself.” Larckes rose from where he had been sitting, a scowl twisting his ugly face.
“I’m not going to kill myself!” Strick insisted and backed up a few steps.
“How can I trust you?”
“Don’t follow me,” Strick whispered, his voice shaking uncontrollably.
Larckes shook his head. “You won’t make it far.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“What are you so afraid of, son?” Larckes’s face softened, and she clasped his hands in front of him, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Don’t… call me that. I’m not your son. Now leave!” Shuddering, Strick stared at him with panicked eyes that would not settle into the calm he desperately fought to attain. “I won’t go back. My friends don’t need the last stricken Eszröv leading them to their deaths again.”
“You were their leader; you can’t just walk off and leave them,” Larckes argued. “Even if you do not go back to help Lusien, what of the others?”
“They don’t need me. They have survived this long; they can continue to.”
“And what about you?” Larckes whispered. “Do you need them?”
Strick glared at him. “That doesn’t matter. Now go!” he gasped; a wave of pain flashed through his sore legs, and Strick winced.
His mouth bending into a grim frown, Larckes adjusted his cloak so it fell evenly over his shoulders and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers; he stared at Strick sadly and sighed. “I will go,” he announced and lifted his head a little. “I will leave, but you will see me again. Remember, as you run, Lusien’s face. Remember what you are rejecting.”
Swallowing the cold lump of fear that was lodged in this throat, Strick watched as Larckes turned and walked away, his dark hair melting into the shadows. Strick’s back began to sting, and he reached back to feel the violet lines – hot to the touch, ridges protruding from his marred back. They were still there.
“And by the way!” Larckes halted in his footsteps away and faced Strick once more, holding one hand up. “Traez, the man who saved your life, has been captured. I thought perhaps you would like to know the price people pay for your life.” And then he walked away.
Traez? Strick thought and looked at the muddy ground below him. Traez had saved his life. Traez was captured. Who am I? Strick wondered, his hands trembling as he stared down at them. Who am I that I would leave Traez so suddenly? He only did what he thought was right. Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Strick stared at the dark trees ahead of him. “I’m sorry, Traez,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”
~
I am trying to achieve a sense of internal conflict - so what internal conflicts, if any, do you see? Help!
For example, he wants to save her, but he can't because of this queen. Maybe his sense of duty and love/friendship are both very strong?
)
