"Your wish is to become a soldier of the Varden."
It wasn't a question. Nasuada knew why I was there, why I had crossed hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles to be there. I wanted to fight with the Varden, to put to good use the skills I had learned. But I supposed I had to answer her whether I wanted to or not. And politely, too, judging from the guards with their sharp swords drawn. I could feel them staring at me from behind.
"It is." My voice still sounded strange to my own ears. After weeks of traveling alone, at least for the most part, I hadn't done much talking and it felt a bit odd to be forcing words out again. The swarthy skinned woman nodded, then twisted slightly in her seat (I assumed that as it was the only permanent chair in the room I was to pretend it was a throne of some sort) to look at the young man and woman standing nearby. I knew that the woman, at least, was not that young at all. Not that my knowledge of elves was terrific, but I had been taught that elves are generally older than they appear.
Without needing instructions from the Varden's leader, the man stepped forward. Unlike most others, I had no feelings of great awe upon seeing or hearing about the Dragon Rider. We'd met several days ago, when I was attempting to escape from a small group of soldiers of the Empire, and so far I'd seen Eragon do little to be overly astonished about. As he approached I noticed his dragon, her head sticking in through the back of the tent, peer at me, and for a moment I started to panic. Was it possible that she knew?
"I need to probe your mind first, to make sure that you are who you say you are," he said to me. I fought a curt reply. Who else would I be? I'd been expecting this, though, and had prepared properly. I didn't know what he'd be looking for, but there were certain things that he didn't have to know. Things I didn't want anyone to know. I gave him no indication of a refusal, so after a few moments he apparently realized that I was going to allow him access.
He stood in front of me and I felt a consciousness touch my own. Tentatively, I lowered the wall around my thoughts, just enough for him to enter. I could feel his mind moving, looking through mine, trying to find evidence of treachery and deceit. He'd find none, of course, but I couldn't' convince them of that with just words. Suddenly, I winced.
"Tav, Tav! Run!" Lirrus, his sword in one hand and his knife in the other, shouts at me. He is trying to fight off three different guards at once. Part of me wants to help him, but I know I have to do as he says. It's not just because I'm so accustomed to following his directions, but also because I know I'm the one they want, not him. But I'm only 15, and I'm scared. I can't move. More guards are coming, they're running towards us. I have to leave, but my feet don't seem to be working. My heart is beating so loudly that I'm sure everyone can hear it over the sounds of fighting. There's a bubble in my throat and it's hard to breathe. We'd trained for this type of situation, but everything is different now that it's actually happening.
The new guards have arrived, and I know I'm out of time. They reach Lirrus, who's already managed to defeat two of the first guards, the ones who caught us escaping. He tries to fight them off, but some get past him. They come for me. This somehow manages to make my body work again, and I draw my sword. I go through the motions mechanically, but these men were trained the same way I was. They know every move. I still feel numb with fear, but I am able to conjure enough energy for a spell. I whisper the words in the Ancient Language and two of the guards attacking me fall, unconscious. The other three recoil momentarily, and I glace over at Lirrus.
Then my entire world shatters.
Lirrus is also caught off guard by my sudden attack with magic. He looks back over at me, looks directly at my eyes. As if in slow motion, I watch as a guard runs his blade through Lirrus' chest. Through my only brother. I watch as his eyes go blank. As he falls.
"I'm sorry," Eragon murmured, his face a mask of shock and guilt, as he helped me up. I hadn't realized it, but I'd ended up on the floor with my head between my hands. Nasuada looked alarmed, and even Arya looked slightly caught off balance. I couldn't tell by the dragon's face, but I thought I saw sympathy in Saphira's large sapphire eyes. She'd seen, too.
I looked down, embarrassed, as Eragon assured Nasuada that I was not working for the Empire and Galbatorix. I had a feeling that she would ask him later what he'd seen that caused such an unexpected reaction in us both. I didn't really mind if he decided to tell her, as long as he didn't want me to explain it. That memory was one of the worst I had. I thought I'd stored it away, in a place where Eragon couldn't go. I was obviously mistaken.
"Tav," Nasuada started. Her voiced seemed softer after what just happened, but perhaps it was just my own imagination. Lirrus used to tell me that I was too imaginative for my own good. "Near the armory tomorrow morning there will be a training session for members of the Varden's army. You said you've already learned how to use a sword and a bow, but if you go you can demonstrate to some of the commanding officers what you can do. I'll be there, as well. If we think that you'd be a strong soldier for the Varden, you can go on the next raid. Otherwise, you'll have to go through training." I nodded, unwilling to speak in case my voice betrayed me.
"I'll take you to see the Quartermaster," Eragon said suddenly. "You cannot live in the Infirmary," he added, a bit more sheepishly.
"When you're done, Eragon, I want you to come back here," Nasuada told him. "I need to discuss some things with you and Arya." He nodded to her before exiting the red command tent. Grabbing my pack up from the floor, I followed him, not without noticing that Saphira had pulled her head out of the tent. Why is she coming with us to see the Quartermaster?
I exited the tent to see Saphira near Eragon. Standing nearby was a group of elves. My eyes slid over the scenes in the busy camp, but they were continuously attracted to the foremost elf, the one who seemed to be in charge. He was covered in glossy blue-black fur with only a loincloth as clothing, and from here I could see yellow eyes glinting. Something about him, something besides his bizarre appearance, kept pulling my attention to him. I tried hard to put him out of my mind.
Eragon set off in what I supposed was the direction of the Quartermaster. At first I trailed behind him and Saphira, but then he slowed down and waited until I was walking next to him. He kept glancing at me, as if he wanted to say something, but decided not to each time. Finally, he sighed dejectedly and then straightened up.
"Are all of your belongings in there?" He motioned to my pack. I had the feeling that was not the question he wanted to ask me, but I replied nonetheless.
"Yes. When I was traveling by horse I used to have more things, but when I was in a tavern one day I overslept and came out to find that everything I didn't bring with me into the tavern was stolen, including the horse." I couldn't help but make a face. That had been one of the most humiliating moments I could remember experiencing. The thief, or thieves, had made away with a good portion of my food and water, as well as some of my arrows, my shield, spare clothing, and most of my money. I grimaced, but managed to give him a weak smile. "If I learned something from that, it's to never trust an innkeeper when he says his stables are safe enough to leave your saddlebags in." That produced a low chuckle from Eragon.
"Where were you when that happened?" He asked. I frowned, trying to remember. It seemed so long ago.
"Dras-Leona," I decided on. "Either there or Belatona." Eragon rounded on me, eyes wide.
"You walked here, in Surda, from Dras-Leona?" I shrugged.
"Or Belatona," I reminded him. I got the two cities confused often. "Anyway, I didn't walk the entire way. Sometimes I rode on the cart of a traveler or trader who happened to be heading south, and once a man in one village needed to get three horses to his brother in a village several days to the south, so I rode one of them for him." He seemed impressed with, or doubtful of, my accomplishment. We walked on together in silence.
We'd arrived at the Quartermaster's tent, and Eragon told him that I needed a place to stay. Then Eragon, of whom I was still under the impression that he had an unasked question for me, left to return to Nasuada. After checking several charts, the small man in charge of residences directed me to a bare spot of earth near the outskirts of the tent city. In less than an hour some workers had set up the tent and put inside some basic pieces of furniture, such as a bed and a small table. Despite the fact that it was far away from the main centers of activity within the camp, was rather cramped on the inside, and looked like every other tent, something that gave me the feeling that I would have difficulty finding it again, I was relieved to go inside a space that I could call my own.
I made sure that both tent flaps were closed after entering. Gingerly, I lowered myself onto the bed and set my bag on the hard-packed dirt. I slipped a small dagger from my pack and tucked it neatly beneath the bed, close enough to the edge that I would be able to pull it out but far in enough that it wouldn't be seen. It was a habit I'd developed after several close calls.
Stretching, I arched my back and raised my arms into the air. I knew dinner wouldn't be served for a while, and I couldn't think of a reason that anyone would want to talk to me so urgently that it couldn't wait until the next day. Satisfied that I wouldn't be disturbed, I pulled my tunic off, and then the shirt underneath it. I undid the bandages around my chest before quickly putting my shirt back on. If I was going to be alone I might as well be comfortable. However, I decided to refrain from putting back my tunic. Instead, I left it next to me as I laid down in the bed to think, putting the pile of bandages on top of it. If someone were to come looking for me, I'd only need to take my shirt off again to redo the bandages. After all, I couldn't afford anyone to know my greatest secret. No one would allow me to fight as a soldier if it was discovered that I was actually a girl.
Author's notes:
First, I want to thank everyone who gets this far for reading. I promise it'll get better. I hope.
Second, I want to say that I read Brisingr some time ago, and I don't remember if they were still in Surda at the end of the book. I know they started moving north, but I'm not sure if they got that far yet.
Third, I'd like to beg for reviews :)
