(A/N: Just dug out Brisingr and read it for S's and G's. More to come, Rate and Review and all that poppycock.)
Arien paced in front of the desk, her impatience almost unbearable. An ornate hand mirror sat on the desk's oaken top, its surface reflecting the low wooden beams of the ceiling. After spending so much time cramped in Dras-Leona, having to hide her elven features with magic and bumping elbows with the foulest and most uncouth spies the Varden employed, every contact from the outside world was like a breath of fresh air. At last the mirror shimmered and showed her an image of a white tent, the insides crammed with maps and charts. A familiar face appeared in the field of view. Jörmundur had been her handler since day one. It had been a bit of a sore spot to be subordinate to a human, but she had consoled herself with the knowledge that it was all for a greater good."Can you hear me? Hello?"
Jörmundur spoke a little too loudly, as though he did not trust the enchantment to carry his words through.
"Yes, I can hear you just fine."
"Good. How are things on your end?"
Arien pursed her lips. What kind of question was that? Working with a spy ring was much more boring than it sounded.
"Wondrous as ever."
Jörmundur crossed his arms and ignored the sarcasm.
"Not for long it won't be. The invasion schedule is being revised, Feinster is set to fall in a months time, which means Nasuada needs every possible ally at her side. One of these is the Guild of Blades."
"The what?"
"The Guild of Blades. They're a smalltime group of thugs, skilled thugs, but thugs just the same, nowhere near as sophisticated as the name might suggest. The Guildmaster, Hernfast, is a very talented swordsman who is also an old friend of Deynor, the previous leader of the Varden. The guild is composed of out of work mercenaries, disillusioned soldiers, and the like. Hernfast takes in all kinds of unsavory characters and has them do mercenary work, guard duty, and, although he denies it publicly, assassinations. Normally the Varden wouldn't be seen anywhere near his ilk, but times are desperate. He has agreed to provide the Varden with a valuable source of skilled men behind enemy lines, the importance of which I need not emphasize."
"So what does this have to with me?"
"I am getting to that. He will side with he Varden only if we satisfy a number of conditions, namely, if the Varden deposes Galbatorix he would be allowed to continue his operation unfettered by the new government. His other requests were easy to satisfy, save one: His prize pupil has been imprisoned in Dras-Leona for murder, likely on an assassination mission. Your task is to free him. Once you have sent word he is safe you will join up with the main body of our forces in time for the assault on Feinster."
Arien raised a graceful eyebrow
"So you need me to spring an assassin from jail, am I correct?"
"Yes. His name is Jarvis, and we have no more information save that. Do you think you can handle that?"
"He will be free before sunrise tomorrow morning!"
The corners of Jörmundur's lips twitched in a supressed smile.
"I hope so, because he is scheduled to be executed in three days. Good luck."
And with that Jörmundur's image faded from the surface and Arien found herself staring at the angular face of an elf once more.
Three days, she thought, not much time, not much at all.
Her slender mouth curved in a private grin. This is more like the kind of work I signed up for!
***
A solitary rock bounced off of the iron bars that composed the cell door and landed next to Jarvis, who picked it up and threw it at the door once more. Amusement in the custody of the Empire was very limited to say the least. He had only been in jail for a total of seven days, not including the one where he was dragged out and convicted on the charge of murder. It had been a very short trial, nor more than an hour. He was hauled into the Imperial Garrison where the guard captain had heard the accusation ad sentenced him to death. It was a good thing they thought the killing was simply a burglary gone wrong, because assassins were customarily killed on the spot. Morning light was just beginning to shine through the barred window when a gruff voice barked down the stone hallway.
"Oi! Jarvis, get up you mangy rat, you have a visitor!"
Jarvis dropped the rock and stood upright at once, striding quickly over to the cell door. Peeking as far as he could he saw the corpulent jailer waddling down the corridor, a young woman in tow. They stopped in front of his cell.
"Make it quick." the Jailor grunted roughly.
The woman turned to him and produced a few coins.
"I'll give you these if you'll make the conversation a private one."
The jailor eyed the money for a moment, but greed won out and he snatched up the coins. Once he had rounded the corner, Jarvis spoke.
"Who in the blazes are you?"
"I do not have much time, so please do not interrupt me."
"Wait, I think I do know you, the barmaid at that little inn near the market! Look, I don't know why you're dragging it out like this, it was just one night and-"
Before Jarvis could utter another word the woman raised her hand
"Hljödhr"
Suddenly, Jarvis found himself unable to speak. The woman regarded him with a cold eye.
"You have good friends Jarvis, son of Hadley, otherwise I would not be here. Your master has not forgotten you, and he has volunteered your service to the Varden in exchange for your life."
Jarvis launched into a soundless protest, which only seemed to amuse her.
"You should be on bended knee thanking me, fresh air is much preferable to the gallows, last I looked. Letta"
Suddenly Jarvis's voice worked again. He rubbed his throat agitatedly, the experience had not been pleasant.
"And when did my own opinion factor into the matter?"
"You would prefer I leave you to your fate?"
"You won't do that."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because you did not come here of your own accord, this is an assignment, you are not leaving here without me."
The woman regarded him for a moment.
"I will be at your window at moonrise. Be ready."
She turned to leave
"Wait. The jailor has all of my weapons and clothing, they are in his office on the second floor, and I am NOT leaving without them."
The woman rounded on him
"Why should I-"
"Because if you do not, I will tell him that you are an elf and a spy. You will hang before I do."
The elf bared her teeth at him
"You little rat! How dare you! I could-"
"Could what? Kill me? Too valuable mi'lady, can't do that, can't shut me up like you just did either, someone will notice between now and the gallows."
Furious, her next words were hissed through clenched teeth
"Fine, but if you threaten to betray me again, I WILL kill you, Varden be damned!
Jarvis grinned at her and blew a kiss, retreating back to the straw mattress in his cell.
"See you tonight dear."
Boiling with barely contained rage the elf stocked off down the hallway.
***
Jarvis paced his cell up and down, back and forth. He could hear the fitful, nightmare-disturbed sleep of the other inmates. Some cried out names or loved ones, others just moaned. It was a hellish cacophony and he was glad that this turn of events would rid him of it. But still, the audacity of Hernfast to trade him to the Varden like a sack of oats burned him. That old bag had promised him he would be beholden to no man, and yet not five years into their partnership and he betrayed him. The Varden and Galbatorix could fight until the sun sank below the horizon for the last time, and no one would be the better off for it. Kings and kingdoms came and went, flitting past like autumn leaves, each one as inconsequential as the next.
A soft patter of footsteps reached his ears, he heard it only because he was waiting for it. Slender hands traced across the bars of his window and they glowed faintly in the dark before splitting, cut clean through as if they were hot butter. Without waiting for a prompt, Jarvis grabbed the ledge of the high window and clambered through into the cool night air. The elf sat next to him, no longer clad in the dress he had seen yesterday. Regarding him scornfully she pushed a bundle of clothes at him and turned away to give him privacy while he changed. Unraveling the stack he found all of his items had been taken care of, albeit slightly dirty. He dressed, slipping the trousers on and pulling the light tunic over them. Finally he pulled his grey robe over his shoulders and fastened it about his neck. His blades lay in their sheaths on the ground and he strapped each one to his body with a sense of relief. To be armed was to be in control of ones fate. A short sword buckled around his waist, a long skinning knife went into a sheath across his chest and a set of throwing knives, small, slightly curved little points strapped into slots, went around the waist, the small handles pressing against the small of his back. He let the cloak flow over his body concealing the blades from view. He wore no armor to speak of, save for the leather bracers around his forearms which were coated with enough steel to catch a wayward blade. It was the part and parcel uniform of a killer, honed to the bare essentials by a career made in light footsteps and sharp edges. The elf turned and motioned to him.
"Let us be gone from here, they will notice your escape soon enough."
Jarvis followed her lead, climbing carefully down the side of the cell block wall. After several tense minutes of climbing, and once when he thought he would lose his grip on a windowsill, they dropped safely to the ground. The elf pulled a coil of rope from her shoulder and secured it to a wooden support, jutting out of the main battlements of the prison. Testing it once she nodded silently to him and they descended to the street. Once their feet hit the cobblestones, Jarvis turned and began walking away. The elf ran in front of him and blocked his path.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Wherever catches my fancy. I hear Gil'ead is nice this time of year."
The elf stared him down
"You are coming with me to the Varden, that was our agreement."
Jarvis laughed
"We had no such agreement."
Arien's face flushed
"After all I did for you? You would be dead without me!"
"True enough, and I thank you for your effort. Now that I am free however, I see no reason to die trying to oust a mad king from his throne. Leave sleeping dogs lie as the saying goes."
"Have you no sense of right and wrong? You call yourself a man? You are a coward!"
"Coward, maybe, but I am not going to die anytime soon, and that, little elf, is all that a man needs."
Jarvis attempted to step around the elf but she stepped in front of him again.
"If you will not come willingly, then I will force you."
Jarvis grinned
"Oh, I would love to see that."
Arien raised her hand and mouthed in incantation that should have set him to sleep. Instead of collapsing into a snoring heap like most others would have, Jarvis remained standing while Arien's strength began to drain. Jarvis laughed and raised his finger. On it was a small ring with a gem set into it.
"You think I didn't have wards to protect me from magical trickery?"
The elf drew back a fist and landed a staggering blow to his collarbone. Jarvis stumbled back and growled in anger.
"You little bi-"
He did not have time to finish the sentence however as the full weight of an outraged elf tackled him and threw him to the ground. There was a desperate struggle, Arien trying to subdue Jarvis, who unleashed a non stop stream of curses. Though she had the unnatural strength of the elves on her side Arien was young as her race went, and not trained in hand-to-hand combat, whereas Jarvis was a lean, lanky, weasel who grew up in the middle of a bar fight. Jarvis braced his back against the cobblestones and pushed with all his might. The elf came off of him and he just had time to roll over an onto his feet before she threw herself at him again, trying to land a knockout blow, all magic forgotten in her anger.
Jarvis blocked a punch on his bracer, which made the elf cringe, and step back, nursing a nasty bruise on her left knuckles. Jarvis turned and leaped onto a cart, pulling himself onto the roof while the elf was momentarily distracted by the pain of punching steel. Arien jumped after him, but he was quick, almost too quick. The pursuit raged silently over the roof tops of the neighbor hood, Jarvis always staying one desperate step ahead of the elf. Finally, Jarvis turned and attempted to throw a punch. The elf dogged around the blow and pulled out a dagger, stabbing it deep into the assassin's shoulder. Jarvis reeled backward, the blade stuck halfway into the muscle, blood staining his cloak. Arien pulled back her right fist and drove it with all her might into Jarvis's jaw. The blow threw him to his hands and knees. He rolled over on his back and started to pull the knife out, inch by inch. Arien shook her head. What drove this man? She reached down and pulled the dagger from his weakened fingers. Flipping it around deftly she smacked him smartly in the temple with the handle end. Jarvis went out like a snuffed candle. Quickly Arien knelt and put her hand over his wounded shoulder.
"Waíse Heill"
The gash closed itself and stopped gushing blood. It was a deeper wound than she had expected, and the wave of exhaustion sapped the strength from her limbs and made her sit down on the roof next to the sleeping man. She composed herself and put a hand around Jarvis, hauling him upright and off of the rooftop. It was a long walk back to the safe house, especially carrying what she was. But she would make it, the Varden depended on her, and she would not let them down. Unwilling or not, Jarvis would help them.