Paradoxal

Chapter 1

A duty to one's Clan was a duty to one's family, in an Urgal world. A duty which, if left unattended or unfinished, would quickly result into a reason for expulsion, a schism of the Clan, the ceremonial disgrace of one's horns sawed off, or- the most usual of cases- painful death. For family in the Urgal culture was a thing of great love, but even more so, great loyalty. Disloyalty could not and would not be tolerated by the chieftains.

Even if a chieftain was in one's immediate family. Even if the chieftain was one's father; there were no exceptions. Even if the duty meant sure death, or lifelong misery, one was obligated to fulfill it with pride. One would take their duty silently and fulfill it to the best of their abilities honorably. There would be no arguments, no excuses.

At least, not in the presence of the rest of the Clan.

As soon as Mir walked- solemnly, slowly, as Urgals of the Bolvek Clan were still watching- into her sod house and closed the door, she turned on her chief.

"No!" The Urgal fairly screamed, after she was certain no Clansman could hear.

The Chief's great black eyebrows knit together in sorrow, but his amber eyes were clear and firm. "It is your duty. It is not an easy burden, but a noble one, my daughter."

Mir fairly growled at him. "But him? A human! The very thought is disgusting." the Urgal said, spitting out the words. "I am a warrior, just as you are. Not a. . . spawn-producer. Hybrids, mutts." she barked out the short words in horror.

The Chief was quick to console her on that point, at least. "The human government has granted you much leniency in that area, Mir. You do not have to produce heirs as a stipulation in the contract." He said, rubbing his ribbed horns in the way he often did when he thought he was delivering good news.

She snorted. "The idea is senseless, even still! An arranged marriage will not bring peace between the Urgal and human countries, it will bring war."

"Why will it bring war, my daughter?"

"One of us will be dead by the wedding night."

The Chief let out his great, booming laugh. The house shook. "No, I forbid you to kill him. It's in the marriage contract- 'No killing.' I put it in myself at the peace talks."

Mir scowled, making her pert, ugly face even uglier. "Why does it have to be me? I am a warrior, not a wife." She grabbed her stave from the sod wall, swinging it fearsomely to prove the fact.

At birth, female Urgals of the Bolvek Clan were separated into two groups. Babes under four Kangas were raised to be providers, scavengers, child-bearers. Babes over four Kangas were trained as warriors with the stave. Males, of course, were trained as warriors at any size- but if they showed no affinity toward it, they were quickly disowned and ran off. Mir, a daughter of the fiercest chief in all the Urgal lands, was born an unheard of six Kangas.

"The human government is offering their finest man- a Dragon Rider-" he spoke the words in hushed reverence. "For this marriage and treaty. The Urgal given had to be a prize. You are my daughter- bloodlines are, in my understanding, quite important in the human culture- and one of the fiercest warriors we have. Human soldiers still remember you from the Battle of Uru'baen."

Mir shook her head, lank black hair swinging. "They don't remember me. You have other daughters."

He eyed her levelly. "And you are the strongest of them all."

Mir stared back, then looked down and swore violently. "A human. They're hideous, and weak, and think they are superior to us. And you would have me live with one for a lifetime?" she asked bitterly, gruff voice quiet now.

For the first time, the Chief looked sorrowful. "I would have you be happy. But I am not only your father, but the father of many, and many an Urgal's happiness will be your burden. Think, Mir- you will save your people from a fate worse than a warrior's death by marrying the human. It is a worthy duty. And this human- this Rider- they sing songs about him, my daughter. You will be in the songs, too, as his wife."

The young Urgal woman scowled, but her yellow eyes weren't in it. "I would be in songs for my own victories, and not someone else's."

The great Chief smiled, a fearsome baring of sharpened teeth. "You may yet."

-

A shouting match was currently taking place in the Palace Throne Room. Maids scurried through the halls nervously, wondering what event might have happened to make the Queen and her council act in such a way. Stable boys soothed the anxious destriers down in the barns, and Prisoners of War in the dungeons started at the fearsome banging. It was miraculous that such a tantrum could be heard throughout the Uru'baen Palace, but Riders and Queens were never ones to voice opinions quietly.

Well, Nasuada was still reinventing the term 'Queen,' as she saw fit. "You will stop your tantrum immediately and agree to this, Eragon." she said quietly, in that steely tone.

The Rider kicked an urn with all his strength. It shattered, shards skittering across the great marble floor. "No! I will not. You have no right, Nasuada, though you sit on that pretty gold throne."

"You placed this crown upon my head at the coronation, Eragon."

He snorted. "I regret it! You know I won't agree to it, Nasuada. You never believed I would. You held the peace talks too quietly, drew the contract up in the night. It's treachery."

Nasuada sighed. "The contract is signed, Eragon- you're as good as married." she said. Then, seeing Eragon's face, her own countenance softened. "You would do Alegaesia a great favor, you realize. Urgals and humans have been on the edge of war since the last one ended, and the last things the peasants need are sons drafted and taxes raised again."

Eragon swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "There are other ways to make treaties-"

"You agreed that Urgals make good allies, and I've even heard you say that you'd trust an Urgal in battle more than a human soldier." the Queen blazed on. "Urgals have been treated worse than animals for the length of Alegaesia's history. Shouldn't our new Empire, if we're truly right and noble, be the first to change that?"

The Rider bowed the head. "Of course it should be. It will be. But why does it have to be marriage? And why does it have to be me? You know my vow, Nasuada." he said. The council members looked amongst themselves, intrigued.

Nasuada scoffed. "Your vow. A lovesick boy's revenge on the world when the object of his mooning wouldn't have him." The council tittered.

Eragon turned a bright tomato red. "I see you're taking great lengths to convince me. My vow of celibacy as a Rider is a very real promise, and I refuse to break it."

"You needn't consummate. As I understand, warrior female Urgals rarely have children."

Eragon let out a horrid little bark of laughter. "Urgal-man children. How awful." He shook his head. "No, I can't do it."

Nasuada cocked her head slyly, silently, atop the great gold throne. "Eragon," she said finally. "I could make you."

He stared at her, wondering if she would truly do it. She'd changed since she had become queen. Nasuada was harder, less emotional. It was what a tender new government needed, but it had come at a price. Nasuada had destroyed her friendships, and, in fact, all relationships outside of the Throne Room.

She'd been fun, once. Nasuada had been interesting, and intelligent, and trustworthy once. Eragon could hardly forget, seeing that, at one time, he'd trusted the young woman enough to whisper his name into her ear. He could never forget that.

Since then, since that lapse of judgment, the new Nasuada had appeared. A Nasuada who had no qualms with holding his name over Eragon's head.

She would make him.

"No!" Eragon yelled. "No, I am not marrying any Urgal. No, I am not giving into you and your. . . your insanity. I'm stronger than a name, and I refuse to marry for your convenience!" He would not, could not, give in. Eragon turned on his heel and walked for the massive oak doors. He and Saphira would leave Uru'Baen. He would make good on that prophecy, made all those years ago, and leave Alegaesia- to go to a place where no government or magic could control him. Eragon would be Eragon for once. Not a political figure, or a vanguard of the rebellion, or the Last Rider. He would-

"Eld Gath, I command you to stop. You will marry the Urgal."

Eragon was stopped in his tracks by forces unseen. He would not give in. Eragon was a Rider and a powerful mage. He refused to be forced into line by two words. He willed his foot to move forward, just an inch. He pushed with all the muscle he had, but he could not move forward.

"I'm sorry, Eragon. It is a noble thing." Nasuada said, having the nerve to be apologetic. Eragon gritted his teeth. "We will begin our travel to Urgal lands tomorrow. Go, and pack."

Eragon's feet began moving robotically toward the double doors. He screamed, and rained curses down on Nasuada, her mother, her descendants, that gold throne she sat on, her kingdom, her-

"Stop that, you sound like a pagan."

Eragon stopped.

-