Thank you Earthcat123 for your review!
For my own selfish reasons, just to warn you, I'm going to skip quite a bit of time between Arya's capture and Eragon's adventures in and after Dras-Leona. Don't worry, it won't always be like that; I just didn't want to have half a book worth of filler that (hopefully) everyone generally knows. Yup, being lazy.
Lady Who
Arya, the elven ambassador, glanced yet again at the pouch in her lap as she easily rode with one hand on it and the other on the reigns of her beautiful white steed. For twenty years she had conveyed the dragon egg stolen from Galbatorix between Ellesmera and the Varden in hopes of finding a Dragon Rider who could tip the balance of power to defeat the evil, self-proclaimed king. She had yet to succeed, but, even as she and her two male escorts traveled through the misty darkness, the lady felt confident that her search would somehow soon come to an end. Still, after two decades of traveling with the beautiful blue stone, she would loathe to be parted with it.
The daughter of Queen Islanzadi was a lovely woman by even elven standards. She had full, long raven-black hair, slanted vivid green eyes, angular features, relatively tan, soft skin, small feet and slender hands, and a slim figure, though she was taller and stronger than most men. Her temper could be frightening to even the most stalwart of warriors and she rarely let anyone get close to her, but she was a lover of knowledge, nature, and adventure. Despite her royal standing, she had always been drawn to danger – that was why she insisted on taking on the Yawe.
One of her helpers smoothly approached her, breaking her out of her thoughts and whispering,
"Arya, there is something foul in the air. Perhaps a spear would be better suited in front of you for a while…just as a precaution."
Nodding and cursing herself for becoming so distracted, the woman replied with an affirmative and the men switched so that her spear-bearing follower led the quick-paced procession.
Suddenly, the wind changed direction, bring with it the filthy stench of nearby Urgals, along with something even fouler. Knowing the dreaded smell, Arya's horse snorted and tossed its head with nervous jerks. Looking around for the owners of the stench, the emissary was swift in leading a galloping race away from the danger; but she didn't get far.
Following a screamed word in the ancient language, a red bolt of fire shot at and struck the loyal horse, sending it plunging chest-first to the ground with a high-pitched squeal and throwing Arya from the saddle, though she still managed to hold onto the pouch with the egg.
Landing lightly on the ground and looking back for her companions, the elf screamed in rage and sorrow upon seeing both heroes dead in pools of their own blood some distance behind her. Her emotions initially urged her to plunge into battle and gain her revenge, but, upon seeing the red-haired Shade leading the Urgals, logic won over. She had to protect the egg at all costs.
For several minutes, she bounded through the thick forest, dodging trees and leaping over dead logs. Just as she thought that she had perhaps lost her pursuers, however, everything around her exploded with flames. She ran to the right for a clear path, but that way was blocked with molten-hot fire, along with every other. Panting slightly with growing worry, as the fire slowly herded her backwards, she turned again, only to be confronted with a large band of hulking Urgals.
"Arya!" a woman's voice shouted, distracting both the runner and the hunters. Through the scorching smoke, the lady could just make out a dark-haired, horse-riding figure in a deep green cloak, holding a bared sword at ready and staring intensely at the elf. Of course, Arya's first inclination was to leap onto the strange fair lady's horse and escape her fate, but then she noticed the other girl's eyes in the burning light. There was something in those dark, shadowy eyes that loudly proclaimed a treachery and danger even more frightening than facing a hundred Urgals. "Arya, come!"
"Never, witch!" the proud warrior shouted, turning back to the Urgals.
Managing to kill three of them within seconds, Arya charged in a retreat to hopefully find a way through the flames, hoping desperately that the maker of the fires wasn't around the next corner.
The Urgals were falling behind as she approached a slightly rocky area with a few boulders and mounds when her run was stopped and her hope of escape crushed. A Shade with crimson hair and maroon eyes dropped down from the nearby piece of granite and the Urgals spread into a circle, trapping her. Now, there was only one way to save the egg.
On a nearby hill, the mysterious rider once again appeared, gazing sadly down at the captive with sheer disappointment; however, oddly, she seemed to almost read Arya's mind and nodded, looking down the covered egg.
Even as the Shade approached her with a raised hand and opened his mouth to order the creatures to seize her, Arya stood tall, staring at her enemies with disdain, removed the egg from its hiding place, and held it high, magic words silently flying from her mouth.
"Garjzla!" the Shade shouted, but it was too late.
By the time the fireball knocked Arya unconscious, the egg was already gone in a flash of sapphire light.
Seeing that the egg was gone, Durza remembered that the elf had been looking at something distant before sending the prize to its unknown destination and slowly turned his head toward the spot.
Sure enough, there was something there. About fifty feet off on a slight rise was a horse-riding, cloaked woman with wild black hair and shadowy eyes. The identity of the person instantly hit him. Finally, she had come out of hiding…if it really was her – witch or an assassin, he couldn't tell. A magic-user, a warrior, a potentially great ally, and a dangerous enemy. The king would be pleased with such a prize.
Frowning down at him, the distant figure shook her head and turned to go. Suddenly remembering himself, Durza shot a ball of fire after her; but the attack simply dispersed before reaching its target and the lady galloped off, leaving the Shade with a half-dead elf and no blue stone. Still gazing after the new query, he screamed in frustration. Two failures in one night would bring on terrible punishment, more endless rants from Galbatorix, and, now, deep investigation after this strange sorceress.
Laying in bed in Horst's large house days after the attack, drowning in his sorrow over Garrow's death, Eragon tried to ignore Saphira's urgings to run away from Carvahall, not only to avoid discovery, but to protect the village from further attacks.
Finally giving in and doing his best to ignore the pain screaming through his body from the scrapes on his legs from Saphira's scales and all of the other soreness and injuries, the boy crawled out of bed and crept out of the house, only to stop when he heard Horst and his wife Elain. Their discussing of Eragon's honesty about the attack and the mystery of Saphira's tracks in the snow where she took off and landed on the road in an effort to bear the old man to safety fully convinced him.
As he slowly lost some of the stiffness in his body, the young Dragon Rider first went to Gedric's tannery, cringing at the vile smell of the tanning vats as he passed them to get to the storage shack and take three large ox hides. After hiding the leather in some branches in a patch of trees outside the town, he next went sneaking into Sloan's butchery, figuring that, if he was going to steal, it might as well be from the man who had given him nothing but trouble over the years.
With as much meat stuffed into his shirt as possible and feeling terribly guilty for having to steal all these things and sneak away like some common criminal, Eragon went back to the patch of trees, relieved at not being followed or found. He reached for the hidden hides – but they were gone.
"Going somewhere?" Brom asked from behind him. The old man was just standing there in traveling clothes, with a short sword in his belt, holding the skins in his hands.
Still wondering how the storyteller had appeared out of nowhere like that, Eragon snapped,
"Give them back."
"Why? So you can run off before Garrow is even buried?"
His voice matched the boy's tense sharpness.
"It's none of your business! Why did you follow me?"
"I didn't. I've been waiting for you here. Now where are you going?"
"Nowhere." This time, he grabbed for the skins and met no resistance.
"I hope you have enough meat to feed your dragon."
That was how it had all started, with a shocking revelation of Brom's extensive knowledge. Since then, they had trained with magic, archery, dragon-riding, and sword-righting and traveled through Therinsford, Yazuac, and Daret. Then, they discovered flesh-eating Seithr oil from the Ra'zac they were tracking and headed for Teirm in order to find which port it was from and where it was shipped to with the help of an old friend of Brom's, Jeod; then they could find the Ra'zac and gain revenge for Garrow's murder. Teirm was a rather interesting stop.
There was an herbalist named Angela who was trying to prove that toads didn't exist and couldn't seem to give a straight answer; there was Jeod, who helped the travelers search a trove of old records to find the logs of Seithr shipments; he learned to read and write; and, along with several other occurrences, Eragon had his fortune told by Angela: he would have a long life, many choices ahead of him, many battles fought around him, many possible fates with only one chance of happiness, a doom of forever leaving Alagaesia, the only land he had ever known, an epic romance with one of noble birth, family betrayal, and a strange, dark ally. To top it all off, a Werecat also babbled off a fortune – something to do with a Menoa tree and the Vault of Souls.
On the day that he had wandered into Angela's shop and had his fortune told, Eragon had come across an announcement board of sorts at an intersection of a few streets. Thankfully, neither his nor Brom's picture was on it, but one particular 'wanted' sign stood out. It wasn't a very detailed drawing – just a shadowy image of a cloaked lady with billowing dark hair – but there was half a fortune offered for her with the claim that she was a dangerous sorceress with important information needed by the Empire.
Much time had passed since Eragon had lost his uncle and his home, and now they were finally perhaps near their goal in Dras-Leona. They spent practically a whole night in the nasty inn they were staying at, drinking themselves practically to death. During this luxury, Eragon thought he saw a person in the back corner staring at him, but he was too far gone by then to notice.
Morning came with a stiff headache and a fuzzy tongue. Brom taught him the cure of hot tea, ice water, and brandy and they later separated for a relatively uneventful day, other than discovering the Seithr oil was probably being transported to Helgrind, a demonic-looking black tower outside of the city that was the center of many of the townspeople's worship.
The next morning, the young man awoke feeling much more refreshed and finding a charcoal note on the room wall from Brom, telling him to explore, enjoy himself, and stay unnoticed.
Following a somewhat boring and infuriating day of seeing houses squeezed together, the poverty, and even a slave auction, all in the shadow of the spikey black cathedral in the middle of the city, the Dragon Rider eventually found himself on the very steps of the horrifying church. Its twisted spires, frightening statues, gargoyles, columns, and stained glass windows towered over him, causing a pit to form in his stomach, but somehow, he was urged onward.
On the inlaid iron door was an inscription in the ancient language, which, as far as he could tell, said:
'May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved.'
Scary, but thought-provoking. The entire structure sent chills down the boy's spine with its immense, hollow…he didn't know how to describe it – like a predator crouching and waiting for its next victim.
Finding that the huge door smoothly opened and seeing no one inside, Eragon walked between the granite pews, feeling rather ant-like in the presence of the towering walls and stained glass windows portraying scenes of anger, hate, and sorrow as the filtered light gave his skin an apparent blue tone. Returning the lifeless stares of the accusatory statues, he finally reached the altar, an unadorned slab of stone, behind which was a grand, solemn-looking organ that pierced through the ceiling toward the sky so that it was exposed to the wind and only played when a gale blew through the depressing city.
Right then and there, he knelt on the hard floor, not to pray to the cathedral or any cause surrounding it, but to pay homage to the building itself and all the lives and the sorrow it had seen and caused. This place stood for everything he wanted to destroy as a Dragon Rider: inhumane slavery, needless suffering, pointless anguish, and useless deaths. Because of what this place stood for, people sacrificed everything good in their lives for an idea that shouldn't have ever been raised to such an honored level. In his eyes, any religion or government or sect of any kind that supported any sort of cruelty wasn't worthy of any support or celebration and only deserved eradication.
As he stood and turned to go, Eragon was halted before he could even think about moving towards the door. Standing right in the doorway were the two Ra'zac he been hunting for weeks on end. The smaller one hissed upon being noticed while it brandished its deadly sword.
Rage welled up and his hunger for revenge overwhelmed the young warrior enough to snatch his bow up and release three arrows in quick succession, none of which found their mark as the creatures simply dodged into the pews. He stopped himself from reaching for another arrow upon seeing a troop of soldiers file in and begin to line the sides of the cathedral, realizing that, if they had found him, then Brom was also in danger. But perhaps just one more arrow before he looked for an escape…
"Stupid boy! Come on!" a voice growled from behind him.
Eragon didn't hesitate to follow the cloaked woman through a vestibule beside the altar in an apparent escape route. With the stranger in the lead, they raced down the hallways of the priory, haunted by the clicking feet of pursuing Ra'zac, until they reached a closed door. Beating down the blockage and making their way into the depths of the creepy place, the runners startled several residents and provoked the alarm bell to ring before finally stumbling into a brick-walled garden with no exit.
With no other choice but to use magic to break the wall and potentially kill himself in the process, Eragon backed up and made a running start at the wall. Only his fingertips cleared it, unfortunately, and it was only the presence of the prowling Ra'zac that encouraged him to not try again, but rather to pull himself up, ignoring the protests of his shoulders. He looked down at the lady to see if she needed help, but the woman, whom he recognized as the one from the notice board in Teirm, inhumanly just leapt over the block as if it was nothing.
Once on the other side, they put on another burst of speed until they reached a marketplace a good mile away and rolled under a parked wagon to rest. Honestly, he was so far impressed with this mysterious helper. Not once during the entire race had she spoken or shown any signs of tiring. Now, however, with her hood fallen down, revealing a lovely, slightly tanned face with not-too-full lips, high cheekbones, dark and somewhat thick but well-shaped eyebrows, and short eyelashes, he could see her petite yet strong jaw dropped in a small pant.
But how did they find him? Was Brom all right?
"Thanks. I think we lost them," the boy breathed, finding himself confronted with piercing gray eyes that were like swirling thunderclouds. They honestly threw him off-guard a bit.
"Thanks to you," she sneered, flaunting a steady, calm voice and a strange flat accent, "the Empire surely has a far more detailed description of me. I certainly hope you're at least partially worth the trouble you've caused me."
"I could have gotten out of there just fine without you," he childishly defended, glaring at the girl who couldn't have been older than twenty.
"Pshaw! You would have spent ten minutes looking for that exit, and, by that time, you would have been dead, or worse, captured. Stupid boy."
"I do have a name, you know. What were you doing there, anyway?"
"What were you doing there? That's the more fitting question, in my opinion. By the sound and look of you, you're a farm boy, but there's a little something extra…a certain…nobility. Strange…"
Her anger finally gave way to curiosity as Eragon's gratitude turned into suspicion. Why would this woman want to help him?
"Who are you?"
"I am simply a wanderer on a mission helping out another wanderer on a mission. I saw you and your friend a couple nights ago mentioning something about searching far and wide for some important article. Whatever it is, you won't find it in the cathedral. As far as I'm concerned, that place is only for victims and madmen. Now, don't you think we should be looking for your companion?"
After conferring with Saphira and agreeing to meet Brom at the inn, Eragon led his tagalong to their destination, where she agreed to meet them in the stables.
Eragon being Eragon, he failed to mention the woman to his mentor in their panic to pack and reach the stable, only to have the old man just notice the lady when she came around the corner as they were mounting, sitting tall on a flaming white, slightly familiar-looking horse with her enveloping hood back in its place.
"What's this?" Brom hastily asked.
"She helped me escape the Ra'zac."
For the moment, that was all he needed, since they had to make a quick getaway before the enemy succeeded in closing the gates. The guards certainly tried, but, thanks to Eragon holding gate open with magic, the trio managed to get outside the walls to a patch of trees where Saphira was hiding and waiting. This was when he looked at the newcomer; but, instead of fear and awe, the only things he saw in her face were shock and…not exactly fear, but definite caution.
"No time to dally," Brom snapped. "Go, ride her. And this time stay in the air, no matter what happens to me. I'll head south. Fly nearby; I don't car if Saphira's seen."
As the boy and the dragon took off, the man looked at his new partner-in-crime. She had a slim and lady-ish, but strong, figure, was perhaps a little shorter than Eragon, and had a face that, despite its loveliness, had obviously seen some hard times, especially with those drilling eyes. He would have to keep a close eye on her until he was able to find out who she was and her purpose.
"Can you ride well enough, my lady?" No matter what his thoughts were, he was somehow provoked to speak to the tagalong with some respect.
She seemed to be fuming at the questioning of her abilities, but his respect for her grew a little when, instead of ranting like a common housewife, she nodded curtly, saying with an all-too-familiar accent,
"I can ride as far as you will."
Jerking his head in affirmation, Brom took off, galloping down the road, away from Leona Lake and into rocky territory until a thunderstorm forced Saphira to land due to the wind. Brom didn't try to stem his wave of curses and, strangely, the woman didn't try to stop him either.
From there, they traveled on the ground through the wind and dirt whipping at their faces. Again, he noticed that the girl simply took it in stride.
Several hours of this dreary work passed until the winds finally died down considerably and the stars appeared in the sky, whereupon the group traveled away from the road and made camp in the shelter of two large boulders and several shaggy trees. Sadly, they couldn't build a fire due to the light being seen by the Ra'zac; so, upon digging out their rations of cold food, the runners turned their attention to the stranger, who again portrayed the experience of a traveler by her simple collection of jerky, a shriveled apple, and a dry chunk of bread rather than some attempt at extravagance. Thanks to Saphira's forthcoming nature, he already knew what had happened to Eragon in the cathedral.
"So, miss," Brom gruffly began, settling himself against one of the boulders as the younger adventurers stared at the girl, clearly in their own world of conversation, "now that we're not fleeing for our lives, for the moment… Who are you and why did you follow us?"
With her legs crossed as she leaned her head back against one of the trees and her hood down, revealing a stoic face and slightly smirking mouth, the girl didn't seem quite as intimidating.
"I could give you an elaborate allusion of how I simply heard of a Dragon Rider and followed the trail of rumors, but I won't waste my energy talking; rather, I'll show you."
When the woman whispered a few ancient phrases, her appearance seemed to alter and her face became that of a kindly forty-year-old, green-eyed farm girl.
"Tricia!" Eragon exclaimed, shocked at seeing the woman who had disappeared months ago, just before he found Saphira's egg. "How did…? What…?"
She sniffed a laugh before muttering another phrase and reverting back to the dark, hardened beauty. Now, Brom recognized the clothes she was wearing. The rawhide boots, close-fitting black pants, a stiff, around-the-waist laced corset that was apparently more for support and protection than fashion and constriction, and a white linen shirt that widened at the sleeves and almost didn't reach the level of modesty in the plunging V-neck were all recognizable from Tricia's peculiar wardrobe. They just looked a little different when they were actually on a thin, shapely woman.
"This is my true form. The other is merely a magical illusion, as Brom well knows. You probably understand now why I avoided you for so long."
The former Rider grunted in dissatisfaction prior to speaking again.
"Apparently you know that we both are users of magic, but the question is: how long have you known? And who are you really? Are you perhaps a rogue elf?"
A dangerous glint showed in those frightening eyes. They weren't particularly large to make them stand out; they were just…there. Like a ghost, she moved her luxurious curls out of the way to reveal delicate round ears.
"I am no elf, Brom. See, my ears are round, my shape is not that of a stick, and my eyes do not resemble that of a cat." But her poise and fine features seemed to hold more than the ordinary human. "I have known that you were different almost since I arrived in Carvahall, and for who I am… Just call me Tricia for now and know that I'm not your enemy. This magnificent dragon ready to oppose the forces of evil that Galbatorix has forced upon this land for so long is enough to hold my respect. Besides, being around you, I might actually find what I'm looking for."
"Speaking of who you are and everything," Eragon put in, "in Teirm, I found a wanted sign with you in your cloak pictured on it and claiming that you were a sorceress. How are we supposed to trust you? Why are you wanted? And I thought you were going to help a friend in Surda."
So the boy was actually learning something…other than dumbly asking about the friend in Surda, which had clearly been a lie.
"I am no sorceress, lad, so don't worry your little head about that. I'm a magic-user, though not of my own design - rather my destiny. And why wouldn't the Empire want a confident magician off the streets and into its clutches? Personally, I would rather live out my life in Carvahall without bothering with magic as long as I live, but it's not meant to be. You can trust me because we have a common enemy: Galbatorix." Eragon opened his mouth again, but Brom remained silent, knowing that Tricia was no longer in a mood for answering questions. "That's all I'll tell you for now. I'm sleeping; one of you can take the watch."
With Tricia out of the talking ring as she set her sword and bow aside and laid down, Eragon turned back to his teacher.
"How did they find us?"
"One of the palace servants warned me there were spies among them. Somehow word of me and my questions reached Tabor…and through him, the Ra'zac."
"We can't go back to Dras-Leona, can we?"
"Not for a few years."
Eragon bowed his head in disappointment.
"Then should we draw the Ra'zac out? If we let Saphira be seen, they'll come running to wherever she is."
"And when they do, there will be fifty soldiers with them," Brom pointed out. "At any rate, this isn't the time to discuss it. Right now we have to concentrate on staying alive. Tonight will be the most dangerous because the Ra'zac will be hunting us in the dark, when they are strongest. We'll have to trade watches until morning."
"Right," said the boy, standing and suddenly freezing as if he saw something.
"What is it?" Brom asked from unrolling his blankets.
"I don't know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a bird."
While the men had been chatting, Saphira mentally contacted Tricia for the first time, finding the girl's mind well-fortified, if not perfectly so; regardless, she was allowed and the females proceeded to have a short conversation that began with the dragon threatening to tear Tricia to pieces if she brought harm to Eragon and continued a little more amiably.
"Why do you travel in the shadow of the Empire when you could still be living comfortably in Carvahall?" Saphira asked.
Tricia (or whatever her name really was) opened her eyes to gaze up at the dragon.
"Just like you, noble one, I have no choice, now. If I hadn't left, maybe I could have actually stayed there and lived in peace, but then I would have canceled out the reason I came there in the first place. There are some things even better than a perfect life alone," she replied cryptically.
"Was it because of me?"
"No, but I'm glad to have seen you, shining scales."
"As am I. You do know that I don't share quite everything with Eragon, right?"
"I would have expected some of that." Tricia sighed, knowing where the conversation was going. "I have the feeling that I can trust at least you, Saphira, so yes, I'll come to you if a need to talk."
"Trust me, trust my Rider."
"We'll see about that. So far, he seems like a silly farm boy with eyes wide to the world unknown. Why did you choose him anyway?"
"The same reason you choose to become a fugitive: for a chance at something better than an eternity of quiet loneliness."
Then, a twig snapped.
Before Saphira or anyone else could do anything, the two Ra'zac leapt out of the shadows and attacked. The smaller one instantly knocked Eragon unconscious and held a dagger to his throat in order to keep the dragon quiet. The larger one fell upon Brom, punching him senseless, and threw a large, heavy stick at Tricia. The woman had at least had the chance to sit up and pull a dagger from her boot in preparation to throw it before being caught off guard by the flying log and finding herself likewise incapacitated, falling face down on the ground.
The bigger creature curiously rolled the young woman onto her back to look at her face, only to hiss in surprise and leap for ropes to secure their prisoners.
Wow. Long chapter. Hope you enjoyed!
