Daughter of the Forsworn

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Six: Warning and Secrets

Muirgen kept silent the entire way as Brom and Eragon were riding through the great forest. She could still see her aunt's dead body lying in front of her and her uncle attacking her with a knife. Tears sprung into her eyes as she thought about it. In her entire life, Niall had never once laid a hand on her, even in discipline. He had ignored her most of her life, had rarely paid attention to her, but he had never once hit her. A knife went beyond that.

She had told her aunt that she would always think of her and Niall with fond memories and that they were her parents, in every sense of the word. But how could she believe that now? Margery was dead, just like her birth mother, and her uncle . . . Niall had tried to kill her, to turn her over to the empire and the King.

The only mother that I've ever really known is dead, Muirgen thought miserably, and the only father that I've ever known tried to kill me. Things are never going to be the same again.

Eragon looked at her over his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. Brom, who was riding ahead, didn't hear them.

Muirgen nodded mutely, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. "I think so," she answered. "I don't know. It's just . . . I can't really think straight right now. Everything has happened so quickly and . . ." She sighed. "I'm not sure where to go."

He gave a weak smile and nodded. "I know," he agreed. "My uncle was killed, too. Brom came and got me and we were on our way away from Carvahall when he suddenly said that we needed to come back for you. I don't know why he knew, but he did." He paused. "I'm Eragon."

"Muirgen," she answered with a weak smile. Her smile slipped when she caught sight of his hand as it collected the reigns, fastening on the symbol that appeared on there. Swindling her head to look at him, she asked, "You're a Rider?"

"My dragon's somewhere around here," Eragon said by way of explanation. "Her name is Saphira."

Thinking back to the day that she had first laid eyes on him, the same day that she had found Diathí's egg, she shook her head. Since that day, she had become a Rider, her uncle had tried to force her into a marriage that she didn't want, she had found out about her birth mother, her aunt had been killed and her uncle had tried to kill her.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asked suddenly, glancing ahead as Brom slowed to a stop.

Eragon shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine," he responded. Night had started to descend on the horizon and it looked like they were starting to make camp.

"Where's that overgrown lizard of yours, girl?" Brom asked as Eragon helped her climb down from the horse.

Muirgen felt her skin prickle as his hand touched hers. Automatically, her heart started beating faster than its usual rate. He smiled at her, his blue eyes focused on her green ones.

"I don't know where he is," Muirgen answered Brom. She looked around for Diathí, but no silver streak lit the sky. "Don't worry, Diathí always knows when to find me. He's never not come whenever I needed him before." She held her gaze stubbornly as Brom scowled.

"You're very calm about the well-being of your dragon, young lady," he reprimanded. He paused. "Diathí, is it? Adequate for a young dragon. It means "swift," you know."

Muirgen smiled dryly. "Oh, I know. And the name is Muirgen, by the way. Not girl or young lady. Muirgen."

Brom shook his head, obviously annoyed with her correction. "I know that, girl. Now, call for your dragon, both of you. It's going to be a long journey until we reach the Beor Mountains. We're going to need our rest." He sighed. "It's been a long day."

"It's Muirgen," she grumbled, green eyes blazing at the old man. She suppressed a sigh as she cast her eyes towards the sky. Diathí, where are you? Can you find us?

I'm on my way, the reply came. Muirgen looked up as she saw a sapphire blue dragon starting to make her approach down towards them, followed by her own silver one.

Muirgen looked at Eragon. "I take it this is Saphira?" she asked curiously. The blond Rider nodded as she bowed courteously to Saphira, not knowing what else to do. She could sense amusement, but approval from both dragons. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Saphira."

It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Dragon Rider, Saphira's mind touched hers the way that Diathí could, but it was different than the way that she spoke with her own dragon. Muirgen couldn't exactly explain it, but it felt different than the way that she spoke with Diathí. Saphira felt different than the silver dragon. Diathí has spoken to me about you. He's very fond of you. Although from the way that he spoke, I was expecting someone a little taller.

Making a face at the reference of her short height, Muirgen shook her head. Well, I'm glad he's fond of me, because I am of him, too. Shaking her head, she looked at the silver dragon, who was very amused by this conversation. What exactly have you been telling her about me?

Nothing, Diathí said innocently. Muirgen shook her head, not believing him for a second, as she moved to go help Brom with the stew that he was making.

She shifted uncomfortably when she felt Eragon's blue gaze on her, but when she turned around to look at him, she saw that he had turned quickly away, removing his gaze from her.

What are you looking at? Diathí said slyly. Muirgen glared at him, her cheeks flushing furiously, but turned around back around.

Nothing, she replied, mimicking his tone when she'd asked him what he'd told Saphira about her. Absolutely nothing.

--

Daughter of Celandine.

Muirgen's eyelids fluttered open when she heard the soft voices that had let her to Diathí's egg. With a groan, she pushed herself upward, looking around at the campsite, where Eragon and Brom were still lying asleep. Diathí and Saphira were both on the ground, their snoring almost loud enough to knock down the trees around them.

"All right," she muttered, annoyed with the voices. "I'm up. What do you want?" She didn't really want to hear them anymore; apart from them leading her to Diathí's egg, they hadn't been much help. They couldn't have warned her about what would happen with Aunt Margery or that Uncle Niall was going to try and kill her. Besides, she didn't want to listen to anybody who didn't have the decency to tell her who they were.

You must leave immediately, daughter of Celandine. Danger is lurking near you. Rise the storyteller and the son of Selena. You must all leave immediately, before everything you wish to accomplish falls to ruin.

I don't understand. Who are you, anyway? What are you? Muirgen looked around for the source of the voices, but they had grown still and silent.

Silently cursing them, Muirgen scrambled to her feet, going over to the men and shaking them both awake. "We have to go," she said hurriedly. Diathí's head rose as she spoke and he regarded her worriedly. Brom grumbled in his sleep, trying to divert her attempts to rouse him. "We have to go now."

"Muirgen, what's going on?" Eragon asked sleepily, opening one blue eye to look at her.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "But we have to get out of here before it's too late."

Something in her voice must've told him that they didn't have much time, because in five minutes, Brom had been successfully roused and they were safely away. Neither one of them made any questions or comments about her warnings until midday, when they had stopped for lunch.

Brom came over to her and Eragon, his face grave as he regarded Muirgen. "I think you should see this, girl," he said, motioning her to follow him. Muirgen got to her feet and followed the storyteller, Eragon right behind her, as he led them to the very edge of the cliff. "Look over there," he said, pointing towards a clearing. "That clearing in the wood there? It's been near destroyed; you can see where it's been torn up and set on fire. You can see the smoke from here."

Indeed, Muirgen could see the smoke rising from the trees as she watched the wood, an uneasy feeling rising through her chest. Slowly, she turned around, looking at Brom. "That's it, isn't it?" she asked. "Where we were?"

Brom nodded, not removing his gaze from her. "There's something very strange about you, Muirgen of Carvahall," he told her quietly. "Even for a Dragon Rider. How did you know that something was going to happen back there?" He was looking at her intently. Even Eragon looked at her know.

Careful, Diathí warned her, overhearing the conversation. We don't know exactly what these voices are. We don't know whether they are good or evil.

Which is exactly why we've got to tell them, Muirgen replied before plunging into the story of the voices and how they had led her to Diathí's egg and how they had warned her about the danger. She conveniently decided not to mention to them about the part the voices had said about the daughter of Celandine and son of Selena riding and fighting together. Something along those lines.

Brom shook his head when he was finished. "I can't for the life of me understand why these voices would lead you to the egg—or even who or what they are," he added, seeing her about to ask. "They could be some Elves, but somehow, I don't think so."

Muirgen shook her head. "No, I didn't think so, either," she admitted. "I was thinking that if I could find out some more about my mother, then I might be able to find out who they are." She looked up at Brom questioningly. "You wouldn't happen to know anybody by the name of Celandine, would you?" she asked him, green eyes wide.

Brom paused, studying her carefully. "The only Celandine that I know of disappeared some time before you were born," he said at last. "No one knew where she had left and nobody ever knew what became of her."

"Well, my mother died giving birth to me, so it's possible that she hid out someplace before she reached Aunt Margery's and went into labour. Who was she?"

There was a long pause before Brom sighed, running his hands over his head. "She was a member of the Varden," he answered quietly. "A powerful ally, who was a spy in the palace, though the King believed her to be a double agent, especially when she fell in love with one of his own men."

Muirgen felt a chill travel down her spine as she stared at the storyteller. "Who was he?" she asked, while silently thinking, my father. This was my father and my mother.

"That, girl, is a story for another time," he answered simply. "You're simply not ready to hear that particular piece of information, if indeed you are right and this is the same Celandine that was your mother." He was looking at her sharply. "And I have a feeling that you are her daughter."

"How?" Muirgen frowned at him.

"Your eyes," he answered immediately. "They're the same as Celandine's; the same fey green ones she had. Now that's something that I thought I would never see."

Muirgen stared at him before looking away, staring at the place where they most certainly would have died had they stayed. "Did you know my father?' she said at long last, still not looking at him. "Did my mother ever tell you who he was?"

"She didn't have to," Brom answered. "But above everything else, she wanted to protect you from your father and who he became. I don't think that she intended for you ever to become a Rider, but who knows?" He smiled crookedly. "Perhaps your tale will be one of the strangest of them all."

Muirgen probably would have commented on this, but decided against it, noting the warning look in his eyes that clearly said that this conversation was over. As the three headed back to the camp, she felt irritation rising through her. Why can't anybody tell me what I want to know? she wondered. Why can't I just know who my parents are?

Perhaps because you are not ready for that information, child, Diathí said wisely. The truth comes to us when we are ready to hear it, never forget that.

That doesn't mean that I have to like it.