Disclaimer: I do not own Inheritance, or its characters thereof. But I do own Ildruën and the others.
"Ah! What a glorious sight to behold! People cheering on such a marvelous day, and the High Queen, proud and imperious, encircled by her friends and allies. Dwarves, Urgals, Elves, Humans, and even Werecats have come together at the height of their triumph. And this, it seems, is truly the end of the Old Age, and into the New."
—taken from Domia abr Wydra (Dominance of Fate)
The rumors had not lied.
Ilirea was beautiful; the walls, the citadel, the houses, the towers—everything was as splendid as the old men had foretold. Ildruën looked on in wonder, twisting his head until his neck became sore. He had seen when a new light sprang into the Queen's eyes, and how she had urged her cavalry onward when the city was in sight. She truly loves this place, Ildruën thought as he watched her. A Queen who protects and cherishes her country, as strongly as a mother with her brood.
Near him, the Queen had had the last assassin tied, gagged, and surrounded by magicians as he was being led to Ilirea. In the beginning, he had yelled and spat and fought as they left Dras-Leona, refusing to eat and shouting slurs whenever his gag was off. Once, he had attempted suicide by throwing himself against sharp boulders.
His behavior had worsened to the point where Nadara had her magicians drug him daily. Nevertheless, when he was in his right mind, he kept glaring at Ildruën, eyes filled with loathing. Ildruën had galloped closer to the queen in order to avoid his stare.
Ildruën could still feel his gaze bore into him from behind.
At noon, Ildruën glimpsed the glittering forms of dragons as they flew over them, small enough to be taken for birds. Nadara raised a hand, and her cavalry slowed to a stop in order to save room for the dragons. A few landed on at the side of the road just outside the city gates, frightening the horses with the wind they created. One of them, an elf, leapt off his burgundy dragon to approach the queen, twisting his hand in a strange gesture as he placed it on his sternum. "Nadara Dröttning," he said. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."*
She tilted her head in his direction. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr."
"Un du evarínya ono varda." His eyes wandered over to Ildruën, before returning to the queen's. "Your Majesty, we've heard of your . . . squabble in Dras-Leona, and have reported it to the Grand Master. Would you like us to tell him anything else?"
"No, thank you." She said. "Not until I have a talk with the council members. If you may, Dusan, contact the Rider representatives?"
"It would be an honor, my Lady." The elf bowed and climbed onto his dragon. Raising their massive wings, the magnificent beasts lifted from the ground, gorging the dirt in the process, and flew off into the east. An abrupt longing came to Ildruën; he suddenly had the urge for the skies and wind, to break free of such bindings on earth. Elva, who had been riding beside Nadara, looked at him.
The group watched their shrinking forms for a brief interval, before entering the city.
Ildruën was immediately assaulted by an overwhelming crowd of people; the city dwellers cheered and waved as they greeted their queen. Nadara nodded to them as her guards forced a way through the city. After being grabbed for, screamed at, and nearly blinded by a thorn from a thrown rose, Ildruën was able to interweave within the protection of the guards, away from the irrepressible people. He was relieved when the party finally was secured behind the safe gates of the citadel, the noise being muffled by the high castle walls.
"Your people really do love you," Ildruën said to Nadara as they unsaddled their horses. She chuckled, and instructed Ardisia to guide Ildruën to his new chambers.
As Ildruën followed Ardisia, he examined his surroundings with interest. So, he thought. This was once the lair of the Traitor. In the last two hundred years, the humans and elves had reshaped the citadel. The Usurper's things were gone, stripped by the elves and humans. Many were destroyed, Ildruën had heard, so their evil practices in magic would never be discovered again.
"Queen Nadara had sent a runner to make sure your room was ready," Ardisia stopped at a large door and using a small key, unlocking it with a satisfying click!
The doors swung open.
Ildruën peered inside, taken by the simple beauty of the room. He had his own four-poster bed, laden with fresh pillows and large enough for two, sitting between two windows that looked out into the city. To his left was his own private study, parchment and all, along with a large closet big enough to hide two large men. Ildruën smiled at the modesty the room presented. He hadn't realized before, but Ildruën perceived that the wooden on the desk was chiseled in the likeness of a dragon.
Ardisia bowed, dimples showing as she grinned. "We picked this guest room especially for you. Are you pleased?"
"Very," Ildruën whispered, feeling the smoothness of the window pane as he admired the view. "Thank you for this, Ardisia."
"Don't thank me; it was the queen who offered you this luxury in the first place. Now, when you've bathed and dressed, her Majesty would like you to be at the council room to meet the other members."
He groaned inwardly. He was still exhausted from the trip over. Hiding his fatigue behind a blank face, he said, "I'll be there."
Ildruën seated himself across from the Queen, regarding everyone there.
Long ago, when Queen Nasuada still lived, she had a courtroom fashioned outside, in order to include the dragons that wished to be present for council. After so many years, the stone chairs still stood in a circular pattern, a few yards or so apart. To Ildruën's left where a few Lords that stroked their beard's thoughtfully, trying to look serene and wise when they really weren't (Bastards, Ildruën thought) to the dwarf ambassador, a stocky little fellow, whose chair was made so his feet could touch the ground, to the elf ambassador, Vanir, who acknowledged Ildruën with a dip of his head. Towards the right of the queen (who sat in the highest backed chair), was an Urgal named Orebök, followed by the two riders present. One was an elven woman named Taelíra, the other a dwarf called Bergen. Their two dragons, Argédian and Tallôs, sat protectively behind their riders, their looming shadows casted over the council in the noonday sun.
The council members, the riders especially, looked at him curiously as he sat. The humans were the only ones that protested Ildruën's part in the council. "He is but a boy!" one thundered. "He is an outsider and ignorant of our ways!" It was only with the Queen's order that silenced them, and even then, their fury was evident when they beheld Ildruën. Like the scum at the bottom of their shoe. Ildruën grounded his teeth.
"Now," Nadara murmured as she turned to those present. "I'm aware that all of you have heard of the attempt on my life in Dras-Leona. Ildruën here," She gestured at him. "was the one that save my life. If not for him, I wouldn't be here today."
"That doesn't explain why he's here," A husky little duke said, face purpling. ". . . your Majesty."
"I would appreciate it, Uthurn," Nadara narrowed her eyes. "If you were more prudent in thoughts and actions. You know little of who would be watching and noticing."
Ildruën stifled a grin as the fat lord blanched behind his mustache and beard. Stiffly, he leaned back, glowering. "Yes . . . your royal Highness."
Nadara observed him for a moment, before continuing. "I shall answer all your questions, peoples of Alagäesia." She cleared her throat. "Later that day, I and others besides were attacked while amid a feast in Lord Fenvigur's castle. They were beings that were cloaked in black, partnered with bat-like creatures, and carried blades shaped like leaves." The people present stirred, glancing uneasily at each other. Nadara's voice was subdued, barely above a whisper. "I believe you know who I speak of."
"But that is impossible," the fat lord said again, almost sputtering. "The Ra'zac have been eradicated already, ages ago—"
"May I address the council, Nadara Dröttning?" The elf Taelíra said coolly. She inclined her head towards the Queen, her voice like music.
"You may,"
The elf stood languidly, and all, even the obese Duke, paused as they directed their attention to her. In an eloquent manner, she began: "Two hundred years ere the fall of Galbatorix, the Black King, all races had suffered in his rule. We believed that the golden age had passed into the void, and that peace would never again reign in Alagäesia. But my race, which is of the oldest and wisest, did not foretell the rise of a rider—the rider, it seems, that gave us what we've yearned for all those years ago." Her lilting voice enthralled all the heard it; she turned slowly to regard each council member. Last of all, she faced Ildruën, and still staring at him, she said, "His name is Eragon Shadeslayer, the first rider of the new age, and the greatest of them all. He rose from but a farm boy to the deadliest warrior this land has ever known—companion of the dwarves (she nodded to the dwarves present), friend of the elves, humans, Werecats, and Urgals. Had we thought it possible? Had we thought him to be victorious? . . . No, we did not; however, the outcome was beyond our dreams. If this—"she extended her long arms towards the rest of the council, "was possible, then why not the Ra'zac? Why not them?"
It had grown deadly quite; not even the wind or birds moved. After a pause, Nadara was the first to stir amongst silent council. "Thank you, Taelíra."
The elf bowed and sat, only to be replaced by Vanir as he abandoned his chair. "My lords and ladies, shall I show you my memories of this attack?"
After all have given their acceptance, Vanir closed his eyes. Ildruën and the Queen were the only ones that remained unaffected as the memories were channeled through Vanir to the other members. Their each shared similar reactions on their faces—those of shock and revulsion. After a moment, it passed. Taelíra nodded, as though expecting it, while the dragons arched their long necks and hissed in distaste.
For the next few hours, the council discussed appropriate actions they should take against the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka. Although many gave their theories on what to do, they weren't very helpful and only threw the meeting into deeper works of frustration. Nadara finally dismissed the members, thanking them for their time, but Ildruën noticed the evident strain in her face and movements, and knew that she was just as tired as he was.
Ildruën stayed behind with Nadara when she beckoned to him. "Meet me tomorrow in my study. I wish to give you an assignment to do."
"Which is?" he asked.
"Not now. If I guess, you're as weary as I. Tomorrow, when we're refreshed and in our right minds, I will tell you." He did not argue with her, relieved to be able to avoid work. And so Ildruën bid her farewell and went off to his own room. But as he walked down the corridor near his chambers, Ildruën stiffened when he noticed that his doors were slightly ajar, and slight sounds and creaks coming from within.
Hand fingering his dagger, Ildruën tiptoed cautiously toward his door, prepared for danger. One hand reaching out to swing open his door, he was met with complete darkness. As he crept into his room, as quiet as a thief, he noted the moonlight spilling through his windows, bathing his furniture with cool silver. He pressed himself against the wall, away from view, dagger lowered so it wouldn't reflect light. He caught himself breathing shallowly, and cursed.
Careful, he thought to himself. Relax, relax. You've been through similar scenarios, Ildruën. He took deep breaths, and crept towards his study, where the noises originated.
A dark form of a man was shown hunched before Ildruën's desk, rummaging through his belongings. Tightening his hold on his dagger, Ildruën lunged forward, mouth set in a snarl.
The man must've had wards, though, for there was a ring of alarm near his ear, and the man spun around, hand reaching to the knife at his belt. Ildruën gasped as the dim light spilled onto the man's face. He had to brace himself against the wall to avoid falling.
"You!" he said.
"You!" Lord Uthurn cried. The plump lord sheathed his dagger. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, moustache quivering.
"That's my line," Ildruën growled, jamming his blade into its scabbard. "The question is: what are you doing in my room?"
The Lord shifted uneasily, licking his dry lips, his pig-like eyes darting to the door over Ildruën's shoulder. "Just . . . err, looking for something."
"In my chambers?" Scoffing, Ildruën crossed his arms. "My, I would've thought you were already fat enough with riches. Now you're wishing to steal from the less fortunate?"
The lord's face went beet-red. "How dare you, peasant!" Uthurn seethed. "To speak so rudely to your masters!"
"Masters?" Ildruën laughed harshly. "I have no masters, and certainly not such a incompetent as you."
The duke snarled, displaying a row of rat-like teeth. "Be careful, boy, if you know what's good for you. If you weren't protected by the precious Queen, I would've slayed you on the spot. And I promise, it'll be a slow, painful death." Belly jiggling, he wobbled past Ildruën, shoving him purposely as he made for the door. Ildruën scowled, but stayed where he was until he heard the crash of the door banged shut. Muttering underneath his breath, he proceeded forward and studied the things Uthurn was looking through. The moment he did, however, Ildruën paled, and, arms trembling, slammed his fist against the desk. "Damn!"
He stole it! Ildruën raged. He clenched the table edge with his fingers until his knuckles turned white, still shaking from head to foot. How could I let him get away with it? How could I've been so stupid? Fuming, he bit his lip until it hurt, as he tried to calm his breathing. Once he did, Ildruën stiffly, and very quietly repacked his belongings, hiding them underneath his desk. I won't go back and retrieve it, he thought.
. . . I cannot. It'll raise too much suspicion, even if I tried. And with a rat like Uthurn around, it'll be difficult to even maneuver around here without raising alarm. Slumping against his bed, Ildruën lay down and closed his eyes, too tired to change clothes. It was well into night before he drifted to sleep.
Sweating profusely, Duke Uthurn leaned against a tree, holding his fleshy stomach. I . . .must . . .rest. He wheezed; each heartbeat pained him. He hadn't had this much exercise in years, and feared that if he continued, his poor heart couldn't take the strain. Huffing, he covered himself again with his cloak, gazing up at the moon as he watched the clouds drift past it. Almost . . . there.
Nearly gasping for air, he stumbled down the trail again, the long branches of trees reaching out to the midnight sky, as though eager to catch a star within their claws.
As the lord passed a tree, he felt the shadow beside him stir. He flinched, only to have a hand reach out from the darkness and grab in by the front. "Well?" The Ra'zac demanded, breath reeking of fresh meat and blood. "Do you have it?"
The Duke bowed, presenting a dagger from his pocket. "I have, my Lord, as you requested."
The Ra'zac reached out greedily towards the knife, only to screech as its hand broke out in terrible burns. It yanked back its fingers, nursing them against its torso. The darkness wavered again as a second Ra'zac appeared. It placed a hand on its companions shoulder, and they exchanged a series of odd clicks. The Duke watched them nervously, glancing at the sky every few seconds. He crouched and placed the dagger on the ground, wrapping it in a thick cloth. "Well . . ." the duke said, edging away. "If that is all . . ."
"Wait," The Ra'zac said, and its voice made the duke freeze, like a cornered wolf. "You have served us well, slave, but our bargain is not yet complete."
"You must first have the boy tell us of Shadeslayer." The other Ra'zac hissed with detest. "He must not live any longer."
The duke stammered. "Understood,"
The first Ra'zac lifted its other hand, talon an inch away from Uthurn's petrified eyes. "If you do not put your end of our deal, we will eat you for supper and leave your bones for the crows. Remember this."
The duke nodded hastily, and bringing up his robes, all but fled back towards Ilirea, to the queen he once served, and to the one person that could unravel his future and doom.
Chapter Notes:
*—May good fortune rule over you/Peace live in your heart/and the stars watch over you