Chapter Seven: Wyrda Vrangr
Ayel
Ayel lay on the ground, breathing slowly and gently. The grass was soft under his back, and the sound of leaves in the wind was as lulling as being sung to sleep. The trees swayed under the bright blue sky; the waning afternoon. He closed his eyes and felt fatigue dragging him down like a chain that tethered him to the realm of unconsciousness.
"Ayel! Stop lying around and get over here!"
The teen groaned. As always, he had to deal with people before he was ready. Taking his time to get up, he glumly recalled the events of that morning.
Still shaking off the throes of his nightmare, Ayel stumbled into the Hall in a sleepy haze. Jeran caught him so that the youth leaned on his neck like a crutch. "What a sorry pair the two of us are," he mumbled as they reached the long, dark oak table, step by painful step. Every one of his bruises still ached from the day before, and his stiff muscles burned in protest. The collection of welts and scrapes he commanded chafed beneath his tabard. Even his sword belt sagged, reflecting his temperament.
Already at the table sat Beq, Vaas, and Astrid. They made no motion to acknowledge he was there, but went on eating, their focus directed inward. Beq wore his ever-present poker face, but his body language made it clear he shared with Naroki (who sat a ways off, preening) a foul mood. Vaas simply brooded over his bacon and potatoes, while Astrid picked at her plate, discouraged by the coldness of her breakfast partners.
Jeran went to sit an equal distance from Ithros and Ragnar, and left Ayel to fall clumsily into his chair. Hljödhr's scabbard clinked against the floor stones. The food set out for him wasn't hot anymore, but he gladly shoveled it into his mouth – the elves prepared fine fare, and he needed the energy any way you looked at it. Absorbed in his meal, he didn't notice Opheila until she sat down across from him. Thera and she were both fresh-faced and open-eyed, appearing well rested in comparison for the others. This served as more incentive for loathing, of course.
Ayel looked up with a mouthful of eggs and met her gaze. She offered a jaunty wink, to which he returned a stony glare. The brunette shrugged and nonchalantly set upon her breakfast. More than one baleful set of eyes was on her now; it seemed, regardless of the perpetrator, most if not all of the trainees blamed her for their troubles the previous day.
Following a few moments' deathly silence, the doors to the Hall banged open with a crash that echoed more than twice. Saphira came in first, and then Eragon strode in, Solembum at his heels and Angela bustling behind them. The witch waved at Ayel, who grunted without give to pleasantry or hostility. They arranged themselves at the head of the table.
The Head Rider sat down with a great sigh, an annoyingly self-satisfied air surrounding him. He considered the motley assortment around the Hall. "Brrr!" said Eragon loudly. "I'm really feeling the love in here!"
"If you want, I can name my sword Love," Vaas grumbled.
Ayel eyed the massive, black greatsword critically. "Maybe if it were pink."
The Kull chuckled. "Ithros would never live with himself if he were." He split his mug in a toothy grin and suddenly it was back to the old game. Ayel gave him a friendly shove and was promptly knocked sideways into his toast. This broke the proverbial ice. Astrid covered her mouth, smiling, while Beq just sat there looking a bit miffed at who knows what. Opheila looked between them uncertainly, but was more or less met with a friendlier attitude. For the moment, at least, she was forgiven. The others scooted over to allow her more purchase on the table.
"All right, that's just wonderful," Eragon said sardonically. "Good thing you're not fighting anymore, because I have to pair you up for this next exercise." A collective groan from the other end of the table. "Shut up, guys! It's not that bad!"
Ayel leaned into his omelet. "Easy for him to say. That depends on the pairs," he said in a low voice.
Vaas elbowed him, which was a little like being hit with a wheelbarrow. "Quiet. Those ears of his can pick up a mutter in a full thunder of dragons, wings beating all like a force ten gale. Arya's proof enough of that."
The human grunted and rubbed his bruising shoulder, but did not respond. Meanwhile, Eragon had not stopped talking, despite apparently having been able to hear his griping.
"Somewhere within the forest below is Glaedr's Eldunarí. He is hidden in a safe place that I found yesterday afternoon. Your job is to find him." He laced his fingers in front of him.
"And cover thousands of miles of backwoods in a day?" Opheila blurted out. "Not likely!"
Eragon shot her a look. "I didn't say you were searching blind. Glaedr is using magic to emit a dowsing pulse on the mental planes. When sensed by one of your minds, it will lead you to him. I know we aren't able to sense minds over a distance, so I had the elves and Angela whip something up. Angela?"
Angela tossed back her curly hair. "With these, you'll be able to dowse for Glaedr's magical signature from miles away, if you're stupid enough to end up that far removed." She drew a bundle of cloth from beneath the table and took out three smooth river stones. "I had Blöhdgarm charm them. They'll allow you to tap into a collective expansion that covers the whole forest. You'll have to concentrate hard to follow the pulse once you find it, but it can only be followed once you sense it in certain locations – I call them pivot points." She snapped her fingers and a tapestry fell away on the wall behind her. It revealed a map of the surrounding areas. "I've marked them each with x. Which is odd, really. Why does x always mark the spot? Why didn't the map-makers use something else to remember where buried treasure was, like a zombie canary or a-"
"Anyway," said Eragon, racing to cut her off before she started another rant. "You'll have to find the pivot points and follow the pulse from there. I realize we're not even enough to pair off, so one of you will need to go with Angela. I'm to stay here with the dragons. Any volunteers?"
Silence. Ayel was a little scared of the witch and didn't fancy being stuck in the forest with her – after all, she might start talking to him about girls again. He fancied the others had some kind of deterrent as well, because they looked down at their plates and mumbled. Angela laughed. "I won't bite, kiddos."
Astrid shrugged and raised a timorous hand. Predictable of her. Always the nice one. Though whether she's being nice to Angela or to us, I don't know. The herbalist returned a wide smile.
"Goldilocks! Oh, we're going to have so much fun!" She cackled rather disturbingly.
Eragon clasped his hands together. "Ooooooookay. Now, I'm pairing you based on sensory ability. One of you will handle the dowsing stone, while the other will protect and guide them so they don't trip over a root or run into a briar patch while they're concentrating." He moistened his lips and considered for a moment. "Vaas, you'll be with Beq. That leaves Opheila with-"
"I knew it!" Angela whispered loudly.
"-Ayel. Take your stone and get going whenever you want." He sat back in his chair. "You dragons, Saphira and I are going to run you some flight and battle drills. Meet us at the roost in ten minutes."
Vaas and Beq got up and left right away after Beq had grabbed the stone. Astrid and Angela hung around because Angela was chatting about something to do with a murderous rabbit that ripped out the throats of wandering dwarves. After shooting him a helpless look, Astrid led the herbalist out and passed from his sight. Ayel stood up resignedly, only to find that Opheila had gotten the dowsing stone already and, having been standing behind him, they had an awkward moment of collision where they both almost fell to the floor.
"Sorry."
"Watch where you're stepping! That was my toe!"
Ayel bristled. "I'm not on your toe! Unless it's made of solid rock."
"Can't you ever be careful about anything?" She threw her bangs away from her face and jabbed a finger at his nose. "Nothing about you tracks! It's like you cause bad luck wherever you go. I'm surprised the whole castle isn't in pieces…"
"If you're speaking of bad luck," Ayel said politely. "I would like to point out that we're leaving late." He gestured at the door with an open hand.
Opheila looked like she was considering punching him, but settled for storming out the door. Her frizzy hair whipped him in the face as she went by, the stone clutched in her fist so tightly that it occurred to him she was probably imagining it was his skull. It also occurred to him that the stone ought to have been crushed by now. That girl had a grip.
He scratched the back of his head, sighed, and ambled out the door.
Back in the present, Ayel hauled himself reluctantly to his feet. The grass withered under his fingers. Around him, birds could be heard calling to each other, and the breeze seemed to carry echoing whispers as if the trees themselves were, too. The sunlight shining around him was filtered through leaves and branches, almost giving the glow of its rays a green tint.
"Ayel!"
Oh. Right. Appreciating this view was one thing. The other one… well, Opheila was nicely irritated.
And annoyingly beautiful. As always.
But that was beside the point. Right now Ayel had to keep her from killing him. "All right, what's the hurry?" he said, grudgingly drawing closer.
His partner was bent over the dowsing stone, eyes closed. She'd tied back her hair like normal, but it was slipping through the haphazard knot she'd made. Like Ayel himself, she wore the uniform Eragon had come up with: blue canvas pants, a green tunic backed with mail, and dark brown boots made of cloth stiffened with resin. Each uniform had to be tailored specifically, having a dwarf, two human boys, and a girl in the freshman class. Vaas declined to wear the uniform, seeing as Urgals liked to go about in different kinds of clothing. For today, both trainees had forsaken their outer armor, which consisted of a series of metal plates attached to leather sheets that had to be strapped on in a complicated pattern, but in the end allowed ease of movement as well as comfort and protection of essentials.
Now Opheila opened her eyes. "I sense him," she said. "We're not too far off. Good thing I memorized the pivot points, huh?"
"I still don't get how you managed that so fast." Ayel yawned.
She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm a special girl. Now, let's get moving, shall we?" Straightening, she offered him her elbow.
Ayel blinked.
"Take my arm so I don't fall, you idiot."
Ayel had a moment of recognition; shrugged.
"Ayel…"
He rushed forward. Approaching from her left, (she was holding the stone in her right hand), Ayel took her by the forearm with his right hand and the wrist with his left hand, which she held so she could lean on it with the heel of her hand for support. He was only an inch or two taller than her, but he had to hunch just a little to make height, so she could lean into him. They sat there for a moment.
"Well, don't drag it out. Are we looking?"
Opheila gave a little jump. "Oh…. yeah. Sorry." She closed her eyes after a beat. It was almost as if her cheeks were turning pink with concentration. Then, "Left."
Ayel went left, taking care to lead her carefully.
So it went on for a while as they followed the trail of magical energy. The forest floor proved treacherous to the blind, full of roots and rocks and cutting-grass. How many times did we slip up? Ayel would say to Jeran later. Well, there was the time I went right when she was trying to turn around, and we ended up in an abandoned fox den. Then there was the fox den that wasn't abandoned. There was the hornet's nest – we weren't stung, thankfully, but we nearly killed ourselves getting away – oh, and then by the lake, when she got so mad and gave me this black eye. I still don't see what's wrong with a little seaweed, but there you go.
The hours wavered, and by late afternoon Ayel was convinced they were lost, while Opheila insisted they were hot on the trail yet.
"Do you really think it'll be all the way out here?" he asked. The two were, by his reckoning, several miles out from the castle and its fjord. They were bruised, scratched up, newly drying off, and he had a nice shiner forming over his right eye socket. Incidentally, Opheila's knuckles, which briefly had stopped holding his left hand and promptly returned to it when she almost fell into the lake again, were slightly scraped.
"Eragon can run flat out for miles on end. Do you really think it's going to be twenty yards from the front door?" Despite the terse statement, Ayel sensed that the lake was forgiven. He'd saved her arse enough times out here anyhow.
"Fine." The path they were following was relatively clear, so he tried to study her expression. Her eyes were still closed, but not tight – they were shut gently, confident, serene. Every few seconds, her eyelashes would flutter as she took a breath. With mild surprise, he noticed she had freckles, just a few on her cheekbones and across the bridge of her nose. She was also biting her lower lip. All in all, the picture of someone deep in concentration – or someone good at acting like it, anyway.
"Could you not do that?" she said suddenly,
Ayel almost tripped over his own feet. Then he almost tripped over hers. By the time he'd righted them both, his mouth had the time to form a single word: "What?"
"Stare at me. And don't say you're not, because I can tell you are. Your eyes are so intense, I can practically feel them from here."
No deflection of her accusation occurred to him, so Ayel went for the rebuttal that changed the issue. Not saying it wasn't his favorite choice, either. "Hang on." he stopped both of them walking; grinned. "Are you saying you think my eyes are intense?"
"Oh, that's rich. You know that's not what I-" she broke off. "Wait a minute. I lost it." Her eyes opened. "I last felt it… no, that can't be right." she let go of him and ran off – in a direction they hadn't even come from.
"Opheila!" The trees had already engulfed her. She was invisible, shrouded by their congregating forms. "Opheila, wait!" He cursed. "That's not the way we- oh, slugger!" The curse flew out of his mouth like he used it all the time, even though he wasn't familiar with it. Not that I can remember, anyway. Without pausing to consider it, he went after her.
After a few seconds, he saw her standing with her back to him through the foliage. She was looking at something. "Ayel… come look."
"What were you thinking? I could have told you the way we came from!"
"Sssh!" She whirled around and jammed her finger to his lips. "Look around you."
When she released him, he took a step back where it was safe. "Why are we whispering?"
"Look." She pointed at where she'd been looking earlier. A cluster of trees stood between them and a drop into a small hollow. On the right, many of the trees were bent and ripped to shreds. What looked like claw marks scored into the ground below and trailed off over the edge.
"Whoa." He moved closer to the damage.
Opheila was behind him, but much closer now. "Do you think – one of the dragons –"
"No," Ayel said quickly. "This creature was smaller. And check the trees: no scorch marks. I'm betting…" he saw a greenish liquid collecting on the stump of a tree that had had its trunk ripped in half. "Here we go." Walking over, he ran his finger through the liquid, tasted it, spat. "Fanghur. It's injured." He turned back to her. "Do you want to take a look?"
She nodded. "Yes. Stay down and move slowly." Passing in front of him, she led him through the gorse thicket and into the hollow. It was almost foggy, and rocks cropped up every which way. They crouched behind one of them, looked up. The trees loomed over the rim of the indentation in the ground, hemming them in. Ayel glanced up over the top of the rock.
Across the hollow, lying almost in the middle, was a Fanghur. Its eyes were shut, and its wings were draped over its body. Green blood seeped out from underneath the wing on top. Snaggleteeth poked out of its scaly lips. Its snout was squashed, like a pug's, and its skin had ridges and folds as if it had once been fat. Compared to a dragon, this thing is butt-ugly.
Opheila stood up. "We should see if we can heal it."
Ayel nodded. Fanghur were hostile predators, but mercy wasn't something he held exclusively when lives were on the line. Besides, the animal appeared to be suffering a great deal. It wasn't until Opheila stepped on a twig and it snapped like a shattering boulder that he realized how dangerous it still was.
A pair of yellow eyes flew open, and the Fanghur let loose a feral growl. It lifted the wing and rolled to a hunting crouch. Its wound was visible. Ayel's mouth fell open.
The skin on its ribs seemed to have been grafted with a black, ooze-like substance, appearing as body tissue but obviously foreign. The material was shivering, as if it drew breath, and it seemed to eat away at the Fanghur's flesh – the blood trickled out near the spiderweb lines of the patchy darkness.
In an instant Ayel knew what he beheld. It was death. It was poison. It was destruction and ruin.
It was the parasite that had razed his homeland and whose host had killed his father.
The infected Fanghur lunged. Opheila's shortsword rang out of its sheath, glimmering silver in the waning sunlight. She hacked at it, and its head snapped back, poised, calculating. It feinted, as if to lunge again, and then pivoted and struck at her with its back leg.
Had Opheila been holding her shield, there would have been less danger, but she had left it at the castle so it wouldn't burden her. Instead the gnarled claws snatched at her left arm, narrowly missing a blow that would have stripped the flesh from her bones. The beast twitched, about to strike again, but that was around the time Ayel brought down Hljödhr on its knobbly ankle. The enchanted sword cleaved through muscle, sinew and bone like it was nothing. A bleeding stump sprayed foul liquid in his face, pus and blood plasma and who knew what else. He was blinded for a moment, and a wing swept him out of the way and into a rotting tree stump. The impact sent a jolt of sharp pain up his spine.
Opheila immediately attacked from the other side, cutting the wing off at the shoulder. She then riposted and plunged her blade into the black mass. It parted for her, but flapped in the wind, reaching up at her skin.
"Opheila, get back!" Ayel yelled, leaping forward and ducking into a roll. He jarred his shoulder, then tumbled into her legs, knocking her away from the disease. He flicked away a few strands that followed them with his blade, and then jumped back as the Fanghur flailed, screeching louder than he ever thought possible. The sound pricked at his ears, and simultaneously a desperate attack was mounted on his mind. He grabbed his head and tried to fend it off, blocking out the noise. It lasted a second or two longer, and then it faded.
He dodged a searching foot, swiped, cut off a few claws. Then he put his sword through the membrane of its wing. That devilish scream tore at his mind, and then… a sudden silence.
Ayel looked at the Fanghur. A silver wedge jutted out of the top of its head. As he watched, the blade slid out and its neck, no longer supporting it, failed, letting its empty skull hit the ground. Opheila was on the other side of it, panting, unsteady on her feet. She let her sword clatter to the ground, and collapsed to her knees.
"Opheila?" She didn't answer. Feeling himself on the verge of mimicking her, Ayel decided that if he was going to fall, he was going to fall forward. He dragged his way over to her and pulled himself into a sitting position beside her. She had swung her knew forward and was sitting now, too.
"Why did you push me?" was the first thing she said.
"Huh?"
"I had its weak spot, and you pushed me away. Why?"
"Oh. I…" He thought for a second, still disjointed and sharp with adrenaline. "I thought I recognized that – that blackness. If it was what I thought, you wouldn't have lasted a second longer. Not as yourself anyway." He looked for it on the body of the Fanghur, but it was mysteriously gone, leaving only the open wound it had created.
"What is it?" She seemed to have caught her breath, but was leaning heavily on his shoulder. The one he'd hurt while rolling to get to her.
Ayel gritted his teeth but didn't mention it. "It's a parasite. An intelligent disease that infects and assimilates. There's a long story. If we've really found it, I only want to tell it once. Which means we should be getting back."
Opheila nodded. "Come on. Help me up. I think I dislocated my elbow when I stabbed it. I was expecting more resistance." She slung her uninjured arm over his shoulders, and they stood up to walk out, trying not to look at the dead Fanghur as they went.
When Astrid ran in and told everyone that they were back, at first, Eragon was prepared to be ticked off at them for being late. It was almost sundown, after all, and Angela and Astrid had found the egg ages ago. Even Vaas and Beq had shown up earlier, with an impressive collection of hornet stings and porcupine quills in their skin, as well as badly wounded prides. However, when he saw Ayel half-carrying Opheila medic style up the dirt path, and the Fanghur blood on their swords, he knew something was up.
Once Angela had cleaned the two up, put the girl's elbow in a sling, and bandaged a truly nasty black eye (He must have run into a tree or something to get that one.), he asked about it.
They told him.
It did not seem like good news.
