Look! Look! I'm back! I'm really back—in less than a month! Somebody call Guinness because this is a record! (Ha, you all thought I meant Guinness the beer. Well, I didn't, but feel free to call them too.) I am amazed that I still have some faithful readers/reviewers out there. Have some kisses! (They can be the chocolate kind if you still have a deathly fear of cooties). I must personally address those kissed reviewers:
Adriannrod: Huh huh…..I know it's been more than two weeks, but I would really like to live. Maybe the kisses convinced you not to have me done in. Or maybe this chapter will….. :)
Eagle's daughter: I hope the suspense hasn't killed you yet. That would be sad. Here's some Katrina/Sloan action for you. (Btw—you're the one who motivated me to actually get this chappie done! Congrats!)
Twilight alchemist: Those cyber cookies were GOOD! Chewie, just like I like 'em! Gracias!
Favilla Lupa: Yay-a new person! Welcome to my crazy world: may you never leave it! Thanks for reading & keep it up!
SickIntentions: Well, I'm glad you didn't totally give up hope on me. See, I come through occasionally!
When she woke up, she felt fully rested. She yawned, pulling the covers up to her chin. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she noticed that Cartive was snoozing alone in his bed: Eragon was gone. She looked around the room, but he wasn't there. She carefully got out of bed, trying not to disturb Albrien from his sleep. Once free of the warm covers, she dug through her bag to find a fresh shirt and breeches. She went into the small privy room and changed into them. With an inner moan, she put on the cloak and went out of the room, making sure she had a dagger hanging at each hip.
The tavern was empty of all but a plump woman with tousled hair, sweeping under one of the circular tables. She yawned and paused in her sweeping to lean again a sturdy wooden chair. Lavidatia had always moved naturally silent, so she surprised the woman when she said, "Good morning". She had her voice disguised as Eragon had taught her, making it an airy whisper.
The woman jumped and gasped, her broom clattering to the floor. She blinked at Lavidatia like a startled deer.
"Sorry to scare you," Lavidatia apologized. "But I am looking for one of my companions. He is tall and wearing a cloak like mine, and I can't seem to find him. Might you have seen him?"
The woman nodded, blinking erratically. "He went out early this morning, uh…milady."
Lavidatia was not used to be called a respectful title. In Cithri, when people didn't know or care to use her name, they simply said, "Hey you, girl" or "come here purple freak". She brushed off the title with a slight bow of her head.
"Did you happen to see which direction he went?"
The woman nodded, pointing north. "He went off down the road that way, milady."
Lavidatia nodded in thanks, and extended her hand. The woman flinched, as though expecting a slap or the like. She looked stunned when she saw a coin in the soft palm in front of her.
"For your help," Lavidatia said soothingly. Eragon had given her a purse of coins soon after she had been chosen, saying she'd need it sooner or later. No matter how many times she'd refused it, he'd continue to pester her. So she had finally taken it, determined to use it for this kind of situation.
The woman slowly took the coin, inhaling quickly when she touched Lavidatia's skin. Unknown to Lavidatia, the power coursing through her veins was sometimes a palpable thing, and the woman felt it. She had heard stories of great powers throughout history, and these stories of power were the only thing she could relate the thing under this stranger's skin to.
After the contact was broken, Lavidatia gave a friendly nod and went quietly out the door, unaware of the woman watching her with awe as she walked away. Cold morning air found its way inside her hood, and she let it shock her skin. She walked down the street, looking around her. The town was not yet awake; a few wives were carrying buckets of water out to dump in their gardens or bringing wood inside for the morning cooking. She walked near a group of millers on their way to Therinsford for a time, aware that they kept glancing at her and whispering. She badly wanted to take off her hood, but she knew if she did that she'd attract more attention than was wanted. Eventually the millers turned off the road, and she continued on, once again alone. The houses became scarcer and scarcer, until there were none at all. The road narrowed and soon there was only one pair of footprints in the dirt. Lavidatia knew whose these were and followed them.
Soon she could see a small wood ahead, and to the left of it, flat fields of a farm. Indeed, there was a small house squatting in the middle of the fields: a farmhouse. A chimney poking out of the thatched roof was belching smoke, and she could see lights on in the windows. But that was all she could see, because she was still far away from it. Then, just as the trail curved to parallel the woods, she froze. Something inside of her was humming a warning, and her entire body was tense with it. She knew without a doubt she was being followed. She sprang into the nearest tree like a cat, swinging to the next and then to the next with ease. Once she had backtracked fifteen feet or so in the branches, she crouched and watched the trail. If whatever was on her tail was dangerous, she had her daggers at her hips and her magic in her fingertips. It had a surprise in store for it if it thought she would be easy prey.
Sure enough, after a few minutes of silent waiting, she could hear hushed voices. Next came the sound of footfalls in the dirt. By the sound of it, her trackers were numerous. She held still as a statue as they came into view. And then, aggravation and relief spread through her at once. There were five cloaked figures walking along, grumbling at the hour. She watched them pass under her with a smile, knowing she was going to enjoy this.
They paused at the point where her footprints stopped in the middle of the trail. She had purposely left no sign of her flight into the tree, and now she was glad she had done so. The five men became confused as they stared at the tracks, looking forward and backwards.
"Where'd she go?" Lavidatia heard one ask, and knew it was Clojen.
"Look, Eragon went on," said Mirino.
"Yes, but where did she go?" Albrien asked, puzzlement in his voice.
"Could she have flown?" Cartive asked.
"On what?" Venil responded. "Dragons always leave huge prints when they land. Besides, I checked with them this morning: all the dragons are in the Spine."
"Well, she can't have just disappeared," Albrien said.
Lavidatia unsheathed her daggers silently, took aim, and then leapt out of the tree. She landed quietly, and had her daggers to two of their throats before they could even turn around to see what the noise had been. At the sight of the weapons, they all froze. She knew she had her daggers pointed at Venil and Cartive, and the others were alarmed at being caught off guard. Her hood had fallen off when she jumped, so she was glad their backs were turned—else her game would be over before it was half through.
"Who ever thought Riders would be so easy to kill?" she said in a hiss most unlike her own voice.
They were all tense as trapped animals. She could see Albrien's hand inching toward his hidden sword, and Mirino and Clojen balling their fists. "Who are you?" Cartive demanded through clenched teeth.
It was too much for her. Lavidatia laughed and withdrew her daggers. They spun immediately and relief and annoyance covered their faces. She sheathed her daggers and smiled at them. "You should be more careful; the hunter can easily become the hunted."
"Yes, well, the hunter isn't usually so quiet," Mirino said.
"The huntress," Lavidatia corrected with a grin. "What are you five doing up, anyway?"
"I woke up just after you left," Albrien said.
"Then he woke all of us up, and we decided to join you," Cartive finished.
"Any of us know where Eragon was going?" Venil asked, gesturing to the lead Rider's tracks.
They all shook their heads. Lavidatia smiled. "Shall we all find out?" And without waiting for an answer she carried on, and they were quickly beside her. Following her example, the five men pulled off their hoods, letting the cool morning air refresh them. They all inspected the farmhouse as they drew nearer, glancing around warily when there was no sign of Eragon. They stayed near the trees where there was shadow enough to keep them hidden should someone glance their way.
It soon became apparent that children lived at the farmhouse; a doll lay by the door, her stringy orange hair standing askew and a wooden sword was thrust into a bush by the wall. As if to confirm their guesses, a young boy opened the door, calling back over his shoulder before stepping outside. He scampered to the bush, claiming his weapon from it, and struck at the air a few times. At the sight of him, the Riders had sunk into the trees with practiced ease. They slunk closer when they saw he was going to be intent upon running the air through for several more minutes. Their movements were silent—just as Eragon had trained them, and soon they were close enough to the house they could have hit it with a stone.
"Godfri?" They froze at the male voice, and traded looks when a man came out after the boy. He was muscular, sturdy, older than Eragon, and he had a dagger belted at his hip. He had dark blond hair that sat atop a smiling face and a broad forehead. "Come back inside before your mother has a fit."
"Me too, me too!" came a high squeal, and a young girl burst out the door. She bypassed the doll and began heading right toward the hidden group. They tried to dart into the trees, but she was fast for one so small and had them sighted before they could even turn their backs. She stopped and stared, her eyes wide and curious.
"Marken, please go get her. Your father'll get distracted," a female voice inside the door said.
At her command, a thin boy a few years Lavidatia's senior also came outside, striding toward the frozen girl with a resigned look on his face. "Elena, what are you about now? What's got you all goggle-eyed this time?" he asked, but not harshly.
The girl was blinking at Lavidatia. "The pretty lady in the trees."
The young man snorted. "The pretty lady, huh? Is this one a queen like the last? Or is it to be an elf?" He reached the girl, and made to pick her up, but stopped dead when he saw the six of them. He first swept over the unmoving men, and then he looked at Lavidatia. His mouth opened and he couldn't take his eyes from her.
Lavidatia's mind raced. What should she do? He might call out to the man, and then there would be a chance of bloodshed if he didn't give them a chance to explain who they were. And if that happened, the dragons might come and then things would get truly ugly. The last thing she wanted was this little girl or the little boy to be injured accidentally. So, she used a move Murtagh had taught her on the slightly older boy. She grabbed his arm, spun his around, and pinned it painfully to his back before he could even gasp. Next she placed a hand over his mouth. "Let us explain before you get killed," she whispered. She could feel his surprise in every muscle of his body, but she did not give him a chance to voice that surprise.
The little girl seemed alarmed at Lavidatia's actions. She took a deep breath, and Lavidatia opened her mouth to soothe her, but she was too slow.
"DADDY!"
The shriek drew the girl's father right over, and a tall woman with auburn hair rushed out of the house with a swiftness only a mother responding to her child's call could have. Both parents froze at the sight of the young man being held by a stranger woman with five men behind her.
"Let him go," the man said threateningly. Lavidatia felt her heart sinking; this was starting to get ugly…as she'd feared. She released the young man, stepping back toward her comrades. They were tense again, ready for a fight if need be.
"We want no quarrel," Lavidatia said calmly.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, pulling his little daughter behind him.
"We seek someone," she said, keeping her voice smooth and reassuring. "Have you seen a man about, with dark hair and blue eyes perchance?"
By the narrowing of his eyes and the woman's frown, Lavidatia was sure they had seen Eragon. "What do you want with him?" the young man snapped.
At that instant, another man stepped out from the house. He began walking over, one hand on the hilt of his sword. When he saw them, Eragon looked surprised.
"Be careful, Eragon," the man warned. "They're looking for you, and I don't know who they are."
"I do though," Eragon said, stepping toward them. "What are you six doing up? It's not noon yet, you know."
They had all relaxed at the sight of their leader. If he was comfortable with these people, whoever they were, then they were not enemies. They smiled at his poking insult.
"Yes, you broke your usual lethargy, so we figured we'd best follow your example," Lavidatia retorted.
Eragon laughed. "You're the only one I could count on to have a barbed sense of humor this early, Lavidatia."
The faces of the others became shocked when he said her name. "Lavidatia?" the man questioned. "The Lavidatia you've been telling us about?"
"None other," Eragon replied with a smile, swinging his arms around Lavidatia and Venil. "May I introduce you all to my fellow Dragon Riders?"
The three adults gaped, and the little girl's eyes almost popped out of her skull. "You're a Dragon Rider?" she asked Lavidatia with awe.
Lavidatia smiled and nodded. "Newest one to date."
The woman near Eragon let out an amazed breath, a smile beginning to form on her lips. "A female Rider? Truly? That's…wonderful!"
Albrien elbowed Eragon, reminding him they had no idea who the others were. Eragon cleared his throat. "Oh, right. This is Clojen, Cartive, Venil, Albrien, Mirino, and Lavidatia. You six, this is Roran, his wife Katrina, their eldest son Marken, their daughter Elena, and their young son Godfri."
Lavidatia had heard the name Roran whispered before. Where exactly she couldn't remember, but it lurked somewhere deep in her head. "Roran….?" She asked, her brows furrowing.
Eragon smiled. "Roran, as in the cousin I grew up with."
They were all surprised and looked at the man with renewed interest. He had spent his entire life with Eragon until he had left their farm at age eighteen ….to get money to marry the woman standing next to him. Lavidatia looked more closely at Katrina. She had a calm face with a pointed nose and a daring tilt to her mouth. And she was gazing with admiration at Lavidatia, a woman at least ten years younger. She left Eragon's side and approached Lavidatia, that small smile still on her lips.
"You must come inside and have something to eat. I'd be honored to talk to you, if you'll permit."
Lavidatia gave a small laugh. "It's no honor to talk with me, I'm afraid. But you're welcome to anyway."
"Trust us," Cartive chimed. "It really isn't an honor."
Lavidatia made a face at him. "Ignore Cartive; he's jealous."
"Am not," he grumbled.
"Come inside, all of you, before I make you eat Lavidatia's cooking," Eragon said with a grin.
Lavidatia glared at him. "My cooking is not bad!"
Eragon just gave her a peeving grin and walked toward the house, the little boy scampering at his heels. Lavidatia walked between Venil and Mirino, noticing the older boy, Marken, watching her as well as the girl Elena. They went into the house together.
The room they entered was a kitchen. It was mostly of polished wood, with a simply carved table resting in the center of the floor. Down the short hall, she could see several doors, one of the open ones revealing a small bed and a little chest of toys. The whole house emanated family ties. She deeply envied Eragon that he had a place like this to come when he needed to find his blood. It was one more reminder to Lavidatia that she had no one in the world anymore. She bit her lip and determined to stop feeling sorry for herself.
"Sit, please sit," Roran offered, pulling chairs out from the table. Lavidatia politely shook her head, Mama Sutten's training refusing to let her sit while her hosts stood. The little girl stood by her, staring up at her with wide eyes. Mirino and Venil started a conversation with Roran, Eragon and Clojen with Katrina, and Albrien and Cartive with Marken. Deciding she couldn't ignore the little girl gazing at her, she sat cross-legged on the floor. The child only shared Eragon's strong nose. The rest of her was a mixture of her father and mother. Lavidatia knew Roran was actually Eragon's cousin, but since for the first eleven years of his life they had thought they were brothers, the three children considered Eragon their uncle.
"Hello," she said warmly to the child, who blinked. "I'm Lavidatia," she went on. "And you're Elena, right?" The girl said nothing. "You're Eragon's niece, aren't you?"
She gave a shy nod, lacing her fingers behind her back and twisting her shoulders in a habit of timidity.
"Eragon never told me how pretty you are." That drew a smile from the girl. Encouraged, Lavidatia regarded her. "I bet you're….thirteen years old. Am I right?"
The girl giggled, her shyness evaporating, and she plopped down on the floor in front of Lavidatia. "No, silly. I'm six."
"Oh, I was a bit off, wasn't I?"
Another giggle. "Way off. My birthday is in the summer." She looked curiously at the older girl. "How old are you?"
"I'm sixteen."
"You're old!" the girl exclaimed.
That made Lavidatia laugh. Her laugh drew the Marken's eyes. "She's really a Rider?" he asked Cartive and Albrien.
They nodded. "She'll lead us one day," Albrien told him.
Marken looked surprised. "You mean…she's going to take Eragon's place?"
Cartive nodded. "Saphira's child chose her, so she'll become the head of us."
"But…she's so…."
"Relaxed?" Cartive suggested.
"Funny?" Albrien added.
"Fast?"
"Smart?"
"Tall?"
Albrien gave Cartive a mischievous smile and asked, very quietly, "Pretty?"
Marken nodded, staring at the female Rider.
The little girl let off a peal of giggles at something Lavidatia said. Katrina smiled at her daughter, taking a sip of hot tea. "She certainly is good with children."
Eragon nodded, looking fondly at his youngest recruit. "She grew up in a kind of orphanage training school; there were always young ones around."
"An orphan?" Roran asked in surprise.
Eragon nodded. "Yep. Abandoned at birth." His eyes became sad as he watched Lavidatia smile and stretch out her arms, showing Elena how a dragon flew. "Lavidatia's been through some things that would keep many people from ever smiling again."
Roran looked at the young woman more closely. Her face seemed like it must always have a happy glow about it. He couldn't see what Eragon was saying. "What do you mean?"
"She left the orphanage with a friend to travel to Uru'baen. She saved Murtagh and Cartive by shooting a Shade who was bent on killing them. But then she met the Shade again a little while down the road; he killed her friend right in front of her and brought her to Dras-Leona to his keep. There, she suffered torture until we rescued her."
Katrina looked horror-struck. "The poor dear! How she must hurt!"
Eragon looked at the laughing Lavidatia and gave a small smile. "Lavidatia's stronger than most men; I'm beginning to think she can do anything. She's become one of us faster than anyone could have expected."
Clojen, who had been listening in silence, nodded. "She's the easiest person to get along with. Except when she has a sword. I think she could kick my butt with a blade. She's gaining on Eragon with every practice they have."
Roran gave Eragon a teasing smile. "Good. Someone needs to keep that big head of yours deflated."
"How old is she?" Katrina asked.
"Sixteen."
"Young still. She's got quite a life ahead of her, doesn't she?"
"The first female Rider and leader of the Riders? You bet she does," Clojen answered. He smiled at Lavidatia. "But I know she'll do well."
Little Godfri sat down by the two girls, and immediately began pelting Lavidatia with questions. She answered them all with practiced patience. His questions were all about dragons and the other Riders and magic and Shades. His infinite curiosity entertained her almost as much as the girl's joviality did.
"Uncle Eragon killed a red Shade once," Godfri told her proudly, casting his father's cousin an adoring look.
"I know. His name was Durza," Lavidatia agreed.
"What color is the Shade you saw?" Elena asked.
"He's red too."
"Is he mean?"
"All Shades are mean."
"How do you know?" the girl asked innocently. "Have you met them all?"
Lavidatia's mouth opened in surprise. The girl didn't know the basic nature of Shades if she questioned their evil. "Shades are made of bad, Elena. They like to kill and hurt."
"Did you ever see a Shade fight?" Godfri asked, not interested in the morality of Shades.
"I fought one a few weeks ago."
Both children's eyes grew round. "You actually fought one? With swords?"
She nodded. "The red one I told you about. His name is Radgul."
"Wow," Elena breathed.
Godfri jumped to his feet and ran to Roran, tugging on his shirt. "Daddy! Daddy! Lavidatia's fought a Shade! She's really fought one! Just a while ago, she said!"
"Has she?" Roran asked with a smile. "She must be very good with a sword then."
Lavidatia began to deny it, but Albrien interrupted her. "Don't be humble, Lavidatia. I saw you duel Radgul; I know how good you are."
"He was going easy on me," she countered.
"A Shade, go easy? Now why would he do that?"
Lavidatia had no retort for once. She had asked herself that question ever since they had fought that afternoon in the river. Why did he not kill her when he could have? And the more she thought about it, the more she was sure he could have. She was good with a sword, but he easily outclassed her.
"Even if he was going easy, you must be very good if you could even keep up with him at all," Katrina said.
"Thank you, but I'm not as good as these six would have you believe."
"This'll go on all night," Eragon commented. "So let's at least have dinner. If that's alright, Katrina?"
Katrina stood. "Of course. I should have offered already. I'll start making it now. Elena, would you like to help?"
The little girl nodded, rising off the floor. Lavidatia stood also. "I'll help as well, if I may."
Katrina smiled. "I'd never make a guest cook."
"I'd like to, you're not making me."
"Alright."
The young Riders groaned, making Lavidatia glare at them. "Oh be quiet, all of you. I can cook three times as well as any of you."
She followed Katrina into the kitchen, where the woman began plucking a chicken. Elena shelled beans and Lavidatia peeled potatoes.
"Do they always give you such a hard time?" Katrina asked, an amused look on her face.
"Oh, every day. But I give them a hard time back, so it's fine."
"You must have a lot of patience if you can deal with that lot of jokesters around the clock."
"Or quite a temper. They've learned by now that my retaliation is not pretty."
"Retaliation?"
"Oh yes. A few weeks ago for example, they made fun of my cooking—for perhaps the ten-billionth time. It was absolutely tragic when their bootlaces were cut the next day by some clever demon."
Katrina laughed as she slid the chicken into a bowl of water, letting it sit for a moment. "Now I see how you get along with them." She removed the chicken from the water and began stuffing it with lemons and herbs. "Where did you come from again?"
"I came from Cithri. I never really liked Surda though…it paled in comparison to Alagaesia."
"Why did you leave?"
Lavidatia kept peeling the potato in her hands. "In the place I grew up in, all the girls were expected to simply get married to the first fat old man who asked and have all his children. We were supposed to become just one of our husband's possessions. But I didn't want that; I wanted adventure. So I left." Her face became bitter. "My journey didn't turn out as I planned."
Katrina was sympathetic. "But it has all worked out, hasn't it?"
Lavidatia looked up at her, thinking. "It has." The Shade's face entered her mind, and she clenched her teeth. "Most of it."
"Radgul makes you mad," Elena observed.
Lavidatia was startled; she had not thought the small child possessed the ability to read emotions so well. In an attempt not to make the child afraid, she washed the anger from her feelings. "He does, but I'm forgetting about him."
"May you never see him again," Katrina prayed.
Lavidatia met the older woman's eyes. Katrina saw within those purple pupils a burning hatred. "I'd like to see him one more time," Lavidatia said in a low voice, and Katrina could not mistake her meaning. She bowed her head, sprinkling rosemary on the chicken. "Then may you stay safe during that last meeting."
Lavidatia sighed and refocused her attention on the potatoes. They chatted for the rest of the time they cooked, their subjects far lighter than matters of hate and vengeance. Elena proved to be a very perceptive child, bright and full of young life that invigorated Lavidatia. She decided that afternoon that, if she ever had a daughter, she wanted her to be like the little Elena.
Ha! Another chapter complete. Aren't I special? Sorry it took so long, like I said before: it was prom a little bit ago. I swear, bring out the frilly dresses and tuxes and everyone loses half their brain cells...;P Well, back on subject, I hope you all liked it. Review my lovelies—that's all that keeps me posting! Ciao for now!