Chapter Ninety-One: Burning Fire
That night, Eragon sat staring at their meager fire, chewing on a leaf. They had finished a small meal of roots, seeds and greens from the surrounding countryside. After their fight with the soldiers, the thought of taking another life churned Eragon's stomach. Mariah hadn't bothered to argue with him tonight.
It was late, and they would have to get an early start the next morning, but neither seemed keen on sleeping. Eragon leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his legs, content. He dared not speculate on the future of their journey, for if he did, he would begin to ask himself how he and Saphira could possibly defeat Galbatorix and Shruikan, and then panic would sink its icy claws into him.
He fixed his gaze on the flickering depths of the fire. There, in the writhing inferno, he sought to forget his cares and responsibilities. But the constant motion of the flames soon lulled him into a passive state where unrelated fragments of thought, sounds, images, and emotions, drifted through him like snowflakes falling from a calm winter's sky. And amid that flurry, there appeared the face of the soldier who had begged for his life. Eragon saw him crying and again heard his desperate pleas, and heard Mariah's soothing tone as she prepared to take his life.
Somewhere in the darkness surrounding them, a wolf howled. From various locations across the plains, a score of other wolves answered, raising their voices in a discordant melody. The eerie singing made Eragon's scalp tingle and goosebumps break out on his arms. Then, for a brief moment, the howls coalesced into a single tone that was similar to the battle-cry of a charging Kull.
Eragon shifted, uneasy. Spotting his motion, Mariah's lips curled into a small smile before she threw her head back and matched the howling tone, pitching and diving with the pack hidden in the darkness. The action surprised him so much he jumped slightly and sighed. At this, she let out a laugh, shaking her head. "You shouldn't be scared of the wolves you know. They are beautiful creatures. Humans always portray them in stories as vicious, lonely, and demonic, but they are pack animals. They care for one another, and enjoy the company of their loved ones. Few other creatures raise their pups in a social group thusly, or are as a fiercely loyal as a wolf to its pack."
"It's not the wolves out there," he assured her, pulling a knee to his chest. "It's the ones in here." He tapped his forehead much the same she had when they had been speaking to Roran before Helgrind.
"Our minds are always our worst enemy," she agreed. "Fear, hate, desires, doubt…all of our selfish and obsessive tendencies, that is what makes us most dangerous, and afraid."
Eragon watched her for a moment, his mind flickering back to the young soldier, before asking, "Does it bother you when you kill? I know I asked before, but that was then, with Roran…"
"Of course it does," she said, with a tone of disbelief in her voice. "I told you as much before."
"Yes, but you don't seem to struggle with it so deeply as I do. It's as though you are... immune to the after effects."
Mariah shook her head, "I am as haunted as you are. I learned how to deal with the emotional consequences while in Urû'baen. Not well, for it does still haunt me, especially now, but I became numb to blood and to pain." Shifting forward, she moved onto the balls of her feet, holding her hands to the flames. As her lips parted with a whispered spellsong, she twisted her fingers through the air, contorting the fire to her will. A stray spark flew out toward his face and she halted its motion, pulling it back to the pit.
"I just want to know... how you are supposed to feel when you kill?" He scowled at the fire, his brow furrowed before he looked up at her face, aglow with firelight.
"Sometimes it must be done."
"That doesn't explain why or how I feel the way I do."
"What is your reason for fighting?"
"To protect those who need me to do so for them."
"Aye," she said quietly. "And your cause, whatever that may be, is it just reason to take a life? Whatever you are protecting, whoever you are protecting – is it a just, good reason for taking the precious life of another, even if your opponent is simply doing what he must to protect those people and beliefs he is protecting?" Mariah paused and watched him. "Mark has a hierarchy – a set of standards that he constantly evaluates and reorders to determine his course of action. At the top of that list is me, as it has always been. Below that was my grandfather, then you and Saphira, Aluora. It now includes Nasuada and Kendra. The individuals he cares most about, whether because of love, loyalty, or personal gain, they come first. The Varden follows last; though you may not at first guess he would willingly hand over information about the Varden to protect someone he cares for.
"If someone was to capture me and you, he would rescue me. If someone were to capture Nasuada or Kendra, he would likely rescue Nasuada because he has known her longer. Though, perhaps I am wrong in my assumption." She sighed, shaking her head. "My point, of course, is he never wavers in his standards, no matter the situation. If there is a danger to one of the people in the hierarchy, so long as it does not interfere with the protection of someone higher, he will do everything in his power to protect them. If it does interfere, he must question his hierarchy or follow through with no regrets. It's how he sleeps at night."
Eragon blinked, "So you're suggesting I have a list – a hierarchy?"
"It wouldn't work for you of course," she said, shaking her head, "You have too many people you wish to keep safe. No, yours is a more difficult course of action, for you must constantly evaluate your situation and discern in the moment whether the life you are about to take is a necessary evil… or not. Which is why I suggest you determine whether your cause is worth it, for a larger goal leaves more room for error in your judgement. There will be those you kill unnecessarily, and there will be those you let live because you don't wish to take more lives, but later learn you should have."
"Is that how you view the battles you've fought in?" Eragon asked her, genuinely wanting to know.
She closed her eyes, her jade eyes vanishing below her dark lashes. It took a few minutes for her to respond to his question. "I was not myself during the battle of the Burning Plains," – for she knew that was the true question he was asking, - "however my actions were my own. I murdered Hrothgar by mine own hand, and I shall live with that knowledge the remainder of my immortal life. No one deserves an early death at the hand of another."
Watching her face and listening to her voice, he knew she regretted taking Hrothgar's life. It had been one thing that had upset him most about her betrayal. He twisted the ring around his finger, the firelight catching on the sapphire in the center. Aren, her grandfather's ring – no, his ring. A gift given to him by Islanzadí in Ellesméra, and a gift from Brom before then, through Mariah. She had insisted he would need it more than Mark, and that it wouldn't fit on any of her fingers. His eyes glanced toward her hands and agreed, they were too dainty to carry the thick band and heavy sapphire.
Eragon leaned back and pulled Undbitr into his lap by the hilt, brushing off specks of dirt on the shaft. The lengths Mariah would have had to go through in order to steal the blade away from Galbatorix unnoticed were ridiculous once he had started thinking about it. On top of her deception to steal her grandfather's sword, the fact that Mark had been the one to give her the blade upon their departure made him question their intentions. "Did Mark know what this blade was when he gave it to you?"
Looking up from the fire, Mariah watched him and blinked slowly. "I'm not entirely sure. I would assume he recognized the enchantment upon the blade. He's the one who taught me how to conceal items so well in the first place." As he traced the rune on the outside of the sheath, she saw a smile touch his lips. "I had always intended for it to go to you." She admitted, blushing when he looked at her. "When I stole it, I was thinking about how Murtagh should have Zar'roc."
"By that logic, Undbitr should have gone to Mark, or you, not me. It would be his by birthright, as Zar'roc is to Murtagh."
She shook her head. "I am more partial to the traditional idea of matching the color of a Rider's blade to their Dragon's scales than I am to inheritance. Trite as it is…"
"Thank you," Eragon insisted. "You risked much to get this to me."
Mariah nodded, looking at her own blade sitting beside her, drained of its energy. She let out a heavy sigh, turning her head up toward the sky. After a moment of searching the stars for constellations, she reached up, unraveling her braid and combing her fingers through the locks. Biting the ribbon of cloth holding the braid, she started re-weaving the strands together when Eragon cleared his throat.
"I think you should tell me about what happened while you were gone."
She stopped, looking up at him; the piece of fabric between her teeth. Since their argument the night after the battle they had barely mentioned her time in Urû'baen. That he was openly asking now was strange and set her on edge. If this was just another way for him to lash out at her actions, she didn't know if she wanted to tell him anything. However, if it was a way to start reconciling their friendship, at the very least, civility toward one another, she was more than willing to give it a try.
Mariah finished re-tying her braid and pulled the ribbon tight against her hair, holding the twist together. "I will start after the battle of Farthen Dûr." Watching her intently through the flames, he settled his back against the rock, resolving to listen to her exploits in full.
"I left you that morning in my room, where you had committed to sleeping in a chair beside my bed, with the insistence I would return soon. A lie I had not yet realized was such. I departed with Murtagh, Ajihad, and the others confident we would return victorious. As you probably know, we routed many, but not all of the Urgals within the tunnels the days following. It was a daunting task and one I wish never to repeat.
"We returned, and with Tronjheim in view, Andrar and I realized something was amiss. The Twins had betrayed us from the start, and murdered the rest of our party with the help of a group of enchanted Urgals. Before falling unconscious, I recall hearing Saphira, but that was the last of what I remember. The Twins drained mine and Andrar's energy to spirit us to Urû'baen with Murtagh – I am glad Roran killed them during the battle on the Burning Plains. They tortured both of us for a time before bringing us to Galbatorix.
"He had trapped Andrar outside, and already racked Murtagh's mind for information by the time he reached me, he had already gleaned quite a bit of information. My mind was still damaged from the incident with Durza and he could gain nothing from me. I was brought to Murtagh, where I healed his and my wounds. I tried to scry you, and Mark, to no avail. The wards on the castle were too powerful. The next day he allowed us to bathe, dress, and be fed. He threatened to end Murtagh's life if I ran. We knew he would not destroy Andrar if he could help it, but Murtagh, he was expendable. And the only other thing I treasured while in Urû'baen."
Mariah paused, resolving not to pull any of her punches. He had asked for the truth, and she was going to give it to him, everything she could remember.
"I was given a blade and told to fight Kieran. At the time, I had no idea who she was. When she appeared, my soul drained at learning she was Galbatorix's daughter, and a Rider. His secret weapon. After fighting her, and losing to her so ferociously, I was given the chance to see Andrar. He was, for the most part, unscathed. Murtagh and Kieran told me of their upbringing together with Kendra under Galbatorix's rule. And then I saw Nasreen – Kieran's dragoness. She was enormous. Not in comparison to Shruikan, but still nearly twice as large as Andrar. She was fearsome to behold and threatened more than once to destroy us if necessary.
"They told me of the remaining eggs. At this my heart shattered, knowing that Galbatorix had in his possession eight dragon eggs. Eight. Not simply the one remaining buried inside the castle's walls. I felt defeat the moment I learned of his collection. As if this wasn't enough, I was told the same day that I would be traveling to Carvahall to collect Roran. If I did not succeed in capturing him and convincing him to join the Empire, I would be forced to torch Carvahall. In the meantime, Murtagh was to remain in Urû'baen, in the event of my disobedience, he would be killed."
Eragon's lip twitched at the thought of Murtagh being used as leverage, and at his cousin being captured by the Empire. He was thankful that was not the case, especially now that he had been reunited and reconciled with Roran after the battle. "Instead you helped him escape, and burned Carvahall to the ground…"
She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. It took her a moment to regain herself before she continued. "The Ra'zac must have captured Katrina shortly after, or during the blaze. I don't recall seeing her being captured by them. And Galbatorix didn't deem it important enough to tell me of her capture. On our return, I fought with Kieran, distraught at having destroyed our home. She nearly killed me." A shiver of recollection spiraled down her back, forcing her gaze to linger on the faded scars swirling over her skin on her arm. "She brought me back to Urû'baen, where Murtagh revived me.
"In my absence, Thorn had hatched for Murtagh. Though I was displeased with the idea of another Rider for Galbatorix at first, I quickly reassured myself that I was thankful it was Murtagh of all people. There are few others I would trust so readily with such power."
Mariah steeled herself, feeling her heart start to pulse more rapidly. "I confided in Murtagh, as my only friend. I had Andrar, but I had nowhere else to turn for human companionship. My fear at the hopelessness of our situation, and the reassurance that I would surely go mad without some form of company forced… my feelings to surface. I spent much time alone in his company, though nothing came from it. I had not realized at the time that he longed so ardently for another…"
The situation was sounding familiar, and Eragon's ears burned with the knowledge that Murtagh had indeed been a target of her affections, as he had once suspected. He felt an irrational rush of anger and jealousies overtake him as she described her situation, wanting to harm Murtagh in the worst way. The dream of hers that he had fallen into after Durza devastated her mind had come true, in a way.
He never wanted Murtagh to take her away from him, but it had happened, and there had been nothing he could do about it. Moreover, the knowledge that she had willingly confessed her feelings for Murtagh while captive in Urû'baen made him angry with her. This too was irrational, he knew. But it felt like she had been adulterous, despite them never fully articulating their feelings toward one another. Punching himself mentally he realized that he had done the same in pursuing Arya, but that had been different in a way - he'd thought she was dead.
Eragon half-listened to her speaking of her time in Urû'baen, how the new Riders had been chosen by Galbatorix through a bloodbath, how she, Kieran, and Murtagh had all been sent to recover a Rider's Sword buried deep within a ruined fortress. She described her training and time spent in the library Galbatorix kept hidden away from the rest of the world. He held his tongue, listening, forcing himself to hear her exploits without him at her side.
"…the new Riders were finally given their dragons. Some of them hatched of their own accord, others were forced. Once, Galbatorix forced a green egg to hatch, but the hatchling didn't make it." She curled her legs up to her chest, lowering her forehead to her knees as tears welled in her eyes. A few broke through and slid down her cheeks. "She died at his hand and I could do nothing to save her. I stole her away. Her scales were so cold… Kieran… Kieran helped me give her a proper burial. I think… that same night I started becoming friends with her. We finally agreed on something. Galbatorix destroying dragons for his own cause was despicable."
She let out a breath, wetting her lips. "I am remembering much more of this than I anticipated. Kieran wiped my memories so Galbatorix wouldn't learn of my treachery."
"Perhaps she did not perform the spell as thoroughly as she had intended," suggested Eragon lightly.
Nodding in agreement, she continued, "Before Murtagh returned, Galbatorix summoned me to his throne room. He told me to swear allegiance to him. I don't think he ever learned my true name, or I would have been unable to overcome him. Instead, he invaded my mind and possessed it like a gemstone, or a book. He made me draw a blade against myself. And when Murtagh returned, he instantly could tell something was different, mentioned as such. Though we were no longer were pursuing our affections for one another, he still tried to stand beside me as a companion."
Eragon blinked, realizing he had missed the point at which she had mentioned their separating. A new emotion bubbled up inside his chest, one he did not have a name for. If their romance had truly been so short-lived, he couldn't understand why she would have bothered to even mention it, unless she felt compelled to tell him for some reason.
"We taught the new dragons and their Riders, but only succeeded in the most basic of training. The battle approached far too quickly, and even with the enhancements on their dragons from Galbatorix's spells, we were unable to train them quickly enough to be effective Riders."
"Their dragons must only be a few weeks old."
"Aye," she nodded. "They are still very young mentally, which I am hoping will be enough for us to be able to defeat them, should we come across them." Mariah paused, sighing and rubbing her face. "I've lost my place…"
"The Battle of the Burning Plains… I would suspect is next."
Mariah nodded. "Under Galbatorix's possession spell, I was forced to head the battle as one of his generals. With no recollection of my plans to revolt against him, I had convinced myself, Andrar, Murtagh and Kieran all that my intentions were to capture you and Saphira... and capture or kill Mark, Nasuada… and who stood in our way. I succeeded in murdering Hrothgar, and would have succeeded in killing Nasuada had Mark not intervened." A smile touched her lips as she remembered the punch he'd landed on her cheek. "He's quite determined when he wants to be."
Eragon wetted his lips, speaking, "He told me before the battle that there were Riders on the other side of the fight. He had never mentioned it was you or Murtagh. When I accused him of hiding things from me, he admitted to it. I had claimed he could not be a match for a Dragon Rider, but clearly I was wrong in my assumption. Never would I have thought he had it in him to fight against you, regardless."
She nodded. "There was a moment during my struggle with Mark when clarity formed again in my mind, and I recognized that my intentions were not what I had initially planned. Before, knowing I would one day be able to face you in combat, my plan was to find you on the field and join you again, turning on the Empire. I had it in my head that I would destroy hordes of Galbatorix's soldiers… but that was before my mind was twisted into being allied with them. He is very convincing when he wants to be."
"And on the plateau, with Murtagh…"
"Mark had knocked some sense into me and I remembered my initial plan to get to you. But Murtagh's orders were to capture you, so I had to reach you before he could do so. He was still under his oath he'd sworn to Galbatorix through me, and I prayed that I was right in saying that I was the one the oath had been given to."
"You didn't know?" He asked, shocked that she would have gambled on such a chance.
She shook her head, "Not until just before I blacked out, insisting that neither of them would harm you."
Eragon watched her evenly. She had risked her own life, and Andrar's numerous times to get back to the Varden. He could see now where her plans had gone awry. She had mentioned a few times that she had tried to scry him and Mark, but that her efforts were foiled in some way. The Mariah that had been taken from Farthen Dûr had died, of that much he was certain, because this was not the same girl he had left home with. This was not even the same person he had saved from the after effects of Durza's spell upon her. No, she was cut from stronger material now. She had killed mercilessly and learned much about the world during her time in Urû'baen, in a way, similar to the way he had in Ellesméra, and he could see few ways in which he would have behaved differently in the same situation.
"Though I would not willingly ask to have the same events occur, I do not regret my time in Urû'baen." His eyebrows shot up, surprised to hear her say as much. "I learned a great deal about myself, and my lineage. I know much about Murtagh, and Galbatorix, and Kieran. I know my mother's name." A sad smile touched her lips as tears dripped down her face. "And I am happy to be named after her, even if Galbatorix was the one who gave me the title."
Eragon nodded slowly in understanding. "I am named after the first Dragon Rider, and am proud to bear his name. I understand, in a way, how you must feel."
Mariah started off slowly, contemplating as she spoke. "I never asked for any of this to happen. My life was going to be normal, and boring. I was going to daydream about battles, Dragon Riders, elves, and dwarves. I was going to live in Carvahall my whole life, close by my brother and you, and that was going to be all. When this started happening, I greeting it with enthusiasm… but I realized while stuck in that castle that I would give it all away. I would have given anything to tell you, because," she paused, taking a ragged breath, before her words continued, rolling from her tongue, "because I didn't know if I ever would – that nothing is worth losing you. I didn't know if you were alive, or safe, or crippled. You could have died after I was captured, or been unable to defend yourself, never made it to Ellesméra. I only dreamed that you had, that you were safe, that you had healed. That is what kept me alive through all the torture, and kept me defiant. I needed to know you were still alive. I stopped caring how I got to you, and just focused on getting to you. I'm sorry you don't trust me, Eragon, but believe me when I tell you everything I did was just so I could have the chance to see you again."
His lips parted and he licked them quickly, his response almost aggressive, "And the moment you do, you bind your life to me? Give me permission to murder you without a second thought?"
"It was the only way I could think of to make sure Galbatorix didn't try to have me murder you. I refused to be his pawn any longer." She sat there, her hands had fisted into her tunic, tears leaking down onto her hands. "I trust you. Mark, I know, would give anything for me, spill blood to get me back, has before."
"You don't realize how similar we are then," he growled back. "You know how I am about my family."
She stood then, throwing out her hand; in turn he rose to his feet, alert and matching her gaze. "Mark and I are not your family, Eragon. Roran is your family, Garrow and Marian. Saphira! Mark and I are traitors. We are selfish, and cunning, and deceitful. He did whatever he had to in order to stand beside Nasuada. He became the companion of Galbatorix's daughter herself. I did the same, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the princess and lead his army. I convinced him that I was going to destroy the Varden. I killed Hrothgar! I'm glad you don't trust me – you shouldn't trust me, and I don't want you to. My parents were both members of the Forsworn, and my grandfather spent the last years of his life trying to repent for it. He failed: look at the my brother and I!"
"Mariah," he said calmly, vaguely conscious of the fact that this was the first time he'd said her name since their argument. "You are not a traitor for being selfish, or cunning. I would have done the same in your position."
"But I am a traitor!" She shook her head. "You would have never allowed yourself to be twisted so, you are far stronger than I am."
"Only because of you," he insisted. "Mariah, I endured torture, not as you did with Galbatorix, but at the thought of having lost you. It took me weeks before I could suppress my rage, there were many nights I didn't sleep, because I couldn't get past the thoughts of your death."
"Sleep was the only respite I had from the suffering; it was the only time I got to see you. Memories, conversations, we've had and never would. Sunsets overlooking the ridge in the Spine, you said you would tell me about Ellesméra, and showed me fire lilies, and your back was healed. I was never going to see you again, the least I could do was keep imagining something better!"
He went ridged at her words. Wetting his lips, he fought not to let his mouth twist into a smile. "Irises."
"What?" She asked him, her face streaked with tears.
"…irises… they were... irises not lilies." Eragon spoke. Then, realizing she still hadn't figured it out, hurriedly added, "Irises are your favorite."
She stared across the fire at him, confused, her breath coming out heavily. The flames cracked and sprayed embers into the air. For the first time since the bruise had formed on her arm, she felt like maybe there was a chance that he didn't want to hate her after all. He remembered that she favored irises to lilies and roses, not even Mark knew that.
Eragon had pieced it together - he'd been in contact with her the past few months through his waking dreams. The dreams that had been part of her sanity and his; the hair at the back of his neck stood on end and his palms felt slick with sweat. She hadn't seemed like the same person before now. Her distress and recent history had crushed his heart, and didn't know if he could get beyond it. Even now, he was finding it difficult to look past, but he knew it hadn't been her fault. She was still Mariah, despite now being called Dawnsinger. He suddenly sympathized with when she had been so hesitant to call him Shadeslayer before, and why she had insisted upon calling him thusly after their reunion. He recalled the night before their departure with Roran. She had told him in his dream she would only call him Shadeslayer when she was upset with him, that had been a dream. But it hadn't. His mind rushed to recall the other memories he could evoke of dreams with her in them. He had walked with her in the Spine, watched the sunset with her, danced with her in his arms, and made fiery red-orange irises spring forth from the ground.
Eragon dropped into a kneeling position, pressing his hands against the dirt. He swallowed hard and started singing quietly, after the fashion of the elves, smooth and flowing, repeating the phrasing until a green leaf sprouted forth. As he stood, pulling a stem back up from the dirt and snapping it toward the base, taking a few short steps toward her. The bud blossomed as he held out his hand, the stalk held gingerly between his thumb and fingers, and a fiery red-orange iris spilled from the greenery.
Mariah stared at the flower in his hand and then into his face. Leaning toward him, she took the flower carefully. He watched her twist the iris in between her fingers as emotion flooded over him. Her face turned bright red.
Speaking softly, Eragon brushed his thumb over her lips, healing a split there, dry from traveling. The tips of his fingers brushed away the tears on her left cheek. Then, he wrapped his hands around her arms, bringing himself close to her. His touch drew the breath from her lungs, forcing a smile to her blushing face. Taking her wrists, he muttered under his breath, healing the bruises he had forced upon her days prior.
"I'm sorry, for my behavior toward you lately," he said slowly.
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, "I understand. I know you can't trust me right now. I want you to, but until I know for sure my mind is my own, I accept it."
"I never wanted to lose your friendship, but I fear my words were enough to destroy it completely."
Mariah stood in front of him, scanning his pained expression. She wanted more from him in this moment, and more of herself. Much was different from the last time they had been so close to one another, they had both changed and grew apart. They had spent their entire lives growing together, through the same experiences and struggles. She was there for him when Garrow died, and in turn he comforted her in the wake of Brom's death. They had saved one another more times than she cared to count. Together they became the first Dragon Riders in a hundred years. Even through their time separated from each other, she had relied on him to get her through it all. No, there was nothing that could destroy the bond they shared. "Nothing you could ever say to me could do such a thing. Think nothing more of it."
He smiled slightly at her then and nodded, lowering her wrists carefully. They observed one another for a moment before a calm enveloped them. Acceptance for the other, and determination to restore their bond to what it once had been. Sitting back down by the fire, Mariah folded her legs and hesitantly began asking trivial questions, relieving them of worldly concerns, and to try and reacquaint their souls with one another.
With Love, As Always,
Mariah Dawnsinger