Chapter 11: To be an Owl as well as a Rat

I really don't know anything about fighting so I apologize in advance if something is a bit off. & this chapter was indeed hard to write and there are a few curse words in this chapter as well.

Angry people are not always wise – Jane Austen

It was a beautiful day; the sun was out and was remarkably blue. The snow had begun to melt and slowly animals were becoming more and more a general sight. Velox snapped his jaw playfully at the birds that dared to tease him.

Spring had always been Evelyn's favorite season, her second being fall. The former is the season of birth and renewal and the latter is the season of dying and regression, an odd combination of preferences. Winter she hated, it was an absolute, it was death. Spring gave hope, autumn took it away, and winter and summer were absolutes.

She moved herself from the bed and helped Tilda pull back the tall red cloth away from the pale yellow white stain glass and cracked open the window. The balcony, though she hadn't been on it, extended around five feet out from the tower. From this perspective, her room was in one of the tallest north facing towers, she could where the Ramr River met with the horizon. She was high up, not sure how high because other buildings and morning fog obscured her vision of the ground. To her left one could clearly see the steep hillsides and bases of the hills that the city was built on top of. And to her right was another tower with windows similar to her own, but past that was grassland, which will quickly become arid as spring passed.

She shot her guard a rude eye as Tilda poured hot water for her bath, she was not going to have her bath in front of him, she had way too much dignity and was much to prude for that.

She hoped into the water and pulled her head under it, she floated under it for a few seconds. She found that when she opened her eyes they didn't sting or irritate and she could see just as perfectly below water as above. She didn't mind the new changes she would go through.

With magic she shaved her legs with great efficiency and washed her mouth with a watered down solution and then went over it with simple magic. Any blemishes that woke up with her in the morning she removed by simple healing spell.

The guard reentered after she put on a solid green chemise, which looked vibrant against her damp black hair that was tied with a small piece of string. Multitasking, she ate her breakfast, shapely manage things and pulled on a thick wool tunic and leather belt around it. She put on her black boots but had to switch them before leaving when she realized she had put them on the wrong feet and perfunctorily followed him to the dragonhold.

I can't believe I thought of him as handsome!

You did not know. How could you? Remember, he purposefully did not introduce himself. Her dragon said.

He's embarrassed us. Humiliated in front of those people. I wonder… if I had asked him where Murtagh was so I could slap him, I wonder how he would react?

The dragonhold was on the east end of the castle, facing the desert. It was a tall building and round, opening at the top but covered with a heavy, weather strong tarp. Small openings let light in, as did the used windows, but the majority of the light came form elephantine smokeless cauldrons of fire surrounding.

When the city was still held by the elves it was used for the same purpose as it is used now. Any dragon could pass through the gate and roof at any speed or angle, such was its design. Though now the dragonhold was in much less use than when it was in its golden years.

The arena was used for epic retellings, practices and duels for the most expert of Dragon and his Rider to the amateur of the trade. Now it was used by one and seldom the other.

The walls were formed by rows of slanting seats and the arena itself was coarse brown dirt and sand and scattered equipment. High poles, bars and heavy weights.

Hello child. Velox nodded his head at the sight of her.

Oh, Velox you have gotten big! She chuckled and hastened towards him.

Yes I have noticed as well. Perhaps when you are done we can go flying? He sat his massive green head in her tanned hands and looked up at her with pleading eyes.

Shesmiled, showing her whites, Of course.

"Lady Evelyn," a deeper voice, not inside her head, called. Murtagh approached from behind her at an eloigned distance.

She craned her neck around to see him but remained attacked Velox, drawing strength from him. "Yes?" she acknowledged coolly.

He took a moment before speaking, "This is yours." He returned her green sword. "What is its name?"

"Earth."

"Earth," he repeated, examining.

"It's the name of my home," she said defensively and took her sword back. The weight and feel was unfamiliar. She kept herself cool and collected, almost rivaling his own stolid demeanor.

"I've offended you." He titled his head down.

"No." She lied, partially. She slowly breathed in and out from her nose, retaining a calm level. What good would lashing out do? She tightened her grip on the sheathed blade and waited tentatively for his response to her curtness.

"I apologize for last night." He surprised her but she only showed it by tilting her head back.

"And I suppose you think with that said it will be absolved and forever dismissed?" She would not meekly comply.

"No."

"Then why?" She waited for him to answer but he did not, "I am here to learn magic, to fight and to fly. I do not care if you have a guilty moral; it is none of my concern. Shall we make an agreement not to bring personal matters to the rink?" She spoke without any affable reserve. Her bluntness shocked even herself, she knew she was capable of saying and doing that, but she never had the need or reason to before.

She did not wait for his reaction or witty retort. She moved back to Velox and buckled on her sword and adjusting it to her side, remembering the times she wore it in Ellesmera.

Evelyn was that wise? Velox shook his head, disapproving.

"I will not be spoken to as such." She lifted her head to him with defiant, unmoved eyes. "Should we also make an agreement to speak with the deserved respect and civility?"

She pursed her lips before frowning, "fine!"

"Good! You wont need your sword, you might as well take it off now."

She unbuckled the strap and set it down "why?"

"Because you have to warm up, stretch, or else you hurt yourself." He said calmly, she noticed that he did not have his sword on his person. "It is called Rimgar and is a very effective way to prepare yourself for battle and to stay in shape. It has four different levels, based on flexibility and strength and as you get stronger and more flexible then you will progress to the next level and so on. The first one," he rubbed his hands together and bent forward at the hip, placing his palms on the ground and exhaled loudly, "is called the Frog." He then squatted down, into a position similar to a frog and inhaled. "I want you to do this ten times."

He walked around her bending form, commenting on it, "Keep your legs straight and inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth." Quickly the back of her knees began to hurt. They moved to the next step. They sat on the ground and reached her right hand to take hold of her right foot and lean in. then repeated with her left. He did lunges and shoulder-arm exercise and she followed—lazily and unwillingly.

"Now what?" she asked and brushed the dirt and dust off of her knees.

"Well, I have already seen you fight in a realistic situation and a realistic situation is what it comes down to. Offensive is not your strong point, you are not a fighter."

Evelyn scoffed at his remark and rolled her eyes. Obviously! Obviously she's not a fighter, she could have told him that herself.

"But you are fast though, quick and light on your feet. Good at dodging. However that will be no use against an opponent unless your goal is to irritate or tier him, which would be stupid. I want you to punch me."

"I'm sorry? What?"

"Hit me." He said plainly and pointed at himself. "For your hand-to-hand combat…" he then eyed her coldly, "it's not like you don't want to."

Evelyn tapped her knuckles and formed a fist and put all her weight into the punch. He tilted his shoulder back and avoided the attack altogether. With her own unbalance and his foot, she tripped forward and free fell to the ground. "What the—" she shrieked when she hit the ground and rolled over to look back up at Murtagh. She narrowed her eyes and thrust her open palm up at him. "Garjzla!"

The air heated around her arm and hand and thick, vibrant green sparks formed and zapped out at him. He easily slapped away the attack, like he expected nothing less.

"That was not funny," he held his hand to help up but continued glaring at him and helped herself up, ignoring his hand. "Emotions are a useful and powerful drive but only if you can control them. And you speak your spells too loudly and too simple, which makes your spells all too easy to block."

"Oh, does it?" She put her fist on her hip and pointed at him, "That's easy for you to say."

He ignored her comment, "When you punched me, you put too much weight in your fist and not in your feet. You need balance. Balance is key, balance and awareness."

"Awareness?"

"Yes, keep your eyes open and be constantly aware of your surroundings. For example, again when you attacked me you if you had been aware you would have seen my foot and avoided it and, to go further, you could have easily punched my knee out. Awareness is the ability to improvise and take advantage of every opportunity. Now attack me again but keep what I said in mind." She eyed him guardedly, "This is all in your best interests."

She flexed her calf and thigh muscles and bent her knees. She knew that he would try to dodge her so she aimed her fist for the center of his face and not the side. He brought his forearm to redirect her punching arm but there was no time to avoid it, instead she punched her hand other at his stomach, she felt the tick abdominal muscles flex as she hit them and he did not even flinch from her attack. But she forgot about his incoming forearm and was swiftly knocked over by it.

"Much better." His tone lightened. He would have smiled at her, as bent over and offered his hand for a second time, if his nature let him. He found an odd comfort in her—though she wanted nothing more than to actually punch him in the face. "Again."

"Again?" she whined and winced as she got up. "You've got to be bloody kidding!"

"No. We will do this over and over until you knock me down. Every day, you will come here and do the first level of Rimgar, three times, then do three laps of the ring. This will build your strength and flexibility. Then we will practice fighting starting with hand to hand and then progressing to knife and swords. With magic; I can teach you what I know but the only way to get better is to practice. Now—Again."

She let out a choleric sigh and mumbled something rude under her breath. She hated being beat and the way he spoke! So condescending at how he poked and picked her apart, humiliating her obvious, flaws in her fighting skills. She did not know how to fight—at all, she was lucky enough to be at least in shape, or else he would have, clearly, brutalized her. She felt proud every time she was able to sneak in one small jab or dodge an easy target, but every time he would verbally smack her saying she felt her left side vulnerable or she should have seen his kick come at her, it was as clear as crystal!

With the same bent legs she lunged with a heavy fist, this time aimed more at his chest. Before her knuckles even brushed his grey shirt his own hand wrapped fully around her small wrist. "Oh shit," she breathed when, with small force, he pulled her sideways. She kicked her leg out—hoping it would hit something, and it did; his shin. It did little but loosen his grip on her and she wiggled her way down and out. Murtagh was one step ahead, one leg swung low to the ground and took her feet right out from under her. She grunted in pain when she fell on her tailbone.

Murtagh dismissed her after her umpteenth time of failure. Evelyn was all too willing to leave. Tilda had a war bath already waiting for her when she arrived. For a brief moment Evelyn wondered if Tilda somehow knew that Evelyn would be aching and sore all over when she returned that evening.

She sighed at the relaxing water and with her simple magic, she healed her budding bruises. Most of them were around her shoulders and upper arm.

The next day, and the rest of the few passing days, Evelyn woke up, washed her face, ate and headed straight for the rink. She bent over and did a few rounds of Rigmar, half asleep and then jogged around the perimeter; it became second nature to her. Evelyn became increasingly frustrated with herself and Murtagh, she was still unable to beat him, and he still continued to criticize her, even though it was constructive.

Evelyn began to, secretly, do any sort of exercises when she could. Before bed she did a few sit-ups and pushups and such and repeated the act when she awoke. She wasn't entirely out of shape; she was healthily and often bragged about her health, and was fairly flexible, but wasn't very strong. Her main goal was to be able to hold her own weight, be able to support herself on any limb, to be able to use her speed and agility to it's best potential. It was the only way to beat Murtagh at his own game and shut him up.

She was good because she pushed herself.

Evelyn spun around, her right arm up firmly in a ninety-degree angle blocking his. It wavered a bit but she held to it. His left side was open; she kicked her leg out at the side of ribcage. He faltered and grunted, Evelyn smirked. His left hand grabbed hold of her ankle, her smirk fell, he twisted and she lost balance and fell down. Just before she did she grabbed hold of his tunic and pulled him down with her. Murtagh fell on top of her, knocking the air out of her. "EOFF! Get off of me!" she had a sore bruise on the corner of her eye where he elbowed her.

………

It was quite clear to Murtagh, and the entire court at that, that Evelyn, or Lady Evelyn, had some sort of issue with him. But what Murtagh knew and the court did not was why; he had, to put it bluntly, stabbed her in the chest and kidnapped her then brought her to the most unpleasant place in the world. At least that's what he thought; in actuality her reasons for dislike were more than that.

He figured that his infamous reputation would have reached her ears and it did; Evelyn learnt of him, of his deeds and grew to hate, fear him and came to see him as the enemy. But it wasn't just that, fed by the gossips of court and Murtagh's own actions, which did nothing to help, she prejudicially thought he did do those deeds on his own free will and actually was an arrogant, rude and stark man.

He too had preconceived notions about her. He admitted to himself that, a brief moment knowing full well people are not all ways what they appear to be, she is a woman and most woman have never had any experience at war or swordsmanship. In fact just her appetence, her petit figure and soft features really did nothing to make her threatening or intimidating.

But to counteract that thought was that even when he tried to take her mind, he could not. Even with all his power, his unnaturally gained power, he could not. He didn't even feel her mind barriers, just… nothing. Like she didn't exist, but was impossible.

Her combat skills impressed him, at how she was quickly learning and determined to excel. But he was not trying his hardest on her—not until she was much more prepared for it.

This Evelyn was a different creature. Murtagh could not openly examine her and her mysteriousness without candidly showing any interest or causing any hullabaloo, even if only Evelyn thought of it herself, but he was interested. So unable to make an open study of her he had to quietly watched her from underneath his eyelids and from the corners of his eyes, he had to be extremely stealthy as not to arouse any suspicion or alarm.

………

Evelyn looked about herself. She began to dry her wet hands on her white apron and took a seat at the wooden table in her kitchen. Her little cottage of stone was made sturdy by her husband's strong hands. A warm feeling fluttered through her and she smiled contently to herself.

She untied and took off her apron and hung it in its usual place, behind the pantry door and unpinned her now long hair and gently shook it loose. She looked out the windows and sighed; every day she looked out upon the large rolling hills of her island home Parlim. The grass sparkled under the bright Alagaësian sun.

"Mummy!" Evelyn removed herself from the window and met her eldest son in the hallway, pointing outside.

Evelyn opened the front door and jogged outside, passed her front garden of purple Delois. Her hair and dress were quickly swept up the strong island breeze. Saphira made a firm landing 60 feet away from Evelyn's home. Eragon disembarked from Saphira's brown saddle and marched toward Evelyn, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His demeanor was wrong and Evelyn made a small cautious step backwards and turned to her son, "Go get your father," she pushed him towards the green turf roof cottage.

"Eragon?"

"Evelyn, by order of the New Council you are under arrest. I am here to escort you to the capital Urû'Ilirea."

"What?" She said in outrage and shock and took a guardedly step.

"Evelyn I have warrant for your arrest."

"On what charges?" Eragon gave her a knowing but apologetic glance. "No." she barely said it. "Eragon, tell me you don't believe Tenga's proclamation." He didn't answer her "The man's a bloody fool!" her voice rose, afraid and angered.

"Evelyn," he pleaded, "the rain has stopped, the waves have stopped, there are no waves! The water is as still as ice. The even Boar's Eye has died out. The birds have left the skies and the animals have disappeared entirely. Explain this to me! Two days ago the northern half of Du Weldenvarden burnt to the ground. Evelyn the people are scared and the Council must make a decision."

"No. I know those people on the council, they would never vote in favour for this."

Tilda pulled back the red curtains and the sunlight hit Evelyn's face, she awoke with a jolt.

………

As being under the care of Galbatorix, Evelyn was given an allowance. A small one comparative to the king's own or Murtagh's, but she did not know the difference. Her obedience would be rewarded, and when her faithfulness grew so would her allowance.

Asteria was a socialite, a trait she inherited from her mother. Her mother, Lrin, was a patron of the social art and it was Asteria's dream to be like her. Every event that was ever held or to be held, Asteria would have herself invited—by any means.

A road carnival was to come to the outer towns of Urû'baen. Evelyn and Velox had been already invited, being one of the guests of honor, among them were Galbatorix and Murtagh and Thorn. And of course Asteria, by some means, got herself and her brother an invitation.

Evelyn readily accepted, reveling at the idea of a medieval festival.

She wore a long green dress with a vertical slit where her white under-tunic could be seen. Her sleeves were long and drape-y with an under sleeve close to the skin. Her front laced up with gold lace and the hem was richly embroided. Atop her head and black hair she wore a gold lace circlet. She covered herself in a heavy dark velvet cloak and hood.

The main market square was busy. She hardly felt out of place among them because she looked like them. If only her father were here to see this. History in the making. She walked along side Asteria and surrounded by guards. Evelyn frowned at the excessive amount of guards but chose not to complain—they probably felt the same way.

Evelyn passed a tall man in a jester's suite waving a ring of fire around his contorted body as the crowed sighed in admiration and awe. She giggled at the impatient clown who tried to knock over the jester.

They passed the many spectacles and spectators, but around the corners of buildings and in the alleyways were poor beggars. An old woman caught Evelyn's eye first, she was dressed in brown old rags and an old, torn shawl. Evelyn discreetly pulled out her purse and gave five coins to the lady. She didn't know how much the five coins were, though by the woman's face and thankyous Evelyn could tell it was enough.

"Your welcome," Evelyn smiled and touched the woman's hand.

Asteria and Evelyn walked around the markets. They were stopped and yelled at for bargains by everyone. Evelyn admired a beautiful brown horse. She stroked the long of face and smiled softly in his eyes. His eyes were deep expression filled brown eyes.

Evelyn felt it was about time that she got a horse. Murtagh had one as did Asteria, though she rarely, or almost never, road him. Evelyn smiled again and leaned in to the horse's face, she could feel his hot breath on her hands.

Evelyn spoke to the tall vendor about the horse, and when she felt satisfied with what he said she asked his price. After a short conversation with Asteria it came clear Evelyn did not have enough money with her. She left with Asteria after explaining she did not have enough money on her and would hopefully be back as soon as she could when she did.

Asteria and her lady took their place in the richly decorated stands, Evelyn's chair was large and sturdy with large red cushions fit for her rank, on looking the jousting ring.

A crowd of men in armor and shields entered the arena and saluted each other respectively, before forming a ring. A small boy, to the left of Evelyn on the stand, blew a gold horn and the men swung their swords at each other. It was like a human derby. The men who had fallen were quickly pulled out, out of the way. This fight went on for three more rounds and the elimination quickened to the last two men.

Evelyn's heart quickened everything a sword or an axe came too close or when a man fell. It was barbaric but still, strangely entertaining. Evelyn twisted the green and gold handkerchief in her hands.

Two men were left. Finally. Evelyn let out a soft breath when the fight finished. The men approached the stands. "These are your champions Milord!" the boy with the horn called to Murtagh. "With your consent they shall duel in a joust!"

"Yes." Murtagh rose from his seat and raised his hand. He had a blank, maybe bored face on. Evelyn just noticed he has here and spun around in her chair at his voice. "As regent of the king, you have my consent. Have you any final requests?"

"Aye Milord!" a knight in sliver armor stepped forward.

"And what is it?"

"To speak with the Lady Rider." Murtagh eyed the knight. Murtagh forced himself not to incline his head back, but with a careful eye he could see a blur of her figure in the corner of his eye. Evelyn could not see his face now that his back was to her, and then he nodded.

Murtagh returned to his chair and as he did, he snuck in a quick glace of Evelyn. He was surprised to see her looking at him. She was confused by the situation, that much was clear with her brow furrowed and her parted lips said she was also quite surprised.

"My lady of the air, I have been caught. What is your name?" The man pulled her attention back in the silver armor. She rose from her chair and met up with him at the banister.

"My name?" She lightly raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on the wooden banister.

"Indeed. Surely you must have one? Or at birth did your mother not name you for fear that any lesser name comparative to your beauty would fade it?" The man titled his armored head to her. Evelyn tried to see the face through the small eyeholes and air holes. Murtagh scoffed at the man's bold remark, yet he was angered by it. His hand clenched tightly, equally anticipating her answer as the man in silver.

"Fade it? You speak boldly." She faked seriousness.

"Would you have me fail in battle, never knowing if angles do have names?"

"How can I give you my name if I cannot see you face?" a small breeze picked up and swayed her black hair and her green dress.

"You do not trust me?" He said with false hurt.

"I do not know who you are!"

"A friend! Give me your name lovely lady and I shall give you my face. Give me a token and I shall win this duel in your name."

She bent down, Murtagh's fingernails nearly drew blood from his palm, and whispered, "Evelyn, my name is Evelyn."

The knight pulled the face shield up, revealing his face.

"Marcus?!"

Evelyn spun around and Murtagh sat up in his chair at the sound of Asteria's shrill voice.

"But you knew my name all along?" Evelyn asked. Marcus smiled at her and his blue eyes beamed.

Marcus bowed low to Evelyn and strutted back to his horse, showing off his confidence to the other rider. Evelyn chuckled, still shocked at the obscenity of what just happened.

Marcus mounted his armored horse and tucked his lance firmly under his arm. At the loud sound of a trumpet the two horsemen charge at each other with their long lances held up.

Evelyn jumped when the two smacked into each other. His sister gasped beside her. Marcus was jolted but his opponent had been launch off his own horse. The man rolled around on the ground but waved his arm signaling he had not been wounded.

Marcus trotted pass the royal chairs, pass Evelyn and flashed a confident smile.

He charged once again at his opponent and won. Evelyn jumped from her seat and clapped at his victory.

Murtagh found himself watching them from afar. He wasn't entirely sure what or why she was so taken by him. He was partly disgusted by how he felt about it and partly confused. He left the immediate moment he could, Evelyn and the others gave him a shocked looks when he abruptly pushed back his chair having it almost hit the back of the banister.

Evelyn couldn't understand what his problem was, why he was always so unpleasant. If any one should be unpleasant it should really be her; she never wanted to come here in the first place but that wasn't much of her choice now was it. At least she was trying to make things pleasant and easy whereas he always wore a frown and spoke condescendingly to, not just her but to everyone.

Murtagh was unable to sleep that night. Why should something as natural and small as a smile bother him so? His mind was plagued with that one moment where Marcus lifted his mask and smiled to her and the way, like a contagious yawn, she smiled back.

Then it dawned on him; that was the first time he had ever seen her smile. And not the simple tug of the lips but a full smile, the one that showed the tips of her teeth and the soft hint of dimples.

But she did not smile to him. He was so profoundly effected by it yet it was not to him.

In the morning Murtagh awoke from a short and unsatisfying sleep. Soon he would make his way down to the arena. Evelyn had begun arriving to the arena much earlier than needed this past week.

Evelyn had come to realize that it was really in her best interest if she got into shape and really put an effort in it to. She had been waking up early for the past week and started laps and sit ups among other things.

Evelyn's elbow swung up underneath Murtagh's jaw. He began to bleed from his tongue when he bit down on it. He punched out at her side but she fortunately dodged most of it and it only clipped her. She jumped back and kicked her leg square in his collar and then jumped forward, knocking him down with the force of her weight. Evelyn stood up slowly, stunned at what she saw.

Murtagh was on the ground.

Evelyn jumped up like a child, "Yes! Ha, I went Jackie Chan on your arse!"

Murtagh lifted himself off the ground. He was careful to ignore her child-like behavior and to give her no satisfaction. He was caught when he looked at her.

Her eyes glowed in triumph and her cheeks were flushed from the exercise, her hair had fallen out of place and began to curl around the shape of her face. Her chest heaved when she tried to regulate her breaths. "I beat you," she smiled to herself and her eyes shined brightly.

"Again," Murtagh said.

………………………….

"I thought that, with your dragon being green, you would favor an emerald." He eyed her for a reaction.

Evelyn played with the soft white pearls and the thumb size emerald. "It's beautiful."

"You like it." He sounded hopeful.

"Yes, but don't you think it is a bit much?" Evelyn tried to hand the necklace but to Marcus but refused it. She did find it beautiful but she also found it very gaudy.

It had begun like this, with a necklace. After he had won the tournament in her name, Marcus had given her the victor's pendent. Each day she was with him he seemed to have a gift for her. Even now she was wearing a blue dress he had bought her. Often she told him that these gifts were unnecessary but he refused to listen or take them back.

"I hear you are off to Belatona." Marcus walked behind her to fasten his new gift around her neck.

"Yes, political things and such." That was the half-truth.

The governor of Belatona, Lord Bulgin and his son have been sentenced to death for high treason; harboring fugitives and enemies of the state and freeing imprisoned enemies. He and his son were sentenced to hang until dead and his remaining living relatives must pay tribute to the king. Murtagh and Evelyn would escort the first massive payment to the capital on their return trip.

"How long will you be gone?"

However long it takes to kill a man. "I was told four or five days."

It had taken the four half a day to fly to Belatona. Evelyn still had not become comfortable with the idea or the actual physical feeling of flying.

Belatona was nothing like Urû'baen. Where Urû'baen was mostly the King's castle and the castle once belonging to the Elves, Belatona has and still is a human dominated place. It is also considerably smaller than the capital and had low one to two stories, wooden, sometimes reinforced with stone, houses.

Belatona was made up of many smaller villages that were united to form a larger village; the smaller villages now became neighborhoods and communities.

The manor house built of strong, heavy grey stone was the governing Lords home. The manor's strong walls were used to protect the villagers from any attack.

Belatona was also famous for it's skilled craftsmen. The finest human armor was forged here and this is where the Imperial was created. Large shipments of swords and armor can be seen leaving the village for the King's soldiers.

Evelyn walked through the main market of Belatona. Her guards, who were not her normal, regular ones, were Belatonian guards. They paid her little attention as she admired the fancy trinkets the marketers had on sale, they were clearly uninterested but it was their job to make sure that she was not jumped and attacked not to save her from a bad purchase.

Evelyn held up a blue mask an old lady and her daughter were selling. It was pretty but didn't seem to call to her, neither did the purple one that her hand hovered over next. She looked down at another; it was made of leather, like the others but was decorated with brown and white clipped feathers. It was beautiful. It fit perfectly when she tired it on, like a second skin.

After she paid for it she continued her wandering. The village was so calm and peaceful. She wondered at what the villagers must think and feel about their lord's execution. There was no one cheering for it or protesting against it.

………………………………

Evelyn caught her breath when an man with graying hair and a boy, no older than herself, both in white, were escorted out from the castle, up the steps of wooden platform and to the noose.

She looked away and did not take her seat beside Murtagh and walked away from the balcony. She could not watch someone die, especially someone innocent. Murtagh followed after her and grabbed her shoulder to turn her around.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I can't do this," she shook her head side to side frantically. "I can't. I'm leaving."

"You can't leave," he said flatly, holding onto her so she could not leave. "I won't allow you."

"What?" she said quickly. "You will have me sit there and watch those men be murdered? I will not kill them."

His eyebrows furrowed, "you are not killing them."

"Yes I am. I have the physical strength of ten men and the magical ability of nearly 20 spellcasters and, not to mention, a bloody dragon. My inability to save them is practically killing them."

"You must be present to the execution of those men because they guilty of high treason against the king, your King. The King will lose face as you represent him here and if you fail to conduct your duty as elegantly as you possible can the consequences shall be grave. Believe me I know this."

"He will have me punished because I refused to watch a man die?" She spoke harshly at him as he brought her back to the balcony to sit. The trumpets sounded before the execution drum. It pounded away slowly as a wool bag was place over each man's head, then the rope around their necks. Evelyn titled her watery eyes away from the center of the courtyard so she was starring at a stone wall with a guard dressed in red on it and kept her head towards the courtyard and her face emotionless.

The drums quickened making her heart beat faster, and then they stopped. Evelyn winced at the silence, knowing all to well what that meant.

When their death was confirmed she stood up and headed directly to Velox and cried as he spoke softly and soothingly to her to calm her. She stayed with him until the sun had just barely set.

Velox lifted his great scaly head quickly which jolted Evelyn, "Was that Solembum?"

Evelyn looked in the same direction as Velox. There on the manor's stone wall was a black cat with blood red eyes. Evelyn moved and followed the cat after telling Velox she would return once she found out why Solembum was here in Belatona, of all places.

The cat jumped down from the manor wall into the darkening city. Evelyn followed him through the portcullis and out the gate. She looked to her left, and then to her right, had lost him. She took slow steps forward keeping a clear eye on the surroundings. She watched for a flash of busy tail or red eyes. Her heavy dress weighed on her; she was not used to doing so much movement in such an elaborate dress.

A little boy with shaggy black hair and a blue tunic approached her. Strangely the boy was oddly familiar. "Evelyn," the boy said and his eyes flashed red for a split second.

"Solembum?" She starred down at the werecat turned boy." What are you doing here? Is Angela here?"

"Yes, in the Sword's Anvil." He said and turned away, expecting her to follow him.

"The Sword's Anvil?" She asked, confused, not knowing it was the name of a nearby Belatonian tavern. The boy gave her a look of annoyance and pointed in the general direction of the tavern and made her follow him.

She followed him through the dust streets to the tall wood and stone and hay and straw-roofed tavern. It was clouded with smoke inside form the many hard smokers and immediately when Evelyn entered she hacked up a loud storm of coughs and earned herself a few unpleasant, intended-to-be-intimidating stares.

Solembum led her to one of the tables on the far side. Angela sat quite comfortably and undisturbed, twirling her empty tea mug around her finger on the wood table. Evelyn sat down in front of her, here eyes watery and red from the tough air. The air and the dim light gave enough protection to her identity.

"Angela," Evelyn wheezed.

"Ah, Evelyn, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Belatona?" The witch asked easily as she continued to make her mug dance.

"I had to oversee Lord Bulgin's execution." Evelyn tried to level her voice and sound unmoved. Angela nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Tell me news of the Varden? I hate not knowing, not being apart of the resistance. We should be with you guys, fighting alongside Eragon and Saphira not Murtagh and Thorn."

"I understand." She lowed her voice hinting at Evelyn to do the same before they are overheard. "But you can help."

"How?" Evelyn leaned in, anxious.

"What do you know of Galbatorix? Any inside information; what are his next moves or how has Thorn become so impossibly large and strong in such a short time? Tell me what you know."

Evelyn frowned and shook her head; she did not know what Galbatorix's next move was or how Murtagh and Thorn have become so powerful.

"You do not know," Angela said quietly and looked down, disappointed.

"No, I'm sorry I could not be more of a help to you." Evelyn leaned back on her chair. Her face was contorted in her own disappointment. Why doesn't she know anything? Evelyn wondered then if she had been purposefully left in the dark for this very reason. Did Galbatorix really not trust her? She never really gave him any incentive to, she didn't blame him, and she would tell Angela everything she knew if she knew something.

But she did know something. It was small. It would actually stop the war but it would diffidently be a thorn in Galbatorix's side. It would humiliate him too, him and Murtagh. This might even, in fact, strengthen the resistance. It would, if done successfully it would prove that they are not undefeatable.

"Wait, yes I can." Angela raised her head; she was both hopeful and curious. Evelyn leaned in, careful not to be heard. "All of Lord Bulgin's family gold and majority of the city's treasury is being sent to the capitol. I know where it is being kept. Murtagh's men are most likely packing it now, on to the wagon. If I can get it out of the courtyard you can get it out of the city, right?"

"I see what you mean. Won't it be dangerous?"

"Yes, but I don't think they are expecting it. It's perfect; I'll take out the guards and raise the portcullis and charge the horse and wagon out of the courtyard. You jump on the wagon as it passes and I jump off. You get away safely and I don't get caught and I can sneak back into the manor. I want to help, think of what that amount of gold can do for the Varden?"

……

Evelyn lay in her bed. She was nervous; her heart was beating a thousand beats a second. She waited in her room, in her bed as the world outside her bedroom died down. She did not get any calmer. She didn't want to think of the consequences if she got caught only the importance and benefits of it.

She was uncomfortable and hot from wearing her thick black tunic and jerkin along with her tight, flexible pants. Evelyn looked to her left, at the wooden desk; on it were her dark lightweight cloak and her mask. Her mask would protect her.

Evelyn raised herself up in her bed and looked out the stone framed window. The patrolling guards had become less restless and were actually becoming sloppy. One man was leaning on his lance while others made short rounds when they should be talking long and watchful ones.

The moon had passed its high point in the sky and somewhere down in some alley was Angela and a ready party of Varenders. She looked farther out her window and then looked down. Her room was on the third level and one level down was the roof of another room, she could easily jump to it without injuring herself. And beside that room was the manor wall, on which was a patrolling guard. He would be the first one she would have to knock out. And the next, she trailed her eyes along the wall, was the man standing on one side of the portcullis.

In the darkness of her room, she silently put on a pair of soft, flexible leather shoes and laced them up, tucking in the hem of her pants. This put on her cloak and tied a lose scarf around the lower half of her face. Finally she took her new owl feather mask and placed it perfectly on her face and tied in tightly around her head. She smiled to her self and pulled up the hood of her cloak.

She did not bring her Rider sword as it would be way too recognizable, so she would have to rely on her hand to hand and magic skills. Besides she was not entirely accomplished at using her sword yet.

She locked her bedroom door and moved to the window and took a deep breath. She lowered herself out of the window and onto the roof. Her stomach flew as she fell through the air. She landed with a soft thud on the hay covered roof. Evelyn had already previously cast a spell to soften any noise she me makes.

She paused for a moment, keeping low the side out of view and breathed deeply and slowly. Evelyn crawled to the other side and on to the manor stone wall.

"Rejfet du garjzlaun mierorr du farith hringr eka eom gøra eka inviziblr." She whispered, making herself appear invisible by reflecting the sounding light.

"Sythaun tyna onrmanin." She jumped and caught the man before he fell to the ground and makes a noise. She had put him in a deep sleep and when he awoke, would forget what ever happened. She let out a deep breath, one down…

She moved to the portcullis and did the same to that man. From this position she could see and count how many guards surrounded the wagon; seven of them, nine including the other two men on the other side of the gate.

She repeated her spells quickly on the other two men.

Nervous and exhausted she hid safely in the shadows and removed her invisibility spell.

Velox, she thought to him, I need you now.

Evelyn took in a large breath, "Skulblakas ven." Her dark eyes suddenly became green. Like the colours of Velox's rich emerald scales so became the dark shades of the shadows.

Do you see the gate? She asked and titled her head carefully out of the shadows, toward the portcullis. I need you to raise it when I am dealing with these…men.

Yes, I can handle that.

Evelyn quickly and silently moved down the stairs and composed herself before advancing on the courtyard to look her most threatening. She raised her arms and spread her fingers in preparation for a spell and left her hiding place.

A dark figure in black materialized from the even blacker shadows. The guard who noticed him first shouted, but the figure did not stop coming closer. The guards backed slightly, unsure. When he got closer the guards saw that his face was completely covered in a mask.

"Oi! Stop there!"

Evelyn lowered her voice and gave it a heavy, unrecognizable rasp to it. "Remove yourselves from the wagon and allow us to leave."

"No!" the men pulled out their swords.

"That gold does not belong to the king. Leave or else I will end your lives." Velox lifted the gate as she said that, and she took a firm and forceful step at the wagon but the men advanced on her their swords. The horses attached to the wagon jostled uneasily.

"Efla du silfr heitr." And the men's swords heated in their hands. The guards dropped their swords to the ground with a clang and clutched onto their burnt hands and yelling in pain.

The heavy metal gate was up as far as Evelyn needed it to get through. Evelyn made a large sweeping motion with her arms and cried out "Thrysta vindr," making a thunderous force of wind knocking them over. She jumped over to the horse and smacked its thigh to scare it.

Evelyn's heart pumped in more adrenaline from fear and urged the horse to speed up. The buggy raced through the narrow streets of Belatona. Angela unexpectedly jumped onto the wagon along with two others; Evelyn did not clearly see their faces. Evelyn moved to back and shot fire and other violent obstacles in their pursuers' path.

Evelyn leaped from the wagon but did not do so unseen. One of the pursuing guards followed her into one of the alleyways. Removing her disguise she cast away her cloak and put her mask in her pants and returned to the gate of the manor wall and pretended as if she had been there all along.

"Lady Evelyn," Evelyn turned towards the call of her name, it was Murtagh. He stalked towards her with a nearly blank face but she could tell by the way he walked he was worse than upset. "When did you get here?"

"Just a moment ago. What has happened?" She asked with just the right amount of confusion without having overdone it and blown her cover.

"We have been robbed. Some petty thief gang has stolen the king's gold. The king will not be happy." His voice was even and was nearly impossible to decode, as usual.

"Sir," a man in guard uniform addressed Murtagh, "we have the guards who encountered the thief waiting for you and this," the man held up her discarded cloak. She began to sweat. How did they find it? She threw it amongst old barrels in the alley. "The men believe it is his."

His. Evelyn silently sighed to herself; they think that she is a he. Perfect. This could not have gone any more perfect than it is for her now.

"What did he look like?"

"He wore a mask over his face. The mask was shaped like an owl with feathers and all. He had a large cape with a hood and moved real fast. Real bloody fast. He even knew magic."

Murtagh hand squeezed tightly on the ratty cloak fabric to the point where his knuckles turned white, this frightened Evelyn more.

"Find him."

Phew now that that's done…

So Evelyn has become a rat, Marcus is over affectionate and Murtagh is feeling a wee bit jealous…

Any questions? Opinions?

How do you feel about Evelyn's choice to be a snitch and do you think she is going to be caught?

Or Murtagh's slight jealousy, is it believable?

And plot wise, that dream? Any ideas on that ?

******Also I have started a new story: Sins of Our Fathers. It is about Galbatorix's life, childhood and all. You should really check it out. Ive got the whole plot planned out for it.

here is a little family tree...:)

FAMILY TREE

*People in BOLD are of the royal family and carry royal 'Palancarnian Blood'. They are ancestors of the first human King*

King Palancar—Lady Palancar

V

King Angrenost—Lady Angrenost

V (many generations later)

V

Nola— Miach.........Keitha—Unknown Shade....... Hienah—Lenu

(3 children)............ (one child)............................. (one child)

Bearch................... Galbiss.................................... Aislinn

(no children)

Davina—Peter

(no children)

Andrea—Sedoc

(Andrea and Sedoc

have 2 children)

Gabelie

Deirdre—Moran

V

V (around 7 generations later)

V

Garrow—Marian= Roran—Katrina= Nola

Selena—Morzan =Murtagh—Evelyn = Thomas & Victor

Selena—Brom = Eragon—Ayra = Sophia