Chapter 12: An Enemy and An Ally
When Eragon finally awoke from his drugged stupor, he was certainly confused by the stranger, but he didn't seem to have a problem with him. He thanked him for saving our lives, and then suddenly, within five minutes, they were talking like they'd been friends all their lives. It was ridiculous! Did he not think that he might be an agent of the Empire? How rash could he be...?
While they talked by the fire, Saphira and I stood on the outskirts of the camp, sulking and conversing with one another about the stranger. The two of them kept glancing over at me.
"I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much," Murtagh whispered. I saw Eragon's face blush a deep shade of red and his mouth pop open, as though he were searching for the words to respond. My own face grew hot with anger.
"We are not together!" I screamed angrily, picking up a stick off the ground and lobbing it at him. A triumphant smile spread across my face as it struck his upraised arm, right on the elbow.
"Ow!" he protested, rubbing the spot where I'd hit him. "Gods above, I didn't think she would hear me." I heard that too, and Eragon only smirked.
"She has incredible hearing. Don't expect to keep any secrets around here." I couldn't help balking at that statement, and I noticed Murtagh flinch a bit. What was that about? Eragon didn't know just how wrong he was.
"I'll keep that in mind," Murtagh muttered.
"And she's right, we aren't together," Eragon said quietly. "We've been best friends since we were children. She found out about Saphira when she was hiding at my uncle's farm, and I knew I could always use the extra help."
"And why exactly were you hiding?" he asked in my direction. I wanted to strangle Eragon right then and there, but I held back.
"We need to keep moving," I said, blatantly avoiding the question and walking over to where my pack lay near the horses.
"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to move him in his present condition," Murtagh argued, standing up.
"We can't take the chance of the soldiers catching up to us," I growled, throwing my pack over my shoulder. "Brom would want it that way, were he conscious." The old man had fallen back into a fevered sleep after Murtagh had wrapped his wound. The stranger and I shot daggers with our eyes at one another until Eragon stepped in.
"Don't argue," he pleaded. "She's right. We have to keep moving." Murtagh heaved an irritated sigh and I harrumphed in his general direction. I was starting to dislike him greatly.
Eragon came over as I tightened the straps on Cadoc's saddle, preparing to leave. "I'm going to have to ride Saphira if we want to keep up a good pace. Please, don't kill each other while I'm gone," he said under his breath. I whipped my head around to stare at him.
"Do you even know the slightest thing about him, Eragon?" I asked in a hushed whisper, glancing over his shoulder to where Murtagh was gathering his things. "He is a stranger, yet you put such faith in him, as if you were the best of friends. For all we know, he could be an agent of the Empire, sent here to bring you to Galbatorix." He sighed heavily, looking back over his shoulder. Murtagh had stopped to stare at us, but when he noticed us looking he went back to seeming busy.
"Tabby," he whispered, turning back to me. "You need to listen to me on this one: we can trust him." His tone was pleading, and I just sighed.
"You'd better hope that you're right. If you're not, it'll mean our heads," I growled. He laughed at me in that boyish way of his.
"And I will accept full responsibility," he replied, walking away towards Saphira. I'm sure she was telling him the same thing I just had. I rolled my eyes and climbed up into the saddle. Murtagh finished tying Brom into Snowfire's saddle so he wouldn't move around too much, and then mounted his own horse. The warhorse was a beautiful animal, dappled gray with strong muscles and a thick neck. A horse like that would have cost three times what Brom paid for Snowfire.
"That's a beautiful horse," I remarked coyly, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction. His face remained as impassive as ever though, and he simply thanked me. Fine, if that's how it's going to be, two can play at that game.
Murtagh had tied Snowfire's reins to that of his own horse and he spurred the stallion forward. I followed closely behind as Saphira raised into the night sky, disappearing amongst the stars. The tension between us remained thick in the air throughout the ride. Never once did I chance a look over at my riding companion. This was going to be a very long trip.
The dawn had peeked up over the horizon, and we only stopped momentarily to let the horses drink. Saphira flew high overhead, only visible for moments at a time as she weaved in and out of the clouds. Jealousy overwhelmed me, and I wished more than anything I could be up there with them, instead of down here on the ground with him.
Murtagh drank greedily from his waterskin, wiping his mouth and the back of his sleeve. He caught me staring at him, and I quickly looked away. I didn't know what it was, but I felt that I had to keep an eye on this one, lest he stab me in the back while I wasn't looking.
"You still don't trust me," he stated, staring at me hard with his unflinching gaze.
"No, I don't. You saved our lives, and I'm grateful for that, but I can't help thinking you have some other motives driving your actions." His face remained calm, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and it was infuriating.
"Come on, let's keep moving," he said gruffly, spurring his horse forward with a cry of "Hiya!", Snowfire following close behind him.
We made camp as the sun was sinking low in the horizon, in the side of a limestone hill. The horses had a hard time getting over the rocky terrain, but they finally made it. Nestled in the side of the cliff was a deep cave. I couldn't think what had once lived here, but I knew something had, as the bones of tiny animals were scattered everywhere. Thankfully though, the cave was now uninhabited, and it would serve as a safe hiding spot for the night. We all figured the soldiers had now returned to their posts in the city, and we were free of them.
It was dark and cool inside the cave, and Murtagh started a fire to light our way. Eragon and I undid the ropes binding Brom to the saddle and gingerly laid him out on a blanket. He was still unconscious, and his fever hadn't broken.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Eragon asked as we sat by the old man.
I chewed on my lip nervously before answering. "I really don't know," I lied, not having the heart to tell him the truth that both Murtagh and I knew. He tried to stifle a yawn, and I smirked at him as his eyes began to droop. "Get some rest, Eragon. I'll keep an eye on him." I patted him on the leg and he just nodded slowly, crawling beneath his blankets and muttering a soft goodnight. As he drifted off to sleep, I glanced over to the mouth of the cave and saw Murtagh striding towards me, his gait holding an air of arrogance. This mysterious man was really starting to get on my nerves. "What?" I snapped harshly.
"I just came to let you know that I'm going to find something for us to eat," he replied, his face taken aback at my harshness. Maybe I was being rude to him, but he was irritating me. I couldn't help it if my temper was running away with me.
"Fine," I grumbled sullenly. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me quizzically, before suddenly kneeling down and staring me straight in the eyes, our faces mere inches apart. I jerked away from him, but I couldn't go very far without almost falling over. "What!" I snapped, trying to scoot away from him, but to no avail; he had me pinned against the wall of the cave.
"You really don't like me, do you?" he said, scrutinizing my face with his intense stare.
"What gave you your first clue?" I scoffed, still trying to scramble away. He just continued to gaze at me as I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
"Pray, tell me, great lady, what have I done to offend you so?" The sarcasm was evident in his voice and it only made me angrier. I pushed him away roughly and scrambled to my feet, slipping around him so that his back was to the wall instead of mine.
"That is exactly why I do not like you, noble sir," I mocked, placing my hands on my hips. "I dislike your attitude. You're coarse and you're conceited, and I think this conversation has gone far enough. I don't trust you, and I know absolutely nothing about you."
"Well I don't even know your name because you, in all your pig-headed stubbornness, refuse to give it to me. And yet I trust you not to slit my throat in my sleep," he retorted fiercely, eyes blazing in anger. I stared at him for a long moment, searching his face. Though I hated to admit it, even if was just to myself, he was right. Murtagh had trusted me thus far, and I hadn't even had the decency to tell him my name. What's happening to me? Aunt Elain would have been ashamed of the way I'd behaved towards him...
"Tabatha," I blurted out quietly. "My name is Tabatha." He exhaled heavily and stared at me in consternation.
"Now... that wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, one eyebrow cocked in a little show of triumph.
"Just go so we can eat before dawn," I snapped, tearing my gaze away before we ended up just staring at one another all night. He seemed to hesitate, but decided against whatever else he'd been about to say.
"Yes, Your Highness," he sneered. I knew that he was only trying to get a rise out of me, but I couldn't control the sudden anger that welled up inside. The anger and hatred was uncontrollable, and it was all directed at him.
"Don't you ever call me that again!" I seethed, making my voice as threatening as possible. His face took on a look of shock when he realized how fierce and real my ire was.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly, holding out his hands to try and calm me. "I didn't mean to offend you... really." I didn't know what to say. My anger had torn the words from my lips. He stared at me for another moment before turning and retreating out the mouth of the cave.
He doesn't know, Tabatha, Saphira's voice cut through my thoughts. I know you do not trust him, and I don't trust him completely either, but that's no reason to treat him the way that you just did.
Don't tell me you're on his side now too, I complained, suddenly feeling very alone.
He saved our lives from the Ra'zac, Tabby. And he's helped Brom too, if only just to ease his suffering. Just give him a chance, perhaps?
Until he proves that he can be trusted, I don't see a reason to give him one, I replied angrily, withdrawing contact from her mind. I was fully aware that Murtagh didn't have a clue about my true identity, but the truth about myself had left me with a shocking bitterness. That was the real reason I'd lashed out at Murtagh, not only because I didn't like him all that much, but because I hated the reminder of who—and what—I truly was. The only thing I wanted was to forget the truth, even if it was just for a little while.
Murtagh came back right as the sun was setting beyond the horizon, three rabbits in hand. At least he had proved he was a skilled hunter. He skinned the rabbits while I checked on Brom's wound. The inflammation had spread, now covering the entire lower half of his torso. The edges of his wound were turning black, and I couldn't help the pang of fear that shot through my chest. This wasn't good...
"How is he?" Murtagh called over, setting the last of the coneys onto a spit over the fire.
"Not good," I replied quietly, spreading a bit more of the green salve onto the wound. Murtagh said it would help with the pain, and it seemed he was right. The old man hadn't woken since the night before. Gingerly, I replaced his bandage and came back over to the fire. "The infection is spreading rapidly."
"He doesn't have much longer," Murtagh mused, staring into the flames. I felt the tears brimming at my eyelids, but I managed to hold them at bay. It wouldn't do to let this stranger see me cry. I noticed him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
"What?" I asked hastily, wiping the rim of my eyes with my sleeve. "It's just the smoke."
He simply nodded and turned back to the rabbits. Eragon awoke briefly to eat, but soon fell back into a deep slumber. I watched him for a moment, to make sure he was asleep, before turning back to Murtagh.
"Eragon is like my brother," I said slowly, watching his face. "I will do whatever it takes to protect him... Saphira as well. If you try anything—"
"When are you going to get it through your head that I want to help?" he snapped, whipping his head around to look at me.
"Perhaps if you told me why you hate the king..."
"Oh, that's rich coming from you," he scoffed, laughing bitterly. "Why don't you tell me why you were hiding at Eragon's farm, huh?" I fell silent and turned away. He was right: I was being a terrible hypocrite. I just didn't know what to make of this stranger. On the one hand, I still didn't know enough about him; not to be trusted; a possible enemy. But on the other hand, he hadn't shown anything to give me cause not to trust him, other than the fact that I didn't know him. And there was something in his wolfish eyes that held me captivated every time I looked into them.
Is it possible for someone to be an enemy and an ally at the same time?
