Chapter 20 – Pömnuria Fricayas Fyanmáor
"Any friend of my friend is my friend. Any enemy of my enemy is my friend. Any friend of my enemy… I shall decide after meeting them."
~Saphira Bjatrskular, "Queen of the Skies," Brightscales, last free dragon
Aelwyn continued to train him over the next two weeks, giving him time to fully master the power he now commanded as a novice Hand of Death. According to her, she had no doubt he would become a High Master, a warrior of that gauntlet that did not specialize in one of the five classes of Hands, but mastered every single one of the classes' powers and strengths, filling in their weakness from his or her training from the other four classes. His sword master skills left him open from long range. His training as an Assassin Hand let him escape detection, and his skills as a spellweaver and Hand of Spells let him deal with anything he couldn't reach with arm and sword. His assassin training gave him little weaponry due to their noise. His abilities as a Hand on Hand gave him a clear advantage as Aelwyn dutifully taught him everything she knew. She was a Mistress of Three, having conquered the tests of the Assassin, Hand on Hand, and Hand of the Blade. It was a powerful mix, but they were all meant for close range, which he soon learned in their spars. If he stayed back and refrained from charging her, he could stay back and use spells to occupy her.
She still beat him as many times as he defeated her. She was lighter on her feet and she almost seemed to know what he was doing. Even after she had taught him to block other Hands from reading his mind, she could still anticipate his movements almost as well as he could execute them.
This is where he found himself at the moment, pinned to the grass as Aelwyn panted above him, her face flushed from the exertion of their spar. His black sword lay a few feet away, her gauntlets clashing against his, negating the effects of the metal gloves, also stopping him from using its power against her.
She smirked, moving suggestively against his hips, "Well, I could come to like this position."
Just then, Lieutenant Agier ran over to them, bowing without taking note of their intensely provocative placing, "Lord Eragon! Lady Aelwyn, the lookouts have seen Mistress Sarissa and her entourage coming from the north!"
Aelwyn leapt up with joy, "You better not be lying, soldier."
"Milady, I would never lie to you!" the man exclaimed with horror.
Eragon knew the man was scared to death and would never lie to either of them or Sarissa. They respected, feared, and were loyal to the death to any Hand.
"Lieutenant, I wish for you to take your men and prepare for her return," Eragon said, getting to his feet as he began to run out of the keep's courtyard and into the city. "Inform the city that the Lady of Teirm has come back!"
"Yes, milord!" the lieutenant called, snapping a crisp salute before running off, shouting orders to his soldiers.
Eragon felt his heart soar without reason when he saw Sarissa thunder into the city, the soldiers cheering as she leapt of her horse, raising a hand in greeting to the captains and the officers who gave her a jaunty salute.
Much had changed. They still feared her, but since Aelwyn's presence at the city and Eragon's gentle understanding, they had come to trust them as much as they respected the Hands' prowess in battle. Teirm soldiers were no short on honor and bravery and strength themselves, but no soldier, no elf, no anything, could stand up against a Hand without getting slaughtered unless there happened to be twenty magicians helping that one man.
"Mistress!"
Her face was the epitome of happiness and beauty.
"My love," she said in a silken voice, capturing him in her strong embrace, her lips claiming his with pent-up passion and lust.
None of the soldiers gave them a second glance. None questioned a Hands' ability to handle a kiss and still kill a thousand men afterwards without any hesitation.
She drew back, smiling so angelically she could have been a good spirit right then.
"By the fates, I love you so much, Eragon," she murmured. "Two weeks have gone by so slowly, I longed for you so much, my heart pined for you, I wanted to do nothing but ride back on my horse and hold you eternally in my arms."
He felt her soft breath against his neck as she buried her face in the bend under his jaw, her gentle kiss evoking strange emotions he didn't recognize in him.
"I have missed you beyond belief, mistress, you look so beautiful," he whispered into her ear, his arms holding him against him tightly, afraid to let go of her.
Aelwyn curtsied, winking, "Well, you two can go make love, I shall go find some fun with a soldier or so."
Looping her arm around a shocked Captain Liyan, she pulled the handsome soldier after her.
"I pity him," Eragon chuckled, watching her walk away, her hips moving in such a way that would captivate any man's attention.
Sarissa laughed, "I have better plans for… us."
The way she said "us" sent shivers down his spine.
Her kiss lingered on his jaw.
"Two weeks is a long time to stay abstinent from your touch. We have a lot of lost time to make up."
Emotions he had a hard time figuring out flooded through him. Relief, gratitude, warmth, the flutter of his heart as she slept with her head rested on his chest, her lush, pale-gold hair, almost a platinum hue, tickling his bare skin.
She gave a small sigh of contentment, nuzzling his neck, mumbling something in her sleep, making him smile.
Then it struck him.
He quickly let go of her, draping her in the blanket, pulling on his leather pants as he walked to the balcony door, opening it to let the cold night breeze blow across him. He felt no cold, just….
Just strange.
He leaned against the stone rail, his breath coming out misty as the cold air solidified the air leaving his nostrils and mouth.
He raked a hand through his lengthening hair, something Sarissa said fitted him and loved to run her fingers through as they lay in the bed in the throes of passion.
"By the stars…"
"My love?"
He looked behind him to see Sarissa with only a robe wrapped around her gorgeous body, her long legs having goose bumps running all over them from the crisp air.
"Are you alright? You'll catch a cold, elsa, the Restoration doesn't make you invincible," she said softly, walking over to him to put the robe around his shoulders, her soft breasts pressed to his back as she curled her arms around his neck, sharing the warmth of her body in the chilly night.
"I just needed some fresh air to think," he admitted, turning around to pull her against him, feeling the soft flesh of her lips brush his neck before she rested her ear against his heart.
"Think of what, my love?"
He sighed, shrugging, "I know not, really."
She looked up at him, her mind brushing his lovingly.
"Then it matters not as much as you matter to me."
She drew him back inside, their desires awakening hungrier than ever.
General Anwar was horrified and stricken at the news of Eragon's capture and breaking.
"Never thought that the boy could break," the aging man said, tiredly sighing. "So this is war? The young, the bravest, fall prey to an enemy worse than a blade just to be turned against us. No one will ever work up the resolve to be the one to end our Rider's life."
And he was right.
No duty would convince Arya to be the one who put the blade in his heart.
She couldn't even hurt him without bringing her heart crashing and shattering again.
But she had a duty to finish.
And until that bastard king lay on the ruins of Urû'baen, she would always have a duty.
The word was close to becoming sickening her.
Nasuada watched Arya, the elven princess as stoic and calm as ever. The hawk-like green eyes raked over the path ahead of them, messengers leaving and returning very once and a while. General Anwar's army marched from south of Gil'ead, a group of messengers riding as fast as they could to the elven army waiting at the borders of Du Weldenvarden.
They would be at the fated city by nightfall.
Murtagh sat across the table in the keep's elaborate, lavishly furnished library. Thorn had somehow fit through the massive doors, his bulk taking up most the empty space, but it made no difference, no one thought of disturbing them.
Eragon poured some herbal tea for them, taking a sip from it as he slid the other cup to his half brother.
It seemed a little normal, talking to the man who had fought alongside him so many times. Anyways, there was no need to be wary of each other. They were both chained to something stronger than themselves, though Eragon had a very loose, long leash.
"Tastes of barley," Murtagh said as he took a drink.
"Dathé tea," Eragon explained.
Dathé was a plant that, when put into tea, had a taste of barley and a slight hint of mint and some other exotic taste he never thought to figure out.
"It's good," the Red Rider said as they sat in comfortable silence, drinking as Thorn looked over the books. Apparently the young dragon was fond of reading tales of valor, something he wished to do but could not due to his bonds.
Eragon sighed, leaning back, "Murtagh, I am not your brother."
The other Dragon Rider raised an eyebrow, shrugging and nodding at the same time.
"No, truly. Our mother was Selena. Your father was Morzan. Mine was Brom."
His half-brother gave another shrug-nod, "I know. It was too obvious. You have his stubbornness, his strength, his wit, almost everything about him, but you and I share our mother's eyes and her wisdom. Well… at least we used to share her eyes."
Eragon shrugged helplessly, knowing how different his eyes were, silver and bronze in contrast to the warm brown they had been.
"She spoke to me."
"Same," Murtagh said quietly, his eyes distant as he gazed at the books without really looking. "She's gorgeous, so… so loving, just like what I always thought she was like…"
"Agreed."
Thorn sniffed a book, Do one of you mind pulling this book out for me?
Murtagh chuckled, using a quick spell to levitate the book in front of his dragon as the red dragon used the back of his claw to flip the pages, his huge eyes squinting as he read.
"I never knew dragons had a taste for literature," Eragon smiled.
"No, Thorn is just the weirder of us two," the Red Rider teased, rubbing his dragon's snout affectionately.
And most importantly, the wiser of the two of us, he snorted.
"Wisely said, oh, old and ancient one," Murtagh winked, earning himself a lungful of smoke from the indignant dragon, the three erupting into laughter soon after Murtagh swore enough for ten people.
Things seemed a little better.
Sarissa looked up in surprise as Eragon walked in, his face grim, eyes haunted. It was the look she saw when she had broken him. It was the look she saw every once in a while when she taught him her tongue, Cadian, accidentally reminding him of his past.
"Mistress?"
She got up, walking over to him quickly, kissing him, "My love? You look worried, what is the matter?"
"I… I don't know, mistress… it's that elf… I feel like I have been disloyal to you, mistress, forgive me…"
She didn't smile, just drew him into her embrace.
"Everyone has their mysteries, Eragon. You have proven that you care for me so many times I cannot begin to count. Your care, that's all I need. You and your gentle care."
"I cannot think, mistress, my past… my past, I think I am starting to see it again… it frightens me, mistress, I am frightened…"
Her heart broke at his small voice.
Ever since she had met him, he was that strong young man, nearly a man, actually. He was always that pillar that was buried in the ground with such strength only the stars could uproot him.
She had nearly done the same.
And it hurt her.
She kissed him, lovingly, trying to convey that she didn't care if he thought of other women. She was his, he was hers, they were mated, by pain, by strength, nothing could break that bond. Even in death it would remain, though shaken, though thin, though wavering in power and influence, she knew it would stay. A Hand's bond was like no other. Death could not separate them. Hate would draw them closer. Care would bind the wounds.
She would draw him closer than she would ever allow herself to with any other man.
For she loved him.
Not lusted for him.
No, she…
"I love you, Eragon, my quiet angel," she whispered against his lips. "By the stars… I love you so much…"
Translation: Pömnuria Fricayas Fyanmáor (title) – My Friends' Enemy
Elsa (Cadian) - Love
TN: Fyanmáor and elsa are minee~ and if anyone is curious where I get my Old Norse words, here's the link - http:/www. utexas. edu / cola / centers / lrc / eieol /
AN: Quick thing – Classes of Hands are not like… literally jobs, forced. They choose and if they want, they can give up the uniform of that class and go to another one, or start training in another one. Just because they aren't part of the Hands of the Blade's ranks doesn't mean they can't wield a blade, it just means they aren't part of their ranks, and same with the other specializations.
Classes – Assassin Hand, Hand of the Blade, Hand on Hand (fists and gauntlets and other body parts not considered a literal weapon), Hand of Spells, and Hand of Unconventional Arts (seduction, traps, tricks, strange weaponry such as maces, which are considered strange to the Hands and the land they came from.)
Hands of Unconventional Arts use anything in their inventory, knives, blades, rocks, their body, they're masters of deception and they can seduce even the most strong-willed men and women. Sarissa is a High Mistress, so she could easily seduce Eragon and any other man. They're probably the one class you didn't understand as easily, so that's why I'm explaining it. XD
And those who might think the name Agier is somewhat related to Agiel, I didn't really think about those weapons, but apparently -geirr is identical with Old Icelandic geirr, which means "spear," and the name Ágeirr was thus. :D
…
I never noticed that I never mentioned what color Sarissa's hair was…. So I added it in here, if I did and I never noticed it, then do feel free to tell me ^^
Restrained Freedom – LOL, glad to know you think Eragon's living the life of a pimp ;) and perhaps? Maybe? But trust me, before we get there, Eragon is going to suffer. In less physical ways.
Viro – thank youuuu!~
Cara Meirfert – SORRYYY, I'll still updateee!~ XD thanks too :)
Eradon son of awesomeness – thanksss XD
EminemBitches – lol, thanks man~ ^^
Darth Feanor – I really will XDXD thanksssss
Eagan2012 – LOL, ikr? So weird… ugh, thanks thoughhh! :D
Salamender – perhaps? ;)