-insert witty comment here-
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10/22/101
Sunrise
"Murtagh?"
That would be Eragon, his voice uncertain as he swung the door quietly behind him. The Rider looked apprehensive, his steps soft and wary as he approached Murtagh. "I'm sorry about that earlier," he said carefully, "what with Orrin screaming and ranting." He smiled uneasily. "How do you feel?"
Murtagh didn't answer him immediately, not trusting his voice. It all seemed vaguely surreal to him, just another figment of his dreams, another hallucination. Had it only been a day? It seemed so long…
"I'm fine," he answered at last. He didn't look at Eragon.
Eragon sighed, an expression of frustration on his face. "Thorn told us something about what Galbatorix did to you," he said at last. "About erasing your memory. About the—"
"Why am I here?" Murtagh interrupted, his voice level.
Eragon grimaced, his elven features tightening. He took a deep breath, and Murtagh could almost see him brace himself for the lie. "We want you to come back to us," Eragon burst out at last.
"Is that so?" Murtagh murmured softly.
"Yes," Eragon grated out. He hesitated, looking uncertain. "Murtagh, you told me once that you didn't serve Galbatorix freely. That you had no choice. Well, now you do. You can be free. You can return to the Varden."
He paused, as if hoping for a response. Murtagh watched him idly, feeling detached as he played with the bedsheet, twisting it in his fingers. "Where's Thorn?" he asked finally.
Eragon was visibly relieved that Murtagh had stopped pursuing the subject. "He's outside," the blue Rider answered. "Anxious to see you."
Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"There's a council waiting," Eragon said, almost apologetically. "I have to bring you there, now that you're—awake."
"I'm still Galbatorix's vassal," Murtagh remarked to the ceiling. "You may have taken my magic, but that doesn't mean I'm not a threat to your precious Varden."
The uneasy smile returned to Eragon's face, and he shrugged. "Don't worry about that."
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The Varden, apparently, took no chances. By the time Murtagh and Eragon made it from the basement infirmary up to the second floor council room, at least five guards and two elves were tailing behind them like a wedding train. It would've been fairly comical, if Murtagh had been in a mood to laugh.
He still felt weak, somehow. Shaky. His muscles couldn't have atrophied that much from just one day's inactivity, so the weakness had to have another source. Everything seemed unstable, liable to topple or change at a moment's notice. Walking along, Murtagh concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, holding on the wall for balance.
The doors swung open, revealing an impressively spacious room. In the center was a large table, and around it were arrayed various personages. Murtagh recognized three—Orrin, Arya, Nasuada—and that was it. Orrin, incidentally, looked furious.
"Council," Eragon said from behind him, "he's here."
It was as if he were some exotic zoo animal suddenly, as all the eyes turned to gawk. Murtagh ignored them all, glancing vaguely around the room. The Varden certainly seemed to be well funded, with all the lace curtains and velvet chairs. Still, they didn't deck everything in gold like some of the more formal rooms in Uru'baen.
"Murtagh," a voice said, calling him back to the present, "welcome."
Murtagh drew his eyes away from an interesting mural on the opposite wall and to the speaker. Nasuada was standing at the opposite side of the table, her eyes unreadable as she spoke. "On the behalf of the Varden, I welcome you. The elves have promised to attempt to negate Galbatorix's bonds upon you, so you may be free. Meanwhile, we will offer you the hospitality of the Varden for the duration of your stay, provided you swear to obey the rules and limits that Eragon Shadeslayer will set out for you in the ancient language."
Shadeslayer, now was it? Murtagh glanced at Eragon, who stared straight ahead, ignoring him. Turning his gaze back to the table, he saw Orrin standing up, his pudgy jaw sticking out angrily. "I don't support this idea," he said coldly. "Know that this criminal will never be welcome in Surda."
"Orrin—" Nasuada began.
"I never welcomed this mad, far-fetched plan in the first place," he snapped, looking uncharacteristically furious. "If you wish to persevere with this ridiculous idea, then you will do it without Surda's support. He—" and here he pointed at Murtagh—"can't stay."
"Orrin—" Arya began.
"I mean it!" he cried. "I won't allow it!"
All eyes swung to Murtagh, apparently expecting a response. Murtagh watched them all with a faintly cynical amusement, a smile playing about his lips. As if he cared, either way...
As if it mattered.
"Orrin, you needn't be so dramatic," Nasuada said at last, shooting a look at Eragon. The Rider stepped smoothly forward, his expression bland as he took Orrin by the elbow. "Calm down, do some experiments, and think it over. You'll see."
Eragon led Orrin out the door, handing him off to one of the guards. Closing the doors, he turned back to Murtagh with an apologetic smile. "King Orrin tends to be cautious on the behalf of Surda," he said lightly.
Murtagh crossed his arms. "He does have a point."
"That's nothing for us to worry about," Eragon said firmly. "You are welcome here, Murtagh. The elves—" he gestured around the room—"will help you be free."
"Out of the goodness of their hearts?" Murtagh inquired mockingly.
Eragon hesitated, then shrugged. "For the good of the Varden."
His eyes held a question, an uncertainty—one that Murtagh didn't really care to answer. Eragon was very obviously concealing something—his manner, his voice, it gave away the fact that the weak reason "we want you to come back to us" wasn't the true motivation. He was lying, just like Galbatorix had.
They all lied to suit themselves. Everyone.
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Finding Orca proved to be one of those things that were easier said than done. For the first time, Derek realized just how appallingly full his schedule was—from dawn to dusk, every conceivable moment was occupied.
Or perhaps it was just because he was fidgety, for the problem had never occurred to him before. The presence of the possibly-runaway-slave in his quarters made him suddenly paranoid, as all the guards seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously. He'd left her in his room and locked it after him, but what if she'd gotten out? What if somebody broke in? What if they began searching the rooms and found her?
"By the gods, Derek!" Trisi cried as he barreled into her for the dozenth time. Her eyes narrowed conspiratorally, and she beckoned him forward. "Anything I should know about?" she whispered into his ear.
Derek shook himself, forcing a nonchalant smile on his face. If Trisi got hold of what was really going on, then any hope of secrecy would be destroyed. "Nothing," he said coolly, turning away with as much insouciance as he could muster.
Still, he gave up the pretense around midday, running flat-out towards Orca's (or whoever's they were) quarters. The door was unlocked, and he slammed it open, skittering sharply to a halt as he saw the emperor himself sitting on the bed.
"Oh—your majesty—" he stammered weakly.
The emperor glanced at him as one might a dead bug on one's shoe. "Servant," he said, sounding regally disdainful. "What is the meaning of this interruption?"
The light tang of incense and rosemary touched his nose, and Derek swallowed convulsively. Obviously, he'd interrupted something... "I'm sorry, your majesty," he said weakly.
The emperor's mouth curled. "You are looking for the child Orca? Whatever for?"
Could the emperor read his mind or something? Derek blinked, much like a mouse caught in the face of a cat. "Yes," he gasped out at last, fully aware that he was behaving like an idiot.
The emperor regarded him thoughtfully, onyx eyes catching Derek's own hazel in an unbreakable gaze. "I sent her to the gardens," he said at last. "What is your name, servant?"
"Derek," he said, and faltered. Clearing his throat, he said, "Derek Mayson, your majesty."
"Well." The emperor cocked his head, looking uncannily like a cat. "You shall find the child Orca in one of the gardens," he said slowly, never blinking. "Mr. Mayson, when you find her, do bring her up back here."
"Yes—yes, your majesty," Derek stumbled. The emperor's gaze was like a bottomless pool, a void sucking him in…
And then the emperor blinked, and he was free. With a hasty bow, Derek closed the door and got the hell out of there.
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The council fought, the council talked, the council yattered on for ages unending concerning their prisoners. The red Rider himself stood aloof from the talk, eyeing everything and everybody with a faintly scornful, weary air.
Thank the gods they had forgotten to scry-proof the room, or else he'd have to crouch outside the door eavesdropping all day. In his quarters, Mattes leaned back against the wall, staring glumly at a basin of water. How very monotonous.
"…and I think that will be all for the day, Caniya," a voice announced, jerking Mattes out of his reverie. "If you would be so kind as to escort him to the prepared quarters…"
Finally they were ending. Mattes stood up, wiped clean the scrying basin, and opened the door anxiously. He was taking a sick day, so it wouldn't fare too well if anybody came to investigate if he was actually sick. Well, nobody would, most likely, but it didn't hurt to be careful.
As he rounded the stairs, a colossal bang sounded from upstairs. His pulse quickening, Mattes sprinted up the last few steps and skidded to a halt at the end of the council hallway—a man in the palace liveries was crouched there on his knees, his head thrown back as he screamed—"You keep the Red Rider here, and we'll all be cursed. Galbatorix will come after us, he'll kill us for the sake of revenge—"
The man's words echoed through the crowded hall, bringing a hushed, unnatural silence. Nobody seemed to have enough nerve to stop the man, to shut him up as he continued screaming, cursing the day the Varden brought the red Rider here—
Guards took the man by the arms, dragging him away. The shocked silence that he had brought remained, as all eyes swiveled to stare at the newcomer, the man that could only be the red Rider. And now he was here? He was here in the heart of Surda, the stronghold of the Varden?
He raised a quizzical eyebrow at all the stares. Eragon Shadeslayer looked embarrassed, motioning the members of the council forward to hide the red Rider from the accusing stares of the crowd. The crowd parted for them, the air heavy with silent damnation.
Mattes blinked, his jaw half-open with astonishment.
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"Well, that went well," Murtagh said as they entered his cell-slash-room, leaning against the wall as he stared at the ceiling. "Who was that man, incidentally?"
Eragon looked at him with a frustrated expression, his eyes narrowed. "I don't know," he answered tersely.
Murtagh glanced at him cursorily, then away with a sigh. Eragon bit his lip, a very human expression of annoyance on his face. "Damn you, Murtagh!" he burst out finally.
Murtagh looked at him, cynical surprise on his face. Eragon sighed, rubbed his face with his hands, and took a deep breath as to regain his composure. "What?" Murtagh asked.
Eragon looked away—when he looked back, his face was calm, almost as stone. "You've been very distant, very—cold," he said finally. "I thought it would be different. I suppose I was—I was wrong."
Murtagh didn't answer, feeling numb. What did Eragon want from him?
"So you'd expect it would be like old times, again," he said at last, raking the hair back from his eyes to stare at Eragon. "Back when we were crossing Alagaesia. Running from the Urgals. Coming toward the Varden. Just the two of us, again?"
Eragon sighed. "I don't know. I just thought…well, it doesn't matter now. Anymore."
He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. Hesitating, he half-turned around, about to say something—then, abruptly, he stopped and began to close the door.
"Eragon?"
"Yes?" Eragon glanced up at Murtagh, a disturbed expression of half-hope, half-anger on his face.
"When can I see Thorn?"
Eragon's face grew still, and he shrugged. "Tomorrow. Most likely."
And the the door closed, and he was gone.
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Okay. I have a really, really good excuse.
I had appendicitis.
Do you know just how much that sucks? Like, really sucks? There is nothing crappier than having to eat through a freakin' IV. There is nothing more embarrassing than actually having to be HELPED to pee like you're two years old or something. And—there is really, really nothing worse than having to actually do homework in a hospital because if you don't you'll fall behind and end up failing all your midterms or WHATEVER. Stupid, stupid STUPID school.
Yeah, so I'm bitter. All the cons of getting sick, and none of the pros. X.x Under the circumstances, I think I'm rather justified.
On another note…
I am thinking of ending or deleting this fic. I checked my email today and found out that they have a chapter online? Anyway, it's just that the third book will be coming out soon, and once it does, all those 'after book threes' will be kind of null and void. VF is (annoyingly) one of those fics. I do have a few ideas for AU fics that won't be affected by the publication of book three, so I won't be leaving the Eragon universe forever. It's just an idea, but one to consider.
I would appreciate feedback on this subject, and your opinions.
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Review replies, etc.
Lintu: The entire fic? Forty-something chapters? Wow. I am very honored, indeed:D
My-Lover-Gren-Gren: Thanks! I shall spare you from the epic attack of the sugarhigh plot bunnies. X.x
Joralie: Thanks! I'm glad you like it.
Meep meep: My imagination is quite morbid indeed, but also rather random. Maybe I'll make Murtagh happy. Who knows?
Ariel32: Eh, not too much stress here. If I do go on with the fic, though, I hope to add in lots more angsty stress soon…
October Morning: Valrhona or Guittard? Never heard of them. Suspect they're awesomehugeousmongously expensive, no? They sound like it. X.x But yeah, next time I hop through a chocolatier, I'll keep an eye out. Why does that remind me of the Willy Wonka song? Anyway…I'm really random today.
Mistress-of-Misery: Seems to me that he rather didn't. Poor fella can never be happy, now can he?
Lady Elora: Extra DVD scenes? Urgh, I don't think I'm even gonna waste my money borrowing it from the DVD store. I can't stand watching it again…my willpower is not strong enough to prevent me from smashing the TV screen in.
Alsdssg: I want to make Mattes kill Nasuada. That would be just so much FUN. Yeah, I'm morbid, I know.
Dreamgirlhoo: Yeah, well, there are lots of OC's and lots of fics. Not much to worry about there…
Fredsonetrueluv: We think alike! How cool. Actually, I don't know if I had the idea of Mattes killing Nasuada before or after your review; it was a while ago. Oh wells, who cares? XD
BlindSeer220: Gave up chocolate for Lent? Meh. But don't you get to pig out on Easter or something? I'm not too smart when it comes to holidays…
Treenonfire13: Maybe Galby could blast Saint Eragon or something. Seriously, if Eragon does the whole, "I'm a hero and I save the day!" act in the third book, I'm just gonna cry. X.x