Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle belongs not to me, but to someone else. Sadly.
Chapter 21: Nightstalker
Dressed in a black cloak that would blend better with the shadows cast at nighttime, Melikir followed Astrid through the camp, which was starting to wind down and end its day. The mere fact that Lord Herion – who took his ancestry and claim to the throne too seriously to be healthy – heard about Elva and is on the search for her is bound to cause some trouble.
There was a rustling among nearby tents and Blodhgarm emerged from one of them like a furry shadow, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Astrid-finiarel, Melikir-vodhr," he purred in that unnatural voice of his. "Serylda-elda has informed us that you seem to be in a great rush. Is this something that would concern us?"
"Pointy-ears, sometimes it seems like you believe that everything concerns you," grunted Astrid. "Well, except that pretty elf Rider. And her brother. But they're odd. Really, really odd."
Melikir gave the younger boy a long, flat look before turning back to the elf most respectfully. "Aye, Master Elf, I suppose this would concern you. Though I have decided against informing you, or any of my council, until I have known the entire situation myself."
Blodhgarm regarded them for a while before a terrifying grin bloomed on his face. "Very well. We respect your wisdom in such matters. But I implore that you take care with the violet-eyed lord's other son, as he might not take kindly to his father's wrongdoings." With that, the elf left them, melding with the shadows as he stalked away.
"Faolin and Arya are not like that," Melikir confirmed quietly.
Astrid let out a shaky breath. "Elves terrify me. What was that all about?"
"I have no idea. But if it is a consolation to you, I feel the same way, even after all this time."
The two walked briskly for another few minutes, until they reached the south-eastern edge of the camp. Since they joined, Lord Herion's contingent distanced itself a little from the main body of the camp, where even the Urgals were slowly being accepted already. Feeling unsafe in that part of camp, Melikir felt quite lucky that his father did teach him how to sneak around.
He followed Astrid deeper into this portion of the camp, until they reached the edge. Crouching behind the safety of the tents, they watched Herion ranting and raging in front of some of his men garbed in the decorated armors of officers.
"Those bastards are surely trying to make sure that there will be rivals to the throne," one of them mused during a lull in the yells.
Melikir recognized him as one of the minor lords in Lithgow. The most remarkable thing about the man, he supposed, was the fact that he had a terribly unremarkable face, topped by mud-colored hair and black eyes. His beard was cropped neatly.
Herion nodded to him, regarding him with those mad violet eyes of his. Seeing him that way, it was quite easy to believe that King Palancar and many of his children were mad too. "What would you have me do?"
"It would be better to chip away at your foes, starting at their weakest points. The child who claims to be your son and the coward who hides behind the dragon will be most difficult, so we shall handle them at a later time. This girl in Surda, it will be easier to take her, slay her."
A smile played across Herion's lips. "Very well. We shall see."
Melikir heard enough. He turned to Astrid, who nodded. As quietly as they could, they snuck back into the main body of the camp. The young leader of the Varden was thankful that Herion did not have any mages in his camp, his family distrusting magic because of what Galbatorix did to them.
By the time they reached the pavilion, he turned to Astrid. "Do me a favor and summon my council and King Orrin. They will want to hear of this. Tell them to meet me in ten minutes. I will be locating Blodhgarm or one of the Riders."
"There is no need." A shadow fell upon them as one of the dragons scouting above dipped lower, revealing Ash. The odd Rider who called herself a half-elf regarded them with eyes older and wiser than what her face would let one know. "We know."
"As expected of a Rider. It seems like you know things all the time," Astrid pointed out.
Ash beamed childishly. "It is expected of us," she murmured. She leapt off her dragon's back, landing gracefully.
Astrid walked off after muttering something about Riders, leaving Melikir to invite Ash into his pavilion. He regarded the Rider uncomfortably. She was apparently ancient in human standards, though she barely looked older than him. She watched him settle on his seat with hawklike eyes.
"So much burdens for one so young," she mused. "The Riders, at least, have people to share their burdens with."
Melikir watched her for a while, unable to figure out what she truly wanted to know. He decided to be honest. "I know I have Brom and my other advisors with me, but I suppose you are right. Ah, Rider, I forget my manners. Please have a seat."
Ash smiled and sat across from him, eyes glittering dangerously. "I have heard of your achievements, and it is not something to be taken lightly."
Melikir inclined his head to acknowledge what she said. "Thank you. To hear such words from a Rider as experienced as you truly warms me. But I believe that is not all you wished to say."
The Rider leaned forward, golden hair glinting in the faint light. "War is coming, Melikir-vodhr. When the Black King's throne is toppled, there will be a succession crisis. Will you vie for the throne too? You are a most capable leader, and you can rally your supporters to back your claim."
He knew the answer before the Rider finished speaking. "I would never dream of it. I thought of what could be, at times, but no. I am not a king, and I never will be. I would back Roran with his claim if it were not for the fact that he is a Rider."
Ash nodded. "It is good to see that you do understand the threat that an immortal king – especially one as powerful as a Rider – would pose to a race as fleetingly bright as yours."
Melikir nodded, understanding. Any Rider, no matter how pure their intentions are, will risk corruption if they take the throne. "We understand, because we have experienced what it has done to us."
With a muffled sound, Brom stepped in, exchanging nods with Ash. Right behind him was Jormundur, who turned to Melikir with weary eyes. "I hope you have a good reason to rouse us from our rest," he groaned.
It was an hour before dawn – or at least, that was what the dwarf attendants who roused him from his sleep claimed – and Katrina, for lack of a better word, was cranky. She barely had enough sleep after the events of the previous night, and the kiss kept her tossing and turning on her bed well after King Orik sent them to their rooms to rest.
Slipping into dark clothes suited for traveling, she was just making sure that her weapons were in place when someone knocked thrice. "Come in," she told them as she hefted her pack.
The door creaked open, and Eragon peered inside with a worried crease on his forehead. "Ah, you are ready to leave. Good, good."
"Were we not supposed to depart for the Varden early?" Katrina asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Aye, that was the plan," Eragon mumbled, making a face. "Melikir contacted Nasuada one hour ago."
"If it is so confidential, then come inside and close that door behind you." Katrina sighed. Every Rider enchanted their rooms to protect from eavesdroppers, after all.
The boy smiled and did as he was told. His eyes still seemed so tight, though. "Katrina, Melikir mentioned that Lord Herion – I don't even know who he is, blast it – has sent men after the child we have blessed. And he asked Nasuada to choose one of us to fetch her and her caretaker from Borromeo Castle, and to the Varden."
"And did she choose us, then?"
"She asked me to choose, and I choose you, and a companion of your choice, if you would be so willing."
Katrina smiled. "I am willing. And I choose to do this alone."
"Are you sure?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I am merely going to escort a child and her caretaker on dragonback. How hard can it be? I am not the girl that you and your brothers have protected in Carvahall. I am a Rider now, like you."
Eragon nodded. "True. Very well. You may depart the moment that you are able to. Her name is Elva, and the caretaker is Greta. They are well-known and cared for in the castle, but it seems like our friends in the Varden would rest easier with her nearby. Before Herion kills her. And I cannot wait to meet him in camp."
"I know who he is, my friend. Your cousin's uncle is not a good man."
Astrid lay on the small pile of blankets that served as his bed. It was certainly warmer than the sleepingbag that someone from the village of Carvahall procured for him. He just couldn't sleep, with so many thoughts running in his head.
He never met his father. Not really. He heard many unpleasant stories from his mother as a child, of course, but seeing the despicable man himself turned his stomach. He barely knew the man. He did not even expect to meet him in his entire lifetime. He had no interest in claiming the throne for himself. He was happy to travel and learn, thank you very much. But why did the man's mad ranting and raving disturb him so much?
A rustling outside his tent surprised him. Dawn was still quite some time away, and everyone would still be sleeping for at least an hour. Not even the camp cooks were awake yet. Grabbing the knife by his boots, he rose to his feet, uncomfortably aware that he was garbed in nothing but a big tunic and his smallclothes. He pulled his tent flaps aside and came face to face with Claus, who also had a knife in hand, eyes wild with fury, garbed in black.
Sorry, this is a really short chapter, I must admit. I wanted to do some sort of transition to the last leg of Bloodforge. This is, admittedly, shorter, but it's focused more on character development before the big battle in Feinster. More politics and stuff to ease into the story that I have planned beyond the end of Bloodwar (my Inheritance rewrite).
Really glad that you guys liked drunk!Vanir! :3 and the kiss was something, wasn't it?
Astrid is a little inspired by Alistair Theirin of Dragon Age. Sadly not a royal bastard, but still...
I also have a planned Ash one-shot spanning her childhood to the arrival of the new Riders, but I'm not sure if it will ever see the light of day. Is anyone interested?
Read and review, as always!