A familiar hand appeared before her and clutched in its grasp was a collection of flowers. Their meaning was clear. Without thinking, Lia rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"No…" she warned severely.
Eragon sighed.
"Lia…" he whispered quietly.
"No," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Lia, listen to me," he pleaded.
"Leave me be Rider," she growled, removing her blade and resting it across her knees.
The flowers were thrown against the wall in aggravation, as he crouched down and dared to grab her by the shoulders. Glowering up at him, he ignored the hate in her eyes that were rimmed in red.
"Lia, this has to stop," he insisted.
"He is not dead," she hissed.
"Yes, he is," he argued.
"No, he is not…" she argued back, her voice pained, as she sought to convince him with her eyes.
"How do you know?" he demanded.
"I don't know, but he can't be dead!" she yelled back at him.
Taking a deep breath, Eragon dreaded what he was about to say, but she left him no other choice. All the evidence was there; Murtagh was dead. There had been a terrible accident and the Kull had finished them off. In the end, even the great warrior was no match for his enemy. All that was left of him was his torn tunic, which now lay clutched in Lia's other hand, as they sat in the very spot where it was found. His friend was dead. He had accepted it, they all had. Only Lia refused to believe and it was painful to watch. Never had he seen someone exist in such a state of denial.
When they had found her unconscious, they had brought her back to the dragon hold to tend to her wounds. The moment her eyes had sprang wide open; she had bolted for the door. It had taken several people to restrain her, but she had screamed and fought over and over again, claiming that Murtagh was alive somewhere in the caves! When they had tried to tell her what had happened, she had not heard a word. She simply could not understand why they would not help her find him.
It had been a terrible day and there was no stopping her. In the end, she had had to be incapacitated. It was an action that brought bile to Eragon's throat. Seeing her forced to the ground and drugged against her will was a sight that tore at his chest. Ella had wept against his shoulder and looked away.
The only sign that somewhere deep inside, Lia continued to exist, were the string of curse words that flew from her lips and the fact that she broke several noses and one arm before they had their way with her. In that, Eragon tried to cling to the hope that she would find herself once more and accept that her partner was dead…gone.
That had been yesterday. Today, remembering the assault of the day before, she had woken an empty shell. Whilst the rest of them had attended Ajihad's funeral, she had taken to the caves. No one asked her where she would go. From this moment forth, this would be the only place that existed for her. The cave.
Eragon had hoped that her time spent sitting and waiting would make her realise that there was no one to wait for. No one was coming back. Picking flowers as a gesture of farewell, he had been prepared to lay the memory of his friend to rest and do what he could for the warrior that was left behind.
He had been wrong, he could see it in her eyes. She would never give in. She left him no choice but to hurt her. Hurt her to do what was best for her.
"Let me ask you this…" he said carefully, warily, unable to look at her face. "Can you feel him…any part of him… anything that may suggest that somehow, somewhere, he is alive?"
He dared to look up then and saw that her eyes were shut tight, her grip on her sword hard and her free hand clenched into a fist.
"No… but that isn't the point," she said through her teeth.
"Then what is?" he asked softly.
"I would just know!" she barked up at him. "Our bond was beyond thought or feeling! I may not feel any sign of him, but I know he is alive! If he were dead, I would feel it! I would feel like a part of me had died and that part of me lives, so he must be alive!"
"What if that part of you just isn't ready to let go? What if you are wrong?" he countered.
The first signs of doubt flitted across her face at his words. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before slowly rising to her feet. Looking for the first signs of defeat, Eragon's stomach lurched at the sudden empty look in her eyes that stared back at him.
What have I done? He asked himself. There was no soul behind those eyes, no living being. Had her false hope been all that had held her in one piece? Had he ripped away form her the only thing that she had left? Had that even been his right? Was he always destined to make mistake after mistake, hurting all those around him?
Wanting to comfort her, he reached out a hand. She didn't see it; she couldn't see anything. Without a word, she walked away. Listening to the soft retreat of her fading steps, Eragon gazed at the spot where she had sat. Sadly, he crouched and lay his hand against the blood stained wall, the only sign of his old friend's demise.
"Murtagh", he breathed. "If you have any ties left to our world, you must help her. I fear you have left her damaged beyond repair and there is nothing any of us can do for her," he admitted to thin air.
Giving one final nod, he turned to leave.
"Rest in peace my friend," he whispered over his shoulder.
Then he left.
Erika stood outside the catacombs in a brooding silence. Ajihad had received a worthy farewell, as had the soldiers and much to her disgust, The Twins. But of Murtagh, there had been no mention and for reasons unfathomable, this made her angry.
What bothered her even more was her unexplainable urge to find the deceased warrior's living female counterpart and offer her condolences! What was the matter with her? They had meant nothing! She had helped them to help herself! The death of one and the welfare of the other should have had no meaning to her once her person mission was fulfilled.
This unexplainable consideration towards another and the unhealthily strange sense of loss… it was a sign of weakness. Being subject to these thoughts and feelings brought bile to the back of her throat.
Spitting on the ground, she rid herself of the vile aftertaste and scowled. No more would she waste her time brooding. She had her own life to lead and she not consent to anyone or anything interfering with her happiness, living or dead. Erasing the warriors from her mind, she set about returning to normality.
Gazing down from the lee, Ella sat with her legs swung over the edge and her hands gripping the sides. Beside her, with her large head jutting just past the outcrop, was Saphira.
It was easy to make out Lia's form down below. The slight breeze tousled her long hair and they watched her with sorrow in their hearts, as she walked between the small huts looking completely and utterly lost.
A lump rose in Ella's throat. Her and the dragon had sat in silence since Eragon had left. Now, loneliness and worry caused her to speak aloud.
"Saphira… I am terrified."
As am I… the dragon replied, glumly.
"She is so broken…so unable to accept it and when she does… I think…" she choked on the next words. "I think she will give up."
Saphira understood the implication behind the girl's words.
I will not let her! Saphira promised with a defiant growl.
For a while, the dragon's assurance was comforting. The thought of Lia taking her own life was unbearable; it couldn't be allowed to happen and yet, watching the girl meander aimlessly, with no point or purpose, she wondered what was worse?
"Maybe it's the only way," Ella's voice was barely audible to her own ears.
There is always another way! Saphira snarled.
Struck by memory after memory of every moment she had ever spent with them, every conversion and every silence, she found her head shaking slowly, deliberately from side to side.
"I don't think so… not for them… I don't think they ever planned to be apart…"
He would not have wanted her to do that to herself! Saphira cried out, appalled.
"Maybe… but if she were the one that lay dead, he would have followed her. I know it Saphira, I can feel it in my gut," she said, her tone bleak.
What are you implying Ella? That if Lia chooses to follow him, we should simply allow it? the dragon demanded angrily.
Ella's shoulders slumped and she felt the beginnings of a new clawing at her chest, as she acknowledged that her friend might not be alive for much longer.
"Whilst she thinks that he is alive, she will fight… but when the fighting stops…so will she. There is no life for her without him. They were a part of each other… their bond was too deep… without him she has no life…Would you rather she lived the rest of her days in misery?"
This is beyond ridiculous! This is madness! I wish that I had never been so stupid as to bless them with this bond in the first place! Damn my actions! Damn them to hell!
"If you hadn't given them your gift, both you, Eragon and all hope would be dead," Ella mumbled, struck by the hopelessness.
The silence that fell between them then was final. There was nothing more to say. From their great height, all they could do was watch their friend and hope… selfishly hope that she would never give in to the truth…
Feet dragging across the ground, Lia paid no attention to where she was going. It didn't matter; she just needed to keep moving, for if she stopped, she may have actually had to pay the Rider's words some heed.
She was dangerously close to considering them and she didn't want to. She wasn't ready and more than that, she knew that he was wrong, she knew it and yet…
Was it so hard to believe that her mind was protecting itself? Turning a blind eye to the void that existed within her? If she forced herself to examine her case as if she were another, then she too would have reached a similar conclusion.
But no other could know or understand what they had had, not even The Rider. His bond with Saphira was entirely different – maybe even weaker in comparison. How else has he not sensed his dragon's lingering presence when she had felt it? If Murtagh had died, she would have felt his life extinguish. She had to believe it…
But what if you are wrong? The small voice she tried to keep at bay asked her in a sweet and tempting tone.
What if he died and here you remain wasting time? What if his soul is so far passed that you cannot find him ever again? What if you wasted precious time breathing air when you should have sought to join him in a heartbeat!
Suddenly all her garments felt too tight and constricting. Fingering her collar, she tried to release the pressure on her throat. Nausea hit her and stumbling towards the nearest hut, she leaned against it, taking deep gasping breaths.
"No," she hissed fiercely.
In the moment that she fought back her fear, she heard the noise. It was a nose that had her question whether she was asleep or awake, for only in her strangest dreams had she heard the purring sound. Just one blissful second was spent in the delusion that none of this was real; a moment that was broken by the sudden pressure against her leg.
Flinching, her eyes darted down to see a large, ginger cat. Lowering her head, she stared into the creature's large, black eyes and saw there an intelligence that somehow, pulled at the threads in her memory.
The cat purred louder, wound itself around her legs and then proceeded to walk away. Lia followed.
Past the homes of the inhabitants of the Varden and into Tronjheim they walked, always staying just out of sight, taking the most concealed paths. Relying on the cat, Lia trailed after it obediently, without questioning the state of her mental health.
She wasn't quite able to accept that the being in her sleep and this animal were the same, but she recognised to whom the creature belonged and suddenly, there was hope, certain and sure. And if there was anyone that could help her, it was this particular someone.
Up steep steps they climbed and finally, down an abandoned hallway and upon entering a musty old room, Lia came face to face with Angela the herbalist and her cat, Solembum.
"Greetings child, it has been many years since out paths last crossed. I have always wondered what had become of you. I heard rumours of two warriors and I suspected one of them was you; you have quite a reputation," the strange lady greeted her kindly.
Solembum took his place by her side, still purring, still staring at Lia with those knowing, expectant eyes.
"Angela," Lia greeted her in turn and then fell silent.
This was the time for ceremonious politeness and she owed the herbalist much, but there was only one question that she wished to ask.
"How can I-" she began.
"Ah," Angela interrupted with a heavy sigh. "I was afraid of this…"
Lia frowned. "It is not much to ask."
"But it is," Angela spoke, more to herself than anyone else. "Do you not see? You ask me to contact the dead and this I cannot do, nor would I help you even if I knew how."
With her expression darkening, Lia folded her arms, parted her feet and refused to move.
"You misunderstand me Lia, it is nothing personal against you," the woman added reassuringly. "But there are some things, some magics that are best left untouched. Those that are dead should not be disturbed. I cannot help you reach him, but maybe I can offer you something for your pain… let me see."
Angela turned before Lia could answer and opened a trunk behind her, carefully removing bottles and examining each label. As she did so, she muttered the names that were clumsily printed on every one.
Lia stood rooted to the spot, eyes cast down in her defeated fury. Prepared to simply turn and leave, her heart thumped erratically as the words, "Ra' zac" were muttered, before the herbalist continued to prattle on. Turning slowly, Lia was struck by an idea. It would be extremely unpleasant, but it was worth the risk, anything was.
As Angela was bent over the seemingly bottomless trunk, Lia's eyes raked over the bottles that lay scattered behind her and honed in on one that stood out from the rest. It was too good to be true. The writing on the side stood bold, clear and invited her to take it.
Taking a furtive step forward, she noticed that the cat was watching her and it look amused, if cats could even look such a way. Freezing, she wondered if the pet would give her away; foil her hastily concocted plan. The cat only watched. Lia ignored it and crept forward, until her fingers brushed the cool neck of the bottle. Snatching it up quickly, she stuffed it inside her cloak and began her hasty retreat.
When she had returned to her original position, she fought to keep her voice calm.
"Very well... I will respect your methods of practice. I am sorry to have troubled you."
Without a further word, Lia left. She kept her pace calm and casual as she paced down the hall, however, one she reached the stairs; she was running.
Angela held her crouch until she could no longer hear the girl's feet hammering down the carved steps.
"Did she take it?" she asked her cat conversationally.
Yes Solembum purred.
"Then it begins," she declared happily.
Satisfied, the herbalist slammed the lid of the trunk shut.
Pelting down the corridors, halls and open ground, Lia ignored every strange look and every protesting cry as she bumped into any that stood in her path. She would not stop, not until she had reached her destination. It would not be long now; she was already in the cave.
This time, there was no light and she didn't need any. Remembering every inch of the dark tunnel, she ran on until she almost tripped and fell over the first of the rocky boulders, the remains of the explosion.
Feeling around. Lia found the exact place where she had fallen when the blast hit and decided that it was as good a place as any, she seated herself with her back against the blood stained wall.
With shaky hands, she removed the bottle and pulled out the stopper. Alone, she wondered how she would survive the nightmares induced by this vile stuff. There was no body to wake her this time. It didn't matter.
Tipping the bottle upside down, Lia downed the contents, gagging after every gulp, but she did not stop until it was empty. This was her one chance, her last chance; there would be no precautionary measures, nor trial and error experiments. This was it. The effects, due the concentrated and excessive amount, were immediate.
She remembered it all from the night on the hill and it was a thousand times worse. There was no gradual, feeling of cold creeping into her bones or slow build up or paranoia. There was only ice and terror. Cowering against the wall, she shook convulsively.
"Murtagh…" she choked against the sudden unexplainable tears.
Then she slumped to the floor, where the evil waited for her.
At the sound of soft, slow steps, Ella turned. There, Eragon stood. His face was ashen and his eyes ridden with guilt. She knew that face and so did Saphira. Angry smoke jetted from the dragon's nostrils. Rising to her wobbly feet, Ella groaned in exasperation.
"Eragon," she wailed. "What did you do this time?"
Little one… Saphira asked, with baited breath.
Slowly meeting their accusing eyes, his voice trembled as he spoke.
"I think… I think I just killed her."
Saphira roared in anguish, Ella clutched her hands to her hair and the Rider began to shake,
"What do I do?" he begged desperately.
The dragon and the girl exchanged a loaded look. Suddenly, all that had been said before meant nothing. Selfish or not, they would not let Lia take her own life.
Get on Saphira growled to the both of them.
Hastily clambering onto her back, they were barely given time to secure their hold, as Saphira threw herself over the edge.
Submerged into the darkest depths of her worst fears, Lia was assaulted by her past, physically, mentally, emotionally and yet she survived. Ignoring every scratch, every grope, and every pain, she focused on the one thing that she wanted to see and the only thing that was important to her. Only when every inch of her could no longer bear the agony, she materialised onto the scene.
The blackness gave way to what looked like the passageway to a dungeon. Jerking her heard from side to side, Lia flinched from the faces that were sure to spring out from the shadows. Even when no one came, her breathing was quick and her arms instinctively crossed her chest.
Her eyes were swollen, her lip split open ad her clothes were ripped and torn to shreds. Red welts covered her exposed arms, the marks of grabbing hands and pinching fingers clearly visible. Her body from the waist down, both inside and out, throbbed and stung from the onslaught of the abuse she had endured. It hurt to walk, to move and she was frightened. The thought of somebody touching her ever again brought a scream to her throat, but she held it all in.
Beaten, raped and attacked over and over again, Lia was traumatised. In her state of shock, she could no longer remember who she was or why she was here. All that she could see was that there was only one was to go and that was down… down into the dungeons.
Wincing and gasping with each and every painful step, Lia descended the steps and hoped that wherever they would lead, she could simply lay down and die. Broken in every sense of the word, there was nothing left for her to live for.
When her foot touched flat ground; she saw that she was not alone. A whimper rose in her throat at the prospect of the inhabitants who would inevitably turn and come to her. They didn't move. They didn't seem to notice her at all. Too frightened to move, she could only stare at the scene before her.
Two bald headed men stood standing over a young man bound to a table. There was something disturbingly familiar about the three of them, but from this distance, it was difficult to tell. Lia slowly dragged her feet forward, only stopping when she could see the boy's face.
Her insides turned to ice as she recognised him. She could not remember who he was or what he was called, but the second that her eyes landed on his unconscious face, she knew that she loved him and that he was in great danger.
Murtagh awoke and the first thing that he saw were the two hideous faces smiling down at him with grim satisfaction. He wanted to shout up at them, curse them with every foul word that he knew and then squeeze their throats until he saw the life dim from their eyes.
He was denied it all. Firstly, his lips had been sealed together by some form of magic. Fighting it, he tried to prize his lips apart, but they would not budge. Shackles bound his arms and legs and he was laid across some table. Ignoring the cutting of iron into his ankles and wrists, he strained to defy it all, get up and kill them anyway. One of the Twins tutted his disapproval and then casually raised a hand.
Murtagh's body, that had rose a few inches off the surface, slammed back down again in one, hard movement. Breathing heavily through his nose, he glared up at them murderously.
"Tell us everything you know, especially about the Rider and his dragon," one asked politely.
"There is the easy way or-" his voice trailed and then he laughed. "No, actually, there is only the hard way. You will tell us, or we will be forced to be persuasive and to be perfectly honest, I do hope you allow us a chance to use our new toys. It has been so long," he said in a wistful voice.
Remembering his nightmare about Lia, Murtagh almost felt a pang of relief. She was not the one to be tortured, he was. This made him relax a little. He had saved her from that much at least. The nothingness without her brought him more pain and distress than his current predicament, but for some reason, regardless of his last image of her, he did not believe that she had died. After all, this was Lia. No mere explosion would bring her end. She would be found, looked after and then, she would try and find him.
His heart both leapt and went stone cold at the thought. He wanted nothing more than to feel her presence in him again, feel her in his arms and feel whole again, but the thought of her at his enemy's mercy whilst he was held prisoner was too much to bear.
She would try to reach him. Whether she could ever find him was something else entirely. It didn't matter. He had to stay alive, so he could somehow protect her from these fiends. Not getting himself killed seemed a harder task that it should have been. He had to tell them something, but not everything- just enough. If he could hold onto his mind, if his grip on his memories was strong enough, maybe he could even lie? Hide most of –
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!! the muffled scream bounced off his sealed mouth.
His back arched high as the electricity crackled down his spine. It stopped and then he fell back again, eyes rolling back in their sockets, blinking until he could focus once more.
The faces continued to smile down at him and his eyes widened in horror as he discovered that something was missing from his mind's grasp. Terrified, he clung harder to what was left and as he struggled to remember what was lost, one of the twins drew a knife.
"Thank you, than was interesting", one said, pleased.
"But, there is much you hold back," the other added. "And we have the perfect means to make you talk."
Bracing himself, Murtagh became rigid. The bald headed men laughed.
"Oh, we have something a little bit more interesting than that. As it happens, there is some joy to be gained from good old-fashioned physical persuasion. For instance…" one smiled, holding the tip of the blade before Murtagh's face. "It looks ordinary doesn't it? It is, but we have sealed it with a rather special spell. You see… the blade cuts, but it also heals. Therefore, delivering pain, but leaving not a mark. Very useful in a situation such as… this."
The knife slashed across Murtagh's throat and healed in an instant, but blood had still managed to seep through and a strange, suppressed gargling noise sounded through his nose. Another piece of his mind went missing. They had discovered something else. Sweat began to pour down his face, as he knew not what they had learned or how much longer he could hold on.
"Are you ready to co-operate?" the one with the knife asked.
Murtagh's eyes narrowed defiantly.
"Good," the other replied.
The knife came down once more, until it was buried hilt deep in his chest and then, slowly, the knife was dragged down, across his chest, down his stomach, down to his groin, across his thigh and then slithered its way down his leg.
His lips did not remain sealed together for long. No magic could suppress the screams, as his lips tore themselves apart and the sound of his agony echoed all around, as if it were the only sound for miles. With his mind turned upside down from the unbearable torture, his memories were extracted in seconds.
It was to late, they had taken too much and yet, there was one part of him that he would never let them have because it was the one thing that belonged to him and he would not share it with anyone.
With what little remained of his strength, he took all that concerned Lia and buried it deep- so deep inside of him, that they would never find it. Maybe he would never find it again, but he had to keep it safe. Everything else, every secret, every second of his existence, every piece of information that they had every wished to acquire was now theirs.
He felt the blade dragged clear of his flesh and he gasped through the bloodied, ripped mess that was his broken mouth. Looking down, all that remained of his torment was one single thing line of blood. Rolling his head back, he closed his eyes and began to shiver. Although the pain was gone, the memory was so fresh, so intense that it was as if it remained. At least the worse of it is over, he thought. He was wrong.
Something cold grabbed hold of his left hand and turned it palm upward. Murtagh's' eyes shot from the beautiful silver face engraved there to the monster that sneered down upon it mockingly.
"And what is this? Some kind of tattoo? What a wonderful likeness it is of your… woman."
A fresh surge of hatred flared through Murtagh's veins at the insult and he tried to yank his hand away. The grip was too hard and seeing his protest, a sadistic glint appeared in the monster's eye.
"Your way of life is at an end. I suggest you erase any links to your past... or ... allow me?" he suggested kindly.
From no where, the other twin presented his brother with a red, hot poker. There was nothing magical about this crude weapon. It was simple and unlike the knife, it was intended to hurt and to scar.
"No, no, no, no!" Murtagh began to mumble in between his destroyed lips, blood bubbling between every repetition of the word.
They paid his pleads no heed and whilst one held his hand firm, the other brought the scorching rod down upon his palm and held it firmly against his skin, until the stench of his burning flesh reached his flaring nostrils and he screamed. He cried out, as the skin melted away from his palm, taking with it the only representation of the bond that he could no longer feel. Lia screamed too.
In a place where he could not see, existing in the very same moment, Lia had watched in horror, as the boy was tortured. Forgetting all her concerns for her own safety, she lurched forward, hoping to tear the men away from him, only to find that her fingers passed through thin air. It wasn't real, but it was.
Unable to leave, unable to look away, she only stood by his lolling head and sobbed, as she witnessed his pain. Reaching out to touch him, she stroked the air around his face and wept. Only when he raised his palm and she saw her image, did she remember who he was.
As the flesh burned on his palm, her own began to bubble and burn and in the cry that escaped her lips was the name she had forgotten and from now on, never would.
"Murtagh!" she screamed and then, there was no calling of his name, only the long, cold shriek as the pain in their hands grew worse and worse.
It was not difficult finding Lia in the dark. By the time Eragon and Ella had reached the mouth of the cave, her screams led them to her and upon finding her, Eragon muttered a spell and a small fire glowed in between his hands. Dropping on all fours, Ella grabbed Lia and began to shake her.
"Be careful!" Eragon yelled, knowing Lia's violent tendencies when she was awoken against her will.
Ella knew it to and didn't care. When she realised that shaking was amounting to nothing, Ella pulled back a fist and fought back the rising tears. She took in every inch of the warrior before her; tattered, beaten black and blue and wailing as if something were attacking her and now she would add another wound to her friend.
"Forgive me," she whispered and then slammed her fist across Lia's face.
Eyes flying open, Lia's scream abruptly stopped. Unable or unwilling to see those around her, she could only stare at her charred and blistered palm, her face horror-struck. Then, she was on her feet. Ella stepped back, but Eragon stood in her path.
"Get out of my way Rider!" she ordered.
"I cannot…I cannot let you hurt yourself any more," he spoke in earnest.
"You think I did this to myself?!" Lia gestured to her body in disgust.
"I will do what I must to keep you safe," he stated calmly, staring at the ground.
Lia's mind was reeling from the vision and she did not have time to convince them that she was not insane. They did not matter.
"He is alive. Now, you either help me or stand aside." Lia warned.
Eragon sighed.
"Lia… you leave me no choice," he said regrettably.
"No," she corrected him. "You leave me no choice."
He had just enough time to raise a questioning brow, before her fist smashed once into his nose, once into his stomach and finally across the temple, leaving him crumpling unconscious to the ground. Ella groaned and knelt by his side.
"Help your love," Lia said bitterly. "For now I seek to help mine."
Grabbing the empty bottle, Lia did not look back as she ran.
Staring after her friend, Ella wanted to know what had happened. Not for one second did she believe that the damage was self-inflicted. She had to discover the truth and yet, she could not leave the unconscious fool here by himself. Easing he tension, by slapping him around the face harder than was necessary, she waited for him to respond.
Lia's legs skidded to a halt when she rounded the corner and entered Angela's chamber once more. The herbalist eyed her with concern. The cat purred and Lia wasted no time.
"Help me find him. Help me find him right now!" she demanded.
"My dear girl… what happened to you?" Angela asked in a tight voice.
Throwing the bottle onto the ground by her feet and rolling it towards the woman, Lia allowed the action to answer the question. As the bottle bumped into the side of Angela's foot, she glanced at the label and then at the girl with narrowed eyed.
Lifting her damaged palm to be seen, Lia met the woman's eyes with a defiant glare.
"He is alive. I did what I had to do. Now… help me."
"You steal from me and then demand my aid? Your sense of manners has slipped since we have last met", she replied coolly.
"Please…" Lia now begged in a strained voice. "You are my only hope now, the only one who can help me. He is alive and I do not know where, but I must go to him! I have to find him! Please, I will do anything that you ask!"
"That is a dangerous offer to make and one that should not be offered lightly," the herbalist replied dryly.
"I will do anything," Lia stated, her tone resolute.
Angela scrutinised the girl for a few moments and then exhaled wearily. When she met the girl's pleading eyes, her expression hardened.
"There is a way…" she began.
Lia's eyes lit up and she was about to speak. Raising a hand. The herbalist silenced her.
"Hear me out," she said. "I have the ingredients you will require, I know the ritual and the words that must be said, but there are several things that you must be aware of.
Firstly, the spell is not reliable. It will take you close to who you want to find, but how near or far, I cannot say. Secondly, the required words are of the ancient tongue and you may only speak them once. To repeat them again or to share them with another is forbidden and thirdly, you cannot do this by yourself.
Your will alone is not enough- the energy required would kill you. You need two others and not just any two, they must be willing and they must share your desire.
The ritual will leave them weakened for days, but without their strength, it will be impossible and without their additional want to find him, you will not stand a chance.
If you can find such volunteers, you must form a circle with them in the last place that he was seen. You must light the fire, burning the herbs, join hands and focus on nothing but him. Then, you chant the words inside your mind and then… what happens will happen."
Taking in all that was said, Lia pulled her shoulder back and reached out an expectant hand. Nodding, Angela removed several items from her trunk and also picked up the empty bottle by her feet. Handing the girl the necessary ingredients, she also passed her the empty bottle.
"This is my price," Angela stated. "Fill the bottle with that which is missing and present it to me the next time we meet."
Lia snatched the bottle without hesitation, pushing the question as to how to slay a Ra'zac to the back of her mind.
"I accept," she agreed.
Smiling wryly, Angela stepped forward and put her lips to the girl's ear. Slowly, she said the words that would be needed. With closed eyes, Lia memorised all that she heard and when she opened them once more, they were filled with gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Angela patted her shoulder maternally and watched as they girl exited her chamber with a new sense of purpose.
As Lia marched down the corridor, she already knew the names of the two she would ask. The first was easy; the second was one she would rather not approach. Descending the stairs, she saw the person walking up them towards her. This could be no accident.
"Erika," Lia said, the name slipping uncomfortably from her lips.
Stiffening at the voice, Erika stopped and looked up at the girl with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.
"I need your help," Lia stated simply and walked past the staring, beautiful girl without looking to see if she was followed. She knew that she would be.
For a few heartbeats, Erika tried to force her legs away from the girl, but disobeying her, they'd turned and kept pace with the warrior girl. Soon, they found themselves outside the Rider's chambers and Lia entered without knocking and saw that Ella sat alone.
Rising to her feet, the young girl was torn between looking concerned and being angry with Lia for beating to Rider. It was no use; she was sure that he deserved it. Running towards her, Ella held her at arms' length and examined Lia's state.
"Lia what happened!" she cried.
"I do not have time to explain, but I need your help."
"Anything," Ella assured her.
"Good," Lia said. "Follow me… both of you."
Noting Erika for the first time, Ella stalled and then nodded. Erika nodded back and then they followed as Lia led the way. They knew where she would take them and as they entered the cave, a sense of destiny brought a shiver down their spines and a prickle to their skin.
Reaching where the others had fallen, Lia stopped and began to assemble the contents that had been concealed in her cloak. Erika and Ella watched her curiously, until some dried, unusual twigs seemed to be prepared to feed a fire.
Sitting, Lia beckoned them to join her. They sat and staring at her expectantly, waited for her to state their purpose.
"There is a spell that will send me to him... wherever he is, but I need the help of two willing people. People who want him to be found, people that want him alive... do you?" she asked them sternly.
"Of course", Ella agreed, offended that she was even asked.
"Yes…" Erika said, quicker than she would have liked.
"You will be left weak, but you will recover and if it works, I will be gone."
Erika simply nodded. Ella's face crumpled, but she dipped her head once.
"What do we have to do?" Erika asked.
"We must join hands and you must think of nothing but him...the rest is up to me," Lia replied.
"Lia…" Ella said softly.
"Yes" she asked.
"When you find him… beat the shit out of him for me," she said with a shaky laugh.
"I will," Lia promised with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," they replied.
Lighting the fire, Lia waited for the flames to change to a brilliant green and then, she reached for their hands. Forming a circle, they closed their eyes and thought of nothing but him.
Lia didn't know how long they had sat there, but when Murtagh's face was clear in her mind, she knew it was time. Speaking the words in her mind, she waited for whatever would happen.
At first there was nothing and then came the pull. It was like being torn from the ground and her body. All their hands tightened and she wondered why she could still feel them, as she spiralled out of their current place of existence, existing only as a blur. Soon thought became impossible, as the nausea took over and she could concentrate of nothing other than her love.
When Eragon returned from his flight with Saphira, they were in a state of panic. Not only was Lia missing, but so was Ella; they could not feel her presence anywhere. Heading towards the great hall, Eragon's stride was halted, as the herbalist, whom he had not seen since his days in Teirm stepped into his path.
"Angela?" he stammered in disbelief.
"Do not look for them Rider, for they are gone," she told him kindly.
"But...what?... why?!" he stuttered in disbelief.
"Your paths are no longer the same. They must take a different path from now on and you must not follow them. You have your own destiny Rider and they have theirs."
"But…" he argued weakly.
"It is time to let them go," she said soothingly.
"Will I ever see them again?" he asked desperately.
Angela could only smile sadly as she walked away.
Opening their eyes, one by one, the three stood hand in hand, staring up at the enclosed city and the foreboding castle in its heart. Too afraid to let go of each other, they tightened their hold.
"What happened?" Ella whimpered.
"I... I don't know" Lia replied uneasily.
"Where are we?" Erika said, her voice strained.
"Uru' baen," Lia muttered in disgust.
The faces of the others blanched. Lia eyed the castle with pure hatred and determination.
I will find you…