Author's Note: Errr...I meant to have Chapter 24 written and posted much sooner, but then I realized that there was more to chapter 23 than I had thought. So, here is chapter 23...part II. Ehehehe...I hope it turned out all right--it gave me no end of trouble to write. Next chapter we'll return to Eragon and Murtagh and Saphira, but for now...enjoy chapter 23--part II.
Chapter 23 Part II
"Didn't we already finish this chapter?" said Brom. He was sitting in Galbatorix's evil lair with Durza.
"It says part two. I guess that means it wasn't really finished," Durza said.
"So why didn't Subieko just put both parts into one chapter?"
Durza shrugged. "How should I know? Anyway, we have to start planning our assault on the Good Guys! I will have my revenge on Arya!"
Brom gulped. "Erm…are you sure that's such a good idea? Can't we all just…be friends, and get along?"
"What's this!?" Galbatorix said, stomping over. "A Bad Guy does not want to be friends and get along! That goes against the very nature of the Bad Guys!"
Brom ducked his head. "Sorry, sir," he muttered.
"Just ignore him, Brom," Durza said.
"Ignore me—me!? Why, I—"
"Hey, has anyone seen Murtagh?" Durza said, following his own advice and ignoring Galbatorix. "I wanted to spar with him."
"Why?" Brom said.
"So I stay in practice, that's why! I'm a career soldier, I need to train. If you weren't so old, you would too."
Galbatorix rolled his eyes, or at least they thought he did behind the face mask of his helmet. "Murtagh's still recovering from his chocolate addiction. He's stopped hallucinating, but he's still violently ill."
"Meaning…?"
"Meaning I'm going to need a few Urgals to get rid of the smell."
Durza gasped. "But—Urgals already smell! If they were going to get rid of a smell, it would have to be…"
"What did you expect?" said the King. "When the floor of a room is covered in vomit, it has a tendency to smell."
Brom grimaced. "That was really more information than I needed."
Durza and the King ignored him. Ignoring people was a key part of Bad Guy training. "So now who am I supposed to spar with?" Durza said.
At that moment, they heard a voice through the door. "Durza, I demand that you come out and fight me!" It was Eragon, who had come to punish Durza for temporarily turning Arya to the Dark Side.
Durza grinned a very, very evil grin. This grin was evil even for a Bad Guy. It would have made the most hardened criminal whimper. It was a grin that sent women, men, children, and small, fluffy animals fleeing in terror.
"This should be fun," he said.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Arya sighed and got up, brushing pine needles off her clothes. There was hardly any point, considering how filthy her prisoner's uniform was already, but it was a habit. She didn't really want to go back to where she and Durza were camped. Arya couldn't get the image of his face, totally impassive as he ripped out her fingernails and watched his men waterboarding her, out of her mind.
Arya had seen men die at her hands. She had seen their eyes filled with hate, with the desire to rip her limb from limb. She had seen the eyes of Durza's soldiers watching her, wanting her. Arya had no shame at feeling fear of them. She had fought past her fear, and had conquered it.
But Durza was more frightening. He had looked at her without any feeling at all. Arya would rather have had him take sadistic pleasure in tormenting her than just…watching. Watching as if he had no feelings at all, about anything.
She could run, if she wanted to. Arya could survive in the forest, she knew that. She didn't need to go back there. She didn't need to face him.
"How could anyone do those things?" Arya whispered to the stars. "How can anyone be so…cold?"
But something else came swimming up through her memories of pain. A cool touch on her face, breaking through her fever…someone holding her up, leading her out of a dark void.
She had been a prisoner. It would have been to Durza's advantage to leave her weak and helpless.
"…he's completely unbalanced," Arya said. "Even he probably doesn't know why he does anything."
Arya sighed and turned to head back. It was useless debating it—Arya knew she wouldn't run. She had to stay. To help the new dragon rider, of course.
Arya stepped into the small clearing. "There you are," Durza said. He had his back to her, unwrapping something. "Here—take these."
Turning, he held out her sword and bow. Arya took them, unable to say a word. She had expected never to see them again. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, she buckled on her sword and slung her quiver over her shoulder. She felt more secure now, more in control. She was in her own element again.
"Take these, too," Durza said, handing her a cloth bundle.
It was an Imperial uniform, such as a foot soldier would wear. "You don't have my clothes?" Arya said. She wasn't eager to put on the symbols of her enemies.
"Your clothes were a mess," Durza said. "Besides, this is a better disguise. A soldier can go anywhere without suspicion. They may not fit quite right—the King doesn't take women into the army. This was the smallest uniform I could find."
Arya said nothing. Did he honestly expert her to strip and change her clothes in front of him?
But Durza turned to go. "Keep an eye on Rashid."
"Keep an eye on what?"
"Rashid. My horse."
(I don't need anyone to keep an eye on me! I'll keep an eye on her.)
"Oh, shut up," Durza mumbled before vanishing into the trees.
Arya looked at the tall grey stallion that had trotted over to her. She reached out a hand to stroke his nose, but Rashid reared up, his eyes rolling. Arya took a hasty step back.
"Shh…it's all right. I'm a friend—"
(You are no friend of mine, elf.)
Arya jumped. Most animals responded to the Ancient Language, and especially to elves, but Rashid seemed much more alert and aware than was normal. "Is he really a horse?" she muttered to herself.
(What else would I be?)
"You—you understand normal speech? Not just the Ancient Language? But that's unheard of! A human's horse..."
Rashid tossed his head. (I am one of Tornac's horses. We are no ordinary steeds.)
Arya took a step nearer. "Why do you stay with someone like him?"
(My master is a good man,) Rashid said. (Tornac thought so, too. What I want to know is why my master insists on taking you with us. If I had my way, we wouldn't have taken you from Gil'ead at all.)
"I understand why he hates me, but what about you? I haven't done anything to you."
Rashid snorted. (So you say.) He bent his head, hunting for sweeter grass.
Arya shook her head. The more time she spent with Durza, the more surreal this whole thing seemed. It was like knowing two identical twins who were polar opposites.
Pulling off her prison tunic, Arya put on the Imperial uniform. Durza was right—it didn't fit very well. She was forced to tear her prison tunic into strips to bind her chest, and she had to buckle the belt very tightly around her waist to keep the tunic from slipping. Even then, it was loose on her.
"Where did he go, anyway?" Arya said, glancing around.
(Probably to hunt,) Rashid said.
"To hunt what? He brought supplies, didn't he?"
(For you, because you don't eat meat. He never brings anything for himself.)
"…oh," Arya said. Digging through the packs Rashid had been carrying, she found some rations, the kind that soldiers carried. They were among the least desirable food she had ever eaten, but it was better than nothing. Then Arya leaned back against a tree. She fell into a light doze after a while.
Arya wasn't sure exactly what it was that awoke her. It wasn't a sound—Durza could move as silently as an elf when he wanted to. Perhaps it was some sense given to her by her magic, an awareness that such a powerful magician was near. She woke up to find Durza sitting across the clearing from her, pulling feathers out of his teeth.
It was such a bizarre image that for a moment Arya sat in silence, wondering if she had really awoken or if she was still dreaming. "What are you doing?" she finally said.
Durza looked up. "Nothing," he said, pulling out another feather. "I hate birds," he added casually, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to be talking about. "Too many feathers. Have you ever swallowed a feather?"
"…no," Arya said.
"Don't. It's not a pleasant experience."
"Most people eat birds without feathers," Arya said.
"Princess, elves may know of some featherless species of bird, but they're not too common around here," Durza said.
"I meant, you're supposed to take the feathers off the bird before you eat it—wait. You eat things while they're still alive!?"
Durza shrugged. "Why not? I'm a predator. Strong night vision, good sense of hearing, good sense of smell, fangs…what else would I be?" He bared his teeth in a blood-stained grin, and Arya could see that his teeth did indeed taper to points, almost like a cat's.
"…you're disgusting," Arya said, looking away.
"To me, you're disgusting."
Arya's eyes snapped back to him at once. "I am not!"
"Yes, you are. What kind of person only eats plants? It's unnatural."
"You're one to talk about unnatural. I simply refuse to desecrate life," Arya said, her lips in a thin, tight line.
Durza shrugged and fell silent. This seemed to be a habit of his, and it was starting irritate Arya. Every time she really got into her stride in an argument, he just dropped it.
"Do you want to take first watch, or should I?" Arya said, swallowing her irritation.
"We don't need a watch—I can just set wards."
Arya opened her mouth to ask what wards were, then closed it again. She was a fully-trained magician, and she would not ask this Shade to explain any aspect of magic to her.
Probably some dark magic anyway, Arya thought. They say Galbatorix learned his dark powers from a Shade, after all.
After setting the wards—at least that was what Arya supposed he was doing—Durza lay down and, as far as Arya could tell, fell asleep. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted this, however. Although she was exhausted, Arya couldn't allow herself to sleep. It would leave her defenseless, and only a fool would trust a Shade.
It wasn't easy to stay awake, but Arya managed it. She sat up, making herself as uncomfortable as she could, pinching herself whenever she started to doze off.
Arya shivered. It would be a long night.
-o-o-o-o-o-
"Are you sure this is north?" Durza said for the fourth time.
Rashid's ears flipped back to lay flat against his head. (Yes, I am. Have I ever lead you astray before?)
"There's always a first time."
(You know I won't fail you.)
Durza patted the horse's neck fondly. Rashid had never gotten him lost, although Durza had gotten both of them lost on occasion.
Arya listened to this conversation without paying much attention. She was starting to regret her refusal to sleep. Despite the jolts of the road, she found herself nodding off more than once. But she would be fine. She would just shut her eyes for a little while, and then she would feel more rested…
"…Princess?" Durza said, raising an eyebrow. Arya had fallen asleep, leaning back against Durza's chest.
(Better keep an eye on her—she'll fall.)
"She's an elf, they always land on their feet."
(Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Durza sighed. It was going to be a long trip. Holding the reins in one hand, he put one arm around Arya's waist. To keep her from falling, of course.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Galbatorix sighed, digging his hand into the bowl of popcorn. It was almost empty. "You—go make some more popcorn," he said to a random Urgal. The Urgal ran off to do his bidding at once. Galbatorix nodded, smiling. It was good to be King.
Well, it was good to be Insane Dictator of the Evil Empire. But that was all semantics anyway.
"I can't believe they're still going at it," Brom said, sitting down next to the King.
Galbatorix snorted. "Durza's just toying with him—the idiot doesn't stand a chance."
"Which idiot?" Brom muttered. But he was careful not to say it loud enough for Galbatorix to hear.
Next to Brom, Murtagh turned over in his sleep, snoring. Brom patted his head, pulling the blankets around Murtagh more securely.
"I think he's mostly recovered," Brom whispered. "Just needs some rest."
"Whatever," Galbatorix said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "He was never much of a minion anyway."
"I—pant, pant—will beat you—pant, pant—yet, Durza!" Eragon said, gripping Zar'roc tightly. His palms were sweating inside his gauntlets.
Durza rolled his eyes. "Sure you will," he said, easily parrying yet another blow from Eragon. He had been hoping for a fun duel, but Eragon was too easy to beat. Durza was keeping the battle going as long as he could, but it was hard when Eragon made so many stupid decisions.
In fact, he had just made another one—he charged Durza, holding Zar'roc high over his head. Durza kicked him in the shins and sheathed his sword with a sigh.
Eragon got to his feet again, glaring at Durza. "That was a cheap trick."
Durza shrugged. "I got bored."
"Grr...I'll make you pay for what you did to Arya, you fiend!"
"What I did to her? She's going to pay for what she did to me!" Durza cried. "I will have my revenge!"
Eragon frowned. "It's weird—that's what Arya keeps saying."
Galbatorix's eyebrows shot up. "Durza…"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Is there something going on here I should know about?"
"What's that supposed to mean!?" Durza said. "I just want revenge! I want to destroy the Good Guys completely and utterly! What's so wrong about that?"
Galbatorix nodded. "Excellent, Durza…that's just the kind of proactive attitude we need here with the Bad Guys. Gather my minions—we must start planning our attack on the Good Guys at once!"
Meanwhile, in another room, Subieko was grinning a fiendish grin. It was a skill she had picked up from Durza. Stretching her fingers, she gazed down at her PC screen.
"Okay, guys…come join the fun!"
And suddenly, several more voices were heard.