Chapter 36
I know this is late but Happy Late Valentines Day everyone! I would have posted this yesterday but I was busy spending time with my loved ones! I hope you all had a wonderful Valentines Day as well! Anyways, this chapter took me a while due to my busy schedule so I tried to make up for it a little with a few things here and there in this chapter. I want to say that the next chapter would feature the large time jump but I'll have to see how you view the ending...Ah! Don't jump to the end now, read through the whole chapter first, silly! And OMG! Have any of you gamers bought FFXIII: Lightning Returns? That game is probably why I hadn't posted this chapter a few days early. It's just so good! (But I'm biased since I find Lightning's character so admirable even though quite a handful think she's a stubborn...you know). In any case, have fun reading! R&R!
"You shouldn't push yourself too hard."
Eragon raised his brow as he sat with his legs folded about the mat that he had recently found himself occupying since he'd woken from his sleep-like trance two days ago. He eyed Formora from where he sat across from her. Despite the fact that she and her dragon were being held as prisoners, she looked as if she had no cares in the world.
"Am I the one being imprisoned in this chamber?" Eragon replied coolly. Formora glared at him, her blue eyes sharp and piercing.
"There was no need to be mean," she said just as coolly. They frowned at each other before Eragon relented. He sighed. He didn't mean to be rude but his head was aching and his body was still recovering from the poison. Angela had demanded that he stayed in bed for at least three days to heal but he had adamantly refused and in the end, the two of them came to a compromise at two days' rest.
"I apologize," he said flexing his fingers to ease his restlessness. "Events are moving fast apace. Your presence here has caused an upheaval within the Varden. The leaders are restless as to what to do and the tension is causing a strain to the alliance." He flexed his fingers once more. What he said was true. Ever since, Formora had arrived at the Varden without the guise of Elvina, the entirety of Farthen Dûr was in an upheaval. Deynor was busy consulting the Council of Elders to see what step to best take when it came to Formora. King Hrothgar had been too busy with clan meetings to come and spare his thoughts. They saw little of Orik as the dwarf clans counseled amongst themselves. But from what Eragon could tell, the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin was causing quite a storm. Out of all of the clans, they openly demanded for Formora's death.
And then there is the matter of King Evandar, thought Eragon as he pressed a finger to his temple. The elf king had arrived late last night. It had only had been three days since Formora and her dragon had arrived at the Varden. Evandar learning of Formora's presence in Farthen Dûr would have taken days if not a week or two to have reached Ellesméra by Arya's report. However, it was due to the king's duty to scry the lands did he come across the situation.
The shock of hearing from Angela that King Evandar was in Farthen Dûr had made him restless. What would the elf king decide? Would he cast Formora's fate to the infernal abyss of damnation? Or would he see differently?
It just all comes down to the risk, thought Eragon as he eyed Formora warily. Are they willing to risk everything and trust Formora? That is the question.
"Diplomacy was always complicated," said Formora as she placed her chin in the palm of her open hand, a slight look of amusement coloring her expression. "If it were Galbatorix, he would see if I had any worth to him and if I did, I would be made to serve him. If not—well, it is not as if we do not know what happens to those who are useless."
"Would you rather we decide on such a small whim?" asked Eragon with a raised brow.
"It is faster and less deceiving if you want my honest opinion," she sighed. "All of this diplomacy, negotiations, and counseling reminds me too much of my time spent with the Order. Those fools would tarry for weeks on end to arrive at one simple conclusion and even then they were always so doubtful and weak minded."
He sat there absorbing her words, trying to understand the mindset that Formora was coming from. It was no secret that Formora detested the Order of the Riders. She had, after all, betrayed them to Galbatorix. But it seemed as if her hatred for the Order stemmed much deeper than a mere grab for power.
"Was there ever a time when you did not detest them?" He was curious to see what her answer to his question was.
Formora was quiet for a long time. Her blue eyes left his to train on a point on the wall not far off. He waited, watching her expression for any sort of indication to her emotions but as always, she hid her true thoughts well. "Not always," Formora's soft voice reached him and he stilled thinking that one wrong move could cause her to stop speaking. "There was a time when I believed the Order to be right and omniscient. I would not have sought to join the Riders if I had thought differently."
"What changed?" His question was soft but she heard it nonetheless.
"Me. Them…The world," said Formora, her tone dark. A few paces away, her dragon let out a puff of air, one of his eyelids peeling back to reveal a large eye. His dark brown iris was bright and trained on his rider. Eragon could only wonder what she was feeling as she sat before him, trying to sort out her thoughts. "I believed in their justice and their views until it became too hard to continue. They were not the great men and elves that I had thought them to be."
She made a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. "You and I disagree on many things, Eragon. But I have little doubt when I say that you and I can both agree that disappointment leaves a keen sting in the wake of great expectations. The leaders that I saw when I was inducted into the Order were old with age and weak minded atop their thrones. They were too confident in their power, history, and knowledge. All they did was counsel, laze about, and give little attention to Alagaësia. In short, they were an Order without meaning—without purpose."
"A life following them was pointless," she lifted her chin off of her hand and reached up to pull the sleeve of her left arm down to reveal a sliver mark on the fair skin of her wrist—the gedwëy ignasia. "What was the point in training and devoting all of my life to an Order that was slowly crumbling from within? It was pathetic. Yet, despite such thoughts there was no escape. I could not very well desert the Order nor could I have gone off on my own. Abandonment was never an option when it came to the Riders. The only escape I had was the offer that Morzan presented me."
"Not Galbatorix?" That was a surprise. He'd thought that Galbatorix had asked Formora firsthand to be his Forsworn.
"Galbatorix?" Formora scoffed this time, her red lips curled into a mocking smile. "That man did not have the power to ask such of anyone. He only had Shruikan hatch for him and Durza teaching him dark magic and little else. How could one human—a human who had recently lost a dragon and was humiliated before the Order in his request for a second egg—dare to approach other Riders and ask for their loyalty?"
"Then why did you?" Eragon frowned. He could not imagine being as prideful as Formora and bending his will to someone who looked as if he'd gone half-mad. "Why did you give him your loyalty if you think so little of him?"
"You say that only because you were never placed in my situation and perhaps in hindsight, I should not have given into Galbatorix," said Formora, her brows furrowing slightly. "Galbatorix gave me something that the Order never could. He gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to being a Dragon Rider. You cannot give a swordsman a blade and expect him to never use it. Therefore, why should you not expect the same of a Rider? Morzan presented me the chance of escape and I took it. Do I regret it? Perhaps I do, perhaps I do not. But I am here now, aren't I?"
Eragon was quiet. He could not think of anything to say to her. Who was he to judge her and her actions? He understood betrayal well. He had betrayed his king before. How could he judge Formora? Had he not wanted an escape as well?
Unbidden by him, a chuckle escaped his lips.
"Are you finding my words humorous?" asked Formora, coldly. He could tell without a doubt that she was irritated with him.
"No," closing his eyes for a moment, he gathered himself. Then releasing a breath, he opened them to stare into Formora's icy blue eyes. "You and I…are similar, Formora. We both betrayed those who we should have sworn our services to."
"I would have never thought," murmured Formora, eyeing him as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Was it long ago?"
"Yes," he made a motion of his hand. "You can say it was a lifetime ago. It is not important. Not now at least."
To his gratitude, Formora did not say any more about his words and nodded. She reached between them for the tray that rested on the ground and picked up a pear. Not trusting anyone to give Formora any food, he had taken it upon himself to bring her food himself. Rosalie had been doing so before he'd woken but he didn't want to burden her so he'd decided to do so. It was also a way for him to repay Formora for feeding him when he was imprisoned.
"Evandar is here," it was not a question but a statement. He nodded and reached down to pick up a knife and apple, deciding to occupy himself by peeling and slicing the apple into thin pieces.
"He arrived last night with a few guards," amongst the guards were a few elves that Eragon had been surprised to see. He had caught sight of Blödhgarm and his shiny, dark blue pelt amongst the ranks as well as Yaela and her silver hair. "I believe you will have to answer to him when the time comes."
"Odd isn't it? I betray one king only to face another," a humorless laugh left her lips. "There will always be someone to judge me no matter how hard I try to fight it."
"You find it burdening," stated Eragon as he easily peeled the skin from the fruit. She took a bite of the pear.
"Wouldn't you?" Formora retorted. "You may seem like you answer to Deynor but in truth, Eragon, you do not answer to anyone. Yet, many answer to you."
"I know when to bow my head," said Eragon as he easily circled the apple in his hand, removing the last of the skin of the apple before slicing it into small quarters to place on the plate for Formora. "Having too much pride can be a vice."
"Having too little can be one as well," she easily dodged his advice with a simple statement of her own. It was clear to him then that Formora was not intent on changing her personality in spite of her circumstance. She was a constant.
"Still, I cannot help you if you do not plan to yield to Evandar and the others," he cut the last slices of the apple and placed the knife down on the plate before picking up a square piece of cloth that was cut from white fabric to wipe his hand.
"You should not," said Formora quietly.
He paused in surprise, his eyes flickering to hers. Her blue eyes pierced him, the irises blazing with emotion. "Why not?"
"You said yourself that the Varden was your greatest life's devotion," explained Formora, her expression unwavering. "I would not want you to endanger your life's cause so that you could save me."
Unexpectedly he felt a wave of anger course through him. Sitting up straighter, he clenched his jaw as he pinned Formora with a determined gaze. "I had asked you to not make me out to be a coward, Formora," said Eragon sharply. "I will not be a coward and abandon a friend in her time of need."
Her blue eyes gleamed as she reached forward for a slice of apple. "You never cease to surprise me," said Formora lightly as she ate the slice of apple. A few seconds passed before she spoke again. "Before you leave to defend me, I have one question to ask."
"Then ask," said Eragon his earlier anger rapidly fading away. He was somewhat amused that Formora would even bother to tell him that she had a question. She would often times merely ignore him and ask without any hesitation. What did it matter if she had his permission or not? "You've never had such resvervations in the past thirty years that I have known you."
"There are some things that one should not ask outright," said Formora simply as she shifted where she sat. She was silent as she gathered her thoughts causing his curiosity to heighten. Then in a hesitant voice, she asked, "Did you know Arva?"
"Arva?" He repeated with a frown. He'd heard of the name before. It sounded familiar. Thinking for a long moment, he blinked. "The rider that was killed by Kialandí?" Formora nodded. "I know of him by word of mouth."
"Do you know the name of his sword?" All thought came to a halt in his mind. Why was Formora asking such a question? Why was she interested in Arva and Támerlein now? He could answer her truthfully and tell her that he did know the name of his sword but that would only bring more questions. He wasn't ready for her to question his past or his true identity.
"Should I?" Eragon easily deflected the questioned.
"He named it Támerlein," she spoke as if he hadn't answered her. "I have seen it before. It is a beautiful sword albeit different from what I am accustomed to fighting with. If one looks closely on the cross-guard, there is a line there that reads: I am Támerlein, bringer of the final sleep."
She eyed him as if waiting for him to react to her words. Careful to keep his expression clear, he nodded in slight interest. "It sounds like a deadly weapon."
"All weapons of Riders are," said Formora, bringing an end to that stem of conversation. Though they did not speak of Támerlein anymore, when Eragon left her half an hour later, he was bothered by her sudden curiosity. Formora was unknowingly stumbling upon connections to his past life. How she knew to ask about Arva, he would never know. However, he did know that he had to be careful about her from now on.
Walking swiftly through the marble halls of Farthen Dûr, he made his way towards the library. That was the only location that was still blissfully quiet these days. It is humorous that just Formroa's mere presence has stirred enough activity in the Varden to last years, thought Eragon as he entered the large library that was lined with shelves upon shelves of books. Weaving in and out between the bookshelves, he made his way towards the seemingly uninhabited back corner of the library, stopping in surprise when he caught sight of Arya standing by a shelf, a large tome opened in her hands and her head bowed as she read.
"Arya," said Eragon quietly, watching as she lifted her head, her eyes catching his. In her emerald eyes, he could see her apparent surprise. Instantly, he felt contrite for startling her. "I apologize if I startled you."
"It is of little concern," she closed the tome that she was reading. Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his feet and back to his eyes. "How are you feeling? I heard word that you should be resting today."
"There is too much to do to and lying in bed will not be a means to accomplish anything," said Eragon. He gestured to the book in her hand. "What is it that you are pursuing? Should you not be with King Evandar?"
"He is conferring with Deynor at the moment," said Arya, a frown gracing her fair features. "There is little for me to do when the monarch that I am representing is here." The way she spoke of her father gave him pause. Had something happened between the two of them? "I had thought to occupy myself here for the moment."
She showed him the spine of the book that she was reading. Draughts of Death. Poisons? Why would she be studying up on her knowledge of poison? "Are you planning to poison someone soon?" asked Eragon uncertainly.
She smiled and shook her head. "No, I was wandering about when my eye caught the spine of this book," the slight change to her expression told him clearly that she was being dishonest with him. What was she hiding that she needed to come up with an excuse to look at such a book? Was she planning on poisoning someone? He couldn't imagine her doing so.
"I see," he left her words unchallenged. She would tell him if she wanted to. Instead, he decided to take the conversation down another vein. "How have you been these last few days, Arya?"
"Does it matter?" She returned the book back to shelf in a fluid motion of her arm. Her face turned away from him. That was a strange thing for her to say. Unsure of where Arya was going with her answer, he waited for her to say more but as the seconds ticked by, it became clear to him that she had no intentions of continuing.
He reached forward with his hand and placed it on her shoulder so that she would look at him. What he saw in her eyes surprised him. There was a hint of uncertainty, self-doubt, and hesitation. It was in this moment that he was once more aware of the fact that their roles were reversed. In another life, he would have been the one filled with uncertainty and self-doubt and she would be there to comfort him. It was his turn to be there for her. He didn't want her to feel lonely like she did in his other life.
"To me it does," said Eragon truthfully in the ancient language, watching as her eyes widened slightly. He smiled at her and with his other hand reached up as if to caress her cheek but thought otherwise and contented himself with tucking a strand of her ebony tresses behind her pointed ear. "You are my close friend, Arya. How you feel means a great deal to me."
He withdrew his hand but kept his other on her shoulder. "Do not be afraid to say what you truly want to, Arya. I will listen to you." There was a flash of emotion in her eyes and he could tell that what he said meant more to her than she let on.
"Thank you," her words were quiet and heartfelt and she smiled at him, a smile that was so beautiful that he felt as if his heart was being constricted by its pure beauty. He nodded and squeezed her shoulder gently before withdrawing his hand. He did not want to overstep his boundaries. Friendship was a far cry from mates and if he did anything to offend her, he would never forgive himself.
"I think I should be the one to thank you," said Eragon. At her confused expression, he elaborated. "You came to find me with Veric and had it not been for you, I do not know how Formora would have dealt with the Varden."
As always, there was a tinge of a flush to her cheeks whenever he showed his appreciation for her deeds. She really was modest. His smile widened. "You would have done the same for me," murmured Arya as she stared off to the side.
"Without a doubt," agreed Eragon. He studied Arya and could tell that she was less tense than before. That was a good thing. His eyes darted back to the book that she had returned to the shelf. He wanted to ask her but caught himself once more.
"Eragon," he turned to her at the sound of his name, his lips parting to answer her when the hiss of air caught his attention. Moving on instinct, he reached forward and pushed Arya to the side as he felt something sharp pierce the skin of his right shoulder. Stumbling backwards, Eragon blinked as he glanced at the shaft that was protruding from his flesh. It was an arrow. The wood was painted black and had no markings on it.
That was why I could not see it, thought Eragon as his hand reached up to grip the black shaft. The library was dark naturally and was only lit with enough flameless lanterns to cast a dim glow about the bookshelves. It did not help that the area that he and Arya were in was backed by a wall and was a dimmer portion of the library.
"Eragon—" Arya began alarmed.
He shook his head as he snapped the shaft of the arrow, ignoring the pain in his right shoulder that was slowly coursing through his body. "There is only one exit to this library," said Eragon with a grimace as he straightened himself. "I will make my way there, circle around and cut the assassin off if he attempts to escape, Arya."
She looked hesitant but nodded, her emerald eyes hard as she darted away, flitting between the shelves like a shadow. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned and made his way to the doors that led out of the library. If there was one thing he was confident in, it was the fact that he could run faster than any normal human or elf could due to his transformations in his past life by Saphira, the Agaetí Blödhren, and merging his soul with Arya while consuming Asura's.
Vaulting over a table, he easily landed on his feet and continued sprinting. The stinging pain in his shoulder grew. Rounding a corner, he cursed when he came to stop before a bookshelf. Refusing to turn back, he sprinted for the wooden frame, both hands outstretched. Grabbing the shelf above him, Eragon easily pushed himself upwards. With his hands and feet, he easily propelled himself over the bookshelf. Rather than continue on the ground, he instead ran about on top of the shelves, jumping from shelf to shelf. Below, he could see the assassin running between the wooden frames.
Leaping from the shelf he was on, he dove for the assassin. The two on them went tumbling to the ground and into another bookshelf. Eragon grunted when he felt a strong fist slam into his stomach, he rolled onto his side to avoid a kick to his torso. He was about to retaliate but was saved from doing so when a leather booted foot slammed into the assassin's chest, sending the man tumbling backwards. Chest heaving with effort, he tiredly got to his feet, a hand coming up to touch the growing wet patch on his tunic. The remaining length of shaft of the arrow prodded his skin.
Then without another word, he shifted his leg and kicked the assassin with enough force in the chest to knock him unconscious. Gathering his breath, he watched as Arya reached down to remove the mask from the assassin's face to reveal a dwarf. He had a long, braided beard and from what Eragon could tell he was rather young.
"Does he have any sort of symbol or crest on him that could identify which clan he could be from?" asked Eragon as Arya searched the dwarf. She shook her head. He cursed quietly underneath his breath. Of all things to happen, it had to be this. Not only that but he was never going to hear the end of it from Angela if word reached of the attempt on his and Arya's life reached her ears. Catching Arya's focused expression, his eyes shifted back to the dwarf. "Do you recognize him from somewhere?"
"No," she shook her head then more to herself than him, she murmured, "He must be the same one."
"Same one?" His eyes widened in surprise as the implications of her words sunk in. "You mean to say that someone has tried an attempt on your life, Arya?" She did not respond to him but her silence was enough. Feeling a wave of fury encase him, he snarled. "When did this happen?"
"A few days past," she stood. "It was a failed attempt but I did not think the assassin would be so bold as to strike again."
"Or foolish," he started in anger moving to grab the unconscious dwarf and shake him awake to demand why he targeted Arya but winced as the pain in his shoulder heightened considerably. "Why have you not told Deynor of this? Is it because of the situation with Formora?"
"Telling him would only cause for the possible outbreak of conflict between the Varden and the dwarves and there is also the matter of my king," she frowned. "I do not like staying silent about such matters but it is a necessity. The bonds of with our allies grow more tenacious as the days go by. This will only serve to strain such bonds even further."
Selfless to the end, that was Arya. He wanted to smile but found it inappropriate for the situation. "You could have told me," said Eragon. He scowled as he glared at the dwarf wishing a terrible death upon him. "In any case, the thought matters little now." He gestured to the assassin. "What do you want to do, Arya? We cannot let this dwarf go unpunished nor do we have the authority to pass judgment on him."
"We have little choice but to take care of this matter ourselves," she said, her lips drawn into a hard line. He nodded.
"Then we must do so now," said Eragon as he made to crouch forward only stopping when Arya turned to him, placing a hand against his chest. He froze, not expecting such contact from her.
"Let us tend to your injury first." Consenting, he straightened and gritted his teeth as he waited from Arya to pull the arrow from his shoulder. Slim hand wrapping about the wooden shaft, her eyes flickered to his and then with a swift tug, the arrowhead was pulled free from his flesh. A hiss of air escaped his teeth as he felt a new flow of blood drench his tunic. The pain which flared the moment Arya had pulled the arrow had subsided as Arya's magic within him healed the wound.
"The arrowhead has no traces of poison," Arya observed as she studied the bloody metal head.
"Then we can assume that the assassin was confident in his skills alone to kill the both of us," said Eragon as he knelt on one knee to study the unconscious dwarf. "We may not be able to punish him but that does not mean we are at a disadvantage."
"What do you mean?" asked Arya as she set the arrow aside on a nearby table, swiftly coming up to his side. She knelt beside him, her eyes trained on the dwarf.
"We use him as a means to an end," said Eragon simply. A look of disapproval flashed across Arya's face and though it was brief, he could tell the idea displeased her. "It is dishonest but necessary, Arya."
"I know well enough," she did not have to say anymore for Eragon to understand what she meant. She was the elven ambassador of her people. It was a given that she would understand how to play in the game of politics that they were tangled in.
"I am almost certain that this dwarf is from the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin," he frowned. "Their protests are causing quiet the stir in Farthen Dûr. If we use this dwarf to threaten Vermûnd, he would be certain to yield."
"I cannot—" Arya began looking troubled.
He swiftly cut her off. "I shall do it and not you," he refused to budge on this point with her. "I have nothing to lose, Arya while you have your position as ambassador."
"I cannot ask you to do so for me," protested Arya, her troubled expression growing.
"If it makes you feel better," said Eragon as he prepared himself to tear through the dwarf's mental barriers. "I shall do this for Formora. If I can get Az Sweldn rak Anhûin to stop their cries for her blood, I can give her a fair chance when the leaders debate over her fate in the Varden."
His eyes darted to Arya once more and her expression confused him but he did not have time to contemplate as he returned his concentration on the dwarf before him. He knew Vermûnd from his previous life and knew that if he sent an assassin to do away with their lives, the chosen assassin would be trained well in his mental defenses. Taking a deep breath he gathered himself before he delved into the assassin's mind.
Just as he'd expected, he was met with a substantial amount of resistance. The dwarf was trained well. His barriers were difficult to break through but if there was one thing that Eragon had above him, it was the fact that he was trained by Galbatorix. Compressing all of his efforts in one point, he spearheaded through the mental barriers. There was a cry of pain from the dwarf before him as a plethora of thoughts and memories bombarded him.
Sifting through for the one that mattered, he felt a feeling of triumph course through him. The assassin was indeed sent from Vermûnd, his memories were proof enough. After a moment of shifting through the rest of his memories to find any information that could be useful, Eragon was pleased enough with what he'd managed to obtain. Withdrawing from the dwarf, he stood satisfied. "He's given me the information I needed," said Eragon as he turned to Arya.
"What will we do with him now?" Arya's eyes darted to the unconscious dwarf.
"I will take care of him," said Eragon. He easily reached down and picked up the dwarf, slinging him over his shoulder. "You should see if the meeting has finished as to not arouse any suspicions, Arya."
"Be careful, Eragon," said Arya in a soft voice as she disappeared between the shelves with one last look at him. Nodding to himself, he swept the remains of the arrow up and carried the dwarf from the library being careful not to be seen. Rather than bring the dwarf back to his quarters, he went the opposite direction.
"What on Alagaësia are you doing?" questioned Angela as he entered her chambers.
"Accommodating your room momentarily," replied Eragon as he tossed the dwarf unkindly onto the ground. "Do you have anything to tie him up with? And perhaps something to drug him with as well? I shall need him as a bargaining tool."
There was a great deal of bustling before Angela was upon him with a frown and a thick, metal chain in her hands.
"Here use these chains," she passed him a thick chain. "They are impervious to magic. He would not be able to break free wrapped up in such. As for a drug, well I can certainly make one. However, before I do, will you kindly explain as to why your tunic is covered in blood and this unconscious dwarf that you are harboring. I may be your friend, Eragon, but make no mistake if you think I condone any illicit activities."
"You know me well enough to know that I have honor, Angela," said Eragon rather disgruntled at her words. In short, clip sentences, he told her of the assassination attempt and what he'd learned and when he was done, Angela was nodding in approval.
"Vermûnd was mistaken when he believes he can outdo you," said Angela shaking her head, "By all means, use this assassin as a means to an end. It has been getting far too uproarious about here. I cannot work when everyone is screaming at each other over a dispute that can be easily resolved."
"You think it is easy?" Eragon tightened the chain about the dwarf making certain that the metal was constricting but not so that it would make it a struggle to breathe.
"I would say so, but I was never one for politics," she eyed his tunic before tossing him a spare. "Here, wear this. If you are seen as you are, word will spread and I doubt you can keep secret to Deynor about what has happened if he is intent on finding out. I suppose I could make your life miserable by telling you that I was right in wanting you to rest for three days but had you been bedridden, Arya might not have survived a second encounter with this assassin. Therefore, I shall leave you at peace for now."
"Thank you," he tugged his ruined tunic off and changed into the new one, glad that he was not going to be lectured by Angela.
"Oh, and when you leave, do go visit Formora. She has something of importance to speak with you about or so she tells me," said Angela mysteriously. Eragon raised a brow. He was not overly shocked to know that Angela had somehow managed to visit Formora when Deynor had made it painstakingly clear that no one was to have access to the Forsworn except for a select few.
"How was she? More prideful than Elvina?" asked Eragon curiously. Angela and Elvina had always been on pleasant terms but that did not mean that she and Formora would be as well.
"Different from Elvina but not in an unpleasant way," Angela smirked. "She certainly has spirit and wit, much so now that she has revealed herself to be a Forsworn."
Eragon snorted. "Only you would think so," his eyes darted to the dwarf as he made his way towards the door to leave. "Will you be fine with this uninvited guest?"
"If he bothers me, I can always find a use for him," with that said, she turned away from Eragon and began to gather strange glass vials of violet liquid to take to her cauldron. Deciding not to trouble her anymore, he left and made his way back to Formora.
Things have certainly gotten out of hand, thought Eragon as he walked, cautious of his surroundings. He had never expected Vermûnd to have the audacity to strike out against him and Arya. But the fact that he did angered Eragon. If Arya had been injured, he would never forgive him. If he'd known that he'd targeted the daughter of King Evandar, he would have thought twice about such an attempt on her life.
Despite the fact that Eragon wanted Vermûnd to be held responsible for his actions, he had to side with Arya. They couldn't do anything yet, not with the state of the Varden. If it came out that there was an attempt on both Eragon's and Arya's life, everything would be thrown into an uproar. They had to tread carefully.
Nearing the door to Formora's chamber, he nodded to the guards stationed outside and they bowed their heads to him in return. Pushing the door open, he entered the large chamber. "You asked for me?" asked Eragon as he closed the door behind him, his eyes darting to Formora who was pacing about the room.
"The witch was not lying when she said she would tell you," said Formora as Eragon approached her. There was something about the elf that bothered him. She seemed hesitant and even afraid. Instantly on alert, he came to a stop before her with a frown.
"Is something amiss? Has Angela done something to bother you?" his frown deepened at the thought of the herbalist doing something to make Formora uncomfortable.
"No, she has been pleasant company. In any case, I have spoken to Angela on numerous occasions as Elvina, she treated me no differently," Formora easily dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand but the emotion in her eyes bothered him.
"Then what is it?" pressed Eragon, wondering why she was like so.
Formora fell silent and it seemed as if she was trying to gather her strength. A long moment passed before she lifted her eyes to his and spoke.
"Eragon," he did not pull away when she reached forward to place a hand against the side of his face, her blue eyes searching his. Whatever it was that she was looking for, it seemed as if she'd found it for he could see her resolve hardening. "I wish to give you something."
His brows furrowed. "What is it?"
Eyes gleaming, she released a gentle breath before saying in the ancient language. "I wish to tell you my true name."
The ultimate sign of trust...I suppose Formora wants something like that more than anything else since all she knows is betrayal...Anyways, while you all stew on that, I just want to tell you all that I am conflicted. In all honesty, this Formora arch of the story has gone on for several chapters and I want to end it here to do a time jump. If I do that, I can incorporate reflections on this moment to give a full story on how the Varden decides Formora's fate. Or I can go through another chapter writing about this. It depends if I want to get to the introduction of Selena, incorporation of Faolin, and the eggs sooner. And to be honest, I'm itching to write about the egg(s)! Depending on your reviews, I may or may not go a certain away. Or depending on how I feel when I write the next chapter. I may take a little longer to post the next chapter since I'm going to be contemplating my decision over this. In any case, I have to rant. I got the new FFXIII game and I have been vegging out with it for the past few days. I love it and yet there is this bitter sweetness since it's the last game of the installments. And the ending just...killed me! Ugh! That was my two cents on the game. But seriously I love FFXIII. And I will probably devote more time to it over the next few days so updates may be slow. (On an unrelated note, I also preordered the remaster edition of FFX and FFX-2). But look forward to them! See you all soon!