Chapter 34-Recompense
Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Series, any of Paolini's characters, or the Ancient Language. I also haven't read Brisingr, so please don't mention it!
Apprehension filled her that morning under the dim light that flowed from the top of Farthen Dûr. Perhaps it was the circumstances under which she found herself. In a little less than a week, Lenora had accomplished a great many feats of terror and betrayal, each of which loomed above her like the blade of a guillotine. She and Eridor had invaded the fortress of the resistance, feeling like traitors to the ones they so desperately wished to help. Should the Varden learn the secrets of her past, they would never accept her within their own territory and would consider Nasuada's acceptance of the King's daughter as blasphemy and an ultimately damning mistake. The traditional coronation itself had been forever destroyed by their arrival; however lifesaving it had proven, the ceremony would always be remembered as a fractured, informal crowning of a resisted and controversial new King. The memory of Murtagh and Thorn, the two individuals who had never judged her by her heritage, were left alone and half-dead in a vast swath of barren sand to which their fate was highly uncertain. And finally, the odds at which she still found herself with Eragon felt both deserved for her dishonesty but cruel for her intentions had always been nothing but his own. Or perhaps it was truly only the immense responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders by the new ruler of the Varden, who had assigned to her the task of training the thousands of men that now stood before her expectantly the ways of the King (the true inspiration unbeknownst to the soldiers).
To be a leader was something Lenora had never known. To be placed in a position of authority had never been a possibility while she had lived in Urû'baen, and since traveling with the group, each of them has been an equal in the constant struggle for survival. Gathering food and supplies, teaching and learning and the endless night-watch rounds were divided between each of them. As soon as she had taught Eragon a new technique, he would retort with new words in the ancient language that she would then be assigned to practice and learn as he too worked on his fighting. The brothers had hunted for their own meat to get by and as such, Roran (for Eragon still resisted both hunting and eating meat) was a more proficient hunter-stealthy in his methods and quick with the kill, whereas Lenora's accurate aim was all that she had with which to compare. Katrina's inner strength and willpower maintained everyone's sanity, particularly in times when the travel became especially monotonous in areas where the land appeared to stretch out before them forever and there was no apparent end in sight. The dragons each always reflected their riders' whims and personalities, but each offered wisdom none of them could hope to accumulate without centuries' worth of experience.
It felt as if the responsibility of winning the war had been placed upon her shoulders. Without her help, the Varden was lost. They had many willing and able men who wished to fight and defend their freedom from the tyranny of the King, but there were many more who fought for the Empire. The disparity in numbers was a disadvantage Nasuada hoped to overcome by training her men in the same arts as what Lenora had been taught in the first place. To fight the King's men with his own methods was their most tactful and final hope to win the war. In order to have any chance in standing their ground against the well-trained, merciless troops that faced them, they would have to employ the same methods and understand their opponents in a way that only someone from the Empire could offer them. That person was Lenora.
Nasuada's cleverness was never lacking. She knew the harsh realities presented to her by engaging in war with the Empire once again, but refused to be satisfied with the situation as it currently stood. As leader of the Varden, and daughter of Ajihad, Nasuada had made a pact to her people that she would never cease fighting for the peace that was promised with Galbatorix's defeat. So when the opportunity was so clearly offered to her in a green-scaled and blood-soaked package, she leapt at the chance. Lenora had been assigned the task to train the soldiers that were to fight in the impending war to give them the best advantage available.
Many of the men that stood before Lenora had already served in the previous two wars, and some, in battles before that. They knew what it was like to face death square in the face and live to tell the tale. But many men had sacrificed their lives, their final moments of unwavering loyalty to the resistance forever remembered in the minds of those who fought beside them. Great leaders had died to protect the freedom that the Varden offered their people, and these losses would become a part of history and an inspiration for the rest of the courageous fighters who would help to bring the country back to peace.
However, Lenora had never known peace. The closest she had come to encountering anything but turmoil had been during her young childhood, a time that had been forgotten, for to remember such a time drove her to brink of insanity. Her mother had been the only one who had ever shown her anything akin to love, and as such, her personality and communication with others was limited to the decency she had learned during her time away from the castle and with Murtagh. Now, Lenora had thousands of eyes cast upon her, expecting her to teach them the secrets of fighting and warfare that would no doubt lead them to success and overthrowing Galbatorix.
But alongside their weighty expectations, she could feel their doubt. The "warrior" that stood before them appeared nothing more than a young woman, normally a symbol of grace and elegance, broken and hobbling about as if age had already taken its toll. The only women these men had known to fight battles was Nasuada or the god-like elves that were so mysteriously absent in their time of need. These men were looking for a leader who was strong and resilient, experienced and knowledgeable of the warfare that they too had witnessed. As a Shur'tugal, her status commanded respect, but disappointment still flickered in their eyes.
Are you sure that you do not want me to join you in your discourse? Perhaps a dragon's presence will hold some standing, Eridor suggested in her head.
Thank you, my dear Eridor, Lenora replied, grateful for the unwavering loyalty of which she had never known before. But this is something I must face by myself. I must hold my own against the fray.
As you wish, young one. But I shall stand by your side when the battle becomes true.
And I would expect nothing less of my big emerald monster, Lenora remarked. Lenora took a deep breath to steady her nerves as the dragon's huff of reply faded from her mind.
"I realize all of you have come here for a great purpose. To protect your homes, your families, your friends and your freedom is a most serious responsibility that each of you is imposed to bear," she announced. "Unfortunately, we live not in a time of peace when we may enjoy our lives without the burdens of these tasks and fill our days with carefree pleasures as we pursue a prosperous future. Nay, instead we live in a time of war and unrest. We must bear the hardships that we have already known and will soon known again. To fail would be a grave loss to not only yourselves, but to everyone who stands around you. Each and every one of you is counting on the other to acknowledge the importance of the task that has been assigned to you and to protect you as you would protect them. Yet as these become realities, you will come to know how much your participation will be valued in times to come. You will be the men to begin the revolution. The Empire is a force that must be erased from the land forever, and you, the ones who represent the Varden and the light, are the ones who will lead Alagaësia into a new era. An era of peace will soon be known for you and generations to come." A question remained unaddressed.
"Despite, or perhaps because of my appearance, I have known these responsibilities myself. It has not been without great hardship that I have come to stand here and address all of you today. I may not have fought in the battles that many of you have known, but I too am a supporter of the resistance and a foe of the Empire. The scars I bear, like yours, have been a result of a long and unfinished history of fighting against the scum that Alagaësia must bear until we can finally and forever banish it from the land that used to be free for us to enjoy. We are together in our objectives and I wish to be able to teach all of you what I know so that we will have a chance to restore our land back to what it once was."
Now to invite the onslaught. "I know that as dutiful and law-abiding citizens of the Varden, you do not speak against Lady Nasuada's decision to assign me to your teachings, but I, Lenora, Rider of Eridor, wish to hear your concerns."
A middle-aged man spoke first, the hostility only masked by tone. "What have you to teach us for which we have not already received instruction or experienced on the battlefield? Even our boys have seen more warfare than their fathers before them. Jörmundur's teachings have served us well in battles before. What need do we have for a new, less-practiced mentor?" The question was one that she could not answer completely, for to do so would once again, reopen the Pandora's Box of her lineage and loyalties that, for now, the Varden was better-off not knowing.
"Aye, your concerns run deep into the minds of many of you. While I can attest to the fact that Jörmundur is a most-qualified warrior as is seen in the abilities of his guards, my methods are of a different feel. Given extensive observation and illicit knowledge that would have me locked up in the best prisons of the Empire, I can offer you something that Jörmundur cannot. But I cannot instill these principles into you until you trust me as your leader into a war that will only be won with support. Eridor and I are as loyal to the cause as your own Blue Rider." Some of the faces began to compose. "However, while I will command the post of teaching swordsmanship and empty-hand combat, Jörmundur will continue teaching archery and other weapons' fighting. Groups will be rotated between sessions daily."
This time, a young man not much older than herself spoke up. "How are you to teach us all that you propose with an injury such as that?" This was the next expected query.
"This wound is a testament to the precautions one should take in a fight and the consequences that result should such measures not be taken," she said solemnly. "Sloppy or distracted fighting should be avoided at all costs. I was fortunate to have only received this, for I-or any of you-could lose your life in an instant if you are careless. Let it be a lesson to those who may have found themselves in a situation in which careful perception would have prevented a mistake. With dedication and perseverance, each and every one of you can learn, re-learn and succeed in the teachings I aim to offer you in hopes that we can be the future of our land."
After the many questions had been answered to a satisfactory degree, the day began and the teachings ensued.
Well-done, Eridor chimed in. Who took you to be the inspirational type?
Many hours and frustrations later, Lenora dragged herself into Nasuada's office. She passed by the leader's guards, under instructions of their Lady to not be continuously bothered by unnecessary requests to see her important advisors, but their countenance changed upon seeing the face of the rider. They could sense an argument brewing. Lenora shoved open the door as if it had done some misfortune to her and stomped-a sight not so imposing with a limp-up to the desk, at which Nasuada sat. Jörmundur tensed at her side, he too sensing an impending storm. Angela straightened from her position, having been bent over an intricate map that she had been explaining to Nasuada, and a curious looking cat that Lenora had not seen before gazed at her as if he could see her soul, a strange gleam in his eye.
"I cannot even begin to express to you how impossible it is to teach nearly twelve-thousand men sword-fighting with only three-thousand weapons!" She exclaimed, oblivious to the looks of surprise that surrounded her. "All day, we have been rotating swords between men, breaking off into groups, of which half of the men appear to have skulls as thick as the helmets they wear and there have been who-knows-how-many injuries in the span of a day. Tell me, Nasuada, are we planning on fighting a war with imaginary weapons and the hope that Galbatorix will do the same? Because I can guarantee he will use every advantage he can employ to not only defeat the Varden, but destroy it entirely and there will be nothing left but blood-stains and a broken vision."
The room was quiet for a long minute after her tirade. The jab was callous and insensitive, and directed toward not only a leader but the person who had taken in the misunderstood rider, the speech was tactless. However, having been informed of the rider's ways, Nasuada expected nothing less and didn't lose a beat. She gave Lenora a moment to compose herself and take in the surroundings. Most would come to the realization that they had crossed a line, and might feel ashamed of their actions in the eyes of those who looked on. But, as she was learning, Lenora was not one of those people and Nasuada was compelled to reply without receiving an apology.
"I can understand your dilemma, Lenora, but there are other elements that you have failed to grasp," she said pointedly. She had the rider's attention now at least. "As a result of our retreat into Farthen Dûr and the influence of the Empire, we are forced to use only the resources we have within the mountain. This has created a recession of unforeseen proportions with which we are contending in whatever manner we may. Our blacksmiths are currently working at maximum efficiency to generate the weaponry and armor that will be necessary for our troops. We are using all the supplies available to prepare for the war and we will continue to do so until we step onto the battlefield. For now, we must all make use of the assets we are fortunate enough to have at the moment and become resourceful if we wish to stand our ground.
"We are all feeling the hard times, Lenora, but no one feels them more than I. While my people prepare to defend their freedom, I am the one who is promising them that outcome. While I rely on my advisors for valuable information without which we would be lost, the final decisions come down to me and the fate of the Varden rests on my shoulders. We all wish to express our frustrations, but we are all relying on each other to remain steadfast as we approach the war for without connections and support, we would collapse. Your outburst is recognized, Lenora, but it will not be tolerated again. It is not your responsibility to oversee the weapons manufacturing and as such, it should not be your concern. Your priority and your only concerns should be training the troops and your continued lessons with Eragon. You made the decision to join the Varden when you infiltrated Farthen Dûr and pledged yourself to our cause. Now I suggest you begin accepting what you signed up for."
Lenora didn't know what to say. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was humbled. No one had so thoroughly disregarded her every point and done so with such grace and performance. To her surprise, her anger dissipated and was replaced by respect. Despite the grim truth, Nasuada's retort impressed her and gave her renewed faith that they stood a fighting chance against the King under her leadership. She had been unaware of her own bluntness until it was shot back at her. Upon noticing the realization that finally hit the Green Rider, the Lady continued.
"Like everyone else who is preparing for the war, you too will be expected to complete your duties as assigned and refrain from such immature and disrespectful demonstrations. You may be a dragon rider, but within this mountain you are just another piece of the puzzle. You may retire for the day, but you are expected at the training fields tomorrow afternoon after your own training. Once you have completed your work for the day, I wish to see you here again for there is much to discuss once you are of a better mind."
Without another word, Lenora bowed and left the room, a smile on her face. There was hope yet. A fluffy orange tail disappeared from view as the door shut behind the rider.
The corridors were confusing and hard to remember. The quarters she had been assigned were based on her dragon's size, but the normal housing they would enjoy had been temporarily cordoned off due to Isidar Mithrim's still fragile and fractured state. As such, she and Eragon were forced to live together in an old dining area, with grand double doors large enough to accommodate the dragon's bulk, temporarily filled with two large and crude dragon beds and cots for the riders. Having shared the makeshift quarters with Saphira and the sullen and silent Eragon for the past day was beginning to wear on Lenora and she did not rush to return. Given an evening off, she was expecting to spend some time on her own, giving her thoughts the time they deserved. But it was not to be.
Going anywhere in particular, Lenora? The voice was unfamiliar, and mental communication was not common. She whirled around to see the cat from Nasuada's office, sitting on the stone floors watching her again. Though a strange sight to behold, the cat was not her immediate concern and she scanned the hallways for others but saw none.
Who are you? she demanded of the disembodied voice. The intrusion was unnerving.
One who is only…curious of your ways and your path ahead. Curious-like the cat. She looked again at the feline. But you may call me Solembum.
You? she asked doubtfully, feeling foolish to be talking to a cat. The large tail flicked appreciatively.
Ah, but you are quick, he remarked. She remained skeptical. At her confused look, he explained. A werecat has the ability to communicate with his mind, as well as a normal child, when he feels the transformation may benefit him. Ignoring for the moment that she was conversing with an animal of which she had never known existed, her own curiosity got the best of her.
How do you know my name? she asked.
I have my sources, Solembum replied, sauntering toward the rider. But what I'd like to know is who gave you that name?
Her eyes narrowed and she stood straighter. Of what importance is my name to a cat?
Testy are we? he asked, his tail curling into a question mark. Perhaps it would help to know that the Blue Rider has wisely heeded my counsel and that there have been many before your high-and-mighty self who too have profited from the wisdom of a lowly werecat's words?
Eragon may choose to listen to whatever suggestion crosses his path, but I am not the Blue Rider and you are not the one with which I wish to discuss my personal life.
So be it, he said with another flick on his tail and turning down the way she had come. But to leave without informing you of the one thing that could turn the tables on the war would be tragic.
Now she was interested. And what would that be? she challenged. That Eragon is an idiot? He turned his head and looked her square in the eyes.
Nay, though the same could be said for yourself, he retorted. That you have something to hide. A damning secret that you feel is a curse. But you fail to recognize that the answer lies in that from which you wish to be liberated.
Eridor's presence was a welcome relief as she walked into their room. Eragon's absence was almost more so. What a day, she said, collapsing onto the cot in exhaustion. Curled up on his bed, Eridor placed his head next to her cot, his eye level with hers.
What is it, little one?
Let's just say that single-handedly training the entire resistance is a little more than I was bargaining for.
And you expected something less as the third dragon rider? he said. She opened her eyes and glared at him.
Not you too, she groaned, turning her back to him. Everyone has been informing me of my duties and what I should know. She felt his snout gently poke her back and snuffle her hair.
I am sorry, heart, he said earnestly. The best part about being bonded to a dragon was being able to understand each other and communicate in a way that was impossible for any other who was not Shur'tugal to understand. I would love to hear about your day, but it seems there is someone else who wishes to speak with you now. She opened her eyes and looked up. Eragon stood in the doorway, his arms folded but a smile on his face. His face was surprisingly upbeat for the way he had acted toward her previously.
"I was hoping we could talk," he said, as he entered the room. "But it appears I'm interrupting a dragon-rider moment."
Nay, Eridor said to Lenora's dismay. I need to stretch my wings before we eat anyway. I think I'll invite Saphira for an evening flight. I believe we have some things to sort out as well.
Don't leave me here with that curmudgeon! she pleaded.
Relax, he said, rising and walking toward the double doors, brushing her arm comfortingly with his tail as he left. He already arranged it with me. His reply surprised her. She had come to the conclusion that Eragon would neither talk, nor trust either of them again and had been begrudgingly sharing their quarters without saying a word to anyone but Saphira.
Eragon sat down on his cot opposite her. She waited for him to begin. "I believe there have been some misunderstandings between us that need to be resolved."
"That would be a fair statement," she replied unenthusiastically.
"First, it would be helpful if I knew the whole story," he said calmly. "As it stands, no one even knew that Galbatorix had any children. Are you an only child?"
"Are you conducting this interview as Nasuada's messenger or because you actually give a damn?"
"I'm asking because I care," he replied. "I know the person that I traveled with for those many weeks to be a good person at heart, but misguided. Now I know too that she was misunderstood and I understand that your holding back was for the good of everyone," Eragon said as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, now interested in engaging as his intentions were not argumentative. "I would like to understand your plight and in return, you may ask what you like from me and I will offer you the answers that I am able," he said, smirking to himself for a moment. "Except this time, there won't be swords involved."
Lenora couldn't help but smile at the comment, recalling their first real conversation to include the clashing of blades and wit. "Alright, but this time you will remain calm, I presume?"
"I will if you will. No use in getting into another tussle," he replied. "If that's what these conversations are always reduced to, we won't get very far before one of us decapitates the other and well, there wouldn't be much conversation after that point."
Lenora ran a hand over her face. The memories were never pleasant to recollect. But after a few minutes of talking, she realized that their pasts were not too different from one another and it became easier. Each of them had been forced into a life of war, pain, loss and responsibilities. Their journeys had been different, but in the end, they were in the same place with many of the same burdens.
Once the necessities were out of the way, Eragon seemed unsatisfied.
"I know what you'd like to ask, but it would be better if we could avoid that topic," Lenora advised. She knew one day he would ask, once he knew where she had come from.
"But he's my brother. You have known him longer than I have, and have participated in a great many more memories with him than I ever hoped to be able to. I know he represents the Empire and fights for Galbatorix, but I have to know the truth. There was something in his eyes, a glimmer of emotion that should not have been able to surface under the circumstances when he attacked you in the desert. That must mean that there is still some of my brother left in that empty vessel."
Lenora heaved a sigh. The conversation that she dreaded. The conversation that she was hoping to avoid at all costs. The conversation that could be what divided them in the end. "Murtagh," she began, "is not the monster that you think he is, and I don't say that from simply having spent more time with him than you have. I know because he puts up that front so that you will hate him." Eragon's face contorted in confusion, unable to comprehend why his brother would want Eragon to despise him. "Everything that Murtagh does is to protect you."
"After what he did at the Burning Plains?" he asked incredulously. "That's a stretch, Lenora."
"He wishes for you to forget the memories you once shared with him. He does not want you to try to free him because to do so would mean certain death. He wishes to love you as the little brother that you are, the brother that he never had, but he would rather see you live than watch you die trying to free him."
"Free him? He seemed all too eager to murder Hrothgar and nearly myself and Saphira, as well as countless numbers of the Varden's men."
"It seems cruel, but he wanted to ensure your safety. My revealing all of this to you is breaking the trust that he placed in me, but I knew I couldn't put it off forever." Eragon seemed plagued by the news. Lenora knew it would take a while before he would be able to comprehend what had been said, but one thing needed to be established. "The last thing he would want you to do is to now go after him in hopes to free him from Galbatorix's grasp. I lived within the castle and the Empire for the majority of my life and I can guarantee you that it would be a suicide mission. Murtagh would not be saved and you would not be spared. My father is as cruel as they come. He knows nothing of mercy, love or emotion other than hatred. It has been his method for many years."
"Do you think he's still alive?" he asked.
She paused. "I know he is. I can feel it. If he had passed, we would know."
After a few moments' silence, Eragon changed the subject. "So you are planning to teach the Varden's troops what your father taught you, effectively pinning the Empire against their own fighting methods and allowing us the chance to overtake Galbatorix?"
"That was my plan from the beginning," she said. "Nasuada only made it official, however futile it seems to be."
"Times of war are never prosperous, but what all of us needs in these times is to take heart. Each of us has work to do, and each of us can make a difference in the outcome of the war if we believe in our cause."
"Then maybe you should come train the troops with me. You might have a modicum of success," she said.
"Well, I do have good looks and charm, unlike yourself," he said, as Lenora's pillow hit him square in the face. "Guess I deserved that. Better than your fist. Okay, after some long-overdue training tomorrow morning, I will come to the training fields with you and we'll see where I can get your useless, pathetic soldiers."
"It seems Saphira has a wonderful effect on your personality," she remarked.
A/N: Thanks to Yreva13, Crimson Solitude of the Moon, Shadowstreak, TimesWillChange, ., lulu and Adayuki for the reviews, and all the rest for reading. As long as you've read this far, please leave a review-any constructive criticism is appreciated.
~Emerald Dragon Rider