"Morzan."
The boy creaked his eyes open, thick blankets swaddling him as the fire in his bedchamber crackled on a black piece of wood. Outside of his window the world was still in night's embrace, and he saw his mother as her face was half concealed by darkness. All he saw was the left side of her visage; shaded vermillion eyes, a tiny flat nose, and full lips. Her hair blended into the somber color of the room: luscious and thick.
"Mother, why have you-" Morzan began, sleep still in his heart. His mother leaned over and kissed him firmly on the forehead, placing a hand on his cheek. She lingered there, her breath mixing with his.
"You have been selected, Morzan. The culling has chosen you."
Morzan knew what the culling was. The Riders of Doru Araeba would send out scouts across the land, searching for those with the touch of magic. It was done to bolster the Rider's force and also maintain peace: Too many beings with the gift of spellworking in one area could incite war.
"Your father believes it is a blessing. He distrusts you." Morzan's mother said with a heavy sigh. It was true enough; He did not share any traits with his father- The man was a robust Lord with fiery red hair and blue eyes. His eldest brother shared those features, which lead to him being favored more. Morzan, however, was ostracized.
"I loathe to lose you . . . You have been given an opportunity, a chance to grow and gain great power. The blood within you sings strong. If only I had another year . . . "
Morzan didn't know if it was her whispers or the hour of day that made him confused. She moved away from the boy, running a hand through his short hair.
"You are a Ceryani, Morzan. A pure-blood Ceryani. I birthed you with my own life, Morzan. Alchemy combined with creation magic. You are the resurgence of our once-great race. But you must be careful: Guard your heart while you learn. Once you begin to love you will experience strange visions, my son. Sights of the future. Darkness looms all around us, and I am afraid it will reveal itself during your life-time, and that of your sons."
There was a sudden shout, a rattling on Morzan's door. His mother jumped, but contained her composure.
"I had . . . " She paused as Morzan heard his father screaming her name.
She shook him then, tears falling down her cheeks.
"You are pure, Morzan. You are the hope of the feature. Only a Ceryani could face this evil."
Light crashed into his chambers as his door flew open. His mother pressed against him, protecting him as the wood flew across the room, splintering into thousands of pieces.
"Goenethe, you disgusting bitch." Morzan's father curled back his lips, revealing crooked teeth as he raised the torch he carried.
Goenethe's eyes glowed, jumping from Morzan's side and onto the ceiling above.
"I knew that bastard boy did not belong to me. I found your study. Read your research. You're a damn witch."
Armed men were with Morzan's father. They advanced on Goenethe, swords at the ready. She jumped onto the floor, stretching out her hands. Two of the men jolted in pain as they were impaled by their own swords.
"Morzan, take my hand." Goenethe yelled as more men funneled into the room. Morzan was frozen, terrified as fear swam up his throat.
"You disgusting animal!" Lord Ciriccian howled as he raised his own weapon. Goenethe whispered spells of binding at the man, and his arm was halted . . . but with a heavy grunt he broke threw them, his sword going down with impressive force and power. Goenethe cradled Morzan into her arms as she turned into the sword. Morzan could feel the blood that trailed off of her body, the warmness of it as the life-fluid stuck to his clothes. Goenethe gasped while she pulled Morzan off of his bed. The boy heard the blood of his mother spilling onto the ground. She lurched to his window, breaking it open with a mutter. Goenethe carried the boy across the night-time city of Uru'baen, her feet touching nothing but cool air.
Flying. . .
An arrow whizzed past them as Goenethe wavered. More came, some of them catching themselves on Goenethe's already wounded body. She descended slowly as they passed the giant white eye of the moon. The streets were silent then, and they found themselves crashing into a secluded alley covered with trash.
"Mother!" Morzan cried as he wrung himself free of her grip. He crawled from underneath her and cradled her head in his arms. Her eyes opened, the green of them fading away as a small smile curved her lips.
"Never forget who you are. Never forget the power you possess. Nor the strength of your children." She said softly. Her hands raised, intertwining with his.
"Stay here until morning. The Riders will find you. I . . . I will find you as well, Morzan."
A black plume of smoke burst into Morzan's face. The boy yelped, rubbing his eyes as he heard a flutter of wings. Looking up to the sky, he saw a flock of ebony birds crossing the moon, higher than the pointed tops of the buildings found within Uru'baen. Morzan wept, curling on the filthy ground while sobs racked his body. He found sleep then, and awoke to the sight of two armored men standing over him.
"Morzan Ciriccian." One of them smiled. He was blonde with bright green eyes, while the other had black hair with gold streaks running through it. This one had a square face, and Morzan realized that this man was actually an elf.
"Get up." The elf said harshly as he jerked Morzan upwards. The boy looked at the two of them with wide eyes.
"It's okay, Morzan. You're safe now." The man assured. His eyes shot daggers towards the Elf.
"It's our first culling assignment. You don't need to be so bitter." The man steadied Morzan on his feet. The boy still wore his bed-clothes, which were stained with dark red blood. The sight of it made him stutter into tears, remembering the men trying to kill his mother- and him, as well.
"What is wrong, boy?" The Elf snapped. Morzan looked away from him, hiding from the gaze of his blue eyes. The Elf simply took Morzan's chin, and forced the boy to lock eyes with him. Morzan felt the elf's mind as it ripped into his own. After a few moments, the Elf dropped the body like he was a bag of trash.
"His mother was killed. She was a Ceryani Witch." The Elf said with disdain. He drew his blade.
"Oromis! That is not your decision to make." The man said, stepping between Morzan and Oromis. The Elf narrowed his eyes, glaring at the human, until finally he stood down and thrust his sword back into its sheath with a loud snap.
"Morzan, my name is Galbatorix, and this is my fellow Rider, Oromis. We are taking you away from here. Away from the pain. We are going to Doru Araeba."
(Line Break)
"Defense, you fool!"
Eragon staggered backward as the Elf he fought advanced.
Always good to hear words of encouragement from Arya.
The Elf sent him a heavy downwards blow that Eragon side-stepped, the weapon of his opponent crashing into the ground. Eragon rushed on his dazed foe, sending his sword to the feet of the Elf. The Elfman flipped over the blunted sword with trained grace, landing on his feet beside Eragon. A blow sent a chattering pain through Eragon's body as pain flared at his side.
He struck me right on my scar.
Eragon fell to the ground, writhing the Spirit inside his body thrashed about in retaliation. He gasped as air left him, muscles in his throat constricting while the Elf laughed. A few others took up his sound.
"Be silent. Or else I will cut out your tongues." Arya snapped. Eragon could hear her feet slap against the training square as she approached.
"Princess Arya, it is not customary for-"
"Does it look I care about custom?" She retorted. The voice that Eragon recognized belonging to the headmaster fell silent. The pain left him as Arya leaned over to help Eragon to his feet.
"This human is young and weak and untrained, but he is a Rider. You will respect him." Arya ordered, and the Elves nodded.
"Can you stand?" She asked, quietly. Eragon nodded. She brusquely removed her support from his person, and he nearly lost his footing. A chortle of laughter was stifled from the watching Elves, who sat on mats that lined the training square's perimeter. Eragon frowned at them all, and turned to see Arya leaving the structure. He quickly limped after her, saw the tensed muscles of her back and the veins popping from her wrists as her arms held a thin waist.
"Arya," Eragon said breathlessly. She stopped but did not turn to face him.
"You're weak, Drakefyre." She said after a long moment of silence. The martial training quarters were within the outskirts of Gillendel. The city was in a remote corner of the greater province of Ellesmera, and was privy to the few remaining forests in the world of Elves. Beyond the statue of Aryan, a vast landscape existed, untouched by industry. It in this area that the training school was found. White pillars held up a triangle-shaped stone roof, while a quiet stream curled around the structure. Ahead, large trees occupied spots amongst rolling hills, while the sky was the color of deep cobalt. Heavy clouds lazily crossed the heavenly sea, while sweet music drifted into Eragon's ears from an unknown source.
"I'm trying my hardest." Eragon said defensively. Arya looked at him up and down, disgust on her face.
"You aren't trying hard enough." She said with finality. Stepping from the raised block of stone that lead to the headmaster's school, Arya walked on the cool grassy ground. Eragon frowned, following her.
"Why do you hate me?" Eragon asked.
"I don't hate you." Arya answered silently, still walking. They entered the valley that contained those beautiful hills that in turn possessed thick and ancient trees. Behind them, the Elf training school vanished in a sea of green foliage.
"Well, you don't like me, that's for sure." Eragon stated with a heavy sigh. Running a hand through his hair, he stopped in his tracks. Arya went on ahead, slender shoulders sloping. He watched her for a moment, and just as he was about to turn and leave, she called his name.
"Eragon. I wish to show you something." She said with an authoritative tone. Despite himself, Eragon followed her anew. Catching up with the Elf girl, he turned to face her as they walked.
"Show me what?" He leaned his head forward as he waited for an answer.
" I am sorry for the way I have treated you. The war . . . the sealed rebellion . . . my uncle. It has added to my already great stresses." Arya moved a long lock of her hair aside, revealing the healed scars that had ravaged her face almost a year ago.
"I have been focused on restoring honor to my Father's name. I . . . . I believed that I would do so through the power you hold from being a Rider. But I now realize that this is my own duty. Something I will have to fix with my own strength." Arya smiled weakly at Eragon.
"No . . . I can help you. I- I will try harder. I will become powerful. You've done so much for me, Arya. I want to help you succeed." Eragon reached for her arm, but then recoiled.
"Eragon . . . this is not something a human would understand. My legacy is something that only I can-"
"Enough of that!" Eragon shouted, stamping his feet onto the ground. Arya stopped walking, turning her head towards him, anger brimming behind pretty eyes.
"Ever since I arrived here, I've been constantly told that I wouldn't understand this or that simply Because I'm human, and for no other reason than that. You Elves need to create the illusion of superiority so badly you force everyone away. You don't need to regain your honor on your own. You have me and Saphira. Cambion . . . Elonubum and Orik. Brom and everyone else with the Varden. You aren't alone." Eragon insisted.
"What I wanted to show you is over here." Arya seemingly ignored what Eragon had said, and simply gestured to a patch of brilliant yellow flowers under the shade of a grove. In the dim light they stood out like stars, beautiful jewels of nature that instantly calmed Eragon's mind.
"They are called Summerseers. Daemael Serami. in Laen Elf. I remember when I was very young, Oromis would bring me here, to this tree. He would tie the flowers into my hair. I remember going to bed smelling them, and to this day they help me relax." Arya bent over and plucked one of the flowers from the ground.
"Your uncle loved Evander, didn't he?" Eragon's face softened. Arya looked up towards the sagging leaves that sprung from the collection of trees, pink blossoms sprouting from wiry bark.
"He did. Evander was his older brother, his light. When my father died he became more bitter than he already was."
Arya sniffed at her flower, and then began to fix it to her hair as she spoke.
"When an Elf woman becomes pregnant, the time it takes for the baby to develop depends on her alone. It can take months, or years. Some have even taken decades. I was no exception. I was conceived twenty years before Evander died. When I was born, I entered a world where our name was hated, due to the violence of my elder sister. Oromis spent all his days doting on me, in reverence to Evander. But as the days passed and the world grew darker, he spent more and more time alone."
"Why are you telling me this?" Eragon himself went over to where Arya stood, picking up a flower and giving it a delicate sniff. The aroma was calming. Arya took the flower from Eragon's hands, and began to tie it into his own locks.
"Because what you said was true. I am an Elf, Eragon. There are things that you will not understand . . . but not many. I did not realize that I was surrounded by friends. Surrounded by beings that would help me in my greatest hour of need. And according to my uncle, you are not entirely human, either way."
Arya finished tying the flower to his hair, and gave him a genuine smile.
"Oromis knows much about me. How is that possible?" Eragon asked. Arya's eyes looked away from his, and her smile faded.
"I do not know," She said quietly. "But there is no point on dwelling on him. He has decided not to help us, so no thoughts should be wasted on my uncle."
Arya dropped her hands from Eragon's head.
" The Summer Fertility is neigh upon is. By that time, your Brom should be near Uru'baen."
Eragon knew of Brom's task, he knew of the foe he must face.
"Brom will succeed." Eragon said, affirming the possibility more to himself than to anyone else.
"We must not worry about Brom. With the end of the Summer Fertility, the rebellion will renew. My mother plans to have the Elves march to the Xoshan border, and end the conflict for good. We will accompany her."
Arya moved close to Eragon, her eyes boring into his.
"I will teach you to be strong."
She leaned in and kissed him. It was a slow and cumbersome kiss, awkward more than sensual. There was a sweetness to it, however, a pureness that Eragon could not describe. When her lips left his, he was speechless.
"I have never . . . I have never done that before," Arya said, reddening. Her face hardened.
"We should get back to Gillendel. The others are no doubt waiting for us." She said roughly, quickly fleeing the groveshade and walking back across the hills. Eragon smiled dumbly to himself, before wiping his face and walking underneath the shine of the radiant sun.