Chapter 33: Shadow and Mountains
Zhonoch read through the message for the umpteenth time, out of the dying hope that he had read it wrong or that he had missed something. It took him considerable time to come to terms with what he saw before him: irrefutable evidence. "Where is he now?"
"Centurion Ma'roch is set to stand for guard duty for the next solar cycle," Orche reported. "Shall I reschedule?"
"No." Zhonoch propped his elbows onto the steel table. "Leave him be. Leave them all be."
"Sir?"
"Prohibit libations. Start rationing. And set officers we trust in charge of monitoring those rations."
"What will we tell the Worldbreakers?"
"Soulrazer business. If they want to keep their heads, they'll stay out of it." Zhonoch tiredly turned about. Running covert operations was an exhausting business, and he sometimes doubted he had the patience for it, but necessity had forced the responsibility onto his shoulders. They hadn't yet found anything to imply Da'aurc's guilt, yet Orche was still adamant that the Primus was among those turned. They had to tread softly, which went against everything Zhonoch knew. He was a Vigilant - a soldier, not a damn spy. It was a bad roll of the dice, nothing more. He was lucky to have the brothers helping out. They proved invaluable.
Orche tapped his datapad, which Zhonoch swore had never left the Psion's hands since they arrived in the Calatonar system. "Tlac's running through another bunch. Eight Pillar."
"Good boys, those," Zhonoch muttered. "Any word on the outlaws?"
"Yes! The Eliksni have left Ceunon behind, and have assumedly taken Subject Merida-X8 with them. Scouts report a vague eastward heading, but Eliksni scouts spread out in all directions. It doesn't look like their full force, though. Worldbreaker analysts hypothesize that either a significant portion of the Eliksni warband perished in the fall or are otherwise indisposed."
"Hope they suffered. Wouldn't be fair if all they got was a knock about the skull." Zhonoch shifted closer to the table. His eyelids were drooping and his stomach growled, but he did his best to ignore the weaknesses of flesh. He had a duty to perform. "Anything else?"
"Specialists have discovered limits in the paracausal language wielded by the humans. If overtaxed and death is imminent, there is nothing they can do. However, more carefully prepared spells can be dropped, if worded correctly, and thus ensures survival. The issue is finding the right words. We have only a basic understanding of the vocabulary. It would be ideal if we found a glossary of some sort."
Zhonoch nodded along, only half-listening.
"We've also discovered that officers who don't sleep are next to useless."
"Yes, I imagine... oh." The Vigilant met Orche's singular eye. "You little-! Officers also hold the right to punish grunts who speak out of turn."
The strategist shrugged. "I'm sure they do. Doesn't change the fact that you're still next to useless."
Zhonoch cracked a grin. "You've gotten bolder. Why would that be?"
"Psion things," Orche answered cryptically.
Zhonoch snorted out of sheer exasperation. Asking after 'Psion things' was just asking for a headache. "Suit yourself."
"Get some rest. There's nothing for you to do."
"Where's Cadon?"
"Still in a debriefing. The Worldbreaker analysts want to gather all they can on Subject Merida-X8. They're scouring his memories for anything related to the human."
000
The Eighth Pillar were well-trained soldiers, but they were unorthodox as far as Legion norms went. Tlac blamed that on their backgrounds. They came from frontier worlds not so different from their current location. They were the sons and daughters of fringe system-merchants and colonists who'd spread out during the early Golden Years of Calus's rule. Some were lucky and were born into retired military families, so the Legions weren't a far cry from what they were used to at home, but others knew only the scarce laws of the empire's edge and nothing else. They weren't wild by any means, but they held values and beliefs that weren't common in most Legionaries.
They were leaner than most Cabal as well. Erchan III, where most of the Eight Pillar had been recruited, had a lighter gravity than Torobaatl, and the fauna there were springy beasts. Some of the soldiers in front of him had evidently pursued hobbies like hunting during their adolescent years, if the gnawed remains of Calatonarian beasts by their feet were any indication. Their physical statures, peasant origins, and unusual mannerisms were exactly what Soulrazers wanted. Vigilants and Agents needed to be fast, they needed to be mindful of their surroundings, and they couldn't have connections to the empire's inner core, where the Praetorate ran everything. Not following the latter would otherwise risk being compromised. The Soulrazers were meant to be independent and critical of other legions, not dragged into their politics.
Tlac was more than pleased to find the Eight Pillar clean of contraband. Their minds were dry deserts and sprawling tundras, lacking the intense typhoon-like insanity of Hivetouch.
"What's this about, sir?" Centurion Malac politely inquired.
Tlac looked the officer in the eye and, in casual tone, said, "The storms of Milichin are rampaging this season. The mudflats are in turmoil."
Malac nodded slowly. "Ah, and the crabs will be tide-washed. I understand. Is the weather so..." The Centurion of the Eight Pillar looked past Tlac and saluted. "Sir!"
Tlac swiveled about.
Neuroc, Flayer of the Worldbreakers, returned the centurion's salute. "At ease. Tlac?"
"Neuroc," he greeted cautiously.
She either missed or ignored his wary tone. "There's been some developments. We need to speak. Come with me."
It was not a request. Tlac turned and gave Malac a knowing nod before leaving with the fellow Flayer. They left the ramshackle barracks of salvage behind and wandered through the camo. Neuroc didn't say anything for a while, and Tlac didn't press her. He was content to follow and wait for her to speak. They had time.
They wandered through the military camp until, at last, they reached the edge where they overlooked the myriad of valleys leading through the local mountain range. A vast forest rose up from earth, only ever broken by sheer peaks of grey stone. Beyond that, so far that Tlac had to strain to see it in the dark of night, was the western ocean. Stars glittered above and Tlac had to wonder how many of them were just weaponized satellites. Some of the formations were familiar. If he dedicated himself to the task, he might have been able to discern Torobatl's location. It wasn't his birth place, but since the legions had taken him in it had been as much a home as anywhere. Overcrowded, rife with corruption and crime - it was the beating heart of their powerful, though flawed, empire.
Torobatl: where dreams went to die.
Torobatl: where tyrants were born and forced onto the stars.
He loved it in its entirety.
"Something's wrong," Neuroc whispered. She turned to face him. "I'm here not as a Worldbreaker, but a concerned citizen of the Cabal empire. Do you understand?"
Tlac nodded. "I do. What's the problem?"
She sighed. "The Primus, Da'aurc, he..." She looked away. "He wants to organize war games."
"Oh... What did you tell him?"
"I told him that with our depleted resources and enemies on all sides, pitting our soldiers against one another would be ill-advised. He didn't listen to me. He said it would be good for morale." Neuroc turned back to him. "I don't think he's in his right mind."
Tlac's mind whirled. "Not good."
"Yes, I assumed as much," Neuroc replied drily.
"No, not tha- Yes, that too, but..." He quickly reached out to Orche and relayed everything. His brother was quick to respond. Tlac sent back an affirmative. He understood. "Neuroc, under the five-hundred-and-seventy-first Imperial Decree, you cannot betray the information I am about to give you... Is there anyone you trust? Anyone you trust completely?"
Neuroc tilted her head. "My staff. Why?"
"Do you consent to be beholden to the Imperial Decree?"
"I consent to be beholden to the Imperial Decree. What's going on?"
Tlac grimaced. "Da'aurc's compromised."
"Compromised?"
"The Soulrazers have reason to believe that there's infectious contraband making the rounds of the Worldbreaker ranks. Ground Wormhusks."
"Wormhusks... you mean there's a cult." Neuroc glanced back to camp. "Is there any evidence?"
Tlac hesitated. "A number of those infected are known to us. We've begun taking measures to protect the rest of the Soulrazers. However, we don't have anything on Da'aurc just yet. And without evidence our case against him won't fly."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You need to enact similar measures to protect yourself and your staff. If there's anything else you know, come straight to us." Tlac held her gaze. "We need you to-"
A screaming klaxon in his ears cut him off. Tlac winced; the implants were loud. Neuroc tensed before him, hearing her own alarm.
"Intruders," she surmised.
"Motion sensors must have been set off," Tlac mumbled. He idly listened in to the panicked chatter of the BattleNet. He opened his mind up to join the rest of the Psions in metaconcert. The sudden influx of foreign thoughts brought him to his knees, though it eventually subsided as each and every member upheld the weight of their gathered consciousness together.
"There," he felt Neuroc think, and he looked where she was pointing.
Across the valleys and mountains slithered a pool of darkness, a wave of pure antilight. It crawled through the forest like a slow frost, headed towards their position. Tlac reported it and felt the ensuing chaos as the confusion and uncertainty it generated spread throughout the camp. Soldiers were alerted, artillery guns were loaded, ships were ready for takeoff, but they didn't know what it was.
Then the wave stood up. It was massive. Impossibly tall. It towered over trees, over everything. Its very appearance didn't make sense to Tlac; it was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It had no weight or substance to it, like it wasn't even there. It had no mass, but it had a certain depth that he likened to that of a living ocean.
The thing turned its great horned head and its mind opened its bleary eyes on the Cabal encampment. The metaconcert shattered. Tlac groaned and clutched his head. He tried to reconnect, to find his brothers, anything at all, but all he felt was a spiking pain. The entity out over the forests was phenomenally powerful, and it only afforded them a sliver of its attention.
It wasn't even awake. The entity's mind was subdued, as if it were fast asleep.
Tlac felt cool fingers wrap around his shoulder. Neuroc's mind touched his own, and together they set about finding and shepherding the rest of the Psions back together into a new metaconcert. They needed it if they hoped to fend of this threat. In the end it turned out their efforts were for nothing. The entity fell apart. The liquid that was its body lost traction and flowed away into the very air, dispersed and lost. The suffocating presence was gone.
Tlac looked back out over the wilderness beyond the safety of camp. It looked just the same as before. Nothing had changed. The trees, the mountains, all of it was untouched. Like the entity hadn't even been there in the first place.
000
The Beors were beautiful, though it might just have been the jovial mood that had overcome her once realizing she was outside of the empire. Tellesa was ecstatic, and nothing, not the damn heat, not the constant thirst, not even Murtagh's and Eragon's brief brawl could have changed that.
It helped that she was the one to finish that fight, clouting both boys over the head. Saphira loved that part.
The only thing that dragged at her high spirits was the shadow of Urgals marching miles behind them. Those monsters did what little else could by that point: they frightened her. She had seen just what they were capable of at Kuasta, but in the same way she knew they were mortal. If it came to it, she wasn't going to begrudge the opportunity to make a last stand and take as many of them down with her as she possibly could, but she didn't think the situation would become that dire. Between Saphira and the Eliksni, she was confident they would find a way out of the Urgal's line of sight. The three were, at that moment, out hunting and scouting for possible paths into the mountain range they traveled alongside. The Beors were too steep to hike, so they had to find a place where the slopes evened out. Their absence took with it a sense of vague safety, which she rectified by balancing her Tigerspite across her legs. The weapon was loaded and polished to a gleam.
Where Eragon had his Zar'roc, and Murtagh had his fine steel sword, she had her rifle. Her sword was only adequate, something a common soldier would bear, but the gun was a weapon unlike any other. It was impersonal and cold function-wise, and at first seemed such a simple thing to operate, but Ikharos had drilled into her head that it was the complete opposite.
"Gun maintenance takes longer than sword maintenance," he said, stern and encouraging all at once. "A rusty sword will still stab someone, but a rusty gun? That's just looking for trouble."
It took patience, it took skill, and it took-
Her line of thought was abruptly interrupted by the rasp of a sword being drawn. Tellesa jumped to her feet, the rifle's stock already fitted against her shoulder, and followed the boys' sights. Eastwards, but not far, were twentyish horsemen who looked right back at them. They were quite visibly armed.
"Could they be the Varden?" Murtagh wondered aloud.
They didn't look like it. Tellesa was not part of the Varden proper, but Rendan had been. He never told her the location of the Varden, though Tellesa always had a suspicion that he'd known exactly where it was. Something she figured she would find out soon enough herself.
Provided they made it past these newcomers.
"According to Arya, they're still scores of leagues away," Eragon said dubiously. "This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups."
"Assuming they're not bandits," Tellesa murmured. She and Murtagh mounted up, armed with a rifle and a bow respectively.
"Should we try to outrun them?" Eragon asked. He draped a blanket across Arya, the elf, who lay atop Snowfire.
Murtagh shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. The horses are fine animals, but they're tired. Look at the steeds of those men. They're meant for running. They would catch us before we closed a half-mile. Besides, they might have something important to say."
Tellesa put on a feigned voice. "'The Hadarac is full of sand.'"
Murtagh cracked a tense grin. "Yes, perhaps something along those lines. Eragon, you best tell Saphira to hurry back. See if the Eliksni are with her."
After a moment Eragon nodded. "I've told her. The Eliksni aren't with her though." He took a shaky breath. "If they threaten us, I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's Saphira. I wonder how they'd react to a Rider? So many stories have been told about their powers. It might be enough to avoid a fight."
"Don't count on it," Murtagh said flatly. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort."
Tellesa tapped the Tigerspite. "I can do that."
The elder of the two boys spared her a curious look. "So you can."
The lead horseman signaled with his mace and sent his men cantering towards them. The men whooped loudly, holding javelins and long knives above their heads. The weapons were rusty and not at all well-maintained. Four of them bore bows and trained arrows on the boys. Tellesa wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. Somewhat offended and somewhat relieved - the men didn't think she was a threat. It promised an advantage.
The leader swirled his mace and his men rushed to surround Tellesa, Eragon, and Murtagh. The moment they were fully encircled, the leader dropped his arm and examined them critically. The man smiled cruelly and chuckled. "Well, these are better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased."
Laughter spread throughout the band. Tellesa's finger tightened around the Tigerspite's trigger. Slavers...
"Now, as for you three, if you would be so good as to drop your weapons, you'll avoid being turned into a living quiver by my men." The archers grinned. The leader's eyes darted to Tellesa. "That includes you. Don't go thinking I don't see that sword."
Tellesa didn't move. It would have only taken a moment to lift and fire the gun, but in that time the archers could have loosed their arrows. Her only consolation lay in that the slavers didn't appear to understand what the gun actually was. No one did. Not even her, up until a few months ago.
Murtagh shifted atop Tornac. "Who are you and what do you want? We are free to travel through this land. You have no right to stop us."
The leader's smile twisted to a condescending smirk. "Oh, I have every right. As for my name, slaves do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten." His smirk disappeared, replaced by a frown. "Throw down yours blades and surrender!"
She heard a rustle behind her and twisted around. One of the slavers had snuck up from behind and pulled the blanket off Arya. The man's face lit up, and he gaped in astonishment. "Torkenbrand, this one's an elf!"
The leader spurred his horse forward. Tellesa tensed, thinking that it was to be the best chance she had to strike, but a shimmer in the air behind the horsemen grasped her attention. It had no shape, and to anyone else would have just been an illusion of the desert, but she knew it for what it was.
Tellesa nodded to the distortion. "They aren't friends," she said aloud.
The leader, Torkenbrand, turned to her with a half-smile on his face. "What was that?" He directed his horse to walk closer. "What are you holding? Give me tha-"
A scream split the air, and all eyes darted to the man who suddenly found himself torn off his horse. His compatriots gaped as his throat split open in a red smile, and Tellesa took the opportunity to fire the Tigerspite. One of the archers collapsed, sporting a red hole in his chest.
Beside her, Murtagh slammed an elbow back into the face of the man by Arya, knocking him from the saddle. He turned Tornac about and the warhorse rushed forward, bringing its hooves down on the downed man's back.
Another man suddenly found himself under attack from an invisible force, and the spray of blood coated the very thing that killed him. Paltis deactivated her tool of invisibility, and with her crimson-stained armour and twin swords she cut a menacing figure. The Eliksni warrior, who stood abnormally tall compared to all present, let loose a roar. The horses, and a few of the slavers, panicked.
It only grew worse for them when Saphira crashed down in the midst of them all and bared her fangs. The slavers' courage left them, and they fled for the hills.
Torkenbrand remained. His horse had gone wild with fear and bucked off the unprepared slaver, and he'd fallen hard. He rose up on unsteady legs and looked about with terrified eyes. "Wh-"
Tellesa readjusted her aim and shot him dead centre. The man slumped over and fell on the dusty ground with a thump.
"No!" Eragon suddenly exclaimed. The boy stared at her in shock and anger. "Wh... Why did you kill him?!"
She glanced back at the corpse. "He... he was a slaver." The confusion ate away at the adrenaline running through her. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had managed to avoid getting shot. If the archers had been true trained soldiers, they wouldn't have panicked as they did. Tellesa was more than thankful for that. "Why do you care? He deserved it."
"That doesn't mean you should kill him!" Eragon fumed. "Where is your empathy?"
Tellesa's eyes hardened. "Back in Kuasta, with the dead." She pointed at Torkenbrand's corpse. "That man profited off the enslavement of living, breathing people. Killing people like him is doing the world a favour."
"No stranger's life is more important than our own," Murtagh added. "Especially not a man like him."
"You can just justify murder!" Eragon cried out angrily. "It's wrong!"
Tellesa agreed. "Murder is wrong. And there's no way to justify it. But who will enforce that justice? The king? His soldiers? Those bastards are injustice incarnate. Just like this man. This is my justice. It's ugly, it's brutal, but it's right. As right as anything in this wrong world can be."
"It's still wrong to do!" Eragon snapped.
Tellesa gritted her teeth. "I. Don't. Care. Not anymore. I'll do what I have to if it means ridding the world of monsters like these so-called 'people.'"
The Rider's presumably furious retort was cut short when Alkris, who only just appeared in their midst, made a sharp clicking sound. He looked at them each in turn, his inner eyes narrowed. Tellesa couldn't help but feel they were being scolded.
"Must go," the Eliksni said at length.
Murtagh nodded. "He's right. There's no point waiting. The Urgals could catch up, or the slavers might return."
They rode onwards at a quick pace. The horses were spooked, and their adrenaline went to good use, but Tellesa didn't want to chance anything like it again. The animals had grown accustomed to the presence of Saphira and the Eliksni which in turn likely kept them from going wild like the beasts of the slavers, but aside from Tornac they weren't bred for war. If it came to another fight, there was a chance that the animals would break and flee, with or without their riders.
They finally found a way into the Beors. A wide valley opened up ahead like outstretched arms pulling them into an embrace. Distant forests loomed deep within, promising plentiful game and water. It was a massive relief. They were close to the valley's entrance when they decided to stop for the night. Dinner was a silent affair as they all thought back on the day's bloody events. Eragon wouldn't meet Tellesa's eye. Alkris and Paltis stayed closer to the humans than they usually did, similarly on edge.
It was difficult to know what the Eliksni were feeling or thinking, but Tellesa reckoned she had picked up on a few things. She gathered that they were worried, though the reasoning escaped her. Maybe they were concerned about leaving her and the boys alone again, or maybe it was the little tool they occasionally spoke to, which only offered spitting hisses in return. No matter the reason, their closeness brought with it a sense of security that Tellesa gladly welcomed. Her nerves were alight and she couldn't stay still long enough to grab any sleep.
"I'll take first watch," she eventually announced. Murtagh gave her a grateful nod and settled down. Eragon, once more, ignored her as he rested by Saphira's side.
The nights in the Hadarac were colder than she expected. It had come as a surprise, considering the tales of the 'scorching desert sands', but she was fortunate to have prepared. Tellesa wrapped her green cloak about herself and sat by the edge of camp. She was exhausted, and yet her body was on high-alert. Every twitch of movement - be it the displacement of a few grains of sand or a distant desert bird - dragged at her focus and brought her new levels of panic. The ecstasy of being outside the empire hadn't survived the altercation with the slavers.
Even out here, Galbatorix's rule can be felt.
She heard shuffling from behind her. Someone sat beside her. She could already tell from their breathing pattern who it was.
"'M fine," she mumbled.
"You lie, yes?"
She briefly closed her eyes, and a smile crept its way onto her face. "No."
Alkris chuckled. "Lie again."
Tellesa shrugged. "What if I am? It's not important. It's just... nerves."
"You feel fight in blood, yes?"
"I... yes. I do."
"And true fight is behind?"
She exhaled slowly. "It is."
Alkris nodded thoughtfully. "I know it."
"I can't sleep. I... I think Eragon might be right. Which makes me as bad as those I fight."
"Why?"
"I killed people."
Alkris looked at her with one eye closed. "I too."
Tellesa shook her head. "No it's... I'm like him. I'm just a person who found a weapon, and now I've used it to take a life. It's alright for you, you're... different."
The Eliksni tilted his head. "Diff-ar-ent? What is word?"
"Not the same," she explained. "And I mean it as... you are a soldier. You've been trained to become a soldier. Fighting and killing isn't just something you'd learned. It's your job."
"Nama. More than job. Is life." Alkris slouched. "But!" He suddenly perked up. "Now here. Now chance. Look." He scooped up a handful of sunbaked dirt. "World is rich. Much ether from here. Good for Eliksni. Good for Scars."
She was glad for the change in topic. "So you want to settle here?"
"Eh... It is not Alkris-choice."
"It's up to Kiphoris?"
"Nama. Tarrhis."
She had no idea who Tarrhis was. "Why don't you choose for yourself?"
Alkris gave her an odd look. "Mine-Eliksni must remain mine-Eliksni."
"I... think I understand? You want to stay with your people?"
"Eia." There was a short pause before the Eliksni said, "Tellesa fight good. Good sight. Few fear."
"Thank you."
Alkris didn't say anything else. Neither did Tellesa. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, and the proximity of the Eliksni had a calming effect on her. They stayed there until Murtagh rose up to take his turn. Tellesa returned to her bedroll and, at long last, slumber finally came to her.
Eragon and Saphira went flying the next day. Tellesa wanted to talk with the Rider, but she thought it would be better to wait until both their tempers coolled. She didn't want to - and couldn't - apologize for her actions, but she could hopefully help him understand the why.
Alkris and Paltis stayed close to her and Murtagh as they delved deeper into the valley. The Eliksni evidently didn't trust their surroundings much anymore, but Tellesa doubted the slavers would indeed return. Five men had been killed and Saphira hadn't even been involved with those deaths. Tracking travelers to rob and enslave was one thing, but fighting a dragon was another. Saphira was easily large enough to kill the entire band.
Only an hour later said dragon swooped down and landed beside the horses. Tellesa brought her steed up short. "What is it?"
"The Urgals are overtaking us!" Eragon pointed behind them, though Tellesa couldn't see anything.
Murtagh held up his hands and measured the time left in the day. "How far do we still have to go?"
"Normally? I would guess another five days. At the speed we've been traveling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will catch us, and Arya will die."
"She might last another day."
"We can't count on it," Eragon objected. "The only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don't stop for anything, least of all sleep. That's our only chance."
Murtagh laughed bitterly. "How do you expect to do that? We've already gone days without adequate rest. Unless Riders are made of different stuff to we mortals, you're as tired as we are. We've covered a staggering distance by now and the horses, in case you haven't noticed, are fit to drop. Another day of this might kill us all."
Tellesa briefly closed her eyes. "I could... stay behind. Cause a distraction." She tapped her rifle for emphasis. "They'll take notice. If I can kill enough, that should buy you enough time to make it to the Varden."
"That would be suicide," Eragon said, crossing his arms. "We're not leaving you."
"I'm living on borrowed time. I should have died in Kuasta. This might be the will of the gods."
Saphira pushed her head forward so it took up all of Tellesa's view. "We are not leaving you. I will carry you if I have to."
Tellesa smiled weakly. "No arguing with a dragon. But if it comes to it, remember my life isn't worth either of yours."
Eragon sighed. "They're combing through the valley. The only way to evade them is to find sanctuary with the Varden."
"Then it's settled," Murtagh said abruptly. "I'll escape later. When we reach the Varden, I can disappear down a side valley and find my way to Surda, where I can hide without attracting too much attention."
"You're staying?" Tellesa asked with a measure of concern and hope. She liked Murtagh. He was cool-headed, and though Eragon wasn't helpless, he was more experienced in the matters of the world than the Rider.
"Sleep or no sleep, I'll see you to the Varden."
"As we," Alkris announced. He looked past them, down the valley. "We fight. Kiphoris past-say 'have humans safe.' We have you safe. We leave." He glanced at Murtagh. "Scars help."
Murtagh bowed his head. "I would appreciate the company. Thank you."
For the rest of the day and all through the night they rode through the valley, but the Urgals had steadily kept up, even becoming visible to those on the ground.
"This is the last day," Eragon told them. "If we're not reasonably close to the Varden by noon, I'm going to fly ahead with Arya. You'll all be free to go wherever you want then, but you'll have to take Snowfire with you. I won't be able to come back for him."
"We could still get there in time..." Tellesa muttered. She looked back one last time before kicking her horse forwards. She could almost make out the individual figures among the gathered host. A few miles off, nothing more.
It was late in the morning that Paltis sniffed out a narrow valley tucked against the far side of a mountain. The valley looked so closed off that it could easily be overlooked by anyone who didn't know of it beforehand - or anyone who wasn't Eliksni. A river, which Eragon vocally identified as Beartooth River with some uncertainty, flowed out of it and looped carelessly across the valley. He confirmed it was where they needed to go. The Eliksni pulled back and stuck with them, weapons drawn. Tellesa loosened her sword and her held her rifle in front. She expected trouble to hit them soon. A quick glance informed her that the Urgals had closed the distance to little more than a league away. They were gaining.
The forest was their chance to escape. The trees grew high and thick among the Beors, and it would go a long way to obscure them from the view of the Urgals. There was something wild about the place, which she couldn't place. It felt old. More ancient than anywhere else in the entirety of Alagaësia, and all the more dangerous because of it.
The valley turned out to be larger than they anticipated. They had been tricked by the gigantic size of the mountains around them. What they thought was a slim pathway turned out to be a gaping valley mouth. Waterfalls dotted the sheer slopes on either side.
"The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley," Eragon informed them. "If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."
Murtagh grunted unhappily. "How am I to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route."
"Climb?" Alkris offered.
Murtagh eyed the cliffs on either side. "I don't think so."
"Don't worry," Eragon said impatiently. "This is a long valley, so there's sure to be an exit further in." He tied Arya to Snowfire's saddle. "Watch over her. I'm going to fly with Saphira. We'll meet you up ahead."
"Be careful," Tellesa warned. Saphira jumped into the sky moments later. Tellesa waved the dust from her eyes and took Snowfire's reins. "Come on, we don't have time to waste."
Murtagh lowered his head and let out a shaky breath. "No we don't."
For the umpteenth time they moved on. Paltis and Alkris slunk like great beasts beside the horses, taking in the sights and smells with vivid attention. They easily kept pace, what with their longer, more numerous limbs and seemingly unending supply of energy. What made them so tireless, Tellesa didn't know. It might have been the strange liquid they ingested on rare occasions, but that was an uneducated guess at best.
A few minutes later, Paltis suddenly ran ahead. She didn't go far, though, and stopped to inspect something on the ground. She chittered to the rest of them in her native language, but the gesture to hurry up was universal. Tellesa urged her exhausted mount to catch up.
What they found threw her for a loop.
"Wolf tracks," Murtagh observed. "They're... huge."
"Here soon." Paltis had more difficulty speaking the common language than Alkris, but both had improved considerably since they first started learning.
"It was here recently," Tellesa surmised. She looked around the forest suspiciously. "Do you think it's nearby?"
"I don't..." Murtagh trailed off. "Saphira's coming back."
They all looked up and watched as the blue dragon slowed to a soft landing beside them.
"What's wrong?" Tellesa inquired. She didn't know if they could handle any further problems. She was exhausted and worried beyond measure. She had half a mind to turn around there and then to live up to her earlier promise.
"I made a mistake," Eragon admitted. "The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the rules of magic, and it cost me a great deal."
Murtagh rubbed his eyes furiously. "I can't believe the Urgals have followed us this far. They would have to be birds to catch up with us at this pace."
"Saphira said they're larger than any we've seen," Eragon remarked.
Murtagh cursed and clenched the pommel of his sword. "That explains it! They have to be Kull. The most elite of Urgals. I should have guessed that they'd be the ones to chase us. They don't ride because horses can't carry their weight - not one of them is under eight feet tall - and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such force."
Tellesa tried to imagine that. If Murtagh spoke the truth, the Kull would have been a little taller than Alkris and Paltis, and almost of height with the lead Eliksni, Kiphoris. She had seen firsthand that ordinary Urgals were no match for the Eliksni, considering the body count raised during the brawl outside Gil'ead, but Kull might have proven a different matter. Her eyes found the Eliksni pair; they were listening in with rapt attention. They could understand common better than they could speak it.
"Can we stay ahead of them?" Eragon asked worriedly.
Murtagh shrugged. "Who knows? They're strong, determined, and in large numbers. It's possible that we may have to face them. If that happens, I only hope that the Varden have men posted nearby who'll help us. No matter how well we can all fight, we can't hold off the Kull."
"We must go. We've lingered too long already."
"How's Arya?"
Tellesa answered him. "Her fever's worse. She's been tossing and turning, as much as she's been able to at least. Her strength is fading. You should fly her to the Varden before the poison kills her."
"I won't leave you all behind," Eragon insisted. "Not with Urgals so close."
A hunting horn split the air. Tellesa scowled and shooed Saphira away. "Off with you! Quick! Before they catch us!"
The dragon reluctantly took off, shaking the trees with every beat of her wings.
The valley darkened as the hours slipped by. Day faded fast in the Beors; the mountains obscured the sun. A sharp frost snuck into the air. Tellesa's every breath raised a cloud of mist. In time, night fell, swooping over the valley like an inky blanket.
They followed along Beartooth River to its source. Eragon and Saphira eventually returned to glide overhead; a constant reminder that danger wasn't far.
"There's no way out," Murtagh muttered after a while. "I'm trapped."
Tellesa struggled to keep her eyes opened. Sleep weighed down on her heavier than any pack. "We have to go to the Varden."
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Fast!" Alkris hissed at them. They picked up the pace. The Eliksni were growing short-tempered with agitation, and they constantly looked over their shoulders. Tellesa trusted their senses; the Urgals were closing in.
Regardless, she continued with her questions. "What's your issue with the Varden? Would you truly rather die to Urgal blades?"
"I..."
"The Varden is our only chance. What's the matter?"
Murtagh looked at her. His breathing was uncontrolled: heavy and fast, like a panicked beast. He paused, then said with a glum tone, "You have a right to know. All of you. I... I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."
Tellesa rolled her eyes. "I thought you capable of better jests."
His serious eyes assured her that he wasn't capable of even the faintest forms of humour. "It's the truth."
"It's..." She fell silent. "You're being honest."
"I am..." His head dropped.
Tellesa thought quickly. The legends of Morzan were told across the empire. The man was infamous for his cruelty. Barring Galbatorix, he had been the most evil man in recent history. But it was hard to place that reputation with the young man before her. One thing nagged her, vying for her attention.
"Brom killed your father," she noted, watching his face.
Murtagh shrugged with a detached air. "Yes."
"Then..."
"You don't think... You must understand, I don't love the empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm."
"That's a strange tale, one I can hardly believe."
"Why would I lie?"
Tellesa nodded. "There is that. But even if you don't owe it loyalty, I must ask if you do in truth serve the empire."
"I do not," Murtagh said firmly. "If I were trying to capture or kill you all, then... then I wouldn't have helped break Eragon out of Gil'ead."
"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden," Tellesa pointed out. She said it only for the sake of being sure; she was already decided on her course.
"I know the Varden's location now. Why would I continue traveling with you?"
"Paltis would kill you."
"Eia," the Eliksni in question grunted in a thoroughly disinterested tone. "Kill." Neither of the inhuman guards seemed all that bothered by the conversation. In all fairness, they had more important matters to worry about.
Murtagh sighed. "She would, wouldn't she?"
"No. I don't think so."
"You don't?"
"Paltis is softer than she lets on," Tellesa said, ignoring Paltis's vaguely irritated growl. "And I know you, Murtagh Morzansson. I don't know your past, and I honestly couldn't care less. I know who you are right now. You're not my enemy. Make no mistake, if you were a dedicated Imperial then I'd happily gut you here and now-"
"Noted," Murtagh mumbled.
"-but I know you're not. I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character."
"An attitude that trusting would get you killed," he remarked.
Tellesa couldn't care less. "Our world is flawed, but most people in it are decent folk. I'd like to keep believing that while I do my damnedest to kill those who aren't, and I think you're among the ranks of those who are decent."
Murtagh chuckled weakly. "You frighten me sometimes."
"Just stay as you are and we won't have any trouble."
The conversation died away as the Urgals horns rebounded through the valley with a revitalized spirit. Tellesa looked back; she expected the monsters to appear out of the darkness at any moment. Her only consolation now was that she'd begun to hear the dull roar of a waterfall ahead - exactly what they were looking for.
The forest abruptly ended and they pulled the horses to a stop. The ground had transformed to a pebble beach directly to the left of the mouth of Beartooth River. A deep lake formed where the waterfall crashed down and filled the rest of the valley, blocking their way. The water gleamed with the light of the stars and what parts of the moon peeked over the mountains. The valley was narrower, meaning that the lake stood between them and the other shore on the opposite side. At the lake's source, a broad sheet of water fell from a smooth cliff into boiling mounds of bubbling froth.
Saphira landed beside them, the sound of it barely audible above the din of the waterfall.
"We go to the falls?!" Murtagh asked nervously.
"Yes!" Eragon called back. The Rider dismounted and picked his way along the beach to the waterfall. The rest followed his lead and strode through the shallow waters by the lake's edge, pulling the reins of the terrified horses.
They were halfway to the waterfall when Alkris suddenly snarled and twirled around. Where they had been just minutes ago was soon crowded by giant figures streaming from the forest, their heavy horns curling high into the air. One of the Kull gestured at Saphira, and it spoke to its brethren in a speech so guttural that it made the Eliksni tongue sound sophisticated. A part of the horde began to trek around the lake to cut off any escape on the other side, cornering them against the waterfall.
Tellesa took aim at the apparent leader's head, placing the red reticle on the glass sight directly between the Urgal's eyes. Her fingers squeezed around the trigger. The noise of the shot rebounded off the valley walls. The Kull's head snapped back with incredible force, and even if the bullet hadn't pierced its skull it would have died from a broken neck.
The shot proved to be what broke what little calm remained. With a bellow Saphira threw herself towards the Urgals. She dived at them, and they tried to scatter but she managed to catch one in her talons and carried him up into the air, tearing him apart with her claws and fangs. When he was dead, she looked for a second victim.
The smaller group of Kull continued on their way unabated, and they reached the other shore in little time. Tellesa cursed under her breath - now they were truly trapped.
A wave of arrows flew at Saphira. Most of them bounced off, leaving no visible wounds, but those that hit the thin membranes of her wings tore right through. The dragon fell back and dove into the lake, submerging herself completely. The Urgals eyed the dark waters nervously. One bold individual poked his spear into the depths. The water exploded as Saphira's head shot out and her jaws closed on the weapon, tearing it from the colossal Urgal's hands. Before she could grasp hold of the wielder, the other Kull poked at her snout with their own weapons. Saphira retreated and hissed angrily, beating at the water with her tail.
An object sailed high above Tellesa and landed amongst the Urgals. The monsters turned on it, but it was nothing more than a harmless cylindrical metal object. They poked at it for a moment, then turned and laughed at the thrower: Alkris. The object erupted in a sudden splash of lightning, hitting almost a dozen of the savages. The lightning killed them so quickly they didn't even have time to scream.
Paltis moved in front of Tellesa and none-too-gently pushed her back. The Eliksni roared at the Urgals with an unmatched ferocity, her claws tight around Tellesa's shoulder. Urgal archers took aim and fired. Tellesa winced, but the Eliksni before her shielded her. Paltis's armour held firm; not one missile pierced her grand suit of metal.
"Da!" Paltis snapped at Tellesa, shoving her forcefully. She rapidly retreated to rejoin Eragon and Murtagh. The horses were going wild and bucked at their restraints, but their exhausted state meant that Murtagh could exude some measure of control over them.
"What do we do now?" He demanded.
"I don't know!" Eragon cried, searching the waterfall behind them. "Let me think!" After a brief moment he called out, "Aí varden du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!"
Nothing happened. Tellesa returned her attention to the gathered Urgals. With Saphira in the waters and the Eliksni blocking the shallows, they didn't dare get close. They were more cautious now that a number of their horde had been so ruthlessly put down, and their archers didn't score any vital hits on any of the three. She hoped they wouldn't redirect their aim to herself, Murtagh, or Eragon. They didn't have any way to ward away the arrows.
Eragon shouted the same thing again. Still nothing.
"What now?! Murtagh shouted. "We can't stay here!"
The Rider looked around wildly. "I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!"
"Why don't you ask the elf to make sure?!"
"Now?! She's barely alive! How's she going to find the energy to say anything?!"
"Well, you'd better think of something, because we can't stave off an entire army!"
"Where's the entrance?!" Tellesa asked. "We'll have to force our way in!"
"I don't... the waterfall!" Eragon exclaimed. He pointed at it. Through it.
Murtagh shook his head. "We'll never get the horses through there, even if we can hold our own footing!"
"I can convince them to follow us! Saphira can carry Arya!"
Murtagh scowled. "It's better than being hacked to death."
He swiftly cut Arya loose from Snowfire's saddle. Saphira, likely told by Eragon, retreated to cover them and the Eliksni followed her. The Urgals boldly attempted to close the distance, though another tossed instrument from Alkris had them scurrying back for fear of more lightning.
Eragon and Tellesa caught Arya and heaved her onto Saphira, then secured her legs in the saddle straps. The second they were finished, Saphira swept up her wings and soared over them. The Urgals howled with frustration, and their arrows sent a volley of arrows at her, but it all clattered harmlessly against her belly.
The horses tossed their heads and dashed into the thundering downpour after Saphira, likely because of Eragon. They whinnied fearfully as the water struck their backs, but they kept going through. Murtagh jumped after them.
"Go!" Tellesa shoved Eragon forwards. She turned around and called to the Eliksni, "Come on!"
As one Alkris and Paltis twisted around and ran towards her. Tellesa leapt into water once Eragon had already gone in, still clutching her gun. She closed her eyes before the cold water reached her. The weight of the falling water slammed down on her with a force that almost broke her back, and she struggled to swim through. Alkris grabbed hold of her wrist and tugged her after him; the Eliksni were, for the most part, untroubled by the elements. Their incredible resilience was beyond understanding.
Her feet found purchase on pebbly ground, and her head shot above the water's surface, gulping for air. The sounds of arrows firing made her duck and cover herself with her arms, but the missiles harmlessly passed overhead and fell into the mass of pursuing Urgals. A quick glance told her that many of the monsters had already been felled, and the others had been trapped against the lakes by the sudden appearance of new warriors - humans, by the looks of it.
A gruff voice grunted from nearby. "Akh Guntéraz dorzâda! What were they thinking?! You would have drowned!"
Tellesa's head twisted around, and she was relieved to find Eragon and Murtagh still alive. Alkris and Paltis flanked her, but instead of facing the Urgals behind, they had drawn blades and watched those strangers before them.
A short, very short, man stood beside the spluttering Eragon, standing no taller than the boy's elbow. The strange man wrung water from his beard, apparently unconcerned with the battle occurring on the other side of the waterfall. He wore a jacket of gleaming chainmail and an axe hung from his belt. A metal cap rested on his head.
Alkris growled loudly and took a step towards the dwarf. "Away," the Eliksni barked.
The dwarf, suddenly noticing the Eliksni, gave a start and stumbled back, holding up empty hands. "Gûntera's beard!"
Alkris grabbed Eragon and pulled him back. The Rider looked around, pale-faced and wide-eyed, and didn't offer any resistance.
A set of doors twelve feet tall rested on the other side of the cliff, and they had been opened to reveal a long tunnel that stretched too far to see, lit only by odd flameless lamps that glowed with a dim blue light. Murtagh and Saphira stood before the tunnel, surrounded by a mixture of humans and more dwarves. Beside Murtagh was a bald, beardless man dressed in colourful robes of purple and gold. He was taller than any other man present - and he held a dagger to Murtagh's throat.
Tellesa lifted her rifle, glaring at the bald man.
"Stop!" He ordered in a sharp, dangerous voice. "If you use magic, I'll kill your friend here. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing on it. You can't hide anything from me."
Paltis roared loudly, a noise filled with fury. It was wordless, but it promised pain upon the man as surely as any conceivable threat.
"Demon!" One of the other men gasped. All of them stared at the Eliksni
"Let him go!" Tellesa snapped.
The bald man sneered. "You're in no position to make demands."
Paltis stepped forward, her roar died away into a mix of a growl and a hiss. "Ne sha di! Ka eh yus!"
"None of that!" The bald man shouted. Despite his bravado, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. "If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside!"
"But sir-"
"Now!" The bald man retreated, dragging Murtagh with him. Paltis huffed with frustration and exchanged a look with Alkris. The male Eliksni closed his inner pair of eyes.
Saphira followed the bald man into the tunnel, just as the human and dwarven soldiers did. The strangers sent her nervous looks, all of them unsure and frightened of the dragon.
"What do we do?" Tellesa asked.
Eragon glanced at, desperation written across his features. "We have no choice but to follow."
"Rargh!" Paltis stormed forward. She was afforded with the same treatment as Saphira, and the soldiers scurried to move out of her way.
"Follow," Alkris growled. He dropped a hand on each of the remaining human's shoulders. "Go."
The dwarf who'd been beside Eragon seconds earlier waited for them. He eyed Alkris with a mix of caution and curiosity, and kept pace with them as they entered the tunnel. The doors swung shut behind them. Tellesa felt exposed and trapped, and her knuckles went white she was holding the Tigerspite so tightly.
000
Skriviks looked about the new realm claimed by Krinoks and despaired. It was one borne of desperation and savagery. A handful of islands and a single native settlement - now thoroughly destroyed - did not make a kingdom. The planet was perfectly viable for habitation, but not under Krinok's rule. Their new Kell was dead set on burning it all down.
The only positive element of their current scenario was the overabundance of raw materials in the ground. They wouldn't starve. The Servitors would get their tribute, and the Scars would get their ether. But only if Krinok shared.
Skriviks wanted to find out if he would do just that.
He stepped through the ashes of what had once been a town belonging to the resident species, exchanging greetings with the occasional Scar. They were still picking the odd piece of salvage from the ruins, even now, long after Krinok had ordered it razed to the bedrock. Servitors gathered where all the looted valuables had been piled and were freely processing the matter into ether. They warbled and cried out in their pleasant digital tones at the sight of him, hatchlings glad to see a returning parent. He offered his soft words and reassurances to them as they gathered around him - a veritable sea of revered orbs.
A pair of Skiffs screamed overhead. The Servitors, unnerved by the discord in the House's ranks, returned to their work. Skriviks carried on. He leaned on his staff as he walked; his chitin was growing brittle and his bones were old. In theory, he could live on and on, but theirs was a hard life and he didn't think he would survive more excitement. Certainly not more falls from the sky in a powerless Ketch.
The Skiffs landed on the sandy shores of the dead town's bay and offloaded their passengers. Skriviks saw a shock of golden hair and the glow of cybernetic eyes, and it was enough to dissuade him from greeting the returning warriors. Krayd was nearly as bad as Krinok. He found the Baron by the great floating crystal in the centre of the destroyed town, flanked by Splicers. Not Skriviks's trusted Splicers, no, they were of the downcast, those he had previously refused to teach on the basis of their savage and disgraceful pasts. They had found standing among Krinok's supporters, and now they were being groomed for Archpriesthood. Perhaps even to replace him as Archon, if Krinok truly wanted to upturn the natural order.
Cables were attached to the crystal and they led to a whirring portable generator.
"This is power," Krinok muttered. "True power."
Skriviks scowled. "Ether is true power. Not useless jewels."
To his surprise, the Ether-Thief only laughed. "Ether is power, yes, but it is a desperate power. A power without true control. It is feed for thoughtless beasts. The power of this 'jewel' is fit to be the lifeblood of a great empire."
"Empire? We hardly have a house!"
The Ether-Thief made a face. "Yes, but that will not trouble us for very long. We will be strong soon."
"Mine... Kell," Skriviks spat. It hurt his pride to name the upstart a noble. "Our people need ether, not a jewel, to live. We have not the means to forge an empire. Not since before the Whirlwind. We do not have enough warriors."
"We will. Soon." Krinok turned around. His hands were stained with a layer of grey ash. "We shall use this jewel to begin productions."
"Production of what?" Skriviks pressed. He sensed, with a sinking feeling, it wouldn't be ether.
"Shanks. Walkers. Sabers. Machines of all kinds." Krinok's tone was one of giddiness. "I will have mine-empire. I demand it."
"Velask, Krinok-Kel!" Krayd shouted. The recently-appointed Captain joined them by the jewel. The former Dreg-of-Kings's body was rife with cybernetics. He was more machine than eliko. Skrivik found the ritualistic practice revolting.
"How goes your hunt?" The Usurper-Kell asked in a deceptively pleasant tone. "Have you found the traitors?"
"... Eia." Krayd hesitated. "Tarrhis eludes me, but I found and pursued one of his Captains."
"Which one?"
"Kiphoris, the Dreamer."
Skriviks thought he remembered the name. Yes, a delirious Wolf Vandal they picked up on a Vex-eaten world a number of Riis-decades ago. It had been quite the find, and the news had spread through the House like an ether-fire.
"I know the one," Krinoks nodded. "Where is his head?"
"I... could not claim it, mine-Kell." Krayd lowered his gaze. "He too eluded me, using a storm as cover."
Krinok continued nodding. He delicately grasped Krayd's chin and lifted the Captain's head. "Would you look at me?" The Usurper-Kell softly asked.
Krayd looked up. Krinok smiled. Then he snarled and, with a frightening display of violence, gouged out one of Krayd's eyes with his ash-covered claws. The Captain screamed.
Skriviks froze in place. Krayd's screaming continued until Krinok pulled back and held up the dimmed blue orb for a better look. "It looks healthy," Krinok noted, closing his inner pair of eyes. "I do not understand the issue. You can see, yes?"
"Yes," Krayd whimpered, kneeling on the ground. Tears and blood ran down his face from the empty mess of a socket. "I... I can see."
"Then how did you miss him? Is Kiphoris wilier than you? Are you inept?"
"The... storm almost brought us down. I've never known such weather." Krayd bravely returned Krinok's gaze. "I apologize, mine-Kell. The error is mine. I will not make the same mistake again."
"See that you do not."
Skriviks was taken aback by what he saw before him. Where is the loyalty? Where is the respect? They do not even hold themselves like noble-born!
"Find a Splicer and let them tend to you," Krinok ordered. He dropped the eye in the dirt and stepped on it with a squelch. His attention returned to the jewel. "Leave me. Both of you."
Skriviks hissed and stormed away without looking back. He had his answer. Krinok would rather chase his ambitions than see to his own people's needs. He was right; Tarrhis was the more desirable Kell. A pity that Tarrhis chose to gamble it all on a child still bearing its egg-molt.
He needed to warn the free Baron somehow. Krinok was a wrong-Kell, but he still had the means to crush his opposition. The odds of placing a true-Kell at the helm of their Ketch would only decrease in time. If the Ether-Thief desired an army of machines, it was well within his reach. The Ketch, even disabled and unable to fly, was capable of turning into a grand production assembly, but it would mean evicting families from living chambers and crippling their ether supply. They would lose Scars for Shanks, and to Skriviks, that was unacceptable.
He was no warrior. His time as a fighter was long past, but he held sway and he held permissions, both of which Krinok currently lacked. He would have to be careful, but he would rather have risked his own life than watch his banner trampled be in the dirt like Krayd's eye.
AN: Special thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!