Reviews! Ha HAH!
Mistress-of-Misery: I like this cliffhanger best :)
Mrs Pierre Bouvier: Yes, I want to see that picture…
Bruisor-Princess Powerful: Random is coolness. Thanks!
Saucy Dog: Where have you been? Thanks for the reviews! Reya's right here…
randomcat23: Oh, the dragon does spill the beans. Just not when the camera's on him…
Grey Faerie32: Hey, Murtagh is not evil. He's conflicted, the poor guy.
Shealtiel: Thanks!
TIME UPDATE: 4-5 MONTHS INTO ELDEST NOW. I'm assuming Eragon spent about 9 months before the Burning Plains, maybe 10.
And here's the story!
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4/2/101
Martaila sa DeVann jerked awake at her maid's cry. Shaking her head crossly, she called imperiously, "Reya!"
The maid rushed in, her face a portrait of despair. "Shadows!" she cried. "My lady, my lady, we must leave, we must leave—"
"I'm telling you this for the last time, Reya, we are not leaving!" Martaila snapped. "I won't abandon Neal."
Reya narrowed her eyes. "Begging your pardon, Lady, but the wretch's brought you nothing but trouble since the day he—."
"Enough!" Martaila declared, sitting up. "I won't hear you slander my family, Reya. The subject is closed, and we are not leaving. Do you understand?"
The maid bit her lip and nodded. Martaila surveyed her with a sigh. It was really too much to ask of the girl, she thought wearily. Reya was a lady's maid, not meant to be tromping around in the woods. Only years of service and loyalty kept Reya still bound to the DeVann household. "It'll be over soon," she said in a gentler tone.
Reya nodded and hurried out of the cave. Martaila rubbed her eyes with a groan, shaking out her skirts. At forty-five, sleeping on a hard rock was not doing anything for her back pain. Emerging out of the cave into the sunlight, she addressed Reya, "And where is this layabout nephew of mine?"
"Right here, Marta," a voice said from above her. "Good morning!"
Martaila spun around, daggers shooting from her eyes. "Do you think it's humorous to sneak up on people like that?" she snapped.
A young man grinned back at her from the cave roof. "Yes, Marta," he said. He never called her "Auntie" or even "Aunt". From the side, Reya made a discreet sound of disapproval. The man ignored her as he continued in a more serious tone, "Marta—what's going on? What was going on last night? Why did we have to leave in the dark of night?"
Martaila grimaced. "Neal—" she hesitated, then sighed. "Can you trust me for just a little while longer? No questions, Neal."
Intelligent, hazel eyes assessed her. Finally, he nodded. "I will," he said quietly. "But you're hiding something, Marta…and sooner or later you're going to have to tell."
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So, Thorn said, flapping leisurely, That's who's in the woods.
Murtagh sat behind Salem, stunned. She told you all of this? Voluntarily?
Thorn shrugged. I don't doubt at least half of it was lies. That old lady was quite a hard nut, I'll wager. She's seen quite a bit. He was quiet for a while, then added, But I don't doubt that boy is her brother's son. They even look a bit alike, from what I've touched in your memories.
Murtagh shook his head furiously. Thorn, this is dangerous, especially folk in our position. Do you understand? You can't involve yourself in this!
Thorn bucked suddenly, angrily. Don't you tell me about what I can or can't do! Don't you understand, Murtagh? Brom's son! What was I supposed to do, kick him and his aunt out of the woods?
Salem, who had been silent up towards now, asked, "Who's Brom?"
Thorn stopped abruptly in mid-flight, causing a heart-wrenching lurch before he remembered to hover. You were listening! he demanded sharply. How is that possible?
She looked confused. "What's impossible? I just heard that last bit, about Brom's son…who's hiding in the woods?"
We were speaking privately, right? Thorn said worriedly to Murtagh. I swear I didn't say anything to her.
As far as I know…Murtagh said guardedly. Maybe strong emotion? Sending your thoughts too loud?
I was not, Thorn said snippily. Hello? Can you hear me?
She didn't react. Thorn shook his head as he resumed flying. Well, that's a relief, he said. Strong thoughts…tsk, tsk. So sensitive.
Murtagh snorted mentally. You were getting a little aggressive, Thorn. He sighed, growing serious once more. What will we do?
I don't know, Thorn muttered angrily. I won't let them die. No matter what.
I understand, his Rider said soberly.
Salem broke the meditative silence. "Where are we going?" she asked carefully. "Are we going to Uru'baen?"
Thorn shook himself from his trance. I guess, he said loudly, touching Salem's consciousness.
We are? Murtagh commented.
Yes. Thorn angled his wings, steering to the west. We are going to see your friend, Salem. Quietly, to Murtagh, he added, And maybe dump her onto her friend. We don't need her.
The rest of the ride passed in uncomfortable silence.
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Salem's mind whirled with a dozen imagined scenarios. She and Charis hadn't really talked for about…oh, the past five months she'd been in the service of the castle. Oh, there were letters that grew more and more sporadic as time went by. But never a good, solid talk. Would Charis accept her? Reject her? And if she did, how would she do it? Would they still be friends? But where would she go? What would happen?
We're there, the dragon named Thorn announced. I'll land on the outskirts. Murtagh, see her off..
Murtagh. It was such a harsh, crude name—a killer's name, the name of one who shed blood. Salem took a sideways look at Murtagh, frowning slightly. Her life lay within this man's hands. But can I trust him? Salem thought uncomfortably. And more importantly—can I stop him if I can't?
The second question was much easier to answer than the first—No. The idea of her stopping him was a joke. Involuntarily, she smiled at the image of her blocking his muscular bulk. No, in order for her secret to safe, she had to be able to trust him. He did swear, Salem thought uneasily. But still, they were just words—nothing special.
This is as far as I go, Thorn said. Your turn, o Red Rider.
Don't call me that, the man growled as he slid off the dragon. That nickname is just stupid.
It's more than a nickname, Salem thought silently to herself. It's a title—a badge. It's who you are.
His callused fingers encircled her arm in an iron grip as he towed her forward. A huge wall surrounded Uru'baen, and the only legal way in or out of the city was through the four iron gates. Soldiers bristled around the mass of civilians waiting to enter, and from the ones on the far left trickled a thin line of people exiting. Salem swallowed nervously, her hand creeping up to her necklace for reassurance. She shook her head restlessly. The heat was giving her a headache.
I'm standing outside Uru'baen, Salem whispered to herself. It was a solemn realization—this was the city she had grown up in her entire life, and had never expected to leave.
It was a long, boring afternoon as soldiers assessed each person before letting them go through. Some people had important-looking papers and got through easily; others, like Salem and Murtagh, sat around for hours. As they crept near the entrance, Salem grew more and more anxious. Murtagh didn't seem to notice.
"Next!" the guard roared. He looked just as bored as Murtagh, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Right. Names?"
The Rider glared at him for a long time before snapping, "Tornac. Tornac Brunson."
The soldier yawned. "Uh-huh." He made a notation in a book, then scratched his nose. "And the girl there?"
"Um—" Salem began. Murtagh cut her off, his grip tightening. "She's Tria—" he began.
"Liar." From the shadows stepped a man, bald and painfully familiar—a Twin.
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Stupid! Murtagh cursed, tensing immediately. How could he forget? Uru'baen's gates were always screened by magicians—should he bluff his way out of this, or run? He could defend himself, but not against this many soldiers and certainly not with Salem in his way…
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End of Chapter 13
Martaila sa DeVann isn't really Brom's sister, nor is Neal really her nephew. She's actually the daughter of Brom's sister, or his niece. Brom is a Rider, remember—he's much older than he actually looks. Neal is indeed Brom's son, brought to Martaila as a child, but not a nephew. He's related through Marta as her uncle's son, so in a way I'd guess they're cousins. They've escaped detection all these years because Galbatorix very simply doesn't know Brom's heritage. Brom was taken as a child for Rider apprenticeship, and Galbatorix has been unable to trace the bloodlines. However, if he could get his grubby claws on the DeVanns…
Important people here!