800 Reviews! You guys all deserve an extra chapter! (Sigh, I spoil you all ]) But a heads up this chapter and the next chapters are fillers for the upcoming battle. I need to cover everything in these chapters before I can get the action packed adventures going because from the Battle of the Burning Plains and onwards, everything is going to get crazy. I'm really excited to write the battle, I've always wanted to do an epic showdown thing or something like. But anyways have fun reading!
Eragon coughed as Saphira descended through the layers of smoke, angling toward the Jiet River, which was hidden behind the haze. He blinked and wiped back tears. The fumes made his eyes smart. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her irritation at the stinging in her eyes. Closer to the ground, the air cleared, giving Eragon an unobstructed view of their destination. The rippling veil of black and crimson smoke filtered the sun's rays in such a way that everything below was bathed in a lurid orange. Next to him, he could see Arya shielding her eyes from the fumes in the air. They were not doubt smarting like his were.
The Jiet River laid before them, as thick and turgid as a gorged snake, its crosshatched surface reflecting the same ghastly hue that pervaded the Burning Plains. Even when a splotch of undiluted light happen to fall upon the river, the water appeared chalky white, opaque and opalescent and seemed to glow with an eerie luminescence all its own.
Two armies were arrayed along the eastern banks of the oozing waterway. To the south were the Varden and the men of Surda, entrenched behind multiple layers of defense, where they displayed a fine panoply of woven standards, ranks of proud tents, and the picketed horses of King Orrin's cavalry. Though strong as they were, Eragon knew that their numbers were but a small part of the army that Galbatorix possessed.
Emerging from the clouds, the dragons twisted and dove towards the Varden as fast as they dared. As they neared the camps, a sudden wave of panic assaulted his mind which was on alert for any hostilities. The Varden's sentinels were in a state of alarm for they've never actually seen Saphira or Eridor. Fear made them ignore their common sense, and they released a flock of barbed arrows that arched up to intercept them. Their aim, Eragon thought, was very precise. Rising his right hand, he murmured, "Letta orya thorna." The arrows froze in place, with a flick of his wrist and the word "Ganga," he redirected them, sending the darts boring towards barren land so they could bury themselves in the soil. He missed one though for it was sent a few seconds after the first volley. With ease, he leaned as far right as he could, and faster than any normal human and maybe even some of the swiftest elves, he plucked the arrow from the air as Saphira flew past it.
It was a plain arrow, a less elegant object than the arrows that Queen Islanzadi had bestowed upon him.
Only a hundred feet from the ground, the dragons flared their wings to slow their descent before alighting first on their hinds legs then on her front legs as they came to a running stop among the Varden's tents.
Without a second thought, Eragon dismounted Arya alighting on the ground next to him seconds later. "Did any of the arrows hit you?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "None made it past your magic to try our wards but even if they did, arrows such as those will never pierce our skins."
He had no doubt about it for he was positive that their wards would prevent the shafts from making it close to them by even a yard. But still it was always safe to ask. As they stood there, a dozen of warriors with awestruck expressions gathered about the dragons. From within their midst strode a big bear of a man whom Eragon recognized: Fredric, the Varden's weapon master from Farthen Dur, still garbed in his hairy ox-hide armor. "Come on, you slacked-jawed louts!" roared Fredric. "Don't stand here gawking; get back to your posts or I'll have the lot of you chalked up for extra watches!" at his command, the men began to disperse with many a grumbled word and backward glance. Then Fredric drew nearer and, Eragon could tell, was startled by the change in Eragon's countenance, if anything he was sure he looked unrecognizable to him anymore. Thinking about his new appearance made him feel slightly uneasy. The bearded man did his best to conceal the reaction by touching his brow and saying, "Welcome, Shadeslayer, argetlam. I can't tell you how ashamed I am you were attacked. The honor of every man here has been blackened but this mistake. Were the four of you hurt?"
"No."
Relief spread across Fredric's face. "Well, there's that to be grateful for. I've had the men responsible pulled from duty. They'll each be whipped and reduced in rank…Will that punishment satisfy you, Rider?"
"I want to see them," said Eragon.
Sudden concern emanated from Fredric; it was obvious that he feared that Eragon wanted to enact some sort of cruel and unusual punishment on the sentinels. Arya, he saw, was also curious of what he wanted but she didn't express the same concern as the weapons master did. "If you'd follow me, then, sir." He said.
He led them through the camp to a striped command tent where twenty or so miserable-looking men were divesting themselves of their arms and armor under the watchful eye of a dozen guards. At the sight of Eragon, Arya, and the dragons, the prisoners all went down on one knew and remained there, gazing at the ground. "Hail, Shadeslayer, Argetlam!" they cried.
He said nothing but walked along the line of men while he studied their minds. It reminded him of the time he served in the Empire. As commander of the Royal army, he had overseen many of the soldiers' training, as well as their punishment when they committed a wrongful crime. Finally, he stopped, turning to them. "You should be proud of your quick reaction to our appearance. If Galbatorix attacks, that's exactly what you should do, though I doubt arrows would prove any more effective against him than they were against us." The sentinels glanced up at him in disbelief. "I only ask that in the future, you take a moment to identify your target before shooting. Next time, I might be too distracted to stop your missiles. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Shadeslayer!" they shouted.
He moved to stand before the second to last man in the line and held out the arrow he'd caught. "I believe this is yours, Harwin."
With an expression of wonder, Harwin accepted the arrow from Eragon. "So it is! It has the white band Ii always paint on my shafts so I can find them later. Thank you, Shadeslayer."
He nodded before turning to Fredric. "These are good and true men, and I want no misfortune to fall upon them because of this event."
"I will see to it personally," said Fredric, and smiled. Standing behind him, Arya sent him a questioning look. Eragon slightly raised the corner of his lips.
"Now, can you take us to Lady Nasuada?"
"Yes, sir."
As he left the sentinels, Eragon knew that his kindness had earned him their undying loyalty, and that tidings of his good deeds would spread throughout the Varden. To win this war, he had to appear as their ideal vision of a warrior. And he would try his best to fill that role to support Nasuada.
The path Fredric took through the tents brought them in contact with many of the Varden. Most of them to his slight irritation stared in silent wonder at the group as they passed though he didn't know whether or not it was at the dragons or at Arya, or maybe it was at him. But what he didn't like most was the open attraction that his mate seem to be unconsciously garnering from the men that they'd passed. Even if it was just a fleeting thought or emotion.
Their trip ended near the back of the Varden, at a large red pavilion flying a pennant embroidered with a black shield and two parallel swords slanting underneath. Fredric pulled back the flap and Eragon and Arya entered the pavilion while the dragons remained outside their heads too large to fit through the opening at once.
A broad table occupied the center of the furnished tent. Nasuada stood at one end, leaning on her hands, studying slews of maps and scrolls. Though she was dressed in a gown fit for royalty, her stature was tense as if something was bothering her. Standing before her to his pleasant surprise was Desdemona and Bard.
Nasuada turned her almond shaped face towards him. "Eragon?" she whispered.
He twisted his hand over his sternum in the elves' gesture of fealty and bowed. "At your service."
"Eragon!" this time Nasuada sounded delighted and relieved. Bard and Desdemona both sent him wide smiles, one brighter than the other.
"Lord Eragon!"
"Welcome back!"
"It's good to be back with the Varden," said Eragon.
"And it's good to see you back," Nasuada turned to Arya. "You as well, Arya."
"Your words are welcoming," she answered. She glanced at the map and the apparent conference that they'd interrupted. "Has something gone amiss?"
"I shall explain later," the leader of the Varden returned her gaze to Eragon with a wondering expression. "What has happened to you, Eragon?"
And so Eragon a full account of what had befallen them since they left Nasuada in Farthen Dur so long ago. Much of what he said, he sensed that she had already heard from the dwarves, but she let him speak without interruption. Eragon had to be circumspect about his training for he had given his words not to reveal anything about his training nor his teachers. But he did his best to give Nasuada a good idea about his skills. Of the Agaeti Blodhren, he just described briefly of its healing and augmentation on both him and Murtagh. The latter interesting Nasuada to a high degree.
"Murtagh's scar is gone then?" asked Nasuada. He nodded. A few more sentences served to end his narrative, briefly mentioning the reason they had left Du Weldenvarden and then summarizing their journey thence. He hesitated when he came across he and Arya's bond as mates. As his liege lord, Nasuada had the right to know about who and how he associated with them…but it wasn't just his to tell. His eyes flickered over to Arya who was standing beside him, listening to his narrative. Should I or should you?
Her eyes bright, she reached up to brush her hair from her face. "There is also something you should know, Nasuada." Arya turned to him, though she spoke to the dark skinned leader of the Varden. "As Eragon's liege lord, you have the right to know that Eragon and I have become mates, the equivalent of husband and wife in your terms." To emphasis her point, her hand gently brushed his and he grasped it.
The silence that penetrated the tent was great. No one moved. As he expected they were shocked to the core about the news. Desdemona and Bard were baring expressions of such astonishment he wondered if their heart didn't stop momentarily in their chest. Nasuada was staring at them and he was positive that she'd never expected this moment to come. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "Then let me congratulate the two of you on this union…But forgive me if I'm being frank, Arya. I hope this doesn't interfere with Eragon's duty."
"There will always be a line between personal feelings and duty," said Arya, relieving Nasuada of any doubts she had of Eragon favoring the elves over the Varden.
"Well," she smiled at them. "It is good that you two have one another. Beautiful things can come from unexpected places, don't you agree?"
"Whole heartedly," said Arya. Eragon nodded.
Desdemona and Bard seemed to have recovered from their shock and they too congratulated Eragon and Arya. Though Desdemona's statements were slightly stiff and Bard's was bordering disbelief and bewilderment. Deciding that it was time to move past his personal life, Eragon moved forward, letting go of Arya's hand to point at the maps. "What is the situation here?"
Nasuada sighed and told them of how rumors were spreading that the Empire's army was marching towards Surda to confront the Varden. Though rumors, she'd refused to let it go without caution and the entire Varden was on a high state of alert. So Galbatorix had finally tired of waiting for the Varden to confront him…Or did he have something else in mind. "It doesn't look well on the surface but with you and Arya here to lend us a hand, we can hold our ground."
"He must be hiding them using magic," said Eragon as he studied the map. "A magician as powerful as Galbatorix would have no difficulties in hiding an army of thousands as it marches across Alagaesia. He must have fooled the scrying method." He sighed as he thought. If Galbatorix was willing to send an army all the way to Surda then he wasn't fooling around anymore. "I can easily say that this force won't be small. He's no doubt sent a hundred thousand soldiers to fight."
The news seem to surprise them, but only slightly. "I've thought as much," said Nasuada. "It would be foolish to send a small force this far from his Empire."
"It will be a bloody confrontation," said Arya as she moved forward to study the maps as well, her brows creased. "But it is unavoidable after all."
"Sheer number alone isn't always the determining factor in war," said Eragon, he turned to Bard and Desdemona. "Skill and talent is what it takes to survive." The two of them nodded with proud expressions. "Do not worry yourself too much over this, Nasuada."
"It is comforting to know that I have apt fighters and magicians underneath me," she said reassured. "And the dwarves will eventually be joining us, which will boost our numbers significantly. Do you think Galbatorix will fly out to confront us?"
"No," of this, Eragon was certain. "He won't leave his castle for anything. He's too much of a coward. If he loses, he'll just count on us to march to Uru'baen." This piece of information sent a surge of energy through them, knowing that their greatest enemy wasn't coming to confront them.
Just then, Eragon felt a strange mind approaching, one that knew he was watching and yet did not shrink from the contact. He could tell that Arya must have felt it to, for she tensed, her eyes darting to the entrance to the tent. They stood there waiting as a black haired girl appeared. She stared at him with violet eyes then said, "Welcome Shadeslayer, Argetlam. Welcome Saphira and Eridor."
The sound of her voice made him uneasy for it did not belong to a child but rather an adult. "Who are you?" he asked already having an answer but wanting confirmation. Without answering the girl brushed back her glossy bangs and exposed a silvery white mark on her forehead, exactly like Eragon's gedwey ignasia. He knew whom he faced.
The child that Murtagh had blessed and suddenly he felt a strange connection to her. To feel pain at such a young age…No one moved as Eragon went to girl. Slowly dropping to one knee, Eragon took her right hand in his own; her skin burned as if with fever. She did not resist him, suddenly overwhelmed, Eragon spook to her in the ancient language as well as with his mind for her to understand. "I am sorry for your pain, a burden that you shouldn't bear as young as you are. In your heart, I hope you have room for forgiveness for what has happened to you."
Her eyes softened, "I do but only if Murtagh comes forward with his fault. For he has condemned me with a fate worse than death. My entire life is devoted to feel the suffering of those around me. His spell compels me to drive myself before pain. And when I resist these urges, it costs me greatly. I cannot sleep at night for the strength of my compulsion."
Even though the pain was not his to bear and the mistake from Murtagh, he felt a sudden ache in his chest as he thought of her condition. "It is not your fault that I am what I am, Rider." He didn't answer her. "Though you take the blame for what you have not done and shield yourself behind cold indifference, deep down you are a good person. And I thank you for feeling my pain."
"You don't have to live like this forever," said Eragon his expression determined. "The elves have taught Murtagh how to undo a spell and once he returns to the Varden, he will see to it that you're healed. If not, then I shall do it."
For a moment the girl seemed to lose her formidable self-control. A small gasp escaped her lips, her trembled against Eragon's and her eyes glistened with a film of tears. Then just as quickly, she hid her true emotions behind a mask of cynical amusement. "Well, we shall see. Either way, Murtagh must first return and even then there will be a war upon us."
He nodded, knowing that her knowledge of pain was an advantage for Nasuada in that she could sense any assassin's intentions to harm the leader of the Varden. It was a crude way of protection for she'd actually become the shield that she was intended to be. He frowned. "Elva was the one who saved me from the assassin in Aberon."
He bowed his head to Elva, "I am in your debt for saving my liege lord."
Elva inclined her head, showing that she'd accepted his gratitude. As if she'd had seen enough, Nasuada made her way around the table. "Come now," she said. "I must introduce the four of you to Orrin and his nobles. Have you met the king before Arya?"
She shook her head, "It's been a while since I've last visit Surda."
As they left the pavilion—Nasuada in the lead, with Elva by her side while Bard and Desdemona covering her flank—Eragon and Arya walked closed to one another speaking in low tones of what had transpired. And he could tell from the slight edge in her voice the sadness she felt at seeing a child like Elva forced to feel the burden of everyone's pain. Children, Eragon had came to learn, was cherished by elves beyond anything else.
They soon arrived at another large pavilion, this one white and yellow—although it was difficult to determine the exact hue of the colors. Once they were granted entrance, Eragon was slightly astonished to find the tent crammed with an eccentric collection of beakers, alembics, retorts, and other instruments of natural philosophy. Whoever had a passion for these toys, Eragon though it was a foolish idea to bring it to a battlefield.
"Eragon, Arya," said Nasuada. "I would like you to meet Orrin, son of Larkin and monarch of the realm of Surda."
From the depths of the tangled piles of glass emerged a rather tall, handsome man with shoulder-length hair held back by the gold coronet resting upon his head. His mind, like Nasuada's was protected behind walls of iron; it was obvious he had received extensive training in that skill. And thought Orrin seemed pleasant enough, Eragon found him to be eccentric in mind and he didn't trust his leadership. He seemed to want more for glory than for honor.
As they conversed, Eragon was slightly relieved that for every question that Orrin asked about his stay with the elves, Arya would easily fend them off. He found himself trying to maintain a polite appearance as each earl that paraded past him insisted on shaking his hand, telling him what an honor it was to meet a Rider, and inviting him to their respective estates. Eragon like Arya, went to memorize their names and titles knowing full well that in doing so, it would not put Oromis to shame. And though he was growing irritated as time went by, he caught Arya giving him a glance as her conversation with one of the earls came to a pause. He slightly shrugged before turning back to King Orrin and Nasuada. He disliked politics but as a Rider, he had to play his part.
When at last they won free of Orrin's pavilion, Eragon asked Nasuada, "What will you have of me, Nasuada?"
She eyed him with a curious expression. "What do you think? You are apt at politics, a skilled swordsman, and a deadly magician. How do you think you can best serve me, Eragon? You know your own abilities far better than I do." Even Arya watched him now, waiting to hear his response.
It took him only a moment to think of it, "I shall take control of Du Vrangr Gata, as they once asked me to, and organize them underneath me so I can lead them into battle. Working together, we can easily dispatch Galbatorix's magicians."
"That seems an excellent idea."
Is there a place, asked Saphira, where we can leave our bags? I don't want to carry them or this saddle any longer than I have to.
When Eragon repeated her question, Nasuada said, "Of course, you may leave them in my pavilion, and I will arrange to have a tent erected for the both of you, where you can keep them permanently." Returning to the pavilion, Nasuada said to Eragon, "Report to me once you have settled matters with Du Vrangr Gata." The she pushed aside the tent flap and disappeared inside with Elva along with Bard and Desdemona who seemed to be teetering on the edge of indecision before he motioned for them to follow.
Arya turned to him, "You seem irritated."
"That's because I am," he sighed rubbing his face tiredly. "A child cursed to bear the pain of others, an army marching from the Empire to face us, as well as taking lead of an organization that I'm sure will not welcome me. It irritates me slightly."
"A feeling I can connect with," said Arya. "At times, events do seem to become slightly…annoying." He raised a brow not expecting it from her but then again, she must not enjoy having to converse with hot headed humans for the better part of her life. "In any case, you must hurry."
"You will be staying with Nasuada?"
"That is where I am needed, unless you would like me to accompany you." She stared at him waiting for his answer. He shook his head.
"This I am capable of," when Nasuada's voice emanated from inside the pavilion, Eragon gestured towards it. "We are both needed elsewhere, Arya. I shall see you once I resolve the situation with Du Vrangr Gata."
She nodded turning to leave but she faltered as if unsure of herself. Then she turned to him again before kissing him softly on the lips. "Do not let your irritation get the best of you…especially with Trianna." With that she turned and swiftly left leaving Eragon with Saphira and Eridor. He would have to remove their bags then seeing as she was now preoccupied.
His mood slightly better, he turned and began to pick his way through the tents. It was going to be a long day as they prepared for battle. He was sure of it. Ignoring the looks that he received, he sought out the magicians with the use of his mind.
And this chapter is done! Also, did you all know that my chapters are longer than they used to be? Usually I try to aim for the 3,000 word mark but ever since I've read Inheritance, it's hard to keep it under 4,500 words lately. The motivation I get can simply amaze me. And you know something, when I'm writing this its a different experience when reading it. Because I usually don't remember everything I write and when I read it I always think "Did I really write that? Wow!" lol Just something to share with you all. But I'll see you all again next chapter.