Another rather long chapter that I've had fun writing. But besides that it's so lengthy I want to keep my AN short this time. I just want to say that it will take another two filler chapters before you can all read the Battle of the Burning Plains and Eragon's new (or old) nemesis. And those next two filler chapters are already done and one is rather lengthy. I think around 5,300 words. But I'll upload it soon. Also, I would like to adress the "Rated M" questions I've been getting. This story is rated M for the violence that will byt coming up as well as some lemons (which won't be for a while, sadly). But that is the answer. Anways Happy Reading!
Before he left Nasuada's pavilion, he'd unbuckled the saddle and bags from both of the dragons, letting his fall to a heap on the ground. While he gently placed Arya's next to his knowing that it would no doubt irritate her if he were to treat her belongings with such crude methods. Before he left his belongings, however, he dug through his bag to pull out the gifts that Islanzadi bestowed him: the quiver and bow. He placed the quiver across his back and he was pleased to find that it could hold the bow the elf queen had sung for him.
Eragon and Saphira had set out together to find Trianna, while Eridor opted to remain behind with Arya, poking his head through the entrance of the pavilion to listen to the on goings. And though Eragon was glad to be of service to the Varden, he felt slightly annoyed at not being able to see his mother. It would have to wait then. They had gone no more than a few paces when he sensed a nearby mind that was shield from his view. That must be one of the magicians. They veered towards it.
Twelve yards from their starting point, they came upon a small green tent with a donkey picketed in front. To the left of the tent, a blackened cauldron hung from a metal tripod placed over one of the malodorous flames birthed deep within the earth. Cords were strung about the cauldron, over which were draped nightshade, hemlock, rhododendron, savin, bark of the yew tree, and numerous mushrooms, such as death cap and spotted cort, all of which Eragon recognized as poisons. And standing next to the cauldron, wielding a long wooden paddle with which she stirred the brew was Angela the herbalist. At her feet sat Solembum.
"Are you planning to poison an army?" asked Eragon as he approached her, curious with what she needed all of the various poisons for.
She lifted her gaze from the cauldron to face him, her expression becoming ghoulish and twisted underneath the flickering green flames, making the smile she wore out of place. "Ah, Eragon, so you've returned!"
"That we have," he said answering for both him and Saphira. He gestured towards her cauldron again. "Are you planning to poison someone?"
"Don't mind this," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can assure you that you aren't the one I want to poison. But for your half brother…I'm afraid to say that I could club him over the head with a mallard and still want to poison him."
He smiled, amused at her response. She was talking about Elva and Murtagh's curse. "I'm sure you just merely bluff, but I'm afraid it would take more than a mallard and poison to kill him now." Angela's expression grew curious.
"And why is that?"
He briefly explained to her about the Agaeti Blodhren, and the more he spoke the more interested her expression grew until he reached the end. "My, it looks like plenty of interesting events have taken place during your stay with the elves. But that's beside the point. Have you met Elva yet? Have you seen what your half brother did to the poor girl?"
"I have."
"You have!" she stopped stirring the mixture that she was experimenting with to stare at him in disbelief. "Then why don't you say anything about it? Your blockhead of a brother has enslaved a child to the pain of the world and yet all you can do is stand there with barely any words?"
Eragon stood there allowing Angela to rant about his informing him in many explicit, detailed, and highly inventive terms, exactly how great a blockhead Murtagh was and that it seemed to flow through their family. If it was any normal person, he would've ripped their heart from their chest before they could get any further insult out of their lips. But ever since he'd first met Angela, he'd gone quite entertained with her eccentric personality. She definitely was unique in her own way.
When she finally paused for breath, he said, "You're quite right, and I'm sure you'll like to hear that once Murtagh arrives he will no doubt remove the spell. And even if he doesn't then I shall do it."
Angela blinked three times, one right after the other, and her mouth remained open for a moment in a small "O" before she clamped it shut. With a glare of suspicion, she asked, "You're not saying that just to placate me, are you?"
"I would never."
"Ah…well, then, that's settled, isn't it?" She flashed him a wide smile and then strode past him to pat Saphira on her jowls. "It's good to see you again, Saphira. You've grown and I must say, your scales seem brighter."
She was flattered by the herbalist's comments. Well met indeed, Angela.
As Angela returned to stirring her concoction, Eragon said, "That was an impressive tirade you gave."
"Thank you, I worked on it for several weeks, but it seems lacking a little, maybe I should add in an Urgal or two to emphasis my point when I meet Murtagh again." She thought for it for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, I think I will."
"I'm sure it will be as colorful as what you've told me," said Eragon watching as she stirred the brew in the cauldron. "Though Murtagh and I may have changed greatly, you don't look any different."
"Time has no restraint on one if they understand its concept," she said mysteriously before sending him another glance. "Though you seem more relaxed than before. Could it be because of a certain elf?"
"I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."
"That I will." She leaned to the side, grabbed a mug from a bench next to her, and offered it to Eragon. "Here, have a cup of tea."
Eragon glanced at the deadly plants surrounding them and then back at Angela's open face before he accepted the mug. Trusting that she would not poison him, did he drink the tea. It was delicious. At that moment, Solembum padded over to Saphira and began to arch his back and rub himself up against her leg, just as any other cat would. Leaving Saphira to speak with the werecat, he took another drink of the tea.
"So," said Angela, "I assume you already spoke with Nasuada and King Orrin." He nodded. "And what did you think of dear old Orrin?"
Lacking the caution of words, he pondered it for a moment. "He's as eccentric as the next person. But I wouldn't call him a fool."
"Interesting observation," said Angela as she nodded. "You wouldn't call him a fool. But I would call him a moonstruck fool on Midsummer Night Eve."
"He must be crazy to have carted so much glass all the way from Aberon."
Angela raised an eyebrow. "What's this now?"
"Haven't you seen the inside of his tent?"
"Unlike some people," she sniffed. "I don't ingratiate myself with every monarch I meet." So he described it to her. Angela had abandoned her stirring and listened to him with great interest. The instant he was done, she began bustling around the cauldron gathering the deadly plants about them with tongs. "I think I had best pay Orrin a visit. The two of you will have to tell me about your trip to Ellesmera at a later time…Well, go on, both of you. Be gone!"
Eragon shook his head as the short little woman drove him and Saphira away from her tent, and he still holding the cup of tea. She was the most eccentric person he'd ever met and he was sure that she would remain that way for the next decade or so.
From there it took them almost half an hour to locate Trianna's tent, which apparently served as the unofficial headquarters of Du Vrangr Gata. The tent was hidden behind a spur of rock that served to conceal it from the gaze of enemy magicians in Galbatorix's army.
As Eragon and Saphira approached the black tent, the entrance was thrust open and Trianna strode out, her arms bare to the elbow in preparation to use magic. Behind her clustered a group of determined if frightened looking spell casters, many of whom Eragon recognized for he had seen them during the battle in Farthen Dur, either fighting or healing the wounded.
Eragon watched as Trianna and the others reacted with now expected surprise at his altered appearance. Lowering her arms, Trianna said, "Shadeslayer, Saphira. You should have told us sooner that you were here. We've been preparing to confront and battle what we thought was a mighty foe."
"I'm glad you didn't for it would've been disastrous for both of us if not the Varden as well," said Eragon.
"And why have you graced us with your presence now? You never deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any in the Varden."
"I have come to take command of Du Vrangr Gata." As he expected the news caused many to react in surprise while Trianna stiffened. Knowing that the sorceress was no doubt offended but his sudden act, he strove forward, not wanting to prolong the conflict. "It is not out of criticism in replacing you as leader of Du Vrangr Gata. If events allowed, I would have preferred to leave you amongst yourselves. But with war nigh upon us, there must be someone to lead you all into battle. I may be strong but I cannot always indefinitely be victorious not when I'm occupied in the fighting. It would be foolish for us to face Galbatorix's pet magicians divided. And I don't plan to see our army slaughtered. And I'm sure you don't either, Trianna."
As he spoke he felt several magician probe at his mind causing his previous irritation to spring forward. He would give them a moment to retreat but if they didn't, he would force it upon them. A moment passed, during his training in Ellesmera, he'd practiced mental defense with Arya on a constant basis, the minds of magicians as weak as those in Du Vrangr Gata was not threatening to him at all. Quick as could be, he retaliated by attacking the minds of his attackers, his own as sharp and unforgiving as a dagger, forcing them to retreat behind their own barriers. As he did, Eragon felt the satisfaction of seeing two men and a women flinch and avert their gazes.
"I'm not here to usurp your authority nor do I wish to," Eragon continued as if the attack never happened. "I need to work with Du Vrangr Gata and give you orders as a Rider. Orders that I have to know will be obeyed without question. The chain of command must be established. That said you will retain the greater part of your autonomy. Most times, I'll be too busy to devote my attention to Du Vrangr Gata. Nor do I intend to ignore your counsel, but know this I have no plans in controlling neither you nor your practices. Now, let me ask again, will you lend me your help, for the good of the Varden?"
Trianna paused, then bowed. "Of course, Shadeslayer—for the good of the Varden. It will be an honor to have you lead Du Vrangr Gata."
"Then let us begin."
Over the next few hours, Eragon talked with every one of the assembled magicians, although a fair number were absent, seeing that they were busy with one task or another to help the Varden. And from the time he spent getting acquainting to them did he learn of their inexperience. Most of them didn't know the ancient language to speak it fluently and they were ignorant of numerous applications of gramarye. Compared to his own servants, Bard, Desdemona, and Rosalie, who were all apt magicians, the members of Du Vrangr Gata with the exceptions of a few and Trianna could barely be called magicians. It wasn't much to work with but he had to make the most of it. A bit more than a third of the magicians specialized in healing. After teaching them a few more spells and enchantments to memorize, he sent them on their way to learn them. The remaining magicians, he'd established a chain of command. He at the head, and Trianna as his lieutenant. It took quite longer to get the rest of the magicians to cooperate with one another, which added to his irritation again.
When he felt that he had tested each and every magician present thoroughly did he finally leave, but not before extracting a promise from Du Vrangr Gata that they would be ready and willing when he called upon them for assistance. Returning to Nasuada's pavilion, he wasn't surprised to find everyone standing around the table discussing strategy and tactics. She glanced up when he entered. "You've sorted out the problem with Du Vrangr Gata?"
He nodded. "I apologize for it taking longer than I'd expected. There were some complications."
She smiled at his response as if knowing what he spoke of. "I see, but I'm pleased to see your resolution. This will no doubt come out in our advantage."
He glanced at the maps and scrolls, "Have you been discussing strategy?"
"More or less, but without certainties, we can only speculate what will happen in this upcoming battle." Her expression was grim as her eyes returned to the maps. "We need to rally the army together and have everyone prepared. The only problem is trying to find a commander to lead them. I would have you as commander of the army, Eragon but it's too risky."
"King Orrin will want to have a say in this." Arya murmured, her brows furrowed. "He will not relinquish his command as easily."
"Yes, there's also that to contend with." Nasuada sighed. "Tomorrow we will assemble with him to speak of it more. But we've discussed at length for today and it would be counterproductive to tire ourselves needlessly before the battle."
Eragon nodded, and bowed slightly, "By your leave, my lady."
"You are dismissed." They left the pavilion one after the other. Once outside did he turn to his servants. They looked much better than when they served him in Uru'baen.
"The sun seems to be doing the two of you some good," he commented.
"That it has my lord," Desdemona agreed as she slightly smiled at him. "You look well."
"I am," his eyes caught Bard patting Saphira on her snout and warmly welcoming her back to the Varden. "I trust that you've been well since I've left?"
"More or less."
Saphira let out a yelp and they turned to her as she tried to evade Bard. Stop that, it tickles! Eragon fought to retain a smile at the game they were playing. As always, his cook was fearless in trying to tickle Saphira. "Much have happened since you've left." Her violet eyes flickered to Arya and back. Eragon nodded.
"I would like to see my mother, Desdemona," said Eragon finally getting to the heart of the matter. "Can you lead me to her?"
She hesitated, an expression of uncertainty crossing her expression. "Of course, this way." She turned to lead them through the rows of tents and to his surprise, Arya followed. He'd half expected her to retire to her tent. Following them was the dragons and Bard who amiably told them of the on goings of the Varden since they'd left for Ellesmera. It took them half an hour to reach the tent which was situated in south eastern corner of the Varden. It was a large tent fit for eight but he was sure that it was his servants own doings to give his mother some comfort. As they approached, Finny who was lighting a fire to cook what looked like a chicken, glanced up in surprise.
"Lord Eragon!" he cried. "You've returned!"
"It is good to see you, Finny." Eragon greeted the young boy. "Is my mother here?"
"Yes, she's inside with—"
The flap to the tent was pushed aside and out walked his mother with the assistance of Rosalie. She looked the same as when he'd first met her. She skin was pale and beautiful and her fiery hair caught in the light of the fire, her emerald eyes piercing. She smiled at him, showing her beauty. But it was his mother who made him froze on the spot. She wasn't dressed in her leather armor but instead a dress made from rather fine lace. Her brunette hair cascaded down her back instead of being tied up and her gait was uneven as she walked. And that was because of the extra weight she'd gained. Her stomach was round and large, and she hand one hand on her back as she walked to support the weight. Her cheeks were rosy giving her a youthful appearance and she looked truly happy.
He stared at her at a loss for words. Even Saphira emanated surprise at the sight of his mother. "Mother—?" he trailed off unable to continue not knowing what to say as he took in her appearance. She was pregnant and it wasn't just recently either. He felt a pang in his heart, this child would be his younger sibling…
His mother's expression stretched into a wide smile. With the help of Rosalie she made her way over to him. "Eragon!" when she was close enough, she embraced him. When he returned it, he was careful not to hug her too tight. It warmed him, however that she could still recognize him. Her son. Pulling away, she smiled up at him. "I didn't think you would return so quickly."
For a moment nothing came to mind and he was unable to think of what to say to his mother. Never had he ever thought of this being a possible situation. She was with child…After a long pause, Saphira nudged him. Eragon, don't just stand there like a fool. Say something!
All around him, he could see the anxiety in his servant's faces as they waited for his response. Was this the moment that he had been longing for? That both he and his mother waited for? The moment in which they could forgive and move forward or resent and remain the way they were. Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. A migraine was fighting its way forth, throbbing in his mind. After a moment he opened his eyes again, "I'm happy to see you so well mother," he finally said after some struggle.
"Being away from the Empire has done me a great deal," she rubbed her back as if it ached. Rosalie sent him a look that said that she'd done all she could to ease his mother's pain.
"That it did," he glanced around for something to say. As he stood there and thought, it was Saphira who filled the silence; she walked forward to sniff the air around his mother before lightly licking her cheek with her tongue.
I believe congratulations are in order, mother-of-my-rider, she said as she studied his mother. May you birth a beautiful child.
"Thank you, Saphira," his mother glanced towards him as if unsure she should accept the congratulations.
Trying to find a way to ease the tension, Eragon softly snorted. "I'm sure that the child will be less bothersome than Murtagh and I."
I wouldn't think so, your blood seems to have a way of being intertwined with fate, said Saphira amused. A sibling born to elder brothers who are Dragon Riders, a father who founded the Varden, and a mother who is as fierce as she is gentle. This child will have quite the inheritance.
That was right, whether his mother gave birth to a boy or a girl, there was no doubt in his mind that his younger sibling will be revered above all others. As they stood there, Arya had a thoughtful expression on her face. She didn't, however, make a comment until his mother caught sight of her. "Arya, it seems you too have returned."
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Selena," Arya said politely. "You have improved since last we've met."
"Thank you," she made an apologetic face. "If you're here to search for Brom, I'm afraid that he's currently occupied training the warriors."
At the sound of his father's name, he instinctively stiffened something that didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Finny who caught the tension in the air, turned to Bard, "It's almost time for Lady Selena to dine, let's prepare supper, Bard."
"Err—right," the blond haired man agreed the two of them hurrying off to gather the food. His mother was glancing at him with an odd expression while Rosalie bit her lip as if deciding what to do and Desdemona stood still as a statue ready to intervene if necessary. Arya, however, remained tactfully silent.
Then it was if something in his mother had snapped. She let out a growl of frustration before, placing her hands on her hips to stare at him even though she was shorter than him. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I've enough of your attitude young man! We've come this far and it's high time we start acting like a family. I know it's my fault that things are this way, and I can't make it up you." Her expression became saddened. "I just want to see you happy. You and Murtagh."
That was it. It was now or never if he wanted to make his mother truly happy. "I never blamed you," murmured Eragon, causing everyone to seemingly freeze. His eyes found Arya, the emerald of her irises giving him the courage he needed. Bitterness is a choice. That was right. "Never. I've always thought it was my own fault that you couldn't be with the man you loved and with Murtagh. That I was a burden to you. Someone who sought the openness of the sky. You stayed for me in that wretched city. You'd tried your best for me against the twisted lives we lived in under Galbatorix. And I couldn't do anything for you. Nothing made you happy anymore." He glanced downward as if ashamed to say so. "I was ashamed of myself. I couldn't face you anymore. I couldn't be the child that you wanted."
Eragon…He felt Saphira's warmth cascade over his mind. Trying to ease the guilt and shame that he'd been living with for so long. "Just like your father," he turned his head to her to find her staring at him with a film of tears in her eyes. "Exactly like your father. You were always stubborn and unforgiving to a fault, always trying to find happiness for others. But not for yourself. I've always loved you, you're my son as much as Murtagh is. No matter how you look or who you are, a Rider or Shadeslayer. Do not forget that I will always love you." She smiled, wiping her eyes. "Now, are we done with all of this foolishness?"
He nodded, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. Go on! Saphira urged pushing him forward abruptly. Your mother is waiting for you, Eragon. She's been waiting for over five years now.
He stepped forward to grasp his mother's hands, noting the light wrinkles she was beginning to have. "Yes, let's move past what's done and continue forward, mother." Her nod was the response he wanted. He glanced at her stomach before turning to Arya. A small smile was on her face as she beheld their long awaited reunion. He beckoned towards her. She gave him a curious expression before moving forward. "There is also something I would like to tell you, mother."
His mother and Rosalie watched them with a curious expression while Desdemona glided off to arrange supper. Gripping Arya's hand as she came to a stop before them, he said, "Arya and I have become mates." There reaction was what he'd expected. For some reason, no one could imagine the two of them as a bonded pair.
It seems like today has been a rather emotional day for everyone, Saphira's commented as he was forced to sit and explain to his mother what had occurred since he'd left for Ellesmera with Arya beside him. Soon enough, the rest of his servants came back, Bard and Finny carrying a cow for the dragons who were pleasantly surprised. Arya pointedly looked the other way as their teeth ripped apart the cow before they devoured it. Desdemona bought back food for his mother and Rosalie, he watched as they ate. Before they'd lived in wealth and dined with gold but now despite their condition, they were much happier than before.
They ate together and his mother despite her condition, seemed up to the conversation. She'd asked a variety of subjects, from his trip to how Murtagh was. At times Eragon would answer or Saphira would. And sometimes, it was Arya who sustained their conversation as if it was a common occurrence.
Eventually his father returned to the camp which sent everyone into silence. His mother waved him over. "Don't just stand there Brom, come and have some dinner with us, I'm sure you're starving."
As she'd asked, he slowly made his way forward before taking a seat on the low wooden bench that his mother sat on that Bard had made for her. His father sat across from him and Eragon could see the shock in his eyes as he took in his altered appearance. For the longest time no one said anything before Arya spoke, "It is good to see you again, Brom."
"Aye, you as well, Arya." His father replied. Eragon took another bite out of the pear that he was eating, the fruit crunching in his mouth sounding louder than normal. Seeing his mother's rather strained but hopeful expression made him determined. If Arya could forgive her mother after seven decades why couldn't he forgive his father?
Because you're too stubborn to, Saphira answered for him. He ignored her and reached out to the warm pot of soup that rested on the wooden table between them before pouring a bowl full of the hot liquid. And instead of eating it himself, he held it out to his father. "I'm sure you're hungry…father." It came out stiff and hesitant, but he'd said it all the same. He wasn't going to forgive him that easily yet. But he was going to try and forgive him.
Brom's eyes seemed to shine brightly as he accepted the bowl, before dutifully eating. The smile his mother bestowed upon him was the happiest he'd ever seen her. A hand gripped his and he turned to Arya, though she was speaking to Bard, he could see how the corners of her mouth was curved upward. It was enough. He turned back to his mother and father, watching as they ate and responding to their questions and inquiries.
Deep down in his heart, he felt a burden slowly fade away. It would take quite a while before he could stare at his father in the eye without resentment. But he didn't mind for it was enough.
I know what you're all thinking. That's the only interaction Eragon has with Brom? Well, I've written the last part multiple ways and none of them seem to stick. And it's mainly because of Eragon and Arya that it didn't work out well with him resenting his father. I've developed AxE so Eragon could see past Brom's mistake like how Arya had forgiven her mother after seven decades. And so this was the best road for Eragon and his relationship with his parents to go. But this won't be the last of it. Trust me! It will take a LONG time for his to actually accept Brom. So goodbye for now! And by the way, Christmas is around the block!