Ah well, tomorrow is my dads' birthday and I've been feeling really happy lately with all of the birthdays and the holiday cheers. So might as well upload this filler chapter (it has some CP in it and I always cringe everytime I have to use some of CP's work. This chapter and the next one will have his works in it before I can start building up the plot even more so). Anyways, I went shopping with my other three sisters for a gift for my dad and we've all decided to buy him a separate gift before chipping in for a shared one. Not everyone turns 62 years old twice! (lol). So it's been a big family thing. I mean my nephews are all coming over so this is going to be a very LOUD holiday...Anyways, Happy Reading! (Oh, I'm sorry about the confusion of my last A/N. I just meant I might not update another chapter before the New Years, not that I'm abandoning this story after I've gotten so far with it. So rest at ease!)
Lacing up his boots, Eragon rolled his shoulders lightly trying to work out the stiffness in his shoulders. It had been almost a week since the massive battle on the Burning Plains and already, Nasuada had managed to move the Varden's camp several leagues down the Jiet River. But she didn't dare move them any further without Murtagh's presence. His half brother and his cousin Roran were still within the Empire's borders no doubt at Helgrind ready to rescue Roran's betrothed.
Standing, he strapped his only sword onto his left hip. Though the other was broken in his fight with Jeremiah, he did not mind for he could also fight with one sword. Lately ever since the battle, his right eye had been feeling rather odd as well as his heart. And he always felt restless as if there was a noise beside him that wouldn't go out. No matter how much time he spent flying with Saphira, carrying out orders for Nasuada, or spending time with Arya, he could do nothing to stop it.
And it made him slightly uneasy. Eragon moved the flap to his tent back squinting as the bright sunlight made him squint his eyes. After adjusting to it, he turned to find Saphira still curled up and sleeping beside Eridor. He was sure that they two of them did more than just hunt game last night. Not bothering to disturb them, he made his way towards his mother's tent. As he rounded the corner to his parents' tent he was surprised to find that it was empty. Where had everyone gone to?
Frowning, he reached out with his mind to search for his servants it took a while until he found them. They were towards the outskirts of the Varden's camp. Veering towards his thoughts, he was surprised to come across the separate camp that the villagers of Carvahall had set up. Ever since he'd met Roran, he made no attempt to converse with the villagers. Today, however, that would no doubt change. Walking through their tents and camps, he ignored the stares of curiosity and distrust that he received and angled towards the faint sound of his mother's voice.
He found her and his father sitting amongst a group of villagers from Carvahall with Finny and Bard standing guard about the gathering and Rosalie hovering about his mother, ready to do what she asked. Finny was the first to see Eragon and as always a bright smile came to his features, "Lord Eragon!" he exclaimed, "Good morning."
"To you as well, Finny," he replied in kind as he neared, the villagers stopped talking at his appearance, and his mother with her swollen belly turned slightly in her seat. Her expression was bright despite the tiredness of her stature.
"Eragon," he smiled at his mother, glad to see her well. But as he did so, his eyes darted to Rosalie. She nodded her answer to his unasked question. Was his mother healthy and well? Put at ease, he walked forward and bent slightly to allow her to kiss his cheek in motherly affection. "Are you not busy with your duties?"
"I wanted to visit you before I leave for Nasuada's pavilion," said Eragon ignoring the slight whisperings about them. "I trust that Rosalie and the others are taking good care of you, mother?"
"That they are," she smiled. "But you already know that don't you?"
"I do," he agreed. He straightened. "Seeing as you are well, I can leave to attend to my duties."
She frowned but nodded. "Will you come by later for dinner?"
"Of course," he gave her another smile, glad to be able to speak to her freely and without barriers. It was a heartwarming experience. As he turned he nodded to his father who tentatively smiled at him. It was slowly progressing; his relationship with his father, but it was better than he had hoped. Now, he could speak and dine with him without avoiding his eyes contact most of the time. Feeling at ease, he turned and began to walk towards Nasuada's pavilion.
It took him barely twenty minutes to make it there with his quick strides. For some reason, lately he'd been worried for his mother for her pregnancy seemed to be approaching its end. Or that was what he thought. He was not surprised to find outside Nasuada's tent, six of her guards that composed the Nighthawks. Two members of each race, Urgal, dwarf, and human and though they were assigned the duty to guard Nasuada, he could tell that the presence of the Urgal created some hostilities amongst the four others.
He stopped before the tent, sensing Nasuada as well as a few others already gathered inside. One of the guards, a human stepped forward to address him, his expression one of respect and admiration. "Hail Shadeslayer!" he said with a salute, "May I as inquire to your visit?"
"Lady Nasuada has asked for me to visit her once morning has come and I've come as asked," said Eragon, not minding the procedures to enter her command tent. The warrior nodded, relaying the message to Nasuada and after her approval, he was granted entrance.
Striding forward, he swiftly pushed the flap to the tent aside and was surprised to find Nasuada speaking rather calmly though he could see that she was clearly irritated to a tall, high-nosed, black-skinned man. He was dressed to show his wealth. For on his forearms were gold bangles, a breastplate of armored gold covered his chest, and long, thick chains of gold hung around his neck, disks of white gold stretched the lobes of his ears, and upon the top of his head rested a resplendent gold crown. His men were garbed in the same manner.
Eragon moved forward, his left hand resting on the pommel of his only sword. Once Nasuada caught sight of him, relief seemed to ease her rigid stature. She beckoned him forward, when he stopped beside the tall, dark-skinned man, Eragon bowed to her before straightening. "My lady, I've come as you've asked," his eyes darted from Nasuada to her audience. "Am I interrupting a conference of yours?"
"No, not at all," She motioned to him, "Eragon this is warlord Fadawar. And Fadawar, this is Eragon Shadeslayer, my vassal, I'm sure you and your tribe have heard of him."
"That we have," Fadawar inclined his head to Eragon. Instead of bowing, Eragon murmured his greetings before making his way to stand at Nasuada's right hand. He could tell that Fadawar was displeased at his greeting while Nasuada was restraining a pleased smile.
"Now, let us continue our discussion, Fadawar," said Nasuada, her voice ringing with echoes of authority. Eragon kept his eyes trained on the tribesmen and Fadawar in case they were to make a foul move.
"I've asked you to aid the Varden and yet you refused and now you stand before me asking for boons and favors that not enough my highest commanders are privileged to. How then, do you intend to earn these rights? You cannot pay with warriors; your men already fight for me, whether in the Varden or in King Orrin's army. Be content with what you have, Warlord and do not seek more that is rightfully yours."
"You twist the truth to suit your own selfish goals. I seek what is rightfully ours! That is why I am here. You talk and you talk, yet your words are meaningless, for by your actions, you have betrayed us," Eragon frowned, his gripping on the pommel of his sword tightening as he caught onto what Fadawar was trying to breach. He caught Nasuada's eye, she shook her head slightly. His frown deepened but he did not move against the man or his tribesmen but stood and waited for her orders. "You admit we are your people. Then do you still follow our customs and worship our gods?"
He watched as Nasuada pondered the warlord's question before she nodded, her lips set into a thin line as if she'd eaten a distasteful fruit, "I do."
"Then I say that you are unfit to lead the Varden, and as is my right, I challenge you to the Trial of the Long Knives. If you are triumphant, we shall bow to you and never again question your authority. But if you lose, then you shall step aside, and I shall take your place as head of the Varden." Eragon narrowed his eyes as he beheld Fadawar. He had not expected another piece to enter the game that they played. How was Nasuada going to answer?
"Perhaps I am mistaken, but I thought it was tradition that whoever won assumed command of his rival's tribes, as well as his own. Is that not so?" she said, unable to help himself he let out a light chuckle at the expression of dismay that flashed across Fadawar's face.
"It is."
"Then I accept your challenge, with the understanding that should I win, your crown and scepter will be mine. Are we agreed?"
He scowled but agreed and Eragon watched as the two prepared for the challenge. She had summoned her maid, Farica to help her out of her dress. After some reluctance on her maid's part, Nasuada soon stood almost naked in her white chemise before the warriors, who examined her slender body. Eragon frowned and feeling that it was his duty stepped forward to gain their attention instead. Nasuada's gratitude was not masked.
Soon enough the arrival of King Orrin, Jormundur, Trianna, and Naako and Ramusewa were announced and Nasuada's pavilion was filled with people. Too many for Eragon to feel comfortable, especially with his liege lord in such an open state.
As Nasuada explained the circumstance that she'd summoned them to the tent, the mood in the pavilion grew ever somber as Orrin was infuriated by her decision and Jormundur quite dismayed. Before they could start, however Eragon cleared his throat turning to Nasuada, his face set on her own, "My lady, may I not take your place in this trial? You are my liege lord and I do not feel that it is right for you to put yourself in harm's way."
King Orrin nodded, "Yes, it would not be as dangerous if Eragon were to accept the Trial of the Long Knives, Nasuada. As your vassal it is his duty to ensure our safety."
She shook her head, regarding Eragon with a determined expression, "No, I shall participate and I alone for it is tradition. You as well as everyone else gathered here today shall bear witness."
He bowed his head, stepping back but remaining close to her right hand, "I shall bear witness, my lady."
It was a barbaric tradition, Eragon thought as he stood listening to the drums of Fadawar's warriors as both Nasuada and the warlord gripped their knives, holding it steady before their forearms. Fadawar was the first to slice his arm open, blood spilling out from the cut. Almost immediately, Eragon felt sick, his right eye burning. He blinked, lightly shaking his head to rid himself of the feeling. Then Nasuada split the skin on her arm, her own blood dripping to the ground. His heat began to beat in rhythm to the drums, his skin crawling. Another slash across skin and more blood. His node was filled with the scent of the crimson liquid.
Slash.
Drip.
Slash.
Drip.
Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip.
By the fifth cut, pools of blood was gathered at the feet of Nasuada and Fadawar. If the bleeding were to continue either both or one of them would die from blood lost. He was sure of it. But he was having his own trouble. His body wanted to reached forward and wield the knives, to cut through flesh, to taste the blood. The thirst of his blood lust made his body burn so fiercely it felt as if he was on fire. It felt as if his mind was stifled by a blanket and his heart beating so fast it was about to give out. His hand that gripped the pommel of his sword tightened as Fadawar made his sixth cut. He watched as a new stream of blood transverse the length of his dark-skinned arm before adding to the pool of blood he stood in.
Nasuada regarded Fadawar with a half-crazed, half-delusional expression as she added one—two—more cuts to her own making it a total of seven cuts. His arm subconsciously pulled his sword a few inches from its sheath but it went unnoticed for everyone was focusing intently on Nasuada and Fadawar. He could kill them all with mere seconds. Not one would be able to cry out for help. Eyes dilated in as he regarded the pools of crimson on the pavilion ground and the smell of blood in the air, he was about to draw his sword before Fadawar cried out, "I submit!"
The drums stopped.
Almost immediately, Eragon came to himself. Slightly panting, he slid his sword back fully into its sheath, feeling a sheen of sweat cover his body, and his heart calm. What was that? He shook his head and instead turned his gaze to the trial before him. Nasuada had won. Trying to shake off the feeling of blood thirst, he approached Nasuada and guided her to her chair in which she sunk into, and from her expression he could tell that she was ready to faint from the pain of her cuts.
"My lady let me heal you of your wounds," said Eragon reaching for his magic in the recess of his mind.
She didn't open her eyes, but waited for Fadawar and his men to retreat before she spoke again, her tone one of determination. "No."
He frowned, as well as the others while Farica went to bandage her wound, before they bled anymore. "The Trial of Long Knives requires participants to allow their wounds to heal at their natural pace. Otherwise, we won't have experienced the full measure of pain the trial entails. If I violate the rule, Fadawar will be declared the victor."
Knowing that her mind was set, Eragon drew to his full height and turned to face the others, "I'm afraid we have to consent to my lady's term. Let us leave her in peace to recover from her wounds. It would do her harm otherwise if we were to pester her with our concerns and judgment." Trianna left without a word by now used to taking his orders while it was harder for King Orrin to comply. After a moment did the king finally turn tail to leave. Jormundur, however, insisted to stay by Nasuada's side and Eragon agreed worried for her welfare as he too took his leave ready to be gone of the pools of blood and the stench of it as it clung to the air in the pavilion.
He immediately returned to his own tent, washing his face with water, cursing as his hands shook. That had proved it, ever since the battle over the Burning Plains and him accepting the help of the spirit that resided in his body, the seal in his right eye began to grow weak, its magic broken. And the fact that he was constantly surrounded by bloodshed and pain now, it was losing its power as the spirit became stronger. He had almost killed Nasuada and the others. If it had continued, he growled angered with himself beyond words. No! He wasn't going to allow the thought to cross his mind. Falling onto his cot, he let his head fall in his hands. And he sat there ashamed of himself and his emotions during the Trial of the Long Knives. Hours passed and night fell then day rose. He didn't feel like him anymore and he was afraid…
What is it little one? Saphira's thoughts washed over him despite the fact that she was halfway across the camp. It was clear and lucid and filled with concern. Shall I contact Arya?
No, she doesn't have to worry over me needlessly, he sighed lifting his head as he ruffled his hair, suddenly feeling tired. I don't know what to do anymore, Saphira. If this persists…what will happen to me? To you?
I do not know, Eragon. But we cannot give up hope, if the dragons could prolong your ailment, there must be another way to save you. Her thoughts wavered before strengthening. We must take your soul back from Jeremiah.
How? He's probably at Uru'baen already, and even then how am I supposed to retrieve my soul? Will the seal last that long? A wave of sadness washed over him. He didn't want this to happen. He and Arya were mates, his relationship was his mother had bettered, and he was slowly opening up to his father. He didn't want to lose them. A pang of hurt filled his heart so vast that Saphira withdrew somewhat from his mind.
I'm finally living for myself…and yet…He was unable to continue that train of thought. Eventually Saphira reached out to him again when his emotions finally abated, leaving behind a dull ache. Thorn and Murtagh are approaching from the northeast, Eragon. Will you come?
With nothing else to do, he nodded, standing, I shall.
Leaving his tent again, he made in to direction that Saphira said, and no doubt as he neared the clearing that Nasuada had set aside for the dragons to land and take off. Nasuada was already there with Angela and Elva as well as others who came out to welcome Murtagh and Thorn back to the Varden. Eragon's eyes were focused north where he found Thorn descending thence. He appeared like a cluster of falling meteors from the heavens.
He made his way towards Nasuada stopping before her with a slight bow, glad to see that she was well. "I'm relieved to see that you are well, my lady. Though it saddens me to see that the price for your strength are these wounds," he gestured towards her bandaged arm.
"Thank you, Eragon," she bestowed upon him a smile. "Are you well, Eragon? You seem rather pale."
"I'm better than you," he turned feeling Arya's presence approaching. Indeed she was, she moved with a slinking, muscular grace that bespoke her skill with a blade, and also her supernatural strength. As always she was dressed in all black, Tamerlein on her hip, and a bow and quiver on her back. Her skin was the color of light honey, and from experience, it tasted much sweeter than honey.
She smiled at Eragon when she caught sight of him but it faltered somewhat. He frowned. Did he look that bad? Ever since her argument with her mother, he tried to lighten her burden by keeping most of his problems to himself. Arya gave stopped before him for a moment reaching up to caress his face, before kissing him lightly. Then she continued to Nasuada halting before her, Eragon following. Her presence always soothed his mind.
Arya gestured with on elegant finger at Nasuada's wounds. "As the poet Earne said, to place yourself in harm's way for the sake of your people and the country you love is the finest thing one can do. I have known every leader of the Varden, and they were all might men and women, and none so much as Ajihad. In this, though, I believe you have surpassed even him."
"You honor me, Arya, but I fear that if I burn so brightly, too few shall remember my father as he deserves."
"The deeds of the children are a testament of the upbringing they received from their parents. Burn like the Sun, Nasuada, for the brighter you burn, the more people there shall be who will respect Ajihad for teaching you how to bear the responsibilities of command at such a tender age."
Eragon smiled slightly, for he was younger than Nasuada. If she was at a tender age, he couldn't image the word to describe his own age. Youngling? Saphira supplied as she and Eridor landed on the clearing shaking the ground slightly.
I wouldn't like to think of it as that, Eragon thought.
Nasuada smiled and said, "A tender age? I'm a grown woman, by our reckoning."
Amusement gleamed in Arya's green eyes, "True. But if we judge by years, and not by wisdom, no human would be considered an adult among my kind. Except for Galbatorix, that is."
"And me," Angela chimed in. Eragon glanced at the herbalist, his curiosity piqued.
"Then how old are you? A century or two, old enough to be my great grandfather's grandfather?" asked Eragon with a slight smile. Angela frowned at him while Nasuada fought her own smile and Arya stared at him in humor. Elva was even humored.
"To think you would learn some manners by being Arya's mate," she said with narrowed eyes. "It seems that you have much to teach him," this she said to Arya.
The elf inclined her head, not refuting Angela's advice, "It would seem so."
Eragon raised a brow, "In what do I need to learn?"
"That the first thing you should always avoid when talking to women is their age!" said Angela indignantly. Eragon nodded, moving to stand behind Arya, he remembered vividly that she had clubbed Murtagh over the head with a mallard. Which was rather odd but amusing in its own right. He reached down and gently gripped her hand bending down slightly to inhale her scent.
Just then, he heard Elva murmur, "Murtagh's not on Thorn."
Alarm shot through him as he glanced upward at the ruby dragon that circled above them ready to land. "How do you know?" Nasuada asked, keeping her voice low.
"I cannot feel his discomfort, nor his fears. Roran is there, and a woman I guess is Katina. No one else."
Straightening, Nasuada turned to Eragon, "Clear the field, Eragon! Get everyone away from here before Thorn lands."
"Including Orrin, Narheim, and Garzhvog?"
She grimaced, "No, but allow no one else to remain. Hurry!"
Doing as he was told he left them and began shouting orders to the onlookers that had gathered in the clearing. It didn't take long for them to clear out despite their protests, some Eragon had to threaten to flog if they didn't take their leave. Once done, they converged upon Nasuada, questions on their lips.
Just as the last stragglers left the clearing, a torrent of air rushed across them as Thorn swooped to the ground, raking his wings to slow himself before alighting on his rear legs. He dropped to all fours, and a dull boom resounded across the camp. Unbuckling themselves from his saddle, Roran and Katrina quickly dismounted.
Eragon as well as the others studied Katrina, she was attractive enough but not what he would consider a great beauty. Standing next to Arya, her beauty paled in comparison. Then again, he was bias. Though he must admit, he admired the fact that she faced the sight of an eight and a half foot tall Urgal, and three dragons bearing down at her without so much as a flinch.
Roran bowed to Nasuada as well as King Orrin. "My Lady," he said, his face grew grave, "Your Majesty. If I may, this is my betrothed, Katrina." She curtsied to both of them.
Feeling a pressure against his mind, Eragon immediately recognized it as Arya's. Lowering his barriers, his eyes remained on the couple before him but his thoughts were diverted. He had rarely been in contact with Arya's mind, but it was strange and yet familiar. The eerie melody that floated through her thoughts entranced him and lyrics of her blood captivated him. Is something wrong? Eragon asked.
I thought it would be best to tell you my plan before I carry it out.
Plan? This time his eyes darted to meet Arya's before returning to Roran and Katrina
It is a reckless one, but much needed if we are to see Murtagh return to the Varden without harm. He may be a rider but he is wandering in the mist of the Empire where thousands hunt him, he is not safe, she said.
That may be true, but what is this plan that you speak of? Murtagh has no doubt left Helgrind and is venturing on his own. It would be nigh impossible to find him. Like a needle in a hay stack.
Even so…She briefly and hurriedly explained her thought process to him. He frowned not agreeing with her on any grounds but knowing that they may indeed have to resort to it.
He shifted when Thorn spoke of Murtagh's decision to stay behind in the Empire. And instead of words, with their consent, he opted to show him his memory of the event. His reasons for staying Eragon thought were inadequate but he knew that it was not the entire truth. There must be another reason why he decided to leave Thorn to travel back to the Varden while he remained in Galbatorix's vast territory. He sighed, then let us go with your plan, Arya.
Arya knelt and began to unlace and retie the upright section of her boots. Holding one of the cords between her teeth, Arya said, "Thorn, where exactly was Murtagh when you touched his mind?"
In the entrance to Helgrind.
"And you have any idea what path he intended to follow?"
He did not yet know himself.
Springing to her feet, Arya unstrapped Tamerlein from her hip and retrieved her bow and quiver from her back before pressing her weapons into Eragon's open hands, as well as a brief kiss to his lips despite the audience that they had before them. Good luck and travel swiftly, Eragon said to her in the depths of his mind. "Then I shall have to look everywhere I can."
Like a deer, she bounded forward and ran across the clearing, her last thoughts reaching Eragon before she withdrew her mind, I'll return with Murtagh. Do not worry. She vanished among the tents as Eridor, who was kept out from her mind realized her intentions as she sped northward as fast and light as the wind itself.
He felt the dragons mind pierce his own and he could see everyone flinch as they too felt Eridor's thoughts weighing down on them, Arya, no! Letting out a roar, Eridor seemed ready to take flight after her, but Saphira as quick and strong as she was knocked him to the side with her tail. In response, the emerald dragon snapped at her, bearing his fangs. That was the first time he'd seen Eridor so upset, usually the emerald dragon held a calm composure as his rider did.
When he made to pounce on Saphira, she easily overpowered him, knocking him to the ground and holding him there with her paws until a low keen escaped him. Eragon felt his own sadness burst forth as he thought of Arya within Galbatorix's reach. Walking forward, he gently stroked Eridor's snout as the dragon snuffled in his anguish.
We'll have to trust that Arya will return to us with Murtagh, Eridor, Eragon said to the dragon in hopes to soothe him.
Eridor snuffled again causing Saphira to reach down and gently nuzzle his snout with hers. She would help him through his pain. His eyes darted back to where Arya had disappeared, feeling his loneliness return.
I never told you how I sprained my hand did I? Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say it. For all of my life I had never sprained or broken any bone in my body until that faithful day. And as you all know I was somewhat tipsy (lies, I was way over my head) and my sisters and I had decided to play a game of twister together. And being the idiots that we were despite the fact that we're all in college, I literally twisted my hand when I had to reach for one of the yellow dots. It was not a fun moment. But that's the story and now you all know. I'll see you next time! Maybe tomorrow or next year!