IT'S BEEN NEARLY A MONTH I'M GOING TO GO CRAZY WITH GUILT okay here you go chapter—holy Bid'daum, 55?!
Wow. Just wow. Thank you all so much for sticking with me! Especially since I haven't updated in about fifty days… merrrrrrr I'm sorry.
They were finally leaving. Tania shifted beside Tornac impatiently, anxious to be off. Dawn was an hour away, but she'd been up for two already, helping everyone prepare. Murtagh's warhorse had been brushed until he shone, iron shoes reshod, tack oiled and polished, and the saddlebags across his back were bulging. Tania murmured soft-spoken rambles in the gray's ear, switching randomly between the common tongue and the Ancient Language.
She felt that she owed her friend in some small way, even if Eragon believed him dead by now. Tania felt herself scowl as she thought of the other Rider, and beside her, ever-sensitive to her emotions, Tornac nudged her arm as if saying, Please don't be angry. It's a good day. Are there any apples? She scratched behind his ears, smiling slightly, pulling a handful of grain from her pocket. "Just this once," she whispered to him—herself noticing that it wasn't in the Ancient Language, and knowing she'd spoil him rotten before the week was out.
And he deserved it. Far more than a certain companion of hers did—said companion being a certain Dragon Rider.
Are you brooding again?
What?
You know what I said, Ophelia snapped from her shadowed nook near the gate. What did he do this time?
I… might… have told him about your dream.
Tania could barely hear the sharp swish-swish of Ophelia's tail as she flicked it back and forth. And?
Well, what do you think he did? Tania retorted irritably.
Jump on the table and dance a merry jig whilst Arya sang in Dwarvish?
…no…
Well then I don't know, Ophelia told her matter-of-factly. That's why I asked you, O smart one.
When did you grow up and get sassy on me?! Tania exclaimed.
When I was camouflaged for a month straight. And when you started avoiding my question. Come on then, out with it, cut the drama, there's no time for it.
Tania cast Ophelia's nook a dark glare. Fine. After I told him about it, he laughed and made a big show of explaining that dreams are your mind's falsities that you see while you sleep. Which is complete—
What would you have done in his situation?
Asked for details! He laughed it off! It's like he WANTS his brother to be… Tania took a deep breath, eyes stinging as she cut the connection. He's not he's not he's not! If Eragon believes that, then good for him! I'll get him myself when we reach open air.
With not much to do, and a lot of time of her hands, Tania's mind wandered. It wandered back to a few days ago, when Saphira had promised the dwarf king something Tania wasn't even sure was possible, but that Ophelia quietly vowed to give aid to. After, Eragon and Saphira lost themselves completely to all the mead and merriment the dwarves provided, while Tania and Ophelia quietly slipped away, Tania slightly wary of the large crowd and Ophelia worried that she'd step on someone accidentally.
They'd flown up to what was left of the dragonhold, talking silently. Ophelia was still miffed that Saphira could breathe fire and she couldn't; she'd been spending the days after the battle trying to turn the wisps of smoke that left her nostrils into menacing tongues of flame, with no success. Only half paying attention to the conversation, Tania wondered and worried.
The next day, Ophelia was awake long before Tania, her scales a muted landscape of blue and gray. She told her Rider that she'd had a strange dream that night: Murtagh in a circle of hooded shadows, bleeding, chained like a criminal, struggling to hold on to a wispy but vivid strip of fabric—something that Tania took as a sign. "Perhaps not literally a ribbon, but resembling something he's trying to hold on to," she suggested.
Hope? He's trying to hold on to hope? Ophelia added.
And losing his grip, Tania thought darkly.
Scared and excited and sad all at once, but determined, Tania quickly dressed (ceremonial black tunic and leggings with a white sash instead of her normal browns and greens) and tried to find Eragon as soon as Ophelia landed.
But the grand Shadeslayer and his dragon were late. They'd drunk a bit too much the previous night (Tania heard something about Saphira trying to bow, which she filed away for later teasing) and so as soon as they arrived by the gate, Ajihad's funeral procession started.
After many kind words were said, respects paid, and Ajihad enclosed behind a white marble tomb forever, Tania thought she'd finally have a chance. She pulled the other Rider aside just outside the entrance to the amphitheater, noticing and not minding Arya following. "Ophelia had a dream last night," she started. Eragon immediately barked a laugh and made as if to say something, but Tania cut him off: "Listen, maggot-head! It was Murtagh; I think he's still alive, but he might not have much time left—"
"Tania, please," Eragon interrupted, ignoring her death glare. "It was a dream."
"A dragon's dream," Arya said sharply. "My people hold those in the highest respect—in the old days, they sometimes provided council and advice to the waking world. Do not pass this off lightly, Eragon," she warned.
The Shadeslayer looked at them both sadly. "I'm sorry, Tania. I know how much you want him to still be here; I wish the same. But we're needed here, fully aware of ourselves."
"And Murtagh needs us," she said acidly, "fully aware that he might actually die—or worse—if we don't! You can play your pretty little game of politics, Eragon, but the real world out there is something different!"
She'd stormed into the amphitheater without him, finding a corner to watch the ongoing proceedings, pointedly ignoring Eragon's mental prods and attempts to make eye contact, locking her mind and making half-formed plans to fly to Urû'baen.
Because Murtagh was not dead.
Tania was sure of it.
Nice long chapter as my apology for not updating. Thanks for reading and (hopefully!) reviewing!
Fate