Disclaimer: Don't own Eragon.
Not much dialogue in this, but I combined two potential short chapters into one long one. I know the plot isn't apparent yet. That's partially because I haven't completed it yet. This is just about as far as I've gotten. So, again, bear with me.
Also, as of 12/8/06 I've updated the last chapter as well as this one, thought the last one more so.
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Eragon knelt before the altar in the large, beautiful cathedral, bowing his head in respect to the morbid building. Who knew how many horrid, traumatic sacrifices and acts of cruelty the stone statues and stained glass windows had witnessed? He breathed, feeling his jaw shake involuntarily as the cold air chilled him. There was a sudden clatter and his brown eyes flicked up in alarm.
An arm was sticking out of a small cabinet on the marble floor past the altar, reaching up onto the surface of the fine, wooden piece of furniture, holding a small statuette of a bearded man's head steady. It had upset it as it searched by feel along the smooth wooden surface and had had to quickly correct it, but that had not stopped the noise. Eragon looked around, and then rose, walking slowly and cautiously towards the wooden box. It couldn't be one of the worshippers. Why would they be hiding? Eragon reached down for the small knob on the wooden door and swung it open.
The owner of the arm cried out in surprise, jumping and hitting his head on the top of the enclosed space. He stared at Eragon for two seconds, then let out his breath in an oath, his hand moving to the top of his head where it had hit the wood. He stuck his feet out of the cabinet, scrambling out onto the white stone floor. His eyes rose to meet Eragon's.
"What're you doing?" he asked, another chain of low curses following.
"What are you doing?" asked Eragon, raising his eyebrows and nodding at the cabinet. The man got to his feet, brushing himself off. A strange sense of déjá vu swept over him as Eragon watched him run a hand through his wavy, light-brown hair. He stared at Eragon with cold, green-blue eyes for a moment and Eragon noticed a large purple bruise around one.
"Hiding," he said finally. Eragon felt his heart skip a beat as he realized where he'd seen him before.
"You...you killed the man in the pub," he said, taking a step backwards. He had no doubt that he could defeat this man in a fight, with magic on his side, but who knew how cunning this killer was? What if he had magic of his own, as Brom did?
"Yes, I did," said the man in a defiant tone. "And the damned barman turned me in, I know it! His beer is good, but he's spineless as jelly, I swear." He shook his head.
"How do you know I didn't turn you in?" asked Eragon, raising an eyebrow. The man laughed.
"As if you would. You were white as a sheet. Probably scared I'd murder the witnesses too," he said.
"I was not!" argued Eragon, his temper rising. The man looked at him sarcastically.
"Please, you're as old as my sister. But I shouldn't be talking. That was the first man I ever killed, I promise you," he said. "And let me tell you, it does not feel good. The entire city's on the watch for me. And the memory haunts..." He stopped, turning suddenly. Eragon turned as well, looking towards the entrance to the cathedral.
His heart turned cold as ice.
There, by the large, carved, marble doorway, stood the Ra'zac. Their swords were drawn and a low hiss emanated from one. Eragon turned back to the man only to find that he was running out of the cathedral as fast as he could through an archway to the left. Eragon quickly followed him, running as fast as his legs would allow.
A wooden door blocked them a ways in. The man struggled with the knob, and then leaned on the frame hopelessly, moaning. Eragon looked back, seeing the oncoming Ra'zac. He spun back to the door and yelled in the ancient language.
"Jierda!"
The door exploded, leaving their way clear. The man sprinted through without a word. Eragon followed suit. They emerged into a small, enclosed courtyard surrounded by a large brick wall. No way out.
"Got anymore useful tricks?" the man asked.
"Yeah, it's called jumping," answered Eragon, speeding towards the wall. His feet propelled him skyward at the last moment and his hands rose, giving him more momentum. They cleared the wall, grabbing hold as the rest of him struck the bricks. He heard the man's small cry as he hit the wall as well. Eragon's arms burned as he pulled himself to the top of the wall, rolling over it and dropping to the opposite ground. The man did the same and once again they were off running.
Eragon chanced a backwards glance in time to see the Ra'zac clear the wall in a flying leap. His legs increased speed with a spurring burst of fear and he turned off into an alleyway, winding through the streets. The man did not follow him.
Garrick kept his speed until he reached a rather popular pub. Those creatures wouldn't dare venture where a crowd was present. They would attract too much attention. He shot inside the dim-lit bar, melting into the crowd at once. He waited with baited breath.
Minutes passed and, positive of his safety, he sidled up to the counter, ordering ale to calm his nerves. The crowns dotting the counter were not his, but Fexir's. Tiny reminders of his dark deed. Garrick tried to ignore his conscience, chugging the ale with his eyes closed. Something stirred in the back of his mind, rising to the surface in a shot.
Alycie
If she'd gotten out, an unlikely prospect, she would be out in the plains looking for him. Alone. Most likely without provisions. But he wasn't there.
When he'd attempted to climb the wall the night before, he'd fallen onto a barrel and caused several civilians to awake with loud curses and oaths.
In desperation, he had taken refuge in the cathedral before the worshippers came at midnight. But this had proved less of a sanctuary than a slaughterhouse. Garrick had been forced to endure the worshippers' performances, including sacrifices of all kinds of animals, from lambs to humans, from which they then moved on to ghastly chants to the mountain of Helgrind. It was a miracle his gagging hadn't given his hiding place away.
But Alycie was out in the wilderness because of him, waiting for him. No matter how self-assured she seemed, no matter how clever she was, and no matter how much she was able to endure, she wouldn't last long on her own. He had to get out.
Garrick thought hard. If he could get a cloak and slip into the marketplace...that is unless those bird creatures were still chasing him...he might be able to wedge himself under the goods of a cart bound for Gil'ead...or anywhere outside Dras-Leona. He refined his plan in his head, aided by two more ales. Then he stood, turning to leave the pub.
He didn't get far.
Behind him stood two soldiers dressed in red and black uniforms. Their arms were crossed and they were staring at him with steely glints in their eyes. Garrick cursed.
Before he knew what had happened, a pain exploded in the back of his head, triggering stars to erupt, clouding his vision as he fell to the floor.
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The long, hot day under the sun had long since turned to a dark, icy-cold night when Alycie finally stopped walking, falling to her knees in exhaustion. Her bare feet were bloody from the rocks littering the road and her leg was paining her worse than ever.
Near noon she had passed a long line of merchant carts trailing along, no doubt at the end of a long journey to Dras-Leona. Atop a brown steed leading a snowy-white one, Alycie could have sworn she spotted Neal the bard galloping hard down the road. But she dismissed it for a trick of the heat.
Indeed the road had become more and more challenging the farther she walked. By nightfall the ground was extremely dry and littered with sharp rocks that cut her already sore feet. Thorny bushes and cactus dotted the landscape for miles around.
Remembering a tale from a grumpy merchant she'd once come upon in the market, Alycie stabbed her tiny, stolen dagger into a cactus, pressing her lips to it carefully, avoiding the spines. A small trickle of water entered her dry mouth. It had been sparse, but enough for survival.
Garrick had not been seen yet, but all Alycie could do was keep looking, pushing herself to the limit to put as many miles between her and Dras-Leona as possible, limping along through the hours.
Now the hunger and madness were seeping in. Perhaps it was the loss of blood from the scratches and cuts on her feet, or an infection, or the mind-numbing pain in her leg, or the hunger, or the heat of the desert like plains, but blurry visions had begun to appear before Alycie a while before sunset.
A few times it had been water, once Garrick, and once even Meliana. But whenever she got close enough to see clearly, the vision would disperse into a million tiny heat waves.
Now her mouth watered uncontrollably and her forehead felt as if it were ignited, contrasting with the rest of her body, which shivered violently from the cold of the darkness. How she longed to sleep.
But no. She wouldn't stop now. Not when she'd come so far.
Alycie rose to her feet awkwardly, wincing and grabbing the stick for support, putting her weight on it once more. It snapped immediately, setting her off balance. Regaining her stance, she threw the useless piece of wood aside, limping slower than ever.
The wind increased as the night drew on, chilling her to the bone. It did nothing for her flaming head, however. Several times she stumbled, scraping her knees on the pointed stones. As she looked up from one such incident hopelessly, her eyes spotted a flicker in the distance.
Fire
Getting wobbly to her feet with a new sense of determination, Alycie quickened her uneven paces towards the light.
One, two, three, four. Just keep focusing on the steps. One, two...one...three...
The fire was nearer now. Alycie could make out two dark figures setting up a camp. One walked to the edge of the camp, looking off into the darkness. Alycie opened her mouth to call out.
A shadow swooped upon him suddenly and he fell to the ground.
A deafening roar pierced the night.
Alycie screamed in frustration and fright.
The shadows flew her way just as a wave of pain and fatigue overwhelmed her.
She dropped to the ground, her upper body tipping to the side, landing with a thump on the dusty ground.
Her eyes closed in long-missed and irresistible sleep
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