Disclaimer: Don't own Eragon.
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They stopped at nightfall, silently setting up camp. They ate quickly, refusing to look at one another. Eragon was still angry at both Alycie and Murtagh for their murderous actions, yet he volunteered, grumbling, to take the first watch. Murtagh walked to his bedroll, lying down with his back to the Rider. Alycie started towards him, hesitated, then turned and took her own bedroll from Cadoc's saddlebags. She walked a fair ways away from either male, lying down. She pulled the long sword out of her belt, laying it out in front of her face. The distant firelight reflected on the bloodstained steel. She wiped it along the grass, watching the green turn to red.
Her first kill. She was labeled for life. A cold-blooded murderer, as Eragon had called her. So this was what her brother had done. This was what he had felt. This was what Murtagh had felt. Or had he felt no guilt? This was what countless others had felt as they felt their first blades cut into human flesh, extinguishing the light of life in them forever. She closed her eyes.
She flew into a vertigo as images passed before her mind's eye in a dream sequence. The spinning stopped and she found herself standing in the Hadarac Desert, looking around. She was alone. Something grabbed her leg and she looked down to see the slaver whose throat she'd slit. He looked up at her and his head swung back, revealing his bloody windpipe in the gash she'd made. Alycie jumped away as he made a sickly, rasping, rattling noise in his throat. She tripped over something behind her and fell into the sand. She froze. Torkenbrand's head rolled to face her, a mocking expression on his face.
"Once a slave, always a slave. You won't run free forever," he growled, laughing. Alycie clenched her teeth in anger, kicking his head away. She tried to stand, but her feet sank into the sand. She looked down to find that it was loose and wet with blood, rising above her ankles. She struggled to move her feet, but the bloody quicksand held fast.
A loud roar filled her ears and Alycie turned to see the large, blue form of Saphira flying through the wind whipped sands that swirled through the air. On her back sat the armored figure of Eragon. She called out to them, but the wind's speed increased, causing her to shield her eyes. Suddenly, an alien cry sounded and Alycie covered her ears, fearing they might burst from the pain of the loudness. She squinted against the sandstorm, trying to see what it was. Saphira was gathering speed, flying faster than Alycie had ever seen, towards...another dragon. Red as a ruby, this dragon was gigantic, at least twice the size of Saphira. A rider sat upon that dragon's back as well, raising his blade high. Alycie breathed sharply. The blade of the sword was red. It was Zar'roc.
She looked back at Saphira and was shocked to find her as big as the red dragon, showing her long, saber-sharp teeth as she roared again. Alycie strained to see the Rider's face, but a helmet concealed it. If the Rider of the red dragon was Eragon...who rode Saphira?
Alycie looked down in alarm. The red quicksand was nearing her thighs. She looked around for something, anything she could grab on to. Her eyes stopped on someone in the distance. The figure from the desert.
"Help!" she called through the howling of the wind. The figure remained motionless. She looked back down, attempting to dig her legs free. Her fingers slid through the mud like sand as if it were water. It flowed back around her skin as soon as she let go, though it bound like mud. She lifted her hands, staring in horror. They were covered in red, sticky blood.
Something touched her shoulder and Alycie turned her head to see the figure standing next to her, extending a hand. She took it, and he pulled her out of the quicksand. Before she could say anything, however, the monstrous Saphira hit the sand next to her with a loud crash that made the ground shake. The red dragon landed hard in front of her, reeling its head back. Alycie's eyes widened.
"NO!" she screamed. The red dragon shot its head forward, emitting an unbelievable jet of bright crimson flame from its open mouth, engulfing Saphira and her Rider. Alycie began to run towards the dueling dragons, but the figure caught her arm, twisting it. She looked back in time to see the figure reach up and remove his hood.
It was Durza.
The shade settled his deep burgundy eyes on Alycie's pale blue ones. A smile stretched the corners of his mouth, displaying the pointed, sharp, filed teeth behind his lips. He pulled her closer, his gaze never leaving hers.
"Tsk tsk. This is a predicament..." he hissed evilly. Alycie's head exploded with pain as she felt the probe enter, searching everything she had. It was scratching at the very essence of her being. It was destroying her...
Her eyes shot open, staring into the darkness. She slowly sat up, taking a deep, shaky breath. She lifted her hands to her face, turning them over and over in front of her eyes. They were clean with no trace of red in sight. She sighed in relief, closing her eyes.
"Bad dream?" came the voice of Murtagh. She looked around.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm on watch," said Murtagh. Alycie pulled her knees in to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her eyes flicked to her sword, still on the ground next to the bedroll. There was silence apart from the crackling of the fire. Murtagh looked at her. "Alycie."
"Yes?" she snapped. She heard him snort in disbelief.
"What? Are you still angry with me for taking your retribution?" he asked incredulously.
"No," she said, looking at him.
"Do you think me a murderer as well as..." He gestured at the sleeping form of Eragon. Alycie shook her head.
"No."
"Then why this evasiveness?" he asked. Alycie looked away, setting her chin on her knees.
"It's not you," she said finally, sighing. Murtagh paused.
"Alycie, I knew you were a slave before Eragon said it today," he said. Alycie turned to him, looking into his silver eyes.
"How long have you known?" she asked.
"Since you pushed me off of Tornac in Urû'baen," replied Murtagh. He hesitated. "The second time." Alycie smiled sadly. "After that the scars only enforced the idea. Your inability to read was an addition, though many can't read besides slaves." Alycie nodded.
"I've been obvious, haven't I?" she asked.
"Not in the slightest. I wasn't completely sure until Eragon confirmed my theory today," said Murtagh. Alycie looked away. He stood, walked over to her bedroll, and sat facing her.
"You feel ashamed?" he asked. Alycie raised her eyebrows.
"Wouldn't you?" she asked, looking at him. "If you'd been known as the scum of the city your entire life, would you not be the slightest bit ashamed at that past?" Murtagh crossed his arms, leaning in with a matter-of-fact expression.
"I find that slaves are actually some of the cleverest and most skilled of all Alagaësians," he said. Alycie rolled her eyes.
"You expect me to believe that?" she asked.
"Yes," said Murtagh. Alycie shrugged, smiling. Murtagh smiled as well. "That's better. I can't stand it when you don't smile." She looked at him.
"I've made my own theory about you as well," she said. Murtagh's eyes flickered.
"What theory is that?" he asked. Alycie shook her head.
"It's unlikely...nobles don't usually stand to mix with the scum of the city..." she muttered. Murtagh furrowed his brow.
"Nobles?" he asked. Alycie nodded. "You think I am a noble?"
"I'm nearly positive," said Alycie, "Though several things contradict it." Murtagh raised an eyebrow.
"And how did you come to such a conclusion?" he asked. Alycie folded her arms.
"You speak without an accent, meaning you're from a big city, probably Urû'baen, with people from all over. Your horn has silver fittings; you seem unnaturally informed of the government and other nobles' dealings, and your sword. It's of fine make, finer than a commoner could afford. Not to mention your gold supply never seems to wane," she said. Murtagh regarded her.
"...Clever," he said finally. Alycie hesitated. Her eyes widened.
"You...you don't mean I'm correct..." she said. He paused, then nodded. Alycie gaped. "I wasn't sure...I actually didn't believe it at all even though there was evidence."
"I assure you I am," said Murtagh, nodding. "But it gives me no pleasure to say so." Alycie shifted uncomfortably. Murtagh looked at her solemnly. "Please don't act any differently towards me." Alycie nodded, leaning in and kissing him.
"I am sorry I snapped earlier," she said. "Bloodlust, you know."
"Old wounds take time to heal," said Murtagh. "When did Eragon find out?"
"Ages ago," said Alycie. "When you were hunting. His ribs were just healed from the Ra'zac attack." Murtagh raised his eyebrows.
"That was a long time ago," he said. "You told him?"
"We agreed to be truthful to one another. No more secrets acting as barriers."
"That was before we sparred the first time," said Murtagh. Alycie nodded.
"It seems I've known you all my life," she said. "I barely remember everything that happened before I escaped from Dras-Leona." Murtagh nodded.
"The first time I saw you, you were lying unconscious on the ground muttering to yourself," said Murtagh. "I thought you were merely a foolish girl spiting her parents by running away."
"I don't remember being sick," said Alycie. "I remember waking up once on a horse riding with you two. You seemed nice enough, and I had a splitting headache, so I didn't attempt to escape."
"Who is Meliana?" asked Murtagh. Alycie blinked.
"What?"
"It was one of the names you muttered in your...state," he said. Alycie sighed.
"Meliana was my greatest friend in the palace. I tried to help her escape along with me, but she refused to go further when I told her my intentions. She would have loved to meet you all..." She drifted off, staring into the darkness in thought.
"What made you want to leave? I mean...you hadn't attempted it before had you?" asked Murtagh. Alycie smiled.
"Just count the scars on my back and see how many times I failed to escape," she said. Murtagh went silent. She continued. "My brother Garrick came to town. I saw him in the street and asked him to come see me that night. When he requested it of his master, Fexir began to beat him in a drunken rage. My brother fought back, accidentally killing him. He alerted me that night. I had just met Brom, disguised as a traveling bard who had entertained in the servants' quarters. We planned an escape and I went back for Meliana. After she refused to leave, I set off on my way, climbing over the gate and hobbling on bloody feet the rest of the way out of the city. Garrick never arrived."
"I know him," came a voice. Murtagh and Alycie looked quickly around to see Eragon sitting on his bedroll. "Your talking woke me up. I saw your brother kill the merchant," he said. Alycie raised her eyebrows.
"I remember you! I asked who saw him and he mentioned a boy my age."
"That wasn't the last time," continued Eragon, standing and walking over. "The next day, when I went to the cathedral, I found him hiding in a wooden cabinet." He laughed. "That was your brother? I feared he would kill me when I discovered his hideout. He did look like you...I realize the resemblance now. He acts like you too. Cocky. The Ra'zac found us and we ran. He took off down another street after a while and I lost track of him. I didn't see him get captured."
"He was though," said Alycie. "I found him in Gil'ead, remember? I was trying to break him free." Eragon laughed.
"Some coincidence," he said. They lapsed into silence.
"I suppose it's my watch now," said Alycie. Eragon nodded.
"Wake me in a few hours," he said, standing and returning to his bedroll. Alycie twisted around, taking her sword off of the ground and balancing it on her knees.
"Goodnight then," she said to Murtagh. He shook his head.
"I'd rather stay up with you," he said. "I can wait for your watch to end." Alycie smiled, kissing him.
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The next morning, Eragon seemed to have recovered some of his resentment towards the other two, flying off with Saphira early on and leaving them with the horses. They rode along at a slow pace, leading Snowfire behind them.
"What if the elf dies before we reach the Varden?" asked Alycie.
"Then you and I will have less of a reason to go to them," said Murtagh. "And I'd imagine Eragon would be very upset." Alycie nodded.
"Why do you not want to go to the Varden?" she asked.
"I told you before; I would not be welcomed as you would," replied Murtagh.
"Why though?" asked Alycie. Murtagh gave her a pained expression.
"I keep imagining that if I tell you, the next thing I'll see is you running off into the distance screaming," he said. Alycie nearly laughed. Murtagh's face remained serious.
"You think I would run off screaming? How bad is this secret? Surely it can't be so horrible," she said.
"It is," said Murtagh distantly. "It's haunted me since birth."
"Well come on then, what is it?" asked Alycie. Before Murtagh could answer, Saphira and Eragon landed. Murtagh assumed a moody disposition immediately.
"What now?" he asked contemptuously.
"The Urgals are overtaking us," said Eragon. Alycie groaned.
"How? We've been riding beyond our limits for days now," she exclaimed.
"How far do we still have to go?" asked Murtagh, looking at the sun for a time estimate.
"Normally...I would guess another five days. At the speed we've been traveling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us, and Arya will certainly die," said Eragon.
"She might last another day," said Murtagh.
"We can't count on it. The only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don't stop for anything, least of all sleep. That's our only chance." Murtagh gave a cold laugh.
"How do you expect us to do that? We've already gone days without adequate sleep. Unless Riders are made of different stuff than us mortals, you're as tired as we are. We've covered a staggering distance, and the horses, in case you haven't noticed, are ready to drop. Another day of this might kill us all."
"So be it. We don't have a choice," said Eragon. Murtagh looked out at the Beors.
"I could leave with Alycie and let you fly ahead with Saphira...That would force the Urgals to divide their troops and would give you a better chance of reaching the Varden."
"It would be suicide," said Eragon. "Somehow those Urgals are faster on foot than we are on horseback. They would run you down like a deer. The only way to evade them is to find sanctuary with the Varden."
"I'll escape later," said Murtagh suddenly. "When we get to the Varden, I can disappear down a side valley and find my way to Surda, where I can hide without attracting too much attention."
"So you're staying?" asked Eragon and Alycie.
"Sleep or no sleep, I'll see you to the Varden," said Murtagh.
"And you?" asked Eragon, looking at Alycie. Alycie looked at Arya. The elf looked pale and cold, as if death were finishing it's final circulation throughout her body. She sighed in resignation and looked back at Eragon.
"Fine," she said. "I submit."
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