Disclaimer: Don't own Eragon.
Okay, this might be the T-rated chapter. Anyway, here it is.
Thanks for all of the reviews!
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"What do you think?" asked Alycie. She sat on the floor of Angela's two-room suite, stroking Solembum's furry back. Angela's eyes raked the parchment she held in front of her.
"I think you have horrible handwriting," she said.
"About the poem," clarified Alycie. Angela looked from one parchment to the other, comparing the two. She put them down and looked at the girl in front of her.
"I'm not entirely sure, but they look like premonitions," she said. Behind Alycie, Ferros crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. He had been permitted entrance as long as he swore five times to Angela that he would not turn her in to Du Vrangr Gata.
"What do they predict then?" asked Alycie. Angela shrugged.
"They could mean anything," she said, placing the parchments aside. "But you wanted a lesson in magic, not fortunes told."
"Yes," said Alycie. Solembum trotted away from her and up to Ferros, who bent down and picked him up, stroking his fur.
"The only way I really know how to teach you is to tell you the words and watch you perform them," said Angela. "Do you know the risks involved?"
"Use a spell to advanced for your level and it could drain you to the point of exhaustion or death," recited Alycie.
"Very good," said Angela. "Also, anything you say in the ancient language, if or when you learn to speak it fluently, cannot be a lie. You could organize your words to hide the truth, but you cannot lie. Now repeat every word as I say it, without accessing your magic, and commit it to memory. Adurna is water."
"Adurna, water," repeated Alycie.
"Blöthr, stop." Alycie repeated it. Angela continued.
"Brisingr, fire. Hlaupa, run. Kidthr, catch. Slytha, sleep. Jierda, hit. That is one of the battle words. Rïsa, rise. That would be reisa in a command, for example, reisa du brisingr would be raise the fire. Draumr kópa is what you say when you wish to scry someone. Think of who as you say this and stare into a clear surface. Knífr is knife. The healing phrase, waíse heill, can be used to heal pretty much any physical injury. But be warned: the larger the wound, the more energy it takes to heal. You should start small, lifting pebbles and moving small objects."
"How do you raise a pebble?" asked Alycie.
"Stenr reisa," said Angela. "Why don't you try that for now. Leave the other words for later in your practice. I need to check on my toadstool, excuse me, frogstool and wormwood mixture." Alycie nodded, looking around the floor.
She found a small shard of marble and concentrated on it, accessing the pocket of magic in the back of her mind and uttering the words under her breath. The pebble quivered, rising slowly off of the ground. Alycie suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion overwhelm her mind and she released her hold, dropping the pebble to the floor.
"Not as easy as it looks," said Angela, chuckling. Alycie nodded, mustering her strength back. She tried again.
By the end of three hours, Alycie had mastered moving the pebble around and around the room. She had moved on even to levitating water in the air and had great fun smacking Ferros in the face with the little round sphere of liquid. Solembum remained silent throughout the entire morning. Finally, Alycie left with Ferros for lunch, walking down to the kitchens and getting the usual meal of mushrooms and meat. They retreated to the window where they had first eaten lunch, Alycie wolfing down her meal at high speed. She felt completely drained after the morning's practices.
"Miss...Alycie?" came a voice.
Alycie looked up to see a burly dwarf facing them. He brought his hands out from behind his back, holding out a sword with a slightly curved point in a new leather sheath. Alycie set her plate on the ground, standing and taking the sword from the dwarf. She drew the blade, gasping. All signs of rust had been polished away and the edges had been sharpened, gleaming in the green light of the colored lantern. The hilt was now inset with a blood red stone and polished to a bright shine. Alycie admired the workmanship for a moment, sheathed it, and looked down at the dwarf.
"My thanks to you and all of the dwarf smiths of the Varden," she said, bowing low. The dwarf inclined his head gruffly, turning and walking down the hall. Alycie leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, admiring the weapon she now possessed. She looked up after a time to see Ferros grinning at her.
"Want to spar?" he asked, setting his own plate down as well.
"Yes," said Alycie eagerly. Ferros got to his feet, pulling her up as well. He bent and picked up the dishes.
"Good. I'll return these and then we can go and get you a tunic. You very well can't fight in a dress," he said. Alycie nodded, following him.
They looked around several levels for someone who might be selling tunics that wouldn't extend more than three inches past Alycie's fingertips. Finally giving up, they walked back up to the top levels of Tronjheim and Ferros retrieved a set of his clothes, giving them to Alycie.
"They might fit," he said. "But you're so small."
"My curse," said Alycie with a laugh. Ferros smiled, leaving the room. Alycie quickly changed into Ferros' clothing. It was a little loose, but it would do. She tightened the belt a little more than need be as a precaution.
Ferros led Alycie down to the ground floor of Tronjheim. They walked out of one of the large, four, main hallways out into Farthen Dûr. Alycie looked around at the houses crowded close to the cobblestone street. Ferros pointed back around the large, marble city.
"The training field is about a half mile that way," he said. "Many people, dwarves and humans alike, go there to train."
They began to walk around through the streets towards the large field. The sound of swishing arrows thudding as they hit their marks reached their ears after a while, accompanied by the clang of steel clashing. Grunting yells and the jingle of mail followed. Soon, a great empty flat piece of land came into view, covered in scattered
patches of grass.
Great crowds of unruly men and dwarves littered the field, clashing their various weapons in combat. A long line of archers stood, stretching their bows, at the far end of the field. They let their arrows fly into small white targets that lay situated over 100 meters away. A straight block of soldiers marched in rows, obeying orders shouted by a man in front of them. Ferros led Alycie across the field to a small grassy patch. He drew his sword, but hesitated, sighing.
"I forgot to get armor," he said. "We can't fight with swords." Something stirred in Alycie's memory.
"Hang on," she said. "Give me your sword..." Ferros handed the blade to her. She nearly dropped it from the weight, but supported it on her arms, holding a hand over the blade. She closed her eyes, searching for the words Eragon had once said. "Gëuloth du knífr."
Immediately a spark of purple light began to dance between her fingers. She ran them up and down the length of the steel, flipping it over and returning her fingers to the tip. She felt a pull on her strength slowly tire her, but she quickly drew her own sword and caressed the front and back before releasing her hold on the magic. Ferros was feeling his weapon, astonished at the dull feel of the edges.
"Is this permanent?" he asked. Alycie shook her head.
"I can take it off later," she said. She unstrapped her sheath, dropping it to the ground and rotating her sword in a circle, ready to fight. Ferros dropped his sheath to the ground and took his stance, smirking at her.
"Ready to lose?" he asked.
"Are you?" asked Alycie.
She stepped forward suddenly, drawing her blade in an arc to his side. He blocked her move strongly. She slid her blade down the length of his, aiming for his legs. He twirled his sword and Alycie drew back quickly, avoiding her sword being spun out of her hands. He lunged at her. She parried. They walked around in a circle, like great cats staring each other down before a fight. Then Alycie lunged forward, exploiting a series of attacks in a flurry of movement. Ferros blocked several, but she succeeded in hitting his ribs. He didn't flinch.
Alycie backed up a few steps as Ferros took on the offensive. He was very good, though probably not as good as Murtagh or Eragon. Alycie found that she wasn't as awful as she thought she was. Murtagh and Eragon, in their superiority, had judged her wrong. She made a mental note to get at them later.
They fought for another hour or so, wearing their muscles down until they screamed with the effort. Alycie struggled to lift the sword to block, feeling Ferros' blade collide and slide off weakly. She caught the hilt with the point and jerked with all her might. Ferros let go without resistance, falling back onto the ground. Alycie toppled over, pushing her fallen sword so that it poked Ferros' arm lightly.
"Dead," she said, dropping the hilt of the blade. She rolled over onto her back, laughing. Ferros groaned.
"How are we going to get back up to the top of Vol Turin?" he asked.
"Carry me," said Alycie.
"No!" said Ferros, laughing.
Alycie struggled into a sitting position, taking her sword. She muttered a few words and ran her fingers over the blade. The spell was stripped away immediately, taking Alycie's strength with it. She reached for Ferros' sword. He helped hand it to her and she repeated the ritual. He sheathed the blade, pulling himself into a standing position.
"We'd better start walking if we want to get to the rooms by dark," he said. Alycie nodded, trying to stand. She fell to the side, feeling her power drop suddenly and unexpectedly. A dizzy wave washed over her mind and her eyes rolled back into her head as her eyes closed.
An onyx cell lit by a lone feeble candle melted down to the wick alone was suddenly flooded with silver light as a big, black door opened. A figure dressed in gleaming silver armor strode in, square-shouldered and tall. His helmet hid his face, and behind him trailed a cloak of living midnight. He walked to the corner of the room and prodded at the wall. A loose stone fell out, revealing a shaft of moonlight.
The helmeted head turned back and the small flame on the candle was whipped out into a tendril of smoke. He turned back to the wall, looking down. In front of him jutted a round bowl out of the wall, filled with clear water that shined in the silver light. A deep, grating voice spoke from within the helmet, cold enough to chill the bones of the toughest man and transform him into a shivering, wide-eyed doe under a raised blade.
"Draumr kópa."
The water on the bowl rippled, displaying something blurred and unintelligible. The helmeted man stared, motionless. Then his head shot up, looking towards the stone ceiling.
"Who is scrying me!?"
Alycie shot up suddenly, clutching a hand to her head as her vision faded out in a head rush. She breathed a shaky breath as someone gasped in front of her.
"Alycie, are you alright?" it asked. Ferros. Alycie opened her eyes. She was in her room, under new sheets that adorned her bed. Her sword sat in a chair a ways away, and Ferros sat on the foot of her bed. He was looking at her in concern. Next to him, in another chair, sat Angela.
"What happened?" asked Alycie, remembering the field.
"What happened? You overdosed on magic is what happened," said Angela. "Fighting nonstop and conducting more than three spells all within minutes of each other? You must be mad. Ferros, here, had to carry you all the way up here over his shoulder. You've been knocked out for at least two hours."
"I'm sorry," said Alycie, looking at Ferros. He shook his head.
"It's alright," he said. "It wasn't too hard of a walk." He paused. "Well...nevermind, it was." Alycie smiled sheepishly.
"Well, since you seem to be doing alright, I'll take my leave," said Angela. She stood up and walked out of the room, pausing at the door for a last word. "Let her get some rest!" she commanded Ferros. The door closed.
"You should sleep now," said Ferros, standing.
"Thank you for taking care of me," said Alycie. He waved a hand carelessly.
"It was nothing," he said. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," said Alycie. Ferros gave her a last smile before walking to the door and out into the hall. He closed it behind him with a thud.
Alone again.
Always it was when she was alone at night. Guilt set in for not visiting. Longing seeped from her heart, painfully attacking each breath. Sleep would not come; she knew it. Murtagh's final words still haunted her. They repeated themselves faster and faster, circulating through her mind at top speed, paining her. Murtagh.
She sat up suddenly, a sense of calm distilled in her mind. Quietly, she slipped out of bed to the floor, pressing her feet into the leather boots that lay on their sides by the bed. She still wore the tunic from the training field, but she didn't stop to change. The door to the hall opened slowly and silently. Alycie peeked her head out. All lay dark and undisturbed. She slipped out, running out to Vol Turin and beginning her descent.
Low taps echoed up to Alycie's ears as her leather boots flapped along the marble steps. The spiral of the staircase grew longer and wider as the ground floor came closer into view. She kept close to the wall, avoiding the looks of the guards who stood at the four hallways below.
She turned off into an archway near the fifth level, edging along the marble wall quietly. She slipped around the corner, making her way towards the cells. Only the man stood guard this time, leaning heavily in sleep on his large ax. Light hands tugged at his belt, sliding the ring of keys off. There were not many, luckily, and soon Alycie had the right one in the lock, turning it. A metallic click echoed along the walls and she froze, watching the warrior sleep. He didn't budge. She withdrew the keys and slid them back onto his belt, buckling it once again. Now came the tricky part.
The latch was heavy and loud as it grated along its shaft out of the hole in the doorframe. Alycie edged it along slowly for a moment, pausing at intervals, then finally shoved it with all her might. It hit the end of it's shaft with a loud boom. Alycie froze again. The guard twitched, scratched his nose, and continued to sleep. Alycie thanked every god she could think of for the warriors' night shifts. She slowly pushed the door in...
...and pushed it shut behind her without a sound. She turned, her eyes landing on the bed.
There lay her dark angel, her knight immersed in innocent sleep where, save from nightmares, he was safe. She walked to the bed, kneeling to his level and looking into his face. No shadow of chaos was shown there. No clue as to his tortured past. He looked as if he were a young boy, incapable of evil of any kind.
Alycie stood, hesitating, before she climbed onto the bed. Murtagh didn't move. She reached out and touched his shoulder. His reaction was immediate and instinctive. He caught her wrists in a strong grip and rolled her over, pinning her to the bed, his face contorted in anger. It softened immediately.
"Alycie," he said. Alycie hissed lowly. He glanced back over his shoulder at the door, and then turned back in confusion. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a whisper.
"I couldn't sleep," whispered Alycie. Murtagh smiled incredulously.
"So you walked all the way down from the top to break into my cell?" he asked. Alycie nodded, grinning.
"Reckless," she said. Murtagh's smile faded and he released her wrists, sitting up and pushing his hair back off of his face as his heart rate calmed. Alycie's eyes stared at the long scar that marked his shirtless back and her heart filled with sadness.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. Alycie sat up.
"I wanted to be," she said. He looked at her.
"Why?" he asked. Alycie didn't answer. Murtagh sighed, looking away from her. She crawled over to him, placing a hand on his back in comfort. He shook her off. Alycie crawled over so that she sat cross-legged, facing him.
"I walked down here for a reason," she said. She leaned her lips in close next to his ear. "I love you," she whispered, kissing his cheek. She drew back, looking into his eyes.
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he lifted a hand to her chin and leaned in, pressing his lips passionately to hers. Their tongues entwined as his hands moved down her neck to her back, holding her close as they leaned back onto the bed. Alycie kicked her boots off, hitting them lightly with a bare toe so they fell to the floor silently. She moved her hands up Murtagh's arms to his back, tracing the slightly raised scar from the shoulder to his hip. Murtagh drew back, catching his breath sharply.
They looked each other in the eye, and Murtagh reached up to the tunic Alycie still wore. He unfastened it slowly. Alycie didn't stop him. She slowly reached down, stripping herself down under the sheets. Murtagh tossed her removed tunic aside and began to slip out of his pants as well.
They embraced, meeting each other's lips once more, entwining their fingers in one another's hair as they rolled over under the sheets. Their love was the only thing that mattered. There was no war, no Empire, no Morzan, and no Varden. There was only them. And their love.
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