The Herbalist's Apprentice
by the Lady of the Mists
Chapter Seven: Sibling Bonding
After Eragon was safely awake, Sandry finally submitted to Angela's pleas and went to go help out in the infirmary. Most of the patients there weren't in need of great help and they didn't need any other help than a simple ointment or potion, but it helped to have something to do. It distracted her from thinking about what had happened out there on the battlefield. She couldn't stop thinking about how close she'd come to losing Eragon.
When she'd been there for about twenty-four hours—and going forty-two without any sleep—one of the healers finally noticed her exhaustion and sent her away. "A tired healer is only going to do more damage than good, Lady Sandry," he told her. "I think even Angela will agree with me on that."
"She hasn't had any sleep?" Angela looked concernedly at her apprentice as she heard that. "Good gods, child, you're going to make yourself sick! Off with you! And don't go anywhere near Eragon, you hear me?" she added as Sandry left the infirmary. "I want you to go get some sleep."
"I'm not a child," Sandry grumbled, barely able to stifle a yawn as she headed out of the room and through the caverns that she had gone back and forth between in the two days since the battle.
They had managed to repair a lot of damage since then. Peter had been helping out a lot, between coming and visiting Sandry and helping her out with what he could.
"What are you doing out here?" Peter asked, appearing next to her. "You look exhausted," he added, giving her a quick grin as he glanced at her. "Sooner or later, they're going to notice you're not getting any sleep and then you're going to—"
"Relax, big brother," Sandry said with a yawn. "Angela finally noticed that I'd been up for two days and sent me to go to bed. Like I'm going to get any sleep with all of this racket going on."
Peter grinned slightly. "Suppose not, but you might as well try," he pointed out. "Besides, you look like you're about to fall asleep right here and now. You want me to make sure you make it to your quarters all right?" he asked, looking worried.
"Thank you," Sandry said in relief, laying her head onto her brother's shoulder. He shook his head and yelled something to one of the Varden, who waved back in reply. Then he scooped her up and carried her through the corridors until they reached her and Angela's chambers.
Pushing his way through the portal, Peter carried her into her room and laid her gently onto the bed, pulling the blankets over her. "Now, get some sleep," he told her.
"All right," Sandry mumbled, but then she looked up at him. "Peter?" He looked back at her. "Do we have a brother?"
Peter was taken aback by the question and he sat down next to her. "Why do you ask that?" he asked. She glanced at him. "All right, all right, yes, we have a younger brother. His name is Éamonn and he's fourteen. And a royal pain in the neck," he added with a sigh. "He tried to turn me into Galbatorix when I was leaving." He looked at her. "Now, why do you ask?"
"I had a vision," Sandry admitted, laying her head against the pillows as she turned her head onto her side. "Yesterday, when I left to go clean up. He was there and . . . he tried to kill me, Peter. It was only when he faded away that I realised it was just a vision." She sighed as she looked up at her brother. "It felt so real."
Her brother was looking worried as he listened to this. "Well, I don't know much about magic, Sandry," he said after a long moment, running his fingers through his blond hair, "but I do know Éamonn and I know he's not going to best pleased that I managed to get away. Not only that, but that I willingly assisted in the Varden's victory, alongside our illegitimate half-sister and the Rider."
"You think it'll come true?"
"No," Peter said at once. "Because I won't let it. I promise you, sister, that I'll protect you. Besides," he added with a teasing grin, "do you really think with the Rider around, anybody can hurt you? With the two of us watching over you, nobody is gonna be able to touch you."
Sandry laughed as she sat up and hugged her brother. He held her tightly and for a moment, it felt like neither one of them wanted to let go, relishing in the sibling bonding. "Oh, gods," Peter whispered. "Do you know how long I've waited to hold you . . . and knowing that you didn't have anybody to hug you?"
"Thank you for coming here," Sandry whispered. "I don't know what possessed you to give up everything you had and come here, but I'm glad you did." She smiled at him.
"Because my little sister needed me," Peter told her simply. She smiled even more broadly and he grinned. "And I wanted to fight for what I believed in. Back home, there wasn't any reason for me to stay. My parents barely even noticed me half the time and Éamonn . . . well, let's just say that he was born into the right family. The only way that I ever stayed sane was when I received news that you were safe and happy."
"Why didn't you ever come see me?" Sandry wanted to know. "If you knew where I was, Peter, then . . . why stay away?"
Peter was silent for a long moment. "Because I knew Father would try and see if you were any use to him if he knew where you were. I didn't want you to be dragged into that world. That would've been too horrible to live through. I wanted you to be safe." He cleared his throat. "Now, go to sleep," he said in a stern voice. "I mean it, young lady."
"Young lady and child," Sandry sighed. "I can't decide which term I like better." Peter grinned and kissed her forehead as he stood up.
"I'll be back later," he said as he walked out of the room. Sandry watched him go and turned over on her side, closing her eyes. She was asleep within minutes and drifting off to a world where dreams take place.
--
She must've slept for a long time, because when she woke up, it was near daybreak and it had been around midday when she'd gone to sleep. Sandry groaned slightly, rolling on her side as she pushed herself up off of the bed, making it quickly as she brushed out her hair and straightening her green gown before she headed into the main room.
Sandry froze when she saw the man that was sitting there, waiting patiently in one of the chairs.
"It's about time that you got up," he told her with a smirk. "You've been sleeping for thirty-six bloody hours." She frowned slightly; had it really been that long? she wondered. She must've been even more tired than she had thought. Never again would she stay up that long, unless it was important.
"It's Murtagh, isn't it?" she asked, frowning at him. He nodded as he stood up. "How did you get in here? Nobody's supposed to find their way into here." Not since Angela magicked it, she added silently.
"Eragon told me how to find you here," Murtagh said with a shrug. "He's doing better, by the way. And he asked me to tell you that he'd like you to stop by when you get a chance. He wants to talk to you."
"I was going to head there now," Sandry said, walking over to the fire and picking up her cloak where she'd left it, hanging to dry. Peter must've taken off her sword and laid it there as well, she realised as she picked it up and reattached it to her belt.
Murtagh watched her before reaching out. "May I?" he asked. She hesitated, but handed over the sword. He inspected the blade curiously. "This is a good sword," he commented before handing it back to her. "Where did a beautiful and gentle lady acquire such a weapon?"
"It was a gift," Sandry responded. That was all she was going to say on the subject.
"From whom?"
"None of your business," she responded as she seized her cloak, clasping it on the front. "Now, I have to go see Eragon and nobody supposed to be here when Angela and I are not." She hoped that he would understand that she was—however discreetly—asking him to leave.
Unfortunately, he didn't have any intention of leaving the quarters anytime soon, because he simply shrugged and sat back down. "Well, don't mind me, then, off you go," he said with a grin. "I'll make sure that nobody comes in here."
Sandry stared at him; what did he want, anyway? "By nobody, I hope you include yourself in that number," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Angela isn't going to be happy to find out somebody was in here alone."
"Who says that she has to find out?" Murtagh asked with a grin towards her. Sandry placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and he sighed, standing up. "All right, all right, I'm leaving." He grabbed his own sword and headed out of the portal. "By your leave, Lady Sandry."
Relieved that he was leaving, Sandry turned around to find him standing in the doorway. "By the way," he added, "what exactly is going on with you and the Rider?"
"What are you talking about?" she wanted to know, nonplussed as she stared at him.
"I mean, are you involved with him?" he asked more seriously now. "Is he courting you?" There was something in his eyes as he said that, though Sandry couldn't detect exactly what.
"Well, um . . . I don't know," Sandry admitted, a hot blush trailing up her cheeks. "It's been a long couple of days and he's been healing, we haven't exactly had time to talk about things . . . and it's still none of your business," she added quickly. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"
"I make it a point to know things, Lady Sandry," he answered quickly, "in case it proves useful someday."
Something about the way that he said that made chills go up Sandry's spine and she definitely did not like the way that Murtagh was looking at her. It looked all too much like the men back in Teirm who wanted nothing more than a trophy wife. Just a beautiful woman for the scenery to stand in the background and look pretty. Suddenly, she wished that her brother was here with her.
As if he were called by her thoughts, Peter appeared through the portal, looking between Sandry and Murtagh curiously. "What's going on here?" he asked, looking towards Murtagh, a dangerous look on his face. "I was just coming to wake you, sister."
"Sister?" Murtagh echoed. "You're her brother?" He was looking at Peter before glancing back at Sandry. "Right, I'll leave you to it, then."
The moment that he was gone, Peter looked towards Sandry worriedly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you any, did he?" Peter asked.
"No, but I didn't like him being here," Sandry admitted, shivering slightly. "I didn't like it at all." Peter looked concerned as he glanced back to where Murtagh had vanished.
"Do you know who that is?" he asked sharply. Sandry glanced at her brother as she sat down.
"Murtagh," she answered with a shrug, "he's a friend of Eragon's. I don't know much else about him, though . . ."
"He is the son of Morzan," Peter said with distaste in his voice. Sandry looked at him sharply. "The Rider who betrayed the others and joined the king, slaying his own kind."
"His son?" Sandry breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "But . . . but surely he must be on our side, Peter, otherwise Ajihad would have put him under house arrest or something . . ." She stopped, remembering what Eragon had told her. "But why is he here? Whose side is he on?"
"I don't know," Peter said softly. "But I can tell you this: Murtagh was taken in by the king after his parents were murdered. I've met him a few times and he's dangerous enough without magic." Sandry said nothing. "Look, we don't have to worry about this right now. What's coming will come—"
"And we shall meet it when it does," Sandry finished up for him. She stood up. "I wanted to go see Eragon, anyway. Have you seen him yet?"
"Yeah, I checked on him after I left you here," Peter answered. He had met Eragon, not so long after he'd woken up, and Sandry introduced. Eragon, unsurprisingly, was shocked at learning she had a brother and heard Peter's story about what their father had done. But after talking with Peter, the Rider had genuinely trusted him. The fact that Sandry trusted him so completely might have helped with that, however. "He was asking for you." Peter stood up. "Come on, sister, I'll walk you there, but then I have to get back."
"They're working you too hard," Sandry told him severely. Peter grinned, but shrugged. "Promise me you'll get some sleep later?"
"Look who's talking," Peter teased, but he relented. "I promise. And thank you for caring. You're probably the only family member that actually cared about me," he added quietly.
Sandry wrapped her arms around him as they walked together and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're my brother, Peter," she replied simply. "How could I do anything else?"