(Here is the new chapter, now with beta support from Luthien Snowtail! Got another section of plot all sketched out, so updates should be sometime within the next half month, but as you know the fall semester looms and I have to devote more time to studying. College bites sometimes.)
The dawn was several hours away and night was reluctantly relinquishing its grasp on the desert sands when Arien and Jarvis slipped away quietly from the eastern gate of the settlement. The assassin was in a fine mood. He enjoyed mornings; it didn't matter where you were, being awake before the sun had broken the horizon was a special feeling… like you were getting a jump on the day, taking it by surprise. Arien walked along beside him, her steps a little faster to keep up with his long strides. She watched him out of the corner of her eye with interest and vague amusement. He was an odd individual, no doubt, even for a human. To any outside observer he merely appeared as a young traveler or merchant. His feet moved with a purpose, and his lanky, slightly unkempt appearance belied a subtle grace that Arien found... intoxicating.
They worked their way through the sand in silence, both deep in their own thoughts. In the distance Arien could see peaks on the horizon, a dull and dusty tan, almost the same color as the desert. She would have mistaken them for more sand dunes if they were not so sharp. The weather, while being incredibly hot and dry, was actually quite nice. The wind was in the west, and it blew pleasantly on their backs, providing some respite from the brutal rays of the sun.
Jarvis was walking a few feet ahead of her as they reached the top of a sand dune. Without warning he threw out his hand.
"Wait!" he hissed.
"What is it?" Arien asked in a whisper.
Slowly Jarvis ducked back below the ridge and lay on his back.
"Imperial convoy."
Arien peeked above the lip of the dune and saw the foothills of the mountains they had seen earlier in the day. The valleys were packed with tents, which easily numbered in the hundreds. Men bearing the emblem of the empire bustled between the canvas walls, carrying crates of supplies which were being loaded onto horse drawn carts.
"It's an army! How in hellfire did Galbatorix get that many men all the way out here?" Arien asked, her voice a little hoarse.
Jarvis sighed and briefly rolled his eyes.
"Just my bloody luck too. It's worse than that, Look at the standards. It's the same one as the soldiers in the town we just left. The Desert Expeditionary Force."
"You know them?" The elf queried, surprised.
Jarvis grinned sheepishly;
"I might have had a brush with them the last time I was out this direction. We don't have fond memories of each other."
He looked back at the assembling forces below and his expression sobered.
"But this is something new. The last time I was here was almost five summers ago, and they were just peace officers and law keepers then. The empire must have militarized them. As to what they're doing out here; I'm afraid I can guess that fairly accurately. Look at the supply train. The lead carts are already moving straight east, and there is only one thing in that direction that interests Galbatorix."
Arien's eyes widened in horror;
"Du Weldenvarden! We have to warn my kin!"
Jarvis nodded;
"Yes, we do. I am fairly certain we can outrun the convoy if we skirt around them to the south, but we're going to have to start making better time."
Arien backed away from the sand dune and grabbed Jarvis's arm.
"Let's go then, we haven't any time to waste watching!"
POST NOTE- Insert Horizontal Line Here Before Publishing
The next week was one long, sandy blur in Jarvis's mind. Spurred on by the elf, they made ground at an alarming rate, and the leagues flew by. The convoy, only able to move at the pace of their slowest participant, had long since shrunk to a dot on the horizon and vanished.
The crossed a mountain pass on the eighth day, and from that high perch Jarvis could look out and see the vibrant green sea of the forest beyond. Du Weldenvarden was massive. Enormous. Immense. Words failed him when he attempted to describe it. The small arm of the forest you could see on the map, which sheltered Ceris and the other cities, was in reality a sprawling ocean of foliage that extended as far as they could see. Arien would not let him rest for long however, and they were soon off again, down the talus slope, feet scrabbling for purchase on the broken shale.
As they descended, the ground began to yield grass. At first there were only lone, solitary patches, little islands, their leaves still covered in the layer of fine sand. But more and more the Hadarac gave way, and the weather got colder. At last they reached the great rolling plains before the forest. Jarvis felt that after so many days of travel, he could almost reach out and touch the trees. The camped in the shelter of a hillock and laid their packs down. Although they were both exhausted, sleep did not come easy to him. A cool breeze swept over the landscape, making gentle waves in the grass and carrying with it the woody smell of trees.
The next morning dawned bright and early for Jarvis, yet Arien was already awake and eager to leave. As they approached the outer edge of the forest, Jarvis got a distinct sense of unease. Despite the seemingly peaceful day, he could not shake the sense that they were being watched. Arien seemed unperturbed when he mentioned this to her.
"We probably are being watched. Do you honestly think that my kin would not closely watch their borders in such times? We have always liked our privacy."
His suspicions were proven correct when they were passing through a small clearing. At the sound of tightening bowstrings, Jarvis drew his short sword and threw out a hand to stop Arien. Whirling around, he found that they were surrounded by a group of six or so archers. There was a tense silence, and then a young male elf stepped forward and said something in elvish that Jarvis could not parse.
Arien, however, seemed to understand perfectly;
"You must forgive my companion; he is as skittish as a doe."
The archers lowered their bows and emerged from the brush to greet them, but did not stop watching Jarvis. The assassin could detect a mixture of scorn and disapproval in some of their gazes. Apparently a human was not a welcome sight in their forest.
After the first elf and Arien embraced, they began conversing rapidly in elvish. Jarvis sheathed his sword and sat down on a stump. Some time later the two broke apart, and Arien turned back to Jarvis.
"This is my traveling companion, Jarvis, son of Hadley. He has been a great help and I could not have come this far, or indeed, come at all, without him. Jarvis, this is Finarel, a childhood friend."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Jarvis replied politely. His hand however, did not stray from his belt.
"Alas, my friend, we bring grave news from the Hadarac. We have seen a great host massed in the desert, and they march ever eastwards. I think they mean to make war upon Queen Islanzadí's eastern border." Arien cut across the awkwardness.
Finarel nodded gravely;
"We are already well aware of Galbatorix's plans. It is fortuitous that you are both skilled with the blade, as we shall need every available being to combat the darkness that is marshaled against us."
Changing tack, the elf turned to Jarvis;
"Before you go any further, we must search your mind to ensure you are not an enemy agent."
Jarvis had heard of this procedure before many time, both through word of mouth and personal experience. He recalled being incarcerated in the Imperial Dungeons just south of Uru'Baen, where the jailors sifted through prisoner's minds not for information, but for the simple pleasure of robbing them of any privacy. Men had gone insane, and Jarvis swore he almost had too, but with a swift and timely bribe from the Guild of Blades he was released.
Now that he thought about it, he was very reluctant to allow a stranger to sift through his head like it was a drawer. He felt Finarel's mind reach out and touch his, and cried out in shock. It was like holding a chunk of ice in his hands. The cold presence began to flick through his memories, one after another, beginning with his childhood.
The images went faster and faster, flitting before his mind's eye so fast he could not focus on any one. The images began to get more and more violent. An Earl lay dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood. A corrupt civil servant. A doctor. The harsh laugh of his guild master echoed inside the confines of his head. The section of memories containing Arien, including his capture and eventual freedom snapped by like a taught rope, and he reflected on how short a time it had been since he was sitting on a straw mat and trading snide barbs with the jailors, waiting for his turn to put on the hangman's rope.
The contact was severed just as suddenly as it had been initiated. Jarvis grasped his temples and groaned. He felt like a bone that had just been picked clean. Looking up, he saw Finarel. The elf was not moving, rather, he was staring at Jarvis with a look of mingled fear and disgust. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, which the assassin eventually broke.
"You may not care for my profession, but I am no spy."
"I would caution the Lady Nasuada not to rely overmuch on your kind, lest she become the very monster she is trying to destroy," Finarel said tonelessly. "Come. Monster you may be, but you are not a spy, and so I cannot see any reason to bar you entry."
The male elf seemed to have regained his composure, although Jarvis could feel his comrade's eyes on the back of his neck and see Arien shooting him inquisitive looks out of the corner of his eye.
They progressed deeper into the forest, the trees getting slowly larger and more numerous. The elves did not tire and Jarvis did not want to cause any more trouble than he already had, so he did not complain when they did not stop for lunch. It was mid-afternoon when the first few houses of Ília Fëon came into view.
They continued further and discovered paths of beautifully manicured grass cutting a natural path. Houses were either suspended in the branches of the majestic oaks or nestled away in the roots. The first thing that struck Jarvis was the lack of people on the street. Here and there an elf played an instrument or conversed with friends, but on the whole it was very quiet.
They were lead to an empty abode, tucked up in one of the larger trees. It was actually very pleasant; the interior was much roomier than it looked on the outside. Two cots were laid out for them in the back, but in the end Arien simply climbed into Jarvis's and pulled the covers over herself with a laugh. The assassin sighed contentedly and they lay in silence for a few moments, the last light of the sun leaving the night sky.
"Jarvis?" The elf called sleepily.
"What?"
"What did Finarel see inside your mind? I haven't seen him like that in... a long time."
Jarvis bit his lower lip pensively;
"You know what I did before."
"Yes, but you never talk about it."
"Does it bother you?" Jarvis asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
"Maybe. A little. I cannot understand why, though."
"Why what?" He pressed.
"Why you would... kill, for money. Surely there were other ways of making money."
"Before I met you, I was a less likable person. I felt... lost. Like I didn't know which way was north. After my parents were taken, I just didn't care what was asked of me. I didn't think about who I was hurting, or how badly."
There was another long pause, and then Arien asked: "How did you end up in that jail cell anyways?"
"I hesitated."
"You what?"
"I was looking into his eyes, about to strike the fatal blow, and my hand froze. I don't know what it was, but the look of utter terror on his face just took my breath away. I had never seen that before. I was asked to do the job with a knife, the person who took out the contract was particularly angry at him, and so I could not use poison, as I often did."
"But- you were imprisoned for murder, so..."
"I did murder him. Right as the guards rushed into the room as it happens. I leapt out the window and fell two stories. There were more men waiting at the bottom and they bound my hands behind me."
For a moment, the only sound was that of the insects chirping outside their door.
"I can still see them sometimes. Their faces. I'll be carving a piece of wood, or washing my hands, and I'll see their face." Jarvis murmured.
Arien draped a long slender arm over his shoulder.
"You should get some sleep. We have a long road ahead of us."