"Bloodstained"

Chapter Two – More Musings and Helgrind

A/Ns: Back again. This chapter has a bit more philisophical musings, which, I admit, get a little boring. You might want to skip ahead a bit.

Thanks to my reviewers so far! They're meh, Tallacus, and blizzardstar2000. And then siwenliu, who deserves an extra shoutout for helping me with my maps and spellings!

Eragon bent down, looking into Elva's eyes. They were strangely deep for a child so young. But then, she was no child.

"Do it, Argetlam," she hissed, curling the honorific title into a mocking slur. "There is nothing worse you can do to me."

Eragon felt his stomach clench. Saphira?

She lowered her great blue nose to touch his back gently. I am here, Little One, she assured him. I am ready to share with you my power. Don't be afraid. Just heal her.

Nasuada and Arya were watching tensely. Arya was watching because she was interested, and because Eragon could never refuse her, and Nasuada, because she was his liege lord and she had a strange affection for Elva. Eragon wondered at that. He certainly felt no attraction at all to the poor, afflicted girl. Of course, every time he looked at her, he burned with shame.

Let's do this.

He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and began to speak. The words curled through the air, pulling power into them, twisting around. The magic poured through Eragon's veins, then swept out, channeling into Elva. Saphira lent him some energy, then more and more…

Finally, Eragon rocked back, exhausted despite his new elf-like state. He didn't want to open his eyes. Had it worked? Was the curse lifted from Elva, or had he added some new evil to the poor child?

"Elva?" Nasuada's voice asked.

"A-ah?"

Eragon opened his eyes, shocked by the childish coo. He looked at Elva to find the girl blank-eyed, sitting down, her thumb stuck in her mouth as she gazed up at him.

She's acting her age, Saphira said wonderingly, lowering her head to touch Elva's forehead. The mark I gave her is still there.

Really? Indeed, the silver mark, like the one Eragon bore on his palm, still stood out starkly on Elva's smooth skin.

"You did it!" gasped Nasuada, sweeping forward to drop to her knees. She reached out slowly to touch Elva's hair. The little girl blinked up at Nasuada, then reached for her. The leader of the Varden scooped the child into her arms, stroking her back. "How darling."

I suppose, Eragon thought, though truly he was proud of his accomplishment. Again his thoughts wandered back to the pebble he had once labored so much to lift. Now he was cursing and un-cursing children!

"Well done, Eragon-vodhr," Arya said softly.

"Thank you," Eragon said, still slightly awed that he had managed to do it.

"Eragon?"

Eragon swiveled around at the sound of his cousin's – that is, his brother's voice. "I'm over here, Roran!"

Roran approached, blinking at the sight of Nasuada cradling the yawning Elva. "Um…?"

"Don't ask," Eragon said wryly. "What is it that you want?"

"Well, you said to pack up so we could go find my Katrina," Roran said. "So I did."

"Really?" Eragon said absently, his mind on other things.

"Really. Can we go now?" Roran sounded as petulant as a child.

That's what it is to be in love, Eragon said to himself. Arya…

Stop mooning over her, Saphira commanded, and help Roran. You promised.

I also promised Oromis.

Roran's friendship is far more fragile.

Eragon knew she was right. Eragon's promise to help rescue Katrina was the only reason that Roran was holding onto his sanity – and his warmth toward his cousin-brother.

"Well, I guess we'll go," Eragon said lamely, getting to his feet.

"Let's go," said Roran eagerly.

"I shall accompany you."

Eragon looked up, shocked. Arya?

This is not wise, Saphira said, groaning.

What do you mean by that? Eragon demanded.

You do not need distractions, Saphira told him.

Arya and I have patched everything up. I promised not to pine for her. She won't be a distraction!

She will.

"I – we – will be honored to have your company," Eragon said.

"Then let us go."

Galbatorix slammed his face up, inches away from Murtagh's. His breath curled against Murtagh's cheeks, strangely odorless. His bottomless black eyes bored into his servant's, shining with fury. He still hadn't gotten over the failed attempt to capture Eragon.

"Now, Kzarel," Galbatorix snarled, and Murtagh felt a shiver grip his body as his true name was spoken. "Let's see if we can get a good oath out of you now. So my dragon doesn't… slip away."

Saphira? His dragon? "Y-yes."

"Don't speak until I tell you to!"

This was one of the times when Murtagh felt utterly repulsed by his master. When Galbatorix was spitting anger at him, hurting him, cutting him off from Thorn.

"I have been informed about a certain Shadeslayer –" the king spat the name out contemptuously "– being seen near Melian. I doubt he's coming here, but, just in case, I think you should be out awaiting his arrival."

Murtagh swallowed hard.

"You want to ask something, don't you, Kzarel."

Murtagh nodded soundlessly.

"Then speak."

"Why… why…" Thorn's Rider gulped again. "Why don't…?"

"Why do I not go after him?" Galbatorix finished, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Well, I believe you have a little unfinished business with him."

Was Galbatorix being stubborn?

"You and Thorn need the training," Galbatorix continued. "So, shall we set up some more things for you to swear? Perhaps, oaths that get things done. Properly."

"Y-yes," stammered Murtagh, before remembering that he wasn't to talk.

Galbatorix let it slide. "Then let's get to it, shall we?"

It made Eragon nervous to fly so close to Galbatorix. True, they were going to be near Dras-Leona, not Uru'baen, but it was only about one day of flying a-dragonback to Galbatorix's home from there. Well, that was just where Helgrind was.

Roran sat in front of him, clutching tightly to Saphira's neck and moaning quietly. Arya was in the back, not touching Eragon at all, to his disappointment.

See? I told you she would be a distraction.

She's not distracting me! Besides, it's not like I need to concentrate right now.

But I was right.

Sure, rub it in.

Besides, you should be on the lookout for enemies.

Who'd attack a dragon? Eragon snorted dismissively.

Galbatorix. Murtagh. Thorn. Shruikan.

Fine. I get your point, Eragon said grumpily.

Finally, it was getting dark, and Saphira landed in a secluded patch of forest. Roran scrambled down as soon as he could, murmuring prayers under his breath. Arya leapt down with a smooth grace, and Eragon swung down with the ease of practice.

No one spoke as they lit a fire and produced the food. Eragon leaned against Saphira as she curled aroud the fire, her eyes still wide open. She had to stay alert, so close to Galbatorix's castle.

Being so close to Galbatorix and Murtagh made Eragon think. As confident he had become, due to his training with the elves, he was now reduced to a trembling blob of jelly at the thought of Murtagh's awesome power. He'd held Saphira immobile so easily, and it had been so difficult to fight for release. And if Murtagh was so powerful, what about Galbatorix? The man had killed all the Riders. One more would take no skin off his back, certainly.

No matter how he looked at it, Eragon was doomed.

The thought sent shivers up and down his spine. It was true. There was no competing with such magical prowess. He needed to get back to Oromis – and fast. Anything the old elf could teach Eragon would be vital if Galbatorix and his new lapdog, Murtagh, were to be even threatened, let alone defeated.

Don't think like that, snapped Saphira. The moment you lose your courage, you lose your chance of victory.

I think that's already been lost, Eragon said dolefully.

Stop thinking like that! Saphira repeated forcefully. We are already so much more than we were when I hatched for you. We can do it. We can defeat them!

Eragon inhaled deeply, watching Roran roll up in his blanket and go to sleep, while Arya slipped off into the woods, not needing to sleep. You're right. We'll just stay positive. Maybe we can do it. But Saphira! Murtagh was so strong!

Do not think any more tonight, Saphira said gently. Close your eyes, my friend. Tomorrow, we must storm Helgrind. You need your rest.

Shruikan lay dozing, his immense black bulk stretched out across the roof of Galbatorix's castle. He looked innocent and unprotected, but in reality, he was surrounded by countless wards. But who in their right mind would attack Shruikan, Galbatorix's dragon, anyway?

Thorn watched the huge midnight-black creature sleep. Murtagh's red friend was miniscule in comparison. Shruikan looked like he could pick up Thorn and fly away with him in his talons. Would Thorn ever get that big? Nothing would dare stand up to him if he was so enormous.

Shruikan's bond with Galbatorix was puzzling, frightening, and a little repulsive to Thorn. The dragon hadn't naturally picked Galbatorix. They had been forced together by magical means.

Thorn didn't know what Shruikan must feel toward Galbatorix. Did the black dragon love his Rider, the way Thorn loved Murtagh? Murtagh avoided actually thinking the word love, but Thorn knew it amounted to that anyway. They were of one mind, one spirit, if not one body. But Shruikan wasn't one in spirit with Galbatorix. Thus, the question: Did dragon and Rider share a bond of love?

But what did it matter, anyway. Thorn was always telling his Rider to stop with the philisophical pondering, and here he was, musing about his masters. Like I told Murtagh: Don't think. Just do what they say, or you will hurt.

Thorn wasn't quite sure what to think about Galbatorix or Shruikan. He respected Shruikan's age and skills, and he knew Murtagh respected humanish things about the king. And yet all this moral debating was going on. Were they good or evil?

Thorn didn't even really understand good and evil. Murtagh hedged whenever the subject arose. Thorn had attempted to probe his Rider's consciousness, but Murtagh was quite skillful at blocking his mind, even from his own dragon. Thorn suspected that he was cut off from the good/evil question because Murtagh himself was doubting his opinions on it. What if Thorn and Murtagh were actually on the evil side?

Do the 'bad' people actually think they're bad? The Varden think that they are in the right, but so does Galbatorix. Who is?

Angry that he had questions and no answers, Thorn threw himself into the air. Thinking was for humans. Doing was for dragons.

Eragon took a deep breath, then began to set up the wards. Saphira gave him enough energy to put one around her own huge bulk. Then, Eragon covered Roran. Arya declined his offer, saying she would take her own precautions.

Helgrind loomed threateningly in front of them, tall dark spires reaching up like evil fingers, grasping at the sky in attempts to pull away its fresh clearness. The Ra'zac were in there.

Revenge… Not only could he rescue Katrina for Roran, but they could avenge Garrow…

Katrina was all Roran cared about, judging by his expression. But wouldn't it be a good thing to eradicate the Ra'zac, once and for all?

But I thought that about the Urgals, too, Eragon though with a frown. What if the Ra'zac are actually okay, too?

Don't think that now, Saphira said wearily. They work for Galbatorix. Kill them if you can. But do not put yourself in danger to hurt them if you don't need to. I don't want you dead!

I don't want me dead either, Eragon replied wryly.

"Well, are we ready?" Eragon said, having finished erecting the wards around himself, Roran, and Saphira. Roran nodded curtly, his face set and pale, while Arya said softly, "Yes."

"Then let's go."

There you have it. Tell me if it's good or bad… And how's the chapter length? Should it be longer? Shorter?