I Who Should Not Be
Chapter 30
Arya glared down at the dwarf man, her pretty face twisted into a sneer as he sputtered his words again.
"I went in to say a prayer for her, as is the duty of mine order… But when I got there, the lass' body was gone!"
Murtagh stood still, his eyes dark and unreadable. Eragon was silent as he watched his brother, remembering all the times he had seen the older Rider with his eyes like that. The only times he remembered were his days with Galbatorix. The remembered cruelty that his brother had delivered was enough to make the skin at the back of his neck prickle.
Arya ran to the room where the Wolfborn's body had been stored, and stopped short when she saw the stone slab she had laid upon. When she got closer, she saw the metal frame of her left lower arm and hand lying on the ground. Whoever had taken the body had tossed it aside hard enough to bend some of the softer metals in the delicate wiring.
"We have to find her. Who would have stolen her?"
Murtagh looked at the metal arm and grimaced.
"I can think of somebody."
The elf nodded, her face grim.
"Her brother. You don't think that he may have brought her back… do you?"
"He would try. He loves her more than anything…doesn't he?"
Murtagh snarled as the words left his younger brother's mouth. His anger was no longer just bubbling in his chest; he could see faint red on the edges of his vision. A second voice began to growl in his mind. He knew it was his own, but it was lower and more feral than his speaking voice could ever hope to be.
Is this one of the changes she was talking about? And this anger…
Onika had warned him, but then, she had expected to be around to help him through whatever changes he would go through. He had little knowledge to work with, for even Onika had been unsure of what could happen.
Arya watched him carefully, never even flicking her eyes toward Eragon as she told him to leave her and Murtagh alone. When Eragon almost refused, she had raised her voice to him for the first time in quite a while.
"Eragon, we have no time for your foolishness. Go ready Saphira and tell Orik that we are going to find your sister."
……………………….
Cain watched as his twin slowly rubbed a wet cloth over her tan skin. The blood ran off her in rivers, while her hair continued to drip red. When she pointed to the pail that held more water, he obligingly handed it to her and sat on the edge of the tub as she poured it over her head to rinse some of the blood from her long hair.
He smiled at her, taking a long breath through his nose, happy to be able to smell her again. She smelled almost exactly like him still, but something wasn't quite right. He shrugged the different tinge to her scent off, deciding that bringing back a dead person, no matter how recently dead, would have some side effects.
With a sigh, Onika scrubbed at her hair, trying to get the smell of the child's blood and death out of her. It had soaked into her hair and skin. She picked up the cloth and scrubbed furiously at her skin again, making it turn angry red and smarting. She rinsed her hair a few more times before the smell was washed out enough for her to bear.
She was careful to keep her hair over her shoulders and chest as she gingerly clambered out of the tub, holding out a hand to her brother for the towel in his hands. He handed it to her without a word, his eyebrows coming together as a dark expression slid over his features.
Without a word, Onika put on the simple black dress that was waiting for her and allowed her brother to lead her toward Galbatorix. She could hear him sniffing the air every few seconds, trying to catch what she had hoped had not followed her into her second life. If Cain was able to identify what he was looking for, she would have an even harder time trying to slip out of the Mad King's grasp.
With a snarl, Cain spun and grabbed Onika by the shoulders and hauled her close to him and leaned close to her chest, the end of his nose brushing the skin over her collarbone.
"No…"
…………………………..
"Well this certainly changes things, Murtagh. From what I know, you are a completely singular case. Onika told you that you may change? Did she give you any specific examples?"
Murtagh crossed his arms and glared into the shadowy corners, not really sure if he wanted to talk about the subject anymore. Just admitting this to the elf had been hard enough. Arya had looked slightly hurt that somebody had not told her sooner.
But, then again, Onika wasn't one to tell people what she thought was obvious. And if she didn't say anything, and nobody asked him outright, Murtagh would keep his silence.
"You two should have said something to me."
"She didn't think she was going to die."
Arya nodded slowly, understanding. She would have liked to know though. She felt slightly as if a sister had 'forgotten' to mention that she was getting married until a week after the fact.
"Well, it certainly makes a few things easier. Finding her should be almost easy, given the circumstances. But will you be able to keep your head if something happens to her?"
"I don't know. I'll try. I can feel…she's alive. At least, she had a heartbeat that I can feel. I felt her anger earlier. She was…angry and sad."
Arya took a slow breath and carefully held a hand up to point at the dark haired Rider's shirt collar.
"May I see?"
Murtagh thought for a moment before nodding once and pulling the fabric out of the way to show a feathery scar just over his collarbone on the left side. Arya took a slow breath and smiled. He sighed and let go, letting the cloth of his shirt settle into its original place.
"So that was true. They mark each other. You marked her too, right?"
"Yes."
Arya couldn't help by smirk at the faint blush that stained the usually cool and collected Rider. Usually it was Eragon who blushed. It was good to see their similarities.
"Let's go then. Eragon is waiting."
"Yes, Murtagh. Let us go and retrieve your mate."