A/N: I am ashamed. I didn't update last week, and I'm sorry. There was a bug going around. Well, good news, and bad news. Bad first. I only got 3(!) reviews for chapter 16. Eek. I'm dissapointed, but whatever. The good news it, the NEW INHERITANCE CYCLE BOOK IS COMING OUT IN NOVEMBER! It's called Inherihtance. It looks great, if you haven't seen it, go look it up before you even read this chapter. And before I forget: DISCLAIMER: I don't own the totally awesome Inheritance Cycle, or the characters. Anyway, I know it's going slow, but I swear, thing are just heating up. Also to avoid confusion, Zoë it pronounced just like Zoe (or, if you happen to have a cool accent like Murtagh's, you can pronounce it "Zoo-eh, er whatever), but without the little dots, it just didn't seem inheritancy enough. Happy readin'! And I'm begging you, please review! BTW, Thanks to Restrained Freedom for the awesome reviews and the little tip on how to update inheritance fics! Works great!
CHAPTER 17!
Spending the entire day in the sky was upsetting Nasuada's judgment of time. She had begun feeling ill at the close of the journey, after she'd fallen asleep for a few minutes with Murtagh's clammy hand on her arm. But that had only served to make her groggier.
Her headache increased when she recalled what had to be done when they arrived at their destination. A meeting had to be secured Lady Lorana, who was being kept under lock, key, and a watchful eye at present. Murtagh had to be hidden - and as for his dragon... She couldn't even think about it.
Murtagh, the main cause of all this stress, was looking rather bedraggled. His eyelids were drooping, and seemed a bit less than half awake, frankly.
Nasuada looked down. The lights of Feinster finally showed themselves. She leaned over her strapped leg and pinched Murtagh's bare, muscled arm. He was startled out of his stupor.
"Huh?"
"Murtagh," Nasuada hissed, "tell your dragon to land. I think I can see Feinster."
The young lady let out a pent up breath as Thorn alighted on a small outcropping of rock. They were just outside Feinster now. Her head throbbed; she grown accustomed to breathing the thinner air, and she felt light headed any woozy.
A small price to pay for her peoples' safety. Wasn't it?
"Shall we walk the remainder of the way?" asked Murtagh, unlatching Nasuada's leg restraints and hoisting her to the ground.
Nasuada promptly vomited in reply. And I thought I'd be thrilled to be back on the ground...
"Alright then," Murtagh said patting her back gently. You'll get used the environmental change - if you fly more often, that is.
Nasuada kneaded the skin on her forehead. She doubted that would ever happen.
"Let us go." The sooner they arrived in Feinster, the better.
Thorn plodded along behind the human pair for almost an hour before they entered Feinster's gates. The wrought iron clanged shut behind them. They were trapped. Or, rather, confined.
The city was merry, and aglow with lanterns and candlelight. Children were giggling and adults were bustling around trying to rein the youngsters in for the night. There was not a straw of evidence as to the violent struggle that had taken place in this very town square not so long ago. Nasuada absently wondered what had become of the battering ram. No matter. The city was now a peaceful one of the Varden.
Murtagh paused just inside the gates, sending instructions to Thorn, who immediately took off in a rush of wings.
Nasuada remembered what Thorn and his rider had been doing during the siege. Murdering Oromis and Glaedr. Technically it was Galbatorix who had done the deed, as he had possessed the both of them, but the act had caused much strife among the Varden, and terrible sorrow among the elves.
Had she buried the hatchet too soon with Murtagh? Trusting him came with a million implications.
Nothing can be done about it now, she thought, as Murtagh placed a protective hand over her shoulder.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To an inn, I suppose," Nasuada responded, eyeing a burly man, who was glowering at her.
"An inn?" The red rider grinned. "I've never stayed in one."
Nasuada was puzzled. "Never?" she confirmed.
Murtagh shook his head. "I could only afford to board in taverns with the few crowns I earned - or stole - on the run."
Another reason not to trust Murtagh. He steals, Nasuada thought.
But that was in the past - and to survive, the other side of her thought - whether it was her more sensible side, or her irrational side, she knew not.
As they strolled through the streets, trying to leisurely and inconspicuous, Murtagh began attracting more and more stares. Perhaps it was the two of the together, with a red dragon circling high overhead.
"It's Morzan!" came the astonished whispers of those who could recognize the rider of the foresworn's heir in the dimming evening light. "He's returned!"
Nasuada still felt sick to her stomach. Her thoughts churned as fast as her stomach. What would people think? She wondered. Even when they find out it's not Morzan, but his son, would they take pity on him? Or shun him, as they would and outsider? What would they think of her? That she'd turned on them and the Varden? Or worse, would Murtagh beginning to actually reflect his father? He certainly had the right, taking into account all the hardship he'd faced during his life.
Murtagh is different from his father, Nasuada's rational or irrational side thought. He's the one you want by your side; when he defeats Galbatorix, people might view him the way you do.
While Nasuada had been lost in thought, Murtagh, obviously having no taste in inns, had passed right by several adequate places, into the shabbier area of the city.
"I just - I just need to check something first," he explained.
They wended their way through the third-rate neighborhood, the red rider in the lead. He navigated so well, Nasuada couldn't help thinking he'd been there before.
"Where are we going?" the young lady asked warily.
"I want to check on someone," Murtagh repeated vaguely.
They finally stopped in front of an old smith's shop. It had obviously been good-looking once, but had gone to rack and ruin.
"Murtagh..." Nasuada trailed off as they entered the shop. "Who lives here? And you've been to Feinster before?"
The rider didn't answer. He just looked pensive. He was probably sending a message to Thorn, Nasuada realized enviously. She'd been in constant company of two dragon riders, and the bond that they shared with their dragons seemed only to serve to make her more jealous. Mostly because she had longed for a relationship like that of her own. She'd lost her father, and the subject of her mother was not one she liked to broach. She had no immediate family.
Murtagh stuck his head into the shop's open door. "Zoë?" he called. "Zoë, are you here?"
"Who is Zoë?" Nasuada demanded as Murtagh pulled her over the threshold. He'd long since abandoned her arm, holding instead loosely by the wrist.
The red rider made his way to a staircase he evidently knew the location of.
Before she could be wrenched up behind Murtagh, Nasuada yanked her arm away.
Murtagh took no notice, though - he was determined.
Nasuada stomped ungracefully up the stairs. Living quarters about one tenth the size of her own back in Aberon (which she had wheedled Orrin into giving to her) presented themselves at a quick glance around.
"Zoë?" the rider called again. He stepped into a small bedroom. Lying in the bed was a titian haired girl, not much older than Murtagh of Nasuada. She was so still...
Nasuada's anger suddenly dissipated, leaving her feeling very awkward. Murtagh shook the girl shoulder, and then placed his gedwëy ignasia hand - his left - on the girl's.
He cringed, swore under his breath, then turned on his heel and shot down the steps.
Nasuada was so shocked that it took her a full minute to recover. She found Murtagh on the edge of the shabby district a few minutes later.
"What in the name of Morgathal is wrong?" Nasuada panted. She should have caught wind of something amiss the moment that they'd entered the shop. "She wasn't... Dead?"
"No." Murtagh drew a shaky breath. "As good a dead, though, I didn't need magic to find that out. She was poisoned. By a magic user."
It only took Nasuada a moment to figure it out. "You think Galbatorix was here? Who was Zoë?"
"I met her here, in Feinster. I'll tell you the rest later. And Galbatorix most certainly was not, here - no trail of ominous destruction."
"I'll wager that's all you'll tell me." Nasuada sighed.
Murtagh nodded. "For now."
The sick feeling resettled itself in the young lady's stomach
Thanks for gettin' this far (or scrolling all the way down the page to see what I said here)! I know you can take it a tiny bit further by reviewing! Your chance to ruthlessly critique me! But really, reveiws mean SO much to me. By the way, I swear to you, the next chapter is going to be from someone else's POV, like maybe Arya's again. If you review soon, you can give a suggestion! Thanks so much for reading and/or reviewing!
-Seastar97