I apologize for the delay, but I have been very, unbelievably busy for the past few weeks. Also, it's July NaNoWriMo, which sucks up a lot of my time. But here's what I have, though it isn't much.
Oromis sent the dragons away when they arrived, to learn from Glaedr once he had glanced over their saddle, which Mellary had carried to his hut, and pronounced it impossibly tangled. Both she and Embrald had shrugged it off.
Stay in touch, Mellary said as the dragon prepared to take off, reaching out past the shields she still had in place.
You want to know? Embrald asked, sounding surprised.
I love flying as much as you do. Of course I want to know, Mellary said fondly. She rubbed his nose, then sent him off. Embrald stepped off the cliff, rising into the sky with the other dragons.
"We begin with the Rimgar, or the 'Dance of Snake and Crane'. You are familiar with it?" He asked, the question directed at Mellary.
In response she placed her forearms on the ground, kicking her legs up over her head until she was perfectly balanced. Her loose shirt slid down, or rather up, her stomach.
Now you're just showing off.
Maybe.
She managed to hold the pose for a second. Then her body wobbled, her legs arching farther over her body that she could hold them. Her balance lost, she crashed down onto her back, managing to wrench the muscles in her arms.
"Ow," She complained.
"That is not a pose one should attempt lightly," Oromis said, his tone humorous.
"I'm out of practice," Mellary admitted. "I had a routine that I followed for a few years, but after that…." She trailed off.
"How long were you traveling?" Oromis asked.
Mellary tensed and looked away.
"How long?"
"Fifteen years," She admitted.
"How old are you?" Eragon blurted out.
"Eragon," Mellary began, getting to her feet and piercing him with a steel gaze. "No matter which culture you are in, it is considered extremely rude to ask a lady her age."
Oromis smiled, then led them through the Rimgar. Mellary fell into the easy pattern, relaxing for the first time in days. Tension drained from her as she drew air deep into her lungs and released it slowly in a smooth cadence.
They ended lying on the ground, staring at the blue sky overhead. The temptation to simply lay there and think of nothing was almost overwhelming, but Mellary rose when the others did.
"Let us wash the sweat from our limbs," Oromis said, starting towards the stream.
"I'll be over there," Mellary said just a little too quickly, gesturing in a vague out-of-sight direction. She walked away without looking back over her shoulder.
Are you well? I felt something weird. If it were anyone else I would call it embarrassment. But it's you, so it can't be embarrassment.
Shut up, Mellary snarled.
It is embarrassment. Mellary the Dragon Rider is embarrassed. You're decades old. You have to have….
We are not discussing this!
But…
WE. ARE. NOT. DISCUSSING. THIS. She shut him out, in a single stroke paring their connection down to the merest thread. Mellary shook her head. Males would be males, even if they were winged, incredibly intelligent lizards.
She followed the stream to a place where boulders had slid down the cliff-side, blocking up the water flow to form a sheltered pool. The clear water was deep enough for her to stand in with the water just kissing the underside of her chin. A narrow band of white sand ringed the pool, a protective wall of stone and greenery beyond.
Mellay paced back and walked a half circle around the pool, magic dripping from her to sink into her ground. Satisfied that she would be undisturbed, or at least have some warning, she went back to the pool. The water was cool but not cold, the perfect temperature to wick away the layer of sweat over her skin and rejuvenate her muscles. Mellary drifted for a moment, enjoying the soft feeling of the slight current.
She made herself leave the gentle cradle of water, using magic to dry herself off. Dressing quickly, she had her hair twisted up and her ears covered before she was even aware what she was doing. Mellary paused, then left it the way it was.
Despite her delays, she arrived at the cabin before Eragon and Oromis. She settled on a rock, waiting for them to return.
The elf looked at her. "I believe I requested that you lower your barriers while under my instruction," He said. Mellary could have winced. "I shall instruct Eragon on the art of mediation. In that time, you shall remove your shields." He held her gaze until Mellary looked away, nodding once. Oromis guided Eragon into the forest, leaving her alone once more on the cliff side.
Mellary slid down to the ground, resting her back against the sun-warmed boulder. She closed her eyes and looked into her mind.
Her barriers were beautiful. Decades of practice had allowed her to perfect the art of shielding her mind, until the layers around her center formed a breathtakingly beautiful sight. Exquisitely latticed, the shifting and shimmering walls moving through liquid shapes and shades of colors so brilliant and varied that not even the elves could name all of them.
She rapped with first with her magic, listening to the notes ringing through her head. With a deep sigh of regret she began to dismantle them.
The first few fell easily. They were her semi-permanent barriers, the ones she added on occasion; they had been up since she had entered the dwarven tunnels, since she had first come into contact with the Varden. But the farther she went, the more barriers she tore down, the harder it became. When her notice-me-not shield fell, a sharp spike of pain shot through her mind. Mellary gritted her teeth, sank hooks into the next one, and pulled.
Her mind fought her, clinging desperately to her shields. Pain lanced through her again and again as she warred with herself. Her will demanded that the walls fall; her mind refused to be that unguarded. These were shields that had been in place for fifty years, shields that had become so cemented in her mind that they were now part of it.
In pulling down these walls, she was destroying a part of herself.
And it hurt so badly.
Embrald felt her pain, despite the tenuousness of their bond.
You must stop, He said gently. Mellary's mind felt raw; she could sense him locking his wings into gliding position, hear the trembling roar of another dragon.
I can't, She whispered. She had come to the last shield. It hovered in front of her, a shifting steel curtain of rainbow light, laced through with brilliant streaks and scars.
Yes you can.
That's not what I meant. I mean I can't take it down. My mind would rip itself apart. She withdrew, opened her eyes and almost cried out as the sunlight seared her vision. It made her head pound. Mellary dropped her head into her hands and moaned.
"Drink this," Oromis said, touching the back of one of her hands. Mellary peeked at him and saw that he was offering her a ceramic cup. She took it with shaking hands and sipped the liquid inside. Her headache immediately subsided.
She stood and followed the elf into his house. The door swung shut, closing out the worst of the harsh light. Mellary allowed a small sigh of relief to escape.
She drank the tea, waiting for the elf to say something.
"Your barriers are still active," He said, dark eyes on her.
"One is," Mellary corrected. He raised his eyebrows, and she looked away. "They've been active for so long that it causes me pain to remove them."
"That is not the only reason."
She ground her teeth. "No," She said, the admission dragged out of her. "My mind is fighting itself, trying to take down the shields. I'm fighting my own power, my own desire to maintain them, as well as decades of caution and reinforced paranoia. It's not something that I can overcome easily in one day."
"I understand. Those few who survived Galbatorix's betrayal had to learn how to relax their guard. Some, such as Brom, never fully did. It is not a shortcoming, but it is pertinent to you education that you be able to remove them."
"I'll try again tomorrow," Mellary mumbled, draining the last of her tea. Oromis sat at the table, now covered in scrolls and charts and writing supplies. Mellary took a seat across from him, studying the table.
She spent the next hour answering question that ranged from astronomy to botany to magic to history as Oromis tested her considerable knowledge.
"How is your writing?" He asked.
"Decent. I haven't written in the Liduen Kvaedhí in many years," She said, picking up a quill and accepting the parchment handed to her.
"Why not?"
"Self-preservation," Mellary said dryly, her attention already on the script Oromis had placed in front of her. While her mind may have been unsure, her muscles remembered the movements. Her hand flowed across the parchment, the familiar scratching of quill on paper filling her ears.
The piece was a poetic work by a famous elven artist, one that caught her up the in smooth cadence and sweet words. Her attention was so thorough that at first she didn't hear Oromis's question.
"You are traveling. On the side of the road is a young girl with black laced eyes and coughing red dust. What do you do?"
"Wrap her in a blanket and move on," Mellary said absently, still lost in the poem.
"Why?"
"Because Miner's Fortune is both incurable and highly contagious." The empty silence that followed her statement was enough to finally drag her back to reality. Her quill stopped, the point etched into the parchment.
"Miner's Fortune is known by weakness in the limbs, blackness in the veins, and a fine red mist that the victims breathe out. Occasionally, the ill also cough up solid chunks of red blood which have the appearance of rubies, earning the diseases its name. It also travels very easily from person to person, which is why when given a choice, I prefer not to linger near those with the disease." She dipped her quill back in the ink intent on her writing.
"You would leave a young girl to die?" Oromis asked. Mellary tossed her quill down on to the table and laced her fingers, just stopping herself from glaring at the elf.
"What do you wish for me to say? That I would try to heal her? The blackness only occurs in the eyes less than a day before death, when the sickness has completely taken the body. Wounds are one thing, but trying to cure a body riddled with disease? I would have to essentially entirely remake that child's body. Not even you, powerful as you are, could summon that kind of magic without dying. I would die, she would die, and nothing would have been accomplished.
"Or were you waiting for me to say that I would put an arrow between her eyes, or snap her neck with magic? Miner's Fortune is a quiet killer; the victims drift off to sleep and never wake up. Why would I offer a little girl a violent death when she can simple doze off in a few hours and fade away? I may have killed people, but I have never harmed children."
"You have killed before?" Oromis asked.
"You thought I wandered alone for fifteen years and didn't?" Mellary asked, amused. "I was attacked on the road more times than I care to remember. I defended myself." Her fingers came up and pressed into the three wounds under her breast bone. Oromis's sharp eyes noted the action, and Mellary quickly dropped her hand.
"You have fear."
"We all have fear," She replied, burying her face in her hands.
"You hide behind your fear, use it as a shield to prevent others from knowing you. Why did you hide so long? Are you afraid of your heritage?"
Mellary looked up. "Why did I hide the fact that I am half elven? For one very simple reason: I like being alive, free, and un-tortured. If Galbatorix had heard even the slightest rumor that there was an elf in his kingdom, I would not have been able to run far or fast enough. So yes, I hid," Mellary said, her voice low and intense.
"You could have gone to the Varden."
"To the Varden? He would rain down fire from the sky. Do you think it's a coincidence that, after decades of being left alone, the Varden were attacked when Saphira hatched? Of course not. Galbatorix was content to let the Varden be, as long as they didn't gain any significant weapon. They had assistance from Islanzadí, but it was always shallow at best. As soon as the very possibility of a Rider existed, he moved to annihilate them. Given, I'm not a Rider-"
Ahem.
"Wasn't at the time," Mellary growled. "Do you think he would have ignored the potential of extensive elven assistance?"
"So you did not go to the Varden to protect them." He sounded almost pleased about it.
Mellary crossed her arms. "Of course not," She snapped. "I didn't go to the Varden because they would expect things of me. Because they would ask questions. Because then I would have to deal with politics."
"What is your greatest fear, Mellary? Being known, or being placed in a path over which you have no control?" Oromis asked suddenly.
"I do not understand…." Mellary began, brow furrowed.
"You are being driven by a fear, one so deep that you cannot even lower your barriers without causing yourself physical pain. One that will not let you reach out to the people that need your assistance. I will not teach you if you cannot trust me, and I cannot trust you."
Tell him, Mellary. You cannot carry this alone, and I am too tied to you to see it clearly, Embrald urged. She ignored him.
"You want to talk about fear? How about we talk about your fear. You fear unleashing another bad Rider on the world so much that you would be willing to turn away one of only two people who could help. How far would you go if you thought I would do something 'evil'?" Her voice dropped low, filled with fury. "Would you refuse to teach me? Cast me aside? Have me killed?"
"That answer you must find for yourself, as I believe you do not trust me," Oromis said.
"I have reason to mistrust elves," Mellary said, crossing her arms defensively.
"Why?"Oromis asked, eyes focused on her intensely. Mellary hesitated, sensing that this answer was important. With Embrald urging in the back of her mind, she reached up and pulled aside the high neck of her tunic, her fingers glancing across the white scar that ran across her neck.
"Someone in this city gave that to me," She said as Oromis's eyes widened slightly. "Shortly before I left." She leaned heavily on the last word, and saw a flash of understanding in response.
Understanding made her nervous.
She released the fabric, smoothing it back into place.
"You would leave the girl a blanket?" Oromis asked.
"Chills are the worst part of Miner's Fortune," Mellary said softly, reclaiming her quill. I can always find a new one."
He nodded and went back to his writing.
"And then, I'd find the place she came from and raze it."