Thorn snapped around, lethal fangs bared. Twin mental attacks shot across the short space between them to shatter on her shields. The dragon crouched, muscles coiling.
Mellary pulled on her magic, her words tangling with each other as she wove the fastest spell of her life.
Thorn lunged, jaws gaping wide. Her barrier sprang to life just in front of her a split second before he reached her. The scarlet dragon hit it head on, his whole body colliding with the barrier as he twisted into the strike.
Mellary yelped a word and the shield burst into consuming white flames. Heat lashed at her, causing even the thick-scaled dragon to shrink back. As soon as they had backed away, Mellary extinguished the flames with a gesture.
Murtagh leapt down, broadsword in hand. Pointing the blade at her, he shouted. Magic made the air thrum as a ball of wind gathered at the tip of his blade and shot towards her.
She snapped her hands up and caught the ball a mere hairs breadth from her chest. Holding his dark eyes, without bothering with words, she spun her own spell.
The hard ball of air took shape in her hands as her magic sank in and saturated it. Fine spindles of ice spiraled out from her fingers. They raced across the surface, spinning strange and complex patterns. In the space of a deep breath, the entire ball of air had crystalized in her hands.
She held the sphere out to him on one palm and slowly tipped her hand. The ball rolled off her palm and hit the rock. The ice shattered, shards shooting out in every direction in a brilliant, glittering explosion.
Embrald burst over the edge just as it hit, his wings spread wide to block out the whole horizon. The last rays of the sun spread across his wings, making the membrane glow and mottling the thin veins that were wound throughout.
Her dragon landed on the cliff, fangs displayed and his back arched aggressively.
Murtagh sank into a fighting stance as Thorn braced himself against the ground, growling in the back of his throat. A trickle of smoke drifted up into the night. Embrald answered with a snarl and significantly more smoke.
All three tensed.
Mellary sighed explosively and rolled her eyes. "Are we done with the theatrics? Yes? Good." She peeled away from the tree and began to walk towards Embrald. Her path would take her mere inches from Murtagh.
"I, for one, am starving and would like to eat."
The broadsword flashed into her path, the razor edge pressing against the front of her sturdy tunic.
Mellary glanced down at the lethal blade dimpling her clothes and traced the edge of the sword all the way up to Murtagh's eyes.
"I'm not going to kill you," she said quietly. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already."
That's quite a presumptuous claim from the woman with a sword at her heart, Embrald noted.
It's also true.
"Now," she continued in an even and reasonable voice, "If you do not remove your sword, I will remove it for you. And if part of your arm happens to be removed as well, I will not lose any sleep over it. Your choice." The temperature around them plummeted. Four distinct waves of magic clashed, sparking against each other as all of them braced.
The trick with the sphere had been a calculated gamble. Directing magic silently took more focus, was more draining, than using the ancient language. After flying all day, the high-speed chase, and breaking into the mind of a dragon, that stunt had almost drained her. She didn't have enough magic left in her to perform another spell like that, not if she intended to walk afterwards.
Murtagh didn't know that. At that moment, their level gazes locked, he had to be questioning just how she could perform a spell like that without any visible effects. He had to be wondering if she could do it again. The important question was, was he willing to find out?
The blade lowered and the red Rider stepped back.
Mellary smiled slightly and continued walking, trusting Embrald to let he know if he was going to stab her in the back.
You were bluffing? Embrald asked.
I never bluff, Mellary told him with a wink. She twisted her wrist slightly, showing him the hilt of the knife resting in her palm. She had slid the blade into her sleeve when dragon and Rider had turned to watch Embrald's arrival.
You really would have taken off his hand.
Mellary snorted softly as she rummaged through the saddlebags. Please. I remove hands at the elbow.
"Would you be kind enough to start a fire?" she called behind her. There was a pause, then the scuff of boots on stone as Murtagh moved towards the woods. Moving as quietly as she could, Mellary heard the soft whisper of moving scales as Thorn shifted. Under her hand, Embrald's muscles were tense.
Easy, she whispered.
I am not a horse, he sent back scathingly. Mellary bit back a grin.
Then there's no need to spook like one.
The presence of guests does not mean that I will hesitate to push you off the cliff.
Yes, but then you'd have to come after me.
Murtagh came back as she turned, dumping an armload of branches on the rocks between the two dragons. Stepping back, he pointed at the pile.
Next to her, Embrald luminesced. Mellary froze in shock as the brilliant green light bloomed in his chest and raced up his head, spreading out across his scales until his entire body seemed to glow. Embrald opened his jaws, emerald sparks floating down, and breathed. The green tinged flame rushed forward. Heat blasted her hair back and singed the tip of her nose as the flames engulfed the thick branches.
Embrald's jaws closed with a snap, cutting off the stream of flame. The green light vanished from the burning fire, leaving it a merry orange color. The brilliance in his scales faded much more slowly.
He tipped his head towards her and gave her a very satisfied smirk.
Her mental voice was a little unsteady. What are you waiting for? Applause? Almost hesitantly, she rested her hand against his scales. They were cool to the touch.
"Amazing," she whispered. Embrald grinned wickedly.
She stepped out around his head. "I have bread and cheese, enough for both of us," she said.
"You mean for us to share a meal?" Murtagh asked.
She leveled a look at him. "You don't have to have any."
In the end, he took what she offered, which was how Mellary ended up sitting across the fire from Galbatorix's bemused apprentice and his scarlet dragon.
"No orders to attack me?" she asked casually as she toasted a slice of bread smothered with soft cheese over the flames.
Murtagh met her eyes over the flames. "You know?"
"It was in both your minds," she told him gently. "Something of that nature is not easy to miss. What are your orders?" She shrugged when he looked at her. "Out of simple curiosity."
"My orders are to report any sightings of your or Eragon, and engage if I believe I have a chance of succeeding."
She stopped her sigh of relief. Her gamble had paid off.
Mellary lounged back against Embrald as she ate. The dragon was relaxed as well, lying sprawled across the edge of the cliff, his wings drooping down to the ground.
The loose posture was a lie. They were both alert and ready to move at any instant.
"You were in Farthen Dûr, yes?" she asked.
Murtagh nodded.
"Abducted when Ajihad died. Taken to Galbatorix. Thorn hatched, and the two of you were enslaved." After each sentence, he nodded. At the last, a myriad of emotions flashed across his face. Anger, hate, longing, and finally a deep, soul-numbing despair that wrenched at her.
She pushed the feeling aside. Something about the memories she had gathered bothered her, like a hard to reach itch. "How did Galbatorix know your true names?" she asked.
Murtagh shrugged as smoldering embers lit in the dragon's eyes. "He simply did a few days after Thorn hatched."
"You did not know before?" The Rider shook his head. She stored the fact away. It was part of something, her instincts were telling her. Scattered pieces to the puzzle, if she could only figure out how to pull them together.
"And you. You are elven?"
Mellary grinned and twitched the tips of her ears. "That's half right." She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it didn't matter. "But it's not important. Bygones."
That is much information in a few sentences.
If Galbatorix believes that the elves have two Riders on their side, he'll see Du Weldenvarden razed to nothing and the ground salted sooner rather than later.
"What brings you out to the wilderness? Hunting for information?"
"I could ask you the same."
They stared at each other. Mellary smiled, the lethal grin of a hunting predator.
"Who do you fight for?"
"Whomever I feel like. Of course, Embrald has to agree. What do you stand for?" she asked softly.
No signs of internal battle played across his face. "The King has spoken to me of his plans. They are grand."
Mellary shook her head. "No society based on the suppression of its people will last," she said. "In a year, in a century, the people will rise. It's inevitable."
His lip curled. "And it would be better to let the Elves have control?"
Mellary let her breath out slowly to keep from sighing. Her past kept her from saying that the elves didn't intentionally cause misery, not without it being an outright lie. Murtagh was a Rider with enough power to know when he was being told a falsehood.
"As a whole, they aren't interested in ruling." But conquest could be born from the mind of a single person, as Galbatorix had so aptly demonstrated a hundred years ago.
"They were corrupting the Riders." Murtagh said it with such contempt that it startled a laugh out of her.
"Have you forgotten what we're riding?" she asked, reaching back to rest her hand on Embrald's warm neck. The dragon thrummed softly in content. "The dragons would never allow that to happen. You have to have enough of a connection to realize that we can't truly force them to do something they don't want to do."
The embers in Thorn's eyes turned to blood red flames. A dark suspicion settled in the pit of her stomach. It was impossible to twist the mind of a being as strong and magnificent as a dragon. It had to be.
She reached for her own dragon, her thoughts heavy. He responded with a single word.
Shruikan.
What kind of magic must it have taken to do that? She met Murtagh's eyes and saw dark depths in them. Whatever kind of spells, he had already begun teaching his apprentice.
"Certain types of spells," she murmured, "Were never meant to be uttered."
"Only by the strong." Somehow, he had followed her chain of thought.
"All magic comes with a price," Mellary argued. "The darker the magic, the higher the price. Are you prepared to pay up?"
"Do I have a choice?" The words just seemed to burst out of him.
He collapsed back, raising his hands to grip his head.
Mellary watched him for a moment, weighing her words carefully.
"A long time ago, there was an elf philosopher-mage named Nathaleon. He was interested in the power behind names." Suddenly, she had the attention of everyone in the clearing. "It is accepted that our true names have power over us because they describe who we are. Nathaleon believed that if someone could change who they are fundamentally, their true name would no longer describe them. He thought the name would lose its power."
Even the night seemed to hold its breath.
That's impossible, Embrald said to her just as Murtagh spoke.
"Did he prove it?" The hope in his voice was almost painful. The blood flames in Thorn raged, threatening to burn. Mellary tightened her fingers where they curled around Embrald's neck spike. She could feel her dragon's razor focus as he locked onto Thorn.
She kept her voice even. "No. The elves found his work abhorrent and exiled him. His works were collected and burned and the ashes scattered. Nathaleon never succeeded." Mellary held his gaze. "Most would consider it impossible. Messing with wyrda is extremely difficult and very rarely a good idea."
"Do you think it is possible?" The silence that descended was absolute. Even the fire seemed to be holding its breath.
"Yes."
A roar ripped through the clearing as Thorn leapt up, bounding across the fire towards them. His jaws closed with an echoing snap where she had been.
Mellary and Embrald were already gone. As soon as the red dragon's tail had twitched, they were both moving, synchronized. Embrald jumped once and plunged over the cliff, Mellary just clinging to him by the tips of her fingers. Then the ground was gone and they were plummeting down the cliff face.
She gripped the spike hard, maneuvering into the saddle even as they fell. Mellary glanced back over her shoulder to see a dark shadow, outlined in blood red, follow them into the void.
We're being pursued, she told Embrald tightly.
She felt his growl as his wings dug into the night air. They shot forward, flying low against the mountains in the dark. She struggled against the wind to strap her legs into the saddle as fast as she could. Every time she glanced back, Thorn was right on their tails. A manic light was burning in the dragon's eyes, creating two bright coals in the darkness that followed them even through Embrald's tight turns, sudden dives, and acrobatics.
They were flirting the edge of the cliff, desperation pushing Embrald into wilder and more dangerous maneuvers. They shot by one tree so close that Mellary swore it took a layer of skin from the tips of her ears. And still, Thorn stayed right behind them.
We're not losing him. The thought vibrated between them.
They were quickly running out of time. Embrald's wings were trembling, his muscles so tired that pain radiated across her shoulder blades. A crazy, insane idea popped into her head.
She shared the idea with Embrald in a quick series of images, too rapid for words.
Embrald's wings beat the air just a little bit faster, generating a slight burst of speed as they whipped around a tight corner. His wings flared wide, dragging on the air to pull them in an almost complete turn. The edge of the mountain hid them from Thorn for a brief second, little more than a heartbeat, but it was enough. Embrald sank his claws into the cracks in the stone, wrenching them to a stop.
The incantation left Mellary's lips before they had even come to a complete halt. Magic rushing through her veins, her heart in her throat, she cast the largest illusion she ever had in her life. The night sky vanished as the false vision closed over them.
To an observer, she and Embrald would have simply vanished, replaced by a jutting cliff face.
As soon as the last word was whispered to the night, a massive burst of pain sheered through her brain. Mellary curled up as much as she could in the vertical saddle, clutching her head. She bit her lip against a pained moan, hard enough that the iron tang of blood flooded her mouth.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she gripped the spell with every drop of her will. Her heart pounded slowly in her ears, each beat seeming to take an eternity.
One….
Two….
Thorn barreled past them. She could feel the air spilt around his form, buffeting her against Embrald's back.
A sharp crack echoed through her head as the illusion shattered. Agony rushed across her in a black wave that threatened to drag her down. Her body went boneless and she slumped back, her head lolling listlessly. The straps were the only thing holding her to the saddle.
Embrald pulled his claws from the cliff face, his wings spread to soundlessly catch the air as they dropped. The motion made Mellary roll forward, and her head came down hard. One razor spike sliced into her cheek. The bright line of fire on her face brought some of her shattered conscious back to reality.
Worked? She managed to rasp a single mental word.
Yes. Embrald swept his mind out as she had before, scanning for the other dragon. She felt the distant echo of recognition down their bond. Thorn was already far away, and moving farther by the second.
Rest now. He beat his wings, taking them high up into the diamond-studded sky. Mellary clung to awareness as Embrald dropped behind a wispy cloud scuttling across the sky.
What happened? Embrald asked.
When? The cold air was slowly bringing her back around.
When Thorn attacked us. It was…sudden. The dragon had attacked with almost no provocation.
I think I accidentally tripped a sleeping order. Compulsive orders can be embedded in a mind, and triggered when certain situations arise. I noticed that Thorn reacted every time I mentioned a way that they might escape Galbatorix's control. He must have compelled the dragon to eliminate any possibility of that happening.
They coasted along for a while before Mellary's mind began to function again.
We need to set down and rest, she said. She peeked over Embrald's side, but only saw silver cloud.
Embrald knew more than she did, however. He narrowed his wings and they glided down, descending through the cool mist and dropping down into the shadow-cloaked mountains.
They found another cave, dropping neatly into the opening. Together, Rider and dragon limped into the hollow and curled up in the back. Embrald's warmth fought off the growing chill in the air as Mellary slowly made her own little nest from the coats she had been given. She collapsed down but held off sleep. Sinking into her mind, she began to strengthen her shield, building strange angles in such a way that would deflect a mental sweep. Murtagh wouldn't be able to find her the same way she had found him earlier.
Can he do it? asked Embrald suddenly. Could he truly break free?
Mellary paused her work and considered it. No, she said finally, her voice laces with sadness. No, I don't think so. No one ever has.
Then why did you tell him?
Why had she told him? Because the despair in her eyes had bitten into her heart. Because no one should feel that hopelessly trapped.
Because we need him to keep fighting, she said finally. We need him to keep questioning orders and finding loopholes. Circumventing Galbatorix in any way he can, if we want a hope of winning this war. Even if we never see him again.
You don't think we will. It wasn't a question.
Galbatorix is going to want to flaunt him to demotivate the Varden and the elves. Murtagh is going to be leading armies. We don't belong in front of an army.
We belong in the shadows, Embrald said for her.
Mellary nodded, then laid her head down and promptly passed out.
I have some bad news. Unfortunately, I get to spend the next month straight studying. Updates will be more sporadic than usual.