CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Bad Boy
A/N: Just for reference: italics (like this) indicates a flashback, bold italics (like this)indicates a dream.
"Be my bad boy, be my man
Be my weekend lover
But don't be my friend."
- Bad Boy, Cascada
Fragments flashed through Tristan's mind. At first they were fast, faster than he could follow. Images that he couldn't comprehend burned into his mind, leaving him wondering how they got there. Then everything started to slow down and he started to see and hear things that made sense…well, more than the pieces of nothing did:
Roran, a sombre expression on his face as he rose to his feet, with a velvet cloak pooling around him and a heavy crown on his head. He raised his arms and the watching crowd cheered enthusiastically. Beside Roran stood Katrina, her face glowing with pride – and a small baby which Tristan could not discern as male or female.
Vanir and Delia were headed towards a ship, their arms entwined. They were smiling at each other and Tristan saw the two dragons in the air overhead, purple and green. He stood on the shore, watching the procession. As Vanir and Delia boarded the ship, he heard his own cry of anguish as Fafnir and Aziza whirled through the wind, twisting and dipping.
Ashen, in the midst of a horrific battle between the Varden and Imperial soldiers. She slashed at the enemy with her sword. Tristan watched his sister, enthralled by her skill. She was one of the best fighters he'd ever seen.
A blond magician, his eyes gleaming with insanity and his teeth bared in savage triumph as he reached upwards and black light shot from his hand towards Fafnir. Tristan watched as someone fell from the dragon's back…and with slight surprise, he realised it was him.
The same Shade that Tristan had seen before, wielding two swords, hacking through Varden soldiers with a deadly efficiency.
Blue and black dragons doing battle in the sky, their Riders wielding deadly swords that flashed underneath the moonlight.
Murtagh, his eyes haunted and scared, the tip of his sword pressed to an injured Eragon's collarbone.
Delia on Aziza's back, screaming a battle cry, Evarinya raised as she descended upon the battle.
A dark-haired young man and a blonde girl kissing under a shower of blood and rain, oblivious to the destruction around them.
Darkness fell…so thick that Tristan was left unable to see a thing…however, he still heard the voices.
"You can't die," It was the deep voice of a man, full of anguish. "Look at me. Don't you dare give up on me now. Sing to me – like you sang before, do you remember?"
A girl's voice, singing so softly that Tristan couldn't even make out the words. All of a sudden she fell quiet and his heart lurched.
"No." The man sounded devastated. "No. I can't lose you as well! NO!"
The last thing Tristan heard was the scream of a man who had lost everything, who had had so much pain in his life and had just lost the thing he cared about the most. There was nothing in that cry but pure agony.
Tristan sat up with a gasp, the man's scream still resounding in his head. He didn't think he had ever heard a single sound full of so much pain. It sounded worse than someone being tortured and Tristan found himself weeping for the man's loss despite himself. He had known loss. He had lost Colton – maybe Ashen as well.
Oh, young one…
Fafnir was full of love and compassion as he reached over with his nose and touched Tristan's forehead. The Rider wiped his tears away, wondering why he was so upset. It had only been a dream.
Yet you know it's more than that, Fafnir reminded him.
Then what does this mean? Tristan was confused.
Fafnir sounded half-grave, half-proud. That you truly are a Rider.
When Ashen opened her eyes, Murtagh's face came into focus. She jumped, a little astonished, before sitting up and looking around her. Wherever this was, it wasn't the room she had been allocated before…and it definitely wasn't the dungeons. This room was huge and richly furnished with rugs and decorated with tapestries…
Her eyes narrowed accusingly as she turned back to face Murtagh.
"Is this…your room?"
He inclined his head. "It is. You are to stay here until I find you more suitable quarters. That way, Zander will not be able to get you."
Ashen frowned at the mention of the magician's name. "You said something last night about not stooping as low as him. What did you mean by that?"
Murtagh's jaw was working, but he refused to look at Ashen. "That doesn't matter. You're just safer here. I will find you more suitable accommodation when I can."
Ashen folded her arms across her chest – she was still wearing Murtagh's shirt.
"But…this is your bed. I couldn't possibly sleep in it and deprive you of one."
Implications flitted through Murtagh's mind, but he stopped himself from thinking about such matters.
Apparently, Thorn was of the same disapproving opinion. Keep your mind from the gutter.
"I am going to take you to Thorn's roost in the western wing," Murtagh continued, getting up off the bed and pacing across the room. "After I speak to Galbatorix today, I should be able to arrange for you to have quarters near my own."
Despite the worry that was clearly etched into his face, he couldn't help but smirk as he turned back to glance at Ashen.
"I'll need my shirt back."
Ashen had been wary of spending time with Thorn, but it turned out that the dragon was very curious about the girl. He had been nothing but kind to her and she found herself liking him immensely.
"What is it about Zander that Murtagh is keeping from me?" Ashen vented, more to herself than the red dragon, "I just don't understand. That man tortured me. What could possibly be worse than that?"
I do not think I am at liberty to explain, Thorn admitted, sounding slightly ashamed, It is a complicated matter and…to be honest I do not understand the concept entirely. It will have to be Murtagh that tells you.
"Great," groaned Ashen, twisting her hair in her hands, "I am never going to find out, am I?"
In time, all questions are answered.
Ashen looked at Thorn with utter surprise, then couldn't help but laugh and touch him gently on the nose. She had known Murtagh before, when he had been with the Varden. Now she was glad that she was getting the chance to know his dragon. Thorn was far from the monster she had once believed him to be.
The doors to the roost opened and Ashen whirled around. Murtagh moved through the doorway, striding over to them. He gave Thorn his attention first, stroking his dragon's nose. Thorn snorted appreciatively and Murtagh turned to face Ashen.
"Galbatorix has agreed to let you stay in the rooms just beside mine." Murtagh's tone was controlled, yet Ashen still felt that there was something he was hiding from her. He wouldn't look her in the eye. Yes, Galbatorix had agreed – but what was the cost to Murtagh?
"Why aren't you telling me anything?" Ashen demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glowering at him. "First of all it was Zander…now it's this. Don't you trust me, Murtagh?"
Murtagh looked at her with a sharp gleam in his eyes.
"Of course I do. But knowledge is often a burden. Just like my true name."
Ashen did not relent and Murtagh felt that it was only fair to let her know the truth.
"Zander has a reputation for bedding young women."
Thorn growled threateningly, yet Ashen still did not see what was so bad about that. She folded her arms and her eyes narrowed.
"What? Are you worried that I might fall victim to his charm and good looks?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Murtagh's eyes were hard. "Not all of them willing."
Ashen understood, averting her eyes. Of course it hadn't been her business to ask. Zander 'stooping so low' concerned matters that did not even involve her. However, knowing this only made her hate him even more.
"What about Galbatorix?" Ashen asked, attempting to change the subject, "Why…why did he let you become responsible for me again?"
Murtagh's eyes darkened and he shook his head slowly. "It doesn't matter. What does is that you won't be subjected to Zander's torture anymore. You are safe."
"You keep saying that," Ashen shot at him, annoyed that Murtagh would not tell her the truth. "I am a prisoner in Uru'baen. I am never safe."
They had taken Feinster and Gil'ead, but that was not enough. Nasuada had set her sights on a new target: Belatona. It was the next logical step after taking Feinster. Nasuada hoped that they would get closer to the capital. Unfortunately, the past three months had been troublesome and she had not dared attempt to take the city without Eragon and Saphira. Now that they had returned, things were looking up.
They had considered the facts. Belatona was a large city, bigger than Feinster. It was ruled by Lord Daemyn, who was a staunch supporter of Galbatorix. Nasuada thought it was more likely that he would rather be killed than allow himself to be taken prisoner. There was the matter of Daemyn's son, Lucian, who was only a few years older than Nasuada herself. They could not tell which side he would take.
Orrin and his forces had not left Feinster since the city had been captured, but Nasuada had returned to Surda soon after it had been taken. There was much that still needed to be done. Now, she planned to send more soldiers north to Belatona under the command of Roran Stronghammer. There was no doubt that Belatona would prove just as hard to breach as Feinster, so many elf spellcasters were also moving north from the city.
"Do you think Murtagh will attack us?" Eragon asked, clearly concerned.
Nasuada doubted it. If he wasn't occupied with the hunt for Tristan, then he certainly would be by the elves in the north. According to Islanzadi, they had managed to capture several more minor towns since they had taken Gil'ead.
"I don't think so, but we cannot be certain of anything."
There had also been more rumours about the Shade Mordecai. Apparently, the Varden spies had gathered information that Mordecai would be present in Belatona upon their arrival, assisting Daemyn in driving the rebels back. Nasuada was filled with dread at this notion, hoping that Eragon was up to fighting his third Shade.
"We need to try getting Lucian on our side," Arya said. "We are not certain of his allegiance and he is not even yet twenty years old. It is likely that he does not know with whom to side himself but if we can appeal to him, we may have a powerful ally. If Belatona falls and Lucian is on our side, he would do well to succeed his father."
"We are playing a dangerous game," sighed Nasuada, glancing down at the map. Feinster and many of the northern cities had been crossed off – meaning they had been captured by the Varden or their allies. "Lucian may be even worse than Daemyn. We can't know until we meet him ourselves. What of these rumours about Mordecai?"
Eragon shrugged. "We can't know yet whether these are true or just fabricated by the Empire to spread fear through our ranks. I would suspect the latter. Mordecai has not been seen for some time."
It was a shame they did not have Tristan with them. For if Murtagh did come and the rumours about Mordecai were true, then the Varden would certainly lose the battle for Belatona. Nasuada pushed aside the map.
"I want you and Saphira to go with the forces heading for Belatona, Eragon. Roran is leading them. I fear that they may be attacked on their way if you do not stay with them."
Eragon inclined his head. "I understand your concern."