Chapter 5: Vow
"… then it is settled. We will attack Belatona in a week's time." Finished Nasuada.
Eragon fought the urge to yawn, and mentally congratulated himself for not falling asleep during the meeting. After a few days of Arya's tutelage, he could finally completely comprehend the discussions which had previously been harder than the trickiest of riddles. And through it, he finally knew how long a distance he would have to go before he could lead an army successfully as the generals could.
Do not be so gloomy. Chided a voice in his head. You are growing wiser with each passing day, with a brilliant teacher to guide you; what more could you ask for?
Eragon sighed inwardly as he bade Nasuada and the other commanders goodnight and walked out. True, true. But Galbatorix will be making his move soon, Saphira. We do not have all the time in the world.
A few soldiers hailed him as he passed. He smiled back at them, and continued his talk. Saphira was a few leagues away hunting, but he could hear her with little effort.
We now know that Galbatorix relies on the Eldunari for power. However, it almost makes no difference to our current situation. We cannot steal them, as they are surely almost as well protected as the third egg. And there is no way we can sever his connection with them.
And yet understanding our opponents remove the aura of invincibility that has long been their best and most effective defense against challengers. For the first time in our lives, we know what we are facing against. And that itself is something that most riders before had no knowledge of.
And yet… does that truly make a difference?
We need all the differences there are, little one.
Eragon made his way towards his tent, deep in his thoughts. A week until the Varden lay siege on Belatona. He would have to ask Arya for a map of that particular city—
He frowned. There was a presence in his tent, familiar, but one half shielded so that he could not recall it from his memory. It wasn't one of the elven spellcasters, and yet the mind was certainly tinged with magic. One of the Du Vrangr Gata, perhaps?
No, he decided as he edged towards the entrance of his tent. This mind was far too deep and complicated to be human. He edged Brisingr slightly out of its sheath.
"Shadeslayer?" There was a cold chuckle. "'Tis I. Nothing to be afraid of."
His back stiffened at the sound of her voice. Hiding his fear and distaste behind a smile, he entered his tent where he saw the little girl sitting upon his bed.
"Is there anything I can help with you with, Elva?" he asked, as kindly as he could.
"Do not speak to me in that way." She replied dryly. "Thanks to your curse, I am not the child you think I am."
The rider bowed his head in shame. "My apologies, if I were to—"
"Spare me those worthless apologies, Shadeslayer." She said in a bored tone. "I have come to you for a reason. If you wish to hear it, then please do so; if you are disgusted by my person, I shall leave immediately. Which will it be?"
She is serious. Said Saphira quietly. It would be for our good to listen to her words.
Of course I know. Eragon snapped. And besides that, I will never chase a child out my door no matter what she says she is.
"I would gladly listen to what you want to say." Eragon responded. "Would you like some tea?"
"I am sorry," said Elva with a smirk. "but I won't be here for long. And if you keep yourself in the state you are now, you won't either."
The rider blinked. "By that you mean…?"
"If you wish for my advice," she said, ignoring his previous question. "I would like you to swear a vow to me. My services are not free."
I do not like the look in the young one's eyes. Whispered Saphira. It shines of cunning and malice.
But there is no lie in them. Eragon murmured back. Yet, I do not think that we should give our oaths carelessly to others. Come back Saphira, quickly. Something must be amiss for Elva to demand such a high price.
Of course, little one.
"What oath do you want of me?" Eragon asked, keeping his face impassive. "And this 'advice' of yours… is it worth one of my vows?"
"Certainly." Elva spoke casually. "And what I want of you? Is that you will heed one request of mine, without question, in the near future. As you would obey an order from your liege."
Relief flooded Eragon. "One request? Elva, I would do a hundred things for you if it could correct the spell that I had—"
"So you agree?" Elva raised a slim eyebrow. "Swear it to me, then."
Eragon, she is planning something. I am sure that—
But it is the only thing I can do for her. Eragon replied. I will do it. One single request is something that I will not hesitate to do.
But…
There is a debt to be repaid. I will do it, even if she did not offer her piece of advice.
Turning to Elva, he uttered the oath in the ancient language, careful not to make any mistakes as he did before. The girl seemed to be pleased.
She clapped her hands together. "Good, good. Just in time, too."
"In time for what?"
"My advice. Turn around, would you?"
Hesitantly, Eragon did as he was told.
At first, he was confused. Then, he heard the slight, almost unobservable sound of tent fabric being ripped apart.
Out of pure reflex, he managed to catch the enchanted blade that had been spinning towards him. If he had been facing the other direction, he would have never noticed it.
There was no feeling of dismay, nor the frustration of failure from what Eragon could glean from the three well hidden minds. Like emotionless shells, they simply tore down a larger space from the tent wall and began entering with calculating movements.
They were ordinary looking soldiers, dressed in the garb of a Varden footman. But they were definitely trained assassins. Every step of their feet, every move of their feet left no openings and positioned themselves in the best positions for a swift attack. They ignored Elva, concentrating their every sense on the Shur'tugal.
Eragon's mind went immediately to Saphira.
Notify Arya and the other elves about this. He said, trying to remain calm as the three men circled him. They had already partially surrounded him with frightening efficiency. They have wards. It will be a hard fight if I have to do this alone.
I will. Be safe, Eragon.
The assassins leapt forwards. Brisingr was drawn out of the sheath like a hungry flame, blue fire licking at its edges. Their blades clashed in a scream of steel and sparks.
The three soldiers worked as one. They never left a route for escape, and their movements never interfered with another. Their movements were merciless and deadly, and it was with only the greatest effort that Eragon could prevent the weapons from piercing him. In the cramped room, for all his elven strength and magic, the rider found that there was a chance that he could die here.
Not like heroes in well known epics. Not like famed warriors, dying on the battlefield soaked in their blood.
Simply a life ended because of a few assassins.
One of the swords slashed him in the side, leaving a long mark. Blood leaked out of the shallow wound.
Blast it! He swept his sword furiously in a wide arc. The men slid back to avoid it, and resumed their attacks once more.
Eragon grimaced as the three swords of his attackers drove towards him at the same time. Brisingr met them with inhuman speed, eager for the taste of flesh; but a single blade slipped passed his defenses.
Thinking quickly, with his other hand he pulled his hunting knife out of his belt and blocked the blow with a wince. The man jerked in surprise.
From the corner of the room, Elva clapped. "Excellent, Shadeslayer. I knew that it was right for me to tell you about this. Your duels are never dull."
With a whirl of his sword, Eragon split apart the assassin's body with a vicious slash, taking advantage of the man's momentary hesitation. Without pausing to stop, Brisingr gleamed as it flashed through the air, dripping in blood as it entered his companion's heart.
Twisting around in a fluid movement, he removed the sword from the man's chest, and his hunting knife went into the throat of the final assassin. The lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, crimson liquid pooling from their wounds
"Eragon!" Arya and the rest of the spellcasters sprinted into the tent, weapons drawn.
The rider smiled weakly as he tried to regain his breath. "I finished them." Holding a hand over his injury, he muttered, "Waise heill."
The gash healed with no trouble. Panting, he sat down on one of the chairs in his tent that was not dirtied by blood.
Roran came hurrying into the tent as well. "Eragon, I heard from Saphir…" his voice trailed off, seeing the blood splattered across the floor and the inside of the tent. "I see that I've come a mite too late to be useful."
Blodhgarm had a strange expression on his face, one torn between shame for his failure of protection and the other of pleasant surprise. To what, Eragon did not know.
The elf looked over the corpses. "Shadeslayer. I wish to examine these bodies more closely to find who out enemy is. As the signs suggest, there may be a traitor in out midsts."
Eragon looked up. "A traitor, you say?"
Blodhgarm bowed. "There is not one way that I can think of to infiltrate the Varden camps to this degree through normal means. I say it as a follower of the wolf, masters of stealth and cunning."
"Very well then. I leave it to you." The rider got up from his chair wearily. "Roran? Would you mind if I…"
"Of course." Replied his cousin immediately. "Before they clean this up, you can come to my tent to rest yourself."
"I am grateful. And now that…wait, where is Elva?"
The dragon brow had vanished yet again into the dark reaches of the night.
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I really, really shouldn't be doing this. For the sake of all that's holy, the exams are coming next week!
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