Chapter 9: Assassination
Eragon slammed his fists onto the table.
"How could this have happened?" he whispered.
No one in the tent answered his question. The elves were emotionless and silent, as if they had suddenly placed masks upon their faces. The Council of Elders was whispering to each other in hushed tones, fear carved into their faces. Jormundur continued to look impassively in front of him.
Nasuada sighed.
"I… do not know, Eragon. This clearly points to treachery of some sort, and conducted by one who is not an easy foe to combat. The elves had told me earlier that Blodhgarm was considered as one of the most accomplished fighters and magicians in the whole of Ellesmera. It would have been an extraordinarily clever or skilled sorcerer who planned his death. Skilled to the point of the impossible."
Eragon turned to face his liege, fire in his eyes. "This happened in a forest not ten bowshots away from our camps. He mocks us. Yesterday, it was Blodhgarm who fell. Today, it could be Jormundur. Tomorrow, it could be me. That have tried once, and they will not hesitate to try again."
"Calm yourself, Eragon." Spoke Arya quietly from the corner of the tent. "Control your grief."
The rider forced a loud, biting chuckle. "A companion of ours, a friend, was just killed within a league and we did nothing to stop it."He gazed towards the elf. "Are you one so cruel that you would look over this matter as one would look at a wounded hawk?"
Arya's green eyes flashed, and her hand made a sliding motion towards the hilt of her sword.
A sudden roar interrupted all of their thoughts. The council members cowered and covered their ears, and Eragon looked up to the tent fabric above, knowing that his dragon was there outside.
Silence, all of you! Saphira's words echoed through all of their minds. This is not a time to be arguing, or feeling dismay over things not done. There is time yet to do what is right.
"And pray tell, what would that be?" demanded Umerth, hiding his trembling voice. "The Empire has gained the ability to kill our best men at will, and it could be anyone who is the traitor. What can we do? Who can we trust?"
"Indeed" Falberd crossed his thick fingers. "Why, the traitor could be you, Lady Nasuada, or any of us here that thinks that our cause is lost. Where do we start the search? I am quite certain that none of us sitting here wishes for our minds to be rifled through. And vows in the elvish language are out of the question, for we do not wish to make unbreakable promises that can be used against us."
Orrin shook his head wearily and stood up from his seat.
"We are all frightened." The king said in a heavy voice. "There is no doubting that fact. But while he hides in the shadows there is nothing we can do in the light. The only thing we can do now is to be cautious, extremely so. And wait, wait until he makes a mistake that will lead to his downfall."
"There is no time for that." Hissed Eragon. "If he is as clever as you say he is, then it could be until he kills half of us all before we can even find a clue."
Jormundur laughed.
"Plenty better than him killing all of us, don't you think? He is obviously skilled enough to foil any attempts to catch him or evade his attacks." he said dryly. "Whatever the case may be, we will still have to move on towards Belatona. We have come this far already; if the men see us back away from challenges so easily, they will lose faith. And if the men lose faith, we will lose the war."
"Indeed." agreed Nasuada. "We cannot stop now. Start readying the men for battle, Jormundur. As planned, we will begin the siege at dawn."
Jormudur bowed. "Yes, my lady. At once."
"May the gods watch over us." muttered Umerth.
King Orrin let out a strangled chuckle. "Bloody hells, it is like the time Morzan's Black Hand was in her prime. Murdering people so swiftly, so easily… like an art in itself." He sighed to himself as he walked out the tent. "It is a real pity that we do not have anyone to save us from it this time."
Eragon raised himself from his chair and walked, with shaking steps, out of the tent as well. The sky was clear and fair, a contrast from what Eragon felt in his heart.
It had been a horrible thing, finding Blodhgarm. When they had rushed into the clearing led by a frantic scout, they saw the elf standing there as he had in life, with a relaxed posture and that irritating smirk. His head was raised, as if searching for something in the sky. Eragon almost breathed in relief then, but as he examined closer, the more his horror grew.
There were black arrows. Each of them sank till only the very tips of the feathers could be seen, and it seemed that there were hundreds of them embedded in the elf's once graceful body. But that was not the worst of it. It was not the thing that left Eragon stumbling back in disbelief, trying to hold back the bile that rose in his throat.
The killer was ruthless. Every time an arrow reached its mark, enchanted thorns each as long as Eragon's fingers would erupt from the length of the projectile, sealing the arrow inside and destroying the body from within. Ignoring the others, the rider had set himself down to the task of removing every one and last of them from Blodhgarm's corpse, his hands covered in blood.
He had never been close to Blodhgarm. They were companions, and friends of some sort; but for some reason, holding the elf's cold body in his hands lit a icy flame in him, filling him with the same grief and anger he had felt when Oromis died.
"I would die first before anyone does. That I promise."
What a lie. What a shameless lie.
He continued to walk forward, Saphira paddinging along beside him between the tents. Gleadr's Eldunari felt impossibly heavy in his pack, the weight of guilt weighing down upon him like a stone.
Arya was right. You need to calm down and think, not wallow in your self-pity. Saphira said to him, turning her head around to look at her rider. What has happened to you? A few months ago you would have worshipped her every word, and listened to her every order. Now you disagree with her on the smallest of things, and even while she teaches you at night it is as if the very air is made of ice.
Eragon smiled grimly to himself. I do not know. But every time I near her I feel… cold. I detest the way she looks at the world, so uncaring and heartless. Why must everything be based on logic? Why must everyone so be ruthless?
You thought her of this same way before, though in a much better light. Replied Saphira. But that only added to your attractions, seeing her full of mystery and cold as the winter snow, sometimes full of life as flowers in spring. Why do you feel this way now?
Eragon fingered the hilt of Brisingr as he thought of the question.
We are truly in war. He said finally. We see the worst in every being, and the worst of us is bared for anyone to see. And no matter what the others say, I am not a warrior at heart. I am a mere farm boy, with his fates twisted against him.
The corners of Saphira's mouth turned upwards into a small smirk. I wonder what the men would think of what you have just said. If farm boys could slay Shades and become Shur'tugal, I daren't think of how many unnamed farming villages would suffer.
Eragon laughed, the shadow on his heart lessening, little by little. He looked to the north, and gazed at the tall walls of Belatona. The last rays of the sun cast their glow on the grey stones.
Tomorrow is ours. The city will fall beneath our might, and step by step, we will grow ever nearer to the Black King and cast him off his dark throne.
Reaching up, Eragon stroked Saphira's scales.
And he will curse the day he ever heard our names.
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Okay then… the next chapter will be the start of the long and exciting siege, in which strange things will appear by the dozen and when the main plot of the story truly begins to start.
On an added note… I turned sixteen this Wednesday. Don't know whether I should be happy or sad about it though. Sixteen years and I'm still pretty much a worthless guy.
Or as my friend would say, "Each birthday that comes by signals that you just lost another year to live…"
Anyway, I'm really happy with Fanfiction net. Why? Because the review button just became so goddarned big. And when something becomes big, you know you wanna press it.