Here's the next chapter! Now I must say, this is where I start to get into the secrets that Arya had learned during her pregnancy. Now I didn't mention this before, now did I? Well now I am, seeing as it was part of the plot and in the summary. It'll be playing a major role many chapters after this one, so don't expect it to be too much surfaced yet. Hint- What happened to Zar'roc as his Rider died?
Disclaimer- Inheritance isn't mine… why would I be writing a FANFICTION if it was? XP
Murtagh sat up, unsteady. He would have fallen backwards if not for Nasuada steadying him. He thanks her as he shoved his leg gingerly into his breeches.
"Why don't you heal the wound, Murtagh?" Nasuada asked, worried that it may reopen and spill the small amount of blood he had left.
He pulled the breeches to his waist before answering. "I want to remember why and how we happened. I'm going to let it grow into a scar."
Nasuada nodded as she pulled on her clothing. Her horse had stayed within the area, and she called to him. Patting the roan's neck fondly, she looked to Thorn. He was still sleeping, mirroring how Murtagh needed to be. She leapt onto her horse's back, discovering that she had not ridden with a saddle the day before. Murtagh was sitting behind her in a moment and the roan reared, whinnying in protest.
Thankfully both people managed to stay on the horse as Murtagh calmed it with magic. They were soon flying across the landscape on the black horse, towards the Varden.
--
Arya was sensing the trail becoming stronger and ran even faster, her feet making nothing but a soft tapping sound. She still felt extremely guilty for what she had done with Faolin, but was attempting to put it all behind her.
She thought back to when she had been carrying Kaïdon. In the final months, just weeks before Saphira gave birth, she had been told in a dramur kopa about past Riders that had not been known by even Oromis-elda until he had passed on. Briefly she paused as the memory overtook her:
I was walking on the still-scorched ground high up in the mountains. Of course I knew this site very well, all elves had been to the site where the Fall had taken place. A sudden flashback overtook me and I was standing in a rather green meadow, but I could hear roars of dragons as they belched fire and screams of Riders as either they were stabbed or their dragon died.
I looked up to see the Fall taking place, watching as the Wyrdfell, the Forsworn attacked their previous comrades with no mercy. They breathed fire over dragon's backs, burning the scales and the Rider as the pair fell from the sky.
The Rider's sword was my only focus, and not by my choice. The name of the sword, in this case it was Waterlily, was un-inscribing itself from the blade. The blade went from its great yellow splendor to a pale, almost white color. The dead Rider twitched and the Dragon moved its wing, but then no more movement as the sword hit the ground, separate from the Rider.
Suddenly all true Riders were falling from the sky, their swords clattering to the burning meadow. The blades did not burn, but were losing all of their might as a Rider's sword as they fell, leaving their names behind. All that was left were the bloody thirteen Forsworn with the Black King, traitors to the pact of Riders. All wild dragons were heading to the North, away from their ashamed elven comrades.
Now I find a Rider's blade, a turquoise one. I remember that it was once called Pillager. Overwhelming knowledge hits me as I grasp my forehead, trying to understand. I cannot send him to this damned site… He will not be able to do it alone!
"Or will he?" Oromis asked, walking up to Arya with his blade. Its name, Truth, was no longer inscribed into the blade. Like all other blades during the Fall, his blade had lost its once golden shine. He dropped it onto the earth and disappeared.
When Arya came back into awareness, she was kneeling on the ground, gasping for air. And still in the blackness. Eragon's presence was so close… She stood and began running again in the direction of the white door that still wasn't visible.
--
Eragon stood, stretching as the new dawn approached. He changed his clothes. He was pulling on his shirt as Jarsha came in to deliver food and take out the cold, uneaten mush from the day before. Eragon looked to the plate, finding there was meat upon it. He slapped it off of the wooden table and onto the floor. The sight of it disgusted him.
He sat at the desk in his tent, looking from time to time over to Arya's unmoving form. Unrolling a few scrolls, he read them absently. There was nothing he could, or would do until Arya either died or awoke. If she died he would be extremely distraught and most likely leave the land of Alagäesia with Saphira, as her mate would also be dead.
Katrina's head emerged into the tent. She placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder, squeezing it gently. He looked up slowly to her face. She glanced to Arya and he knew what she would talk about.
"How are you coping, Eragon? On the inside? From the outside it looks pretty bad." Katrina said gently.
He shrugged the opposite shoulder. "It's worse there if that tells you anything." He answered truthfully. Katrina would always be a caring person at heart… he should bring her to Ellesmera and read a few scrolls about descendants of King Palancar. For some reason he though he would find her name there.
Katrina wrapped him into a large hug. "Eragon, I know it is hard to have a loved one like this. But please… Don't take it too extremely." She looked to see the chunks of meat scattered on the dirt floor and let go. "Would you like me to get you a vegetarian meal?"
Eragon squeezed her back and let her stand again when she let go. He shrugged, his universal answer to everything at the moment.
She put her finger on her chin in a thinking pose. "Will you eat it if I bring it here, or will it be ignored? I could bring some ale if you like."
He let a small smile go to Katrina. "Yes, mother. Please bring the ale too." He teased. Katrina nodded and left the tent, smiling broadly at the small victory. Roran caught her heading to the food tents.
"Are you hungry again, Katrina?" he asked incredulously.
"No. I'm getting Eragon a meal." She said to him in a proud tone.
Roran's mouth dropped open. "He actually will eat it? How did you get him to do that, my love?"
He shook her copper curls out of her face. "He will if I bring him a few pints of ale with it. All it took was some compassion of a caring female he knows."
Roran sighed. "That isn't like him… the ale part, at least. I'm glad you could get through to him though." He kissed her on the cheek before gripping his axe tighter and going to cut firewood.
"An elf meal and three pints of the best ale you got for Eragon, please." Katrina said. The cook looked at her with wide, questioning eyes. She responded by telling him it took a female and leaving it at that. The chef, knowing Katrina was happily married, did not think one thing dirty as he handed over the items she asked for. She thanked him and left.
"Here you are Eragon." She said, placing the items on the wooden table. She looked to them left where Eragon was hovering over Arya's unconscious form, brushing her hair aside with his fingers. She grabbed his elbow with a grip as if she were holding a babe and pulled ever so slightly.
He looked to her with a blank face. "I brought your food and ale." Katrina told him in a clear voice, speaking a bit slower than she would to him normally. He looked to the small table and picked up a pint of ale, draining it within a minute before picking up a slice of fruit and chewing it. To him it was tasteless and did nothing as he was numb of feelings, but it made Katrina happy so he did it.
Picking up a rather rich-looking raspberry, he offered it to Katrina. She took at and chewed carefully, watching him drink more ale and put down the half-empty glass before getting more food from the plate.
When Katrina hugged him and left, Eragon had eaten the full plate of food besides the few fruits he had offered her, and drank all but half a pint of ale. She decided to take the leftover ale to Roran, who accepted it gratefully and was amazed by her story.
"Feed him every day then. It's good for him to eat when he's so distraught." Roran said. Katrina agreed and thought she would go back to the tent with a dinner meal for him later on. Starting him off with just two meals a day would be a welcomed start to getting him out of his tent for more than just occasionally riding his dragon.
--
Clumsily getting off of the sleek roan's back, Murtagh took a few steps to steady himself. The pale Zar'roc was at his side, and its color was slightly richer every passing minute as the sword realized it was being carried by its Rider. 'Misery' had been re-carved into the blade.
Jormundur steadied Murtagh by putting his hands lightly on the younger man's shoulders. Murtagh thanked him, looking into his eyes with much deeper appreciation than his voice could handle. Nasuada was glad she had not made her relationship with Jormundur known as she walked holding Murtagh's hand lightly. This was not only out of love but also out of love but also out of safety. If Murtagh should fall, Nasuada would pull him towards her to steady him as he was very little blood in his system.
Murtagh smiled as he held Nasuada's hand, barely noticing Katrina come out of Eragon's tent. They walked into the pavilion and left one flap of the tent open as to allow visitors.
--
Saphira poked her massive head into the tent. The first thing she noticed was the meat, which she cleaned off the floor with a swoop of her rough tongue. She stuck out her tongue after swallowing to wrap around Eragon's wrist. Want to go flying, Little One? Bhronnë will keep an eye on her.
Eragon shrugged. The only answer she would get out of him was this. He left the tent and climbed onto his dragon's back, watching as she extracted her head from the dark-colored canvas and Bhronnë stuck his in. She walked a little ways and leaped, her wings flapping to get into an air stream.
Saphira was occupying herself with little tasks such as checking people of the Varden's mind protections seeing as the depressed Eragon would not talk. All he could hear from his distant thoughts were things like, she was the one I depended upon. How can I live once more without her? Saphira had blocked those thoughts from her mind.
She found an unprotected mind that belonged to a training warrior. Guard you mind young one. She advised, breaking the contact and searching for more unguarded minds and she flew above the campus.
--
Still no door! Arya thought, frustrated. She was famished, and knew that she would not be able to fill herself because she was feeling what her real body was feeling. An elf in a coma cannot to much of anything in the real world. But then again, not many things could.
She stretched out on the floor, lying on grass instead of eternal darkness. She had learned to control this world well, and put her hands behind her head to see a night sky surrounded by the trees of Du Weldenvarden. In this body, she was tired. Her hues closed and she was nothing but a sleeping elf.
Awakening, Arya felt energized and began running to Eragon's presence again when she was stopped by Islanzadí. "No more looking for your lover's presence, my child. Now you look for your own and slip into it to live your life once more." Arya nodded and ran a few hundred yards, finding quite faint traces of her own presence. She followed that now, walking so as not to lose the trace.
Suddenly her neck was in great pain and she cried out for help. Of course nobody was there, so she fell to the ground and writhed. Bhronnë is hurt… She thought helplessly.
--
Bhronnë sensed the man coming. But not his evil intentions. The man in the dark cloak stabbed the great emerald dragon in the neck, bringing out a knife coated in dark blood. He roared inside the tent and lifted his front paw, pushing the man to the ground and pinning him around his claws. He retracted his head from the tent with great pain, as the wound bled heavily. He lifted a claw.
I don't think you will ever want to stab a dragon again, foolish one. He drove the claw through the person's head and deep into the dirt. Murtagh had heard the roar and rushed to the scene. Bhronnë growled menacingly.
"Bhronnë, it is Murtagh. I would like to heal your wound." Murtagh said, taking a few cautious steps towards the dragon. He let his neck hit the ground heavily, panting with effort.
The stab wound was deep. It went almost through the dragon's neck, and Murtagh could see through hall the blood that his Great Vein was sliced through. Speaking a powerful spell, he brought forth stored energy from his sword belt. The wound slowly closed, as the bleeding stopped and the hole was decreasing in depth.
He finished the wound with a spell to clean the scales and fell to his knees. Nasuada was there beside him, offering him water. He drank it and used her hand to steady himself, slowly pulling his feet to stand in the dirt.
Thank you. Bhronnë said to Murtagh, who nodded. Drawing upon his own energy, the dragon pushed some into Murtagh.
Thank you, dragon. He responded, smiling at Arya's magnificent beast.
Okay, 3AM here and I AM NOT TIRED. But I know I should go to bed as I am using the computer against my mother's will and she would be very unhappy if she so happened to find me here. G'night readers! I hope to have another chapter up soon!
I appreciate reviews.