Chapter 5: Conversations with a Rider
(A/N: Just to clear up a question I've had people PM me about - the setting and locale are to be read as slightly AU, what with Du Weldenvarden and all. I just wanted a location close-ish to the Spine to make Ialana's journey a little more straightforward.)
"Alright. Tell me about it. What happened to you? When did you meet Arya?"
"First one thing, Argetlam."
"What thing?"
"Tell me truly, oh Eragon DragonRider - did you kill Durza?"
"I thought everyone knew that..."
"Did you kill Durza?"
"Yes, I did."
Ialana simply stared at the wall for a moment. "I thought it could never be true", she murmured. "I thought it could not be true!"
"What are you talking about? Did you have some grudge against Durza?"
"I think you are ready for the real thing", he says. "The real thing?", she inquires. "The real thing", he repeats. "I will show you the magical art in practice. You will follow my lead, and, if all goes right, you shall finally summon Dark Spirits, and then you shall truly be equal to me in every way - not a Shade, but still my every equal as a sorcerer!"
"A grudge? Shadslayer, you have a true gift for underestimation."
"Underestimation...what did he do to you?"
"He used me. He pretended to love me, then betrayed me. He trained me in sorcery, that most dangerous of magical arts, then tricked me into summoning things I couldn't handle or control, making me...*this*."
"Well...I have a question of my own. Have you killed anyone?"
"Yes. But only in my violent Shade periods."
Eragon shook his head and whistled, all at once. "And you had the nerves to come to Nasuada? If Nasuada was a leader in Carvahall, you'd be walking to your hanging."
Ialana smiled darkly. "Meaning what, Shadeslayer? Whether I like it or not, I am a Shade. I can only be killed one way. So it matters not what your Lady Nasuada decides to do with me, unless she is a crack shot or incredibly lucky, she will never be rid of me!" The half-Shade stifled an "evil laugh" at the end of that statement. Eragon sighed.
"I can try a simple healing spell on you", he offered.
"Agreed."
The magic is too strong. She cannot control the spirits she has just summoned - instead, they are controlling her. Her hair turns a shade of red somewhere between cinnamon and flame, her dark skin bleaches a creamy pale color, a maroon color, a color like roses or maybe wine, creeps into her eyes. "Your name is Ialana", Durza whispers. "You are one of us." "No!", she screams. "Durzaaaa! Durzaaaaa!"
"Touch my hand", Eragon instructed.
Ialana touched the palm of her left hand to Eragon's right, perfectly aligning her fingers with his. "Begin, Argetlam."
"Waise hiell!" Be healed!
Well, it did something at any rate. The deep cut on Ialana's chest from her fight with the innkeeper faded and disappeared. But otherwise, she stayed just the same as she had been before. Red hair, pale skin, red-violet eyes. A Shade. No longer an injured Shade, but...a Shade.
She was still the one thing she had hoped not to be.
Eragon pulled his hand away. "Sorry."
"It is not your fault, Argetlam. Healing spells are not supposed to cure inward afflictions."
Ialana hoped he would do it again, though, somehow. She wanted to touch his hand again. Eragon Shadeslayer, Shurt'ugal Argetlam, was a very attractive young man, and touching him gave her a feeling she had not felt since...
Since Durza.
(A/N: Wow. 1/3 (ish) of the way through, and already I have 367 views, 5 reviews, 5 follows, and 3 faves! Thanks so much guys. It's great that you are willing to spend your time reading my work. Onward!)