As they neared Surda, Eragon began to watch Aiedail more closely. The young girl had the habit of making him uneasy. It was clear that her life had only been recently changed, for when she was not watching him, she was asking questions. Questions that were either quite awkward or otherwise strange. For example, one day, out of the blue, she asked, "What happened to start the war?" It was common knowledge, what had started the war, yet she had seemingly never heard a word of it. So then he would go into an hour long description of what happen, leaving out some small parts which still were of big importance even then.
And there was something about her which confused him. She seemed so different from any other elf, yet so very familiar. The way she acted not included. There was something in her eyes, something unlike that of any other elf. Belief. She seemed to believe in the gods unlike even the most isolated of elves.
But her behavior bewildered him. Most of the Elven race, even before instruction, refused to eat meat. An orphaned elf with no knowledge of Elven customs would normally still refuse meat. But not her. Without hesitation, Aiedail would frequently steal jerky, venison, or any other kind of meat she could from Roran's bags. Much more then Roran liked.
She never let go of her pack for more then a few seconds and always seemed to be watching. Her dreams were horrific and she nearly never slept. This concerned Eragon. But she refused sleeping draughts or spells that he offered her.
As they were landing one day, he decided to try something new. Relaying his plans to Saphira, she grimly approved.
May be the best decision for now. He nodded almost unconsciously.
They were just outside Aberon, little more then two miles. And when they reached the city, chances were they'd rarely see the young elf. Eragon was determined to get some straight answers from her before that happened.
The day light was gone, signifying the end of their fourth day from Uru'baen. They had taken their time, mostly flying over forest, not village. They could have been back in two days with a few hours of daylight to spare. However, this was Eragon's first true breather in months and he was determined not to waste a moment of it. He had planed to take one while they came back from Helgrind, but for obvious reasons couldn't.
As Eragon got off Saphira, he motion to Aiedail. She came willingly without a word or a second glance. He ran briskly down the path, not as fast as he could run, just so she could keep up. Little one, not too far, okay? He could here Saphira saying in his head. He brushed her off. She knew where he was going.
I'm just going to spend the night there. He pleaded. He could feel her apprehension, but she approved reluctantly.
Slowly they wound their way through the forest, past through the brush, and finally up massive hill.
"Where are we?" Aiedail asked, winded, to Eragon, who sat on a near by stump. Said rider was taking deep, slow, rhythmic breaths; more like he had walked the two miles instead of running them.
"Hush, Aiedail and look down." He said, gesturing to the far side of the hill.
Aiedail gasped. The city was just below them. Lined streets gave way to increasing in size buildings, eventually leading to a massive one she supposed was the palace. It was all so different then where she'd spent her short life. It looked so neat and orderly in the star light; lights on sturdy buildings reflecting the stars themselves. Suddenly, all but one or two flickered out. It was as if a giant bushel had enveloped the city and snuffed their flames. She could faintly smell a sweet, perfume like smell on the light, feathery breeze and eyed a massive garden she could only just barley see. She wondered what it was like in there. She tried to ask Eragon about them, but was at a loss for words.
Finally, she was able to speak. "So, this is Aberon?"
"Yes." Eragon answered with a soft sigh. "And after tomorrow, you'll be free to look for your parents…"
"Why wait?" Aiedail asked with a twinkle of starlight in her eyes.
"The gates are closed shut tonight. Flying in on a dragon is out of the question, as the city has hidden roads and inadequate landing spaces. And even if we did find a landing space, in the low light, Saphira might as well be Shruikan. Climbing in is a no, for the city was well patrolled and constantly on alert even if we are a friend."
"Well, I suppose that's good…" Aiedail said with a sigh. She stared down at the ground for a moment, then turned her head up to face Eragon. Looking into his eyes with a look of fire in hers, she held her gaze on him as she asked, "Will I ever see you again?" Eragon was about to answer till he saw the look in her deep green eyes. It was so intense; so powerful. The world could have ended in that moment and he doubted he'd even notice.
For a second, he found himself tongue tied. Slowly, he found the words he wanted to say. "I…I don't know. In the Varden, you could see me every day or never again. We are uncertain we will even make it for our next dinner. Galbatorix grows more bold by the day. He obviously left the palace, for something. But I know not what…"
"I think I may have actually over heard that he has a meeting with someone—someone important. They said something about a spy…" Eragon's stomach sank. He knew many people spying on Imperial activities. It seemed likely one had been caught…but who? What did Galbatorix have to gain from spies? Anyone sent too far into the Empire always had suicide methods available which they would use in a situation of desperation.
While Eragon pondered these questions, Aiedail slipped into the barn. She looked around. Not a single person was inside and it looked gloomy; empty like her childhood. Why had she been so oblivious to his lies?
With nothing better to do and determined to get the annoying question out of her head, the young girl peered out from behind the door at Eragon and sighed. Surrounded in a shell of silvery moonlight, she could see why she liked him so much. His eyes were sharp and sparkling. His whole body had a mature look to it; one she really felt inclined to have in a man. His hair could use work; and he was much too short for over half the female population; but it mattered not to her. Perfection didn't exist; not even in such a godly figure.
And it wasn't just this which drew her so. It was a sense of power; of personality. He certainly had plenty of both. He was a dragon rider; a friend to immortal elves. His opinion was highly regarded nearly everywhere. He was a leader. He was a warrior and magician. But that wasn't just it either. He was a great friend and stood by even her, adopted daughter of his evil brother.
But something else. Some other connection she felt she had with him. It was like this was just how things were destined to be. Like everything at that moment was perfect.
I could fall in love with someone like him… but then came her major realization. She not only could but had fallen for him. She blinked twice, feeling like she had just looked into the light after sleeping for the first time. He turned and looked at her.
Did he feel the same?
Eragon turned after thinking for a long time towards the barn. He could see it would rain soon by thunderheads crashing through numerous clouds and a light mist already coating the area in a dewy coat. He figured that was where Aiedail had gone. He felt eyes on him as he walked towards the gloomy building. Looking intensely at him.
He pushed his way into the barn. It was dark and drafty. There was a steady drip-perhaps from a fallen bucket or other. The whole barn held its breath. Suddenly he jumped to hear a heavy pitter patter of rain
"Aiedail, where are you?" he said quietly. If his past had taught him one thing it was that this much quiet was never good. He tensed as he heard footsteps beside him, his hand falling to Adurna's sheath.
But just as he was about to pull it out of its sheath, something happened he did not expect. As he turned, warm lips met his. Still tense, he jumped, pulling out of the kiss. His hands instinctively pushed away from his attacker, sending her sprawling to the floor.
"What the hell do you think you were doing, Aiedail?" he fumed at her. She had adopted a stunning look. Her lips moved to say something, but she found she couldn't.
"I guess I was wrong." She said softly.
Eragon's tone drastically dropped, remembering she was still but a child. "I don't feel that way about you Aiedail. I can't. You're not even a year old by our reckoning. I'm over ten years older then you. Almost twenty." His words stung him as badly as they did her. She did not understand.
"Eragon, this cannot be. You are young and I am old, and that shall never change." Even as he spoke, these words burned painful memories in his mind.
"Listen. I'm not for you. Trust me." he said as softly as possible.
His own words brought back a terrible sting. Of rejection. Of humiliation. Of…
Arya.
He sighed and words started to form on his lips when suddenly, he heard a noise. Footsteps. He gave a quick glance at Aiedail, whom was standing there, dumbfounded by his rejection. Then, he did what his experience taught him to do.
Shielding his mind quickly, he reached for Aiedail's hand while covering her mind as well. He nearly pulled her off her feet, but at last they were hidden behind a large group of barrels.
The footsteps increased; both in noise level and quantity. He peeped around the barrel to see a large group of shadowed men. All wore shadowy black cloaks accompanied by no adornments but the final man to enter. His head held higher and he stood prouder. On his cloak was the blood red outline of a black dragon.
The other men formed a shadowy crescent along the opposite side. Eragon looked on with dismay. He knew he would not know if they were friend or foe or even who they were unless they were closer.
The leader stood in the center, looking at the men whom were before him. He waited till there was absolutely no noise; though there hadn't been much to begin with.
"Friends, brothers, we are gathered here to discuss the fate of the Society. It is vitally important. For our enemies, even now, plan our downfall."
"You just say that." A man near the end closest to the door sneered. "We don't even know who this man is. Why should we even listen to him?" Suddenly, without warning, the man dropped dead. The men started to shift uneasily till the man near the center growled. They, once again, became silent.
"We serve our country. We cannot let them down." He said solemnly. Suddenly, someone broke through entrance and then the crowd. His cloak was blood red.
"Karp e tu'maer?" the leader spoke. But Eragon knew from his tone he was beaming beneath his cloak. He instantly recognized his words from an old dialect as "Shall the sun fall?"
"Ter'ie amar." The other replied. His voice was young and strong. What he had answered was "Into darkness." The two men gave a chuckle and embraced.
"Teviu, yu tasu, teviu u hec Ama Limto." Eragon almost gasped. He whimpered the translation to Aiedail, "Welcome, my son, welcome to the Black Hand."
