Author's note: Thanks to all those who reviewed, feedback is always appreciated and a good motivation to keep on writing; you reviews truly made my day. Sorry for the long wait, but I was away on holiday and did not have wifi or a computer for that matter. But now school is up and running again so I'll probably have time to write during the weekends; not promising anything, though.
This chapter is supposed to act as a sort of transition chapter, with a bit of foreshadowing and backstory thrown into the mix. The action truly starts in the next chapter when we get the wheels of fate turning.
Chapter 2 – On the Road to Derwit
The morning dawned clear; the air hung bitter cold as they reached the steps leading down into the courtyard. Murtagh tightened the quite thin yet warm cloak around his shoulders. A bag made of tough leather hung over his left shoulder, containing nought but a blanket, a change of clothing, and bowl and a spoon, both wooden. Eryana hopped down the steps in front of him excitedly, having ditched the dress for a simple tunic and leggings, her shoulder length brown lock bouncing upon her shoulders. They had been up since before the crack of dawn, before the servants, so it had been her big brother who had been drafted to do battle with her unruly bedhead. Tornac wished for them to be well on their way by high noon.
The old swordmaster was already waiting for them, clutching the reins of a gelding and a mare, Beren and Kaith. His bags had already been latched onto the saddle of the latter, the white mare stomping the muddied ground appearing somewhat restless. Eryana squealed in glee, hurrying up to Beren, whilst digging around her pockets for a lump of sugar. The sweet treat had no doubt been stolen from the kitchens the day before. The cream-coloured, elderly horse accepted the threat rather eagerly, licking her fingers and nosing around the hem of her tunic for more; an action, which earned a giggle from the girl.
"Morning, my little lady." Tornac spoke, capturing the young girl in a loving bear-hug. "How fair her highness on this fine morn?" He inquired playfully, relieving her of her little bag. "My, this is heavy!" He exclaimed, apparently struggling with the weight. "You didn't blackmail your dear brother into smuggling half the library with you, did you?" He shot a falsely reprimanding look at his older charge.
"Not for the lack of trying, thought" replied Murtagh at his sister's expense.
"Hey! Its only one bookand we'll be gone for five days…. I need something to keep myself sane around you two." Eryana muttered in embarrassment, her face flustered.
Murtagh was already mounted on Beren, after having checked the saddle straps and adjusted the stirrups. "Up you get, my lady." Tornac grabbed Eryana's lithe form, heaving her onto the saddle to sit in front of her brother. Murtagh steadied her with an assuring hand at her waist, before setting Beren into a steady trot. They soon excited the courtyard, heading for the northern gate with Tornac not far behind.
The streets of Uru'baen were fairly quiet at such an early hour, with only a few beggars lining the alleyways. They passed by a group of children around Eryana's age heading for the well and had to stop to give way to an apple cart heading for the mid-level market. The capital of the Empire was built around the palace in three tiers, or levels as they were more commonly called. The levels were separated from each other by gated walls and the gates would remain closed from an hour after dusk till an hour before dawn. It made the city easy to defend, should the enemy succeed in invading one level. The houses on the upper level were higher than the one-floor shacks in the lower level, where most of the populace, mainly peasants, lived. The middle level was home to the many shopkeepers, merchants and craftsmen of the city and also housed the largest markets. On the upper level lived the wealthy, mainly city officials and those high in command in the army as well as nobles.
It seemed strange that despite having called the city their home for most, if not all, of their lives, they both still felt like strangers riding down the streets. Most of their lives had been spent inside the innermost walls that surrounded the royal palace and neither of them truly had friends their age. Murtagh caught Eryana casting a wistful glance at a group of young boys playing with what appeared to be marbles at the mouth of an alleyway as they passed through the middle level.
"Elbow up. Straighten your arm, keep it steady" Murtagh instructed his sister, steadying her pose with his hands on her shoulders. "Relax your shoulders…. that's right. Now, draw the string back all the way to your cheek and don't let go" It had been earlier that morning that Eryana had talked him into teaching her the basics of archery. At first, Murtagh had refused when he had been asked the week prior, saying that the archery range was no place for little girls. However, the mater had not been dropped and now, after much pleading and a few subtle attempts at bribery, here he was teaching little Eryana to shoot her first arrow.
Eryana bit her lip, her lithe, small arms quivering from the strain of keeping the bow drawn, Murtagh noticed this. They had had a little difficulty scouring the armoury for a bow her size; perhaps, if he showed any promise, Murtagh would inquire Tornac to have one made especially for her. "Now control your breathing, slow it down. Try to hear your heartbeat, ok? Take aim, it helps if you close one of your eyes." Eryana gave an almost unnoticeable nod. "And, when you're ready, release." These was a twang as the arrow was let go and Eryana stumbled back in surprise as well as from the unexpected power of the recoil. The arrow sailed off course and Murtagh watched with faint amusement as it sailed over the wall quite a good distance away.
"Well at least it flew a decent distance." He chuckled as Eryana flushed scarlet in embarrassment. Truly it wasn't that bad of a first shot, and her posture had been quite good. "Come on, we'll have to retrieve it. Let's just hope you didn't kill anyone." He remarked jokingly. It was early morning and most of the city had yet to wake. Murtagh doubted the shot had gone very far past the wall.
They waited a while in order to sneak through the gates unnoticed, else word of their venture would no doubt reach Galbatorix within the hour; neither of the siblings wished to be reprimanded for sneaking about. Murtagh ushered them down the main street, keeping an eye out for guards or soldier lingering around while Eryana gazed around them curiously in awe.
Thought it was still early, barely past dawn, there was some activity and bustle on the streets. The street they were on was known for its colourful markets, selling goods from all the four corners of Alagaesia and Murtagh could already see many a travelling merchant setting up their stall, having no doubt entered the city when the gates had been opened an hour before daybreak. Already, he could spot prospective buyers loitering about, most of them nobility or of other higher social standing judging by their appearance. Murtagh was rather relieved that the two of them seemed to blend right in, no one sparing them a second glance. He held Eryana's hand securely as they doubled back towards the palace walls, with her whispering in excitement and pointing enthusiastically at anything of interest. Murtagh listened to her with only half an ear.
Suddenly she stopped making her brother's step falter. It took Murtagh a while to realise what she was staring at. At the side of the road he could see two boy, a blonde and a brown-haired one, sword-fighting. Not with real sword, mind you; they were using what appeared to be more like sticks than wooden swords. Regardless, the blonde haired lad appeared to be quite good, for they had gathered a good crowd of spectators.
The dark-haired boy fell over unceremoniously, the wooden sword being flung from his hand, clattering to land at Eryana's feet. Bending over, she picked up the wooden sword examining its withered surface with interest. "Can I play?" She asked smiling sweetly.
"Hey! That's mine! Give it back!" The boy who had fallen over exclaimed, ripping the sword from her hands roughly. "Don't touch other persons' things, thief!" He sneered with narrowed eyes.
"But I can still play, right?" Eryana repeated, seemingly unfazed by the boy's words. Murtagh took a step forward, ready to intervene.
It was the dark haired youth that answered, scowling at the girl. "Father says girls can't handle swords. They only good for cleaning and cooking like my mama does." His tone was self-righteous, even a bit condescending. "Go back to your dolls, princess." He mocked, giving Eryana a shove, making her stumble. She tripped, ripping her leggings and knee open. Murtagh saw red.
Eryana was up in an instant her face furious with traces of tears on her cheeks. "I'm not a princess!" She stated forcefully.
To her irritation the boy started laughing. "Whatever you say, my lady." He teased giving a mock bow. She tackled him to the ground in a tumble of limbs. The crowd of surrounding youngsters cheered. In the end, Murtagh had to drag her away kicking and screaming before she got herself black and blue. They never did find the arrow.
Murtagh scowled lightly at the memory. Tornac must have caught the look on his face as it was shortly after that they stopped by a merchant setting up his stall for the day. Murtagh caught the exchange of a couple of copper pieces before he was presented with a stick of hard caramel. Eryana grabbed hers eagerly, thanking the man. Murtagh had never preferred sweets, but he had to admit that, however childish, the sweet taste of toffee mixed with crunchy almonds seemed to brighten up the mood, if even only a little.
The weather favoured them that day; the sun had come out from behind the clouds not long after they had set out and there was no harsh wind blowing and biting bitterly at their cheeks. They had made swift time on their journey and they weren't an hour out of the city gates that Murtagh spotted a familiar sight in the near distance. It wasn't until he spotted the stones marking the bounds of the estate that he called out to Tornac. "If we aren't in too much of hurry, would you mind paying a visit?" He nodded his head towards the rooftops just visible behind a grove of trees.
Tornac looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing his lip. "Are you sure? I though you would never want to go back there… after what happened."
Murtagh shrugged plainly, no visible emotion upon his face. "I don't, but she deserves to see her, you know." He stated, motioning at his sister's prone form. Tornac nodded and steered them towards the new destination. Eryana had fallen asleep not long ago, apparently the early wake-up call had taken too much out of her. Her head was leaning comfortably against Murtagh's chest, cloak wrapped warmly around her slumbering form. Murtagh nudged the girl awake gently. "Hey Era, we are going to visit mum, okay?" Eryana only blinked owlishly, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her brother's words completely incomprehensible in her current state.
It was not long before they came upon a set of iron gates set in a wall of limestone. Murtagh gazed at what lay beyond with a haunted expression, memories of the place overwhelming him, most of them unpleasant. He thought he could still hear the screams before he realized it was simply a breeze playing under the tin roofing. Ghosts, eh? They steered left of sight, to his relief, heading towards a small glade hidden in a sparse outcrop of birch trees.
His mother had hated the walls that had kept her prisoner ever since Murtagh was born. Maybe hate was too much of strong word, for Murtagh didn't think his late mother capable of such. She had held no love for the place, however, and often sought solace in the gardens, with her eldest child at her side feeding the ducks that frequented the little pond there. Murtagh cherished those bittersweet memories fondly. It came as a relief that she had been, perhaps out of pity or benevolence, been buried here in the middle of the trees, with her grave adorned by lilies of the valley. At the time, Murtagh had been surprised the King had had nothing to say against the act, only to offer his condolences. It was one of the things Murtagh was most thankful for.
After dismounting and helping Eryana down from Beren, he handed the reins to Tornac to hold; the man wished not to intrude. Eryana was already kneeling by the withered stone slab that marked the grave when he reached her side, no doubt giving a silent prayer as was custom. He muttered his own prayers quickly, thought the words felt hollow; Murtagh had never held much fate in the gods. Tornac had once asked him that if the gods truly punished sin, then why did man still walk this earth.
"Hi mum. Been a long time eh? Hope you're happy up there or where ever you are." He muttered softly, knowing he would get no answer. "Eryana's here too, you know, turned ten just a couple of months past. It's a nice day today, you'd love it. With the sun and the warmth." Murtagh smiled softly. It was comforting, thinking that their mother could hear him, even if he felt somewhat stupid. "We are off to Derwit, you know. Tornac promised me my first sword, since I'm turning sixteen in a couple of weeks. He says they've got the best smithy there. Eryana wants to see the market."
"She looks a lot like you, you know. Smart, witty, sometimes quite annoying and too nosy for her own good. But I love her, even if she gets into trouble every once in a while. Livens up the place a little." Murtagh chuckled, thought there was a hint of his voice cracking. "She loves books like you; always holed up in the library. And archery too, she ain't too bad with the bow. You'd be so proud of her."
Eryana gave her brother a blinding grin, before turning to their mother. "Hello mother… Tag' has told me bit about you, not quite a lot I admit, but still. He can be such an annoying prat at times, stubborn and secretive." Eryana nudged her brother's side playfully earning a half-hearted glare. "But he's still my big brother and my best friend. He even helps me get away from Lade Katherine… sometimes." She fell quiet, not knowing what to say; Eryana had never known her mother, only what little her brother had told her. Sometimes, asking Murtagh about their mother was like pulling out rotten teeth. It was Tornac who had told her more of her mother's gentle nature and yet her fierceness in battle; Eryana aspired to be just like her.
Tornac pulled them both out of their thoughts, wrapping a comforting, warming arm around both of their shoulders. Eryana leaned into him whilst Murtagh stood stoic. The man addressed the grave. "You should be proud, Selena. Your lad has grown up to be a proper, honest man and your daughter is a young and curious, yet clever lass… perhaps a bit too clever, if you ask this old man." He laughed. "Thank you" He told the heavens passionately, "for bringing light back into this old man's life."
They stood there for a while after, all three lost in their own thoughts. Before leaving, Eryana set a wreath of flowers her brother had helped her make on the grave; although the world might seem bleak and cruel at times, they still had each other. She grasped her brother's arms tightly as they set off, yet Murtagh didn't seem to mind.
They sat around a crackling fire late into the night, the skies above them darkening with star-lights bursting into life in their thousands. Murtagh had gone out hunting earlier, catching a couple of forest hares wondering about. Now a tasty stew was boiling slowly over the flames, being occasionally stirred and seasoning added to it. The scent made both Murtagh and Eryana's mouths water.
Tornac sat by the fire, opposite of the siblings, on a log with his carving knife out and a bit of timber clasped in his hand, expertly chipping away at the grain. A light smile of contentment adorned his eyes and he seemed more relaxed than Murtagh had ever before seen him. It suited him well, he thought, as the man looked about a decade younger than he usually did. He was humming softly, though Murtagh couldn't make out the words however hard he tried. "What is it you are singing?" He inquired after a moment, startling Eryana from where her head lay against his left shoulder; He would no doubt have a kink come morning.
Tornac blinked, not pausing in his carving. "It's a tale about a pair of lovers, both human, though one was mortal while the other was not. Their names I cannot recall, for I don't know all the words some have lost their meaning." He smiled fondly at the flames before continuing. "It's a song my mother used to sing, and her mother before that."
"How come the other was immortal? They were human weren't they?" Murtagh asked in thought.
"The man was indeed immortal, though he hadn't always been. For you see, he had been blessed by a dragon when he was young, though this was apparently well before the order of riders existed." Tornac mused. The man raised a hand, seeing as Murtagh was about to interrupt him. "Before you ask, this happened in a land far to the west, well before humans had ever set foot on Alagaesia."
"Is it a happy story?" Inquired Eryana, the words having piqued her interest as well.
Tornac leaned over to stoke the fire, throwing another log to the flames. He shook his head. "It often is a harsh fate when one is destined to outlive the other by years upon years. This tale is no different, though they both shared many blissful years and were blessed with three children who became great among men." His gaze became wistful. "But time was unforgiving and old age did them part. And it was with great sorrow in his heart that the man took to the winds with his partner of mind and soul and scattered his love's ashes across the continents far and wide. And where the ashes fell, the earth was rich and flourished under care, for it is said the woman held great love for all things grown. The man and his dragon flew on still, their tears falling to the ground like rain drops, watering his loves garden."
Murtagh gazed into the pot, sniffing with an unreadable expression upon his face. "I think the stew is just about done." he said, giving the insides a final stir. Eryana wiped away a stray tear from her cheek before gathering their bowls. They ate in relative silence, before it was broken by Tornac challenging Murtagh to a quick spar by the firelight. Eryana cheered them on well into the morning.
It was many hours after dawn when they set out the next morning, after smothering their fire and burying the remnants of last night's dinner, hoping to sight Derwit well into the afternoon.