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Hey guys! I'm back with a kinda short chapter, but at least I updated quickly, didn't I? Here's more Melikir, as promised!

Chapter 30: Children Marked by Dragons

Melikir arrived in his room, only to see that someone was inside already. Jormundur stood by the door, arms crossed, with Farica staring at him timidly. Her father's old friend had his helm tucked under his right arm, his left hand planted on the pommel of his blade. He bowled quickly and said, "My Lord, I'm sorry to disturb you. I understand that you need your rest."

Though tired, the young leader shook his head. "It is of no consequence. How is your son today?" He smiled at the veteran, who alone in the Council of Elders immediately accepted his leadership and served him with the loyalty and determination that he presented to Ajihad. He also quietly noted that if all the warriors in the Varden were like him, they would have been unstoppable.

"His cough has finally subsided."

"I am glad to hear that. Now, is there something you need?" Melikir shot Farica a look, and the servant blushed brighter before looking away.

Jormundur frowned, lines marring his still otherwise smooth face. He raised a hand, about to run it over his tied hair, until he thought better of it and shook his head. "Magic of the strangest kind has occurred, and you must come see."

Melikir blinked. Magic of the strangest kind? But wasn't magic strange enough on its own already? "What's happening?"

"The babe the Riders blessed…" Jormundur let out a puff of breath. There were many exaggerated stories circulating about the girl in question, and it was coupled with the Varden's hopes for what she might amount to someday, but the subject was still a very sensitive matter. After all, the child was barely four years old, and the battle with Galbatorix would already be won or lost before she grew up to amount to anything. "I have been asked to take you to her."

"Asked? By whom – and why?"

"There was a boy on the practice field who told me that you might want to visit her – find something of interest. Refused to tell me his name, but he resembled the witch's werecat when it transforms, so I thought you should know." Jormundur looked away in embarrassment. "Anyway, Sir, I asked some people about the child, and they all agreed on something. There's something special about her."

"Special. That is a very broad word." Melikir paused, considering. "In what way do they say is she special?"

"Enough for you to want to take a look. You should believe what the werecat said."

Melikir frowned, remembering that in the old stories, men believed werecats unless they wanted to be doomed. Melikir somehow trusted the werecat's companion, whom he understood to be someone near Brom's level in knowledge and experience. He knew that he should distrust magic, but those two people often gave him valuable advice, though the herbalist was quite unpredictable and highly independent. "Magic," he mused in interest.

"Yes, magic," Jormundur said in awe. "Well, shall you see the child?"

Melikir nodded. "I want to visit her. Is she within this castle?"

"Orrin gave her and her caretaker rooms on the west side of the keep upon hearing the tale of the blessings."

"Very well." Melikir glanced at his servant. "Please postpone the rest of my appointments for today. I do not know how long it will take for me to see this child and know what to do with her, understand?"

Farica bowed. "As you wish, Sir. It will be done."

With a nod, Melikir headed out of his room. Jormundur snapped his fingers, directing four guards to take up positions around the young leader before he himself joined the boy's side to point out their course. The heat within the castle was starting to take an unbearable level, and Melikir wondered how Jormundur could handle it with his heavy armor. He was aware that his dark skin was helping him handle the heat better, and was thankful for it.

He kept close watch on the men around him, knowing the effects of heatstroke. A number of his people collapsed from it already, and two of them died an hour or two later. He did not want to lose more of his subjects and refrained from driving them beyond their physical limits. He bade them to stop whenever he deemed that they needed to rest, ignoring their objections, and even asked them to get drinks from a servant.

It happened twice before they reached their destination – an unassuming door deep in the castle. The floor around the area was littered with an assortment of gifts, some of them even carefully wrapped in parcels. Jormundur hesitated before knocking.

"Who is it?" a quavering voice asked.

"Lord Melikir, come to see the child," the veteran answered.

"Be you of true heart and steadfast resolve?"

Melikir found it more prudent if he was the one who answered. "My heart is pure and my resolve is as iron."

"Cross the threshold and be welcome."

The door opened, leading into an entryway lit by an array of pale blue – almost white – dwarf lanterns. There was no one at the door, so Melikir proceeded onward. The walls and ceiling were swathed with layers of pale fabric, making it appear brighter than it should, and for some reason, the air was quite cold – almost chilly. He knew that it was magic and made a mental note to ask Brom to enchant his room that way.

He knew that people had a right to fear – even mistrust – magic, but rightly handled, he was starting to realize just how much convenient life is with magic. He wondered how elves did not grow fat and lazy with all the magical abilities that they had.

He brushed aside a bead curtain, finding himself in what looked like a cluttered sitting room filled with mismatched furniture. White dwarf lanterns gave the room a pearly beauty, making Melikir's eyes water.

A crone, bent with age, watched him from one corner, with Angela the herbalist and her werecat standing beside her. A pale girl of about three or four years old stood with them, gazing at Melikir with timid violet eyes. She bowed to Melikir, and somehow reminded him of Roran. "I am Elva," she said in a small, quivering voice. She looked up, the dragon mark shimmering on her brow.

Protectiveness surged through Melikir as he saw how small and vulnerable the child was. Was this the magic that Jormundur spoke of – compelling him to protect her at all cost? Melikir bent down on his knees to level his eyes with Elva's. "Greetings, Elva. I am Melikir – but you must know that already, I presume."

"I do." Elva nodded and wrung her small white dress. For such a fragile-looking child, strength still seemed to show through. It was a quiet strength, as she was still very young, but it was there. Given time, it would blossom into something that could make her a formidable enemy and a valuable ally.

With a shake of his head, Melikir smiled. "Were you the child blessed by the Riders and marked by dragons?"

"Yes," the child said simply. The child's eyes seemed to flash momentarily – they seemed to look like a dragon's for a split second. "I remember them. Beautiful, beautiful."

Knowing that the child might not give him the answer he sought for, he glanced at her caretaker and Angela. "Did the blessing give her gifts?"

Angela blinked, her pale gray eyes boring into Melikir's brown ones. "There is magic in the child's blood," she said. "I know not if we should call that a gift. I cannot tell you as early as now if she will be able to use magic when she grows up, but what I can tell you is the magic in her blood causes urges in people. It makes them want to protect her. No harm can come to her. I have seen it with my own eyes. Either someone suddenly jumps in the way of danger, or the danger itself will find a way to avert it."

"Clarify this."

"If something is about to fall on her, someone will try to shield her from harm, something will get in the way or the falling objects in question will simply miss her, even if it is not possible at all." Angela paused in consideration. "The person who tries to protect her will end up unharmed too. We cannot fully understand the full consequences of the blessing but it does her good and does nobody any harm. We do not know the effects that the dragon mark had on her either, but I am aware that it gave the blessing more power to protect her better. This has never happened in recorded history before."

"A most curious case."

"Yes, a case that has never been seen before in the entire history of magic. I even tried casting her future, but it's a hopeless quagmire – almost as baffling as the Riders'. Lovely word, by the way. It's not just because of the blessing itself, but the fact that it will place her in a position where she is bound to interact with a wide variety of people who will be closely intertwined to her, like the aforementioned Riders. She will live an unusually long life, though."

Melikir nodded. After a few more pleasantries with Elva and her caretaker, he left the room, followed by Angela. "I assume that she is not dangerous."

"We're all dangerous."

"You know what I mean," the young leader said impatiently.

Angela cackled. For someone who looked barely older than him, it made her sound almost as old and terrifying as the crone who cared for Elva. "She could be more dangerous than some, but definitely less than most. The ones she's most likely to kill would probably be the people who would wish to do her harm. If she meets someone who realizes who she is and tries to harm her… with the blessing in place, I think any attempts of harm will backfire."

Melikir thought back to the girl's vivid violet eyes. "I once heard a tale about most heirs to the Empire having violet eyes. That alone was Galbatorix's claim, though he was the king's nephew – who was thirteenth in line for the throne, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, with the king's numerous children – none with the violet eyes – Galbatorix felt that he had a better claim."

Melikir nodded, realizing that the child – and a certain other Rider with similar attributes – might be more important than he thought before. They can't make assumptions that the child will be safe from harm completely, and they can't make any risks. He looked at Angela, who he knew was strange and unpredictable. He was also aware that she was trusted with delicate tasks within the Varden such as healing Eragon. He didn't know of anyone who would have the time or inclination to look after Elva, since he knew Brom had a bigger task ahead and probably wouldn't appreciate being turned into a babysitter.

"Angela, this might be presumptuous of me. I know you aren't exactly under my command, and I know little of your life or your duties – but I have a favor to ask of you."

"Oh, go on," the witch said with a wave of her hand.

"Would you be willing to keep an eye on Elva for me? I mean – "

"Well, of course! I'll even keep two eyes on her if I can spare them both! She is such an interesting case and I relish the opportunity to study her."

"She is not merely an academical subject," Melikir chided. "You'll have to report to me."

"Oooh, a poison dart in a raisin tart. I can manage."

"I believe I have your word."

"You have it."

Melikir groaned, rubbing his forehead to release the tension. He wanted to sink into a chair, close his eyes and arrange his thoughts. "This is a quagmire," he mumbled. "I knew that Riders and dragons are capable of fantastic feats, but I didn't realize that they could do something of this level."

"They're together, the six pairs," Angela noted. "They can manage things that no lone Rider and dragon pair could ever achieve."

"I suppose. They are an amazing team."

Eragon woke up sore and irritable. After a rainy night that sent the Riders' homes into chaos and a flash of pain in his back after that, he didn't really get a good night's sleep. When the time device from their masters began to buzz like an irritating wasp, Eragon was half-tempted to smash it to pieces before thinking better of it.

His body wasn't exactly in a good shape either after the Rimgar exercise during the previous day. He was also aware that he had to expect an attack from Durza's wound. It sickened him, and he could barely swallow the berries and nuts laid out as his breakfast. He just finished dressing up after his bath when someone rapped the entrance to his home.

Without a word, Arya burst into his room, looking worried. "Eragon," she said breathlessly. Her hair was disheveled and dripping wet, her clothes crumpled on one side.

Eragon almost jumped out of his skin. "Arya, what's the matter?" he asked.

The elf-girl pursed her lips, taking in the state of his room quickly with her emerald eyes. "Firnen said that he heard you yelling in pain last night," she admitted, a flush of red coloring her cheeks. "Is something the matter? Are you well? He asked me to come and see…"

Surprisedy the elf's concern – not even his brother barged in like that – Eragon found himself sitting on his bed. "I am fine. Really. Why do you ask?"

"Don't you lie to me, Eragon Shadeslayer," grunted Arya. As if not aware of what it meant to humans, she sat down on the bed, right beside the male Rider. "Did your scar hurt you? Is it getting worse?"

Eragon took a deep breath. In the edge of his mind, he could feel Saphira's amusement. Do I tell her the truth?

Saphira would have laughed. Of course, little one. Why conceal?

Very well. Eragon gazed at Saphira, hoping that he did not look like a lovestruck fool. "Letme tell you, then. It is stil lthe same. It comes when it pleases to. I was not even exerting myself so much when it happens, and it scares me." He took a deep breath. "It could happen in the middle of battle and cost me my life – or your lives. I can't bear this."

But you're not alone, little one, mused Saphira.

"You're not alone in this," Arya said, as if hearing Saphira too. "You have Saphira, and for all it's worth, you have me, too. And I'm sure the other Riders have your back."

Eragon smiled. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me – though you had me surprised there." He felt a sudden rush of warmth and affection.

Arya stood up and winked before striding out of the room.

Hello, anonymous reviewer, apology accepted and it's okay, I do hope I get to update twice like I used to. xD

I must admit, I didn't really buy the idea of lace from the books either, that somehow bothered me at night. And I'm glad you guys liked Melikir, he's quite different from Nasuada in the books, isn't he? And quite different from Nasuada in the story here, I must admit.

Anyway, what do you think of Elva? That's how I imagined her if to be if the blessing wasn't botched - a timid but well-adjusted child with so much potential and strange magic lingering around her.

And I apologize for the random ExA fluff. XD

Read and review, as always! We'll be catching up with the Riders more next chapter.