38. Life on the Isle

They ate breakfast ravenously, and Arya surpassed Eragon in her appetite for the first time. They were alone, since they arrived sometime after the other inhabitants of the Isle had already finished. They focused intently this morning, swiftly cleaning up when they were done so they could get on with the day.

"So what do the Riders do most days?" Arya asked as they headed outside.

"They divide their time between exercise, fighting, flying, magic, meditation, reading, studying with the Eldunarí—things of that nature, similar to how my time with Oromis was spent. Most of the Eldunarí have a particular Rider they have taken to and therefore taken under their wings, so to speak. They guide the training far better than I could, since I'm still receiving my own. We work together to improve our swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, axe throwing, and archery. Each of the races has a weapon and fighting style of choice, so we have all learned from each other."

"It sounds exciting," Arya said.

They arrived at a large open field where several pairs of Riders were sparring with each other: Murtagh and Hanin, Varhog and Willow, Knilf and Bodin, Grintuk and Tomath.

"You should match yourself with Willow. She has developed into an excellent swordsman—or woman, I suppose. Though I would wager you are still far better, she might like the change of fighting another female. She rarely gets the chance with the elves who came."

"I would like that," Arya said. "I see she's fighting Varhog. Most likely not a coincident from what we have been able to observe."

"I'm not so sure," Eragon countered. "Long before either displayed any hint of caring for the other, they grappled in single combat. He showed her around the Isle when she first arrived and has been her mentor ever since. They have fought extensively over the years, but it didn't take her long at all to learn her current techniques."

As they watched the pair, Arya said in amazement, "She is magnificent! No match for him in strength, but it is of little consequence. He can't touch her, she's so quick."

It was true. Willow barely moved when Varhog lunged for her, just enough to deftly dodge away, always remaining just out of reach, no matter how quick he was or how he tried to anticipate her evasions. They had no weapons—it was the hand-to-hand combat the Urgals preferred. Willow had a small smile on her lips, apparently enjoying the contest and how seriously Varhog took it.

"Has she ever bested him?" Arya wondered. "I can't picture how it would be possible."

"Countless times," Eragon replied. "She will probably make her move soon since he is tiring. She usually jumps on his back and locks him in a stranglehold until he nearly passes out. It's almost the only thing she can do. If she stays in front of him, she has no hope. He is far too strong. On his back, she is somehow still able to evade his attempts to remove her. It's amusing to watch. Here she goes now."

Willow dodged a particularly aggressive attack from Varhog, which left him slightly off balance. She immediately turned and leaped on his back before Arya could blink. She wrapped both arms tightly around Varhog's neck and tucked her head down to protect it from the back curve of his horns as he swung his head from side to side. At the same time, she pulled her knees up under her body to keep him from grabbing her legs and squeezed with her arms as hard as she could. She expertly twisted as Varhog reached an arm behind himself to try to dislodge her. His back was too broad, his shoulders too wide, and his arms too muscled for him to reach her, curled into the middle as she was. His face reddened, and he fell to his knees. Willow quickly released her grip and sprang off.

Varhog fell forward on his hands, breathing heavily. Arya thought his posture seemed slightly wounded but mostly admiring. She then better understood his feelings for Willow. To be bested by a woman was no small thing for an Urgal ram to admit but most likely vaulted that woman to a place of highest esteem.

Willow went around him, kneeling down in concern. "Did I hold on too long?" she worried.

Varhog sat back on his heels and looked at her in obvious admiration. "No, Eartheyes," he assured, rubbing his neck. "You bested me again."

Willow giggled. "I don't know how I do it. Unless you're going easy on me, Yelloweyes. Are you?" she demanded, suddenly aware it could be a real possibility.

"No," Varhog honestly admitted. "I wish I could use that excuse. I wish I could get my hands on you. Then there would be no hope for you. You would see what the strength of an Urgal is like, but I just can't touch you. You're too quick."

Willow's lips quirked into a mischievous grin. "I'll let you sometime," she offered.

Arya thought she noticed some double meaning in Varhog's comments—Willow clearly did—and she glanced sideways at Eragon, who appeared to be of the same mind. He had a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. I don't know how I ever missed it, he thought in amusement. It's blatantly obvious to me now.

Willow continued in reply to the rest of Varhog's remarks, "There's no question what the strength of an Urgal is like, what with those enormous muscles you have. It's terrifying on your back, where I can feel them rippling underneath me as you reach for me. You could easily snap me in half if you wanted. I think I rather prefer being gently surrounded by them in front, as you have recently been so kind as to demonstrate." She tilted her head flirtatiously.

Varhog shook his head in exasperation and chuckled. He took her hands as he rose to pull her up and held them a moment longer than needful as he said, "But I never would, Eartheyes. Hurt you, that is."

The hint of longing in his eyes and words was painfully recognizable to Arya, as well as to Willow, it seemed. "Well, that's a relief!" Willow lightly said, smiling brilliantly in an effort to make her effect on him all the stronger. It worked, which only made Willow smile all the brighter. She laughed and continued holding his hands. "I'm glad you're not my enemy, Yelloweyes."

Arya thought to Eragon, She's flirting with him! I suspect that she is becoming impatient for him to admit how he feels, though his every look and word seem to express it.

I believe you are right. Varhog is more far-gone than I thought, and Willow relishes the knowledge.

Varhog scoffed softly and said, "Never, Willow. You know that." She nodded confidently with a still-radiant smile then turned to greet Eragon and Arya. Varhog kept his eyes on her back then glanced up at the two newcomers, who regarded him perceptively. He shrugged helplessly.

"I bested Varhog again!" Willow proudly announced. "Do you think he's going easy on me? I just don't know how I ever have a chance against him. I'm always afraid that one time I won't be quick enough and suddenly I'll have a few broken ribs or a horn crush my shoulder." She missed Varhog shudder at the thought of harming her.

"It doesn't appear so," Eragon said. "You really are very quick, Willow. All these muscles we men have do us no good if we can't get our hands on our enemy."

Willow smiled at the further confirmation of her skill. "I'm so glad you two joined us today! I have been so anxious to see Arya in action. You're something of a legend," she said, turning slightly to address Arya. "Blödhgarm has told me how Eragon never could best you with the sword no matter how hard he tried. But I've never seen anyone fight like Eragon."

Arya laughed regretfully. "Alas, those days are behind us. Eragon is now far superior with the sword. He achieved a level of mastery on the Isle that he never before possessed. I intend to improve myself until once again his equal but until then, he suggested we could perhaps fight. Would you be opposed?"

Willow raised her eyebrows, clearly both honored and nervous at the same time. "I suppose not," she slowly said. "There's no way I could possibly be better than you, but I'm not better with a sword than a lot of the Riders, so it won't be much different. Maybe I'd like fighting a female better, although a female elf is not so different in the area of strength than these male Riders. Still, if you wish, I won't decline."

"No, Willow, you are mistaken," Arya said. "These male Riders are all far stronger than I."

Eragon then encouraged, "You don't give yourself enough credit, Willow. You have made great improvements." He turned to Arya. "Usually when I or Murtagh or one of the elves oversees a fight, we communicate with our minds and give advice or instruction mentally so as not to distract the attention of the fighters away from each other. We are all familiar with it, as this is also how the Eldunarí interact with us. Do you object, my love?"

Willow smiled at Eragon's easy use of his endearment, and Arya replied, "Of course not."

Willow accepted a dull brown blade from Varhog, who had retrieved her weapon from the ground. "Thank you, Yelloweyes," she gushed. "You're always so thoughtful." She smiled brightly again, and he only shook his head in helpless affection.

"Is that a Rider's blade?" Arya asked.

"Yes," Eragon answered. "While exploring the ruins of the citadel in Ilirea, I found hundreds of Riders' blades in Galbatorix's treasure trove. Most of the Riders have been able to find weapons that are an acceptable fit, but it has been more difficult for the Urgals and the dwarves. Their statures are much different from those of the humans and elves for whom these blades were crafted. We have made do with what we have."

"It's a shame you can't have a blade to match Sunset," Arya said as she studied at the brown blade.

"Yes, but this sword is nearly a perfect fit for me," Willow dismissed. "Eragon has told me how Rhünon feels about appearance over form."

"But I've also told you how she felt about the dull, brown dragons," Eragon said.

Willow laughed. "Indeed. If we go to Ellesméra, I would dearly love to meet Rhünon. She sounds splendid."

"Gruff as can be," Arya replied, "but truly delightful if you can see past that. She is a living relic and a welcome reminder that we elves used to resemble people more than machines designed only for courtesy and manners." She laughed, as did Eragon and Willow.

"Only on the surface," Eragon defended. "Get an elf behind closed doors and you're in for a treat." Arya blushed, and Willow laughed in delight. "I'm sorry, my love," Eragon meekly said, though he reached up and caressed Arya's pink cheek.

Arya leaned against him and shook her head in amusement. "It's no matter, Eragon. I'm getting more used to it all the time, and I know how much you enjoy it. Anything for your happiness, darling."

Eragon chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Well, before I distract you again, would you ladies like to begin?"

"Yes!" they both cried. Arya drew her green blade, Támerlein, and the two women faced each other some distance from one another in the clearing. The other Rider pairs had stopped their various contests to gather around.

-:-:-

Willow nervously muttered, "I don't know if having a crowd will give me performance anxiety or help me improve as I try to appear at my best." She stabbed her sword into the earth and quickly wrapped her long hair into a knot behind her neck by pulling the end through the loop and securing it in place with a clip she from her pocket. "It probably won't hold long, but it's better than having it fly all over right from the start."

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out very slowly and deliberately to calm her mind and achieve the mental clarity Eragon insisted was so essential to success. She then retrieved her sword and raised it in front of her to signal that she was ready to begin.

When she opened her eyes, Arya appeared to be a different shade. Willow recognized the strange phenomenon from her previous fights. She saw the world in a different light when she was in this mental zone of empty awareness. Her jittery nerves were a thing of the past, her anxiety at the crowd far from her mind. She knew they were there—just as she was aware of everything around her, small and large—but she processed the knowledge with efficient indifference. She filtered all of the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of her surroundings just as Eragon and the Eldunarí had taught her to, considering how each might interact with and affect the fight. But she never let anything distract her from her main object of focus, which was her opponent. Eragon's mind was in contact with hers, but he thought nothing to her at the moment, and Willow knew he would interfere as little as possible with mental commentary during the match.

Willow was very comfortable achieving this mental state. She used the same detached awareness every time she fought Varhog and had for nearly seven years.

Willow and Arya calmly stared at each other, each completely unfamiliar with the style of the other, though they made educated guesses. Willow imagined that fighting Arya would be much like fighting Hanin, Blödhgarm, or one of the other elves, and she also knew that Arya would most likely guess that her fighting style resembled Eragon's, since he had been her main instructor.

They were content to see if the other would begin. After several moments of standing still, Willow bent her knees slightly just to see how Arya would react.

Arya simply observed the movement, waiting to see if it would evolve into anything more. Willow stepped toward Arya's left, since she held her sword in her right hand.

Arya responded with an identical step to keep the distance between them equal, but as she did so, Willow quickly darted in with a graceful twirl to close the gap between them. She perceived that Arya thought her first step casual and matched it with equal casualness—thus it was in that moment Willow saw her opportunity to take Arya by surprise.

It worked, and Willow sensed Arya's surprise, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it came, for Arya saw how Willow brought her sword up in a flowing continuation of her twirl to strike at her middle. Arya raised her own sword in anticipation of the blow, but Willow heard the blade whistling through the air while her back was turned, concentrating more with her other senses when her sight was momentarily unable to assist her.

Willow adjusted her thrust as she came fully around, and rather than aim at Arya's middle, she held her sword low and swept at her legs. Arya had less than a second to see the adjustment, and she sprang nimbly up so the sword flew harmlessly beneath her. But Willow sensed her preparation to jump and didn't put as much strength in her swing, knowing the blade would not find purchase and wanting to recover quickly enough to strike once more as Arya landed. This she did, aiming then at Arya's middle. Her sword tapped Arya's ribs for the briefest moment—if their blades hadn't been dulled, it would merely have cut her clothing—but in the same instant, Arya dodged sideways, slashing toward Willow's back.

Willow didn't see the attack, but she once again heard it, and Arya's blade made similar light contact with Willow's shoulder, since Willow twisted enough to avoid the full brunt of the blow. Her evasive twist brought them squarely facing one another again, in time for Willow to see Arya execute a powerful thrust straight toward her abdomen.

Willow still had momentum from her twisting maneuver, and she exaggerated it to avoid the painful blow. It brushed past her, skimming her side.

Arya put great force into the blow, and when Willow narrowly dodged it, Arya caught herself with a large step to maintain her balance, which left her in a poorly-defended position just beyond Willow's body. Willow swept her sword toward Arya's back, and Arya only avoided it by dropping to the ground in a graceful roll and springing to her feet a short distance away.

They kept their swords at the ready as they once again regarded one another, this time more aware of what to expect.

-:-:-

Eragon took the moment of recovery to provide some commentary. Willow, your initial move provided a good element of surprise, but it might have been better to remain facing your opponent rather than twirl theatrically. Still, you relied on hearing to anticipate Arya's reaction and prepared to adapt as needed. Your body also blocked your adjustment from Arya's view, which gave her very little time to react.

Arya, your reflexes and speed are impressive. Twice you completely avoided blows that would have been serious, with less than a second to prepare.

Willow, you keep turning your back to her, which gives her the opportunity to strike when you can't see. Listening has helped you avoid the worst of it, but seeing would be better still.

Arya, your confidence that your blows will make contact has caused you to overcompensate, which leaves you unguarded. You draw from your previous experience fighting humans and underestimate Willow's ability to react with sufficient speed. Anticipate that Willow might dodge your slashes and prepare for that possibility even as you expect to succeed. You will be less likely to get off balance.

You are both doing amazingly.

Eragon ended his instruction with that, not wanting to interfere with their continued fighting. Arya gave him a tight smile, Willow only the briefest mental acknowledgement—her visage showed no sign he had addressed her. Eragon decided it would be best to keep his attention more on Willow, since she wasn't tempting to him like Arya.

Arya was clearly the superior fighter. Her decades of practicing form and footwork gave her the distinct advantage in that area, and yet Willow still managed to hold her own. For every two or three tags Arya made, Willow made one in return.

Eragon wasn't surprised to strongly recognize his own style in Willow's fighting, and he was proud at the mental control she demonstrated. Her form and footwork were also excellent, just not as superior as Arya's. But Willow's speed was truly most impressive, especially considering that she was fighting an elf.

Against Varhog, an Urgal who so was much larger and bulkier, the fact that Willow seemed so much quicker in comparison wasn't terribly unexpected. But to still appear so fast next to Arya was most surprising indeed. Eragon knew it was because Willow's increased sensory perception allowed her to anticipate Arya's moves as she made them.

Eragon's focus on Willow momentarily slipped as Arya performed a graceful maneuver that reminded him of the Rimgar. He remembered that Oromis had told him the Rimgar was a series of forms and poses developed to prepare elven warriors for battle. He had never noticed before how closely an elf's fighting style drew off the Rimgar until that moment, as he thought back to that morning and how he had observed every minute movement of each form in such breathtaking perfection.

Eragon abruptly withdrew the contact of his mind from Willow as his thoughts began down that path, for he did not want to embarrass her. But his sudden absence from her mind distracted Willow just enough that her grip on her sword slipped exactly at the moment Arya bore down on the blade with her own. Willow's hands were forced down under the pressure and she dropped her weapon. Támerlein crashed against her thumbs, immediately breaking them.

Willow cried out in pain as Eragon and Arya both simultaneously exclaimed, "I'm sorry, Willow!"

Varhog took an involuntary step forward at the moment of Willow's injury, but the gesture was lost on Willow, who cradled her bruised, misshapen hands. Arya's left palm glowed as she carefully healed the injuries with magic, thinking, Eragon! Shame on you!

Eragon felt sufficiently ashamed on his own, knowing his careless distraction had caused Willow's injury. I'm sorry, Arya, he contritely thought. I should have known better than let my thoughts stray to this morning.

You should apologize to Willow too, Arya demanded.

Were my words not sufficient? Eragon hopelessly asked.

She barely noticed, as much pain as she was in. She was worried something was wrong to have caused such an unexpected removal from her mind. You need to explain, at least somewhat, Arya insisted.

Eragon took a deep breath then said loudly enough for all to hear, since the others were also looking at him in confusion, "Willow, I'm terribly sorry for my thoughtlessness just now. I was attempting to keep my focus on you so my mind wouldn't wander, as it would have had I been observing my wife, but my resolve slipped for a moment and I began to think about . . ." He trailed off awkwardly, his face flushing that he had to admit this aloud. But he resolutely continued, "Ahem. I began to think about something that happened this morning. Anyway, I thought feeling the tone of those particular memories would make you uncomfortable, so I severed the contact I had with your mind. But I can see that such an abrupt action was also a mistake, as it startled you and resulted in your injury. Can you forgive my foolishness?"

Willow looked at him, her pained expression slowly dissolving into teasing delight that he had just offered such a forthright apology, exactly in the way she would have done. "Of course I forgive you, brother! I'm glad it was only a romantic memory that caused you to leave my mind. You have never had those sorts of distractions before, or indeed any type of distraction at all. I worried something far more serious had befallen you."

In spite of the deepening color in his cheeks and ears, Eragon was relieved that Willow had accepted his apology and forgiven him without further ado. He glanced at the others and noticed for the first time the variety of expressions that met him.

Murtagh looked amused and also envious. Knilf and Bodin chuckled merrily at his confession and embarrassment, as did Hanin and Grintuk. Tomath looked confused. Varhog looked slightly displeased but also understanding. Eragon imagined that such a distraction might have been something Varhog could relate to.

"I suppose that's enough for the morning," Eragon said after a moment. "Shall we break for lunch? Though Arya and I just came from breakfast, I would imagine the rest of you are beginning to feel hungry."

This suggestion was met with approval all around, and everyone began to head back to the Great Hall.

Arya fell in stride next to Eragon. He smiled sheepishly as he looked over at her. "And so, my love, you have had a perfect demonstration of what life has never before been like on the Isle without your presence. Are you satisfied?"

"Perfectly," Arya replied, nudging him with her shoulder. "Nothing could have been more satisfying than seeing you squirm and blush like that."

Eragon nudged her back, sweeping her around when she tried to retaliate with more force. She laughed in delight and held on around his shoulders when he tried to set her down, which made him stumble. He lightly kissed her before placing her at his side and taking her hand so they could walk back with the others. All who witnessed their exchange smiled or laughed, gratified their beloved leader was so happily in love.

-:-:-:-