Chapter Forty-Three: Shadeslayer

Mariah paused on her way up the stairs to look over the massive field of Farthen Dûr below, scattered with the bodies of Urgals and her comrades. She brushed her hair away from her eyes and sighed. After coming so near death she felt ethereal. Waking up from the void was like drowning underwater, then realizing afterward that you could breathe. The day before, after breaking out of the spell, she had spent an hour with her brother trying to describe what had happened to no avail. Eragon seemed to be the only one who had any idea what it had been like. Arya had stood silently in the corner as she spoke while Murtagh threw out questions about anything that seemed confusing. There wasn't much she did remember about being asleep, so there hadn't been much to tell. Pushing her thoughts away, she continued climbing the staircase. They were holding a meeting in Ajihad's study and she was going to be late if she waited any longer. Reaching the head of the stairs, she saw Eragon and smiled.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," he admitted, waiting for her to step next to him before he walked her to the door. Holding it open for her, they stepped inside and saw Ajihad and Nasuada in a heated argument, yelling at one another.

"I am still alive father; there is no reason for you to be shouting at me so!"

Ajihad slammed his fist onto his desk, successfully tossing an ink bottle into the air. He didn't so much as blink as it broke open on the ground, spraying everywhere. "You disobeyed my direct orders Nasuada, you were to evacuate with everyone else!"

"Every able bodied person was needed to fight. So I stayed and fought. Mariah is younger than me and she stayed to fight," she pointed at the girl when she saw her standing there.

"She is a Rider. You should have listened to me when I told you to remain away from the battle." Ajihad snapped. "You trained with a bow for your own protection, not to risk your life in war!"

They fell silent and stared at one another for a long moment. When it was apparent the argument was over, neither side actually having won, Nasuada headed for the door. The Riders stepped aside but she paused in front of Mariah and looked at her. "You may not have known it at the time Mariah, but you saved my life on the battlefield. I am glad to see you alive and well, when I heard of your injuries I worried I would never have the chance to thank you. I owe you a debt that cannot be repaid."

Mariah stared at her for a long moment, trying to recall any incident of seeing her face on the battlefield. Ajihad had mentioned a bow, and now that she was thinking of it, she had protected a group of archers at one point during the fighting. Trying to recall the memory, she nodded slowly. "I believe I remember the incident, however you owe me nothing Nasuada. Your safety is thanks enough."

The older girl smiled and inclined her head, opening the door and brushing past Murtagh as he entered. He blinked and shrugged, stepping in and looking around. "I missed something."

"You don't need to worry about it." Ajihad insisted, looking over his maps again. "Though we are waiting on your brother, Mariah, I'm afraid we cannot stall any longer. There are still Urgals that need to be extinguished from the tunnels surrounding Farthen Dûr. I am going to personally lead a group of warriors to kill the rest of them. The Twins shall be accompanying me. Their magic abilities will be invaluable."

"Ajihad, if I may," Murtagh said, looking at him. When the man nodded, he continued, "I would like to assist you in any way possible. I'm good with my blade and believe coming with you would prove helpful." Over the past few days, it was apparent that Murtagh was quickly rising in favor with everyone. Despite his lineage and background, there wasn't really enough time for anyone to take it into consideration with so much work to be done.

Mariah watched Ajihad contemplate the idea before nodding again, "I believe you would be helpful. You may accompany us." His gaze turned towards Mariah and Eragon. "I would also appreciate it if one of you came as well. A Rider might be needed, even if only as a fast messenger between me and here at the Varden."

Before Mariah could speak, Eragon nodded. "Of course. Saphira and I would be-"

She stepped on his foot and grabbed his arm, turning him towards her. Looking up at him, she scowled, your back is barely healed and you're going to run off and fight some more. Have you completely lost your mind?

Well you can't go with them, you nearly died.

I'm better off than you are right now. You make one wrong move and you're going to collapse.

He bit his tongue and frowned at her.

I know I'm right. You walk around wincing in pain. Your back hurts so badly you can barely stand at times. I'm going to go. It's not that dangerous, there aren't many of them left. We'll have the upper hand and Andrar is more than a match for small groups of them. Stay here and rest, you deserve that much.

"Shadeslayer?"

Mariah winced slightly at the name, everyone kept calling him that now. Since she woke up, no one referred to him as Eragon anymore. He was always Shadeslayer or Argetlam. She hadn't been awake to witness it, but Mark had insisted it was impressive and that he deserved the title. Still, it bothered her and she refused to call him that.

"Actually, I would like to come. I've been feeling restless and I believe assisting you would be good for both Andrar and me." Mariah said.

Ajihad watched her for a moment before nodding, "Very well then. Tomorrow morning we're to leave at dawn. Don't be late."

The doors closed behind her and she sighed, feeling Eragon staring at her. Walking out ahead of both the boys, she turned around and folded her arms. "If you have something to say, say it."

Murtagh folded his arms back, huffing, "It's not a good idea."

"Do you have a better one?"

"Let Eragon go instead."

"No," Mariah said. "He needs to heal properly before running off and throwing himself in more danger."

The blond sighed, "I really don't know what you're getting so worked up about, honestly. It's not that bad."

She dropped her arms and stared at him, "You lie so much lately I can barely tell when you're being honest. If you truly believe that you're healed enough to go gallivanting about with Murtagh, killing Urgals, then you can go." He grinned but stopped when Mariah continued, "But only if you can run up all the stairs faster than I can."

Eragon scowled at her. Even on his best day he wasn't anywhere near faster than her. In a normal footrace of a mile, she would beat him by a good minute. Up that many stairs, there was no way he could out run her. Mulling it over, he thought about the fact that he had more stamina than her. "Fine."

Mariah blinked at him, surprised. "You're going to lose, you know that, right? I purposely chose a footrace because I know I can beat you every time."

"There's a first time for everything."

"I'll give you a head start then," she pointed to the stairs, "Start running." He sprinted off without warning and she looked at Murtagh, shaking her head. He just stared at her, clearly annoyed with the entire ordeal. "Stop that, we'll be back in just a minute." Mariah turned and raced up the stairs, making it to the next landing and stopping. She sighed and walked over to Eragon, "I told you… you can't go."

He was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, gritting his teeth as his back throbbed.

"Let's get you back to Angela, she'll know how to help."

"You did what?" Mark asked her, blinking, unsaddling Aluora – he'd been out on the battlefield, still trying to find anyone alive, he hadn't made it back in time for the meeting.

Murtagh said, walking past them, "She told Ajihad that she would come along and help hunt the stray Urgals in the tunnels." His voice conveyed his annoyance, which was quickly rising to Mark's level.

"No," he insisted, shaking his head. "You're not going anywhere. Especially not hunting for Urgals."

"Too late, I already said I would go."

Mark huffed, "You didn't clear it with me first though, did you?"

"Of course not, you would have said no. You're not in charge of me anyways Marcus, so stop it. Besides, we all know you drained yourself during that battle and then healing me right afterward, so there's nothing you can do. You wouldn't be able to keep up with us anyways, so don't even try to come with tomorrow." She turned and walked over to Eragon and Angela. "Can he move?"

The curly haired witch nodded, "He should be fine now. No more races though, alright?" She stood up and walked away swiftly with Solembum padding along behind her.

Mariah stared down at Eragon and sighed, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried racing you, but you can't go after Urgals right now in your condition." She held her hand out to him and smiled a bit. He took her hand and blinked when she pulled him up and away quickly. As soon as she had escaped her brother's sights, she slowed back down. Walking just ahead of Eragon, she made the way back to their new rooms. Since the dragonhold was impossible to reach now, due to Saphira and Arya shattering the Star Sapphire floor, they had been given new quarters close to the ground floor.

Ducking into her room, she sat down in front of the window and sighed. "Eragon I know you don't want me to go because you think I'm going to get hurt again, but I'm not. I won't get hurt like last time."

"It's more than that, you just woke up yesterday. It's important for you to rest."

"I was asleep the whole time, you are in far worse condition than I am," she insisted, looking at him. "That wound should have killed you. It still might if you continually stop allowing yourself to rest."

He sat down in a chair, leaning back, "I can't sit and do nothing. It agitates me to no end when the only thing I can do is think. All I ponder is death and how unfair war is, how useless fighting and killing is. The only way to stop it is to do something; it's just how I am."

"Then do something that doesn't require you to hurt yourself anymore alright? I am concerned about your safety."

"You should be concerned about your own safety tomorrow," he insisted, huffing. "I won't be able to do anything to help you. You're going to be too far away. If you get hurt-"

"What can you do about it now?" She asked, "I'm going and without you. I'll be fine. Stop thinking about it, there's no use in it. Believe that I'll be fine and I will be, alright?" Mariah walked over and stood in front of him. "You have done far more than enough for me in the past few days. I owe you my life, twice now."

"Then don't go," he said, looking at her. "You owe me your life; consider the debt paid by staying."

"You know I can't. But will you accept me coming back alive payment enough?"

Eragon shook his head, "Then you'll owe me for all the worry and suffering I had to bear thinking about you getting hurt while I was unable to do anything."

She smiled a bit, "I'm not winning this argument, am I?"

"No, you won't."

Mariah sat down in front of him and folded her hands in her lap, "Then can we stop? I don't want to argue with you the rest of the day, especially when I'm leaving in the morning."

"Alright, that's fair enough," he nodded.

She smiled a bit and leaned up against the wall, sitting on the floor and closing her eyes. Not worrying about tomorrow was her main goal for the rest of the day and she needed to rest and regain her strength before heading out in the morning. With her eyes closed, she felt Eragon move and sit down beside her. His arm brushed against hers and she smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"We never talk enough anymore," she admitted. "I miss not having to watch what I say in front of others, or simply being in someone else's presence without feeling the need to speak."

"Me too," Eragon agreed. "Mariah… what do you remember?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, looking up at him.

He thought about it for a moment and decided to continue, "When you were under that spell."

"Everything seems blurry… I can't separate any of it, really. All I truly remember is that you were there, trying to convince me to wake up."

"Huh… and before that, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Before all the blurry dreams, I can only recall seeing you rushing to my aid. Which, might I add, was extremely foolish of you. You should know better than to take on a Shade, especially after fighting Urgals and Kull for hours on end."

"You were in trouble, that's all I could think about."

"Well, you don't see me running to your side every time you get hurt, do you?"

Eragon thought about it, "Actually, yes. You do as a matter a fact."

She closed her eyes, sighing, "I didn't actually mean it like that."

"But you do, I can't do the same?"

"No, you can't," she insisted with a light chuckle.

"Alright."

Mariah rested her head against his shoulder and remained silent. She smiled when he reciprocated the silence by only taking her hand, drawing light circles on the back slowly. Though she couldn't remember what happened exactly, something told her it had impacted him more than he cared to admit. Having only been awake for a day and a half now, Eragon hadn't left her side for more than twenty minutes at a time. He always seemed to be nearby. It was comforting, but strange all the same. They hadn't spent so much time together like this since Carvahall, Teirm at the very least. Every day had consisted of running and fighting and escaping the Empire's detection. Something had definitely happened while she'd been asleep.

However, she dared not break the silence to ask, knowing tomorrow morning she'd be leaving him behind. To keep him safe, she insisted to herself. We leave him to keep him safe.

After a while, Eragon looked down and saw her eyes closed. "Mariah?" He asked lightly. When she didn't respond, he had to assume she'd fallen asleep. He didn't want to wake her, but knew she wouldn't be comfortable against the wall all night. Any other day he would have picked her up and carried her, but he knew his back wouldn't allow it. "Mariah," he said, shaking her gently. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's alright, just get to bed, okay?"

Mariah nodded, standing and helping him to his feet. She yawned and flopped in her bed. Eragon chuckled a bit and pulled the blanket over her. She hummed quietly and fell back asleep. He smiled and sat in the chair beside her, watching her until he grew tired as well.

Darling, we need to depart soon, please wake. Andrar roused her from his spot against Saphira, getting up and stretching his wings, yawning with a dull roar.

Mariah flicked open her eyes and found herself laying in her bed. Sitting up, she looked over to find Eragon passed out in a nearby chair, his jaw slack as he slept. She smiled, collecting her travel bag and sword. After pulling on her boots and vambraces, she walked over to him. "Eragon." She whispered. It was still black outside and she didn't really want to wake him. "I'll be back soon." Brushing his hair away from his eyes, she walked out of her room.

Heading down the staircase, she ran into Murtagh who was busy trying to tie his sword to his belt and still walk downstairs at the same time. It wasn't working out too well, especially not with him yawning.

"Just stop, tie it, and regain your ground afterward," Mariah insisted, striding down past him.

He yawned again, "Easy for you to say, you seem to wake up early all the time anyways."

"I never used to," she admitted, reaching the ground floor and going to her dragon. "I used to be able to sleep half the day without worrying about anything." Andrar snorted and tossed his head, shaking his head at her. She tied her bag to his saddle and walked with Murtagh to the gates of Tronjheim where Ajihad was waiting for them.

"Eragon are you awake?" Mark knocked on his door before opening it, looking inside and finding his room empty. "Of course." He shook his head and walked to Mariah's room, pushing the door open farther, as it was already ajar. Walking over to the boy, he sighed and hit his shoulder a bit, "Get up. I'm going down to the battlefield and I think you should come with me today."

Rubbing his eyes free of sleep, Eragon stood up slowly. "It's morning already?"

Mark was at the door, "She already left. It's after dawn, come on." He walked down the hall and to his room, waiting for the boy to get ready.

It had been three days since the battle, and the funeral pyres had to be lit every hour to keep them from getting too big. Mark led the way down the steps, leaving Aluora in her stables for the day, so Eragon could keep up. He had a feeling Eragon would find some sort of solace in seeing the sickening amounts of death and decay.

"Here we are," he said, looking at the Rider.

Eragon looked around, stepping foot on the battle field. He'd wanted to see the aftermath, but until now couldn't bring himself to look upon it. There was nothing here, save the uncomfortable presence of death and decay. The heroic songs he'd learned growing up sang of glory and greatness, but this was something entirely different.

Watching the boy's face, Mark thought about how much he'd changed. Until now, he hadn't ever given it much thought. Only a few short months ago, the Eragon he knew in Carvahall would have been destroyed by the brutal war that had erupted here between the dwarves, humans and Urgals. Now, he just seemed numb.

"I still remember the first time I killed someone," Mark told him, folding his arms across his chest. He avoided Eragon's gaze as he spoke, "It wasn't just a few months ago… like you or Mariah. I was eleven. She doesn't even know about it. Brom and I were traveling back from Therinsford, it had been a weeklong trip. A small group of thieves attacked us in the dead of night while we were camping. Now that I think about it, Brom had everything completely under control. I was just good enough with a sword where I could fight off most attacks and when they came after me, insisting there be no witnesses, I stabbed him through the heart. The blood spurted from his chest onto my face, clothes and hands, then he dropped dead in front of me." He looked up at Eragon who was simply staring at him. "The ground beneath your feet is soaked with blood… so much so that it's seeping into your boots." Mark said, "Am I right?"

Looking down and lifting one of his legs, Eragon saw the red-black color of blood staining the soles of his feet. "I don't understand why…" he trailed off.

"What Eragon?"

"If life has no meaning, why do we fight one another? I saw men getting ripped apart by Kull… so many died during that one battle…"

"You don't see the point." Eragon shook his head and Mark continued, "Then why did you fight?"

He paused, trying to figure it out exactly; when he failed he looked back at the older man and asked the same, "Why do you fight?"

"No. I asked you first Eragon… why do you fight?"

The blond took a while to think of a proper answer. "I suppose… if any honor exists in war… it's fighting to protect others from harm."

"It's the only good reason to fight. We fight to protect those we care about; in that moment our lives are worth risking in order to save them. Those who can't protect themselves rely on us to shield them. I murdered a man to protect my grandfather's life when I was only eleven. Anyone will kill if they are put in a position where something precious is in danger." Mark fell silent after that and continued picking his way through the battlefield, searching for anyone that still might be breathing.

The two boys spent the next few days together on the field, slowly coming to the realization that there were no other soldiers to save. Mark did his best to keep his and Eragon's minds away from Mairah, trying not to let either of them worry about her while she way away. Saphira lifted her head and looked toward Tronjheim, causing Eragon and Mark's attention to follow her gaze. They were at the edge of the battle site when they saw Jörmundur – Ajihad's second in command – hurrying toward them. When he came near, Jörmundur bowed to Eragon, a gesture he had been receiving increasingly since the battle.

"I'm glad I found you in time." He clutched a parchment note in one hand. "Ajihad is returning, and he wants you to be there when he arrives. The others are already waiting for him by Tronjheim's west gate. We'll have to hurry to get there in time."

"Lead the way," Mark said, heading toward the gate with him.

Eragon followed, keeping a hand on Saphira. It was three days since Mariah and Murtagh had departed with Ajihad to hunt the Urgals. As they rounded Tronjheim, a small group became visible in the pool of lantern light before the timber gate. Among them were Orik – the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stout legs – and Arya. The white bandage around her upper arm gleamed in the darkness, reflecting a faint highlight onto the bottom of her hair. She looked towards them, green eyes flashing, then continued watching for Aijhad.

They stopped nearby Orik and looked out at the empty land that surrounded Tronjheim, extending to Farthen Dûr's base five miles away in each direction. "Where will Ajihad come from?" asked Eragon.

Orik pointed at a cluster of lanterns staked around a large tunnel opening a couple of miles away. "He should be here soon."

Eragon answered comments directed at him, but otherwise stayed quiet, only talking with Saphira if he felt the need. Mark leaned against the wall of the gate, staring at the end of the tunnel, nearly unblinking for half an hour. No one spoke to him, it was clear he wasn't in a mood to talk.

Finally, there was a flicker of motion in the distant tunnel. A group of ten men climbed out onto the ground, then turned and helped up as many dwarves. One of the men – Ajihad supposedly – raised a hand, and the warriors assembled behind him in two straight lines. They waited a moment, as if hesitating in their march.

Mark tensed, realizing what was wrong, shifting his weight onto both feet and squinting into the darkness. Before it happened, he was bounding toward the tunnel. He'd taken five steps when a dragon roar erupted from the passageway. A moment later, the tunnel behind the soldiers swarmed with a flurry of activity as more figures jumped out.

"Urgals!" Eragon cried, leaping onto Saphira before she took flight. He silently cursed himself for leaving Zar'roc in his room. No one was expecting an attack now, not since the Urgal army had been driven away.

Mark's heart pounded in his chest, watching as the Urgals fell on the rear of Aijhad's warriors. He couldn't see Mariah or Andrar. The monsters had the advantage of surprise and quickly cut down four men, forcing the rest of the warriors, men and dwarves alike, to cluster around Aijhad in an attempt to protect him. Swords and axes clashed as the groups pressed together. Still no dragon. Light flashed from one of the Twins, and an Urgal fell, clutching the stump of his severed arm.

For a minute, it seemed the defenders would be able to resist the Urgals, but then a swirl of motion disturbed the air, like a faint band of mist wrapping itself around the combatants. When it cleared, only four warriors were standing: Ajihad, the Twins and Murtagh. He could feel his heart crushing his chest at the absence of his sister. The Urgals converged on them, blocking Mark's view as he rushed towards them. Arya had caught up to him now, her speed matching his own pace. She may have been an elf, but his adrenaline was coursing through him like blood.

Saphira rushed overhead, but before she could read them, the knot of Urgals streamed back to the tunnel and scrambled underground, leaving only prone forms behind. Saphira finally landed and Eragon vaulted off her back, looking over those left. He slowed down, watching Eragon kneel beside Ajihad's rent body. His torso was ripped open, his chest plate torn apart. Blood pounding in his ears, he couldn't hear a word of what he was speaking and only noted that when the older man closed his eyes, they would never open again.

The seconds he spent looking at Ajihad were fleeting, as he started searching the rest of the bodies for his sister. He stopped when he looked at the face of the last one and swiveled back to Eragon. "She's not here."

"What?"

Mark looked again, "Neither is Murtagh." Without another word he turned toward the gaping hole under the earth and jumped down. "Arya! I need you!" He called back, running down the tunnel.

She hesitated for a moment, looking at Eragon.

"Please go." He said, staring up at her, knowing he had no chance of catching up to Mark.

"Wiol ono." For you. She said, bounding forward and diving after Mark, her sword flashing in her hand, leaving Eragon to keep vigil by Ajihad. Arya quickly caught up to Mark. He had a light hovering beside him as he ran. She stared at the man, wondering how he was managing to run so quickly. Falling into stride with him, she remained silent.

"I intend to catch and kill them all. Know that now," he said, keeping one hand on his sword to keep it from banging against his leg as he ran. The Urgals were ahead of them, he could hear grumbles and their thundering footsteps down the passage ahead of them. No matter how fast he ran though, they eluded his sight. When he started lacking the energy to keep running, he drew it from the emerald ring around his finger, revitalizing himself to keep going for a few more hours.

"Mark!" Arya shouted, grabbing his arm.

He skidded and fell to the ground, digging his heels in to the dirt and rock to try and keep himself from falling over the edge. They path of the tunnel had curved suddenly upon their entering an enormous cavern. He let his head hit the ground as he panted, able to feel his left foot hanging over the edge. If Arya had not stopped him when she did, he would be falling into that bottomless pit. Returning to his feet, he looked over the edge.

"Are these familiar to you?"

Flicking his blue eyes towards Arya, he felt sick. He strode over to her and took the red piece of cloth from her fingers. The edge was embroidered with gold and stained with blood. It was a headband he recalled giving his sister for her birthday the year prior. She only ever wore it when he wasn't with her, as a good luck charm. The sight of it in his hands bloodied and torn made his stomach flip upside down.

Arya bent down, picking a few more items up. "These are Murtagh's, yes?"

Mark looked towards the leather gauntlets and nodded. Then his eyes caught the purple cloth. "That's a piece of the Twins' clothing."

"Indeed… the Urgals must have stolen their armor and weapons…"

He caught her looking towards the chasm below and he winced, walking to the edge. A crunching sound came from under his boot and he picked it up, inspecting the item - an orange dragon scale. Leaning forward and looking straight down, he saw nothing but blackness. Mark flicked his hand downward, shooting the ball of light down until it vanished from sight. He still couldn't see the bottom.

Pulling out a dagger, he held it so he could see a reflection in the light and concentrated on Mariah. "Draumr kόpa." The only reflection he saw was his own as darkness swirled over the surface of his knife, nothing but the shadowy abyss below. Sitting on the ground he moaned, covering his face as the realization hit him.

Arya stood there for a moment, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right before kneeling in front of Mark. "I… I'm sorry… for your sister. I know she meant so much to you." Silence overtook them for a few moments. Standing slowly, she collected what was left of the clothing scattered around the edge of the pit and returned to Mark. "We should return to the Varden and inform them of what has transpired."

Dragging himself to his feet, he clenched the headband in his hand and nodded. Arya walked back towards the tunnel they had entered from and led the way back, trying her best not to acknowledge the quiet sobbing coming from the man behind her.

I had to post it... I said I wouldn't until next week, but I had to. I can't stand not knowing what you guys think about it... and I don't know where to take it at the moment. Plus I have some free time on my hands lately and want to write as much as I can. All your feedback is so helpful. The next chapter will probably be up tomorrow evening.

What do you think about Mark? I don't believe I've asked this question before, but I would like to. Watch him a little more closely than you probably have been, I'm trying to iron out his character a bit. He's getting a little more time in the hot seat lately because of it, and I like what he's turning into. The conversation he had with Eragon felt much needed for their relationship.

"I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." - J.R.R Tolkien

With Love, As Always,

Mariah