Chapter Forty-Five: Sorrow, Pride and Lust
The next day, Orik had come to fetch Eragon and Saphira for King Hrothgar. They returned the morning after, clearly hung over. Upon seeing them, Mark set his jaw, staring at Eragon, debating whether or not to smack him.
"You are such a moron sometimes… you know we have to go to Ajihad's procession. You're going to be in the front of the line too, remember? Nasuada?"
"I know Mark… I know," he winced, holding his forehead.
He sighed, watching him, "I hope whatever you were doing with the dwarves was worth it." Snapping a hand out, Eragon flinched, bracing himself for a smack, only to feel Mark's fingers touch his head, instantly relieving any headaches he'd incurred while intoxicated. "There. Now get ready."
Before the thick gate – drawn up on its hidden chains to reveal faint daylight drifting into Farthen Dûr – they found a carefully arranged column. Ajihad lay at the front, cold and pale on a white marble bier borne by six men in black armor. Upon his head was a helm strewn with precious stones. His hands were clasped beneath his collarbone, over the ivory hilt of his bare sword, which extended from underneath the shield covering his chest and legs. Silver mail, like circlets of moonbeams, weighed down his limbs and fell onto the bier.
Close behind the body stood Nasuada – grave, sable-cloaked, and strong in stature, though tears adorned her countenance. To the side was Hrothgar in dark robes; then Arya; the Council of Elders, all with suitably remorseful expressions; and finally a stream of mourners that extended a mile from Tronjheim.
Every door and archway of the four-story-high hall that led to the central chamber of Tronjheim, half a mile away, was thrown open and crowded with humans and dwarves alike. Between the gray bands of faces, the long tapestries swayed as they were brushed with hundreds of sighs and whispers when Saphira and Eragon came into view.
Jormundur beckoned for them to join him. Trying not to disturb the formation, Eragon, Mark and Saphira picked through the column to the space by his side, earning a disapproving glare from Sabrae. Together they waited silently.
All the lanterns were shuttered halfway so that a cool twilight suffused the air, lending an ethereal feel to the event. No one seemed to move or breathe: for a brief moment, Eragon fancied that they were all statues frozen for eternity. A single plume of incense drifted from the bier, winding toward the hazy ceiling as it spread the scent of cedar and juniper. It was the only motion in the hall, a whiplash line undulating sinuously from side to side.
Deep in Tronjheim, a drum gonged. The sonorous bass note resonated through their bones, vibrating the city-mountain and causing it to echo like a great stone bell.
They stepped forward.
Boom. On the second note, another, lower drum melded with the first, each beat rolling inexorably through the hall. The force of the sound propelled them along at a majestic pace. It gave each step significance, a purpose and gravity suited to the occasion. No thought could exist in the throbbing that surrounded them, only an upwelling of emotion that the drums expertly beguiled, summoning tears and bittersweet joy at the same time.
When the tunnel ended, Ajihad's bearers paused between the onyx pillars before gliding into the central chamber. There they saw the dwarves grow even more solemn upon beholding Isidar Mithrim.
Boom.
They walked through a crystal graveyard. A circle of towering shards lay in the center of the great chamber, surrounding the inlaid hammer and pentacles. Many pieces were larger than Saphira. The rays of the star sapphire still shimmered in the fragments, and on some, petals of the carved rose were visible.
Boom.
The bearers continued forward, between the countless razor edges. Then the procession turned and descended broad flights of stairs to the tunnels below. Through many caverns they marched, passing stone huts where dwarven children clutched their mothers and stared with wide eyes.
Boom.
And with a final crescendo, they halted under ribbed stalactites that branched over a great catacomb lined with alcoves. In each alcove lay a tomb carved with a name and clan crest. Thousands – hundreds of thousands – were buried here. The only light came from sparsely placed red lanterns, pale in the shadows.
After a moment, the bearers strode to a small room annexed to the main chamber. In the center, on a raised platform, was a great crypt open to waiting darkness. On the top was carved the runes:
May all, Knurlan, Humans, and Elves,
Remember
This Man
For he was Noble, Strong, and Wise.
Gûntera Arûna
When the mourners were gathered around, Ajihad was lowered into the crypt, and those who had known him personally were allowed to approach. Eragon and Saphira were fifth in line, behind Arya. As they ascended the marble steps to view the body, Eragon was gripped by an overwhelming sense of sorrow, his anguish compounded by the fact that he considered this as much Mariah, Andrar and Murtagh's funeral as Ajihad's.
Stopping alongside the tomb, Eragon gazed down at Ajihad. He appeared far more calm and tranquil than he ever did in life, as if death had recognized his greatness and honored him by removing all traces of his worldly cares. Eragon had known Ajihad only a short while, but in that time he had come to respect him both as a person and for what he represented: freedom from tyranny.
Stricken, Eragon tried to think of the greatest praise he could give. In the end, he whispered past the lump in his throat, "You will be remembered, Ajihad. I swear it. Rest easy knowing that Nasuada shall continue your work and the Empire will be overthrown because of what you accomplished." Concious of Saphira's touch on his arm, Eragon stepped off the platform with her and allowed Mark to take his place. He watched his friend beside Saphira, his lips never moved so he could only assume he was silent in his praise. After a moment, Mark turned and walked back to him, standing quiet next to him.
When at last everyone had paid their respects, Nasuada bowed over Ajihad and touched her father's hand, holding it with gently urgency. Uttering a pained groan, she began to sing in a strange, wailing language, filling the cavern with her lamentations.
Then came twelve dwarves, who slid a marble slab over Ajihad's upturned face. And he was no more.
Jörmundur walked over to them, "Everyone is now convening to the underground amphitheater, we need to go as well."
"I'm going to follow along with Eragon," Mark insisted, looking at Jörmundur. He nodded and led them off, leaving Mark with a little smirk.
When they arrived, Mark stopped and fell against a wall on the bottom most level, inside the passageway underneath all the seating. Remember Eragon… remain calm when they expect you to pledge your fealty to them. You have already promised Nasuada. Despite their reactions, you can't get angry. If all goes well, you'll walk out of here with everyone's approval… besides the council of course.
The Rider nodded a bit, walking after Arya and Saphria to the center of the amphitheater's stage. Mark followed after him and stood between him and Arya, mostly trying not to be noticed.
Mark…
Yes, Eragon?
Would Mariah approve of this? Pledging to Nasuada?
He looked at the stone beneath his feet, I wouldn't know Eragon. I can't say what she'd think of this…
"People of the Varden," Jörmundur said, "we last stood here fifteen years ago, at Deynor's death. His successor, Ajihad, did more to oppose the Empire and Galbatorix than any before. He won countless battles against superior forces. He nearly killed Durza, putting a scratch on the Shade's blade. And greatest of all, he welcomed Rider Eragon and Saphira into Tronjheim. However, a new leader must be chosen, one who will win us even more glory."
"Shadeslayer!" A shout came from high above, followed by murmurs of agreement.
Jörmundur did not even blink at the suggestion, "Perhaps in years to come, but he has other duties and responsibilities now. No, the Council of Elders has through long on this: we need one who understands our needs and wants, one who has lived and suffered alongside us. One who refused to flee, even when battle was imminent."
At that moment, comprehension rushed through the listeners. The name came as a whisper from a thousand throats and was uttered by Jörmundur himself: "Nasuada." With a bow, he stepped aside.
Next was Arya. She surveyed the wating audience, then said, "The elves honor Ajihad tonight…And on behalf of Queen Islanzadí, I recognize Nasuada's ascension and offer her the same support and friendship we extended to her father. May the stars watch over her."
Hrothgar took the podium and stated gruffly, "I too support Nasuada, as do the clans." He moved aside.
Then it was Eragon's turn. How he wished Mariah were standing nearby with a supporting smile. Grief stricken, standing before the crowd will all eyes upon him and Saphira, he managed, "We support Nasuada as well." Saphira growled affirmation behind him.
Pledges spoken, the Council of Elders lined themselves on either side of the podium, Jörmundur at their head. Bearing herself proudly, Nasuada approached and knelt before him, her dress splayed in raven billows. Raising his voice, Jörmundur said, "By the right of inheritance and succession, we have chosen Nasuada. By merit of her father's achievements and the blessings of her peers, we have chosen Nasuada. I now ask you: Have we chosen well?"
The roar was overwhelming. "Yes!"
Jörmundur nodded. "Then by the power granted to this council, we pass the privileges and responsibilities accorded to Ajihad to his only descendant, Nasuada." He gently placed a circlet of silver on Nasuada's brow. Taking her hand, he lifted her upright and pronounced, "I give you our new leader!" The Varden and dwarves cheered for ten minutes, thundering their approval until the hall rang with the clamor.
Mark glanced over at Eragon, watching as Sabrae of the council whispered to him. Remember what you promised Nasuada. Don't hesitate, just do it. There is nothing they can do to you and nothing they can do to stop you.
He nodded slightly in response to both Sabrae and Mark, walking to Nasuada and Jörmundur. He bowed and kneeled. Slipping Zar'roc from it's sheath, he placed the sword flat on his palms, then lifted it, as if to proffer it to Jörmundur. For a moment, the sword hovered between the man and Nasuada, teetering on the wire edge of two different destinies. Then he swung to face Nasuada. "Out of deep respect… and appreciation of the difficulties facing you… I, Eragon, first Rider of the Varden, Shadeslayer and Argetlam, give you my blade and my fealty, Nasuada."
The Varden and dwarves stared, dumbstruck. In that same instant, the Council of Elders flashed from triumphant gloating to enraged impotence. Their glares burned with the strength and venom of those betrayed. Even Elessari let outrage burst through her pleasant demeanor. Only Jörmundur – after a brief jolt of surprise – seemed to accept the announcement with equanimity.
Nasuada smiled and grasped Zar'roc, placing the sword's tip on Eragon's forehead, just as before. "I am honored that you choose to serve me, Rider Eragon. I accept, as you accept all the responsibilities accompanying the station. Rise as my vassal and take your sword." Eragon did so, then stepped back with Saphira. With shouts of approval, the crowd rose to their feet, the dwarves stamping in rhythm with their hobnail boots while human warriors banged swords across shields. Mark took the rising din as an opportune distraction, striding to Nasuada and kneeling in front of her. She stared down at him for a moment, waiting for the cheering to stop. He tapped his throat, casting a spell in his mind.
"Lady Nasuada," when he spoke, his voice seemed louder, echoing around the theater slightly, so that others could hear if they hadn't all silenced already. "Like my companion, Rider Eragon, has just sworn fealty to you and the Varden, I offer the same. Though I may not be a Rider as Mariah was, I wish to give the Varden and yourself whatever I have to offer. Since our arrival, the Varden and those of Farthen Dûr have been as family, treated us with kindness and respect, I wish to pay back their compassion in full. Consider my life yours and take it in memory of my late sister."
He caught Eragon staring at him from a ways off, ignoring him for the time being. Nasuada watched Mark for a minute before looking up at the assemblage. She held out her hand to them and they cheered. Looking back down at him, she smiled, "After bringing to us Rider Eragon, as well as your sister, and protecting and fighting with us when it was not your duty to do so, we would be proud to have you join us. You would be a valuable asset to the Varden, and it is clear they all approve. Please, Lord Marcus, rise as my vassal and stand at my side."
He stood, tapping his throat again gently to remove the spell and stepping on the opposite side of her as Jörmundur. The glares he incurred from the council were nearly as bad as the ones Eragon had received, but he expertly ignored them, looking at Nasuada the entire time.
She raised her hands, standing at the podium, "People of the Varden!"
Silence.
"As my father did before me, I give my life to you and our cause. I will never cease fighting until the Urgals are vanquished, Galbatorix is dead, and Alagaësia is free once more! Therefore, I say to you, now is the time to prepare. Here in Farthen Dûr – after endless skirmishes – we won our greatest battle. It is our turn to strike back. Galbatorix is weak after losing so many forces, and there will never again be such an opportunity. Therefore, I say again, now is the time to prepare so that we will once more stand victorious!"
After standing around, listening to speeches from various personages – including the council members – the amphitheater began to empty. Mark and Eragon turned to leave, Saphira rising to her feet. Walking out slowly, Mark glanced at the boy and his dragon, You should get ready to leave. Though the council members can't do much to you, they will make your life a living hell. The sooner you're gone, the better.
Mark, you didn't tell me about your fealty to Nasuada.
It wasn't fealty.
He blinked, Then what was it?
A mutual trust in one another where both parties are likely to gain. I didn't want you telling anyone else, which is why I said nothing.
I wouldn't have said anything.
You might have, and seeing as how you got drunk yesterday, it was very likely your loose tongue let something slip.
Wait, this means you're not going to Ellesméra with us?
No.
Why not? You said you would… you even know how to get there.
Arya will take you, Mark said, walking through the tunnel with him. I trust her to take care of you and Saphira while I stay here. Nasuada needs someone who she can trust. I owe no one here anything save her, and only because of her father do I do this. She is young and easily going to be led astray, I can't let that happen to the greatest enemy of Galbatorix. I owe the council nothing, so I can ignore all their misdeeds, and I can focus on helping Nasuada. Ajihad let us in, all of us, even Murtagh, despite knowing his lineage. That man gave us more than anyone else has in a long time, and I owe him for that. Since he is dead and I can no longer pay back that debt, I give what I owe to his daughter. I'm sure he would appreciate the notion.
She said the same thing about Mariah earlier, saving her life.
Yes. She agreed to me not swearing fealty to her in exchange for erasing that debt. Both of us will owe each other nothing, and in that we will be equal partners looking to gain. Our mutual goal is to defeat Galbatorix. That is why I will not go to Ellesméra with you Eragon.
Alright Mark… I… I think I understand.
If you don't you will in due time, now go and get some rest. Mark said, turning and heading to his own room.
"The king wishes to see you now."
Mariah flicked her eyes open and looked past Murtagh towards the door; a small group of guards and a messenger were standing there, waiting. She sighed a little and roused Murtagh. With a small moan, he sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Let me heal that for you," she said quietly, touching his wound with careful fingers. "Waise heil…" The wound glowed for a moment faintly in red-orange before fading and repairing itself.
"Thank you Mariah," he said, standing up and heading for the door. The girl scrambled to catch up with him, falling into step beside him. "What does his highness wish to see us about so early this fine morning?"
The messenger sniffed a bit, "That is for him to know. Follow." He turned and with the guards surrounding the two captives, they headed up the stairs and down a passageway. While walking, they strode past the kitchens, making Mariah's mouth water and her stomach flip with hunger. She couldn't remember the last time she had a proper meal. Wrapping an arm around her waist, she hurried alongside Murtagh, only to stop in front of a pair of double doors. The messenger knocked and they swung wide open, revealing an ornate room with a long table, Galbatorix sitting at the head.
"Good Morning!" He said cheerily, "Come in, come in. I'm sure you both are starved."
Murtagh's jaw set and he let his eyes glance toward Mariah before flicking ahead again. He closed his eyes a moment before walking into the room, sitting down at the side of the table where it was set. Mariah watched him a moment before following and sitting beside him. Galbatorix waved his hand a bit and a few maids walked around, setting food in front of them. As hungry as she was, she didn't feel much like eating with the king in the same room. She caught Murtagh out of the corner of her eye start eating and bit her lip. He glanced back and stepped on her foot lightly before flicking his eyes toward Galbatorix, who was watching her intently. Catching on, she swallowed and picked up a fork, eating slowly.
"Much better. I see that you're both looking quite well rested this morning." Both of them had dark circles under their eyes and Murtagh's shoulder still ached from the wound he'd incurred. Mariah still felt weak, especially after using so much energy to heal him earlier. "Well, I'll get right to it then." He said, "Murtagh has told me oh so much about you, young Rider."
Mariah flicked her eyes up to him, staring.
"Not intentionally, of course," he said. "So you can't really blame him my dear. From what I've gathered out of his rather well-protected mind is that you are quite skilled with a blade. Tell me, who was your teacher?"
She blinked, glancing at Murtagh who was expertly ignoring her gaze. How much had he managed to conceal from the king? It was difficult to tell, so she decided not to reveal more than necessary. "My grandfather."
"And who was that?"
"…his name was Brom."
"So I've gathered." He said, "I'm glad to see you aren't a liar, Mariah. Pray tell, who are your parents?"
"I don't know, they died when I was very young."
"And what of your brother?"
Mariah watched him, "What of him?"
"I know little of him, I merely wish to know more." He said.
"We were on none too pleasant terms last we spoke and I wish to avoid the topic all together."
"I see… well then, let me speed ahead, since you appear disinclined to talk with me this morning," he said, "I want to see the full extent of your skills. You will show me today out in the court yard. Afterward you will be allowed to see your dragon."
Mariah stared at her goblet of water for a minute silently, thinking. "If that is what you wish of me, I shall need a sword and a new set of clothing, preferably of my own choosing."
"Everything you need shall be provided in due time. I must first see how your skill with a sword is… afterward, your magic. It won't be until after that when you get what you ask for." He stood up smoothly and strode to the door, "You shall be in the court yard in one hour exactly. If you waste time and arrive late, you will be punished. You will remain in one another's company at all times so my guards can keep watch on you." Galbatorix paused at the doors, watching them open, "And if you try to run, escape or do anything other than what I say Mariah. I will kill him. It would be such a shame to do so Murtagh, after all I've done for you." He flicked his cape as he walked from the room, the doors closing behind him.
They finished eating in silence - Mariah, in fear of being harmed for speaking anything, especially her own mind, and not wanting wandering ears to hear what she had to say. She didn't know why Murtagh said nothing, but she suspected the same of him. When he stood to leave, she jumped to her feet and followed, glancing at him as the doors opened.
A maid dipped her head, "Dragon Rider, I've been instructed to bring you to the armory to be fitted for a weapon by Galath, please, follow me."
Mariah blinked at the formality of the situation. Since she'd arrived in Urû'baen, she'd been treated as a prisoner who was expected to do the king's bidding. It was a nice change, but she didn't think she could get used to it. "Thank you." She said simply, following after the woman, listening to Murtagh trail behind her with the guards.
The armory was fully stocked, but seemed to be lacking a few key weapons that she would have instantly chosen over anything there. No weapons of Elvish make were in sight, nor any Rider blades. If Galbatorix had any in his possession, she suspected they were kept elsewhere under constant surveillance. A gruff looking man strode over to her, towering her by at least a foot.
"You are small and appear very weak, tell me, what weapon you choose to fight with."
Mariah bit down her anger at his comment and sneered, "Whatever you dare give a Rider."
Galath leaned his head down towards her, glaring, "If you are attempting to use your status to intimidate me, might I remind you that I am captain of the King's guard. And you are a tiny little girl who has become his captive. Your spirit will be crushed soon enough." He turned and walked to a wooden sword lying on a table, grabbing it and thrusting it towards her.
She slid a foot forward, twisting her hand and grasping it by the handle, before moving into a fighting pose without thought. "A practice sword, what do you take me for?"
"I feared you may harm yourself on a sharpened blade."
"I assure you, I could kill with a weapon as dull as this one; however I believe a sharpened steel sword is better suited to me." She threw the wood back at him with a snarl.
"If you insist." Galath took up a polished sword and pitched it toward her, faster than the previous weapon.
Mariah stepped sideways and snatched the handle. She tested the weight in her hand. It was heavier than she had hoped and knew they were thinner blades in the room, however chose to keep the one in her hand, not going to give him the satisfaction or opening to say anything else about her weaknesses. Lowering it to the ground, the tip hit the stone floor with a click. "Better." She said, "Now, tell me how to reach the court yard." She stared at the guard master and held his gaze.
His mustache twitched and he pushed past her, forcing Murtagh to step aside as he bustled out of the doorway. Mariah grabbed a sheath and tied the belt to her waist, following him with Murtagh on her heels. They arrived shortly to a large set of double doors leading outside; she breathed in deeply when she smelled fresh air and sighed a bit, knowing she would have given almost anything to find Andrar and flee with him this moment.
"Ah, well met," Galbatorix was striding around in his long dragon-wing cape. "You will show me how well you do with a blade, then we will see about testing your magic." He moved over to an immaculate chair that had seemingly been placed there just for his own pleasure earlier that day. "You may begin."
She stared at him and wrenched the sword from its sheath. Testing the weight again, she sighed inwardly, knowing the heavier blade would take more effort to maneuver. Mariah took a deep breath, shutting her eyes and trying to calm her nerves. When she flicked her eyes back open, she tried to imagine Mark standing in front of her, egging her on for practice round two.
"Murtagh come here." Mariah bit her tongue as he interrupted. She looked over and saw the king waving to Murtagh to stand beside him. "Come and watch your companion. I want to see if she is as good as your memories say she is."
Flicking her eyes shut again, she started, trying her best to block out his voice as he kept talking. Does he want to watch me or talk to him? This is ridiculous. After a few minutes of complex maneuvering, she stopped and stared at him.
Immediately, his eyes flickered up to her, "I did not tell you to stop." Galbatorix jumped to his feet, "Continue, now girl!"
She stood there and watched him for a moment, What can he really do to me? If he wants me alive, he can't hurt me.
"No, you're right," he said, smirking. "You can defy me all you want, but you're not the only one here, are you?" He continued, muttering under his breath. From beside him, Murtagh threw his hands up to his throat, choking.
"Ack… M.. riah…" he coughed out, his eyes looking at her, pleading.
She tightened her grip on her sword, "Fine!" Mariah shouted to him, throwing her blade out again and following it in a fighting dance she'd learned from Brom. The king sat back down, clearly pleased and released the spell holding Murtagh, who tumbled to the ground, coughing.
"Well, if that's all you have the energy for, I don't suppose I can ask you to use magic for me, can I?" He asked, walking over to her when she was dripping sweat, breathing heavy. Galbatorix lifted her head up with the tips of his fingers, "But I can have you fight an opponent, just to see how well you do worn in battle. Kieran!"
Murtagh stared at Mariah, his eyes a little wide, going pale. He took a step toward her and then hesitated, staring at the back of Galbatorix's head. The boy looked back at her and shook his head, mouthing the words – Be careful.
After Mark had left for his room, Eragon had wandered about in Tronjheim for a while longer with Saphira, reflecting on the recent events before deicing to turn in for the night. When he returned to his quarters however, a tall woman was waiting for him in the hall. She had dark hair, startling blue eyes, and a wry mouth. Wound around her wrist was a gold bracelet shaped like a hissing snake.
"Argetlam." She curtsied gracefully.
He inclined his head in return. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so. I'm Trianna, sorceress of Du Vrangr Gata."
"Really? A sorceress?" he asked, intrigued.
"And battle mage and spy and anything else that the Varden deem necessary. There aren't enough magic users, so we each end up with a half-dozen tasks. "She smiled, displaying even, white teeth. "That's why I came today. We would be honored to have you take charge of our group. You're the only one who can replace the Twins."
Almost without realizing it, he smiled back. She was so friendly and charming, he hated to say no. "I'm afraid I can't; Saphira and I are leaving Tronjheim soon. Besides, I'd have to consult with Nasuada first anyway." And I don't want to be entangled in any more politics… especially not where the Twins used to lead.
Trianna bit her lip. "I'm sorry to hear that." She moved a step closer. "Perhaps we can spend some time together before you have to go. I could show you how to summon and control spirits… It would be educational for both of us."
Eragon felt a hot flush warm his face. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm really too busy at the moment."
A spark of anger flared within Trianna's eyes, then vanished so quickly, he wondered whether he had seen it at all. She sighed delicately. "I understand."
She sounded so disappointed – and looked so forlorn – Eragon felt guilty for rebuffing her. It can't hurt to talk with her for a few minutes, he told himself. "I'm curious; how did you learn magic?"
Trianna brightened. "My mother was a healer in Surda. She had a bit of power ad was able to instruct me in the old ways. Of course, I'm nowhere near as powerful as a Rider. None of Du Vrangr Gata could have defeated Durza alone, like you did. That was a heroic deed."
Embarrassed, Eragon scuffed his boots against the ground. "I wouldn't have survived if not for Arya."
"You are too modest, Argetlam," she admonished. "It was you who struck the final blow. You should be proud of your accomplishment. It's a feat worthy of Vrael himself." She leaned toward him. His heart quickened as he smelled her perfume, which was rich and musky, with a hint of an exotic spice. "Have you heard the songs composed about you? The Varden sing them every night around their fires. They say you've come to take the throne from Galbatorix!"
"No," said Eragon, quick and sharp. That was one rumor he would not tolerate. "They might, but I don't. Whatever my fate may be, I don't aspire to rule."
"And it's wise of you not to. What is a king, after all, but a man imprisoned by his duties? That would be a poor reward indeed for the last free Rider and his dragon. No, for you the ability to go and do what you will and, by extension, to shape the future of Alagaësia." She paused. "Do you have any family left in the Empire?"
What? "Only a cousin… and I suppose I would consider some of my friends family."
"Then you're not betrothed?"
The question caught him off guard. He had never been asked that before. "No, I'm… not betrothed."
"Surely there must be someone you care about." She came another step closer, and her ribboned sleeve brushed his arm.
Mariah. He wanted to say her name, but couldn't seem to find the words. His face burned red again and he faltered, licking his lips as he tried to speak. "I… well… that is… my friend, she-" Then he remembered. Mariah was gone. And it didn't matter anymore. "No… I-"
"What is all this damn noise, people are trying to sleep you know!"
Relieved, he looked over at Mark. Trianna stepped back from him and he blinked, feeling a weight lift off him. "I… was just talking to… to Trianna."
"From Du Vrangr Gata I assume, from that trinket on your arm, you're a sorceress…" Mark looked unamused with her, glancing between the two of them, noting her proximity to the boy. "Eragon, aren't you supposed to be resting for you trip to Ellesméra?"
"Ah… yes. Thank you for reminding me Mark."
He waited and blinked at Eragon, "Well get going."
The Rider jumped a bit and glanced at Trianna, inclining his head. "Nice to meet you." He said, turning and slipping into his room.
Mark waited for a moment before looking back at the sorceress. "You should know better than try to lure such a young man into a trap like that."
"Trap? What do you take me for?"
"Lady, you can hide no secrets from me. He is barely sixteen and knows nothing of women. I can't imagine how his mind must have been reeling." Mark leaned against his doorjamb and smirked at her. "If you were trying to bed the young Rider, you should have thought through your actions a little more. And perhaps had your conversation somewhere more private."
She stared at him, "You were listening. The entire time?" Trianna took his silence for admittance and gaped at him, "Why did you wait so long to intervene?"
"I was merely waiting for a good moment. I had hoped he would ignore your advances, but it didn't happen today. Perhaps he will be more aware in the future of temptresses trying to entice him. And as for Du Vrangr Gata… as Nasuada's new shadow I intend investigating thoroughly." Mark saw her fidget.
Trianna watched him out of her bright blue eyes and blinked. "You are as much a sorcerer as I am… why don't you just take leadership yourself? You're in a position to do so now."
He shook his head, "I don't need that hassle right now. If the group even remains intact, I'll oversee everything in general, but I don't want to lead it, not now."
"What do you mean if the group remains intact?"
"My plans are to disband the group all together… unless something… changes my mind." Mark said to her. "I think we might be able to come to some sort of agreement Trianna… that is, if you want to remain leader of Du Vrangr Gata."
She looked him over for a moment and flicked her hair back out of her face. "Do you know how to summon and control spirits?" Trianna asked, moving in front of him with a smile on her lips.
"Yes. However, I'd like to see how you do so," he said. "It would be educational after all." Mark leaned forward, closing the gap between them and kissing her. She placed her slim hands on his chest and kissed him back, letting him shut the door behind her as they stepped into his room.
This is nearly a week overdue, I know. I'm sincerely sorry for taking so long.
I know where I want some of this to go. I'm having trouble trying to figure out how to get there. This is to the point where I have sat around for two weeks, thinking through the events in Eldest and know how I want the last chapter to end… it's bad. Some people procrastinate because they don't wanna do it. My problem has always been I over think everything. I have a hard time committing to anything.
All your reviews are EXTREMELY helpful, you don't even know. I like knowing what you want to read. Sometimes I will take your advice literally, other times I will read it and flip it upside down and throw it back at you, just the way you don't want it.
Thank you for your patience.
With Love, As Always,
Mariah & Mark
Mark because without my brother I wouldn't know where I'm going with this story.