Chapter Fifty-One: Black Lightning
"Tell me, Eragon-finiarel… What do your people sing about in these dark days? I remember the epics and lays I heard in Ilirea – sagas of your proud kings and earls – but it was long, long ago and the memories are like withered flowers in my mind. What new works have your people created?" Eragon frowned as he tried to recall the names of stories Brom had recited. When Lifaen heard them, he shook his head sowrrowfully and said, "So much has been lost. No court ballads survive, and, if you speak truly, nor does most of your history or art, except for fanciful tales Galbatorix has allowed to thrive."
"Brom once told us about the fall of the Riders," said Eragon defensively. An image of a deer bounding over rotting logs flashed behind his eyes from Saphira, who was off hunting.
"Ah, a brave man." For a minute, Lifaen paddled silently. "We too sing about the Fall… but rarely. Most of us were alive when Vrael entered the void, and we still grieve for our burned cities – the red lilies of Éwayëna, the crystals of Luthivíra – and for our slain families. Time cannot dull the pain of those wounds, not if a thousand thousand years passed and the sun itself dies, leaving the world to float in eternal night."
Orik grunted in the back. "As it is with the dwarves. Remember, elf, we lost and entire clan to Galbatorix."
"And we lost our king, Evandar."
"I never heard that," said Eragon, surprised.
Lifaen nodded as he guided them around a submerged rock, "Few have. Brom could have told you about it; he was there when the fatal blow was struck. Before Vrael's death, the elves faced Galbatorix on the plains of Ilirea in our final attempt to defeat him. There Evandar-"
"Where is Ilirea?" asked Eragon.
"It's Urû'baen, boy," said Orik. "Used to be an elf city."
Unperturbed by the interruption, Lifaen continued: "As you say, Ilirea was one of our cities. We abandoned it during our war with the dragons, and then, centuries later, humans adopted it as their capital after King Palancar was exiled."
Eragon said, "King Palancar? Who was he? Is that how Palancar Valley got its name?"
This time the elf turned and looked at him with amusement. "You have as many questions as leaves on a tree, Argetlam."
"Brom was of the same opinion," Eragon said.
Lifaen smiled, then paused, as if to gather his thoughts. "When your ancestors arrived in Alagaësia eight hundred years ago, they roamed far across it, seeking a suitable place to live. Eventaully, they settled in Palancar Valley – though it was not called such then – as it was one of the few defendable locations that we or the dwarves had not claimed. There your king, Palancar, began to build a mighty state.
"In an attempt to expand his borders, he declared war against us, though we had offered no provocation. Three times he attacked, an three times we prevailed. Our strength frightened Palancar's nobles and they pled with their liege for peace. He ignored their counsel. Then the lords approached us with a treaty, which we signed without the king's knowledge.
"With our help, Palancar was usurped and banished, but he, his family, and their vassals refused to leave the valley. Since we had no wish to murder them, we constructed the tower of Ristvak'baen so the Riders could watch over Palancar and ensure he would never again rise to power or attack anyone else in Alagaësia.
"Before long Palancar was killed by a son who did not wish to wait for nature to take its course. Thereafter, family politics consisted of assassination, betrayal, and other depravities, reducing Palancar's house to a shadow of its former grandeur. However, his descendants never left, and the blood of kings still runs in Therinsford and Carvahall."
"I see," said Eragon.
Lifaen lifted one dark eyebrow. "Do you? It has more significance than you may think. It was this event that convinced Anurin – Vrael's predecessor as head Rider – to allow humans to become Riders, in order to prevent similar disputes."
Orik emitted a bark of laughter. "That must have caused some argument."
"It was an unpopular decision," admitted Lifaen. "Even now some question the wisdom of it. It caused such a disagreement between Anurin and Queen Dellanir that Anurin seceded from our government and established the Riders on Vroengard as an independent entity."
"But If the Riders were separated from your government, then how could they keep the peace, as they were supposed to?" asked Eragon.
"They couldn't," said Lifaen. "Not until Queen Dellanir saw the wisdom of having the Riders free of any lord or king and restored their access to Du Weldenvarden. Still, it never pleased her that any authority could supersede her own."
Eragon frowned, "Wasn't that the whole point, though?"
"Yes… and no. The Riders were supposed to guard against the failings of the different governments and races, yet who watched the watchers? It was that very problem that caused the Fall. No one existed who could descry the flaws within the Riders' own system, for they were above scrutiny, and thus, they perished."
Eragon stroked the water – first one one side, then the other – while he considered Lifaen's words. His paddle fluttered in his hand as it cut diagonally across the current. "Who succeeded Dellanir as king or queen?"
"Evandar did. He took the knotted throne five hundred years ago – when Dellanir abdicated in order to study the mysteries of magic – and held it until his death. Now his mate, Islanzadí rules us."
"That's-" Eragon stopped with his mouth open. He was going to say impossible, but then realized how ridiculous that statement would sound. Instead, he asked, "Are elves immortal?"
In a soft voice, Lifaen said, "Once we were like you, bright, fleeting, and as ephemeral as the morning dew. Now our lives stretch endlessly through the dusty years. Aye, we are immortal, although we are still vulnerable to injuries of the flesh."
"You became immortal? How?" The elf refused to elaborate, though Eragon pressed him for details. Finally, Eragon asked, "How old is Arya?"'
Lifaen turned his glittering eyes on him, probing Eragon with disconcerting acuteness. "Arya? What is your interest in her?"
"I…" Eragon faltered, suddenly unsure of his intentions. His attraction to Arya was complicated by the fact that she was an elf, and that her age, whatever it might be, was so much greater than his own. She must view me as a child. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But she saved both my life and Saphira's, and I'm curious to know more about her."
"I feel ashamed," said Lifaen, pronouncing each word carefully. "for asking such a question. Among our king, it is rude to pry into one's affairs… Only, I must say, and I believe that Orik agrees with me, that you would do well to guard your heart, Argetlam. Now is not the time to lose it, nor would it be well placed in this instance."
"Aye," grunted Orik.
Heat suffused Eragon as blood rushed to his face, like hot tallow melting through him. Before he could utter a retort, Saphira entered his mind and said, And now is the time to guard your tongue. They mean well. Don't insult them.
He took a deep breath and tried to let his embarrassment drain away. Do you agree with them?
I believe, Eragon, that you are full of love and that you are looking for one who will reciprocate your affection. No shame exists in that. She paused, You still feel guilty. It wasn't a question.
Yes. But I still don't know why.
Saphira hummed slightly, Do tell me when you figure it out young one.
"A bow is my worst weapon," Mariah admitted to Murtagh quietly. "My brother and Eragon were always much better at it than me."
"Were you using their bows?"
"Yes."
He nodded, "That's why then. They probably have a heavier draw because they're stronger than you. If you try something easier to pull back you might find it to your liking." He lowered his own bow and looked at her, "That's why I handed you that one."
She looked down at the bow in her hand. While they were arming themselves for training today with Kieran, he'd snatched the pretty hand carved bow out of her hands and placed a darker colored one in her palm before walking outside. Mariah pulled an arrow from her quiver and pulled back, finding the draw much easier than her brothers'. She adjusted herself and let out a slow breath, releasing the arrow, watching it smack into the middle of the target twenty meters away.
"Hate to say it, but I told you so."
Mariah narrowed her eyes up at Murtagh, watching his mouth flicker up into a smirk. Thorn let out a few snorts, sounding much like laughter as he covered his muzzle with his claws. The small red dragon was sitting on Andrar's nose while the older dragon lounged in the sunlight. "So you know more about archery, so what?"
"Nothing, glad I could help." He said, glancing over at Kieran. She was whipping arrow after arrow at her target, landing them dead center until the cluster was so thick that there wasn't room for any more. She huffed and stalked over, pulling them out and returning to her post, repeating the process. "Kieran, I think you've killed it." Murtagh said, raising his voice a bit to her.
She turned on him with her bow drawn, making Mariah jump a bit. Kieran released an arrow, shooting it at his feet. "I'll kill it ten more times, would you like to stand in front of my target Murtagh?"
"No, thank you," he said, snatching the arrow and tossing it away, rolling his eyes as she turned back to her target. After several more long hours of training, which left Murtagh exhausted and bleeding, they returned to their rooms. Thorn chirruped at her, pressing his nose against her hand as she extended it to him.
"Let me heal you up before you pass out, alright?" She insisted, running her fingers over the cuts on his arms where his vambraces hadn't shielded him. "There. Right as rain."
He smiled a bit at her, tiredly, "Thanks. Night."
"Night," Mariah said, "Night Thorn." She watched them turn and walk to their room before sliding her door shut and leaning against it, twisting the lock. Tearing her shirt over her head, she tossed it in a corner, finding a change of clothes to sleep in. Andrar?
Yes darling, what is it?
I hate being here, she said, standing in the middle of the large overly-decorated room. It's cold and awful. The only time I feel even remotely happy is when I'm with you or Murtagh and Thorn. I just want to go home… She told him, slipping to the floor and folding her legs, burying her face in her hands to hide the tears from herself.
She felt sadness and sympathy emitting from her dragon's consciousness. I know how you feel darling. We shall have to find a way to leave this place. You must be strong and hold out a little longer.
How much longer? Mariah asked, standing up again and picking up a book she'd been reading, chucking it as hard as she could toward the wall. The thump both against the wall and the floor weren't quite satisfying enough, but still made her feel the slightest bit better. I'm going to go insane here Andrar…
At least you are still alive. He pointed out to her sourly.
I might as well be dead for all the good it's doing me sitting in here! She snapped at him, closing him off angrily, striding towards her bed. Mariah, catching her face in the mirror above her dresser, stopped abruptly. She caught her balance and let out a shaky breath, watching her face. A moment ago it had seemed vicious and cruel, her skin tinged with red as her blood boiled. "What am I doing?"
"Mariah?"
She jumped a bit and turned toward the door, answering it, "Yes?"
"I heard something, are you alright?" Murtagh asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her through the crack in the doorway.
"I'm… fine…" she said pathetically.
He looked back at her dubiously, "You don't look fine, what's wrong?"
"Nothing Murtagh, it's alright, really…"
"When a lady says nothing, she means something." He assured her, leaning his hand against the wall. "C'mon now, you can talk to me."
Mariah sighed, stepping back and letting him in her room, "It's nothing."
There was that look again. He flopped into a chair and stared at her, kicking his feet up on the table, folding his arms clearly in a gesture for her to talk about it. Murtagh looked quite content, as though he would sit there all night if he had to in order to get her to talk. The stubbornness was reminding her of her brother and she couldn't help but give in.
"I hate it here."
"Then leave."
"I can't."
"Course you can." He said.
Mariah shot him a glare, "I can't leave and still live."
"Ah, see that's where the problem lies. You care too much about your life." He smirked a bit. "If you didn't, you'd just leave."
"I'm not leaving you here either."
"That too, you just care too much, don't you?"
"I can't help it," she admitted weakly, slipping into a chair and rubbing her face again as tears threatened her eyes.
Murtagh leaned forward, looking at her, "Believe me, if I knew a way out of this mess, we'd be out of it already. You could have left when you went off with Kieran, but you didn't-"
"You were still here. I thought Galbatorix might have killed you."
"Right. You care too much. You didn't leave with Kieran, you came back. That, and your oath to Galbatorix sort of forced you to come back."
"He's going to get suspicious if I try and disobey him again. He'll make me swear something more specific, like he did with you." Mariah said, shivering a bit. It was raining outside and it was cold for summertime. "But I just want to leave."
"I'm sure we'll figure something out Mariah, we'll get out of here, I promise."
She shook her head, "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Murtagh snatched up her hands, "We will get out of here. I do promise you that Mariah." He smiled a little at her. "I won't leave without you either, I promise."
"…I…" No one made promises to her with such sincerity, not even Mark. "Thank you."
He nodded, standing up and walking to the door. She slipped after him, sighing and watching the floor, squeaking a bit when he hugged her. "Don't let being stuck here get to you Mariah, please. You make everything more bearable and if you give up, I'm probably going to as well. Try and get some rest now, please." Murtagh said, looking down at her.
"Alright," she said quietly, nodding.
"Good." He leaned down and kissed her cheek fleetingly before striding across the hall back to his room.
She blinked, watching the door close behind him.
She panted heavily, slamming her back up against the side of the building, closing her mouth to keep the noise of her breath down. As soon as she caught sight of a light flickering across the street she twisted and pushed off the wall, running again. Her feet pounded against the stone road beneath her heeled boots, the dagger against her ankle clicking in its sheath with every step. Skidding slightly in the road she turned down a side alley, finding it a dead end. The woman spun around before feeling her body getting slammed into the wall, letting out a small growl as the wind got knocked out of her.
"You decided to come here, it's nothing personal, you know. Just business."
Her midnight blue eyes flashed behind him, noting the other man at the end of the alley, making sure no one else happened to stroll down and interrupt their meeting. "Just the two of you?" She asked, regaining her breath.
The brown haired man pressed her harder into the wall, his knife up against her ribcage. "All we need to deal with you sweetheart."
"You don't work for Galbatorix." She smiled a bit, letting out a laugh.
His eyes narrowed, "What makes you say that?"
"No spy of Galbatorix would ever make the fatal mistake of going into a dead-end alleyway with one of his daughters." She let out a sharp whistle as he jammed the knife into her armored corset. From the street a rippling growl sounded, followed by a blur of black and gray. The man standing guard shouted and waved a dagger around wildly, trying to ward off the demon attacking him. It jumped and clamped down on his throat, blood spurting across the wall of the alley.
The man holding her let go and spun to see what was attacking, freezing in place as the wolf lowered its head, stalking towards him, fangs dripping with blood. No sooner had he blinked than an arrow was lodged halfway through his throat, leaving him unable to shout. He fell to his knees, screaming silently and trying to pull it out.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, walking around to face him, healing up her side with a silent spell. The wolf padded up to her and nosed her hand, wagging his tail. "You'll bleed out faster." She placed her fingers on his forehead, searching his mind rapidly before he fell over in a dead heap. "…Trevin. You're supposed to have better aim than that. You barely gave me enough time."
"Oh, Kendra, you're kidding ,right?" He threw a rope down off the roof and slipped down along it, his boots settling on the stone floor gracefully. "I knew you had plenty of time, otherwise I wouldn't have shot him in the throat." Trevin's bow was slung over his shoulder inside his quiver alongside a set of sixteen white-fletched arrows.
She raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms, as if to ask, "honestly?"
Trevin smiled, tipping his head to the side a bit, his loose auburn hair falling over his golden-amber eyes, "You did get yourself stabbed though, found a chink in your corset did he?"
"Just a little one, I'm fine, thanks for asking." Kendra turned on her heel, the wolf padding along after her, leaving the two dead men lying in the alley in pools of their own blood. "Now let's get out of this gods-forsaken town." She quickly found her she-horse – a warm-blooded chestnut mare – and climbed up into her leather saddle. Trevin climbed atop the paint tied up next to her and spurred the stallion off southward.
The small city of Rimmel, in the Empire, was closer to the Surdan capital of Aberon than the counry's own city of Petrovya, leaving the trip back to base only a day away – at a solid running pace. Halfway back it started raining on them. Had it been anyone else riding next to him, Trevin would have started complaining. Kendra wasn't one to bother with pointless moaning about anything, especially rain. She happened to love the awful weather. The gray and black wolf ran alongside the mare, staying in Kendra's sights the entire way back.
They took side roads, avoiding travelers and towns as much they could until they reached Aberon. The large stone city was busy, too busy for anyone to notice the blood stains on Kenrda's corset. Setting up a base in a smaller city was simply asking for trouble, why hide when you can sit right under the law's nose? The horses were tethered up outside a small apothecary and their riders dismounted. They opened the door, leaving a bell to jingle overhead.
"Ah, my darlings! You're back!" An elderly woman with missing teeth smiled at them from behind the counter, "All went well I hope?"
"Yes Mama, of course." Kendra smiled at her, leaning on the counter. "No trouble while we were gone?"
"Now darling, why would you think there was?" Mama grinned wider, "There are some visitors in Aberon now. Trouble? I don't believe you will find them troublesome. No. Go now, you must be tired. I'll have dinner done later."
"Thank you Mama." She said, walking into the back room where all the potions and herbs were stored.
Trevin followed, helping move a few boxes in a corner. Underneath of them was a trap door. Kendra dropped down through it and he replaced the boxes, leaving no indication there was anything else there. He waited a moment beside the wolf, who sat there panting, then the shelves to his right shifted and opened, leading into a downward winding staircase. They slid the bookcase back over the doorway and descended.
"So, what's this Mama told me about visitors?" Kendra folded her arms as Trevin slipped around her, grabbing a chair and turning it around, sitting and leaning his arms over the back of it. Her eyes flicked around the room, "Delaney?"
The blonde shook his head, "Ro's lookin' into it." Delaney said, glancing up at her from the map on the table. "He'll be back soon." His dark brown eyes blinked once and then snapped back to the map, unable to hold her gaze for long.
"Good," Kendra said, slipping a chair out from the table and sitting down. "Nyx, sit." The wolf sat next to her, setting his head on her lap, allowing her to scratch him behind his ears.
They glanced over as they heard footfalls on the stairs, however the steps were too light and Kendra sighed, watching Delaney's cousin walk into the room. "You're back." She smiled at them, setting a platter of food down on the table, "Mama sent this down, said you're probably starving."
"Thanks Erika," Trevin said, snatching up a piece of bread and chomping into it.
"Welcome," she said, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, "So, Kendra, did you figure anything out?"
"No," she shook her head, refusing to eat anything until she had the news about the visitors. "They were fakes. I think the real ones set them up as fakes. They had out-dated information and didn't even recognize me."
Trey smirked a little, sneaking a piece of cheese off the plate, "It's not a good day if no one tries to kill Kendra."
Erika sighed, "Well, I don't know what to tell you darlin'. Rowan said he'll be back as soon as he figures out what's going on at the castle. So, will you eat something? And yes, he is likely to stay there late into the night, you know how it is."
"Fine," she agreed finally, taking a piece of bread and cheese from the plate after tossing Nyx a chunk of meat. He snapped it up, growling slightly as he gnawed on the bone. "How long has he been gone?"
"Couple hours, but he's always overly thorough when he does his research." Trey told her, watching as she stood up, walking down the hallway, opening the door at the end and closing it behind Nyx.
He flopped back down on the rug, chewing on his bone, watching Kendra out of his dark eyes. She sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, pushing her boots off with the opposite foot before leaning back against the wall. Brushing her shoulder-length brown hair out of her face, she ate her food slowly in silence, listening to their quiet speech in the main room wafting down the hallway, waiting for Rowan to return with good news.
"I shall refuse to let you scour my fellow Surdans without proper compensation."
Mark leaned up against the wall behind Nasuada, rolling his eyes a bit. Here we go again. He listened and watched the man speak on and on. Pay attention Marcus. Your involvement directly effects Nasuada. Adjusting his balance, he stepped away from the wall and watched King Orrin speaking to Nasuada about the Varden. They were still low on supplies, very low. And after traveling through Surda to the capital of Aberon, they had wiped out much of the nearby farmlands supply of crops and livestock. "King Orrin, if I may interject."
He stopped abruptly, looking at Mark, clearly confused as to why he was there, not having seen him approach.
"If you are indeed so upset by the state of your countrymen, I suggest compensating them yourself. We have not the funds to be spared. All of us are extremely grateful for your peoples' help and generosity these past few days. However, all of our efforts must be towards the rebellion against the Empire and Galbatorix. You see where there may inline a problem?"
"Yes, yes, I see very well," he nodded. "I suppose I'll just have to spread funds from the treasury to reimburse those who have helped you."
"And excellent idea your majesty, if I do say so myself."
"Very well then, it shall be done."
Nasuada smiled at King Orrin, "Can we expect no further inquiries on the subject?"
"Of course lady," he nodded.
Mark inclined his head to the King. "If you've finished with your questions today, I'm sure you have to get back to your experimentation soon, yes?"
"Oh! Quite," he said, turning and hurrying off before something caught fire yet again.
He watched the man leave and glanced at Nasuada. She picked up her skirts and turned to the door, thanking him when he held it open for her. "You seem to know precisely what to say and when to say it Marcus."
"I pride myself on my ability to do such Nasuada." Mark said, walking out with her. "But he is right you know, we can't afford to keep taking so much from the people in Surda."
She sighed a little, looking over the courtyard where Orrin's guards were clad in orange. "I know this. I simply haven't yet come up with a good solution."
Mark looked back at her and smiled a bit, "Seeing as we're no longer traveling or fighting the Empire on a daily basis, it's my opinion that we allow the people in the Varden to do as they like here in Surda. It's so very difficult to keep rations to feed so many. Growing our own food and keeping our own livestock might help balance the equation a little more."
"Talk anymore like that and I'll send you back to Orrin." She chuckled, thinking about his idea. "It seems to be fair enough… if King Orrin would allow us to have some of the land around Surda… and to purchase or trade for animals, yes. It seems like it would work."
"Go ahead and think it over some more, tell me when you've come to a decision and we'll go speak to Orrin together." Mark said, stopping outside her room. "I'll see you later then."
"Of course, thank you Mark." She said, going into her room.
He stretched a bit and walked down the staircase into the entryway. All this talk about food was making him hungry though, so he turned and decided to search out the kitchens. Hallway after hallway he turned down, believing it was just around the corner. Finally, he stopped, "I've gotten myself properly lost this time." He looked both ways down the hall and muttered to himself, hoping a maid or squire happened to walk by and notice him. No such luck. Mark decided to turn around and try to find his way back, only to find a dead-end hall with a door at the end of it. "Better than nothing I suppose."
"Lost?"
Mark spun around and looked at the tall, skinny young man of twenty or so. He had dark hair and brilliant gray-blue eyes. "I appear to be yes. Trying to find the kitchens." His hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat. His clothes were embellished and expensive, his boots well worn but of excellent craftsmanship.
"You must be from the Varden then."
"I am," Mark nodded.
"If you're at the castle, that must mean you have some influence amongst them. Are you a general of their army?"
He shook his head, "Not entirely. I'm Nasuada's assistant, she's the leader of the Varden."
"I've heard her name lately," he nodded. "My name is Bran Gormal, my father is one of the lords here at the court."
"The son of a lord, well aren't you special." Mark said, smirking at him a bit. Disrespectful as it may have been, making fun of him, he'd had enough experience with lords in the past few days being in Aberon to last him a lifetime. They were always pompous, rude and seemed to think he'd be better of lying dead on a river bottom. True as it may have been, he'd always come back with a polite retort to which they sneered and walked away. Now, he was lost, hungry and sick of dealing with them all, this man was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Bran raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh… well, aren't you a little aggravated… you know I know how to get out of this dead-end hallway."
"You do?"
"Yes." He nodded.
Mark blinked, "Please tell me how."
He nodded again, "Of course. What's your name anyway?"
"Mark…"
"Alright Mark," he walked over next to him and pointed down the hall, "You go down this hall, take a right, then a left, go all the way to the end of the hall again and go up the stairs, then take another left, you'll be where you started. From there you're going to go down the stairs, through the set of double doors and-" Bran smirked a bit, holding onto his dagger tightly, watching Mark fall into an unconscious heap on the ground. "That was much easier than I anticipated."
When Mark woke, he was tied to a chair, gagged and staring right into the dark blue eyes of a woman only a few years older than his sister. He jerked backward, nearly tipping the chair over.
"Hey, take it easy; don't go breaking my favorite interrogation chair!" Mark glanced toward the tall dark haired lord's son.
"Rowan, you don't have an interrogation chair," Trevin said.
He watched the ginger with an unamused expression, "Have I ever used a different chair for interrogations?"
Trevin blinked, "Huh. No, suppose you haven't. Guess I never really noticed."
"Boys," Kendra stood up, looking at both of them in turn. They quieted back down quickly. "Good. Now. Mark, was it? Care to tell me why you and your merry little band of freedom fighters are in Aberon?" She reached over and pulled the cloth out of his mouth.
"No." He said flatly. How did I not see that dagger? It was in his pocket the whole time; he was fondling it the entire time he was talking to me! I knew he was, I just didn't care enough? What was I thinking? Nasuada. Damn them. She's going to be wondering where I've gone.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "We're not going to kill you. Or Nasuada or anyone else. Yet. Now, please explain to me why you're here."
"The Varden is in Aberon to gain assistance from King Orrin." That much everyone knew. "We're planning on retaliating against the Empire's forces."
"Retaliating against Galabtorix?" From behind her Nyx growled. "You must all be much crazier than Rowan said you were."
Mark kept his mouth shut, watching her.
Kendra shook her head, sitting down in the chair opposite of him. "All I want is information. You can tell me nothing about you and I'll tell you nothing about me, alright? We're on the same side. I want nothing more than to destroy Galbatorix and his Empire. He has gone on far too long without restraint and there is no one who can defy him alone. Not even a Dragon Rider," she said, poking Mark in the chest. "So wherever you're hiding your Riders, you might as well call them out, because nothing you have will be powerful enough to beat him."
"You're right," he said after a minute of sitting in silence. "Our Rider isn't strong enough to beat Galbatorix… yet… but he will be."
"You have more than one."
"No, we don't, Galbatorix thinks we do, but we have only one Rider. He's training right now."
"Training… with the elves in Ellesmera?"
Mark stared at her, lips parted in shock.
"He is," she nodded and stood back up. "You see Mark, I'm a good ally to have. We are all very talented, very skilled spies. Each of us has a specific skill that we can put into play depending on our situation." She motioned toward the dark haired man leaning on the wall in the corner. "You've already met Rowan, yes, he is the son of lord Gormal, but he prefers Rowan. Once you've spent enough time in Aberon, you'll come to know him as the King of the Black Palace. It's what we all call the underground city of Surda. No one steals anything, kills anyone or whispers without Rowan's say so. He laid claim to the title last spring when he dethroned the previous king. And by dethroned I mean murder. You shouldn't trust him around knives, swords, poison or any other sharp object for that matter if you don't know him personally or owe him a favor."
"Trevin," she motioned to the ginger sitting behind her, "Was formally trained by Galbatorix's archery division in his army and has recently fled the Empire to help his family. His unit in the Empire believes him to be dead. From three hundred feet away he can shoot a fly off the wall and leave it breathing. He specializes in long-distance assassinations. His personality is obnoxious at times, so you'll have to ignore him."
"Del's family died in a raid by the Imperials and now lives with his cousin, Erika. Her family is well known in the southern cities of Surda." Kendra pointed at the fair girl sitting in the chair. She was no older than his sister, sixteen or so. "For her own protection, she knows how to wield a dagger, however she mainly works with poisons and magic. Her ability to get close to high-ranking lords makes her indispensible. Her cousin on the other hand, is a little less flair and a little more blood." Delaney sighed a bit, looking at her with exasperation. He was a few years older than his cousin, but still had light blonde hair and brown eyes. "He's usually annoyed with everyone, which makes it difficult for him not to kill you in your sleep. If you hand him a spear, he'll skewer your head on it in a matter of seconds. Del's the one who keeps track of where everyone is and what's going on, without him keeping our books, we'd be a mess."
"Each and every one of us have perfect reflexes and will not hesitate to kill you if you threaten any of us, so for your own safety, don't." Kendra snapped her fingers and Trevin walked over, untying Mark. "We call ourselves Black Lightning and our goal is to destroy the Empire."
Mark stood up, rubbing his wrists and glancing around at them all, "Alright, but you still haven't mentioned a few things. What is that?"
"My wolf, his name is Nyx and he too will kill you if you keep asking stupid questions." The wolf at her feet growled at him, bearing bloodied fangs.
"Why are you letting me live?"
She smirked, "Because you live inside the Varden and know exactly what we need to know about everything Orrin and Nasuada are planning. We need you to keep in contact with us, in turn, we'll help you out. It's a fair exchange." She told him. "Now if those are all your questions you may leave."
"No, I have one more."
"And that is?"
"Who are you and why do you hate the Empire so much?"
The woman with the midnight-blue eyes looked at him with amusement, flicking her shoulder-length brown hair out of her face. "My name is Kendra and my father is Galbatorix."
Finiarel - an honorific phrase for a young man of great promise
Ristvak'baen - Place of Sorrow
Alright, well this was fun... everything except the first part was my own. Are you liking how I'm avoiding the main story or no? Any suggestions on how to make it better?
I don't really have much to say except that I'm working part time and going to school full time so this story is going to have little attention save probably on weekends. I'll do my best to get this to you all, since the loyal readers have been just that. I always appreciate your comments, concerns and questions. I hops this answers some and brings up some others.
With Love, As Always,
Mariah