Chapter Fifty-Four: A Sanguine Affair
Mark tied off Aluora's reins and turned to look at Kendra. Without a word to him, she was sweeping herself into the tavern with Nyx at her heels, leaving Mark with only the option of following. He flicked his hair out of his face, rain droplets spraying slightly behind him. The wolf seemed to enjoy the water dripping from his fur as he padded behind Kendra. Her heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor as she strode right up to the lady bartender, leaning on the counter. The blonde woman greeted her brightly, pouring a drink; Kendra bowed her head slightly, muttering to her gently. Mark raised an eyebrow at the exchange, straining his ears to listen. The blonde woman's eyes glanced up at him a moment before she turned and made her way to the other end of the bar.
The princess sat down on a barstool and looked at Mark, "Well, sit down."
He did so without a second invitation, glancing at Nyx as he flopped onto the floor at Kendra's feet. "What are we doing here?"
"Later, not with wandering eyes and ears," she insisted, bringing the glass to her lips.
Mark glanced at the bartender as she placed a sparkling glass of amber-colored liquor in front of him, then looked down at the glass before flicking his eyes to Kendra. "I don't drink."
"You do, starting now. Drink it." She said flatly, her gaze simply daring him to say no.
"I'll say it once more, I don't drink."
Her eyes narrowed a bit at him as she tossed back the rest of hers and snatched up the one in front of him, "More for me then." She downed his drink as well and smirked a little. After a few minutes of meaningless chatter between them, Mark found it apparent that her eyes were darting across the room behind him; she was looking for something. When her dark eyes stopped on someone mixed among some loud rabble, he realized he'd been the target all along. "Isolate him."
Mark turned his head slightly, flicking his gaze back at the quiet one out of the bunch. A smirk flickered across his lips and he turned back to Kendra, "Back door?"
"Just behind that wall over there," she said, pointing her nose to his left.
"Head out, I'll take care of it. He'll be in your hands in a few minutes." Mark pushed off the bar and turned around, as if to leave, slamming into one of the rowdy drunkards nearby their target's table.
As his liquor spilled from his stein, he turned red, slurring a bit as he spoke, "Oy! Watch where yer headed next time, whelp!" The man shoved back at Mark, pushing him into yet another loud, plastered man. From behind him, Mark heard a furious growl and was quickly jostled forward back into the first. "Tha's it, ya better be prayin' ta whatever gods ya think'll protect ya from this." He held up a fist and swung forward.
Ducking, Mark squeezed out of the way, watching as his fist crashed into the second drunk's face. As planned, chaos ensued. Between the alcohol being circulated around the room and general boisterous nature of the regulars at the bar, the fight escalated into a full on brawl. Shattered glass soon covered the floor with beers and wine splashing over everything and everyone that it could cling to. Looking through the mess of people, Mark spotted Kendra's target slipping out through the back door. He sidestepped through the fighting and pursued.
"Seems like you had this all figured out then." She said, watching as he entered the alley way. The escapee was already bound, sitting against the wall with Nyx sitting on his haunches nearby. "We need to get somewhere quiet where we can finish this."
"Why don't we just interrogate him here?" Mark asked.
Kendra rolled her eyes a little, "He's not what we're here for. But we need to get somewhere quieter first." She grabbed the man by his arm and pulled him to his feet, shoving him into Mark. "Keep hold of him. He's gonna lead us where we need to go." Nyx growled at her heels and snapped at the man's heels. "Now Jeremy, if you don't mind."
He straightened a bit and started walking with Mark keeping a hold of him. It was starting to get dark and the people in the streets were quickly dissipating, returning to their homes for the evening, leaving their way clear. The few glances stole their way were removed after a moment, finding nothing overly suspicious about them at the moment.
"So, where are we going?" Mark asked Kendra quietly as they walked.
She looked over at him, then around the street to make sure no one was listening, "There's a network of them throughout the Empire. They creep into Surda. I need to know where they're hiding."
Soon they were nearing the edge of town when Jeremy turned and headed down a side alley, halting in front of a back door. In the flickering lamp light, Mark could make out a small symbol carved into the wooden frame.
"Now what?" Kendra asked, pulling at the gag around his mouth.
"You're supposed to knock," he told her through narrowed eyes.
She sneered at him a little and knocked twice.
Nothing happened.
"You said to knock, so I did," she flicked a knife up in between her fingers. "What-"
She froze as she felt a blade against her neck. Hot breath panted in her ear, "Wouldn't wave that knife around so much if I were you." Kendra was shoved into a wall, still at knife point. "Let him go."
Mark looked at Kendra and she blinked at him in agreement. Slowly, he let Jeremy go. Halfway through the process, the princess stepped backward, digging her heel into her captor's foot, jamming her elbow in their stomach. The knives both hit the dirt as they tussled.
"Letta!"
Looking between them all, Mark slowly lowered his hand. His eyes moved to Kendra, releasing the magic around her first. She huffed and picked up her weapon, sheathing it and standing upright. "That's better. Good. Now, you two," Kendra looked at the newcomer. "How to get inside, since Jeremy feels disinclined to tell us at the moment."
Letting go of the magic a little, he allowed the new person to speak, but wouldn't release it so far as to let them move away. "You don't knock like that." They insisted. "What do you want?"
"Information." Kendra said, "Anything about Galbatorix I can squeeze out of your spies."
"I hate to disappoint you, but you already know everything we have to offer."
"Do I now? Huh, well, that's new information to me." She said, "Now will you tell me how to get inside." It wasn't much of a question.
They smirked from underneath their hooded scarf, "Afraid not." Kendra's snarl matched her wolf's, the hooded spy glanced between them and winced.
"Allow me then," Mark said. The princess looked back at him and shrugged, grasping Jeremy's arms behind his back so he couldn't escape. He stood in front of the masked person and flicked the hood back, pressing his fingertips against their temple and forehead. Invading their mind seemed easy enough, once he knew which walls to get around. Then, locating the information was simple. "Three times, short, with a few seconds pause in between." He smiled a bit at them, "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Mark turned and tapped on the door as he'd learned how to. In a moment, the door slipped open, inviting them into a downward running staircase. "After you."
Kendra nodded, shoving Jeremy ahead of her down the stairs with Mark following behind along with the masked spy. At the end of the stairway was another door, which Kendra simply kicked open. Standing in the room were three others, armed and masked, ready to attack. The princess jammed her knife toward Jeremy's throat and they hesitated. "Lower your weapons," she insisted.
At a silent plea from the captives, they tossed the knives away.
"Better," she said. "Now, I'm not in the business of killing people for no reason, so if you all want to cooperate with me, this'll all go along much smoother. Tie them up."
Mark glanced over at her and she gave him a look, silent asking what was taking him so long. He shook his head and twisted his hand, magically pulling five chairs into a row and methodically binding the spies' wrists. When he'd finished he stepped back towards Kendra.
"Lovely." She slowly walked around the room while Nyx stood guard in front of the spies, growling quietly at them all the while. Her fingers traced over the table as she observed maps and open books strewn about. "These look like Imperial battle plans… Jeremy, tell me what this is for?"
"If you think any of us are going to talk to you that easily-"
Mark smacked his hand against Jeremy's shoulder, leaning down and looking him in the eye. "This is not my idea of fun. I have better things to be doing than standing in a spy's underground hide out, figuring out Imperial battle plans. My time could be much better spent doing something of significance so, either you tell her what she wants to know or you start explaining why I shouldn't just search your mind and kill you now. Your choice."
Jeremy stared at him, going quite pale. "Galbatorix wants to know what the Varden's next move is now that they've entered into agreement with Surda. The information on the table consists of the king's original battle plans to enter the country and attack them with full forces, however considering Nasuada's leadership, the plans are going to need adjusting. We've collected full reports on what the Varden is planning on doing next and were planning on relaying them to the king in the next week, when we have a chance to get back to Urû'baen."
"Is that everything?" Mark asked, his mouth twitching as he realized just how careless he'd been around Nasuada lately. If these petty spies were able to get this much information, he shouldn't be leaving her side so often.
"Yes." Jeremy nodded to him quickly.
The masked spy shifted and shook their head; Mark stood and walked over, pulling the mask off and looking at the girl sitting there. "No?"
"Galbatorix is planning on recreating the Forsworn."
"What?" Mark stared at her, stunned.
"As far as my reports go, he has at least two Dragon Riders at the castle, they've been there for a while, and the exact length of time is unknown, however Nasuada's spies will have news of it shortly. We've intercepted most of them, but after tonight, some of them are bound to get through to her."
"He has two Riders?"
"Yes. The entire war he is planning out is centered on destroying the resistance and taking back complete power over Alagaësia. He believes the best way to succeed is to have a new Forsworn at his side. The recreation of Dragon Riders in the world will allow for a balance and control that has not been since their destruction so many years ago."
Mark was shaking slightly, "His Riders… tell me everything you know about them."
"The dragons are mostly red in color, but it is difficult to tell sometimes from so far away, the sunlight often changes their coloring, sometimes they even look pink. No one knows anything about the Riders… but we can only assume they are being kept inside the castle until he wishes to release them onto the Varden."
He looked up at Kendra who appeared just as stunned as himself. "What do you want to do now?"
She stood there a moment and looked around the small room, "Take everything. After you've searched them, wipe their memories. I'm sure you know how to do that? Nyx will stay with you, I'll get the horses."
When all five of the Imperial spies had been drained of their information, Mark used magic to make them unconscious and untying their hands from their chairs. When they woke, they would have no recognition of who had been there or what had been stolen from them, only knowing that someone had stolen the information. Kendra tied the last of the saddlebags shut and mounted her horse, heading out of town again under the night sky with Nyx running beside her. Aluora kept pace with the princess' mount as Mark sat up in the saddle, silent. Not once did Kendra say a word to him, and he appreciated her silence.
In the morning when they arrived back in Aberon, they dropped off their stolen information with Delaney. Kendra tied off her horse outside the shop and walked back with Mark to the stables, leading Aluora.
"You did a good job interrogating those spies. Didn't even have to resort to violence… well, I don't consider threats violence, but some people might." When he simply nodded,she scoffed, "What's the matter with you? Was it too much? I shouldn't have brought you; I knew this would end up happening."
"No, it's not that…" he insisted, walking Aluora into her stable, "It's what they said… about the Riders."
"What about them?"
He stared at her, debating with himself. If he told her about his sister, he would be giving her a level of trust he shared with no one else, one of the deepest secrets he harbored. He firmly believed his sister was still alive, and after what the spies had told him about the dragons, was adamant that one of those Riders at the capital was his sister. Mark snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Kendra gasp.
She was staring at a gray stallion tossing his head back and snorting loudly. He stamped his feet a few times, whinnying. Kendra walked straight over in front of him, where most people would have stepped back; she put her hand out and stroked his nose. The horse settled down and pressed against her hand, nipping playfully at her hair. "Tornac…"
"How do you know his name?" Mark asked, blinking at her.
Kendra turned back to Mark, "I could ask you the same. Please tell me… what's become of Murtagh?"
"Good morning my sleepy little bird, it's time to wake up."
Mariah moaned, rolling over and throwing a pillow at Kieran. The woman twisted around to the other side of her bed and prodded at her some more. "Get up, c'mon."
Her green eyes flickered open and she glared at Kieran, "What time is it?"
"The sun's not up quite yet, so I'll say-"
"Too early. Sun's not up, neither am I."
"Oh, come on, you'll miss out on all the fun I have planned for us today."
She said, sitting up, puzzled, "I thought I was getting the day off?"
"Obviously Kieran has different plans," Murtagh said from the doorway, leaning on the wall. "She woke me up nearly ten minutes ago."
Mariah sighed and looked back at the princess. She was wearing a nice set of clothing, not so much that she would match Mariah in the dress she'd given her, but nicer than normal every day wear. "Fine, what are we doing?"
"Get ready and I'll show you." She said, hurrying out, dragging Murtagh along with her.
She stood, stretched, and found a nice tunic and breeches to wear, slipping on a pair of comfortable boots before meeting them in the hallway.
"Finally!" Kieran said, turning on her heel and heading off. Mariah blinked, watching her strut down the hallway.
"Don't mind her, she's just like this sometimes," Murtagh insisted, smiling at her a little. "Morning, by the way." He took Mariah's hand and followed after Kieran with her.
They followed her through the vast, empty halls and past guards patrolling about and maids hurriedly running around, scrubbing everything and anything that looked even remotely dusty. After a few minutes Mariah blinked, "Are we getting breakfast?"
Kieran halted in front of them and swiveled on her heel, trotting back a ways, down a side hall to the kitchens. One of the cooks handed her a tray filled with food and before Mariah could even think about snatching something up, the princess was off again. She groaned and followed Kieran astride Murtagh. Finally she stopped in front of a set of immaculate double doors, guarded by two men with spears. Exactly what Mariah would have pictured from a story Brom had once told. They took half a moment to open the door for Kieran, allowing all three of the Riders inside. As soon as Murtagh's foot was past the threshold, the door smacked shut again.
"Oh… my…" Mariah stopped breathing for a moment. The sheer number of books would have given Mark a heart attack, after which he would never have left the confines of the room. It was like entering a temple, the sheer beauty of the stained glass windows from high above. An enormous crackling fireplace lit what the sunlight did not. Columns and rows of books seemed to stretch on forever; every single book that had ever existed must have at least one copy sitting upon the shelves here. The second story was easily accessible from the floor by a spiraling staircase and the high book cases twenty feet above that had ladders ascending up to them.
"You haven't been in here yet?" Murtagh blinked down at her. She shook her head slowly. "Oh." He said simply, pulling her over to a plush burgundy couch in front of the fire. Kieran had set the food down and vanished between all the shelves. He stretched out a bit, snatching up some food and kicking his feet up on the table.
Kieran came trotting back a moment later, laden with books, "Feet off the table." She snapped, sitting down with the books. "I thought you two could teach me some of the Ancient Language this morning, before we have to do anything."
"Can I at least eat first?" Mariah asked. She nodded, popping open a book and reading while the other two ate. "I didn't realize this was here… inside the castle. Why are there guards?"
Murtagh snorted a laugh, removing his feet from the tabletop, "Because there are things in this library that Galbatorix wants no one to know about. Kieran and he are the only two allowed in here without supervision. Anyone else must be accompanied by either Galbatorix or Kieran to gain entrance."
"What exactly is in here that's so important?"
He shrugged, "I don't know, Kieran's never told me. Doubt she's planning on telling me either way."
"Nope." She said shortly, flicking a page over.
"Thought as much, anyway, what do you want us to teach you exactly Kieran?"
"You seem to know more words in the Ancient Language than I do, or at least, are much more fluent in them than I. Simply put, I would like to be able to speak it just as easily I do these words, without much thought or time consumption."
Mariah blinked, "What you're asking takes years of practice and study… I don't know how we'll be able to cover all this in a morning."
"I wasn't planning to, but at least I could start by doing something, you know?" Kieran smiled a bit at her, "And it'll help pass the time while we wait."
For the most part, Mariah talked and Kieran repeated. Murtagh sat and watched for some time before finding it boring and repetitive of what Mariah had already taught him while traveling. He searched around a few minutes before finding a book to his liking, sitting on the second floor against a wall and reading, trying to ignore their high-pitched chatter.
The fire never once died down, leaving Mariah to believe it was magically set into place. Kieran's attention never once faltered from learning the Elvish material and after several long hours, had a full grasp of nearly fifty new words. She beamed with delight when Mariah praised her accomplishments, but her smile faltered when a loud set of bells chimed from overhead.
"We need to go get ready. Murtagh!"
He sighed and stood up, looking down at her, "Yes Kieran, what?"
"You need to go get ready as well. I had Natalie set out some clothes for you to wear as well."
"I am perfectly capable of getting myself dressed Kieran." He insisted, descending the stairs and stopping beside the couch. "Thank you for your concern however."
She huffed, "Just go change."
"Fine, fine," he threw his hands up in mock surrender, grinning at Mariah. "I'll see you in a while then, have fun with Kieran." She glared at him as he left.
"Come on Mariah, we have to get ready." Kieran left her books sitting on the table and took her arm, pulling her from the library and back to her room.
When they arrived, Natalie was waiting for them, curtseying to the Riders before going to fetch Kieran's dress. Mariah huffed and sat down in a chair, watching as she pulled off her clothing and tossed it on the floor. Watching Kieran strut about the room with nothing but her corset and under clothes left her embarrassed, finding the whole situation uncomfortable.
"What's the matter?" She asked, pulling Mariah out of her silent contemplation, "Your face is all red."
Mariah blinked, "I… I'm not usually around women while they're getting dressed like this. That's all."
Kieran stared at her, "…you've never had someone help you get dressed before?"
"I've never needed someone to help me into a dress. I mean… I usually just wear tunics and breeches." Mariah admitted to her, not going to mention any of the times Mark had laced up the back of one of her rare dresses, but that situation was a little different.
"You should get used to it. Natalie's very helpful." Kieran insisted, stepping into the dress the maid was holding.
Natalie smiled simply, "Thank you m'lady." Her fingers tightened the back of the dress and started lacing up the back swiftly with nimble, practiced movements. When she finished Kieran stepped away and over to her vanity, snatching a pair of earrings and putting them in. Then, Natalie turned to Mariah.
She shook her head and stood, removing her tunic. As she kicked her boots away and stripped off her breeches, Mariah muttered under her breath.
"You're not wearing a corset?"
"…no," she said simply. "I have never worn a corset…"
Kieran dropped her bracelet she was getting ready to put on and turned, staring at Mariah. "You really are from the middle of nowhere aren't you? Natalie, find her one. Now please."
Before she'd finished, Natalie was walking back with a corset, slipping it around Mariah's waist and lacing it up both sides.
"Kieran, is this really necessary?" Mariah choked out, gasping as she pulled it almost too tight. Her ribs felt crushed under the pressure for a moment before it evened out. She braced her hand against a wall and yelped as Natalie finished.
"Yes." Kieran told her simply, clasping her bracelet and turning around, watching Mariah step into the red dress the princess had given her. "Mmm… I think the black heels Natalie."
"Of course M'lady." She nodded and headed to the princess' wardrobe, pulling out the heels she requested and bringing them back to Mariah, helping her to step into them. "There you are. Those fit you well."
Kieran strolled over, bare footed, and threw a necklace around Mariah's neck, clasping it. She tapped her lip a moment, "That looks pretty good to me. I don't think you need anything else… your ears aren't pierced either, so you can't very well wear earrings. Natalie, could you just pull her hair up nicely and put a few nice pins in?" She turned and walked to the wardrobe, finding a pair of heeled black and silver shoes that matched her dress perfectly.
When Natalie had finished pinning up Mariah's hair it was time to go. Kieran dismissed the maid girl after thanking her and took Mariah by the arm, dragging her down the corridor toward the main hall. Standing in an alcove, clearly on edge, was Murtagh. His ensemble Kieran had sent to him was a pair of black breeches tucked into a shining new pair of ebony boots. The red tunic was edged with gold trim and embroidered with an intricate swirling pattern.
"Ah, Murtagh, there you are."
"Yes Kieran, I've been waiting. It took you long enough now didn't it?" He asked, turning toward them. Murtagh's gaze flickered behind Kieran to Mariah. Her black hair a complex mess of spirals and loops, no hair around her neck with a few jeweled pins clasped in her hair to add a little sparkle.
"We had things to do Murtagh," she insisted, sniffing a bit at him before entering the room through the doorway.
As the doors shut behind her, he found himself staring at Mariah. "I've never seen you look more beautiful as you do right now."
She stared back at him, "You mean that? It's not too much? I feel so strange dressed up like this."
"Not at all," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist, "You are stunning." Murtagh smiled and kissed her lightly.
Heart aflutter, she felt her lips smile against his own and, for the first time, kissing him back.
After the party, Queen Islanzadí showed Eragon and Saphira were they could sleep for the night; their short walk through Ellesméra ended as they reached the base of a tree. The trunk was ridged by a delicate staircase that spiraled up to a series of globular rooms cupped and suspended din the tree's crown by a spray of branches.
Islanzadí lifted an elegant hand and pointed at the eyrie. "You needs must fly there, Saphira. Our stairs were not grown with dragons in mind." Then she spoke to Eragon: "This is where the leader of the Dragon Riders would dwell while in Ellesméra. I give it to you now, for you are the rightful heir to that title… It is your inheritance." Before Eragon could thank her, the queen swept past and departed with Arya, who held his gaze for a long moment before vanishing deeper into the city.
Shall we see what accommodations they've provided us with? Asked Saphira. She jumped into the air and sailed around the tree in a tight circle, balancing on one wing tip, perpendicular to the ground.
As Eragon took the first step, he saw that Islanzadí had spoken true; the stairs were one with the tree. The bark beneath his feet was smooth and flat from the many elves who had traversed it, but it was still part of the trunk, as were the twisting cobweb banisters by his side and the curved railing that slid under his right hand.
Because the stairs had been designed with the elves' strength in mind, they were steeper than Eragon was used to, and his calves and thighs soon began to burn. He was breathing so hard when he reached the top – after climbing through a trapdoor in the floor of one of the rooms – he had to put his hands on his knees and bend over to pant. Once recovered, he straightened and examined his surroundings.
He stood in a circular vestibule with a pedestal in the center, out of which spiraled a sculpture of two pale hands and forearms that twined around each other without touching. Three screen doors led from the vestibule – one to an austere dining room that might hold ten people at the most, one to a closet with an empty hollow in the floor that Eragon could think of no discernible use for, and the last to a bedroom overlooking, and open to, the wide expanse of Du Weldenvarden.
Taking a lantern from its hook in the ceiling, Eragon entered the bedroom, creating a host of shadows that jumped and swirled like madcap dancers. A teardrop gap large enough for a dragon pierced the outer wall. Inside the room was a bed, situated so that he could watch the sky and the moon while lying on his back; a fireplace made of gray wood that felt as hard and cold as steel when he touched it, as if the timber had been compressed to unsurpassed density; and a huge low-rimmed bowl set in the floor and lined with soft blankets where Saphira could sleep.
Even as he watched, she swooped down and landed on the edge of the opening, her scales twinkling like a constellation of blue stars. Behind her, the last rays of the sun streaked across the forest, paining the various ridges and hills with a hazy amber that made the needles glow like hot iron and chased the shadows back toward the violet horizon. From their height, the city appeared as a series of gaps in the voluminous canopy, islands of calm in a restless ocean. Ellesméra's true scope was now revealed; it extended for several miles to the west and to the north.
I respect the Riders even more if this is who Vrael normally lived, said Eragon. It's much simpler than I expected. The entire structure rocked slightly in response to a breath of wind.
Saphira sniffed her blankets. We have yet to see Vroengard, she cautioned, although he sensed that she agreed with him.
As Eragon closed the screen to the bedroom, he saw something in the corner that he had missed during his first inspection: a spiral staircase that wound up a dark wood chimney. Thrusting the lantern before him, he cautiously ascended, one step at a time. After about twenty feet, he emerged in a study furnished with a writing desk – stocked with quills, ink, and paper, but no parchment – and another padded roost for a dragon to curl up on. The far wall also had an opening to fly through.
Saphira, come see this.
How? She asked.
Through the outside. Eragon winced as layers of bark splintered and cracked under Saphira's claws while she crawled out of the bedroom and up the side of the compound to the study. Satisfied? he asked when she arrived. Saphira ranked him with her sapphire eyes then proceeded to scrutinize the walls and furniture.
I wonder, she said, how you are supposed to stay warm when the rooms are open to the elements?
I don't know. Eragon examined the walls on either side of the breach, running his hands over abstract patterns that had been coaxed from the tree by the elves' songs. He stopped when he felt a vertical ridge embedded in the bark. He tugged on it, and a diaphanous membrane unspooled from within the wall. Pulling it across the portal, he found a second groove to hold the hem of the cloth. As soon as it was fastened, the air thickened and became noticeably hotter. There's your answer, he said. He released the cloth and it lashed back and forth as it rewound itself.
When they returned to the bedroom, Eragon unpacked while Saphira coiled upon her dias. He carefully arranged his shield, bracers, greaves, coif, and helm, then stripped off his tunic and removed his shirt of leather-backed mail. He sat bare-chested on the bed and studied the oiled links, struck by their similarity to Saphira's scales.
We made it, he said, bemused.
A long journey… but yet, we made it. We're lucky that misfortune did not strike upon the road.
He nodded. Now we'll find out if it was worth it. Sometimes I wonder if our time would have been better spent helping the Varden.
Eragon! You know that we need further instruction. Brom would have wanted it, Mark insisted upon it. Besides, Ellesméra and Islanzadí were certainly worth coming all this way to see.
Maybe. Finally, he asked, What do you make of all this?
Saphira parted her jaws slightly to show her teeth. I don't know. The elves keep more secrets than even Brom, and they can do things with magic that I never thought possible. I have no idea what methods they use to grow their trees in to such shapes, nor how Islanzadí summoned those flowers. It is beyond my ken.
Eragon was relieved that he was not the only one who felt overwhelmed. He watched her rest her head on her two front feet. The stars were bright in the sky now, and the soft hoots of owls drifted through Ellesméra. All the world was calm and silent as it slumbered away the liquid night.
Eragon clambered underneath his downy sheets and reached to shutter the lantern, then stopped, his hand an inch from the latch. Here he was in the elves' capital, over a hundred feet in the air, lying in what used to be Vrael's bed.
The thought was too much for him.
Rolling upright, he grabbed the lantern with one hand, Zar'roc with the other, and surprised Saphira by crawling onto her dias and snuggling against her warm side. She hummed and dropped a velvet wing over him as he extinguished the light and closed his eyes.
Together they slept long and deep in Ellesméra.
It's late. I know that, no excuses this time aside from the fact that I'm having a very difficult time trying to pace the story and still get everything I want into it. The next chapter will hopefully be better. This was by no means my favorite, but it had to be done.
Kendra and Mark's section was my favorite this time. What do you think about it all?
Thanks to all of those who read, review, PM and love reading as much as I love writing. Please, please, review and write back to me, it gives me the inspiration I need to go on.
With Love, As Always,
Mariah