Eragon reached up and unstrapped the saddle from Saphira, carefully lowering it the ground. She thanked him by pushing her snout into his chest, humming lightly. Eragon smiled at Saphira, running his hand across her scales briefly. While she settled down outside his tent, Eragon retrieved both Glaedr's Eldunarí as well as Thorn's, each concealed within its own leather bag. Arya was busy with Fírnen's own saddle, though Brom was eyeing him carefully.
Eragon gestured with his head towards his tent, watching as his father stepped through before him. Eragon followed him, placing the two Eldunarí down on his small table. He took out Glaedr's Eldunarí, which flared as his fingers touched its surface. Glaedr's mind reached out to touch his after a moment, and Eragon greeted the dragon.
Glaedr-elda.
Eragon-vor, is there something you needed?
Yes. Much has happened that you and Oromis need know. I would like to share with you my memory of the events.
Very well. I will share it with Oromis when he returns.
Eragon opened his mind further to the dragon, and let him examine the memory of Murtagh's capture. Saphira and Fírnen joined minds with Glaedr, the three dragon's communicating in their wordless fashion as they greeted one another.
Arya stepped into the tent, her eyes immediately focusing on the two Eldunarí resting on the table. Brom took his chair again, ignoring Eragon's glare. Eragon warded the tent, sparing Arya a small smile when he saw her do the same.
While Glaedr viewed his memory, Eragon turned to his father and gestured at the table. "There was something else we retrieved, besides Murtagh."
Brom waved a hand at the table, puffing at his pipe lightly. "I can see that. Who's Eldunarí? Thorn's?"
Eragon nodded, reaching out and withdrawing the red Eldunarí from its bag. Brom muttered a curse when he saw it, his hand rubbing his beard roughly. "What happened out there, exactly?"
Glaedr's finished his examination of Eragon's memories, his mind touching everyone's so they could hear him. There is something wrong with Thorn, Brom. Can you not see it?
Brom tilted his head as he examined the red Eldunarí, it's light is too low, he murmured in their minds. Brom turned to Eragon and asked, have you tried communicating with him yet?
No, Saphira answered, but when Eragon touched the Eldunarí he felt nothing.
Has Murtagh said anything? Glaedr asked.
Not since we captured him, Eragon said. He refused to tell me what happened to Thorn, or why he ended up alone in the field.
I'm surprised Murtagh surrendered, Brom said, he was never one to admit defeat.
No, Glaedr added, but even he knows when he's outmatched. Two Dragon Riders and their dragons, as well as the elven spellcasters? Without Galbatorix's Eldunarí to bolster his strength, even Murtagh would have fallen within a matter of minutes.
True, Arya said. She was standing next to Eragon at the table, her shoulder brushing his lightly. Unable to draw upon Thorn's strength, Murtagh was ill fitted to fight us. But that doesn't explain the magic that brought him there.
Show me your memory of this magic, Eragon, Glaedr bid, and Eragon felt the dragon push at his felt heat rising in his cheeks, and even saw Arya's ears warm.
Luckily, Saphira was the one to spare Eragon from sharing an intimate memory, and Eragon silently thanked his dragon. Here, Glaedr-elda. I was out flying with Fírnen when we experienced it. We were much closer than Eragon and the others.
He could see Saphira's memory of her flying, and he could feel the wind rushing over her scales, as well as her joy in flying high above the world. Then the magic came, washing over her, and Eragon felt her fear rise before the memory cut off.
Thank you, Saphira, the golden dragon rumbled. This magic… Feels kin to me.
So, it was a dragon, Brom confirmed. His father puffed on his pipe, the smoke curling in the cramped space of Eragon's tent.
Yes, I think so, Glaedr said. And Murtagh was at its source?
We believe so, Ebrithil, Arya intoned.
It was likely Thorn. Murtagh must have been in danger for Thorn to do something like this, Eragon guessed, his eyes tracing over the red Eldunarí. It continued its weak pulsing, not having changed at all in the time it took them to return to the Varden.
Yes, Glaedr agreed. But why? Where is Thorn's body, and for what reason would he disgorge his Eldunarí?
Could he have been forced? Arya asked.
Glaedr paused. Not by magic. A dragon must willingly transfer its mind into its Eldunarí. Galbatorix had to torture Rider's to force their dragons to disgorge them before killing them.
Eragon shuddered at the thought, and even Brom seemed disquieted by the reminder. Murtagh doesn't appear to have been tortured, at least visibly, his father said quietly.
More questions we do not know the answers to, Glaedr grumbled. To Eragon, the elder dragon said, question your brother, Eragon, and see what you can glean from him. But first, let us see if we cannot contact Thorn himself.
Is that wise? Fírnen asked, his deep voice rumbling inside Eragon's head. As impossible as it may seem, it could be a trap laid out by Galbatorix.
Possibly, Glaedr acknowledged, and Eragon saw the light of Glaedr's Eldunarí flare. There is only one way to find out. Eragon, you will be the one to touch Thorn's Eldunarí, and the rest of us will pool our strength with you. If anything goes wrong, Arya will remove the Eldunarí from your grasp. But be careful! Do not let yourself touch the Eldunarí directly, Arya.
As you say, Ebrithil, Arya murmured. She stepped behind Eragon, who moved to stand before the two Eldunarí on the table. Brom moved to the side of them, and Eragon caught his father's glance briefly. The elven princess placed her hand on Eragon's shoulder, and he felt her squeeze briefly before relaxing.
Brom, ensure we are not disturbed.
Of course, Glaedr.
Eragon reached down and retrieved Brisingr from the sheathe, handing it over to his father. Brom eyed the sword wearily, but after a moment he took up the brightsteel blade. Eragon saw a flash of pain on his father's face. "You alright?" He asked quietly.
His father breathed deeply, and placed his pipe gently down on the table. His face hardened, and he said, "Fine. Let us do this."
Eragon nodded.
Should we tell the elves? Saphira asked.
Glaedr hesitated a moment, before asking, they do not know of the Eldunarí, do they?
No.
Then merely tell them to be on guard with Murtagh in case something happens. I am confident in Blödhgarm and his spellcasters abilities, and now is not the time to tell them our races deepest held secret.
Saphira withdrew, and Eragon could feel her talking to Blödhgarm. She returned moments later, and said, he said they are watching Murtagh closely, and are ready should anything happen.
Good.
Closing his eyes, Eragon reached out and touched the surface of the Eldunarí, his fingers lightly pressing on the red stone's surface. When nothing happened, Eragon said to the group, I'm going to push further in.
He felt the others minds flow into his, their thoughts swimming inside of his head. As he pushed his mind into Thorn's he could feel all of them behind him, their energy and will flowing into him. For a moment he was aware of hands trailing down his arms, but Eragon ignored the sensation as he pushed forward.
Instead of the power of a fully grown dragon to meet him, Eragon felt instead a void. He pushed further into the nothingness of the Eldunarí, his mind searching for any sign of the red dragon. When he made to withdraw, Glaedr whispered, go further.
And he did, farther down into Thorn's mind then should have been possible. It felt to him as though he were standing at the bottom of an infinite well of darkness, with no way to see the way out other than the minds of those joined with him.
Eragon pushed and pushed, until suddenly he felt it. A magic unlike anything he ever felt blocked his way, the wall of it surrounding the core of the Eldunarí. He examined it closely, letting his mind gently touch against the wall. A blast of magic hit him, attempting to force him out, but the others held firm. Withdrawing slightly, as to not awaken the magic again, Eragon said to the others, what should we do?
For a long moment Glaedr contemplated, his mind pushing forward among the others to see through Eragon. This wall is a construct of Thorn's mind, he said after a moment. I've never seen such a strong wall… How can he be so weak, yet able to maintain such a barrier? What is that?
The golden dragon turned Eragon's attention to a part of the wall, and Eragon could feel immediately the difference in the barrier. Magic flowed around behind the wall of Thorn's mind, reinforcing the strength of the wall, much stronger than any other part of it he could sense. That they could even feel the magic was astonishing, but it did explain the blast of magic. It was Glaedr who said, Another aids Thorn.
Is it Murtagh? Eragon asked.
No, I do not think so… This presence feels different, like a half-remembered dream… The golden dragon shook himself, and said to Eragon, we need to know what happened. Breach the wall.
Aye. Eragon responded.
He sharpened his mind, and he could feel the others do the same through him. All their minds melded together, and Eragon struck with their full weight against the barrier. The wall shook from the force of the blow, but held firm. Eragon struck again, hammering down on the barrier.
Damn it, he thought to himself.
He focused his mind as much as he could, and continued to throw himself at the barrier. On and on he struggled with the strange wall, and he could feel himself panting with the effort. The strength of the others flowed into him, their power lending itself as he hammered at the magic.
It was on his latest blow that he noticed it; a thin crack appearing in the surface, one that was slowly spreading. Gathering his strength, Eragon struck with his all, the strange barrier crumbling as he swept it aside.
The moment the wall fell, a powerful magic rose within Thorn's mind and struck at Eragon. The dragon's minds within him surged forward, shielding him from the magic. Glaedr growled menacingly, and Eragon was sharply reminded of how formidable the older dragon was. The magic pushed harshly against them, and Glaedr said to Eragon, Push forward! Find Thorn! We will deal with this!
Agreeing with his old master, Eragon used the dragon's minds as cover as he slipped under them. He pushed his mind past the point that the barrier was, the dragon's shielding him from the powerful magic, and he could finally feel Thorn's presence. The red dragon's mind was curled up within itself, the feeling of Thorn's mind somehow less than it should have been. Thorn did not strike out at him as his mind closed in, and to Eragon it seemed the dragon was completely unaware of anything that happened to him.
He could feel the strain of the magic through his bond with Saphira as she fought heavily to protect him. For a moment, Eragon wondered at how such a force was able to stave off three dragons.
Glaedr growled at him, and Eragon shook himself away from his momentary lapse. Steeling himself, Eragon reached out, pressing his mind against Thorn's as he called out, Thorn! It's Eragon!
Something stirred inside of Thorn, and Eragon only got the briefest flash of a red eye peering back at him before he felt it; pain, unlike anything Eragon had ever felt before. It washed over him, pouring into his mind. Distantly, he was aware of his entire body jolting from the pain and then freezing, and he heard the desperate cries of his name reach his ears.
"Eragon!"
"Son!"
Then, Little-one!
He was unable to think, unable to move, but he was still aware enough to feel Saphira dive forward inside his mind, through their bond, curling herself around him. Together they weathered the storm, and it felt like an eternity as the pain continued to emanate from Thorn.
Suddenly, just as quickly as it had consumed him, the pain was gone.
He collapsed forward, only to be caught by a strong hand. Eragon coughed harshly, his entire body shaking from the sensation as the connection broke. A soft hand rubbed his back, while another held him up by his chest, the two hands the only thing keeping him stable.
Only when the coughing had subsided did Eragon finally open his eyes. The first thing he saw was his father, concern written in the drawn-out lines of his face. His father frowned at him, before backing away.
"He's alright," His father said to the person behind him, "just needs a moment, is all."
Blinking, Eragon turned to see that it was Arya who held him up. Her face was pale, and he could see the worry shining out of her emerald eyes. Eragon tried to smile at her, instead shivering as the remnants of the pain he felt coursed through him. It too vanished, leaving Eragon feeling like a grape left too long out in the sun.
When Eragon looked towards the table he could still see Thorn's and Glaedr's Eldunarí, the red one faint while the other thrummed steadily. A movement outside the tent drew his attention, and he could see the forms of the two dragons as they closed in on the tent.
Saphira attempted to snake her head into the opening, her snout pushing against the fabric, only to stop when his father called out, "Enough Saphira! You're going to collapse the whole thing down on top of us!"
Saphira paused, the tip of her snout the only thing Eragon could see. The tent shifted its weight from her disturbance, but luckily it seemed to hold against her assault. She sniffed heavily at the air in his direction, letting out a soft keening sound.
Eragon took a step towards her only to stumble, but Arya prevented him from falling. Together they moved forward, the elf holding him upright until he was able to place his head against Saphira's snout.
"Saphira," Eragon said softly. I'm alright.
Little-one…
She hummed lightly as Eragon leaned into her warmth, and it was only then that he realized that Arya had not released him. Instead, one of her hands was still bracing Eragon, as though to make sure he would still not fall over, and the other rested against Saphira's scales.
Glaedr pushed his mind forward, and Eragon could feel from him how much energy he had expended during their attempt to breach Thorn's mind. Are you well, Eragon?
I'm fine, Eragon said to the group, their minds still joined together. He could feel a sliver of worry from Fírnen, though the green dragon kept silent. Of Arya, Eragon noticed her retreat slightly from the group, though she was still able to hear them speak to one another. What happened?
I am unsure, Glaedr said, his voice reflecting Eragon's confusion. When you touched Thorn's mind, the magic pushing against us vanished. We felt Thorn's pain flow through you and Saphira, but we were not incapacitated as you were. It seems that you and Saphira bore the brunt of it, and for that I am sorry.
There is no need, Glaedr-elda, Saphira murmured.
But there is, the elder dragon sighed, I am the oldest of you all, and it falls upon Oromis and I to ensure the younger generations survival. If something had happened to Eragon, Saphira, neither you nor I could bear it.
What is done is done, Brom broke in, and Eragon turned to face his father, still leaning against Saphira's snout. His father still held Brisingr tightly in his grip, the sword hanging low. The other hand fiddled with his favored pipe, the action a habit to his father. Brom's face was still drawn, though the frown that marred him had left. Eragon is fine. But Thorn is not.
No, Glaedr said, his tone deepening in sadness, he is not. That pain you felt originated from Thorn, and I shudder to think of what he has gone through to force him into such a condition.
What can we do? Fírnen asked, and Eragon could sense the green dragon's moroseness as well. We cannot leave him in this state.
We won't, Glaedr promised. But the magic that protects him is strong. I need to speak with Oromis. Perhaps we can find some way of helping Thorn.
Eragon, who finally felt more like himself, pushed his way to stand on his own feet. Arya's hands hovered over him, though she let him walk forward when he seemed stable enough. Eragon walked over to the table and gazed at Thorn's Eldunarí. It remained unchanged since they had begun, its weak light pulsing in a steady rhythm. Eragon reached out with a hand, ignoring the cries of warning from the others.
When he touched the Eldunarí, he felt nothing.
Letting out a sigh, Eragon pulled his hand back. Still nothing.
There is nothing more we can do right now, Glaedr advised him. Speak with Murtagh on the morrow, and see if you can divine anything from your half-brother. In the meantime, Oromis and I will see if we can make any headway with Thorn. Leave our Eldunarí close together, so that I might reach out to him myself.
Elder? Saphira questioned softly. Are you sure that's wise?
I will not leave one of our kin to suffer alone and in silence, Glaedr growled, not even Thorn.
Eragon glanced past Saphira's snout, around the tent flap to the outside, and saw that night was beginning to fall. It's been a long day, Eragon tiredly said, I need some rest.
Yes, I imagine you do. Oromis has arrived from Ellesméra, and I will tell him of what happened here, Glaedr said, and with that the golden dragon withdrew from their minds and back into his Eldunarí.
Brom walked over to Eragon and held up Brisingr to him. Eragon took his blade from his father, watching as a sliver of sadness showed on Brom's face. He was unsure if it was from Thorn's predicament, or having to hold a Rider blade once more, though Eragon guessed it might have been a combination of both. "Goodnight, son."
Eragon nodded, "Father."
Brom strode over to the tents opening, nudging at Saphira's snout. The sapphire dragon withdrew from the tent, and Brom followed quickly behind her. Saphira's mind retreated slightly from his own, leaving him and Arya with some relative privacy. He saw her form settle down outside the tent, the shadow of her body stretching across the fabric as the sun waned. Faintly, he could see Fírnen amble off in the direction of his own rest.
Eragon sat heavily down on his cot, leaning his head on his hands. Arya was staring at Thorn's Eldunarí, her expression seemingly conflicted, though no longer as pale as it was before.
"Are you alright?" Eragon asked her, watching as she jumped slightly. He was surprised he caught her off guard, but then Arya had seemed particularly focused on the red dragon.
Arya made to nod her head only to stop, before ultimately shaking it. "Ever since I was born," She said softly, "Thorn and Murtagh have been our enemy. I knew, as all my kind did, that Galbatorix had enslaved them for his own purposes. That did not change the fact that we would have killed them if given the opportunity."
"And now?" Eragon prompted.
"Now I find myself feeling only sorrow towards them," Arya stated, turning to meet his gaze. "They have had difficult lives already, and now that I know what it means to be a Rider, to have this bond, I can only imagine what Murtagh is going through."
Eragon smiled weakly at Arya, his own worry for his brother rising inside of him. Holding out his hand towards her, he watched as she took it gently, letting him guide her down to sit next to him on the cot. Their hands remained linked, and Eragon brushed the back of her palm with his thumb. "Murtagh was not always like he is now."
Arya said nothing, seemingly aware that he needed some time to compose himself. He continued his ministrations on her hand, the softness of her skin calming his mind. "When we were younger," Eragon began, "Murtagh was much more… animated, especially when Thorn hatched for him. Of the times we were able to see each other after we both became Riders, he seemed happy, even content with his life." Eragon sighed, letting the old memories he thought buried rise to the surface of his mind. "Murtagh may not have always agreed with the Elders of our Order, but I know that he would have never willingly joined Galbatorix."
"Do you know how Galbatorix came to know their true names?" Arya asked quietly.
Eragon shook his head, his gaze turning to her. "No. You?"
"I do not either, I'm afraid," Arya said. Her brows were drawn downward, and he squeezed her hand in his own. She returned the pressure, and he was glad when her features smoothed over.
"Something I need to ask him then," Eragon concluded, his words no louder than a whisper between them. "But not now. I know my brother -or I did once upon a time. He will not answer our questions right now, not when he feels so vulnerable. And attempting to take the information from him will only push Murtagh further from us."
Arya nodded her agreement, "Helping Thorn will be difficult enough without Murtagh."
For a while the two of them were silent, and Eragon enjoyed her presence even as he felt sleep pull at him. Arya was looking around his tent, her eyes catching on the few possessions he still had, never seemingly lingering on anything in particular. She seemed to think something over, before saying, "There is something I wish to ask you, Eragon."
He tugged on her hand to regain her attention and smiled encouragingly at her. "Ask away."
"You do not speak much of your time away from Alagaësia," Arya stated.
Eragon's smile fell, and he forced himself to keep her gaze. "No, I do not."
"I would like," Arya began, "for you to share more of your past with me."
He opened his mouth to respond, only to pause when Arya continued, "Of course, only if you are willing. You once said that you wanted to learn more of who I am, and I wish the same."
He flicked his eyes between her own, though he did not know exactly what he was searching for. "I will endeavor to tell you more of my life, if that would satisfy you."
"It would," she said, and he lamented the loss of her touch when she stood from the cot. "It is late, and I need to bathe and ready myself for tomorrow."
Eragon stood as well, running his hand through his hair, exhausted from the days events. "Aye, I find myself in need of a good cleaning."
For a long moment the two of them stood staring at each other, and Eragon got lost in the emerald of her eyes.
Kiss her, came unprompted from Saphira.
For once he did not berate Saphira for her untimely comment, instead taking her advice. Eragon placed his hands on Arya's waist slowly, watching her features as he did. He saw no reason from her that gave him pause, marveling at how she leaned in as his hands settled on her. Her own hands smoothed over his back, the sensation sending chills up his spine. His eyes flickered between her lips and her own gaze, and the temptation of her grew stronger.
He closed the distance between them, his eyes falling shut as their lips softly met. The kiss was gentle and soft, their lips gliding over each other as they moved together. His hands drew her in towards him, the small space that was present dwindling as their bodies touched. He did not know how long they kissed for, only knowing that each sound he drew out of her spurred him on. He could feel the passion growing, his heart pounding in his chest.
Eragon broke off from Arya, leaning his forehead against her own as he panted softly. Arya seemed to fair no better, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to succumb to the emerald staring back at him. A smile rose on his face as he took her in.
Something stirred in Arya's eyes, the green taking on a darker hue then he had ever seen before. It took her a moment, but eventually Arya returned his smile, a soft hint of laughter gracing her lips.
"Exhilarating is too soft a word for that," Eragon murmured lightly.
Arya hummed, the action reverberating through their touching brows. Her hands trailed from his back to his chest, and Eragon stumbled back as she pushed him away from her. She was still smiling at him, her teeth glinting in the soft candlelight of his tent. "Goodnight, Eragon."
"Goodnight," Eragon returned, watching her movements as she stepped out of his tent. Their eyes met briefly before the flap broke their gaze, and he heard Arya softly whisper a farewell to Saphira as she turned towards her own tent. Running his hand over his face, Eragon realized that sleep was the furthest thing from his mind now.
See what happens when you listen to me?
Quiet, you, Eragon returned, listening as Saphira rumbled her laughter in his head.
After he had bathed and cleaned his armor, Eragon tried to lay down to sleep. For minutes he tossed and turned, his mind unable to still. Thoughts of his brother flowed through his mind, and he tried to fight back the worrying sense of apprehension that grew. He finally managed to quell his thoughts, only for images of Arya to quickly replace them. The fact that they were mates elated him, and he had to stop himself from rushing over to her tent and embracing her in his joy. Arya had probably finished her tasks for the night and had turned in, and he refused to let his passion destroy this new territory they explored together.
Still, he was unable to sleep, and with a whisper Eragon lit the candle in his tent. The soft glow illuminated his surroundings, his armor reflecting the light softly from where it was placed on his table. Gently, Eragon cast his mind out towards Saphira, only to discover that she was in a deep sleep already. He withdrew quietly, though he took comfort in how he saw himself in her dreams.
His eyes roamed his tent, only to catch on the bag he used to store the borrowed items from Tenga.
Might as well get some reading in if I can't sleep, Eragon thought to himself.
He quickly grabbed the bag and withdrew the book, letting his eyes roam over the worn brown covering. He could not easily discern the books age, as nearly all of Tenga's books had appeared well kept, but he thought it might have still been older then even he was.
He opened the book to the first page, letting Tenga's flowing script sweep his thoughts away:
Entry 1:
This book will serve as documentation for the question that has presented itself to me. This question, like the others, will be preserved so that I may reflect on the knowledge gained from this endeavor. The query at hand came about late one night, surprisingly made after I had discovered the answer to my latest question: How does lightening form, and what practical applications can be made from harnessing its true state? That answer, of course, has its own testimonial, and will be presented to my apprentice when the time is right. If she has proven herself capable.
The question I have now is a simple one, but its beginnings are complex and veiled behind regret.
For years after the disaster, I searched for a way to prevent it from ever happening again. Unfortunately, I, and many others, discovered that such attempts are impossible. Instead, we remaining few decided to act in the only way we could. The decision that we made has not only affected us, but all races, and history will be the judge of whether we were the heroes of the story, or if we are to blame for all that follows.
For more nights than I care to admit I lay awake, my mind descending into its own depts, wondering if there is something more I could do. That one night, as it happens, a thought struck me: What if I could do it over again? What if I knew then all that I know now, and can enact the changes that I know would save them?
This is my question: How do I control time?
Eragon lowered the book, disbelief filling him. Tenga sought a way to control time? He was at first confused when Tenga presented him with the book, but his desire to learn all that he could had won against the possibility that the book would be useless to him currently. Now, though, his interest had peaked even further. The ability to control time, in whatever way Tenga had managed to discern, would be a huge advantage over Galbatorix. Though he did not know the limitations of such a concept, he could feel his mind hungry for the information that rested on the pages. The implications of being able to control something as abstract as time was as fascinating as it was horrifying.
And so, late into the night, Eragon continued to read, eager to uncover the secrets that Tenga had written.
A knock resounded on the post of his tent as he strung up his boot, and Eragon said, "Enter."
Glenwing stepped through the opening, covering his eyes as he did, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Eragon shook his head and sighed, turning to finish his other boot. "I'm alone," he said.
Glenwing lowered his hand, quirking an eyebrow at Eragon, "What happened, trouble already?"
Eragon blinked at the elf, "No. What?"
"Ah, I see. Taking the slow route," the elf said, "If it works for you, I suppose."
"Is there something you needed, Glenwing, or did you come to tease me?" Eragon asked, a small fissure of frustration rising inside of him. He knew the elf was teasing him, so he let out a sigh and released the tension inside.
"Oh, I am definitely going to tease you," Glenwing admitted. "But you did promise that we would speak later."
Eragon nodded his head, standing from his cot. "So I did." He strapped Brisingr to his waist and stepped out of the tent, motioning for Glenwing to follow. It was still early, the sun barely peaking over the edge of the horizon, though many of the Varden were already awake and beginning to ready themselves for the day ahead. "Come, let us eat and talk."
Saphira had left with Fírnen earlier, the two of them leaving to scout outside the Varden's defenses in light of Murtagh's arrival.
The elf followed him as they made their way towards the large pavilion used to feed the Varden. As they approached Eragon could see a long line beginning to form already, stretching outside the tent's bounds. Soldiers of the Varden waited patiently as the cooks distributed the meals one by one, though he could see many of them step aside as non-combatants came to receive their meals. Together he and Glenwing joined the line, nodding a greeting to those ahead of him.
Luckily, it seemed that the men understood he did not wish to be disturbed, leaving the two of them some semblance of privacy. Still, Eragon spoke in the ancient language, "Has Arya told you anything yet?"
"No," Glenwing sighed. "Prying information out of her is harder than getting a dwarf to admit defeat in a game of cards. Best count your blessing if they decide to let you get away with it."
"We are together," Eragon confirmed. "Though it's a recent development."
Glenwing smiled, clapping Eragon on his back. "Finally! Getting the two of you to admit how you feel towards each other has nearly driven me mad!"
Eragon chuckled, awkwardly shuffling forward as the line moved. "Oh yes, it was all your doing. We would never have gotten together without your help."
"See," Glenwing said, puffing up his chest, "I'm glad someone at least appreciates my efforts."
"Do you want to see how much Arya appreciates you?" Eragon asked, chuckling when Glenwing paled.
"No thank you," the elf shuddered. "I'll let you handle Arya."
Eragon snorted, "No one handles Arya but herself."
"True," Glenwing admitted.
They were near the entrance of the tent by now, and Eragon could barely make out the interior of the pavilion. Ahead of him and to his left, he knew, was the counter, in which one of the cooks would hand them their allocated food for the morning. To their right were long rows of tables, each with numerous wooden chairs for them to use. He could hear the chatter from inside grow louder as they approached, and even the faint calling of children playing could be heard.
"Are you going to tell the other about this?" Glenwing asked, voice low.
"Arya wanted to inform Nasuada," Eragon replied. "And I suspect she would like to tell her mother in person, but I do not know if we would have the chance to."
"I am the first to know?" Glenwing smirked, "You honor me, O' Rider."
"Shut it," Eragon murmured, unable to help the small smile that grew on his face. They stepped into the tent, and Eragon was glad when the cooks offered him some fruit and bread instead of the meat the others were eating. He accepted the food with a nod of thanks, turning around to face the line of tables awaiting them.
He scanned the rows of tables, trying to find someplace for Glenwing and himself to sit without being disturbed, his eyes catching on a man waving his hand at him. Roran was sitting next to Katrina, gesturing at Eragon silently, and he was glad when he saw them mostly alone at the far end of the table. Eragon raised a hand in return, stepping past the soldiers who offered him polite greetings.
Glenwing followed behind him, and together they sat down opposite his cousin and his fiancée. "Good morning," Eragon offered the couple, and gestured at Glenwing, "Katrina, this is Glenwing, a friend of mine. Though I have no idea why."
Glenwing briefly glared at him, before turning a wide smile towards the two, "Forgive me for not introducing myself when you arrived, Katrina. It is an honor to meet the woman who has captivated Roran so. His description of you did not do you justice."
The young woman's face flushed, and Roran glared at the elf. "It is a pleasure to meet you," Katrina said, her voice steady.
"Careful with this one," Roran said, though Eragon saw his cousin's lips rise into a small smile, "He will flirt with anything that moves."
"Indeed," Glenwing said, eyeing Roran's wide arms, "I find myself captivated by you humans. Perhaps you could display for me this renowned strength of yours? A private showing would be best, I think."
Roran grimaced, and Eragon laughed while nudging Glenwing on the shoulder lightly. "Leave him alone," Eragon said, then turned to face his cousin. "He's only teasing you to get a reaction. It's best if you just ignore him."
Glenwing smirked. "You've been trying to ignore me for months. How did that work out? Oh wait, you and Arya-."
Eragon's hand slapped over the elf's mouth, silencing his words. "How have the two of you been?" he asked, only to cry out in disgust when Glenwing licked his hand. He wiped his hand on the Glenwing's tunic, the elf batting his hand away fiercely.
Katrina was barely holding back her laughter, and even Roran seemed amused at their antics. "We've been well," Katrina said. "We are preparing for a feast tonight, with Nasuada's compliments, for the people of Carvahall, to celebrate all of us making it to the Varden. It would be great if both you and Saphira could join us. Brom said he might stop by, but made no promises."
"I would love to," Eragon smiled at the young woman. "And Saphira was never one to turn down food or ale. Though you may have to deal with this one trying to sneak in," he said, gesturing to Glenwing beside him. The elf had started eating, wiggling his eyebrows at them as he bit into his bread.
"He is welcome to attend as well. What of Arya and her dragon?" Roran asked with a raised eyebrow. "If we invited her, would she attend?"
"I do not know," Eragon responded, "I am not sure how your people will respond to two elves and two dragons, though."
"They will get over it," Katrina said firmly. "It is because of the dragons that we are here, and they will see it in time."
Eragon smiled at Katrina, though he held his reservations to himself. He bit into an apple he picked up from his plate, and he suddenly felt a chill rush up his spine. Inexplicably, he turned his gaze towards the tent entrance, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when he saw her.
"Love struck fool," Glenwing whispered.
Eragon ignored the elf as he watched Arya. She accepted a plate of food from the cooks with a word of thanks he could not hear, her form turning to gaze out on the assembled Varden as they ate. Her eyes swept up and down the tables, all the while ignoring the men that called out to her. When she spotted him, Eragon felt a smile rise on his lips. Arya hesitated for a second, before moving forward towards them. It felt like no time at all before she was upon them, settling down into the seat next to him. Her shoulder brushed his as she sat, and although her face was carefully blank, he could see her eyes brighten as she turned to greet them. "Good morning," she said to everyone, though her gaze lingered on Eragon for a moment.
"Morning," Eragon managed to return.
Roran and Katrina offered their greetings as well, though Eragon hardly heard them. Glenwing elbowed him hard in the ribs, and Eragon grunted in surprise. The elf switched to the ancient language and said to Arya, "Look what you've done to him. Reduced him to a blubbering fool simply by walking through the door."
The couple on the other side of the table glanced at Glenwing, unable to comprehend his words.
Arya smirked, surprising Eragon. "He's able to handle himself a lot better than you did," she responded, her words in the elven tongue. "Why don't you tell Eragon what happened when Yaela first appeared with Blödhgarm and the others?"
Glenwing paled, and Eragon turned to the elf, his eyebrows raised. A glance at the elf's face told Eragon enough. "Later, please," the elf said.
Damn, Eragon thought to himself. I forgot to ask Glenwing about her. Too much has been going on lately.
Eragon turned his gaze towards Arya, who seemed chagrined at having affected the elf so much. To the couple on the other side of the table, Eragon asked, "How have the villagers been settling in? I've heard that many are joining the ranks as soldiers, but Carvahall has lacked many fighters since the Ra'zac attacks."
"It's been difficult," Roran sighed, though his gaze lingered on the two elves for a moment, "But we've been making do with what the Varden can spare us. Many of the villagers are volunteering their skills as best they can."
"Tough times all around," Eragon said. Having their lives stripped away by Galbatorix must have been difficult, but it seemed at least the people of Carvahall were able to bounce back somewhat.
"What of you?" Katrina asked. "We heard about Murtagh."
"What will be done to him?" Roran jumped in.
"I have not yet decided," Eragon admitted, addressing Roran. "But I have yet to speak with him since he was captured. My brother is difficult enough to talk to on a good day. And he hasn't had one of those in a century."
Eragon wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped alone into the tent, but Murtagh playing a game of cards with Blödhgarm wasn't it. He had ventured here alone after finishing eating with the others, leaving them to their daily tasks. Arya had seemed to understand his need to talk to his brother alone, and Glenwing had reluctantly admitted that Murtagh had unnerved him the last time he saw the red Rider.
The elf greeted Eragon and stood, leaving his cards on the table, "You are an excellent player, Fyrir Neðan."
"Why do you call me that?" Murtagh asked as he gathered up the deck.
"The humans may not remember who you are," Blödhgarm said, approaching the flap of the tent, "but we elves do."
The elf left, though he suspected that Blödhgarm and the others were near enough at hand if something happened.
"Damned elves," Murtagh muttered. "Always so cryptic. How do you deal with it?"
"The same way I always have," Eragon said. He sat down opposite his brother at the only table inside the small tent. Murtagh was only to be given a cot, but he suspected that one of the elves had procured the table and chairs as well as the cards. "I listen to what they say, and if I don't understand I simply make it seem as though I do."
Murtagh grunted, shuffling the cards in his hands. The length of rope used to constrain him was gone, but Eragon had doubted that the elves would leave Murtagh without multiple spells assuring them of his captivity. "Want to play?"
Eragon said nothing, examining his half-brother. Murtagh's features were drawn in, and he could see dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. If he had to guess, Murtagh had probably not been able to sleep the previous night.
Murtagh began dealing the cards out, and Eragon watched his brother's movements carefully. "So, I'm guessing you've come here to interrogate me."
"We tried to contact Thorn last night," Eragon said instead of responding to his brother's statement. Murtagh's hands froze, the card wavering above the table between them. He saw a flash in Murtagh's eyes before it was gone, and his brother resumed his dealing. "We were unsuccessful, as you might have already guessed."
His brother said nothing, placing the deck down on the table between them. Eragon picked up the cards, fanning them out as he scanned his hand. Murtagh placed a card down, and Eragon did the same. For some time they played, though admittedly Eragon was not as good as a player as Murtagh.
"We?" Murtagh asked after some time, placing another card down on the table. Eragon grimaced and removed one of his, watching as Murtagh smirked.
"Arya and our dragons, as well as Brom."
Murtagh locked eyes with Eragon, before moving them away. "Got to admit, I'm still surprised the old man is still alive."
"As was I," Eragon admitted.
"Why did you leave Alagaësia?" Murtagh asked suddenly, a scowl on his face. "I thought you were dead, and I mourned for you."
"What happened with Thorn?" Eragon countered. He placed a card down, and retrieved one from the deck. Murtagh grunted, his eyes fixed on the cards dealt on the table.
"A tale for a tale?" Murtagh muttered. "Not very good at this interrogation thing, are you?"
"Would you tell me anything if I tried?" Eragon asked, nodding when Murtagh shook his head. "Then I see no point in it."
Murtagh played two cards, and Eragon folding his hand in defeat. While Eragon waited for his brothers answer, he swept up all the cards and began the process of shuffling them. Eragon dealt the hand, and he could feel the silence growing between them.
Murtagh examined his hand but still remained silent, and Eragon played his first card.
"He didn't tell you anything?" Nasuada asked, her hands steepled before her. Behind her, Brom's face was shrouded in darkness, and Eragon could see how tight his fists where.
"No," Eragon admitted. They were seated inside of Nasuada's tent, not long after Eragon had left Murtagh with Blödhgarm and the others once more.
"Why not break into his mind?" Orrin asked, waving his hand at Eragon and Arya. "Surely the two of you could do so."
"We do not know what trickery Galbatorix may have performed on Murtagh's mind," Arya countered. "When we break into another's mind, we end up exposing ourselves, and we cannot be certain that the information gained will be worth the risk."
"Murtagh is Galbatorix's Rider," Nasuada said. "Surely there must be something he knows about the Empire's movements. Or even how Galbatorix has become so powerful."
Eragon said nothing, though he caught Arya's glance at him. "Murtagh is a powerful magician in his own right, and even back two centuries ago his mind was stronger than mine. Brute force is not the way through to Murtagh."
"Then what is?" Orrin asked. "From what I've heard, word is beginning to spread outside the Varden that we captured Murtagh." At Nasuada's glance, the king amended, "you've captured Murtagh. Having him here is a large risk, and not one that I can say we should tolerate for much longer."
"I agree," Eragon sighed. "If we want to get through to Murtagh, then the only way to do it would be Thorn."
He saw his father watching him carefully, and Eragon met Brom's eyes briefly.
"Thorn?" Nasuada sat back in her chair, and he saw her breathe deeply. "How could Thorn help us? I fail to see how he wouldn't do anything other than attack us in order to retrieve Murtagh."
"I suspect that Thorn is injured or incapacitated in some way," Eragon explained, weighing each of his words carefully. He did not want to reveal too much about how he knew, but he also wanted to reassure the leaders. "He was not with Murtagh when we found him. Adding to that, the amount of energy required to transport an entire person is immense, and we do not even know how far away Thorn sent Murtagh."
"You're saying that Thorn might be weakened," Orrin said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Do you mean to capture him as well?"
Eragon grimaced. "Holding Murtagh is one thing, but containing a dragon? No, I doubt we could. The more likely scenario is for us to attempt to find Thorn, and see if he can persuade Murtagh to tell us what we wish to know."
"Why would he help us?" Nasuada asked. "We could simply be telling the enemy directly that we have his Rider in custody, inviting him to attack you."
No dragon would willingly serve the Oath-breaker, Saphira growled. She had long since returned from her hunt with Fírnen, her shadow casting onto the walls of Nasuada's pavilion. And there are ways of breaking one's oath, ensuring both Murtagh's and our safety.
The surprise on Orrin's face was nearly comical, but Eragon kept his own carefully blank. "You can break another's oath?"
Brom finally spoke, stepping forward from behind Nasuada. "Not Eragon, no. An oath is binding, and cannot be broken even by someone else. The amount of energy required would kill them both." His father's eyes wandered to the side of the tent, in the direct of Murtagh's tent. "But what if he was no longer Murtagh, son of Morzan, Red Rider of Galbatorix, but instead Murtagh, the free Rider?"
Nasuada shook her head, not understanding his father's words, though it seemed Orrin had a better grasp.
"You speak of one's true name, yes?" the King asked.
"Yes," Brom said, pulling his pipe out of his pocket. His father did not light the pipe, instead turning it between his hands gingerly. "If someone's True Name were to change, all of their previous oaths would no longer be binding, so long as they wish them to be."
"Is Galbatorix not aware of this?" Nasuada asked, her eyebrows rising.
"We do not know," Arya answered, "but Murtagh surely is. It is something that is taught to all Riders."
When Nasuada and Orrin glanced at him, Eragon nodded his head.
"Then why hasn't Murtagh changed his name?" Orrin asked skeptically.
"It's not so easy as just wishing it," Eragon said, his voice dropping down low. "Changing one's name can take many years of diligent work. Though having a profound event occur can cause one's name to alter, thus rendering previous oath's void. We know that Galbatorix holds their true names, but even the slightest alteration would cause him to lose his grip on them."
"Why have we never been told this before?" Nasuada asked. She glanced at Brom, though his father remained quiet.
"It's not exactly a secret," Eragon explained, "but it's something that is only taught to magicians after they have learned the dangers inherent in true names. That you've never been told this might stem from the lack of education of your magicians."
Neither of the leaders seemed offended by his words. Instead, both sat for a moment in thought, contemplating the new information.
"So," Nasuada summed up, "You want to find Thorn to convince him to convince Murtagh to change their true names?"
"Yes," Eragon answered.
Nasuada sighed, rubbing her temples. "You can never make anything easy, can you, Eragon?"
He saw a hint of a smile on Arya's face, though it vanished just as fast, and even his father barked out a laugh. Saphira rumbled her laughter outside the tent, shaking the table they were seated at.
"I've been told that."
Orrin muttered, "Of that I have no doubt."
"To what end? Would you have Murtagh fight alongside the Varden?" Nasuada asked, and he could sense a hint of disapproval in her voice. "The people of the Varden have lived their lives in fear of Murtagh for the last century, and the dwarves would never march again with us."
"I doubt Murtagh would even want to fight with us," Eragon admitted. "But completely removing Murtagh from the equation would be a huge blow to Galbatorix. Right now, Murtagh may be a captive, but if we don't act soon, we could lose this opportunity. I still need to discuss this with Queen Islanzadí, but even if the elves are willing to hold Murtagh for me, we would still need to deal with Thorn. There is also the risk of Murtagh escaping his imprisonment before we even get him to the elves."
"What would you need of us?" Orrin asked. "As you've said to us before, we do not command you."
He could tell that Orrin was still miffed from their previous conversations, and Eragon needed to smooth over the wounds. Letting them fester would only make things harder for him in the future.
"I tell you this so that you are informed of what actions I wish to take," Eragon explained. "So that you can respond accordingly. I do ask though that any information regarding Thorn's whereabouts be directed to me."
Orrin waved the matter aside, "An easy thing. I even have some contacts left in the Empire who might be able to help."
"I would be grateful," Eragon said, nodding to the monarch.
Orrin nodded, satisfied. Playing politics was not his strong suite, but Eragon knew he needed to keep the King appeased, especially after what happened last time Eragon acted without telling them. Orrin would be happy with Eragon seemingly in his debt, and Eragon would gain the information he needed.
"I hope you succeeded in this latest endeavor of yours, Eragon." Nasuada said, standing from the table, "for all our sakes."