Hours earlier…
When Eragon woke from his waking dreams, he noticed that he was not alone in his tent. The sun hadn't even risen yet, Eragon could tell, and yet he was still able to make out her features clearly. There wasn't a lot of room on Eragon's cot with the two of them, and each deep breath Arya took he could feel reverberate through the thin material. He was on his side, as was she, though she had shifted in the night to face him. For a moment he wanted to dance his fingers down the length of her arm, but he stilled his movements with his hand inches from her skin.
The memory of the night before flooded into his mind.
Arya studied him for a long moment, and Eragon saw something stirring behind her eyes. When she was quiet for so long that Eragon feared she might never answer, he moved his hand away from her face. Her other hand stopped its movement, her slim fingers holding tight to both his wrists. Eragon blinked, and then Arya did something Eragon never expected.
Arya kissed him.
He froze initially, and he felt Arya begin to pull away, but he didn't let her. His hand was still cradling her face, with his other confined by her grip, so instead he moved in, letting his lips move smoothly across her own. His heart pounded in his chest, and when he pressed the length of his body against hers, Eragon could feel how quickly her heartbeat was as well. He was glad she was as affected as he was, and he lost himself for a moment in the feel of her against him. He captured her bottom lip in between his own, a sense of thrill rising inside of him. When Arya returned the gesture, her lips soft against his, Eragon fought the urge to dive further into the passion that surged forward. Their lips glided against each other, and a warmth grew inside of Eragon, rising from his heart and spreading throughout his body.
Arya drew back after what felt like an eternity, though he knew it had only been a few moments. Her eyes had fallen shut during their kiss, and when she opened them Eragon felt as though he could drown in the desire he saw. Arya's gaze flicked between his lips and eyes, and Eragon couldn't help but do the same.
"That was…" Eragon began.
"Exhilarating," Arya whispered.
"Aye," Eragon said, and ran his thumb over the swell of her cheek. Her eyes closed briefly at his soft movement, and he felt her grip tighten on his wrists. He had no doubt in his mind that she could feel the pounding of his heart from how tight she held onto him.
"What," Eragon swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry, "does this mean? For us?"
She did not answer him directly, instead asking, "Does this not seem to be moving too fast, this thing between us?"
She was studying him intently, as though she was desperate to hear his words. It was only then that Eragon understood some of the truth behind Arya's actions of late: She felt the same pull between them that she did, and she did not know how to deal with it. Though how she figured he did was lost on him.
Eragon's face softened as he said, "We can move as fast or as slow as you like." He continued the movement of his thumb on her cheek, the softness of her skin contrasting harshly with his rough hands. "But I know what I feel, Arya, and with this war going on I do not want to regret not trying to see where this path will lead us."
"And after the war?" Arya asked, her brow dipping slightly. "How do you know that neither of our feelings will change?"
Eragon smiled at her, and he watched as her brow smoothed over in response. "Our feelings will always change, Arya." He said softly, "we will never again be the people we are now, but change isn't something to be afraid of. I expect that our feelings will change, but it's up to us to decide how. I know myself, and I know that for you, my feelings will only grow stronger."
Arya let go of one of his wrists, trailing her hand down his arm to his elbow. She made no move to push him away, her eyes locked onto his. "I do not want to make a mistake with you, Eragon. You are too important for that, both to me and to the whole of Alagaësia."
"Why would you make a mistake with me?" Eragon whispered softly. "If there is one thing I have learned in these past few centuries, it is that I would rather die with no regrets then to live my life full of them. I could never regret anything we shared together, Arya, and it would only be a mistake to deny ourselves what we truly want."
Her other hand released its grip on his wrist, her hand coming to rest over his heart. "And our duty? What of it?"
"My duty is to the whole of Alagaësia, and to the dragons," Eragon said. "I will fulfill it to the best of my abilities, and I have no doubt in my mind that you will do the same. If it becomes an issue, then I expect we would discuss it, yes?"
Arya nodded her head, "Yes, I expect we would need to." Arya glanced around the tent, her eyes alighting on the flap that led to the rest of the Varden. The noise outside had slowly dwindled down as the Varden readied themselves for the night, the only sound the occasional footsteps of the soldiers patrolling the camp. "What do we tell the others?"
Eragon blinked. "About what, exactly?"
"If we are to be mates, then we need to discuss if we should tell the others or not," Arya said, her brow furrowing at him. She was staring at him as though he should have understood, and yet Eragon found himself only more confused.
Mates, Eragon thought, his mind stilling at the word.
"King Orrin has no need to know, though I am loathed to keep such things from Nasuada. She has been a good friend to me, and I feel I would be remiss in not telling her of something so important, and she will understand our desire to be private," Arya continued. Her brow slanted even further, "my mother… I would like to tell her in person, but I do not know if we will get the chance."
Eragon was listening, though he still was unable to form a single thought in his mind.
Arya pushed on, and the first thought that came to him was of what her own father might have made of their relationship, but Eragon shook himself away from that as her words washed over him. "Glenwing will be overjoyed, I expect, but he is surprisingly able to keep some things to himself if asked to. Your father…"
Eragon kissed her, his lips alighting over hers briefly before he backed away. Arya blinked at him and fell silent, her eyes flicking down to his lips again. "You wish to be mates?" Eragon asked quietly.
Arya frowned at him, and then her face lit up with understanding. A bright smile adorned her face, and Eragon was captivated. One of her hands cradled his jaw, while the other winded around his neck. Arya nodded, whispering, "yes," and Eragon felt as though his body was going to float away. He returned her smile and moved in close to her. Arya followed suit, their lips meeting again…
He came out of his memories when Arya shifted lightly onto her back next to him. The sun was beginning to rise, the warm glow piercing through the tent and illuminating her features. Arya twisted onto her back, her arm brushing his tunic-clad chest. She stretched lightly, and Eragon let his eyes trace over her features for a moment. When his gaze finally traveled up to her face, Eragon felt his heart skip when he saw two emerald eyes peering back at him, her head twisted towards him.
They both seemed frozen in time for a moment, before Arya let a small smile grace her lips. "Good morning," she whispered.
Eragon swallowed, "Morning."
He slowly reached his hand forward, tangling it between the soft raven locks he had yearned to touch for so long. Her hair was extremely soft to the touch, finer than any silk. Arya grasped his wrist in her hand, though she did not stop him as he continued to cart his fingers through her tresses.
"I much prefer this," Eragon confessed.
Arya's eyebrow rose, "As opposed to?"
Eragon smiled, "To waking alone."
Arya's brow fell, and when a frown formed Eragon felt the silent need to berate himself. "You have my apologies for that, Eragon. I do not know why I left the other morning without waking you. I only knew that I needed space to think."
Eragon dropped the lock of her hair he was fiddling with, and instead used his thumb to smooth the creases of her brow. He had longed to do it for a while, and now that he was able, he would take the opportunity. "I know. I was only jesting."
Arya studied him for a moment before she said, "I prefer this as well."
Eragon moved in to slant his lips over hers, but they both froze when they felt it. A sudden rush of magic washed over the Varden camp, and both Rider's sprung from the cot. Arya rushed over and grabbed their swords from the table they rested on, handing Eragon Brisingr. Both of them glanced around wearily, their eyes meeting briefly in mutual confusion.
Eragon! Saphira called out, her words and mind filled with worried.
I'm alright, he said to her. What was that?
I do not know, Saphira said. From her mind he could see that she was out flying with Fírnen, and he saw the two of them turn back to the Varden, her wings pushing hard to reach them. She would reach him soon, their flight not straying far from the Varden.
Arya shivered next to him, "I've never felt magic like that before. It felt like it did during the Agaetí Blödhren."
"Dragon magic," Eragon guessed. "That's what it feels like."
"Was it Saphira?" Arya asked. Her hand gripped Támerlein tightly, and Eragon guessed from her questioning that it wasn't Fírnen's doing.
"No."
The tent flap suddenly opened and Glenwing stepped in, and the elf said, "Eragon! Wake up! There's…"
The elf paused, his words dying off as he glanced between Arya and Eragon. Glenwing's mouth opened and closed a few times before he shook himself. "Right. As much as I'd love to tease the both of you- and I will- did the two of you feel that?"
"Aye," Eragon said. He sat on the cot and tied up his boots quickly, and felt the cot dip down as Arya did the same.
Glenwing raised an eyebrow at them. "Not the time," the elf muttered to himself to them, he asked, "Do you know what it was?"
"Dragon magic, I think," Eragon said, standing. He strapped Brisingr to his waist, gesturing for Glenwing to take the lead out of the tent once Arya was done. The three of them exited Eragon's tent, and he saw the panic the Varden was in. Men rushed about, calling out orders, and he could feel their fear wash over him.
Blödhgarm rushed up to him, emerging from the crowd, and Eragon saw that only seven of the elves were with him. "Shur'tugalar."
"Where are the others?" Eragon asked, glancing around.
"I sent one to each side of the Varden in order to locate the source," Blödhgarm said. "I will relay their findings when they contact me."
Eragon nodded. "Good thinking. We need to find my father and Nasuada."
Eragon led the way through the tents, Arya to his left, with Glenwing and Blödhgarm to his right. "The dragons?" Glenwing asked, the elf glancing up at the sky.
"On their way," Arya answered shortly.
Eragon stretched his mind out far, and he had to ignore the fear that swept through the people of the Varden as he searched. Nothing stood out to him, and he did not feel the presence of Murtagh or Thorn.
When he told Arya, she inclined her head in acknowledgement as they walked, her eyes weary as she watched the Varden part around them. "They could be hiding their minds," she suggested.
Eragon frowned. "Maybe. Not like my brother to do so."
Arya spared him a glance but said nothing.
They reached Nasuada's tent quickly, and Eragon saw the full regiment of the Nighthawks filtering into position around her tent. Urgal's were spaced regularly, and each of the ones Eragon passed dipped their head and said, "Firesword" to him.
The Nighthawk Captain on duty held the tent open for them without a word, and Eragon led his small party inside. Brom was standing next to Nasuada at her table, his face steeped in concentration. King Orrin was barely dressed, his robe haphazardly thrown on, though the King was busy straightening himself. Trianna was inside already, talking low with Nasuada and shaking her head. From the sorceress's expression, Eragon knew she was as clueless as they were.
"Eragon, Arya," Nasuada called out. "I'm glad you're here."
"Lady Nasuada," Eragon said, stepping forward and joining her at the table. "Any idea what is going on?"
"Not yet," Nasuada said, rubbing at the bandages on her arms. "Trianna says that the magic is unlike anything she ever felt before."
"That such magic could be felt so openly is worrying," Arya said. Her regular stoic expression had fallen back into place, and Eragon tried to ensure his own expression did not show the worry that grew inside him.
"Aye," Brom said quietly. "I haven't felt magic like this in years."
Nasuada turned to his father, her face puzzled. "You know the source of this?"
Brom shook his head, his voice gruff. "Not directly, but you can be assured that it's the work of a dragon."
Nasuada blinked, turning to Eragon. "Is this true?"
"Aye, but it was not our dragons," Eragon assured her. "Saphira and Fírnen were not the cause of this."
"Thorn then?" Nasuada questioned.
Eragon shared a glance with Brom, who shook his head minutely. Nasuada did not know of the Eldunarí, and from his father it seemed he had never told her either. "Most likely," Eragon admitted. "It's unlikely that Shruikan has left Urû'baen. Galbatorix doesn't seem one to leave his castle unless he has to."
Blödhgarm stepped forward next to Eragon, his words so quiet only the elves could hear it. "Wydren reports that the source of magic is to the north of us."
Eragon nodded. "Thank you."
The sound of wings drumming the air announced Fírnen and Saphira's arrival, their combined landing shaking the ground as they settled around the tent. Eragon turned to address Nasuada. "We are going to go investigate the source." Eragon glanced at Glenwing, "Stay here my friend, and protect Nasuada and the others."
Glenwing nodded his head. "I will. Be careful."
"The Varden is currently preparing," Nasuada said. "But if this is a surprise assault by the Empire it will still take us some time. Buy us as much as you can manage."
Eragon nodded his understanding, and Nasuada turned back to the others, orders flying rapidly from her lips.
He left the tent quickly, sparing his father a quick glance. Brom's face belayed his worry, though his father said nothing to him. Arya and Blödhgarm followed behind, and Eragon said, "Blödhgarm you're with me. Leave behind a few elves with the Varden, and have the rest follow as swiftly as they can."
Blödhgarm inclined his head, turning to join the seven elves who had waited outside Nasuada's tent. Saphira stood next to the tent in the little space provided, and he could see her saddle at her feet, the straps jumbled together where it had fallen.
I grabbed it as soon as I returned.
Thank you, Eragon said, laying his hand against her side briefly. He quickly hefted the saddle onto her back, using magic to aid him as he secured it down. When he was finished Eragon leapt up, strapping his legs in. Fírnen was on the other side of Nasuada's tent, and Eragon could see hints of green scales peaking over the tent, Arya no doubt readying herself the same as he had.
Blödhgarm approached Saphira, bowing his head and twisting his arm over his chest. "It is an honor, O' Skulblaka, to have the privilege of joining you in the skies."
Saphira snorted. I like this one, she said to Eragon.
Eragon chuckled and shook his head, gesturing for the elf to join him. With a graceful movement the wolf-like elf leapt up behind Eragon, settling into the saddle and winding his arm around Eragon's waist.
"Five will stay behind with the Varden," Blödhgarm informed him. "The others will run below us."
Eragon nodded.
Are you ready, Saphira?
She responded by letting out a fierce roar, and Eragon heard Fírnen answer in reply. The people of the Varden stopped what they were doing, turning to face the dragons as they leapt into the sky. He heard them cheer out, and he felt their spirits rising as they went. Saphira angled herself northward, her wings beating hard against the air.
Below he could see the elves winding their way through the Varden's tents, their forms darting in and out. Eragon glanced to the side at Fírnen, who eagerly kept up with Saphira as she rose through the air. Arya's expression was fierce, her face angled in determination. Eragon realized with a start that she must have tied up her hair before strapping in, no longer flowing freely as it did when he had awoken by her side.
Saphira let out a plume of smoke below him, and both Eragon and Blödhgarm coughed as they inhaled it, though the elf didn't seem bothered by her display. Have fun last night?
Eragon sighed. Is now really the time?
You said it yourself to Arya, that our time may be limited here. Therefore, I find there is no better time than now.
Eragon said nothing, and he watched as Saphira turned her head to briefly gaze at him with one sapphire eye.
I will ask you again. Did you have fun last night?
Eragon glanced over at Arya, his eyes trailing over her features. Yes.
Saphira snorted.
After a few moments passed, Saphira said softly, I am happy for you, little-one. I can think of no one better then Arya.
Eragon smiled, rubbing his hand across the scales of her neck. Thank you, Saphira.
If there are to be little-ones, Saphira said, and Eragon could hear the mirth in her voice, then I expect one of them to be named after me, of course.
Eragon sputtered, his hand slapping against her neck. Saphira! Nothing like that happened and you know it!
Saphira rumbled beneath him in her laughter, and when Eragon glanced over at Arya he could see the look of puzzlement clearly on her face. Eragon waved her off, his eyes searching the ground below them as they left the Varden behind.
We should focus on the task at hand, Saphira prodded, and not on your sex life. Or lack thereof.
Saphira!
They searched the northern area for nearly half the day without finding the source of the magic. There were no signs of a surprise army, and even the elves found no further traces of magical signature. Eragon nearly gave up the search when the sun reached its zenith, and the anticipation of battle had worn off by then, leaving Eragon feeling only a sense of worry in its place.
Finally, Blödhgarm pointed off the side of Saphira and said, "There!"
In the distance Eragon could see someone standing alone in a field, though he was unable to make out any features of them. Even Saphira's keen eyes were of no use, so the two dragons swiftly turned and headed for the figure.
Below them, Eragon watched as the elves turned as one and headed for their target, trailing behind them as they journeyed forward. As they drew closer to the figure, Eragon saw the moment they were spotted. Instead of turning and running, as Eragon expected, the figure stood tall and proud, his arms wrapped around a large red rock. The person, and Eragon could now see it was a man, stood in the middle of the tall grass, and around them was the scorched earth that was no doubt the source of the magic.
As they neared, Eragon cursed. Damn it, its Murtagh.
Saphira growled, angling herself down towards his half-brother, Fírnen following swiftly. Murtagh did not move, still gripping the dull red rock in his hands.
Eragon casted his mind out towards Arya, who let him in quickly. It's Murtagh. Stay in the air incase Thorn is nearby. If they mean to ambush us, having Fírnen flying above will make that difficult.
He could feel the worry in Arya's mind, though she acknowledged his words. Very well.
Fírnen broke off from the dive he was in, leveling off to circle above. Saphira tucked in her wings, and the air streamed passed her riders harshly. It only abated when she snapped open her wings, pushing hard against the air to slow herself. Saphira landed heavily on the ground, her body tucked down low, shielding Eragon and Blödhgarm as they quickly unstrapped themselves from her saddle.
Blödhgarm was the first off Saphira's back, and Eragon quickly joined the elf as they walked around Saphira. She was growling fiercely at Murtagh, her teeth gleaming in the sunlight, and he saw her sapphire eyes glancing around. Thorn was still nowhere to be seen, and Eragon worried that it was a trap, though he could not sense anything nearby.
Blödhgarm's sword was drawn, and Eragon did the same, though he quickly noticed how unarmed Murtagh appeared to be. He edged closer to his brother and called out, "Murtagh. Why are you here?"
Murtagh snorted, his arms tightening around the dull rock. It looked familiar to Eragon, though he couldn't place why. "I could ask you the same thing."
Eragon frowned, glancing around the open field. Blödhgarm was murmuring lightly under his breath, and when Eragon met the elf's eyes he shook his head.
"I'm here because of the magic we felt earlier this morning," Eragon explained. He approached his brother slowly, and he saw Murtagh eye the elf next to him wearily.
Murtagh frowned, and looked down at the scorched earth surrounding him. "If it was me, I don't recall."
Eragon stopped a few feet away from his half-brother, Brisingr held low. A glance skyward told him Fírnen was circling them, and from the footsteps approaching from the south he knew the elves were not far behind.
"Where's Thorn?" Eragon asked.
Murtagh scowled, and he saw the anger in his brother's face. Eragon glanced down at the rock in Murtagh's hands, his brow furrowing with thought. The rock was a dull red, but it was the soft pulse of light from within that gave it away. An Eldunarí?
Eragon drew up short, gesturing with his free hand. "Is that him?" he asked quietly, wary of the elves near him.
Murtagh's scowl was his answer. Eragon felt his confusion growing. He never knew Thorn had disgorged his Eldunarí, but judging by its size it was most likely recent. Why had the red dragon done so? And where was his body?
"I ask again, Murtagh, tell me why you're here," Eragon called out, his hand tightening on Brisingr.
"I do not know," Murtagh ground out, his words low. "I awoke here but a few minutes ago."
Saphira?
She sniffed at the air around them, though he could tell she was keeping an eye out just in case. I do not smell him anywhere near here.
"Do you mean to attack the Varden?" Eragon questioned. The elves had finally joined them, and Eragon watched as they slowly surrounded Murtagh. Eragon motioned with his free hand, telling them to back off for the moment. They followed his silent command, each of them holding their weapons tight.
Murtagh glanced around at the elves, but wisely did not move. "Not at this time, no."
His brother's fingers twitched, and Eragon's eyes were drawn to his lack of sword. "Where is Zar'roc?"
Murtagh's face tightened. Eragon doubted that his brother mourned the loss of his father's sword, and was more worried about his lack of weapon. "Gone."
"You are surrounded, brother, and outnumbered." Eragon said quietly. "Surrender, please."
Murtagh's scowl deepened, and he could see the conflict in his brother's eyes. "I will not surrender to the Varden or the elves, not when they mean to take my head."
The elves said nothing, though he saw how some of them looked saddened at Murtagh's fate. They knew the truth of him; Murtagh was a slave, captured by Morzan long ago during the fall, and forced into Galbatorix's servitude. Though Eragon figured his brother enjoyed the power bestowed upon him, he also knew that Murtagh hated the cruelty that came with it.
"You will not be surrendering to the Varden," Eragon swore, "Nor the elves. But to me, Eragon, Leader of the Order. You will not be judged unto a full tribunal can be called upon."
He saw Murtagh look up at him in surprise, and a laugh escaped. "You claimed the mantle for yourself, brother?"
Eragon did not answer.
Murtagh's laugh died off, his words harsh and biting. "Galbatorix always suspected that a Rider survived, hidden away by the elves. That you would be named Grandmaster shows that it was one of the Elders who lived."
He saw the elves bristle at the mention of Oromis and Glaedr indirectly, though they calmed when Blödhgarm held up his hand.
Murtagh tracked the movements, though his brother remained impassive. "You call upon a full tribunal? You do not have enough dragon's left to fill such a requirement."
"No," Eragon said quietly. "But it will delay your judgement until we do, and it will firmly place you within my care. None of the other leaders will have a claim on you."
Murtagh eyed Eragon and the elves surrounding him. "What do these elves have to say about that?"
"We answer to the Leader of the Riders, Fyrir Neðan," Blödhgarm stated, his voice firm. Fallen One.
For how short of a time he knew the elf, he was glad that Blödhgarm understood his goal. He had to rethink how the elves would fight beside them.
"I see," Murtagh murmured. His arms tightened around the Eldunarí. "I cannot part with this, you know that Eragon."
"I swear that it I will ensure his safety, Murtagh, upon my word as a Rider and as your brother," Eragon murmured. "Please. I do not want to hurt you, or Thorn. If you do not surrender, then we will have to fight."
Murtagh eyed him for a long moment, shifting wearily on his feet. Murtagh made no move to cast any spell, and Eragon sensed no Eldunarí besides Thorn with his brother, though Murtagh could have still some hidden away. Even then, the dull pulse that Thorn's Eldunarí gave off worried Eragon. He had never seen a Eldunarí do such a thing before.
Murtagh surprised them by turning to Saphira, and bowing his head. "Please, skulblaka, I beg of you, protect Thorn. You of all of them understand the importance of bestowing this onto another."
Saphira edged closer to Murtagh, her head pushing around them until she rested besides Eragon. She eyed Murtagh, then the Eldunarí, and he sensed her worry over how faint the Eldunarí was. Her snout nudged at Eragon as she said, tell him I swear that no harm will come to Thorn's Eldunarí, upon my word as the last female dragon.
Eragon relayed her words, and he watched as a sense of relief shown briefly on his brother's face. Murtagh bowed again to Saphira, thanking her in the ancient language.
His brothers countenance surprised Eragon, but it was a smart move on his brother's part. Saphira would refrain from harming another dragon unless it was strictly necessary, and the oath also removed any leverage Eragon might have gained over his brother, though he wouldn't have used it.
His brother continued in the ancient language, holding out Thorn's Eldunarí to Eragon. "Then I will surrender to you, brother, so long as no harm comes to Thorn."
Eragon nodded, accepting Murtagh's surrender. He placed his hands around the Eldunarí, and he paused in surprise when he felt nothing press back against him. Normally, when one physically touched an Eldunarí, the person was able to feel something from within the heart. Thorn showed no signs of even residing inside his Eldunarí besides the red hue and faint pulsing light. The lack of contact with the dragon drew Eragon short.
His brother noticed his hesitance and surprise, but said nothing. When Eragon made to take the Eldunarí from Murtagh, his brother resisted. For a moment Eragon thought he would refuse to part with Thorn, but Murtagh scowled and finally let go. "Please, brother." Murtagh said quietly. "If there is anything between us of what we used to be, do not let any harm come to him. Thorn is all I have in this world."
Eragon gazed at his brother, brown eyes of their mother meeting. "Upon my word as your brother, and as a Rider. If nothing else, then on the word of our mother."
Murtagh swallowed, before sharply nodding at Eragon.
Eragon cradled the Eldunarí gently in his hands, ignoring the curious look the elves gave him.
"Blödhgarm," Eragon said, "Restrain him, and ensure that he cannot use magic. Gently, please."
The elf nodded, sheathing his sword. The other elves held theirs still, their eyes still intent upon Murtagh. Blödhgarm approached Murtagh slowly, and glanced up at the Rider. It was only when Murtagh held his wrists out did Blödhgarm remove a length of rope, twisting it around Murtagh's wrists. The elf whispered spells under his breath, and he saw Murtagh flinch.
"There will be two spells, Fyrir Neðan, that will stop your use of magic." Blödhgarm began quietly. Fallen One, Eragon translated silently, surprised that the elf used the title for Murtagh.
"The first will make casting spells difficult, and require more energy than you can spare to overcome. The second will cause pain if you attempt to use magic on anyone, and will remain active until I personally dispel it. Do you understand these spells?"
"I do," Murtagh swore, a scowl on his face.
"I hate to ask this now, Murtagh, but I need to know," Eragon said regretfully, "have you sworn any oaths to harm the Varden, or their allies?"
"I have not sworn any oaths to harm the Varden or its allies," Murtagh said in the ancient language, his voice sullen. He detected a hint of anger in his brother, but Eragon pushed the thought aside.
"Have you sworn any oaths that would require you to spy on the Varden or its allies?"
"I have not."
"Have you sworn any oaths that would require you to surrender to us?"
"Only the one I have given you."
"Have you sworn any oaths that would require you to return to Galbatorix, or the Empire?"
"I have not."
"Have you sworn any oaths that would require you to lie, deceive, or in any way hamper the Varden?"
"I have not."
"Have you sworn any oaths to do the bidding of others?"
Murtagh scowled, but said, "I have."
"To whom are you sworn to?"
"Galbatorix and Brother Keres."
Eragon paused, his mind racing. "Who is Brother Keres?"
Murtagh said nothing, clamping his mouth shut.
Eragon sighed. "Have you sworn any oaths to not speak of Brother Keres?"
"I have not."
For a few more minutes Eragon continued his line of questioning, some prompted by Saphira, in order to gage the truth of Murtagh's oaths. His brother's answers were sparse, and Eragon was glad of it. When he was done, he gestured at the elves, who stowed their weapons. Casting his mind out to Arya, he was glad when he found that Saphira had kept her informed of what was happening.
We are leaving, Eragon said. Murtagh will fly with Blödhgarm and I on Saphira. We will land outside the Varden and wait for the elves to catch up.
The Varden will call for his head, Arya said quietly to him. Whatever her thoughts on Murtagh, she seemed to understand that it was sore subject to Eragon. King Orrin most of all. Galbatorix had him harassing Surda for decades. And when the dwarves return, they will demand he pay for Hrothgar's death.
I can handle Orrin and Nasuada, Eragon sighed. But the dwarves will be difficult. What is Islanzadí's stance on Murtagh?
Arya paused for a moment, and he could sense her gathering her thoughts. She understands his situation, that much I know, but the elves have always had a kill-on-sight stance to any under Galbatorix.
And as my prisoner?
You intend to send him to the elves? Arya questioned after a moment, her tone showing her surprise. If he is your prisoner, then my mother will honor your request, though she will not be happy about it.
She may not be happy about it, Eragon explained, but if it means keeping Murtagh away from the dwarves then I will send him there. They of all the races can house him.
Will you send him immediately?
No, Eragon said. Their minds lingered together, Arya able to see and hear everything he did. He gestured to Murtagh, and said, "You will ride with me. Blödhgarm, you will sit behind him. We will fly for the Varden, and meet the rest of your elves outside the camp."
Murtagh nodded his head, and Saphira crouched down low as Eragon leapt up her back. He took Thorn's Eldunarí and stored it with Glaedr's and the hatchlings, shaking his head at the thought of three dragons hiding in his saddlebags.
Eragon turned to Blödhgarm, eyeing the elf. "None of your spellcasters will speak a word of what we said, nor of anything of what you might assume."
He could see the curiosity clear in the elf's eyes, but the blue-haired elf nodded. "I understand, Shur'tugal."
Eragon nodded his thanks, watching as each of the elves bowed their assent.
His brother gingerly climbed Saphira as best he could with his bound hands, settling behind Eragon on the saddle. Blödhgarm made short work of the height between the ground and Saphira's back, the elf barely on the edge of the saddle.
We need to first figure out what happened with Thorn, Eragon said to Arya, and why Murtagh was here alone.
Galbatorix will be looking for him.
Saphira spread her wings, launching from the ground and into the sky. She gained height steadily, swinging herself around to face south towards the Varden.
Yes, I expect he will be.
And what of Thorn? I can't imagine he will be happy that Murtagh is captured.
He sent her an image of Thorn's Eldunarí and its weak light. I do not think Thorn is any condition to chase us.
Arya paused, turning over the image of the Eldunarí in her mind. It looks different then Glaedr's. Is the light supposed to be so dull?
No, Saphira answered, her thoughts interjecting between them. Whatever caused this is not natural, and not something I've ever seen before. Once we return and deal with Murtagh, we need to contact Glaedr and Oromis. Your father might have some insight as well, Eragon.
Yes, he might. Eragon sighed. We need to watch what we say around Murtagh. He may not mean to, but every word can be ripped from his mind by Galbatorix. We do not know the true extent of his oath, or even the hold Galbatorix has on him.
Eragon leaned on Saphira's flank, his arms crossed over his chest as they waited. Arya stood in front of him, her own arms crossed, and her gaze locked onto Murtagh. His brother sat on the ground in front of them, his bound hands playing with a small rock idly. Blödhgarm stood over Murtagh, the blue-furred elf watching Murtagh's every move carefully. Fírnen was opposite them, the green dragon blocking them from the Varden's sight. Fírnen had reported seeing a rank of soldiers leave the Varden already, heading for them, and Eragon wanted to curse.
Eragon only straightened when he heard the approach of the rest of the elves, who despite having run leagues already did not seem at all fatigued. The elven spellcasters quickly swarmed around Murtagh and Blödhgarm, each of them drawing their weapons and holding them at the ready.
"Are you ready, Blödhgarm?" Eragon asked.
The elf glanced at each of his spellcasters before nodding his head, "We are, Shur'tugal."
"Fírnen," Eragon called out, and the green dragon swung his head around to peer at him. Eragon gestured with his head, and the dragon blinked his understanding. Fírnen turned to face the Varden, leading their party back. Saphira would trail behind them, with Arya in front of her, while Blödhgarm and the elven spellcasters marched Murtagh forward underneath a concealment spell. Eragon trailed behind Fírnen, letting the young dragon clear a path for them.
They were nearly upon the Varden when the contingent of soldiers finally met up with them, the leader of the war party reigning in his horse as it neighed unhappily at the sight of the dragons. "Shadeslayer!" The man called out, "Nasuada commanded us to ride out to find you when you did not return immediately. I mut admit that I feared someone was injured when we saw you outside the camp."
Eragon held up a hand at the man, his Gedwëy Ignasia flashing in the light. The man stilled at the sight, and Eragon returned, "There is no problem, captain! We were merely waiting for the elves! I thank you for your concern. I do ask that you return a message to Nasuada for me if you will."
The man blinked at him from the top of his horse, slowly keeping pace with them as they approached the Varden. "It would be an honor, Agretlam."
"Tell Nasuada that I wish to speak with her immediately, and that it is an urgent matter. I can say no more now, but will explain when we arrive."
The captain bowed as best he could astride his steed, slapping his gloved hand hard across his breastplate. "I will deliver your message, Lord Eragon." The man tugged on the horse's stirrups, urging the beast back to the Varden.
Eragon's face had soured at the lordly title given to him, but he pushed the matter aside with a sigh. They entered the camp, passing by the sentries who kept watch while the Varden rested. The men called out greetings to them as they went, and Eragon held up his hand in response as they went.
More people began to swarm around them as they ventured further into the Varden, though they gave Fírnen a wide berth as the dragon pushed forward. Some rushed up to the side of him, though none of them touched him as he went. Cries of inquiry arose from the Varden, each of them eager to know where he had gone and if he had found the source of the magic.
Eragon did not answer them. A glance backwards told him that the people of the Varden did not approach the elven party, for which in this moment he was grateful for.
Nasuada stood in the center of a large clearing ahead of them, King Orrin at her side. Standing a few paces away from them was Nar Garzhvog with a few of his Kull, surprisingly in conversation with Brom. They both turned as Fírnen entered the open area, their eyes moving past the dragon and locking on Eragon.
Fírnen moved off to the side, and Blödhgarm halted the elves next to him. Saphira flanked them, while Arya continued forward. Eragon slowed his pace until she met up with him, glancing around wearily at the Varden.
Eragon and Arya stopped in front of Nasuada and King Orrin, inclining his head in greeting to the two of them.
Nasuada spared him a small smile, though she immediately asked, "What is it, Eragon? You said that it was urgent. Does it have to do with the magic we felt earlier?"
"It does," Eragon said, glancing back towards the elves. "We searched for nearly half the day, and we nearly departed when we spotted the cause."
Eragon motioned back towards Blödhgarm, who slowly approached Eragon. Saphira and Fírnen followed beside them, and Eragon was glad of it when the elves dropped their spell.
Cries of anger rang out from those who were able to see him, though many were still left clueless, unable to see Murtagh over the dragon's massive forms.
Clearing his voice, Eragon said aloud, "I, Eragon Bromson, Leader of the Order, Rider of Saphira, have taken Murtagh Morzanson as my prisoner. He is under my protection, and his life forfeit to only me."
Nasuada's face belayed her shock, her eyes roaming over Murtagh. He doubted she had ever actually seen Murtagh in person, seeing as his brother had never ventured out into dwarven territory since the war.
King Orrin's face reddened, and he pointed at Murtagh, his finger trembling in his anger, "I demand his head for the crimes committed against the people of Surda. He has spilled the blood of my people for a century, and I cannot in good conscious allow him to still breathe while they cannot."
Nasuada made to speak, but Eragon noticed Brom, who had moved away from the Kull, place a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head and whispering in her ear.
Eragon faced the Monarch, his face kept carefully neutral. "He is my prisoner, Your Majesty. He will face justice, but it will be in front of a tribunal of his own kin. The people of Surda will have their say, as will the elves and the dwarves, but it will be the dragons who determine Murtagh's fate."
Nasuada spoke low, her words only for them to hear. "I would advise you to stay your hand, my King. The dwarves will already demand Murtagh's life for Hrothgar, and it would not serve us well to push the issue with Eragon."
Orrin's face tightened, though the man dropped his hand to his side. His gaze roamed over Eragon as he said, "Do I have your word as the Leader of the Riders that you will not spare his life simply because he is your brother, and that he will face this justice?"
"Upon my word," Eragon promised. "Murtagh is my prisoner, and the elven spellcasters will see to it that he has no means of escape. I will question him myself, as there is knowledge that only a Rider should hear. Rest assured that I will inform you of anything that would affect either of you, Nasuada, King Orrin."
"You will have no quarrel with me, Eragon," Nasuada said raising her hands at him, "but the dwarves will be another matter entirely." Her eyes move over to the small company of dwarves that remained with the Varden, and he when Eragon turned to look he saw how fiercely they glared at Murtagh.
"They will want him for themselves," Eragon murmured. "But they do not know the whole story."
"Neither do we," Orrin muttered. The King glanced around at the assembled Varden, motioning his head towards Nasuada's tent after a moment. "Perhaps we should move this elsewhere, Nasuada. Many are not happy to see Murtagh standing in their midst."
Nasuada nodded, and motioned to her Nighthawks. "Yes, I think that would be for the best." Nasuada raised her voice, turning to face the rest of the Varden. "Here me, people of the Varden! Today Eragon Shadeslayer has captured one of Galbatorix's own! The Red Rider Murtagh has been taken prisoner, and with this we have struck another blow against the Mad King!"
The Varden cheered loudly, and Eragon heard as they stomped heavily on the ground, and some smacked their weapons against their shields. Many called out for Murtagh's head, while others cried out their praise of Eragon and the others.
The captain on duty cleared the path for Nasuada and Orrin, who both turned away towards the command tent. Eragon motioned Arya and the others forward, only noticing when the elves walked past with Murtagh that the other elven spellcasters had joined up with them. Murtagh spared him a glance as he walked behind Blödhgarm, his face impassive.
Eragon began to follow behind his brother, nearly jumping in surprise when Glenwing appeared.
"You alright?" His friend asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Eragon eyed the elf, before slowly shaking his head. "This is not how I expected the day to go."
Glenwing snorted, and his lips twitched upwards into a smile. "I'll say." The elf nodded his head towards Arya, "Hell of a way to wake up the first time as mates."
Eragon grimaced, glad that Glenwing often spoke the elven language to him. They had not yet discussed it, but Eragon was sure that Arya would not want their union to be public knowledge. "How? Saphira?"
"Please," Glenwing laughed. "I have eyes, you know. The way the two of you have been glancing at each other the whole time, and the fact that Arya was in your tent this morning." The elf shook his finger at Eragon, "The night after the battle I gave the both of you a free pass, but I won't let this opportunity slip me by."
"Later, I promise," Eragon murmured, gesturing for Glenwing to follow him. The others were nearing Nasuada's tent, and Eragon hurried to catch up.
"Later indeed," Glenwing sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with. I cannot imagine your brother is happy to be surrounded by both the Varden and elves right now."
They approached the entrance to Nasuada's tent, guarded heavily by her Nighthawks. The dragons were camped outside, and Eragon spared Saphira a glance as he walked by. She was scanning the skies for Thorn, though they both doubted the dragon was even capable of flight right now. The captain admitted them without a word, and Eragon said softly to Glenwing, "After spending a century enslaved by Galbatorix, I doubt Murtagh is afraid of us."
Nasuada was sat in her high-backed chair with Orrin by her side, and Brom not far from her. Blödhgarm and the other elves surrounded Murtagh in the only open area of the tent, and Eragon could see at least a dozen Nighthawks spaced out evenly throughout. Arya waited next to Brom, and Eragon met her eyes for only a moment. There was no one else in the tent, thankfully.
"True enough," Glenwing shivered. "I'd have gone insane if I had to spend so long with the Mad King."
Murtagh spoke for the first time, his words in the ancient language, "Maybe I already have, elf." His brother was standing with his back towards them, and Eragon watched as nearly everyone in the room stiffened at his words.
Brom translated for Nasuada and Orrin quietly, stepping back once he was finished. Eragon glanced at his father and saw how drawn in his face was. Brom and Murtagh had never been particularly close, but Brom had been there when Selena escaped Morzan. From what he knew, the two of them only ever saw each other a handful of times after Selena's death.
Glenwing was frowning, though he did not seem offended by Murtagh's words. The elf opened his mouth, only to stop when Eragon shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Murtagh and Glenwing to descend into a verbal sparring match, each more than capable of lashing out with insults that would have made even a sailor blush.
Eragon joined Nasuada and King Orrin before Murtagh, and he could feel the tension in the air. Murtagh was staring straight ahead, his face carefully kept blank, though the stiffness of his shoulder's gave him away to Eragon. Glenwing moved to stand with the other elves, his features thankfully neutral.
Eragon spoke first of their search, as well as their encounter with Murtagh, and then of Murtagh's surrender. Nasuada's Nighthawk's had cheered at his words, and he could see Murtagh grimaced. He had left out the part with Thorn's Eldunarí, which was still safely concealed inside of the saddlebag on Saphira's back.
Nasuada rubbed at her temple, her eyes closed as she thought. Eventually, she opened them, and asked, "How will Galbatorix respond?"
Brom grimaced, "Not kindly. I highly doubt that the King will leave his throne unattended, but he will send his men after Murtagh." Brom glanced around the room, before continuing, "There is also the trouble of Galbatorix acting through Murtagh."
Nasuada blinked and turned to Brom, her surprise and trepidation clear. "Is that possible?"
Eragon was the one to answer for his father, his mind racing at the implications, "Yes, it is possible. There are… spells we could cast in order to stop it, but we could never hold out against Galbatorix for long."
"He cannot stay here is what you're saying," Orrin muttered. "Not while he poses a risk to the Varden." The King sighed, "It would be easier if you would have taken his head, Eragon."
"And risk killing one of the last few remaining dragons?" Eragon argued. He felt his frustration rise, "Murtagh's death could result in Thorn's own, and I will not be the one who finishes what Galbatorix started a century ago."
"I had no idea the bond was so severe," Nasuada commented. "Is that how the Riders and dragons were wiped out? Kill one of the pair and the other will die?"
"The death of ones bonded does not immediately doom the other," Brom said stoically, "But that does not mean living alone is any better. Many Riders and dragons have sought out death after losing their partner, but I am living proof that one could survive."
"I had forgotten," Orrin commented, and the King's voice sounded somber to Eragon, "That you were once a Rider as well."
"It was a long time ago," Brom said gruffly. "Killing Murtagh would drive Thorn mad, that much is certain. If he is not killed in his own retaliation against us, it is highly probable that he would take his own life. Such is the fate of Rider and dragon."
Saphira pushed gently on his mind, her sorrow flowing through him. If I lost you, little-one, she growled in his mind, I would burn the whole of the world.
Saphira…
He let his feelings flow through their bond, attempting to calm the storm that had risen inside her. His own frustration that was rising was washed away in their bond, and he took comfort knowing that she was with him right now.
Nasuada spoke, dragging Eragon back into the conversation. "Murtagh must leave the Varden, that much is clear. Where would we send him?"
"The elves, if possible," Eragon stated. "We can hold him here until such a time to move him presents itself, and Blödhgarm and the others have assured me they can contain him for the time being."
"And Thorn?" Brom asked, eyeing Murtagh carefully. "What will he think of this? There is little to stop him from attacking us. Unfortunately, Murtagh's capture might end up making this war more difficult on us."
"Saphira and Fírnen can handle Thorn," Eragon answered. "But I do not think he will come."
Nasuada turned towards him, "Why do you think that?"
"Because Thorn was not with Murtagh when we found him," Arya said, speaking for the first time. "Nor was he found in the immediate area surrounding him. The magic that we felt held a striking resemblance to the transportation spell, and it seems that only Murtagh was brought through. Something must have happened to Thorn; why else would they be separated?"
Blödhgarm stepped forward from next to Murtagh, nodding his head. "We agree with Arya, Lady Nasuada. We did not have much time to examine the magic, but the signs all point to it being a form of transportation."
Murtagh was still silent, though he was carefully tracking the conversation around him. "Do you have anything to say, Murtagh?" Eragon asked.
"No, brother." Murtagh grunted.
Eragon nodded, and said to Nasuada and the others, "I need time to think on this. Can you provide a tent for him? Blödhgarm and the other elves will ensure he is unable to escape."
"Of course," Nasuada waved a hand and a servant appeared, and with a few simple orders departed.
Eragon strode up to Blödhgarm, lowered his voice, and said, "Thank you for this, Blödhgarm-vodhr."
Blödhgarm bowed, his hand twisting over his chest. "It is our honor to serve you, Shur'tugal. We will handle Murtagh."
The elves, along with Murtagh, left the tent, and Eragon ran his hand over his face. Arya stepped over to him, her eyes trailing over his face. "Are you sure we did not say too much in front of him?"
"Anything we said Galbatorix would have already guessed," Brom replied, and Eragon nodded, agreeing with his father.
Eragon turned to Nasuada and said, "If you will excuse us, Lady Nasuada, King Orrin, there is something I need to discuss with Arya and my father."
Nasuada waved her hand at them, her face drawn in, "I imagine so," she said.
"Go," King Orrin added, "Nasuada and I have much to discuss now that Murtagh is no longer a threat."
Eragon bowed to the two leaders, and left the tent. His father and Arya caught up to him as he passed the Nighthawk guards, falling into step. Saphira and Fírnen trailed behind them as they went, and Eragon rubbed at his temples as he walked.
"You alright?" Brom asked, though his eyes remained forward.
"I have a headache, is all," Eragon murmured. It wasn't necessarily a lie. His father hummed as though he didn't believe Eragon, but said nothing more. Arya eyed him carefully, and he saw a hint of worry in her face.
I've just got a bad feeling about Thorn, he thought.