Nothing of interest happened on the way back to Surda, although the girl was making progress in her lessons. Each night they would spar, Abbila gripping a small stick and wielding it with obvious unease. She grew stronger though, by tiny amounts that she herself did not even notice. She would be able to hold the stick up for longer periods of time without tiring, or to steady a rock ever so slightly when using her magic to hurl it against a tree.
Eragon had found himself unable to speak with Orik, Arya or Roran often –he was much too busy with the girl. Every waking moment seemed filled with questions, questions that Eragon was hard pressed to find answers to. And sometimes Eragon had questions of his own –why have we not seen anything of Galbatorix's men? Surely they would be after you… But not even the girl could answer that.
"Do you think they will still be in Surda, or should we go on straight to Aberon?" Eragon asked Orik one morning while the men had split from the women folk and gone to bathe at the southern tip of the river.
Orik grumbled something like, "I wouldn't think the army would be moving back so soon, but you can never tell with these rulers. Orrin might have gone back –and Nasuada, too."
"It wouldn't really matter," Roran conceded as he lowered himself into the river water. "After all, we will go directly over the camp site in order to get to the town, won't we? If they are still there, we stop and travel the rest of the way with them. If not, we continue on to Borromeo Castle."
Eragon nodded at his reasoning, slipping into the cold water. The shock of it sent shivers up his spine but the tenseness in his shoulders released. He sighed, leaning back against the steep bank and murmured wistful, "If only the rest of our days could be as peaceful as this."
"Aye," Orik sighed.
"But then what would you and Saphira do?" Roran spoke up suddenly, voice seeming loud in the quiet of the deserted area.
Eragon frowned. He hadn't thought of that. What would he and Saphira do once all of this was over and assuming they won? Where would they go? Travel between the elves, dwarves and humans for the remainder of their unnaturally long lives?
"I don't know," Eragon admitted softly. "I don't know."
…
At the northern point of the river, right before the slow moving water forked off around a sharp bend, the women had stopped to bathe. Abbila watched subconsciously as the copper haired woman, Katrina, disrobed and showed such perfect, pearly skin that the young girl felt like weeping. And to make matters worse, the elf was carelessly stripping of her tunic and breeches, as well, and her lean, muscle-thinned body shone like pale white light in the morning.
Abbila sat at the edge of the steep bank, dangling her tanned feet into the water, arms crossed over her stomach. She would not undress. She would remain steadfast in not bathing, although she knew two nights worth of sweat clung to her body from walking all day and sparring at night.
Katrina noticed her reluctance first. The kind eyes of the woman turned soft as they gazed upon Abbila. "What is it, Abbila? Is something wrong?"
"No," she mumbled, eyes not rising. "I'm just… not in the mood to bathe."
"Nonsense," Katrina deflected, wading over to her and acting as if she would pull her bodily into the water. Abbila jerked away, unable to keep an animalistic screech from ripping through her throat. Katrina recoiled, looking shocked, before glancing worriedly over at Arya.
Arya was wetting her hair, running her fingers through the long, dark mass and seeming to not notice the little drama unfolding. But then she spoke, her voice piercing the sudden quiet. "Why will you not bathe when you seemed the most enthused out of all of us? Is the water too cold?"
Abbila blushed. "No, miss…"
Arya nodded, more to herself then to Katrina, before turning her back on the child. "Katrina, turn around." Katrina, confused, did as she was bidden. "Now, Abbila, come into the water and wash up. You cannot be covered in grime when we meet the leader of the Varden."
Abbila felt like weeping at Arya's sweetness –they would not watch her disrobe, they would not see the unevenly colored skin –the pale of her chest and stomach, the tan of her arms, face and legs from working in the sun… They would not see the scars from numerous clumsy times when she did something wrong or was punished for another maid's wrong doing. And they wouldn't see the mound of scars at her thighs from where Briam's scales had chaffed the skin into a bloody mess.
Abbila removed the tunic she wore as a dress, borrowed from the elf maid, and clumsily slipped into the water. The coldness of it felt so reassuringly fresh and clean, washing away her past and all of the ugly scars and skin with it. With only her head, neck and shoulders out of the water, she could be mistaken for a pretty maiden.
As if nothing were wrong, Katrina and Arya turned around again and went about their washing.
…
The Varden camp came into view, about fifteen miles east of where the battle had been held two weeks previously. Eragon and Saphira circled above the camp, finding that all were asleep save for fifteen guards on watch. They sent out a call, which Saphira answered with her own trumpeting. The two descended and Eragon called out, "Hold your fire, Varden! I am a Rider and a friend!"
Five of the guards proceeded to step forward through the darkness, cautiously, their bows aimed and ready. Eragon sat atop Saphira and smiled down at them, once they were close enough to actually see. He saw relief etch across each of their faces. "Argetlam," one called out, "thank the Gods you have returned! Lady Nasuada is being called upon as we speak –may I ask where the others are?"
"Further behind," he replied, climbing down from Saphira and stroking her side as he began to walk with the men back to the camp. "I came ahead to make sure none sent arrows at our approach."
"We were weary to shoot a dragon circling above," one of the guards murmured softly, "in case it really was you returned. I can only imagine what horrible fate would have descended upon us if it were not you."
Eragon smiled although he felt something deep within him clench. He could feel the auras of his comrades coming closer to them, not but five minutes away. He heard one guard call to another, sending for the Lady Nasuada to be informed of the Hero's return. The guards seemed to rally around Eragon, all asking questions, which he quickly dispelled by saying warmly, "Shouldn't you all be on guard duty? What if we were attacked here and now?"
The guards dispersed with guilty laughs and Eragon was left blessedly alone. He concentrated on his approaching allies before sending out a hesitant message to Arya. Keep Abbila and Briam behind the procession. Saphira is flying out to block her and the other dragon from view.
There was a silence, as if Arya was telling the girl child of his plan before her voice came floating over his mental connection. Are you planning on surprising Nasuada?
Eragon smiled. She deserves a shock of good news, do you not think so?
Arya did not reply for a time. Finally her voice quipped, It shall be done. Their connection ended like a door slamming.
Eragon had no time to ponder Arya's sudden brusqueness –there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to her methods. At least none that anyone else was able to grasp. Saphira, will you fly out to shield Abbila and Briam's forms as they come toward us?
Of course, little one, she murmured gently without a single question. Her bulk lifted into the air with a lurch and she was off, right as two guards escorted Nasuada toward him. She was dressed informally, as if just having been roused from sleep. Her gait was fast and her white petticoats and royal plum dressing robe fluttered as her feet skimmed over the ground.
Nasuada's dark face was etched with anxious joy as she ran ahead of the guards and drew up in front of him. "O, my Rider Eragon, you are returned!" Her eyes glowed with much more cheer than she had displayed at his leaving. She took Eragon's arms with her hands and he did the same, clasping one another in a warrior's greeting of pleasure. "You grew a young beard?" she teased, noting the scraggly stubble just at his chin. "My, you must have been busy, to forget to clean up when granted an audience."
Eragon heard the others pull up behind him, the horses snorting and Saphira's trumpet of greeting. His smile grew as he murmured reverently and with true affections for the young ruler, "My Lady, my journey with my cousin and companions Arya of Ellesmera and Orik of Farthen Dur has brought a tremendous fortune our way." He paused before adding, "My cousin's betrothed has been reunited with him and is whole. And we have brought a certain gift for the Varden." Now, he mentally urged Saphira.
The dragon's large body moved to the side, her movement drawing Nasuada's eyes. There stood Briam, eyes wise and so soulful; on his back was the slender waif child. She looked slightly embarrassed, but her face glowed with pride.
"We have found a new Rider, my Lady," Eragon said softly, enjoying the look of sudden wonder on Nasuada's face.
Her grip on his arms has tightened and she smiled, whispering, "Some merciful Gods be blessed, we are saved." Eragon noted the tears in her dark eyes and knew she was thinking of her fallen father who had died in hopes that some day Galbatorix would be annihilated.
She seemed to sake herself out of her mental regression into the past and smiled. "Come, all of you! You must all tell me what has happened on your journeys."
"My Lady," Arya interrupted, stepping forward, "if you would, please reserve tonight's council to Orik and myself alone. The others need sleep; we have traveled far."
Eragon was about to speak out, to say he needed not the sleep of humans, but Arya silenced him with a meaningful glance. He only nodded, murmuring, "I should take Abbila to our tent until one can be found for her."
Nasuada nodded slightly, glancing over at Roran and then Katrina. She seemed to realize something and tactfully spoke, "Eragon, I think a change of sleeping arrangements must be made. Eragon, take your pallet and allow the girl to join you in my tent. I shall have no need of it tonight. Guard," she called out to a man standing near by, gaping at the new dragon, "go run and tell Orrin of what has happened. Request him to allow Arya, Orik and myself into his tent, if you will."
Both Roran and Katrina looked slightly red in the face. "Please, Lady," Katrina spoke softly, "I wish not to cause any troubles…"
"Nonsense," Nasuada deflected her worries, waving a hand is dismissal. "Love is rare to find these days; I will do what I can to ensure that once found, it does not die." To the guard, she added, "You are dismissed." When the guard bowed and ran off, she returned her attention to Eragon. "I wish to speak with you tomorrow, Eragon. Until then, rest." She kissed his cheek in a way that could only be described as sibling affections. "Go, then. Tomorrow we shall feast and celebrate; we shall have a binding ceremony for the two lovers and the telling of your conquest."
Eragon released his hold on his liege's arms, mumbled, "As you wish, My Lady."
…
Truthfully, Eragon called out to Saphira, who was on the hunt with Briam, I do not wish to partake in a feast. I must train the girl nonstop if I am to make her presentable before the elves arrive. For all we know, they could be waiting for us at Borromeo Castle as we speak.
Saphira sniffed indignantly before murmuring, You are right, little one, as much as I hate to admit it. I must work on my charge, as well; he is quick to learn but easily distracted. But then again, your cousin and his soon-to-be wife deserve this. She has been through things only she and Roran know of. Let them have a momentary breath of peace and merriment before we continue on to Aberon.
Eragon smiled, rolling his pallet out on the floor of Nasuada's tent, but not lying down. Goodnight, Saphira, he bade softly. She returned the words with much affection and, with that, Eragon turned to Abbila. The girl was sitting on her borrowed pallet, very red in the face and refusing to meet Eragon's eyes. She subconsciously fiddled with the sleeve of her borrowed night shift from Nasuada.
Eragon could sense her unease and couldn't help but feel disoriented by the waves of confusion that came from her aura. He stood slowly, murmuring, "I'm going for a walk. Put yourself to bed and sleep well." He was out of the large tent and into the cool, dimly lit night air before he could even see the relief that came over the girl.
As he walked, he thought of lessons he might possibly teach the girl, starting with the ability to get over her self-consciousness. But then again, wasn't that a lesson that Eragon himself had to learn? He was not nearly as shy as the girl, but she had been a maid –she had been taught to be quiet and subservient. How could he reverse years of careful emotional manipulation?
"Walking about rather late, aren't you?"
Eragon turned, quickly, and saw a sight that made his breath catch. Trianna stood there, her long dark hair piled into an attractively messy pile atop her head. A few dark strands fell into her eyes, which Eragon knew were the most startling blue he had ever beheld. Lorga the serpent twined around her bare forearm, glittered in the sparse light from torches scattered about. "Trianna," he greeted, noting that his voice betrayed his surprise at seeing her. "How did you know that I was here?"
She smiled, her darkly painted lips quirking. She stepped forward, and Eragon was able to glimpse the sleeveless green robe she wore, the neckline plunging dangerously low. Eragon quickly reverted his gaze back to her face, feeling the faint blush of warmth coming to his cheeks. "I was out walking… I heard from the guards that you had returned." She stood close to him, her lovely eyes glittering in torchlight. She seemed shorter to him now, as if he had grown in inches yet again. "I've missed speaking with you," she ventured.
Eragon didn't trust himself to reply on that topic, and so he changed it. "Did you deal with the Twins' informants?"
Trianna's eyes seemed to flash in annoyance, but they were easily masked with sadness, faster than Eragon could even discern the difference. "I did," she murmured. "The were publicly executed before Lady Nasuada and the soldiers. Come," she urged, taking his hand in hers. The skin of her palm was smooth against Eragon's, small and perfect. Her smile was bewitching as she led him through a maze of tents. "We must share a drink before you are stolen away from me by your new Rider and your liege."
It took Eragon a span of four seconds to realize what she had said. By that time, he was being pulled into her tent, lit with large candles of various smells, all of which were wonderful. "How did you know about Abbila?"
"Oh, the guards are telling anyone who is awake and will listen," she murmured, leaving him in favor of searching through a small satchel on the floor. She pulled out a fluked flask and two small goblets made of crystal. "Ah, here we are," she smiled, sitting down on her pallet and pouring some of the flask's liquid into the two goblets. "Sit, sit, and stop looking so uncomfortable. I won't bite...yet," she added with a flash of her very even, very straight teeth. "Tell me, how were your adventures?" she questioned, handing him a full chalice.
Eragon told her a few of the details, his story otherwise very dull compared to the actual events. Trianna was beautiful and kind, but Eragon was slightly wary about telling her so many details of his life. He refused to forget their first meeting, when she had asked so carelessly if he was betrothed –what relevance had the question had to their situation? None. And so why did she ask it? Eragon was still trying to figure that puzzle out.
The night wore on and the flask was empty before Eragon could even realize he had drunk so much. His mind was hazy, but not in the way normal mead or beer made it; it was as if certain aspects of his reasoning decided to betray him while others were sharper than before. For instance, the part of his mind that would normally tell him that he should be back in Nasuada's tent with Abbila was not functioning; the part that told Eragon that Trianna was a beautiful woman who seemed more than willing to know him on a more physical basis was even stronger.
"Eragon, is something wrong?" she asked, turning those large blue eyes on him, their expression so teasing and full of emotion that Eragon's mind spun. "Eragon?"
"My head… I…"
He was leaning toward her without even realizing it; but once he did, his mind said, quite simply, It's natural, go ahead. You're old enough to run your own life…
His lips were on hers, tasting the alcohol there and something more; something sensuous that he had never experienced before. Her lips were full and moist against his, her arms curving around behind his back, twining through his hair…
There was a loud noise behind him before something hard and heavy hit him on the side of the head. Eragon was dislodged from Trianna, who let out a small snarl of protest. Eragon blinked back lust, seeing Angela the Witch staring down at him with irritation. "Come, Eragon, it's best not to fall so far into the serpent's lair," she was snapping, her words clipped as she helped Eragon to his feet.
"What are you doing?" Trianna cried. "This is my tent! You have no right to be in-"
"So sorry," Angela quipped brusquely. "Think of me as good as gone." And with that, she dragged Eragon, who was rather confused, out of the tent.
About thirty paces away, Eragon was able to wrestle himself away from the witch. "What are you doing?" he asked, eyes wide. "I didn't ask you to come in there and practically ruin my chances with a-"
"With a deceitful, conniving sorceress?" Angela finished, eyes unimpressed. "That drink had a small amount of wolfberry in it; it makes the drinker a bit more prone to rash actions, and your actions within Trianna's tent were quite rash."
"Are you saying that she planned this?" he asked venomously. He couldn't believe it. Not his Trianna. He then paused. His Trianna? Since when had she been anything but the woman he'd helped in the battles? The woman who was lovely but couldn't be trusted due to her affiliation with the Twins?
"Maybe, maybe not," Angela murmured, shrugging. "All I know is that the sorceress in that tent is in a fertile period, and I think you will understand my meaning. If you had spent the night with her, she would have become with child. And if that had happened-"
"I would be bound to her through my sense of duty," he finished, realizing what a fool he had been. It seemed to make sense now; he was the only available male Rider, he was powerful, he was possibly in line for the throne once Galbatorix was defeated and he was not betrothed. It made sense to him now, why during their first meeting Trianna was so set on finding out his affections and whether he would take over the Empire once Galbatorix was gone. It was now obvious why such a lovely woman would have chosen him.
"I'm sorry for snapping, Angela. As usual, you are right."
"I know I am," she said, but there was no smugness in her voice. She took Eragon in a one armed hug. "There now, boy. That woman would be no good for you. Don't dwell on it."
"I know," he whispered, more to himself than to Angela. He wiped at his mouth, finding that his lips were sensitive to the touch and swollen. Then, softly, he asked, "How did you know I was…"
Angela smiled. "Solembum," was all she said before turning away. "Go to bed, Rider. You will have a full day tomorrow."
Author's Note:
Yes, well, it took much longer for this than I had hoped. But, alas, not everything works on my wishes, so there you have it. Anyway, I'm sleepy and need some rest... So I can't give personal comments tonight. I spent the past eleven hours on my feet, running around from classroom to classroom for my debate compitition today. (Second place, baby. Not that bad).
Love love,
Eternity