The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  creatures.

  Each afternoon, simply because they could, most of the couples napped together, usually after engaging in more energetic forms of interaction. The women unanimously agreed that

  it felt like they were trying to catch up on almost two decades' worth of sleep deprivation, which only a mother of babies or young children would adequately appreciate. As a result, most of the couples remained awake long into the night—well past midnight—chatting, playing games, and otherwise enjoying one another's company without the needs of any little

  people to interrupt them.

  Their friends made sure—with the help of supplies packed from the Isle—that Eragon and Arya had a cake for their anniversary, though one might have argued it was hardly

  customary. But the couple of honor appreciated the gesture, and all of their friends also enjoyed the dessert with them as they visited around the campfire that night.

  As an anniversary gift, Eragon presented his beloved with a fairth of their entire family, made during a family outing to Lake Arya. Arya reciprocated by giving Eragon a fairth of

  himself and Saphira. Eragon was amazed to realize that it was the first time he had ever thought about having a fairth with his dragon in it, and he naturally loved the present, as

  Arya did hers.

  Tenga stood above the twin sisters cowering on the ground at his feet. Arguably the two most important members of the entire elven race, at least as far as Dragon Riders were

  concerned. For these two women had been chosen millennia before to protect the Dragon Rider pact.

  The last piece of my puzzle, Tenga triumphantly thought. The first, of course, was magically reduced to the size of a pinprick and hovered somewhere behind Tenga's right shoulder,

  for he was the ancient hermit who had first discovered how to fold large or heavy objects in on themselves to transport long distances or simply to hide them. And Tenga was using

  his original spell for both purposes at the moment.

  The sisters had once been covered in a vibrant iridescent tattoo, which, between the two of them, had formed the image of a rainbowcolored dragon. But now the Caretakers' skin

  was bare. Tenga had used the strength of the Eldunarí—the Eldunarí, one might say—he was carrying to wrest the knowledge he needed from Iduna and Nёya's minds. Using that

  information and the same power source, he had forced them to perform the song and dance that would give form to the spectral dragon. Once it had leaped from the surface of the

  twins' skin, Tenga had magically torn it free and stored it along with the Eldunarí.

  So the physical representation of the Dragon Rider pact is now ruined, Tenga thought with grim satisfaction. He could have completed his plan right at that moment, but that would

  diminish the import of his accomplishment. So Tenga decided to wait to perform the spell until he would be able to witness the effect it had on his intended victims.

  And what to do about these women? Tenga mused. He could leave them here—naked, bound, helpless—for he had the power to force them to remain in their current location

  forevermore. But they might be discovered. It was possible that the elves might be angry enough to begin searching for Tenga. And it was also possible—but not probable—that the

  combined magical capacity of the elves would be enough to stand against Tenga, even with his newfound power enhancement, though Tenga wondered if destroying the Dragon

  Rider pact would adversely affect the elven race in unforeseen ways.

  All the better, he absently thought.

  Or, if the sisters were never discovered, they would starve to death, which really didn't figure into Tenga's plans one way or the other, except to ensure that his plot would never be

  reversed. But he decided not to risk them being discovered. He would bring Iduna and Nёya with him. And maybe then he would let them starve to death, in a place no one would

  ever find them.

  As Tenga once again regarded them with a haughty stare, a new—or at least, longburied—sensation blossomed somewhere deep inside him. This was a passion he hadn't felt in . .

  . well, who could really keep track as the decades bled into centuries stretched into millennia? Surely at least since Angela had abandoned him. Angela and her misbegotten

  werecat.

  Oh, how Tenga despised werecats! And yet, they had been instrumental in the success of his plan, which was even now in its final stages of execution. He considered it fitting

  treatment of the arrogant feline species—which always thought itself above the affairs of the land—that he had tortured and coerced a few key members into revealing all of the

  significant details needed to guarantee Tenga's success. Yes, he had indeed taken his revenge on the werecats, for he had always blamed Solembum that Angela had left.

  And thinking about revenge inspired an entirely new element in Tenga's overall plot. For this was all about vengeance, when it came right down to it. Revenge on the meddling high

  queen for trying to interfere in Tenga's life when he had done nothing to harm anyone.

  While Tenga was no killer, he certainly had a mean streak, for he was, after all, a man who kicked at cats. But in this instance, he had seriously considered murder. Murdering the

  high queen seemed just retribution for all she had put him through. But a new, more sinister idea entered his mind as he stared down at the two naked women before him. Elves

  held no appeal for him—too angular, thin, and hairless for Tenga's tastes. Did he really still have tastes, ancient, shriveled man that he was? Apparently. And they were now being

  reawakened.

  No, not the elven sisters. But a lovely maiden with dark, curly hair—like Angela—was another story entirely. And round ears of course. The girl Tenga had in mind would perfectly

  serve all of his purposes. But above all, she would guarantee that his revenge would be sweet. So much sweeter than he had initially anticipated.

  With a cruel smile now twisting his contemptuous glare, Tenga added the twins to his growing stash and continued on his way. Tenga might have been ancient, but he was by no means slow—physically nor mentally. His mind was as sharp as ever, though blighted by the chilling stain of insanity. And he could travel faster than the fastest dragon when he

  wished, especially now that his apathetic power source—a dragon, as irony would have it—provided him with an endless supply of energy. A deranged titter escaped between

  Tenga's crooked yellow teeth as he sped toward the Isle of the Eldunarí.

  Brin's dream started not long after the last of her friends drifted off. And it didn't last long. Angela briefly appeared and all but shouted, Brin, it's happening now! Wake Brom and

  tell him to shield himself but to avoid fighting back! And be calm!

  Then Angela was gone. Brin's eyes flew open. She had time to realize that she had turned toward Brom in her sleep and he had reached his hand over until his fingers lightly rested

  in her palm. But that was all she noticed before she hissed, "Brom!" His eyes snapped open. "Shield your mind! It's happening now! But don't fight back!"

  Brin sprang to her feet with her sword in one hand and her dagger in the other. She didn't know what she was facing, but she wanted to be ready. Then she dropped both weapons

  and gasped, clutching at her head.

  Sunburst? she cried. Sunburst!

  Brom was awake the instant Brin whispered his name, shielding his mind in the same moment and also making himself invisible for good measure. Immediately after that, he was

  aware of an incredible, fathomless store of magical energy careening toward the Isle like a meteor. What is that? he thought in amazed incredulity. Brom had never sensed such a

  vast accumulation of power.

  At the same time that Brin dropped her weapons and doubled over, Brom felt his connection with Talon's mind abruptly end. But Brom could still sense Talon right where he
was,

  only a dozen feet away.

  Talon? Brom tentatively thought, touching his dragon's familiar mind, though it no longer appeared to be bonded to his. Brom jumped as his dragon startled awake and roared in

  fury. And suddenly Talon's mind was no longer familiar. Wild. That was the only way Brom could describe it.

  Talon is a wild dragon, Brom thought in shock. What is going on?

  Talon's roar woke the others—people and dragons alike. But Hanna and Nefin stayed slumped over on the ground. Brom's mind worked furiously to understand what was happening.

  Brin began moaning, "Sunburst, Sunburst," over and over, and Brom realized she must have felt the same cessation of contact with her dragon.

  "She's not dead, Brin," Brom tried to reassure, but his voice was lost in the sudden cries of his other Dragon Rider friends.

  The first words out of the twins' mouths when they awakened were their dragons' names. The same was true for Ajh. Keeta stumbled away from the group toward where Lightning

  had curled up for the evening.

  "Keeta!" Brom called. "Stay here!" Keeta didn't seem to hear.

  "Brin," Brom urgently instructed. "Go get her and bring her back to the others. It isn't safe to be near the dragons right now."

  Brin grunted. "I can't move, Brom," she forced out between clenched teeth.

  Brom's confusion only increased. Why could Keeta move but not Brin? Was Keeta not perceived as a threat, like some of the others? But who was categorizing such a thing? Maybe

  the elves were also seen as dangerous, thus explaining their unconsciousness. And that would also clarify why Brin had warned him to shield himself, otherwise Brom would likely

  be lying helplessly on the ground, for his outward appearance and magical abilities were elven in every respect.

  Brom darted to Keeta, squatting in front of her. "Keeta!" he whispered, and she started as his voice seemed to issue forth out of nothingness. Brom continued, "Return to the others.

  It's not safe to go near the dragons right now."

  "But Lightning," Keeta whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't feel him anymore."

  "I know," Brom said. "But he's still fine. We just need to stay together and stay safe." Brom was relieved when Keeta obeyed him by turning to make her way back to Brin.

  Now Will's increasingly strained cries changed from "Glimmer!" to "Lena! Lena, where are you going?"

  Brom whirled in the direction of Will's panicked shout. Lena was moving away from the group like she was sleepwalking. Will desperately tried to follow her, but some invisible

  force was holding him rigidly in place and his ability to speak also appeared to have ceased. His effort was apparent only in his eyes, for he seemingly couldn't otherwise move a muscle, just as Brin hadn't been able to.

  Brom touched Lena's mind, grateful they had practiced her mental defensive measures so frequently and that she would recognize him. Her mind was clear, but she wasn't acting of

  her own volition.

  While carefully shielding his mental communication from outside observation, Brom thought, Lena, where are you going?

  Lena's responding thoughts were frantic. I don't know! But I can't stop myself! Help me, Brom!

  Brom remembered Brin's warning not to fight back. He looked beyond Lena in the direction she was walking and was once again nearly blinded by the glaring force of energy that

  assailed him, which he had—unbelievably—forgotten about in the chaos of the moment. But then Brom realized he was only seeing that with his mental eyes. He immediately turned

  off that line of sight—the glaring white light blazing brighter than the sun mercifully winked out—and with his physical eyes saw an unassuming old man. He carefully entered the man's mind while hiding his presence, and without really comprehending how, Brom suddenly knew this man was Tenga. And he was kidnapping Lena.

  But Brom wasn't supposed to fight back and he understood exactly why. Tenga was drawing off the immeasurable supply of energy behind him, which Brom easily identified as an

  Eldunarí. But he also instantly knew it wasn't one of their Eldunarí. All of the other Eldunarí on the Isle could have fit into this one with room to spare. Brom had never imagined that

  such an enormous living object could even exist, and trying to comprehend the size of the dragon the Eldunarí had once resided in boggled Brom's mind. The Beor mountain range

  was all he could picture, but Brom knew that wouldn't be possible. Still, that was the magnitude of energy emanating from the Eldunarí.

  Lena was almost to the man, and Brom suddenly knew his time was short. There was nothing he could do to stop Tenga from taking her unless he wanted to be killed right then, but

  he had to warn her. She was their only hope now.

  Lena, he insistently thought, still shielding his message so Tenga—who was obviously controlling Lena through her mind—wouldn't hear. Lena, I'm so sorry I can't help you! But we'll

  come for you! We're not Dragon Riders anymore. Tenga—that's the man you're walking toward—has somehow erased our bonds. Figure out how! And find out anything you can

  about that Eldunarí! I know it's hidden from your sight right now, but Tenga is drawing power from an Eldunarí as large as the entire Cave of the Eldunarí. I'll never be able to withstand him as long as he's borrowing energy from it. Be careful. We'll come! Remember what we practiced and keep this hidden from him. Lena, I'm sorry— But then she was

  quickly going away.

  Eragon and Arya were enjoying a lively discussion with their friends around a warm fire. The anniversary cake was gone, and it was well after midnight, but no one seemed tired

  thanks to their midafternoon naps.

  Knilf had just finished telling a joke, and the conversation lulled as the laughter died away. Eragon noticed Elva raise a hand to her temple and rub gingerly. Her other hand

  immediately went to her distended womb, which tightened noticeably under her touch.

  Tomath turned to Elva in concern. "Turn it off, sweetheart!" he urged. "The baby!"

  But Elva moaned, sagging into her husband. "Your dragons!" she cried. "Something terrible is going to happen! They're all . . . going . . . to . . . die . . ." Each word came out more

  strained than the one before. Then Elva shrieked, clutching first her head followed instantly by her womb. "No! Such sorrow! Such anguish! Tomath!" She passed out.

  Tomath's terror was etched in his face as he kept Elva from collapsing to the ground. He looked up, his eyes darting wildly around the circle of people. "The baby's coming!"

  Eragon—along with everyone else—was transfixed by this frightening scene. When he sensed Arya begin to stand, apparently intent on going to Elva, Eragon tore his gaze away

  from Tomath's tortured face. Arya hadn't taken two full steps before Eragon suddenly heard Brom's voice issuing forth from the small enchanted mirror Arya carried with her

  everywhere she went, just as all the Riders did.

  Before Arya had even been able to retrieve the mirror from her pocket in order to see Brom, he was shouting, "Mother! There isn't any time! Tenga's going there right now, where

  you are! He was just here, and he kidnapped Lena. He has somehow managed—"

  But Brom's message was cut short when the mirror in Arya's hands shattered as if someone had crushed it under their heel. At the same moment, Arya, Hanin, and Maehrí all began

  to crumple toward the ground. Eragon sprang up and caught Arya in his arms before she landed.

  Hanin slumped into Grintuk, who caught him in surprise and gently lowered him down. Varhog did the same with Maehrí, who had fallen the other direction and would have bashed

  her head on the ground. The two Urgals looked up in confusion.

  "Arya!" Eragon anxiously cried, gazing helplessly down into Arya's blank face. But he had no more time to consider his wife's mysterious condition, for right then, part of Eragon's mind died. Saphira! he shouted in ag
ony.

  He was barely aware that almost everyone else in the circle—save Nasuada, Greta, and obviously Elva and the elves—was experiencing the exact same devastation. But an

  inexplicable force abruptly demanded his attention, and while Eragon's body froze in place, he found his head turning toward the beach at the sound of a wheezing, tittering voice.

  "Ah, so delightful!" the voice cackled. "What you must be going through, dear friends. We should be friends. Oh, so we should. I was friends with the ancient Riders. But one among

  you has ensured that friendship will never exist between old Tenga and the modern Dragon Riders."

  Eragon recognized the old man lazily making his way—with Lena by his side—up the beach toward the group surrounding the fire. Even if Tenga hadn't named himself, Eragon would

  have recognized the insane, rambling, ancient man. Eragon wanted to speak, but he couldn't open his mouth.

  "No, none of you can speak," Tenga regretfully tittered. "Hee! No, indeed! I learned my lesson after hearing your children shouting back on the Isle. Don't you fret. I haven't harmed

  anyone. And the elves? Couldn't have them trying anything sneaky, now could I? That's why I rendered them unconscious, isn't it? Never you fear, Shadeslayer," he reassured

  Eragon. "Your little wifey will recover, so she will. But not while I'm here. It's for the best, for if any of them had tried to attack, why I would have had no choice but to kill them.

  And also don't worry about your partner of heart and mind. She's not dead. Just wild."

  Tenga released a jittery giggle. "Oh yes! Wild, wild, wild. The dragons are all wild now, so they are! And the Dragon Riders are no more. Your dragons no longer remember you.

  They remember nothing about their decades of life being bonded to the frail, sniveling twolegs. Oh dear me, dear me. I do believe they might simply fly away! And where will that

  leave you, dear friends? Stranded? Yes, I do believe that's right. Stranded on a desert island!" And he dissolved into a fit of seemingly irrepressible twittering.

  Then Tenga's mad tirade abruptly ended as he stopped next to Murtagh and Nasuada, crouching down behind them. His eyes were suddenly cold, calculating, and full of deep hatred.