The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  Since they had started traveling together, he felt drawn toward her – it seemed that she understood him better than anyone else he'd met since becoming a Rider. Though, every

  time such feelings arose something told him it was wrong to think as such. Something told him he shouldn't pursue his feelings, He was embarrassed to say anything to her, and

  Saphira refused to advise him for or against it, telling him that it was his job to sort them out now. The fact she didn't outright disapprove was encouraging, but he still felt guilty

  for some reason.

  He accompanied her as she slipped out form the ring of tents, carefully evaded one of the dwarves, who had taken the first watch, and passed beyond the dwarves' hearing. Within

  him, Saphira kept a close watch on his progress, ready to leap to his side if need be.

  Arya squatted on a mosseaten log and wrapped her arm around her knees without looking at him. "There are things you must know before we reach Ceris and Ellesméra so that

  you do not shame yourself or me through your ignorance."

  "Such as?" He crouched opposite her, curious.

  Arya hesitated. "During my years as Islanzadí's ambassador, it was my observation that humans and dwarves are quite similar. You share many of the same beliefs and passions. More than one human has lived comfortably among the dwarves because he or she can understand their culture, as they understand yours. You both love, lust, hate, fight, and

  create in much the same manner. Your friendship with Orik and your acceptance into Dûrgrimst Ingeitum are examples of this." Eragon nodded, although their differences seemed

  greater to him than that. "Elves, though, are not like other races."

  "You speak as though you weren't one," he said, echoing her words from Farthen Dûr.

  "I have lived with the Varden for enough years to become accustomed to their traditions," replied Arya in a brittle tone.

  "As… So then do you mean to say that elves don't have the same emotions as dwarves and humans? I find that hard to believe. All living things have the same basic needs and

  desires."

  "That is not what I mean to say!" Eragon recoiled, then frowned and studied her. It was unusual for her to be so brusque. Arya closed her eyes and placed her fingers on her

  temples, taking a long breath. "Because elves live for so many years, we consider courtesy to be the highest social virtue. You cannot afford to give offense when a grudge can be

  held for decades or centuries. Courtesy is the only way to prevent such hostility from accumulating. It doesn't always succeed, but we adhere to our rituals rigorously, for they

  protect us from extremes. Nor are elves fecund, so it is vital that we avoid conflict among ourselves. If we shared the same rate of crime as you or the dwarves, we would soon be

  extinct.

  "There is a proper way to greet the sentinels in Ceris, certain patterns and forms that you must observe when presented to Queen Islanzadí, and a hundred different manners in

  which to greet those around you, if it's not better to just remain quiet."

  "With all your customs," Eragon risked saying, "it seems as though you've only made it easier to offend people."

  A smile flickered across her lips. "Perhaps. You know as well as I that you will be judged by the highest standards. If you make a mistake, the elves will think you did it on purpose.

  And only harm will come if they discover that it was born of ignorance. Far better to be thought rude and capable than rude and incapable, else you risk being manipulated like The

  Serpent in a match of Runes. Our politics move in cycles that are both subtle and lengthy. What you see reaches back millennia, and may have no bearing on how that elf will

  behave tomorrow. It is a game that we all play but few control, a game that you are about to enter.

  "Now perhaps you realize why I say elves are not like other races. The dwarves are also longloved, yet they are more prolific than us and do not share our restraint or our taste

  for intrigue. And humans…" She let her voice fade into tactful silence.

  "Humans," said Eragon, "do the best they can with what they are given."

  "Even so."

  "Why don't you tell Orik all this as well? He'll be staying in Ellesméra, same as me."

  An edge crept into Arya's voice. "He is already somewhat familiar with our etiquette. However, as a Rider, you would do well to appear better educated than him."

  Eragon accepted her rebuke without protest. "What must I learn?"

  "I don't think I'll ever move again," Murtagh said, muffled as his face moaned into his mattress.

  Mariah shook her head, patting Thorn on the head, causing him to purr. "Don't complain, that was nothing. What little energy you used up today is nothing compared to what you'll

  be able to do when we're through teaching you what we know."

  He sat up slowly, looking at her. "Why do you know so much already anyway? It's not like you were always a Rider, right? I'm pretty sure I remember you telling me it had only

  been a few months."

  She looked toward the window, watching the huge black dragon circling around her own fiery orange one before turning back to Murtagh. Sitting next to him on the edge of the bed,

  she sighed a little, "Brom had always taught us everything he knew about dragons… and sword fighting… and magic. Magic isn't simply learned, not everyone can use it. You have to

  have some magic in your blood already in order for anything to come from using it, or you risk harming yourself. Obviously, since Brom was a Rider, we have it in our blood – me

  and Mark. I realize now that the reason he taught me, specifically, how to use a sword and fight, was so that I could protect myself in the event of Galbatorix finding him and

  attacking us." Mariah paused, then quoted her brother, "It's one thing for a young man to learn swordplay, another for a lady."

  "My mother knew how to fight with swords"

  "Your mother was married to Morzan," she pointed out, standing back up and walking to the window to look outside.

  "When I was healing you, earlier… I noticed something."

  "What?"

  He hesitated, "Your ears are quite pointed now… I mean… you're starting to look like Arya."

  "Kieran's ears are far more pointed than my own," she said, looking in an embellished mirror on the wall. Mariah sighed, brushing her hair aside and blinked, "It's what happens

  when you're a Rider. Yours are going to do the same."

  "It's so strange the effects magic has on people when they become Riders. It's like you turn into an entirely different person."

  "Not entirely different," she insisted, letting her hair down again. "But it is strange, what happens to you, yes." Mariah agreed, sighing a little and tracing the lines along her arms.

  If Murtagh hadn't become a Rider while she was gone, she might have died from those wounds Kieran inflicted upon her. Mariah felt as though she owed him something now, for

  saving her life, however had yet to bring up the matter, and avoided the topic all together if she could manage.

  "Have you spoken to your brother since we got here?"

  "No." She said quietly, staring out the window.

  "You can't… can you?"

  Mariah shook her head, biting her lip as her throat closed up a little, "There's too much magic blocking my own. I can't scry anyone outside the castle grounds." Her voice dropped a

  little as she tried not to think about it. "I wish I could talk to him, make sure he's alright. I want to warn him, about what's going to happen… about Kieran and now you."

  "Me?" Murtagh asked, puzzled.

  "Bound to Galbatorix by an oath, and you're a Rider now… if he wanted to, he could have you kill them all."

  "I wouldn't."

  "You may not want to, but you would have to, bound by an oath taken in the Ancient Language. There are no escapes from something like that."

  H
e sighed, "I'm sorry"

  "Don't be, you didn't have a choice," Mariah insisted, walking back over to him. "I would have done the same in your position."

  "No, you wouldn't have. I don't think you would have. I'm sure there would have been something, some way for you to get out of it."

  She smiled a bit, "I'm not as clever as that… to fool the king."

  "I know of only one person who is clever enough to fool the likes of Galbatorix," Murtagh said, "And you remind me very much of her."

  "Who?" She asked, blinking.

  "Kendra," he told her. "Kieran's twin sister. Kieran's much nicer, saner, twin sister," he added. "She supposedly escaped and is hiding. I hope she's headed for the Varden."

  "You really think she would? I mean, she still is Galbatorix's daughter after all."

  He nodded, "I know, you probably think she'd be insane for thinking the child of the Varden's worst enemy would be welcome by them. She probably wouldn't be and they would

  probably hate her and mistrust her. However, she would be a valuable asset to them. I'm sure, with enough time, they would be willing to listen to what she had to say. It's always

  been a secret dream of hers to overthrow Galbatorix and give the people a proper ruler."

  Mariah smiled, "She sounds a little insane."

  "I think it runs in the family." He smirked a bit and chuckled.

  It was nice to hear a laugh, she thought, after everything being so awful here. "What's she like then, Kendra?" Mariah asked him, anything to keep him in a better mood. It made

  her feel happier as well.

  "Where should I start?" He leaned back on his hands and looked at the ceiling, petting Thorn absently. "Well, she's a princess. Through and through. Hates when you call her that.

  Kieran on the other hand, if you do not address her as "Princess Kieran" she might have your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Kendra, however, would much rather be a

  soldier. Where Kieran likes fighting for the fun of it, to see blood and cause pain, Kendra enjoys fighting for the sport. It's the skill and honor of swordplay that makes her fight… the

  rush that you get while in a battle."

  "I know that feeling all too well now," Mariah nodded.

  "She likes animals, especially dogs and horses. Her dog… well, it's not a dog really, it's a wolf." He shivered a bit, "Awful creature sometimes and enjoying biting the hell out of my

  ankles. Found it as a pup in the woods one day while she was out hunting. When she came back with a baby wolf instead of a buck, I thought she'd gone mad. She holds it up to me

  and beams like she's holding a newborn baby, 'Isn't he the most adorable thing you've ever seen?'" He imitated a girls' voice, causing Mariah to laugh. "Oh, it was dreadful, because

  the only thing I could do at that point was agree and say nothing, right?"

  Mariah wiped at her eyes, "Yes, of course."

  "But I didn't. I protested and told her that it was going to bite her and kill her in her sleep. She slapped me across the face and kept it anyway. Oh, and how he hates me. I'm

  positive she trained him to nip at me just for fun." Murtagh shook his head, "Named him Nyx, because he's all black and gray."

  "What else haven't you told me about her?"

  Murtagh paused, thinking, "I don't know what else to tell you… honestly. I haven't seen her for months… I am a little worried about her."

  "A little worried?"

  He chortled slightly, "Alright, a lot worried. It's just so dangerous to go anywhere alone now, with this rebellion starting against Galbatorix. And she's the princess… the likelihood of

  her getting kidnapped or killed is ten times higher than any other woman and on top of that the king has his men out looking for her. If she's still alive now, it's because she knows

  how to keep herself hidden and survive in the wilds. She's a brilliant hunter and an excellent swordsman"

  "Swordswoman," Mariah corrected him.

  He chuckled, "Swordswoman. I'm sorry. And she knows how to use magic, better than Kieran does for sure…"

  "A little frightening from the sound of her."

  "Oh, she is. Terrifying." He chuckled, "You wouldn't think that from the looks of her though. You know how deceiving Kieran looks? Well, Kendra doesn't have that crazy look in her

  eyes, so her deception is almost worse."

  Mariah smiled, "From what you've told me about her, I'm sure Kendra is just fine. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

  "I hope you're right Mariah," Murtagh insisted, "I really hope you're right."

  "Nasuada, I think we've reached the border." Mark said, catching up to her in their procession line, Aluora's hooves clattering against the underground stone passageway.

  She looked up ahead and smiled, her black roan charger, Battlestorm, nickering and tossing his head back at the sunlight. "It appears so. Surda is only a little farther away now."

  "It's my opinion that we camp for the night at the entrance to the tunnels… in case there's any trouble, we have an escape route."

  "That would be a good plan, yes," Nasauda nodded to him. "Inform the commanders."

  "Yes m'lady," he said, turning his shehorse around and racing her back down the tunnel, informing everyone of their camping site for the evening. When he'd finished, he returned

  to Nasuada and dismounted Aluora. "King Orrin of Surda will be pleased to see you."

  She sighed a little and sat on the tunnel floor, splaying her skirts. "He was not too intent upon supporting the Varden before the battle in Farthen Dûr."

  "That was before however, now, he should realize that Galbatorix is likely to cause trouble for him. If he doesn't assist the Varden now, it will cost him much later. His own army,

  combined with ours may be enough to overthrow Galbatorix and turn the tide of this war." Mark said to her, kneeling down, blinking at the young woman.

  "I dearly hope you're right," she said. "King Orrin is very involved in his own scientific experimentations however, so I don't know how much time he will spend planning out war

  strategies."

  Mark shook his head, "We can figure out our own strategies if need be. As long as he gives us his permission to use his army, we can win this war. All we need is his support. If he

  wants to lock himself inside and act like an alchemist, let him. I believe you have more important matters to attend to."

  "Indeed." Nasauda nodded, looking up as Angela strode to them. "Ah, Angela, is there something I can help you with?"

  "Trianna and her magical troupe of troublemakers are causing a fuss. They keep insisting they're trying to practice but they are causing more harm than anything else."

  Mark stood, "I'll take care of them. Angela, if you would be so kind as to show me to them – Nasuada, I shall return shortly."

  "Very well then, see that they are put back in their place."

  "You can count on it," Mark said, striding after Angela. "So, where is it they're causing the trouble at?"

  "What trouble?"

  He blinked at her, "Trianna…"

  "Trianna's not causing any trouble." Angela said simply.

  "Then… what's the problem?"

  "There is no problem; I was quietly and carefully pulling you away from Nasuada."

  "…because?"

  Angela paused in a small hollowed out area in the side of the tunnel wall, "You seem a little stressed."

  Mark blinked at the short, curlyhaired witch, "You're joking."

  "I most certainly am not." She insisted, "You seem a little stressed, so I thought I should pull you away for a moment to allow you to reflect on this idea."

  Staring at Angela, he couldn't believe she was so insane. Mark heaved another sigh and folded his arms, thinking. He was a bit stressed, with moving the Varden to Surda lately.

  He'd been tense, readied for yet another fight with Galbatorix's armies. There had been no word from his sister, Eragon or Arya and it was starting to worry
him. Not to mention the

  last time he scried home to Carvahall, there had been flames blazing everywhere in sight. "Let there be a day when I don't have something to worry about."

  "Today and that day have many in between," Angela said. "When we arrive in Surda, I suggest you make preparations."

  "For what?"

  "Doom," she said, throwing her head back and cackling. "For your doom!"

  "I'm leaving," he announced to her, turning and heading back toward Nasuada.

  "Mark!"

  He spun on his heel, growling a bit under his breath and spotting Trianna. "Yes? What is it?"

  "You've been busy as of late. I was just wondering if you'd thought any more about my… offer…" she said, stepping up against him and setting her dainty fingers on his chest.

  "No," he said flatly. "I have some things to attend to now with Lady Nasuada, excuse me." Mark pulled away from her and strode back to the head of the convoy. Greeting Nasuada,

  he said, "We shall ride into Surda tomorrow morning, and it will take but a few days to reach Aberon. I'm going out to explore and make sure there are no threats to the Varden for

  tomorrow." He waited until she nodded, then mounted Aluora and clicked his tongue, trotting her out of the tunnel and into the morning sunlight.

  As his mare counted in the gravel, he smiled and took a deep breath of fresh air, closing his eyes. The air filling his lungs felt cold and crisp, exactly what he would have expected

  to wake up to in Carvahall. Mark patted Aluora's neck and spurred her onward, looking around the open countryside of Surda. After parting from the rocky foothills onto a flattening

  plain of grass, he whistled. The white mare shot off like an arrow, running flat out as fast as she could with her rider lying low against her back, kicking up dust as they went. It had

  been so long since he'd been able to run with her he'd nearly forgotten how the wind felt rushing through his hair. The trees whipping past them blurred into the background before

  dropping beyond his field of vision. After several long minutes, he gripped the reins and pulled her into him. She snorted and pulled her head up, jumping into a canter. Mark smiled

  and surveyed their position.

  They had made it far from the mouth of the tunnel and had entered into a mildly populated area. He was getting ready to turn his shehorse back around to make a perimeter