The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

from overhead.

  "We need to go get ready. Murtagh!"

  He sighed and stood up, looking down at her, "Yes Kieran, what?"

  "You need to go get ready as well. I had Natalie set out some clothes for you to wear as well."

  "I am perfectly capable of getting myself dressed Kieran." He insisted, descending the stairs and stopping beside the couch. "Thank you for your concern however."

  She huffed, "Just go change."

  "Fine, fine," he threw his hands up in mock surrender, grinning at Mariah. "I'll see you in a while then, have fun with Kieran." She glared at him as he left.

  "Come on Mariah, we have to get ready." Kieran left her books sitting on the table and took her arm, pulling her from the library and back to her room.

  When they arrived, Natalie was waiting for them, curtseying to the Riders before going to fetch Kieran's dress. Mariah huffed and sat down in a chair, watching as she pulled off her

  clothing and tossed it on the floor. Watching Kieran strut about the room with nothing but her corset and under clothes left her embarrassed, finding the whole situation

  uncomfortable.

  "What's the matter?" She asked, pulling Mariah out of her silent contemplation, "Your face is all red."

  Mariah blinked, "I… I'm not usually around women while they're getting dressed like this. That's all."

  Kieran stared at her, "…you've never had someone help you get dressed before?"

  "I've never needed someone to help me into a dress. I mean… I usually just wear tunics and breeches." Mariah admitted to her, not going to mention any of the times Mark had

  laced up the back of one of her rare dresses, but that situation was a little different.

  "You should get used to it. Natalie's very helpful." Kieran insisted, stepping into the dress the maid was holding.

  Natalie smiled simply, "Thank you m'lady." Her fingers tightened the back of the dress and started lacing up the back swiftly with nimble, practiced movements. When she finished

  Kieran stepped away and over to her vanity, snatching a pair of earrings and putting them in. Then, Natalie turned to Mariah.

  She shook her head and stood, removing her tunic. As she kicked her boots away and stripped off her breeches, Mariah muttered under her breath.

  "You're not wearing a corset?"

  "…no," she said simply. "I have never worn a corset…"

  Kieran dropped her bracelet she was getting ready to put on and turned, staring at Mariah. "You really are from the middle of nowhere aren't you? Natalie, find her one. Now

  please."

  Before she'd finished, Natalie was walking back with a corset, slipping it around Mariah's waist and lacing it up both sides.

  "Kieran, is this really necessary?" Mariah choked out, gasping as she pulled it almost too tight. Her ribs felt crushed under the pressure for a moment before it evened out. She

  braced her hand against a wall and yelped as Natalie finished.

  "Yes." Kieran told her simply, clasping her bracelet and turning around, watching Mariah step into the red dress the princess had given her. "Mmm… I think the black heels Natalie."

  "Of course M'lady." She nodded and headed to the princess' wardrobe, pulling out the heels she requested and bringing them back to Mariah, helping her to step into them. "There

  you are. Those fit you well."

  Kieran strolled over, bare footed, and threw a necklace around Mariah's neck, clasping it. She tapped her lip a moment, "That looks pretty good to me. I don't think you need

  anything else… your ears aren't pierced either, so you can't very well wear earrings. Natalie, could you just pull her hair up nicely and put a few nice pins in?" She turned and

  walked to the wardrobe, finding a pair of heeled black and silver shoes that matched her dress perfectly.

  When Natalie had finished pinning up Mariah's hair it was time to go. Kieran dismissed the maid girl after thanking her and took Mariah by the arm, dragging her down the corridor

  toward the main hall. Standing in an alcove, clearly on edge, was Murtagh. His ensemble Kieran had sent to him was a pair of black breeches tucked into a shining new pair of

  ebony boots. The red tunic was edged with gold trim and embroidered with an intricate swirling pattern.

  "Ah, Murtagh, there you are."

  "Yes Kieran, I've been waiting. It took you long enough now didn't it?" He asked, turning toward them. Murtagh's gaze flickered behind Kieran to Mariah. Her black hair a complex mess of spirals and loops, no hair around her neck with a few jeweled pins clasped in her hair to add a little sparkle.

  "We had things to do Murtagh," she insisted, sniffing a bit at him before entering the room through the doorway.

  As the doors shut behind her, he found himself staring at Mariah. "I've never seen you look more beautiful as you do right now."

  She stared back at him, "You mean that? It's not too much? I feel so strange dressed up like this."

  "Not at all," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist, "You are stunning." Murtagh smiled and kissed her lightly.

  Heart aflutter, she felt her lips smile against his own and, for the first time, kissing him back.

  After the party, Queen Islanzadí showed Eragon and Saphira were they could sleep for the night; their short walk through Ellesméra ended as they reached the base of a tree. The

  trunk was ridged by a delicate staircase that spiraled up to a series of globular rooms cupped and suspended din the tree's crown by a spray of branches.

  Islanzadí lifted an elegant hand and pointed at the eyrie. "You needs must fly there, Saphira. Our stairs were not grown with dragons in mind." Then she spoke to Eragon: "This is

  where the leader of the Dragon Riders would dwell while in Ellesméra. I give it to you now, for you are the rightful heir to that title… It is your inheritance." Before Eragon could

  thank her, the queen swept past and departed with Arya, who held his gaze for a long moment before vanishing deeper into the city.

  Shall we see what accommodations they've provided us with? Asked Saphira. She jumped into the air and sailed around the tree in a tight circle, balancing on one wing tip,

  perpendicular to the ground.

  As Eragon took the first step, he saw that Islanzadí had spoken true; the stairs were one with the tree. The bark beneath his feet was smooth and flat from the many elves who had

  traversed it, but it was still part of the trunk, as were the twisting cobweb banisters by his side and the curved railing that slid under his right hand.

  Because the stairs had been designed with the elves' strength in mind, they were steeper than Eragon was used to, and his calves and thighs soon began to burn. He was breathing

  so hard when he reached the top – after climbing through a trapdoor in the floor of one of the rooms – he had to put his hands on his knees and bend over to pant. Once recovered,

  he straightened and examined his surroundings.

  He stood in a circular vestibule with a pedestal in the center, out of which spiraled a sculpture of two pale hands and forearms that twined around each other without touching.

  Three screen doors led from the vestibule – one to an austere dining room that might hold ten people at the most, one to a closet with an empty hollow in the floor that Eragon

  could think of no discernible use for, and the last to a bedroom overlooking, and open to, the wide expanse of Du Weldenvarden.

  Taking a lantern from its hook in the ceiling, Eragon entered the bedroom, creating a host of shadows that jumped and swirled like madcap dancers. A teardrop gap large enough

  for a dragon pierced the outer wall. Inside the room was a bed, situated so that he could watch the sky and the moon while lying on his back; a fireplace made of gray wood that

  felt as hard and cold as steel when he touched it, as if the timber had been compressed to unsurpassed density; and a huge lowrimmed bowl set in the floor and lined with soft

  blankets where S
aphira could sleep.

  Even as he watched, she swooped down and landed on the edge of the opening, her scales twinkling like a constellation of blue stars. Behind her, the last rays of the sun streaked

  across the forest, paining the various ridges and hills with a hazy amber that made the needles glow like hot iron and chased the shadows back toward the violet horizon. From their

  height, the city appeared as a series of gaps in the voluminous canopy, islands of calm in a restless ocean. Ellesméra's true scope was now revealed; it extended for several miles

  to the west and to the north.

  I respect the Riders even more if this is who Vrael normally lived, said Eragon. It's much simpler than I expected. The entire structure rocked slightly in response to a breath of

  wind.

  Saphira sniffed her blankets. We have yet to see Vroengard, she cautioned, although he sensed that she agreed with him.

  As Eragon closed the screen to the bedroom, he saw something in the corner that he had missed during his first inspection: a spiral staircase that wound up a dark wood chimney.

  Thrusting the lantern before him, he cautiously ascended, one step at a time. After about twenty feet, he emerged in a study furnished with a writing desk – stocked with quills, ink,

  and paper, but no parchment – and another padded roost for a dragon to curl up on. The far wall also had an opening to fly through.

  Saphira, come see this.

  How? She asked.

  Through the outside. Eragon winced as layers of bark splintered and cracked under Saphira's claws while she crawled out of the bedroom and up the side of the compound to the

  study. Satisfied? he asked when she arrived. Saphira ranked him with her sapphire eyes then proceeded to scrutinize the walls and furniture.

  I wonder, she said, how you are supposed to stay warm when the rooms are open to the elements?

  I don't know. Eragon examined the walls on either side of the breach, running his hands over abstract patterns that had been coaxed from the tree by the elves' songs. He stopped

  when he felt a vertical ridge embedded in the bark. He tugged on it, and a diaphanous membrane unspooled from within the wall. Pulling it across the portal, he found a second

  groove to hold the hem of the cloth. As soon as it was fastened, the air thickened and became noticeably hotter. There's your answer, he said. He released the cloth and it lashed

  back and forth as it rewound itself.

  When they returned to the bedroom, Eragon unpacked while Saphira coiled upon her dias. He carefully arranged his shield, bracers, greaves, coif, and helm, then stripped off his

  tunic and removed his shirt of leatherbacked mail. He sat barechested on the bed and studied the oiled links, struck by their similarity to Saphira's scales.

  We made it, he said, bemused.

  A long journey… but yet, we made it. We're lucky that misfortune did not strike upon the road.

  He nodded. Now we'll find out if it was worth it. Sometimes I wonder if our time would have been better spent helping the Varden.

  Eragon! You know that we need further instruction. Brom would have wanted it, Mark insisted upon it. Besides, Ellesméra and Islanzadí were certainly worth coming all this way to

  see.

  Maybe. Finally, he asked, What do you make of all this?

  Saphira parted her jaws slightly to show her teeth. I don't know. The elves keep more secrets than even Brom, and they can do things with magic that I never thought possible. I

  have no idea what methods they use to grow their trees in to such shapes, nor how Islanzadí summoned those flowers. It is beyond my ken.

  Eragon was relieved that he was not the only one who felt overwhelmed. He watched her rest her head on her two front feet. The stars were bright in the sky now, and the soft

  hoots of owls drifted through Ellesméra. All the world was calm and silent as it slumbered away the liquid night.

  Eragon clambered underneath his downy sheets and reached to shutter the lantern, then stopped, his hand an inch from the latch. Here he was in the elves' capital, over a hundred

  feet in the air, lying in what used to be Vrael's bed.

  The thought was too much for him.

  Rolling upright, he grabbed the lantern with one hand, Zar'roc with the other, and surprised Saphira by crawling onto her dias and snuggling against her warm side. She hummed

  and dropped a velvet wing over him as he extinguished the light and closed his eyes.

  Together they slept long and deep in Ellesméra.

  It's late. I know that, no excuses this time aside from the fact that I'm having a very difficult time trying to pace the story and still get everything I want into it. The next chapter

  will hopefully be better. This was by no means my favorite, but it had to be done.

  Mariah stared around the hall, her eyes flickering between all the people seated around the large table. Fifteen young men and women were looking towards the Riders, each one

  looking very different from the next.

  "Well, sit down," Galbatorix said, shooting a look at Mariah and Murtagh. Kieran had already found her seat next to him, the other two quickly following suit. "Good. I suppose we all

  know why we've been gathered here today, so there's no need to go on about that. For now, everyone should enjoy their meal. There will be plenty of time to talk after dinner." As

  castle servants came out with their trays of food, the king walked from the dining hall and out of sight.

  After the food was set out, everything went silent save for the clinking of silverware.

  What is this Murtagh?

  Your guess is as good as mine, he said, glancing around the room. His eyes flickered to Kieran. Do you know any of these people?

  She avoided his gaze, eating her food quietly. I've seen a few of them before today, some are soldiers. Most appear to be sons and daughters of wealthy lords and the like. One or

  two seem to have come from less fortune, as their clothing at first glance appears to be quite well made, but is actually rather poor quality and of a size not quite fitting them. As

  to why they're here however, I don't know.

  It was as Kieran was talking that Mariah realized what was going on. The word 'soldier' had clicked in her head gone from there. Soldiers. But why so many? He means to eliminate

  some of them… one way or another.

  What do you mean by that? Murtagh asked her, confused.

  She stared at her food and paused, Something's wrong. Stop eating. Mariah's gaze flickered over to Kieran as recognition flashed across her face.

  He wouldn't kill us. The princess said it firmly, as though trying to prove to herself she was right.

  A moment later, one of the other boys situated down the table a ways coughed and fell out of his chair.

  Maybe not us, but the others should be worried.

  A young blonde girl let out a squeak, staring at the boy's glassy eyes as they stared up at her. "Hhhe… he's"

  "Dead?" Another girl offered with a sneer in her voice. "He should have checked his food before he ate it. Stupid really."

  The tall young man next to her stood and walked over, checking the boy's pulse. His eyes flicked up towards Kieran, Mariah, and Murtagh. "Did one of you do this?"

  "You honestly think one of us killed him? We've been here for less time than you have." Kieran said, "I doubt it was the food, the way he fell over makes me think someone

  poisoned him before now. It wouldn't have been so quick otherwise."

  Most of them started shifting nervously in their seats, stealing glances towards one another suspiciously.

  Murtagh watched them, "What are you all here for anyway?"

  "My parents told me to come"

  "I was picked from my battalion to show up"

  "Soldiers came to my home and paid my family"

  He shook his head, "Wait. So you mean to say none of you know why you're here?"

 
The girl with the sneer in her voice spoke, "Of course I know, not that I'd tell any of you sorry saps. My father is a lord, you may have heard of him, he"

  "You mean he's the lying bastard who pretends he's your father. Your mother's such a whore she doesn't know who you belong to." Kieran said to her, glaring down the table. "I

  know your father – Lord Reikena, he's been in the court many times… after each of which he takes one of the maid girls to bed, whichever he fancies that particular day." She

  paused, waiting for a retort. There was none. "Does anyone else care to weigh in?"

  Kieran, can I talk with you a minute in private? Mariah asked, standing up and walking to a corner of the room, keeping her voice low. "Galbatorix brought them all here for a

  reason… I"

  "Get him Cedric!" The Reikena girl said, "Teach him a lesson!"

  "Hey!" Murtagh shouted, standing up, wishing he had his sword.

  Two of the boys had started arguing with each other after figuring out the others' last name and it had turned into a fullon brawl. Cedric's sister cheered him on as the fight got

  worse.

  "He purposely chose these people… he's trying to cause conflict." Kieran said quietly.

  A couple of the other boys had started in on the fighting as well. Just when Murtagh was going to step forward, Mariah grabbed his arm. "You don't need to get involved in that too."

  "Someone else is going to get hurt." He muttered under his breath, watching it happen. Sure enough, Cedric ended up grabbing a knife from the table and stabbing one of the other

  boys with it. Two guys were passed out on the floor and the ones standing up were bloodied and bruised.

  The blonde girl shrieked again as the brunette she was standing next to dropped to the floor. "Shshshe was fine a minute ago."

  "Everybody needs to sit down!" Kieran shouted with her hands raised into the air, glowing slightly with a magenta aura. "The next person to say or do anything is answering to me!"

  The remaining four girls sat. Two of the boys that had been in the brawl were still standing; the other two not knocked out were still sitting at the table from earlier.

  "Good. Now you," Kieran pointed at the Reikena girl. "Tell me your first name and we'll get this all straight."