The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  Oromis performed the Rimgar with him, displaying a level of strength and flexibility that astounded Eragon, especially for one so old. The elf could touch his forehead to his toes.

  Throughout the exercise, Oromis remained impeccably composed, as if he were doing no more than strolling down a garden path. His instruction was calmer and more patient than

  Brom's, yet completely unyielding. No deviation was allowed from the correct path.

  "Let us wash the sweat from our limbs," said Oromis when they finished.

  Going to the stream by the house, they quickly disrobed. Eragon surreptitiously watched the elf, curious as to what he looked like without his clothes. Oromis was very thin, yet his muscles were perfectly defined, etched under his skin with the hard lines of a woodcut. No hair grew upon his chest or legs, not even around his groin. His body seemed almost

  freakish to Eragon, compared to the men he was used to seeing in Carvahall – although it had a certain refined elegance to it, like that of a wildcat.

  When they were clean, Oromis took Eragon deep into Du Weldenvarden to a hollow where the dark trees leaned inward, obscuring the sky behind branches and veils of snarled

  lichen. Their feet sank into the moss above their ankles. All was silent around them.

  Pointing to a white stump with a flat, polished top three yards across that rested in the center of the hollow, Oromis said, "Sit here." Eragon did as he was told. "Cross your legs and

  close your eyes." The world went dark around him. From his right, he heard Oromis whisper, "Open your mind, Eragon. Open your mind and listen to the world around you, to the

  thoughts of every being in this glade, from the ants in the trees to the worms in the ground. Listen until you can hear them all and you understand their purpose and nature. Listen,

  and when you hear no more, come tell me what you have learned."

  Mariah's up.

  He flicked open his eyes after Thorn's comment and watched her padding off into the darkness silently. With an inward sigh he stood, glancing toward Kieran who seemed to have

  nothing on her mind save for sleep. Thorn's tail twitched as he listened to Murtagh follow.

  The forest they had camped just outside of was dense and glowed slightly with starlight, as it was nearly a full moon. Looking up through a gap in the canopy, he reasoned that it

  was near midnight with the moon so high in the sky. He couldn't blame her for not sleeping though; the longer they were gone the more he was concerned about what this was all

  really about. Murtagh narrowed his eyes at the darkness and listened hard, able to hear running water just a ways off. Deciding that was likely where she went, he headed in that

  direction.

  "Couldn't sleep?" He asked, staring at her, leaning his hand against a tree.

  She turned her head slightly from where she sat, not fully looking at him. The tight grip around her dagger betrayed her seeming composure. Her head moved back toward the

  water and she dropped the weapon back down beside her. "I never sleep well."

  "I wouldn't know," he admitted, still watching her. The moonlight glanced off the rippling water and illuminated her pale face.

  Mariah blinked once and looked toward him. "Why did you follow me?"

  He shrugged slightly, "Thorn said you were up."

  "Didn't answer my question," she said. Her gaze locked with his for a moment before she turned back to look at the water.

  Murtagh pushed off the tree and went over to her, sitting beside her. "No. I suppose I didn't."

  They sat soaking up the silence for a while, not speaking, not touching, not even looking at one another, simply waiting for the other to speak.

  Mariah broke first. "I still have nightmares."

  "About what?"

  "Farthen Dûr… Durza… the Twins… Galbatorix… and now Cederic… Hal… Camilla… and that's just the top of the list." She said, "At first I would wake up screaming… now I wear a

  charmed necklace when I sleep so I don't wake anyone else up. My subconscious usually warns me awake now, when it realizes it's about to happen, but occasionally I just wake up

  in a pool of my own tears."

  Murtagh stared over at her and blinked. He was always forgetting how she was sometimes still just a child with petty things such as nightmares to contend with. When she was

  awake, she hid everything so well from everyone. Though she was getting better, she still hid things from him. But it's okay, because… I still hide things from her. There's no

  reason to tell her things she doesn't need to know, it's only cause to upset her more.

  "That's why I left camp in the middle of the night."

  "What was it this time?" He asked, reaching over and brushing her black hair behind her ear.

  "…Durza."

  Murtagh tipped his head slightly, "You wanna tell me about it?"

  She waited a moment, as if thinking about it and shook her head. "Not really."

  He smirked a little, suppressing a chuckle. Of course. He shook his head, "Well, if you feel like sharing."

  Mariah nodded and twisted her fingers together.

  Just tell me what it is Mariah. I feel so useless when you don't share what's bothering you. I can't help if you won't let me. It's my job to take care of you, you know. I did make a

  promise after all. Murtagh thought to himself, watching her, not going to pry.

  "I just…. I don't know," she said, turning back toward him again. Her lip was quivering slightly. Murtagh tensed, waiting for her to burst into tears. He frowned a little and sighed at

  her, reaching over and pulling her into a warm embrace, feeling tears soak into his shoulder as she shook with sobs.

  He kissed the top of her head and whispered quietly to her. "They'll go away eventually Mariah… don't worry… nightmares don't last forever."

  Mariah hugged him tighter and he set his chin on her shoulder, rubbing her back to calm her down. Finally, she pulled away.

  He smiled a bit, "That's why I followed you." Murtagh wiped her face free of tears and nodded, "Better."

  A small smile feathered across her lips before she leaned up and kissed him.

  Murtagh hummed a bit, holding her close, welcoming the kiss. It always felt reassuring, like he was doing something right. He made her happy and that satisfaction alone was

  enough for him to keep going. He was doing his job, protecting her in more ways than one. "You should probably try and get some more sleep… we'll be getting to the fortress

  tomorrow morning, so you're going to need all the energy you can get."

  "I don't want to go back yet…"

  "That's fine, we can stay here a while longer." Murtagh said. She smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder and holding his hand.

  When he could hear her breathing calm down and smooth out he glanced down to see her dozing off. Murtagh gave a little sigh of relief and snatched up the dagger on the ground

  beside her, jamming it through his belt and picking her up carefully. Standing, he adjusted his grip so her head fell back in against his shoulder before he turned and headed back

  toward camp and their dragons.

  Thorn twitched his tail in greeting as he walked back, laying Mariah back down on her blanket. You should get back to sleep as well, before the sun is up and we must leave.

  I'm not really that tired anymore. He said, looking at the dragon. Thorn flicked his eyes open and raised his head at him, snorting quietly.

  Come here Murtagh, he said. After he was close enough Thorn nosed him in the chest, making him hit the ground. You cannot even keep your balance. You need rest, so sleep.

  Murtagh shook his head and moved over next to Thorn, settling in against him and falling asleep, with his arms folded across his chest and face lifted toward the sky. The next time

  he woke, it was to a sharp kick at his leg. He snarled, glaring up at Kieran as she smirked at him.

  "Time to get up," she
said, striding back to Nasreen and climbing easily into her saddle.

  Looking over, he saw Mariah already awake and securing her sword to her waist. At least she slept the rest of the night it seems. She looked towards him and smiled before looking

  at Kieran as she spoke. Murtagh turned and hoisted himself into Thorn's saddle, strapping in for the morning flight. They took off with Nasreen in the lead, flying lower to the ground

  to avoid freezing in the morning air. I hope this is as simple as Galbatorix made it out to being. Where we simply go in, find the sword and leave.

  You should know from experience that is not how this usually works. Thorn said, glancing back at him. If anything, he lied to us about the ordeal entirely. There is no sword and he merely wishes to punish you for coming back to him having failed.

  Now that you say it, I wouldn't doubt if you were right. Murtagh said, staying low against his neck to try and soak up some warmth, wishing he would have worn some warmer

  clothing.

  "Ah, there you are. You need to come with me now." Eirika said, snatching up the cuff of his sleeve.

  Mark stumbled for a moment before following her quickly, "What's wrong?"

  "Kendra left early this morning and no one knows where she went. It's nothing particularly unusual but considering the state she's been in recently, no one wants her out on her own

  for very long." She insisted, turning them down a side street. "Rowan insisted I come find you so that you two can go look for her. You'd best not be busy with something at the moment." Eirika halted abruptly and looked both ways before opening a door that was well hidden in the alleyway.

  Mark watched as she grabbed up her skirts and walked them down a steep staircase. The walls were lit with torches blazing every ten feet or so, allowing light to walk by but not as much as one may have hoped for. He brushed his hand against the wall as they went, able to hear people talking up ahead. The stairs ended and a black stone floor appeared,

  opening into a vast room that could easily have matched the Surdan Palace's main hall. At several points did the room flow into hallways and out of sight, leading Mark to believe

  there was likely a network of rooms laying beyond his vision.

  As their feet hit the floor, the room fell silent for a moment as eyes flickered over to them, but as Eirika started walking again the din resumed and they were ignored. Mark looked

  around at the people as he followed, most of them were around twenty, a few younger and some older. Their clothes were well worn and mismatched, except for a few with matching uniforms. He returned his gaze forward and saw Rowan hunched over a table with Delaney and a few others. There were maps and other various papers scattered over

  the tabletop. Behind Rowan was a line of bookshelves and a locked doorway.

  "Good you found him," Del said, looking towards his cousin. Eirika nodded and went to stand next to him.

  Rowan looked up from his map, "I do hope you remember the way in next time Marcus, because you won't be shown it again. As Kendra has no doubt mentioned to you, this is what

  we all call the Black Palace. Most people who know about it wish it didn't need to exist, the few of us who are fortunate enough to have homes to return to do what we can to assist

  those who need it. Welcome to the underground of Surda." He stood up fully, grabbing the map and turned to the doorway. "You'll have time to get accommodated and shown

  around later; right now we have to go find Kendra. Normally I would leave her to go wandering around for days on end, but with a war on our hands we don't have time to be losing

  a leader. Del, you're in charge while I'm gone." He pushed the door open and walked into a black hallway.

  Mark blinked after him dubiously and followed, the door shutting behind him. As soon as the door was closed, Rowan pulled a small chain on the wall, opening a hidden second hall

  illuminated with torches. He turned and walked for a ways without saying a word, leaving Mark to follow.

  "How does a lord's son, raised in riches and wealth turn into the King of an underground city and spend his time helping poor people and assisting the princess of the Empire?" Mark

  asked, his hands in his pockets. It was a valid question and he figured he deserved some after getting dragged off like this.

  Ahead of him, Rowan stopped. "Why does a bird fly?"

  "You're going to give me an answer like that, honestly"

  "You wanted an answer. That's mine. Now drop it." He said, continuing on.

  Mark rolled his eyes as they walked quietly. After a couple miles of twisting hallway, they arrived at a door. Rowan pushed it open carefully and stepped outside. When Mark

  followed, he realized why it had taken so long. The entryway was hidden well, in a thicket outside of Surda's walls. An easy way to get in or out of the city without being noticed, it

  was no wonder the palace guards didn't know anything about it.

  "Lynette was still tethered outside when we realized she was gone so she must have gone on foot."

  "Wait a second," Mark said, "Her horse's name is Lynette?"

  Rowan blinked, "If you want to debate horse names with her highness, then we'll have to find her first. Now c'mon. She's on foot; she can't have gone too far for too long. Plus she's

  got Nyx with her; we'll be able to find a set of pawprints fairly easily."

  He shook his head and pulled out the glass orb that Angela had given him. Holding it in his palm he focused at it and watched the smoke shimmer a dark blue color before clearing

  the way for an image: Kendra and Nyx strolling through the forest. She had her quiver strapped to her back and an arrow strung on her bow between her fingers. "She's hunting

  something… and they're near a river."

  Rowan turned to look at him, "There's a small river to the west. It cuts through for a time before eventually turning south towards the ocean."

  "Let's head that way then, shall we?" Mark asked rhetorically, waiting for him to lead since he knew the way.

  Hours later, Eragon found Oromis in his hut, writing with a goosefeather quill. The elf finished his line, then wiped the nib of the quill clean, stoppered his ink, and asked, "And

  what did you hear, Eragon?"

  Eragon was eager to share. As he described his experience, he heard his voice rise with enthusiasm over the details of the ants' society. He recounted everything that he could

  recall, down to the minutest and most inconsequential observation, proud of the information that he had gathered.

  When he finished, Oromis raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

  "I…" Dismay gripped Eragon as he understood that he had somehow missed the point of the exercise. "Yes, Ebrithil."

  "And what about the other organisms in the earth and the air? Can you tell me what they were doing while your ants tended their droves?"

  "No, Ebrithil."

  "Therein lies your mistake. You must become aware of all things equally and not blinker yourself in order to concentrate on a particular subject. This is an essential lesson, and until

  you master it, you will meditate on the stump for an hour each day."

  "How will I know when I have mastered it?"

  "When you can watch one and know all."

  Oromis motioned for Eragon to join him at the table, then set a fresh sheet of paper before him, along with a quill and a bottle of ink. "So far you have made do with an incomplete

  knowledge of the ancient language. Not that any of us knows all the words in the language, but you must be familiar with is grammar and structure so that you do not kill yourself

  through an incorrectly placed verb or similar mistake. I do not expect you to speak our language like an elf – that would take a lifetime – but I do expect you to achieve

  unconscious competence. That is, you must be able to use it without thinking.

  "In addition, you must learn to read and write the ancient language. Not only will this help you memorize the wo
rds, it is an essential skill if you need to compose an especially long

  spell and you don't trust your memory, or if you find such a spell recorded and you want to use it.

  "Every race has evolved their own system of writing the ancient language. The dwarves use their runic alphabet, as do humans. They are only makeshift techniques, though, and

  are incapable of expressing the language's true subtleties as well as our Liduen Kvaedhi, the Poetic Script. The Luduen Kvaedhi was designed to be as elegant, beautiful, and precise

  as possible. It is composed of fortytwo different shapes that represent various sounds. These shapes can be combined in a nearly infinite range of glyphs that represent both

  individual words and entire phrases. The symbol on your ring is one such glyph. The symbol on Zar'roc is another… Let us start: What are the basic vowel sounds of the ancient

  language?"

  "What?"

  Eragon's ignorance of the underpinnings of the ancient language quickly became apparent. When he had traveled with Brom, the old storyteller had concentrated on having Eragon memorize lists of words that he might need to survive, as well as perfecting his pronunciation. In those two areas, he excelled, but he could not even explain the difference between

  a definite and indefinite article. If the gaps in his education frustrated Oromis, the elf did not betray it through word or action, but labored persistently to mend them.

  At a certain point during the lesson, Eragon commented, "I've never needed very many words in my spells; Brom said it was a gift that I could do so much with just brisingr.

  the most I ever said in the ancient language was when I spoke to Arya in her mind and when I blessed an orphan in Farthen Dûr."

  "You blessed a child in the ancient language?" asked Oromis, suddenly alert. "Do you remember how you worded this blessing?"

  "Aye," he said slowly. Mark had had a similar reaction when he'd mentioned it before as well.

  "Recite it for me." Eragon did so, and a look of pure horror engulfed Oromis. He exclaimed, "You used skölir! Are you sure? Wasn't it sköliro?"

  Eragon frowned. "No, skölir. Why shouldn't I have used it? Skölirmeans shielded. '…and may you be shielded from misfortune.' It was a good blessing."