"That was no blessing, but a curse." Oromis was more agitated than Eragon had ever seen him. "The suffix o forms the past tense of verbs ending with r and i. Sköliro means
shielded, but skölir means shield. What you said was 'May luck and happiness follow you and may you be a shield from misfortune.' Instead of protecting this child from the
vagaries of fate, you condemned her to be a sacrifice for others, to absorb their misery and suffering so that they might live in peace."
No, no! It can't be! Eragon recoiled from the possibility. "The effect a spell has isn't only determined by the word's sense, but also by your intent, and I didn't intend to harm"
"You cannot gainsay a word's inherent nature. Twist it, yes. Guide it, yes. But not contravene its definition to imply the very opposite." Oromis pressed his fingers together and
stared at the table, his lips reduced to a flat white line. "I will trust that you did not mean to harm, else I would refuse to teach you further. If you were honest and your heart was
pure, then this blessing may cause less evil than I fear, though it will still be the nucleus of more pain than either of us could wish."
Violent trembling overtook Eragon as he realized what he had done to the child's life. "It may not undo my mistake," he said, "but perhaps it will alleviate it; Saphira marked the
girl on the brow, just like she marked my palm with the gedwëy ignasia."
For the first time in his life, Eragon witnessed an elf dumbstruck. Oromis's gray eyes widened, his mouth open, and he clutched the arms of his chair until the wood groaned with
protest. "One who bears the sign of the Riders, and yet is not a Rider," he murmured. "In all my years, I have never met anyone such as the two of you. Every decision you make
seems to have an impact far beyond what anyone could anticipate. You change the world with your whims."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Neither, it just is. Where is the babe now?"
It took a moment for Eragon to compose his thoughts. "With the Varden, either in Farthen Dur or Surda. Do you think that Saphira's mark will help her?"
"I know not," said Oromis. "No precedent exists to draw upon for wisdom."
"There must be ways to remove the blessing, to negate a spell." Eragon was almost pleading.
"There are. But for them to be most effective, you should be the one to apply them, and you cannot be spared here. Even under the best of circumstances, remnants of your magic
will haunt this girl evermore. Such is the power of the ancient language." He paused. "I see that you understand the gravity of the situation, so I will say this only once: you bear
full responsibility for this girl's doom, and, because of the wrong you did her, it is incumbent upon you to help her if ever the opportunity should arise. By the Riders' law, she is
your shame as surely as if you had begotten her out of wedlock, a disgrace among humans, if I remember correctly."
"Aye," whispered Eragon. "I understand." I understand that I forced a defenseless baby to pursue a certain destiny without ever giving her a choice in the matter. Can someone be
truly good if they never have the opportunity to act badly? I made her a slave. He also knew that if he had been bound in that manner without permission, he would hate his jailer
with every fiber of his being.
"Then we will speak of this no more."
"Yes, Ebrithil."
Eragon was still subdued, even depressed, by the end of the day. He barely looked up when they went outside to meet Saphira and Glaedr upon their return. The trees shook from
the fury of the gale that the two dragons created with their wings. Saphira seemed proud of herself; she arched her neck and pranced toward Eragon, opening her chops in a lupine
grin.
A stone cracked under Glaedr's eight as the ancient dragon turned a giant eye – as large as a dinner plate – on Eragon and asked, What are the rules three to spotting downdrafts,
and the rules five for escaping them?
Startled out of his reverie, Eragon could only blink dumbly. "I don't know."
Then Oromis confronted Saphira and asked, "What creatures do ants farm, and how to they extract food from them?"
I wouldn't know, declared Saphira. She sounded affronted.
A gleam of anger leaped into Oromis's eyes and he crossed his arms, though his expression remained calm. "After all the two of you have done together, I would think that you had
learned the most basic lesion of being Shur'tugal: Share everything with your partner. Would you cut off your right arm? Would you fly with only one wing? Never. Then why would
you ignore the bond that links you? By doing so, you reject your greatest gift and your advantage over any single opponent. Nor should you just talk to each other with our minds,
but mingle your consciousnesses until you act and think as one. I expect both of you to know what either one of you is taught."
"What about our privacy?" objected Eragon.
Privacy? Said Glaedr. Keep your thoughts to thyself when you leave here, if it pleases you, but while we tutor you, you have no privacy.
Eragon looked at Saphira, feeling even worse than before. She avoided his gaze, then stamped a food and faced him directly. What?
They're right. We have been negligent.
It's not my fault.
I didn't say that it was. She had guessed his opinion, though. He resented the attention she lavished on Glaedr and how it drew her away from him. We'll do better, won't we?
Of course! She snapped.
She declined to offer Oromis and Glaedr an apology, though, leaving the task to Eragon. "We won't disappoint you again."
"See that you don't. You will be tested tomorrow on what the other learned." Oromis revealed around wood bauble nestled in the middle of his palm. "So long as you take care to
wind it regularly, this device will wake you at the proper time each morning. Return here as soon as you have bathed and eaten."
The bauble was surprisingly heavy when Eragon took it. The size of a walnut, it had been carved with deep whorls around a knob wrought in the likeness of a mossrose blossom.
He turned the knob experimentally and heard three clicks as a hidden ratchet advanced. "Thank you," he said.
Thorn landed heavily behind Nasreen and Andrar, lowering his neck to allow Murtagh off. We certainly aren't getting in there. The doorway was half smashed shut and what
remained was small. At least, not without tearing away what remains of the rubble. I suggest we take a quick flight around to see if there's anything amiss before you head inside.
"Good idea." He said, "Why don't the dragons take a fly around first?"
Kieran looked towards him and nodded, "Probably not a bad idea. This place is a bit unsettling." Her hair was ruffled as the dragons took flight, splitting off to search around some
before returning unscathed.
Nothing particularly unexpected, considering everything, Thorn insisted. We'll remain alert while you go on ahead. Call if you need us.
Murtagh patted his nose a bit before tightening his sword on his hip and heading for the door, the girls following up behind him. When the inside of the tunnel proved too dark, Mariah muttered under her breath until a small ball of fire floated above her head. He smiled a bit, trying not to mention how funny she looked, "Thanks." He turned his eyes back
ahead again and continued.
After a few minutes of walking, Kieran suddenly halted, staring at the ground.
"What is it now?" He asked, turning to look at her.
"There's going to be skeletons all over the place."
He blinked, "Probably. There was a fight here during the Rider War; I'm assuming they didn't drag everyone's body out of here…"
She visibly shivered and hugged herself, squeaking as Mariah and Murtagh took off again ahead of her, nearly tripping as she hurried to catch up.
"Yes, she'll tear into any living thing wit
hout a care, get blood spattered all over her but throw a few bones at her and she's terrified." Murtagh said, chuckling. "Why did you wear
heels again, Kieran?" He asked, listening to them click against the stone floor occasionally.
"These are my riding boots."
"I'd forgotten. I'm sorry." He said, turning his head at the split in the hallway. "Well… which way now?"
"Left." Kieran said, eyeing up another skull sitting atop a spike to their right.
Murtagh headed that way and listened to the creaking noises of old wood as the wind blew into the fortress. When something would snap, dried up dirt would sift through the cracks.
He glanced at the ceiling once in a while, unsure if it would hold while they were underneath it. As they rounded yet another corner, they came to a dead end, the hall filled to the
top with rubble. Murtagh looked around for a moment, trying to see if they could shift any of it, "Not without caving this whole place in, we're going to have to head the other way."
Kieran huffed and turned around, jumping as a rat squealed up at her. "Brisingr!" She threw out her hand and fried it with a quick burst of fire. The charred carcass twitched once
and she kicked it away. She turned and saw them staring at her. "What?"
"…remind me never to jump out and scare you." He said, pushing past her, heading back the other way.
When they arrived back at the spiked skull, Kieran huffed. "Maybe I should go check outside."
"If you want to leave, be my guest Kieran, you're probably scaring the sword off with all your shrieking." He said, looking over at the princess. "I'm sure Mariah and I can handle
whatever's lying ahead: probably more dead people."
She pursed her lips, as if actually thinking about it before shaking her head and walking ahead of him. "I'll come with, you watch, I'll be perfectly fine" She squeaked again as she
tripped, slamming onto the floor and looking up at a decaying, yet fleshy, skull. Her scream echoed for minutes in the hallway after she stopped. He walked over, pulling her back
onto her feet.
"You need new riding boots." He insisted, holding onto her wrist and walking with her down the hall, glancing at Mariah who was just smiling and shaking her head.
At the end of twenty minutes, they arrived at yet another dead end.
"How the hell are we supposed to find anything if the entire place is boarded up like this?" Kieran asked.
Mariah looked around a moment before glancing at her fireball, which was flickering slightly above her. "There's a draft…" she looked towards the wall and walked over, pressing
her hand against the stone. "This section moves… look, you can see where it separates… there must be a switch or something. Help me look."
Kieran stood in the middle of the room, looking around warily as they searched. Finally Murtagh reached around a fallen rafter and pulled a chain down, listening to the doorway
shift and open.
"I'm not going down there." The princess said adamantly.
"Then you're staying here by yourself." He insisted, heading down the staircase, Mariah on his heels. After they had vanished from sight, he could hear her following hurriedly
behind them. At the foot of the stairs, they came upon an open hall, littered with tables and chairs. "It's like the whole place collapsed during the battle, everything's practically
intact."
"Just a whole level down," Mariah added, looking past him. "Let's find the sword. It seems like a Rider would have defended from air, but if they were trapped down here then the
sword could have easily fallen into a crevice or something."
"We'll just have to keep looking," he insisted, heading into the room. Kieran followed behind Mariah, crawling out of her skin at the skeletal figures littering the room. Swords, axes
and lances impaling some, cracking into others' skulls, all in all it was a little unsettling. They preceded to yet another doorway without much delay.
In this hall, there were lit torches. Murtagh froze and stared at them. "Someone's been here recently." He put a hand on his sword, able to hear someone talking up ahead. He drew
his bow and knocked an arrow, creeping around the corner before glaring back at Kieran. "Stay still, everyone will hear you coming." She blinked at him and stopped moving. He
sighed inwardly and turned back, looking around the corner and seeing nothing. Lowering his bow a bit, he advanced and narrowed his eyes.
The muttering was coming from a hooded figure hunched over a table. A burnt smell hung in the air. He strained his ears and listened. The muttering was repetitive, a chanting
rhythm. He glanced between the flickering candles and stared as unnatural wind began blowing. From behind him he heard one of the girls gasp before the bow was ripped from his
hands.
Mariah drew back the bow and shot them in the back. A hiss and they turned around, shouting inaudibly with a hand pointed towards them. Feral creatures swept towards them
from the darkness. Murtagh drew his sword and blinked as a wolf chomped down on the blade, biting rapidly; chewing on what he hoped was flesh. He stared at the creature for a moment, dumbfounded. Its eyes were bleeding and fur was missing in clumps along his body. In some places, bones were exposed. As it turned its face, the skin around its left jaw
was missing entirely, showing off the sharpened teeth along its mouth.
Twisting, he stabbed downward, pinning its head to the ground. It was still squirming and trying to bite at him, the attack not so much as startling it. Why should it? The creature
was already dead. He glanced at Kieran who was throwing fire at a group of undead birds. Mariah was already pinioned by a larger wolf. He left his sword in the wolf's skull and
rushed over, knocking the animal back with a burst of magic, "Thrysta!" It slammed back into a wall, breaking its back leg. He watched as it stood back up, and then crouched low,
ready to attack again.
Murtagh turned his gaze back to the person standing by the table. He snatched Mariah's sword and rushed toward them, slashing into their chest, spurting blood all over himself and
the wall. She fell to the ground, clutching her wound and trying to heal herself. After a few struggling moments, the woman fell still. The scratching and growling coming from the
wolf Murtagh had pinned ceased, the flapping wings of feral birds stopped as they dropped from the air and the wolf that had since resumed mauling Mariah fell into a heap onto her
chest.
He hurried back to her, shoving the animal off and looking her over for wounds. She coughed and sat up slowly, holding onto her left arm, the one she'd been using to shield
herself.
Kieran walked past them, ignoring the scratches and bits of missing flesh from her arms and face, walking to the table and stabbing downward with her dagger, jerking it to the side
with finality. Her eyes were wide as she stared. "…as daring as my father is, he usually doesn't delve into necromancy like this." She stood up straighter again and looked at
Murtagh.
Pulling Mariah to her feet, holding onto her, he asked, "What do you mean?"
"This… witch…" she spat, "was practicing necromancy. Somehow managing to breathe life into the dead. Those animals had been killed before… and so had he." She motioned to the
table where her dagger was sticking out of a young man's chest. "I wonder where her research notes are…"
He stared at her as she began digging around the room. "You're kidding me right Kieran… we're here to find a Rider's blade, not a recipe for resurrecting the dead."
"Father would be pleased if we brought something like this back to him. Besides, we can't just leave it lying around here." Kieran said, "Besides, I already found the sword." Murtagh watched her pick up the sword from the table. "She must have been using the energy stored in it to help with her resurrection process… pretty clever really."
&n
bsp; "Alright, can we go now? I think Mariah needs some serious help and this dark dungeon is not the place to do it in." He said, stabilizing her as she swayed in his grip. Murtagh
winced and picked her up, carrying her back down the hallway. Kieran looked around the room quickly, snatching up everything she could find and jamming it in the witch's bag
before running after him.
After Eragon and Saphira had said their farewells, they flew back to their tree house with Saphira's new saddle dangling between her front claws. Without acknowledging the fact,
they gradually opened their minds and allowed their connections to widen and deepen, though neither of them consciously reached for the other. Eragon's tumultuous emotions must
have been strong enough for Saphira to sense anyway, though, she asked, What happened, then?
A throbbing pain built up behind his eyes as he explained the terrible crime he had committed in Farthen Dur. Saphira was as appalled by it as he was. He said, Your gift may help
that girl, but what I did is inexcusable and will only hurt her.
The blame isn't all yours. I share your knowledge of the ancient language, and I didn't spot the error any more than you did. When Eragon remained silent, she added,
back didn't cause you any trouble today. Be grateful for that.
He grunted, unwilling to be tempted out of his black mood. And what did you learn this fine day?
How to identify and avoid dangerous weather patterns. She paused, apparently ready to share the memories with him, but he was too busy worrying about his distorted blessing to
inquire further. Nor could he bear the thought to being so intimate right then. Whenhe did not pursue the matter, Saphira withdrew into a taciturn silence.
Back in their bedroom, he found a tray of food by the screen door, as he had the previous night. Carrying the tray to his bed – which had been remade with fresh linens – he settled
down to eat, cursing the lack of meat. Already sore from the Rimgar, he propped himself up with pillows and was about to take his first bite when there came a gentle rapping at
the opening to his chamber. "Enter," he growled. He took a drink of water.
The Black Morass Page 55