"I can't leave Nasuada"
Kendra turned her horse and trotted off, not so much as glancing at him. Moaning slightly, Mark directed Aluora to follow. The princess was being particularly moody after her spat
with Rowan. The two hadn't talked in a few days. If they were in the same room with one another, the tension could be cut with a dagger.
"What do you want Kendra?" Mark repeated.
She swung Lynette in front of him, her eyes steely. "My kingdom. Now are you going to help me, or are you going to prance around your lady until she wins the war with lace and
silk?"
He held her gaze for a moment, deciding whether or not to question her. "How long would we be gone?"
"You could die, so potentially forever."
"Do you want me to switch sides now?" He asked, "I stayed with the Varden to assist Nasuada, and now I find myself in the company of you, Princess. What would you have me
do?"
"Tell her you have more important things to do," she insisted. "It's clearly in everyone's best interest to have you with me, now that we know the full extent of Galbatorix's plans. We need you with me."
"I'm flattered you've taken such a liking to me." Mark smirked a bit. "But that still doesn't change the fact that I am trying to help guide Nasuada"
The woman laughed. "You've done a hell of a job lately."
She was right. He had been less than helpful to Nasuada since his first runin with Kendra and her companions. It wasn't possible for him to be in two places at once. As much as he
tried to think of a solution, he couldn't. If Kendra needed his help elsewhere, then he couldn't do much to argue with that. "What do you need me for?"
"I'm traveling to the edge of Surda to set up a new base, closer to Urû'baen. Hopefully, with enough distance, we'd have time to warn the Varden should something happen." She
looked over the people tending to their livestock. "It would hopefully buy you enough time to be ready. I just need you for a week or so, to come with me while I travel and get
everything set up. I would appreciate your help with warding the new base and making sure we're hidden from the Empire's magicians."
Mark nodded. "I'll accompany you. Just let me talk to Nasuada before we leave. I take it you'd like to go as soon as possible?"
"Tonight, yes," she said. Circling around him on her horse, she finally let a smile slip across her face. "Meet me back here at sundown." Mark watched as she galloped off, back to
the city, Nyx trotting out of the woods nearby and loping after her.
At a sign from Oromis, Eragon handed the tablet to him. The elf studied it for a minute, then said, "You have an unusual way of thinking, Eragonfiniarel. Most humans have
difficulty achieving the proper concentration to create a recognizable image. You, on the other hand, seem to observe nearly everything about whatever interests you. It's a narrow
focus, though. You have the same problem here that you do with your meditation. You must relax, broaden your field of vision, and allow yourself to absorb everything around you
without judging what is important or not." Setting aside the picture, Oromis took a second, blank tablet from the grass and gave it to Eragon. "Try again with what I"
"Hail, Rider!"
Startled, Eragon turned and saw Orik and Arya emerge side by side from the forest. The dwarf raised his arm in greeting. His beard was freshly trimmed and braided, his hair was
pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he work a new tunic – courtesy of the elves – that was red and brown and embroidered with gold thread. His appearance gave no indication of
his condition the previous night.
Eragon, Oromis, and Arya exchanged the traditional greeting, then, abandoning the ancient language, Oromis asked, "To what may I attribute this visit? You are both welcome to my
hut, but as you can see, I am in the midst of working with Eragon, and that is of paramount importance."
"I apologize for disturbing you, Oromiselda," said Arya, "but"
"The fault is mine," said Orik. He glanced at Eragon before continuing: "I was sent here by Hrothgar to ensure that Eragon receives the instruction he is due. I have no doubt that he
is, but I am obliged to see his training with my own eyes so that when I return to Tronjheim, I may give my king a true account of events."
Oromis said, "That which I teach to Eragon is not to be shared with anyone else. The secrets of the Riders are for him alone."
"And I understand that. However, we live in uncertain times; the stone that once was fixed and solid is now unstable. We must adapt to survive. So much depends on Eragon; we
dwarves have a right to verify that his training proceeds as promised. Do you believe our request is an unreasonable one?"
"Well spoken, Master Dwarf," said Oromis. He tapped his fingers together, inscrutable as always. "May I assume, then, that this is a matter of duty for you?"
"Duty and honor."
"And neither will allow you to yield on this point?"
"I fear not, Oromiselda," said Orik.
"Very well. You may stay and watch for the duration of this lesson. Will that satisfy you?"
Orik frowned. "Are you near the end of the lesson?"
"We have just begun."
"Then yes, I will be satisfied. For the moment, at least."
While they spoke, Eragon tried to catch Arya's eye, but she kept her attention centered on Oromis.
"…Eragon!"
He blinked, jolted out of his reverie. "Yes, Master?"
"Don't wander, Eragon. I want you to make another fairth. Keep your mind open, like I told you before."
"Yes, Master." Eragon hefted the tablet, his hands slightly damp at the thought of having Orik and Arya there to judge his performance. He wanted to do well in order to prove that
Oromis was a good teacher. Even so, he could not concentrate on the pine needles and sap; Arya tugged at him like a lodestone, drawing his attention back to her whenever he
thought of something else.
He struggled with the distraction that was Arya and closed his eyes tight for a moment. Perhaps Arya was just that – a distraction. She distracted him from training, from thinking
about anything else. The sheelf had preoccupied his mind so much of late he'd started wondering if he was, indeed, trying to replace her with Mariah. Eragon grappled with the
thoughts in his head for a moment before opening his eyes again, trying once more to focus on something, anything but the sheelf.
At last he realized that it was futile for him to resist the attraction. He composed an image of her in his head – which took but a heartbeat, since he knew her features better than
his own – and voiced the spell in the ancient language, pouring all of his adoration, love, and fear of her into the currents of fey magic.
The result left him speechless.
The fairth depicted Arya's head and shoulders against a dark, indistinct background. She was bathed in firelight on her right side and gazed out at the viewer with knowing eyes,
appearing not just as she was but as he thought of her: mysterious, exotic, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was a flawed, imperfect picture, but it possessed
such intensity and passion that it evoked a visceral response from Eragon. Is this how I really see her? Whoever this woman was, she was so wise, so powerful, and so hypnotic,
she could consume any lesser man.
From a great distance, he heard Saphira whisper. Be careful…
"What have you wrought, Eragon?" demanded Oromis.
"I… I don't know." Eragon hesitated as Oromis extended his hand for the fairth, reluctant to let the others examine his work, especially Arya. After a long, terrifying pause, Eragon
pried his fingers off the tablet and released it to Oromis.
The elf's expression grew stern as he looked at the fairth, then back at Eragon, who quailed under the weight of his stare. Withou
t a work, Oromis handed the tablet to Arya.
Her hair obscured her face as she bowed over the tablet, but Eragon saw cords and veins ridge her hands as she clenched the slate. It shook in her grip.
"Well, what is it?" asked Orik.
Raising the fairth over her head, Arya hurled it against the ground, shattering the picture into a thousand pieces. Then she drew herself upright and, with great dignity, walked past
Eragon, across the clearing, and into the tangled depths of Du Weldenvarden.
Orik picked up one of the fragments of slate. It was blank. The image had vanished when the tablet broke. He tugged his beard. In all the decades I've known her, Arya has never
lost her temper like that. Never. What did you do, Eragon?"
Dazed, Eragon said, "A portrait of her."
Orik frowned, obviously puzzled. "A portrait? Why would that"
"I think it would be best if you left now," said Oromis. "The lesson is over, in any case. Come back tomorrow or the day after if you want a better idea of Eragon's progress."
The dwarf squinted at Eragon, then nodded and brushed the dirt from his palms. "Yes, I believe I'll do that. Thank you for your time, Oromiselda. I appreciate it." As he headed
back toward Ellesméra, he said over his shoulder to Eragon, "I'll be in the common room of Tialdari Hall, if you want to talk."
"A week?" Nasuada looked up at him, sighing. "Marcus, you know I need you here."
"I understand, and I am sure nothing will go horribly wrong within a week. If this works, then we'll have vital time to prepare in the event Galbatorix does decide to attack us. M'lady, if it were not so important I wouldn't leave you."
She put her fingers gently against her forehead, shaking her head. "If you must go, then do so. The second you return, I want you here again." Nasuada stood, walking to him. "And
be careful. I don't trust her."
"You don't need to worry about me. Please make sure you maintain the utmost caution while I'm gone. It's you that we should be concerned about." Mark insisted, watching her. "If
something were to happen to you, all hope would be lost."
She brushed the thought away, "If something were to happen to me, the resistance would be that much stronger. I have no intention of dying this week. Just be sure that you are
back in that time. I don't even know where to send a search party to if you don't return." Nasuada had her back turned to him now, watching him in the mirror of her chambers.
He inclined his head with a small bow. "Until later then Nasuada." She watched him shut the door behind him and fell down into a chair, huffing with annoyance.
Mark sighed and paused just outside her door, trying to decide whether it was worse when Kendra was upset with him, or Nasuada. Both women were fierce in their own right and
he didn't want to be on either's bad side. "If only there was a way to get them to cooperate with one another, then I wouldn't be running around like this all the time…" He muttered
under his breath, making his way back to his room.
The small room in the castle he'd procured for himself was neatly cluttered with books and scrolls. Mark had borrowed many and bought few. Whenever he saw an opportunity to
acquire something new he took it upon himself to sequester it. Not one of them had been noticed missing. He moved to pick up an empty bag from the foot of his bed, throwing it
atop the blankets before searching through the room for what he'd need for the trip with Kendra. After thoroughly packing, he threw the bag over his shoulder and stepped back out,
twisting the lock shut with his magic quietly as he left. A guard down the hall turned away when he was spotted watching Mark, who merely rolled his eyes before traversing
through the castle back to the main gate.
He made his way down to the stables, finding Aluora and saddling her once again. It was such a routine now, he barely thought as he pulled the buckles tight around her. Lifting his
head, he saw Kendra standing on the opposite side of his shehorse, raising an eyebrow at him.
"You look so enthusiastic." She watched him flip the reins over Aluora's head.
He paused, glancing over to the woman. "I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to stand being in the same vicinity as you for a week. I could barely tolerate a day with you
before."
Kendra scowled at him, "How'd you become such a bastard?"
"It's the only way I know how to be." Mark said, pulling himself up in to Aluora's saddle, wheeling around Kendra, looking down at the princess. "Can't make it far in this life being
the noble one, you of all people should know that." He smirked and trotted his shehorse out of the stables before letting her canter down the streets of Aberon.
Upon finding Angela's shop, he halted Aluora and took a glance inside. "Angela?"
A grubby cat opened one eye towards him, huffing and swishing his tail dismissively before rolling over so he wouldn't have to look at the man anymore.
"She must still be at the castle." He muttered, stepping inside, looking around her shop. The cat growled low in his chest before finally getting up and sitting on the counter. "What?"
Solembum twitched his whiskers, batting at a blue vial with his paw, watching it fall over and roll towards the edge of the counter with satisfaction. Mark jumped and dove for it,
catching it just before it shattered against the floor. He glared at the werecat, "I should tell Angela that you nearly broke it giving it to me."
He hissed at the man before jumping down and stalking off to find a dark corner to sleep in. Mark got his legs beneath him again and tucked the vial into his chest pocket. He
watched the cat vanish before turning back outside, remounting Aluora. The sun was just beginning to set as he turned her towards the exit of the city, spurring her into a gallop,
racing to the top of the hill.
When Orik was gone, Oromis lifted the hem of his tunic, knelt, and began to gather up the remains of the tablet. Eragon watched him, unable to move.
"Why?" he asked in the ancient language.
"Perhaps," said Oromis, "Arya was frightened by you."
"Frightened? She never gets frightened." Even as he said it, Eragon knew that it was not true. She just concealed her fear better than most. Dropping to one knee, he took a piece
of the fairth and pressed it into Oromis's palm. "Why would I frighten her?" he asked. "Please, tell me."
Oromis stood and walked to the edge of the stream, where he scattered the fragments of slate over the bank, letting the gray flakes trickle through his fingers. "Fairths only show
what you want them to. It's possible to lie with them, to create a false image, but to do so re quires more skill than you yet have. Arya knows this. She also knows, then, that your
fairth was an accurate representation of your feelings for her."
"But why would that frighten her?"
Oromis smiled sadly. "Because it revealed the depth of your infatuation." He pressed his fingertips together, forming a series of arches. "Let us analyze the situation, Eragon. While
you are old enough to be considered a man among your people, in our eyes, you are no more than a child." Eragon frowned, hearing echoes of Saphira's words from the previous
nights. "Normally, I would not compare a human's age to an elf's, but since you share our longevity, you must also be judged by our standards.
"And you are a Rider. We rely upon you to help us defeat Galbatorix; it could be disastrous for everyone in Alagaësia if you are distracted from your studies.
"Now then," said Oromis, "how should Arya have responded to your fairth? It's clear that you see her in a romantic light, yet – while I have no doubt Arya is fond of you – a union
between the two of you is impossible due to your own youth, culture, race, and responsibilities. Your interest has placed Arya in an uncomfortable position. She dare not confront
you, for fear of disrupting your
training. But, as the queen's daughter, she cannot ignore you and risk offending a Rider – especially one upon which so much depends… Even if you
were a fit match, Arya would refrain from encouraging you so that you could devote all of your energy to the task at hand. She would sacrifice her happiness for the greater good."
Oromis's voice thickened: "You must understand, Eragon, that slaying Galbatorix is more important than any one person. Nothing else matters." He paused, his gaze gentle, then
added, "Given the circumstances, is it so strange Arya was frightened that your feelings for her could endanger everything we have worked for?"
Eragon shook his head. He was ashamed that his behavior had caused Arya distress, and dismayed by how reckless and juvenile he had been. I could have avoided this entire mess
if I'd just kept better control of myself.
Touching him on the shoulder, Oromis guided him back inside the hut. "Think not that I am devoid of sympathy, Eragon. Everyone experiences ardor like yours at one point or
another during their lives. It's part of growing up. I also know how hard it is for you to deny yourself the usual comforts of life, but it's necessary if we are to prevail."
"Yes, Master."
They sat at the kitchen table, and Oromis began to lay out writing material for Eragon to practice the Liduen Kvaedhi. "It would be unreasonable of me to expect you to forget your
fascination with Arya, but I do expect you to prevent it from interfering with my instruction again. Can you promise me that?"
"Yes, Master. I promise."
"And Arya? What would be the honorable thing to do about her predicament?"
Eragon hesitated. "I don't want to lose her friendship."
"No."
"Therefore… I will go to her, I will apologize, and I will reassure her that I never intend to cause her such hardship again." It was difficult for him to say, but once he did, he felt a
sense of relief, as if acknowledging his mistake cleansed him of it.
Oromis appeared pleased. "By that alone, you prove that you have matured."
The sheets of paper were smooth underneath Eragon's hands as he pressed them flat against the tabletop. He stared at the blank white expanse for a moment, then dipped a quill in
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