The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  Kieran shrugged. "Do you need to know?"

  "Well… no."

  "Your curiosity is going to get us both killed."

  "Thanks Kieran."

  "No problem." She stood and tapped her lips, searching through the library until she found what she was looking for. Returning to Mariah, she set down a book with Elvish written in

  it. "Now it's my turn." Sighing, she nodded and taught the princess what she could throughout the remainder of the day.

  In the afternoon, they replaced their study materials before heading back to their quarters. Kieran smiled at her before going to her wing, leaving Mariah twist down another hall to

  her own room. She pushed the door open and paused at the small stack of books sitting atop the table by the fireplace. Holding her breath, she moved to the table and traced the

  cover with her fingertips. Pulling the black cover back, her eyes flashed over the page, turning until something soaked up her attention.

  One of the higher passes of the Spine left them with a breathtaking view of the ocean. The sun bled into the water, turning the tide crimson and gold. She smiled and sat on the

  edge, dangling her feet over a sheer drop of several hundred feet. He sat down beside her; leaning against her shoulder, cheek against her hair.

  "We only did this once, and yet you remember it so vividly…"

  She nodded. "Of course, this is my favorite sunset." Mariah hummed at the sound of his heartbeat, turning her face to him. Her nose brushed against his and she tipped her head up

  to kiss him gently.

  At a loud lightning crack Mariah woke slowly from her dream and sighed, dressing methodically and heading down the massive staircase. Rain pounded heavily against the windows.

  Andrar?

  I am alright my dear, it's just a little rain. He tucked his wing in tighter to his side, curled up with Nasreen, huddled against the side of the castle blocking the wind.

  Very well… She continued to the dining hall, pausing as she entered. Missing from the table were Pearce and Odette, along with Kieran, though that wasn't too unusual. It was true

  princesses needed their beauty sleep.

  "If you're looking for the others, they're downstairs…" Camilla surveyed her nails as Belladonna curled around her ankles. Her eyes flashed up towards Mariah. "Hopefully you aren't

  too late."

  She bolted down the hallway, taking the stairs down two at a time, falling into the wall as she reached the floor. Mariah went skidding around the corner, nearly tripping on the

  polished floors. Launching forward, she heaved the door open, her knees going weak.

  "They both just hatched…" Kieran said as Mariah appeared in the doorway, "Didn't force them this time at all." She had her arms cross over her chest as she watched the scene

  unfold in front of her.

  Mariah stopped and stared at the eggs cracked on the floor, one shining copper and the other a stunning turquoise. Pearce scooped up the copper dragon in his arms, the large

  hatchling rumbling a purr as a silver circle appeared on his right hand. Kneeling, Odette twirled the turquoise dragon's tail around her fingers, smiling slightly.

  Galbatorix waved Pearce and Odette away. "Good, now you may leave. I expect both of you tomorrow morning, with the rest of the group in the courtyard." The dragons chirped at

  one another until they were both being held and brought away quickly. He turned to Kieran and Mariah. "Now that the dragons are all hatched, let us begin the final phases of our

  plans. I have nine of my thirteen Forsworn… the Shadeslayer makes ten. Your brother, Mariah, would become my eleventh if you are able to persuade him to join us. That leaves

  two, and there are indeed enough dragons now for us to be able to have several clutches of eggs within the next year."

  Glancing over, Mariah observed the last remaining. An emerald egg sitting nestled atop its pedestal. She turned her attention back to Galbatorix as he spoke to her. "I have

  promised you gifts in the past. If you would, I present them to you now… this way." He turned and swept from the egg's room and into a series of hallways. Here there were hordes

  of treasure piling up in the catacombs, giant mounds of gold that would make any noble jealous.

  He turned down another hall, pushing open a door. Before her was a mass of weapons and armor, unlike anything she had seen before. Shining blades as though they had been

  forged yesterday and glittering gems embedded in the hilts. Brilliant fabrics and clothing in colors that she thought impossible to recreate, laced with embroidery and delicate

  details.

  A quick touch out towards the objects, and she felt a magical pressure; a spell warding corrosive damage to the items in the room. Galbatorix walked forward, waving his hand

  towards a set of armor. "This here and any Rider's blade you find will belong to you when the eve of battle arrives."

  Mariah reached out and touched the silver metal, filigreed with intricate swirls and curves. "This is elvish make… no human could have forged this… and no dwarf made this armor."

  "Indeed." He motioned to the end of the room where there was a line of Rider's weapons hanging from the wall. Their brightsteel blades were unmistakable. Mariah stepped over,

  observing the swords for a moment, pausing at the sight of a sapphire blue blade, reminding her of Saphira. Finally, she reached out for a stunning orange and gold hilted

  longsword, a stunning gemstone settled in the hilt, with brightsteel the color of the setting sun, with it a matching dagger. "An excellent choice."

  She looked at the rune on the thin sword and smiled gently, running her fingers along the engraving on the brightsteel. "Ancalë… Radiant One." He took the blade from her

  delicately. "I will have them readied for you. When you march onto the field of battle, these will be with you. Now, I have some preparations to make." Galbatorix waved the two

  girls off, closing the door to the treasury behind them, striding off into the catacombs. "Lucky you…" Kieran said, heading upstairs with her. "I'm going to spend the day beating the

  stuffing out of Innes. Since he got his damned dragon, he thinks he can say whatever he wants to me. You want to join?" "No… thank you," Mariah said. Kieran shrugged and stalked

  off to the dining hall. A moment later, she was shouting at the blond man who was exchanging equally venomous words with the princess. They didn't even make it outside into the

  rain before Eirian had been drawn.

  The days leading up to the AgaetÍ Blödhren were the best and worst of times for Eragon. His back troubled him more than ever, battering down his health and endurance and

  destroying his calm of mind; he lived in constant fear of triggering an episode. Yet, in contrast, he and Saphira had never been so close. They lived as much in each other's minds

  as in their own. And every now and then Arya would visit the tree house and walk through Ellesméra with Eragon and Saphira. She never came alone, though, always bringing

  either Orik or Maud the werecat.

  Over the course of their wanderings, Arya introduced Eragon and Saphira to elves of distinction: great warriors, poets, and artists. She took them to concerts held under the

  thatched pines. And she showed them many hidden wonders of Ellesméra.

  Eragon seized every opportunity to talk with her. He told her about his upbringing in Palancar Valley, about Roran, Garrow, and his aunt Marian, stories about the time he spent

  growing up alongside Mark and Mariah, stories of Sloan, Ethlbert, and the other villagers, and his love of the mountains surrounding Carvahall and the flaming sheets of light that

  adorned the winter sky at night. He told her about the time a vixen fell into Gedric's tanning vats and had to be fished out with a net. He told her about the joy he found in planting

  a crop, weeding and nurturing it, and watching the tender green shoots grow under his care – joy that he knew
she, of all people, could appreciate.

  In turn, Eragon gleaned occasional insights into her own life. He heard mentions of her childhood, her friends and family, and her experiences among the Varden, which she spoke

  about most freely, describing raids and battles she participated in, treaties she helped to negotiate, her disputes with the dwarves, and the momentous events she witnessed during

  her tenure as ambassador.

  Between her and Saphira, a measure of peace entered Eragon's heart, but it was a precarious balance that the slightest influence might disrupt. Time itself was an enemy, for Arya

  was destined to leave Du Weldenvarden after the Agaetí Blödhren. Thus, Eragon treasured his moments with her and dreaded the arrival of the forthcoming celebration and losing

  one of his few true friends among the elves.

  The entire city bustled with activity as the elves prepared for the Agaetí Blödhren. Eragon had never seen them so excited before. They decorated the forest with colored bunting

  and lanterns, especially around the Menoa tree, while the tree itself was adorned with a lantern upon the tip of each branch, where the hung like glowing teardrops. Even the plants,

  Eragon noticed, took on a festive appearance with a collection of bright new flowers. He often heard the elves singing to them late at night.

  Each day hundreds of elves arrived in Ellesméra from their cities scattered throughout the woods, for no elf would willingly miss the centennial observance of their treaty with the

  dragons. Eragon guessed that many of them also came to meet Saphira. It seems as if I do nothing but repeat their greeting, he thought. The elves who were absent because of

  their responsibilities would hold their own festivities simultaneously and would participate in the ceremonies at Ellesméra by scrying through enchanted mirrors that displayed the

  likeness of those watching, so that no one felt as if they were being spied upon.

  Narrowing his eyes, he could see the outline of a city in the distance. Closer yet however, buried amongst the landscape was a large campsite. Galbatorix had said there were

  resistance fighters near Furnost, but if they honestly thought that they could camp in plain view, they were daft. He saw horses tied up just past the tents and lowered his gaze to

  the ground below. A horse would be a better way to get into the city unnoticed. Many would question him simply walking in without supplies for a long journey.

  Land. We'll camp here tonight. Murtagh felt a rush of air as Thorn spiraled downward, snapping his wings out and landing on the north side of a large hill, dotted with tall fir trees.

  He curled up in the growing shadows of sunset and allowed his Rider from his back. He went to remove the saddle when Thorn growled.

  Leave it hatchling. It would be best, in the event we need to leave in a hurry. I do not like you being alone and I want to be able to assist you if need be.

  Murtagh nodded and patted his nose. "I'll see you later Thorn."

  Be safe.

  He pulled the black leather belt around his waist and tied his sword to it. His bow and arrow slung across his back, he rounded the hill and headed for the camp quietly. The land

  was rocky and he had to mind his footing or risk slipping, more than once did he have to catch himself with magic to avoid falling. Murtagh paused underneath a tree, glancing

  between the tents and the horses. The clearing was up against a heavy tree line, but the other side was completely barren. Naturally, that was where the horses were tethered.

  Biting his lip, he circled around and stepped from the line of trees, one hand on his sword. Minding his steps, he crept from heel to toe. Halfway there he heard a soft rustle and

  tightened his grip. A lose flap from the tent beside him wavered and a shadow moved from beneath it. A pair of gold eyes glared up at him as a rippling snarl sounded low in its

  throat, breaking off as it snapped at his ankles.

  Murtagh scrambled back, drawing his sword, and inhaled sharply at the cold dagger pressed against his throat. A foot slipped under his shin and tripped him, shoving him forward to

  the ground. He twisted as he went, snarling, reaching up and grabbing at the wrist of his attacker as she pounced on him, twisting her arm and forcing her to drop the knife. He

  stared up into midnight blue eyes and faltered.

  Her other hand was already reaching for another knife when her lips stopped moving, the swell of magic leaving her veins. She stilled, able to hear her pounding heart and his

  heavy breathing. Kendra finally let out a shaky breath and stood up. Murtagh pushed off the ground, elbowing his sword sheath out of the way before reaching over to brush her

  hair from her face. His fingers arced around her ear before his hand dropped to his side.

  "Sorry about Nyx." Kendra's words came out in a whisper, her eyes still taking him in.

  Murtagh watched her face, noting her biting her lip and sweeping her tongue across to wet them slightly as she turned her face downward. "He always did like to bite me."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Sneaking into Furnost… I was going to steal one of your horses."

  "You bastard." Their eyes met again and a halfgrin spread across her face. With a single step she was pressed against him, throwing her arms around his waist. Murtagh wrapped

  his arms around her shoulders, placing his cheek on her hair, letting out a relieved sigh. He felt her exhale shakily and moved his head away, alarmed. She shook her head and

  buried her face in his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat.

  A ragged breath racked her body again as she pulled away, balling up her hands. "I thought you were gone." Her hands shook. "You know how long I looked for you? Do you?" She

  huffed through her tears. "You must have been dead, or caught by Galbatorix… and I… I couldn't bear either of those thoughts."

  His mouth attempted words, but no noise escaped his throat. His face pained, he finally managed to speak. "Can we… talk?"

  She shook as she moved ahead of him. They rounded the tent and an arrow whipped past her, shooting into Murtagh's side, grazing him – a warning shot. He swore under his

  breath and glared up at the guard. Kendra gritted her teeth. "He's fine, go back to your watch."

  She glanced back at Murtagh, eyeing the wound but saying nothing more of it as she slipped back into her tent with Nyx, muttering a spell and lighting the candles, afterward

  putting up sound wards so that the others wouldn't wake again to their voices. Murtagh stepped after her and blinked at the maps and battle plans lay out before him on the table.

  He looked back at Kendra as she sunk down into a chair. "…what have you been doing?"

  "Fighting him. Recently, with the Varden's help…" she croaked out. "Where have you been?"

  "Hiding…" Murtagh said, noting how cowardly it made him feel while he stood next to her. Laid across the table were her months of effort working against the Empire, and here he

  was. Watching her as her tears started to dry, he asked, "Are you alright?"

  Kendra nodded. "Sorry, it was just a surprise to find out you were alive. Someone told me they saw you taken in Farthen Dûr…"

  "Knocked out after a bloody battle, but I made it out. Some of the others weren't so lucky." She nodded, letting the silence overtake them. Nyx prowled around Murtagh for a moment before going off and curling up in a corner. The Rider shuffled his feet, unable to bear the silence with everything else weighing on him. "Your hair is really long."

  "Yeah."

  "I mean… it was above your shoulders the last I remember."

  "I like it like this, though it does get in the way." Kendra said, playing with the ends.

  As he watched her, his chest ached, remembering the last time he had seen her it had been almost a year. At the castle, Kieran had been a constant reminder of her, but she had

  always paled in comparison. He watched as she brushed
away the last of her tears, it made her seem vulnerable, and he wasn't used to it. She didn't usually cry in front of anyone.

  "Yes?"

  He blinked. "What?"

  "You're staring."

  "It's just… been a while."

  She nodded, standing back up. "How much do you know about what's going on?"

  Murtagh shook his head. "Not much." He followed her over to the table. Kendra pointed, starting with Furnost and then gliding her finger through Surda and some of the southern

  cities. She told him where they had spies located, how many. The troop numbers made his heart sink. If Galbatorix decided to march on them they would be no match. He assumed

  he, Kieran, and Mariah alone could destroy most of, if not their entire army, given enough time.

  She leaned across the table in front of him, splaying her palms on the wood and moved a few pins, glancing up at him. "I've even spoken with their leader, a woman named

  Nasuada. We're as prepared as we can be with the information that we have. Between my group, Black Lightning, and the Varden, and King Orrin's assistance in Surda, I think

  we've got a good chance to hold our own against his army. Even if he does have a few Dragon Riders." She looked at his face and sighed. "Besides Kieran… there's at least one more. From what my spies have told me. Another girl... the Varden's one Rider is probably no match for Kieran though…"

  Murtagh managed to bob his head, fingers gripping the edge of the table at the thought of Eragon. Leaning over the table he attempted to memorize the map, trying to figure out

  where to attack. If he could guide Galbatorix into doing the least amount of damage while making headway for the heart of their army, he could minimize casualties and hopefully

  spare more than anticipated. Kendra moved a few more pins, brushing her hand past his.

  She paused and set down the last marker. "You met the Rider."

  "I did," he said, watching her.

  "I met someone… his name is Mark. He said that you were taken along with his sister. He said you traveled with them for a while."

  Murtagh tensed for a moment. "It was how I managed to get to the Varden, despite my best attempts at avoiding it."