The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  stepping out from behind Mark. "I need you to assist Mark in destroying whatever spies Galbatorix has sent here. All of them."

  Kendra blinked at the leader of the Varden. "That is already one of the purposes of my stealing him away so often. The Black Hand cannot be allowed to thrive."

  She looked between the two of them and nodded. "It seems I have placed my faith in good hands. Both of you will be in charge, use my men as you see fit. Du Vrangr Gata is also

  at your disposal." Trianna scoffed and folded her arms under her bust.

  Kendra nodded, pivoting on her heel and moving from the room, Nyx ahead of her, pausing only to stare at the silver mark on Elva's forehead the same as on the hand of her

  sister. The girl stared at her and smiled cruelly, whispering one word in her eerie adult voice, "Traitor." She flinched and stepped from Nasuada's quarters not waiting for Mark.

  Following her, Mark paused only to incline his head to Elva. "I appreciate you saving Nasuada's life, Elva."

  "I do as I must, Marcus..." Her grin was vicious as she looked at him. Your future has not changed, despite your attempts at altering your fate. Pain. Heartache. Agony. Are you

  prepared to harm one close to you in order to keep another safe?

  The echo of her previous prophecy struck him to the bone. He blinked at her silvermarked forehead. And what do you know of my future, Elva?

  Her face went blank as he responded, staring into his eyes. Holding her gaze for a moment, he nodded to her before leaving the room. Matching stride with Kendra, he grasped her

  just above her elbow and marched her to his room, slamming the door shut and locked behind him once Nyx was inside. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

  She sunk into a chair slowly, putting her face in her hands. "I… saw one of Galbatorix's Riders."

  "Your sister or mine?"

  "Murtagh."

  He stilled and watched her. "He's alive. And… how…?"

  "He came across our camp, no one died. His dragon is huge… Galbatorix must have done something to it. But that makes at least three… I doubt your friend's dragon is a match for

  three."

  "No… she's not." He said, kneeling in front of her. "Kendra… are you alright?" She clenched and unclenched her hand until he set his hand on her shoulder. Finally, she looked up at

  him and let out a dry sob. She careened into him; in response he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him as he knelt on the floor.

  "They're going to attack soon; their army is already on the move. We're… not ready. Your Rider can't get back in time… and even if he did..."

  "He'd be incinerated in a matter of moments..." He stared at the wall over her shoulder. Murtagh was a dragon rider for Galbatorix, just like his father. It was bad enough that

  Kieran was the daughter of Galbatorix, but now Murtagh. He felt the flicker of hope inside his chest shudder at the thought.

  "Mark, this wasn't supposed to happen."

  "…what happened exactly? When you saw him?"

  "I was so happy to see him," she said, looking up at Mark. "I didn't realize what Galbatorix had done to him."

  Mark shook his head. "He didn't hurt you?"

  "No."

  "That's… strange. It seems like he would have been told to capture you if he did find you."

  "I don't think it was planned," Kendra admitted. "But if Galbatorix finds out what I've been doing… Mark I told Murtagh all of the battle plans we had so far. He knows everything. I

  wouldn't have said anything had I realized… I'm sorry. I was blinded."

  He nodded, "He deceived you."

  She turned her face to the ground, blushing fiercely. "Yes."

  Watching her, Mark realized exactly how deceiving he had been and a pang of sympathy shot through him. "Kendra, I'm sorry."

  "Don't," she shuddered, letting go of him and leaning against the wall. Nyx crawled over, setting his head on her lap. Kendra scratched him behind the ears for a moment before

  reaching into her pocket and pulling a large red dragon scale out. "This fell from the dragon."

  "It's the same color as Zar'roc. History should not repeat itself so precisely." Mark watched the scale glimmer in the candle light for a moment before she replaced it in her pocket.

  "Kendra, stay here tonight. It's late and we should be on guard of any more assassins."

  "I have a room in the Black Palace."

  "I know you do." He said, "I just don't want you going out in the state you're in."

  Kendra glared at him. "I am not a frail little girl…" Her words came out halfheartedly as she watched him ward the room to include her in its protective measures. Defeated, she

  let him do so in silence. "Thank you."

  "We'll start tracking down the assassins in the morning. You should sleep; traveling takes a lot of energy. I'm going to start trying to come up with a new strategy for us to make it

  through the next few weeks. If what you say is true, we have less time than we initially thought anyway."

  The princess watched him sit down at the table, going over the maps and scrolls listing troop numbers and bases. He pulled his glasses onto his face, picking up a quill in his long

  fingers, scrawling across and drawing lines through the words and pages. She smiled a bit, standing and walking to him, ruffling his hair up with her fingers roughly before flopping

  into the bed. Nyx jumped up, snuggling next to her, flicking his tail as Mark glanced towards them, a thin smile on his lips.

  From the open field, he and Saphira flew to the white Crags of Tel'naeír and presented themselves to Oromis, who was seated on a stood in front of his hut, gazing out over the cliff

  with his farseeing eyes. He said, "Have you entirely recovered, Eragon, from the potent magic of the Bloodoath Celebration?"

  "I have, Master."

  A long silence followed as Oromis drank from a cup of blackberry tea and resumed contemplating the ancient forest. Eragon waited without complaint; he was used to such pauses

  when dealing with the old Rider. At length, Oromis said, "Glaedr explained to me, as best he could, what was done to you during the celebration. Such a thing has never before

  occurred in the history of the Riders… Once again, the dragons have proved themselves capable of far more than we imagined." He sipped his tea. "Glaedr was uncertain exactly

  what changes you would experience, so I would like you to describe the full extent of your transformation, including your appearance."

  Eragon quickly summarized how he had been altered, detailing the increased sensitivity of his sight, smell, hearing, and touch, and ending with an account of his clash with Vanir.

  "And how," asked Oromis, "do you feel about this? Do you resent that your body was manipulated without your permission?"

  "No, no! Not at all. I might have resented it before the battle of Farthen Dûr, but now I'm just grateful that my back doesn't hurt anymore. I would have willingly submitted myself

  to far greater changes in order to escape Durza's curse. No, my only response is gratitude."

  Oromis nodded. "I am glad that you are wise enough to take that position, for your gift is worth more than all the gold in the world. With it, I believe that our feet are at last set

  upon the correct path." Again, he sipped his tea. "Let us proceed. Saphira, Glaedr expects you at the Stone of Broken Eggs. Eragon, you will begin today with the third level of

  Rimgar, if you can. I would know everything you are capable of."

  Eragon started toward the square of tamped earth where they usually performed the Dance of Snake and Crane, then hesitated when the silverhaired elf remained behind. "Master,

  won't you join me?"

  A sad smile graced Oromis's face. "Not today, Eragon. The spells required by the Bloodoath Celebration exacted a heavy toll from me. That and my… condition. It took the last of my strength to come sit outside."

  "I am sorry, Mast
er." Does he resent that the dragons didn't choose to heal him as well? wondered Eragon. He immediately discounted the thought; Oromis would never be so petty.

  "Do not be. It is no fault of yours that I am crippled."

  As Eragon struggled to complete the third level of the Rimgar, it became obvious that he still lacked the elves' balance and flexibility, two attributes that even the elves had to work

  to acquire. In a way, he welcomed those limitations, for if he was perfect, what was left for him to accomplish?

  The following weeks were difficult for Eragon. On one hand, he made enormous progress with his training, mastering subject after subject that had once confounded him. He still

  found Oromis's lessons challenging, but he no longer felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own inadequacy. It was easier for Eragon to read and write, and his increased

  strength meant that he could not cast elven spells that required so much energy, they would kill any normal human. His strength also made him aware of how weak Oromis was

  compared to other elves.

  And yet, despite those accomplishments, Eragon experienced a growing sense of discontent. An ominous storm was fathering beyond the edge of the horizon, a storm that

  threatened to break at any moment and sweep across the land, devastating everything in its path.

  Saphira shared his unease. She said, The world is stretched thin, Eragon. Soon it will snap and madness with burst forth. What you feel is what we dragons feel and what the elves

  feel – the inexorable march of grim fate as the end of our age approaches. Weep for those who will die in the chaos that shall consume Alagaësia. And hope that we may win a

  brighter future by the strength of your sword and shield, and my fangs and talons.

  "What do you want?"

  "Galbatorix told me to check in on you," Mariah said, her dagger in hand as she stood, waiting for her to open the door. Staring at the wood grain, she started to grow impatient. "I

  can simply break down the door you know."

  With a rush, the door slammed open away from Mariah towards the interior of the room. Odette glared at her from the windowsill, pushing her cascading crimson hair from her

  eyes. "What do you want?" She repeated, her voice echoing with a deep, rumbling snarl.

  "We all know this wasn't your fault. Innes was too naïve to realize what he was doing." Mariah took a single step into the room, able to feel the magic radiating the second she had

  done so. "And Cordis didn't know any better."

  "We knew what we were doing," she snapped. Standing, she placed one slender foot on the floor, uncurling from her perch and moving to hold herself in front of Mariah, she licked

  her lips. Mariah saw the tip of her tongue, forked like a snake. "You should be scared of us, Dawnsinger… Galbatorix may have possession of you, but we have possession of

  something far stronger."

  "You'll be lucky if it doesn't destroy you completely."

  "We are stable. Had our bond been weaker, we would have been destroyed the moment we attempted to unify as one." Mariah watched as she went to her desk, shuddering once

  before picking up a book. "Dragons are meant to fly." Her gaze turned towards the window. "We however, have no wings… when the time comes to fight, we wish to fly."

  She watched the Shade and followed her gaze. "Talath and Pearce are very good fliers… they may be able to allow you to ride with them."

  "Pearce… tried to help us… even though there was nothing he could do. Odette bit him, yes, we should let him know that she was sorry."

  Mariah nodded. "That might not be a bad idea, before you ask him a favor like that. He'll have to trust you in order to fly with you."

  She winced and turned to look at the Rider. "Very well. We shall speak with him."

  "You keep saying we."

  "We are what remains of Cordis and Odette. You would have us be not we?"

  Shaking her head, Mariah insisted, "No, you can be "we" and "us" all you want. It would be easier to have a single name however… for everyone to call you."

  The curtain of red hair cascaded over her shoulder and hid her body from view. She twisted her hands together, thinking. "We… shall be Sigrúne – after the sister Odette lost."

  "Sigrúne… alright. The others have finished their flight training for today; you may speak with Pearce when you feel ready to address him. Would you like me to speak to him first?"

  "No," she insisted. "We shall do it together alone."

  Mariah nodded. "Then I will take my leave." She inclined her head to the Shade and walked from the room.

  She descended the spiraling stairwell and emerged back into the great hall. There, Murtagh met her. He stared at her eyes for a long moment, swirling with ice along the edges of

  jade. "I see there are even more changes than when I left. Kieran seems to be the only one who remains the same."

  "Kieran is perfect; there is nothing for her to change." Mariah insisted, pushing past him.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "We were trying to escape this hell, or don't you remember?"

  Her lips pulled into a snarl, "I do remember. The ice reminds me every time the notion crosses my mind."

  "This wasn't how it was supposed to go Mariah. Tell me what made you rebel so hard suddenly. Why are you doing any of this? I want an honest answer. First it was restoring all

  the Dragon Riders, and then you suddenly snapped again, what was it this time?" She said nothing and in her silence he found his answer, understanding rushing over him. There

  were few topics she hesitated with. Murtagh licked his lips. "Mariah… I…" Heels clipping against the stone forced his gaze away from her.

  "You're back." Kieran blinked at him, hurrying her steps to reach them. "I'm glad you made it. What happened?" She caught his gaze and blinked.

  Murtagh was staring at her face hard, his cheeks burning slightly. "I found out some information about the Varden. It was pretty boring actually, didn't even get to kill anyone." Mariah noted the shaking note in his otherwise calm words.

  The princess narrowed her eyes at him, "Why's your face so red then?"

  "I'm just tired," he insisted turning and striding up the stairs.

  Kieran exchanged glance with Mariah. "Are you two okay?"

  "I think so… maybe he just forgot how much he can't stand to be around me after leaving."

  She laughed. "I believe quite the opposite Mariah."

  "Perhaps…"

  Kieran shrugged, "Come with me, and we'll find what you were looking for earlier. I believe I have a pair that will suit your needs just fine." Kieran motioned up the stairway and

  headed to her room. She pushed the heavy doors open and strode to her dresser, picking up a pair of stud diamond earrings. "These should do, no?"

  "Ah, yes." Mariah nodded, rubbing at her ears. "Is this going to hurt?"

  "Not if you hold still…" Kieran insisted, sitting her in the vanity chair in front of the mirror. She rolled the diamond between her fingers and muttered a spell, heating the metal until

  it was white hot and then waiting for it to cool completely. She knelt down, pinching Mariah's earlobe between her thumb and forefinger. After a minute, she touched the sharpened

  end of the earring to her skin. "I'm gonna count from three."

  "Just do it already."

  "Three…" On two she pressed the point through her flesh and out the other side, wiping away the spot of blood on her hand. "Not so difficult, was it?"

  She shook her head, "You've hurt me much worse than that."

  Kieran blinked and shrugged, repeating the process to the other side. "So you're going to charm them?"

  "Yes. I had a dream last night, and thought it would be a good idea. Thank you Kieran." Mariah insisted, staying and speaking with her for a while longer before retiring to her

  room.

  Be sure to leave room for error in the event that
you are drained of your own energy.

  I shall, Mariah insisted, looking in the mirror at her sparkling new jewelry. Speaking quietly, she worked a spell into the earrings, so in the event of her collapse she would not fall

  from Andrar's saddle and die upon impact from the drop.

  Talath swept through the air, twisting circles around Belladonna and Reaper as they mockbattled one another with snapping teeth and claws. The copper dragon's scales caught the

  sunlight as he altered his path again, diving down, only to catch an updraft under his wings and soar into the sun once more, looping through the air as he did so.

  Lifting his shield, Pearce blocked another attack from Hal. When the larger boy recoiled, he swung his blade out and clipped him in the shoulder, grinning. Ducking and weaving

  behind him, Hal threw his arm out, his sword whipping past Pearce's head. He stumbled as the blond barreled into him from behind, knocking him down with his shield.

  From the ground, Hal shouted a few harsh syllables in Elvish, holding Pearce in place. He instantly felt the repercussions of trying to hold the other man still, forgetting how strong

  they all had so suddenly become. The blond struggled for a moment, trying to remember the words he had been taught to use. Mariah's lessons were hazy as each spell he went

  over started to blend together. Hal spoke again, and Pearce realized that he had focused on his neck, effectively cutting off his breathing.

  In an instant Pearce fell to the ground, coughing hard. "Sard!" Hal shouted, flinching and dropping all his magic binding the other rider. Panting, Pearce returned to his feet, watched

  as the soldier lay writhing on the ground, snarling in pain.

  She stepped out into the sunlight, her crimson hair catching the light, blood red eyes trained on Hal. Stopping, Camilla and Cederic looked at her, lowering their weapons. Sigrúne

  padded across the courtyard silently, barefoot against the stone, the only noise coming from Hal's suffering. She moved past the siblings like a cloud, stopping in front of Pearce. He

  let out the breath caught in his throat and held her gaze. She blinked, speaking quietly, and Hal stopped his whimpering, lying on the stone nearly in tears.

  "Talath seems to be quite adept at flying."