Aftermath

Disclaimer: Don’t own. Don’t sue. Thank you.

Saphira growled very loudly and woke Murtagh. He jerked upward and stared around him Then, inhaling and exhaling slowly, he lay back down. It was a pointless endeavor. No sooner had he closed his eyes than Saphira growled again.

He sat back up and glared at the dragon in annoyance. This was his first night of sleep, and she had to ruin it. Then again, she had saved their lives. Maybe it was only fair that she got to dream.

Murtagh turned his gaze to Eragon and saw that the boy rider was sleeping peacefully. Then again, he had not awoken earlier when Marin had come onto him. The boy was definitely a heavy sleeper.

Very slowly, Murtagh looked from Eragon to Marin. She was sleeping deeply as well, her chest rising and falling with each breath and her lips parted slightly. Unconsciously, he leaned closer to her, his hand reaching out and his mind remembering her taste, and then pulled away when he realized what he was doing.

Unaware of his struggle, the girl groaned slightly in her sleep and shifted position so that the blanket fell away from her body. Murtagh continued to stare at her, taking in her slim waist and small yet firm breasts, and he began to wonder why he had not taken her last night. Then he bit his lip in anger. These lusts could prove dangerous. If she had just been a whore at an, it would have been different. He would have never had to risk seeing her again or any unwarranted emotional attachment. Such a thing could prove dangerous, especially with such a woman. Then Saphira let out another growl, louder than the previous few, and Marin’s brow furrowed, distorting her features. She shifted around under the blankets, seemingly trying to get back to sleep. Then her eyes opened.

Marin awoke to find Murtagh’s eyes on her, and for a moment, his gaze sent shivers up her spine and made her forget the outcome of last night. Then she remembered everything, and she met his eyes with a glare. Murtagh simply stared back at her, his face blank. Marin’s glare faded, but she found that she could not look away. It was as though Murtagh would not permit her to break her stare until he was ready to let her go. And then he did, turning his gaze to Eragon, and the trance was broken.

“Morning,” the Rider said to them.

Marin glared at Murtagh, and he ignored it altogether this time. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and breathed in. Gods, what had she done last night? It had been reckless beyond belief. She was smarter than that. She should have seen that Murtagh had honor, even if he pretended otherwise. And he was proud. Too proud to go to anyone who may not share his desires. He wanted her. She had known it when she had climbed onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Eragon asked.

Marin looked up and blinked. “Nothin’,” she lied.

Eragon furrowed his brow. “You looked like you were upset.”

She shrugged and turned away. It was not as though she would ever tell anybody what had happened last night, but if she did, it would most certainly not be Eragon.

“How long have you been awake?” Eragon asked.

“Awhile. I’m surprised Saphira didn’t wake you sooner.”

“I was tired enough to sleep through a thunderstorm,” Eragon replied dryly.

“Ooh, ya’ve no idea,” Marin muttered.

“Was there a thunderstorm?” Eragon asked.

“Ya’ve go’ real good ‘earin’,” she remarked. Eragon frowned at her and turned to Murtagh.

“There was no thunderstorm, Eragon,” was the only the reply he got.

The young rider frowned and asked, “Do you know what time it is in here?”

“No, it’s impossible to tell in here,” Murtagh replied. His eyes strayed over to her again and only stayed there for a moment before they flicked back to Eragon.

She bit her lip when his glance sent shivers up her spine.

E turned ya down, girl. Jus’ ge’ o’er i’ an’ move on. Ya can do tha’, can’ ya? But she couldn’t. Not now at least.

Then she found herself resisting the urge to throw something at him.

Wha’s wrong with me? Marin thought. For a moment she considered going over to join Eragon and Murtagh, but she didn’t. They were in their own little world, a world where they understood things like swordplay, riding and how men actually think. And they were somehow content to just sit there and say nothing. That was when she realized just how little she understood about men. She had thought that knowing Jamison and Dante had taught her everything she needed to know, but now she realized that she knew nothing. She did not understand the need to feel like a good and honorable person, and no one around her had those priorities. Gods, she was sixteen, and she knew nothing about a man except for how to arouse him. That was all this trip had done: make her hate herself and fall for someone who was out of her reach. Now she hated everything about it.

“Marin.” Murtagh spoke her name before he thought about. She was just sitting there, looking ready to cry for some reason. He did not know if it was because of lack of sleep or if she was distraught over last night. He refused to acknowledge that it could be the last thought. She did not care about him. How could it be in her to care? She had lived for herself for the gods knew how long, and he could see no reason for her to have changed her beliefs. Still, he cared if she was upset, though why, he did not know.

“Wha’?” she asked. He was watching her warily.

“Come here,” he said at last. “You look ready to cry.”

Then Marin did throw something at him: her pack. Anger affected her aim, and it landed several feet to Murtagh’s right.
“Was that really necessary, Marin?” he asked, his concern utterly gone. She had just proven his thoughts. She did not care about him and was only angry at him for turning her down.

“I’ was,” she said. “Didn’ ya say I ‘ad no control once?”

“I didn’t, but I don’t know why I never remarked on it,” he replied. His voice was like ice now, and Marin regretted throwing her pack at him a few minutes ago. Now what was she supposed to throw?

Meanwhile, Eragon put down a lantern he had been examining and looked from one to the other.

“You two were getting along just yesterday. What changed?” he demanded.

The shouts outside the door of their prison relieved Marin and Murtagh of the need to answer. A few seconds later, the doors were flung open, and a dozen warriors marched in. They were closely followed by the bald man and Orik the dwarf.

“You have been summoned by Ajihad, leader of the Varden,” the bald man declared. “If you must eat, do so while we march.”

Eragon, Murtagh, and Marin stood together, all quarrels forgotten at the sight of a new adversary, if only for the present moment. Eragon was the first to speak. He asked for the return of his weapons and their horses.

The bald man answered, “Your weapons will be returned to you when Ajihad sees fit, not before. And as for your horses, they await you in the tunnel. Now come!”

As he turned to leave, Eragon blurted out, “How is Arya?” This almost made Marin laugh.

“I do not know,” the bald man began after a long pause. “The healers are still with her.” Then he and Orik left the room. One of the warriors motioned for Eragon to lead the way. Saphira, then Murtagh, and finally Marin trooped out after them. As promised, their horses were waiting for them at the end of the tunnel.

“Goo’ ole demon,” Marin mumbled as she climbed on Cadoc. The gray horse snorted in offence.

When Eragon tried to climb on Saphira, the bald man snapped at him and told him to ride Snowfire until he was told otherwise.

They continued down the tunnel for hours. Marin ate and thought very little during this time as she spent the whole trip staring at Cadoc’s neck and she only glanced up once her twice. She finally did look up when the bald man told Eragon to mount Saphira, and she was glad that she did.

A huge pair of double doors swung open without warning to reveal the most magnificent city she had ever seen. It was a hundred times lovelier than even the richest parts of Dras Leona and much grander than the little of Urû’baen she had seen when they had passed around it. They were surrounded by icicles and columns of rock hundreds of feet high. The wall of the cavern narrowed until they reached a small opening from which a nearly blinding light shown. When she looked, a hazy blue light could be seen in the distance.

“Look well, humans, for no rider has set eyes upon this for nigh on a hundred years. The airy peak under which we stand is Farthen Dûr—discovered thousands of years ago by the father of our race, Korgan, while he tunneled for gold. And in the center stands our greatest achievement: the city built from the purest marble.”

Just then, Marin realized that she was gaping and shut her mouth just in time to catch sight of the crowd clustered around the entrance of the tunnel. There were dwarves and people alike, silent and staring at Eragon like one gigantic eye. As their party approached the crowd, Marin caught sight of their faces and realized that they were afraid of Eragon. For a moment the thought seemed ridiculous, but then she remembered how she had first felt around Saphira: amazed and terrified. She had been unable to comprehend that she was actually seeing a creature of legends, and she had been terrified that Eragon or Murtagh would order Saphira to eat her.

Tentatively, Eragon raised a hand, and Marin realized that he was afraid to. She could understand that. Indeed, she had never been so happy to be completely ignored.

At first, nothing happened, and Eragon dropped his hand, embarrassed. Then a cheer broke through the crowd.

“Very good,” the bald man told them. “Now start walking.”

Saphira stood on her hindquarters and blew a puff of smoke into the air. Marin gulped. What if the crowd suddenly went wild and killed the dragon to stop her from killing them? But to her surprise, the action only intensified the crowd’s enthusiasm. Then something even more surprising happened. As Saphira jostled her way along the path, many of the dwarves turned away, their faces more lined than a raisin because of their frowns.

Then her mouth dropped open again. Tronjeim was in sight. White marble seemed to pour over the mountain—so perfectly was it shaped. Countless windows dotted the side, but no chimneys were visible. It seemed as though the city were one giant house with the rooms being allotted to the inhabitants. Two golden creatures—Marin did not know what they were—guarded the gate of the city. More unfamiliar creatures were carved into the ruby-red gates.

When they passed through them, Marin’s eyes were drawn upward, and nothing else in the city could draw them back. A huge red gem made up the city of the ceiling. It was carved so wonderfully into a rose that Marin wondered if some god had just copied the jewel when he made the flower. She continued to gape until the bald man told them all to dismount.

Boos echoed through the halls as the party climbed down from their horses and Eragon from Saphira. A dwarf led the three horses away, and they proceeded on foot towards a magnificent pair of cedar doors.

They entered a two-storied study, still made of cedar. Books lined the shelves, and a magnificent desk sat in the center of the room. But it was the man who sat at the desk that drew Marin’s attention. He was the easily the tallest and largest man she had ever seen, but that was not what caught her eye. It was his skin. The man’s coloring was so dark it was nearly black. The only thing darker that she had ever seen had to be the man’s beard and eyebrows. Doubtless his hair would have been every bit as dark, but his head was shaved bald.

“Welcome to Tronjeim, Eragon and Saphira. I am Ajihad. Please seat yourselves,” the man said.

Eragon did so, as did Murtagh and Marin, while Saphira sat protectively behind them. Ajihad snapped his fingers, and a bald man identical to the man who had probed her mind stepped out from behind the staircase. Marin’s mouth dropped opened again. They were twins, she realized. Then she thought, ‘Ellgrin’ an’ ‘ellfire, there’s two ‘o ‘em.

“Your confusion is understandable,” Ajihad said. “They are twin brothers. I would tell you their names, but they have none.”

Marin stiffened. Back in Dras Leona everyone knew that people who had not been named were cursed by the gods, so people who could not remember what their parents called them often made up names for themselves. If the person did have a name and refused to reveal it, well, it was obvious that they could not be trusted.

Saphira seemed to agree with that sentiment as she hissed with obvious disapproval. Ajihad watched, and the nameless twins retreated under the staircase. The leader of the Varden continued to stare them down, making Marin squirm. She wondered if the twins had told Ajihad about her past. She hoped not. She did not think she could bear his judgment on the matter. However, he said nothing to her. The man's dark gaze settled on Murtagh, who had not relaxed since they had mounted their horses this morning.

“You have placed me in a difficult position by refusing to be examined. You have been allowed into Farthen Dûr because the twins have assured me that they can control you and because of your actions concerning Eragon and Arya. I understand that there are things that you wish to keep hidden in your mind, but as long as you do, we cannot trust you,” Ajihad announced.

Then Murtagh made what was possibly the first mistake Marin had seen him make. He spoke, saying, “You wouldn’t trust me anyway.”

Ajihad’s black eyes narrowed instantly. “Though it’s been twenty and three years since it last broke upon my ear…I know that voice.” Then he stood, and the twins stared at each other, looking alarmed.

They know, Marin realized. But they couldn’t. If they had, they would have killed Murtagh on the spot…Wouldn’t they?

Meanwhile, Ajihad had not stopped his tirade. “It came from another man, one more beast than human. Get up.”

Murtagh stood slowly, and Marin noticed that his breathing had become ragged again. For a moment, she forgot that she had decided to hate him or at least get over him. She pitied him again.

“Take off your shirt,” Ajihad spat. Orik grunted in surprise, and Marin’s heart rate sped up. Somehow, she didn’t think this had anything to do with her fear.

Murtagh did so, and Marin stared at him through her eyelashes. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest, and she could nearly feel the skin of his stomach beneath her fingers.

“Now turn around.” Murtagh did so, and Ajihad breathed his name. Then he turned to the twins and demanded, “Did you know of this?”

They both bowed their heads and said, “We discovered his name in the minds of Eragon and the girl, but we did not suspect that this boy was the son of one as powerful as Morzan. It never occurred—”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Ajihad shouted. Then he waived aside their explanations. “We will discuss it later.” Then he turned to Murtagh and asked him if he still refused to be probed.

“Yes,” Murtagh said sharply as he slipped back into his tunic. “I won’t let anyone inside my head.”

Ajihad leaned forward, and Marin thought he looked tired. “There will be unpleasant consequences if you don’t. Unless the twins can certify that you aren’t a threat, we cannot give you credence, despite, and perhaps because of, the assistance you have given Eragon. Without that verification, the people here, human and dwarf alike, will tear you apart if they learn of your presence. I’ll be forced to keep you confined at all times—as much for your protection as for others. It will only get worse once the dwarf king, Hrothgar, learns demands custody of you. Don’t force yourself into that situation when it can be easily avoided.”

A part of Marin wanted to plead with him to give in, but she knew that she would do no good. He would not listen to her. She might have persuaded him to revealing his secret before, but she doubted she could change his mind now.

And as she had expected, he shook his head stubbornly and refused, stating, “No…even if I were to submit, I would still be treated like a leper and an outcast. All I wish is to leave. If you let me do that peacefully, I’ll never reveal your location to the empire.”

“What will happen if you are captured and brought before Galbatorix?” Ajihad said. Then he answered his own question. “He would extract every secret from your mind, no matter how strong you may be. Even if you could resist him, how can we trust that you won’t rejoin him in the future? I cannot take that chance.”

“Will you hold me prisoner forever?” Murtagh asked, straightening. A hint of apprehension had entered his voice.

Ajihad replied that he would only be imprisoned so long as he refused to be examined.

An’ tha’s fore’er, Marin thought.

Murtagh stood staring at the ground for a moment. His breathing hitched, and he clenched his tunic in his fists. Finally he spoke. “My mind is the one sanctuary that has not been stolen from me. Men have tried to breach it before, but I’ve learned to defend it vigorously, for I am only safe within my innermost thoughts. You have asked for one thing I cannot give, least of all to those two.” He practically spat the last word and gestured at the twins, who were still partially hidden beneath the winding staircase. “Do what you will, but know this: death will take me before I’ll expose myself to their probing.”

Admiration glinted in Ajihad’s eyes, and for one moment Marin wondered—or was it hoped—if the Varden’s leader would give him his freedom. Then he said, “I’m not surprised by your choice, though I had hoped otherwise…Guards.” And so Murtagh’s doom was sealed. The cedar doors burst open, and several armed warriors rushed in. “Take him to a windowless room, and bar the door securely. Post six men by the entrance, and allow no one inside until I come to see him. Do not speak to him either.”

With that they pushed him away.

Eragon mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and Marin stared after him. She wanted to blame him for not letting anyone in his mind, but she could not. It was his choice, she realized, and it was sure to cause him trouble, but then again, maybe letting them into his mind would cause him worse trouble. Murtagh was right after all; there would always been a wall of hostility. She had seen their faces. They had distrusted Eragon, who might be their only hope. How would they treat Morzan’s son?

When the sounds of the guards’ footsteps had faded, Ajihad ordered everyone except Eragon and Saphira out of the room. Marin quickly stood to comply, but Orik said, “Sir, the king will want to know of Murtagh, and there is the matter of my insubordination…”

“I will tell Hrothgar myself,” Ajihad said. “As for your actions…wait outside until I call for you. And don’t let the twins get away either. I’m not done with them either.”

Marin quickly followed the dwarf and the twins out of the room. For what might have been ten minutes or ten hours, the twins and Orik simply stared each other down, each daring the other to speak first. It was nearly as bad as being caught in the middle of a brawl, and she looked from one to the other, hoping that someone would just say something. After all, Ajihad was bound to take ages with Eragon, and she did not feel like enduring this much longer. Finally, after a minute or to of building her courage, she decided to ask Orik a question.

“So…” she began as soon as they had all left. “Wha’ shoul’ I do?”

“Stay here,” Orik said. “Ajihad did not tell me what to do with you.”

Marin nodded, and the silence resumed again. She began to drum her fingers against the cedar doors. She tried to think of any songs that she knew. Just as the first lines of “There once was a man from Inzelbêth” came to her however, one of the twins spoke up.

“You’ll pay for what you did, dwarf,” he said. “You know the penalty.”

“Would it have done to let a rider drown then?” Orik demanded, but there was a very low note of fear in his voice.

“That is one thing. Interfering with my examination however…” This time it was the other twin who spoke.

So tha’s the one, Marin thought. She kept her face downwards and only raised her eyes to look them in face. She was trying to see if she could tell the difference between the two, but it was impossible.

“There was no way for me to know who he was. I was not the one who knew his name,” Orik retorted.

“Are you accusing me of something?” the twin asked.

Marin looked past them. She wondered is she could sneak off while they were arguing and come back later. She was hungry, and they had not been given any food. Perhaps somebody could tell her where the kitchens were…

“Stay where you are!” the other twin snapped. “Ajihad has not dealt with you yet.”

“Wha’s there t’ deal with?” Marin asked sulkily as she sunk to the floor.

“The matter of where to keep you and the matter of whether or not your…previous occupation should be allowed to get out. It is a matter of protecting the rider’s reputation,” the other twin said.

“I didn’ do anything with ‘im,” she said.

“The rest of the Varden does not know that,” the twin continued.

“Bu’ will they care?” she asked.

“The rider is a beacon for the future, a symbol of honor and valor,” his brother put in.

“It would not do to have it know that he consorted with your like,” the other finished. “If he were simply…experienced in such matter, it would be fine, but if you are brought into the picture…”

“Are you suggesting blackmailing the rider, Egraz Carn?” Orik cut in.

“I am suggesting that the girl behaves herself, Orik,” one twin began, and the other finished with, “and that she suggest the same to the rider.”

“Ajihad would doubtless say the same,” the first added.

“Wha’ did I do t’ ya?” she asked.

“You were insolent,” he replied.

“Well, I was in kinda a bad mood. I ‘adn’ slep’ proper since las’ nigh’, and I ‘adn’ really eaten much, an’ I ‘ad almos’ drowned, almos’ been eaten by Kull…”

“Kull are not cannibals,” the twin said.

“Oh,” Marin said, feeling incredibly ignorant. “Well, they still woulda killed me.”

“Hardship is no excuse for insolence,” the twin said smugly.

“Leave her alone, Egraz Carn,” Orik said.

“What are you hoping for, Orik? As short as she is, she’s still taller than you. But then maybe you’d prefer her that way. Be warned that she’s been used, so her cunt might not be small enough for you to fill her.”

Orik’s mouth dropped open. “You—you cannot—that was—you are…By Helzvhog, do you really know so little of me and mine race?” Orik said.

Marin groaned. He had just dug himself into a bigger hole. And sure enough, another jape followed.

“Well, if you could fill her, I am sorry, Orik. I really would not know that.”

“I do not want her! She is human and young! Akh Gunterâz Dorzada, she cannot be more than sixteen. And I am betrothed, and you—I gave you no cause. Ajihad shall hear of your latest insults,” Orik shouted.

“Oh, but you did Orik,” one said.

“I doubt that you would tell Ajihad of how we insulted your manhood,” the other finished.

Orik had barely opened his mouth to retort when Ajihad called his name. The dwarf hurried through the doors, and Marin prayed to the gods in the mountain that it would be very short business. She did not want to be left alone long with those two. Thankfully, the twins' conversation revolved around Orik and what Ajihad would do, and Orik returned in about two minutes with Eragon. The twins shut up as soon as the dwarf exited the study, and they went in quickly, their heads already partly inclined.

I’m sorry about this. I want to get to the good stuff, but I feel as though I’ll lose something if I skip huge chunks of the book. I do have good news though. Something happens next chapter. Anyway, here are the responses.

Celtickisses5: Thanks. I was worried about it.

HadLeeMay: Really? Well, that’s good then.

CelticPuzzleRangerStranger: Thanks.

Kittycatssoul: Thanks.

JaBoyYa: I did.

Mangos: Yes, it is. At least for a time.

..: Well, I tried to explain his reasoning just a bit in this chapter. I mean, he’s not all that trusting, is he?

Padfoot and Stacey: I am too. Something exciting needed to happen.

Prettybella: You were the first person to tell me. It was definitely interesting. And I’m glad that you enjoyed this chapter. I hope that you liked this one.

Stripysockz: Yeah, I wasn’t planning on that happening, but then it did. It does make sense to me, and I hope that I did it right.

Dragonflame-05: Yeah, that’s all true. And I’ll give you a rain check on the last one.

xLzM: I won’t. Well, I kind of did, but here is this chapter.

Blue-Eyed Chica: Thanks.

Friendly Legolas Sporker: I hope that this was soon enough. I don’t fancy being followed by heliopaths. Nice HP reference by the way. I love Luna Lovegood. And I love your penname.

MysticLegend11: Well, it didn’t take me as long to add in what you suggested. You are most definitely right. It did need some kind of reaction from Murtagh. Thank you for beta-ing. I know I sometimes frustrate you, but I’ll try not to.