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The Last Scion
By : RotSeele
Category: A through F > Eragon
Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.
Chapter List
- 17
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Elva’s Gamble

How long they stood staring at each other, Elva didn’t know. Murtagh didn’t move save to place his right hand on the hilt of the sword that rested at the small of his back. Saïle, too, didn’t move except to make the same gesture. Finally, Murtagh took a step forward, his hand never leaving the sword’s hilt. He met Saïle in the center of the space between them and Elva thought for sure she was going to witness a spectacular battle. But Murtagh only clasped Saïle’s forearm the moment the elf made the same gesture, and Elva knew she’d missed something.

Slowly she approached and stared at Murtagh’s companion curiously before she looked up at Murtagh. She’d never seen the man up close before, but she knew the moment their eyes locked that the man she stared at wasn’t the man Eragon told stories of. This man looked the same, sounded the same, but wasn’t the Murtagh she believed to know. She gave the Rider an impudent curtsy and got a smirk.

“You’re dead.” Saïle spoke suddenly. “There are many who saw you fall.”

“Rumours of my demise are greatly exaggerated.” Murtagh replied. “I was close to death, yes, and would’ve died, had I not been found.”

Saïle’s eyes flicked to the taller human beside Murtagh and nodded approvingly. Somehow, Elva knew it wasn’t the tanned-skin stranger Murtagh was talking about, but she decided she would learn the truth later. The tall human bent to whisper in Murtagh’s ear, and the Rider frowned slightly. “You two come alone.” Murtagh said softly. “Why?”

Now Elva squirmed for the strange man was staring at her. “Something’s happened. Saïle and Elva are the only ones who can help.” She said, glaring in defiance at the stranger.

“Elva?” Murtagh said with a smile. “What a young lady you’ve grown to be. Assan,” Murtagh addressed the stranger, “she’s under a curse my brother put upon her.”

Assan – the stranger – nodded. “I see.”

Murtagh looked back at Elva then. “What’s happened?”

Elva told him the story. “And if he doesn’t wake, the Varden are doomed.” She paused, eyeing Murtagh and Murtagh’s strange facial tattoo especially. “Maybe not so doomed.”

“And so you thought you’d hunt down a cure, not knowing what actually ailed Eragon?” Murtagh asked. Elva almost snapped at him, but she realized he was speaking the truth. She hung her head in shame and kept her tongue still. Murtagh knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder. “You did well, Elva, but learn from this. You’ll be a great healer one day.”

Elva’s bright violet eyes glared at the Rider. “How do you know?” she snapped.

“Because I’ll be around to see it.” Murtagh said as he rose. He turned to Assan. “We’ll go back and get our things. Then we’ll go to the Varden.”

“Is that wise?” Assan asked.

Elva watched in surprise as Murtagh shrugged. He turned to Thorn and held a silent conversation. Thorn looked at Elva, then Saïle, and nodded. “He’ll carry the four of us.” Murtagh Elva and Saïle.

Saïle looked impressed. “He’s strong enough?”

-If I can carry a dwarf,- Thorn snapped, -I can carry a scrawny elf.-

Elva was aware of Murtagh laughing. She looked up at Thorn and offered her hand. “He can speak to anyone?” she asked, as Thorn touched his snout to her fingers. “Like Saphira?”

Thorn snorted. -Dragons can speak to anyone they so choose to speak to. Only their Riders are silent to outsiders. I simply choose to speak with only those I deem worthy.-

“Worthy of what?” Elva asked, suddenly aware only Murtagh and Assan were privy to Thorn’s words.

Thorn’s eyes closed halfway. -Worthy of being Touched.-

The way Murtagh jerked slightly told Elva the word had a different connotation to him and Thorn than it did for her or Assan, but Elva swelled with pride and hugged Thorn’s nose. Her arms barely covered the top portion of his snout. She pulled back soon enough, aware Murtagh was studying her intently, but he turned his gaze away and moved to mount Thorn, pulling Elva up before him. Assan took a position behind Murtagh and Saïle reverently settled behind Assan, holding tight to one ivory white spike. Then Thorn launched into the air and soared for the camp based at the Jiet.

-Those are the To-Ga-Ir.- Murtagh told Elva, linked with her through Thorn. -Elf-kin from the deserts beyond the Beor. My adopted family. Katrina and my niece are there too.-

-She’s alive?! They’re both alive!- Elva grinned. -Roran will be so happy to see them!-

-Let’s hope he lives that long.- Murtagh replied, sobering the girl’s mood. Thorn banked to land in a wide clearing where horses were roaming and crouched to allow his riders off. The To-Ga-Ir were nothing like Elva had ever seen. They worked in concert despite the noise of voices and conversation. Women sewed clothing, men hammered out weapons and shields and armour, and even the children helped where they could.

They were happy, Elva realized, despite the time they lived in. Elva numbly followed Murtagh, unconsciously on his right side, staring at everyone. They stared back only for a moment, then smiled and gave a greeting. They didn’t see her as some abomination; they saw her as a young girl. Elva blushed and averted her gaze, wondering if one day she could play with the children who looked her physical age.

Murtagh brought them to a huge but plain tent and allowed Elva and Saïle in before he followed. Within the tent already was a proud but old man, several young men, and a young woman who struck Elva as a beautiful warrior goddess. Murtagh was speaking in broken To-Ga-Ir, but he managed to introduce Elva and Saïle before the foreign words failed him.

Then he turned to the guests. “This is my father by choice, Kaucha, and my sister by choice, Hatori.” Murtagh gestured at each. Elva managed a curtsy and Saïle inclined his head. Murtagh turned to Assan and nodded, and the shaman began translating for the Rider. Elva listened to Murtagh’s voice and wondered how Eragon could hate this man who tried everything he could to make sure the world was right.

Hatori glanced at Elva, then approached her father, nodding slightly. “We aren’t ready to ride to the aid of the Varden. In two days, we’ll be ready, but you fear there won’t be time.”

Murtagh frowned but nodded. “I need to see him for myself.” He glanced at Elva and Saïle then back to the chieftain and the princess. “A healer can’t heal if he doesn’t know what afflicts his patient.”

“He says he has great respect for you, Sharru-Kinu.” Hatori spoke for her father. “You may go with his blessing, and watch for our coming.”

Murtagh bowed and his three shadows followed him. Assan took Saïle, who’d shown interest in the shaman arts, to retrieve Murtagh’s belongings while Elva followed the Rider back to Thorn. Elva reached to pet Thorn as she watched Murtagh, for the man was standing silently as he faced away from the camp with his eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” Elva asked.

“Speaking with the wind.” Murtagh replied. “There’s a thunderstorm coming. We’ll be ahead of it, but only by a moment.” Murtagh opened his eyes to look at Elva. She stared back, feeling strange under the Rider’s gaze. “What?”

“Your brother blessed me.” Elva blurted. “Why won’t you?”

“Because I have no blessing to give you.” Murtagh said. “Nothing I can do can change what’s befallen you already. I could only make it worse.”

Elva frowned and looked away from the Rider of the red dragon she petted continuously. She didn’t understand the tumult of emotions in her soul. She wished Saïle and Assan would hurry up so she wouldn’t be alone with Murtagh for he still watched her. Finally, he frowned and looked to Thorn. Elva felt the dragon twitch under her hands as he and his Rider held a private conversation. Finally, Murtagh moved to place a hand on Elva’s shoulder.

“There is something I can do for you, but we must be flying as we do this.” Murtagh fell silent for a moment, his eyes focusing on some far off point. Then he focused on Elva once more. “I’ve told Assan to bring horses. They’ll meet us a mile from the Varden camp.”

Before Elva could ask what Murtagh was planning, she found herself lifted into Thorn’s black and silver saddle, settled before the Scion. She held on tight to the saddle horn as Thorn launched himself into the air and circled the camp of the To-Ga-Ir until two pinto ponies cantered out of the makeshift corral, Assan and Saïle pressing their mounts into a lazy gallop as Thorn rose higher. Thorn was moving slowly, rising higher and higher up into the clouds. The sun was setting, the moon rising, and when Elva looked above her she saw thousands of smile stars. She focused on a particular constellation, for it seemed to glow brighter as Thorn flew closer.

-That’s the Handmaiden.- Murtagh told her. -She guides the souls of the lost to where they belong. Her name was Gilraen.-

“Gilraen,” Elva uttered aloud. She clutched tighter to the saddle horn and looked up at the constellation. “The Handmaiden.”

“Elva,” Murtagh began, speaking aloud. “Hear me and listen well. I’m Estel az Ahir-Enei, the last Scion of the old teachings to walk this land. I’m the sword and shield. I am the son to one who had none, the student of myth. Elva, hear me and choose.”

His voice, already thrown by the wind, seemed further away than it should’ve been. Choose? Elva thought. He hadn’t given her a choice! Eragon hadn’t given her a choice! How could she choose when there was nothing? Elva stared past Thorn’s head at the constellation of the Handmaiden. Her hands curled tighter around the saddle horn.

-Elva,- Thorn spoke now, hear me and listen well. -I’m Maeglin, son of myth and legend, beloved brother of Estel, my life and Rider. I am the sentinel and the voice. Elva, hear my voice and choose.-

Elva closed her eyes. She wanted to be normal! She wanted to be as she was supposed to be! But she couldn’t, not anymore, and she had taken that anger out on everyone around her. Choose, they told her. She opened her eyes and saw the bright stars of the Handmaiden. She’d chosen to be the shepherd of the lost, she had chosen to be a healer and guide. Elva’s small body shuddered.

“I want to…” Elva began softly. “Gilraen!” she shouted with all the strength she could muster. “I am Gilraen!”

Pain exploded in her head and then all she knew was darkness.

-What you did was very dangerous.- Thorn scolded Murtagh once more, watching the human build up a smokeless fire to act as a beacon to Assan and Saïle who had yet to catch up. -What if she’d chosen incorrectly?-

“She wouldn’t have chosen incorrectly.” Murtagh replied, looking up into Thorn’s piercing ruby gaze. “She simply became what she was meant to be.”

Thorn blinked and looked at the young woman who slept beneath a cloak wrought of clouds and the sparkle of stars. Truthfully, neither Thorn nor Murtagh had actually expected such a reaction, but Elva – Gilraen – had always managed to keep that unnatural air, even in the short time they’d known her. Now Elva had a body to match her mind, a young woman of seventeen years, clothed in a black, night-velvet dress and a cloak made of clouds and stardust. Her hair fanned against her back, now a dark, almost black-blue, hidden now beneath her cloak.

Thorn heaved a sigh. -We aren’t gods, little one.-

“No.” Murtagh replied lowly. “I know. Nor are we puppet-masters to pluck the strings and watch others dance. But her pain, Thorn, I could feel her pain and I tried to alleviate it.”

-And without my help, it would’ve failed.- Thorn acquiesced, knowing the guilt that weighted down Murtagh’s shoulders. -We can’t right everyone’s wrongs.-

“And she may hate me when she wakes.” Murtagh shook his head. “I tried.”

-Forgive me.- Thorn replied. -You did what you thought was best and I agreed, faltered, and aided though I didn’t believe.-

“We’re not gods, Thorn.” Murtagh said with a smile. “We’re fallible.”

Thorn hummed and settled to rest beside his Rider, a careful gaze kept on the distance for danger. It wasn’t long before hooves thundered closer, and two pinto ponies slowed to walk as their riders dismounted. Saïle’s grey gaze swept about the camp and he set a hand on the sword at his side. His eyes burned into Murtagh in a glare.

“Where is Elva?” the elf snarled in a whisper, his sword half drawn in threat. Murtagh gestured to the sleeping woman.

“She’s there, though she isn’t as you remember.” Murtagh stated.

Saïle stalked to Elva but knew better than to wake her. His eyes flicked to Murtagh. “What did you do?”

Assan answered, “Sharru-Kinu, you play with magicks you don’t understand.”

Murtagh gave a soft groan that surprised Saïle. “I was already scolded for this. Not you, too.”

“I’ll scold you again, Murtagh.” Assan groused, the shaman’s eyes amused despite the harshness of his voice. “This is the only time, I hope?”

Saïle frowned. “She’s unharmed.” He said in hopes to quell the shaman’s ire.

Murtagh nodded. “Only and last time. She chose it, Assan, and when she wakes, it’ll be her turn to scold me if she thinks this is a curse as well.”

Saïle moved back to Assan, Murtagh, and Thorn. The elf settled beside the fire, watching the young man across from him. Murtagh had surprised the elf from the day they’d met on the battlefield. Saïle had learned of Murtagh’s betrayal from gossip among his people, and he’d witnessed the fall of Oromis and mighty Glaedr. Murtagh was supposed to be evil and foul just like his master, but the boy – for then he had been a boy – had surprised Saïle at their meeting with the selflessness in giving up a desired prize like Naegling.

“Saïle?” Murtagh questioned softly. The elf blinked.

“Forgive me.” Saïle spoke softly. “I’ve much to learn from you, young one.”

Murtagh smiled slightly. “And I’ve much to learn from you. We can’t go further in life if we refuse to learn from each other and accept those differences.”

Assan chuckled and sat on Murtagh’s left. As Elva slept, the men spoke, trading stories as if they were old friends that had been separated for far too long.
- 17
- 18
- 19
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The Last Scion	By : RotSeele Category: A through F > Eragon Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.

The Last Scion