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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
- 19
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Promises, Always Promises

Saphira’s expectations were sorely an insult to Murtagh. When she settled her eyes on him, she’d been expecting a human being who’d been scarred, who carried his hate and loathing as a shield, and who gazed out upon the world with contempt. What she saw was a young man with slightly elf-like features, clean shaven (though Saphira had come to understand Murtagh never had to worry about facial hair. For some reason, Thorn found it amusing.), and with gentle dark eyes that withheld judgment and radiated calm. He was dressed in clothing that matched the tall man’s that stood behind him, but Saphira knew those robes were purely for show. He exuded perfect control, and Saphira realized that even weaponless, he was dangerous.
She made a show of establishing a connection, but it was Murtagh who opened their link. Saphira only projected, for now Nasuada was in attendance, with Orrin and Orik beside her. Of Islanzadi and Nar’Gharhvog there was no sign. Murtagh rose and bowed to her, giving her the time to collect her wits. “Mighty Saphira,” Murtagh began with a slight – and faked – accent to his voice, “the stories don’t do your beauty justice.”

-Cad,- Saphira replied privately. To all she said, -Sharru-Kinu, welcome to the Varden. News has reached me you wish to heal my Rider.-

“Then the news is correct.” He didn’t elaborate and rose to look her in the eye. We have much to discuss, you and I. “I come from lands past the Beor, following a calling. Though I’ve been detained, I wasn’t idle.”

-How can I trust you?- Saphira saw the three rulers in attendance stiffen. Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. ----How can I trust you won’t slit his throat?-

Murtagh hid his flinch, but he knew the question had to be asked. “Because with Eragon Shadeslayer dead, my people have no hope.” Because without you, Saphira, Alagaësia has no hope.

Saphira felt Nasuada’s unease, along with Arya’s for they felt as though they were missing something of the conversation. Her eyes never left Murtagh’s face as she considered him. -You truly believe you can heal him?-

“I know I can.” Murtagh replied. “I just need to see what afflicts him.”

“And what do you think you can do that our healers and Angela couldn’t?” Orrin interrupted. Murtagh’s eyes slid to the Surdan king. “How do we know you didn’t poison him in the first place?”

Saphira felt Murtagh’s irritation, but he kept it leashed as he turned to face the upstart king. “If I was an agent of Galbatorix, why would I risk my own life in saving the king’s enemy?”

“To gain our trust.”

“At the cost of our lives?” Murtagh asked bluntly. “I know Galbatorix needs her alive. To kill Eragon would be to kill Saphira. With Eragon in this forced sleep, Galbatorix doesn’t have to fear Saphira for she won’t fight him alone. He won’t be expecting Eragon to wake, because then there’s a chance they might die.”

“You know much for a stranger out of the deserts.” Nasuada said quietly. “Are you not a spy?”

“I listen.” Murtagh replied. “There are a many great things that can be heard by simply by listening.”

Nasuada glared hard at Murtagh, but Saphira snorted to stall her argument. -I will allow Sharru-Kinu to look at Eragon.-

“How can you trust him?” Orrin asked.

-Because he speaks in truth.- Saphira replied. -I trust him.-

Murtagh bowed to Saphira. -Thank you.-

-Don’t thank me yet.- Saphira told Murtagh privately. -Heal him first.-

Under a guard of elves, Saïle among them, Murtagh and Assan – Saphira liked him very much – to the tent where Eragon had lain for the past several weeks in a catatonic state. Murtagh went inside alone despite protests and it was Assan who stood before the tent’s entrance like a sentinel. Saphira, too, was anxious, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. Hours passed and a crowd gathered, and Saphira felt worry gnawing at her heart. Finally, Murtagh appeared again, and spoke softly to Assan. The To-Ga-Ir shaman turned to Saïle and repeated Murtagh’s message.

-What’s wrong?- Saphira asked Murtagh as Saïle jogged off to fulfill the orders he’d been given.

“He’s deeper than I thought he would be.” Murtagh replied. “I need a few supplies and then isolation. If this is to work properly, I can’t be disturbed.”

-You’re positive you can heal him?-

“He’s not injured.” Murtagh replied. “He’s trapped within his own mind. It’s old and forbidden magic, but hardly deadly.”

“You know this, just by looking at him?” Arya asked upon approaching, Saïle behind her looking a little helpless as Arya too carried things Murtagh needed.

“I know because I’ve seen it before.” -Saphira,- Murtagh turned to the female dragon, -in two days a great host of horsemen will arrive. They are my tribe, the To-Ga-Ir. Among them is Katrina and her daughter, and another friend, a dwarf named Yurich. I’m counting on you to help the Varden with the To-Ga-Ir.-

-I will help.- Saphira replied. -Assan will assist?-

The shaman looked up at Saphira. “I will do what I can.”

Saphira nodded and watched Murtagh take the things from Arya and Saïle. She couldn’t recognize half of what the Scion held but she hoped it would aid him in curing Eragon. Murtagh disappeared into the tent and secured the flap for privacy. Now more than ever did Saphira have to trust in Murtagh. But she simply couldn’t stay in the camp and wait. Unfortunately, Saphira had to remain, for the Varden looked to her for comfort that Eragon Shadeslayer would make it through. Saphira settled before the tent and watched Assan settle as well.

-How well do you know Murtagh?- Saphira asked the shaman privately.

Assan smiled. “Quite well. He’s my life, as I am his.”

Saphira blinked, not understanding. Assan shook his head and smiled. “He sacrificed much for my people. The nights we had alone out on the deserts drew us closer together than many would like.”

-You mean you and he are…?-

“Very close.” Assan finished for her. “Before you worry, we To-Ga-Ir are elf-kin. Once, long ago, we too were part of the elves that came across the sea. But like all things do, we chose a different path. We choose immortality, unlike our brethren who are forced to bear it. He and I am close together in age – it’s not unthinkable for me to choose immortality when the time comes.”

-So you’ll live as long as he does?- Saphira closed her eyes and dwelled on the possibility. -But you too are connected with Thorn.-

“Only on a mental level.” Assan whispered as a guard passed by. “While he is aiding your Rider, Thorn will communicate with me.”

Saphira nodded and eyed the shaman with a healthy respect. Night descended thicker around the Varden and Saphira allowed herself to sleep.

Dawn came far too quickly for the liking of some, and Roran was no exception. He paced the ground before his tent and wished he could scream. He wanted to go back out into the wilds, search for his wife. By now, Katrina would’ve had their child – if she was even still alive. Roran kicked himself for the thought. Perhaps he could convince Nasuada to let him take Saphira and fly across the Varden-held territory. Of course, he would have to ask Saphira first and she was ever reluctant to leave Eragon now that he was incapacitated. That thought brought Roran’s anger down some. In his haste, he’d led the Immortals right to the Varden. He’d been the one that caused Eragon’s current situation. How could he ask Saphira to abandon her Rider to help him look for Katrina?

Roran gathered up his hammer and decided he’d visit Saphira, make sure she was getting along all right without Eragon. She wasn’t at Eragon’s tent when he arrived, but three others were. He recognized Elva only because of the shimmering star on her brow, but he didn’t recognize the elf or the tan-skinned man calmly dealing out a deck of cards. Elva, in the motion to pick up her hand, noticed him first.

“Roran!” Elva gasped out. She sounded nervous, and Roran began to wonder why. “Why don’t you come play?”

“Where’s Saphira?” Roran asked in a cold tone.

“She’s hunting,” the elf replied softly, “and she’ll be back soon.”

Roran frowned at the elf. “I want to see Eragon.”

“You can’t.” This time it was the tan-skinned man, his dark eyes focused on Roran. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Roran felt anger flood him again. “How can he not be disturbed? He’s ill!”

“He’s being healed.” The stranger replied with utter calm. “He, and his healer, are not to be disturbed.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” Roran hissed. To his surprise it was Elva, a tall, beautiful, seventeen-year-old Elva, who rose to block his way.

“Not many were told.” Elva spat. “Only Nasuada, the kings Orrin and Orik and Islanzadi were told. His healing must be kept secret. Would you risk his life, Roran?”

“If you look for a fight,” the stranger said, “look elsewhere. There are more important things to do than give in to your anger.”
Roran snarled and stalked away. Elva looked to Assan. “He’ll go to find Saphira.”

Assan closed his eyes. “I know.”

Indeed Roran had gone to find Saphira. She would be the only one to listen to him, the only one to understand. He’d made it only half a mile out of camp before he spotted her, standing so still and watching him. Before he could open his mouth, Saphira let out a soft snarl.

-I know what pains you.- Saphira said. -Your anger is at yourself for not being able to protect your wife and cousin, at Nasuada for not allowing you to do as you want, and at the strangers who tend your cousin, my Eragon, when you cannot.-

“You should be angry too,” Roran spat. “Here we are, doing nothing, while Galbatorix could be plotting our very demise! He could have my wife and child!”

-And he may not be, and he could not.- Saphira slowly approached, her head high but angled to gaze at him. -This anger you have, let it go. It won’t do anyone any good.-

Roran shook his head and glared at Saphira. “And why aren’t you with Eragon? Why are you out here?”

Saphira looked hurt. -I want to be with Eragon, but now isn’t the time. He is in good hands.-

“He could be dying!”

-Roran Stronghammer!- Saphira roared. -Do not presume to know what I can easily feel! Your anger rules you, and until you leash it, you will be leashed here. One more day brings us closer to victory.-

Roran snarled. “Or to ruin.” He turned his back on Saphira and stalked back into the camp. Out of sight, Saphira turned and looked toward Thorn as he landed, aware the crimson dragon was staring intently at Roran.

-He must be watched.- Thorn said softly.

Unfortunately, Saphira agreed with him. However, she couldn’t blame the young hero, for he’d gone through so much in only a short year. First his uncle, then his home and beloved, and now all of this. More weight was on Roran’s shoulders simply because of his actions and his relationship to Eragon. -What can I do?- Saphira asked her larger companion.

Thorn gave a short shrug of his shoulders. -Beyond sitting on him, nothing. His is a tough course, and only he can make it through. You can only watch and aid where you may.-

-I wish I could tell him Katrina arrives tomorrow.- Saphira felt Thorn settle against her and lay his head across the back of her neck in the Rider’s hollow. It would be easy for her to turn and bite his neck, to give him a killing wound, but Saphira didn’t move. -I wish I could do more than sit and wait.-

-I know. I wish I could do many things as well.- Thorn replied soothingly. -I wish I could fly to Urû’baen and set the entire place on fire. I wish that alone would destroy that foul egg-breaker and free Shruikan and the little one. But it won’t. So I trust in Murtagh, for he’ll find the way.-

-He is confident.- Saphira sighed.- Would that I had that confidence.-

-You only need to look in your heart.- Thorn said upon lifting his head. -Look there, and you will find courage and hope.-

Saphira looked into Thorn’s crimson eyes and saw there determination, hope, and another emotion she couldn’t recognize. She finally had to look away but felt Thorn staring at her as though waiting for something. Finally, Thorn stepped away from her and spread his wings, taking to the air with a running leap, disappearing into the blue. Saphira could only wonder then what she had missed. Not knowing what else to do and not having much energy to do much else, Saphira plodded back to the Varden camp. She found Assan where she’d left him outside Eragon’s tent and saw traces of Saïle and Elva, though the two were missing. Assan sat perfectly still, legs crossed beneath him and his hands on his knees, eyes closed. Saphira settled to watch the To-Ga-Ir’s meditation.

“You worry.” Assan spoke quietly. “And you fear.”

Saphira settled her head on the ground beside Assan and sighed. -I worry for Roran. I worry for Eragon and Murtagh and Thorn. I’m afraid of what the future will bring. What can I do?-

“Do what you’ve already been told to do.” Assan’s dark eyes flickered open. “Hope isn’t gone. It lives in the very soil of this land. So long as we live, we’ll find a way.”

-You’re very confident.-

“I believe. Only a few weeks ago I was so certain my people were going to face extinction.” Assan said as he relaxed his pose and stretched out beside Saphira. “Then out of nowhere comes a boy no older than I claiming he can solve our problem. And he does! He faced the leader of the As’ratlegûl alone and destroyed him.” Assan shook his head with a smile. “Now, I’m certain my people will live to see the day an entire flight of dragons will soar the skies and that my tribe’s descendants will be able to live in their old lands. I believe we’ll win this war and we’ll get through the aftermath with our heads held high.”

Saphira watched Assan with a new respect. The shaman didn’t know if the Varden and its allies would achieve victory, he didn’t know if he’d even survive that long, and yet still he hoped. Saphira had let worry and fear push her hopes away and realized then what Thorn had been trying to tell her. She had to hold hope in her own heart, for as long as she believed, others would believe as well. As soon as the To-Ga-Ir arrived to bolster the forces gathered here, and as soon as Eragon was healed and Murtagh could reveal his true identity, the Varden could – and would, Saphira vowed – march.

Saphira lifted her head as she felt stirring on Eragon’s side of their link. Daring to hope, Saphira called, -Eragon?-

She didn’t get a reply and truly hadn’t expected one. But she sent the message again. -Eragon! You’re in safe hands! I promise you!- She still met silence, but she knew Murtagh was succeeding in his promise. She felt joy welling in her and finally got to her feet again. She would hunt, she decided, and find Thorn to tell him of her decision. Saphira eyed the tent where Eragon and Murtagh were and raised her head high. -I won’t fail you, Eragon.-

Saphira turned to leave Assan to his meditation once more but paused, listening to the breeze. Strange scents were carried to her nose, scents that were familiar and yet foreign at the same time. She recognized one scent as the smell of horses and turned her head to watch the direction of the Jiet River. A horn sounded, long and low, followed by another. Assan was instantly on his feet, and Saphira quickly followed the shaman as the soldiers began to muster. Nasuada, dressed in her armour, met the pair on what would be the battle lines, her face set in a scowl.

“He attacks,” she said, “when he knows we’re defenseless.”

The horn sounded again, followed by its twin. Assan shook his head. “Lady, those horns don’t belong to your enemy.”

Nasuada stared at Assan with suspicion. “Then whom do they belong to?”

Assan grinned. “Those horns belong to the To-Ga-Ir.”
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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