Fic: For You (Butterfly Mix): Sonata
Yes. Next part of Butterfly, because I am boreded.
Warnings include slash and weirdness. Disclaimer includes NOT MINE and CHRIS PAOLINI'S.
Sonata: In Which There is a Happening of Great Importance
The peace of great churches be for you,
Where the players of loft pipe organs
Practice old lovely fragments, alone.
Carl Sandburg--For You (Smoke and Steel, 1922)
--
Arya woke up, emerging from the dark depths of dreams. She blinked slowly, and reached for Faolin. Next to her he murmured sleepy nonsense and she smiled, rubbing her eyes.
Faolin stirred. "Arya?" He asked, yawning.
"Right here," she told him, running her fingers through her hair. "I think I need to wash my hair. You do too. Need to wash your hair, I mean."
He stared at her. "Arya, we just got back from a ridiculously long ride, we've been asleep for who-knows-how-long, and you're worried about...Yeah, I'm worried about my hair too. Are we attractive to twigs? Because that's what my hair feels like."
She laughed. "One of us ought to get up and see where we are and what time it is..."
Faolin sighed. "But I just woke up!"
"Me too!"
"'S warm..." He murmured, burrowing into the blankets.
"...Faolin. We need to find Ajihad and Jeod. Remember? The news from Ellesmera? And if I know them, they're pacing back and forth waiting for us..."
Faolin glared. "Why does this always happen?"
"Dearlove, you proposed to me. And you knew I'd be stuck doing this. So really, it's your own fault."
"But how could I resist? I love you, Arya." He kissed her softly.
She laughed. "We still have to go. C'mon."
--
Thorn, dragon of Murtagh, circled in the air above Morzan's castle. His Rider was clutching his saddle tightly and looked a bit green; evidently the spell had worn off. Ruadhri, Morzan's dragon, sent a chuckle Thorn's way.
Thorn said, I love my Rider dearly, but he is a moron.
Ruadhri laughed. Too true, little one. Too true, for all of us. Don't tell your Rider I said his father's a moron.
Thorn said, I hope he doesn't throw up on me--
Murtagh said, I heard that. And I won't. If only because you'd make me clean it off, and with this headache--
Well, I did tell you to be careful.
You expected me to listen?!
Ruadhri craned her neck to look at them reprovingly. Murtagh went greener and Thorn dipped his head. Tornac, sitting behind Murtagh, swallowed and gripped his friend's waist tighter.
Morzan shouted, "Murtagh, Thorn! Keep up!" And Ruadhri flew.
Eragon, sitting behind Morzan, looked sicker than Thorn's Rider; the wind wrenched past them as the great red dragon powered her way through the sky. He'd pretty much given up on any form of resistance after his brother and father double-teamed him, though he wasn't at all used to dragonflight. Especially Ruadhri's dragonflight.
She was fast, Thorn thought; and then--Wait. I have to keep up?
Murtagh said, Please. Don't.
Which of course clinched it; Thorn threw himself into the wind.
Murtagh threw up. Fortunately over Thorn's side, narrowly missing his wing. Thorn growled.
Murtagh said, I warned you.
Thorn ignored him and kept flying.
--
Katrina smiled at the little girl clinging to her leg and tried to suppress the urge to kick her off. "Callie? Sweetheart? Can you please get off my leg?"
The girl looked up at her with wide blue eyes. "But--"
"Callie," Katrina sighed. "Look. There're your friends. Don't you want to go play with them?"
"Katrina," the girl said, pointing at a space behind Kat, "Look--"
Katrina turned. Shocked, she knelt down awkwardly and whispered, "Go get your friends out of here, all right? And find some help."
Callie nodded. "Katrina--"
She forced a quick smile. "Everything's going to be fine, dearling."
The girl ran off to the other end of the training hall (a large chamber with a padded floor and walls used for teaching the little children) and whispered urgently to the other kids, currently having a break.
"Roran!" Katrina called. "Nasuada? Get over here."
--
Galbatorix emerged from his chambers. "Morzan," he said. "Good to see you."
"Likewise, My Lord," Morzan replied, bowing hand-over-heart.
"Come in," the King said, smiling.
Morzan clamped down on the urge to giggle and followed the other man to his rooms.
Once the door had shut behind them he let out a great sigh and slumped into a chair. "Goddess, I ache. And, Tor, do I need a bath? Or do I need a bath?"
The King laughed. "I'd say so. Hang on--" He closed his eyes, and Morzan heard water trickle into the tub.
"You're a life-saver, you know that?"
"'Course I do. You look awful, Morzan."
Morzan levered himself out of the chair and glared, stripping his clothes off on the way to warm water. "Nice to hear it. I knew I shouldn't've inflated your ego, and I did it anyway.
"Oh goddess, this feels good."
Galbatorix laughed as his friend splashed in the bath, and sat down next to him, keeping a safe distance between his clothes and the water.
"So, your son. The younger one, however much I enjoy Murtagh--he really is a credit to you, you know."
Morzan mmm'ed and fell backwards into the water.
Galbatorix said, "I'm not going to get any conversation out of you for a while, am I?"
Morzan laughed. "Probably not, Tor. It's too nice, the water."
"For a Dragon Rider you certainly enjoy the sea..."
"Met a Selkie when I was young, remember? Before Hri hatched for me. Seals are wonderful creatures." He submerged, eyes closed in bliss.
Galbatorix smiled.
--
Murtagh took a deep drink of water from his waterskin, then splashed some on his face.
Tornac looked at him pointedly, tapping his foot on the cobbled stone of the courtyard.
Eragon threw up in a bush.
Tornac mused aloud, "Why am I the only one of us not sick? Oh, yes, I remember --because I didn't get drunk last night."
Murtagh glared at him.
Eragon was too busy throwing up to respond.
Thorn, curled up in the center of the courtyard, next to Ruadhri, licked his tail.
Tornac?
The man in question stopped mocking his friends and looked up. "Yes?"
Hello.
"Wait. Thorn?"
You're really quite astonishingly intelligent.
Tornac grinned. Of course that was Murtagh's dragon. His voice even sounded like--oh, goddess, was that affection bleeding through his thoughts?
Thorn said, I figured we should talk. It's not like they'll be paying any attention, and Hri says she won't interfere, so...
Tornac raised an eyebrow. "So you can slaughter me?"
Murtagh looked at him oddly.
He said, "Your dragon."
Murtagh said, "Thorn, don't kill him. That's my job." And went over to his little brother, who showed no signs of lessening the offload.
Tornac said, "Wow, how reassuring," and folded down next to the dragons.
Ruadhri blinked at him slowly, but he detected no malice in it. He stayed put, watching Murtagh stroke his brother's back and wince.
Thorn chuffed and nibbled his hair.
--
Roran finished his bread and cheese and licked the last of the crumbs off his fingers. Bored now, he watched Nasuada eat.
She blinked at him, swallowing the last of her apple.
Katrina shouted, "Roran! Nasuada!"
He was on his feet in less time than it took for a dragon to blink, hands scrabbling for weapons secreted around his body--and he came up with nothing. Beside him, Nasuada'd abandoned all hope of lunch and had her sword in hand. As one they ran to Katrina, sprinting across the soft floor.
The girl herself was standing in front of the main door to the training hall--there was one at the back, but it led to the pools and involved a really complicated route to get home, so most people avoided it--and she was afraid. Roran knew the tenseness in her back didn't show up for just anything; all of them were fairly good at masking emotion, and for this to be visible--
Roran stopped short of her; not because he wanted to, but because there was something blocking him. Next to him, Nasuada was pinwheeling her arms, having run straight into the invisible barrier.
Katrina turned to look at them, and Roran swore. Her pupils were gone, and there was a faint glow surrounding her. He turned to Nasuada--"Can you?"
She shook her head. "My magic doesn't work like this--can you see why she built it?"
He craned his neck. "There's something--blocking."
Nasuada swore. "Kat!" she called. "C'mon, Kat, wake up! It's us--Nasuada and Roran! We'll help you!"
Roran said, as quiet as he could make his voice, "Do we know how she just got power? Kat's not magical, and if she's possessed we have a big problem--"
Nasuada shook her head. "I wish to goddess I knew what was going on--but my magic's always been earth-elemental, and not powerful at that." She reached out a hand and tapped at the barrier. Her fingers ricocheted off "solid" air.
She said, "Well, it's not weakening with time."
Roran closed his eyes briefly. "The little ones are out, right?"
Nasuada checked. "I think so. There aren't any I can see; hopefully they've gone for help."
Katrina said, in a voice that did not sound like her own, "Are you--are you the Varden?"
Her voice quavered, sounding much much older than Katrina, and the girl was practically vibrating as her aura intensified.
Roran looked at Nasuada. She swallowed. "Who are you to ask? Who are you to take the body of our friend for your purposes?"
Not-Katrina said, "I was-I was Angela. I am--" Katrina's body crumpled to the ground, and with her the barrier.
Roran didn't stop to think, ran to her and scooped her into his arms.
"Infirmary." Nasuada said, and checked the younger girl's head for wounds.
Roran began to walk.
--
Tornac said, "Let me get this straight. You want me to move to Uru'baen with Murtagh? How do I even know-- His Lordship wouldn't let me! Murtagh probably wouldn't want me to! It'd be, like, a slur on his reputation. Or something."
Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Thorn asked, dryly. Murtagh and I are two parts of the same being. He wants you here; he's afraid to ask. Therefore I took matters into my own claws.
Murtagh looked over at them curiously. Eragon, having emptied the contents of his stomach, was still pale but less sick.
Tornac whispered, "You bastard. You know I've never been able to say no to him--not for anything that counts--"
Oooh, Thorn said, I thought you might get the hang of it. You just mind-spoke. Well done.
Tornac, in the middle of swallowing, choked. You're joking.
Am not.
This doesn't mean I'm going to be the next Rider, does it? Tornac asked, dreading the answer. He wouldn't particularly enjoy sharing his head with a being not himself--or someone he'd chosen.
Don't worry; you're safe. Possibly if there were more of us--you've got the knack, like hundreds of others. You just happen to have a chance to use it.
...Huh.
--
Ajihad paced up and down the room, running his fingers through his hair.
Jeod, sitting at his desk, hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea, was observing the Varden's battle-leader detachedly.
Ajihad said, "Where are those elves?"
Jeod smiled softly (it scared most people, as it should). "Probably sleeping. Ajihad, if you haven't forgotten, they did travel all the way here from Ellesmera in a day."
The other man sighed. "I wish they'd hurry up about it; what if there's something urgent?"
"You think they'd have slept if there was something they needed to tell us?"
"Point taken. Still..."
"They'll show up; don't worry."
Ajihad sat down. "I'm just--worried, I guess. On edge. There's something in the air..."
"I feel it too. They'll be here." Jeod assured him, running a fingertip around the edge of his mug.
--
Murtagh was petting his little brother's hair, hoping the boy wouldn't throw up again and wondering what his--what Tornac and Thorn were talking about, when something ricocheted through all of magic and hit him hard.
He screamed and reached, blindly, for Thorn.
Who was reaching back, with a deep-rooted need he himself was feeling.
He fell, blind and deaf and dumb to everything but Thorn.
--
Nasuada and Roran had just gotten out of the door and into the hallway when a crowd of people ran up to them, Trianna in the lead.
The dark-haired woman looked at Nasuada with her daughter's urgent eyes. "Nasuada," Trianna said, "Nasuada! What happened?"
"We don't--Trianna, she just--she collapsed. She had, I don't know, some kind of magic. Whatever it was, it drained her. I think she might have been--possessed?"
Trianna's mouth set in a grim line. "Iason," she addressed the man at her side, "I think we'll need Arya. Possibly Faolin as back-up. Go."
He nodded, and ran.
"Callie said she saw a strange white light, told Katrina, and ran for help. Do you know anything?"
Nasuada shook her head. "At this point, you know more than I do. Listen, if she's--do we take her to infirmary? She was asking, if this was the Varden?" She grimaced at the quaver in her voice and clamped down on emotions. Time to panic later.
Roran adjusted Katrina's head on his shoulder. "Do I take her back--or?"
Trianna thought for a moment. "You're right, Nasuada. Nothing we can do in the infirmary that we can't in the Hall, and if she is possessed I'd rather not have her seeing this place."
Roran swallowed, and brushed a kiss to Katrina's forehead. "Will she--"
Trianna forced a smile. "She'll be fine, Roran, don't worry." But her eyes belied her worry.
Nasuada said, "Someone, go tell my father and the Council. They need to know this."
Trianna looked at her approvingly. "Good call. Roran, we'd better get her back inside." She raised her voice. "The rest of you--unless you're magical or a healer or have a clue what's going on? Disperse."
The crowd left, except for the small girl standing behind Trianna. "Mommy?"
"Sweetheart, not now, all right?"
"Mommy--the light wasn't bad. Just...different. I don't think it would hurt her--"
"All right, Callie. I'll keep that in mind. Go home now, sweetie." Trianna ruffled her daughter's hair. "Everything's going to be fine."
--
Murtagh collapsed, crumpling onto Eragon. Who yelped, and caught him.
Tornac was on his feet instantly, heart in his mouth. "What the--?"
Eragon said, from the ground where Murtagh's head lay in his lap, "What in the Goddess' name just happened?!"
Tornac said, "I'm fucked if I know," and thought What happened? at Thorn.
He got no response. He tried again, out loud. "Thorn? What happened?"
Nothing.
Eragon looked at him worriedly. "Do you suppose--whatever happened--do you think it hit my father? And the King?" This last was clearly an afterthought. Tornac would have laughed, under better circumstances--however much Eragon professed to loathe his father familial bonds were strong, with this lot.
Tornac looked at the two red dragons--Thorn curled up against Ruadhri's side, both unconscious.
He swallowed.
--
Morzan felt the shock reverberate through all of magic, and it made his muscles fail for a brief, panic-inducing moment. He mind-screamed--Galbatorix! Ruadhri! The water cradled him, as the power hit him--he pulled his shields up and took a sharp breath.
He fought not to fall under the water, and felt a rush of energy. Galbatorix.
There was a sudden and marked lack of water in the tub. And a sudden and marked lump of body.
Morzan opened his eyes. Ow, headache, forced that down with a spell. What happened? Ruadhri, you there?
No answer. Galbatorix, next to him, blinked several times. "What the fucking fuck was that?"
Morzan said, "I'm not getting anything from Hri."
Galbatorix said, "She's all right--just unconscious. Same with your son." And then he kissed Morzan, deep and desperate, like the end of the world had come and gone.
Morzan responded; how could he not?
--
Tornac said, "We'd better find some help."
Eragon nodded, and slipped his overtunic over his head, balling it into a pillow. He lowered his brother's head onto the makeshift support and stood. "One problem. When was the last time you were at Uru'baen?"
Tornac swallowed. "Never?"
Eragon grimaced. "I must have been maybe seven years old last time I was here--I have no idea of what the place looks like. Goddess-damn-it."
Tornac swore under his breath. "There'll be servants around, right?"
Eragon thought about it. "Not in this wing, I don't think--the King cleans his rooms with magic, and Murtagh says he has privacy issues--"
Tornac swore again. "Any way for us to get to servants?"
Eragon shook his head. "Not in a way that'll take us less than an hour--we'll have to hope we can find the King and my father. They'll know what to do."
"All right, then. Lead on!"
--
Arya felt the fracture in the magic when it happened, though as it happened her shields were strong enough to protect her. Faolin was not so lucky. One moment he was teasing her about her hair, the next he was supine on their bed.
She said, "Faolin?" And reached for his mind. Once she was assured that he was fine, but unreachable, she set off for the Council. Other people must have been affected, she'd be needed. And perhaps someone would have a clue what was going on.
And once the magic-shock wore off, she'd be having a long talk with Faolin about maintaining one's shields.
--
Eragon and Tornac wandered down halls, utterly and completely lost. They'd resorted to ducking into any unlocked room (and several that could be forced open), looking for people.
The room they were currently in was pretty much empty, though there was soft, thick, carpet on the floor, and two stone pedestals in the center of the room, which struck Tornac as odd.
Eragon said, "What's that?" Pointing to a silver-blue stone sitting on a pedestal, next to an egg-shaped emerald.
Tornac said, "I don't know--for goddess' sake, Eragon, don't touch it--"
Too late. Eragon's seeking fingers brushed the stone's surface, leaving minute rippling cracks in their wake. Tornac swallowed.
There was a feeling in the air--a barely palpable anticipation thick on Tornac's tongue.
Eragon's eyes were wide with shock as he reached out another finger. "It's--hatching..." he whispered, as if something he did could break the cycle, stop the dragon in the stone-egg from hatching.
Tornac grinned. "It's hatching for you," he said, and Eragon's face split in a smile.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is."
There was a sound, building. A low droning hum, but as Tornac listened it became more melodic, a beautiful wordless song.
The dragons. Oh goddess, the dragons are singing.
Eragon didn't seem to hear, attention caught by the cracking egg. Bits of blue fell away, revealing a tiny nose, tight-sealed eyes, damp wings--Tornac had to admit, the thing was cute.
The small creature shook out its wings and licked at the remnants of membrane on its body.
Wonderingly, Eragon stroked a finger along the hatchling's sapphire-blue nose; it nuzzled against his palm, and there was a flash of white light.
Tornac's eyes closed, half-involuntarily to shield him from the brightness; when he opened them Eragon was flat on the floor and the hatchling had jumped off the pedestal and was nosing at its new Rider's shirt, probably looking for food.
Tornac laughed, and poked Eragon's shoulder. "Wake up," he said. "Your dragon's hungry!"
--
Warnings include slash and weirdness. Disclaimer includes NOT MINE and CHRIS PAOLINI'S.
Sonata: In Which There is a Happening of Great Importance
The peace of great churches be for you,
Where the players of loft pipe organs
Practice old lovely fragments, alone.
Carl Sandburg--For You (Smoke and Steel, 1922)
--
Arya woke up, emerging from the dark depths of dreams. She blinked slowly, and reached for Faolin. Next to her he murmured sleepy nonsense and she smiled, rubbing her eyes.
Faolin stirred. "Arya?" He asked, yawning.
"Right here," she told him, running her fingers through her hair. "I think I need to wash my hair. You do too. Need to wash your hair, I mean."
He stared at her. "Arya, we just got back from a ridiculously long ride, we've been asleep for who-knows-how-long, and you're worried about...Yeah, I'm worried about my hair too. Are we attractive to twigs? Because that's what my hair feels like."
She laughed. "One of us ought to get up and see where we are and what time it is..."
Faolin sighed. "But I just woke up!"
"Me too!"
"'S warm..." He murmured, burrowing into the blankets.
"...Faolin. We need to find Ajihad and Jeod. Remember? The news from Ellesmera? And if I know them, they're pacing back and forth waiting for us..."
Faolin glared. "Why does this always happen?"
"Dearlove, you proposed to me. And you knew I'd be stuck doing this. So really, it's your own fault."
"But how could I resist? I love you, Arya." He kissed her softly.
She laughed. "We still have to go. C'mon."
--
Thorn, dragon of Murtagh, circled in the air above Morzan's castle. His Rider was clutching his saddle tightly and looked a bit green; evidently the spell had worn off. Ruadhri, Morzan's dragon, sent a chuckle Thorn's way.
Thorn said, I love my Rider dearly, but he is a moron.
Ruadhri laughed. Too true, little one. Too true, for all of us. Don't tell your Rider I said his father's a moron.
Thorn said, I hope he doesn't throw up on me--
Murtagh said, I heard that. And I won't. If only because you'd make me clean it off, and with this headache--
Well, I did tell you to be careful.
You expected me to listen?!
Ruadhri craned her neck to look at them reprovingly. Murtagh went greener and Thorn dipped his head. Tornac, sitting behind Murtagh, swallowed and gripped his friend's waist tighter.
Morzan shouted, "Murtagh, Thorn! Keep up!" And Ruadhri flew.
Eragon, sitting behind Morzan, looked sicker than Thorn's Rider; the wind wrenched past them as the great red dragon powered her way through the sky. He'd pretty much given up on any form of resistance after his brother and father double-teamed him, though he wasn't at all used to dragonflight. Especially Ruadhri's dragonflight.
She was fast, Thorn thought; and then--Wait. I have to keep up?
Murtagh said, Please. Don't.
Which of course clinched it; Thorn threw himself into the wind.
Murtagh threw up. Fortunately over Thorn's side, narrowly missing his wing. Thorn growled.
Murtagh said, I warned you.
Thorn ignored him and kept flying.
--
Katrina smiled at the little girl clinging to her leg and tried to suppress the urge to kick her off. "Callie? Sweetheart? Can you please get off my leg?"
The girl looked up at her with wide blue eyes. "But--"
"Callie," Katrina sighed. "Look. There're your friends. Don't you want to go play with them?"
"Katrina," the girl said, pointing at a space behind Kat, "Look--"
Katrina turned. Shocked, she knelt down awkwardly and whispered, "Go get your friends out of here, all right? And find some help."
Callie nodded. "Katrina--"
She forced a quick smile. "Everything's going to be fine, dearling."
The girl ran off to the other end of the training hall (a large chamber with a padded floor and walls used for teaching the little children) and whispered urgently to the other kids, currently having a break.
"Roran!" Katrina called. "Nasuada? Get over here."
--
Galbatorix emerged from his chambers. "Morzan," he said. "Good to see you."
"Likewise, My Lord," Morzan replied, bowing hand-over-heart.
"Come in," the King said, smiling.
Morzan clamped down on the urge to giggle and followed the other man to his rooms.
Once the door had shut behind them he let out a great sigh and slumped into a chair. "Goddess, I ache. And, Tor, do I need a bath? Or do I need a bath?"
The King laughed. "I'd say so. Hang on--" He closed his eyes, and Morzan heard water trickle into the tub.
"You're a life-saver, you know that?"
"'Course I do. You look awful, Morzan."
Morzan levered himself out of the chair and glared, stripping his clothes off on the way to warm water. "Nice to hear it. I knew I shouldn't've inflated your ego, and I did it anyway.
"Oh goddess, this feels good."
Galbatorix laughed as his friend splashed in the bath, and sat down next to him, keeping a safe distance between his clothes and the water.
"So, your son. The younger one, however much I enjoy Murtagh--he really is a credit to you, you know."
Morzan mmm'ed and fell backwards into the water.
Galbatorix said, "I'm not going to get any conversation out of you for a while, am I?"
Morzan laughed. "Probably not, Tor. It's too nice, the water."
"For a Dragon Rider you certainly enjoy the sea..."
"Met a Selkie when I was young, remember? Before Hri hatched for me. Seals are wonderful creatures." He submerged, eyes closed in bliss.
Galbatorix smiled.
--
Murtagh took a deep drink of water from his waterskin, then splashed some on his face.
Tornac looked at him pointedly, tapping his foot on the cobbled stone of the courtyard.
Eragon threw up in a bush.
Tornac mused aloud, "Why am I the only one of us not sick? Oh, yes, I remember --because I didn't get drunk last night."
Murtagh glared at him.
Eragon was too busy throwing up to respond.
Thorn, curled up in the center of the courtyard, next to Ruadhri, licked his tail.
Tornac?
The man in question stopped mocking his friends and looked up. "Yes?"
Hello.
"Wait. Thorn?"
You're really quite astonishingly intelligent.
Tornac grinned. Of course that was Murtagh's dragon. His voice even sounded like--oh, goddess, was that affection bleeding through his thoughts?
Thorn said, I figured we should talk. It's not like they'll be paying any attention, and Hri says she won't interfere, so...
Tornac raised an eyebrow. "So you can slaughter me?"
Murtagh looked at him oddly.
He said, "Your dragon."
Murtagh said, "Thorn, don't kill him. That's my job." And went over to his little brother, who showed no signs of lessening the offload.
Tornac said, "Wow, how reassuring," and folded down next to the dragons.
Ruadhri blinked at him slowly, but he detected no malice in it. He stayed put, watching Murtagh stroke his brother's back and wince.
Thorn chuffed and nibbled his hair.
--
Roran finished his bread and cheese and licked the last of the crumbs off his fingers. Bored now, he watched Nasuada eat.
She blinked at him, swallowing the last of her apple.
Katrina shouted, "Roran! Nasuada!"
He was on his feet in less time than it took for a dragon to blink, hands scrabbling for weapons secreted around his body--and he came up with nothing. Beside him, Nasuada'd abandoned all hope of lunch and had her sword in hand. As one they ran to Katrina, sprinting across the soft floor.
The girl herself was standing in front of the main door to the training hall--there was one at the back, but it led to the pools and involved a really complicated route to get home, so most people avoided it--and she was afraid. Roran knew the tenseness in her back didn't show up for just anything; all of them were fairly good at masking emotion, and for this to be visible--
Roran stopped short of her; not because he wanted to, but because there was something blocking him. Next to him, Nasuada was pinwheeling her arms, having run straight into the invisible barrier.
Katrina turned to look at them, and Roran swore. Her pupils were gone, and there was a faint glow surrounding her. He turned to Nasuada--"Can you?"
She shook her head. "My magic doesn't work like this--can you see why she built it?"
He craned his neck. "There's something--blocking."
Nasuada swore. "Kat!" she called. "C'mon, Kat, wake up! It's us--Nasuada and Roran! We'll help you!"
Roran said, as quiet as he could make his voice, "Do we know how she just got power? Kat's not magical, and if she's possessed we have a big problem--"
Nasuada shook her head. "I wish to goddess I knew what was going on--but my magic's always been earth-elemental, and not powerful at that." She reached out a hand and tapped at the barrier. Her fingers ricocheted off "solid" air.
She said, "Well, it's not weakening with time."
Roran closed his eyes briefly. "The little ones are out, right?"
Nasuada checked. "I think so. There aren't any I can see; hopefully they've gone for help."
Katrina said, in a voice that did not sound like her own, "Are you--are you the Varden?"
Her voice quavered, sounding much much older than Katrina, and the girl was practically vibrating as her aura intensified.
Roran looked at Nasuada. She swallowed. "Who are you to ask? Who are you to take the body of our friend for your purposes?"
Not-Katrina said, "I was-I was Angela. I am--" Katrina's body crumpled to the ground, and with her the barrier.
Roran didn't stop to think, ran to her and scooped her into his arms.
"Infirmary." Nasuada said, and checked the younger girl's head for wounds.
Roran began to walk.
--
Tornac said, "Let me get this straight. You want me to move to Uru'baen with Murtagh? How do I even know-- His Lordship wouldn't let me! Murtagh probably wouldn't want me to! It'd be, like, a slur on his reputation. Or something."
Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Thorn asked, dryly. Murtagh and I are two parts of the same being. He wants you here; he's afraid to ask. Therefore I took matters into my own claws.
Murtagh looked over at them curiously. Eragon, having emptied the contents of his stomach, was still pale but less sick.
Tornac whispered, "You bastard. You know I've never been able to say no to him--not for anything that counts--"
Oooh, Thorn said, I thought you might get the hang of it. You just mind-spoke. Well done.
Tornac, in the middle of swallowing, choked. You're joking.
Am not.
This doesn't mean I'm going to be the next Rider, does it? Tornac asked, dreading the answer. He wouldn't particularly enjoy sharing his head with a being not himself--or someone he'd chosen.
Don't worry; you're safe. Possibly if there were more of us--you've got the knack, like hundreds of others. You just happen to have a chance to use it.
...Huh.
--
Ajihad paced up and down the room, running his fingers through his hair.
Jeod, sitting at his desk, hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea, was observing the Varden's battle-leader detachedly.
Ajihad said, "Where are those elves?"
Jeod smiled softly (it scared most people, as it should). "Probably sleeping. Ajihad, if you haven't forgotten, they did travel all the way here from Ellesmera in a day."
The other man sighed. "I wish they'd hurry up about it; what if there's something urgent?"
"You think they'd have slept if there was something they needed to tell us?"
"Point taken. Still..."
"They'll show up; don't worry."
Ajihad sat down. "I'm just--worried, I guess. On edge. There's something in the air..."
"I feel it too. They'll be here." Jeod assured him, running a fingertip around the edge of his mug.
--
Murtagh was petting his little brother's hair, hoping the boy wouldn't throw up again and wondering what his--what Tornac and Thorn were talking about, when something ricocheted through all of magic and hit him hard.
He screamed and reached, blindly, for Thorn.
Who was reaching back, with a deep-rooted need he himself was feeling.
He fell, blind and deaf and dumb to everything but Thorn.
--
Nasuada and Roran had just gotten out of the door and into the hallway when a crowd of people ran up to them, Trianna in the lead.
The dark-haired woman looked at Nasuada with her daughter's urgent eyes. "Nasuada," Trianna said, "Nasuada! What happened?"
"We don't--Trianna, she just--she collapsed. She had, I don't know, some kind of magic. Whatever it was, it drained her. I think she might have been--possessed?"
Trianna's mouth set in a grim line. "Iason," she addressed the man at her side, "I think we'll need Arya. Possibly Faolin as back-up. Go."
He nodded, and ran.
"Callie said she saw a strange white light, told Katrina, and ran for help. Do you know anything?"
Nasuada shook her head. "At this point, you know more than I do. Listen, if she's--do we take her to infirmary? She was asking, if this was the Varden?" She grimaced at the quaver in her voice and clamped down on emotions. Time to panic later.
Roran adjusted Katrina's head on his shoulder. "Do I take her back--or?"
Trianna thought for a moment. "You're right, Nasuada. Nothing we can do in the infirmary that we can't in the Hall, and if she is possessed I'd rather not have her seeing this place."
Roran swallowed, and brushed a kiss to Katrina's forehead. "Will she--"
Trianna forced a smile. "She'll be fine, Roran, don't worry." But her eyes belied her worry.
Nasuada said, "Someone, go tell my father and the Council. They need to know this."
Trianna looked at her approvingly. "Good call. Roran, we'd better get her back inside." She raised her voice. "The rest of you--unless you're magical or a healer or have a clue what's going on? Disperse."
The crowd left, except for the small girl standing behind Trianna. "Mommy?"
"Sweetheart, not now, all right?"
"Mommy--the light wasn't bad. Just...different. I don't think it would hurt her--"
"All right, Callie. I'll keep that in mind. Go home now, sweetie." Trianna ruffled her daughter's hair. "Everything's going to be fine."
--
Murtagh collapsed, crumpling onto Eragon. Who yelped, and caught him.
Tornac was on his feet instantly, heart in his mouth. "What the--?"
Eragon said, from the ground where Murtagh's head lay in his lap, "What in the Goddess' name just happened?!"
Tornac said, "I'm fucked if I know," and thought What happened? at Thorn.
He got no response. He tried again, out loud. "Thorn? What happened?"
Nothing.
Eragon looked at him worriedly. "Do you suppose--whatever happened--do you think it hit my father? And the King?" This last was clearly an afterthought. Tornac would have laughed, under better circumstances--however much Eragon professed to loathe his father familial bonds were strong, with this lot.
Tornac looked at the two red dragons--Thorn curled up against Ruadhri's side, both unconscious.
He swallowed.
--
Morzan felt the shock reverberate through all of magic, and it made his muscles fail for a brief, panic-inducing moment. He mind-screamed--Galbatorix! Ruadhri! The water cradled him, as the power hit him--he pulled his shields up and took a sharp breath.
He fought not to fall under the water, and felt a rush of energy. Galbatorix.
There was a sudden and marked lack of water in the tub. And a sudden and marked lump of body.
Morzan opened his eyes. Ow, headache, forced that down with a spell. What happened? Ruadhri, you there?
No answer. Galbatorix, next to him, blinked several times. "What the fucking fuck was that?"
Morzan said, "I'm not getting anything from Hri."
Galbatorix said, "She's all right--just unconscious. Same with your son." And then he kissed Morzan, deep and desperate, like the end of the world had come and gone.
Morzan responded; how could he not?
--
Tornac said, "We'd better find some help."
Eragon nodded, and slipped his overtunic over his head, balling it into a pillow. He lowered his brother's head onto the makeshift support and stood. "One problem. When was the last time you were at Uru'baen?"
Tornac swallowed. "Never?"
Eragon grimaced. "I must have been maybe seven years old last time I was here--I have no idea of what the place looks like. Goddess-damn-it."
Tornac swore under his breath. "There'll be servants around, right?"
Eragon thought about it. "Not in this wing, I don't think--the King cleans his rooms with magic, and Murtagh says he has privacy issues--"
Tornac swore again. "Any way for us to get to servants?"
Eragon shook his head. "Not in a way that'll take us less than an hour--we'll have to hope we can find the King and my father. They'll know what to do."
"All right, then. Lead on!"
--
Arya felt the fracture in the magic when it happened, though as it happened her shields were strong enough to protect her. Faolin was not so lucky. One moment he was teasing her about her hair, the next he was supine on their bed.
She said, "Faolin?" And reached for his mind. Once she was assured that he was fine, but unreachable, she set off for the Council. Other people must have been affected, she'd be needed. And perhaps someone would have a clue what was going on.
And once the magic-shock wore off, she'd be having a long talk with Faolin about maintaining one's shields.
--
Eragon and Tornac wandered down halls, utterly and completely lost. They'd resorted to ducking into any unlocked room (and several that could be forced open), looking for people.
The room they were currently in was pretty much empty, though there was soft, thick, carpet on the floor, and two stone pedestals in the center of the room, which struck Tornac as odd.
Eragon said, "What's that?" Pointing to a silver-blue stone sitting on a pedestal, next to an egg-shaped emerald.
Tornac said, "I don't know--for goddess' sake, Eragon, don't touch it--"
Too late. Eragon's seeking fingers brushed the stone's surface, leaving minute rippling cracks in their wake. Tornac swallowed.
There was a feeling in the air--a barely palpable anticipation thick on Tornac's tongue.
Eragon's eyes were wide with shock as he reached out another finger. "It's--hatching..." he whispered, as if something he did could break the cycle, stop the dragon in the stone-egg from hatching.
Tornac grinned. "It's hatching for you," he said, and Eragon's face split in a smile.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is."
There was a sound, building. A low droning hum, but as Tornac listened it became more melodic, a beautiful wordless song.
The dragons. Oh goddess, the dragons are singing.
Eragon didn't seem to hear, attention caught by the cracking egg. Bits of blue fell away, revealing a tiny nose, tight-sealed eyes, damp wings--Tornac had to admit, the thing was cute.
The small creature shook out its wings and licked at the remnants of membrane on its body.
Wonderingly, Eragon stroked a finger along the hatchling's sapphire-blue nose; it nuzzled against his palm, and there was a flash of white light.
Tornac's eyes closed, half-involuntarily to shield him from the brightness; when he opened them Eragon was flat on the floor and the hatchling had jumped off the pedestal and was nosing at its new Rider's shirt, probably looking for food.
Tornac laughed, and poked Eragon's shoulder. "Wake up," he said. "Your dragon's hungry!"
--