For Alagaesia: 58. The enemy is a friend

The Leona lake had everything that was beautiful – a shore dotted with trees, a mountainous backdrop, clear water and silence. But it still couldn’t provide peace to Nasuada. Even her horse, Battlestorm seemed distracted. He neighed, probably calling her to join him back to the city. The cold was that unbearable.

But she didn’t care. In fact, the cold was so much better than the constant protection that she was being given in the city. In Dras-Leona, she wasn’t living the life of a ruler but that of a prisoner; with a difference, though – the prisoner who doubled up as decision maker.

This past hour was the only time she had experienced any semblance of calmness. Having guards wherever she turned was a nuisance and annoyance. It wouldn’t have bothered her if she didn’t feel like she was being watched; like she would have to be stopped from making the same mistake again.

She knew deep down in her mind that her people were only trying to help her. But that didn’t stop her from loathing their constant watch over her. She couldn’t even get proper sleep. Every night she tossed and turned in the bed and rose up the next morning feeling more miserable than the day before. She had not even thought about the dragon rider pair since two days after she had met with them. They had nothing to do with her state, at least consciously. But somehow, peace seemed to be a distant dream for her. So she finally decided that she wanted freedom from her own people.

Thus after much argument with Blodhgarm who had taken charge of her security, she was allowed to travel alone for a while, on the condition that she wouldn’t venture deep into the spine.

“Wouldn’t you take some time for yourself each day? Won’t you want to be in peace? How can you deny me these?”, she had said before the wolf-like elf had granted her wish.

The elves had scrutinised the area around the Leona for well over an hour before she was allowed to go. Although, she disapproved of such extensive safety arrangements, she couldn’t find fault with the Varden. They had lost their leader for one full day and the effects of that experience would linger for at least a few weeks.

She was, of course, ready to cooperate with them and be under protection always. But after a week of such existence, her mind had cried for some respite; for some time for itself. There was something in her mind that wanted to seek solace in calm and silent surroundings.

Only now did she empathise with Eragon for seeking solitude. One day of emotional drain was putting her off track. How would Eragon have felt after a month and a half’s emotionally draining events? Arya too had become a recluse ever since she had returned from Gil’ead where she was held prisoner. Before then, Nasuada remembered the elven lady laughing and speaking heartily with dwarves and humans even.

She shuddered involuntarily. ‘How much would the two of them have suffered?’, she thought. No wonder they both were capable of killing shades and living through the experience, a rare feat achieved only twice before in the long recorded history of Alagaesia.

She was sitting on the shores of Leona, wrapped in warm blankets, just admiring the splendour of nature. It made her calm but peace was another matter. It just seemed that peace would elude her forever.

She sighed. So much had changed in the two and half years since her father had died. She had evolved into a lady different in every way from the eager and loved girl, she was to her father. Would her father have wanted her to travel down this path? – she didn’t know. But her father’s advices and teaching were all that had guided her through the path.

With her bare hand, she drew an image of her father on the snow that filled the ground. After she finished it, her eyes simply refused to leave the dull likeness of her father. The image was nothing like her father, except for a few features like the sharp nose, proud chin and knowing eyes. She had been a good artist earlier! Now all she could manage was a dull likeness of her own father. ‘Oh, Nasuada’, she pitied herself and looked away.

The snow that clung on to the trees that were bare reminded her of her own mind. Like the tree that was devoid of leaves and fruits, her mind was devoid of peace and happiness. And like the snow that would have been useful to the tree if it were in liquid state, she had thoughts of people who could have been helpful to her if they weren’t what they were now. She smiled forlornly.

Of course, she had Eragon who loved her(or at least considered her) as a sister and people who trusted her as their leader. Many people weren’t as lucky. So her anger and frustration at the world for its cruelty wasn’t justified.

‘Well, my anger wouldn’t be justified if I don’t have to go through this quandary. But I have to and those other people don’t have to, so they are lucky.’, she thought.

‘Gods, Nasuada! From when did you become such a jealous creature?’, another part of her mind cried.

Battlestorm was getting restless. He neighed and nickered as a gust of cold wind swept through the area. “Hush, my friend, hush. Do you want to leave me too? You have been my only permanent companion in this ever changing landscape of friends and foes. If you too leave, I will have none.”, she said loudly.

Her sanity was being challenged by the locked up anger in her mind and she found this a perfect opportunity to open up her mind. Whom else could she talk to than to her trusted and constant companion battlestorm? The stallion was the only one who had seen all she had seen. He was in more than one way, her most trusted and reliable companion. From the day, he was presented to her by her father to this day, he had remained by her side, not leaving in despairing situations.

For the next few minutes, she shed tears. For what and for whom she knew not. But she felt all her pent-up frustration melt away with the tears. But, another monster of a thought clawed its way into the roots of her mind, growing stronger with every drop of tear that fell from her eyes: ‘You are crying like a child, Nasuada. You are a coward. There is no strength in you.’

“Shut up, Nasuada.”, she screamed at the air. She brushed aside the tears with her hands and stood resolutely not to ever be alone again. It was far worse than being surrounded by guards and fellow leaders. When they were there, she was in control. But when alone, every bit of control she had built around her crumbled like a sand tower amidst a storm.

On seeing her rise, Battlestorm ran to her eagerly. She patted the horse’s face and was about to mount him when she heard a rustling noise behind her.

Shocked, she turned around to see what made the noise, praying to find a mouse. She couldn’t meet with any sentient creature in her current state. But what she saw, threw her off-balance. From behind the snow-capped trees, a man was walking towards her, with a hood up his head and a sword strapped at his hips.

The scabbard that held his sword was old and through the gaps in it, she saw a glimmering red. No. No. No. It wasn’t him. It shouldn’t be him. It isn’t possible. The elves had checked these regions thoroughly. It was clear.

The torrent of emotions Nasuada felt were so great that she was rooted to the spot unable to move. But then, after a few seconds, a surge of thoughts arose in her mind, pushing her to act; to run away from him.

She mounted Battlestorm in a hurry and without even caring to strap her legs to the saddle, she pulled the reins of the bridle. The horse moved ahead, but then she remembered something else: it was useless. Murtagh could simply use magic to stop her.

Cursing herself for even considering to come outside the safety of Dras-Leona alone, Nasauda drew her dagger. Even if nothing would work, she would fight. And in her situation, fighting would be more useful than running. Maybe she could slip in a dagger through Murtagh's chest.

“That wouldn’t be necessary, lady.”, Murtagh’s voice reached her ears. Battlestorm tried to race away from Murtagh’s presence, but something held him back and he stopped running.

“I don’t mean any harm to you.”, Murtagh said.

“As if I am a fool to believe you.”, Nasuada snarled. Her heart beat so hard at her ribs that she could feel and hear the thud of her heartbeat.

Murtagh merely smirked. “A horse believes me but a human doesn’t.”, he said.

“What do you mean?”, Nasuada asked in an irritated tone.

“I spoke to Battlestorm and he trusted me enough to stop from running away.”, Murtagh said in a matter-of-fact way.

‘Spoke to a horse? These magicians are crazy.’ “If you don’t want to hurt me, why do you not let me go?”, she asked.

“Because I met an old friend around here last week and I want to know if you have seen her.”, Murtagh said, yet again burying away all sorts of emotions from his voice.

Nasuada’s heart was ready to burst out of her rib cage. She didn’t know if she pitied or was angry at Murtagh. What she did know was that at Murtagh’s words her heartbeat increased many-fold, if it was even possible.

“Why are you here, Murtagh?”, Nasuada asked trying to keep fear and anger out of her voice.

Murtagh stayed silent. Nasuada waited for an answer for a while and when she didn’t receive any, she decided to let go of the question. It was a stupid one anyway. Of course, he would have come to spy on the Varden. Or capture somebody who was foolish enough – like herself – to roam alone near the Spine. Nasuada looked around. There wasn’t anybody in her sight except for Murtagh and Battlestorm.

“Looking for somebody?”, Murtagh’s cool voice reached her.

Irritated, Nasuada stared hard at Murtagh and said, “Yes. Anyone would be a better company to keep than you.”

Murtagh, yet again showed no response to her hurtful comments. He even seemed like nodding his head. His carefree actions served only to increase Nasuada's anger and resentment. 'Heartless beast.'

In a few seconds, the wing-beats of a dragon reached her ears and in another few moments the huge red dragon came into view. Thorn landed right behind Murtagh and snaked his head ahead and below to be level with his rider’s.

“There. The person you searched for.”, Murtagh said calmly.

How? How in hell did Murtagh find out that she was looking for Thorn? Trying hard to keep the ridiculous wondering expression from transferring from her mind to face, Nasuada looked away from Murtagh and focussed on Thorn.

‘You look tired leader-of-the-rebellion.’, Thorn said. His voice was sad and heavy as if he had just seen the death of a dear one.

Nasuada swallowed a lump that rose up her throat, at hearing Thorn’s voice. Everything. Everything she had so badly wanted to forget, came back flooding into her mind.

Murtagh’s cracking and breaking voice saying, ‘But Thorn…’: An image she had taught herself to forget spread across her mind like a poison consuming everything else. Those two words were the most pained and disturbing words she had ever heard in her life. And now they were back in her mind to haunt her. And this time, she knew, it was for eternity.

Her eyes scanned Thorn’s enormous body for any sign of injury. Judging from how ghostly Eragon had appeared even after healing, Galbatorix’s punishments must have left heavy wounds on Thorn. But there simply were none to be found.

'What are you looking for, leader-of-the-rebellion?', Thorn's sad yet comforting voice asked.

Nasauda struggled to answer. Thorn's question had caught her off-guard and she now wanted to dodge the question. But nothing else registered in her mind, except Thorn and Murtagh's earlier conversation with her and consequently, she was unable to lie. She chose to remain silent.

'I am sorry. I forget that I have no friends except for Murtagh to whom I can ask these kinds of questions and expect answers from.', Thorn said. His tone was mocking. Initially, Nasuada wondered if the dragon was mocking her. But something in Thorn's demeanour made her realise that he was referring to himself as the object of his mockery.

Murtagh glared at her from under his hood, she could say. Her hands fumbled on Battlestorm's reins. Thorn was a dragon. But his words were that of a banished man who had resigned himself to his fate. If Saphira was the epitome of pride, Thorn was that of self-loathing. How different were the two dragons and yet how similar were they?

Wisdom and fierce loyalty were qualities Thorn shared with Saphira while Saphira was far too confident than the red dragon.

“You may ask me whatever you wish to, Thorn.”, Nasuada said. But she still, didn't directly address Thorn's question. It was far too painful a subject to pursue.

'Really?!', Thorn exclaimed. His enthusiasm at Nasuada's simple words was so huge that he flapped his wings twice and looked at Murtagh with unrestrained glee.

Looking at Thorn in a state of ecstasy was so different that a little smile came upon Nasuada’s face despite her general unease.

‘You will be my friend then?’, Thorn asked all of a sudden. His demeanour was so excited that Nasuada couldn’t afford to say anything other than “yes”, lest she hurt Thorn. She didn’t know how she could be friends with a sworn enemy, but she didn’t care too much. Foes and friends in war meant nothing personally, she had found a week ago. All she wanted was to give some happiness to the gorgeous red dragon that stood before her.

‘You are so kind, leader-of-the-varden, I only wish that master-king-Galbatorix is as kind too.’, Thorn said. His voice again took on the pained, sad and calm tone when he spoke of Galbatorix. And there was a suppressed feeling, running almost like an undercurrent in his words: anger.

“Call me Nasuada. Friends don’t refer to each other by titles.”, Nasuada said, earning a child-like response from Thorn. Whenever she spoke of herself and Thorn as friends, Thorn seemed to brighten up.

Murtagh seemed content to let Thorn speak. He stood silent leaning against a tree trunk, his hood still drawn over his face. The only movement the rider ever made was a gradual turn of his head, like that of a hawk. He was watching the surroundings keenly.

‘You should not move around here alone, Nasuada. Galbatorix has dispatched a group of his cursed magicians in hopes of capturing someone of the Varden so that he will gain more information to act upon.’, Thorn said.

Nasuada was engrossed by the new information. So Galbatorix wasn’t interested in stopping the Varden’s progress by direct combat. He was involved in another of his twisted and backhanded attempts to get to the roots of the Varden. ‘That explains his inaction even after most of his cities have been captured.’, she thought.

Worry gnawed at her mind – the last time Galbatorix attempted such a thing, he had been successful at pulling Elva to his side and capturing Eragon. Patience, resilience and perseverance were surely among the strongest weapons in Galbatorix’s arsenal.

“He wants to capture an elf in addition to Eragon, Saphira and the egg.”, Murtagh said speaking for the first time in a long time.

“Elf?”, Nasuada asked curiously. Why would Galbatorix want to capture an elf?

“He thinks an elf would have answers to his unanswered questions and of course, he can retrieve the locations of elven settlements if he gets hold of one.”, Murtagh said.

‘You see, then, I will be able to enslave those inferior creatures.’, Thorn said, in a silken tone that was both proud and evil at the same time as opposed to dragons who were proud and good. But there was something in that tone that tempted her to believe Thorn; like a charm designed to pull you into a pit despite you having knowledge of the pit’s existence.

“Thorn?”, Nasuada called, worried.

“He was mimicking the King.”, Murtagh explained.

“Oh!?”, Nasuada managed. If mimicking Galbatorix itself had such an effect on her, what would the real man’s appearance do? She shuddered.

‘You should be with the elves always.’, Thorn said, ‘That will keep you safe.’

Nasuada didn’t understand what Thorn meant by ‘being safe with elves’

‘Master-king is scared of the elves, I can say. The way he keeps on speaking about them being inferior to him… it looks as if he doesn’t believe what he says… It is like he is saying those things only to make himself believe them.’, Thorn said.

Dragons. Enslaved or not, they had this knack of finding things. Who else would assert that mad Galbatorix feared someone, if not a dragon?

Nasuada moved forward and touched Thorn on his face with her hand and said, “Thank you, great one, for your insightful advice.”

Thorn seemed to shiver at her touch. But a feeling of warm acceptance radiated from his mind indicating that she was welcome to go to him for anything.

“The king is quite mad with rage. He badly wants to capture Eragon and the dragon egg back. He also wants to get his hands on Saphira. He has some worn-out empty parchment and says that he wants to test it on Eragon. He thinks I failed him. But when did I agree to help him to fail?”, Murtagh said without prompting.

Nasuada knew half of that message already and the other half made no sense to her – parchment, test on Eragon, whatever. But the thing that caught her attention was the last sentence.

Murtagh was implying that he was defying Galbatorix. At least in words, if not in action. But she didn’t respond to Murtagh’s unusual and strange words – that sounded more like a confession than like an information.

The three of them stood in silence thereafter, a measure of peace settling over their minds. Nasuada resolved that this would be the last time she was meeting wirh the dragon-rider pair.

Battlestorm neighed all of a sudden, shattering the silence that had settled over the three – rider, human and dragon.

“We need to be going.”, Murtagh said. Thorn arched his neck lower and touched Nasuada on her brow in much the same way Saphira always does and said, ‘Be happy.’

“You be safe.”, Nasuada replied to both dragon and rider in general.

Murtagh mounted Thorn in a swift motion and Thorn was about to fly off, when Murtagh met her eyes, and said, “Thank you for being good to Thorn. He has not had a single friend till now.”

Nasuada nodded. Thorn thrust his legs back, digging his talons into the snow on the ground. “And thank you for listening.”, Murtagh said even as Thorn flapped his huge wings and shot up into the sky.

Nasuada watched the dragon and rider fly off towards Uru’baen and she wondered why exactly they had chosen this spot, near Dras-Leona to rest. She had heard of Morzan’s palace being around there. But she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she had a role in the dragon and rider choosing that particular location for resting.

And as Battlestorm galloped towards Dras-Leona, she prayed that none should have seen Murtagh or Thorn from the city. She wasn’t going to make it public knowledge that she met with the enemy and had a friendly talk.

Author’s Note:

Hope you liked it. This chapter is a preview of what is to come. Thorn and Nasuada have forged a strong-enough friendship that may become a help or be a cause for worry later on. But I would say that it would be a bit of both.

This chapter is dedicated to my dear reviewer and friend, Hazza717. There, Harry, is your gift.