For Alagaesia: 66. Monsters

The biting cold that coated Alagaesia's north and central parts seemed to have seeped into her very veins. She didn't know if it was because this was the first time that she was up this north or if it was a side-effect of some other illness that was secretly affecting her. But what she did know was that she may be cured of it if she had sometime for herself, away from all the gloom and doom reports of the Varden.

Martland Redbeard was as good a tactician as Jormundur and it wasn't difficult to envision him leading the Varden for a couple of weeks while she would get her 'rest'. But the thing that was difficult was getting her advisers who included the eternally meddlesome council of elders, the night-hawks(who had taken up as the personal security ensurers of the leader of the Varden) and the senior most captains of the Varden army to accept her proposal.

“You could go south to Surda or to Feinster if you feel like you need rest. Why would you choose to accompany the escorts of supply carts? It is too dangerous a task for the leader of the Varden to indulge in.”, they had said.

And they had had a point.

But the recklessness that drove her out of Farthen Dur an year and a half ago, still stayed with her and Nasuada had stood by her decision firmly.

Her argument: This was the most important task of the Varden. The capture and safety of this route meant the difference between victory and loss in the war. If not for the retrieval of the dragon egg, Nasuada wouldn't have put off the war on Uru'baen even for the winter. She was very much aware of the role that a few months lay-off could play in tipping the fortunes of warring sides, especially in a war where the Varden had achieved most of its victories through surprise-attacks. Giving the empire time to prepare was the worst mistake she could make. Hence she wanted to ensure that the Empire did not have the time to prepare; she wanted to deny Galbatorix the pleasure of sitting to think.

To achieve that she had to stop food and other supplies from reaching the capital. Taking control of the trade routes from Kuasta and Narda – the only remaining places in the empire capable of producing during winter(After Teirm and surroundings were captured) – was the easiest and most efficient way of ensuring that. Hence she felt compelled to personally oversee a task of such importance.

Further, she also needed time for herself(although she didn't bring it up in the arguments lest the advisers decide that she should go south, which she detested doing). Her situation was getting more and more precarious with the passage of days. Her mind wouldn't rest even for a moment. The worst thing was, she knew not why she felt as she felt. But it was not in her to abandon her duties when the goings got difficult. Still, she needed a few day's peace. Nasuada decided that accompanying the escort and attack parties was the best way to fulfil her obligations as the leader of the Varden, as it gave her both the satisfaction of working for the Varden and the peace that she so dearly wished for.

And so, now, she was riding Battlestorm, having taken her position in the ranks of the escort party. She had refused to take up the leading position for it would deprive her of any rest she hoped to have during the fortnight-long journey. Her advisers were upset over her choice, she knew; but she did not want to endure the ever-growing depression of leading the Varden from Dras-Leona just for the sake of satisfying her advisers. The rational part of her mind – the part that was trained in tactics and reason – leaned towards the decision of her advisers. But the unrestrained and instinctual part urged her to follow her heart and she relented.

Days passed by without any kind stress. There were patrols of the Varden all around the land. Nasuada enjoyed the change in circumstances. The snow covered plains and the occasional sunshine that was not harsh and the picturesque backdrop of the Spine gradually but surely relaxed her troubled mind. But she was yet to find why she should be troubled in the first place.

She had a doubt that it had something to do with a certain red dragon and his rider but she refused to accept that explanation. And her mind likewise refused to throw up any other explanation. So she simply ignored the cause for her ailment. The final result was all that mattered after all – and as long as she was relieved of her mental depression, she needn't care about the cause.

The weather did not stay pleasant for long though. As soon as they left the densely tree covered shores of the Leona lake, a cold and strong wind blew from the Spine, sinking what little cheer the group had. It was not as if the weather was pleasant on the banks of the Leona, but it had been tolerable. Only now did Nasuada realise how big a mistake she had made in sending Roran across the Spine to capture Teirm. She wondered what would have happened if Roran and his men had not gone to the Urgal city during the blizzard.

For the most part of the journey, Nasuada kept to herself, choosing to enjoy the peculiar scenery created by the snow over pointless talks with fellow men. It gave her a feel of tranquillity and peace. She thought she finally understood Eragon's love affair with private forays into forests.

The dragon rider had caused her many a restless days with his requests for a day off – to 'clear his mind under nature's gift, the trees.' Whenever he had come to her with such a request, she was reluctant to let him go lest he be attacked by Murtagh or worse Galbatorix himself when alone. Now, she sympathised with him.

With the enormous pressure he was in – not that she, herself, was in any less pressure – he must have felt like she did now. It was not a matter of extreme pressure; the thing that mattered was the 'unknown'. Eragon had been grappling with the issue of having to face Galbatorix alone and come out alive and free for all his life as a dragon rider. He was in a state of mind similar to her present state – not knowing what to do about her mental ailment.

The weather got worse as they travelled north and aligned themselves towards the Spine. The plan was to meet with the supply train that was arriving from Teirm at the Woadark lake, that was nestled in a wide valley in the Spine. Nasuada was proud of herself for suggesting such a plan. Not one supply cart driver (or the escorts for that matter) would have reached Dras-Leona from Teirm with their sanity intact when weather was as harsh as it was.

Since this was the first time the Varden was using the dangerous route, extreme caution was observed once their group arrived at the entrance to the valley. The three night-hawks who had accompanied her despite her protests, came back to follow her at every turn. And that spelt the end of her 'rest'. Having people follow you wherever you go was more a nuisance than anything else, even if the people following you are doing so for protecting you. For the nine days – it had taken longer than the seven days they had assumed it would take to reach the Valley – they travelled to reach the Valley, Nasuada had dismissed the night-hawks and had effectively ordered them not to come close to her. Although she knew they had only good intentions in mind, she was tired of people following her always.

Now that the night-hawks were back, she felt as if she was back in Dras-Leona speaking with and trying to out-manoeuvre her advisers. Yet, the change in scenery, the open and scenic – even if too cold to enjoy – valley, made her relax. The supply trains from Teirm had already arrived and were waiting for them, as seen from the fires lit far away in the valley by the shores of the Woadark.

Their group decided to stay for the night, when they arrived at a location that was significantly warmer than the surroundings for it would take at least a couple of hours for them to reach the supply trains and they were not sure if the members of the group could stand the extreme cold of the night. It had become customary for them to pitch camp once the sun fell ever since they left the shores of the Leona. That way the two magicians in their group could make fires for all of them before somebody succumbed to the cold. It was only during such times that Nasuada appreciated the use of magic.

The night was spent rather comfortably considering that she was in the middle of a valley nestled in the Spine during the winter. The cold did not seep into her body, thanks to the healthy fire that was lit up in her little tent.

The next morning, when they got ready to travel, the Sun was out shining brightly overhead. It was a cool day, with not much of snowfall and the air, although cold, was not stinging as it did the day before. The respite from the dreadful weather raised the spirits of most of her companions. It was evident in the loud and excited noises they made and the pace at which they moved, which, on second thoughts, might have also been a result of the realisation that the end of the first leg of their journey was near.

Whatever the reason, Nasuada felt rejuvenated by the sudden change in climate. Even though she felt refreshed, she also felt as if the fulfilment of the purpose of her journey with the escort party was still a long way down the road. She knew why she felt that way. The lack of real friends was hurting her. The only people she had met with personally whom she could call friends in the past month or so were sworn enemies of the Varden. Everyone else who spoke to her, did so with respect or fear or vengeance – but not out of genuine care for her.

This made her feel alien. Never in her life had she been so lonely. When Ajihad and Jormundur were alive, she had two people in whom she could confide. When her father died, she found a new friend in Eragon and when Katrina was rescued from the Ra'zac she made friends with Roran's wife. But then Dras-Leona happened. Katrina left for Du Weldenvarden, Jormundur was killed and Eragon left on rider-specific duty and she was left with no friend in the Varden. Not even Orik and Orrin, her equals in the Varden army could be trusted. If anything, she was wary of the two leaders and hence spoke only sparsely with them. The political game that they had to play presented no chance for them to befriend each other. They respected one another but were never true friends.

Nasuada huffed, suddenly feeling tired. If not knowing the source of her troubles was disturbing, knowing it made her existence a hell. What was the worth of living with and for people who care for you with only their faces? But she had to do so at least for the sake of the job left unfinished by her father, if not for giving those people a better life.

“My lady”, called the captain who was leading their party, forcing her to abandon her thoughts.

“What is it, Captain Sharian?”, Nasuada asked.

“We have news from Captain Vijilan.”

Nasuada nodded, beckoning him to continue.

“He says that a supply train from Narda has been intercepted.”, the captain said.

“That is good.”, Nasuada replied. And then asked, “Was there any resistance?”

The captain smiled. “No, my lady. It seems the empire has folded under our pressure. They fled from the scene.”, he said.

Nasuada arched her brows in doubt. In her experience, Galbatorix was never one to care for the loss of his troops. He pushed them to their limits. Fleeing was always the last resort for the Empire army. But she found no reason to doubt the captain's account and hence nodded accepting his words.

By then, their party had reached the western shores of Lake Woadark by which the supply train from Teirm was waiting. The sight of the long line of supply carts loaded with eatables of various kinds flanked by warriors in the Varden's garb and carrying the purple flag of the Varden raised Nasuada's spirits. This was the symbol of the Varden's victory without the help of Eragon, Saphira and Arya. Over the months, the Varden had become so dependant on the trio that every difficult situation was left to them to resolve. Nasuada had often wondered if the Varden were any good without the aid of those three powerful warriors. These supply carts were testimony to the fact that the Varden were good enough for the task at hand. If anything, they could at least give a decent resistance to the power of Galbatorix, she hoped.

Nasuada felt light and satisfied for the first time in months. She might have lost a lot in the war against the Empire, but she was doing a good job of realising her father's dreams. There was no better way for a child to pay tribute to the parent.

As if reading her thoughts right from her mind, a sound that had caused her endless misery in the past few weeks reached her ears. It was back to torture her. It didn't want to allow her any peace of mind. Right after that sound, the Varden scattered like a herd of deer under attack.

Nasuada knew she had to be upset, angry and afraid. But she was not. She felt empty – a mental stage in which she knew not if she was happy or sad; angry or afraid. And when she finally decided that her place was with the Varden, the red tinted yellow flames of Thorn lit up the area, burning down the supply carts.

“Take cover!!”, she yelled at the top of her voice at the chaotic scene unfolding before her, knowing full well that the men were in no mood to follow orders. But there was a reply to her command from among the men, to her surprise, calling for the men to rush behind rocks.

She scanned the ground – that was calm and serene moments ago – for the source of the brave voice. She was shocked – to say the least – to find Roran Stronghammer, the commander-in-chief of the Varden army trying to organise his men.

Nasuada cursed. 'No. He can't be here. Not now. Not after all that has transpired. He can't die.', she thought.

She was not allowed the comfort of her grim thoughts for long though. A cry of 'My lady' was all the warning she had before hanging upside down from Thorn's huge legs. From above, all she saw was a burning mess.

Before long, the symbol of Varden's victory at Teirm was reduced to ashes, her mental and vocal pleas to Thorn and Murtagh going unheard. Why she thought that it would help, she knew not. Yet she had tried.

For all the calls of Roran, there were about ten soldiers of the Varden standing alive when the carnage ended. Thorn flew down casually towards where the men were hiding. Nasuada, for some reason, couldn't control her tears. She cried hard and loud. She cried for the lost lives of the Varden and for the cruelty of her sort-of-friends.

Roran's men were either valiant or mad to do what they did. Banging their swords against their shields and raising their spears above their heads, they advanced towards Thorn even when the red dragon eyed them once and started flying off to where he came from.

A spear was thrown at Thorn which bounced off his wards and flew towards a frozen tree. And then a stone was hurled at him which surprisingly made its way through the dragon's wards. He grunted in a draconic way and carried on. Yet another stone hit him, this time right under his left eye.

Thorn roared and turned around. 'No!!! No, no, no, no, no... what game is this Roran?', Nasuada thought and prayed for the safety of the mad Varden soldiers.

It was all for nothing as Murtagh barked out some word and all but Roran fell down dead. Thorn landed right in front of Roran – who stood unmoved. Nasuada had to admit that Roran was rather courageous. No being in their right sense, could stand before a dragon like he stood.

Having been dropped to the ground, Nasuada stood and ran towards Roran, in a bid to protect him from Murtagh. When she finally reached near them, the cousins were squaring up against each other – Murtagh with a smirk on his face, that depicted him like an evil favourite and Roran with a furious glare, that depicted him like a determined underdog. As true as it could seem. Murtagh for all his acts of good-heartedness was not a good man. No good man would kill men who were no threats to him for no reason other than causing a friend a minor discomfort.

“Don't do this, Murtagh.”, she screamed.

“My orders are to kill him at sight.”, Murtagh yelled back, keeping his eyes on Roran.

“Eragon would be broken if he is dead.”, Nasuada called back.

“All the more good.”, the dragon rider said and lunged towards Roran. The red blade, Zar'roc, drew blood. Roran had got a deep cut across his shoulder.

Roran smashed his hammer on Murtagh's breast plate at the same time. Except he hit just thin air.

“Stop it!!!”, Nasuada shouted hoping that the mad cousins – who knew the outcome of their fight already – would pay heed to her.

Murtagh stopped mid-blow – a dangerous slash across Roran's chest – and turned towards Nasuada. The concern in his eyes made her even more angry. Who was he – this demon – to care for her?

“What kind of a man are you, Murtagh?”, she asked. “You profess that you don't kill out of your own will and yet I have seen you do it moments ago. You profess that you want to help Eragon and yet I see you are trying to break the poor man down. I have never seen a more cruel and wicked man.”

Thorn made a grumbling noise and, who-knows-how, Murtagh stood with his hands around her neck. Roran looked on with shock. He seemed to realise only now that Murtagh had kept his skills subdued during their fight.

Nasuada glared at Murtagh. “What. Did. You. Say?”, Murtagh asked articulating each word with menace.

“This, Murtagh. This attitude. Considering yourself greater. This is not the way of good men.”, Nasuada said.

Murtagh released her. Then he said in a low voice, “So much for saving your life.”

“You are a selfish man, Murtagh.”, Nasuada said.

“How so?”, Murtagh asked almost casually.

“You protect me because I can see that for some strange reason you care for me. But when it comes to others you are no better than Galbatorix.”

“Yes, well, life has been cruel to me and I am just giving back what it gave me before all this.”, Murtagh waved a hand generally in Thorn's direction.

“Being cruel isn't how you prove yourself Murtagh. With your attitude you will spoil Thorn too.”, Nasuada said. Speaking harsh to Murtagh seemed to have become a personal hobby of hers; even when the harsh words seemed to have no effect on the dragon rider.

Thorn fixed one of his huge red eye on her. She glanced at the dragon once before focussing back on Murtagh.

Roran had limped upto them by then. He bore a look of disbelief on his face. But he said nothing except clearing his throat. Only then did they – Murtagh and Nasuada – realise that they were standing too close to each other than was acceptable.

Hastily both of them pulled away from each other.

“My lady, I didn't think...”, Roran started saying but then caught himself before he uttered something harsh and instead said, “...This... this man here is our enemy. Teaching him righteousness won't work.”

“Says the man who is the peak of righteousness!!”, Murtagh exclaimed in a mocking voice. Then he continued, “In a righteous fight, you should have been dead by now. Partiality on the part of Eragon has kept you alive, my cousin.”

“Aye!! In a righteous fight, you won't have a huge animal to draw power from.”, Roran shot back.

Murtagh, on hearing Roran, lunged towards the general with his sword held high over his head. Nasuada screamed at Murtagh to stop. But he paid no heed. Thorn, who had stood silent till then, acted swiftly. He pushed Murtagh down to the ground and pinned him there with his foreleg. Simultaneously,  he pushed Roran down with his other leg and held the the man from Carvahall to the ground.

'You call him your cousin and you try to kill him. What wrong is there in the words of the leader-of-the-varden?', Thorn roared into Murtagh's mind although he made no effort to hide his words from the others.

'And you cousin-of-Murtagh-and-Eragon, how could you judge us even before you know us?', he asked Roran.

Both men struggled to rise up on their feet but neither answered.

Murtagh became silent after a few moments resigning himself to staring at Thorn. Nasuada guessed that the two were having a conversation. Roran, on the other hand, tried much longer than Murtagh did to release himself from Thorn's hold; but finally realised that his struggles were useless and settled to glare at Nasuada. After a while, he said in a clipped voice, “My lady, I would like to know how you escaped when Murtagh kidnapped you from Dras-Leona.”

“Roran, do you seriously think that I will betray the Varden?”, Nasuada asked.

Their conversation seemed to interest both Murtagh and Thorn for the two stopped whatever discussion they were having to stare at the leader and general talk.

Thorn let his two prisoners back on their foot.

“They say that love is blind.”, Roran said in a dry voice looking only at Nasuada's face, even as his hands cleared away the dirt that had settled on his tunic.

Despite the feeling of disapproval that rose in her mind, Nasuada felt the tips of her ears heat up. Pushing away any uncertainty from her voice Nasuada replied, “You assume too much, General.” Her voice, unlike her intention, was soft and almost inaudible. Why it should be so, she didn't know and she didn't care.

'They are not nest-mates, cousin-of-Murtagh-and-Eragon.', Thorn said.

Nasuada had a hard time looking at Murtagh and hence chose to keep her attention focussed on Roran.

“Then what is it? I and my men risked our lives just minutes ago trying to rescue you. But it seems it is we who need to be rescued from you.”, Roran yelled in anger.

Nasuada fell silent because she had suspected that the useless attack on Thorn with stones was an attempt at rescuing her from Murtagh, while in fact, Thorn had taken her in his legs to protect her from his flames. With Roran's words her doubt had turned into conviction. She felt guilty; it felt as if she had betrayed her men who were loyal enough to lay down their lives for her sake.

“You may have heard that I fought alongside and among the Varden once.”, Murtagh said. He was the last person Nasuada expected to come to her aid at a time of such embarrassment. Yet here he was, trying to protect her from the shame of being associated with the enemy.

Roran barely acknowledged Murtagh's words. Still Murtagh continued, “Eragon and Nasuada became friends of mine during that time. And they remain so to this day.”

Roran jerked his head towards Murtagh when he said that. “Not Eragon.”, he said through gritted teeth.

“While escaping from Uru'baen, Eragon saved me from certain death.”, Murtagh replied calmly.

“What?”, Roran and Nasuada exclaimed together.

“He may not have said you this. But he did.”, Murtagh said and added something in ancient language which sounded like, “Hvat eka kveda sannindi.” Nasuada somehow understood what was said, “ What I told you is the truth.” And she knew Roran got it too.

The three of them remained silent, the only sound in the surroundings being made by the wind and Thorn's breathing.

“Why would he?”, Roran asked finally.

“Perhaps, he saw in me, the man he became friends with.”, Murtagh said and looked down to the ground. He smiled – a self-mocking smile – and continued, “Honestly... I know not why he did so. Arya even slapped him for that. If I were in that elf's place, I would have done the same. Not even I remember that Murtagh who travelled leagues upon leagues with Eragon and Saphira.” The reluctance to speak was unmistakable in Murtagh's demeanour. And yet he continued as if he was confessing his deepest and darkest truths to the God.

“The fortnight's time I spent with the Varden has been the most satisfactory phase of my life to this day.”, Murtagh said. He was not looking at anyone in particular, although Nasauda vaguely felt that he was speaking to her. His gaze was fixed on some invisible pleasantry, she thought, for Murtagh's face had lit up with a smile, the sort of which she had seen only once before: when he spoke about Thorn.

“Back then, I fought for a cause I believed in. I fought of my own free will. I fought not for the pleasure my power gives me, but for washing myself of the taint of Morzan.”, Murtagh said even as his eyes filled with tears – that never fell off them. "The days I spent in Tronjheim's jail taught me one important thing: that there were people I could trust in outside of Tornac.”

Murtagh’s body trembled once and the slight smile that had been playing on his lips vanished with it. Nasuada wanted to hold Murtagh in her hands. She wanted to bring that brightness back onto his face. She knew that Thorn watched her all the while, but she just couldn’t control herself from staring into Murtagh’s face, searching for that lost smile.

“And then he tore all that from me.”, Murtagh said. The anger and anguish in that voice made Nasuada melt like snow before sunlight. She cried silently for him.

She completely forgot why Murtagh started to narrate his tale. She remembered it only when Murtagh himself reminded about it. “Tell me cousin, is it your leader’s fault that I find her company soothing?”

Roran had been standing like a statue for the duration of Murtagh's speech. And he continued to do so even after Murtagh raised a direct question at him.

The Varden's army commander turned around and faced the Spine. He said nothing. But his face spoke for him. He wanted to hide it from them; they could see it.

Finally, Roran let out his pent up breath with a huge “huff” and turned back towards them.

“Fate has been cruel to you, Murtagh. But I beg of you. Please don’t pull Nasuada with you. She is the only hope we have.”, he said. His voice was heavy. Everything in his demeanour spoke of a man whose ideals had been broken to pieces.

"We don't intend to, Roran... We don't... It is unthinkable.", Murtagh said. He seemed to struggle. Nasuada could understand his fear. It was the same fear that had been ripping her heart apart for the better part of the last month and a half.

"I promise upon my bond with Thorn that this life of mine will never be Nasuada's. If such a day comes to pass I will lay my life down to save Nasuada from it.", Murtagh said meeting Roran in the eye.

“I never thought that demolishing monsters like you would be such innocent creatures.”, Roran replied staidly.

Murtagh laughed. A dry, cold laugh. “Monsters.”, he said to himself.

Nasuada glared at Roran. Thorn made her turn away from Roran and towards him by hiding Roran behind his enormous face.

‘It is okay, leader-of-the-varden. Eragon-cousin-Roran hasn’t said anything wrong. What are we if we aren’t monsters? Look around you Nasuada. Who else other than monsters would cause such carnage?’

Author's Note:
I can't say how sorry I am. It has been three months since I last updated. Here I am again with another chapter of which the first 4000 words were written in December 2011 itself. I, for various reasons, had to leave this story hanging from a thread for the past three months. In the last couple of weeks, I read two novels in my mother Tongue, தமிழ்: பொன்னியின் செல்வன் and வேங்கையின் மைந்தன். Those two master-pieces made me crave for the happiness that writing brings and so I am back. But I still can't promise anything. So please forgive me.