For Alagaesia: 70. The death of Lady Nightstalker

The last few weeks were the most emotionally draining for Roran right up there with the events leading up to the destruction of Carvahall. He was practically taking care of the Varden nowadays partly because Nasuada had requested him to and partly because he did not trust the leader of the Varden. Ever since he discovered the secret friendship between Murtagh and Nasuada, he had a nagging doubt that she would betray them to the Empire. But what made him even more miserable was the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to betray Nasuada’s trust in him and let the others know about her relationship with Murtagh.

And then there was the not so small matter of him becoming a father: father to the most beautiful child to have ever graced the world; to Weldhena – the daughter of the forest. The mere thought of her brought a smile to his face and a glint to his eyes. He spoke of her brilliant eyes and innocent laughter to his friends endlessly. Although the fact that he had never touched his daughter with his hands weighed on him, he did not let it take his happiness away. After all, his daughter was safe in the forest of the elves with her mother and uncle to watch over her and not caught up in the cruel war that raged in his home. And how many children had the fortune of being attended to by the princess of the elves and being amused by a dragon?

Whenever he got free time, he made sure that he spent it among the people of Carvahall. That way he kept himself attached to his past without which he felt vulnerable and hollow. Speaking with Horst who had sent his wife and newborn daughter to the safety of Surda brought him some closure – for their situations were similar and he took comfort from the blacksmith’s words.

But the only friend who seemed to understand his mental state completely was Orik, the dwarf king. They shared a good rapport and Eragon was Orik’s adopted brother. The king extended the family to include Roran too and called him ‘cousin’ although Roran felt awkward when he did that.

Leading people was a painful endeavour which only another leader would understand and as such Orik took pity on Roran who tried hard to maintain the Varden’s crumbling spirits due to the prolonged absence of Eragon and the long winter.

“You are doing a fantastic job, Roran and I would gladly leave my kingdom in your hands if ever I go on a vacation.” Orik had said once.

Roran had been embarrassed at such a compliment and had replied, “I will pray to Angvard that such a day never comes. The Varden is pain enough.” Orik had laughed him off.

Orik was such a humble being for a king that Roran took his style of leading as a role-model. Roran was glad to have the dwarf at his side for his advices proved worthy and helpful especially when Nasuada had locked herself into her chambers. In fact she was his biggest head ache. He secretly watched her movements although he felt there was no need for that. The one time after their encounter on the banks of the Woadark that Murtagh came to visit Nasuada, she had taken Roran with her as she had promised she would. Murtagh had looked like a haunted man at that time and he had informed that he was about to go to war against the elves in Gil’ead. “I may not come back alive from this. And I don’t want to die without feeling like the Murtagh that I want to be for one last time. That feeling comes to me only when you are around.” Murtagh had croaked making Roran pity the man.

Another huge worry for him was reading and writing. Only when he took to political administration from a purely military role, did he understand the magnitude of hardships that awaited him: reports and letters. He had to go over various reports and compile them for Nasuada to make decisions. He had gone crazy for two weeks with his seriously limited knowledge of ‘the written word’ until Angela showed up in his room and began ‘teaching’ him.

From that day onward it had become more and more difficult for him to read and write Learning from the woman was a pain. She insulted him and poked fun at his father and expected him to learn to write poems in days.

Finally he had asked her to be his ‘permanent reading assistant’ and she had accepted after a mini-conversation with herself that went along these lines:

“Spending time with as dull a man as you will be so ordinary.” Angela said it as if it was obvious – which hurt Roran. After all, his life was hardly ordinary – having risen from a mere village farm boy to the general of the Varden in the course of three short years.

Then she went into high pitch and continued like a mad cackling woman, “And I hate the ordinary. Where is the fun in it?”

She then wrinkled her nose as if looking disgusted. (By that time Roran had begun to hate the moment he asked her to be his assistant.)

An evil smirk lighted up her face and she said, “Yet the letters and reports that are meant for your eyes are… well, interesting,” in a low voice as if plotting someone’s demise.

Roran’s gut wrenched as a horrible feeling of guilt came over him. ‘What have I done?’ He thought.

By then, Angela came back to the world that included Roran and said, “I accept. From this day onward I shall oversee your training as a scholar.”

“I don’t want to be a scholar.” Roran protested. But Angela would listen no more. She went away but not before telling, “And Roran cut out the word assistant from my job description. I am your tutor.”

Thus it was that Roran was facing multifarious problems: the Murtagh/Nasuada episode and its by-products and the birth of Weldhena.

******************************************************

‘I could be a punch bag for Saphira and not be crushed under such weight as I am now under.’ This was the thought running in Roran’s head as he drew circles with his finger over the fairth of his daughter that Blodhgarm had made for him.

The kindly wolfish elf had seen Weldhena in Roran’s mind and had transferred the image onto the stone. That image was his only comfort with all that was going on around him. Of course, not all people were as lucky – like Horst who had sent Elain and their daughter to Surda and never got to see them or talk to them again. The luxury came with being Eragon’s cousin. All of his little cousin’s friends considered him friend too and so helped him readily.

But all he really wished was for his cousin to be with him. From their young age, Roran had tried hard to protect Eragon from trouble – he was Roran’s little brother. But in the last year and a half, Roran found himself relying more and more on Eragon. It was as if in a matter of three short years Eragon had become Garrow while Roran had remained as himself.

‘Still I wish I could protect him from harm especially with the king himself vying for his life.’ Roran was thinking sadly when a hesitant knock was heard on his door. He tensed. It was the middle of the night.

“Who is it?” He asked. Due to the silence all around it sounded a little too loud.

“Shhh.. Roran. It’s me.” Came Nasuada’s voice from outside.

Trouble. He sighed.

He could simply ignore her. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it was because she trusted him and it was not in him to betray those who put their trust in him. Or maybe it was because he pitied her state and dare he think of it… he pitied her friends Murtagh and Thorn too.

He rose from his chair and walked towards the door all the while cursing himself for what he was doing. ‘Just go to your bed and sleep Roran.’ His mind told him. But his legs had a wish of their own. They carried him to the door. He unlocked it and from what his eyes registered in the dim light, his doubts were confirmed. It was trouble-time indeed.

The leader of the Varden stood before him wearing a cowl. The hood was drawn up to cover her entire face. The dark skinned woman’s bright eyes were the only things he could see from the dim light that came from the lone candle in his room.

“My lady” He said doing little to hide his anger from his voice. “What is it that you need?”

“It is Murtagh, Roran.” Nasuada said in a low, troubled voice making Roran wince. The way she spoke of the dragon rider – guilt, sorrow and anger all mixed in one was what made him pity her.

“What of him?” He asked rather brusquely.

Nasuada laughed drily at his tone making him feel bad. He was treating the woman who had taken him in, fed him and made him her second-in-command like she was a criminal awaiting his judgement. After all she had honoured their agreement that he was to accompany her whenever she visited Murtagh. She could have gone without his knowledge and he would never have known it.

“He wishes to talk. He says it is important.” Nasuada replied plainly without any hint of emotion.

Roran knew well that Nasuada was no weak-willed woman. She was strong and it showed in the way she handled her emotions. But he did not understand why she won’t put her mind into stopping the madness that had gotten into her. “Why do you let him do it to you?” He asked letting his frustration show through.

“I don’t know Roran. I… I know I need to stop this. But every time he shows his face my will crumbles like a statue of clay dipped in water.” Nasuada answered sounding miserable.

Roran glared at her but she didn’t seem to care. ‘There has to be a way.’ He wanted to scream. He wished someone like Saphira was in his position. She would have found a way. The pressure that was piled on him was one for the dragons not humans. Resigning the fate of the Varden and the whole rebellion to the gods Roran accompanied Nasuada. If he could not stop it he might as well be cautious of the outcomes.

When they left the city, through a secret passage like two burglars, he snarled angrily.

“This will be the last time, Roran. I promise you. Never again will I do this madness.” Nasuada promised and he really wanted to believe her.

They walked for hours through the darkness with only a little candle to light their way. Their journey was silent for the most part. Nasuada spoke intermittently about her childhood and her father’s ambition. Roran had a nagging doubt that Nasuada was not speaking to him but rather to herself and was trying to justify her actions to her conscience. He let her speak as she wished never interrupting her and never offering any answer to her.

It was in the wee hours of the morning that they finally reached their destination: a small hill-locked region south of Helgrind. It was somewhere around here that Murtagh first crossed path with Eragon and Roran got a funny feeling that there was going to be more to this place than Brom’s death and Katrina’s captivity.

When they reached the spot, it was absolutely silent. Not one trace of the presence of a dragon could be seen. Nasuada called for Thorn weakly and Roran thought maybe for once the gods were merciful and Murtagh and Thorn couldn’t make it. Nasauda was moving her candle around searching for Thorn and his rider when a huge red swirling orb came into being out of nowhere making Roran and Nasuada cry out in surprise.

‘Do not be alarmed. It is me, Leader of the Varden.’ Thorn’s deep rumbling mind-voice spoke. It had been the dragon’s eye that surprised them.

‘Murtagh. They are here.’ Thorn informed without shielding his thought from Roran and Nasuada.

A little while later Murtagh crawled out of a small cave with a weird red light hovering above his head. Soil and dust stuck to his black hair and his eyes were hollow. He stumbled towards them like a starved man. If Roran had not seen the power hidden behind the slouching form before him earlier, he might have mistaken Murtagh to be a beggar who had stolen the clothes of a rich man.

“I am sorry to have made you come this far.” Murtagh said tiredly.

“Keep your apologies to yourself and tell us why you wanted to see us.” Roran barked angrily.

Thorn growled at him but remained in his position.

“I have grave news for you.”

“If you have come to gloat about the three elves you captured in Gil’ead, you don’t have to. We know it already.” Roran shot back.

“Yes. You know of the capture of those elves. But you may not know what is happening to them right now. I can tell you that.” Murtagh pointed out calmly.

Roran stared blankly at Murtagh. If Eragon’s state after his escape from Galbatorix was any indication of what the mad king would do to his captives, then there was no need to know anything of it. Why would he want to hear about the torture of two poor souls at the hands of Galbatorix?

Nasuada too didn’t seem keen to know anything on that front seeing as she was looking intently at Thorn.

When neither of them replied him, Murtagh began giving an account of the elves on his own volition. The tone he used made it feel more like a confession.

“Much to my surprise, Galbatorix locked the two elves together in a tower in the castle rather than dumping them in the dungeons. But his methods, I was told, did not change at all. Well, except on one thing. He does not use physical pain against them like he had done to Eragon, his elf… or me. He just enjoys ravaging their minds which of course is the worst thing with him. Keeping him out is almost impossible and with Elva assisting him he can do whatever he wants.”

“Did he… find anything?” Nasuada asked hesitantly. It was the first time she had spoken.

“I am not sure about that. But I wanted to warn Eragon not to try to rescue them. It is so different from Eragon’s captivity with Shruikan himself keeping watch on the tower. Galbatorix is not a man who makes the same mistake twice.”

Anger welled up in Roran’s heart – anger at Murtagh for speaking as if Galbatorix was some kind of god and anger at himself for being incapable of proving the dragon rider otherwise. “When you have finished praising your dear king will you please let me know? I have better things to do than to listen about the greatness of Galbatorix.”

Murtagh looked at him with an annoyed expression. “I speak the truth Roran. If you can’t stomach it, you might as well go back to do farming. Because when you march on Galbatorix without knowing the extent of his strength, you are inviting death to take you. The elves locked in the tower knew that. That was why one of them committed suicide by jumping through the window of the tower.”

The news threw Roran off guard. One of the elves was dead? And that too by committing suicide. It was too much to assimilate. But he remembered Eragon telling something along those lines during their last conversation: death is their best hope.

“Enough of this.” Nasuada commanded sternly. “The two of you are acting like little children fighting over eateries.”

‘I concur.’ Thorn said with a grunt.

Murtagh glared at Roran and Roran mirrored him. They stood like that for a while but then Murtagh dropped eye-contact and sighed.

“I called you here to tell you something way more important than the fate of captured elves.” Murtagh said intensely making Roran to actually pay attention. “Galbatorix is very angry with me, you, the elves, Eragon… well, the whole world. He wants to finish you all off once and for all.”

“So what? We should turn back and run away?” Roran mocked Murtagh.

“No, Roran. Running is not an option anymore. You have wounded him and he is not ready to let you go this time like he did hundred years ago. Back then, he was the perceived weaker one and he fought against the power of the dragon riders, elves, dwarves and humans. But this time, he is stronger than anyone can imagine. He has started dispatching his deadliest forces and you have to be cautious.” Murtagh said sombrely ignoring Roran’s mocking tone.

“Deadliest forces? What do you mean Murtagh?” Nasuada sounded confused.

“Galbatorix has been personally training a group of thousand warriors from their birth. Many of them can use magic and are very good with the sword. They are so brainwashed that they will cut their own heads off if Galbatorix only asks for it. They were to be his personal bodyguards. But now he has found other uses for them. He has dispatched around a hundred of them to infiltrate the Varden and kill its backbone.”

“Basically you mean that the Black Hand will try to impregnate our organisation again.” Nasuada tried to summarise.

“No!” Murtagh cried. “You don’t understand. It is not the Black Hand. The Black Hand was a group of weak magic users whom Galbatorix collected to exploit the fear the original Black Hand instilled in the minds of the enemies of the empire. But these are different. Each one of them is equal to my mother in skill.”

Roran blinked uncomfortably. The way Murtagh claimed aunt Selena as his mother brought a twinge of embarrassment to his mind.

Nasuada shifted her weight from one foot to another and asked, “Why wait these many days? It has been nearly four months since Eragon escaped.”

“Yes. In the first month he was away to who knows where and in the next he was busy bashing me and Thorn for losing the egg and Eragon but most importantly for not contacting him with news of Eragon’s escape and for not being able to read a blank scroll. The third month was spent laying siege to Gil’ead and trying to capture elves. Now that he has succeeded in it, he wants to end it all at once. He has dispatched the thousand to various errands one of which is the assassination of Varden’s leaders.”

“He wants to annihilate us without coming out by himself then? I always imagined myself dying gloriously fighting Galbatorix himself.” Nasuada said.

‘Don’t talk about your death!’ Thorn admonished sternly.

“We all have to die one day, dragon and if my death brings freedom to the next generation, I will only be glad for it.” Roran answered proudly.

Thorn met the Varden general’s eye and Roran held the contact without flinching. But he had to use all his will power to do so. The intensity of the dragon’s eyes could be rivalled only by Saphira herself. Thorn was a true dragon. Roran knew Saphira well enough to know that freedom was everything to her. If that was how dragons lived then Thorn should be the most miserable dragon to have ever lived. Pity for the dragon that he had kept locked up in the deep reaches of his mind welled up to the surface and threatened him to drop his hard look. But he didn’t budge – he shouldn’t for however good Thorn was of mind, he was their enemy.

‘You have become a father.’ Thorn declared most unexpectedly.

Roran was shocked. How the dragon guessed it, he didn’t know. Maybe Nasuada helped. But what confused him was that Thorn sounded excited.

‘I always wanted to see how Murtagh would behave when he has a child to look after. Thank you for giving me a glimpse.’ The dragon continued.

‘I am nothing like your rider.’ Roran wanted to protest. But he couldn’t bring himself to. What Murtagh had claimed minutes ago played in his mind – my mother, he had said. Of course, Selena was Garrow’s blood and it was undeniable that Murtagh was her son. Was it so surprising that Thorn found them similar?

Roran sighed and looked up at the sky. It had taken on a tint of red indicating that the sun was about to show up its face.

“Tell me about the assassins.” Nasuada said, bringing the conversation back into perspective.

“Not much is known of their methods. Only that they believe hard and never look back. You know what such people are capable of, don’t you?” Murtagh said.

Both Roran and Nasuada nodded. It was what they were: believers. They believed that the king needed to be dethroned and they pursued it even when they knew that their efforts would most probably be futile.

Thorn who had been silent and calm for the most part of the conversation, stiffened all of a sudden. He raised his neck and stared in one direction intently.

“What is it?” Nasuada asked looking at Thorn.

“There is someone else here.” Murtagh replied for his dragon.

“What?” Roran barked. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Murtagh said and began walking towards a rock. Even as he walked towards it, footsteps were heard on the other side – footsteps leading away from them.

“Blöthr!!” Murtagh shouted harshly and the footsteps leading away stopped dead in its tracks. The three of them walked forward warily and saw a tall man trying to break free of Murtagh’s spell.

When they turned around to face him, he smirked like a mad man and said, “Aha! My time has come finally!!” It was Umerth of the council of elders. How the trouble maker found his way to the remote hill-locked location Roran didn’t know and he didn’t care. All he knew now was that things were going to be very difficult from now on.

“The two most trusted leaders of the Varden fraternising with the enemy. A sight to behold indeed!” Umerth said cackling like he had killed Galbatorix himself.

Roran thought Nasuada would say something to calm the man. She, after all, had known him from a very young age. But she stood motionless as if she were a statue. He then looked to Murtagh. Maybe the rider could use magic to do something about the situation. But he seemed to be in a much worse state than Nasuada. Realisation dawned on him gradually that it was he who should try to salvage the situation.

“Umerth, you don’t understand. There is a reason…” Roran started saying only to be cut off by Umerth, “Oh yes I do. I understand that the Varden will no longer be run by young betrayers like you and that they would see sense in my advice and go back to covert attacks.”

“War was declared on such weak attempts by Galbatorix at Farthen Dur, Umerth. And we lost Ajihad to it.” Roran retorted.

Umerth narrowed his eyes as if looking through bright sunlight while in fact the sun was just rising above the horizon. “Not you. Us.” He said in a mocking tone. “You came after everything and by the help of your cousin wrested away the control and power of the Varden from us.”

Roran glared at Umerth. The weight of responsibilities thrust on him constantly threatened to push him into the ground and here was one man who called it power. “It is no power that was given to me by the people of the Varden and I would gladly pass it on to you if only you are worth it.”

“Bah! No power?” Umerth thundered. “No power? The army of the Varden is not a power to you?”

“No Umerth. It is not power but responsibility and you are not fit to hold it unless you realise this truth.” Roran said in a calm and stern voice.

“Don’t give me that stupidity boy. I have been in politics for twenty five years!” Umerth blurted out in a fit of fury. Roran noticed that the council member could now move without any hindrance. Murtagh had dropped his spell. He eyed Thorn and the dragon seemed to be watching the conversation intently, but it did not seem like he would be any help. Nasuada had the look of a broken woman – tears filled her eyes and her head hung down.

Umerth’s eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily. He was mad with anger and looked nothing like the man that his new friends at Varden had painted him as.

“Can’t you see how much your power hungriness has brought you down? You are but a shadow of the man I heard of from the people.” Roran wanted Umerth to understand.

“If you hadn’t come, boy, I would have been leading them now and not be a character in their stories of the past.” Umerth shot back.

‘Nothing can be added to a filled pot.’ Garrow used to say always. Roran understood what it meant only now. He sighed and readied himself for what was to come.

“I will not allow you to spoil the spirit, trust and peace of the Varden, Umerth.” He declared.

“And what would the mighty stronghammer do to stop me, eh?” Umerth said mockingly.

Thorn growled. Umerth eyed the dragon nervously. But Thorn remained unmoved. The message that he was sending across was quite clear: he did not like the man but was not willing to interfere in the matters of the Varden.

“Whatever it takes.” Roran said earnestly.

“Come stop me Stronghammer” Umerth said and began walking away muttering, “The Varden is mine,” under his breath. Roran looked to Murtagh for help but the dragon rider was busy consoling Nasuada who in turn was trying to push Murtagh away from her. Roran exhaled heavily and went after Umerth.

“Umerth, stop. Don't do this.” He pleaded.

“Huh, Why should I? When power comes knocking on my door why should I not let it in?” Umerth replied coolly.

“If you tell this at the Varden you won't have an army to command but a mob to control. Understand Umerth. See beyond your lust for power.” Roran screamed.

“Keep your advices to yourself boy. I know the Varden much better than you.”

Roran knew that he had to make his decision quick or things would get ugly. But he couldn’t think of anything to do except throw himself in Umerth’s path. Without any further thought he ran forward and blocked Umerth’s way.

“Let me go traitor!” Umerth said in a commanding voice.

“I cannot let you pass. Not until you promise to not tell about this to anyone.” Roran replied in a cold and hard voice. He had made his mind up and nothing will stop him now.

“Will happen in your dreams.” Umerth said mockingly and tried skirt around him.

Roran unsheathed his dagger and pointed it at Umerth’s throat. “You will have to fight through me.”

“What will you do? Kill me?” Umerth asked. His tone indicated that he did not believe Roran’s threat.

“I will if it comes to it.” Roran replied confidently.

A shade of fear passed Umerth’s face before he composed himself. “You will do no such thing. I fight against Galbatorix like you and if what you and your cousin profess is true then you will not harm me.”

“It is not Galbatorix that I and Eragon fight against. It is tyranny. We fight for our and Alagaesia’s freedom. And now you are trying to destroy all that stands for freedom in Alagaesia and I will not let that happen.” Roran said and raised his dagger as if challenging the council member.

“You will not stop me by threatening. If you kill me you will have to face the consequences.”

“I will gladly accept them if your death is the only way by which I can stop news of Murtagh’s friendship with Nasuada spreading through the Varden. I challenge you now, Umerth. Fight me and take the news over my corpse.” Roran replied confidently.

Umerth gripped his sword hilt readying for the fight. Roran had not expected the timid politician to fight. He had hoped that Umerth would surrender. But it seemed that the politician’s lust for power was too great and he was not about to give up. Now that it was clear that he had no option but to kill Umerth, Roran got ready to fight too. Umerth had his sword with him but Roran didn’t have his hammer. But then Umerth was not a fighter.

They clashed with a loud clang of the metal. It turned out that Umerth was not so much of a bad fighter. He wielded the sword reasonably well and Roran was not so accustomed to fighting with a dagger. All his warrior life he had fought using his hammer. Hearing the sound of metal, Murtagh came rushing to the spot. Umerth saw the dragon rider approach and his confidence seemed to waver. He had his eyes set on the path away and at the first chance he got, he tried to bolt towards the city.

Roran screamed after him but he was in no mood to listen. Roran had only a split second to decide before Umerth would disappear into the hills. He exhaled sharply and gritting his teeth threw his dagger at Umerth. The dagger flew straight and struck the council member right in the middle of his back. He yowled in pain and fell face first on the ground and writhed for a few seconds before going still.

By then Nasuada had also arrived at the spot. Seeing the dead body of Umerth she began to cry uncontrollably, probably because she felt she was responsible for it. Thorn growled from where he stood towering over them and said, ‘Don’t cry over his death. You know he deserved it.’

Murtagh looked over at Roran and said, “Thank you,” weakly.

“I didn’t do this for the two of you. My daughter’s future depends on the defeat of Galbatorix.” Roran replied.

Murtagh nodded. Roran scrutinised him intently. He truly seemed to be sorry for what had transpired. Thorn craned his neck down to meet Roran eye-to-eye and said, ‘Murtagh and Eragon should be proud to have you as their cousin.’

Roran blinked and bowed slightly at Thorn who went back to his original position. Roran then looked to Nasuada and said, “Let us not tarry here longer than necessary.” He beckoned her. “We have to go before somebody comes here and sees us.”

Nasuada remained unmoved. Even after Roran called her several times, she did not acknowledge him. Her eyes were set on the horizon. Roran was beginning to think that Nasuada had transformed into a statue when she closed her eyes and breathed in heavily. She then nodded her head several times as if assuring herself.

“Nasuada… Please…” Roran began to say but Nasuada pre-empted him and said, “You will have to go alone Roran.”

“What do you have to discuss still?” Roran asked flummoxed. Surely she won’t dare to speak with Murtagh again?

“I set out of Tronjheim with the only aim of defeating Galbatorix. But now I see that I would be of no use in that except to try and help Murtagh.” Nasuada said as if making an announcement.

Roran frowned not understanding where the conversation was going. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Nasuada looked straight into his eyes and said in a confident voice, “I am not going back to the Varden, Roran.”

When Roran tried to protest, she said, “Haven't you noticed? It is you who have been administering the Varden for the last month or so. And the people willingly follow you. You are a hero for them… One so similar to them and yet one who has achieved so much. It is you, Roran; you who has to lead the Varden on.”

Roran felt as if Nasuada was playing one of her political games with him. Or maybe it is one of her favourite childhood games for the concept of him leading the Varden felt so childish. He voiced his thoughts. “It is not time for games.”

“Yes, Roran is right. You must leave now. It is not good…” Murtagh started only to be stopped by a dangerous glare from Nasuada. “You have no business with the dealings of the Varden.” She said in a stiff and stern voice.

Only now did Roran realise that Nusuada was indeed serious about what she was speaking: She was actually thinking of relinquishing the leadership and going away. He wanted some way to stop her. And the first thing that came to his mind was his own inability. “I am not experienced for this.” He said.

Nasuada smiled as if knowing he would bring this up. “You are more than capable. You may be new to politics. But you were born to lead. Do you think that I am experienced? Nay... It was only after my father's death that I took up public life. You have been leading people for as long as I have been and you have faced great many perils than me.” She said sounding so sure and eloquent making Roran think that she had rehearsed it already.

Roran felt like a cornered animal. He could do nothing but contradict Nasuada’s claims. “But I know nothing of the history of Varden or the empire. I will falter when it comes to matters of historic importance.” He said earnestly. As far as he was concerned it was true. Being the leader of an organisation like Varden required a deep understanding of the roots of the conflict that was tearing Alagaesia apart.

Nasuada sighed. She looked away from him and said, “You know your limitations. That is more than enough. Further, in this war, all you need to know is Galbatorix and ways to defeat him. Politics has no place here. You will be the commander of an army marching into battle, not a solver of petty land disputes. You have displayed your prowess in leading men time and time again. At your word men stand and fight dragons.”

Roran could no longer take it. Nasuada was discovering reasons – not presenting them. That much was clear. “Why are you doing this?” He asked.

Nasuada stared at his face for a long moment. He waited patiently for her answer but it never seemed to come. When he had given up and started searching for other avenues to make Nasuada understand she breathed in heavily and said, “Because I must.”

Murtagh and Thorn came to stand by Roran and by the look on their faces, were as much ready as he to make Nasuada understand the perils of her decision.

“I cannot live in this hell anymore.” Nasuada said sounding strangely calm. “I know that you can understand what the petty emotions of pity and empathy are capable of doing. I fear they will reduce me to a brooding worthless woman who will lead the valiant army of the Varden to their death.”

Roran was stunned. Was that how she felt about herself? A brooding worthless woman? He knew as well as the back of his hand that she was nothing like that. She was the strongest and smartest woman he had ever dealt with outside of Katrina – but his love for his wife might have had a role in him having that opinion. “I do not believe you would ever do that.” He said silently yet firmly.

“I may or may not. But what is the point? Do you think that these men follow me? No. They respect me, but they follow Eragon. Losing me will only spur them on further. I have done all I can. I have formed an army and I have made sure that it has reached the very gates of the Empire's heart. Victory or defeat henceforth does not rely on me or you but on the riders. By being with Murtagh, I can try to win back a rider for our cause.” A steely resolve coloured her voice as she spoke.

Roran frowned. Nasuada’s argumenr however crazy it sounded felt meaningful. What could they do against the might of Galbatorix? Only a dragon and rider could hope to withstand it. But then, what was it that Nasuada was speaking about? Helping Murtagh – being with Murtagh. No. He would never do that. He remembered his aunt Selena and her fate. She had followed one of Galbatorix’s servants – Murtagh’s father no less. “I can’t let you go.” He said.

Thorn who had remained silent for a long while, spoke, ‘I back Roran in this. Listen to him Nasuada… there is nothing but pain if you follow us.’

“Then I will go through it.” Nasuada replied. Stubbornness it seemed was not just the forte of Garrow’s family but also that of Ajihad’s. “I have a heart and a free will and I listen only to what it says. Is that not what we are supposed to fight for?”

“We are supposed to fight to ensure that freedom for the people of Alagaesia. And what you are trying to do will only hamper that freedom.” Roran said anger laced in his voice.

“No, Roran. Trust me in this as you have done till this day. Haven’t I listened to your mad ideas earlier?” Nasuada replied in an unwavering voice. “I have thought this over again and again. I knew such a day would come.”

Roran clenched his fists and girt his teeth but he did not respond.

‘I will not take you with me.’ Thorn said sternly.

“Then I will have to follow you on foot, I suppose.” Nasuada replied.

“What should we do to make you change your mind? Tell us and we will do it even if it means we will be bound to Galbatorix for eternity.” Murtagh said sounding half-worried and half-annoyed.

“Nothing will do, Murtagh. Nothing except your acceptance to the idea of me being with you through the rest of your pain under Galbatorix’s command.” Nasuada replied with a sad smile.

“It is all your fault.” Roran yelled at Murtagh. “Why did you come to her again?”

“Now it’s my fault. It has always been so. Hasn’t it? Galbatorix tortures my little dragon and I am supposed to keep resisting him, without even giving a chance for my dragon to live a day in this world. And a wise woman all of a sudden throws away all her intelligence and it is my Fault. Mine.”, Murtagh screamed back.

“No one will fight on behalf of me.” Nasuada cried adding to the tension that was already building between the cousins. Then looking Roran alone she said, “I am dead Roran. For the Varden, I am dead. That is how it is going to be. Whether Murtagh and Thorn will have me or not, I am not coming back to the Varden. I feel guilty. A member of the council of the elders has been killed on my behalf. I will never be able to live with myself at the Varden hereafter. I know I have betrayed the trust of the men by having a secret friendship with our enemies. And it will kill me for the rest of my life if I stay with the Varden. Being torn in two is the worst punishment. I want to end it right now… I want to start anew.” She spoke in a pleading tone willing Roran to understand her mind.

When she finished, nobody spoke. Tears streamed down her eyes. She waited for a good while. And then she straightened up and when she spoke her voice had no trace of the vulnerable woman who had spoken a moment ago. “Tell them when you return that I was killed by Umerth. And that in retaliation you killed him.” So saying, she sighed heavily. Then she said, “I trust you have the talent to make people believe what you believe. So believe in your tale before you tell them. And when they believe you, the fading support for the council will decisively end. You can then take control of the army without any outside intervention and lead them to Uru’baen when you see fit.”

“But…” Roran began to say, but found that all his questions had already been answered. Nasuada knew the doom that awaited her along the path she had chosen, yet she was willingly going down the path. “Promise me that you will never ever get near Galbatorix nor into Uru’baen.” He ended up saying.

“I am not yet that mad Roran.”, Nasuada replied a forlorn smile playing on her lips.

“Take care of her.” Roran said to Murtagh and Thorn in general. “She is the lady of the Varden and she will ever be.”

‘We will.’ Thorn replied. ‘I swear on my life that I will never let any misfortune befall her.’ he added in the ancient language and Roran understood what was said even though he knew not the language.

“What will I tell Eragon?”, Roran asked sounding miserable.

“Tell him that it was my own choice. Tell him to not be angry with Murtagh for this.”, Nasuada replied sounding equally grim.

Everyone was silent afterward. A long pause ensued and there was no peace in it. The winter wind howled all around them as if it understood the storm that was blowing in their minds. The tree stumps covered in ice stood like silent sentinels bearing witness to the dramatic turn of events. After a seeming epoch’s thought, Roran let out a heavy breath.

He turned to Nasuada and asked, “What will I say when they ask for your body?”

Nasuada smiled grimly, but did not answer. It didn’t seem to Roran like she cared to answer his question. She was just satisfied that he had accepted her choice.

“I can arrange for that.” Murtagh said. “I was trained by Galbatorix in this kind of magic to infiltrate the Varden.” Then he added in an under-breath, “And now it seems I am plotting the Varden’s downfall with its leaders.”

He then spoke privately to Thorn and the two of them stood around a tree and Murtagh began to chant an incantation. Roran could feel the magic in the air. It was angry unlike when Eragon performed his tricks. He could distinctly feel several howling voices in his head all protesting the flow of magic. He didn’t know what made those noises but he thought it prudent to keep away from them. Then slowly the tree trunk seemed to shrink and to his surprise turned more and more human-looking.

Murtagh twitched now and then but his eyes were closed all the while. When he finished and moved away from the tree trunk, Roran was thrown out of his mind. There was Nasuada lying on her back, as real as she was standing right beside him.

Roran heard Nasuada gasp. “You have me pictured in your mind that much clearly?” She asked. She sounded surprised, shocked and miserable.

Murtagh just barked as if trying to laugh.

Roran understood Nasuada’s question quite well. In the one year that he was with the Varden he had been around quite a few magicians: human, dwarven and elven. And Eragon had taught him quite a bit about defending against magic. He knew that only if an image was clearly pictured in one’s mind would it come out through magic. He too marvelled at Murtagh’s eye for Nasuada.

“I am happy that all my attentions were at least useful in this. I am not well trained in this stuff – or any other for that matter. I have marvelled at how Eragon is able to control magic even without the… added power that I have. Surely, the ones who taught him were better teachers than mine.” Murtagh said. He started his words in a bitter tone and ended them in an even more bitter way. Everything about the man seemed sad. Roran pitied him. He wondered what 'the added power' was. His mind went back to the angry resentful voices he had heard when Murtagh was performing his magic. He shuddered.

“But… but where will you stay?” Roran asked in confusion. He had only thought about Nasuada not going to Uru’baen, but the capital city was Murtagh’s lair. So going with Murtagh would mean going into Uru’baen.

‘I think, I know a place.’ Thorn chimed in. This was the first time he seemed to accept Nasuada’s crazy decision. ‘The palace of Morzan. It is not far away from Dras-Leona… Nasuada can go back to the Varden whenever she wishes from there.’

“Well, that would be a sight. Wouldn’t it? A dead and buried woman walking towards the very men that buried her.” Nasuada said trying to sound mirthful. But she sounded woefully weak.

‘Yes. They would run for their lives thinking the ghost of Nasuada has come to haunt her killers.’ Thorn replied. He sounded almost playful.

Roran and Murtagh just looked on in dejection. The two cousins were fighting the demons of their mind and they made no attempt to hide it. Of course each of them were thinking of entirely different demons: In Murtagh’s case, it was the question of ‘what if Galbatorix finds?’ and in Roran’s case, it was an even more miserable: ‘what if I am wrong and we lose the war because of this choice?’

‘Umm… Murtagh,’ Thorn called out leaving the other two privy to his words, ‘does the body look like a dead one? It is picture perfect. Is it not?’

Murtagh looked down at the artificial body he had made. It was a true imitation of Nasuada. But Thorn was right. There was no injury mark on the body and it was as if the leader of the Varden was just asleep. But what worried him the most was Thorn’s apparent acceptance of Nasuada’s decision. He could not come to accept it, how much ever he tried.

Seeing Murtagh’s thoughts, Thorn replied to the unasked question. ‘I am a dragon, Murtagh. When we decide something, it is final. Any doubts we had would be buried deep inside us to never awake unless the decision utterly fails us.’

“Maybe that’s why there was not a single dragon alive after the fall.” Murtagh mused out aloud.

Thorn growled. Then he said, ‘Yes. Your guess is right. Now work on the body before somebody else comes and finds us here.’

Murtagh closed his eyes and began chanting again. Roran kept his eyes trained on the real Nasuada partly because he did not wish to see the maiming that was surely happening to the ‘sleeping’ form of Nasuada and partly because he was still hoping to find something that will make her change her mind. Unfortunately he could think of nothing helpful.

When Murtagh was finished with fake-Nasuada’s body, Thorn came forward and said to the real woman, ‘Think over your decision for one last time. There is no going back after this.’

“There is nothing more left to think.” Nasuada replied resolutely.

‘Fine then.’ Thorn said and looked at fake-Nasuada. Roran followed his vision and laid his eyes at the fake-body. It was covered in gore – or something that looked like gore.

‘I will carry shadow-Nasuada and you to as near to the city as I can without being seen by the two-legs residing there.’ Thorn said looking at Roran.

Roran nodded without looking at Thorn.

‘It is not your mistake, cousin-of-Murtagh. Don’t bear this burden on top of all that you already carry. The fate of Nasuada is mine to carry henceforth.’ Thorn said in a sympathetic voice.

Roran looked up at the dragon with new respect. “You are as much a true dragon as Saphira.” He said with a bow.

‘No. I am not. She is free.’ Thorn replied coldly. ‘But I am thankful to you for thinking so.’

Roran looked at Nasuada – the real one – for perhaps the last time and said, “Be safe.”

“I will and you too.” Nasuada replied. “Tell Eragon and your wife that they were my best friends and will always be so.”

Roran nodded. ‘Come let us be done with it.’ Thorn said and Roran lifted the ‘dead’ Nasuada and climbed into Thorn’s saddle. In mere minutes they were within a mile from the city. Thorn hid in a tree filled region there and Roran continued on towards the city.

Along the way, he taught his mind to believe the lie: Nasuada was dead; killed by Umerth who had betrayed them to Galbatorix for an earldom.

When he reached the city with the body and when he saw the grief that the sight of the dead body of Nasuada elicited among the men, he really came to believe the lie.

And thus when his mind was examined by Trianna for the truth, he could easily hide it from her because he now believed his lie and also because he had help from Thorn. But Thorn put it like this: ‘You have a silver tongue. Even when I knew that you were lying I wanted to believe your tale.’

The remaining members of the council of elders dared not speak against him after hearing him speak about Umerth’s betrayal. And so it was that he was appointed the care taker of Varden in the absence of a properly elected leader. Orik came to console him and he had to lie to the dwarf king too. When he went to bed that day he felt like a betrayer himself – a man who had lied to thousands of trusting followers and friends just to hide one mad decision by a woman.

Author’s Note:

If the last 200 words felt rushed please forgive me. I did not want to prolong the chapter any longer because nothing unusual was going to happen anyway. It is only natural that after the death of the leader, the second-in-command would be made leader especially when the man concerned is the General of the Army and the Varden are at war.

I had originally planned this chapter to be a lot shorter. Five thousand words or such. But nowadays whenever I write, the text simply grows too big. Further my original idea was to complete this in a weeks’ time. But it has taken me three weeks. And finally, I hope you like the direction the story is taking.