Redemption - Fourth Wing

27. The letter

Aifos' Pov
When I cracked open my eyes, the first thing I saw was a white, high ceiling. A bright light poured from the large windows on my left, and I had to screw my eyes shut again. Headache throbbed in my temples, and my mind swam.
A gentle voice spoke somewhere to my left, "Welcome back, Aifos."
I needed a couple of seconds to both turn around to meet warm brown eyes and understand his words in current Alagaesyan.
"Am I dead... Master?"
He hinted at a smile, "No."
"So... Why..."
Slowly, as if worn down by fatigue, pieces of memories started to slot together: the battle above Basgiath; -It's you she needs, Chex-; the duel of me and Xaden against the Sage; me shoving off the Sage and Sgaeyl whisking Xaden away; then, some reminder of a searing pain which locked my muscles and froze my mind.
Someone might've roared from the sky.
I groaned when my headache struck my temples, and Eragon lowered his voice, "You're going to nod off for quite a while. Your wound was rather serious."
"How... I..."
"It's time for you to rest."
I didn't know how many days I spent in bed; I only knew that my mind was still shielded up, and that nobody called my dragons to me.
It was a cloudy afternoon, so the light was softer on my eyes; with a sharp intake of breath, I scrunched my eyes and propped myself up on my elbow.
"Whoa there mister! Where do you think you're going?"
"What... Hi, Elsie."
She pointed her index finger on my chest, "By the way, I didn't let you fly away so you could come back more dead than alive!"
"Not now, please."
"I scold you whenever I want, how much I please!"
With a low groan, I plopped back and drew up on my face my sheets, even if it worsened the pain between my temples.
"Stop shouting at them," said Eragon, "They're ill enough."
"But, master..."
He ignored her and tapped on my covers, "Do you feel like raising on your own two feet? Saphira says your dragons are waiting for you outside."
"And they're quite angry at you," supplemented Elsie, "As they should."
I muttered something about fainting in front of them so they would pity me instead.
"Don't listen to her. I, too, got badly wounded during my first proper battle, and Saphira had mercy on me. The same will do your dragons."
With a sigh, I slowly pushed my covers aside and carefully sat up.
"I still don't know how I came here," I grumbled, while I gathered enough strength to get afoot.
"They brought you here, of course, you moron."
"That's enough for now, Elsie. Come, Aifos, lean on my arm."
As we made our way through the large hallway, students, both new and old, shuffled aside, and Elves greeted me first. The first time I saw Bloodgarm starting the greeting himself ("Atra ono thelduin"), I was so taken aback I stumbled, and bitterness twisted my lips down.
All throughout the years, none of them had ever deigned themselves to answer back to my greeting in a sincere way - their words were as politely cutting as glass, and resembled too much the jagged lines across my wrists.
And now, he was the one starting the greeting! Only to ask me later on all about Navarre, uncaring of the fact that I'd just fled death, and I could still feel its cold claws around my heart.
My headache shot across my head and Eragon tightened his hold on my arms.
"Not now, Blodgärm."
Then, we stepped outside, and quickly I shielded my eyes with my hand.
"You may want to open your mind," he whispered, "Your dragons want to speak to you."
When I did so, my whole body tensed, ready for a cacophony of yells and roars and questions, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Ronny was the first reaching out, for he was the only one standing there.
Neither of us hinted at moving towards one another.
-Chex's with Saphira.-
-Oh.-
-I expressively asked her to keep him away from here for now.-
-Why?-
-Because I want to speak with you first.-
I bowed my head and closed my eyes.
-Your situation was so endangering that I pleaded the Eldunaris myself.-
At that, my eyes flew open and a gasp left my lips. I stared at Ronny, who grumbled something and averted my eyes, as if he, too, hadn't expected to be so frank so quickly.
My sight blurred, and Eragon tightened his grip on my arm.
-It was the only thing which came up to my mind. The Elves were out of tricks, and you refused to wake up, so I had to take the matter in my own claws.-
-I am... I...-
He swung his face back at me and held my gaze, -I know you are sorry. I can see it all throughout your features.-
My voice was just a whisper, -Why aren't you shouting at me? You did so after the battle in Resson, when I...-
-What you did back then was absolutely reckless and unnecessary. Sorrengail would've been saved nonetheless.-
-So... Why...-
This time, emotions rippled in his carefully even voice, -Because this time you were twice more in danger than back then. Can't you see? And... You acted so altruistically, so selfishly, you sacrificed yourself even if you weren't sure you would manage to actually save Riorson.-
-You have all more the reasons to yell at me than before, then.-
-I don't have the strength. The fear of losing you in that paralysis led me to grieve too deeply to feel an ounce of any feelings that aren't gratefulness.-
For some reason, my knees melted under me and I slid into a crouch. A single tear rolled on my cheek and on my neck.
-The last thing I saw was my father,- I admitted with a tilted voice, -Laughing in that banquet.-
I screwed my eyes shut when Ronny blew on my hair. His voice was the sweetest I'd ever heard, -Oh, kid. Come here.-
I let my head fall on his cheek as he brought his wing over me. His strong smell, of fire and forests, surrounded me, and slowly an eerily feeling of peace crawled in my chest.
I didn't know for how long we stayed in this position, or if Eragon and Elsie stayed or left us alone; what I knew was that my knees started aching, and that my headache had lessened up a bit, and that I'd stay as long as Ronny would allow me to.
Our minds brushed together, slipped in one another, and his tracked down the new round scar over my hipbone.
Then, Ronny gently raised his head and unfurled his wing, -Chex is coming.-
Chex did, in fact, yell at me.
With a high-pitched shriek, he squarely shoved me back and let loose a deeper roar. Both Eragon and Elsie had to catch me before I could fall on the ground, and shot a glare to Chex.
-You fool! You senseless! Taking the hit yourself! Xaden turned all the same! You almost died! You don't do this to me! Never again! Never again you sacrifice yourself for someone else!-
My breath was knocked off my lungs.
Xaden had turned.
My pain had been for nothing.
Acid seemed to burn under my skin, in my veins, and my nails dug in my palms so mercilessly tears stung my eyes and my voice broke, "What else was I supposed to do?"
-Not dying yourself in his place! If you die, I die, and Ronny dies! Were you really this selfish you didn't think about us? Your dragons? Your mates?-
My knees felt weak, -He's the heart of the revolution! If he had died, so would've done Violet, and Tairn, and Andarna and Sgaeyl, and I couldn't let that happen! I didn't know that he would've turned! I thought he was dying! They are your family, Chex!-
-Fuck the revolution! Fuck my guardians, and my sister! You are my family. Only you! There is no me without you!-
I bowed my head, and closed my shaky hands in a fist.
-I'm sorry,- I whispered.
-If you had died, no "I'm sorry" would've ever been enough.-
-I know.-
-Now,- said Saphira to me, with her snout tipped down towards me, -His reasoning may hold meaning, but he isn't totally right to be scolding you this much over something which could've happened but didn't. This one isn't by far the first time you put yourself in danger, isn't it? And if you can't shake off this habit for the life of you, why should we all be upset that you keep making the same mistakes over and over again? There'll come a time when you'll see the gravity of your actions for yourself. That day will come for us all.-
I bowed my head, -I know, Saphira-elda.-
-I know you do, child.-
-Can you stop talking to my mate?- snapped Chex, -They're mine to talk to, not yours!-
-We have different costumes here, Kuldruskul.-
Chex grumbled something, his eyes narrowed at his claws.
Eragon said I'd better drink some herbal tea for my headache, and led me back in, despite Chex's loud complaints which actually worsened my state.
So, as I followed my master and my friend of many years, nostalgia crept in, as soft as a spring breeze.
However, it worsened when Elsie told me she was going to spar with an Elf, and I remembered Xaden and I didn't know anymore whom this melancholy was turned to.
Too easily and in too many nights I saw red engulfing his gold-flecked onyx eyes. In those nightmares, he twisted his fine features and gritted out how much of a failure, of a disappointment I was, I would always be.
-Kid,- Ronny whispered one night as I was kneeling against my bed, my head buried in my hands and my body a foreign, rigid thing, -You did what you could. I'm proud of you.-
-I am not.-
-Come here. I don't want you to relapse.-
"I don't fucking care!"
-Please...-
Only because of the soft plea in his voice I forced myself to get up and walk to him, and allowed myself to be held by his strong wings.
-We're proud of you. I'm proud of you. Don't cut yourself, please.-
I squeezed my eyes shut, then said, -It's a time of war. Casualties... Useless sacrifices aren't novelties by far.-
I somehow managed to keep my wrists clean.
Throughout my convalescence, I often meditated, away from the bustling Academy; I watched the golden sun rippling across Chex's golden scales, followed the scar across Ronny's snout with my fingertips and sometimes with my lips; answered the Elves' questions about Navarrian dragons until my nails sunk in my palms and Ronny or Chex came to my rescue; remembered with Elsie the good old days, and in those moments thought how easily it would be to stay; sat in the library and read the old songs, my fingertips skimming over the pages as if they were old friends.
The afternoon was giving way to dusk, when I closed the book about the days of the Ancient Order and ruminated in my seat.
In the large, sunny library, there were a couple of other students, bent down on their scrolls; a young girl met my eyes, and quickly averted hers.
With a slow sigh, I got up to put back the book, when Eragon's mind touched mine, -Can you come in my room? I must show you something.-
-Yes, Eragon-elda.-
When I opened the door, I saw my master seated on the chair across his desk.
"Come Aifos, sit."
There was a letter on the desk, old and crinkled, and with two fingers he slid it towards me.
"Do I have to..."
"Yes. It was given to me by your mother, and now it belongs to you."
I didn't want to read it at all, but upon Eragon's nod I could only pick it up and start deciphering the quick, small calligraphy of the letter's writing.
It was most definitely a love letter, and the words were crammed in such a way it led me to think that the writer had too many things to say, and the envelope was too small, and perhaps time was running out. It was most definitely a farewell letter and the writer begged for some forgiveness, but said that duty awaited them in their homeland, and that they would save it only thanks to the reciever.
However, when I reached the signature, it was so broad, so clear every breath was knocked out of my chest, and I felt faint.
My master's voice was gentle, "What does it say, Aifos?"
I looked at him with widened eyes, and a couple of seconds went by. But, instead of words, a laughter escaped my throat. It was strained, and bitter, and I thought it belonged to a madman.
I leaned back on the chair and looked again at the signature, then at Eragon.
"Fen Riorson. I am Fen Riorson's child!"
My features twisted suddenly and my nails dug in my wrists.
The duty Fen Riorson had written about in the letter was the rebellion. Because he'd been in Alagaesia and had fallen for a Vinr Alfakyn, for a Varden, he learnt how to brew a revolution there, and brought such spark in his homeland.
The death of the marked ones' families had strings here, an ocean away.
Xaden's parents hadn't been the culprits.
Mine had.
Now, rather than laughing, I wanted to scream, and claw at my throat.
"Breath in and out, Aifos. Expand your mind. Let Nature flow through you."
Slowly, I opened my mind, and reached the outergrounds of the Academy, where young dragons were trying to direct their flames to different targets of stone under the careful eyes of Saphira.
My heartbeats slowed, and my hands were placed on my lap. But my wrists kept tickling, and I didn't do anything to heal them.
"You know this man, don't you?"
My eyes shied away from Eragon's.
"Not in person. He died a long ago. But his son... Yes, I do know him."
"Is he from here?"
"No... No, he isn't."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"Well... I don't know. But we fought together. So at least we're comrades."
"I know how it feels," he said, slowly, "To have a teacher telling you about your true parentage."
He gave me a quick smile when I waited for him to expand on it.
"My former Ebrithil, Oromis, told me about my actual father in one of our last lessons. He had always known, just as Saphira and Glaedr, but all of them couldn't tell me because of an oath in the Ancient Language. In time, I came to wear with pride the name of Bromsson. You will learn how to do it too."
"I hope so."
He raised on his feet, squeezed my shoulder and offered himself to heal up my wrists. Silently, I raised them up and watched as the skin itched and the borders of the cuts sealed themselves.
"How about a cup of tea?"
"Alright, master."
After we sipped our tea and munched some grapes, even though my stomach was too taught to let me savour any of them, Eragon wiped his hands and leaned back on the chair. He watched me fidgeting with the letter, then folding it and putting it in the pocket of my trousers.
"I guess you want to go back to Navarre as soon as possible."
"I... I think so. I must tell Xaden, and it's Chex's home. He can't stay here forever, and we go where he goes."
He sighed and looked at the window by our side, where snow glistened under the sunlight.
"I would've never thought that one day I would be sending my first student to war."
"We are Shur'tugals. Perhaps war is part of us."
"Perhaps. But we also suffered greatly for it."
"I won't let our enemies extinct the Navarrian dragonkind. It's still in its prime, master, and it has many old, powerful dragons."
"As we did ourselves."
I forced myself to keep my shoulders straight.
"Navarrian Riders can draw lightning from the sky, or control shadows, or see the future." I turned my wrist and sought out his eyes, "They won't fall like we did."
He nodded, without breaking eye contact, "You know well the weight of any oath in the Ancient Language. I must hold you to it."
"And so you shall."
We both got up, and he took hold of my hand.
"You may go now, then."
I wordlessly nodded, then made my way out of the Academy, with my eyes trained to the ground.
But the longer I wandered around,the more my thoughts grew confused and heavy, and any feeling of lightness turned lost.
What was I to do now that my legacy was so clearly split in two? I'd always had some vague idea in which the three of us (Ronny, Chex and I) would wait in Navarre for a couple of decades to pass and only then go back to Alagaesia, but now, I didn't know if it was possible anymore, or if it had ever been.
The war against the dark wielders seemed to have a long life ahead of it, whereas Alagaesia was living in peace, and in recent years it had enough Riders to fend for herself despite the absence of a bonded pair, whose shadows had led too many innocents to seek out protection in their home.
But my recovery had me understanding how, in spite of everything, a part of me would always consider Alagaesia my home... And yet, so many times I'd cried and bled on its soil.
On the other hand, Navarre was still a new discovery to me: it didn't know me that well, and I didn't have to turn a corner and see the ghost of my motionless body lying there.
I violently shook my head, as if I could clear away this buzzing of thoughts.
The cold wind of winter across my cheeks had me realising my brainstorm had led me outside.
A shadow fell on me, and I looked up to see Ronny standing tall and proud in front of me, tucking his wings in.
-I've been waiting for you, kid.-
-I hope not for long.-
-I have patience. Come take a walk with me.-
He stretched out his foreleg and watched me scrambling on my seat astride his shoulders.
Then, he turned around and indeed walked up to the forest. His steps were unfretted, and I had half a mind to close my eyes and doze off.
-How is your wound?- asked Ronny as he ducked under a branch.
-Slowly improving, I think.-
-That's good to hear.-
-Yes.-
-During our next battle, it'll help you remember what's at stake.-
I inhaled slowly, and dragged a hand through my hair. My throat felt clogged, and I gritted my teeth, as a malevolent feeling of self-pity threatened to make my fingers itchy again.
-Eragon gave me a letter. I am... I am Fen Riorson's bastard child. I... fuck, Ronny, who am I? Does this mean that Xaden's legacy is now mine? The Assembly will never listen to me, I... I don't know if I can make it.-
-As a Shur'tugal, it has always been your legacy. You aren't the surname your fathers gave you, either of them; you aren't even your name as it is. You are your Name of Names: that is who you are at your core.-
He twisted his head so that his eyes could hold mine, -It is time that you learn yours.-
I looked down at my hands, and hesitated.
-Sometimes... sometimes, the truth is scary.-
-It always is, kid. Or else, it wouldn't be called such.-
My eyes swept on the grounds until they got caught in the Academy, so white and elegant, and my mind wandered to Riorson palace, a fortress so broad and thick it was said not even the Gods would be able to chip its black stones.
Except that it had been chipped and burned and brought to its knees.
And because of it, this father of mine I had never met had been sentenced to death.
I breathed deeply before squaring my shoulders and sliding off Ronny's back. Pride slid across our bond as he stretched out his neck and nudged my hair with the tip of his snout.
-Do you want me to stay?-
-Yes, please.-
He answered me by sitting down and folding his tail neatly around his forelegs, -Then, here you shall find me.-
I nodded, and looked at him. I thought he truly was magnificent, with his proud shoulders, velvet wings and deep eyes, and that it was such a privilege to cherish him and to be cherished back I sometimes couldn't catch the depth of it all.
I remembered Eragon telling me, in one of our first lessons all those years ago, that no matter how many centuries we'd spend together, Ronny and I would always be a surprise to each other, and that was the main beauty of our bond.
I smiled at him, then sat down and brought my knees against my chest. I took a couple of breaths, and instinctively looked for the paths towards my bonds, and felt Ronny focusing on every inch of my body, while keeping an eye on the surroundings.
As long as he would remain close to me, the truth wouldn't be completely horrifying.
So, at long last, I closed my eyes and started to move my mind inwards, in search of who I was at my core.