Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - (Under Editing)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

You And I

"Father."  Erys whittled away at a chunk of wood with Gethayn's dagger.  She hardly noticed as she nicked her thumb.  "Thalia."  She pressed a bloody thumbprint to the stick as she held it tight.  "Keilith."  She beheaded the figurine.

She let it fall to the ground, barely noticing as she trampled it underfoot.  It stuck in the wet mud. 

Erys could feel the grief resurfacing, threatening to destroy her.  She faltered, stumbled.  Her knees hit the ground.  What did she care so much for?  He'd threatened her, threatened to reveal her identity.  Wasn't it safer that he was gone?  Why should she feel defeated?

"Ailden?"

She drew herself to her feet and walked on, ignoring Eirdain's attempts at consoling her.  She spent the day alternating between riding or walking, though she preferred to walk as it gave her a menial task that stopped her from slipping deeper into despair.  When she rode, she had only her dark thoughts and grief to contemplate; anything else had been wiped from her mind.

"Ailden?"

"Don't use that name.  It's not safe any more."

"And which should I use?"

Erys could sense where he was going.  "Drop it."

"What was it Keilith called you?  Ares?"

She turned on him with a snarl.  "I said drop it!"

He tensed and wiped spittle from his face with a nod.  Though he kept his face neutral, there was no hiding the spark of fear at her outburst.  What would he do when she was beyond saving, when her anger spurred her to further action?  He continued the trek, falling into strained silence.

Erys felt the void open within her again. A pain greater than all the physical agonies inflicted on the world bore a hole through her chest; a great pressure squeezed her from the inside, and it became impossible to breathe. She was unable to stop the flow of tears. They wet her face, clearing the dirt from her skin. The pain of losing her companion, even one she didn't completely trust, cut through her heart, leaving it raw, the pain made worse by the knowledge he'd died defending her. If she failed Keilith against an Urgal, what hope had she against the Republic? What hope did she have for her mother?

Distantly, her stomach rumbled, but though her body told her to eat she did not feel hungry. She was void of any desire.  Even the desire to move forward was faltering.  What hope did she have?

"We're here for you Erys," Eirdor said.  Eirdain mediated as Erys still refused to speak with them.  "It's you and us," Eirdain added.

"Thanks."  Her reply was curt and as emotionless and unrelenting as the passing of time, for she'd lost her will.

Khyiana dipped her head and touched Erys' shoulder. 

"How do you deal with your grief?" Eirdain asked her.

"I keep the promise I made with my Rider."

Erys turned her attention back to the path stretched before them; they'd had to make their own, a task not easily done.  She'd done so silently, picking a path through the forest.  They kept the road close should they lose their way in the vast forest.  She said not a word as the hours past, save the mumbling of names of those she'd lost or failed.  Her mother remained the only name not on the list.

Eirdain ran to catch up with Erys.  "Can we talk?"

"Do I have a choice?"  Her voice was a dead monotone.

"About...the ambush—"

"It doesn't matter."  She turned away.

"But it does matter!"

"No.  It doesn't."

"It wasn't your fault.  It was an ambush.  There were three of them."

"Right."

He seemed taken aback.  "You have to feel something!  Anything—"

"Don't tell me what to feel!"

Erys let loose her rage.  Her eyes quivered with a madness only the strain on one's will could bring.  Hatred burned in her heart so intensely she could feel it sear her soul.  In Eirdain she saw everything she hated: strength that was not hers, resilience that was not broken, a life she might fail.  She hated him for it.  She shivered, her entire body shaking with quiet rage.

Eirdain took a step back.  Afraid to say anything else for the fear she might run him through, he stepped behind Khyiana as Erys staggered forward.  She released her grip on the hilt of her sword.  Eirdain left her to her own devices as she trudged ahead, muttering to herself.  Or the dead.

"Father.  Thalia.  Keilith."

She prayed she did not have to add her mother.