Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Forty-Six: Brilliant

Alethea lazily twisted in the air as we closed in on Helgrind, I felt an aching feeling run through my body. It had been so long since we had buried Brom, so long since Murtagh had come across us. Dras-Leona sat on the opposite end of Leona Lake.

"I can sense their presence."

"I can too," I replied to Alethea. "They must have been posted to Dras-Leona after we left."

In the fading light, the Varden had settled on a series of cultivated fields just southeast of Dras-Leon, where the land rose up to a slight plateau, which would provide them with a small amount of protection should the Empire charge its position.

The four of us helped dig trenches for protection before heading for our tent for the night. I had changed into a fresh set of leather clothes before meeting Eragon in his tent. Instead of practicing his penmanship, Eragon decided to review spells he may need with my help.

As Eragon continued to run through spells, I sat down and meditated, which was proving difficult. It was hard to concentrate when I was paranoid of what would happen when Murtagh and Thorn found out about Alethea and I. The last thing I wanted to do was fight them.

"We start in the morning," I said, opening my eyes. "I will see you then." I got my feet and padded into my tent before blowing out the lone candle that burned.

All too soon, morning arrived, and the Varden assembled before the exposed outskirts of Dras-Leona. Eragon sat on Saphira flanking Nasuada with Alethea and me on her other side. Nasuada's guard stood intermittent.

Ten yards to the right were King Orrin and his hand-picked retinue of warriors, each of whom had a colorful plume attached to the crest of his helm. Personally, I thought they looked ridiculous, but I wasn't going to mention that.

After exchanging nods, Nasuada and King Orrin spurred their mounts forward and trotted away from the main body of the Varden, toward the city. Saphira and Alethea lumbered forward. I double-checked my mental walls, they had to be impenetrable.

Eragon and I frowned as we watched the heralds advance. The city seemed unnaturally empty, this wasn't good.

"Hail! In the name of Queen Dröttningu and Lady Nasuada of the Varden and he, King Orrin of Surda, we bid you open your gates so we may deliver a message of import unto your lord and master, Marcus Tábor. By it, he may hope to profit greatly, as may every man, woman, and child within Dras-Leona."

"These gates shall not open. State your message where you stand." A voice shouted from behind the gate.

"Speak you for Lord Tábor?"

"I do."

"Then we charge you to remind him that discussions of statesmanship are more properly pursued in the privacy of one's own chambers rather than in the open, where any might hear."

"I take no orders from you, lackey! Deliver your message—and quickly, too!—ere I lose patience and fill you with arrows." I got an eye tick as the man's tone but was impressed by the herald's restraint.

"As you wish. Our liegelords offer peace and friendship to Lord Tábor and all the people of Dras-Leona. We have no argument with you, only with Galbatorix, and we would not fight you if we had the choice. Have we not a common cause? Many of us once lived in the Empire, and we left only because Galbatorix's cruel reign drove us from our lands. We are your kin, in blood and in spirit. Join forces with us, and we may yet free ourselves of the usurper who now sits in Urû'baen."