Niaomi: The Journey

12.1 | Traipsing

A/N: Decided to just go ahead and post the first half since it's been a freaking month since I've updated. Sorry for the wait, and sorry you guys are still hanging, but I promise - barring no unforeseen circumstances - that you won't have to wait nearly as long for the last half. Since we're a little over halfway through, I've gotta hash out the final plot details (which shall involve a few time skips) so I don't end up with a rushed climax or resolution. :P

And a heads-up: this vision isn't quite so random, and our special guest's appearance isn't quite a cameo...

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When she opened her eyes, Nia looked around and fought back the sigh of disappointment. Her stone surroundings seemed to indicate some sort of dungeon, and it was doubtful that Eragon would be anywhere near. She had grown used to her constant visions of him and Saphira, and - despite all the grumbling that spoke otherwise - she liked the glimpses of their life she saw. Indeed, if she was being entirely honest with herself, it was really the glimpses of the boy she was beginning to like more and more with each passing day.

Which is ridiculous, she thought to herself now, trying to concentrate on the vision at hand. Just because she was getting to know Eragon through the visions didn't mean that she knew him. Indeed, the visions spanned future and past more than they did the present, which meant her understanding of him was jumbled at best. So what if within the jumble there are constants in his nature, like his kindness or honesty or cute - stop it! Concentrate!

Angela had been trying to teach her how to escape from the Mists, and Niaomi knew she had been doing something important before the vision had suddenly seized her. Indeed, she felt like it had come on too suddenly, as if she had blacked out in the process. But why? What had she been doing?

As she mused, she moved forward down the tunnel, content with the knowledge that it was only her mind present rather than her body. When she had explained what had occurred to her seer mentor, the older woman had begun muttering about bronze and various gemstones that could help with the problem. The gemstones she spoke of were the same as the ones in the circlet that Wayłoêr had gifted to Nia. When the Rider had mentioned them, Angela had immediately punched her arm (not very lightly) and demanded to know why she wasn't wearing it.

Apparently, the circlet was a focusing tool - not unlike Nicholas's ring - that would allow her to stay grounded to her present position and not risk losing herself within the Mists. Indeed, the witch warned her that the biggest danger seers faced was becoming a part of the Mists themselves, which was why it was so important she learn how to control her gifts before they consumed her. In her own humble opinion, this was just one of the many reasons why her supposed "gift" was more like a burden that needed to be left alone.

A strange sensation passed through her, and Niaomi returned her attentions to where she was, surprised to find herself imbued within what seemed to be a wall. Not the best way to find out I can apparently pass through objects, she thought to herself with a shudder as she continued forward. Gods, I hope it's not too thick.

She soon emerged on the other side, only to recoil at the piercing wail that met her. Her first guess of her surroundings had been correct: she was in a dungeon, and had just walked in on a prisoner's brutal questioning.

"Tell me where you sent it!" a cruel voice shouted, and Nia fought back the urge to run as she turned her eyes to the figure that stood over the spasming body chained to the wall. His back was to her and the lighting was dim, but she could still make out the maroon robe and decorated helmet. Thinking back to the war books that Nate had always been trying to share with her, she presumed that the helmet marked the man as someone highly ranked in an army, perhaps a general, and from there assumed that he was in the midst of an interrogation.

Given what her father had taught her of Alagaësia and its political structure (and since the demand had been spoken in Runic), she knew that there were only two possibilities of which army this general belonged to: Surda or the Empire. He made a motion with his hand that made the captive whimper, and she realized to her horror that he was slowly impaling the other a thin sword.

There was only one possibility now.

"Where is it?!" he hissed, twisting the sword. Another whimper escaped, and Niaomi leaned forward, but the prisoner's long dark hair hid their face from view, though it did mark them as a female. "You can stop the torture at any time if you'll just tell me what I need to know."

The captive didn't answer, and the general withdrew the sword with a sharp movement that made both women gasp, one with pain and the other with empathy. He waved his hand and recited a phrase in the ancient language that the Rider recognized from the books on medicine Rosaminda was always studying, and the wound he had created disappeared. However, he replaced it with a bruise as he swiftly kicked his prisoner in the gut, causing her to groan as he leaned down and grabbed her by her hair to whisper, "When I come back, you had best be willing to share, Dröttningu."

Nia's mouth fell open upon hearing the word and seeing the pointed tip of the ear the general had whispered into. Her jaw dropped further as he turned around to reveal a gaunt face with eyes the color of old blood. It was not the face of a man; it was the face of a monster. A Shade. She skittered backwards as the creature stalked to the door, holding her breath despite the fact that she wasn't really present. It was only when the door slammed behind him that she could breathe once again.

Looking back at the woman - the elf - that still hung from the chains, she wondered how one of the Fair Folk had been taken captive. Niom had explained that the elves had become something of a myth since the Fall and the death of their king (her grandfather), so what was one doing within the Empire? What was it that was so important she would allow herself to be tortured rather than tell the Shade? And how did she have the same title as Leafë? It was only given to direct female descendants of the reigning elvish king or queen, and Islanzadí had taken her mate's place. Could that mean this elf..?

It wasn't until she was bending down that the girl realized that she'd been drawing closer to the prisoner, trying to see beyond the unkempt hair that was as dark as her own while simultaneously trying to convince herself that it wasn't possible. Her mother had rarely mentioned her family, but to never have mentioned having a sister? Impossible, she thought firmly to herself as she felt the Mists begin to drag her away. She would have -

The elf looked up, and Niaomi swore that their eyes met even though hers weren't physically present. Even as the Mists swirled around her and shrouded the other from view, she could still picture those eyes. They were the same eyes she saw in Nick's face.

And the same she'd seen in Leafë's.

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