The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

The Hands of the Gods

I couldn't control the guttural sobs that ripped from my throat and wracked my body, causing me to shake. They came of their own volition, and I was completely at their mercy. Why did it have to happen this way? Brom had been like another father to me all of these years, and then... he was just... gone. I felt as though I was a ship without a sail, aimlessly floating in a vast ocean of nothingness. Brom had carried the secret of my identity for so long, that without him, I didn't know what to do. Where would I go? What would I do? What purpose did my life hold now? When all of my tears were finally spent, I sat up on the edge of the cliff, my legs dangling perilously over the side. I stared up at the sky for a while; so long that the light of the sun faded and night took over.

Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me... Murtagh.

"Is he gone?" I asked slowly. Murtagh plopped down beside me, hanging his own long legs over the side as well, but I didn't look at him; I couldn't.

"He passed a quarter of an hour ago, and it's taken me twice that to find you. Eragon is worried sick..." I could feel his unrelenting gaze on me, but I still couldn't turn and face him; I only stared up at the stars, losing myself in the depth of the night sky. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, but I wanted to seem strong and brave. What would he think of me if he knew how badly I was hurting? "You know, Tabatha," he said quietly, his voice comforting, "it's alright to let people in and see what you're feeling. Sometimes, those people can be the ones to help."

Taking a deep breath, I found my resolve to look into his eyes. They glinted sharply in the moonlight, and I knew he was trying to convince me; to convince me that maybe, just maybe, he was trustworthy. "I don't deserve to be here, and he should still be alive," I murmured quietly, the words pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Why would you say that?" he questioned, one eyebrow slightly raised.

I just shook my head, unsure of how to respond. How could I, without telling him who I truly was? More tears-it seemed I still had some left-began to flow freely. Something had come over me this night to make me let myself go, and I allowed Murtagh to place a hesitant arm around my shoulders. I let myself not be openly ashamed for crying into his chest. For this instant, I'd become like my old self, before I'd known the truth of this world and who I was. "Don't say that," he whispered softly. "He lived a very long and fruitful life. It was his time to go. He wouldn't want you to give up like this, would he?" I shook my head slightly as he stroked my hair with a rough hand.

For an unfathomable amount of time, I just sat there and cried, my tears falling onto the roughspun cloth of Murtagh's shirt. It felt good to have someone hold me while I unleashed my emotions, even if it was Murtagh...Wait, what am I doing?

In a sudden burst of speed, I jerked out of his hold and clambered to my feet. In my haste, I nearly lost my balance, and teetered backwards over the edge of the cliff. Murtagh sprang to his feet and took hold of my wrist with one hand while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his chest and away from the edge. We stood like that for a moment, my hands splayed out on the wide expanse of his chest and his arm around me, while I caught my breath and waited for my heart to stop racing.

"Are you alright?" he asked firmly, his voice full of some emotion that I couldn't quite place...

"I... I'm sorry. I-I have to go," I stuttered, pulling away from him and his hard stare. For a moment, I thought I glimpsed a flash of something in his eyes, but I paid it no mind. As I turned to walk back down the side of the cliff, I stopped when I heard him speak.

"You are so stubborn, Tabatha," he whispered. I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned back around.

Murtagh's back was facing me and it looked like his head was hanging low over his chest. What could he have meant by that? Part of me wanted to march back over there and wring and answer out of him, but the other part of me fought vehemently against it... No. I couldn't face him now; not after I'd made such a spectacle of myself.

Slowly, I turned again and walked down the path. Perhaps I was too stubborn to show my true self to anyone, but that's just the way that I am. I didn't like to let people see what I'm truly feeling; it made me feel vulnerable. I'd always been so tough-putting barriers up around my heart to dispel the teasing I'd always received from Albriech and Baldor, and even Eragon and Roran-but what had that done to me? And now that I had to constantly hide my true identity from the world, I feared those barriers would only become stronger. I wasn't even my true self around Eragon, and he was my best friend. I was beginning to become someone I didn't even know.

It was then that I realized how far I had strayed from the cliff and our encampment. The limestone structure was a good hundred yards away. It's amazing how engrossed I can become in myself sometimes. When I glanced at the top of the cliff, the dark shape I'd expected to see was not there... Murtagh was gone.

~*~

Eragon was silent the next day. He barely said a word to me at all. When he stopped in front of the still body of the old Rider, I came up next to him. "What are we going to do with him, Eragon?" I asked.

"We're going to bury him," he replied somberly.

"How are you going to do that?" Murtagh said. "The land around here is solid limestone for miles." Without a word, Eragon hoisted the old man over his shoulders and out of the mouth of the cave. Murtagh glanced over at me for a moment, but I quickly averted my eyes, following behind Eragon.

When we got to the top of the cliff, Eragon set Brom's lifeless body down and began speaking in the Ancient Language. The earth moved and shifted underneath him, and he created a perfect hollowed out shell for Brom. Murtagh helped him lift the old man and place him inside, then Eragon spoke again and the rock settled over top of him, forming a perfectly round hill of stone. Suddenly, Saphira craned her graceful neck forward, and gently touched the edge of her snout to the rock. The stone shimmered and rippled for a few moments, and finally settled into a perfectly cut, diamond tomb. It sparkled brilliantly in the light of the sun, nearly blinding all of us. Through the clear gemstone, Brom's face looked peaceful, like he was simply sleeping.

"That's amazing," I whispered, gazing up at Saphira in awe.

"Now time cannot ravage his body," Eragon said stoically. I stared a moment longer at his face, forever frozen in time.

"He was so full of life and vigor," I mused quietly. "It's hard to imagine that he was taken from us so quickly. It only goes to show that the gods hold all the cards in the game of life. And we must take whatever lot they deal us." I turned to look at Eragon, his face set as hard as the diamond tomb in front of him.

"I won't take what they give me anymore," he growled. "This is my life, and I'm going to create my own destiny." He turned to me, his eyes searching my face. "What say you?"

I gave him a small smile. "To the very end, remember?" I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I will join you," Murtagh interjected, stepping towards us.

"I do not ask you to come, Murtagh. You've already done so much for us," Eragon said. I avoided making any eye contact with him, but I felt a knot tightening in my chest.

"I know, but I want to come. It's not every day that you meet a Rider," he replied, a crooked little grin spreading across his face. A pang went through my chest, chills spreading across my skin.

"Very well," Eragon replied, nodding firmly. "We better get moving then. We've got a long journey ahead of us." They nodded to one another and made towards the path that led back to the ground.

I followed quickly after them, taking care not to stumble on the loose rocks. "Agreed," I chimed in, bounding down the cliff side. "Where are we going again?"