The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

The Conquest of Spaces

~*~

I didn't know how many hours had passed, but my back was beginning to ache and my skin pulling at my scar. Still, I had seen no sign of her. Now I was at the very edge of the battlefield, near where the Kull had come out of the tunnels. The piles here were taller than the others, blocking the entrance to the tunnels where the beasts had fled after Durza's enchantment was broken. There was no way she would have been all the way over here... was there? I decided it couldn't hurt to look, so I headed in that direction.

Flies were beginning to amass on the huge piles, buzzing about the lifeless bodies of the Urgals. The stench was even worse here. I covered my nose and mouth with my tunic sleeve, and scanned the dark-skinned bodies. Still no sign of her. I looked around a little bit more, but I was beginning to grow tired. If I had to come back tomorrow, I would.

I turned away from the piles of corpses, heading back into the city, when something caught my eye. At the mouth of one of the tunnels, I glimpsed a dark form, impossible to make out in the dim light of the cavern. Could it be...? Drawing on whatever strength I had left, I ran towards the tunnel, heart pounding in my chest and in my ears. Finally, I reached the form-clearly a person-lying face down on the hard ground, and dropped to my knees at their side. What were they doing all the way out here by themselves?

Reaching towards them, I grabbed them by the shoulder and turned them over gently, my breath stolen away...Tabatha. She was unconscious, a nasty wound dripping blood down the side of her face. Was she breathing?

"Come on, Tabby," I whispered urgently, shaking her slightly by the shoulders. "Don't do this to me." I put my ear up to her face and felt a slight whisper of a breath against my cheek. At least she was breathing, albeit weakly. I wiped at the blood running down her face, getting it out of her eyes and hauled her up into my arms. She let out a soft whimper, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was awake.

"M-Murtagh?" she questioned weakly, her voice croaking from disuse.

"I'm here, Tabby," I grunted, moving away from the mouth of the tunnel and back towards the city. Stepping over bodies and carrying her at the same time wasn't exactly easy, but we eventually made it to the cleared area nearer to the city walls.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where am I?"

"I'll explain everything later. Right now, we need to get you to Angela."

"Who's that?" Her words were slurring together, as though she'd been drugged.

"A healer," I explained quietly. "She's been helping Eragon." I shifted her in my arms, getting a better grip around her legs. Suddenly, she threw her arms weakly around my neck and nuzzled her face into my chest, sniffling slightly.

"What happened to him?"

"Shh," I chided softly. "All will be explained in due time." She remained quiet for the rest of the trip to the room I'd been given after the battle. It seemed I'd proved myself trustworthy enough not to be locked up. Kicking open the door, I hurried her inside and laid her down on the bed. She cried out in pain and clutched at her side.

"Ow! Murtagh, what's going on?" she yelled, face scrunching up in pain.

"I... I don't know, Tabby. Just hold on, I have to go get Angela!" She began to cry softly as I turned and left, racing back to Eragon's room to retrieve the witch.

~*~

Tabatha's POV

The bed was soft-much softer than the bed of my cell-and the room was warm and cozy. Murtagh had left only a moment ago, but I already missed his presence. What's happening to me? Why am I in so much pain? There was an aching coming from my right side; sharp shooting pains racing up and down my torso. It wasn't long before he came back, a short, curly-haired woman in tow. She looked at me with caring blue eyes, that seemed to hold a world of knowledge within them. Murtagh stood towering behind her, his face a mask of worry and concern. I was trying to hide the intensity of my pain from him, but it hadn't worked very well. Angela-as I presumed this was who Murtagh had been talking about-pulled up a little wooden chair next to the bed and placed a cool palm on my forehead. It felt like I was on fire.