The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

Fate's Cruel Hand

"I..." I searched for the words for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. The old man's face was lit up with hope and I hated to be the one to disappoint him. "I will think about it, Garrow. But I make no promises."

"Of course not!" he replied, his face still alight with happiness. "And I don't want you to think that I'm pressuring you, Tabatha. I am simply stating a fact that was obviously unbeknownst to you before, and making a friendly suggestion." I looked over at him and gave a hesitant smile, trying to give him some kind of reassurance that I didn't feel.

"Would you tell me about Eragon's mother?" I asked, trying to shift the subject off of myself and going back to brushing. "What was she like?"

"Selena..." Garrow whispered quietly, staring blankly at the ground. He suddenly snapped back to reality and looked over at me. "My sister was... well, she was very beautiful, that much anyone could see. But she had a wild spirit about her; untamable like the mountains that surround this farm. I always thought that she was better suited to life in the city than here, in the country. She was always running off into the Spine to go on adventures, much like Eragon does now. Our mother and father were always so worried about her. It was a tragedy, what happened. She should not have been stolen from us so young."

I took a deep breath and glanced furtively over at Garrow to gauge the likelihood that he would answer my next question. No matter, I had to chance it. "And what of Eragon's father? Did you know him?" I probed, watching his face carefully. Garrow's back straightened and his eyes grew cold and hard as stone.

"A vile man," he spat. I'd never heard him speak in such a way before about anybody. "He filled my sister's head with fanciful ideas, and then stole her away from us. They... they ran off together. It wasn't until Brom showed up here with Eragon in his arms that we even knew she'd been pregnant, or that she had... died." He fell silent, and I knew there was nothing more he would say on the subject. What kind of a man could have prompted Garrow, the kindest and most gentle-natured man I'd ever met, to speak so ill of him? If he truly was that bad, I was just glad Eragon had clearly taken after his mother.

"I think I'll go for a walk," I said, dropping the brush on the ground and hurrying out of the warm barn without another word. As I left the barn I saw Eragon running down the road towards me. Suddenly, I felt the need to be as far away from him as possible. I waited for him to stop but he just kept on going. "Where are you going?" I called to him as he ran past.

"I'll be right back!" he returned over his shoulder. I didn't want to run into him on my walk, so I shuffled back into the house, my mind wrapped up in my own thoughts.

It was past midnight and Eragon was still not back yet. I was worried sick and Garrow was on the verge of hysteria. He and I sat by the fire in complete silence, watching the minutes creep by slowly. After another half an hour I decided that I was going out to look for him.

"What are you doing, Tabatha?" Garrow asked in concern as I got up to leave.

"I'm going to find him," I stated plainly.

"But-" I cut him off before he could continue.

"I have to find him, Garrow," I said, my voice pleading and fraught with worry. "He could be wounded and unable to make it back to the house. If I don't go after him, he could die out there tonight." That silenced him quickly, but his brow was still furrowed. Finally, he nodded his consent and I grabbed my winter cloak, slung Eragon's bow and quiver over my shoulder, and stuffed my dagger down into my bootleg.

"Be careful!" Garrow called as I shut the door firmly behind me. Bracing myself against the shocking cold, I grabbed the lantern that hung by the front door and bounded out into the frigid, dark night. It was pitch black, and I suddenly felt a jolt of fear run through my bones. I was slowly starting to regret this. After a few moments of deep breathing, I trudged on through the snow as it began to pile up on the ground and headed for the rowan tree. When I got there, I noticed tracks in the snow in the clearing beyond the tree and snow that seemed to have been beaten down by large gusts of wind. Eragon and Saphira must have flown off somewhere, as she was now large enough to carry him, if only for a short distance. The only place I could think they would have gone was... the Spine.