The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

The Art of Training

I spurred Praetorian forward into a trot, Braeden trotting right alongside me. The hurdle was getting closer and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. "Tell him what to do, Tabatha. He'll listen and respond." I gulped down the lump in my throat and concentrated on opening my mind to the horse. He jerked his head slightly at the sudden contact but I sent him calming thoughts. And then I sent him an image of catapulting over the hurdle. Praetorian picked up his pace to a canter, and I tightened my grip on the reins. Here we go...

We vaulted over the hurdle, soaring through the air gracefully. I was so lost in the excitement of the moment that I momentarily loosened the grip of my legs against the saddle. I slipped on the hard leather and let go of the reins, landing hard on my backside. A shooting pain ran up my spine and I cried out. Braeden reined in his horse next to me and asked if I was alright.

"I'm fine," I lied, standing and rubbing my backside where I'd landed.

"The jump wasn't bad," he continued, "but you lost the grip of your legs mid-air. You must remember to use both your hands and your legs, or else there will be a lot of falling in your future."

"Yes, you must remember to use your thighs," I heard a voice come from behind. Slowly, I turned and saw Miles looking at me with an amused look on his face.

"And what would you know about that?" I snapped back harshly. His face turned scarlet, but then he burst out in a fit of laughter like I'd never seen from him before. It only infuriated me more that he was laughing at my attempt to insult him.

"All right, all right," Braeden cut in. "Let's try it again."

We worked on jumping for the next week, and I eventually got the hang of it. I only fell off a few more times. Miles even joined us on his buckskin charger to practice his own jumping skills. It pained me to admit that he was much better at it than I was.

After jumping, we moved onto the bow and arrow. I drew out Murtagh's yew bow from my things and prepared to shoot at the targets from horseback. Braeden taught me how to draw and reload my arrows quickly, but it was difficult to hit the targets when Praetorian was moving. I found that if I accessed my magic though, I could aim the arrows and direct them where I wanted them to go. When I wrapped the energy field around the arrows, the targets would catch fire and explode. That would be extremely helpful in the days to come. The sword work was easy enough, but Braeden wanted me to spar with Miles. On that point, I absolutely refused. It brought up too many painful memories of Murtagh, but I couldn't explain that to him. How could I tell him I detested his son because he reminded me of the man I'd loved and lost?

One day, Braeden and I were sparring in the practice yard with blocked blades when an unexpected visitor arrived at the estate. He came riding through the gates like he was being followed by an Urgal horde. The sight of him told me something must have been terribly wrong back in Aberon.

"Gregorio!" I shouted, running over to him as he jumped off his horse. He was panting for breath and doubled over. When he stood up straight, I saw that his face held a look of fright. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Tabatha, I must speak with you. Let's go inside," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and heading towards the house. All four of us hurried inside and I instructed a servant to fetch Isabelle. She joined us in the study quickly and Braeden took a seat behind his desk. Miles stood in a shadowy corner with his arms crossed over his chest and Isabelle sat worriedly at my side.

"Gregorio, why have you come here?" I asked him once we were all settled. He hesitated for a moment.

"Galbatorix is on the move," he blurted out quickly, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

"Is he coming here?" I breathed, dreading the answer. Slowly, Gregorio nodded.

"He's making his way here with his armies," he said. "The Varden are assembling their soldiers and we're going to meet him head on."

"And Eragon?" I was sitting on the very edge of my seat, my heart hammering in my chest.

"He's been called upon from Ellesmera," he replied. "Tabby, we need you back at the Varden. There's a fight coming, and we need everyone we can get."

"No," Miles snapped from his dark corner. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously. Who does he think he is answering for me? "If you know what her situation is, then you know that it is far too dangerous." Since when did he care?

"I am aware," Gregorio replied darkly, narrowing his eyes, "as is Lady Nasuada and she feels it will be perfectly safe. Galbatorix will not show himself in this battle; he's too smart for that. If he did, he'd have to face Eragon; he and Saphira would surely be killed, and Galbatorix will not chance killing the last female dragon in existence. He will sit back and watch."

"You seem to have a lot of knowledge about this," Miles said accusingly. The two men were locked in a battle of wills, and I feared it would soon come to a head.

"These are the words of Lady Nasuada, not I."

"All right!" I snapped, standing out of my chair and coming between them. "Miles, it isn't up to you whether I go or not. It is my choice, and I'm going. Isabelle—" I turned back to where she sat in her chair, "you should stay here." She nodded quickly and remained quiet. I knew that she understood she would be no help on this trip. Isabelle was not a trained warrior, and it would be safer for her if she stayed. Braeden was staring at me, an unmistakable light in his eyes. He stood from behind his desk and came around to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Tabatha," he said lovingly, "I have taught you all that I can. The rest is up to you now."

"Thank you, Lord Braeden," I said, genuine thanks in my heart. "I will never forget you." He wrapped me in a tight embrace and then I hurried upstairs to pack my things. I wouldn't be needing any of the beautiful dresses Braeden had given me, so my pack was small and light. I strapped my quiver and Murtagh's bow about my waist and sheathed my hand-and-a-half sword. Braeden was waiting by Pretorian in the stables, along with Miles, Isabelle, and Gregorio.

I told him goodbye one last time with a hug, wrapped Isabelle in an embrace and then mounted Praetorian. Miles just stared at me somberly and inclined his head. We spurred our horses forward and Miles watched as we left. The way he stared reminded me so much of Murtagh when we'd first met. I couldn't help but think I would be glad to never see Miles again.