Hey everyone! I'm new to this whole thing so please go easy on me for a while :)
This is simply my attempt to guess the end of the Inheritance cycle while keeping up with my writing skills between semesters.
C.P. owns all things Eragon. I do have a few original characters coming into play later on, but I'm not stingy... if you like them use them in your work.
Enjoy the fruits of my labor!
Chapter 1: Counting the Cost
Eragon stood upon the brink of the shore separating the sea from the city of Feinster. Before him lay the vast expanse of ocean so quiet and peaceful it nearly lulled Eragon to sleep. The water stretched westward until it cut into the sky, dividing the two planes. Eragon knew that one day he would see what was beyond that great divide; never to return. One day he would lay down his magnificent sword never to fight again, but first the Black King must die. He knew he had a duty to perform, a destiny to fulfill, and wrongs to right; but what was the cost going to be? How many more men must I slay like cattle? How many times must I bathe in blood and drench Brisingr with the blood of mine enemies? How many more times must I put those I love in danger? What will it cost? That lingering question haunted the Rider's thoughts. What will it cost?
Behind Eragon rose the vast and mighty city of Feinster which now existed under the control of the Varden. Far north, on the southern tip of the Isenstar Lake, the great and horrible city of Gil'ead had been captured by the elves. It had cost Oromis, Glaedr, and many other elves their lives to take that city. Meanwhile, the bodies of many men of the Varden lie scattered among the destruction in Feinster. What will it cost? Pictures of Oromis flashed across Eragon's mind. An ancient elf stood in front of Eragon studying his hands. The elf's eyes narrowed and scrutinized every feature of Eragon's fingers, palms, knuckles, and even his newly acquired calluses. Finally Oromis looked at Eragon and said, "You now have the hands of a warrior, Eragon. Take care they do not become the hands of a man who revels in the carnage of war."
In that warning was Eragon's greatest fear. "Take care that they do not become the hands of a man who revels in the carnage of war." Eragon thought back to every conflict he had been in. Did he hate it, or did he need it? It was necessary to kill in order to defeat Galbatorix, but was he searching for justice or vengeance?
His thoughts were cut short by the sound of powerful wings pushing through the air then a loud thump as four feet hit the sand behind him. He turned to behold a powerful sapphire dragoness, his one link to sanity.
You have been blocking me from your thoughts little one. We should not be separated during such a trying time.
I know Saphira. I am simply attempting to comprehend everything that has happened. His voice trailed off and he looked to the sea. I can't believe they are gone.
Saphira leaned her head close to Eragon's and studied him with her fist sized eye. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Little one, she said with a sorrowful voice, I feel your pain as my own. We have been dealt a heavy blow, but we will continue. Glaedr can still help us with his wisdom and strength, and we are still surrounded with many powerful people who will help us along our path. We will not fail them Eragon. We cannot.
A reserve of strength awakened in Eragon's heart as he pondered her comments. You are my greatest friend Saphira, and yet again you have pulled me from the depths of my own soul while I have taken no concern for you. If we do defeat the Dark King it will not be I who deserves praise. Saphira acknowledged his words with a low rumble deep within her throat.
We will defeat him together Eragon. Eragon felt a fierce shift in Saphira's emotions as she began to speak in his mind again. We are to be feared among our foes for we are the last free dragon and rider. You are Eragon, Son of Brom, wielder of the sword Brisingr, shadeslayer, hope of the elves, weapon of the Varden, bane of Galbatorix, and most importantly… you are my rider!
He looked up at his dragon with a new determination in his heart. With a nod he began to walk back up to the city with Saphira. We have much to do. I will go to Nasuada and discus our future. You should go to the armory and have them remove your armor. I will send Blodhgarm to tend to your wounds that I did not heal already.
Very well, but tell Nasuada we need a few days to recover. I refuse to loose you because of fatigue. Eragon began to argue, but Saphira silenced him with a snap of her powerful jaws.
Very well Saphira, Eragon said. With that Saphira pushed off the ground with her powerful legs and flew to find the armory somewhere within the Varden's camp. Eragon contacted Blodhgarm. His foreign, mystic consciousness answered in Eragon's mind. Yes Shadeslayer?
I have sent Saphira to the armory. I have healed her more severe wounds, but I want you to ensure there is no wound deep within her. She also has a few minor injuries that need attention.
It will be done Shadeslayer.
You fought well last night Blodhgarm. Victory would have been much more elusive if not for you and your brethren.
A slight hint of surprise flashed across Blodhgarm's mind. There is no need for thanks. I will see to Saphira without delay.
Eragon headed to the command tent. The entire way there his thoughts drifted back to Oromis' warning.
He entered the large tent and found Nasuada talking with Jormundur. They both looked as tired as Eragon felt. He studied their worn clothes and exhausted features not even wanting to imagine how much worse he must look.
Nasuada looked at him with tired eyes. "Eragon, I am relieved to see you. How are you faring?"
"I am as well as can be expected considering the circumstances my lady."
Nasuada studied him with a careful eye. "This is a bittersweet day Eragon. We have taken the first two major cities of the Empire and the elves have finally made their presence known. In all my years of labor and planning out our invasion of the Empire, I never dreamed we would be in such a strong position."
A hint of anger flared inside Eragon. How can she say that when the blood of a rider still drenches the ground at Gil'ead? He quickly subdued the emotion and realized she was right. They had their foot in the door! By taking Feinster and Gil'ead, the resistance had almost completely ensured the safety of Surda, the dwarves, and Du Weldenvarden. Galbatorix was on the defensive and would not be able to mount an offensive until he drove all the invading armies from the Empire's borders.
Nasuada began to speak again which shook Eragon from his mental debate. "But we have suffered greatly from the battle, especially you Eragon. I cannot imagine what damage your loss has done, however we are merely at the foot of the mountain that we must climb." Nasuada pushed her papers and maps aside and silently studied Eragon. "Jormundur, will you please give us a moment?"
"Of course my lady." With that Jormundur tiredly exited the tent wondering to himself what Eragon had lost for he did not know of Oromis and Glaedr.
She returned her attention to the exhausted form of Eragon. "I need you now Rider."
The urgency of her voice caught Eragon's attention. He fixed her with a piercing gaze then replied, "I have not left your side my liege, nor do I plan to falter until this peril is past."
Nasuada gave a grim smile then continued, "We are on the brink of a very crucial point Eragon. We are victorious yes, but I fear many in our camp believe too many will die on our trek to Uru'baen. I have asked so much of them, and yet our task is just starting."
The rider pondered her statements, "I will do all I can to ensure the Varden do not loose hope Nasuada and I can assure you," his voice trembled with a sudden wave of silent rage, "I can assure you that I am in this till my end, or his." The venom in his voice hung in the air for several seconds.
A look of relief spread across her face as she stood up and lightly walked over to Eragon. "You have done well Shadeslayer. No more will the enemy make light of your youth."
"No more will they make light of our youth" he replied with slight smirk on his face. She smiled a weak smile. They really did have much in common. Both young, both robbed of their family, and both were given much responsibility while youths their age were still dreaming of fame and glory.
"You may go Eragon."
A puzzled look pulled at Eragon's face. "What are my orders my lady?"
"I have yet to decide, but I will give you two days of rest with only one request." He inclined his head to prompt her to continue. "I only ask that you and Saphira make yourself visible for a few hours a day. Take a few flights over the area, walk the streets of the city because I need you to be visible to encourage the Varden after such a significant battle."
"My thanks Nasuada." With that, Eragon turned and slowly walked out of the tent.
He moved without any idea of his intent until he finally stumbled upon his own quarters late in the evening. Once inside he removed his armor and leather padding from underneath. As he slipped out of his shirt he discovered several minor cuts and bruises he had not noticed before. Most of the bruises were probably from riding Saphira. He also had many cuts along his forearms and shoulders from debris and weapons his wards and armor had failed to repel. The most severe was a four inch gash along the lower left side of his abdomen. He bent at the waist to test the wound and found that it was indeed a deep cut, but nothing he could not heal. He would heal it later. Learning sometimes means suffering through the pain of your mistakes, Eragon thought to himself.
He moved over to the mirror and looked at himself. The harshness of battle was written all over his features. He bent down to wash his face. As he did there was a knock on the door. "Enter." To his surprise, Arya walked in the room.
Eragon instantly remembered the fact that his shirt was on the bed, but after such a trying battle he hardly cared. She took note of his various injuries but did not move. For a moment they both stood there, neither wishing to break the silence.
Finally Arya spoke using the ancient language, "I can come back later if you wish."
"No, please." He answered in her native tongue. Eragon moved to his bed and slid his shirt back over his torso. "What is it you need Arya?"
She studied him carefully before continuing, "First, I am wondering why those injuries are still in place several hours after the final skirmishes are complete."
Eragon did not wish to explain himself to her. "I have not had the chance since the battle. You need not worry for me." She nodded slightly then moved a little further into the room while looking down towards the floor. He studied her. The mask that always hid her thoughts was in place, except the eyes. They were sorrowful and full of worry. Suddenly Eragon realized how shattered she must be over the death of Oromis.
"I wanted to thank you for healing my throat after the battle with Varaug. It was more serious than it may have looked." He nodded then looked her in the eyes. Returning his gaze, she noticed that his usually brown eyes were different. In the very center a hint of blue was beginning to burst seemingly out from under his pupil. Yet another change I forced upon him when I sent him Saphira's egg, she thought to herself.
"Will you not let me heal those wounds, Eragon? You need not put yourself through more pain than you have already faced and will face in the future" she said gently yet with a hint of reprimand in her tone.
The comment caught Eragon off guard. How did she guess why I hadn't healed my injuries? She moved closer and he consented to her aid. He removed his ragged, dirty shirt and allowed her to scrutinize his wounds. She began with the gash on his side. "Waise Hail" she whispered softly. The wound closed and he immediately felt relief, though he tried not to show it. Slowly, she moved to other places. There was nothing romantic in the situation. Simply a deep friendship that both individuals treasured even though Arya hardly expressed her thoughts. Arya needed to comfort and be comforted and the only way she had ever known to do either was through actions.
After several minutes passed she finished healing the final bruise. "I greatly appreciate this Arya."
She dipped her head, "You are our greatest hope Eragon. We must protect you" she paused and gave him a penetrating look, "even if you will not protect yourself." He accepted her reprieve and nodded. "I will retire now" she said. And with that she gracefully slid out the door and into the dark beyond.
That is the second time she has healed my wounds when I was perfectly capable of doing so myself. With that thought he finished cleaning his now healed body and slipped into the dream stare.
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