Name of Death
Eragon stood in the hallowed hall of the elves in the capital Ellesmera, Saphira by his side, carefully minding her tail so she wouldn't accidentally swipe it over one of the many gardens that lined the walkways of the living structure. His mind always open, Eragon felt the gentle brush of Arya's consciousness as she glided down one of the paths and halted next to him. He turned towards her and smiled, she returned the gesture but there was an air of sadness that tainted her being, in fact the whole room felt mournful, as this was not a gathering of joyous tidings. Orimus and Glader had fallen.
Islanzadi, dressed in a gown of deep purple, rose from her throne and raised her arms. The hushed whispers of the gathered elders instantly silenced and all turned their gaze upon the elegant queen. Eragon felt the pulse of Galder's Eldunari in one of Saphira's saddlebags. He dared not to leave it out of reach, so he had kept it there in the hope that if one of the elves sensed its presence, they would assume that it was only Saphira's life force and refrain from attempting to discover the true source of the soft light that shone bright in his mind. He returned his attention to Islanzadi, who was still holding her arms out, and waited.
"Today," She slowly began "Is a day I hoped I would never be forced to face. Today is a day of great sorrow, for the last of the riders of old has fallen. The forest weeps for the Morning Sage and his mighty dragon. Never again shall it feel the wind from Glader's wings, nor the sweet song fall from the lips of our beloved Orimus. But we cannot dwell upon this matter, for there is a great danger upon us. And perhaps an even greater decision to be made." Islanzadi paused and surveyed the elders seated along both walls, settling her gaze on Eragon and Saphira.
"Eragon and Saphira do not yet have the strength or knowledge to defeat Galbatorix, nor even Murtagh and his dragon, Thorn. And there are no more riders who can instruct them in the old ways." One of the elders, whose name Eragon could not recall, rose from his seat and stated,
"We have given him twelve of our finest spell weavers, is this not enough to at least defeat Murtagh and Thorn? If I recall correctly, they drove him off once before."
"This is true Aerlamel, but Galbatorix will take steps to ensure that Murtagh is not bested a second time." The elders nodded in agreement. "Even so" Islanzadi stated flatly, "if Eragon and Saphira manage to defeat Murtagh and Thorn, it will mean nothing when we march upon Urubane. For twelve of our finest spell weavers pose no more a threat to Galbatorix than do twelve mice to an eagle." Once again, the collected elders nodded their heads in agreement.
Aerlamel again voiced the question that was on all of their minds, "So what do you suggest my queen?" Islanzadi bowed her head as if carefully considering her response, then with a firm nod looked up and uttered a single word
"Sicarius."
The elders stared, dumbfounded, at their queen, next to him, Eragon felt Arya flinch, Even Saphira looked up with surprise. "What is it?" Eragon asked her
I don't know, She replied, But the name, it falls heavy upon my ears with resentment and… She paused, as if carefully considering her feelings.
Fear.
"Fear!" Declared Eragon, so astounded by the simple word that he had not said it mentally, but almost shouted it. The elves, still silent, all turned to face Eragon and Saphira. Islanzadi strode before them and, with a voice that chilled Eragon, recited
He came from the shadows
A man clothed only in night
But he was not a man
He was death
Death on midnight's wings
"Those were the final words of the rider Ellothrin, as he lay dying in a pool of his slain dragon's blood. It does not surprise me that you know this name Saphira, for it was the final thought that entered the minds of many of your brethren before they were sent to the land of their dead. And you do right to fear it, for this name plagued the dragons and riders alike for many long years during the fall."
"But who is he, and why did his name plague the riders?" Eragon asked. "Saphira has never been afraid of anything, let alone a simple name, its ridiculous!"
"Still your tongue Shadeslayer," commanded Aerlamel, "That name is not only the bane of the riders, but also of the dragons. You cannot begin to imagine all that it represents."
"Then what does it represent?" Eragon snapped, growing impatient with the elves word games.
Unexpectedly, the answer came from Arya, her voice cold as ice. "It represents death Eragon, Sicarius represents death and perhaps the dragons only true fear. If a dragon ever has nightmares, they see the eyes of Sicarius staring at them from the shadows. He was Galbatorix's Top assassin, perhaps the only true dragon slayer who ever lived."
Eragon paused in thought. He had heard of slayers in some of Brom's stories, but the references were always brief, and shrouded with mystery and foreboding. Turning back to Islanzadi, he said " I have heard of dragon slayers before, albeit briefly, so what makes this Sicarius the only true slayer?"
Islanzasy smiled, "Your questions truly never run dry Eragon. It is true that over the centuries many have boasted the title of dragon slayer, but rarely did these individuals truly kill a dragon. Some lied entirely, others would find a dead dragon or one near to death and seize the opportunity for glory." She paused and her face hardened. " But there have been a few, and these few we know little about, as they flit in and out of lore like wisps of smoke through the needles of a pine. The most recent being Sicarius. You see Eragon, killing a dragon or two does not make one a slayer, only mighty, or cunning. Sicarius has sent many riders to their graves, but dragons…"
"How many?" breathed Eragon
Again, Arya unexpectedly provided the answer, "Hundreds, Eragon, perhaps more. Were it not for Sicarius, the dragons may have never fallen and this war would be over. But not to worry, he was imprisoned, banished to the third layer of the abyss. There he has remained for nearly a century, at the mercy of the demon Atsoos."
Why not just kill him? Saphira inquired
"Death was too merciful a punishment for his crimes." Arya answered coldly, now turning to her mother "But I do not understand…"
"Is it not obvious?" Declared Aerlamel, his voice heavy with trepidation. "She plans to release him!"
For the first time, Eragon witnessed an elf blanch.