That's right, the crazy authoress who brought you Inner Fire (who really needs to get off her lazy butt and update it) is bringing you yet another weird story. This one will be a post-Eragon AU, that means basically from Eldest and Brisingr have not yet happened and probably never will if I have my way with this. As you know, this will deal with a "new" Dragon Rider. No, this Rider will not be some little Mary Sue who magically finds another dragon egg and gets Eragon and/or Murtagh to fall in love with her. This Rider is a canon character, and has been a Rider since before the Fall, and will not be involved in any fluffy romances.
NOTE: Fic might include a very little dosage of Eragon-bashing and more than a bit of Roran-bashing, which will wear off after a couple of chapters or so, maybe.
Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill, I don't own anything (except the OCs, and the plot, and basically anything that CP didn't make up that's in here.)
Prologue: The First to Fall
Anyone with a little bit of knowledge of the history of the Empire knows about King Galbatorix and his twelve Dragon Riders, collectively known as the Thirteen Forsworn, and how they obliterated the Dragon Riders and conquered Alagaesia as their own. Anyone with more than a little bit of knowledge of history knows that the Forsworn were quick to die, leaving their King all alone as the last Rider.
Thier numbers gradually diminished over the years. Some were assassinated by rebels, others could no longer bear the guilt of their dark deeds and killed themselves, and yet the occassional Forsworn would be killed by Galbatorix himself for failure to obey orders.
These were the ways of death for ten of the thirteen. The only exceptions were, of course, Galbatorix, who still lived and refused to die, and Morzan, who perished at the sword of the legendary Brom. But the final Forsworn, the one who was the first to die, died not because of poison or by hanging, but in a sheer accident.
It been only a few months after the birth of the Empire, and war against the new regime was already in full-force. Humans in the south rebelled against Galbatorix's rule, and were to one day form a country of their own called Surda. Elves in the northern woods fought against the settlers that came to cut down the trees and start towns, but their efforts were only half-hearted, as they knew the war had been won. And dwarves in the east were being rallied for yet another attack by a rather ambitious young dwarf who thought he could take on the Forsworn.
Galbatorix, tired of the elves' efforts to sabotage his plans of settling the southern edges of Du Weldenvarden, prepared a plan to stop this nuisance and perhaps capture a hostage or two while he was at it.
Elves were rather difficult to handle and required at least two Riders to successfully crush one of their little rebellions. However, the King could not spare more than one of his Riders, as they all were needed to help control the Empire. After a great deal of thinking he sent Alir to complete this task.
Alir was one of the best of the Forsworn, bested only by Galbatorix himself and Morzan. His skill in magic was great, although he couldn't hold a candle to Morzan when it came to sword-fighting. And while not as clever as a strategist, Alir had at least some brains and a little bit of common sense, more than what could be said for Morzan.
Ever keen to please his master, Alir quickly saddled his dragon and was ready to leave for Cenuon the very night he had received his order.
However, fate had other plans. That morning the sky had been pleasant and almost perfectly clear, save for a couple of clouds on the horizon. But by night, the innocent little clouds had gathered to form a pitch-black sky with thunder rumbling ominously in the distance.
Alir had been strongly advised, more like begged, to not take flight in this weather. His dragon would either be stuck by lightning, or blown into the ground by the ferocious winds that were beginning to pick up. "Wait until the morning," his men told him. "The storm will have passed and nothing but clear skies will await you."
But Alir had refused this sensible advice. He wanted to leave that very night and make it to Cenuon early in order to impress Galbatorix. "Besides Salaya is all ready to go and is itching to sink her teeth into some elf-flesh," he had said in a joking voice.
So his servants escorted him to the dragon hold, where the dark gray she-dragon Salaya stood waiting for her Rider. Alir mounted her, and flashing a reassuring smile, told her to leave.
Salaya spread her wings and leaped out of the dragon hold. For a single terrifying second the harsh winds battered her around like a cat playing with a mouse and it appeared she would lose control and crash into the castle. But Salaya had adjusted to the winds, and she and Alir disappeared into the darkness of the stormy night.
The people of Cenuon were excited for the arrival of the Rider that would rid them of their elf-problem and were no longer scared to leave their homes. Some of the bolder ones had even strode right into the trees, facing into the shadows of the forests were elves were sure to be hiding and declared, "Better leave before you get turned into a dragon's breakfast!"
And for the next couple of days, the elves seemed to have lost their will to defend their woods. They no longer caused the animals to attack the villagers of Cenuon, and the lumberman who went into the forest no longer disappeared without a trace. It appeared as if the elves had fled, fearing for their lives as the inevitable encounter with Alir and Salaya drew close each moment.
But a week passed, and still the Dragon Rider never showed up. People were beginning to notice their lack of a dragon and Rider and gossip was beginning to spread.
"Maybe the King has forsaken Cenuon, and is leaving us for the elves after all."
"Perhaps Alir took a small detour to visit a secret lover."
"I still say that fool Rider is dead. The elves were probably planning on this, and our dear Alir is most likely rotting in the forest somewhere."
Another week passed, and the idle wondering turned into genuine fear. The elves were coming back, and the animal attacks and the disappearances were beginning again. Cenuon was beginning to doubt if Alir was ever coming.
A couple of weeks turned into a month. The elves' minor harassment was turning into a flow-blown attack. People vanished from their homes, and their bodies appeared days later on the doorsteps of their families' homes. To the people of Cenuon, it seemed like their enimies knew that Alir and Salaya were never coming and their increased attacks seemed to be a way of mocking the king.
Finally, Galbatorix could bear it no longer. He relented his hope that Alir would still finish the task he was sent to do and called for another Dragon Rider to do the deed instead. A search was launched for the missing pair, and Alagaesia was on full alert. People scanned the sky for a dark gray dragon, combed the forests for a body, and watched the crowds for any who resembled the missing Rider.
Evantually, the search was abandoned and Alir and Salaya both declared dead. "They most likely died in that thunderstorm," was the thought in anyone's head who read the notice of the deaths.
And so life went on, and Alir was to be immortalized in stories as the first Forsworn to lose his life. The simple story of his disappearance evolved into a myth, one that so outrageously differed from the truth that there was very little the same. Salaya became a legend herself, being called the "Ghost of the Spine."
The reason for the name? Some people who lived by the Spine said that Salaya crash-landed somewhere in the mountains and evantually succumbed to the wounds the storm inflicted upon her there. The trappers who hunted in the Spine claimed that they saw the ghost of the gray dragon from time to time, forever doomed to roam there forever, in search of her lost Rider.
Of course, most of everything you heard above it just a common story agreed upon by most people. No one could really prove that Alir and Salaya died in that storm anymore than they could prove they didn't. Even if they had never been seen again, didn't mean they were dead. Alir and his dragon could have simply deserted their post, faked their deaths, and left Alagaesia.
And that was exactly what they did. Over the months as a member of the Forsworn, Alir had begun to regret what direction his past choices had taken him in. Although he did not feel sorry for the unjust and corrupted society he helped put an end to, he was dirturbed by the price he had to pay to free the world of the Dragon Riders.
All of those bloody battles and massacring of countless innocent dragons, elves and dwarfs, Alir and his friends had lost themselves. They had started as a small group fiercely dedicated to the task of removing the tyranny of the Dragon Riders from the world and would sacrifice their lives to reach that goal. But they had lost themselves along the way; becoming mad with their new-found power, enjoying the blood-shed with a maniacal pleasure, and had become what they had set out to destroy.
Salaya had been able to see where this life was taking them, and had been able to make Alir see that as well when he had been too stubborn to admit it. It was she who had helped Alir discover the regret he felt, and he was forever thankful to his dragon. Together they devised a plan of escape and waited until the time was right to enable it.
Believed to be dead and free of Galbatorix, dragon and Rider set out to the lands beyond Alagaesia to learn the secrets of magic and to explore distant countries. Decades later they returned to Alagaesia, armed with magical abilities far beyond Galbatorix's own, and waited for the perfect opportunity to overthrow the King.
Alir and Salaya, although in possession of great power, could not defeat the King themselves. Their oaths they had made long ago prevented them from harming Galbatorix in any way. The sins of the past still existed, and any rebel group would not allow one of the destroyers of the Dragon Riders to join their ranks.
So Alir moved to a small village, taking up a new life for the time being. He and Salaya might have been incapable of destroying the Empire they helped to create, but they could still teach their secrets to any new Dragon Riders that came along.
Alir fell in love, got married, and started a family with his lovely new bride. He opened up a shop in the small village they lived in, one prosperous enough so that he and his family could at least live in moderate comfort.
Salaya was forced to hide herself in the Spine if her Rider's cover was to be kept. As she was the last dragon in the entire mountain range, she lived in complete isolation, alone except for the occasional secret visits from Alir. However, with lots of free time she began to explore the Spine and get to know all of its hidden trails and caves, finding new things everyday that helped to occupy her time.
The two bided their time, content for now with their new less-than-exciting lives. But both were still alert, still ready, to fulfill the final stage of their plan when the oppurtune moment came. Both were ready to alter the fate of Alagaesia one last time, and make sure it was free of tyranny forever...
When the time was ripe.
And that was it. Yes, the prologue is pretty much unexciting and a huge info-dump, but the action will come in the next chapter. Yeah... that's pretty much all I have to say for this chapter.