Catalyst
Inheritance Cycle FanFic
By: Ian Bullington
Thruanir was born into the world of magic. What took the lives or lifetimes of hundreds of others, he had accomplished by the time he was seventeen years old. It was very uncommon for a child to be born with an innate ability to use magic. Thruanir was one in a million. As a child, his family learned of his abilities early on. When he was only four years old, he accidentally caught his family's home on fire and burned it to the ground. His older brother saw him do it, but never told the rest of the family until two years later.
When the truth came out, their father was furious. He set upon Thruanir in an uncontrollable rage and struck him over and over. This was a different kind of assault than what Thruanir normally went through after his father came home from the pub. This time, his father had the intention of killing him. Never before had Thruanir nor anyone else seen him this angry. One, two, three people tried to pull him off, but to no avail.
The strong, rough fists and booted feet came down hard upon Thruanir's head, chest, arms, and legs. Anywhere exposed to the barrage of blows felt like it was on fire. As he lay there curled into a ball, Thruanir felt something well up deep within himself. Almost as if it was coming from his very soul. He cried out a terrible sound and all of his muscles tensed at once. A massive shockwave of energy burst from his body, knocking back everyone who was standing near. Everything went black.
When Thruanir woke up, everything was quiet. His vision was blurry, but he didn't see anyone standing around him. Nobody offering to help him. After some time, he shakily stood on his skinny, bruised legs and looked around. The bodies of his family were all around. None of them were breathing. The members of his family who were at some distance from him looked unharmed, but the shockwave had all but disintegrated their insides as it knocked them back against the various walls and doors of their new home. His father, who was looming over him when the blast came, lay in a heap on the other side of the room. What was left of him was a mangled pile of limbs, shredded clothing, and blood. He was unrecognizable.
Thruanir dropped to his knees and immediately started sobbing uncontrollably. As the tears came, so too did the rain. It poured in like a river through the newly-blasted holes in the thatch roof of their home. After some time, he picked himself up and ran off into the night. He knew not where or why he was running. He just needed to get away. He spent the next several years of his childhood living in the streets of Uru'Baen. The rule of Galbatorix was harsh, but his men paid little attention to the street urchin that was Thruanir.
When he was seventeen years old, he left the city and traveled to the north. There he constructed a small cabin in the mountains of the Spine, close to Teirm. The magic that surrounded him was so strong, the magic itself drew on the lifeforce of everything surrounding him. The clearing in which he resided was soon devoid of life. The magic that Thruanir possessed seemed to have a mind of its own. With each bit of life the magic devoured, it only grew stronger and harder for him to control. There were times in which the magic caused him physical pain, but other times it strengthened him by unimaginable amounts.
There seemed to be no pattern to the magic. He longed to find someone that could help him control his power, but it clung to him like a curse. The few who tried to help him were dead within minutes of being in his presence. He was truly alone in the world. It made him afraid to think the amount of power someone would have to have in order to simply withstand his primal magic. Suddenly, it dawned upon him. There was likely only one person in all of Alagaesia that could help him.
He arrived outside the gates of Uru'Baen and amplified his voice.
His voice boomed out over the black walls and towers, requesting an audience with the lord of the city. He stood still for the longest time. It felt like an eternity. Finally, something changed. Thruanir felt a weightlessness, and his surroundings suddenly changed. He was inside a very dark building, with the only light coming from an opening in the roof. He was very unfamiliar with the place, but he knew immediately where he was. Galbatorix' citadel.
Out of the darkness of the room stepped a very large, cloaked figure. The presence the man had in the room was frightening, even to someone with such immense power as Thruanir. Galbatorix did not seem even the slightest bit affected by the powerful life force drain in the room.
"Why have you come to Uru'Baen?" Galbatorix whispered, as if someone was going to overhear them.
"I...I..." Thruanir stammered. He was cut silent before he could say anything meaningful. He felt a strong binding surrounding his body. The magic within him wriggled and lashed out against the magical chains Galbatorix had placed on him, but to no avail.
"I cannot allow one as strong as you to go on, unless you swear your allegiance to me. I will ask this of you once and only once." Galbatorix had a dead look in his eyes. He was concentrating very hard in order to keep Thruanir restrained.
Thruanir shook his head from side to side. He came here for help. He would not help this evil man. No matter what happened, he would die before he would assist Galbatorix. His decision was swift and painless. With a twitch of his hand, Galbatorix snapped his body in two. As the last light of life left Thruanir's eyes, so too did his immense magical power. A blast rocked the citadel, but the structure and Galbatorix seemed unscathed.
Little did Galbatorix know that the blast had done irreparable damage to the magical protections surrounding him. In just a few weeks, the wards would be weak enough for Murtagh to dispel. Thruanir had saved all of Alagaesia.