alright, this is the third time I've tried this kind of story, but i have thought it all out this time, and i will finish it!
Summery: Eragon and the Varden are being attacked by the king's forces, and a new mage has appered among them. This mage is able to summon monsters that were lost to the shadows before the time of the first Riders. now, they are back, and want revenge. the hope of the Varden now rests on the shoderls of young rhys, a 5000 Year old Shadow caster. But Rhys's Past is hidden from himself, it it hides a dangorus secret, one that could Shatter the world, and make even time itself move backwards. Can they solve the problum that no one knows before Rhys causes the same catastrophy he did 3000 years ago?
Disclamer: eragon and all the charecters from Eragon are no mine, but will be used. RHYS IS MINE!
"Eragon, what are we going to do?"
Eragon didn't know what to do, but he didn't like the numbers. Ever since they had taken the fort of Am'aren, the empire had adopted a rather devastating tactic. As the Varden moved out, small raiding parties would continuously attack, and then disappear. After a few days, Thorn and Murtagh would appear as a gleaming red force of nature, and devastate the caravan. Sometimes survivors made it back. More times than not, no one came back. Morale was lower than ever, and the support and fragile momentum were starting to break. Surda could only give so much, and the Black Hand was becoming very active. Soon, Surda may become unable to support the Varden's march, and without Surda's support, the Varden would have to retreat or fall back.
Nasuada, close to despair, had called Eragon in to discuss the matter. Glaedr and Saphira listened in with Eragon, but they stayed quite as Eragon thought.
"We can't fall back…but we need more troops and weapons. King Orrin may pull out any day, and troop morale may go with him. If we fall back, the Empire will just rebuild, and make it even harder for us to get back. The king is playing with us. He can easily defeat us if he were appear in person, but he insists only on attacking our supplies and outer reaching adventures with Thorn and Murtagh." Eragon said out loud, trying to get his thoughts to work. He and Saphira had returned after another failed attempt to save a caravan. It was really hard to see positive at the moment.
"He isn't toying with us, he is showing the world that he is the strongest. By defeating us this way, he is telling all the others that are unhappy with him that he doesn't even need to lift a finger, just his voice. He is trying to avoid making the Varden a martyr, crushing us slowly stops that." Nasuada said, starting to pace the length of her rather large tent.
"perhaps we could fly all the way to the king's accursed castle, burn it to the ground, and be back the next day." Saphira commented with a huff, only to Eragon. She wasn't much for long depressing speeches.
"You know why we can't." Eragon cautioned
"I know, but it would make things much simpler. Go to his castle burn him in it." Saphira said, settling down like a massive blue cat.
"Eragon, what are we going to do?" Nasuada asked again.
They sat in a quite silence, then "I have an idea, but it is very risky…" Glaedr's deep resonating voice sounded like a dull waterfall in Eragon's mind, and Nasuada jumped as she heard it as well. It was easy to forget Glaedr was there. He didn't speak out much.
"The mighty Glaedr speaks!" Saphira sent with a small huff.
"Be nice Saphira." Eragon scolded
"What is your Idea, Glaedr?" Nasuada asked, cutting them back onto the topic before Saphira could respond.
"I've heard that the Riders, while being as strong as they were, made a connection with a creature from a distant land. This creature looked human, but was stronger than any dwarf, faster than any elf, and could match any dragon. I never saw it, as it was before my time, but Oromis had found a way to make that contact again. There is one problem. If we do manage to contact him, it is possible that others may make it through, and the first may like us enough to join us, but the others may not find our appeal so appealing."
"Why didn't you say anything of this?" Nasuada asked, still pacing, but moving faster, excited.
"I know that the Varden respect you, Lady Nasuada, but I have secrets that you will never hear, and this was supposed to be one of them. Be glad that you can still hear my voice. The world that they live on is a dying world, one that might not even be there. Legend says that in the Dragon's spine, one of the first were found, and they opened a gateway to the world that they lived on, and several other like him came. After that, they closed the portal, and sealed it forever. They lived in Alagaësia a long time ago, and are believed to be the mysterious gray folk."
"Wait, are you talking about the ones that crafted the Ancient Language?" Eragon asked, surprise clear on his face.
"The very same." Glaedr confirmed, "I don't believe that they intended to create the ancient language, but no one knows what they intended in the first place, but..."
"Nasuada! Horrible news!" Jörmundur yelled as he burst into the tent, registering Eragon with frantic eyes, and then snapped his attention to Nasuada, "Thorn has attacked our caravan!"
Jörmundur had volunteered to travel with the latest Caravan, not only as a guard, but as a messenger that was known for keeping a cool head in the worst of situations. He had taken Eragon's horse, Snowfire, as a quick battle mount, or a swift message horse. Eragon reactively reached out, feeling the exhausted stallion's mind, and having to immediately shield himself from the wave of overwhelming terror in Snowfire's mind. Feeling the animal's pain and exhaustion, Eragon muttered a hasty spell, and let the creature fall into a deep sleep, and then listened to what Jörmundur was saying.
"It started this morning, like any other morning. We loaded up as fast as we could, readied our bows, and set out, each soldier alert and ready. I was at the front of the caravan when they attacked. It was more of Galbatorix's painless creations, and we managed to slay most of them, and then they ran. Instead of celebrating, we readied ourselves and marched on as a heavy fog set in. a few hours of maddening silence, and then the fog was gone, and Thorn and Murtagh were in front of us. He had his blade out, tip in the ground, helmet visor back and a demonic grin on his face. We readied ourselves, and fired a volley of arrows at him. They did nothing beyond make his grin become a laugh. We put up our shields and our dwindling casters put up a fire barrier so that he could force that accursed dragon burn us. But we were completely wrong."
"Murtagh moved aside, and we say a small figure get off his dragon. Covered in black like the Ra' Zac, and a hood that covered his face completely. Murtagh pointed at us, and said 'these are the ones that want to poison the world. They want to throw it into chaos. If you want to maintain balance, you know what to do.' The hooded figure had nodded, and they several wafer black objects had appeared around him. He selected one, said a few words that were in a different language, and there was a flash, and then there were two dragons! Thorn was a nightmare, but the blue eyed white one was the reaper itself! The hooded figure said something, and the dragon attacked with an attack that smashed right through the barriers we had put up, killing our mages, and then smashed into our food wagon, blasting it to pieces. Then the beast attacked, wrecking havoc, and Murtagh amused himself by making them immobile long enough for the new dragon to catch them. I was able to get away by charging at the strange mage, and then banking as the dragon attacked its master in an attempt to get me." Jörmundur concluded, collapsing in a chair that had been provided, "I escaped, but got this as I flashed past the mage."
He pulled from his tunic pocket a wafer thin object, and handed it to Nasuada, who passed it to Eragon.
It was a curious object, looking much like a fortune card, but not quite. The back looked like black and brown whirlpool, drawing one's eyes to it, and the front was a turquoise green color, showing what looked like a bracelet with a large Emerald gem imbedded at the top. It was made of gold and had dragons etched into the sides with silver. There was text at the top, and something that could only be a description at the bottom, but the text was foreign to Eragon. It was not English, nor Elvish, Dwarfish, or Ancient language. It was something even older.
Jörmundur's news was supposed to be for Eragon and Nasuada only, but everyone had seen him ridding back. When Eragon left Nasuada's tent to think, he had to have Saphira carry him back to avoid all the questions. As they glided above the Varden camp, Eragon, Saphira, and Glaedr discussed the news.
"What is this?" Eragon asked them both, looking at the strange card.
"I don't know, little one. I don't know…" Saphira said solemnly.
"It might be a spell of the grey folk. The few surviving legends said that they used some kind of card, but that doesn't help us at all" Glaedr interjected, his own voice falling.
"What we need are answers. Glaedr, is there any place that the gray folk might have gone? Like a final resting place, someplace that they would have left clues." Eragon asked.
"One. It is a place called dragon ravine. Hidden among cursed mountains, it is said that the sleeping place of the grey light lies. No one knows what the grey light is, but it is said to be a power greater than that of all the dragons before the time of the elf and dragon war."
"Is that even possible? Never mind, what we need to know is what the cursed mountains are. There are only a few mountain ranges in the land, now which ones are cursed." Eragon thought out loud.
"It would be a place that the king has never ventured to…" Saphira said, beating her wings and hovering.
"He has come close, but he has never found it…" Glaedr provided, also in thought.
"so it has to be a cursed mountain that Galbatorix has been through, but never manage to conquer, and hidden from the world…" Eragon started, and then realized what he was describing, "no way!"
"Wait, are you saying that you lived near an ancient civilization, and didn't know about it! How ironic." Glaedr said, sensing where Eragon was going.
"how could he have known?" Saphira objected in Eragon's behalf, "how was he supposed to know that the hope of the Varden lay in The Spine?"
A few days later, Eragon was in The Spine. To keep Murtagh from attacking too much, He had left Saphira again, but he was worried that the strange mage would appear. From the way Jörmundur described it, the dragon that the mage conjured was much stronger than a normal dragon, and spat lightning instead of fire. The worry put an extra urgency to his run.
The familiar mountains looked strange to Eragon's new eyes, and the deer that he would have once hunted bounded away without care. The only other ones in the mountains were the animals.
After arriving, Eragon realized that he had no other idea where to look than in The Spine, and The Spine itself was a range that stretched almost seven leagues.
So he started where he was most familiar. The place he found Saphira's egg.
It was easy to find, as the trees still had no leaves. Stopping to eat his meal of wild fruits, he examined the place with his eyes and mind.
On the outside, the trees were dead, killed by the magic portal that night, but they were thriving on the inside, home to insects and birds. They were a barren testament of his journey to save the Empire, reaching up like the claws of a long dead beast, stripped and barren. But what was this?
Deeper, into the very heart of the tree, a small amount of energy was flowing, not much, but enough to spark his interest. Th energy from the creatures and the trees was traveling down, into the mountain, like a tickle of water into the soil. The amount of energy being drained was minuscule, so little that the energy was replaced instantly. It was a never ending power supply, and it spanned across the entire Spine.
But where did it go?
Watching the flow of energy intently, he followed it on its path down the mountain. as he walked, he let his real eyes help him avoid hazards like a protruding rock, a low branch, and a wasp nest. The thin lines of energy from each creature gathered as it moved, creating a small stream, and then continued to grow. The farther he moved, the more the energy grew, until he didn't need to lo for the energy. He could feel it.
He continued walking, the presence of magic growing greater with each step, until the magic formed a fog around his senses, pressuring them and making his head pound. He continued walking, not realizing the danger, until the magic pressure slammed into his mind.
With his defenses down so that he could see the magic around him and watch for creatures, it caught him by surprise, and flung him to the ground, and then it left.
Panting, Eragon got up, putting up a barrier that looked like his thumbs, and readied him.
Sure enough, the mysterious force slammed into him again, but was deflected by his barrier. Not letting his guard down for an instant, Eragon took a step forward. This time, the force slammed into him with much more force, making Eragon grind his teeth in pain and concentration. The force however didn't remain the same as some other mind attacks, but grew with each attack. Eragon felt hi walls crumbling, and knew that if he didn't do something, this force was going to overwhelm him.
He let his senses out for less than a second, and then threw up a steel wall as the force attacked like a hunder bolt. In the second, he noticed something. There was something in the mist.
"Galisen!" Eragon yelled, throwing his energy into the gale, forcing his mind to work at defending, and allowing his magic through. Nothing happened
The force slammed into Eragon again, this time in triumph. Somewhere, something was grinning. This was worse than when he had tried to talk to Arya. When he talked to Arya he had told he that he was a rider and a friend, and she had stopped her assault. With no other options, he held onto that slim hope that he would be recognized here.
He opened his mind, letting the surprised force in, and shouted as loud as he could with both mind and voice "Eka Ai Fricai un Shur'tugal!" I am rider and friend
The force stopped the attack, but remained ready. It was a mind unlike any other; strong, powerful, and untamable.
Eragon felt a tendril of thought brush his mind. It was full of fear and curiosity.
"A Rider? As in a Dragon rider?" the thought said. The voice sounded light and weary at the same time, like a merchant trading with 'friendly' pirates. It had a quality to it that was…young. The owner of that mind was a child!
Trying to hide his surprise, Eragon sent thought back, "yes, I am a dragon rider. My name is Eragon."
A wave of relief washed over the strange mind, "Ahh, I was afraid that you had died. How fairs the Elves and Dragons? Did the treaty work?"
"Treaty?" Eragon sent back, thoroughly confused, "what treaty?"
The thought was silent, and then "did you forget? You elves have fickle memories. You try to remember something important, and then get all caught up in nature and life. Typical. Come through. In case you forgot the way, I provided a guide."
The magic that Eragon felt lifted, and the mist began to dissipate, leaving Eragon in the valley he had walked into. A few moments later, a small strip of light appeared, traveling among the ground and turning. Eragon had a feeling that this was the guide that the mind wanted him to follow, but he had no clue whether the minds owner was on his side. And several things didn't add up. Before Eragon had started following the energy he had found, he had looked at the entire mountain range with his mind and he was very sure that he hadn't left the Spine. And the mind that had attacked him had felt younger than he was, yet his mind was stronger than Eragon's and he had talked about the treaty that had been crafted between the Elves and Dragons almost like he had come up with it, and that had been over three thousand years ago! Something wasn't right, but Eragon had come to investigate the Spine, and this was something worth investigating.
So, Eragon followed the light. It wasn't too difficult to follow, and he soon realized that he didn't have a choice. This part of The Spine was completely foreign to him, and the trail behind him disappeared as he traveled over it. And if he got too far from the light, that cloud of magic would appear and start to put pressure on him again. Whoever it was knew he was coming, and didn't want him to lose his way, or leave.
The magic in the air was heavy, but Eragon was safer in the light, but the trees of this part of the Spine looked different. Some looked like normal trees, others looked like screaming figures of warriors, and he had come across a few statues as he walked, and each of them looked like one of the king's soldiers. They even had swords in hand and, Eragon realized with a sudden chill, not all of the statues were human. Some looked like they were holding weapons, and one was finely crafted with a blade and a shield, along with an insignia that Eragon didn't recognize. It would have been a marvelous work of art if the blade hadn't been embedded in a soldier's heart.
The soldiers face had a look of pain and of surprise, a thin rapier in his hand. His hair was solid as stone, as where his eyes, but Eragon had a suspicious feeling that they were maroon. A Shade. That was the moment Eragon began to wonder exactly who and what his host was, and why he would want to have such a strange statue. Then it dawned on him that the statues might not be statues. He was starting to hope that they were on his side.
Eventually, the trees parted, and Eragon was looking into a cave mouth. Truly, it was less a cave than it was a large overhang with walls. A small fire was burning with a pot of stew in the center, and a few water skins were lined up, damp with water. A bundle of clothes was rolled into a bundle, and looked like they had been used as a bed.
There, sitting on a crudely made wooden stool, stirring the pot of stew, sat a boy. The boy was tall, and was probably around sixteen, almost a year and a half younger than Eragon. He was built like a tree, and seemed to hold a kind of presence around him. His skin was a tanned white, and his tunic was stained, ripped, and torn in many places, and his leggings showed signs of hard use.
His hair was as white as snow, but his eyes were an electric purple color that seemed to reflect the light of what he saw. His jaw was strong and hardest, but laugh lines were dominate, and his foot moved to strange music that only he could hear. His hands were thin but strong, and he had a rapier strung to his side, a gem the same color as his eyes in the hilt.
As soon as Eragon stopped, the boy turned, and looked real hard at Eragon, searching for something. After a few moments of searching, the boy said "who are you?"
"I am Eragon." Eragon replied, and then repeated himself in the ancient language.
"Yhea right," the boy said, looking Eragon up and down, "The real Eragon would never have worn those shoes to go for a walk in the valley, and your tunic is a mess, not that I have any room to judge. Then the fact that you don't have your dragon is another indication that you aren't Eragon. You should have seen the way that he clung to that scaly beast! It was almost pathetic, but I guess he had his reasons. And since you have such a poor choice of attire, you are obviously not one of the prim and proper elves. What is vexing is that you look like one, but obviously ar…hello, what have we here?"
The boy had taken notice of Eragon's sword, or more of, the hand resting on it. He got up slowly, forgetting completely about the stew and walked over to Eragon.
"Can I see that?" He asked, his voice light, but his eyes told a different story. He was pointing at his hand, the same hand that had Brom's ring on it. Eragon was in no real position to refuse, and took off the ring, and handed it to the boy.
"How you managed to come in possession of this will be a mystery. I gave this ring to Eragon to seal the treaty. That insignia is a symbol of unity, one that is common to both elves and dragons. Wow! What have you been doing? This thing is almost empty!" the boy exclaimed putting the ring on.
"Wait, are you telling me that belonged to Eragon the first?" Eragon exclaimed, surprised that he had been carrying a relic of the very first rider. He wondered if Brom knew. Probably.
"Of course I gave it to Eragon the…First? What are you talking about?" the boy said, surprise reading in his eyes. And fear.
"The first Eragon was the first Dragon rider. He died almost seven thousand years ago." Eragon said.
The effect was instant. The boy just seemed to shut down for a few moments, and then he let out a cry of anger, grabbed his rapier, and lunged at Eragon.
With the reflexes the he had trained, Eragon dodged the lunge and shoved the boy out into the light mist and drew his own blade.
"Lies! You must be a dark elf, you have to be!" the boy cried out, anger making his eyes take on a red tint. He slashed at Eragon in every way possible, and Eragon blocked them all. He parried, slashed, stabbed, and thrust, and Eragon mirrored him to the inch, finding that the boy was surprisingly strong for his size.
The danced in a web of edges, Eragon throwing the wild energy that the boy was flinging in each blow. They fought for a while, and Eragon began to see the boy's skill. He was faster than he looked, and was able to deflect Eragon with a simple flick of the wrist, but his attacks seemed sloppy, even if they were fast and strong. They flew wide, and seemed to leave him open, but he always had the blade between him and Eragon, no matter how fast Eragon moved. And the boy could move! His foot work was lighter and faster than that of any elf that Eragon had met, and his attacks were becoming more precise and accurate. Eragon could feel that the boy was testing him. so Eragon decided to test him, and started weaving any web of metal he could. He thrust, slashed, parried, feinted and countered. The boy, realizing that Eragon was going on the attack instead of defending and restraining himself, also increased his efforts. The web they both made was a complicated blur of sword vs. rapier. Several times, Eragon saw his blade bend from a strong blow, but it straightened out immediately. It was faster magic that Eragon had even seen. It was more than instant, it was continuous. Neither fighter could get an upper hand, nor find any advantage. It was frustrating, but Eragon was against using magic, as he didn't know if the boy could. If he could, he would most likely be stronger. If he didn't Eragon might kill him, and then he would be lost in the Spine. That wouldn't be good.
The boy lasted longer than Eragon gave him credit, but Eragon had more stamina. The boy faltered for a few seconds, and Eragon took the advantage without shame or intent, just the need to get this over with.
Eragon slapped the boys hand with the flat of his blade, making him drop his blade, and then held the blade level with the boys face.
"I win." Eragon said, breathing heavily.
"No you…don't." the boy said, sweat shining on his forehead, then his arms disappearing and a knife was placed on Eragon's throat, "we tie."
Eragon lowered his blade slowly, and the boy pulled the dagger out of thin air and placed it back in his side sheath. He stomped the ground, and his sword flew to his hand, which he then put back in the sword sheath, not far from the dagger.
"Very well, you have proved yourself. Not only are you a capable sword master, you also fight with a just mind and heart. You are humble and know what it is like to lose when it is thought that you have won. I am Rhys Shadowstalker. What is it you seek?" Rhys said, sitting down and glanced at his forgotten stew. With a few choice words, he fumbled with a flint and steel, trying to rekindle the flames.
"Brisinger." Eragon said simply, and the flames roared to life.
Rhys didn't jump back, nor move farther away. Instead, he plunged his hand into the flame. The flesh of his hand blackened and burned, revealing the bone beneath. He then muttered something, and then pulled his hand out, unharmed, with a small orb of fire in his hand, like the flame of a large candle with no wick. He took the fire to the edge of the mist, blew it out and made the valley clear out of the mist, giving Eragon a sight that hadn't been seen in eons.
The Valley was a marvel to behold. Great mountains of the Spine lined the horizon, and a few clumps of mist still clung to the valley floor. The tops of tall trees were just visible from the cave. Eragon was amazed that he hadn't noticed he had been climbing the mountain. The sun was setting, and the fiery orb looked larger behind the mountains, and bathed them in autumn light.
"Fire can destroy, but it can also reveal. Magic has a purpose, and sometimes it is hidden in mist, just as the valley you see was. Some of the most destructive spells can heal."
