This story is set around the end of Brisingr. This is my first fic, so please be kind. I am working on the first chapter, and hope to post it soon. Hope you like it!
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The Last of the Dragons
Prologue
A man stood in a dark, bare, dimly lit room. His face was hidden, but he was dressed like a king. He had a powerful presence. In his right hand, he held a squirming dragon fledgling upside down by the tail. It was emerald green, and about two feet long. It writhed, clawed, flapped its small reptilian wings, and squawked in fright. Its bright eyes bulged with terror.
"You are mine, o last of the dragons." Said the man in a cold, malicious voice. "My slave." He turned, and his face came into the light. It was a handsome face; he was the picture of immortal youth. But his eyes betrayed his real age. They were coal black; dark abysses of knowledge, power, and evil. They sparked with hatred. Hatred for the pathetic, scrawny, little creature and what it stood for.
"You are the final link in my plans, dragon." He continued after a long pause." Now the rebels have no hope. All will fall before the wrath of Galbatorix and his servants when they ride into battle together. When the dragons ride once more…"
He turned suddenly, and slung the dragon in the air. He let go, and it flew through the air, landed with a dull, metallic thud and bounced once before stopping. It moaned, a soft, plaintive wail, and closed its eyes.
The scene changed abruptly.
A white city stood on a hill. Children laughed and played in the streets. Women chatted merrily with one another. It was a very happy place; a refuge.
But then a shadow fell. Evil men on black horses roamed the land, slaughtering the innocent, and terrorizing the survivors. Screams filled the night, and flames licked up, enveloping the shining, white city, and eating away until it was a black, smoldering ruin.
Again.
Arya and Nasuada were both tied to rough wooden stakes, side by side. Piles of dry branches lay heaped at their feet. Nasuada's head was bowed and her shoulders sagged in defeat. Both were covered with cuts and bruises. Their clothes were torn and dirty. But Arya, though beaten and disheveled, held her shoulders high, gazing defiantly at the ring of men that surrounded them.
A soldier stepped forward with a torch, and reached down to light the wood.
A low moan escaped from Nasuada's lips. She slowly lifted her head, and gazed with dull, lifeless eyes toward the skies.
"I curse you Galbatorix!" she cried. "I curse you with my dying breath! May one better than us succeed where – where we have failed, and - may the days of your black throne be numbered!" Lightning flashed in the darkened sky. She bowed her head once more, and the soldier with the torch lit the wood. Flames licked greedily at the wood. Nasuada closed her eyes.
Again.
Eragon stood on a simple wooden platform. He wore only a pair of simple pants made of sacking. His bare chest and back were torn and bloodied from the terrible lashing he had just received. He was bent over in pain, and had to lean against the rail of the platform for support.
"Eragon Brom-son, you have been charged with high treason against the Empire of Alagaesia, and His Supreme Majesty, King Galbatorix." Said the herald who stood down below. "You have been sentenced to death. Executioner?"
A man stood beside him, dressed in black, with a black cowl covering his face. He brandished a large, notched ax.
"Put your head on the block." His voice was deep and husky. Eragon tried to obey, but when he did not get on his knees fast enough, the man kicked him roughly with the spiked toe of his boot. The pain was magnified by the numerous cuts spider webbing across Eragon's back.
Gasping and reeling in pain, he sagged against the wooden block that sat next to him. He laid his head against the block.
He closed his eyes.
He sensed the axe rising…
How had it come to this? How had they failed? Why had Galbatorix won? That wasn't how the story was supposed to end!
… And it fell.
***
"No!!" Eragon sat up suddenly in bed, breathing hard. His chest heaved with broken sobs, and a cold sweat mixed with falling tears.
He looked around wildly. This was the same tent. His tent. He wasn't dead. It was all just a dream, just a horrible dream.
He felt something pushing its way into his thoughts.
"Eragon!" cried Saphira anxiously. "What's wrong?"
Eragon said nothing, but opened up his mind to her, and shared the memories of the nightmare. "Meet me outside my tent."
"Alright. Should I bring Nasuada or Arya?"
Eragon paused. "Bring Arya. She knows more about these things, and I don't want to worry Nasuada."
"Alright."
He broke off their communication. He pulled on his clothes, and pushing back the tent flap stepped into the night air.
Arya stood outside his tent, dressed in a dark brown dress. Her long raven black hair hung loose to her shoulders.
"Sorry to wake you." Said Eragon. Saphira came up behind them.
"It's alright." Arya's voice was like music. "It was very important."
He paused. "Is it going to happen like that?"
Arya gazed up into the black night sky.
"No. Not necessarily."
"Then what was it?"
"A prophecy."
"Of the future?"
"The future as it might be."
She turned to Eragon.
"We have a problem that could decide who wins this war. Galbatorix is dangerously close to hatching the sole remaining dragon egg."
"That was the dragon in the dream!" Eragon breathed.
"Yes. That may very be so if the future is not altered. If he binds that dragon to a rider, it will be you and Saphira against the combined forces of the dragon, Murtagh and Thorn, and Galbatorix and Shruikan. We will have no hope. But," she paused," if we were to somehow spirit the egg out of Uru'baen, then maybe it would hatch for one of our people. Then we could march on the capital with this new rider, you and Saphira, and Glaedr's Eldunari, and face Galbatorix once and for all."
"Could this be done?" asked Saphira.
"Yes." Arya paused. "We can't send you and Eragon. You'd be recognized right away, and plus you're needed here."
"Then who can go?" asked Eragon. "Who is fit for such a dangerous mission as that?"
Arya smiled. "I have some contacts in Uru'baen that are working on a plan. I think one of them is just the man we are looking for." She looked away again. "Perhaps all is not lost, but our future hangs by a thread."