Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its associated elements. No copyright infringement intended.
Note to Readers: This fanfiction takes place in a semi-alternate reality in which the battle at the end of Brisingr ends in more of a stalemate then as described in the novel. The reason why will come to light in later chapters. Enjoy reading!
Chapter I
Rain fell upon the ground as thunder rolled across the sky. Not much life remained across the battlefield. Eragon Shadeslayer lay sprawled out ground, torn, beaten. His eyes gazed off into the distance, all hope appeared gone from his face. He could hear the sound of voices calling out his name in desperation, but he didn't care.
Nothing mattered now.
Eragon's mind was painfully empty, no voice to comfort him, no voice that would tell him that they would pull through; no voice for him to love. Silence.
"Eragon!" a voice called out in the distance.
It was Arya, but for once Eragon wasn't concerned. He could not feel much of anything. His legs were battered and his right arm was contorted in an unnatural position. The one perfect Gedwey Ignasia now had a streak of blood running through it caused from the blade of an enemy. Perhaps his silence was just the shock of what had occurred…or perhaps it was something more.
"I found him, he's still alive!" Roran called out. "Quickly, we need a healer!"
Roran lowered himself in front of Eragon. His clothes were torn and the stains of blood could be seen through them. "Hold on Eragon, just hold on, they'll be here soon."
Eragon's eyes shifted to Roran, the look of hopelessness remaining. It looked like he wanted to say something more but the words had escaped him.
More sounds filled the vicinity. Several more men had arrived and appeared to be discussing how to move the rider without harming him further.
Arya spoke up once more, however this time in a language none of the others could understand. They looked on as Eragon slipped into a state of unconsciousness and fell limp. "Now you may move him without causing permanent damage. Move quickly, for this battle may only be the first of many to come."
The men nodded and carefully put Eragon onto a wooden stretcher and began the trip back to the Varden outpost, just outside of Feinster. Arya watched until they were out of sight, a look upon her face which was filled with both concern and anger, quite unlike her usual demeanor.
This complicates matters greatly. How is the Varden to win without their rider? It's too late to stop the war now though. We've come too far. The only way to avenge this loss is to win this fight and rid this world of Galbatorix once and for all.
After looking out in the direction which the enemy retreated for a few more minutes, Arya turned and made her way back to the camps. She knew whether or not she had feelings for Eragon or not, no matter his condition, it was necessary for him to win the war.
In the Varden camps, the despair from the battle of Feinster was widespread. Although they had forced the Empire to retreat, they had taken heavy casualties and most importantly, lost their most potent ally. Most of the men sat around cackling fires, telling one another what they had seen at the end of the fight and Eragon's fall. Although they had a basic idea at what had occurred, they were kept from the whole truth until their leader, Nasuada, could properly assess the situation and decide where to go from there.
Inside the medical tents, the injured were being treated for their wounds; many of them would never be able to fight again. Even magic had its limits. However in a larger enclosure, Eragon lay on a cot, still in a deep sleep. Nasuada sat on the other side of the tent, her fist placed firmly under her chin. Even though she knew it would hurt, she had to get the truth of what happened from Eragon. If what the soldiers said they saw were true, then the Varden suddenly only had a very small window of opportunity to get a foothold in the Empire.
Far off, in Uru'baen, the dark king sat on his throne, a wide smirk spread across his face as he looked down across the throne room at his dragon, Shruikan, who was curled up, peering out a window out over the city.
This war is over, my dragon. Soon the Varden will be crushed and Eragon dead. The king spoke mentally, chuckling slightly at the end.
I suppose it will, master. Do you plan on doing to her what you did to me? The black dragon responded, giving his normal uncaring tone.
But of course. Soon, it will not matter whether or not the farm boy dies. Tomorrow our search for the rider of the green dragon continues.
Shruikan turned his head to look at Galbatorix, keeping his talon clutched tightly on a heavy chain, making sure his prisoner couldn't move, even if she did ever return to normal.
Author's Note: I have a pretty good idea on where I want to take this story. However, due to my very busy schedule, I may not be able to update as much as I would like too. Chapter II will begin the explanation of what occurred at the end of the battle of Feinster and Eragon's conditions. I haven't read Brisingr in quite some time so please forgive me for any errors I may make with plot elements.
It would be greatly beneficial if you were to take some time to write a short review on what you thought of this chapter. I believe they will help me know how to make the story better for the readers.
Chapter Two is finished by the way. I'll upload it once I see what kind of reception the first chapter gets.
DarkShruikan