A/N- Hello. Well, here goes nothing. This fic is an AU that begins with the Battle of the Burning Plains and will continue on through the end of my version of book three. In this story, Murtagh arrives at the battle on the side of the Varden. I actually have an outline and plot, and think that my reasoning for this is pretty good.
I am going to try very hard to keep everyone in character, and keep the story (apart from the one major plot change) as canon as possible. If you notice a detail that needs corrected, or some such thing, please let me know. I love all reviews, but absolutely worship constructive criticism. Flames are okay too- if you really hate my story that much, them obviously I need to fix something.
BTW, the excerpt in the beginning of this chapter comes from Eldest- page 639
Empire-
The Battle of the Burning Plains.
"Soon afterward, a horn echoed from rear of the Empire's army, then another, and another. Someone began to pound a sonorous drum, the peals of which stilled the field as everyone looked about for the source of the beat. Even as Eragon watched, an ominous figure detached itself from the horizon in the north and rose up in the lurid sky over the Burning Plains. The gore-crows scattered before the barbed black shadow, which balanced motionless upon the thermals. At first Eragon thought it a Lethrblaka, one of the Ra'zac's mounts. Then a ray of light escaped the clouds and struck the figure crossways from the west.
A red dragon floated above them, glowing and sparkling in the sunbeam like a bed of blood-red coals. His wing membranes were the color of wine held before a lantern. His claws and teeth and the spikes along his spine were as white as snow. In his vermilion eyes there gleamed a terrible glee. On his back was fixed a saddle, and in that saddle sat a man garbed in polished steel armor and armed with a hand-and-a-half sword.
Dread clutched at Eragon. Galbatorix managed to get another dragon to hatch!
Then the man in steel raised his left hand and a shaft of crackling ruby energy sprang from his palm and…"
…and stuck one of the Empire's command tents, instantly demolishing it and the area around it for at least twenty feet. The wine colored, unnatural flames produced continued to spread, and enemy soldiers screamed in agony as they were burned to death by the raging inferno. The flames moved over the sand without dying out, greedily consuming everything in their path.
The pounding drumbeat slowed, then halted, and a murmur of confusion rippled through the battlefield as the troops of both sides realized what had happened. The Varden warriors let out an ear-splitting cheer, and hope leapt up in Eragon's heart. He stared in shock as the dragon swooped low over the Plains, the Rider loosing another wave of red energy on the Empire's terrified troops.
Saphira, what is happening? Eragon asked, hardly daring to hope. He squinted against the harsh, bright sunlight revealed by the parting clouds, unconsciously leaning forward as he watched the dragon and Rider closely.
It would appear that we have a new ally, little one. Shall we rejoin the battle? Saphira asked, eager to aid the mysterious duo.
We shall, friend of my heart! Wounds and aches forgotten, Eragon raced over the hot, bloodstained sand, heart pounding in his ears.
His steps faltered as he passed a still-living horse that had a spear through its side. He put a hand on its neck and murmured Sleep, brother, transferring horse's remaining vitality to himself and Saphira. The resulting energy wasn't enough to restore either of them to full strength, but it soothed his aching muscles, and stopped their limbs from trembling.
Then Eragon leapt up onto the blue dragon, strapping his legs to her sides and grabbing his shield, quickly checking to make sure that Zar'roc was still strapped to his belt. He used just a bit of his magic to secure himself to the well-crafted saddle, and then Saphira took off, winging up and over the massed armies, who were beginning to break free of their shock at what had transpired.
Eragon looked down as they flew, watching the Empire's obviously confused troops as they milled about. The red dragon and its Rider continued to wreak devastation on their forces. A warrior gasped in agony as he was impaled by the hand-and-a-half sword the other Rider wielded, but the Rider had moved on to another enemy before the first even fell. Many more were being incinerated by the still-raging ruby blaze, and the red dragon unleashed similar fire upon any foolish enough to stay in its range. As word of what had transpired passed back to the fringes of the army, many laid down their weapons and surrendered, totally disheartened by the prospect of fighting against two Riders.
They were expecting this new Rider to enter the fight on their side, it would seem. Saphira remarked as she flew, wings pumping up and down quickly as she sped across the desert, over the warring armies, over the mutilated bodies of the dead and dying soldiers on both sides.
I wonder who he is, Eragon mused, cold wind whipping around his hair. He was truly astonished by the power this new ally had- he was continuing to fight at an extraordinary rate, and was showing no signs of tiring whatsoever.
Tearing his gaze from the other Rider, Eragon focused on all he had learned in the last year, mentally racing through everything he had every learned about magic and fighting. Then, taking a deep breath of the air- cold and refreshingly clean, as far above the battle as they were- he braced himself to rejoin the fight yet again. Drawing upon the reserves of his magic, he blocked the few arrows that were sent in their direction, and soon, Saphira was hovering above the thick of the battle. "Brisingr! the seventeen-year-old cried, unleashing his own power on the enemies below. Saphira banked to the left and dove, and soon they were on the ground in the thick of the battle, Saphira trampling anyone underfoot and unleashing streams of fire at the enemy. Eragon lashed out with his magic and Zar'roc, moving almost automatically as he brought his sword down on the bare head of one soldier, then pulling the red sword free to stab another in the stomach. He let out a savage war cry at the same moment Saphira roared, the sounds mingling and reverberating eerily. Over the din of the battle, an answering cry was heard. Eragon grinned, his first true smile for what seemed like an eternity. At least on this battlefield, he was not truly alone.
And the Varden pressed forward yet again, heartened by the knowledge that two Riders were now fighting alongside them.
As Eragon and Saphira continued their onslaught, the young Rider became aware of a disturbance on the Burning Plains. At first he discounted it, but when he felt one of the Du Vrangr Gata fall, he realized that some new force had come into play.
What is going on? He asked Trianna as he fought. Her response, when it came a moment later, was panic-stricken.
Shadeslayer! You have to help us. We cannot stop them! Th-they will kill all the Varden. It's the- it's the Twins!
Shocked, Eragon faltered, and swore angrily when a tall, bearded man managed to slip in under his guard and gash him on the side. "The Twins?" Eragon gasped aloud, wincing at the blood flowing freely from the long cut. "Waíse heill," he muttered as he held Zar'roc up, wary of another attack. "But- they were killed!"
Apparently not, Saphira said dryly. And it would seem that they were not quite as loyal as one could have hoped.
Rage coursed through Eragon as he realized what that meant. They murdered Ajihad, the filthy traitors. They killed him! I will kill them for what they have done, he promised. He glanced at his side, relieved to see it mostly healed, although he could not completely close the wound without draining his magic dangerously
After dispatching a recklessly brave soldier who had moved to attack him, Eragon leapt onto Saphira, quickly securing himself to the saddle and sheathing Zar'roc. The blue dragon opened her wings with a snap, then took off quickly, dodging a spear hurtled at her as she sped upwards. When they were out of arrowshot, Eragon hurriedly scanned the vicinity, searching for any sign of where the Twins were. Minutes passed, and he was growing frantic. He could see Hrothgar, wielding Volund with deadly force, Orik at his side. He saw a group of Kull tearing their way through the Empire's left flank, sharpened blade and brute strength cutting a swath through the other soldiers.
But through the smoke and confusion of the battle, even with his elven vision, it seemed impossible that he would be able to locate the two magicians he was looking for.
Where are they, Saphira?
I am searching as well, little one, she responded.
After another few moments, he was ready to give up. He felt another of the Varden's spellcasters fall, and he winced, despairing.
You are searching for the Twins?
Eragon started at the sudden intrusion. He had been so distracted he had let his shields fall- he instantly closed his mind off when he felt the invasion. But…the voice had been hauntingly familiar, and it didn't seem hostile. He did not recognize it- was it the other Rider? Hesitating, Eragon let his shields fall again, and the voice spoke once more.
Are you searching for the Twins? It asked again.
Yes, Eragon responded nervously.
A few moments later, an image passed into his mind- two identical magicians fighting side by side, near the front of the left flank of the Empire's soldiers. Half-turning in his saddle to look in that direction, Eragon quickly located his query, and Saphira dove, heading toward the traitors that had killed Nasuada's father, the leader of the Varden.
Thank you, Eragon said fervently as the ground rushed toward him, and the sounds of battle grew progressively louder. The twins were easily visible.
You are welcome, the voice responded, and Eragon could have sworn that he had heard that voice before, somewhere.
Now is not the time to be distracted, Saphira gently scolded, and Eragon shook himself out of his reflection, focusing totally on his surroundings. Saphira was right. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not when so many people were depending on him.
Hurry, Saphira, he urged. Another of the Varden spellcasters had been killed, and Eragon winced when he heard Trianna's frantic cries.
Sh-Shadeslayer! Please! They are killing me! Please- please…
They had finally turned to the most powerful of the Du Vrangr Gata- and she was weakening quickly.
Saphira increased her speed, pushing herself to the limit, and then they were there, and Eragon was leaping to the ground, pulling out Zar'roc, and pushing with all his power, Saphira adding her strength to his and sending a jet of blue flame to batter their wards with, crumbling the shield one of the Twins had set around themselves, bringing the red sword up and around, and lopping the bald magician's head clean off, all in less than five seconds.
The remaining Twin fell to the ground, convulsing, almost all energy spent in attempting to maintain his brother's shield. Soon he, too, met his end at the point of Eragon's sword.
And then it was over.
With the death of the Twins, though more than half of their forces were still intact, the Empire's army retreated to regroup and nurse their wounds. Small battles were being finished here and there, and the other Rider was half-heartedly chasing a last few enemy stragglers back to the main group, but the bulk of the fighting was over. Eragon looked around at the Burning Plains, the black smoke rising up from numerous fires- still raging, in some areas- enough dead humans, dwarves, and Urgals to populate a city, and the carrion birds now descending on the carnage. He looked up and saw someone who might have Trianna stagger toward the tents that had been set up for healing, stumbling often and cradling one arm. Squinting, Eragon could just make out the sun bouncing off the red dragon's scales, the steel-clad Rider on its back. They were traveling back to the Varden camp.
Saphira landed with a rush of wind and a loud thump on the sand beside him. Who do you think it is? she asked, weariness evident even in her mind-voice.
I don't know, Eragon responded, shaking his head. He was becoming painfully aware of a renewed throb in his side and the aches of a thousand smaller injuries. He suddenly felt very old, and very, very tired.
Looking once more over the battlefield, and shaking his head sadly, the young Rider walked over to a dwarven warrior that had been stabbed in the side. "Waíse heil," he murmured softly.
I don't know, Saphira, he said again. But I imagine we will discover that soon enough.
A/N- Well, three guesses who the mysterious rider is. All will be made clear in the next few chapters, though it will take some time to explain everything.
And as far as romances go...they will be there, but they will be minor. No OC romances, though one of my pairings is a bit unusual. I think it fits, but hey... Arya/Eragon will be there, but it doesn't really start until near the end of the book. A couple other romances exist, and one with another major character, but again, they're not the focus of this story.
Please review, and tell me what you thought!