Disclaimer: I don't own anything familiar to you. Seriously.
Aaaand I'm back! I really was going to upload this yesterday but I was so sick after a 20-hour shift so I had to push it back. Lazy bum that I am, I haven't uploaded a cover for this yet. Let's see what I can cook up with Photoshop this weekend.
Bloodlines
The wind-morning-heat-above-the-desert was pleasant to any dragon, and that held true for Vervada-of-the-storm-scales. It would have been a good day to hunt, but not then. Her hatchlings were too young to leave the cave, and she as going to stay with little ones until Iormungr-of-the-azure-sky arrived.
Oh, how she loved the azure dragon. Two-legs-rounded-ears may have not thought that they were capable of anything more than being beasts, but even the wildest of her kind felt every emotion that those feeble creatures did. They lived. Loved. Died when it was time – if it was time. Few could compare to the strength of a dragon, and so few could be powerful enough to slay one.
A great huntress such as she had nothing to fear but the bigger hunters who might prey on her little ones.
But where was Iormungr? He promised to return and see the little ones that day, while the partner-of-his-mind-and-heart-Helga collected the eggs that were to be Bonded. She basked on a ledge under the brilliant-hot-sun, watching the light reflect from her storm-gray-scales that were almost black as night. She wanted her little ones to meet their sire and say goodbye to their to-be-tamed-egg-siblings before she took them on a hunt.
After a few minutes more of basking under the sun, she entered one of the gaping-black-mouth-caves that dotted Du Fells Nangoroth. Her little ones were still sleeping, huddled together beside the one vivid-gemstone-blue and two black-as-night eggs that were to be given over to the partners-of-her-tame-kin Riders.
Rise, little ones, for your sire will be here soon.
The little hatchlings, barely three weeks old, stirred. They have just Named themselves the previous night, and it made Vervada proud. Mirmen-blood-red-scales rubbed his head against her. Mother, why have they not hatched?
Vervada knew that the little ones were asking about their two nest-mates ever since they were aware of such quandaries. My little ones, these two eggs are not like you. They will not be as free as you to fly through the skies and hunt as you wish, as they are to be Bonded.
Bonded?
Vervada surveyed her six hatchlings – red, brown, pale violet, vivid orange, deep pink and yellow. My little ones, I've told you about the Shur'tugal and their tamed-not-free-dragons. Your two siblings will be joining them. Vervada loathed it with all her heart. She loved every youngling that hatched from her eggs, and even the two-and-forty who are now full-grown were still close to her heart – and heart-of-hearts. She hoped that the Shur'tugal will let her see her Bonded little ones on their hatching day. She feared and worried, for she sensed that her little ones will be subjected to a future of darkness, death and despair. She knew that two of them shall battle too. There was a loud flapping of wings outside, and Vervada knew that it would mean only one thing.
Vervada? Iormungr's mind joined with hers, and she felt joy course through her mighty body. Helga and I are outside with someone else.
Curiosity sparked within the mighty dragoness' mind. After a quick call to her little ones, she soared outside, followed by them. They landed on the massive ledge that overlooked the vast-lonely-warm-desert. Pale blue Iormungr stood tall and proud with his human Rider – a woman named Helga who had hair as dark as night. Beside them stood a massive, black dragon.
Raugmar? Vervada asked.
Is that the way you talk to your great-great-great-grandsire, Vervada-of-the-storm-scales? I came here to see your new hatchlings. Raugmar the Black, as the two-legs called him, was a mighty hunter too. You have fine little ones, but I fear for the future, Stormscales. It feels like there is a darkness looming before us.
Vervada hoped that it was just a dark feeling that would pass, like many other fear-worry-thoughts that sometimes came and bore no fruit.
Chapter 1: Loss and Lamentations
Six figures strode through an underground battlefield littered with the bodies of armored men, dwarves, and massive horned Urgals. Six glittering dragons in hues of blue, red, green, violet, silver and gold skirted nearby. Their glittering scales provided color to the otherwise dreary background.
Three days already passed since the defendes of Tronjheim fended off the invading Urgals – three days since twin brothers Eragon and Murtagh defeated the vile Shade, Durza. The battlefield outside the city was still a testament to the carnage and bloodshed. Bodies of all three races were strewn on the ground and it was difficult for the survivors to make a decent burial place for their fallen heroes. Pyres were lit up nearby to burn the Urgals which deserved no honored burial and resting place.
Eragon made it a point to come along with the other Riders to help in the recovery effort ever since he was healed by Angela. He already joined them thrice and was subjected to racking pains radiating from his spine a few times. Not even the healers' potions or the assurances from Brom, Angela and Faolin that he was fine did anything to get rid of the pain that always invaded his body. Even sharing the pain with Saphira did nothing to help him.
"Three days feel like lifetimes away," Roran muttered nearby.
"Three days since we've killed Durza, became Shadeslayers and my dear little brother was contacted by Togira Ikonoka – whoever he is," agreed Murtagh. "Arya, you're a pointy-ear! You should know who this man is."
"I told you, I don't know every important person in Ellesmera – yet, and I'm sure that nobody there goes by that name." Arya sighed. She glanced at Eragon. "Are you sure that you're fine right now though?"
"I told you once and I'll tell you a thousand more times that I'm not as fragile as it seems. I'm just sore. Please stop treating me like a child," Eragon said with a groan. "The storytellers and bards that passed through Carvahall always spoke of glorious battles. The truth was far too grim for that – it was all decay and irreversible death.
"This – this would have broken us if we didn't become Riders beforehand," mused Katrina. She motioned to the death and destruction before them. "Now doing things help us focus away from the pain. Being Riders taught us more than that though, right?"
"Yes, of course." Nasuada smiled grimly. "It's that the only glory in war is our attempts of protecting everyone dear to us."
The group made their rounds quietly until Ajihad's second-in-command, Jormundur, jogged towards them. He bowed to the Riders and it was something that he wouldn't have done before. "Riders, I'm glad to find you. Ajihad is returning and wants you to be there. The others are already waiting by the west gate. We must hurry."
Nasuada's face brightened, and Eragon understood why. Her father was busy for most of the three days, hunting down the Urgals that escaped through the tunnel network around Farthen Dur and the rest of the Beor Mountains. In between expeditions, most of his time was spent with Nasuada and her brother Melikir, lamenting on Himeria's escape with the traitorous Twins. All that the gold Rider could say is that her father wished to spend most of his free time with his two remaining children.
A small group stood under the light of a lantern by the gate. Faolin and Brom stood talking in low voices. Orik waved to the Riders, but not without a short, resentful look at Katrina and Arya. Though it was a good way to save the brothers who would become Shadeslayers, they still destroyed the prided treasure of the dwarven race. Dwarves were equally pleased and irritated with Arya and Katrina because of that. None of them had the heart to move the shards of Isidar Mithrim and left them in a circle around the main chamber of their great city.
To be honest, none of the Riders were pleased by the necessary destruction and joined in lamenting over it.
"Ajihad should be here soon," Orik said, pointing at a cluster of lanterns near a large tunnel at least a few miles away. "Let's be patient. I'm sure that he has a good reason for us to be gathered in here right now."
They all fell quiet after that, and Eragon put a hand on Saphira's side. I wish that we could live a life of peace once all of this is done.
Saphira let out a puff of smoke. Then we must fight for it. I believe that it's the only way.
I wish that it weren't so.
I'm afraid that your wish will not be granted, little one.
"Do you mourn for them, brother?" Murtagh stared blankly at the tunnel ahead, his eyes flickering red in the dimness. "I don't think that the dead can hear our mourning but it's saddens me to see so many fine people's lives snuffed out because of a single man's madness."
"I agree." Eragon closed his eyes momentarily. "I wish – I wish that we could have helped them somehow."
As much as you little two-legs would wish for it, it can't happen. Thorn let out a dragon's equivalent to a sigh. Brooding about it won't change things.
Half an hour passed in silence. Movement in the tunnel ahead alerted everyone and hands fell on weapons, ready for trouble. Ten men clambered out of the tunnel, followed by the same number of dwarves. One of them, presumably Ajihad, raised a hand and the group formed two columns. In this proud position, they began the march to Tronjheim.
Excitement bubbled within Nasuada. She looked forward to talking with her father again, possibly with a cup of warm, minty tea that Melikir prefered so much whenever he was reading a brand new book.
Her father's troops weren't able to move for more than five yards when other figures began to clamber out of the tunnel ahead. It was hard to see them in the dimness of the area and so the dragons' vision came in useful.
Those are Urgals! Askanir roared.
"Urgals? Urgals!" Murtagh leapt to Thorn's back and shot towards the enemies, followed by the other Riders.
Nasuada cursed herself for leaving Skymning behind in her new room in Tronjheim. Nobody would expect an attack in the area once the Urgals were driven out. Faolin and Brom ran right behind them, while Orik was close with a group of other men. Jormundur ran back to Tronjheim for reinforcements.
She cried out as the Urgals attacked the rear of her father's group. They wouldn't – couldn't reach them in time to help. Magic can't be used in their current distance. Warriors clustered around Ajihad, trying their best to protect him. One of the warriors managed to fend off an Urgal, and it seemed like they were winning – until more Urgals jumped out of the tunnel and converged upon the defenders.
No! NO! Nasuada's grip on Solaris' saddle tightened as they drew nearer. They felt slow… too slow.
Before even Thorn could reach the fight, the Urgals returned to the tunnels, leaving only numerous bodies on the ground. She jumped off Solaris the moment that the golden dragon before she could touch down, and tumbled on the ground. She shook off the pain of impact, her grief and horror lending her strength. She fought back her dread and tried to look for survivors. It felt similar to the battlefield that they visited earlier, aside from the fact that the blood in here was fresh and it lacked the scent of rot.
Her father was lying in the very center of the scene, badly wounded and surrounded by numerous Urgals that he managed to slay. He was gasping for breath as his dark brown eyes focused on Nasuada.
The others arrived, standing in a respectful distance. Above them, the dragons began to hover once more. Nasuada fought back her tears as she knelt down, knowing that Ajihad could not be saved. "Nasuada," the fallen leader murmured. "Eragon, Murtagh, Arya, Roran, Katrina…" His eyes took in the sight of the six Riders. "Listen well, for I have one last command. Promise me, help the Varden remain strong. Keep it from falling into chaos. The flames of hope must not diminish."
"W-we promise." Nasuada bowed her head. "Forgive me for – for running away."
"No. Forgive me for keeping you away from your destiny. I am so proud of you. Peace be with you, Shur'tugalar." Ajihad's eyes passed over the six Riders once more before he drew his last breath.
Despair washed through Nasuada. She broke down and cried, not caring if the other Riders watched. She regretted so many things – running away without talking to her father, failing to save Himeria, being unable to help when the Urgals ambushed him. She fell so deep in her despair that she didn't immediately notice the arms that were wrapped around her. She clung to the person, letting her sadness and regret pour out until she had no more tears to cry.
"I'm really, really sorry for your loss." Murtagh's voice was hoarse, ragged, and closer than was expected. He let go of Nasuada and stood up. Tears streaked his sharp features too. "Your father was a great man."
Faolin and Brom stood at a distance, sorrowful looks crossing their faces. Roran had his arm around Katrina's shoulder, their heads bowed while they tried their best to wipe off their tears. Eragon and Arya stood together, their teary eyes on Ajihad's fallen form. Nobody spoke for a few more minutes.
Faolin broke the silence. "This will cause strife within the Varden," he said softly.
"There will be a power struggle, true," said Brom. "We should help avert it as much as we can."
"Won't you be a candidate for the next leader?" asked Roran.
"No, I will fight and help and advice, but leading this group will not be something that I will devote myself to."
Faolin glanced at the tunnel. "Brom, we must avenge him."
Brom grinned, but it was half-hearted. Stress and sadness was obvious from the former Rider. He unsheathed Undbitr and motioned for the elven ambassador to follow into the tunnel. The Riders sat around Ajihad, keeping watch over his body.
Through the haze of sorrow and fear, Murtagh began to berate himself. Embracing Nasuada was stupid and reckless. They were both sad, and she just lost her father, but it wasn't a good move. He always thought of things before making a move. Why did he have to be so impulsive in that moment of weakness?
Maybe because you fancy the girl, Thorn told him.
Cut that out. Of course not! Nasuada is an amazing person but she's our friend. Friend. Murtagh watched Thorn loop around Solaris in an attempt to show off. Well, you want her dragon for a mate. Is that why you keep insisting that I'm interested in Nasuada in a similar way?
Thorn would have snorted if he was nearby. Instead, he settled for breathing a long stream of yellow fire tinged with red. I'm your dragon, and you're my Rider. We know each other's minds more than anyone else in the world. I know things about you that you might be denying or unaware of, and the same can be said the other way around.
Still… it isn't right. She's my friend, Thorn.
Fine. Have it your way. Sharing your constant dreams about here is not pleasant for a dragon. With that, the red dragon closed their connection.
When Orik arrived, he let out a groan and stomped his feet. He began to curse in Dwarvish while the other men looked on in shock. The dwarf plunged his war ax into a dead Urgal in frustration. "They've upturned a nest of bees, they have. The Varden itself will be upturned and complicate things further. Did he – did he have any last words?"
"Aye, but the right people must be here before I could repeat them," Nasuada murmured softly.
"Where's Faolin and Brom?"
"They went after the rest of the Urgals." Katrina sniffled and pointed to the tunnel. "They were talking about revenge."
Jormundur arrived just then with twelve ranks of six men. He motioned for them to wait at the edge of the area and proceeded alone to the center of the battlefield. He knelt by Ajihad's body, face contorted in sorrow. "Old friend, fate has cheated us all. If this mountain was not so big – nor our distance so large – I would have arrived sooner and helped you. Instead, we were cheated right after our great victory."
"Faolin and Brom already pursued the remaining Urgals." Murtagh felt horror for the elven ambassador and their mentor. How could the two of them stand against numerous Urgals?
Jormundur must have shared his worries. "They shouldn't have gone. But we can't do anything about it. We'll post guards here for now. It will take an hour more for us to find dwarf guides to lead the next tunnel expedition."
"I'm willing to lead," Orik said. He was still seething.
"Your uncle will need you. We will find someone else." Jormundur strode towards Nasuada and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm truly sorry for your loss. You and your fellow Riders must stay in Tronjheim along with every other important person. Faolin and Brom will have to fend for themselves for now."
Nobody objected. After a brief rousing speech from Jormundur, every warrior knelt before Ajihad's body to pay homage. They liftd his body on their shields and began the teary, solemn procession back to Tronjheim.
The dragons let out a roar of sorrow and rage.
How's that for a new chapter, eh? And what's with that little prologue-like thingie with Vervada, anyway? I'm not giving anything away except for the fact that it's set 50 years before the Fall.
Won't you guys be dearies and give a review?