Atra Anglát Rïsa
Disclaimer: I do not claim, possess, or own the Inheritance Cycle. Christopher Paoulini does, alas. If I did Shades would be Riders more often/sometimes/ for the first occasion. So this is not canon. Although, if Paoulini ever reads this I would be honored were he to use it. With some minor tweaks, of course, and credit. But moving on.
Authors note: As you may have gathered, this is a rather unusual take on the Varden. We have an annoying habit of heroizing organizations and powerful individuals. This is the de-heroized version. Yes, A&E, may include graphic and intense violence, psychotic Shades(including a real special one, he he he), graphic torture, mild to moderate language, and substance abuse. That about sums it up. Review please. Pretty please? First to review gets the story dedicated to them. Then the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 8th, etc.(Fibonacci sequence, though by [insert deity here]'s sake I hate them) Plenty to come, ladies, gentlemen, and genderless beings. Grab a gallon of mead and let's get started!
Chapter 1
The morning sun played down upon the town, its reddish light bathing everything in a warm glow. It was spring. The forest was lush and vibrant, the birds flitting from branch to branch. It was a perfect day... for the crows. While the elements seemed determined to create an atmosphere of peace and serenity the vicious battle that was raging helped little. Dozens lay on the ground from either side. It was a fortified town called Teren in the path of the Varden. There was only one important thing about this town. That thing was its lord. He was a man with close ties to Galbatorix, one who had been utterly committed to the tyrant's cause. While there were others like this few had the number of powerful magicians on hand to actually draw attention.
All this Eragon wondered as he hacked through the swarms of soldiers who assailed him from every side. Beside him, to the right, Roran stood, striking left and right with his hammer. To his left was Arya, eviscerating some poor fool. The castle gate stood. Eragon muttered,"Jierda."
He stumbled, then kneeled. Something was strong. Very strong. He gasped. He couldn't breathe. Finally it broke. The gate shattered into several thousand pieces, sending splinters flying. Roran and Arya walked forwards cautiously. Eragon still lay upon the ground, panting. His blade, Brinsingr, was still gripped in his right hand. His armour was dented, and an arrow stuck in his side. He looked and marveled at the speed with which the casualties had mounted. He felt a gentle tug at his mind. It was Arya. They had found something unusual.
He stumbled forwards, barely able to stay on his feet. He slipped into the castle and turned. Arya was unusually pale, as was Roran. Roran frantically signaled for Eragon to speak. He yelled,"What is it?"
Roran slapped himself in the face, barely able to comprehend the utter stupidity of Eragon's misunderstanding of his frantic shushing motions. He looked around the corner and scrambled backwards. There were at least one hundred soldiers surrounding the lord.
The soldiers were unprepared for an assault from the seemingly unbreakable gate. The captain snarled an order. The soldier on the closest edge turned, but his spear was caught. He realized his mistake and tried to drop his blade, but the damage would still be done. With a satisfyingly meaty plop the man's head got a good look at his own feet. It was upright. One kick later the body knocked two others over. A flash of Brinsingr solved the problem of another two, and the fight began in earnest.
The twin forces collided. The red-armoured forms of the Loyalists contrasted greatly with the mud-brown the majority of the Varden wore. The warriors chopped and slashed, each knowing that were they to falter they all would die when the line collapsed. Eragon smashed through the enemy, dearly wishing Saphira was with him now. He wondered, as he dismembered a red-clad opponent, why these soldiers kept fighting . They were obviously doomed. Eragon twisted and impaled a soldier about to shish-kebab Arya. She nodded thanks and Eragon parried another frantic lunge, smiling.
With a final thunk the last of soldiers hit the ground dead. The lord crawled back, obviously terrified.
The human captain said,"The Varden will not harm yo-"
The lord sank back, a sword in his throat. Eragon spat on the corpse of the noble and sheathed his blade. The scum's blood ran freely down his body and to the ground. The captain gasped and drew back, appalled by the complete and utter mercilessness of the Rider. The man, if he could be called a man, only smiled a cruel smile and turned. Eragon made a mental note to get a new captain. This one had to many scruples.
He wondered where the magicians were. They tended not to be very strong, but who knew? He would find them and wipe them out. They were a threat to the Varden, and they had to be terminated. Arya walked beside him. They knew their job, and they knew why all of these monstrosities had to be destroyed. They had pioneered the men without pain. They were evil. They could not be allowed to live.
Author's note: So here it is, folks. Chapter one. I should have two done by Wednesday. They may be short, however they will get longer. Don't hurt me. Tell me if you like the idea. And yes, there are a few funny Shades. You'll met one soon. I promise. First to guess what is special gets a digital cookie, as does the person who guesses the subject of the next chapter. Best of luck. Read and review, people.