Eragon's tongue felt thick and coated with a coppery substance. His head pounded heavily, causing him to wince every single painful moment it tormented him. Whether he could see or not was hard to tell as wherever he was seemed to be pitch black and if there were anything happening around him, his ears rang with a high pitch shrill that droned out any sound that could have helped him.
Blood. That's what it was that had coated his tongue. He remembered little but the most prominent memory was most definitely what caused him to be in his predicament. A quick hit to the back of his head with something heavy had knocked him unconscious but his attacker he simply couldn't place.
His hearing slowly began to return as the ringing subsided, the slow drip of water on stone echoing within his room. Other than his breathing and his heart, the dripping was the only sound he could hear. It annoyed him quite a bit and he wanted to utter a spell to at least plug whatever hole allowed the accursed water to fall. He reached for the words in the ancient language but they seemed to just out of his reach. Wonderful, he had been drugged again.
Eragon had only considered moving after a few minutes of being awake though he knew better than to think his captors had left him unchained. With a quick jerk of his arm he found that not only was he bound to the cell wall, but his legs were bound to the floor in front of him. His arms felt cold and it was strange to be slowly feeling sensations after being awake for so long. A chill up his spine caused him concern but past that, he was beginning to try and fight the drug as best he could while also hoping to devise a way from his captivity.
The heavy oak door to his cell opened, blinding him for a moment with bright light that seemed to explode into the room. He heard heavy footfalls followed by the door slamming shut again, plunging him into darkness once more.
"Captured yet again, Shur'tugal?" a rough voiced man asked. "I would think that after Gil'ead you would be careful with who you trusted, Shadeslayer." His voice was filled with anger and resentment, yet Eragon could not place who the man was, compounding his confusion further.
"Who are you?" Eragon asked, fumbling over his thick tongue.
The man chuckled slowly before grasping Eragon's hair and pulling his head up, presumably so he could look at the man. He fought the pain as much as he could, holding back his yelp to deny the man the yelp he no doubt wanted. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet. Has it truly been that long?" he asked. The man's breath was heavy with the smell of mead and onions, causing Eragon's eyes to water.
With a more controlling tone, Eragon attempt to establish his fearlessness in the face of his new danger. "I do not recognize you for the life of me, and perhaps if you would lay off the drink you may realize we have never met." His bumbling speech was certainly loud, but it didn't deter the man in the very least.
"Perhaps, perhaps, but I must confess we have met. In fact, we were once so very close." He released Eragon's hair and began walking around the pitch black cell, dragging what sounded to be a sword or dagger of some kind along the stone floor. "You had such ambitions once, if you remember. I recall the days where you wished to rule the Empire as the king!" The unknown jailer stopped pacing, beginning to mumble to himself.
Eragon allowed the man to waste as much time as he could, his muddled mind struggling to find a situation where something could have possibly gone so wrong. He tried to run through his memories but struggled to even remember anything from before his blackout. His headache persisted still and he groaned after a particularly painful throb destroyed any coherent thought.
"I will give you one last hint before I leave you here, Eragon," the man said slowly, treating Eragon as if he were a mere child. "You and I grew up together. You haven't seen me for some time but we were once so very close."
Eragon's eyes widened, through it did little to help him in the flawlessly dark cell. "Grew up?" Eragon repeated, trying to comprehend what the new knowledge. There was Roran, obviously, but Roran wouldn't possibly betray him like this. Eragon had spent little time with other children in Carvahall as he was growing up but he tried to remember anyone he grew close to.
The dripping continued, now at a faster rate. He couldn't focus and the infernal dripping had not helped with his concentration in the very least.
"Bah!" the man finally shouted. "You will simply sit here and wonder then!" With that he opened the cell door and quickly slipped out, the torchlight outside his cell blinding Eragon long enough for him to miss seeing the man's features.
He waited for a minute, expecting the man to return. The minute became many and soon an entire hour of dripping and darkness rolled by. Eragon howled in frustration, struggling against his bonds once more. He wished to demand freedom, answers, anything to help him understand what had happened. His only solace was Saphira and yet he could not contact her.
He gave up his struggling and surrendered to the fact he would be there until they either decided to free him or kill him. I cannot allow them to break me, he thought, closing his eyes. I will meditate and focus my thoughts. He slowed his breathing and began to calm himself as best he could, the headache and consistent drip in his cell slowing his already doomed progress.
A heavy slam disturbed Eragon's light meditation, almost grateful for the respite from the monotony of the cell. He took a moment to prep himself for whatever would happen and noticed that not only were his arms cold, his legs were numb now. He had lost count of the time that had passed and the sudden numbness made it clear he had also paid no attention to what was happening to him.
The cell door flew open and the torch light that flooded the room blinded him yet again. "Have you thought of who I am yet?" the man asked roughly, slamming the cell door behind him.
"If I knew who you were," Eragon rasped, his voice breaking from apparent lack of use, "I would have said your name when you came in."
The man sighed softly, the sound of a sword leaving its sheath catching Eragon's attention. "What a shame. You became Dragon Rider only to waste everyone's time." The man tapped the side of the cell with his sword slowly.
Eragon flinched at the first few taps, trying to comprehend what the man wanted. The entire situation made no sense. He had come to see Eragon twice and not once had he asked for information or the Varden's secrets. What are you playing at?
After a dejected sigh, the man sheathed his sword once more. "I am almost offended, Eragon. Here I thought our time together was so meaningful."
"Why are you holding me here?" Eragon demanded. He struggled silently against his bonds once again, though he made no progress and his limbs felt too heavy to even move.
"Why?" the man scoffed. "I would tell you why I'm holding you here after you explain why you kept me here for so long!"
"Kept you here?" Eragon questioned, confusion evident in his once controlled tone.
"Yes! You locked me away, bound me to this cell, and forced me to endure utter silence and darkness until you decided to check on me, if at all!" The man pounded his fist against the wall. "Blast you, you bastard child, your cruelty knew no bounds and you have only begun to pay your dues to me." He was so sure of his answer, his tone so firm, Eragon almost wanted to believe him.
For what seemed to be an eternity, Eragon was silent. He had never kept anyone prisoner before, or at least not that he could remember. There was no possible way the man could be telling the truth and Eragon simply refused to allow his ruse to continue any longer.
"You're lying," Eragon said flatly, dismissing the thought from his mind entirely now.
"Lying?" the man shouted, causing Eragon to jump. "You have the audacity to hold me in this blasted cell for so many months, to torment me and try to destroy me, and then call me a liar!" He spat at Eragon, his heavy foot falls bringing him to the Rider.
Eragon's heart pounded, not comprehending how angry his response would make his jailer. In his desperation, he shouted back him, hoping to at least cause the man some sort of pause. "Help me understand, then! Help me rememb-"
Eragon's voice caught in his throat as his tormentor grabbed his neck tightly, effectively silencing him. "You want to understand? You want to know? Then listen well." His grip tightened. "You and I, we are so alike it is frightening. I know this is the cell you kept me in because you locked me away when you thought of ideals like selflessness and 'nobility'. You wanted to be someone important but then that blasted old fool told you about how kind and honorable the old Riders were."
Eragon was in a panic, still confused by the man's tirade. He had yet to even garner a guess and the man was strangling the life from him as if he understood everything.
Just as Eragon began to feel light headed, the man released his throat and stepped back. "You will not be missed, Eragon," the man hissed angrily.
"What do you mean?" Eragon wheezed, struggling to regain his breath. "I am the only Rider the Varden have. It will be noticed that I am gone."
There was silence for a moment before the man began to let out a slow chuckle, a grim laugh that echoed off the walls of the cell and sent fear bolting up and down Eragon's spine. His laugh continued to grow until it left Eragon wanting the comfort of silence again. He would listen to anything, anything if it meant the man would stop.
"Stop!" Eragon demanded, trying to hide his growing unease. "You have not helped me understand at all!"
This seemed to amuse the man further, his laugh now rough and almost like a bark, as if he had been told a joke worthy of even the highest courts.
Eragon squirmed and shut his eyes, the darkness unchanging. Why does his enjoyment of this bother me so much! Eragon questioned himself. Why can I not just be left alone!
Finally the man let his laugh come to an end, sighing disappointedly at the end. "If only you knew how little you would be missed, Eragon." He opened the cell door and slipped out once more, leaving the Rider to the gloom of his cell.
His head pounded yet again and his stomach gnawed at him with hunger. His limbs protested their constant restraint and he could barely move his fingers or toes.
How long it had been since he was last visited, Eragon was uncertain. What he was certain of however, was the realization that he may never escape. His mind still felt muddled, his connection with Saphira seemingly still closed, and there was no familiar voices or faces to save him from his torment. He longed to be free, even if it meant just to wander around the dungeon. He longed to fly with his dragon and be done with the darkness and silence.
And be done with the dripping. He had nearly wished he could summon spirits and end the infuriating sound. Be it water, blood, or some other liquid he cared not as its persistence to continue was cruel and only then realized it was making a perfect torture device. It need not even harm him to unhinge his already feeble confidence, simply continue to drop onto the stone floor with the defiance only nature seemed to give it.
His deep hatred of the dripping was quickly brushed aside once he heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching his cell. Were they there to free him? Feed him? Kill him? It mattered little, though he had the hope of escaping still clinging to the back of his mind.
"Hand me the whetstone," the deep voiced jailer ordered from outside. With little other sound after that, the group fell silent.
He's coming to torture me, Eragon thought grimly.
The door flew open once more and yet again Eragon's eyes were flood with an intense brightness before the cell door shut once again. The unmistakable sound of his tormentor's heavy steps echoed in the cell along with metal clacking from whatever devices he carried with him.
"Have you figured it out yet?" the man asked calmly.
Eragon had wished for some sort of contact ever since he was left alone. The lack of people to talk to was driving him mad. He longed to speak but then a thought occurred to him.
I must deny him his pleasure of leading me on. I must restrain myself and my curiosity.
As his soon to be torturer worked with his devices, he repeated his question, but louder this time. "Have you figured it out yet? Don't tell me you've already died. It has only been two days."
Two days!
After enough time had passed, the jailer sighed. "I think it is time to end our little friendship, Shadeslayer." His tone was somber, almost reaching the emotional depth of sadness.
I must not reply. I cannot let him to lead this. He continued to try and fortify himself for whatever was to come to him.
The man lit a torch within the cell, blinding Eragon once again. He had his back to his prisoner, sharpening a sword slowly. "I must admit, I am very disappointed. I have given you everything you needed to find out who I am and yet you have forgotten me. Forgotten your old friends as much as you have abandoned your old ambitions." Each stroke of the sharpening stone on the side of the sword sent sparks cascading to the cobblestone floor below. Eragon's vision slowly began to adjust, now able to make out the man wore a brown robe, the hood pulled up over his head.
Must hold... He wished to know so dearly now. It was so close and yet so far.
"You could have easily become king, you know. You could have applied yourself to your studies and practicing and then become the stronger all for your goal, but no. You have forsaken your once admirable desires."
Eragon swallowed heavily, cursing himself for his resolve breaking. "Who are you?" he asked weakly.
"I am everything you wanted to be and could possibly ever become. Have you not pondered why you will not be missed?"He stopped sharpening his blade, holding a hand up to silence Eragon. "You need not fret over it any longer. You will not be missed as you are still with the Varden. You are still walking amongst friends and soldiers alike." He chuckled slow and deep before pulling his hood down, his unremarkable brown hair barely touching the back of his neck. "I was with you at the start of your journey and then you betrayed me. Locked me away."
Eragon shuddered, a sudden realization creeping over him. He did know this man but he simply could not place who it was. The name was on the tip of his tongue and yet it was lost to him.
The man turned to face Eragon and knelt in front of him, setting the point of the sword in the middle of Eragon's chest. Fear and confusion screamed within his mind as he stared at the face of his jailer. His angled face, his pointed ears, his brown eyes. He looked to be an elf, yet his jaw too wide, his shoulders too broad.
"My name is Eragon Bromson and I have come to retake my rightful place as the real Dragon Rider."
Eragon could only stare silently at himself, realizing only then that he was locked away, not in a cell, but back within the darkest reaches of his mind.
Author's Note:I hope that was worth reading! It was my first 'thriller' idea and I honestly hope it wasn't too dull. I wanted to be subtle but I can almost bet you folks picked up on the twist immediately. Let me know what you think so I can get better at this!