Summary: The Riders rose to glory, then fell to one man's madness. This is the story of that man. This is the story of Galbatorix and the Riders whom he betrayed.
Disclaimer: This story is written for no profit, and I do not own or am associated to Eragon (or Christopher Paolini) in any way. Basically: not mine.
Note: 'Gulailian' is a mix of 'gulai', which means luck, and 'ilian', which means happiness, in the Ancient Language (which is actually quite simple to figure out).
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To Rise and Fall
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"If anyone, I'm the best choice for a Rider – you're all weaklings, the lot of you."
"Hah! Everyone knows you're just a bully. Which Rider in his right mind would choose you?"
"You little brat – come back here!"
"Nyah, nyah, can't catch me!"
Galbatorix heard footsteps pounding towards him, but didn't bother to look up from his scrolls. He sighed. If they had to provoke each other, he'd rather they do it away from him. He brought the parchment up to his face, and surreptitiously slid his leg out.
Three seconds later he felt someone's foot catching on his calf, a startled yelp and a thump signalling a fall. The next instant he heard another cry and another thump, and it was only then he lowered the scroll.
A smaller boy, face-first on the ground, was pinned under a slightly larger one. He struggled to get out while the boy on top struggled to get his breath back. "Lemme go!" he whined. "Blame Grub there!"
"Who, me?"
The boy on top got up, red in the face, as the smaller boy scrambled to his feet. "Yes, you! You tripped me!" he accused.
Galbatorix shrugged. "I didn't know you were coming. I never know what's happening around me when I read, haven't you noticed? I'm stupid like that. You just happened to blunder into my leg, that's all."
The bigger boy looked suspiciously between his victim and Galbatorix, who still sat unconcernedly with his back to the tree, sheltered by the leaves.
"And besides," he added, "the problem is not that I tripped you. You were being chased for insulting him in the first place. Again. Now, if you'll excuse me." He promptly raised the scroll again, hiding his face from view.
There was a pause. Then, "Yeah, you insulted me in the first place! I'm going to beat you up!"
And then they were gone, thundering through the forest again.
Smiling to himself, Galbatorix focused back onto the scroll, when it was suddenly pulled away and a cheekily grinning face shoved into its place.
"You did it again, Gal."
He made a face at the newcomer. "Don't call me Gal," he said automatically.
"Grub?"
"Don't make me hurt you."
"Aw, I'm already hurt."
"See me pointedly not caring here, Gulailian. Now give me back my scroll."
Gulailian laughed and scrambled to his feet, pushing away from the seated Galbatorix. "Nothing doing. Come on, the Riders are going to come soon! You don't want to let them think you're some weakling scholar, do you? Why don't you go out and wait with the rest of them?"
"I don't see you waiting out there," Galbatorix pointed out. "Besides, the Riders don't judge people by outside appearance, they choose new recruits by innate abilities, or strength of character, or diligence, or something along those lines. They haven't rose this high by misjudging people."
"Oh, don't go all scholarly on me now, Tor. For a ten year old you talk – and read – too much. Come on; let's join the rest of those idiots. Between you, me, and them? They don't have a chance. Of course, that will only happen if you go out there so they actually know you exist."
"The Riders are not coming for a while yet," Galbatorix grumbled, but grudgingly accepted his friend's outstretched hand. On his feet, he grabbed the pilfered parchment back, brushed his breeches off, tied his scrolls up, and then side by side with Gulailian strolled towards the well-beaten path twining through the forest.
"I've been waiting for this day for so long," Gulailian sighed dreamily. "I've always wanted to fly."
"As if your head isn't always in the clouds already, Guy," Galbatorix joked.
Gulailian swatted him. "I'm being serious!"
"For once."
"No, really. If I don't get chosen, I, well, I'd go find a Shade or something. And the problem is, I truly don't think I'm good enough. You have no problem – you're always the best at everything, and you read so much, and you're smart. They'd be crazy not to choose you. But me – I'm lazy and irresponsible and can't even read. How hopeless is that?"
Galbatorix glanced at his companion. Gulailian was trudging along, looking nervous and wretched. He fixed his gaze back forward, realizing for the first time how serious Guy really was about being chosen. Sure, he'd gone on and on for hours on end about everything Rider-related, and couldn't stay still for weeks after the announcement about the Choosing came, but Galbatorix thought it was just another of Guy's passing eccentricities.
"They'll teach you to read, and you aren't as lazy as you might think," he remarked offhandedly. "It'll be fine. You'll see."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gulailian's mouth twitch in a small smile.
By the time they got out of the forest, and arrived at the clearing to the left of the village where the Riders would camp, Gulailian was his old extremely cheerful self. He prattled on and on about inane stuff like: How would the Riders come? On horseback or dragonback? Wouldn't it be so cool if they came on dragons? Imagine, seeing a real Rider on a real dragon up close! Oh, what if they were accompanied by elves? Or Dwarves? That would be a grand sight, eh, Tor? Oh, come on, Tor, talk to me! See, there you go just nodding your head again. I'll bet you aren't even listening. Tell me, are you an idiot?
"No. Good try though."
Guy stuck out his tongue.
They avoided the other ten-year-old children clustered together, their anxious parents milling around. Galbatorix's eyes scanned the adult masses, and was not surprised that his own parents were missing.
"At least they're still alive, Tor."
Galbatorix turned to look at his friend, sitting cross-legged on a wide stone at about waist-height. He moved to stand in front of Gulailian, face to face. "I'd rather they be dead," he said quietly. "I don't care for them, and they don't care for me."
Guy smiled sadly, but didn't argue any further. This was something they had never agreed on. Gulailian's parents were dead, killed by Urgals when he was still a five-year-old child. They had been adventurers, going out into unexplored lands, and their bravery had cost them their lives. The entire village had raised Guy after that, as his parents had been very well-liked. Guy's open personality took after theirs.
Galbatorix sighed, and hauled himself up on the stone as well, legs dangling. He didn't say anything either. He knew part of why Guy was so insistent on being a Rider was because he thought that that would give him all the power needed to kill Urgals, the ugly creatures that killed his parents. He also knew why Guy kept disagreeing with him on the subject of his scholar parents. He never had parents of his own, so he believed that Galbatorix should treasure his.
What he couldn't understand was that Galbatorix would rather his parents be dead than be scholars who didn't care about him in any way. All they had given him was knowledge and a genius mind, both of which had deprived him from a normal childhood. He was grateful, yes, but they were of no use alive. At least if they were dead he could pretend they would have loved him if they were alive, and also allow him to bond better with Gulailian, his best friend, as they would both be orphans then. He trusted only Gulailian, shared everything with him, and he knew Guy relied on him the same way. The other children were mere friends. Gulailian was family. He'd never had anyone to love and depend on as much as Guy, which was part of why he treasured him so much.
They sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one. Silences between them always were. They knew each other's limits and touchy subjects, and could read each other easily. So for now they were content to sit there and enjoy the morning sunlight, and wait for the Riders to come.
The anticipation in the air rose at the sound of galloping hooves drawing close. Children and adults alike moved closer to the gates that led into the clearing, pushing each other out of the way for a clearer view. Galbatorix and Gulailian rolled their eyes at each other. Since the village was set into the side of a hill, anyone using the road leading to the clearing could not be seen until they crested the slope, so no matter who was closer to the gate, they'd all see the Riders at the same time, anyway.
A large shadow passed overhead, and another. The villagers looked up and gasped in awe, moving to the centre of the field for a better view. It was a magnificent sight: dragons of all colours whirling through the air in some unearthly dance, sunlight glinting off scales and through thinner wing membranes, their roars and little puffs of fire eliciting excited squeals. Galbatorix watched for a few seconds with a detached sort of admiration before looking back down; there was only so much the dragons could do to show off.
His gaze fell onto the group of quiet riders at the gate to the clearing. They were alternating between watching the villagers with amusement and their dragons with pride. Pride for what? Their circus act? Galbatorix snorted to himself, glancing at Gulailian, who was totally absorbed in the performance. Dragons should not be demeaned like this, acting out acrobatic tricks to impress a few slow villagers.
He felt someone staring, and looked around, his own eyes narrowing. It was the rider at the head of the group, the leader from the looks of it. There wasn't much to see, really, they looked like normal people. Normal, except... the way they held themselves, their presence was more... more there than normal people. He could almost see them actually living each moment. Not to mention the way they looked around them with indulgence, as if to say, how quaint.
A few, however, didn't show any emotion on their faces, and the leader was one of them. Galbatorix locked gazes with him. I'm not going to be looked down at by you, he willed his stare to say. I'm not one of them. I'm different. I'm better.
"Hey, Tor."
He turned away from the piercing stare, slightly relieved, and raised an eyebrow at Gulailian. "Yes?"
Guy indicated the horsemen. "They the Riders?"
"It would appear so."
"But they look so normal!" Guy wailed.
Galbatorix blinked. "Normal?" he repeated, thrown off for a moment.
"Yeah. Why, you see something different?"
"No, it's nothing..." Galbatorix turned to look at the Riders again. Yes, they were there. Couldn't Guy see it? He looked around at the rest of the villagers, who had turned to the horsemen after the dragons had flown off somewhere. No, none of them seemed to notice anything different, either. Frowning, he turned back the riders.
"This is the village Horth in the province Inzilbeth?" the leader asked.
There was a chorus of 'yes'.
"Very well." He inclined his head while the rest of the riders bowed very slightly. "I am the head of this expedition; you may call me Ugio. And we – " a sweep of his hand indicated his following, " – are the Shur'tugal, the Dragon Riders."
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[Ashen Skies][Tiger, tiger, burning bright]
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