Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or its characters
A/N: Just to put it out there, I'm a student who goes to boarding school. This is my fiirst fic. I dunno if I should continue, so please leave a review to tell me what you think of it.
Nimbly side-stepping a heavy sword thrust, Eragon sealed his assailant's fate with a deft stroke to the neck. The Rider grimaced, briefly glancing at his newly acquired wound before evading yet another well-placed swing. While he engaged his enemies in combat, meeting their resistance with a flurry of swings, his conscience was elsewhere.
The young rider may have been in the heat of battle, but his mind was filled with concern for Arya. Eragon had last seen her in the midst of a large mass of soldiers converged together, stabbing at one another with an uncontrolled frenzy.
He gasped as he felt a sharp pain lance up his side. Cursing himself for carelessness, he quickly dispatched two more soldiers, subconsciously clutching at his stinging ribs.
Eragon! came Saphira's cry, Concentrate unless you want me to suffer sporadic fits!
I'm alright, he sent back, breaking through the last of the defences of the throng of soldiers that had been obstructing his passage to their objective. Can you see how Arya's doing?
She's surrounded, but flanked with elves, came the dragon's reply.
Take care. I'll lend them a hand, Eragon said, breaking into a run.
Hmph, you'd better not get hurt, Saphira retorted, as she whipped her lethal tail across a large group of soldiers.
Eragon lithely loped towards the carnage, quickly surveying the condition before diving into the conflict. Hacking a path through a relatively thin barrier of the Empire's men, he slid effortlessly to join the elves furiously attacking their foes.
Keeping an eye on a certain female elf, Eragon continued to do what his body and mind had become long accustomed to: engaging in the merciless dance of ending the lives of others. With a practised air, he lunged at his opponent, driving the tip of Brisingr into the torso of an Empire soldier, releasing a spray of hot blood as the blade was torn out of the dying man.
As the minutes slipped by, Eragon found his physical and emotional state of being slowly succumb to the degrading atmosphere of the battlefield.
His head was filled with impatience and annoyance; the fact that a large group of straggling men who had lost their commander could wreak so much havoc drove the youth to his limits. After the battle of Feinster, surely he, Saphira and his comrades deserved time to lick their wounds and come to terms with their losses.
He had hoped for a period of time in which he could reorganise his thoughts strengthen his resolve, but he had been hit head on with a skirmish just hours after the conclusion of the Varden's siege. The circle of attackers had dwindled in numbers, and the remaining Empire men swung their weapons with a hint of fatigue.
Releasing the tension that had been building in his muscles, Eragon edged towards Arya, all the while sending more men to their deaths. He directed a small jet of blue flame towards a soldier duelling Arya, managing to knock the helmet off the man….no, the boy.
Eragon froze, before darting towards Arya. The boy looked to be around fifteen to sixteen, his youth further emphasised by a pair of bright blue eyes.
Alarmed at the prospect of a new attacker, the soldier spun around to face the direction in which the spell had been cast, only to have the female elf leap forward for an attack. "Stop!" a voice rang out in the midst of the chaos, and Arya was shocked to find Eragon sprinting towards her with a set look on his face.
"Eragon?"
"He's a kid, Arya, just a kid. After all that's happened to me…." Eragon faltered for a moment before continuing. "It's the king we're fighting, not the people"
"You can still say that?" queried Arya in a disbelieving tone. "After the thousands of lives he took…all the loved ones we lost… Eragon, we've both killed many. What difference does one more death make?"
"A lot Arya, a lot. It's the people that make a kingdom. Not the land, ruler or life, it's the inhabitants. He's a kid Arya. I know how he feels. To be holding a sword for your family, while knowing that you are not experienced enough to make a difference….it's something that I never want any other boy enduring."
"Eragon-"Arya started.
"Let him go, Arya. Let him live amongst his family, away from the battlefield. Let him have another chance, to die elsewhere not beside numerous others, hardly ever remembered."
"I am not a kid, and I need no sympathy from barbarians like you lot!" roared the boy, stabbing at Arya.
"You naïve little…" In a rare display of ferocity, Arya lunged forward to impale the soldier. With her supernatural abilities, it was evident what the result of the aftermath would be.
"STOP!" roared Eragon, massing his energy reserves to seemingly appear in between the two fighters. His body jerked twice as the swords entered his flesh, and he looked straight into Arya's eyes.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING, IMBECILE? raged Saphira to Eragon.
Don't worry. I'm fine, replied her Rider. Hurry up and crush those soldiers in front of you, he added.
Bracing against the torrent of emotions and rage from Saphira, Eragon focused on Arya, swallowing down the pain and agony in his chest.
Arya's eyes were wide with shock. Her eyes flickered to the blade of her sword, still embedded in her friend's chest. Unable to comprehend what had happened, she brought her free hand to her face in a futile attempt to keep her thoughts under control. I stabbed Eragon, I stabbed Eragon… the words repeatedly rang in her mind.
The pain of Arya's sword-thrust had caught up with Eragon. He shut his eyes as the hot flames of agony blossomed, searing his torso.
The other fighter's sword had also penetrated his armor, but the force behind it was nothing in comparison the elf's strike. He spoke.
"Arya."
"Why, Eragon? WHY?" she asked with a note of hysteria in her voice. Her eyes were fixed on his visage, her insides aching at the look in his eyes.
"Was my face ever that interesting?" he asked lightly. "I'm fine. I am glad I was able to save one life today." In contrary to his words, blood trickled from his slightly smiling lips, his eyes clouding with pain for the briefest of instances.
Arya felt her eyes watering, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.
"Don't cry," he said softly. "I'm not going to die or anything…." Eragon was surprised at her reaction. The Arya he knew was compassionate, but in a detached sort of way. She'd be understandable, but outwardly always appeared strong. Of course, he'd seen moments when her true nature had shown itself, but that had always been in mourning of others that had been dear to her.
"Are you immune to pain or something?" asked the boy, interrupting Eragon's musings. He laughed softly, turning his face to the youth.
"No, I am not. This hurts," he said, dipping his gloved fingers in the rivulets of blood flowing down his front. Arya cringed inwardly. "But this is nothing in comparison to losing my uncle, father, teacher….all those friends and people I knew. That was true pain. Living on while their souls disappeared into the abyss, knowing that you will never see hear or touch them again. When one dies, they have no idea of the pain they leave behind. "
The boy chose that instant to pull his sword out of Eragon. The Rider almost instantly fell forward, landing on his knees, looking up at Arya. From far away, soldiers could see the figure of the elf with her sword through Eragon, who was on his knees.
Arya, spare him. Take him away from here and see if he will join us. If not, set him free, he told her.
But…what about you? Arya sent back, mind still reeling
What about me? I'm fine. Do it for me. I want him to see his home once more. Eragon smiled, gripping the blade in his two hands and pulling it out of his chest. A fountain of blood spurted from the wound, and he felt himself weaken. Turning to face the soldier he had saved, he spoke.
"Live," he said, his voice taking on a husky edge. "We are not enemies, merely soldiers fighting for a better tomorrow for ourselves and our loved ones."
Turning back to Arya, he mentally relayed to her, I trust you. Thank you.
And on that note, the young Rider turned and crumpled onto his side, a dragon letting forth a beleaguered roar in the background.
So, end of first chapter. It was short, but I am notorious for being lazy. Please review, and thank you for reading. If it's horrible, PLEASE SAY SO. (I'll delete this story if that's the case)
It's gonna turn into a romance/action fic.