Blackened Gold
By Commentaholic
A/N: Well, here's the spinoff I promised. The name is liable to change, but this is currently the name that I think suits it best at the moment. For all of you readers, this might be a better read if you read up to the dragon's abduction in my other story, Alagaësia's New Dragon. Just a heads up. It might help the story make more sense... scratch that, it's really required to explain it. Seriously, read the other story up to submission 7. For those of you who can't keep track, that's Magic and Memories Part 2 on the "jump to" list. *Post-submission A/N: I feel the need to clarify that this is NOT occurring after the most recent chapter of Alagaësia's New Dragon. A reviewer thought that this was happening in concurrence (at the same time) as the other story. It is not. This is an alternate time line.*
Prologue: Locked Away in Darkness
Drip
Drip
Drip
The rhythmic sound of water droplets impacting upon the cold stone floor filled the dank air of the dungeon. No other sound was present, other than the soft sound of the torches burning in their sconces. The crackling fires illuminated the hallway with their orange glow. The circles of light punctuated the darkness in regular intervals, trailing off into the distance, small sections of the hall left in shadow between them.
Cells lined the walls, their iron doors tinged red with rust. All of the cells were empty.
All but one, that is.
A door creaked open in the darkness near the end of the hall, and the sound of two peoples' footsteps drowned out the repetitive dripping of water as they echoed down the corridor. Voices accompanied the footsteps, the conversation slowly growing audible to the lone prisoner as the two men approached the cell.
"Sire, if I may ask, what are we doing down here?" asked the younger man as he brushed his brown hair out of his eyes.
"We are here because I wish for you to meet the prisoner in one of these cells. This prisoner will change our fortunes against the Varden's anarchist goals."
The two men stopped by the door of the occupied cell. The older man put his hand on the iron latch that sealed the door. He drew it back with a harsh screech of metal. Hot air and a billow of smoke filled the corridor as the door squeaked on its hinges, slowly opening to reveal the prisoner. Or rather, the darkness within the chamber that obscured the prisoner from view with the help of the mysterious smoke.
A massive web of chains were the first thing that caught the eyes of the young man. They intersected across the room, weaving above and below, in and out of even more chains, leading into the shadowed majority of the cell. The chains ended in strong iron rings set into the wall. Above the chain ends were holes from which the chains emerged from.
A massive form sat in the darkness, only its silhouette was visible in the scant amount of light that reached the cell's interior from the torches that lined the wall behind the men. Whatever the shape was, it definitely wasn't human.
The young man leaned forward into the cell, trying to get a better look at what no doubt was probably some monster that the King had caught for use against the rebellion. He felt a sharp yank on the back of his tunic as his companion pulled him backwards quickly. A gold and bronze-colored blur shot past his vision as he fell backwards into the hall. He raised his head from the floor just in time to glimpse a pair of scaly claws receding into the darkness. Two narrowed eyes glowed from the shadows, amber-hued with what looked to be rings of bluish-silver encircling each slitted black pupil.
"Caution, Murtagh. It wouldn't do to have you injured, would it?" Galbatorix reprimanded, amusement noticeable under the scolding tone. The King raised his hand, the silver mark on his palm shimmering with a dim glow. "Garjzla!"
Light flooded into the previously dark cell. Murtagh gasped at what was inside.
In the cell, restrained by countless shackles and chains, lay a gold-scaled dragon. Its forearms and neck were not restrained, but the chains glowed with a slight red glow, obviously magically reinforced against any escape attempts. The dragon had been fitted with an iron muzzle, no doubt similarly enchanted, with only two sets of openings. One pair for its nostrils, from which poured the smoke they had seen earlier. The other pair was for its eyes, which glared venomously at the King and Murtagh. The eyes that Murtagh had seen shining in the darkness were still the same, bizarre silvery-blue circles and all.
Murtagh was about to ask about the dragon's eyes when Galbatorix began to speak.
"Are you ready to swear loyalty to me yet, dragon? Surely hunger and cold have weakened your resolve to defy me somewhat."
The dragon's eyes burned with hatred, and the dragon struggled to surge forward to attack the King. The magical chains creaked as the dragon fought to break free. The chains' spell went into effect and the slack portion of the restraints retracted into the wall, pulling the dragon back to the cold, damp, stone floor.
"I'll take that as a no, then?" Galbatorix said, chuckling, "Very well, I'm in no hurry. We have all the time in the world, and you will give in eventually." Galbatorix pulled the cell door shut as the light from his spell began to fade. As the door shut, the last bit of light winked out within the cell, leaving the dragon's glowing eyes the only source of light in the shadows. The latch clanked shut as Galbatorix locked the cell door. Not that it would do much good if the dragon should somehow break free, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
A muffled roar came from within the cell, sending a shiver of fear down Murtagh's spine.
"Who is he, sire?" Murtagh asked, "And where did you manage to find this new dragon?"
"I know not his name," Galbatorix replied, "He hasn't said a word since Durza abducted him from the group in which the new rider was traveling."
"A new rider?" Murtagh gasped in disbelief, eyes widening, "I thought the only remaining eggs were in your vault!"
"That's what we want the general public to believe, if any of them should ever find out that the eggs even exist. The truth is that the Varden's thieves managed to steal one around the time your father died. In fact, it was one of the thieves that slew your father and his dragon before escaping with the blue egg that contained the female."
Murtagh pondered this tidbit of information he had just received. The information of how his father had died wasn't really much of a blow. He had hated his father, Morzan, for his abusive behavior. At times, the scar given to him by Zar'roc still burned with pain. But the news of a new rider, one free of Galbatorix's control, was interesting.
As they proceeded back to the main halls of the citadel, exiting the dungeons, Murtagh was yet again forced to endure one of Galbatorix's long-winded speeches about how he would restore the Riders, bring back the dragons, and return peace to Alagaësia. Murtagh had heard this many times, and had long since learned to tune it out. Galbatorix never seemed to notice Murtagh's indifference. But now Murtagh had a question.
"Sire, why did you show me the dragon?"
Galbatorix halted, as did Murtagh. "You will find out in time. I have big plans that involve you and he."
Murtagh was dismissed once they returned to the main citadel hall, free to go to meet up with his trainer, Tornac. The swordsmaster always seemed to have the words to counsel Murtagh, and they often spoke for hours about their troubles. And now, more than ever, Murtagh had something that weighed on his mind, even though he did not know its full nature. He suspected that whatever Galbatorix had planned for the dragon would not be pleasant.
A/N: Well, there's the prologue of the spinoff. Not much, I know, it's pretty short. But every story has to start somewhere, and this story will likely be a lot shorter than A.N.D. is likely to be. Any thoughts? I hope I did a good job on description in this chapter.
-=Commentaholic=-