Mutilation
She was nothing. The last free dragon, the being that struck fear into the heart of many, was nothing. She was no more than a broken shell of what she used to be. She had no right to call herself a dragon, for she had failed. She had failed her Rider, she had failed Alagaësia, she had failed her masters, but most of all, she had failed herself. Her other half had been captured because she was not there. Her other half was gone because she had been too weak, too ignorant. She would never forgive herself for this.
She could feel the loss reeling in her mind, the magnitude of her emotions causing her to sink deeper and deeper into the depths of the hell she had allowed herself to fall into, that she had allowed her Rider to fall into. Each moment he wasn't there, she was in agony. The separation would not have been nearly as bad if their bond was not so strong. Though the distance separating them was miles, she could still feel him. Perhaps not as well, but she could feel him nonetheless.
At the beginning, she could feel his despair through their bond. She could feel his pain while being tortured and she could feel the desperation he felt to escape the pit he was thrown into. His pain was tolerable, it meant he had not given up, but over the past few weeks, his emotions had changed. In truth, there were hardly any emotions at all. She could not feel his pain and she could not feel his despair. The only reason she knew they were still bonded at all was because she could feel his desire. His desire to escape, not just his dungeon, but life itself, and that was truly terrifying.
If his own agony wasn't enough, she was putting herself through even worse pain. Her health was deteriorating. She had not eaten since her Rider was captured, she did not have the appetite. She was covered in dirt and blood and her temper had reached the point to where she could snap at any moment. Nasuada had even asked her to relocate herself so that the Varden would not lose the already nonexistent morale the soldiers had after their Rider's capture. She had only complied because Eragon would have wanted to help the Varden in anyway possible.
She knew that Arya was out there, attempting to rescue her Rider. She knew that she may see her Rider once more, but until then, she would suffer, if only to fulfill the punishment she believed she deserved for her incompetence.
Saphira Bjartskular was truly and utterly, nothing.
Arya let a grim smile cross her face for the first time in months. Tonight was the night, the night she would get Eragon out of this hell or die trying. Everything depended on her actions tonight. Everyone was depending on her to save their hope. She could not fail, she would not fail.
The elven princess had found a way to counter all the wards surrounding the dark city, or at least she hoped she did. There could always be wards that she had not detected. She could only hope her abilites in the art of detection was as good as her abilities in the art of swordplay.
Galbatorix was usually in his room at this time, however, on this night, he was constructing his newest method of torture. The idea was simple. He would cool a room to freezing cold temperatures and pour water all over his victims until they died a slow, agonized death. He would of course, not kill his prize.
The Rider was too important.
He had succeeded in breaking him, yet the boy would still not yield. The King was generous in a sense, he offered the boy a chance to end the pain, to join him and gain whatever luxuries his heart could desire. He could see the longing in the boy's eyes. The Rider needed to give in. The desire was so powerful the tyrant himself could not comprehend how he denied it.
Many times, he had contemplated breaking the Rider's mind, but no, he had come too far. He had done far too much to the boy only to break his mind now. Many thought him cruel, but in truth, he was not. The King had come to respect the Rider and his determination to protect the ones close to his heart. He would not force the boy to join him. If only because it reminded him much of what he was like at the Rider's age. The boy's defiance was something to respect and so he would wait. The prize, his success, in the end, would all be worth it.
In the end, Galbatorix always got what he wanted. When she died, and they would not allow him to replace her, he took initiative. Through work and much blood, he won Shruikan. When they attacked him, calling him things like an "Abomination," or a "Traitor," he showed them who the true abominations were. They were weak and so they ceased to exist. Galbatorix firmly believed the weak had no place in this world, and that he, being that strongest, would rise above them.
He would lead Alagaësia to a future of perfection. He would eradicate the true demons of the world: the Elves, Dwarves and Urgals. He would rebuild the Riders and all of Alagaësia would know him as the greatest King to ever exist. True, there would be some liabilities, such as the Varden and it's allies and there certainly would be problems when the time came to change the world, but he would push through any problems he may face and peace would reign through his home once more. He was unstoppable, he always got what he wanted, and right now, he wanted the Rider.
Everything was distorted. What was this place? It was certainly not any place he had been to before, nor a place he knew of that existed. This was a strange world.
This place comforted him. He was the only one here, the only one that could travel to this foreign place. He was safe, for the first time in a long time, he was safe. He never wanted this to end.
Suddenly, the distorted world around him became clear. Where was he? The trees were so very tall, so very beautiful. He felt at home here. When he looked down at his body, he was surprised to see that he had been garbed in a soft blue tunic that covered his torso and black breeches that appeared to conform around his body. Where were the wounds that had plagued him for so long? Where was the pain that accompanied those wounds?
Upon further examination he realized that this forest looked familiar. Had he been here before? He must have been, this place was too familiar for him to have never been here before, for him to imagine it's beauty. When could he have come here? When was the last time he had breathed in the real air that existed here?
He tried, he truly did, to remember what this place was and why it was so important, yet, he could not grasp the memory. Just like he could not grasp his other memories. He could not recall the who he was, let alone the people who were important to him. "Who am I?" his voice catching and the pain of his experiences was truly shown.
"Eragon…" a soft voice whispered, as if answering his question.
He looked up. Eragon? Who was Eragon? Was he Eragon? He looked around, his head spinning in all directions. There was no one. He was alone. The thought of being anymore alone than he already was sent shockwaves of misery down his spine. Why? Before the thought of being alone had pleased him. What had changed?
"Eragon..." The soft voice almost purred.
That voice; it made him feel safe. It was encompassing, it was…familiar?
"Is…Is anyone there?" He waited for a response, but none came. So he had finally gone mad. The carefully placated mask of indifference was crumbling. He had nearly given up all hope when the voice whispered one last time.
"Sacrifice is a part of who you are. It is not something to mourn; it is something to aspire to.
Eragon shot awake. For the first time, in a seemingly long time, he remembered his name. Perhaps not anything other than his name, but his name and that was a start. That voice still echoed in his mind. The voice was feminine and it sounded almost…tender. Like someone who cared about him. He didn't know who it was, but it made him feel safe; something he had not felt in a very long time.
His wounds throbbed painfully all over his body, proof that this was indeed reality. He wondered if the world he had just visited was just a figment of his own imagination trying to escape the captivity and fear that had been established in his mind since he was first captured.
He looked down to his arms, surprised to find them there and in tact. Was the bone grinder just something his mind had made up as well or did Galbatorix heal him? That could not be; the King would never heal him, if only because the satisfaction of his tortured body pleased him so much. Though it must be true. His mind, no matter how gruesome the horrors it may have seen were, could never hope to create a pain so realistic to the one he felt inside the torture chamber. He could not think of any circumstance in which the king would heal him unless his wounds were truly life threatening.
He looked down once more and tried to move them, surprised to find them working and mobile. They were still incredibly sore and he was still in terrible agony, but this brief shock distracted him, if only for a moment before-
Eragon!
The contact was so unexpected that he flinched, immediately falling back into the walls of his own mind. He felt a peculiar pressure around his mind and quickly concluded that someone was trying to get access. Though there was something about this mind that made him pause. It was…gentle. It was not attacking his mind, it was caressing it, soothing it and asking permission to enter. He took a chance and opened the first barrier to his mind, just barely open enough to allow the presence to hear his mental voice.
Who…are you? He felt a deep sense of sadness emanate the person's mind, but there was also joy and even… longing?
Do you not remember me, Eragon?
I do not know who you are. Though I feel obligated to warn you. Leave and do not return, less you want him to find you. The sorrow in his voice should have been warning enough. Could this person not see the hole she was digging. It was only a matter of time before the King found her and broke her just as the tyrant broke him.
Eragon, I have just found you. After four months of convincing both the Elven and the Human council, scouting Uru'baen and hoping to fate that I would find a way to save you; to come so far, only to leave you here, would be impossible. No, never again will I let you out of my sight if this is what happens.
Eragon blinked, feeling deeply confused. That voice…it sounded so familiar. The mind, which was obviously female, seemed so incredibly similar to one he had felt in his past though he did not have an inkling as to who she was. He had just remembered his own name, to remember anything else would be too much at this moment, too exhausting. This person… she was one of the reasons he was fighting. He wanted to protect her, but why? Who was she?
I do not even know you.
Yes, you do, Eragon. I know you do. Think… He could here the desperation in her voice. Did you she really care that deeply about him? Her voice was melodic, like something sweet, something untouchable. Could such beauty exist...? And if it did, could such beauty exist in a voice? Who could ever have this affect on him? Who would ever risk so much to save him? Then it all came crashing back. The raven black hair, the shining emerald eyes, the shapely figure, her attitude. Arya.
Arya!
Thank fate you remember me. Her relief coursed through him like a tidal wave.
I…yes, I remember. I do not remember much else, but you, I do remember. I have much of the same thing to say to you, Arya. Leave and do not come back. It is too late for me. I am to far gone, to broken. There is little purpose in trying to save someone who cannot be saved.
But you can be saved. Arya pleaded with him, trying with fruitless attempts to keep him with her, to keep him hoping.
What if I don't want to be saved?
You don't wa- he quickly interrupted her with his own words, filled with remorse.
I am lost, Arya. The only thing that could save me, is death. Even then, I doubt I could ever find peace.
Eragon…
Go.
Never.
The moment the sun had set and the moon had risen, the elf was running. Left. She was running through the corridors that Jeod had mapped out at her persistance.
She had to keep at it. Too many things depended on her success today. If she failed, all would truly be lost. She had already risked so much coming here. She had deliberately disobeyed her mother and the Varden's leader by pursuing her idea and attempting to rescue her lost friend.
To everyone else, she was saving the Rider for purely dutiful purposes. Right. Another turn. Though duty was her main reason for rescuing him, she was undoubtedly rescuing him for her own purposes as well. The Rider had, somehow, burrowed himself into her heart. She could not forget him and she would not lie to herself. She admired his selflessness and determination. His morals were impeccable and she felt herself caring about him more than what she had originally intended. He had gotten what he wished, he had a piece of her heart. It was not a piece of epic proportions, but it was a piece nonetheless.
Not that it mattered. Even if she did confess that she held feelings for him beyond the boundaries of friendship, he could never know. She didn't love him or even feel anything close to what he felt for her. Right. She could feel his presence get closer with each bounding step.
No, she felt for him in the same way she felt for Faolin. She felt for him as a brother, as a companion, as a person she could trust and confide in. Perhaps there was some ardor there, but no matter. Even if she did feel for him in such a way, it could never be. She was an elf, he a human. She was a Princess, and he a Rider. She too old, and he too young. Now, she was lying to herself.
He was no longer a human and while he may not be an elf, he was about as close to one as you can get. She was a Princess, but she had no desire for the position and times were changing. Would it really be so bad to have a Rider King? Lastly, the age issue. They were both immortal. In a few centuries what would eighty years be? The only true problem she could diverse was what they had becoming a distraction. She could not justify distracting him when bringing peace to Alagaësia was more important than any amount of happiness on their account.
She may have feelings stirring for the Rider, but by no means does that mean she should ignore her duty and the protocol that had been established for her. Besides, just because she had feelings for the Rider that exceeded the bounds of friendship, in no way meant that she loved him, at least not in the way he claimed to love her. Eragon was like her brother. She would be lying if she said that she didn't feel anything for him. In truth, there was ardor, but war was no time to attempt anything that could possibly resemble love.
In any case, her heart has been broken too many times to love another person only to lose them again. She knew that these emotions would be the end of her. This doubt, this fear... it was consuming. No, he cannot know what she felt for him and or exactly how much she felt for him.
Finally, his mind was close enough for her to access it without feeling the backlash of any attacks from him or anyone else guarding him.
Eragon! The excitement in her voice was undeniable. She could only pray to whatever higher deities may or may not exist that he did not notice.
Almost immediately, walls of steel encased his mind and she was left reeling at how well his mind was shielded. Even though he was weak, sleep deprived, dehydrated, starved and wounded; he was easily capable of keeping even the most powerful of elven spellcasters out. She had no hope at breaking his mind nor did she want to. With no other options, she waited. She pressed her mind against his softly, her inner most being feather light against his own. She could sense his hesitation and even his fear at such contact but she quickly quelled his worries with that equivalent of a mental embrace. It was only after another moments hesitation that he opened up the first barrier in his mind. It was just barely enough for her to hear him.
Who…are you? His tone was cautious. If she made one false move she would be locked out of the confines of his mind forever, and this rescue mission would be that much more difficult. The question caused her pain of a whole new magnitude. What did they do to him? Eragon would never forget the ones he loved, he would never forget her.
Do you not remember me, Eragon? She only asked after she had taken a soothing breath. How could he ever understand just how much this hurt her? It was obvious that he was keeping the extent of his damaged mind locked behind barriers that were inaccessible to her. How could he ever comprehend what is was like to lose someone you care about... yet still have them at arms length? He was lost, not dead, but that was possibly even worse.
I do not know who you are. Though I feel obligated to warn you. Leave and do not return, less you want him to find you. The thought of leaving him, after she had just found him, made her want to hit something... hard. She was touched by how much he cared though she felt her pride flare up at the thought of someone trying to protect her.
Eragon, I have just found you. After four months of convincing both the Elven and the Human council, scouting Uru'baen and hoping to fate that I would find a way to save you; to come so far, only to leave you here, would be impossible. No, never again will I let you out of my sight if this is what happens. Her words were spoken with conviction. The voice she always used to end a conversation. The voice she always won with. He was not phased.
I do not even know you. She felt her hope deflate.
Yes, you do, Eragon. I know you do. Think… She had to remain positive, optimistic. She was almost to his cell and whoever got in her way would have a great price to pay.
She felt him pull back for a moment. She could no longer hear his thoughts, and it worried her immensely.
Did he give up? Was he ignoring her?
Arya! She felt relief surge through her. He remembered her, and as long as he could remember her, he was not lost.
Thank fate you remember me.
I…yes, I remember. I do not remember much else, but you, I do remember. I have much of the same thing to say to you, Arya. Leave and do not come back. It is too late for me. I am too far gone, top broken. There is little purpose in trying to save someone who cannot be saved. His voice was monotone, suggesting he did not care about anything this world had to offer, let alone her.
But you can be saved. Her tone, indignant.
What if I don't want to be saved? That struck her. Was he truly so destroyed that he didn't care about his own life. Did nothing matter to him anymore? Did she not matter to him anymore? Not believing his words she questioned them.
You don't wa-
I am lost, Arya. The only thing that could save me, is death. Even then, I doubt I could ever find peace. His voice that was once filled with fire was now filled with ice.
Eragon…
Go.
Never.
The sound of a sword being sheathed signaled her arrival.
Yo. Wow, I just sounded gangsta;). So this chapter is...ehh? I don't know. It's kind of 3 a.m. right now and I'm in a hotel room trying not to fall asleep on my keyboard. BTW skydiving is AMAZING. Just thought you should know.
So, as always, what did you think? I am truly sorry about this chapter, I had written the first half and then stopped and it's really hard to get back into the same thought process and emotional level that I was in when I wrote the first half. There's really no excuse for that, I guess it's just something that comes with experience. I know I promised longer chapters and while this one is longer, I don't think it's as long as your looking for. I will try in the future but this chapter needed to end where it was because I'm jumping to different POVs next chapter and to go from Arya to Nasuada or Murtagh would not sound right to me. Oh and I know what Galbatorix's voice sounds like in the book, but this isn't the book. I wanted to make Galby..a little more insane..and evil. Even if it is OOC, I needed to have him a little more...insane for my ideas to work in the end.
Thanks for the reviews and a special thanks to 19James92. I had completely forgotten about Saphira...Like seriously all I was focusing on was how I was going to get this story going and what was going to happen and how Eragon was feeling. I probably wouldn't have included her and then I would have a bunch of haters. And thank you to everyone else who reviewed. I could list your names but I'm lazy and sleep deprived. I get all tingly inside when I get emails saying I got reviews and I LOVE it. So as a reward, you can go buy a taco.
