Hey everyone, sorry about the delay. I really hope you enjoy this new chapter though cause i worked long and hard on it.

Warning!: This chapter contains some mature, dark themes that some may not enjoy.

Please review at the end!

Chapter 4

Eragon awoke early the next morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the forest was perfectly still. Night's darkness had not yet surrendered the sky, but faint hints of sunlight were beginning to seep into the eastern horizon. The breeze that entered the high chamber was cool and refreshing. Eragon slowly dressed himself and made his way down the wooden stairs of his dwelling, grabbing his blue blade as he exited the room. His awakening roused his slumbering companion.

Good morning little one.

Good morning Saphira.

What are you doing up so early? I thought we agreed to use this time to rest?

Eragon balked temporarily. I am not going to overdo it. I just want to stretch and practice for a little while before I meet with the king.

In truth, Eragon had grown so accustomed to his vigorous routine that he found it difficult to remain idle. The Rigmar, meditation, gramyre, and swordsmanship were as much a part of Eragon as the flesh of his body and the marrow of his bones. Saphira knew this so she allowed him this one indulgence.

Try not to tire yourself. I am going for a hunt.

Eragon felt Saphira stretching and loosening her wings. He looked up with anticipation at the high cliff behind his tree and into the black, gapping whole in which she had spent the night. A feeling of fierce joy surged across Saphira's link as she exploded from her cave and out into the cool, morning air. Eragon watched in awe as she swooped down a mere ten feet from the ground before turning her direction straight up into the sky. A rolling wave of wind blew past his face as her powerful wings beat down above his head. Then, like a speeding arrow, she took off into the sky and was soon out of sight.

Eragon breathed the fresh air deeply and contently took in his surroundings. A bubbling brook was slowly winding its way out of the woods to his east and past his dwelling before disappearing again into the western woods on the opposite end of the field. A deep layer of grey mist still hung low in the air. Heavy drops of silver dew stained the green earth and reflected the dim rays of sunlight peeking over the eastern horizon. Eragon moved away from the massive oak and out into a large, open space where the ground was nearly bare and perfectly even. He strode smoothly over and sat down cross-legged in the midst of the makeshift training ground and slowly closed his eyes.

The surrounding area immediately came into clear mental focus as he extended his vast consciousness outward over the nearby land. Thousands of insects and rodents were still burrowed underground, not yet willing to brave the cool air of the chilled morning. Hundreds of birds and squirrels were beginning to awaken in the tall trees. He quickly coated all of their busy minds with his own and began "listening" to all of their thoughts at once; a skill that had once taken him hours to perform now was easily accomplished in mere seconds. He pushed his mind farther out till he began to encounter larger beasts. A herd of deer was lazily grazing in a nearby field, a large eagle was soaring high in the sky, and a lone wolf was stalking in the woods very near Eragon's position.

Curious, Eragon focused more intently upon the lone wolf. The beast was a magnificent specimen of the perfect predator. Eragon noticed the keen senses with which the wolf studied the surrounding area. Eyes that could penetrate the deepest darkness, ears that could hear the footfalls of a field mouse, a nose that could catch one scent out of hundreds, and an inward drive to survive. Eragon focused on the creature's physique more intently. Powerful muscles rippled beneath a thick layer of black fur. Long, sleek legs padded softly across the lush ground. Every ounce of focus the wolf possessed was intent on the hunt.

Eragon withdrew slightly from his meditation. After a few moments he slowly brought himself back to his own mind and rose steadily to his feet. The loose shirt he wore would get in the way so he removed it from his torso. The chilled morning air bit into his skin for a moment and sent shivers running through his body. He laid the shirt and his sword down on the edge of his training area and began to move fluidly through the various stages of the Rigmar.

It only took him ten minutes to perform the first stage and just fifteen minutes more to finish the second and third. The fourth still proved a challenge to him, even with his years of practice and advanced abilities. There was still a part of him that was too human to do such complex and flexible movements. After nearly an hour, sweat-drenched and breathing heavily, Eragon picked up his sword and unsheathed the sapphire blade.

For a few moments he merely stood there, enamored completely by the perfection of the blade. Then, with no warning, he spun around and slashed Brisingr through the air. Imaginary opponents began falling by the hundreds, none able to defend themselves against the wrath of the most powerful man alive.

He moved almost too swiftly to be seen clearly, every combination and thrust becoming faster and more powerful, yet under complete control. Sweat poured down his chest and back, glistening in the new sun. It was more than a training session or a routine to Eragon. It was what he loved. Just him, the blade, and his mind, none could tame him.

Eragon smiled to himself. Saphira's animalistic fierceness and powerful will had definitely crossed their bond and engrained itself into Eragon's personality, a change he was glad had occurred. He now possessed an air of authority and strength that no one could quite translate, but none could deny its existence.

He continued his swordplay for several more minutes. He closed his eyes and continued to play out scenarios in his mind, forcing himself to adjust to and parry invisible blows. But suddenly, a change happened. The foes in his mind began to come into clearer focus. Eragon found himself in the midst of a battle he could not escape, a battle against his memories.

He was in the Great Hall of Tronjheim beneath the shining Isidar Mithrim, dueling a maroon-haired shade with eyes of fury and a soul of hate. His blade was suddenly blood red, not blue, and it was swapping blows with a wicked looking single-edged sword. A long scratch was running from the blade's handle nearly to the tip. Eragon felt a hot pain shoot across his back as the image blurred momentarily before coming back into sharp focus.

Now he was in a burning desert, dueling a man with a familiar face. He still held Zar'roc in his hands, but the blade would only belong to him for a few more moments. Again the image twisted and blurred till he was in a different place.

Eragon now faced an army of foes, all simple soldiers, totally incapable of defending themselves against the wrath of the Blue Rider, yet still they charged. Eragon was forced to relive the bloody deaths of hundreds whom he had slain in battle.

The feel of metal severing flesh and cleaving limbs sickened his stomach and stained his mind. Yet the momentary madness held the rider captive for one more blood-filled memory.

His hand clenched his blade tightly. Before him stood the Menace, the Evil his predecessors had been fighting for one hundred years, Galbatorix. Their blades met and parted with the fury of all the ages. Innocent cries echoed in Eragon's ears, begging for their vengance against the Black Malice. The blue rider strives with all his might, but for an instant, he falters. In that instant the king manages to slash Eragon's shoulder with his midnight blade.

The vision suddenly broke and Eragon came back to himself. He was panting hard and sweat drenched his body. A dull pain throbbed in his back and left shoulder. Eragon did not want to believe it, but here it was. The mistakes of his past were alive. What they would force him to endure, he did not know. How much would he have to suffer? His mind raced wildly as the pain slowly abated. With great care, Eragon lifted his head and opened his eyes.

Saphira had felt his distress and was sitting in front of him, waiting for the fit to pass. She immediately showered him with her concern and grief at his pain. Worry was evident in her thoughts, and Eragon knew his mind was racing in the same manner as hers. No words were spoken for some time. This had happened before, but never to this extent. Eragon had suffered nightmares and sleepless nights as the ghosts of his past reared up for vengeance from time to time, but never had they inflicted bodily pain. And never had the memories flashed so cruelly across his mind's eye. Eragon finally stood up. The sunlight glimmered off his bronzed body, revealing two startling marks on his sweat covered skin. Eragon instantly felt surprise and fear rise in Saphira's heart and it mirrored in his own mind as he witnessed what she was seeing through their connection.

A short, straight scar had appeared on Eragon's left shoulder; exactly where the mad king had wounded him so long ago. The rider stood still as Saphira circled him to answer the question they were both thinking. Their fears were confirmed as a long, reddish line slowly rose on Eragon's muscled back; running from his upper right shoulder blade and nearly all the way down to his left hip.

Eragon, Saphira's thoughts were choked with sorrow and concern. Eragon just stood there, quietly thinking to himself.

Why? What has happened? Have we not suffered enough? He was thinking more to himself than speaking to Saphira, but she could hear his inward struggle.

Saphira pushed deeper into his mind and Eragon gave her no resistance. She slowly merged so deeply into his conscious that she was literally seeing and feeling from his perspective. For several moments she studied his wounds and tried to solve the puzzle. After much thought, she parted from him and slowly mulled over the issue.

It seems to me that the main issue is the shoulder. Galbatorix's wound is the worse of the two and Durza's slash is seemingly fed, or caused by the first. Maybe the king discovered some dark magic and tied it into his blade, then taught Durza to do the same. Obviously the king's curse would be more powerful. Maybe his wound is awakening Durza's stripe.

Eragon pondered for several moments. But why now? The dragons healed Durza's wound one hundred years ago and I never had an issue healing the wound the king inflicted upon me. What has triggered it?

Neither had an answer. For a long time they explored possibilities and theories, each one as unlikely as the next. Finally, an idea came to Saphira.

Well, the Black Blade is in Ellesmera. It could not be destroyed so it was given back to its creator. We could go examine it to see if there is anything unusual about it.

Eragon knew it was a slim hope. If Rhunon had not noticed anything unusual about it then it was likely no use, but they were out of options. He nodded his head and the pair made ready to go see the king, the thoughts of the morning's occurrence weighing heavily on their minds.

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The dragon and rider made their appearance before Lord Dethmilean, King of the Elves, later that morning. Eragon admired and respected him a great deal. The formalities went smoothly and everything seemed to be well on the outside, but inwardly Eragon and Saphira were in turmoil. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his duties as a leader and diplomat, a dull throbbing pain in his shoulder always lured Eragon's attention.

The next days went by slowly. Eragon loved the elves and their beautiful society, but the combined weight of his duty as a Rider and the new curse he secretly bore began to wear on him. And there was always that one lagging thought in the back of his mind, Arya.

From time to time he would glance twice at a passing elf or a distant movement, only to find a stranger or passing shadow. She was nowhere to be found, and Eragon dared not ask for her. Many already talked and murmured about their ongoing struggle and he did not wish to add fuel to the fire, nor did he wish for Arya to think he was seeking her out. As Saphira had suggested, he would await her next move, whatever, or whenever it may be.

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Eragon was standing before a tall, dark shadow. His hands were bound tightly behind his back. Pain coursed through his body, nearly rendering him incapable of standing. The area around him was blurred, as if he was in a large space, but could only see a few feet away. Faint cries were echoing around him, but who, or what their source was, he did not know.

He shifted his body and shook his head, trying to focus himself. "This can't be real" he breathed to himself. Slowly, the surroundings began to come into sharper focus. The first thing he noticed were his bound hands. As he turned to see what was causing this, he found that someone had stripped his shirt off and had beaten him severely. Bruises and cuts colored his ribs and back. The pain intensified.

Suddenly, a cold, sick feeling came over him. He slowly turned his eyes forward and focused on the tall shadow in front of him. A menacing, wicked laugh filled his ears as the figure materialized before his eyes. "Galbatorix" Eragon whispered to himself. The rage and hate was evident in the rider's voice.

"You have finally awakened Rider, good." The voice of the king was lifeless and dark; evidence of the madness he had chosen to wrap himself in. Eragon said nothing, but simply stood there, knowing there was nothing he could do. The fight had been lost. It was over.

The king laughed, apparently amused by the despair that painted Eragon's features. He came closer to Eragon and studied him closely with black eyes. Eragon returned his gaze without fear or hesitation. After all, he had lost everything; there was no reason to fear anything anymore. A wicked smile appeared on the king's face. He bent down and whispered quietly in Eragon's ear.

"You almost cost me everything shadeslayer. You took much from me. You dedicated your life to my demise. You sacrificed everything to bring about my ruin." The king paused as he pulled back to look the rider in the eyes. "Well, almost everything."

Eragon felt confused. The king studied him with an amused grin, like a teacher studies a confused student. Eragon looked up at the king questioningly, but the king gave no verbal answer. He merely turned aside and gestured to his left.

Now Eragon studied his surroundings. He was on a large stage in the courtyard of a castle. Thousands of witnesses stood silently, waiting to see what the king had in store for the rebel rider. They studied Eragon with faces of hatred and bitterness. Not a friendly or compassionate look was to be found. Eragon shuddered as he realized he was hated and despised by those he meant to free. The people had been twisted by the Dark King.

He hung his head low in shame and despair. A sudden, piercing cry caught his attention. Eragon looked over to see Saphira, bound and surrounded by guards, across from him on another large stage. A heavy steel chain was muzzling her mouth shut. More restraints pinned her wings to her sides. Dark, crimson blood flowed from several placed on her body.

Eragon began to struggle desperately against his chains and frantically tried to contact her mentally only to find that his chains were held fast and his mental abilities were being blocked somehow. Saphira looked back at him. All the life was gone from her eyes. Her head was hung low and Eragon could tell she had been tortured severely.

Suddenly, a black shadow passed over the crowd. To Eragon's utter despair, the black dragon landed next to Saphira and roared triumphantly. He once again tried to free himself, but to no avail. The crowd jeered and laughed as they witnessed his struggle.

Then, another sound caught his ear. A deep, sick feeling gripped his heart. He turned his eyes to find Arya being dragged onto his stage and thrown down violently by his side. She was nearly naked and she had been beaten as badly as he had. Rage and anger kindled in his heart, but to no avail. All he could do was watch.

The king strode confidently across the stage and ran a long, thin hand over the elf's slender form, his eyes held a wicked glint that sent chills down the rider's spine. He then moved over to Eragon and whispered again in his ear.

"You tried to take everything from me. I offered you a place at my side, but you were too foolish to accept." The king looked away and seemed to be reflecting on some evil thought. He sighed before continuing, "I am going to take everything from you Eragon. You will suffer till you beg for release. That is what happens to those who challenge me." The king smiled, and then turned quickly to the crowd.

Eragon did not listen to his words. Instead he focused on trying to communicate with Arya and Saphira, but again without success. Arya just laid their, covered in blood and breathing heavily. Saphira was staring at the cloudy sky, a sky she would never be able to fly in again. Tears began to flood Eragon's eyes.

The crowd cheered loudly and pulled Eragon from his grieving thoughts. The king spoke loudly. "Witness the death of the vile creature who slew your husbands and brothers! Hear her dying shrieks and take joy in the freedom her death will bring!"

Shruikan roared loudly and bit down fiercely on Saphira's neck.

Eragon cried out with all the fury he could muster. "NO! Saphira!" But his words never reached her. Eragon cried loudly as he watched the light leave Saphira's eyes. She was gone. Eragon sobbed uncontrollably as the crowd cheered and mocked him violently.

The king strode over to Arya and motioned for the guards to lift her up. They roughly obeyed. The king walked quietly over and pulled a long, black blade from his scabbard. He brought Arya right in front of Eragon, forcing the two to look each other in the eye.

Tears were spilling from Arya's eyes. The king looked from one to the other with a wicked smile on his face.

"Eragon," Arya's voice sounded quietly in his ears, "I would have loved you." The words shattered Eragon's heart and tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes. The king chuckled to himself and brought the blade to Arya's neck. With a swift, sudden motion, the blade was drawn across her porcelain flesh and slit a perfect line across her throat. Blood immediately drenched her front. The king moved away and allowed her lifeless body to fall to the ground at Eragon's feet.

Again the crowd cheered. Eragon could not breathe. He just stood there, looking at the love of his life, now gone forever.

Everything began to fade.

Eragon shot up. His body was sweat drenched and his breathing was labored. Saphira quickly nuzzled him and a giant tear slipped from her eye and landed with a quiet splash beside him.

Oh little one! I am sorry!

Eragon was still in shock. His mind was in overdrive and his shoulder throbbed with an intense pain that burned and penetrated his flesh. The mind can only take so much.

Eragon, all is well! I am here and I love you and nothing can harm us! We are all safe and whole. This is a mere burden. We can get through this.

Her words finally shook him and reached his heart.

Saphira. He said it as if he had not seen her in years. He reached out and embraced her tightly.

All will be well little one. I will not allow this to defeat us.

How? Eragon's voice was painted with hesitance and fear. The king's curse was beginning to affect him.

You just rest and allow me to worry about this. I have something in mind already.

Eragon was curious, but too tired to inquire further.

I will trust you Saphira. Until then though, I think I must stop using the draumr kopa. Maybe if I sleep the traditional way these nightmares will not occur.

Saphira hummed deeply in her throat. Very well rider. I will stay with you for the rest of tonight. Tomorrow I must leave you though. All will be explained in good time.

Eragon was still curious as to what she had in mind, but a feeling of peace was beginning to overcome him. All would be well as long as he had Saphira to care for him. For a time they remained awake and talked of fond memories and better times, but eventually exhaustion overtook Eragon and he fell to sleep for the first time in a hundred years.

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Things are going to start picking up quickly with this story, but it may be a while before i can update. Review!!