A/N. A week late, sorry! I was reading through the Inheritance cycle again, when I lent Eragon to my best mate and foolishly bet him a fiver that I could finish Brisingr (I was halfway through Eldest at the time) before he made it through Eragon. Well... That was something I could've gone without. Especially after pledging to a number of reviewers that this chap would be up in two days time. HA. I walked myself into that particular trap. So i've spent the past week cursing myself, scouring through the series at top speed, revising for half-term assessments and adding little bits to this chap during my spare frees while at college. Wonderful week, I can assure you. But hey, 'least I won! :D
SPOILERS (little, though) and and excerpt from brisingr.
xxx
The tunnels were haphazard, unorganized and weaving. They reminded Lyra of anthills or mouseholes, and walking through them made her feel tiny. Questions burned on her tongue, but the silence between her and Murtagh was heavy and she decided not to break it. As Murtagh kept a tense, cautious hand on her forearm, she wondered about the figures she had seen through the bars of their cells, and what exactly Helgrind was. She had spent her entire life in the black mountain's shadow, and it was disconcerting beyond belief to be walking within the very rock that was the basis of so many superstitions and tales.
Murtagh had conjured a hovering ball of red light, and it bobbed a few feet infront of them, swaying and fading like a spectre. Lyra regarded the magic with as much apprehension as she did the caves she was walking in.
Relief swirled within Lyra as she stepped onwards. She could feel the bond she shared with her dragon strengthening as they came closer together. She walked faster, keen to get to him. After maybe ten minutes of darkness, Murtagh led her around a corner and into huge chamber. Lyra had time to notice that the floor was gouged with claw marks and shattered rock before dawn's first light blinded her. It flooded into the chamber from a fifty meter wide entrance that opened to the sky. When her eyes had stopped streaming, she noticed a number of passageways punctured the walls of the sunlit chamber with their inky black interiors. They were heading towards the largest one, Murtagh shielding his eyes with a hand.
As they approached, a series of heavy, scraping thumps echoed from the tunnel. It was, quite clearly, the sound of a large beast shifting its bulk from one limb to the next. She assumed it to be Thorn, until a keening wail pierced the still air and Murtagh threw out an arm to halt her. Shadows shifted in the lancet passageway, and she gazed, wide-eyed, at the monster that emerged. Larger than Thorn, its grey skin stretched taut with muscle, it turned its bulging black eyes upon them and screeched again. Murtagh grimaced, and Lyra slapped her hands over her ears, screwing her eyes shut. It was a drawn, terrible sound that seemed to tear at your very soul.
The thing studied Murtagh, and seemed to recognise him. Its watery eyes were intelligent and scrutinizing, deep with comprehension. It moved out of the passageway and to the side, as if to let them pass. Murtagh gestured for Lyra to continue down the tunnel, but she didn't notice, absorbed as she was in watching the monster's shuffling gait as it headed to the other side of the chamber. Then he shoved Lyra to get her moving and she carried on walking, though unable to keep her silence. "What is that?"
"It's called a lethrblaka - They're the Ra'zac's mounts. Now hush and keep moving."
She paused, her mouth open slightly. The Ra'zac were eternally flitting in and out of horror tales the citizens of Dras Leona passed on to each other. Many had simply become children's fears and superstition. Draper had told her many of those stories, and she, in turn, had echoed them to her street clan. "The Ra'zac... They're real, then?"
He raised an eyebrow that she could barely see, as they had been once more swallowed by darkness. He conjured another ball of light, illuminating the tunnels. The passages were carvernous this time, covered in slime and dried blood. Bones were littered every few feet along the floor, and she took care not to step on them. Murtagh pointed down a smaller passageway. "Right there."
Lyra only caught a brief glimpse of the room beyond, but what she did see was enough to unsettle her. Two humped figures garbed in black robes stood over a hissing cauldron. One of the pair looked up as they passed, and Lyra thought she saw the flash of a beak within its hood. They passed the entrance to the passageway, and the sight was gone. A slick, acidic aroma filled the air in this tunnel, and Lyra guessed that the Ra'zac's cauldron was the source of the cold, harsh smell. When the girl pulled up her collar to cover her nose, Murtagh amusedly decided not to mention that it was the boiling fumes of the sedative for her journey to U'ru' baen.
Soon, the smell dissipated and the number of bones and bloodstains along the tunnel became fewer. Sensing the hatchling's heartbeat synchronizing with her own, Lyra almost felt whole again.
They entered a bright chamber. Thorn's crimson bulk claimed over half of the room, and he struggled to raise his head as they entered due to the low ceiling. A loud squeak sounded from behind Thorn, one Lyra recognised immeadiately. The hatchling clambered up over Thorn's back, squeaking all the while, and glided to Lyra. She chuckled as she caught him against her chest, and transferred him to her shoulder. She tickled him under the chin, saying; I missed you. He yapped playfully at her touch. Through his mind, she felt a vague understanding under the bounding amount amount of relief and glee he felt at being reunited with her. She smiled - he was like a puppy.
Murtagh stood infront of her, arms crossed, drawing her attention away from the hatchling. "Have you named him yet?" He asked.
Lyra shook her head thoughtfully. She had barely thought about it, being too busy keeping him safe and out of sight. Besides, she hadn't even known whether he was male or female until today. And what Murtagh had told her felt right; the dragon's mind may be young and childish for the moment, but it fit without doubt that the hatchling was a he.
"He needs one quickly. Think about it while we're still here." Murtagh walked over to tend to Thorn, proceeding to oil patches of rough scales and strapping on a black leather saddle.
Lyra held her dragon out infront of her, suspending him with hands under his forelegs. She stood still, considering him for a long time. They met each other's eyes, and he let out a soft, curious squeal.
"Raspen," Lyra said immeadiately, with conviction. Raspen hooted his approval, and she pulled him close.
Murtagh raised his eyebrows, looking up from the patch of scale-rot he was treating on Thorn's stomach. "Raspen?"
"Yes. Why?"
"It's unusual. Why have you chosen it?"
"It's from the language the Black Priests speak. They use it as another word for pray, but... Draper told me it meant to screech, or howl." She spoke her brother's name with difficulty. She hadn't voiced it in so long, and it seemed reluctant to slip round her tongue. "He's been rather verbal so far, and as he's actually in Helgrind at the moment, what the Priests actually pray to, so... I think it works, anyway, and so does he."
Murtagh rose, an ironic sort of smile on his face. He gently stroked Raspen's sharp snout, the hatchling sniffing at his fingers cautiously. "It works." He met her eyes, then returned to Thorn.
Lyra seated herself on a wooden, bench-like cot against the wall, Raspen perched in her lap. She tried not to think about how soon they might leave. Murtagh adjusted Thorn's saddle straps, as if for a journey, and this did nothing to settle her. She would never reach Uru'baen if she could help it.
The was a food tray on the cot, and suddenly aware of her rumbling stomach, she helped herself to bread. Glancing around, she noticed her belt, blades and lockpicks piled on top of her folded cloak next on Thorn's saddlebags. Should I dare reach for them? Lyra decided against it. What good would it do? She'd never escape Helgrind, she didn't even know how she got in here. Lyra presumed that was why Murtagh hadn't bound her or was keeping closer watch on her.
Just as she reached this conclusion, Murtagh turned to retrieve the saddle bags.
Wait Murtagh, Thorn said with impatience, stretching his bulk out as far as he could in the confined space. Lyra watched the thick tendons and sinews flex beneath his crimson hide. I told you I want to hunt first.
We haven't got the time. The Ra'zac told me they're almost done with their foul brew, Murtagh told him privately.
Thorn growled. I've just been lying around bored for ages, waiting for you so you can keep an eye on that hatchling while I go hunt. I'm telling you, Murtagh, I am not setting off for Uru'baen until my belly is full of buck.
Well then, hurry. Murtagh cursed the futilety of arguing with a dragon as he moved out of Thorn's way, dumping the packs back down on the floor. Thorn squeezed his head and shoulders through the opening of the chamber, and then trotted freely down the cavernous hallway beyond. We're leaving as soon as you get back.
Both Lyra and Raspen were overcome with curiousity. "How old is he?"
Murtagh narrowed his eyes trying to remember. "Three or four months," He slurred, as if he found the information distasteful.
Lyra blinked. "But, he can't be more than a baby. Dragons really grow that fast?"
"No," Murtagh replied, pained. "Thorn's supposed to be half his size, if that. The King - he's made the the both of us more powerful than we should be so we can serve him better. He will do the very same to you and your dragon. Keep him close while you can - Raspen will be warped just like Thorn."
Sensing unease, the little dragon chirped from his place on Lyra's knee. His rider stroked his neck to reassure him. The thought of Galbatorix twisting the pair of them to his will haunted her, so she tried to push it out of her mind, with miserable success. Lyra didn't truly understand, however. "How? How did he do that to you and Thorn?"
Murtagh regarded her with his dark eyes. "Magic."
"The King is a magician?"
"The king is a rider."
Lyra gaped. "He can't be - people would know if he was."
"Would they really? Sometimes people can be very blind indeed. Everybody knows the riders were immortal, and how else could he have lived so long? She faltered, and Murtagh continued. "He rules the Empire along with his black dragon, Shruikan. You've never heard of the twisted beast because he hasn't risen from the underground caverns below the palace in over six decades. He'll sleep among the underground lakes for dozens of years at a time."
Part of Lyra refused to believe Murtagh's words, but the other half saw the logic in them. She quieted, contemplating what Murtagh had told her. "Should you have told me this?"
"You need to know," Murtagh told her. "You ask too many questions, in any case."
"All this is fairly new and unexpected, to be honest."
Murtagh gave a wry smile. "I bet you wish you were back in Dras Leona now."
Shaking her head, Lyra said, "Not one bit. I hadn't been out of the city for years, and I always liked traveling. I don't think I would've spent much more time there even if I didn't steal Raspen's egg."
"You don't miss what you had?"
"Of course I do. That doesn't mean I want to go back to it, though."
"No, I don't suppose it does," Murtagh mused. "And when have you ever travelled? As far as I thought, urchins don't get to do much of that."
"Draper," she said, as if it was all the explanation he needed. "We lived in Tierm for a year or so, and he's taken me to Belatona before."
"Thieving trips, I assume?"
Lyra nodded, suddenly uncomfortable with divulging imformation to him. Didn't he get enough while he was inside her head?
"It seems I missed a lot," Murtagh said, as if reading her thoughts. Considering the fact that this was a possibility, Lyra desperately cast around for a change of subject.
"When you were chasing me - in the forest - Thorn spoke to me. I didn't know the dragons could do that."
"Didn't know what, that they could speak?"
Lyra shrugged. "I thought of them as intelligent, but I didn't know they were as smart as us."
"Oh, they are. The older ones were wiser than us by far. They've got an odd sort of reasoning, the dragons. You'll get to know it when he grows up."
Lapsing into silence, Lyra leaned back against the jagged wall, absently cradling Raspen as he curled against her stomach.
Seating himself on the saddlebags, Thorn's consciousness just a whisper on the horizon, Murtagh reached out with his mind and murmured the incantation Galbatorix had taught him that would allow him to contact the Ra'zac. He prodded the pair of black, alien minds residing somewhere in the labyrinth of passageways within Helgrind, and inquired into their progress. He was eager to be gone from here. Once he learned that the drug had brewed successfully and they were on their way, he pulled away from the hissing, slithering minds as soon as he could.
Repressing a shudder, Murtagh rose to his feet, intending to contact Thorn and harry him until he returned, sated or not. He looked for Thorn, but could not find him - he must've ventured beyond their range. He began to curse, and then was cut off by an almighty roar that echoed into the chamber, making the passageways tremble. Murtagh froze, and saw Lyra do the same. That sound would never come from a Lethrblaka and even if Thorn was not miles away from Helgrind, Murtagh had the impression his dragon could not roar like that if he tried. As it was neigh on impossible to assume Shruikan had arrived to escort them to Uru'baen, Murtagh knew there was only one other explanation. Saphira.
Murtagh finished his cursing, throwing in many more violent and bloody oaths than he had initially intended to include. Thorn was absent, and the King had not bound him to any eldunari for this mission. If he fought Eragon he fought alone, and however proud he may be, he would not bet on his own prospects for that particular battle.
"That was a dragon," Lyra whispered, her words floating over the rising din of thrashing bodies and clanging metal from above them. "Not Thorn though..." She fell silent as she understood what that meant. It's the Varden's Rider.
"We're leaving," Murtagh told Lyra and started towards her. She had already bolted for the passage, yet he managed to catch her by the arm as she tried to dart past. "You're staying with me," he snapped, and kept hold of her as he stalked down a tunnel away from the fighting. He reached out with his mind, spread the edges as far as he could reach, or had ever reached before, and bellowed for Thorn. The very act seemed to cost him precious energy. As he shoved Lyra deeper into the curling passages, he felt one of the Ra'zac's festering minds press against his. He recoiled at first, then admitted it. The Ra'zac were running toward the battle.
How do they know we're here? he asked it immeadiately, flinching as the echo of one of the Lethrblaka's piercing screams rent his ears.
They do not... It said, or she said, he realised numbly. They have taken the bait, and arrived to sslay us and ressscue the cousin's mate. I warn you - Ssstay away from the cellss.
Before Murtagh could ask more, she withdrew. Trying to capitalise on his momentary distraction, Lyra twisted in his grip, tugging and struggling valiantly. Their fragile, cautious friendship of a few moments ago was broken, and once again they were nothing but enemies to each other.
Murtagh uttered a spell, and Lyra was suddenly muffled in heavy drowsiness. She could move and talk, but she was so tired! Without the strength or determination to resist, she let Murtagh drag her over to a slimy puddle of dripping water in the middle of the tunnel. He let go of her to bend over the water, but she couldn't run - her limbs were too heavy.
"Draumr kopa," Murtagh muttered, seeking to satisfy his curiosity. The image went black, and reformed to show the Lethrblaka's landing chamber and the battle writhing within it.
As Murtagh examined the battle, assessing threats and possibilities, Lyra felt his attentiveness towards the spell he had cast over her begin to fail. Energy flooded back to her, and with all the skill she could muster, Lyra crept away with Raspen silent on her shoulder.
As Murtagh watched the white, indisctinct figure of Eragon's cousin disappear into the black tunnels after Eragon, he became aware of his missing prisoners. Without pausing to kick, spit or even swear, he launched himself after them.
xxx
Katrina hesitated, then glanced at Roran, who nodded and murmured, "It's all right. Saphira brought us here." Together, the couple skirted the corpse of the Lethrblaka as they went over to Saphira, who crouched flat upon her belly so that they could mount her.
Crossing the cave after them, Eragon examined Saphira, assessing the severity of her various scrapes, gashes, tears and stab wounds. To do so, he relied upon what she herself felt, as well as what he could see.
For goodness sake, said Saphira, save your attentions until...
She grew silent and ever more tense. Saphira? Eragon asked, feeling the shock emanating from their bond and quickly growing concerned. Her hackles were raised, her nostrils flared, and he had never seen her eyes so wide. Are you hurt? What is it?
That scent! Oh, why didn't I pick it up before? It has to be a trick!
What scent? Tell me, Saphira.
Of a dragonling!
Incredulous, Eragon glanced up at Roran and Katrina, and glimpsed them squinting into the large passageway behind him.
"There's somebody in the tunnel," Roran informed him, pulling his hammer and preparing to swing down from Saphira.
Hearing light footsteps from behind him, Eragon whirled around, hefting his staff.
Shadows shifted, and a girl stepped into the light. Chestnut hair tied into a loose knot at the base of her neck, she clasped a silver dragon hatchling to the chest of her bloodied shirt. Both of them were breathing hard. Eyes alighting on Saphira, the hatchling crooned a greeting.
Eragon's first impression of the girl was that of a prisoner; she was small and slim, her hands and face were flecked with blood and dirt, and her clothes were thin. The dragon could not have been more than a week old. He felt Saphira's excitement mingled with his own as they both took a step towards her.
The girl was alarmed and frantic. She glanced back into the passageway behind her, before stifling a gasp and dashing forward. She was too slow and Murtagh darted out of the shadows, pulling her towards him and flicking Zar'roc up to her throat to hold her in place.
Eragon stiffened. Saphira roared.
Murtagh whispered into Lyra's ear; "Nice try."
xxx
A/N Ah, this was a struggle. I may have an edit up in the next few days containing more detail of Lyra's escape, but I'm not sure whether it's needed. Your thoughts would help, please let me know anything you have to say on plot or chars, particularly Lyra - the last thing I want is an OC Sue. If you reckon she's sue-ish, tell me!
Thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed, alerted and favourited :) ~