Well, here's Chapter 4, for your viewing and reviewing pleasure. Please enjoy.
Galbatorix sat down close to his fire, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "You have no idea what it is like to have company after so many moons," he was saying, as though in a meeting the best of friends. "There was Shruikan of course, Morzan, and that tribe of savage Urgals, but the conversation has been so terribly dull."
Kialandí stared stunned at Galbatorix, but Formora managed to find some words, and they were bold ones. "Wait," she said. "A tribe of... Urgals?"
"That's right!" said Galbatorix, smiling excitedly at Formora. "As I said before, awful conversationalists, but they do like their killing, and they get the job done."
"If not, I kill them." he added, almost as an afterthought.
Another screech pierced the fog, and Kialandí called out, for he recognized the call as Jeorin's. Formora's grip on her friend's shoulder tightened, but he still started toward the direction of the noise. An invisible force stopped him mid-stride, constricting both elves with just enough pressure that movement was impossible.
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Galbatorix brightly. "Where would you go anyway, and what would you do? Shruikan hasn't had any fun in ages, stuck in these drab old woods... Oh dear, I hope that Jeorin and Erevel are partial to rougher games. Shruikan seems to prefer those, you see."
"Ground your stolen hatchling and return us our life partners!" shouted Kialandí, his patience expired in desperation for the dragons. His anger eclipsed all other emotions. He forgot how afraid he truly was.
Until the unseen force tightened around him, constricting his breathing. The same thing was done to Formora.
"Now, be careful what you say to me," chided Galbatorix, in a voice with which one would scold a child. "I did not invite you here so that I might become the product of insults."
The force loosened around the mouths of the elves, allowing them to breath and speak again.
"Invite?" Formora cried, gasping. "We are no guests of yours, Galbatorix!"
The madman laughed then, loud and with a shrillness that sent a chill up the spine. "Who do you think set the savages on those dirt hovels, knowing that the Order would send Riders out to eliminate the threat? Imagine my luck when I found out it was you two! Always good friends of mine in training, and talented learners as well."
"You set those Kull rampaging through the mountains?" cried Kialandí, remembering the bodies of children, and the severed head of innocents men.
"As I said, I needed Riders to make the journey, and what's a dirty, flea-bitten farmer to the rest of Alagaësia?" Galbatorix chuckled again.
Formora responded coldly. "He was a husband to his loving wife. He was a father to his adoring children. He was the hardworking son of a poor man, who made his own living from what he had."
"Enough," hissed Galbatorix, his mood going deathly sober in the face of unexpected defiance.
But Formora, possessing a fiery soul and a gentle heart, refused to back down.
"He was a brother, loved and respected by his siblings. He was a provider to his village, when times were hard. He was an honest, honorable man who died at the hands of creatures who were not fit to wipe his boots!"
"ENOUGH!" roared the Oathbreaker, his mad shout echoing across the clearing. Spittle flew from his mouth, and his face was the color of a ripe beet. Kialandí and Formora were released from their hold, and both fell to the ground in their surprise.
Galbatorix laughed again, but he was panting in his rage, and the action was utterly without humor. For all his twisted words and lulling persuasions, the madman was fooling no one now.
"I've said it before, Formora," panted Galbatorix, looking directly at her. "You really are one elf in a thousand. The same cannot be said for Erevel, unfortunately. It really was almost too easy to bring him straight into my camp on his little pouting flight."
Comprehension dawned on both elves at once, but Formora, to her credit, said nothing. Kialandí almost spoke up for her, but he knew she would never forgive him for it if he did.
"Yes, he was angry," continued the Oathbreaker, noticing the defiance. "And rather unfoundedly so, I might add. A few simple enchantments, some whispered words, and he landed right in this very clearing."
In spite of her injuries, Formora started to get up. Galbatorix smirked. "Shruikan is twice the size of Erevel now, and with Morzan's Rënevosk to lend a hand, your dear dragon wasn't even able to move. You of course know how weak-minded he is, how bull-headed. Getting into his mind was the easiest thing I've done since recruiting those Urgals."
When Formora rose from the ground this time, Kialandí didn't even try to stop her. He was right at her side. Both yanked their swords out of the sheaths, and ran to the madman who styled himself a visionary.
Galbatorix drew his sword, the blade that had been forged for him when his first life-partner had hatched. The blade was a deep gray, the color of a sky filled with rainclouds. The color of his first, soft-spoken dragon partner's scales. One downward stroke of the blade forced Formora's own to the ground, and an upward swing disarmed Kialandí. The Oathbreaker had scarcely looked at either of them. His strength was beyond that of even a Rider.
He continued in a raised voice. "Once we had him down, Morzan and I combined our strength–that is to say, used my strength–to put him into our control. Bull-headed to the last, he insisted on fighting. Nothing that couldn't be quelled, of course, but it angered dear Morzan. He was none too gentle from that moment on."
A feeling of complete helplessness washed over Kialandí. What hope did the two elves alone stand against a madman with the power of Vrael himself?
"What do you want from us?" he asked from the ground.
"Your total, undivided loyalty, and the promise of your total, undivided service. Not much, really, in exchange for your lives. And unless you want Shruikan to rip your dear life-partners limb from limb, I'd say you have little choice."
"For how long?"asked Formora.
"For one assignment. Only one, that's all I ask. You will do as I command you, and then you may return to Vroengard."
The two elves looked at one another. Formora's eyes swam with tears, just as Kialandí's did. A look of understanding passed between them. Both knew that Galbatorix would never allow them to return to Vroengard for what they had seen. But Jeorin and Erevel's lives mattered. Without them, the elves' own lives would be as good as forfeit.
Kialandí kept his voice steady and strong. Never show weakness, he reminded himself. It was a skill he had learned long ago.
"Very well," he said. "What is your assignment?"
So there's Chapter 4, the most stubborn, belligerent chapter I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. I hope it turned out to general liking, and the next update should be sooner. Huge thanks to Lobo de Fuego, Eradon son of awesomeness, and February Breeze for their reviews. You guys rock, seriously. Now everyone else, click the button below and tell me what you think. You'll make my day.