AN: I am so extremely sorry for not being able to post any new chapters for so long. Several things intervened to prevent my timely posting…. Not least of which is my cousin's marriage… Indian weddings are so complicated!
Anyway, here we are. This chapter was written in a huddle and isn't as polished as it should have been….
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Chapter 7: Calm before the Storm
"My lord," the charming, raven haired youth kneeled in front of the most powerful being he had ever been in the presence of.
The being turned to stare at him, his red eyes, pits of hellish fire, gazed at the man with indifference.
"I sent Morzan to retrieve the prisoner….," the man gulped, he was quite powerful himself, but it was barely a spark compared to the dragon's furnace.
"Do continue," the dragon said, his pleasing baritone voice a masque for a ruthless predator….
"The prisoner was nowhere to be found and the Ra'zac," the man hesitated, " Morzan said that the Ra'zac had been burned to ashes…. The walls of the cave around the area had become glazed, like glass."
"So," the dragon spoke, "the lad has awoken to his inheritance. Very well! Events are proceeding apace…" the dovah drew himself to his full height, "we will continue with our plans inspite of this hiccup. In fact," he brought his head down to level with the man, who hastily stumbled backwards from the razor sharp teeth that had so suddenly invaded his personal space, "the time has come to tear apart the order; I'll instruct my priests to leave the Northerners alone, for now. They are far too stubborn and fierce to be defeated quickly. Indeed, it is us who have been losing so far."
The man nodded, "the Urgals are awaiting our orders."
"Tell them that the invasion has been prepended. Now go and pray that you do not fail this time."
It hadn't taken long for Eragon to recover his armor and sword and those of his companions. The Ra'zac had a kind of armory room- filled with weapons and armor and valuable trinkets. In one corner of the dug-out room, he discovered a rack of several quivers, all of them filled with sharp arrows and beside them- a bow, the strongest he had ever seen- it apparently was made from bone and looked at first glance quite heavy- given its thickness and width. Yet it was incredibly light and at the same time incredibly strong on the pull. His muscles were stretched in new and awkward ways as he pulled on the drawstring.
It was when he saw the mark on the inside- a dragon stylized as a rhombus- di d he realize just exactly what he held in his hands.
"This, this is a dragonbone bow!," he exclaimed, reverently running his hands along the outer edge, marveling at the smoothness of the white bone, "forged in the Sky-Forge in the ancient city of Whiterun during the First War against the World Eater." The bow was of a double recurve design, with three longitudinal ridges midway through each arm- for extra strength.
As a smith himself, he knew just how rare and valuable any weapon of the Second Era was, but this bow was even rarer… Very few sets of dragonbone weapons were ever made. The smith who forged them- Kodlak Whitmane- had been given three complete dragon skeletons by the warriors of the age. Three otherwise young and immature dragons, though certainly no less deadly than their elder brethren.
He had been mightily surprised to find himself high up in the Urgal badlands of the Spine. He had already had several close calls with several roving patrols…. The entire thing was very confounding. From what Eragon knew of the Urgals, and he knew them very well – uncle Garrow had himself forged an unorthodox alliance with the Bolvek tribe – the Urglas fought with each other even more than with other races. But these patrols, they were a mix of several different tribes, if the banners were any indication. The mobilization of so many different tribes worried Eragon. A much larger game was afoot, he felt sure of it.
There was only one thing to do… stay low and make it to friendly territory as quickly as humanly possible.
The Citadel,
Doru Araeba
Vroengard Islands
"Our forces are already engaged here in the North. The entire frontier is in uproar. Entire legions! Legions! Of our forces have simply vanished, presumed destroyed in the immediate aftermath of this invasion! We simply do not have the numbers to both deal with the outlander invasion and assist the Brodding Kingdom with this Urgal invasion," Oromis elda said from the mirror that held his image to the Council of Elders and Vrael, Lord Commander of the Shrutu'ugal.
"The recent developments are most worrisome; the Urgals have clearly united to form a federation of sorts. We have no idea which of the several tribes has taken leadership, although Brom states that the Bolvek tribe remains an ally. What we do know is that the Urgals are marching straight for Illirea, systematically overwhelming critical castles and strongholds. The Brodding Kingdom's army has already suffered three humiliating defeats- their defensive lines have been overwhelmed…. I do not see how they will be able to successfully defend the city. We must deploy the rest of our forces to aid them- I need not tell you of the horrors the urgals will commit if they succeed," Kialandi coerced.
"And leave Doru Araeba defenceless? All of our forces that can be spared have been spared. We cannot risk leaving the Citadel defenceless… this entire thing smacks of a much larger conspiracy.. look at the sequence of events- our strongest forces, also incidentally the forces that can deployed most quickly were struck first in an unprecedented and unheard of event: an organized, systematic invasion by disciplined infantry in numbers that we didn't even know existed in the northern wastelands. While they are tied down- they circumvent through the elven nation and attack from the south- forcing us to deploy more of our riders. Now, this matter of an Urgal invasion attacking the Brodding Kingdom- drawing out more of our riders. If this is a larger conspiracy as I suspect it is, then all that has happened has been a massive diversion… and I shudder to think what would happen if we fell to this trap," Aeldarian, ambassador to the Elven Nation said.
"And yet I insist that we must help the Brodding Kingdom! We cannot fail our duties! The situation in the Northern Province has more or less stabilized with the threat now confined to the northern frontier. Surely, they could spare a few legions in the south to assist King Varys?" another suggested.
"No! I will not further weaken the Valley," Vrael interrupted the proceedings. He looked at Aeldarian, "contact Evandar Konungr and request him to lend a few divisions. Oromis- make sure that the North remains calm. The rest of us baring twelve riders will prepare to fly out to Illirea tomorrow."
The others nodded. Formora stood up and unsheathed her purple sabre before kneeling in front of the council. "I humbly request to be allowed to remain behind and defend the citadel."
Vrael nodded, "very well. You and one other elder shall remain behind. The others will be young riders and apprentices."
"It is done. The council flies out to Illirea tomorrow. Kialandi and Formora are already here in charge of the defences. The apprentices would be easily swayed. My son tells me that they are sympathetic to our cause," Morzan said to his leader.
Galbatorix smiled, his face slightly distorted in the mirror, "good work my friend. I'll arrive late in the night after tomorrow at the north western harbor. And our lord will be accompanying me."
Morzan's eyes widened in shock; that was an unexpected development!
He was tired, living off the land for one whole week had been more difficult than he could ever have foreseen. He had traversed close to a hundred miles- heading north east towards the distant visage of the tallest mountain in all of Alagaesia, the Throat of the World.
The bow had been a godsend- it allowed him to hunt the large elks that thrived in the mountain forests- and keep himself relatively warm and well fed.
At night when he had nothing to do but attempt to rest and sleep, his thoughts would invariably turn to his newly discovered heritage. It was a lot to take in… he was dovahkin, DragonBorn! He was following the steps of Tiber Septim himself, he was brother to all of the elder dragons- the few who had been created directly by Akatosh.
He did not notice that there had been some changes in him, ever since he had made peace with his dragon side… His senses, for one, were much sharper, he was also noticeably stronger and faster- the damned bow was certainly easier to pull!
He did realize that the fire ball he had released at the Ra'zac was a direct result of his emotional state and that he had spoken in the DivahZul- the dragon tongue… Despite that, he hadn't discovered a sudden fluency in the said tongue. Sometimes when he concentrated long enough at a thought or an object, the dovahzul language would echo in his mind and he would learn it….He wondered if he could somehow accelerate this process of learning and perhaps increase his knowledge of shouts…. It was a dreadfully useful skill to have.
Carvahall
Rider's Residence
"Arya, my child, come and have a sit," the old rider gestured towards a seat in his office.
Said maiden gracefully bowed and crossed the space between the door and the proffered chair. "I came as soon as I learned that you had an important task for me. How may I be of use, elda?"
Oromis smiled at his apprentice's impatience to be out in the field. He gestured towards the other man in the room, "may I introduce Master Tenga, an old friend and a member of the Greybeards."
Aryagasped in shock and Oromis smiled, Tenga was quite capable of hiding his life force to the point of near invisibility, even to elven senses… Arya immediately got up and bowed to the latter.
Tenga smiled, "it is a rare pleasure to meet you child."
"Master Tenga and I have learnt of troubling new developments… We would ask your help in solving a taxing quandary," Oromis said.
"We, that is Oromis-elda and the Greybeards feel that the recent events- the Outlander's invasion and now this attack by Urgals is all part of a larger scheme that seeks to undo the very fabric of our civilization here in Alagaesia… to what end, we do not know yet nor are we sure of who is behind the entire thing…."
"The good news is", Oromis spoke," a dragonborn has revealed himself. This has been confirmed by the master of the Greybeards and just a week ago he revealed his location. The problem is…"
"He is a senior tribune in the Nothern Army, the 2nd Cohort of the Twentieth I believe," Tenga put in.
Arya's eyes widened in recognition, "I have heard of him, Ellander was speaking of him, one of the Bloodborne, is he not? The youngest senior tribune ever and a master cavalry officer.. he was responsible for stopping the outlanders from surrounding the Valley and securing the Southern frontiers."
"Yes, you are correct. His name is Eragon, and he is one of the Bloodborne, as you say. Most of his cohort was wiped out in a massive Urgal attack some weeks ago and he went missing. We were unable to trace him or even scry him, something was preventing us from doing so. But ever since last week, he became once more visible to us," Oromis added.
"And you wish for me to find him and bring him here," Arya asked.
"We would be extremely grateful to you if you obliged, yes. He is quite capable a warrior and we're reasonably sure that he will make his way here unharmed but we wish to send you to speed him up and to make sure, just in case," Tenga said.
"Knowing his father, I wouldn't be surprised if trouble finds him before long, " Oromis added with a small chuckle.
Arya nodded. "Do you have any idea about where he is right now?"
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