Chapter 11: Confrontation
Eragon, Islanzadí, and her group of fifty guards slowly made their way across the plains and approached Belatona. Their pace had been brought to a near standstill when they arrived at the Empire's tents. The soldiers did not attack them, but they did draw their weapons and form a large perimeter around the group of elves, escorting them to the center of the city.
Eragon walked with Brisingr hanging loosely in his grip. He was not holding his sword in a threatening way, which would invite an attack, but he did make sure it was ready if anyone were to strike at him first. He had Vrael's sword, Kuthian, resting comfortably in its sheath alongside Brisingr's sheath. By means of a simple magic spell, he had made the sword appear as nothing more than an ordinary blade to avoid arousing suspicion.
Islanzadí shot Eragon periodic glances, checking with him to make sure nothing was wrong. He knew that she was nervous about what was to come, especially because his planned fight with Galbatorix would definitely not help their case if he were to lose.
Eragon no longer had the luxury of worrying about what would happen if he was wrong. He had one chance to defeat Galbatorix, and he was going to take it.
Glancing around, Eragon recognized many members of the Varden staring at him through the perimeter created by the Empire's men. He could see the anger and sadness in their eyes from their surrender. There were also many women, children, and soldiers of the Empire. He didn't recognize any of them, and they all gave him the same blank stare.
It's as if they are forced to look at me in a certain way, he thought with disgust.
The soldiers led them down the largest street in the city, straight to the center. Their escort faded into the crowd as they approached the center of the city. Eragon took in the sight with one glance around. Galbatorix was sitting on a makeshift throne at the opposite side of the courtyard. Murtagh was standing to his right, and both of their dragons stood behind them on either side. To Eragon's right, Saphira was chained to the ground beside the twelve elves that still lived. All of the elves had been placed in stocks. His heart caught as he saw Arya looking at him with an expression of dread and humiliation.
On the left side was a massive crowd, thousands strong, consisting of nobles, Varden members, and people from the Empire. Past allegiances were forgotten and the enemies stood side by side to watch the final hope of Alagaësia face off against the black tyrant.
"Wait here," Eragon commanded, speaking to the group of elves he was traveling with. Islanzadí grumbled, but agreed and stayed behind as Eragon walked forward into the center of the square, sword still held at his side lazily.
All of the murmuring and side conversations in the crowd stopped, and an eerie silence reigned supreme. It was broken by a muffled roar from Saphira, who could not roar properly due to her jaws being chained closed.
Eragon shot her a sympathetic look, but did not break her bonds. She would be drugged and weakened. He had decided beforehand to not release her unless it was absolutely necessary, more for her own safety than anything else.
"You are late." Galbatorix stated in a neutral tone. Eragon just stared at him. "I could kill your elven friends for your rudeness," he said thoughtfully, as if it was all just a game to him.
"You could try," Eragon corrected, causing the crowd to gasp at his boldness.
Galbatorix lowered his eyebrows in anger. "For your arrogance, I think I will. Executioner! Kill the one in the middle."
Eragon glanced back at the elves, noting the bulky man with a giant sword approaching them. He felt his heart grow heavy as he realized that Arya was the elf in the center. He was about to cast a spell that would kill the executioner, but then thought better of it. It would not do well to reveal his magical prowess so easily.
Instead, his gaze settled upon Saphira and a thought occurred to him. If I am now part dragon, and the dragons breathe fire by magically desiring it to happen, why could I not do something similar?
His eyes locked with Arya's as the executioner raised his sword to cleave her head off. In them he saw a hint of fear, but mostly regret. In response, Eragon raised Brisingr and pointed it directly at the executioner's chest, willing the fire within him to take over.
It did.
His sword burst into flames. This time, however, the fire did not stop at the end of the blade. Eragon had it continue in a straight path towards the executioner. The fire traversed the distance between Eragon and the executioner, roughly fifty feet, in about a second. Upon impact, it exploded against his chest, and after only a few seconds of burning, the stream of fire blasted through him and came out the other side.
Eragon lowered his blade, stopping the flames. A moment later the man fell to the ground, dead, a foot wide burning hole in the center of his chest.
The crowd was absolutely silent. Galbatorix had stood up, but had not otherwise moved. He only watched what had happened in shock.
After another minute of awkward silence due to Eragon's defiance of the king, Galbatorix finally said smoothly. "I will admit. That is a fantastic trick. I'll look forward to you teaching me it after you surrender."
Eragon felt Kuthian prod at his thoughts. You should not delay for too much longer. There are still hours before it is dark, but there is no telling how long your fight with him will take, and if it gets dark, the advantage becomes his.
"I did not come here to surrender to you."
Galbatorix's eyes widened, as if he was truly surprised by the news. "Surely you do not intend to fight me! You were not even a match for Murtagh. Defeating you would be no challenge at all. I am giving you the opportunity to surrender willingly. You may even name your terms. Money, power, women, a title, they call all be yours in exchange for you and your dragon's willing servitude. I must admit, I am growing bored with having name-slaves as my allies."
"The only terms that would satisfy me would include you being killed."
Galbatorix's face contorted with anger. His voice rose and he began speaking faster, less smoothly. "Have the elves polluted your mind so much that you cannot recognize when you are being shown mercy? Is your self-righteousness attitude so important to you that you would sacrifice your future? I expected more from the man I have heard so much about."
Brisingr became vibrant with flames dancing upon its length as Eragon's temper briefly flared. He glanced down at the blade and smiled slightly, noting how responsive it was to his feelings. In response to Galbatorix's questions, he simply said, "Yes."
"Fool," spat the king. "Murtagh, destroy him."
Murtagh came to life at his master's orders, drawing Zar'roc and immediately leaping at Eragon. If he hadn't already had Brisingr drawn, Eragon might have been caught off guard by the quickness the Murtagh closed to distance between them, but as it was Eragon was easily able to bat both Murtagh and Zar'roc aside.
As Murtagh regained his footing, Eragon lowered Brisingr slightly and said, "Please, Murtagh, stand aside. Let me face Galbatorix."
"Defeat Galbatorix?" Murtagh asked incredulously. "You can't even defeat me!"
Murtagh closed the distance between them once again, slashing crossways at Eragon's chest. Eragon easily kept pace with him and blocked each of his subsequent attacks. His speed was greater than that of Murtagh, even without the help of the necklaces, but he was not sure that he could win the fight without using the power of the necklaces. He would have preferred to wait and use them when he fought Galbatorix, but he could take no chance with Murtagh defeating him.
Eragon put all he had into a series of counter strikes, knocking Murtagh back a bit and separating them for a moment. As he stared into Murtagh's eyes he realized that Murtagh might be fighting against himself with all of his strength, but he was not fighting with his spirit. It appeared that he was only fighting because he had to, not because he wanted to. Suddenly decided, Eragon reengaged him without using his necklace's power. If Murtagh was not going to try his hardest, it meant that he did not want to fight Eragon and that even though he might not be able to say it, he did want to be saved. If Eragon used his necklace's power, he would risk killing Murtagh by accident.
As it was, the duel was fairly even between the two. They fought for half an hour before either of them scored a hit on the other. During that time, Eragon noted that Galbatorix was watching with an unimpressed expression, as if bored. He was extremely wary of the King jumping into the battle at any time.
Finally, after what seemed like forever in their fight, Eragon scored a minor blow upon Murtagh's upper left thigh. He followed the hit up with another slash at Murtagh's side, crippling him and rendering him unable to fight.
Eragon marveled at how much more fluidly and quickly he was able to move since Kuthian had taught him how to access his dragon-like traits. A week before, Murtagh would have been Eragon's equal at a sword duel, but now Eragon was superior in every way.
When Murtagh was injured by Eragon, Galbatorix finally got up out of his throne and slowly approached Eragon, sword in hand. Eragon frowned as he read the glyph on the black blade; power.
Now would be a very good time to start using that necklace, Kuthian said pointedly, as if angered by how Eragon had waited so long. Just connect your thoughts with the necklace's gemstone.
Eragon took one glance back at Saphira, and then closed his eyes, melding his thoughts with the power embedded in the necklace.
The rush of power he experienced was overwhelming at first. The sheer power of the dragon's magic pulsed through his body, tickling every nerve that he had. A few moments later, the tingly sensation faded away and he was only left with the power, along with a necklace that was now glowing softly below his tunic.
Eragon turned away from Murtagh as the Rider was trying to heal his wounds. He immediately struck at Galbatorix, putting his full force and speed behind his first stroke.
He was alarmed as Galbatorix's sword met his halfway through his stroke. Galbatorix's sword moved a speed almost equal to Eragon's own, even with the necklace powering it. He had no time to dwell on it, however, as Galbatorix immediately attacked with his own stroke, and Eragon was forced to defend it.
They exchanged blows for a few minutes at a speed that none of the human spectators could possibly follow, and then Eragon felt a narrow band of air behind him increase its pressure against his back. Understanding what it meant, Eragon knocked Galbatorix's blade to the side, not caring where his own sword ended up, and then leaped up into the air, doing a back flip and landing behind Murtagh, who had recovered and was trying to strike at Eragon from behind.
"Surrender," Galbatorix insisted as both he and Murtagh circled Eragon. "You might be a good swordsman, but you can't fight both of us with your one blade."
The corner's of Eragon's mouth twitched in a grin. "Good thing I have another sword." He commanded his concealing spell to end, revealing Vrael's sparkling white blade. Ignoring the surprised expressions on both Galbatorix and Murtagh's faces, and also all of the other spectators, he drew the blade with his left hand and held it at the ready.
Galbatorix seemed to recognize the blade, but did not have the time to speak of it as Eragon turned his back to Murtagh and struck at Galbatorix with both of his blades. The King barely managed to block both of the blades as Eragon struck three times at him before Murtagh could finally intervene and force Eragon to divide his attention.
When Murtagh returned to the battle, Eragon felt Galbatorix's vast, twisted mind crash into his own, trying to worm its way through his defenses. Murtagh soon joined as well, and Eragon found himself trying to fight against both Murtagh and Galbatorix with both sword and mind. He had no opportunity to counterattack with his mind, as if he decided to go after one of the two, the other would slip through his defenses. He could only clear his mind of any thoughts except for a bit of poetry that Oromis had taught him, leaving his arms to be controlled by his instincts.
Fortunately, the effort also reduced Galbatorix and Murtagh's focus on the battle. The dragon part of Eragon, enhancing his instincts and natural ability far beyond that of Galbatorix and Murtagh, began to show through.
In a seemingly unmatched, unthinkable scenario, Eragon began to gain an advantage in the sword battle. No longer was it Murtagh or Galbatorix dictating where he stepped and where he blocked, but now it was he that controlled their movements.
In lightning quick succession, Eragon landed nine blows on his opponents. He connected with slashes across both of their chests, three cuts on the legs of Galbatorix, and several scratches upon Murtagh's arms and sides.
Eragon felt the mental pressure greatly decrease as the wounds took their tolls on Galbatorix and Murtagh. He kicked Murtagh back and faced Galbatorix, intending to finish off the king and rid the world of his evil once and for all.
Unfortunately, life would not be so easy for Eragon. It was then that the roars of two dragons from above, along with streams of blazing fire, drew Eragon's attention away from his prize and forced him to focus on surviving against the dragons.
Both Shruikan and Thorn and released long jets of fire downwards at Eragon, and were now both diving down behind their flaming projectiles, intending to skim the ground and slash at Eragon with their talons.
Now! Kuthian roared in his thoughts.
Eragon did not hesitate. He held Vrael's sword straight above his head and melded his mind with Kuthian's, accessing the hidden powers within the dragon's consciousness.
The crowd was already speechless from the display that they had seen, but they became awestruck as the white blade began to glow brightly. The glow expanded rapidly to encompass Eragon completely. As it did so, the flaming projectiles collided with the glowing orb and splashed to the side harmlessly.
Thorn and Shruikan uttered startled exclamations and banked off to the side, avoiding the mysterious glowing orb.
As they did so, the glow began to fade away, revealing an enormous white dragon standing where Eragon had been moments before.
The entire crowd gasped, and even Galbatorix and Murtagh stood next to each other with dumbstruck expressions on their faces.
Eragon raised his wings and drove them down, taking off and hovering in the sky before Shruikan and Thorn. It became evident how much bigger than them he actually was. Shruikan was a bit smaller than Glaedr, and Kuthian easily surpassed Glaedr by several feet.
Eragon craned back his neck and roared mightily, reveling in the feeling of being a dragon. With two flaps of his wings he closed the distance between himself and Thorn, grappling with him as they fell towards the ground. Before they were forced to disengage Eragon had managed to claw Thorn deeply in the belly and bite him in the shoulder, flinging him towards the ground as he ascended to meet Shruikan.
Shruikan did not allow Eragon to fly above him as Thorn had, and instead charged downwards at him before he could reach the same altitude. With the height advantage, Shruikan managed to claw Eragon in the side, but his claws did not go deep due to the armor scales of a dragon's side. Eragon tried to lunge at Shruikan's neck, intending to grasp it with his teeth and end the fight, but Shruikan rolled to the side slightly to dodge it. The move, however, allowed Eragon to roll them over and escape the grapple, spinning in a circle and bashing Shruikan in the side of his head with the full strength of his tail.
Eragon flapped a few times to steady himself, noting how both Thorn and Shruikan were forced to try to land. Kuthian's fighting skills, which now belonged to Eragon via their bond, were beyond superb. With another roar, Eragon opened his maw and unleashed a ravening torrent of fire at the ground below, bathing the area that Murtagh, Galbatorix, Thorn, and Shruikan were standing in with fire.
After a full minute he closed his maw and allowed the flames and smoke to dissipate so that he could assess the situation. Thorn and Shruikan had used the fire as cover to retrieve their riders and make a break for the northern horizon.
Eragon turned as if he was going to chase them, but he felt the power in his body fading, meaning the necklace of power was ceasing its aid. Instead of chasing Galbatorix, Eragon landed softly in the courtyard, which had gone absolutely silent at Galbatorix's departure.
Eragon, still in dragon form, began to glow as before. The glow was much larger, as it encompassed his entire body, but when it disappeared he was once again an elf. With a relieved sigh, he glanced around at his surroundings, a neutral expression on his face.
As the people once again beheld Eragon, whole and unharmed, an enormous cheer echoed through the city. It was only the Varden men and women that cheered, however. Eragon noticed the many Empire soldiers fleeing to the safety of their tents, and he assumed they would fully retreat after what they had just seen.
Nasuada, Orrin, Roran, Islanzadí, and Jörmundur all ran over towards him. With a faint expression of amusement, he turned away from them and held his hand out towards Saphira and the trapped elves. Saphira was struggling against her chains to break out and charge Eragon, and he thought he saw pure joy in Arya's eyes, although he couldn't be sure from so far away.
"Jierda!" he muttered, shattering the stocks and chains binding the elves and Saphira.
Arya and the others immediately joined in the charge towards Eragon, but they were all beaten by Saphira, who leaped towards her rider in a single massive jump, pinning him to the ground beneath one of her paws and licking him on the face affectionately.
Eragon felt her mind touch his, and at once he became whole again. For the past week it had been as if he had only been half of himself. When he met Kuthian it helped his mood a little, but there was no possible replacement for the true partner of his heart, Saphira.
Grimacing as he felt her saliva on his face, he said happily, I missed you too.
Eragon! You reckless fool! What were you thinking fighting them alone, and why didn't you let me help you?
It worked, didn't it?
Shaking her massive dragon head and allowing him to stand, albeit reluctantly, she said, I will expect a full explanation for this.
In a minute, we'll fly together, okay?
Aren't you in need of rest or healing?
No. Eragon slowly stood up and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, drying it to the best of his ability.
He glanced around, his ears turning slightly pink as he noticed the different leaders standing in a circle around him with amused expressions on their faces. For a moment he locked gazes with Arya, but he knew that it was neither the time nor place to talk.
Addressing all of them, he said, "Meet me in my tent in half an hour and I will tell you my story. I need to speak with Saphira until then." There were several protests, but Eragon ignored them and jumped onto Saphira's back, noticing that Galbatorix and Murtagh had not taken the saddle off of her during the entire week. This thing must be getting uncomfortable, he mentioned. I'll take it off at my tent.
Thank you. She hesitated. Eragon, I'm very proud of what you did, whatever it was.
About that…
