Thanks to the helpful reminders of reviewers from the last chapter, I have realized my dreadful mistake: The map is mirrored the opposite way in the GameCube version. Snowpeak and the Gerudo Desert are at the WESTERN edge of Hyrule. (See notes below for further details on geography.) Forgive me, for I have the Wii version of TP and my mind is so easily confused XD.
Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda series and The Inheritance Cycle do not belong to me. Were they, Ocarina of Time would have long since been made into an official movie of its own and Eragon would have been true to the actual books -.-'. Since both belong to their respective owners, I shall keep dreaming up my pathetic fantasies. All original material does belong to me, though.
Song of the Chapter: Twilight- Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess Soundtrack
Within the past day, Eragon had suffered almost enough hellish experiences to rival his past year or so in Alagaesia. He had charged out into unfamiliar wilderness in a desperate race against time to rescue a village's captive children from savage monsters. Mere hours later more raiders had attacked and easily overpowered him. Then had come getting dragged into a parallel realm and transformed into a massive dragon when he had attempted to give chase. Several encounters of the royal and the spiritual kind later, Eragon had once again returned to the Twilight to finish what he had inadvertently helped to start.
Exhausted with the entire unbelievable ordeal, the instincts of an irritated male dragon had once again reared its ugly head inside of him. Midna was wincing the entire time Eragon charge through a demon-infested Twilit Faron Woods, ruthlessly burning down all the foolish enemies in his path with his light-breath. Again they had encountered the shadow beasts like that those that had been at Ordon Spring, and again Eragon had defeated them and made a new warp portal out of their remnants. The fact they had near shattered his sensitive eardrums with their dead-raising shrieks had only worsened his volatile mood.
Ordinarily Eragon would never have been so destructive, and would have at least payed attention to the considerable carnage he was wreaking. But he was blissfully oblivious as to how the beast's body and own instincts influenced his own vulnerable mind. Dragons were creatures that were fiercely devoted to the few beings they deemed friend and family. Saphira, the one being closest to Eragon's soul, was endangered by the sorcery of some mysterious foe, this false king, this Zant. Subconsciously Eragon's frustrations and helplessness manifested only as aggravation at the Twilight engulfing him and the entire Faron Woods.
Only the sight of Saphira herself had been enough to shock him out of that feral state. Eragon had seen her pale and spectral form curled up not far from the edge of Faron Spring, sleeping out in the open from her fatigue. He had been able to see the twisted form of her re-broken wing and the fresh wounds adorning her scaled hide; his she-dragon had been forced to fight for her very survival throughout the night he had spent sleeping peacefully away.
"Don't worry, Eragon," Midna comforted in a previously unheard of gentle voice. Her golden eyes were soft as she too glanced down at the oblivious she-dragon, one hand absently stroking the serpentine neck of her slave-slash-partner. "We'll rescue her and everyone else in this province. Before you know it the entire world will be back to its old too-bright self."
Blue-gray eyes reluctantly tearing away from Saphira's insubstantial form, Eragon inspected the glass vessel that had been given to them. It was made up of sixteen individual containers, one each for the sixteen tears of light scattered throughout Faron Woods. The Light Spirit had been too weak to appear to them directly, but had managed to hand over the light vessel and convey instructions on how to locate and recapture the errant tears to the unlikely pair.
Sixteen tears of light left before restoring balance to one part of the kingdom, Eragon murmured.
Midna nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Thankfully you have wings to easily traverse these woods, or we'd be here until one of us finally croaked from old age. Just think, you are now so close to regaining your own original unimpressive form and restoring your... dragon."
Eragon gave a fanged smirk at the return of her sarcastic attitude. Good, at least someone was back to normal. As far as surprises went, the Twili had been more than shocked to discover the spectral dragon waiting for them by Faron Spring, if the startled scream was anything to judge by. Midna had been downright flabbergasted to realize that Saphira, who she had assumed to be a pretty young woman and most likely Eragon's romantic partner, to be the very same gigantic she-dragon she had just encountered. Her response had been very amusing to a man-turned-beast who was desperate for any sort of comic relief from his current predicament.
Indeed, he replied playfully. Saphira will be so happy to meet my rescuer and brand new master in person when this is all said and done. I can tell you two will get along fantastically!
Eragon unfurled his wings in preparation for flight, sparing one final glance at Saphira. He may have been unable to directly communicate or even wake up her, but the message he had left behind should have been enough to convince the sapphire she-dragon from wandering away from the safety of the spring and further endangering herself. Of course Eragon was likely going to get himself abandoned on some desolate mountaintop for such thinking, but at least Saphira would be safe for the time-being.
Spirits high for the first time in quite a while, the green dragon sprung up, beating his wings frantically to gain altitude. Practice did indeed make perfect, and his clumsy ascension had only made Midna give the tiniest yelp of fright this time.
After all, the only real task Eragon had to do was find sixteen inconspicuous tears of pure light and bring them back to Faron to restore the province to its natural state. How hard could it have been?
Sore and still feeling very fatigued when awakening from her fitful slumber, Saphira groggily opened her eyes and again entered the real world. She was unable to determine even the time of day, for the sky remained the same shade of dusky orange it had been before she had fallen asleep. Great, it now seemed that twilight was now perpetual. Ignoring the dull aches of her wounds, the sapphire she-dragon climbed to her paws with the intention of finishing the journey to Ordon Village and to her Rider.
However, that was when she noticed the words that had been messily scrawled into the dirt just beneath her snout. The penmanship was horrible, but it was just legible enough for her to make out the content of the message. Mentally relieved she had taken the time to scan Eragon's mind and had learned how to read, Saphira read words that had clearly been intended for her.
Saphira, there is no time to explain what is going on right now and I am currently unable to wake you up. I promise to give you the entire truth as soon as I can. Until then, please, just remain by the spring. Love, Eragon.
Confusion spread through Saphira's mind as she carefully examined the odd message. If it was a trap designed to lure her into mortal peril, than the people behind it were very, very thick. It wouldn't have taken a genius to realize it would have been wise capturing the fearsome dragon when she was asleep and defenseless. Only morons would prepare an elaborate and transparent trap that only another moron would believe.
So the note was genuine? Then why hadn't Eragon merely woken her up and healed her wounds? Surely even her Rider knew having a healed and loyal dragon at his side was the smartest decision for whatever ridiculous quest he had accepted. Did he believe her unable to help, that just because she was injured and a female she wasn't strong enough to be useful!
Arrogant little stone-head. Eragon better have good justification for his actions for leaving behind a mighty dragon who has baked trained soldiers alive in their chain-mail, or this better be a pathetic attempt of a trap, because I am. Not. Pleased.
Allowing her rage to simmer and grow ever more potent with age, Saphira chose to lie down and finally attend to her numerous injuries. Infection and further injury wasn't worth the effort of running her foolish Rider down. Besides, Eragon was probably long out of reach. So the she-dragon payed close attention to her surroundings in case an ambush was being enacted, and began to clean out her wounds. She pointedly chose to disregarded the dragon footprints she was confident were not her own, but she had too many blasted issues on her mind to deal with at the moment.
Either way, Eragon better have the best damned reasons on earth for this rude treatment, and the ability to swallow all his foolish male pride give me the apology I deserve. Then, perhaps if I am feeling in a forgiving mood, I shall only go and abandon him on some desolate mountaintop.
Eragon had believed his mission to be a relatively simple one, if a bit tedious. His wings allowed him to efficiently traverse through miles of tangled forest and his superb senses easily detected the light insects. Sure, the tears had been transformed into mobile bugs, but that gave him something tangible to hone in on. The red sparks they sent out and the unique chattering sound they made made them simple to sort out from the common animals.
Oh, how horribly wrong he had been. The bugs possessed enough intelligence to conceal themselves. Buried beneath the earth or tucked away in inaccessible areas, Midna had been forced to retrieve those out of the green dragon's reach, like the pests that had been terrorizing the home of a petrified lantern oil salesman. Eragon had been forced to dig like a dog in order to chase down the insects that were burrowing frantically through the dirt in escape attempts.
Nature had also taken every possible chance to further wear away at his patience. Obstacles like crowded undergrowth and massive lakes of noxious gas hindered his search. Every animal in the presence seemed to sense the danger he posed to the continuance of the Twilight and lunged at him. Eragon was able to repel all of the nuisances, but the constant bombardment of hostile creatures was beginning to eat away at his endurance. Then there were more encounters with those damned shadow beasts that seemed impossible to kill...
"Finally!" Midna exclaimed in relief as she examined the light vessel after hours of struggling through Faron Woods. "Fourteen of the little buggers reclaimed. Now all we need are two more and this nightmare can end!"
Eragon flew just above the canopy, his paws sometimes skimming against the treetops if he neglected to maintain altitude. He scanned the forest below like a hawk, looking out for the telltale glimmers of red energy.
Eragon had neared the decrepit structure Rusl called the Forest Temple. Apparently citizens from all around Hyrule had once made journeys to it to honor the ancient forest spirits and Farore, the Golden Goddess who had created life and was most prevalent in wild areas like Faron Woods. It had fallen into disrepair over the years when worshipers had begun to favor more local shrines, and now its only visitors were the occasional archaeologists that came to study a lost age of history.
Outside of the Forest Temple's entrance was were two streams of energy circling around a panicked spirit. The light insects had trapped some poor animal and were now tormenting it out of some sadistic pleasure. Partly furling his wings, Eragon honed in on his target and swooped down upon his prey. Landing amidst the discord he lashed out with his paws, killing the little pests with his surprise attack.
A moment later the darkness that composed of the insects dissolved, leaving only two tears of light behind. They hovered passively in the air as if patiently awaiting collection. Midna floated over to retrieve them, leaving Eragon to inspect the little spirit he had just rescued.
It was the same monkey he had freed alongside the village children from the Bokoblins had kidnapped them. He would have recognized that pink bow and that tattoo anywhere. She (for the primate was obviously female) looked around in confusion at the sudden disappearance of her tormentors.
"Someone... saved me?"
Eragon growled in surprise, involuntarily lurching away from the talking animal. Midna, who had just been reaching for the final errant tear, glanced curiously at him.
Did you just hear that monkey talk or am I going insane? Eragon blurted out in alarm.
The Twili looked between him and the spirit, contemplating her answer carefully. "Dragons are beasts," she replied at last. "So are monkeys. I find it completely understandable that you have just learned the language of beasts." She smirked. "Or perhaps you have indeed lost your mind. I can hear nothing but senseless chatter. But does it have anything useful to say?"
Listening in with morbid fascination, Eragon eavesdropped upon the one-siding ramblings of a talking spectral monkey.
"I don't see anyone around though, so maybe those weird bugs randomly exploded or something. Nothing seems strange anymore." The monkey turned to the entrance of the Forest Temple, sighing sadly. "Man, nothing is the same around here. Bokoblins coming from out of the deep woods and kidnapping human kids. Animals going insane and attacking those of their own kind. That psychopathic golden wolf lurking close to the village. Boss could have told us what was going on, if only he hadn't been so possessive of that dark thing in the temple. He won't even allow us in anymore!"
"Well?" Midna prompted impatiently. "What did it have to say?"
Nothing that we know already or that is important to us. Those corrupted by the Twilight are attacking normal spirits, some strange-colored wolf is prowling about, monsters are close to Ordon Village, and the boss monkey is apparently guarding some dark thing in the Forest Temple-
"What was that final thing?" Midna demanded sharply. Her golden eyes had narrowed, calculating.
Confused, Eragon repeated the final thing the monkey had mentioned. He studied Midna's features carefully, but her expression was unreadable aside from her narrowed eyes.
Finally, she sighed and nodded. "Looks like we know where to go next already," she muttered so low even the green dragon could barely here. "Surely it shouldn't be this simple." Then she smirked, cackling in amusement. "Oh, Goddesses, you all must surely want little old Midna out of your precious Light Realm! Handing me everything I want on a silver platter... such bribery is nearly flattering."
Eragon growled. I'm not venturing down into some ruined old temple with you! My only duty is to free this land of Twilight and to kill this Zant so that his corruption does not spread to my land!
The Twili female gave him a reproachful look. "Want to kill the godless usurper before he can plunge your friends and family into eternal shadow? Then you're going to have to get weapons strong enough to harm him! The powerful artifact housed within this stupid temple is something you need to retrieve for me so we can put down Zant for good." Midna frowned slightly as she eyed the Forest Temple's entrance. "We'll have to come back, though. You're currently too big to enter and I really don't want to waste the energy it would take to keep you small."
Then can we just return things to normal? Saphira is waiting for me and I'd rather reunite with her in my true form.
Midna at last grasped for the final tear of light, sealing it within the last open container. Immediately the entire vessel began to glow ever brighter, the Twili female gasping in pain at the radiance. She dropped the container and retreated to the refuge of Eragon's shadow as the vessel of light floated on its own power, emanating light as brilliantly as a miniature sun.
Eragon felt the warmth of the brilliance entering his body, reaching ever deeper into him until it penetrated the depths of his very soul. He roared in shock as the light seemed to throb in tandem with his heart, spreading and purifying the darkness from every corner of his being. It was as painful as his first agonizing transformation, only the feeling was of compression rather than expansion as the fiery power of his dragon form was forced back into him.
Light enveloped his entire vision, blinding and searing hot. As with the first time, the intensity of the experience proved overwhelming, and Eragon willingly surrendered to the darkness of unconsciousness to seek shelter from the ordeal.
Ilirea was perhaps one of the oldest settlements in western Alagaesia, its founding predating even the arrival of the first human ships. Here had been the last elfin stronghold outside of the impenetrable Du Weldenvarden and a city that had been a home for Dragon Riders outside of their island of Vroengard.
In its glory days, Ilirea had been renowned for its whimsical architecture. Elves had constructed the entire city with their graceful forest towns in mind and the elegance had been visible in every last column and glass window. Castle Ilirea had been the centerpiece of the unbelievable city, with slender spires that seemed to pierce the very sky and massive, elaborate dragon-holds that put most human manors to shame. Such additions were so unstable only magical enchantments continually enforced by the elves kept them standing. People had flocked to Ilirea from all four corners of Alagaesia to personally see the impossible structures and the Rider's dragons, and so it had also been a place of prosperous commerce and a tourist favorite.
Galbatorix's conquering of Ilirea had resulted in virtually the entire city being razed to the ground so that the new capitol of Urubaen could be built upon its desecrated remnants. Castle Ilirea was one the very few buildings spared from devastation, for even the Mad King could recognize the brilliance of its design. However, not even it had been left untouched from the Empire's brutal renovations.
All whimsical structures such as the slender towers had been removed due to the sheer waste of magic involved in keeping them erect. Such enchantments had gone to the support of the new defenses that Galbatorix had installed. Traces of elves and dragons upon the exterior had all been brutally effaced. Castle Ilirea had been transformed on the outside into the stark, practical fortress all of Urubaen knew it as today.
Portions of the interior, however, had been left virtually untouched by alterations. Visiting nobles slept in rooms identical to those high-ranking Shur'tugal had once stayed in. Carvings of men and women astride flying dragons decorated the ceiling of the several dining halls. The interior of Castle Ilirea seemed a testament to a glorious age long-past, and a harsh reminder of all the wonder that that had been lost forever after the Fall.
Why had Galbatorix spared so much of his fortress's interior from alteration? Even he had been impressed by the beauty of Castle Ilirea as a young apprentice Rider and wished for part of it to remain. It also served to remind the more rebellious inhabitants of the castle of all he had personally brought an end to, and as a warning against those who also foolishly considered waging war against the infamous Black King of Alagaesia.
For all of the foreboding titles and the outlandish tales that accompanied his name, Galbatorix was physically rather unremarkable. Contrary to popular belief, he was neither a hideous old man or the epitome of human perfection who had sold his soul for eternal beauty. His average face was one that could have belonged to a farmer plowing his field or a salesman hawking his wares on the street. His dull brown hair had only a few streaks of gray, one of the very few signs of his true age.
Only Galbatorix's eyes lived up to their reputation. They were impossibly dark, fathomless and unreadable black holes that drew in everything around them and let nothing out. It was the last thing his enemies ever saw before falling to his blade or to Shruikan's crushing jaws. It was from his unnerving gaze that all other exaggerations had sprung.
His eyes were the only visible sign of all that Galbatorix had sacrificed to gain his limitless power and near invincibility. Ultimate command over all else did not come without its own unholy price.
Shruikan growled. Galbatorix looked up from his text, turning all attention to the other half of his soul.
Lost in his violent dreams, the black dragon stirred restlessly in his slumber. His claws scraped at the ground as if tearing at the hides of helpless opponents. Every so often his jaws opened and closed as if crushing around the neck of another dragon or its incapacitated Rider.
Galbatorix shivered slightly at the beast's unbridled ferocity, withdrawing ever more from their permanent connection. He did not need to peek into his dragon's dreams to know he was reminiscing on the old days. Shruikan grew discontent after decades of inactivity. Time had dulled his blood-lust, the primal urge to destroy until he alone ruled over a world of ruin. It was all the dark-scaled dragon desired, and even Galbatorix sometimes feared the rage's intensity.
Shruikan's irreversible condition had been the result of one rather... unfortunate side-effect. The spell Galbatorix had cast to bind a young hatchling to his own soul had stripped it of its higher thought and emotions. His dragon was incapable of speech and felt only the base desires that drove the actions of senseless animals. Yet he was also unwaveringly faithful to his Galbatorix, and the love and obedience for his Rider were unconditional.
For all Shruikan's faults and mindless fury, Galbatorix loved his dragon. He helped fill the gaping void the death of darling Jarnunvosk had caused. The council of Dragon Riders had denied his understandable request for a second dragon and had banished him from their ranks. Galbatorix had returned the favor by acquiring a dragon on his own and unleashing his own devastating wrath upon those that had left him to die alone and insane.
"We proved them wrong, Shruikan," Galbatorix murmured quietly to his sleeping dragon. "For all those that tried to bend us to their will, it was they who were forced into submission. It is we who had all the power."
Again, the man's dark eyes flickered down to the text he was reading. The pages were yellowed like ancient bones, almost to the point of being illegible. Preservation charms that had been placed upon the book's pages just after their creation had long since faded with age. Galbatorix now had to daily enforce and repair the worn book to stave off the devastating effects of time. But its knowledge was priceless, and well worth the effort of constant maintenance.
Numerous runes adorned the yellowed pages, ones not elfin or dwarfen in origin. The language was long obsolete even in the book's homeland, but Galbatorix knew the words by heart. After all, the translations for every single arcane letter had been ingrained into his mind. His... tutor had strongly believed that knowledge was power and had ruthlessly instructed his sole student as such. Galbatorix was grateful for the instruction, but the burning hatred for his mentor lingered still. He had been aware of both.
His teacher had laughed humorlessly, reveling in yet another of his disrespectful student's smoldering glares. "Resent me all you will, boy, but you have foolishly bound yourself to me in ways all but the darkest of souls fear to. Your life is mine. Your soul is mine. Even all of your hatred is mine. Loathe me all you want, but know it will only give me strength. Of course, you knew all of this before you signed your soul away. Remind me again why you chose to do so." Cruel eyes narrowing, his silence was weighted with sharp expectation.
Galbatorix recited the answer that had been burned into his very mind through months of rigorous memorization. The response was now as natural as breathing or blinking. "You have the power, my Lord. Only as your loyal servant can I hope to borrow some of it. Only under your instruction can I learn to dominate those that defiled the memory of Jarnunvosk and left me for dead."
Silence reigned for several tense moments. Hardly daring to even breathe, Galbatorix remained rigid with apprehension as a cold sweat trickled down his brow. His mentor bothered with him solely because he felt the need to. Galbatorix was disposable to him. There were always other apprentices willing to serve under such a gifted master, even if they were difficult to locate.
Finally the feared and worshiped King of Thieves, the sole surviving male of his devious race, smiled slightly in appeasement. "Correct. It was the wish of Din that you found your way to me. Without her presence influencing your path you would have succumbed to exposure in the western mountains and would have died from the ruthless weather or from your own madness." His yellow eyes swept over his pupil, critically examining the months of training and drills under his command. "Yet you stumbled into the homeland of my people. A promising pupil of such limitless potential and the craving for the greatest of knowledge that seemed destined to encounter a master able to instruct him. It was a blessing to a both of us that my mothers decided to spare your life rather than leave your unconscious body to the scavengers and the sun."
Galbatorix still had to suppress his shudder of horror at the unpleasant memory. Mad from the loss of his beloved Jarnunvosk and dangerously dehydrated, he had scarcely remembered traveling down from the alpine slopes of the Beor Mountains and stumbling into a burning desert. He had soon collapsed into the sand and had been unable to rise, forced to suffer a painful death as the unrelenting sun drained away his water.
It hadn't helped that the first people that had stumbled across his limp form had been two hideous old crones. Mirror images of the other, their personalities couldn't have been more different. They had first debated on whether to watch the buzzards eat him alive or to torture him themselves. Then they had sensed his latent power and only then had felt compelled to become his rescuers.
Galbatorix took great care not to mention this to his lord. The "son" of the two crones was twice as worse than both of them combined.
"Koume and Kotake realized the potential I had," was his flattering response. "You helped me to realize it."
"Got that right, kid. Smart and skilled, exactly why I didn't let my Gerudo have at you. You're too valuable to waste as their plaything." His lord proudly held up his hand in yet another display of his superiority. Shining bright against his dark, desert-tanned skin was a mark of three golden triangles that formed a fourth. In the brilliant light of the afternoon it shown with a fitting red glow. "Just remember, my greatest trick is mine alone. Din recognizes me alone as the most powerful person in the entire world. Here is all the proof I need of it."
Galbatorix's brown eyes narrowed sharply. They had still been a relatively light shade back then. Not yet had they been forever tainted by the darkness of his deeds. "I'll still be able to do all you promised me, right? Slaughter entire forces of Dragon Riders with the simplest of spells? Harness the Elundari of each dragon I defeat to increase my own strength?" His heart fluttered with his faint hope. "Bond with a new dragon without resorting to the old rituals."
Lord Ganondorf, ruler over every last tribe of Gerudo and currently aiming on extending his reign to the kingdom of Hyrule, nodded. "Do I look like a godless deceiver to you?" he questioned mockingly. "Rest assured, Galbatorix, you shall have all the power as promised. Against your old foes you will be nigh invincible and Alagaesia will be yours to conquer." Ganondorf glared threateningly, and slowly clenched his extended hand into a fist. "Just remember that even the greatest of kings bow down completely before their gods. Should the Goddesses ever choose to strike me down before I attain the sacred Triforce, so you shall be condemned with me. My fall shall completely rob you of all my borrowed power, including the barriers I helped place to keep your... condition at bay."
Gulping reflexively, one of the younger man's hands unconsciously traveled to cover his heart. "I am aware of the dire consequences of betrayal, my Lord. My very sanity depends upon your success. I am not strong enough to ward off the effects of my broken bond with Jarnunvosk for long." Galbatorix bowed desperately. "All the more reason to obey you."
Ganondorf smirked in satisfaction. "Good." In his other hand he held up the book he had been dangling above Galbatorix's head for countless months as incentive. "Come along now, Galbatorix. Koume and Kotake believe you are ready for the next phase of your training."
Ganondorf's dire threats had proved true. His lord and master had mysteriously disappeared shortly after Galbatorix's final triumph over the slaying of Vrael and the fall of the last significant resistance against his cause. The Empire had been newly founded when Galbatorix had suddenly been stripped of his nearly unlimited energy and of the barriers that had prevented his descent from his earlier degenerate state. Fortunately conditions in his new kingdom had been chaotic enough for Galbatorix's surviving Forsworn to not notice his sudden loss of invincibility.
Years slowly crawled by. Galbatorix was forced to withdraw his forces into the Empire's borders. Elves and dwarfs so close to defeat huddled in their forests and their mountain strongholds to recover. He had been forced to watch as the rebellious south broke off and formed the rival nation of Surda, and a loose collection of rebels assimilated into the relentless pest that was the Varden. How could Galbatorix meet them in battle? Skilled magicians fought for the other side, and it would not take much for his previous illusion of invincibility to shatter. The Empire's god-king was now mortal enough to bleed, and preferred to languish in his castle rather than reveal his fatal flaws to his enemies.
As the old man he was now was chronologically, Galbatorix couldn't help but long for the glory days when he had leveled entire towns in hours and had easily massacred the strongest of Shur'tugal. With that new rebellious Rider allied with the Varden and possessing the last female dragon, the Black King wished only to rip Eragon Shadeslayer to pieces and to claim the sapphire she-dragon for the purpose of rebuilding her endangered kind.
Yearning for such power only aggravated his condition. Galbatorix was forced to continually harvest energy from the dragon Eldunarya to support the spells that held back the tide of madness and grief. Sometimes he would have to wait several agonizing days for the depleted supply to slowly restore itself.
Sometimes, his faltering mind would temporarily fail.
His fits of madness left him as furious and senseless as a mere beast. Hotheaded as a wounded dragon, his only instinct was to lash out at those he even suspected of insulting him. Without his wits during critical junctures, Galbatorix had suffered for it. Murtagh had first been driven to run away during one such episode. Relationships with the Alagaesian lords had nearly been damaged beyond repair when all of Urubaen had once feared him incurably insane. Shruikan was left free to run amok when his Rider was incapacitated, and ravaged servants and destroyed portions of Ilirea Castle until he could finally be subdued.
Galbatorix would always eventually wrestle his madness under control. Always he would awaken weeping for the loss of his invulnerability, and with the death of his darling Jarnunvosk fresh in his mind. The inevitably of another mental failure lurked again in the back of his head.
"Not for much longer," Galbatorix whispered harshly. "The approaching victory the Varden seems to sense shall only prove a false dawn. My reign over them all shall soon be unchallenged once more."
His fingers trailed over the ancient runes that held the solutions to all of the problems. Not even the most determined rebels could repulse an unfaltering army of undead soldiers entirely under his command. Monsters that had long since vanished from the land could be summoned forth to torment all those that defied him. There were ways to fully resurrect the entire dragon race without resorting to making them inbred brutes after several generations. Even Jarnunvosk could be returned without him having to cross the veil between the mortal world and the realm of the dead. Everything Galbatorix required for permanent triumph he already possessed. All he needed now was the power...
Glancing over at the fitful form of his dragon, Galbatorix smiled slightly. Shruikan was not the only one that grew restless. He sensed their time was nigh once again. He could feel it in the core of his very soul.
"Lord Ganondorf is rising again, Shruikan. You remember him, don't you?" Dark eyes alight with excitement, Galbatorix chuckled fondly. "Well, if you don't, you shall recall him soon enough. He returns to all of us, to recall the servants who shall be eternally loyal to him. It shall soon to be time for you to go out and play safely once again."
Lost in his slumber, Shruikan emitted a subconscious grunt to his Rider's words. For a brief moment the connection between the two strengthened, and primal emotions of blood-lust and violence assaulted Galbatorix's mind. Visions of burning skies and ravaged cities danced across his mind's eye as he glimpsed into Shruikan's fractured dreams. Then Galbatorix had returned to reality, sweating and panting heavily from the force of the emotional surge.
A small, satisfied smile slowly pulled at Galbatorix's features. Shruikan was eager to resume his old habits, and an unwitting Alagaesia was practically beginning to be reminded of the force that had annihilated the godlike Shur'tugal and had almost eradicated the mighty dragons from the earth.
It was now only a matter of time before then.
I was originally going to add Faron's scene in here, but it dragged on for too long and thus has been moved to the next chapter. However, to compensate for the missing half of a chapter I pushed the Galbatorix scene up forward. Nah, the old King of the Empire ain't crazy all the time. He just sold his soul to Ganondorf in exchange for ultimate power :D Murtagh shall (at last!) arrive within the next two chapters.
Next chapter: Faron turns out to be a giant glowing monkey. Eragon's Hylian- er, human again and just got another crap-pile of destiny shoved onto his plate. And Saphira requested Faron to... Wait, WHAT?
1. Geography for this twisted universe: GC map for TP is used, despite my earlier inconsistency. The Beor Mountains separate Alagaesia from Snowpeak and the Gerudo Desert. Though the "canon" Alagaesia map doesn't fully show all of the Beor mountains, for simplicity's sake it curves around enough to still cut off Alagaesia from much of the eastern world (as in Hyrule, whose main kingdom seems to be placed in a valley anyway). I made it this way to connect two realms without placing an ocean between them, as you shall see why later in this fic and the sequel I have planned.
2. Eragon can speak to animals while in dragon form just as well as Wolf!Link can communicate with Epona. No, most dragons typically can't do this. Just a perk from Nayru for handy aid from nearby creatures, no big.
3. The death of a dragon is enough to usually drive a Rider completely insane, or vice versa. Brom was a notable exception as he had a reason to stay sane and avenge his. Glaedr died himself, so no more ties to the physical world and plus a crazy spirit-guide couldn't help Eragon out. Galbatorix was not as fortunate. He was severely damaged and still has mental scars. During bouts of madness, he has those little "episodes" like the ones hinted at in the books. Calm and collected one moment, off his rocker the next. Ah, the insane psycho that is Galbatorix!
4. Galbatorix gains his power through his connection with Ganondorf, as Zant did. Without it, he doesn't have the power to simply crush the Varden and reclaim Surda. How did the two meet? After being exiled, a delusional Galbatorix wandered across the Beor Mountains and into the outskirts of Gerudo Village. Koume and Kotake found him and thought he was too valuable to waste. Ganondorf agreed to mentor him in exchange for complete loyalty, making all lands that Galbatorix captures technically his. How did Galbatorix stay alive? He used his magical abilities to address his basic needs. How did he found Ganondorf? Ambition attracts power XD Why'd he lose his power in the first place? 'Cause Ganny was severely weakened by the attempted execution and banished to the Twilight Realm after his original plot was foiled by OoT Link and Zelda.
5. The spell that Galbatorix used to bind a young Shruikan to him stripped the black dragon of all his higher thought processes and leaving him only with base emotions such as violence and greed, the drive behind so many evil dragons XD. Shruikan's condition can not be fixed. He's as far gone as those infected zombie-people in Left 4 Dead.
6. Galbatorix has many of Ganondorf's abilities when at full power. However, he can NOT actually completely restore his dead dragon, Jarnunvosk. However, Ganondorf has been shown to command hoards of undead minions before. So I shall leave you all with one word: dracolich.