Hey everybody. How you doing? Hope you all are doing well. Several things to say before the story commences. To Vidar, yes, I do own a sword. It is a Marine Corp Cavalry Saber. And for those of you who haven't heard the news, the newest book in the Inheritance Cycle, appropriately titled Inheritance, has finally been announced and is slated for release in November. If you want to read a couple of excerpts released by Christopher Paolini, go to .com (Warning: Excerpts contain SPOILERS. Read at own risk). So, here's the newest chapter of Du Sundavar Freohr.
[Eragon] moved against [Arya], increasing the tempo as her whimpers turned to moans, and her moans turned to quiet screams. She started moving against him, and for a moment, he thanked whatever gods existed for two things; one, for finally allowing him to receive his heart's desire.
Two, was for the Elves' flexibility.
When Eragon awoke, the first thing he felt was confusion; he felt fatigued, but couldn't remember why. As he tried to move, Arya shifted against him, and the memories came flowing back to him. She looked up at him, and smiled, glowing with the aftereffects of the night's activities. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, before rolling over to get dressed. She grasped his arm, and pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He deepened it, and before he knew it, she was on top of him, impaling herself as he thrust up into her, listening to her scream in pleasure.
After some time, they both ended, and lay panting on the cot. Arya got out of the cot first, and sensually bent over to pick up her clothes, giving her lover a superb view of her figure. Eragon smiled, and sat up, the blankets falling off his torso. He stood up, and pulled on his trousers before gently placed his hands on her waist, tracing the curve of her hips. She sighed contentedly, and leaned against him, feeling his muscled chest with her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her for a moment, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.
They finally separated, and she pulled on her tunic, slowly pulling the cloth over her skin to allow her lover to see it for as long as possible. She kissed him one last time, and slipped out of the tent. He smiled, and picked up the belt of Beloth the Wise, wrapping it around his waist. He picked up Brisingr, and attached it to the belt. He then picked up a tunic, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up a large pot, walking outside. He set the pot down on a stump, and filled it with water through magic. He cupped his hands, capturing the water and bringing it up to his face. He quickly washed his face and torso, removing sweat and dirt from his skin. He shaved with magic, and pulled the tunic on.
He heard a slight crunch to his left, and his instincts took over. He ducked down, the blade of a dagger just passing over his hair, and swept out with his leg, knocking his attacker off balance. He pulled Brisingr from its sheathe, and grasped the hilt, managing to bring it around so that the blade rested right on the man's neck. His vision finally caught up, and he saw Zeratide lying in the dirt below him. Zeratide grunted, and managed to push Eragon off of himself, quickly rising to his feet. He drew Kveykva, and lashed out, stabbing at Eragon's collarbone. The younger Rider deflected the blade, and kicked Zeratide in the stomach, sending the elf sprawling in the dirt. He rolled backwards, and handsprung to his feet, kneeling low on the ground, and he then shot forward, slamming his shoulder into Eragon's stomach. They rolled around in the dirt, trying to get their swords around on each other, before Eragon managed to bash his Master's head against a rock, stunning the elf and allowing him to jump up and swing Brisingr around so the tip rested on this throat.
Zeratide grinned, and raised his unarmed hand in surrender. Eragon helped his Master to his feet, and sheathed Brisingr. "Very good, Eragon," Zeratide said, dusting off his clothing. "Your reaction time has improved greatly since we've begun." Eragon nervously thanked his Master, worried that the Rider may have seen Arya leaving his tent. Zeratide took a look around the camp, and said, "While we're training today, I would like Saphira and Ammadden to practice flying. Saphira I understand is a gifted flyer, but there is a fundamental difference between normal flying, and the stealth flying required for future missions I have planned for you." Eragon nodded, and relayed the message to Saphira.
I will go, she said, swiping her tail through the dirt as she stood. It will be good for me to practice stealth. And not one word! she exclaimed as Eragon began snickering. Zeratide motioned for Eragon to follow him as he started walking off toward the training fields. Eragon quickly ran back inside to grab Undbitr, and followed the elf, excited to finally be participating in more training.
As they walked between the surrounding tents, Zeratide asked, "Are you nervous, Eragon?"
The young Rider nearly stumbled, and he managed to croak out, "Yes."
Zeratide laughed, and said, "You've good reason to be nervous, Eragon. The hopes of the Varden and those oppressed by Galbatorix rest on our shoulders, and we have far to go before we are ready."
Eragon sighed with relief, and thought, Good, he was just talking about Galbatorix. He doesn't know that Arya and I are sleeping together yet. The elf suddenly stopped, so abruptly that Eragon walked into his Master. Only then did Eragon notice the probe in his thoughts.
Zeratide slowly turned around, and stared with shock and outrage at the horrified look on Eragon's face. "YOU WHAT?" he shouted, and several birds shot up into the air in fear at the volume of it. Eragon took a step back, and tried unsuccessfully to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. Zeratide's nostrils flared angrily with each breath, and several sparks danced on his fingertips as he stared down at the younger Rider. For the first time, Eragon noted just how much taller Zeratide was; the elf easily stood at six-and-a-quarter feet, while Eragon himself was about five-and-three-quarters. The elf seemed unable to decide how to react to the news that his daughter had lost her virginity and Eragon took the opportunity to speak.
"Master, I swear to you, though it may not be of any comfort to you, that it was completely consensual. I would never do anything without her consent, and I swear to you that I love her with all my heart, and that I will love her till the day I die." Zeratide gazed at him with the look a judge might give a man as he was debating his guilt or innocence. Zeratide nodded crisply, and turned back around, stalking off to the training areas.
When Eragon remained motionless, the elf shouted, "Get a move on, dammit!" Eragon hurried after him, hoping against hope that he wouldn't face retribution from his mate's father.
Murtagh awoke with a yelp in his cell, sweating profusely. He had just woken from a nightmare of Galbatorix standing over him, tearing him apart for disobeying his orders to kill Eragon and Zeratide. His breath slowly calmed from frantic panting to a slow, measured breathing as he tried to relax. It was just a dream, he thought, and for the first time since he and Thorn were bonded, he realized just how significant being out of Galbatorix's hold was. If we were still bonded, than that wouldn't have been a dream, and it would have occurred many times already. He reached out to Thorn, and felt the young dragon's eagerness to feel his Rider.
How are you faring, Thorn? Have they given you enough food and water? he asked, worried for his partner's health.
I… I just can't explain how excited I am, Murtagh, the youngling communicated, and Murtagh could feel excitement flooding from their bond. I feel so… hopeful. That's unfamiliar to me, my friend.
I understand, Thorn. Again, did they give you enough food and water?
Bah! You worry like an old hen, the youngling teased, before saying, and don't worry. When they found out that we're going to be serving the Varden, they brought me enough meat that you'd think I was King of all Dragons!
Don't let it go to your head, Thorn, he warned, stretching in his cell. Get too arrogant and you'll find that you become an easy target.
I know, I know. Still, you have to admit, we're being treated better here than we ever were in the King's Court. And all off it because Nasuada has a crush on you, Murtagh.
Murtagh's face turned red, and he spluttered, trying to get his words out before he remembered he was communicating through thought. That is not true, Thorn! She's just grateful to have another Rider, that's all.
If that were true Murtagh, than why would she act the way she does around you? I've seen through your eyes, little one. When she's around you, she appears happier, takes extra care with her words, holds your gaze for just a little longer, and once or twice steals a glance at your lips as if she wants to caress them with her own.
You're imagining it, Thorn. Whatever relationship we may have had before my capture is over. He heard the guards snap to attention, and he quickly said, I have to go Thorn. Listen if you wish, but do not speak; I need to concentrate. He felt Thorn's reluctance, but the dragon receded in his mind. Murtagh stood, and a few seconds later, the iron grille opened, allowing Nasuada to walk in. Murtagh swallowed nervously, remembering what Thorn said. Having heard it, he noticed the little signs he had mentioned; her gaze seemed to linger for just a fraction of a second longer than was necessary, and when she stood still, he noticed that her stance was just altered enough to show off her figure, yet still look dignified. Her lips curled upward in an alluring smile, and he realized that she had been waiting for him to notice.
"Hello, Murtagh," she said, and her eyes softened slightly as she said his name. He decided to play her game as well, and bowed before her, taking her hand and kissing it in greeting.
"Nasuada," he said, his voice smooth and enthralling. A twinkle appeared in her eyes as he rose, and she continued.
"I have come here for a reason Murtagh. As you wish to serve the Varden, you must be trained. I know Zeratide extended an offer, and I am here to take you to the training grounds. I would observe what it is you can do." Murtagh grinned, and nodded, pulling on a shirt, watching her mouth turn in a slight pout. He walked up to her, and leaned over so his lips were floating by her ear.
"I can show you that. And when do you want to see my fighting skill?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows slightly. She giggled, and walked out, motioning for him to follow.
Eragon followed Zeratide as the elf stalked onto the training field the magicians used to practice their magic, and saw that the surrounding fields were full of warriors who stopped to observe the goings-on between the two Riders. Zeratide strode to the center of the field, and turned facing Eragon. "What you and I will be practicing today, my young apprentice, is how to defeat your enemies in a wizard's duel. Now, from what I gather, Brom and Oromis told you a bit about the concept, am I correct?" Eragon nodded. "Very good then. When I count to three, you and I will begin a mental grapple. When one of us breaks through the other's guard, the round is over, and we begin again. Are you ready?" Eragon nodded again, and the elf began counting. "In three… two… one."
Instantly, Eragon felt Zeratide battering against his mind, and he threw up barriers, before jabbing at Zeratide's mind in return. He found his probe deflected rather than blocked, and in his brief moment of surprise, his barriers wavered, and Zeratide made a charge at them. Eragon managed to get them back up before they could be breached, but Zeratide's probe continued, slipping underneath without stopping. Eragon's limbs snapped to his body as Zeratide shrouded his mind. A moment later, his body was freed, and his mind was his own again. "Not bad," Zeratide said, casually rubbing his knuckles against his chest. "But not great. When you are in a wizard's duel, a deflection of a mental probe is something that you may very well come across. Only skilled duelists can do it, but Galbatorix has had a century to hone his craft." Eragon nodded, and Zeratide counted down again.
This time, Eragon initiated the attack, launching for Zeratide's consciousness. Just before he reached it, he stopped, and grinned as Zeratide attempted to deflect the probe, unprepared for Eragon's sudden stop. Eragon took advantage of the distraction to quickly slip between the rapidly closing barriers and surround Zeratide's mind. He felt his Master's enthusiasm at his success, before he removed himself from the elf's mind.
"Very good, Eragon," Zeratide said, smiling slightly in spite of his foul mood. "You prove yourself Brom's son by your adaptability. By using your opponent's skills against them, you managed to gain entry into my mind, which is a considerable feat. Now, again!"
Murtagh followed Nasuada silently as her Nighthawks surrounded her so he could not see her, and another regiment surrounded him, prepared to kill him at the slightest provocation. He walked with his back straight, his hands clasped behind his back to show he wouldn't reach for his weapons, and walked with a proud and powerful stride, showing he meant business. Civilians stared at him as he went past, and as they walked, he observed the damage the siege had done to the city. He saw that some of the walls surrounding the city were cracked, and he noticed the frame to the entrance of Lady Lorana's tower was sagging slightly. He heard Nasuada speaking to him, and he focused back on her.
"I received a report on what Zeratide will be training you in today, Murtagh. Tell me, how good are you at a wizard's duel?" Murtagh's eyes widened in surprise, and he thought for a moment, remembering the rare occasions he had ever needed to combat an enemy magician.
"I can duel Eragon into a stalemate. Send me against Galbatorix though, and you can't expect anything." She nodded, and stopped as they reached the training field. The guards dispersed, and he saw Zeratide and Eragon standing motionless in the center of the field.
Eragon flinched, and Zeratide suddenly shifted, before turning to the assembled group. "Lady Nasuada," he said, bowing. He cast his gaze on Murtagh, and said, "Get out here, Murtagh. Your training advances now." Murtagh stepped forward, and instantly felt a probe battering at his mind. His iron defenses were up in a flash, stopping the probe cold. He felt the elf surround his mind, not entering, but forming a buffer to prevent counterattack whilst trying to find an entrance. Murtagh managed to keep walking, and once he reached the center, the force of the probe doubled, and he tried to find a gap through the blanket surrounding his thoughts. He finally managed to slip through a gap, and slipped into Zeratide's mind as the elf was distracted trying to remove the shroud.
He gasped as he entered the elf's mind, hearing the music that made up the sound of all elves' minds. Zeratide's sound was a deep, hypnotic sound, and as he listened, he felt as if the entire world's sadness echoed in the tune, as well as the entire world's hope. He felt himself pulled from the elf's mind, and found himself staring back through his own eyes at the world around him. He saw Zeratide nodding, and he focused back on the elf.
"Very good," Zeratide said, rubbing his jaw for a moment. "Now I want you and Eragon to both attack my mind. Working together, you two are to try and break in. Note that I have been going easy on you. You will find my mind much harder to enter this time around."
The lessons went on like that for hours longer, until the two students could not only enter Zeratide's mind, but work cohesively to break into a stronger mind, create barriers that even Zeratide had difficulty slipping past, deflect a mental probe, and break into the minds of two opponents at the same time. By the end of the lesson, the two young Riders were combating the mental strain of the act, while Zeratide had a slight headache.
"Now, I want you two to remember one thing," he said, brushing dirt off his cloak. "When you engage in extensive mind combat like trying to break into the minds of two combatants while simultaneously trying to protect your own mind and communicate with your dragons, you're going to feel some considerable mental strain. The trick is to keep practicing. Then you'll only feel a slight ache."
Nasuada stepped forward, and Zeratide turned to her, crossing his arms as he observed her in the coming twilight. He rubbed his temples, before he murmured, "Heill." He sighed in relief as the pain receded, and waited for her to speak.
"You have my gratitude, Zeratide, for training our Riders," she began, politely inclining her head to the elf. "I fear that had you not appeared, we would have been sorely underpowered when we finally reached Urû'baen. Now, thanks to your ceasefire, we have eleven months until we must combat them again."
"I sense that you have a task for me," Zeratide said, staring levelly at the dark-skinned woman before him.
She smiled slightly, and replied, "Quick to the cut, I see. Very well. In order to defeat Galbatorix, we need to find a way to remove him from his Eldunarya, or to render them useless to him. I would request that you work on the project with Eragon."
"No."
Everyone turned to stare at him with shock, surprise, and outrage. Before Nasuada could respond, Zeratide said, "That's not the big issue at the present. If you want to remove the Eldunarya, you need to remove any chance of him getting another Rider. You need to get the egg. You also need records of the Empire's activities, and an espionage unit who can perform missions into the Empire without being captured, or, if they are, without incriminating the Varden."
Nasuada sighed, and rubbed her temples, responding, "And how would I go about doing this, Rider?" Zeratide raised his hand, and at his word, water collected in front of him from the air around him, freezing into a mirror.
"Draumr Kopa," he commanded, and the surface darkened, before turning into a perfect image of the Black Citadel, down to the minutest detail. The spires stabbed into the clouds, and snarling gargoyles poised on the buttresses. Nasuada gasped, and the image blurred, before showing an empty treasury. Or, at least that was what it appeared to be. As the image zoomed in, they saw that the room contained an emerald egg resting on a pedestal. The image disappeared, and the ice melted, the melt water falling into the soil.
"When I was trained by Vrael, he often took me on political missions, and encouraged me to do a little espionage while we were there. Due to that policy, I have intricate knowledge of the layout of Castle Ilirea, Tronjheim, Ellesmera, Vroengard, and many other places beside. In one week, I will conduct a raid on Castle Ilirea. I will fly in under cover of darkness, and I will steal the egg. Eragon and Murtagh will accompany me. While I am stealing the egg, Murtagh will steal enough Eldunarya to fill our saddlebags, and Eragon will use implanted memories to find the records of their expenditures. These should give us the location of their supply lines, bases, garrisons, etc." Nasuada nodded, her eyes wide, and Zeratide shrugged his cloak on, and turned to leave.
"Master, I have a question, if I may," Murtagh said, staring at the elf with his eyes narrowed slightly. Zeratide motioned for him to continue, and Murtagh said, "A person can only scry that which they have seen before. So where have you seen this egg? And why did you not take it before?" Everyone looked curiously at the elf, and Zeratide sighed, his shoulders sinking slightly.
"Because I was its carrier."
In an instant, Nasuada, Eragon, and Murtagh felt their barriers casually pushed aside. They felt a number of memories pressed gently against their minds, before they burst in, overflowing.
Zeratide was younger, his body at the height of its strength. The sky was covered in roiling smoke, and dark, black clouds. The few patches of the sky that were visible were a bloody red. Dragons of every color darted back and forth, fire pouring from their maws, scorching the ground with a scar that wouldn't heal for decades. Zeratide ran through the pillars of flame, dressed in a set of matte-finished plate armor, smeared red with gore. An elf woman charged with him, wielding a violet blade. The two cut down opponents left and right, Zeratide carefully protecting a pouch dangling at his side. The two finally managed to come to a spot away and hidden from the fighting, and they collapsed, gasping. Zeratide mopped his brow with his sleeve, and his eyes blanked for a moment before he said, "Ammadden is on his way. How are you doing, Kialandí?"
All three jerked in recognition of the name, and the elf woman lifted her head, a charming smile crossing her delicate face. Her hair was blond, and reached just above her waist. She had a very womanly figure, displaying large breasts and hips, while also displaying a warrior's body. She wore a brown tunic with a neckline stopping just above her cleavage, and her trousers clung to her legs like another layer of skin. "I'll survive," she purred, and her voice dripped with lust, bringing shivers to the spine. "I still don't know, however, why you brought me on this thrice-blasted raid, or what we even gained." Zeratide looked around him, and carefully opened the satchel, displaying a large emerald egg, crisscrossed with white veins in a pattern resembling a star sapphire held to the light.
Kialandí gasped, and she carefully cradled the precious object in her arms. She gazed into his eyes, and pulled him forward, enveloping his lips with her own. She placed the egg back in its pouch, and wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him down on top of her. The kiss went deeper and deeper, until she wanted more. She removed her tunic, revealing her considerable bust to her lover. More and more clothing came off, until they wound up rutting on the battlefield, the sound of metal clashing with metal surrounding them. When they were finished, they dressed. Ammadden arrived shortly after, and they made their escape.
Zeratide appeared before them then, his face grim. "Before I returned to Ellesmera, and entered a relationship with Aelana, I was in a relationship with Kialandí. When we ended our relationship, it wasn't quite on the best of terms, and that later came back to bite me in the ass."
Another memory appeared, this time of Vrael and Zeratide in a room lit only by candlelight. For the first time, the three really took in the appearance of the legendary Rider. Vrael's hair was a midnight black, cut so it ended halfway down his neck and framing his face. He had a strong jaw, with a thin scar running along the right side. His eyes were a startling emerald, and his skin was a tawny shade. He wore a forest-green tunic, finely cut, and with stitch work depicting his dragon, Eridor. His trousers were black, of equally fine design. He and Zeratide gazed with affection and love, respectively, at the woman lying in the bed beside them. At further inspection, it was revealed to be a very pregnant Aelana, obviously in the final stages of labor. A cry broke out, and Arya entered the world.
As a nurse shooed them from the room, Vrael turned to Zeratide, and his face became grim, hard lines forming around the corners of his mouth. Outside the door, Vrael spoke to Zeratide. "The Wyrdfell are coming, my Apprentice. Galbatorix will challenge me, and I fear that I may not survive. He has broken the minds of the Eldunarya, and he has broken the Riders."
"With your permission, Master, I would fight him," Zeratide said, bowing his head before his mentor. "Brom is broken because of Saphira's death, a death that would not have occurred if not for him. And I have the power to defeat him Master." Vrael gazed out the window of the castle on Vroengard, observing the roiling black waves reflecting the light of the silver moon. He sighed, and reached into the pack on his shoulders. He pulled out the emerald egg the young elf had stolen so long ago, and in a flash, Zeratide realized his Master's plan.
"Zeratide, I want you to take this egg, and flee. I will fight Galbatorix, and I will try to bring him back to the light. But if that fails, and I am killed, then you need to make sure that the egg stays safe. You need to make sure that another will rise who can do what needs to be done."
"But Ebrithil, I am ready! I can kill him, if I am just given the chance!"
"No!" Vrael shouted, and his voice was suddenly hard with anger. "You are young, Zeratide, and quick to anger! I am old, and I am not as strong as I once was, but my mind is clear. If I fall, we need to be sure that there will be someone to take up the mantle. Someone who will be the best of us. If I fall, we need someone with my patience, my wisdom, and your power." His eyes softened, and he spoke softly to the cowed youth. "Do not believe I call you a fool, young one. I know you are wise in your own right, but I have lived for five hundred summers. You must trust me."
Zeratide gazed at his Master with pleading eyes, and Eragon, Murtagh, and Nasuada knew that he wished to refuse, but he sighed, and whispered just three words.
"As you wish."
The next memory was on them like a wolf on a fawn. The sky took on the appearance of the first memory, dark and bloody. Zeratide fled on Ammadden from two dragons, one crimson, the other violet, and the three observers knew who it was. The Rider and Forsworn collided repeatedly, until they eventually had to land. Zeratide stood tall before Morzan and Kialandí and dueled well. He used his own blade and theirs to block and attack; once, when Kialandí slashed at his shoulder, he managed to grab and twist her wrist, using her blade to block an incoming Zar'roc while she still held it. He took advantage of Morzan's surprise to lop off the tip of finger. Before too long, however, Kialandí managed to duel him into a corner, and worked a piece of black magic. The incantation was lost over the roaring wind, and Zeratide screamed in pain as his arm erupted in violet flames, runes and burns covering his skin. Morzan sheathed Zar'roc, knowing it was over, and removed the egg from Ammadden's saddlebags, ignoring the dragon's own thrashing from the mental feedback.
He climbed into his dragon's saddle, and called to Kialandí, "Finish whatever you need to do, and meet me back at the rendezvous point." With that he took off, and the two former lovers were left alone. Zeratide gasped in pain, and Kialandí bent over him, a wide grin on her face. Her new outfit consisted of a pair of black trousers similar to her original, covered from the knee up by a battle-skirt. Her tunic had been replaced by a shirt that revealed her stomach, and had a circle in the center displaying a considerable amount of her breasts. She straddled him, and dug her fingers into his chest, moaning as she saw his pain.
"Do you feel it, Zeratide?" she whispered in his ear, gently licking the lobe. He hissed in anger, and she drew back, an amused smile on her full red lips. "So much pain, so much agony! Now you know how I felt when you left me." She ground her pelvis against him, and he struck her, sending her rolling on the ground away from him. She moaned, rubbing the resulting bruise with her left hand, and fondling her breasts with her right. "So rough…" she moaned, biting her lip, and he glared at her in hatred. "As horrible as you made me feel emotionally in the end, it was just so good physically; while it lasted… no other man will ever be able to please me as you did, Zeratide."
"You're insane, Kialandí!" he roared, and with his last remaining strength, he cast a spell on her mind, creating the illusion of his and Ammadden's deaths. She eventually mounted her dragon, and soared off, before he finally passed out from the pain.
Well, there you have it, folks! I hope it was worth the wait. So, Zeratide has ties to the infamous Kialandí, and the Queen of the Varden has a thing for everyone's favorite Inheritance bad boy. You know I won't know how I did until you click that little button that says review, so come on… do it… you know you want to…. Until next time!
-Zeratide, out.