OK, TRULY, THIS CHAPTER WILL BE BLOODY. BLOODY, WITH BOLD LETTERS THAT CAN GET NO BOLDER STUPIDLY. I AM SORRY IF IT IS A LITTLE TOO BLOODY, BUT IT NEEDS TO HAPPEN, ALRIGHT? TRUST ME. SORRY AGAINNN D: DO NOT READ ON, IF YOU GET SQEAMISH, FEEL FREE TO STOP READING AND SKIP TO THE OTHER PARTS WHERE SARISSA IS'NT BUTCHERING PEOPLE

Chapter 13 – Eom hávr Jierdan

"Breaking has a simple definition. To make that person have no will of their own, but lives only to do yours."

~Master Aias, Hand of Death, Master of the Gauntlet, Keeper of the Pact, Lord of Bullridge, called the "Black Ghost," "Dark Master," "Iron Hand," and "Lord of Hell"

Eragon shivered as Sarissa's hands traveled down his stomach, coming to rest at his waist.

"So… my pet, are you ready to break today?"

"No, mistress."

He could feel her lips smile against his neck.

"I like that spirit."

She brushed past him, her fingers skimming his side, which, despite his captivity, still had a healthy amount of meat on them. She had kept him well-fed, surprisingly.

"Guard!"

The door opened, the burly soldier throwing a bound man into the room.

Eragon knew him.

"Lord Rider!" the former Imperial soldier he had spared said, swiftly getting to his feet, but Sarissa quickly brought him down, faster than he had risen, his yell of pain grating in Eragon's ears.

Then he figured it out.

Sarissa…

"Mistress, please do not do this," Eragon whispered.

The man raised his head proudly, "My lord, do not break to this bi-…"

His insult was cut off by Sarissa's gauntlets.

"I am so sorry, Eragon," she purred, her eyes glinting with deathly malice. "But you said you were not ready to break. So, I have to."

"The starlit path awaits me, bitch," the soldier smirked. "I wonder what waits for you in hell."

Her grin had nothing but cold, hard, ice.

"An empty path as the dead, damned, and the lord of the underworld part before me, fool. Death fears me."

The Dragon Rider shut his eyes as he heard the sound of breaking bones and screams mixed with other wet sounds he did not wish he could hear.

Well… Eragon, do you like this image?

She slipped past his mental barriers, and he knew closing his eyes was useless. She could just show him what she was seeing, and it was just as horrid.

Describing it would be like trying to describe hell.

And the soldier's screams went on. And on.

And on.

Sarissa angrily threw the dead body away.

"Guard, bring in the next one."

A young girl stumbled in through the doorway, and Sarissa's anger vanished, replaced by pleasure.

Oh, this was going to hurt him.

"Eragon," she cooed.

The girl looked at her with fright.

The Dragon Rider had a tiny tear in the corner of his eye.

"Mistress, please… She's just a girl," he begged.

"Pet, it is easy as this. I will kill every person my guards give me until you break. And clearly you have not broken yet."

The girl looked at Eragon.

"Sir?"

He looked at Sarissa, begging her to let the girl at least speak.

She shrugged.

"What is it, little one?" he asked hoarsely.

"Are you feeling alright? Are you the Dragon Rider everyone talks about?" she asked, her voice heartbreakingly innocent.

Sarissa watched carefully as she saw Eragon's tear drop into the puddle of blood under him. Perhaps letting her talk would do just as much harm as another death.

"Yes, I am Eragon," he whispered.

"Momma says that you're a good man."

"I wish that I was."

The girl shook her head, "No, Momma is always right. Am I going to die, Eragon sir?"

Sarissa felt a shiver of accomplishment as she heard his thoughts grow sorrowful and she could almost hear his breaking heart.

"Yes. I am sorry, dear one, I am sorry."

"It's ok. Papa said he would wait for me and Momma at the gate of stars."

Eragon's weak smile was forced.

"Then someday, I shall meet you there and make up for what I made you go through."

"Ah, enough of this," Sarissa said, casually laying her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I think she will hate you after this."

She sent a surge of magic through her gauntlets, smiling lustily as the girl's shoulders broke and bled, the child's screams echoing off the walls and hallways.

Lust not for him, not for anyone.

No, this was lust for blood.

This room shall be drenched with the blood of the innocent, she thought with satisfaction. And Eragon shall break.

She could hear his weeping when the girl finally fell silent a few minutes later, a bloody mess instead of the cute girl she had been before. Lifting her up effortlessly with one lithe arm, she tossed her by the dead ex-soldier, smiling as Eragon winced at the crunch of bones and the wet splat.

She was going to enjoy this.

The next one had heard the screams. He was already crying, for he was an old man, perhaps in his fifties, but still fit, and his beard was still dark with only a few streaks of gray.

Sarissa turned them into streaks of blood.

Bones jutted out of his skin. With a flick of her finger, his stomach shredded open, intensifying his screams as she delicately poked his innards.

Eragon was shivering.

Oh yes, she was going to enjoy this so much.

Eragon could feel his tears streaming down his face.

Victim after victim, innocent being after innocent being. Sarissa slaughtered them all.

The guard threw in a young man, the man bravely staring at Eragon, nodding, but Sarissa quickly turned that brave look into a bloody horror.

His ribs shattered. His legs twisted at wrong angles. His tongue lay on the ground where Sarissa had lazily dropped it, and right now, she swiftly spelled his body into stillness, carefully carving off his bottom lip.

I always wondered what people looked like without lips, she mused to him, and he couldn't stop the blur of images that popped into his head from her thoughts. I suppose it would look more bizarre if there was less blood. Ah, that is it! I shall seal the wound.

He heard a ragged, breathless scream and the smell of burnt flesh made his nostrils flare, his mind swimming in helplessness.

His heart reached out to the dead corpses in the side of the room. To the man who was being mutilated. And for what? Simply because Sarissa wanted to break him. Just that she could break his spirit.

And he knew he couldn't lie to save lives.

And the screams continued.

Sarissa blinked in pleasant surprise as the guard shoved in an elf, the woman tripping before elegantly straightening, dark eyes glaring at her defiantly. No tears stained her face.

She was going to have to change that.

"An elf? A welcome change, those humans were weak. I shall enjoy making you scream. On your knees."

The elf did nothing.

"Lord Rider, I trust in you not to break," she said calmly.

"I hope I am worthy of that trust," he murmured, tears pouring down his fair face.

She gave a weak smile, "You are, my lord."

Sarissa sighed, "On your knees, elf."

"No murderer commands me."

With a vicious kick, she snapped the joint in her knee, bringing the elf to the ground with cold precision. Her face blanched.

"You do not scream. An improvement. Vera bruna. Oh, a question," Sarissa said, using a finger to break the stillness spell around the elf's head, for good reason. It let her scream. "Is there a relationship between you and the elven princess? You look like her."

Eragon then knew Sarissa had chosen this elf in particular.

She did look like Arya.

Sarissa knew his feelings for her.

The blood in his veins ran cold.

The elf spat in Sarissa's face.

The Hand of Death calmly wiped it off with the elf's sleeve.

"Defiant. I will kill that."

She gently brought her lips to the elf's, the elven woman's eyes widening with surprise.

Eragon knew what she was doing.

Restoration.

And when he thought over it, he also knew why she was doing it.

To make sure the elf would survive what Sarissa was about to do to her.

His cry of heartfelt pain rang sharply in the room, and he could almost hear Sarissa's laughter.

Sarissa let go of the elf, her dark smile never leaving her lips.

"You whore," the elf hissed. "Only you would take advantage of me like that."

The Hand laughed, "Me? A whore? No, elf. I am Mistress Sarissa, and on the starlit path that you will walk, much, much later, you shall remember that name and have nightmares. And you have no idea what you shall feel in the next few hours."

He closed his eyes, but then Sarissa let her eyes see for him too, and he could see the gauntlets close around the elf's arms.

She was starting easy.

Bone shattered and skin split, blood dripping down the elf woman's sleeve and Sarissa's gauntlets.

It suddenly struck him why she wore crimson-red leather.

To hide the bloodstains.

The elf knelt stoically, still and motionless as the spell never released her, her lips pursed.

"I am impressed. Even my pet did a little wince and yelp when I broke his arms."

"He is the Lord Rider, he serves no one save the wellbeing of the people of Alagaësia, and that includes killing you, you cheap whore," the elf hissed.

"Never knew the fair folk of the world had such harsh words in their vocabulary," Sarissa smirked. "You'll be saying more than 'cheap whore' to me soon."

Her fingers moved up to the biceps, bone and muscle ripping apart violently, her eyes dilating with the pain, but she stayed silent save a quiet whimper.

"I spent years learning every point on the body, animal, human, elf, dwarf, even an Urgal. I learned what places hurt the most, what places killed, what places knocked the victim unconscious… everything. There is not a place I do not know."

She tapped the elf's collarbone, moving a few spots to the left, tapping the spot. "On an elf, this place is said to hurt more than having your arms ripped apart if I push hard enough. Should we figure out?"

"Mistress…"

"No!" the elf snapped. "Say nothing more, Rider, you will not break!"

Eragon gave a slow nod.

Sarissa's finger tapped the area, the elf wincing.

"Ah, so it does hurt," she said, almost happily.

Then her finger pushed down on the spot—hard.

The elf's eyes slammed shut, her fingers shuddered, her lips quivering as Sarissa cruelly twisted her finger, the elf letting out a quiet cry.

"You are very resilient," Sarissa said, patting the elf's head. "If I did not have a better prize, I would have taken you as a pet. I would have enjoyed breaking you. Alas, I will have to use you to break Eragon, so let us let him hear your screams, shall we?"

The Hand pulled her to her feet, the elf standing stock still due to the spell.

She let her fingers trail down the elf's hard abdomen, muscled from work and no doubt, fighting. She could see the familiar calluses on the pads of her fingers and the edge of the palm.

The elf gave a quiet whimper.

Her hand came to rest on the elf's sternum.

"Let's hear your beautiful scream. Evarínya."

Evarínya's eyes flew open, her mouth opening.

And her scream shattered the silence of the room of the dead, breaking with the bones of her chest.

Eragon heard a wet rip and a ragged scream, Sarissa showing him images of what she was doing.

Evarínya's chest had been ripped open.

Sarissa picked through the organs, pulling out a small spherical thing, shrugging as she crushed it, the elf that looked so much like Arya letting out a harsh scream again.

The Restoration would keep her alive for hours. Maybe even a few days.

There was no way out of it.

"Oh, I take blame for that," Sarissa said as a hoarse cry of anguish came from Evarínya. "I think that might have been the spleen. Oh, Eragon, did you know we had to know the anatomy of almost every living thing. But with everything so bloody, I can barely tell the difference between the lung and the liver," the Hand of Death said, casually picking out something that was probably a lung, and ripping it in half, Evarínya screaming up blood as her torn lung fed the elf her own lifeblood instead of oxygen.

"That was a lung," Sarissa said, her cold obviousness frightening. "This, my pet, is a heart."

She carefully pulled out a pulsing blob, her mind-bond with him showing him everything and letting him feel what she was feeling.

It was sickening. He quickly fought the urge to puke for about the fiftieth time.

She poked it, and Evarínya shuddered as the extra pulse shivered through her whole body. Sarissa placed the beating heart back in her chest, licking the blood off her metal fingers, eyes gleaming with darkness, if that were possible.

"Your screams are beautiful, my dear," she purred. "I'd love to hear more."

"You are a heartless, cold, damned witch," Evarínya whispered, blood trailing from her full lips. "You…"

She screamed as Sarissa slammed a knife into her arm.

"Thank you. I promised you that you'd call me more than a 'cheap whore' before the end," 'Death-bringer' smiled.

She twisted the blade around, flesh ripping with a wet sound.

"Let me tell you something about myself, Evarínya."

"Your vile lips do not deserve to say my name!" she shrieked, turning into a tortured yell as the Hand tenderly turned the knife some more.

"I have a nickname. Some of my Brothers and Sisters of the Pact called me 'Bloodstained Gauntlets'. Can you suppose why?"

Without waiting for the probably insulting answer, Sarissa walked over to her desk, pulling a cloth from the drawer.

It was instantly stained with blood and gore, something the gauntlets had hidden. She wiped it across her torso, and it came away, slick with blood.

She tossed it into the basin of water, and walked over, smiling.

"Now you know why."

She gently ran a metal-sheathed finger down the trembling, sobbing elf's cheek.

"My other name is 'The Mistress of Pain'. I think I have proven this well enough."

"Get away from me, you heartless bitch," Evarínya wailed.

"You're too beautiful, the 'whore' in me cannot resist. It lusts for blood."

She slammed the knife into the torn stomach of the screaming elf.

"Enough," Eragon rasped.

Sarissa froze, drawing the blade from the elf who let out a cry of relief.

"What, pet?"

"End her anguish, mistress," the Dragon Rider begged.

She swam through his thoughts, a triumphant smile gracing her lips.

"Very well."

She took the elf's lips in hers, and with one draw of breath, took the air from the elf's lungs.

Dead, she released the elf from her spell, her body falling into the blood that nearly covered all the floor of the lower half of the room.

She walked over to Eragon's shivering form.

"Laúss," she whispered.

He fell to the floor, his tears mixing with his blood, now dried and hard.

"Get up, my pet," she said.

He tried, but his weak legs gave out.

She caught him under his arms.

"Come, you are bloody. Wash with me."

He gave no sign of resistance as she led him to the bathing room.

She couldn't help but smile.

She had won.

She had finally won.

Those ten days were worth every second.

For she could see his silver-gray eye looking at her, his other still a brown shade, though it was lighter and more bronze than the chocolate brown it had been.

And that made this her greatest victory, and thus it would stay for the rest of her life.

She was satisfied.

Eternally satisfied.

Translation: Eom hávr Jierdan (title) – To have Broken

Vera bruna (tongue of Sarissa's people) – Be motionless

Laúss (tongue of Sarissa's people) – Release

TN: Jierdan is what I am guessing is the right word for meaning broken. Vera, bruna, and laúss are my words. All of the "tongue of Sarissa's people" words are. XD

AN: You know… I never think I could have written such a dark scene like that… o.o;; oh God… yeah, even I got a bit squeamish but it was worth it. Now you can see how… cold a Hand of Death can be. But there are some things about Sarissa you all will soon learn.