The marks humans leave are too often scars."
― John Green
When All Is Forgotten
Chapter 13: Breathtaking Fox
Just to warn you guys, there's been a HUGE time skip. xD Sorry about the inconvenience but I'll write the reason why at the bottom. :)
Enjoy! ;)
Eragon woke with his hands tied behind his back. He turned sleepily, bumping his nose into something; curious, he opened his eyes.
It was Brom's arm. They were tied together behind his back and the old man laid beside him, unconscious.
For a moment he could only be confused, then, footsteps echoed and a black boot stopped beside his face.
He cringed and looked up, but what he saw was not what he expected. A black and white helmet obscured his capture's face. The person, whoever it was, was clearly a woman, for her armour was that of a female's and it hugged her body. It was white, but black details covered its form.
He glared at the person as she crouched beside him, reaching for his magic. He started voicing a word that would kill this imperial soldier dressed so uniquely, but then halted, puzzled. He could not remember the word. Frustrated, he tried a second time, but it slipped from his grasp like water in a stream.
"Little rider, you've run from our king for too long." She said, her voice was low, like a man's and black eyes shone through her helmet. He shivered, preferring to look passed her. There was a rattle off to his left and Eragon was appalled to see both Ra'zac were settled there. One was fitting a muzzle over Saphira's head.
Her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Eragon tried to connect with her, but felt nothing.
"She was most cooperative once we threatened to kill you," hissed a Ra'zac.
Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side, one of the Ra'zac grabbed his shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air. "It'sss wearing off."
"Give him more."
"Let'sss just kill him," said the shorter Ra'zac. "He has caused us much grief."
The taller one ran his fingers down his sword. "A good plan, but remember, the king's instructions were to keep them alive."
"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them."
"And what of this one?" the Ra'zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon, "what if he talksss, or if she does?" Now he pointed his sword at the armoured soldier and she froze. It appeared she had not been listening, rather, she had preferred to stare at him.
Eragon shivered again.
"They would not dare."
There was a long silence, then, "Agreed."
"You cannot have him, creature," the warrior said, "he belongs to the king now." She stood from her kneeled position to stop the Ra'zac from dragging Brom to the center of the camp.
The short Ra'zac snarled at her and she unsheathed a sword, it shone an eerie purple light on the camp. "Do you wish to test me, scum?" she said and Eragon noticed that her quiet, low tone was deadly as it was deep. "Our king puts more value in my life than yours. Would you risk punishment should you actually succeed in harming me?" Her eyes were cold as steel, hatred came off her small form in waves.
She stood in front of Brom, watching the Ra'zac decide their next move, and something in Eragon noticed a change in her composure. This woman who exuded hatred stood almost… protectively.
He shook it off at her next words, "He's a useless creature, that I can clearly see, but his majesty demanded his life. Do you truly want to risk his wrath?" She stepped aside, sheathing her creepy sword, "Do it. We shall see who meets the gallows like a common street rat."
The Ra'zac backed off, hesitantly, but in the next moment, an arrow struck the taller creature's shoulder. They rolled behind some boulders and the warrior dodged swiftly, with speed that did not seem entirely natural. Eragon was in her arms in an instant; a shield against what fired arrows from the dark.
There was a lull, and then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra'zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one's arm.
Eragon dully wondered why their hidden archer did not aim for the warrior in white armour. Could it have been because of the obvious speed she held? Or maybe because it was too dark to see the weak spots in her metalwork?
With a wild cry, the smaller Ra'zac fled toward the road, kicking Brom viciously in the side as he passed. His companion hesitated, then grabbed a dagger from the ground and raced after him. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.
The warrior did not notice the knife thrown from the Ra'zac, aimed at her precious shield, for her attention was on the bowman. Someone else, however, did.
A strange light suddenly appeared in Brom's eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. The dagger struck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.
"No!" Eragon screamed and he fought against the warrior who held him, though only finding it in him to be faintly surprised when she easily let him go. He didn't pay her any mind and knelt by the old man's side as he gasped for breath.
He heard footsteps approaching, the twang! of a bowstring, and a small grunt. He glared at the woman as he turned around and tears fell freely down his cheeks. "GO!" he yelled, too upset to care she was an enemy; that she was evil and would not listen, "JUST GO AWAY!"
She did not, though an arrow protruded from a kink in the shoulder of her armour. Instead, she knelt beside him and held her hand above Brom. Eragon knocked it away angrily.
Her gaze was even when it met his, "Would you rather he die, than let me save him?" he didn't know how to respond to the question; he was taken off guard and she held her hand over the old man a second time. Her hand glowed a lovely shade of white, and Brom's wound stitched itself together before Eragon's eyes.
"They clipped a lung, but that is healed. I've stopped the internal bleeding as well. He will live, with a bit of sleep."
Brom stared at her intently, watching as she stood and her hand went into Eragon's hair.
"I will allow you to keep your freedom for now Dragon Rider; gods know how you need it."
Eragon watched her walk away, his mouth agape and, after she had disappeared, he turned back to look at Brom's now sleeping form. His hand shook as he searched out where the dagger had stabbed him, but the wound had vanished.
Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks and he fell to the ground, hearing footsteps behind him.
The scene changed.
He was in a dark cell, his mind felt numb and he could scarcely remember who he was. He sluggishly wondered where he was, why he was there.
Over time, it eased and his mind whispered to him. He was in a dungeon. They were putting drugs in his food; he mustn't eat.
Food was given to him, but he discarded it; out the gutter, it went.
Shortly after, he heard screaming and tried to raise himself off the ground. Chains rattled.
There was crying, a girl's crying, he tried to focus on where she was, but he could not.
"You defied your king." Something snapped, the screams had died now and the silence sounded eerie, "You were ordered to observe the Ra'zac, you saved a traitor." Another snap, Eragon felt sick as the puzzle pieces began to ease into place.
The screams, the crying, it had come from the warrior in white armour. The warrior who had saved Brom.
A third snap rang out – and he knew it to be a whip. Why were they hurting her?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" She repeated the words again and again, as the hours trickled by and the snaps continued. Her torturer repeated words too, "Disloyal." "Betrayer" "Filth".
It sank in suddenly and his eyes widened; he realized that healing Brom had dropped her from the king's favor.
He tried to imagine the woman he'd seen that night. She was cold and hateful, but had shown kindness to Brom – however faint it might have been. He could not imagine that woman and the girl begging for forgiveness to be the same.
Finally, her torturer left and he heard her drag her body to the corner of her cell; it was beside his. He drug himself to the corner next to hers, listening to her heavy breathing for several minutes as he chose his words.
"Are you alright?" he asked finally.
The breathing quieted.
"I'm Eragon; you're the woman who saved my friend Brom aren't you? You were with the Ra'zac that night-"
"I remember." Her voice was lower now than it had been while she begged for mercy; he realized that she was trying to make her voice sound deeper.
"Why are they… why are they doing that to you?"
"I have betrayed his majesty's trust; therefore, I must face his wrath."
He was beginning to recognize the voice; something was oddly familiar about it. "I'm sorry that you're being… hurt."
She said nothing, and he wondered why he bothered to try to coax answers from her. She was an imperial soldier. "Thank you," he said softly, "if it wasn't for your actions…"
"There is no need to thank me, Dragon Rider. I simply repaid a debt I once owed."
The voice became clearer to him and he was certain he knew it. The name tugged at his lips as he tried to remember who it belonged to, "What do they call you?" he asked, hoping for an easy alternative to a discovery.
She did not speak.
For hours, he tried to convince her to talk, but she would not reply. Finally, he gave up with a huff.
If she wanted to be silent, he decided, it was not worth his time to fight her.
He did not know how much time passed, but a routine started. After his first meal was given to him, her torturing began and it did not end for some time after his third.
It sickened him and, had he been willing to eat, he would not have had the stomach to do it.
After what he could assume to be three days, she spoke. "Eragon." The way she said his name tugged at his heart, it rolled off her tongue as if she'd said it for years. His head was less fuzzy than it had been days ago; he recognized the fondness in her voice, the emotion behind her words, "you must not eat the food they give you; nor drink anything." Her voice was a deep whisper, scratchy from screaming, "it's drugged. If you wish for any semblance of escape, you must avoid it."
His throat clenched as he continued to listen to her, now recognizing the voice that he had once known so well. "Kagome." Tears fell onto his cheeks, "is that you?"
He was met with silence, but he chose to believe that was her answer.
It was Kagome; it was a once cheery girl who now exuded hatred, it was his best friend who had saved Brom, it was the woman he loved who was tortured for so long.
His first meal came and her screams filled the air.
Eragon covered his ears, trying to make them disappear as he sobbed silently.
This was his fault.
Everything was his fault.
Eragon snapped awake, breathing harshly and sitting up from where he'd rested on the freezing stone. He ran his fingers through sweaty hair and closed his eyes briefly.
When they opened, he had calmed.
He tried to take his mind off the nightmare, as he always did, but –as always- nothing truly helped. Perhaps, if it had simply been a nightmare things would have been different –but it wasn't. His nightmare was a memory, two to be precise.
Some of his last memories of the girl he loved.
He shook off his reverie, knowing that dwelling on her would do neither of them any good. He looked beside him, to where Brom slept fitfully and chuckled. At his side, Sindile slept, having nuzzled into him in the night. Brom's hand was curled protectively above him. To think, once Brom wanted to get rid of that cat.
He shook his head, stifling his smile and glanced over at his dragon.
Saphira was still asleep as well, her eyes wandering sightlessly under her eyelids, and her lip was curled. He smiled slightly, and then jerked as she growled again.
She must be dreaming, he realized and secretly he wished that he could sleep so peacefully.
Eragon stood and stretched, and then he peered at the far corner, where Murtagh slept on his back.
He could hardly believe that his friend, the boy who had unleashed arrows on the Ra'zac and Kagome so long ago, was the son of Morzan. –He did believe it, however. He had heard the older boy's story and Brom confirmed it countless times.
In the beginning, Brom had not trusted Murtagh solely for that reason, but a strange glint had been in his eyes when Eragon asked if they should leave him. Brom had told Murtagh that, so long as he did not pose a threat to Eragon, he could travel with them.
Murtagh stretched suddenly, his silky dark brown bangs fell into his eyes; which opened slowly, revealing steel gray irises. The other boy's face was serious as always and his eyes just as fierce despite having just woken.
As Murtagh sat up, he seemed surprised that Eragon was awake. "Morning." He said quietly, sitting up.
"How long have you been awake?" asked Eragon in a hushed tone, realizing that his friend had not only just woken. He remembered many a time when they woke up; Murtagh was a morning person, but not for the first minute after waking.
"Awhile. I'm surprised Saphira or Brom didn't wake you sooner; your nightmares continue to rouse us all."
Eragon winced, "Sorry about that, though I'm glad you didn't. I was tired enough to sleep through a thunderstorm," he said wryly. He sat by Murtagh and rested his head against the wall. "Do you know what time it is?"
"No. It's impossible to tell in here."
"Has anyone come for us?"
"Not yet."
They sat in silence without moving. Two men, one not even out of his boyhood, the other barely; yet they'd already had to face more than most men ever did.
Eragon felt oddly bound to Murtagh. I've been carrying his father's sword, which would have been his… his inheritance. We're alike in many ways, yet our outlook and upbringing are totally different. He thought of the scar on Murtagh's back – a twisted thing that reached from his right shoulder to his left hip- and shivered. What man could do that to a child?
He closed his eyes and his head banged against the wall. I suppose the same kind that can torture one. He again relived Kagome's horrifying screams, fighting the tears that came with remembering. He tried to picture her as she was now, but all that he saw was the hopeful, flushed face of the girl she was before they had left Carvahall.
He wondered if her face had changed all that much; or if they'd left scares there in addition to the supply that had surely been left from her torment. Is that why she wore the helmet?
He shivered then, remembering that at least one thing had changed behind the helm. Her eyes had appeared black, Was that a spell? Or did the king… He didn't want to imagine what the king could do to change the color of her eyes – or why he would want to.
Eragon remembered loving her eyes; they were so blue. They were what he recalled first about her now.
He fell asleep to the color of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the smile he'd come to adore. For the first time in months, he was happy she haunted his dreams.
They were ushered through the tunnels relatively quickly, with a grumpy bald man leading them. The man was the very same that had forced them to share their memories the night before.
Brom had been deemed trustworthy at first glance, but Eragon and Murtagh were a different story. Especially after Murtagh had refused to allow the man to enter his mind - the reason why he was watched so carefully was they road on horseback though the tunnels.
Orik, the dwarf kind enough to let them inside the mountain in the first place, seemed upset and grumpily muttered things from the front of their small line.
The further they rode, the more Eragon began to anticipate meeting the leader of the Varden, Ajihad. The man who led the rebels against the king was a shadowy figure to the people within the Empire. He had risen to power nearly twenty years ago and since then had waged a fierce war against King Galbatorix.
No one knew where he came from or even what he looked like. It was rumored that he was a master strategist, a brutal fighter. With such a reputation, Eragon worried about how they would be received. He glanced backwards to where Brom road on Snowfire with Sindile peeking out of his arms. Perhaps they had nothing to worry about; Brom had joined the Varden under him after all.
Or was that before Ajihad came into power? No, he's said that he trusted Ajihad before – but what if he's as bad as the rumors say? A moment later, he corrected his thinking. Those rumors were probably started on the king's request.
Now he could see thick marble pillars laced with rubies and amethysts in rows along the walls. Scores of lanterns hung between the pillars, suffusing the air with liquid brilliance. Gold tracery gleamed from the pillars' bases like molten thread. Arching over the ceiling were carved raven heads, their beaks open in mid-screech. At the end of the hallway rested two colossal black doors, accented by shimmering silver lines that depicted a seven-pointed brown that spanned both sides.
The bald man stopped and raised a hand. He turned to Eragon. "You will ride upon your dragon now. Do not attempt to fly away. There will be people watching, so remember who and what you are."
Eragon dismounted his horse, and then clambered onto Saphira's back. I think they want to show us off, she said as he settled onto the saddle.
We'll see. I wish I had Zar'roc, he replied, tightening the straps around his legs.
It might be better that you aren't wearing Morzan's sword when the Varden first see you.
True. "I'm ready." Eragon said, squaring his shoulders.
"Good," the bald man replied. He and Orik retreated to either side of Saphira, staying far enough back so she was clearly in the lead. "Now walk to the doors, and once they open, follow the path. Go slowly."
They did as told and the doors opened to brilliant light. The inside of the mountain was certainly brilliant and Eragon gave a hesitant wave to the crowd of people watching him.
It was quiet for a moment, but one cheer broke out, then many.
They walked along the path proudly, Saphira puffing smoke and holding her head high. She loved the attention and awe they responded with.
When they reached a heavy gate, it rumbled open before them as hidden chains slowly raised the mammoth beams. A four-story-high passageway extended straight toward the center of the city –which he had been informed, was called Tronjheim.
The top three levels were pierced by rows of archways that revealed gray tunnels curving off into the distance. Clumps of people filled the arches, eagerly watching Eragon and Saphira. On ground level, however, stout doors barred the archways. Rich tapestries hung between the different levels, embroidered with heroic figures and tumultuous battle scenes.
A cheer rang in their ears as Saphira stepped into the hall and paraded down it. Eragon raised his hand, eliciting another roar from the throng; many of the dwarves did not join the welcoming shout.
The mile-long hall ended in an arch flanked by black onyx pillars. Yellow zircons three times the size of a man capped the dark columns, coruscating piercing gold beams along the hall. Saphira stepped through the opening, then stopped and craned back her neck, humming deeply in her chest.
They were in a circular room that reached up to Tronjheims's peak a mile overhead, narrowing as it rose.
The walls were lined with arches – one row for each level of the city-mountain- and the floor was made of polishing carnelian, upon which was etched a hammer girdled by twelve silver pentacles, like on Orik's helm.
The room was a nexus for four hallways- including the one they had just exited – that divided Tronjheim into quarters. The halls were identical except for the one opposite Eragon. To the right and left of that hall were tall arches that opened to descending stairs, which mirrored each other as they curved underground.
The ceiling was capped by a dawn-red star sapphire of monstrous size. The jewel was twenty yards across and nearly as thick. Its face had been carved to resemble a rose in full bloom, and so skilled was the craftsmanship, the flower almost seemed to be real. A wide belt of lanterns wrapped around the edge of the sapphire, which cast striated bands of blushing light over everything below. The flashing rays of the star within the gem made it appear as if a giant eye gazed down upon them.
Eragon could only gape in wonder; nothing had prepared him for this. It seemed impossible that Tronjheim had been built by mortal beings. The city-mountain shamed everything he had seen in the Empire. He doubted if even Urû'baen could match the wealth and grandeur displayed here. Tronjheim was a stunning monument to the dwarves' power and perseverance.
The bald man walked in front of Saphira and said, "You must go on foot from here." There was scattered booing from the crowd as he spoke. A dwarf took Tornac, Snowfire, and Eragon's horse away. Eragon dismounted Saphira but stayed by her side as the bald man led them across the carnelian floor to the right-hand hallway.
They followed it for several minutes, and then entered a smaller corridor. The guards remained despite the cramped space and Eragon frowned. After four sharp turns, they came to a massive cedar door, stained lack with age. The bald man pulled it open and conducted everyone but the guards inside.
i luv niki4444
It's here! It's here! WOW I feel like I'm updating so much lately xD - For this story at least. I'm hoping to finish book one before NanoWrimo ends. ;P
Next chapter will be in Kagome's POV xD I'm finding it... interesting to write. Already halfway done with the chapter tho ;P
I honestly love the quote for this chapter xD John Green is one of my favorite authors right now. - And the fitting quotes are lining up! I've found three or four for the next chapters already! :D
Alright, so, here's the reason why this story is set so far into the future. - Basically, in the last chapter, Kagome was kidnapped by the Ra'zac. I have the entirety of what happened to her from there on written down - HOWEVER, I noticed that it would fit a lot better if I snapped forward and put in flashbacks on the occurrences. I can guarantee that eventually everything will come out, but, for now, what happened to Kagome and Cinder is -for the most part- a mystery.
Late Response! x'D I forgot that I was planning to answer...
Jayne chapter 13 . Nov 15
Awesome chapter I love Brom's sarcastic humor lol I hope to read more soon so what did the razaac ( hope I spelled it so l you know what I mean lol) mean when it said safe? Just curious and will kagomes scar tingle every time she senses danger ? Hope to find out soon :)
xD Thank you so much! :D 3 Brom's amazing!
"Safe" basically meant that Cinder was safer than she was. xD It was also a way of answering Kagome's question while demonstrating that they were under no obligation to tell her anything. (Aka - he/she was being a bit of a smart ash.)
Wow! 82 reviews?! Thank you so much guys! :D Let's work to make that a hundred! ;P My thinking is that the more reviews, the more people will notice! Which, in turn, could result in someone else publishing an Eragon/Kagome fanfiction... ! I WANT TO READ AN INHERITANCE CYCLE/INUYASHA FIC SO BAD D': I've read and reread all the fics that are currently out IT ISN'T ENOUGH.
THANK YOU SO MUCH to ultima-owner, Jayne, and firestone1836 for reviewing! As cheesy as it sounds I really do treasure every review I get and I'm so so happy when I get one! :D
With much love,
-Niki