A/N: I'm so sorry for the late update! I hope you like this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing! You are truly awesome!

Chapter Thirteen: Rage

The Shade woke to the sound of voices calling Damon. Under him was the wet ground, rich and dark. He stood hurriedly with grace, hearing a voice he dimly recognised.

"Damon!" Beth, Damon's mother, called. "Damon, are you there?"

A dark smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Power throbbed through his body, filling every vein, organ and muscle. The instinct to kill was stronger than ever, almost consuming him. He yearned to smell the sickening aroma of blood, blood shed because of him. He wanted to rip someone apart, to hear the screams of innocents as he burnt everything they had. He would destroy anything or anyone in his path. His confidence was only heightened by the fact of his incredible strength. No one could stop him, and neither would they dare to. Damon was somewhere in the Shade, bound to the souls of other unfortunates. He was helpless, unaware, and not himself any longer.

The Shade threw his head back and laughed a menacing, narcissistic laugh. Beth's calling ceased, causing the Shade to sober. "Mother," he feigned in a sweet voice, "it's alright. Do not fear." His keen ears picked up the small gasp from the trees. He crept through the needle-grass, as silent as a mouse, peeking through a gap in the trees. There stood Beth, as white as a ghost, her blue eyes wide. "Boo," whispered the Shade, his crimson eyes glinting in excitement as he leant forwards.

A scream echoed through the forest before suddenly cutting off.

Roran's head shot to the sound. He felt his heart leap in fear and concern. It sounded so much like… Beth. The villagers around him gasped, glancing at one another in dread. Elain looked the most shaken, her hands flying to her mouth, her body stiff.

"Shade!" exclaimed a girl, her blonde hair flying as she burst through the trees. Roran had seen Eragon talking to her at Carvahall a few times, but he had never interacted with her, except for a polite smile as they passed each other. When Roran had asked about her, Eragon just shrugged, saying her name was Cyra.

"Who's next?" called a deep, flattering voice of a man. A crazed laugh exploded through the trees, causing a group of birds to flurry into action, squawking and complaining as they flew into the sky.

Jameson tapped Roran on the shoulder desperately. "We have to go," he warned hurriedly, his voice almost mute.

"I like a challenge!" the voice suddenly called. "Run! Try me, you imbeciles!" Roran raced to Cyra, throwing her over his shoulder with a laboured grunt. Her breath hitched the fast motion forced the air from her lungs. The other men followed suite, lifting anyone who was too shocked to move onto their shoulders or backs. Horst grabbed Elain, while Albriech and Baldor rushed to help the other villagers. Jameson picked up a young boy quickly, who was confused, oblivious to the danger, and ran after Roran, hearing the menacing laugh in the distance. "Oh, I see how it is! An unwise choice on your part, but you couldn't have escaped anyway!" cried the joyful voice.

Not a sound came from Cyra as Roran ran, not until she screamed, "Anne!" Her voice died out, and she sobbed uncontrollably as the sick laugh filled the forest. "We can't escape," she whispered.

"We have to try!" Roran snapped shakily, his mind as well as his legs racing. Everyone—realising that the Shade was witty and wouldn't give up—broke into different paths, their hearts and their determination sinking as they heard the screams of their fellow neighbours and friends as they were captured. Roran and Cyra were alone; he could see no one else running with them. Minutes passed, but Roran felt no exertion. Adrenaline rushed like fire through his veins, clogging his every thought, and causing his body to act on instinct. The yelling became quieter as they flew forwards, abandoning the Shade.

"What's happing?" Roran demanded angrily, his breaths short.

"Shh!" Cyra ordered. After a few more minutes of running, Roran suddenly felt his knees buckle and give way. He tumbled towards the ground, Cyra under him. He felt her hands push into his chest, breaking the fall. He leant on her, unable to reject the support. As his thoughts began to slow, Katrina's face appeared in his mind.

"Ka—" Crya covered his mouth with her hand, her dark eyes troubled.

"We'll find her, I promise," she murmured. "You need to rest first."

"I-I f-forgot." Roran shook his head weakly, succumbing to his angst. He cried into the girl as she patted his back. He cried for the villagers he knew had definitely died. He cried because he was scared he had lost Katrina. "How co-could I?" he wept.

"Quiet now," Cyra whispered. "Don't blame yourself. You panicked. The Shade might not have found them… We were searching for Damon over a large area." Only Katrina's wellbeing concerned Roran. Nothing else was as important, and just as Eragon would have, Roran was determined to find Katrina, no matter what obstacle barred his way.

"I'm going to find her, Cyra," Roran said firmly when his tears ceased.

Cyra didn't seem surprised. She released him, although not completely, allowing him to lean on her partially. "You don't understand how dangerous a Shade is. Even if you found her, the Shade would surely kill you both."

"I can't just pretend nothing is wrong!"

Cyra covered his mouth again, annoyed. "You're going to get us killed if you keep yelling," she hissed. Her eyes softened. "Shades have incredible hearing, and they're excellent trackers. We have to keep moving. Now, Roran."

As she tugged at his hand, urging him to move, Roran frowned. "How do you know so much about Shades?" he asked half-heartedly, Katrina occupying his main thoughts.

"Eragon," Cyra stated affectionately, her voice dismal. "He told me about them. I guess he forced answers from Brom." A rueful smile graced her lips. "He was always so curious," she murmured, her eyes distant, before she straightened, her eyes sharp again. "I know you know where Brom is, but for now, we need to move. Come." She helped a shocked Roran limp with her through the forest. The morning sky was overcast and the air was painfully chilly, causing them to shiver and huddle closer to each other sub-consciously. They didn't talk, mostly because Roran was worrying about Katrina. Cyra was careful and tactical, leading Roran in different routes and trying to confuse the Shade, who was unquestionably either searching for other villagers or them.

A problem suddenly occurred to Roran. "I lost the map," he voiced, the words being the only he had said for hours.

Cyra sighed. "We can get it later. We'll be heading back to find… anyone who…" Her voice faded away, and she averted her eyes.

Roran hesitated, ignoring his throbbing legs as he asked, "What about your… family?"

Sarcastic amusement fell across Cyra's features. "I have no family. I lived with Horst for a while at the start, and then—"

"Start?" Roran questioned.

Cyra's eyes widened as she shot him an exasperated look. "You're like Eragon. Let me finish." When Roran stayed silent, she continued. "And then I lived with Cassia and Felix, which you probably think are my parents. They were good to me. According to Horst, my real father left when I was born, and then my mother died of a broken heart. I guess Eragon and I can relate a lot in that way—our parents both left us, in one way or another."

Roran was startled by her story. He had never really thought about talking to her. "So… you and Eragon were close?" he queried.

Cyra shrugged. "Not really close. We hadn't talked for ages. I noticed that he went quiet for ages, but before that, when we were around ten or eleven, we usually met in Carvahall… Roran, do you know what happened? Do you know where he could have gone?" She stared at Roran, her eyes pleading.

Roran stopped and said, "It's a really long story. I'll tell you later… We shouldn't go further. We might not find our way back if we go too far."

Cyra tried to argue, but Roran just held his hand up, silencing her with a look. She nodded. "We have to find somewhere to rest. If the Shade wants to find us, he will. Hopefully, he doesn't see the worth in it."

The next half hour consisted of searching for a small clearing in a cluster of trees and bushes, and making a fire with a lot of effort. They sat before it. The soft crackling noises in the background were familiar. Roran didn't want to talk, but he did anyway. He re-told the whole story to Cyra of how Eragon found Saphira and how Brom had gone searching for him, while she listened silently. As soon as he finished, Cyra burst with questions.

"How can he be a Dragon Rider?" Cyra exclaimed. "Why would an egg be lying around in the Spine? Why did you let him keep it?"

Roran drew his knees to his chest, tucking his head into his coat. "I don't know," was all he said. His tone was flat, resigned. The wind blew strongly outside of their little hideout. The fire provided much comfort to Roran, but his mind would not stop racing. Cyra seemed to be in the same place as him. It was only noon. Neither of them were tired. But they were freezing, hungry, and desperately thirsty. Roran cynically wondered if the Shade had slaughtered their cattle as well. He let out a sharp, unamused laugh as he thought about the Shade. What a mongrel.

Cyra suddenly said, "Roran?" Her tone made Roran lift his head in curiosity. Cyra appeared to be attempting to recall something. She muttered quietly to herself before her eyes widened. She met Roran's nervously. "Shades don't die unless they're stabbed in the heart… which means…"

"Wait, slow down," Roran ordered, leaning closer to the fire. "What?"

Cyra inhaled deeply. "Hasn't Brom told you stories about them? A Shade is someone who uses souls to do his dirty work. Maybe someone tried to kill that Shade, but didn't stab him in the heart, which meant the souls went searching for another… Damon went wandering last night… Do you see?"

Roran's lips pulled into a snarl. "What? Damon's part of a Shade now?" He cursed loudly. "Why him?"

Cyra looked down at the dirt. "I don't know," she replied grimly. "I might be wrong."

Roran suddenly felt a wave of intense thirst wash over him. It was too much to bear. "I need water," he blurted.

Cyra stood. "I'm almost certain a stream is close by," she said. "An easier way would be to melt ice, though."

Roran didn't want to leave the warm spot. He shivered involuntarily. Cyra sighed, pushing him gently forwards. They were lucky enough to find some melted puddles of ice. Roran knelt beside a puddle, sucking it dry. Once his thirst was quenched, his mind seemed to clear a little. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, the overcast sky a league to Roran's south, but it was still cold. It was obvious that the Shade had not seen the value in killing them.

"Let's go," Roran suggested, briefly disappearing into the small hideout to put out the fire. His resolve was weak, but the possibility of finding Katrina pushed aside his negativity.

. . .

The setting sun threw gentle colours bursting through the sky, creeping through the windows of the castle. Eragon's boots echoed through the long hallway as he strode down it with purpose. He had expected to train with Murtagh for the remainder of the day, but Galbatorix had demanded his presence immediately. Thelduin had departed with Thorn to train earlier in the day, leaving Eragon and Murtagh to practice swordplay, magic, reading and writing. Murtagh's knowledge was limited, but he knew enough to teach Eragon with ease. Eragon had casted various spells, and Galbatorix tested him constantly, endeavouring to strengthen him. Eragon supposed this was one of those days.

It had simply become life. His only duty now was to please the king, and in return, he would be praised. He didn't want praise, he wanted Saphira. He loved Thelduin, but as the days crawled by, his desire to see her grew, overpowering him sometimes. It made Thelduin jealous, which frustrated Eragon because he loved them both. If they ever saw each other, blood would be shed. Eragon was not keen on the idea. He had stopped dreaming of Arya. In fact, he had only dreamt twice of her since he had been captured. No, she too had disappeared from his dark world. He missed her deeply, which puzzled him. He couldn't stop thinking of her. Her beautiful face appeared in his mind at random times, which Thelduin seemed to find rather amusing.

Is she trying to save me, or am I just hoping so?

As of late, he had been inclined to think it was the latter. But then occasionally, Eragon's conscience abandoned him, and he felt a searing hate for the Varden. Saphira was a major factor that slowed his ache to ambush the Varden. He didn't know where she was, but still he remembered when they talked of the Empire, the hate they had felt for Galbatorix and his followers. Not just Saphira had this effect on him, but the villagers as well. Were they okay? Eragon was oblivious to that knowledge. At the moment, he felt a calm persona fall over him. The familiar dull walls of the castle—rather than being daunting—comforted him. He had begun to form an unbreakable bond with Murtagh. He was amazed how gentle Murtagh could be, opposed to his usual dark posture. He still hadn't mustered the courage to ask him about his past.

As he turned the corner at the end of the hall, the large double doors of the throne room came into sight. Eragon straightened, taming his wild hair with a few strokes of his right hand. His palms tingled slightly. Eragon nervously wondered if the day's events would differ from the usual. Four men guarded the doors, two on either side, standing tall. On their armour was a crest. It depicted two dragons, one black, one white. They appeared to be flying around one another. The white one was tiny compared to the black one, who Eragon thought was Shruikan.

Thelduin, he called nervously. My palms tingle.

Do not fear, young one, Thelduin assured. All is well. Be wary, but do not be afraid.

When the guards saw him, they immediately opened the doors, allowing Eragon to enter. When he was before Galbatorix, Eragon bowed respectfully, remembering Murtagh's lesson.

"When you greet anyone of a higher level than yourself, always bow."

"Good afternoon, Eragon," Galbatorix said, rising from his throne. "Stand tall, young man." Eragon silently complied, lifting his eyes. The king walked past him. "Come," he ordered. Eragon followed mutely, unsure of his feelings. Shruikan opened one large, crystal blue eye, causing Eragon's step to falter. The dragon's eye alone was the size of a large house.

His incredibly strong mind penetrated Eragon's walls effortlessly. Eragon physically cowered. Calm yourself. The king only wishes to tell you of the past. As soon as the pressure dissipated, Eragon opened his eyes, finding himself shivering and holding his head.

He saw Galbatorix shoot a chastising look to his dragon. He said, "Shruikan by no means intended to startle you. I apologise."

Eragon shook his head. "I overreacted," he said quietly.

A hint of amusement touched Galbatorix's lips. "I admire your bravery. I don't know how I would have reacted had I been in your shoes." Eragon took the compliment silently, unable to catch if it was a jest or not.

Galbatorix lead him down a long hallway. When they came to the end of it and met a dead end, the king uttered a spell. It took minutes of endless mumbling. Suddenly, the wall slid open. Another long hallway revealed itself. They travelled it, coming to the next door, which Galbatorix uttered another spell that was even longer than the last. After a third door, the wall slid open to reveal what Galbatorix's power rested in. Eragon stared in wonder. It was like a cave, the little diamonds and pieces of gold in the stone walls twinkling like stars in the night sky. What astounded Eragon most was the three dragon eggs perched on marble posts, supported by soft fabrics, each of the colours matching that of the egg resting on it. Eragon was ushered into the cave-like room. The door automatically slid closed behind them. There was a silence as Eragon's eyes scanned over the walls.

"This," Galbatorix announced, "is the most powerful room in Alagaësia. During my travels, I discovered a nest of dragon eggs. Shruikan hatched for me many years ago. I hid the rest of the eggs. Saphira, Thorn and Thelduin were once part of this group."

Eragon couldn't believe it. "Why haven't they hatched yet?"

Galbatorix seemed pleased by his question. "Because they have not chosen their Rider. You see, dragons can stay in their eggs for as long as time. Once they choose their Rider, only then will they hatch."

Eragon's head was swirling with questions. "But… how did two dragons hatch for me? Did you force Thelduin?" Eragon's voice darkened.

Galbatorix shook his head vigorously. "I did no such thing!" he exclaimed.

"Swear it in the ancient language," Eragon challenged hotly.

Galbatorix paused, his eyes becoming cold. "You do not trust me," he stated flatly. "I have saved your life, and you do not trust me."

Eragon snorted. "Hardly," he snapped. "Please, I'd love to hear your endless lies!"

"Why would I try to turn you against me?" Galbatorix demanded. He said the next sentences in the ancient language. Eragon managed to catch his words. "I intend no harm on you. I am not lying."

Eragon resisted. "How is it possible then?"

Galbatorix's features relaxed. "You are special. I have never seen a Rider hold so much power at such a young age. You can already move objects, you can manipulate both water and fire, your voice is clear and strong in both languages, and you are on the brim of becoming a fluent reader and writer. Your power is incredible, and to be honest, if people saw a fourteen year-old boy, they would not suppose him to be dangerous. That is a priceless advantage, Eragon. Use it wisely." Eragon averted his eyes. The king continued. "The Varden wants to murder us, Eragon. We will all die if we do not act soon. I have attempted so many times to settle our differences, but to no avail. They want nothing but to swim in an ocean of our people's blood. If there is something I must know, then tell me, for I have no resolve."

Eragon shuddered involuntarily. Arya. Was she lying? Doubt filled him. How could she? He called Thelduin, and relayed the information he had just learned. The dragon seemed as doubtful as he.

We do not know this Arya. Should we trust her words? The decision is yours, Eragon, but I would not trust a stranger.

Eragon stayed silent as Thelduin voiced his concerns. After what seemed like an hour, he lifted his head and told Galbatorix about the elf. When he finished, Galbatorix's eyes were wide with rage. "That is the elf who stole Saphira!" he cried. "She tried to kill your dragon, to break the egg!"

Eragon stiffened. Arya tried to kill Saphira? "Why?"

Galbatorix sighed. "Because the Varden despise me. If not for the Ra'zac, Saphira would be dead."

Eragon felt his anger burst from him in one big wave. "I will kill her first!" he snarled.

Eragon, Thelduin begged, calm down!

"And I shall allow you just that," Galbatorix said darkly. Eragon felt a chuckle escape him. It was not an amused sound. Galbatorix shook his head. "Do you see now?"

Eragon's eyes narrowed. "I see now," he muttered.

Longest chapter yet, I think! :D Anyway, thanks for reading!