A/N: Ok, I'm sorry it took so long. Life has been nuttish lately, so writing has kind of taken a back seat on the scenic route that is my life. I'm not on 'holidays' (study break) so have a bit more time to do things.
There are a few (again minor) changes to this chapter from the preview, but a couple of people didn't like one or two things that happened (which made the story canonically unfeasible).
So... Chapter 20: Heart of Darkness.
Five notches scarred the damp walls of Eragon's prison before Laucki returned. The days had passed by slowly, pain wracking his back periodically. Often as the light from high in his cell began to fade to black, another bout would torment him until the light was fully extinguished. He could not tell if the pain was from spells cast in Ellesmera, or whether Laucki merely found it amusing to torture him. Nonetheless, each time the burning in his back returned, Eragon had forsaken his cries, merely willing those in the elven forest to understand the cause of his pain. It would not do for the remnants of the world to see his brokeness.
Although the dark crystals caused no visible scarring on his back, gouge marks from his nails lined the muddied skin; clawing at his spine had done little to lessen the pain, and had left lingering marks that twitched and itched constantly. Despite the efforts of his captors, Eragon had dedicated himself to any physical exercise he could manage within the confines of his prison. A corner of his mind had accepted the fact that he had been captured, that he would not survive, and had begun to take measures to prolong his existence. The rider and shadeslayer had fought against his mind, which wished to emaciate his body, minimising energy use in the damp cell. Counteracting his subconscious, Eragon worked out while his back was spared from agony, doing his utmost to stay in shape on the minimal rations he received morning and evening.
As Eragon writhed on his first day of torture, his head had struck a sharp stone, bloodying his dark hair. To maintain some form of sanity, he had taken the rough rock and carved a line next to his cot; one each day, marking how many days he remembered being in the cell. The brown eyed man was twirling the makeshift utensil between his fingers when he heard footsteps approaching, the bars on his prison swinging out. Rusty hinges squealed and grated against each other, red dust floating to the damp floor as black boots stepped lightly into the cell.
"Please, make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?" Eragon drawled, indicating the salty water dripping from the roof. A brief mental glance from Laucki made Eragon groan, his back arching at the now-familiar pain.
"Now now Shadeslayer, let's not waste energy with... pleasantries." Laucki said with a smile as he watched the rider squirm.
"What do you want?" Eragon snarled between gritted teeth.
"You might be surprised to hear that it's not you I desire." Laucki replied lightly, smiling once more at Eragon's frown of interest. "Yes, young rider, I actually have no interest in your survival at all."
"Then why am I here? Or why don't you kill me now?" Eragon asked, his voice low.
"Perhaps I shall kill you..." Laucki said nonchalantly, clicking his fingers.
At once Eragon felt a sharp pain at the base of his neck, all feeling in his body disintegrating as suddenly as the connection between his brain and body snapped. He felt his mouth open to breath, but air passed helplessly past his tongue, while his eyes widened in shock, shadows beginning to form round his vision, rapidly closing over.
"Fascinating, isn't it." Laucki remarked, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "The body of living creatures can continue to function to some extent, even as blood flow stops, air fails to reach the lungs. You can still hear me, see me, smell me. And yet you have no control over your body at large. The realisation that you WILL die becomes as clear as a still lake. Regrets, lost opportunities, all come rushing back as your brain runs out of energy, slowing down your mind, making it last for an eternity."
Even as Laucki spoke, Eragon's conscious spread itself immeasurably, covering the time and space that had defined his life. From fleeing Carvahall with his father, defeating Durza with a blazing sword, to capturing the heart of a queen; Eragon saw it all. Reaching beyond himself, his nerves separated from his brain, Eragon sought desperately two souls. Their joy at his presence was stilled at his morbid words uttered weakly in their minds. Saphira. Arya. I love you both. Please, do not mourn. They need you now.
Cries of outrage and sorrow threatened to consume his fading mind as the two beings closest to him argued against him, demanding he remain with them, to not give up. Be still. Do not mourn. Live. Love. Eragon spoke faintly, his voice fading even in his mind.
Consumed by desperate anger a surge of defiance shot from Saphira, fighting for control over Eragon's being, holding him in place, forcing thoughts into his mind. No. She roared, forcing Eragon through the ancient barrier he had erected in his mind, flooding him with power to wield at his command. Once more Saphira guided his thoughts, constructing a complex spell that was far past his capabilities as he sat numb on his cot, looking into the gleaming eyes of the traitor.
As the power flowed through, Eragon's neck twitched briefly, causing him to scream at the onslaught of reignited pain that consumed his back. Simultaneously, Laucki grunted as the air around him coalesced, slamming the elf against the iron bars with a loud clang.
Trembling from the pain in his back, and the revitalising release in power that was once more locked away, Eragon stood tall, looking down at Laucki's prone figure with disdain. "The problem is of course, if you fail to kill me... what happens then?"
"We go back to step one." Laucki snarled, his mind brushing against Eragon's, who once more collapsed to the floor, curling his body in an attempt to escape the pain. "I had no plans to let you die this day, rider." the elven torturer spat as he pushed himself up; eyes glowing maliciously in the limited light. "Your use is far more systematic than a quiet death in a cell. No, I need you alive until he comes. Rest assured, once you have outlived your usefulness, I will kill you, and it will be far from quiet."
"Who is he? And why do you need me?" Eragon cursed.
"He is the reason your kind exist, the reason riders command peace in the land. He is your beginning and your namesake. Eragon Shurtugal is the reason I was banished, decried as a traitor to the knotted throne." Laucki turned away from Eragon, grey hands curled to fists by his side.
"When I escaped the clutches of Ellesmera I sought to remove myself from the abhorrent state that was the elven nation. They had defiled their beings by bonding with dragons, however rare it was that such beasts would hatch for my kind. I did not wish to have any contact with the alfakyn. I left, travelling north to the wastelands, testing my mettle against the beasts of the land. And then they came, Eragon Shurtugal and Bid'daum Peace-wings." Laucki spat, his words curdling the air around them as he turned to look Eragon in the face.
Silver eyes bored into Eragon, who could not help but shake at the rage held within the pupils. "I had told my dearest sister that the shurtugal was weak, and in a moment of epiphany, I bound your predecessor to my will. There was nothing he could do while I maintained the flow of magic which so richly runs in my veins. Yet in the dead of the night, he and his cursed dragon broke free of my bonds, seeking to destroy me. As if they had not destroyed my life already."
"Your anger and lust for power had already done that." Eragon said sadly, wishing that such a beast could not have come from the beauty and kindness of the elves.
"There are two sides to every gold piece Shadeslayer. Do not assume to know me, although the Shurtugal said much the same, before I stabbed his dragon with a blade, conveniently coated with a crude sample of the crystals within your back." Laucki said, his voice dripping with glee at the memory of it, brushing against Eragon's mind once more. The twisted elven grin widened at the writhing rider before him.
"Dragons are magical beings. A dark, beastly magic, not unlike that of shades, but a magic nonetheless." Laucki continued once Eragon lay still. "Bid'daum could not function with my poison within his veins, and their link incapacitated the first rider. Like I told Rhunon; weak. The riders without their dragons are nothing, and the dragons without their riders are quickly disposable with the right tools. However the magic that is bound to every dragon is a fickle thing; effectively uncontrollable, unspoken, instinctive."
Eragon raised his eyebrows from his position on the cold floor, hot sweat mixing with the freezing drops from the ceiling. Questions swirled round his mind, flocking from one strain of thought to another. Nothing that Laucki had said so far linked Eragon to anything that had been spoken. He was about to argue that Brom had functioned exceptionally as a rider without Saphira, but his back twitched at the thought of provoking the ancient elf further. Regardless, the grey eyes had glazed over as if Eragon were not there, and he suspected any conversation would be like that with a brick wall.
"Fourteen years I spent tapping the secrets of the dragon's magic, uncovering knowledge that would cause the world to burn if it were ever left to any lesser man than I. Fourteen years of glorious, dangerous and fantastical research into those beasts. One residing thought was the forerunner of every decision made by the skulblaka. Preservation. Not an uncommon, or unreasonable notion, to be fair. Yet the dragons were different. It was, and perhaps still is, as if nature riles against the thought of the loss of the race of dragons. Forces that defy every known law of the world seem to be possible when accomplished through a dragon. Physical, chemical and magical barriers bear no candle to the feats I have seen accomplished by dragons." Laucki paused, his glazed eyes seeing events long past, leaving Eragon lying mutely on the floor; acutely aware that any sudden movement would draw the war master from his reverie.
Eragon looked up sharply at Laucki's next words, heart accelerating in his chest. "Even once you have destroyed a dragon, it can live on, able to communicate, store energy and function even after death, defying all known laws of nature and life."
"Eldunari." He muttered absently as the haunting grey orbs cleared to a cunning silver.
"Yes, Shadeslayer. You know of the abhorrent and absolute power one can wield with an eldunari. Distinctly magical objects bound in a gem like state... so what would happen if an eldunari were to become infected with the poison you should now be familiar with?"
Laucki sneered, delving into Eragon's mind and plucking at each of the rider's happiest memories as pain erupted through his spine. There was nothing he could do except wait for the pain to abate while the elf waited for his subject to still, madness lighting up the demeanour of the old figure.
Roran paced angrily, his thoughts consumed at the injustice of fate. Eragon was gone, captured or dead. And not even the riders that he had worked so hard to restore could find him, let alone rescue him.
Turning on his heel once more, the general ignored the captivating view of Ellesmera that he usually revelled in, glancing at his wife as she admired the silken dress she held.
The elves had provided a set of clothes for each of the Stronghammer refugees. The fine silks were a pleasant departure from the ruined attire that survived the trek from the depths of the Spine. Katrina had offered her services to pay for the cloth, but Dathedr had refused, solemnly reminding her it was the elves that had caused their discomfort and saying that if the need arose, he or Arya would contact them.
Roran had snarled at the elven politicians when his wife had happily relayed Datehdr's words. "It means we are indebted to them, and only wait for their call." he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.
"Be grateful for what we have Roran. We have both suffered worse, and are in safe hands now."
Nodding to himself at the thought, Roran spoke his wife's words to himself again; as if he could convince himself of the acceptance his wife so readily managed. Gone were the days of reprimanding a queen of rebels and stubbornly refusing assistance.
She is perfect, and has always been perfect.
As if sensing his thoughts, copper locks parted while Katrina glanced pointedly at Roran, raising her eyebrows at him. Frowning, he looked down, releasing his hammer from a subconsciously clenched fist. Sighing, he walked over to Katrina as she smiled.
"I won't let anything happen to my family, should the world come to war." he said, placing his hands on her waist.
"The world IS at war Roran, just nobody is prepared to admit it. Elves run rampant across the empire, destroying all but the largest cities. Illirea is over-run with refugees, Dras Leona and Belatona aren't much better, while Nasuada left no orders before fleeing to Ellesmera." Katrina put a finger to Roran's lips. "I did not say anyone could have done anything differently. But the truth is the world is at war. The dwarves are sealed off, waiting instructions from their leader. The Urgals are as disjointed as ever with the loss of Nar Garzhvog."
Embracing his wife gently, he hushed her as she began to rant into his chest. "It'll be ok. We'll be ok."
A crashing came from the adjacent room as Carn backed into his father's view, waving a painted stick as Garrow battered hap-hazardly at him with another dummy sword.
"Back! You eval persun! Brusungr" Carn shouted at his brother, melodramatically allowing Garrow to stab him before pointing his wooden stick to the other twin's heart.
Roran chuckled at the all too common scene. The forced battle between Eragon and Murtagh was a common bard across the empire; and one that was often expanded on for dramatic purposes. Being related to both combatants only ensured that the Stronghammer twins enjoyed the tale moreso, regardless of the accuracy.
Katrina looked up at Roran earnestly, her eyes glittering with the hint of tears. "And we have the riders." she said quietly.
"Yes, we have the riders." he agreed, letting go of his wife and moving to the knotted chair by the kitchen. Sighing, Roran sat down, aware of Katrina's eyes on him. After a moment, she turned back to the pile of new clothes, sizing each item against imaginary family members. His gaze distant, Roran's fingers absently sought out the smooth pebble that had stubbornly lain in his palm despite his highest levels of concentration and intonation of the ancient language. Since his first attempt at releasing magical abilities, Roran had kept the rock, occasionally seeing if it would rise for him. Its continued lack of movement reminded him of his humanity, and the reality that there were some obstacles he would never defeat or overcome by sheer force alone.
"You don't still have that silly pebble do you?" a voice spoke lightly, causing Roran to look up, his back straightening to lean fully against the low chair..
"When did you learn to sneak into a room like that?" he asked his eldest child with a frown, surprised that she had been able to enter unannounced.
"When Ebr... Uncle Eragon taught me," Ismira replied with a cheeky grin, covering her blunder.
"Ebrithil eh?" Roran smirked. "I wish you treated me with the same respect."
Ismira raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "If you earnt it, I might treat you the same way. It's ok though, I'm sure you don't want to know what I know about where Eragon is anyways." Turning sharply, she made to grab the door pull, fingers clasping the intricate timber.
"Wait, what?" Roran demanded, springing off the chair and raising a hand as if to stop her. "What do you know?" The twinkle in her eye and thin smile caused him to groan inside. She had played him perfectly.
Winking at her father, Ismira shrugged, her copper hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Nothing."
"Izzy." Katrina chided. "Don't do that to your father."
"Yeah Izzy." Garrow and Carn parroted in the background, earning a glare from their mother and sister.
Roran watched as a mask slipped from his daughter's face, the cheeky smile wiped by the uncertainty and sorrow that was the undercurrent of Ellesmera. Embracing her small frame, he strained to hear the muffled words emanating from his silken jacket.
"All the older riders felt Eragon's mind while we were training. But none of us could touch him. He was there, but not." Ismira spoke quietly, her thin arms gripping Roran tightly.
Thinking over his limited knowledge of magic and its restrictions, Roran took his daughters moist cheek in his hand and had her look at him with bright eyes.
"If they can feel him, did they scry Eragon?" he asked gently.
Sniffing, Ismira nodded. "Arya did, but nobody could see where he was. Except for Angela. She knows."
Something clicked in Roran's mind as he heard the words. Angela knows. So why doesn't everyone? "Did Angela say where Eragon has been taken?"
Ismira shook her head with a confused frown. "No, she said there was something the queen must do for her before she reveals where Laucki took Eragon."
"I bet Saphira loved hearing that." Roran muttered, letting his daughter go embrace her mother. "Did Angela or Arya say when they'd show us where he is?" Roran leant against the wall, knowing he would just have to wait for news. Arya was not one to be pushed around. And Angela wasn't one to even consider pushing around.
"It'll be ok." Katrina cooed quietly to her tired child, although Roran wasn't sure if his wife was trying to convince him, or his daughter.
Grey metal cleaved the air where Godok had stood before, the dwarf rolling across the ground to avoid Dazhgra's deadly blade.
"Good!" Dazhgra grunted, as Godok locked his golden sword with Dazhgra's grey. The dwarf held himself sternly against Dazhgra's strength, but the Urgal would not be denied; twisting the weapon from Godok's grip, he flicked his inherited sword to the neck of his opponent.
Godok nodded with the trace of a grimace. No matter his efforts, Dazhgra had defeated him in combat swiftly and surely each time they sparred.
Maybe I'm just not good enough to be a full rider.
A growl flitted across his mind. Do you think so little of your dragon that I would choose someone unworthy? Jonkirn demanded. Godok winced at the offence he had caused. I was seen by all the elves, humans and urgals before I found you. None of them were acceptable to be my rider. Nodding meekly, Godok returned his focus to the present, where Dazhgra was watching him carefully.
"Did firesword ever tell you of his first visit to Ellesmera?" the shaman asked, sheathing his sword and walking to the apprentice tree houses.
Godok replied cautiously. "No, and I would never have considered it any different to now. The elves love riders, we have all seen that.. despite Laucki's ministrations on the world."
"Aye, but it was not always this way for ebrithil." Dazhgra said, retrieving two cups from the cupboard as Godok entered the hut behind him. The Urgal paused while he sipped the fresh cool water that he poured for them.
"Thank you." Godok smiled as he waited for Dazhgra to continue.
"When Saphira hatched for Eragon, he was barely sixteen years old, a human farmboy from the north."
"Sixteen?"Godok asked, "But Ismira is barely ten."
"You are correct, however Izzy did not become the first rider in a century, under the rule of a dark king. We live in dark times now, but it has not been long that we have had to search into the shadows. Not like then." Dazhgra responded softly, remembering his time in the last war.
"His age is important because he was the only free rider to walk the land. So when he entered Ellesmera for the first time, recently lauded a Shadeslayer, the elves expectations were high. Few men have been known to banish shades."
Beginning to see where the tale was going, Godok continued for Dazhgra. "But because of his back injuries, he could not live to the expectations of the elves."
More and more we learn of ebrithil's history. He has walked a harder path than most. Jonkirn spoke quietly to the two males.
Baring his neck proudly, a deep, gutteral roar left Dazhgra's throat. "He is one we can all be proud of, and only hope we can live as wisely as he did."
Godok nodded, grinning as a thought came to his head. "Except for when he tried to kill the group of soldiers wanting to capture him." Dazhgra's look of confusion encouraged the dwarf to continue.
"He hasn't told you that one?" Godok asked, leaning back on his seat. And so the two riders shared their knowledge of Eragon Shadeslayer, ebrithil to them both. Some tales made them laugh at the innocence of a young rider, while some caused them and their dragons to seeth in anger at the injuries bestowed upon Eragon.
"What is it you desire herbalist?" Arya spoke flatly as the two walked through the forest, her gaze looking down at the shorter woman. She had just felt Eragon's presence, his life slipping away in a wretched dungeon. There had been no time for tears or reconciliation. Just the stark reality that Eragon was dying and there was nothing she could do for him.
"I desire many things drottning, one being the knowledge of snakes and eels. Do you not find it curious -"
"NO! I don't find life curious at all while Eragon is captured by that monster of an elf! I felt him dying! He was dying, Angela! There is NOTHING curious about that." Arya over-rode Angela, her frustration and despair exploding around her. As she shouted, the trees immediately around them began to wilt, the forest groaning at the anger emanating from the queen.
"Love is a powerful force Arya. Magic can be subverted, used in twisted and dark ways. Similarly, love can be manipulated equally. Be mindful of your emotions, lest they be used against you." Angela said softly.
Arya sighed, her shoulders slumping at the loss in energy she expelled. "My apologies Angela, I walk on the edge of two cliffs. Should I stumble either way, I feel I will lose all that is close to me."
"It is a harrowing experience, but one we all must face in our time. As to what my request is, in return for the knowledge of Eragon's location... I wish for an answer."
"But what is the question?" Arya replied with the hint of a smile. She inherently trusted the herbalist, despite the quirky and unpredictable nature of the being.
"I am pleased to know that some wisdom remains with Eragon's departure. The question is why did the knuckle bones lie? And what else did they lie about?" Angela said sharply, looking into Arya's eyes, whose brows contracted in concentration.
"Knuckle bones?" She asked.
"Ah, so he has not shared that particular time with you." Angela muttered, rummaging through her flowing pockets, searching for a silken bag. "These," she said, holding out the contents of a maroon bag, "are the knuckle bones of a dragon."
"Where did you get those?" Arya asked pointedly, a frown creasing her face.
Angela's shy expression gave no answer, as the herbalist continued on regardless.
"Many years ago, while I owned a pokey little business in Teirm, a young boy came to me. In the crowded room, I cast these very bones to ascertain the future of the boy." Angela's eyes glazed over as she remembered the day the world became interesting again.
Arya slowed her walk, turning to look at Angela. "I have no right to hear Eragon's future." To know one's fate could be as great a burden as it could a boon. To know another's was a catalyst for disaster for all involved.
Angela looked sadly at Arya, who could not help but notice the determined glint in the woman's eye. "You may not, but equally you may, given your... friendship... with him. Regardless, my price requires that you hear the words I spoke to a young farm boy that day."
It is time you heard the words Angela spoke to Eragon long ago. You may proceed if you wish. But do not let the words of fate change your resolve, words alone do not change a man. Saphira echoed from afar as the queen pondered her choice.
Arya paused, conversing with Firnen briefly before she nodded, sitting against the trunk of a nearby tree. As the prophetic words rolled off Angela's tongue, Arya grew more and more agitated. When the herbalist was silent once more, Arya looked at her, unblinking.
"So he knew, before he'd even met me in person, that we would be together or have some... epic romance as it were. He only loved me because he felt obliged to by fate!" she said tightly.
Angela chuckled gently. "No child, that is not the case. Eragon did not know you were a princess of royal blood until the forests of Du Weldenvarden, by which time you had captured his heart. Heed Bjartskular's words. However that is not why I demand this request. You will note that the prophecy stated Eragon would leave Alagaesia, never to return."
"Yet here he is." Arya nodded.
Angela's excitement grew as Arya began to understand. "Aye, exactly. So how is it that the boy I cast these bones for is here, when he was set to remain afar." Short arms began waving and shaking with anticipation.
Arya smiled. "Because he is not the boy you cast those bones for. He changed, irrevocably."
Angela blinked a number of times as she processed Arya's words. The concept and theory was true, but the herbalist was unsure of whether the practise would hold to the theory. The queen speaks sense, for better or for worse. Solembum purred in her mind.
"Hmm, alright then. I have one final request. More of an offer actually, which you are welcome to refuse. It will have no bearing on whether I tell you where Eragon lies."
"What is it you offer, and why?" Arya said, Firnen listening closely to the conversation.
"I have cast the bones for few enough beings in my time. However if you are willing, I shall cast them in your presence. Why? Because it is a curious thing that Eragon should defy fate, and since you and he are the opposite sides of two coins, I find your fate intriguing."
Arya frowned once more, her eyes inscrutable. Eragon had the bones cast, and he did not shirk from fate. She thought to herself.
Did he benefit, or was it merely another concern of a future he could not affect? Do not rush into your decision, for you cannot unhear that which the herbalist speaks, Firnen said.
Perhaps. Although I feel as if this is the right thing to do. And yes, despite my reservations with such magic, something is drawing me to do this now. Arya thought, as her heart tugged at her, the bones seeming to grow large in Angela's hand.
Do as you feel is right. I will support your decision either way. Firnen replied, though she sensed his unease.
"Cast the bones for me," Arya said solemnly. Angela flashed a knowing smile at her words, tossing the knuckles into the air, power reverberating around them.
Eragon's pain had abated, but his torture was far from over as Laucki leered at his still form.
"When I pierced Bid'daum's side, the reaction was impossible to predict. The cursed dragon started thrashing about, throwing your namesake from his back." Laucki reminisced to Eragon, who had little choice but to listen to the madman's tale.
"The beast began to convulse violently, and before I knew it, a small white gem lay in my palm. For you see Shadeslayer, the eldunari within the chest of Bid'daum was subject to the pain caused by the crystalline torturers you are familiar with. Self preservation demanded the eldunari be expelled from the innards of the dragon."
Eragon stared. He knew the pain that Bid'daum would have felt, but to have the eldunari forcibly removed would have broken the dragon's spirit. His thoughts sorted that which he had heard in the cell, trying to piece together the fragments of a long and complex tale. "How would that have helped though?" he asked genuinely.
"How do you mean?" Laucki's musical undertones relapsing into his voice.
Eragon paused, rubbing his jaw gently. "Well, Bid'daum was still alive, so the eldunari would surely have been just a means to know the thoughts of the dragon. Which, as you pointed out, was pain. So why did having the eldunari accomplish anything?"
Laucki smiled at Eragon, who shuddered, trying to banish the visage from his memories. It was a smile of a predator who capture their prey, but wished to toy with the victim.
"Perhaps you are not so incapable as I assumed. In itself, having control of a living dragon's eldunari is futile, as the beast can physically protect any attempts to subdue the soul of the dragon. But as the body of Bid'daum was the cause of great pain to the eldunari, two minds began to form. For an eldunari to turn against its master in hatred of the pain was unheard of, unprecedented. And yet, I know it to be true, for as I held the white gem, Bid'daum's mind had disappeared. Two beings were created. One, which I could bend to my will with little difficulty, and another, which could not access the magic so inherent in its race."
A raucous laughter filled the small room, echoing off the stone walls as Laucki threw his bed back in mirth at the memory. "Bid'daum was cut from all but the most basic of magicka, unable to bond with his rider, while I held all the power of a dragon in my palm. Justice had been served."
Something inside Eragon broke at the words, at the actions of the man who seemed incapable of empathy or compassion. Throwing himself against the elf, he screamed at his captor, obscenities flying off his tongue as he assaulted the elf.
Flinching at Eragon's unrestrained anger, the ancient elven master fell before the rider's blows, before flicking his mind against Eragon's once more.
Kicking his jailor one last time, Eragon collapsed to the floor as his back convulsed violently, the depth of Laucki's probe tearing at his mind.
"My tale was not yet complete Shadeslayer. Restrain yourself." Laucki sneered casually, though he winced at the pain in his ankle as he stood. Eragon smiled in his mind, despite the lingering torment his back suffered.
"When I separated his dragon from its eldunari, Eragon Shurtugal was less than thrilled. He attempted to attack me as you just did, but his outburst was expected, and I subdued him quickly. Shortly after I departed, leaving the broken rider and his flightless dragon dying in the wastelands. I had no wish to return to Alagaesia, so I travelled, seeing natural wonders and beasts that would overwhelm your senses. For thousands of years, my power grew as I and the eldunari sought challengers from the darkness. None stood against us, until a travelling bard passed our way. He spoke of a light amongst the shadows, who searched for an ancient being."
Eragon grinned at his predecessors tenacity to survive. A tendril of thought touched his and he jerked, expecting pain at the contact. When none came, he grasped the being lightly, his eyes shut as he waited for the pain to erupt in his back.
Eragon? An ancient voice whispered, recoiling slightly at his touch. The voice was ancient, the mind of one who has seen too much to recall coherently.
Aye. I am Eragon. he thought back, the words springing to his mind unbidden.
Another mind brushed his own, to which the first soul recoiled as if stung, pushing the trio apart; a flash of pain drawing Eragon back to his cell and the tale Laucki had obliviously continued. "And that, young Shadeslayer, is why you are here. Because a damned rider would not give up his pursuit of me. You are my bargaining chip."
Laughing haughtily, Eragon sneered. "And you think I will go along with this plan?"
Pain erupted through his back as Laucki's despise for him thickened the air in the room as he twisted a mental knife into Eragon's back. "You have no choice. I have the soul of the first rider's dragon, thousands of years of experience, and an army of elves who would kill each other before betraying me. It was not for nought that I subdued the race I deserve to rule. A rider cannot fight alone against an army of elves. The board is set... the pieces are moving."
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Eragon and Laucki's attention, both watching the rusty gate of the rider's cell. Fiolr's face appeared amongst the darkness, his eyes glittering with malice. Bowing to Laucki, the elven traitor spoke quickly.
"My lord, news from the south. Our army has reached the dwarves."
A/N: Hmm, does that make sense? The whole concept of this part of the plot was difficult to formulate in words. I hope I've done an ok job. Let me know if you think I haven't, and I'll come back and assess.
Chapter 21 should be back to my weekly (roughly) update schedule, but no guarantees.
Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. If you are registered with the fanfiction website, I can (and generally do) respond to reviews privately, so get on it :)
I'm deciding not to respond to any questions in this chapter, but may do next chapter. Thanks again!