So yeah. Give feed back, I guess. Also, I agree that it's a dying fandom, but it also has to do with this being rated M. The section gets a lot less publicity because people tend to post MA content there. Admittedly I can get pretty gross too, but it's not as bad as some of the stuff I've seen. It's mostly just me using strong imagery. I figured it would make Ninth Survivor seem less good and more of a survivalist. That effect will largely come later, but for now it's Eragon again.

XXI

A Kull leapt from the observation deck attached to the wall furthest from Eragon, dust pluming and swirling around until it settled. It carried a brutal weapon: A large, spiked ball sunk into the ground, attacked to a rod by a chain.

"Barzûl," Eragon swore. He doubted Brisingr could is nearly cut through the chain when lit, and all his reserves would be needed to stop the weapon. Its weight meant that stopping it with a spell would instantly drain him, and while he wouldn't die, he'd pass out.

The Kull swung the ball towards Eragon, who backpedaled to avoid it. When the end hit the ground, Eragon realized a much simpler tactic.

"Jierda!" he cried. The chain snapped where it connected to the handle, and the Kull dropped what remained of his weapon, muttering a spell.

Eragon hovered, unable to move his body, struggling against the grip. A sadistic smile found the Kull's face.

It spoke in the Ancient Language, taunting him. "Shadeslayer, huh? What, were they sleeping? Not so strong against a real enemy, are you?"

"My strength is mine own," he replied. "I have a true soul, not a foreign one."

"Fool! We spirits are stronger than any one soul! We are great and mighty! We are true power! Surely you must see that the wise would let spirits rule them!"

Eragon gambled an idea into action. "Spirits are superior, then?"

"Why, of course!"

"And without the ones that invaded that body, the Kull would be weak?"

"He would be nothing without us, for we spirits are mightier than the oldest dragons!"

"Which of you has accomplished the most."

Eragon's breathing smoothed when the being pondered the question; it was working.

"We all contribute power to our actions, and therefore all of us have accomplished as much as the others."

"But which one of you is the greatest?"

"We are equal," it said, brows furrowed.

"But if you maintain this balance," Eragon insisted, "then how can you truly know."

The Kull sat, twirling the fur tha hung from its chin. A minute of inaction passed before it winced, and then five more before it twitched. After thirty more seconds, it twitched again.

"I... We..."

The ram trembled. "Don't listen to his words!" the Kull shouted at the wall.

"Hush! Why should we listen to you, when it is clear that I'm superior!"

"We can't know for sure!"

"Then how do you propose we find out?"

"I have an idea. Shur'tugal, in this spell, we shall see who is the greatest in its weaving."

"We can't do that, can we!"

"Of course not, you fools! It would take more than a spell!"

"Are we not in an arena to prove strength? Have we not been practicing the art of worth for eons?"

Eragon grinned as the hole on his limbs lessened.

"What are you doing? We still have to defeat him!"

"Don't distract me!"

"The spell is caving!"

"Lies! You just want me to take my focus off of you!"

"He's not lying; look!"

"I am no fool!"

The Kull screamed, and too many voices shouted to be distinguished.

At times the spell nearly suffocated Eragon, and at other times he could nearly draw Brisingr. The Kull screeched in a way no living creature could, and tears of blood dripped from the wet hair on its face. It curled into a fetal position, shuddering. Light projected from the crack between its knees, from the heart.

The wailing intensified, and smoke smarted Eragon's eyes until he had to shut them from the brightness. His eyelids didn't block enough out, but the spell completely released, and he cupped his hands over his face, turning away from the beams.

Heat scorched his back, and his ears rang from the woes of the Shade. A boom ruptured his thoughts, followed by the burning of his backside, and then only the ringing could be heard. He turned to face the Shade, but only found a pile of ash. It had been killed by literal internal conflict.

The pile of ash drifted into Eragon's lungs when Böen jumped from the observation deck. Coughing, Eragon forced his irritated lungs to relax.

"It would seem," the Kull said, "that in an inability to defeat the Shade, you let it defeat itself. It's of little matter; you shan't defeat me so easily."

He slid a rod from a beltloop, whipping a chain from its tip towards Eragon. It wrapped around Brisingr and plucked it from Eragon's.

Eragon cursed. The Kull not only wielded a foreign weapon, but it also clasped Brisingr in its left hand. The chain whipped towards Eragon, but he dove out of its path. Böen swung the chain from his right, forcing the Rider to duck and roll forward. Now within range of the sword, Eragon leapt back and to the left, effectively avoiding the chainwhip and blade.

"You're going to have to give up eventually."

"Nay. I am content to keep away."

As he averted another blow from the whip, Eragon empathized for the shaman who fell victim to the spirits. Was the soul still there, forced to watch its own body commit atrocities? Did it fight the spirits' will?

He sighed. Now was not the time to worry about such matters. He twirled from another attack. He worried nevertheless, and the basis for an idea formed. Eventually th idea took the form of words, and the words began to form a complex spell.

He began to recite it, dodging a lash, leaping forward to avoid it and back from Brisingr. He had finished halfway when the chain gripped his ankle, pulling him down, but he kept reciting, unwilling to accept defeat.

He rolled to avoid the thrust of Brisingr at his chest, nearly finished. As the chain grasped his neck, and the sword fell to sever it, he finished in the incantation.

"What have you done?"

"I freed the body."

Spirits emerged from the mouth, launching as the mandible lowered, flying to unkown locations. When the last of six fled, the body of the Kull collapsed, still awake, still breathing, but not sentient. Eragon felt for its soul, but found nothing.

"Barzûl!" The shaman was gone forever.

So yeah! Eragon got a Shade to commit suicide by turning the spirits in it avainst each other, then banished the next from the body. Heh, Durza could have been so much easier to defeat than anyone realized. But yeah, now I'm thinking of fillers to get Murtagh and Eragon to their destinations, and I have a couple ideas, so give me a week to plot the details. Sorry for the delay; it's because I lost interest and began an AU. This hopefully isn't turning into a dead fic, but if I lose interest completely, I will schedule a weekly update and force myself to do it, mainly because I want to go back and read this for myself.

The AU is called Parallel Lines, and it's rated M. Go check it out!