Chapter Twenty-one
An Approaching End
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Eragon leaned back in his seat, and took a sip of the strange wine that Arcturor had given him shortly after they'd all landed.
When he'd asked what the drink was, Arcturor had answered simply: 'Amasec, one of the best bottles of it from my cellar back home.'
Eragon regarded everyone present over the glass of amasec.
There were thirteen in Aragon's company, including Aragon himself.
When they'd first landed, the first thing Aragon had done was introduce everyone.
'Everyone, I'd like you to meet a group of friends and allies of mine, who've agreed to help with the current situation,' Said Aragon to the assembled group of Alagaësians.
Eragon gazed warily at the motley assortment of beings gathered behind Aragon.
Two wore blue-edged white robes, and wore full-face helms; one was clearly a woman, and the other a man.
The woman had a sword of beautiful craftsmanship, polished mirror bright.
She also had a weapon similar to what Hawk had told Eragon was a pistol, only this one looked only vaguely similar, and like the sword, didn't appear to be made of metal.
The man also had one of the strange pistols at his waist, but he also had a massive spear, nearly two metres long, and the last foot of which was the spearhead.
Again, the spearhead was polished mirror bright, and the whole weapon looked to be one piece, and made of the same material, and that material was definitely not metal.
They both wore ornate breastplates that didn't look like they'd stop anything, but did have an aesthetic grace to them that reminded Eragon of the elves.
A third was dressed in armour vaguely similar to the first two, only sharper, and altogether more brutal.
At his hip were two slightly curved swords, one three feet long, the other four foot.
Across his back was a weapon that bore a very vague resemblance to Hawk's pistol, only it was much bigger, and looked as if it could be wielded with either one or two hands, like the weapons the first two bore, it had an alien grace to it, despite it's obviously deadly nature.
Off to one side stood Arcturor, fingering the hilt of his sword, as if to reassure himself.
The fifth was a human, clad in black robes, with short, untidy brown hair, clear blue eyes, and a clear complexion.
Oddly, he had a broomstick over his shoulder, and a wand in his right hand.
The sixth was another human, standing near Aragon, surveying the Alagaësians with a keen glance.
He had brown eyes, black hair, and the drawn expression of someone who's spent a good deal of their life on the run.
He had a short sword on his hip opposite a long knife.
The seventh was a young she-elf, clad in fine quality white robes that bore the symbol of a crescent moon.
She too, had a short sword at her side, but also had a gem-capped staff in her hands.
Eragon instantly picked her as foreign by her gold-blonde hair, and vivid sapphire eyes.
Most of the elves of Du Welden Varden had either midnight black hair, or hair like silver wire.
However, it was the last four that were most demanding of attention:
Another two Dragon Riders and their partners.
One rider was a man, with a huge, flanged war hammer slung across his back, as well as a one handed sword at his waist.
The dragon crouching behind him was mottled red, yellow, orange and gold, and Eragon imagined that it would appear to be made of fire in the light of day.
The other rider was a human woman with green eyes and sun streaked brown hair.
She had a longbow slung across her back, as well as a quiver of black-fletched arrows.
She had a straight edged hand-and-a-half sword at her hip, and openly wore armour that could only have been forged by an elf smith of incredible skill.
Eragon doubted that even Rhunön, the master smith responsible for the forging of all the Rider's swords, would be capable of forging armour even close to the same quality.
The dragon at her side was a striking counter-point to the fiery dragon crouched beside the hammer-wielding rider: It was the same blue as the sea, mottled with green scales.
'My friends, I'd like you all to meet the two Riders Eragon Shadeslayer, and Murtagh Morzanson, and their two dragons, Saphira Bjartskular, and Thorn, along with the rider initiates Hawk and Telia,' said Aragon to the assembled by his side.
The hand of the hammer-wielding rider unconsciously went to his sword when he heard who Murtagh was.
'I'd also like you all to meet those who've come with them: Arya dröttningu,-who I'm sure, Jarren and Sarah remember from during the Fall,- Angela the herbalist, Solembum the Werecat, Elva, Torque, Elaina,-who again I'm fairly sure some of you will remember,- Elizabeth and…' Aragon trailed off as he came to Pew.
'The name's Pew,' said Pew after the pause had gone from short to awkward.
'Right,' said Aragon, unabashed. 'As for you all,-' Aragon gestured to the group of Alagaësians,- 'I'd like you all to meet some of the most courageous, skilled, foolhardy, stubborn and fearless beings you're ever likely to meet.' Said Aragon.
This wrung grins out of the youth with the broomstick and the watchful teen.
Arcturor smiled wryly, but the foreign elf and the two riders remained impassive, and it was impossible to tell what was going on with the three helmeted beings.
'So, at my left is Guy Stormgaze,'-Aragon gestured to the teen who was still regarding the Alagaësians with a steady gaze,- 'at my right is Trei'ak swift-blade, formerly of the Kabal of the Silent Scream,-' Aragon indicated the black armoured figure who nodded once,- 'next to Trei'ak are the Warlocks of Saro-thal Craftworld, Ei'Shaa and her twin brother Tor'Ka,- The two white robed figures dipped their heads in acknowledgement.- 'Of course you've already met the good Inquisitor, Arcturor Ventris,' said Aragon, and Arcturor nodded once gravely, 'the man with the broomstick is Brian King,'- Brian nodded once, 'Hello,' he said evenly,- 'the most recent member to join our company is Astarielle of Eataine, from the land of Ulthuan,-' Aragon gestured to the white-robed she-elf with the staff, who smiled shyly.
Then Aragon gestured to the two riders. 'Finally, I'd like to introduce my two oldest friends, the bruiser with the war hammer is Jarren Miles, and the lady with the longbow is Sarah Coburg of Tierm, and their dragon partners: Infernia Firescales and Marinæ Sea-Wyrm.' Jarren grinned good-naturedly and crossed his arms, while Sarah dipped a curtsy and Infernia and Marinæ inclined their heads slightly.
'Now that introductions are out of the way, draw up a seat, and let's get down to business.' Said Aragon, clearly relieved to have the introductions out of the way.
'Now, as to the reason we've gone to all the trouble of this gathering,' said Aragon, and Eragon glanced around, snapped out of his musings.
'To put it in the bluntest, and most direct terms, Alagaësia is facing the mother-of-all-crises.' Explained Jarren quickly, cutting off Aragon before he could launch into what Eragon suspected would've be a very long, involved, and pointless explanation on just how much trouble Alagaësia was in.
Murtagh snorted. 'We've known that for about a year now, old man, very soon, the Varden will lay siege to Urû'baen, then the outcome of this war will be decided.' He explained derisively.
Jarren looked at Aragon and gave him a thin smile. 'Aragon,' he said, 'let 'em have it.'
'This has nothing to do with the arch-traitor, in fact the threat I'm talking about makes Galbatorix look like a benevolent and just king, that the people love more than life itself.' Said Aragon.
Angela guffawed and very nearly spat amasec everywhere.
Everyone else stared at Aragon as if he'd just revealed he was a shade.
'This threat, is collectively known as Chaos.' Said Aragon into the disbelieving silence.
Again, Murtagh snorted derisively. 'Do you think a scary sounding name will get us to believe you? You're wasting our time here.' He said, standing as if to leave.
'Sit down, shut up, and listen.' Said Arcturor with steel in his voice, 'if you knew of what the Heretic-Inquisitor spoke of, you'd be afraid alright.' Assured Arcturor.
The rest of Aragon's group nodded agreement.
'If you're wondering what Chaos is, it is the accumulated psychic resonance of the emotions of every sentient being in existence, and unfortunately, emotions like hope, lust, hate and despair are the stronger ones, and they're the ones that are the root of the current crisis.' Said Aragon.
'Do not speak in riddles, what is this 'crisis'?' Snapped Murtagh.
'In three months time, the veil between our world, and the twilight realm of the Immaterium will be ripped asunder, and the powers of hell will be unleashed on Alagaësia, the legions of Chaos, from across time, space, and the Immaterium will converge on Alagaësia, and if nothing is done to stop them, then Alagaësia will become the playground of Demons of the most cruel and evil sought, even the shade Durza is less evil than these abominations.' Shouted Aragon, finally losing patience with Murtagh, and assaulting his mind with a full-force mental attack, driven to even greater heights than normal when Aragon opened himself to the magic, and then dove through it, into the Winds of Magic, and finally, skimming the surface of the warp.
The mental ray smashed through Murtagh's formidable mental defences like they weren't even there, and Murtagh's mind was engulfed by a tide of memories:
…He was standing on the edge of a huge battle, two armies of Elves clashed, one army clad in white and blue, the other in purple and black, no quarter was being shown by either side, and the army of purple clad elves was being aided by towering warriors clad in black armour, with evil sigils of brazen brass fused to it, along with these towering warriors, creatures of the darkest nightmares fought with unmatched violence: Gore-skinned beasts, with back-jointed legs, black horns and spines, swords forged in the depths of hell, all chanting one evil name, over and over: "…Khorne, Khorne, Khorne…" the evil chant droned, each voice echoing eternal hatred and rage…
The scene changed:
…He was standing in a over-shadowed street, filled with those dead of the plague, he looked around, and saw one he had thought dead, with drawn, feverish grey skin stagger to it's feet, and begin lurching forward, jaw slack, eyes wide with an evil hunger.
He raised a strange weapon to his shoulder and pulled the trigger, and the re-animated corpse was torn apart by a storm of lead, and Murtagh winced as he felt the recoil, then, out of the corner of his eye, Murtagh saw a hideous mass of diseased flesh, covered in infected boils, with intestines showing through rents in it's corrupted flesh, wielding a filthy blade crawl out of a pile of corpses, it looked at him with a single glazed over eye, then began to lurch forward droning out a monotonous chant, listing many vile diseases, as all around, those dead began to rise again…
The scene changed again:
…He was in the thick of battle, with a grey sword flashing around him in deadly arcs as he fought more of the black-armoured giants, then they faded out of existence, to be replaced by more of the black-armoured giants wielding wicked poleaxes, and wearing even more ornate, guilded armour, covered in even more vile runes; and try as he might, his gaze was drawn towards the vile sigil of their banner, then, female bodied creatures of perverse, and terrible beauty, scantily clad, with crab-like claws began to advance, promising him the excesses of pleasure and debauchery beyond his wildest dreams, if he would serve their master-
The scene changed again:
He charged into a stone chamber, just as a giant in blue armour raised a staff as tall as he was, and say the final word in a terrible incantation, and reality buckled.
A horde of gibbering creatures with asymmetrical bodies, extra arms, and iridescent skin charged into the chamber, chanting spells that spoke of change, and the walls began to turn to flesh-
Murtagh jerked back in his seat, and fell to the ground, as Aragon released his mind.
Murtagh picked himself up onto all-fours, shaking all the while then threw up.
'Evanesco.' Said Aragon calmly, flicking a wand he'd drawn from his sleeve, and the pool of vomit Murtagh had left vanished.
'I'm sorry I had to show you that, but you obviously weren't going to take my word for it.' Explained Aragon to the ashen faced Murtagh.
Murtagh merely nodded, then resumed his seat mutely.
Aragon turned to the others and fixed them all under his gaze. 'Anyone else need convincing that something needs to be done?' Enquired Aragon.
Silence.
'Good,' said Aragon, 'any questions?' He asked.
Eragon stood. 'Yes, how do we know you're telling the truth?' He asked suspiciously.
Aragon sighed. 'Two ways, firstly, I'll say it in the ancient language, and the second way is sitting right next to you.' Said Aragon, pointing to Hawk.
'What's this got to do with me?' Asked Hawk in confusion.
'Was there any word of a strange light, or hole in reality when he and his friends appeared?' Asked Aragon.
It was Arya who answered. 'Yes, it was the same day Oromis and Glaedr were slain, when Glaedr threw off the spell of binding Galbatorix cast on him and Oromis, as well as those two,-' Arya gestured to Murtagh and Thorn,- 'apparently the spell split a patch of the sky open, and these four fell through.' Recalled Arya.
Eragon's expression darkened as he was reminded of the death of Oromis and Glaedr.
'You've got a lot to answer for Murtagh,-Hrothgar, Oromis, Glaedr, selling the Varden and Dwarves out to Galbatorix…' Said Eragon, glaring at his half-brother.
Murtagh came to his feet. 'I had no choice! Galbatorix knows mine and Thorn's true names, we must do what he orders us too, whether we want to or not, as you well know!' Shouted Murtagh.
Aragon interceded as Eragon came to his feet. 'Enough!' He said forcefully, 'you can settle this later, after this is over, now, I can't reveal the names of my teachers, but one of them has a plan- a plan that we need the help of all of you for.' Said Aragon, he went to continue, but then a spectre came into existence in the middle of the small patch of clear ground in the clearing where the gathering was taking place.
Everyone turned to face the spectre, and it was Eragon who spoke first, out of surprise.
'Trianna! What's going on in Fienstar?' Asked Eragon in shock at the state of her.
The spectre of Trianna showed her as she was at that moment, so far away in Fienstar:
Her hair was tangled and all over the place as if she'd just been fighting, and she had a nasty gash on her left arm, and a small cut on the side of her head that was trickling blood.
'Eragon, we need you to come back, quickly, it happened about an hour ago, a huge hole in reality formed for a moment just inside the city wall at the gates, and I don't know how to describe it, but a horde of huge warriors in armour covered in vile runes came out of it, and began attacking anyone in sight! Come quickly we need a Rider, and fast!' She said rapidly and desperately, then the spectre faded out of existence.
'Sound familiar?' Aragon asked Murtagh, who'd gone bone white.
'It sounds exactly like those memories you showed me.' Said Murtagh hoarsely.
'No time to tell you the plan right now, but Eragon, Angela, Arya, you're coming with me, we're going to go and banish those Chaos warriors before they can do too much damage, Murtagh, you, Elaina, and Thelduin are going to Du Fells Nángoröth, to find an old friend of mine and Thelduin's by the name of Mûnnguldûr; Hawk, Pew, Telia, Torque, Elizabeth, I'd like you to follow Sarah and Marinæ north to Ellesmèra, to find my teacher, who'll take you to my master, you've got a lot to learn in a very short amount of time, and he's the best one for you to learn from.' Said Aragon in a rush.
'Jarren, Arcturor, you're coming with me as well, heavens know that Chaos warriors are probably going to be the least of our worries.' Said Aragon, and Eragon felt a chill creep down his spine.
'Brian, you, Astarielle, Guy, Ei'Shaa, Tor'Ka, Trei'ak you're going to Vroengard to help the old elf try and bring Dorù Areaba back to it's former glory, and buy us some more time.
Eragon went to open his mouth to ask a question, but Saphira beat him to it.
Aragon, who is your master? She asked.
Aragon chuckled wryly, 'you know his name as well as that of your rider's.' Answered Aragon cryptically.
'Now, hang on to me, and don't let go,' he said. Everyone who was going with him to Fienstar did so.
There was a sharp crack! and Eragon felt a brief eternity in which he was feeling crushed, then the feeling vanished, and they were at the gates of Fienstar, looking at a battle-scene from the darkest depths of hell.
Long chapter, and now I've set up about six chapters, as well as laid the ground work for the next story.
And given major hints as to where The Tale of the Grey Rider series will go.
Well, review after reading.
No One-liners.