Song of the Chapter: Prologue - Shadow of the Colossus
They departed at dawn the next morning. Eragon offered to serve as their mount that day. Not only had Saphira born the burden yesterday but his mind was too anxious to deal with hours in the saddle. Better to focus on flapping than the agony of anticipation. Saphira flew freely alongside him. It was their first flight together when neither was trapped in a form against their will. Murtagh was bemused at the role reversal.
Lanayru Province's lush green hills swiftly gave way to sand and searing sun. Unlike the Hadarac, the Gerudo Desert was not merely sand dunes but riddled with mesas and treacherous canyons. Eragon and Murtagh had once nearly died in their breakneck ride across the Hadarac. Eragon marveled at how easy the experience was from the air. They progressed far quicker than a horse ever could and traversed obstacles those without wings could only dream of. Even the wind yielded some relief from the scorching sun. Midna still grumbled about the heat and hid from it in his shadow.
The Hadarac's dunes had been desolate but the sands of Gerudo desert were alive with what Midna called Moldorms. The worm-like creatures traveled through sand like fish did water, leaping out to attack unwary travelers. Dragons safely passed high above such enemies.
Saphira's eye was drawn to a strange stone monolith that rose out of the sand. They flew over to investigate. Eragon cocked his head to the side, wondering why it looked so familiar.
Is that part of a bridge? Saphira exclaimed.
"During my stay in Kakariko Village the shaman warned me the Bridge of Eldin mysteriously vanished after the shadow beasts first attacked," Murtagh recalled. "This could be the missing piece."
Eragon snorted. Not only had Zant plunged the realm into Twilight and unleashed his monsters upon it but had sought to divide the people even further by serving vital arteries of transportation. His suspicions of Zant's involvement were confirmed when a dark portal emerged in the sky at their arrival to vomit forth several shadow beasts. He and Saphira quickly dispatched the monsters and claimed the portal as their own.
Then he remembered how easily Midna had transported the flaming rock that had thawed out Zora's Domain.
Midna, do you think you can place this bridge back where it belongs?
"How?" Midna said dryly. "We never flew enough north of Kakariko to open up a portal close enough to the bridge and I certainly can't haul that thing all the way from Kakariko. Besides, I'm not an architect. I could maybe pop this piece back in place but I can't fix the structural damage. Do you want some poor peasant falling to their deaths when the bridge finally gives way?"
Eragon admitted defeat and stopped circling the mutilated bridge. He instead angled his course to the foreboding shadow on the horizon. Even from this distance he knew it to be Arbiter's Grounds.
Remembering his latest flash of a vision and the pull on his heart he first landed in the cliffs near the prison. The Golden Wolf serenely waited for him in the shadow of an outcropping.
"That's your mentor?" Murtagh muttered dubiously.
Appearances can be deceiving, Eragon teased. His humor faded when he added, His methods can be... unconventional. Please don't unsheathe Zar'roc if he lunges at me and I drop unconscious. That's normal.
His brother made no promises as he dismounted. Midna emerged from his shadow to remove the saddle from his back and restore his human form.
They had landed a cautious distance from the Golden Wolf so that Eragon could respectfully approach his mentor without unduly endangering his companions. His mentor rose from his haunches to pad over to them instead.
Everyone froze in place. Saphira bared the slightest trace of fang. Murtagh's hand ghosted over Zar'roc as the spectral wolf stopped mere feet from them. His single red eye focused not upon Eragon, but his brother. Eragon's hand was just creeping toward the Master Sword when the Golden Wolf finally turned to him, dropping into the crouch with the usual growled challenge.
Eragon grinned reassuringly at his brother. Then he unsheathed his blade to meet the Golden Wolf head-on.
"At last we meet again."
Eragon dipped into a slight bow before his mentor's usual form. "Thank you for your guidance last night," he murmured humbly. "It helped me face today with a clearer head. But why were you so interested in my brother?"
The Hero's Shade appraised him. "The skills I have left to teach you have finally entered the realm of true secrecy. They are forgotten ways that do not leave your bloodline."
Eragon frowned. It seemed the mysterious enchantment that so easily allowed him to understand Hylian had finally fallen short with its first error in translation. What word accurately translated a line of Triforce bearers completely unrelated except by their Goddess's favor? "Just because I look Hylian does not mean I am one. I do not understand why Farore chose me over a native Hyrulean, but I am a human from another land."
"The Triforce of Wisdom is bound to the Royal Family just as the Triforce of Courage is bound to its protectors. The Knights of Hyrule were once a mighty order. Many heroes were born from their bloodlines. During the last civil war assassins from many organizations targeted the Knights and their families specifically so that no new hero could arise to end the bloodshed. My father fell defending the king and my mother in getting me to safety. I alone survived the massacre."
The Hero's Shade had survived one massacre only to be murdered alongside his own family years later. With the extinction of the Knights' bloodlines Farore had been forced to choose a champion from elsewhere. No wonder why she had chosen one so far removed from Hyrule's bloody history.
The shade rumbled at his skeptical silence. "My son lived, boy! My princess arrived in time to save his life and spirit him away from these lands, away from those who wished him dead. Calon lived."
"Our father was a monster well over a hundred years old," Eragon retorted bitterly.
"You've his eyes, Din damn you!" the spirit roared. Eragon raised the Master Sword as a warning but the Hero's Shade made no move to attack. His voice sounded almost broken as he continued, "You've my boy's eyes, you and your brother both." His red gaze pierced Eragon's soul with a dark laugh. "No wonder why Farore favored you over him. You've my temper and my looks. If you had lighter hair and slightly sharper features it would almost be looking into a mirror."
Eragon tried recalling his glimpse of the shade's true form but pictured only his bloodied eye socket and bestial snarl. "Morzan..." he began hesitantly.
"Did you boys not have a mother too?"
Eragon inhaled sharply. For so long he had brooded over Morzan's legacy and yet had never considered any inheritance gained from Selena."I knew never her but her brother and nephew are purely human. And Murtagh and my Uncle Garrow never indicated Selena, my mother, looked otherwise."
"There exist spells to change one's physical appearance. Zelda's magic would have been potent enough to pass the spell down generations, especially if the Goddesses willed it so." He paused. "Do any of your family still...?"
His head bowed as he thought of Uncle Garrow. "Only our cousin Roran."
"Goddesses, it always comes down to three."
The hairs on Eragon's neck prickled uneasily as the Hero's Shade descended into dark mutterings. He strained to remember the little he knew about his mother's ancestors. "My maternal grandfather was named Cadoc. He married and had his children later in life. He died before I was born but lived a long, peaceful life. Uncle Garrow always used to say I reminded him of his father."
"Among the techniques I have left to teach are those that may even endanger you," the Hero's Shade said at last. "Do you feel ready to learn them?"
"I do," Eragon vowed and proved his certainty through a successful display of the helm splitter.
The rusted armor of his great-grandfather creaked as he climbed back to his feet and sheathed his sword.
"The ways of the sword are known to many creatures, and some have strengthened their guards against shield attacks and back slices. Should you encounter such a foe, the mortal draw is most effective. You must cast aside your most defense skills and keep your sword sheathed. Then, before your enemy can see through your ruse..." Before Eragon knew what was happening the Hero's Shade spun forward, his rusted sword mere inches from his head. His mentor stared resolutely down at him. "There is no defense for this. The mortal draw deals death."
Eragon exhaled slowly. He risked his own life to bypass the fight entirely and deal the killing blow. An enemy would expect him to parry their coming strike and leave themselves unguarded to the true strike. A blade like the Master Sword could easily pierce all but the strongest of armors. It was a gamble he hoped never to use.
Still he crossed blades with the Hero's Shade and plunged his blade into one no longer mortal.
"A pointed strike. Remember such a blow leaves you vulnerable but we do not always fight just for ourselves. If you are fated to die that day sometimes it's worth it to drag the foe down with you." His great-grandfather nodded in approval. "The fifth hidden skill has been passed on. May we meet again... great-grandson."
Eragon sheathed his sword and cautiously dipped into a bow. "May it be soon, great-grandfather."
Eragon pretended nothing was amiss when he awoke, that it had merely been another training session. He insisted on carrying Murtagh the rest of the way. His dragon form concealed emotions better. Only through his private bond to Saphira did his true thoughts and feelings come bursting through.
Oh little one, she sighed. There was nothing else to change. She could not change his ancestry or the fate hanging over his head like an executioner's blade.
No wonder the Goddesses chose me. Eragon chuckled darkly. Roran's only ever wanted a quiet life and just got Katrina back. He'd put her safety above all else. Murtagh would have been dragged into this kicking and screaming.
A shiver ran down his spine as he realized the curse he carried in his very blood, the burden Cadoc's descendents passed down to their own innocent children. If he failed in this quest Farore would be forced to choose another champion. Roran was gods knew where and lacked a Rider's stamina. Murtagh would not even have to draw the Master Sword from its pedestal, only retrieve it from his brother's fallen corpse.
Don't think like that! Saphira snarled. You know I'd do anything to prevent it.
The possibility of each other's deaths had been a constant shadow over their heads since Saphira had first hatched for him. Eragon knew he would give his life for hers just as easily as she would for him. They both also knew the other would never forgive them for such sacrifice but would try to go on living anyway. Brom had survived his dragon's loss, after all, but far more had been unable to handle losing half of their soul and followed their partners into the void.
Only Saphira learned his hidden skills. As long as she lived she could pass them down to his successors. Should she die alongside him...
Once they had secured the Mirror of Twilight Eragon vowed to pass his knowledge down to Murtagh. It was his inheritance too, after all, but his brother had just been freed from his vows. He did not yet need to know he carried another burden no song could scourge.
If Murtagh refused to continue the cycle... There needed to be but one Hero's Shade and their great-grandfather had borne the burden long enough.
As they neared Arbiter's Grounds Eragon heard a bestial warning call from a wooden watch tower. With a snarl he realized the ruins were occupied by Bulblin raiders. He channeled his frustration into fury and flame as Saphira joined in. Murtagh's wards deflected the arrows aimed their way and his spells stopped enemies dead in their tracks. They spared those with the sense to flee upon their boars. Their wooden shelters burned but the stone ruins beneath were not even scorched by dragon-fire.
So too did the golden crest of the Royal Family engraved upon the arch at the entrance of the ruined compound, proudly proclaiming these killing grounds justified. The previous Princess Zelda could have ordered it destroyed when the prison was condemned. She had instead allowed it to stand as a warning to future generations.
"The prison is completely open to the elements," Murtagh observed. "We can fly right in."
Eragon snarled at the sight before him. No, we can't.
Such cursed ground should have been sealed away by protections none could impenetrate. Instead an unguarded entrance yawned through the ruins straight down into darkness and the restless spirits imprisoned within.
Something disturbed the prison. I need to find out what happened here.
"Are you insane?" his brother growled. "I heard what the old man said back there. The spirits here are hero killers. Why get yourself killed when the way to Zant, the way back home, is right there?"
"It does look so, doesn't it?" Midna mused. "Almost too easy. If the wards are broken here then Zant must have already come by and laid a trap for us. We'd have better look working our way through the prison then landing right in it like he'd expect us to." She returned Eragon to human form, leaving Murtagh sprawled upon the sand. "Besides, I learned ages ago trying to talk your baby brother out of something is an exercise in futility."
"You don't have to go with us, Murtagh," Saphira consoled as she too transformed. "Once the evil is smothered someone can fly out and come get you."
Murtagh unsheathed Zar'roc. "You do not drag me to the gates of hell and then tell me to wait outside while you go on without me." He was the first to stalk down into the darkness, the others following close behind.
Eragon had just stepped across the threshold when assaulted by the stench of death and decay. Although the entrance was mere feet behind him no fresh air wafted inside. A dank, heavy coldness settled in his lungs as they descended the staircase. As they reached the bottom he felt light-headed, like the shade's spectral fingers had again closed around his throat.
He breathed freely when he left the last step behind. He wondered if they had passed through a remnant of the wards or had already disturbed the spirits' ire.
Arbiter's Grounds should have been dark as the grave. Mocking torches instead burned bright in every brazier. The floor of the first chamber was not so-well preserved. Much of the stone had given way to treacherous quicksand teeming with Moldorms. Even this early on the floor was littered with bones, though none looked humanoid. Eragon suspected curious creatures had wondered in through the passageway to their deaths.
Murtagh strung together to preemptively annihilate the Moldorms in the area. Before he finished he dropped his blade and fell to his knees, grasping ineffectively at his throat. Eragon reflexively slashed the Master Sword at thin air. Something cold gave way and his brother breathed freely again.
"I'm alright," Murtagh gasped as he grabbed Zar'roc and climbed to his feet. Then he cursed the wards.
Midna's yellow eyes flashed. "That wasn't the wards." She shuddered, pressing closer to them. "Maybe it's a good idea for you light-dwellers to not use your magic down here and disturb the angry ghosts."
They settled for instead slashing the Moldorms whenever one lunged from the quicksand. They disintegrated into dark magic, proving nothing about Arbiter's Grounds was natural. Eragon and Murtagh were Dragon Riders and Saphira's form enhanced with a she-dragon's strength. With running leaps they hopped across the quicksand to safe patches of floor. The wider were covered by the Clawshot. Saphira clung to Eragon's back as she did in the Water Temple. Midna, who could safely hover above the quicksand, was responsible for handing the Clawshot back to Murtagh.
Eventually they made it across the chamber to more solid flooring and a locked gate bearing the crest of the Royal Family.
Eragon snorted. He had no time for Zant's puzzles. "Is it warded?"
Midna shook her head. Saphira told everyone to stand clear so she could simply transform and plow right through. Eragon inched to the edge of the platform. Something erupted from the sand to snatch his boot.
He ripped himself free and whirled around. He thought it another Moldorm. Instead he looked down upon a rotted figure laboriously pulling itself free from the quicksand. It succeeded in wrenching out its other hand. With a terrible shriek it dragged itself forward, raising its spear.
Zar'roc slashed down and the abomination evaporated into dark magic.
"Are you alright?" his brother demanded, shaking his shoulder to snap him out of his daze.
Eragon swallowed thickly and nodded. The corpse had been far too fresh to be a Gerudo. Perhaps it had been a looter lured in by the promise of treasure.
Saphira's true form took up most of the platform. She glanced suspiciously back the quicksand to ensure there would be no more unexpected surprises before charging forward. The gate crumbled beneath her bulk.
The small chamber ahead was devoid of both monsters and quicksand. Eragon paused to examine the first true door in Arbiter's Grounds. Hyrulean soldiers had engraved the Royal Family insignia everywhere but had not obscured the prison's Gerudo origins. The graceful symbol carved into the door was not unlike anything Eragon had ever seen before. It had been made by the hands of a culture nearly eradicated from the earth.
Saphira moved to stand by his side in Hylian form. "Are you ready, little one?"
Eragon squared his shoulders and hauled the door open. From the darkness surged forth a small army of yellowed skeletons. In the torchlight their rusted scimitars glinted. They honed in upon him. Midna shrieked and slipped back into his shadow before she was overwhelmed. Murtagh and Saphira, swords slashing, were but obstacles in the way.
His arms ached by the time the last skeleton disintegrated. The horde had varied in size but this one had been far too small to be anything but a child.
Something in the darkness watched him. He felt their hatred almost sinking his skin. Almost hear the whispers calling for him to leave, to suffer, to die...
Murtagh's brow furrowed as he considered the foreboding blackness ahead. "Were they..."
"Yes," Eragon ground out. Master Sword gleaming in the gloom, he advanced.
I was gonna originally put the bridge back where it belongs before realizing Eragon had never gotten around to activating that one specific portal XD Plus even after Midna replaces the bridge the giant cracks remain. It's probably a good temporary fix, but one Hyrule's architects would still be freaking out over.
It's worth noting in quite a few games Link does indeed does from the Knights of Hyrule. During the mortal draw the Hero's Shade also quite clearly refers to a hero's bloodline, implying the Triforce of Courage was at least one point tied to a specific family/families just as the Triforce of Wisdom is to the Royal Family. OoT!Link kind of tore the timeline in three ways, so results may vary from that point onward.
Arbiter's Grounds is the dungeon I'll probably be taking the most liberties with, because vengeful Gerudo make more intriguing enemies than hordes of random tiny Stalkin.