Two updates in a week- I'm on a roll!
Oh, everything is speeding up from here. I'm trying to get the important chapters out of the way before school starts- I've been writing parts of the ending, after the climax, and it might be too much. I'll have to figure that out later.

I'm so glad you guys liked the previous chapter- but please remember to review! Please, my darlings, and feel free to pester me if I don't update again before the end of the week!

Chapter 53: Into the Vault

Everyone at the ill-fated dinner party charged towards the door; nothing was more frightening than Lord Murtagh, armed with a sword already dripping with a hundred years worth of blood, smiling, on the verge of laughter.

Everyone but one.

Furdor.

The magician stood rooted where he was, his eyes wide and his hands shaking.

Murtagh couldn't repress the laughter welling up in his system, the irony if the situation; the throne room had never heard his laughter before, and now, the place tried to absorb it- but how can ice defeat fire?

"You are bound by your oaths to defend the King's power," Murtagh laughed, "And yet, you want to do the opposite.

"You want to run, and you can't."

Furdor swallowed and said nothing, but his trembling hands held orange fire.

The fire only spurred Murtagh's merriness- he couldn't control this- this-

This happiness-

"This is goodbye, Furdor." The smile vanished from Murtagh's face; his vision was blurring, and all he could see was blood dripping from Furdor's hands- Eragon and Saphira and Halia's blood. "Because I am going to kill you."

Furdor tossed a fireball at Murtagh and bolted towards the door; Murtagh easily dodged the flames and shot a spell forward, locking the door.

Murtagh. Shruikan growled. Leave one for me.

Furdor clawed at the door, tears streaming down his face-

Murtagh grabbed his neck, throwing him across the floor with inhuman strength. Screaming, Furdor collided with the icy throne, curling into a fetal position.

"Or even better." Murtagh whispered, knowing his words echoed in the room. "Shruikan can have his justice with you."

Summoning shackles, Murtagh bound Furdor and buried him underneath a dome; it muted all sound except Shruikan's growls.

And Murtagh faced the Rock.

Claim what is yours. Bid'daum encouraged him. We will end the King.

Murtagh raised Zar'roc and smiled at the throne, unafraid, confident.

He didn't know his true name anymore, but Bid'daum had granted him entrance.

"I, Murtagh, Son of None, Rider of Thorn the son of Eridor, the Heir of the Vault of Souls, Lord of the Last Thunder, command the Rock of Kuthain to open!"

The words echoed in the room until every crevice heard him; Murtagh suddenly remembered that Solembum was somewhere in the room; the werecat had appeared out of the shadows to his right.

A groan replaced his order, the sound of splitting ice rebounding in the caverous room.

The throne started trembling, like a child would before his angry mother- like Murtagh had when Morzan charged him, Zar'roc in hand.

Murtagh remembered how it had slid shut after Galbatorix returned from its depths, the red egg in hand-

Why wasn't it merely sliding open again?

Solembum padded to his right; his ears flicking back and forth.

Another groan rang through the throne room; Murtagh watched as a crack ran along the throne's right side, all the way to where Galbatorix commonly kept his right hand.

Murtagh saw what was about to happen just in time- he ducked, throwing a shield over himself and Solembum-

And the throne of Galbatorix, the Rock of Kuthain, exploded.

Murtagh covered his mouth with his sleeve as rubble and dust blinded him; Solembum sneezed. Sending a waft of fresh air through the room, Murtagh tried clearing his line of vision, but what he saw did not add up.

Someone was coming out of the Vault.

Murtagh peered through the dust and tried to make out a face, failing miserably-

That was an elf.

But he had seen the King come from the Vault before- did he have a captured elf in there?

"I am Murtagh." He began, still trying to make out a face.

"I know." Said the elf, his voice soft like a breeze, barely audible. "I have been the Watcher, just as you have been the Shackled. But we are no more."

It wasn't Oromis, but something about the elf- what Murtagh could make of him- struck Murtagh as similar...

Murtagh took a step towards the cloaked Watcher.

Oh.

The Watcher... yes, he was an elf. But he was also a dead elf, and the realization dropped a rock into Murtagh's stomach. His silver hair contrasted with his deep tan, but his blue eyes were shallow; it didn't help that he was nothing more than an image, a vapor pulled to and fro by the breeze.

And a white sword hung on his hip.

"Come, Lord." The Watcher nodded at Murtagh, smiling. "I have much to show you; there is too little time for all the Wonders in the Vault. You have duties to fulfill- but you, Solembum, companion of Angela the herbalist, one of the Gray Folk; you are not welcome here, to the haven of the Dragons Who Are No More."

Solembum bowed deeply. "I understand, Lord Watcher- Lord Eragon, may I presume?"

The Watcher nodded slowly. "Thank you, Solembum. Come, Lord Murtagh."

Murtagh followed Eragon I's delicate form as he disappeared into the gaping hole that had once been the throne- the icy stone had been blown to one side, the last remnants of the seat completely overturned.

Murtagh summoned a small werelight to guide his feet as they descended into the darkness; the stairwell was straight, thankfully, and unusually wide; three horsemen could have ridden down it. Some of the steps were crumbled, no doubt from some spell of Galbatorix's.

"Lord Watcher, what is down here?" Murtagh asked. "Eldunarya, yes, but what else has Galbatorix hidden here?"

"In good time, Lord Heir." Eragon replied. "Bid'daum knows more of it than I. He has been down here a long, long time; I have not."

"You haven't?"

"No; I only revealed myself to Galbatorix twice."

"Why only twice?"

"One, Lord, when he first came here. He was drunk on his power, and I warned him of the danger- of the power he was trying to control. And the second time, when he moved the red and green eggs into this place."

Murtagh noted the time of that; "After the blue egg had been stolen?"

"Time had not taught him anything." Eragon replied, "Except greed. Once more, I warned him that his pride would lead to his downfall."

"I can't imagine he took it well."

Eragon smiled; Murtagh wondered how he was even there; perhaps Bid'daum was supporting this wraith.

"The Watcher of the Wood warned you of the fire, correct?"

"Yes." Murtagh replied, feeling a gentle breeze kiss his cheeks. Oromis' words echoed in his mind; it had been a strange dream- half of him wondered if it had been a dream at all.

"He need not." Eragon murmured. "Your fire burns just as brightly, Lord Heir. Galbatorix came here infrequently, because of the fire. He was as ice, and you are fire. The fire of the dragons has claimed you, and the ice cannot control you any longer."

Murtagh smiled, and Eragon did too.

"They have waited a long time, Lord Heir."

With those words, Eragon vanished, leaving Murtagh in the semi-darkness.

You did not even feel the flames. Bid'daum mused. You just passed through a fire, Lord Heir, and the flames were a mere breeze to you. Murtagh knew this pleased him; he peered through the emptiness to find any sign of the hundreds of dragons living down there.

What did Lord Eragon want to show me?

Murtagh could feel Bid'daum smiling. He brought you to us; we are the ones who will show you.

A pause, and Murtagh could see nothing.

Douse your two-legged-magic-flame, Lord Heir.

Murtagh blinked at the sudden darkness, not seeing-

They were everywhere.

He could see shapes moving, multicolored wraiths flying, crawling, walking, tumbling through the air around him- hundreds and thousands of them. A white hatchling brushed past his leg, crowing with happiness; a mountainous brown male roared his wrath, vowing that he would serve Murtagh with his heart-

FLAMES, FIRES, FOES, AWAKE, AWAKE! The dragons roared, their battle-cry feeding the hope in Murtagh's heart. AWAKE, FOR THE HEIR HAS COME TO CLAIM WHAT IS HIS!

And there was silence.

He was impossible to miss; in the blackness, he was a star, burning with glory. And it was this dragon, Bid'daum, who silenced his thunder of dead but very much alive dragons. One massive eye- easily twice Murtagh's height, dwarfing Shruikan's black gaze- locked on Murtagh. Bid'daum was a wraith, half real, half a dream.

His authority had not diminished with time.

We will show you our glory, Lord Heir. He began, his voice like thunder rolling over the plains, echoing, making the earth itself tremble with fear. Galbatorix has tarnished many of us, but not all.

Any who have the strength will support this war against the Traitor. Those who have been tainted by the Black One will rebel against him, with everything left in their being.

Something was stirring in Bid'daum's heart; Murtagh felt it, like a slow-moving lava rapidly gaining heat and speed. Like the inferno of a volcano, struggling to crest earthy chains containing it.

For our lost Riders, brood-mates, mothers, sires, mates, and offspring! Rise up, Lords of the Sky! Awake, for our hour has come- let our fire melt away the ice of the past century! Let us show the Traitor that we are strong- stronger than before! We have a body back- we have our Heir, and we will teach the Black One what pain he has caused us! Bid'daum roared, his voice growing; the lava had just started bubbling over the volcano's ridge.

For Doru Araeba! For Illyria! For the eggs and hearts he has defiled and the innocent lives he has shed! Awake! Awake, for the dawn has risen, and the bright-eye-in-the-sky burns away the pale-eye-of-night!

A thousand two-legged armies could never match us! Who is this hatchling who has sent us into this sleep? Why does he still breathe the air that we once owned? Why does he still torture our brothers?

The lava was no longer slow moving, and Murtagh could feel wrath, hot and exhilarating, crashing from heart to heart, destroying any sense of fear or doubt.

We are not his slaves! We are dragons! We are the Rulers of the Sky, and we shall sleep no longer! Brothers! Sisters! Awake! Awake, before any more innocent lives are shed! Before the Traitor finds another torture for our captured family! Before he imprisons more of our brothers!

Awake! Let our fire burn brighter than the sky-eye! Let it burn hotter than the Haradac in the summer! Let our wrath be greater than the pain he has caused us!

Our Brother Heir has joined us! He has been freed of the Traitor's chains, and now we must free our brethren!

Awake! AWAKE!

Go, Brother Heir! Bid'daum roared, the fury of the dragons boiling in his heart. The gold the Traitor hid here is useless to you; the lists, the words, the books, all empty! Now is the time of action, not philosophy!

The traitor can no longer enter this Haven! We guard it, we protect it- the Vault is no longer his! Eragon defends it, Brother Heir- have no fear for those of us who cannot move, for we move through you, and though our hearts are here, our minds are forever with you.

Go, Brother! Rescue those who are helpless- born and unborn! If you had use of them, we would arm you with the swords here in this Vault, but they are nothing but broken talons; you have all you need!

Once you have succeeded, return, and save those who are dead. But the living- they are the ones who make the future. Save them, brother, with our strength to help you.

Murtagh needed no other prompting.