Magic is Force: Chapter 27
The sounds of war flooded the fields of Farthen Dûr – the war cries of both Varden and Urgal joining together, metal clashing against metal, bones splintering and breaking, and the shrieks of the dying. Chaos and destruction descended upon the gates of the city mountain.
The fighting continued for one endless hour after another. The Varden and dwarves were exhausted, but the Urgals remained fresh with reinforcements. It was a nightmare for Eragon. Though he, Saphira and Arya had fought their hardest – even after having their energy restored by Karn through the Force – there was always another Urgal to take the place of the one just killed. His whole body hurt, every muscle in his body was being pushed to the limit. Every time he used magic he lost a little more energy. Saphira was in better condition, though her wings once again acquired new wounds.
As he parried a blow, the Twins contacted him urgently. There are loud noises under Tronjheim. It sounds like Urgals are trying to dig into the city! We need you and Arya to collapse any tunnels they're excavating.
Eragon dispatched his opponent with a sword thrust. We'll be right there. He looked for Arya and saw her engaged with a knot of struggling Urgals. Saphira quickly forged a path to the elf, leaving a pile of crumpled bodies in her wake. Eragon extended a hand and yelled, "Get on!"
Arya jumped onto Saphira's back without hesitation. She wrapped her right arm around Eragon's waist, wielding her bloodstained sword with the other. As Saphira crouched to take off, an Urgal ran at her, howling then lifted an ax and smashed her in the chest.
Saphira roared with pain and lurched forward, feet leaving the ground. Her wings snapped open, straining to keep them from crashing as she veered wildly to one side, right wingtip scraping the ground. Below them, the Urgal pulled back his arm to throw the ax. But Arya raised her palm, shouting, and an emerald ball of energy shot from her hand, killing the Urgal. With a colossal heave of her shoulders, Saphira righted herself, barely making it over the head of the warriors. She pulled away from the battlefield with powerful wing strokes and rasping breath.
Are you alright? Asked Eragon, concerned. He could not see where she had been struck.
I'll live, she said grimly, but the front of my armor had been crushed together. It hurts my chest, and I'm having trouble moving.
Can you get us to the dragonhold?
… We'll see.
Eragon explained Saphira's condition to Arya. "I'll stay and help Saphira when we land," she offered. "Once she is free of the armor, I will join you."
"Thank you," he said. The flight was laborious for Saphira; she glided whenever she could. When they reached the dragonhold, she dropped heavily to Isidar Mithrim, where the Twins were supposed to be watching the battle, but it was empty. Eragon jumped to the floor and winced as he saw the damage the Urgal had done. Four of the metal plates on Saphira's chest had been hammered together, restricting her ability to bend and breathe. "Stay well," he said putting a hand on her side.
As Eragon was making his way to a side archway, Arya called out to him. "Eragon!"
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face the elf as she stood beside Saphira. She possessed a concerned look on her face. "Do not do anything foolish."
Without a seconds thought he quickly replied, "I promise. I won't." He resumed running and ran out the archway.
He stopped and swore. He was the top of Vol Turin, The Endless Staircase. Because of his worry for Saphira, he had not considered how he would get to Tronjheim's base – where the urgals were breaking in. there was no time to climb down. He looked over at a narrow trough to the right of the stairs, then grabbed one of the leather pads and threw himself down on it.
The stone slide was smooth as lacquered wood. With the leather underneath him, he accelerated almost instantly to a frightening speed, the walls blurring and the curve of the slide pressing him high against the wall. Eragon lay completely flat so he would go faster. The air rushed past his hair, making it whip in front of his face as if he were in a gale. The trough was too confined for him, and he was perilously close to flying out, but as long as he kept his arms and legs still, he was going to be safe.
It was a swift descent, but it still took him nearly ten minutes to reach the bottom. The slide leveled out at the end and sent him skidding halfway across the huge carnelian floor.
When he finally came to a stop, he got off the floor and looked around. The great chamber of Tronjheim was completely deserted, the silence unsettling. Rosy light filtered down from Isidar Mithrim. He faltered – Where was he supposed to go? – and cast out his mind for the Twins. Nothing. He froze as loud knocking echoed through the city.
An explosion split the air. A long slab of the chamber floor buckled and blew thirty feet up. Needles of rocks flew outward as it crashed down. Eragon stumbled back, stunned, groping for Zar'roc. The twisted shapes of Urgals clambered out of a hole in the floor.
Eragon hesitated. She he flee? Or should he stay and try to close the tunnel? Even if he managed to seal it before the urgals attacked him, what if Tronjheim was already breached elsewhere? He could not find all the places in time to prevent the city-mountain from being captured. Blast it! Where's Arya, Saphira, Karn or Angela when you need them most?
Before he could even decide, a tall man garbed entirely in black armor emerged from the tunnel and looked directly at him.
It was Durza.
The Shade carried his pale blade marked with a scratch from Ajihad. A second short sword rested upon his back hip with a crimson ensign forged into the cross-guard. A long snakeskin cloak billowed around him and madness burned in his maroon eyes, the madness of one who enjoys power and finds himself in the position to use it.
Eragon knew he was neither fast enough nor strong enough to escape the fiend before him. Still connected to the minds of Saphira and Karn, he immediately warned them. Durza's here! At the base of the Endless Staircase in Tronjheim!
However, he knew it would be impossible for them to rescue him. He dropped into a crouch and quickly reviewed what Brom had told him about fighting another magic user. It was not encouraging. And Ajihad had said that Shades could only be destroyed by a thrust through the heart. To add more fuel to his worry, he remembered the information that Karn had learned from Solembum, that Shades become stronger after they've been unsuccessfully destroyed.
Durza gazed at him contemptuously and said, "Kaz jtierl trazhid! Otrag bagh." The Urgals eyed Eragon suspiciously and formed a circle around the perimeter of the room. Durza slowly approached Eragon with a triumphant expression. "So, my young Rider, we meet again. You and your friends were foolish to stand up against me in Gil'ead. I will ensure you that you will never be able to escape my grasp again."
"You'll never capture me alive," growled Eragon.
"Is that so?" asked the Shade, raising an eyebrow. The light from the star sapphire gave his skin a ghastly tint. "I don't see your 'friend'. Karn, was it? Looks like he won't be here to save you. You can't stop me now. No one can!"
Fear touched Eragon. If Karn couldn't kill him, how can I expect myself too? Putting all the derision into his voice, he jeered, "How did you like being beaten by a 'weak' human?"
Durza's face tightened momentarily. "I will be repaid in blood for that. Now tell me where your dragon is hiding."
"Never."
"The Shade's countenance darkened. "Then I will force it from you!" His sword whistled through the air. The moment Eragon caught the blade with Zar'roc, a mental probe spiked deep into his thoughts. Fighting to protect his consciousness, he shoved Durza back and attacked with his own mind.
Eragon battered with all his strength against the iron-hard defenses surrounding Durza's mind, but to no avail. He swung Zar'roc, trying to catch Durza off guard. The Shade knocked the blow aside effortlessly, then stabbed in return with lightning speed.
The point of the sword caught Eragon in the ribs, piercing his mail and driving out his breath. The mail slipped, though, and the blade missed his side by the width of a wire. The distraction was all Durza needed to break into Eragon's mind and begin taking control.
"NO!" cried Eragon, throwing himself at the Shade. His face contorted as he grappled with Durza, yanking on his sword arm. Durza tried to cut Eragon's hand, but it was protected by the mail-backed glove, which sent the blade glancing downward. As Eragon kicked his leg, Druza snarled and drew his shortsword from its sheath – sweeping it around across his chest.
The blade managed to cut several of the tiny metal rings, damaging the integrity of the chainmail armor. Luck was on Eragon's side, the blade had managed to only cut the rings and not his flesh. Ignoring the strike, he retaliated by brining Zar'roc up diagonally and catching Durza on the upper arm. A line of blood traced down the Shade's arm.
Eragon thrust at the Shade with his mind and drove through Durza's weakened defenses. A flood of images suddenly engulfed him, rushing through his consciousness –
Durza as a young boy living as a nomad with his parents on the empty eplains. The tribe abandoned them and called his father "oathbreaker." Only it was not Durza then, but Carsaib - the name his mother crooned while combing his hair…
The Shade reeled widly, face twisted in pain. Eragon tried to control the torrent of memories, but the force of them was overwhelming.
Standing on a hill over the graves of his parents, weeping that the men had not killed him as well. Then turning and stumbling blindly away, into the desert…
Durza faced Eragon. Terrible hatred flowed from his maroon eyes. Eragon was on one knee – almost standing – struggling to seal his mind.
"How dare you!" the Shade screamed. His face was contorted in utter rage.
Eragon made an attempt to protect himself as Durza charged him. He lunged out with Zar'roc but his strike was quickly parried out of the way. Bringing his leg up, Durza kicked him square center in the chest.
The force was strong enough to send Eragon skidding across the stone floor, right between the Urgals at the circle's edge, and colliding into a far wall. He gasped and screamed in pain upon impact with the wall as the sound of bones shattering occurred. The air in his lungs escaped him and Eragon violently coughed, trying to desperately reclaim air. Each cough though brought excruciating pain and blood splattered across the floor, several beads trickling down Eragon's mouth.
Eragon placed a hand against his side and pressed in lightly, which resulted in the pain he felt earlier. Several of his ribs definitely were broken which made it difficult for him to breathe – let alone move.
Before Eragon could even collect himself, Durza was already making his way over to him. The madness in his eyes seared with rage. He struggled to stand up to his feet, but the Shade was already upon him; kicking harshly at hand, Zar'roc went sliding across the granite floor.
Durza's pale fingers clasped around Eragon's throat, squeezing him to the point of nearly choking him. With incredible strength, the Shade lifted him up to where his feet no longer touched the ground. Weakly, Eragon gripped onto the Shade's forearm with both his hands, trying his best to cut off the circulation to his arm allowing him to be released.
He's too strong! Eragon worriedly thought as he felt the fingers around his next begin to clench even more tightly. He didn't fight against Durza at Gil'ead and wasn't sure how strong he was then. But if he was strong enough to nearly kill Karn, then what hope did he have to stand a chance against him?
Eragon's vision blurred as he was suddenly thrust back into the stone wall; the impact sending waves of horrific pain through his body. He let out an agonizing scream that reverberated off the walls. "Don't make this any more difficult," Durza exclaimed, "Tell me where your dragon is!"
Struggling to gasp for air, Eragon spoke with difficulty, "N-never. I'll die b-before I tell you."
"Tsk tsk tsk," Durza clicked with his tongue, "Now, we can't have that. We need you alive. More importantly, we need her alive."
"W-hat do you want Saphira for?" He said through struggle gasps of air.
Without warning, Durza struck Eragon's abdomen with the pommel of his scratched sword. The newly added pain rushed through his body making his squirm and howl in agony. Through squinted eyes, Eragon could see that the Shade was smiling. He's enjoying this?!
"Oh it's not what I want, boy," Durza said with disgust, "It's what Galbatorix wants." Bringing his knee up, the Shade smashed it into Eragon's stomach, pushing his inside up. Again, pain rushed throughout his entire body as he howled in suffering.
Bringing his sword up and placing its beveled edge against Eragon's throat, Durza slowly and menacingly commanded, "Call. Your. Dragon."
Eragon would never call Saphira and let her become captured. Whatever Galbatorix wanted to do with her, he would never give her up. She was his partner: of mind, body and soul. And ever since he saw her hatch from her egg so long ago in his makeshift home at Carvahall, he cared deeply for her.
Shaking his head Eragon once again defied the Shade, "Never." Mustering what defiance he had, he spat straight onto Durza's smug face.
The Shade didn't take to kindly to this act of rebelliousness. He growled and launched Eragon towards the center of the great hall; the young Dragon Rider landed hard on the floor which again didn't ease his already broken and battered body.
"Brasignr," Druza howled. Blood-red flames engulfed the Shade's sword. He slowly made his approach to the center of the circle.
Struggling to retain his consciousness from the large amounts of pain wracking his body, Eragon frantically tried to come out with something – anything! – that could help him. As he laid sprawled out on the floor, he made an attempt to rise to his feet when he noticed a glint of red out of the corner of his eye. Zar'roc laid only a few feet away from him.
Crack! The sudden sound of cracking stone from above captured Eragon's attention. He tilted his head and gazed up towards the Isidar Mithrim where a flash of light erupted in his eyes, blinding him. A second later, the chamber rang with a deafening report. Then his eyes cleared, and he gaped with disbelief.
The star sapphire had shattered. An expanding torus of huge dagger-like pieces plummeted toward the distant floor – the shimmering shards near the wall. In the center of the chamber, hurtling downward headfirst, was Saphira. Her jaws were open and from between them erupted a great tongue of flame, bright yellow and tinged with blue. On her back was Arya: hair billowing wildly, arm uplifted, palm glowing with a nimbus of green magic.
Time seemed to slow as Eragon saw Durza tilt his head toward the ceiling. First shock, then anger contorted the Shade's face. Sneering defiantly, he raised his hand and pointed at Saphira, a word forming on his lips. "Mënalas!"
The air suddenly began to feel heavy as a pressure was pressed against Eragon's body. Before long, his muscles could no longer hold himself up any longer, forcing him to his knees. Up above, he saw Saphira suddenly falling rapidly, more rapidly than he ever could think. Through their bond, he could tell she was struggling her best to use her wings but they wouldn't budge.
In seconds, Saphira's hulking mass came crashing to the floor, shards of Ishidar Mithrim splintering off upon impact. She attempted to exert her strong leg muscles to get up off the floor but not even she could budge. Flung off Saphira's saddle, Arya was sent rolling across the floor, she too also caught by Durza's spell – unable to move her body even against her best efforts.
The three sat frozen in place by whatever spell Durza had cast upon them. The act shock Eragon completely for the amount of energy needed to keep in place two humans and a dragon seemed impossible. Gazing over to the Shade, he could faintly see a dark aura surround Durza's hand. What is that?
Eragon! Saphira's voice rung out inside his mind. I-I can't move my body. Something's weighing me down.
It's the spell Durza's cast, he said, relishing in hearing Saphira's voice.
"At last," Durza said. He slowly walked up to the sapphire dragon, getting as close as to a foot away from Saphira's mouth. Smoke billowed out from her nostrils as she attempted to free herself from his magic. "Galbatorix has been anxious to see you."
He stared long and hard into Saphira's eyes before he shifted his focus to Arya who laid sprawled out over in the corner. "And what a surprise…" He made his way over to the elf's position before he knelt down and placed his hand on her hair gripping it tightly, pulling her up so he could see her face. "Arya… Arya Dröttningu. Galbatorix will also be pleased to see you once again in his grace."
"I will not submit to you, Durza!" Arya said with much resilience in her voice.
"It's a little too late for that, elf." She brought his hand forth slapping her across her face. A trickle of blood began to slide down her face as her lip was split open.
"All of you," he got back up to his feet and centered himself between the three, "Your little rebellion ends tonight. If you surrender yourselves to me, I will see to it that Galbatorix forgives you of your transgressions."
"Galbatorix would not give his enemies mercy but instead show them the end of his sword!" Arya exclaimed.
I will not owe fealty to the one that destroyed my kind! Saphira growled deeply, the smoke continuing to pour out from her nostrils like chimney stacks.
"We will never surrender," Eragon said weakly.
The madness seemed to grow in Durza's eyes as his face became rigid and strict, he jaw clenched. He was quiet for a brief moment before he started to walk about the room, passing in front of each of his captives.
"What do you hope to accomplish by waging this rebellion?" He asked as he stood before Arya. It was a rhetorical question as he continued his monologue. "What do you gain by destroying the Empire's fields, its crops and villages? Resources needed to make the country great; its inhabitants prosperous?"
He made his way back to Saphira, "What do you hope to gain by destroying the man that did only what he thought was right? What he has always believed to be was just? What would you gain by destroying a man that freed the Empire from the corruption that was inflicted upon the world before his rise?"
He slowly made his way around back to Eragon, "Your rebellion has cost Galbatorix much. You've destroyed the men that he holds dear to his heart. You've ruined his chance to make the Empire the strongest kingdom of all Alagaesia. And he has tried to stop your rebellion. But you all have risen from your holes to fight against a benevolent king. A king whose only wish is to see his kingdom unified – to be at peace."
He pointed his sword, still ablaze with blood-red fire, at Eragon's chest. "Galbatorix is a merciful ruler…surrender and you will forever been in his favor."
Eragon looked past the Shade at Arya and Saphira, the two of them fighting their utter best to free themselves of the invisible shackles that kept them bound. They were not going to give up fighting. Galbatorix destroyed the Dragon Riders, killing the last of Saphira's kind. He betrayed the elves and sought out their destruction. And Eragon could see the king for what Galbatorix truly was – destructive and cruel.
"I vowed to protect the Varden, at the cost of my life," Eragon spoke, his voice filling with determination. "I vowed to ensure the end of Galbatorix's tyrannical reign." He gazed up at Durza's maroon-eyes. "I will fight until my last breath escapes me on the battlefield. I will not allow Saphira or myself to serve someone the likes of him."
With his words, a menacing scowl spread across Durza's face; his darkened teeth grinding upon one another in a fit of rage. The Shade stepped around Eragon out of his sight. Silence filled hall. Durza did not utter a single word, nor did anyone else.
Suddenly….. ERAGON! ERAGON! Saphira and Arya both screamed at the same time.
Before Eragon could register what their cries were about, immense pain blasted up and down the length of his back, forcing a blood curling scream from his lips. Durza smote heavily across Eragon's back, his flaming sword cutting right through the mail and skin. "The price of your treachery," the Shade uttered angrily.
The pressure surrounding Eragon dissipated and the agony bowed his body in half, obliterating all thought. He swayed collapsing onto the floor, barely conscious as his back burned with agony. Durza came back around into Eragon's vision, "This is what it means to defy the Empire!"
Durza clenched his hand and the dark aura surrounding it seemed to glow darker. The pressure surrounding Saphira and Ayra pressed down harder onto them. An unbearable scream could be heard from the elf and a painful growl emanated deep from Saphira's throat. Their cries of pain echoed across the walls of the City-Mountain, travelling down the different halls.
Their suffering cries made the blood in Eragon veins burn in anger. As he laid upon the floor, he felt helpless. Utterly useless. Beaten, battered and broken now he was. No longer possessing the strength to offer assistance. He hated the feeling. He couldn't stomach watching Saphira and Arya experience such excruciating pain.
… If he only had the strength to fight…
… If he only had the energy to use magic…
… If he only possessed the will to protect them…
…If he only could be like Karn and use the Force…
…
…
…
…Feel, don't think. Use your instincts…
The words of advice given to him from so long ago echoed like church bells in Eragon's mind. Emotion gave Karn power. It allowed him to use the Force. And he commanded it at his will.
Eragon reflected back upon the most in his life where he felt weak and useless. He thought about the time when his Uncle Garrow died; to when he felt hopeless at Yuzac; Teirm; Dras Leona; Gil'ead; Lake Kóstha-mérna; and finally now. I want to protect them… I want to protect them all…I want strength to fight my enemies and protect those I cherish… I need strength…I need strength!
A hidden reserve of strength suddenly welled up inside Eragon, dredged from the deepest part of his being. His focus was turned on Zar'roc that only lay a few feet away.
Feel, don't think. Use your instincts. Will it!
Eragon knew what he wanted to do. Letting the burst of energy continue to flow inside him, he outstretched his arm towards Zar'roc. Will it! In his mind, Eragon could see what he wanted the sword to do. He fixated on that feeling, he focused on the sword.
The gedwëy ignasia on Eragon's hand suddenly glowed bright and slowly, the sword began to rise into the air. Will it!
The sword continued to rise up into the air; Eragon turned to face Durza whose attention was fixated on his suffering captives. I want him to pay for what he has done! To Saphira. To Arya. To me!
Bringing his arm back, Eragon launched it forward, Zar'roc mimicking him. The red blade sailed through the air, producing a hissing as if it were an arrow.
I want him to burn!
Upon his will, Zar'roc blazed with bloody light, heatless flames running along it. And stabbed Durza in the heart.
Durza looked down with shock at the blade protruding from his breast. His mouth was open, but instead of words, an unearthly howl burst from him. His sword dropped from nerveless fingers. He grasped Zar'roc as if to pull it out, but it was lodged firmly in him.
Then Durza's skin turned transparent. Under it was neither flesh nor bone, but swirling patterns of darkness. He shrieked even louder as the darkness pulsated, splitting his skin. With one last cry, Durza was rent from head to toe, releasing the darkness, which separated into three entities who flew through Tronjheim's walls and out of Farthen Dûr. The Shade was gone.