Chapter 4: Tragedy Falls
Age 15
My blood was pumping in my arteries, dancing through my body. The wind was rushing in my ears, blocking out all sound as my legs moved faster than they ever moved before. The surroundings seem to blur around me, as I sprinted through tall grass, my feet barely touching the ground, towards the bright orange glow in the distance. To onlookers, not that there were any, I would seem to be a dark shadow racing through the twilight, drawn like a moth to a bright flame.
The closer I got to the house, the more anxious I became. I would not allow anyone to harm my family. Not after all the care and support, they gave me. And while to many, I would seem like a cold and silent individual, long introduced to the miseries of life in my past job as a surgeon, parents would always be family.
You cannot help but love them.
And mine, right now, was in danger. Despite my growing strength and magical prowess, who would I be if I could not save them?
As I drew closer, I immediately activated with but a whisper my ward to suppress my emotions. In an instant, It was like a mask was put over my face, as my anxiety disappeared and only a cold look remained in my eyes. My mind felt calmer, less troubled, and focused on the situation at hand. I would need to think clearly if I wanted to have a chance to save my family.
The cottage, my home was blazing with a bright orange pillar of flame. With my elven eyesight, I could see its walls crumble, the furniture inside burn, and my mother's collection of scrolls turn to ash. The knowledge that she gathered, preserved, and gifted to me erased in but a blink of an eye. There was no longer a chance for me to restore it to its former state. Even magic could not turn ash back to wood.
Slightly stunned by the burning inferno that was once my home, I had a lapse in my attention to the surrounding area, until a scream interrupted my thoughts. Turning my head, I was met with a scene from a nightmare.
A group of soldiers, obviously imperial, forming a loose circle around my parents.
My father, on his knees, with a sword dripping with blood piercing through his lower back.
My mother, her illusion long gone, her elven heritage on view for all, desperately chanting and crying, using all her magic in an attempt to heal him.
And a dark-haired old man, wearing mage robes, laughing at her despair. From the yet large distance between me and the group, I could feel his aura, murky and dark, leaking from him in shallow waves.
After a few meters closed between us, I heard his raspy yet exhilarated voice. "-erves you right you filthy traitor. Scum like you who betray the human race and the glorious empire by associating with those crafty elves, who miserably hide in their precious forests should die a traitor's death" he proclaimed with a gloating sick smile on his face.
My mother was oblivious to his insults and speech, continuing her desperate but vain attempts to stem the bleeding of my father. The imperial magician and the soldiers continued to gloat and ridicule them.
"Did you think you were smart, hiding behind an illusion? Did you take the citizens of the empire for fools? The guards noticed your features the last time you visited your lover in the city. They saw you not only take it off but also apply it back on as you entered and exited his blacksmith workshop.
Immediately reporting to me, I personally went out to eliminate this elven filth living in our lands. You should have stayed in your precious forest and hid from the might of us humans. We are the ones who rule now, and no one will stop us. Finish him off and bring her to me. I will enjoy breaking her mind and learn all her secrets and knowledge" he proclaimed as the soldiers began to move towards my fallen parents.
Before even a single soldier could lift his sword, I willed my own to fly ahead of me and dispose of them as quickly as possible. They would not touch my family again. The elderly magician seemed surprised and then shocked when first the arms and then the heads of his men were cut off by a flash of silver. He looked wide-eyed as his subordinates fell to the ground all around him.
As he finally heard my approaching footsteps and began to turn towards my direction, three sharp throwing knives spun and hit his torso, sending him sprawling from the force of my flow. I immediately turned towards my parents, kneeling down to better help my father.
It was a gruesome sight. The sword was sticking right from his stomach, as blood flowed and mixed with dark bile and gastric juices. His white pristine shirt which he always downed when coming back home was ripped and soaked, as his skin paled and adopted a whiter tone by the second.
My mother, who despite all her experience and knowledge, continued to cry while holding his head and pressing a hand against his wound. She was unable to stop the blood loss, either due to the severity of the wound or her distraught state preventing her from focusing to perform magic. As I looked upon the wound, I realized that despite all my knowledge, all my skill, I would not be able to save him in time.
"Mother" I whispered my voice unusually soft.
She did not look at me and continued to frantically chant, as she held the wound with trembling blood-soaked hands.
"Mother" I repeated, my voice a bit louder as I looked into the glossy eyes of the man who spent countless hours teaching me his life's passion and work.
"Mother, he's gone. It is too late" I said, as I reached to pry her trembling hands, and slowly bring her into a hug.
She slowly rose from the still-warm body, and tentatively wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red as she no longer seemed to have any tears or energy left to cry. We stood like this for a few moments in silence, as she continued to sob. I did not dare to remove my emotional suppressor, as I knew the last thing, she needed right now was for me to break into my own tears of grief.
Suddenly, she seemed to stiffen, as she promptly lifted her head off my shoulders to look at something behind me. I myself also began to pick up small sounds of movement and rapid air vibrations with my senses.
There was no time to move, no time to even blink before I felt a searing heat tearing first through my wards, my cloak, before finally, beginning to boil the skin on my back, as I heard a wild scream from behind.
"Brisingr!"
All I saw on the edge of my vision was a bright flash as orange fire erupted past me, while I unconsciously covered my mother as she seemed to press even tighter into me. Thankfully, for what seemed to be the most terrifying moments of my life, I felt some of my wards shatter, as others barely managed to hold, if only barely preventing the fire from burning me fully into a crisp.
As soon as the fire stopped and before any of the pain began to register, I pushed my mother away from me, in fear that another spell would tear through me and hit her. She landed on the ground with a thud, while I slowly turned back around, my burnt skin almost cracking off me in the process. It was then that I finally saw something that despite all my emotional suppressors and blocks, made my blood boil with relentless fury. The mage, the worm of a human, was kneeling, as he slowly stood up, removing, and throwing away the silver knives embedded in his torso.
He once again smiled at me, with that sick smile of his, even as a few drops of blood fell from his lips.
Something seemed to break inside me at this picture, which would forever remain in my mind. Perhaps it was my control over my rage and emotions. Perhaps it was my last vestiges of rational thought. Perhaps it was my heart, once filled with happiness and positive energy. Most probably, it was all three.
From that moment, all I saw was a red haze, my emotional suppressor long forgotten. I did not shout; I did not scream. Instead, I projected my mind outwards and latched on to the gleaming bundle of magical energy located right inside his head. He seemed to have some basic magical defenses, frantically trying to put up mental walls and blocks.
They did not stand a chance.
I blew them away, similar to how the wind blows away insignificant specks of dust into the air. I then proceeded to rip away his memories, his knowledge, similar to the process I did with each of the craftsmen in the city. This time, however, I was neither gentle nor subtle in my approach.
First, he began to whimper, then he began to yell as blood rushed first from his nose, then from his ears, and finally, he screamed as he shed tears of blood from his eyes. Mercilessly, I shredded his sense of self and personality, as I then proceeded to break and tear the magical energy flowing in his head.
Upon releasing him from this mental torture, as he lifelessly fell to the ground, I took my sword, with my own two hands, and proceeded to brutally cut his legs, his arms, his head from his body, my own body screaming at me to stop. With wide strokes, which sprayed blood all over the once-green grass around us, I let loose all my closed-off pain onto him.
Backing away, with my cloak soaked with red blood, as my once silver and blonde hair, now charred, dripped with the red liquid, I stumbled back to my mother. She was lying on the ground, breathing heavily with eyes as wide as saucers, looking back at what was left of the magician's corpse, multiple second-degree burns smoldering on her arms. Somehow, perhaps due to her elven physiology or shock, she did not register her pain, as she slowly turned her frightened gaze towards me.
"I am so sorry mother; I could not keep you or my father from harm," I spoke, as I promptly collapsed on the ground next to her.
The pain from my back was getting more and more prominent, as I could barely stop myself froma moan
"I am such a failure, a disappointment to your time and lessons you gave" I continued my unconscious rant as I tried to ignore the pain.
Suddenly, I felt a small tug on my hand, as my mother's burnt fingers clenched it, worry and determination evident in her suddenly sharp eyes. In what seemed to be a monumental effort, she began to sing a healing incantation, as I felt my pain dull and my burnt skin disappear. As soon as I could lean up, I promptly had to catch her and stop her head from hitting the ground.
"You silly, silly boy. Do not blame yourself for what has happened. You saved me from the void, giving relief to your father in his final moments. Your magical skill was what helped you do not demerit it for what it was." she whispered as she fainted from exhaustion.
Continuing to hold the pale charred hands of my mother in my hands, I looked upon the dying down flames dancing on what remained of the cottage. In one night, I had almost lost everything I held dear in this world.
I was a fool. A naïve and idiotic fool who took life for granted.
Ever since my rebirth, I did not understand the meaning of life and its beauty. I did not grasp the danger of the world around me. Galbatorix was only a shadow, a boogeyman that I would have to face in the future. I became overconfident with my powers, my physical abilities, and my knowledge of the future. It seems the world truly knows how to bite me back for my foolishness.
This was a wake-up call. A reminder that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. Reality is grim, dark, and unforgiving to those who forget how to shape it.
My mother was right. I should not wallow in sadness. I neither fall into a depression from my failure to do more. This would be an insult to both her and my father's dedication and care towards me. No longer will I be caught unaware. No longer will I turn my back on a potentially alive enemy.
The world has kicked me in the gut, putting me on my knees.
Time to stand up, get better and kick it back where it hurts, until it begs for mercy.
Never Stagnate.
Gently carrying my mother, I placed her on some soft grass growing next to the oak tree, which miraculously managed to survive the destruction. I then promptly began to mutter my own healing incantations, repairing my mother's torched hands and returning them to their previous state. This thankfully did not completely exhaust my already low reserves of magical energy.
Having put out the fire and burned away the corpses of the mage and soldiers, I buried the body of my father the very same hour, while my mother rested, under the very same oak tree where I once used to learn and first practice my magic. I did not want her to experience more pain having to look at his pierced stomach and hollow eyes of her lover. It was fitting in a way that this man and teacher, was laid to rest here, next to the cottage, where we spent most of our short time together.
It was almost funny how both me and Eragorn both lost our fathers so soon.
Fate really is cruel.
This, however, did not seem enough to repay his care and support. I would not let his body rot and be eaten by worms, slowly decaying over time. Instead, an idea on how to always remember him and this place came to my mind.
I began to slowly sing in the ancient language as I would so often do when training my natural elven affinity with nature, with my mother. Through this song, I projected my grief and sadness, as well as the feelings of loss towards the two pillars that helped me get on my feet in this new world. I felt my mother come up behind me, having most probably awoken a short time ago, and start her own sorrowful tune
The longer we sang, the more magical energy I and my mother poured into the melodic and mournful tune. I could feel and practically see the natural energy with my 'mage sight' gather around me and focus on the oak tree in front of me. I somehow sense how his body disappeared and got absorbed by the roots of the tree. In a way, this was my final goodbye, and thank you to the man who was my second father, no matter how distant our relationship or infrequent our interactions were.
When I looked up, I was met with a fascinating sight. The once bright brown oak wood of the tree was now a shining gleaming silvery-white color, identical to that of my mother's gleaming hair. The leaves too adopted a bright golden hue, the same color as one of my lone heterochromatic eyes. And finally, the trees once green sap was now a faint yellow, reminding me of my father's honey blonde hair. A perfect representation of our family's unity and love.
The tree was bigger, and its branches thicker as it covered the entire burned structure of my home cabin in its large shadow. It now also had a prominent hollow area, from which I promptly gathered my traveling supplies and gear I once stored there, while my mother stood outside, continuing to marvel at the newfound beauty of the oak tree. I then proceeded to sing some more and fill up the hollow area with wood. Looking back at my work, I used a few words in the ancient language to make an inscription on the gleaming silver-white wood, at which my mother burst into yet another round of mournful tears.
Here lies Gorm
A Human loved by an Elf
Bound together by love, Parted by Death
Loving Family and Mentor
Lover of Thyra
Father of Vidar
May he live on forever in our hearts
Having completed the inscription, I then similar to what Eragorn did to Brom's tomb, layered several wards and protections around it and the burned down cabin. As the tree seemed to be absorbing large quantities of natural energy from sunlight, they would never run out as long as the sun rose every day in the sky.
Turning off my emotional suppressor, I stood silently with my mother in front of the tree for what seemed to be an hour, as neither said a word. One single tear rolled down my cheek while I paid my final respects. The golden leaves of the oak tree would softly rustle in the early morning wind, gleaming from the summit of the hill, as the morning rays of dawn shined upon them and a new day in Alagaësia began.
On impulse, under the curious eyes of my mother, I briefly removed the new wards to chip away a small piece of white wood from the tree, which I then formed into a small bead that I attached to the necklace my father gave me so long ago. A constant reminder of the lesson I learned today.
Turning back to my one remaining family member, I promptly hugged her.
"I am cursing myself for having to say this to you at such a time but I must go, mother. It is long time for me to leave your care and explore the world on my own. You to must leave soon mother. The people in the city know what you are and will be furious if they know what has happened here. You need to find someplace safe, somewhere you can hide from potential pursuers.
Perhaps return to Ellemséra? You could not go there with father, and I would not plan to enter even if I wanted to, but your kind should welcome you with open arms after such a long period of separation. If you want, I can accompany you to the edge of the forest of Du Weldenvarden, to ensure your journey is successful and without further danger?" I told her, while slowly drawing backward and looking into her shining golden eyes.
"No Vidar. While I myself do not want to leave you so soon, I understand your hesitation to come with me. My kind does not take well to foreigners, especially someone they may deem unnatural. It is best if we part ways here, for two individuals are more suspicious and easy to track than one. Nature will guide me on this path back to refuge as I will find the necessary supplies on the way.
And while I will naturally worry for you and hope for your wellbeing, it is indeed long time for you to leave your mother's care. Judging by what you have shown today, you no longer need my protection from the world. I myself need some time alone to ease the grief from your father's death. If you ever wish to visit, I will be waiting for you with open arms." she said as she hugged me even tighter, finally letting me go with more tears in her eyes.
"I give you my blessing Vidar. May you find what you seek, and let nature guide you on your path" she then stated, giving me a short kiss on the forehead.
"Atra du evarínya ono varda, mother."
"Atra du evarínya ono varda, Vidar."
Adjusting my traveling cloak, putting on my hood to cover my head, and swinging my magically lightened traveling satchel over my shoulder, I began to slowly walk away from mother, and the beautiful meadow on the hill where my home once stood.
First over the hills, then across the river, in the direction of the large white mountain peaks in the distance, as a shining gleam appeared with every step in my bright golden eyes.
I've had strings, but now I'm free. There are no strings on me.
Age 15- 2 Weeks Later
As it turns out, the mountains of the spine were quite the challenging obstacle, even for a proficient magical user and individual with a half-elf physiology. Filled with rocky cliffs, sheer drops into the unknown, and wild animals, not to mention the potential chance to encounter Urgals, my trek through the mountains was quite tiring and time-consuming.
Weather conditions were also problematic, as while at the bottom of the mountains, the sun would shine and the winds were steady, the summits were an entirely different story. Blizzards and storms, chilling winds that could freeze a normal human to the bone were common occurrences. The lack of oxygen and breathable air was not pleasant either.
After two days of traveling on foot, making it to the valley of Carvahall, the birthplace of our future dragon rider and naive protagonist, I spent a few days exploring the surrounding mountains and memorizing key locations. While I was yet unsure whether I wished to be present on the first half of Eragorn's journey, and the Kickstarter of the main plot, there was nothing wrong with being prepared.
Currently, however, I had little interest in the village of Carvahall itself, as it was a mere collection of wooden houses located on a bend of a flowing river. Utgard mountain, the place of the death of the 'Legendary' rider Vrael was an entirely different story. Now known as the place of sorrow, it was one of the locations in Alagaësia I was genuinely interested in. Perhaps there was some leftover knowledge that Galbatorix overlooked.
Who am I kidding, he probably took everything you could deem important?
Heh. Almost like a Skyrim hoarder.
Maybe he left some sweet rolls?
One of the particularly interesting properties of Utgard mountain was its extremely steep sides, where many believed that you could reach it only through flight on a dragon.
Something I do not have, and probably never will get, unless lady Fortuna blesses me with protagonist luck.
Yeah, no.
Or that would have been the case until I used my totally original tree walking magical technique. One incantation and voila, vertical movement. Increasing the adhesiveness of the soles of my feet, I quickly began to scale the imposing mountain.
It was a testament to its sheer height that it took me several hours, despite my incredibly fast rate of ascent. Upon reaching the summit, I saw a large tower, made of solid blocks of granite. Much of it was crumbling, and entire parts of it seemed to have melted from some sort of intense heat blasts.
I proceeded to wearily enter the tower, hoping to find some sort of loot or treasure. Apart from broken tables, cracked shelves, and chairs, as well as an empty armory, there was nothing I would deem useful. The only scrolls I managed to find amongst the wreckage had long degraded and faded, probably due to the poor weather conditions. In short, apart from the once imposing architectural design, there was nothing I could use in the ruins of this 'Unconquerable' Outpost.
My disappointment is immeasurable, and my day is ruined.
That would have been the case until on a whim I decided to activate my 'mage sight', in hopes of perhaps learning something from potential spell residue that is sure to remain from the final battle between Galbatorix and Vrael.
And oh boy, did I hit the jackpot.
Everywhere I could look, I saw the multi-color glow of different magical energy. Simply from one observation, I could find multiple different signatures of spells used to invoke fire, and other elemental magic. Some were even more destructive, like the residue of magic in a crater from a powerful explosion spell. As I climbed the tower, the damage became more and more extensive.
At its top, I could see an abundance of dark magic residue, so powerful, even know it left a bad taste in my mouth. This must have been the place where Galbatorix used his trump cards to fight against Vrael. Lightning blasts, spears of shadow, clouds of smoke, all of the residue from the intense magical battle was picked up by my 'mage sight'.
And while I was not always able to identify the spell or type of magic utilized, simply observing the residue from such a magical battle greatly expanded and developed my abilities to identify different types of magic. The fact that multiple variations of practically the same spell were also present gave me the additional experience necessary to recognize and discern different variations in the future. Useful information and experience when creating protective wards and shields mid-combat.
This was not to mention the leftover broken-down wards that surrounded the entire bastion. It was like multiple multi-color bubbles with evident cracks, tears, and holes enveloped the whole tower, surprisingly holding up despite heavy damage. Yet another testament to the magical knowledge of the dragon riders.
Some of the wards I was able to recognize, as they were similar to shields and defenses. Others took some time to crack, but even they did not stand a chance against my deductive and analytical genius. There were however some that I could not recognize at all.
For example, a faint yellow ward with multiple completely opposite magical flows that surrounded specifically, the courtyard of the tower. It did not have any visible damage and would seem to simply disperse and re-appear when I tried to prod it with my own spells and magic.
If I had to make a guess, this was a ward designed to divert magical energy from spells instead of absorbing it like most other protective measures and redirect it outwards to another location or area. A mystery and genius idea that I will have to replicate when I make my own attempt at creating my home base and experimentation lab.
Having spent a few days inside the bastion, and after consuming all my rations, I decided it was best to make scarce of myself less one of the Forsworn comes barging in with his or her dragon. That would definitely not be an ideal way to end my stay in the tower. Hopefully, they will focus on rebels like Brom until I grow to truly give them an adequate fight.
While this short venture did not yield any physical gains or useful artifacts, the hints and knowledge I obtained from studying the broken wards and magical residue were by far worth the long ascent upwards. With this useful insight, I will not only be able to improve my spells, but also further develop my warding capabilities. If I manage to replicate the ward that diverts magic instead of absorbing it, I could technically send it right back to the caster.
Now that would be hilarious to watch.
With a straight jump of the side of the mountain, and a quick application of magic to slow my fall, I continued my journey south down the mountains of the spine. While I would technically move faster if I followed a similar route to that of Brom and Eragorn to Dras Leona, as my half-human and elven heritage would technically allow me to blend in amongst the crowd of peasants and beggars, it would not allow me to complete the several goals I had in this journey. First, not only would it not allow me to learn more about the flora and fauna of Alagaësia, which I could use to improve my potion and ointment brewing skill and magic, but it would also increase the difficulty of my search for a suitable location for my laboratory.
Yes, a laboratory.
Yes, it would be built in a cave on a mountain.
Yes, it would be far from civilization and the other cities of Alagaësia.
No, I am not going for an evil genius vibe. Well, not for the moment.
It is however true that a laboratory was necessary for my dreams of body improvement. Not only did I hope to find a place with a high saturation of magical and natural energy, but also a hideout I could use to quickly escape from the enemy in case of danger. A place no one could find unless directly searching for it with high magical experience and expertise.
A laboratory would be a place where I could conduct research and study in peace, without the fear of imperial interference and other magicians.
I learned that lesson well after the death of my father and do not plan to repeat it.
It would also be a place where I could conduct and begin modifying my body, as I was sure that I would need intense quiet and focus to achieve such a feat. Not to mention the high possibility that I would be vulnerable during such a time from both physical and mental attacks. So, for now, my wandering continues.
I really need to find a pet or companion. It might get quite lonely without social contact.
Just something to keep me sane if I decided to isolate myself for a few years.
Hmm, now where to build my laboratory *cough* evil base *cough*.
My next steps are clearer than ever. I just can't wait to get started.
Author Notes:
"I am what I am. A Fighter"- Gordon Ramsay
Yet another chapter finished. And what a chapter it was.
A new phase of Vidar's journey begins. Tried to make its start at least somewhat emotional.
But Vidar needs no one to hold him back. Not all lessons can be learned from books.
BTW for those who tried to guess Vidars sword inspiration: Alucard, Castlevania.
Thank you for your feedback and reviews. Different perspectives are always necessary.
Criticism, feedback, and comments always help. Do please continue writing them.
Update:
Thank you for the feedback and for pointing out how cliche a story's plot can get.
I have slightly altered the chapter, in order to fix my mistake and hopefully not repeat it.
Please do tell me if cliches begin appearing, as I understand a reader's frustration with them.
I will do my best to keep it original, but even I sometimes do not notice how bland some parts can become.
Yet another reason my feedback is important. It makes the story better, and keeps me on track.