They say that no plan survives first contact with the sword. Brom was finding that out the hard way.
Fourteen Riders attacked early in the morning. Many Riders were not awake or prepared for battle yet. He did not have enough time to put on all of his armor, which had been stowed in Saphira's saddle. The wild dragons led the charge initially, as they needed no preparation. But so many had died, unable to defend themselves against magic.
His eyes looked around as Saphira dodged a volley of flaming arrows. Morzan had to be around somewhere. He had hoped to find him before things escalated, to prevent Morzan from being imprisoned or killed for helping tear down Dragon Riders, but as always fate had other plans.
Another sympathizer the elders said. The one who aided Galbatorix in stealing the black dragon he named Shruikan. Galbatorix's closest ally. As corrupt as the rest of them.
Lies, he thought. Morzan wouldn't do that willingly. He was too good for that.
Undbitr in hand, Brom prepared to join several Riders who were fighting against Enduriel, all from dragon back. Saphira was much smaller than all of them, but size was not always an advantage, Glaedr had taught them. He had to defend Saphira; as much as he cared for his old friend, his dragon was much more important.
Minutes crept on, too slow to keep track of. He and Saphira aided other, more experienced Riders but avoided direct conflict. They were more helpful at a distance to not hinder or be in the way of better fighters. Undbitr had yet to taste blood from those who have set themselves against the order. Most of his magic and strength went towards deflecting projectiles, blocking flames, and fighting back against spells cast by the traitors.
When his mind was not occupied with mental combat, Brom yearned to open up to Saphira, to ask her how she was doing. To only speak verbally and have no response felt unsettlingly similar to how the traitor's dragons, whose names could no longer be remembered for some reason, were perceived. Majestic beasts with no mind of their own. But he could not, not without risking being attacked by one of the traitors.
A flash of red in his peripheral vision alerted Brom to the location of his fellow apprentice.
As with all of the other Riders fighting the traitors, Brom wanted to fight against those who would kill and enslave, but he was alone in his other purpose. Not even Oromis, plagued by his wounds inflicted by Formora and Kialandí, desired to help. He wanted to try to save Morzan, his best friend among the Riders. Maybe find a way to separate him from Galbatorix's influence. Something. He did not want Morzan to go down in history as an evil man.
"Saphira, to our left," he yelled over the wind. They winged their way towards Morzan and… he could not remember his best friend's dragon's name. All he could think of are memories from happier times, red and blue shimmering in the air alongside gold through aerial maneuvers, competitions during free time to determine who could catch more prey. Morzan and his dragon often played pranks on them, sometimes cruel, but never harmful.
Like older brothers, both Morzan and his dragon.
Morzan plunged Zar'roc into the unprotected neck of a bright green wild dragon as Saphira approached. The deep red dragon beneath him had few wounds, and those were all shallow. Not even the wing membranes had any tears. Morzan's armor gleamed brightly in the rising sunshine, splattered with blood that did not look to be his.
Dragon blood oozed down his sword as the wild dragon fell away and out of the sky. The blood was nearly identical in color to Zar'roc, a trait Brom always saw as advantageous because Morzan could get away with not cleaning any blood on his sword because no one except a sharp-eyed elf would notice. A sword that looked unblemished even in the heat of battle.
And yet, he felt a pit in his stomach. His friend's face was contorted by battle rage, but he saw something else. Something not quite familiar, but still scary. It was as if Morzan enjoyed killing that dragon and was gleefully searching for another target. Was Galbatorix's hold on Morzan that strong? Was there no hope of freeing him?
Or were the elders right that Morzan wished to help?
No, Morzan would not do that willingly. Oromis claimed Galbatorix was as dangerous with his words as he was with his mind. Cunning the Mad Rider had to be to gain any following, let alone thirteen Riders and a Shade, but no one knew how many other Riders had aided him at any point due to his words, only to be stabbed in the back later. An apprentice such as Morzan would be an easy target to enslave and recondition to a new way of thinking.
"Morzan," Brom called out when they were close. Beneath them, Doru Araeba began to show the effects of the massive battle. Scorch marks dotted many of the ocher buildings, mixed in places with drops of blood and holes. Smoke rose from the fires trying to take hold, filling the air with a choking haze. "Come to your senses. See what it is you are doing."
Two dragons with Riders swooped down towards Morzan, pulling up as they neared him. Brom watched their Riders use magic, seemingly to no effect. Morzan flicked his wrist, mouthed a word or two, then turned to him. Both attacking dragons screamed with pain and withdrew.
"You naïve little man," Morzan said, smiling. "You really are blind to the world around you, aren't you?"
Morzan's dragon loosed a burst of vibrant red flames in Saphira's direction. Brom held on to his saddle tightly as she dodged, nearly dropping Undbitr. Another dragon shot by, followed by the screech of whistling air.
"Please, Morzan, I don't want to see you killed. Let me help you break away from Galbatorix."
Vulnerable from having to dodge, Saphira could not avoid Morzan's dragon crashing into her. Morzan shouted in the ancient language, stopping their fall. Lightning spouted from Zar'roc, hitting multiple dragons including Saphira. None fell from the air but a few appeared disoriented. Just what kind of powers did Galbatorix teach to Morzan? Why did he fight without following the normal rules of a wizards' duel? How could he guess accurately to bypass the many wards everyone had to have?
Saphira forced herself into Brom's mind. "He's not the man you adored. He has frozen me in place."
"He still has to be in there somewhere."
"I'm not so sure…"
Saphira and Morzan's beast snapped at each other. Brom gripped his sword tighter. He hated to fight his best friend and fellow apprentice, but Saphira needed him to protect her.
"Do you realize just what potential we have if we had the courage to go beyond the boundaries stuffy old elves like ebrithil set for us?" Morzan spat. "You could join me, Brom, in this new world Galbatorix is building, one where the strongest Riders rule the land with all of the power we deserve to have. Instead, you fight like cowards afraid of change, believing what you fight for is right. I see no blood on your sword. You must be the biggest coward of them all."
Morzan's dragon growled at Saphira, their snouts only inches away for a moment. Brom felt Saphira's apprehension; she could not shy away or distance herself from the crazed beast. She was at Morzan's mercy.
And he was too.
"There is nothing righteous in what Galbatorix is doing, Morzan. You can break away from him, I know you can. You're strong."
In the blink of an eye, Morzan's sword was swung at him. Instinct was all Brom had at that moment, and he barely managed to deflect the ruby sword with his own. Each time their swords clashed, droplets of blood were flung onto his armor and clothes.
"Brom, you should have remained in Kausta with your weird mannerisms and your optimism. It won't get you anywhere here. You believe Galbatorix forced me to serve him? You honestly think that?"
Yes, he did. But he was too shocked by the situation and too focused on blocking Zar'roc, to respond.
A purple wild dragon crashed onto the back of Morzan's dragon, interrupting their duel. At that moment, Brom connected his mind with Saphira and several other Riders preparing to attack Morzan and tried to break into the mind of his old friend. He needed to know where Morzan truly stood.
They were met with an impenetrable barrier of blood and iron. Brom tried to find a crack, a crevice, a hole. Morzan normally never was able to erect such strong mental barriers. But that was before meeting with Galbatorix, before probably receiving an Eldunarí or two to bolster his strength.
"A slave would not be Galbatorix's second in command, but I am. So you see, Brom, you may idolize me, but you truly don't understand me. I seek power, not favors from some weak coward like you." Morzan shouted, swinging his sword. So unprepared was Brom that as Zar'roc hit Undbitr, he let go of his blue sword, forged specifically for him and tinted the same beautiful blue shades of his soul-bound partner.
No, it can't be.
"Brom, stop reasoning with him. He is too far gone."
Tears threatened to blur his vision. He was not too blind to understand that Morzan did not like him as much as he liked Morzan. But they still had a friendship of sorts, two apprentices, one younger, one older, training alongside each other. They brought out the best of each other, Brom believed. Not quite siblings, but part of a different sort of brotherhood, human Riders thrust into a world of magic, danger, and immortality when they left their families with newly hatched dragons in their arms. Years apart, but close enough to train together.
But it was plain as day, the hatred and perverted pleasure on Morzan's face. The idea of using the strength from enslaved Eldunarya, of killing other Riders. Even killing him.
On his saddle, Morzan stood with his sword still stained with blood, ready to kill, and there were only two targets within his reach.
"See how weak you are? You're about to cry, aren't you? You deserve to die with the rest of them. I was willing to let you live, to enlist you into Galbatorix's service. You and Saphira would have been useful in your own ways. Especially Saphira as a female. But I have changed my mind."
He turned towards Saphira. "Saphira, you are definitely superior to your Rider in every way. My dragon still dreams of times with you, though the memories are fading. I shall spare you of any pain. Perhaps in another time, you could have built your Rider into someone braver, someone who didn't follow me all the time and see me as something I'm not. I'm not like an older brother. I'm like a god."
In one swing, Morzan threw Zar'roc toward Saphira's throat, bursting through her wards and embedding deep into her throat.
"Brom!"
Her pain erupted in his neck, a phantom agony that debilitated him. He screamed as he saw the blood streaming from her neck.
Morzan's dragon let go of her, as did the spell holding them in place. Brom watched through watery eyes as the blood-red dragon flew away, towards other Riders fighting and dying against Galbatorix and Shruikan. A grey dragon, one of the traitors, approached from above, following them down.
"Saphira!" Brom yelled. Shaking, he tried to tap into his magic, but his focus was not there. The wall around his power eluded him, bending away from his will.
"Save yourself… I'm too injured…"
Morzan did this to her. The wind tore at him, at Saphira's limp wings, at her bloody injury as her consciousness faded and as they fell out of the sky. Doru Araeba rapidly approached. The grey traitor approached.
"Jierda!"
With his gedwëy ignasia glowing, the Rider of the grey dragon pointed at Saphira before he and his dragon turned away. The spell snapped Saphira's neck, instantly killing her.
Seconds later, Brom landed hard on top of some crumbling building, still strapped underneath his dead dragon. His wards prevented his own death, but they drained him of all of his strength and did not stop some of his bones from breaking.
Nor did they prevent his very soul from tearing apart.
Brom wept, feeling so alone. He left his family years ago and never saw them again. He had a friend who he saw as a brother, now a traitor. And now his dragon, the better half of his being, had died.
Morzan killed her.
Morzan did not deliver the final blow, but she would have died without the interference from the other Rider.
Brom wept, withdrawing within himself to try to ease the pain, but it did not work. The agony ate at his spirit, weakening him, pulling him from reality. He screamed, begging for fate to take him too. Wherever he was, make it his deathbed. Send him to the void to be with Saphira.
Yet he felt a fire build within him. A blue flame for the dragon he loved and lost. So many others have died that if he died as well, who would be left who remembers Saphira? Who would avenge her? No one. No one but him.
Darkness threatened to envelop Brom. He wanted an end to his pain, and he wanted to remain alive to repay the favor to his former friend, the one who killed her. As madness began to grip the edges of his consciousness, Brom closed his eyes.
And wept many more tears.