Chapter 2 - Vrael
The day after brought reinforcements for Belatona.
Eragon stood beside his cousin, Roran, as they watched the long column march. Roran looked downtrodden. "All of those lives lost fighting into the city. Now we'll have to repeat the fight."
Eragon smiled. "Roran, it will be easier this time," he promised. He couldn't tell his cousin about Oromis yet, since the old Rider's survival was still a secret. But he would definitely enjoy the look on Roran's face when he realised that a Dragon Rider had survived Galbatorix's purge of the old order.
A loud roar echoed over the land, and Eragon's eyes narrowed sharply as a red dragon glittering like a ruby dropped from the clouds. Roran inhaled sharply, and Eragon grimaced as he watched Thorn and Murtagh land in Belatona.
"Are you sure?"
Eragon hesitated. "Hopefully." He remembered the battle above Gil'ead, where Oromis had nearly been killed by Murtagh – Galbatorix possessing his Red Rider. Only Glaedr's quick thinking had saved his Rider's life.
Several hours later, when Eragon was sparring with Arya, another roar was heard. Only this one was far deeper and louder, since it came from a much larger dragon. Glaedr's golden hide shimmered in the midday sun as he approached on leisurely paced flaps of his great wings. His left foreleg was a mere white stump, severed a century ago by one of Galbatorix' servants – the Forsworn.
Eragon quickly set about clearing an area where the great dragon could land, which proved to be a difficult task as the Varden and dwarves stared up in awe. Glaedr landed with a heavy thud, stirring up clouds of dirt.
As the Varden watched on, utterly speechless, Eragon stepped forwards as Oromis dropped to the ground. He twisted his hand over his sternum and recited the elvish greeting. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."
Oromis smiled faintly. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr," he replied.
"Un du evarínya ono varda," Eragon finished. With the greeting over, Oromis started towards the tent that Nasuada used as her place to hold meetings.
"This must be dealt with swiftly," Oromis informed Eragon. "You said he had a white blade?"
"Yes." Eragon nodded as the Varden parted before them, mutters of amazement following the two Dragon Riders. In the back of his mind Eragon heard Saphira greet Glaedr. "The glyph said Vrangr."
Oromis' grey eyes widened slightly. "Awry," he murmured. "Do you know of such a blade, Eragon?"
"I can only assume its elven, ebrithil. The colouring of the blade though suggests that it's a Rider's sword."
"Not just any Rider, I'm afraid," Oromis said grimly as he stepped into the pavilion.
"Dragon Rider Oromis," Nasuada greeted carefully, fully aware of whom she was meeting. "It's an honour to welcome you into our encampment. I'd like to personally thank you for coming to our aid."
Oromis inclined his head. "I'm afraid that what's occurring here may be… more than you're assuming," he said slowly.
Nasuada frowned lightly. "In which way?"
"Eragon would you like to say the glyph on the sword that the warrior was using?"
Eragon was confused, but nodded. "The glyph on the sword was Vrangr, which means Awry."
"But it was covering another rune, was it not?" Oromis questioned.
Eragon nodded again "Yes, but I couldn't make it out. Vrangr had been scratched right over the top of it."
Oromis inhaled deeply. "Now, I have heard of Vrangr." The elf steeled himself. "Vrangr is not the sword's real name, but it is what Galbatorix renamed the blade when he took it from Vrael's body."
Eragon's eyes widened. "You mean that's Vrael's sword?" He asked incredulously.
Oromis nodded. "Yes. Or, more specifically, it is now Galbatorix' personal sword. Which brings up the question of whom the warrior is."
"Galbatorix?" Orrin asked sharply.
"No. Glaedr and I were able to ascertain that much from the memories that Eragon transmitted. But the warrior is no doubt an elf. So now we must ask ourselves why Galbatorix would give Vrael's former blade to an elf. And why he even has an elf serving him." Oromis took another steadying breath, grimacing lightly. "And to do that, I must fight him. In single combat."
Eragon's eyes widened. "But, ebrithil, you're-"
"I am aware, Eragon," Oromis said firmly. "But this is the easiest way I can determine whom he is. I have several suspicions already, but I will not say until I am certain."
"But if you have a fit… he'll kill you," Eragon murmured.
"A fit?" King Orrin questioned, frowning at the realisation that the elder Dragon Rider would not be the help they hoped for.
"Towards the end of the Fall," Oromis said, "two Forsworn – Kailandi and Formora – captured me and Glaedr while we were evacuating some of the younglings to Ellesmera. The younglings were all killed. They cast a spell that limits my access to magic, and we only managed to escape after Glaedr's forelimb was severed." He turned back to Eragon. "But I have the energy I have stored in Naegling, Eragon. I shall be fine." He wordlessly rested a hand on Eragon's shoulder, before he nodded at the leaders of the Varden and left the pavilion.
Eragon's eyes widened as he hurried after his teacher. "You're going to challenge him now?" Heads turned at Eragon's exclamation. "Ebrithil-"
"Eragon," Oromis said, turning to face the younger Rider. "You asked me for my help. Please, trust me."
Oromis didn't even pause, other than to take his helm from Glaedr's saddlebags and rest a hand against the golden dragon's snout, before he was stepping out of the Varden's camp and striding across to Belatona.
"Eragon," Roran gasped as he clapped a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "That's your teacher? But he's a Dragon Rider!"
Eragon smiled. "I know. Oromis-elda was an Elder on the old Council."
Oromis' voice echoed over the camps with the signs of magical enhancement. He called out the warrior in the Ancient Language, the language of the elves, not stopping until he reached the halfway mark.
Warriors of the Varden watched from the safety of the camp, Eragon at the front. Glaedr kept a watchful gaze on his Rider from where he lay, head towering over the freedom-fighters.
After several long minutes, Thorn landed with a heavy thud on the parapets of the Keep and roared at Oromis. The Empire's army parted, and the warrior from the day before stepped out of the throng.
He said nothing as he stepped forwards, stopping a few feet from Oromis. Though when he did speak, his lilting voice too echoed. "Challenging me is not wise. Not in your current condition. With your current illness."
"If my suspicion is correct, that won't matter."
The two elves drew their blades.
The Empire's warrior was the first to move, immediately closing the little distance that remained between them and experimentally jabbing at Oromis' chest. The Rider easily parried the blow to the side, countering swiftly. Very soon, the fight changed from testing each other to a duel. Eragon's knuckles were white as he gripped the pommel of Brisingr.
Eragon soon realised that Oromis wasn't really matching the warrior. He was somehow able to predict where the next strike would come, and it allowed him to be able to keep away from the sharp edge of the white blade.
Abruptly, Oromis caught the blade on his own and locked them together. "Your style has changed slightly," he said, faint strain in his amplified voice. "But not enough that I can't recognise it, Vrael."
Instantly, a hushed silence fell. Everyone in the Varden knew who Vrael was. He was the former Leader of the Dragon Riders, the one whom had been decapitated near the end of the Fall. He was a legendary figure in Alagaësia, viewed as the strongest of the old Riders.
The warrior shoved Oromis back, but he didn't attack as Oromis staggered slightly.
Oromis stayed where he was, a good few feet between the two elves. "Take off your helmet."
It looked like the warrior wouldn't comply, until slowly he lifted a hand and tugged the castle-forged helmet off. It fell to the ground with a thud.
"Vrael," Oromis said, his tone firmer. "Vrael, what happened to you?"
The legendary White Rider tilted his head to the side. "I serve the King," he said flatly, before he stepped forwards again and swung his own sword up.
Oromis jerked back from the slash, quickly blocking the next one after. "He claimed he killed you, that he decapitated you at Utgard."
"Evidently, he lied. It wouldn't be the first time." Vrael danced away from Oromis before moving in again.
Oromis matched each strike. "Leave the Empire," he pressed. "Join us."
"I cannot," Vrael said fiercely. "The King has forbidden it." He paused, pulling back slightly. "Do you not think that Galbatorix would keep me locked away until he knew I wouldn't dare to turn on him?" He dropped his voice slightly, though everyone still heard clearly. "Do you know what he'd do to me?"
"Vrael-"
"No, Oromis," the older elf growled. "There's no way out for me. Not anymore." Oromis was able to block the next few strikes, not willing to attack the other Rider, until Vrael lunged at his chest, flicking the sword to the side in the last second. The white blade sliced through Oromis' bicep, the same move Vrael had pulled on Eragon, only he followed up by slamming the pommel of Vrangr into Oromis' helmet.
Oromis fell back, and before he could raise Naegling in defence, Vrangr was resting on his collarbone. He dropped his sword arm.
Vrael's blue eyes were like ice. "After Murtagh's failure at Gil'ead, Galbatorix gave me orders to capture you." Eragon's eyes widened, and he started forwards. "Fortunately for you, Oromis, he said when we meet in battle. I don't consider this yet to be a battle – do you?"
"No," Oromis said, and Eragon exhaled in relief. His master sounded faintly amused. "You were toying with me."
"At first, yes. But you have that same frustrating ability you used to – knowing where I'm going to strike."
"Only when I fight you," Oromis said simply. "What has that foul King done to you?"
Vrael paused briefly, frowning. He stepped back and sheathed Vrangr. "Get going, Oromis," he said evasively. The White Rider turned, starting back towards Belatona. Before he got very far, Glaedr let out a deep bellow, rising onto his three legs and gliding so he trapped Vrael between Oromis and himself. There was instantly an answering roar from Thorn who leapt off the parapets, letting out a thick sheet of fire.
Glaedr lowered his golden head to eye level with Vrael. The old Rider raised a hand, holding it before him, and after a few seconds of deliberation Glaedr inched closer so the elf's hand was resting on the end of his snout.
"Where's Umaroth?" Oromis called.
"I wouldn't know," Vrael said, his tone dull and worn. "I haven't felt him since the massacre at Vroengard."
Glaedr snorted, letting out a trail of smoke that enveloped Vrael, before he moved to Oromis and lowered himself down. Vrael continued on across the open ground.
Eragon watched with a small frown as Thorn swiftly rose into the air, gliding over and past the Varden, before he banked around and slowly glided lower as he passed Vrael. The old elf leapt several dozen feet into the air as Thorn passed, likely assisted with magic, before he landed nimbly on the red dragon's back.
Ok, so I have always liked the idea of Vrael in Eragon's story. Maybe it's the fact that he's always mentioned at the pinnacle of the Dragon Riders, the best, the greatest - the only one able to stand toe-to-toe with Galbatorix. I'm sorry, but considering how Galbatorix is, he doesn't really strike me as the person to decapitate Vrael then and there at Edoc'Sil. I think he's far more likely to take him away - claiming he killed him - and make him a name-slave, like he did with Murtagh.
So bare in mind that this was literally written like 3 years ago, and I haven't touched anything to do with Eragon since then, I will be rusty with my details.
Please be patient with me xD.
SaphiraFan95: Thanks :). Yeah, I had noticed. Eragon stuff came up on my youtube recommended and I listened to the soundtrack (brilliant, even if the movie SUCKED) and had the idea to look up the Inheritance fics... and was utterly horrified at how few there are now. Years ago this fandom was so active...
Ghostfall: I do? Oh good. The nuclear war option is more likely.
