Dear readers, to those of you who have a problem with spelling mistakes, I feel I must remind you that this is fanfiction, and that it will likely never be published, so there is really no need to fix spelling and grammar. To me, fanfiction is just a way to polish my writing skills, and become more accustomed to assimilating the writing styles of my favorite authors into my own writings. Besides, I'm not entirely sure FanFiction would accept the odd grammar that occurs in the ancient language, such as the correct spelling of gedwey. To be perfectly honest, it is a rather large waist of time to be correcting my spelling and grammar errors in your reviews, so I do not suggest it. Mind you, I mean that in the nicest possible way, and I actually do worry about my readers wasting valuable reading time :)
Return
The return trip to Trongjheim was a silent and grim ride. How am I to defeat Murtagh, let alone Galbatorix, even with the sword of the first rider, if I don't have the power to use magic on them successfully?
Had he gotten the sword before Oromis' death, there might still have been a chance, but now? The last secrets of the riders were lost. With my help, you'll manage. Said Saphira.
As they spoke, Eragon's keen ears picked up a slight change in the background noise. It sounded like the flapping of great wings. He woke everyone silently with his mind, and prepared them for the aerial stunt he was going to have Saphira perform. As the wingbeats drew closer, she performed one of the most complex maneuvers glaedr had taught her – a controlled spiraling backflip that sent them veering off to the left and down at a 45 degree angle. They heard the roar of a dragon follow their path, as a second dragon flew out of the fog, and attempted to copy the maneuver. As Eragon had expected, Thorn had not been trained by another dragon in aerial combat, and he veered violently off course, nearly throwing off his rider, and crashing to the ground. The dragon righted himself only two yards before the ground, and pulled up to fly at them once again. He heard Murtagh snarl angrily at his dragon. The two flew far up into the clouds, so far that Eragon had to strain to see them. Do you see them?
I do, but I fear something is wrong.
As he and Saphira spoke, Arya yelled "Eragon, focus your sight. That is an elven mirror image. It is an ancient trick that combines scrying with fairth. He's made you see what you want to see, and now that you're distracted, he could be anywhere!" just as she said this, Murtagh flew at them from the right. Surprisingly, rather than attacking head on, he turned slightly, so that the two dragons passed each other in flight. Eragon watched in horror as Murtagh's sword whipped around to meet the back of Roran's head. He heard Murtagh's voice in his mind. So this is the pitiful fool you've accepted as your brother? Well, may he find peace, in eternity! Murtagh aimed the point of the sword at the back of Roran's head, and lunged. Quick as lightning, Arya dove in front of the blade, as it impaled her through the center of her diaphragm. "Arya!" Murtagh drew the blade back, and Arya began to fall. Eragon, thinking not for his own safety, he dove from Saphira's back. He caught Arya in mid air, and was swept up by Saphira again. Did I not tell you never to do that again!
Eragon ignored her, and tended to Arya. He saw Murtagh spiral to the ground and land in one of the haderac desert's sand dunes. Eragon followed suit and landed several yards away. He lightly laid Arya on the dune, and began to heal her. As he began a complex healing spell, a spell of Murtagh's interceded. When the evil looking red light subsided, Murtagh said "this day is turning out better than expected. I had only hoped to kill your "brother" and break your spirit. Now I have a hostage. Arya is now bound to my power. Heal her, if you wish, but it will only prolong her suffering. Come to uru'baen and surrender now, and I will relinquish my hold. Come in two days, and she will already be dead. Do not come, and I have still succeeded in breaking your spirit. It matters not." He smirked in an evil way, one most unlike the Murtagh Eragon once knew.
Thinking not for his safety once again, he drew gedwey garjzla, and attacked with all of his speed. Murtagh spun, and parried the blow. "now now, little brother, you don't want me to slip, and kill her accidentally, do you?" Eragon stepped back, and composed himself. He then turned and healed Arya, and turned back to Murtagh, drained of strength from the healing process. "Murtagh! How about a duel, like old times?" the taller boy turned, a small smirk on his face. "so eager to lose again, Eragon?" "No. eager to win. On our word as riders, we use skill alone, and do not draw energy from any source but ourselves." He nodded, said the vow of a rider, and took up fighting stance. Eragon did the same, and drew his blade. He saw curiosity arise in Murtagh's eyes. "you plan to fight me with that bent sword?" Eragon simply nodded, and attacked.
The sweeping movements of the blade were hard to follow for Murtagh, but on strength alone, he was able to withstand the might of the first rider's sword. Zar'roc and Gedwey Garjzla clashed again and again. In the final clash of the duel, it appeared they were evenly matched. "looks like you still can't win, little brother. By comparison to me, you're an inadequate fool!" Eragon spun from the parry with unparalleled speed, and sliced in a downward arc. Murtagh never had time to block. Murtagh looked down at his gashed armor, and at the thin cut that ran down the mail underneath, and through the skin behind that. Eragon turned away victorious. Murtagh snarled viciously. "why? you had your chance to slay me just now, and you didn't! why? why do you instead choose to humiliate me?" Eragon turned back to his opponent. "four reasons. One, dying a warriors death is probably the most time honored foolishness there is. Dead is dead. Better to live and become stronger, if you ask me. Two, if I killed you, you'd likely kill Arya. Three, you may not be my brother, but you were once my friend, and I believe you can still be saved from the darkness you have enshrouded yourself in. and four, if I kill you now, I cannot get stronger, and I will never have a chance at beating Galbatorix." Murtagh called his dragon. "two days, Eragon. I shall see you fall in two days." When he left, Eragon turned to see Arya, now fully healed, shaking her head. "with each day that passes, he becomes more consumed by the darkness around him. I fear losing to you has only worsened it for him." she turned for Saphira, then turned back. "thank you, eragon, for saving my life once again." Eragon spoke in the ancient language; "it is my soul that thanks you, for saving the only true family I have left in this world, besides Saphira. I swear, I will do everything in my power to break the hold Murtagh's magic has on you." Arya smiled and nodded. "thank you, Eragon."
The rest of the trip was, if possible, quieter than before. Eragon was lost in his thoughts once again. He would gladly give his freedom to save Arya, but she would never let him do so, and he could not speak for Saphira on this. When they returned to Trongjheim, they were met with the angry faces of orik and his group of dwarves from the battle. "barzul!" said orik, cursing Eragon. Eragon leapt from Saphira's back, and landed lightly on his feet, drawing Gedwey Garjzla in one sweep of his arm. the dwarves eyed him warily, but held their ground. Eragon swept the blade above his head. "this is Gedwey Garjzla – the shining light – blade of the first rider, Eragon! I hold the blade that represents all riders. Regardless of my clan, I will do what I must to defend alagaesia. I was weaponless, powerless. Now, I have a small fraction of what I need to defeat the evils that lie in this land. I have returned – " his voice softened, "as I always planned to, to bury our king." The use of the word "our" made it clear the devotion Eragon carried to his clan. The stone faces of the dwarves softened. Orik said "your lucky we waited for you. We were about to begin the entombment." He watched and listened, as Hrothgar was entombed in stone. The great stone blocks that were the top and bottom of his sarcophagus were solid, and had to be hollowed out in relief to the exact likeness of Hrothgar. When the task was done, Hrothgar was placed on the bottom slab, and the upper slab was lowered over him. When it was done, the dwarves stepped back, and Eragon stepped forward. He had asked what happened after the two slabs were in place, and he knew his task. He stepped up, drew his sword, and placed his left hand over the block. "seille du Gulott!" seal the stone! The stone sarcophagus rumbled and shook, and a light emitted from the crack, and as the light passed around the stone, it sealed to form one complete slab of rock. When it was finished, the dwarves stood silent, astonished. "it usually takes twenty dwarf spellcasters to seal the stone that holds a grimstborith! How did you manage such a feat?" asked orik. Eragon looked down at the glowing sword in his hand. "I guess the will of the first rider is greater than anything I can comprehend." Having nothing more to say, Eragon turned to leave. "eragon, wait!" he turned once again to face orik. "I have not the time to bandy words. Murtagh threatens those I care for, and I must find the power to stop him. I go to the rock of Kuthian." Wherever that may be he added bitterly in his mind.
Orik's eyes grew wide at the mention of the name. "you… you seek the vault of souls?" the room grew quiet at the mention of the name. Eragon felt hope well within him. "you know of the place?" orik averted his gaze, as if speaking of the place was an honor above mortal comprehension, or below the lowest blaspheme. "the vault of souls is legendary among the dwarves. It is a place where the heavens, the underworld, and this world meet. It is said to be kept by one with the power to see that which has yet to come, and that those who attempt to open the vault never return." Eragon saw fear in the dwarf. "the legends may say that none pass e'er to return, but go I must. Where lies the rock of Kuthian?" Orik sighed. "though I may mourn your fate, I cannot stop you, so, if you must go, it lies beyond the beors, in a land where nothing grows. It cannot be reached by going around the beors, nor under them. Only through them." Eragon put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "thank you, my friend – no, my brother." The dwarf smiled, and bid him farewell. Eragon mounted Saphira, and turned to Arya and Roran. "I can fly fastest without you're added weight. Wait here, and I shall return for you." He said no more, nor did he look at them as he left, knowing the chances of his return were equal to the chances of his not returning. When he mounted Saphira, he found Arya standing behind him, a grim look on her face. "I would know my own fate, and besides, as an elf, I weigh little." Knowing that he could not convince her to wait, he nodded. He turned to his brother. "I shall return, and when I do, I will have the strength I need to help you save Katrina." "I know. That's why I let you go in the first place, and why I came with you." They exchanged a brief brotherly hug, and Eragon left.
Eragon.
Hmm?
Even I am curious, how did you seal the stone? I felt the power, but it seemed to come from both you, the sword, and neither. How is that possible?
I believe the power I used was like your use of magic to heal Isidar Mithrim, and like the power that propelled us throughout this trip. I also think it has to do with my vow to Roran. Though I never spoke it in the ancient language, I used nonverbal magic subconsciously to seal the vow, so, I think the magic is now working to grant me the strength I need to perform the task I vowed.
Interesting.
Indeed.
It took them several hours to fly between the large mountains that blocked their path, but they soon came upon a place where they could not pass. The mountain was twice as tall as Farthen Dur, as far as could be seen, and three times as wide. Arya's voice whispered in the thin air, "du Felvarden… the guarding mountain – I remember now, the old tale. The elves, not believing in an afterlife, forsook the legend of the vault of souls, a place where those bound by fate came to rest. The place is guarded by the greatest mountain in the beors, made of rock nothing can cut through, so the dwarves never were able to pass here, and too tall even for a dragon and rider to pass." Eragon drew the sword, tapping into it's seemingly endless power supply. Eragon, however, knew that all power had it's limit, and also knew that if they did succeed in reaching the top, the sword's power would probably be expended. "reisa du vindr orund nosu!" raise the air around us! As the air began to rise, Saphira flew with it, while the three of them held their breath as long as they could to preserve the air. With the increased lung capacity Eragon held as a full rider, and Arya as an elf, and the naturally enormous lung capacity of Saphira, they managed to make it around 500 feet up before needing to breath the reserves of air they had brought with them. Every hundred feet, eragon reinforced his spell, and as they went up slowly, so as to allow their bodies to become used to the lessening of air, they slowly reached beyond the mist, then beyond the clouds that lay above that. As they crested the top, several hours later, eragon felt the power of his spell wane. He knew his own body could only maintain a few minutes of the spell before passing out, so he told everyone to hold their breath, and he released the spell, as saphira dove down the mountainside at maximum speed.