Sup...just making a fanfic for fun, my version of what'll happen next after Eldest. So, if you haven't read Eldest, you'll be lost D
Chapter One – Return to Helgrind
The lamentations of the living are the cries of the dead…and the cries of the living kindles the flames of the heart.
So thought Eragon, this time adding to his thought from the battle in Farthen Dûr from what seemed to be ages ago. While Eragon knew that Roran's request would rectify himself for being the cause for his uncle's death and for disappearing with only a note from Brom, he realized he would have helped his cousin regardless.
There they stood, the company of twenty-eight in the middle of the plains: Eragon Shadeslayer (mounted on a silent and unmoving Saphira), Arya Svit-Kona, Rorin Garrowson, Orik Hrothgar, twleve Varden soldiers, and twelve dwarves. Without Zar'roc, Eragon felt rather helpless, the polished white long sword in his hand feeling awkward and heavy, though only slightly more than the ruddy blade that was his father's. A hellish wind blew about them, sending ripples through the grass and the clouds obscuring the top of Helgrind in front of them with foreboding clouds.
"So this is it," Rorin said, gazing at the gigantic rock. "Are you sure Katrina is up there somewhere?"
"I'm certain," replied Eragon. "This is where I last met the Ra'zac, and I'm sure that this is their lair. It's fitting; this cult, according to what Brom told me, brings human sacrifices to the cathedral located at the base. They never return."
"And they eat human flesh," Orik agreed. "It only makes sense." He removed the axe from his belt loop and gripped it tightly. Arya lowered the hood of her cloak from her head, the sheet of midnight black hair spreading out across her back.
"The very grass feels lifeless but full of malice at the same time," she said, looking around them warily. Crows circled above their heads, cawing noisily. "We must be careful; they'll expect you to come, Rorin, along with your cousin."
"Let a whole army of them come at me," Rorin said with a sneer, unbelting his hammer.
"Secrecy is our best option here," said Arya, nodding at him. "Mount Saphira with Eragon, and fly to the peak of the plateau. We shall go first, securing the area around the cathedral. If the Ra'zac are here, and they try to flee down the steps, we shall be there to meet them. If they have flying mounts, it will be up to you."
"They do, but let us hope they're not around at the moment. Those are loathsome creatures."
"And what of Sloan, Rorin?" asked Eragon. A vein throbbed in his head for a moment, but dissappeared quickly. He knew what was going through his head; it would please them to leave him to die, but their hearts would not allow it.
"I'll get him too and give him a piece of my mind if I find him," he answered unsurprisingly. Over the years, Eragon and Rorin learned to understand what eachother was thinking, even without having to pry into their minds.
Rorin swung his legs up into Saphira's saddle; during the first few days before they left Surda, Saphira offered to teach Rorin to ride in case this would happen, and Eragon allowed it of course. Like Eragon, he loved the idea of flight on a dragon and loved the practice of it even more.
Arya, leading the battalion of troops, started for the entrance to the cathedral. Eragon scryed her and watched as they made it to the entrace at the base of Helgrind, halted by none. The area was left entirely unguarded. With a single push, the elf and dward pushed the great oak door open and proceeded inside.
Disconnected his contact with her, Saphira took flight, and began to circle up the moutain, careful for traps or archers. This seems almost too easy, she said aloud to the both of them.
Perhaps, replied Eragon. But instead of an all-out defensive, perhaps it is better that we get the chance for a quick rescue.