Chapter Nine

Ravana's Storm

The next day dawned grey and dull, and foreboding. Ravana, who had fallen asleep before the paralysis lifted, woke up and saw the silvery clouds drifting gently overhead.

They are the same colour as my daughter's egg, he thought. Skade, my daughter.

Silarae was sleeping fitfully, but woke when Ravana stood up. For a while the two dragons simply stared at each other, unspeaking, trying to come to terms with what had happened. All four of their eggs were gone, stolen. Angela and Eragon had three of them, and Taranis had taken the fourth.

'One of us should go after the elf and the sorceress,' said Ravana. 'The other can destroy Taranis and take back Shruikan from him.'

'No,' said Silarae, 'We can't do that. He wants us both to stay; if one leaves… he may kill our son.'

'But what about the others?' said Ravana. 'What about them, Silarae? At least we know where Shruikan is. The other three… they could be anywhere, and the longer we wait the further away they could get.'

'But I don't think that those three are in danger,' said Silarae. 'The woman, Angela, promised they would be left unharmed, and I trust her more than I do Taranis. She had a feel of kindness about her.'

Ravana spat. 'Kind?' he said. 'How could you even think that, Silarae?'

'I have learnt a lot about the minds of humans,' said Silarae. 'The sorceress will not hurt our children. But Taranis could. He will do anything to get what he wants.'

'You could be right,' said Ravana, though reluctantly. 'That fool of an elf, Eragon… he treats his dragon with kindness. It is only us he hates. But Taranis is different. You're right, Silarae… we will have to do what he wants and hope he can help us get the eggs back. He knows more about humans than we do; perhaps he knows where this Angela will go. Either way, we must get Shruikan back first.'

Silarae nodded, and they walked away into the forest, back to where Taranis was. He was waiting for them, while his troops prepared for battle around him, and his eyes were glittering with smugness. 'Good morning, my friends,' he said, using mind speech. 'Did you sleep well?'

'We are ready for battle,' Ravana told him curtly. 'But you will give us back our son as soon as we have done our duty.'

'Of course,' said Taranis.

'I want a promise,' said Ravana. 'A strong one. You have lied to me before.'

'On my honour as a rider,'said Taranis out loud, using some strange language which Ravana was surprised he understood even though he didn't recognise it.

'You have no honour,' the black dragon said contemptuously, 'But I accept your oath. Now, I am ready to fight.'

'Good,' said Taranis. 'And you, Silarae, do you want to see the enemy dead?'

'All I want is to have my children back,' said Silarae quietly.

'And you will,' said Taranis. 'I shall put your saddle on now.'

Silarae lay down resignedly while her rider strapped the hated thing in place, and Ravana paced back and forth, his great paws thudding on the ground and his scarred brow furrowed. He was very far at that moment from the timid youngster he had once been.

Once Silarae had her saddle on and everything was ready, Taranis mounted up and gave the command for his army to march on the valley and the waiting enemy force, which had not yet broken camp. Obviously they weren't expecting an attack.

Silarae and Ravana took to the air once more, but there was a heaviness and a tiredness about them now, and a reluctance. There would be no joy in this battle; only duty.

They flew up over the treetops, side-by-side, their legs tucked neatly under their bellies and their tails waving gently for balance. The army began to march, and the whole attack force set out for battle. Obedient to Taranis' wishes, Ravana and Silarae hung back a little, lest the sight of them alert the enemy. They watched Taranis' soldiers exit the forest and form into orderly regiments, and followed them from a distance.

The army marched over a plain, through a copse, and at Taranis' signal they charged down into the valley, sweeping in to surround the opposing force. Instantly, there was a shout from the mountain sides, and another force came rushing down into the valley from both sides. Elves! Thousands and thousands of them, armed and ferocious and bellowing at the top of their lungs.

'No!' Taranis howled, losing his smooth exterior in his shock. 'Silarae, Ravana, attack them!'

Ravana snarled and plunged toward the charging elves, closely followed by his mate. From Silarae's back, Taranis pulled out his bow and began firing arrows, charged with magic, at the elvish army. Ravana, fearful that they would use the paralysis spell on him again, stayed out of range and spat fire, decimating several rows of the oncoming warriors. Then came the next and far worse shock of that day, as a big yellow dragon came soaring over the mountain-top, roaring loud enough to shake the ground. It was Sunlight, and Eragon was on her back.

'You!' Ravana bellowed, rushing at once to attack them.

'No!' Taranis' voice echoed in his head. 'This is a rider's fight. Stay back.'

He urged Silarae forward. Ravana, reluctant but not daring to disobey Taranis, backed off and resumed his attack on the elvish army.

Silarae and Sunlight folded their wings close to their bodies for speed, and rushed at each other, shooting though the sky like arrows. From Sunlight's back, Eragon stared narrow-eyed at Taranis. Taranis smote Silarae's neck with one black-gloved hand, shouting; 'You don't know what you've taken on here, boy!'

Eragon answered with an elvish curse, and then Silarae and Sunlight clashed. They turned about in midair, tearing at each other with claws and teeth, their riders hanging on for dear life. Flames spewed into the sky, Silarae's orange and Sunlight's yellow. The two females fought ferociously, for life, for honour, for glory. Though Sunlight was a little smaller than Silarae, she was strong and determined and she gave as good as she got from the black female. Ravana could only watch, his heart pounding with fear for his mate.

Then Sunlight struck Silarae a vicious blow across the back of the neck, sending her tumbling down from the sky, screaming and flailing. She landed with a sickening thud on her stomach, crushing a hundred men beneath her weight.

'Silarae!' Ravana shouted.

Silarae groaned and struggled to get up, but enemy soldiers were rushing in to attack her while she was vulnerable. Sunlight came down to land, scattering them, and Ravana heard Eragon shout; 'Leave them! This is my fight!'

Taranis had survived the crash, and leapt down from Silarae's shoulders. Eragon too dismounted, and the two riders walked toward each other, drawing their swords. Ravana knew, as they did, that this would be a duel to the death, and that no-one – elf, man or dragon – could interfere.

Taranis and Eragon circled each other, soft-footed and sinewy, like great cats. Their swords glittered in their hands, one black, one yellow. For a time they just circled, sizing each other up. Though Taranis was older, Eragon was only slightly the shorter of the two.

Eragon attacked first, rushing in with a sudden blur of motion. He swung his sword at Taranis' midriff, but the black sword flicked up and knocked it aside. Taranis was quick; he followed up the deflection with a wicked sweep toward Eragon's neck, and the elf only avoided it with a quick leap to the side. Then they began battling in earnest, their swords flashing and chiming loudly, their faces darkened by anger and determination. Sometimes a fight between two skilled swordsmen can be like a dance, done with so much grace that it barely resembles violence at all. But this was not like that. This was a thing of anger, of hatred and of bloodlust, nothing more.

The opposing armies fought on around their leaders, but it was not going well for Taranis' followers. Surrounded and outnumbered, they were now attempting to fight their way out of the valley and make their escape, and without Taranis there to command them they were ill-led and confused. Taranis, sensing this, knew he had to end this fight with Eragon and soon. He realised there was little chance of his army winning this battle, but surrender was not to be thought of. Everyone knew what elves did to their prisoners. He made a reckless sudden attack, leaping in with his sword whirring, hoping to catch Eragon off-guard. But Eragon was fast. He ducked Taranis' sword and brought his own blade up in a powerful sweep. It caught Taranis in the chest, cutting through his breastplate and into the flesh beyond. Taranis howled and staggered backward, lashing out with his sword. It hit Eragon in the face, and blood began to pour from the elf's cheek. He screamed and struck Taranis again, this time injuring his leg. Taranis fell backward, and before he could get up Eragon was on him, driving his sword through the man's chest and piercing his heart.

In that instant, Silarae let out a high, thin wail. 'Ravana!' she screamed, thrashing in agony.

'Silarae!' Ravana cried, forgetting everything and plummeting toward her like a falling star.

Silarae rolled onto her side, clutching her heart, and even as Ravana reached her side she gasped and died, her head falling limply to the ground.

'No! Silarae! No!' Ravana cried, reaching out to her in horror.

All for nothing, all for naught. Silarae was dead. Her link with Taranis had killed her upon his death, and now Ravana knew why she had not dared to kill him before. The bond between rider and dragon was too great.

Eragon, panting, pulled his sword out of Taranis' body and returned to Sunlight, climbing back into her saddle. The yellow dragon did not take off. She stayed and watched Ravana. The black dragon came forward, wild-eyed, but he was not looking at Eragon or Sunlight. His golden gaze was fixed on Taranis. The black dragon nosed at the body, sniffing for something. Then, using his great claws, he tore the man's clothes apart, shouting; 'Where is it? What has he done with it?'

The egg was not there. Ravana lifted Taranis' corpse in his claws, staring at it. 'The elf took my revenge for me, Taranis,' he said to it. 'But there is one last punishment I can offer you.'

The black dragon tore into Taranis with his teeth, ripping him apart, and ate him, every part of him, even his clothes. Once there was nothing left, he turned to Eragon.

The elf was ready and willing to fight and kill the black dragon, but when he saw the depth of agony in the creature's eyes he felt his bloodlust fade. 'What are you looking for, Ravana?' he asked in the silent speech, calling him by his name for the first time.

'That man took the last of our eggs,' Ravana told him. 'He made us fight for him or he would have destroyed it. But now… I do not know where it is. But you know where the others are. Tell me where I can find them, Eragon. They are all I have left in the world.'

Eragon hesitated. 'I am sorry, Ravana,' he said eventually, 'But the eggs have been destroyed. We captured the one which Taranis took, and it has been crushed.'

Ravana raised his head. Tears were flowing down his face. The first tears he had ever shed. 'Why?' he asked. 'Eragon… why?'

'You and your mate were evil,' said Eragon. 'No good can come of the pairing of two such dragons. Your offspring would have carried the seed of destruction… best if we stop it now.'

'Silarae was not evil,' said Ravana. 'She was a gentle and wonderful dragon, and I loved her.'

'And you are not evil either?' said Eragon sharply. 'After what you did?'

'I once thought I was not,' said Ravana. 'But perhaps you are right. All I know is that Silarae loved me, and if she loved me then there must be something in me to be loved. You killed my children, Eragon. Innocent hatchlings who had never seen the sun. I know what is evil now – I see it in you.'

'Hard decisions must be made,' said Eragon.

'Eragon is right,' said Sunlight. 'For peace to reign, sacrifices must be made.'

Ravana sighed, a deep, world-weary sigh. 'I don't care any more,' he said. 'Good, evil, justice… to me there is nothing but what people think and do. You and Taranis have taken everything from me, and I have no will to fight now. Let me go, and I will never return.'

'I'm afraid we can't do that,' said Eragon, drawing his sword once more. 'While you are alive, you are a stain on the world and you are too dangerous to be allowed to live. You have already destroyed so much – I cannot risk letting you destroy more. You should never have hatched at all, Ravana – you were a mistake. I must undo that mistake.'

Ravana stared at the hard-eyed elf and the yellow dragon for a long time, expressionless. And then, incredibly, he turned his back on the pair of them. He went back to Silarae's corpse and hunched over it, his tears wetting her scales. Then he laid his head over her shoulders and lay still.

Eragon saw this, and recognised it for what it was; it was a sign of defeat. Sunlight walked slowly over to the black dragon, almost reverently. Somewhere, far far away it seemed, the remains of Taranis' army had surrendered and the battle was over. It started to rain. Eragon got down from Sunlight's back and climbed up onto Silarae's great corpse, muttering a strengthening spell over his swordblade. Then he raised it over Ravana's vulnerable neck.

Ravana did not look up at the elf's approach. He felt Silarae's cooling scales against his own, and let his mind fly back to the past, so long ago now it seemed, when they had lain side by side and seen their eggs nestled against Silarae's chest. Their precious eggs, now gone forever. Just like Silarae.

Ravana did not want to live any more, not now. With the loss of his mate and his offspring, the terrible struggle which had been his life was now all for nothing. Eragon could have the revenge he had wanted for so long, and if it made it all better for him then so be it. Ravana did not care.

The sword was raised, and then thunder crashed overhead. Lightning flashed not long afterward, and its light forced Ravana's eyes open. He raised his head and saw it coming. That thing which he had forgotten, though it had been with him his whole life. It was the one thing that had never once deserted or deceived him; his storm. His birth storm, his guardian storm. The storm of the black dragon. And, as it began to rage overhead, it brought back Ravana's will to live. A voice in his head, that was not Taranis' or Eragon's but his own, spoke to him, powerful and urgent and bright as lightning-fire.

Your storm, Ravana, use your storm, use it, Ravana, Night Dragon…

Thunder snarled again, and it seemed to Ravana that it was not just sound, but a call. He raised his head, brushing Eragon aside, and roared back, raising his voice to the tormented heavens. Lightning struck the ground, dozens of time, burning and ravaging all around Ravana. Sunlight screamed in panic and snatched up Eragon in her claws, bearing him away from the thing which frightened her so much. A cursed day, so terrible to all dragons. All dragons but Ravana. Only he was unafraid of a storm. But he had always been different.

Ravana touched Silarae's face one last time, and took flight, rising into the clouds with pale fire sparking around his wings. On the ground, Eragon screamed at Sunlight to go after him, but she would not. No dragon could fly in a storm. No dragon but Ravana.

They watched him go, the great, dark dragon, much bigger now than he had been before, and terrible enough to put fear into all their hearts. He was beyond their reach now, but they would never forget him. Not the black dragon, the Night Dragon, the Storm Dragon. Not him. Eragon saw him go, and knew that it was all over for him; he would never have his revenge on Ravana. No-one could defeat the black dragon, not any more.

The storm cleared as quickly as it had come, and when it had gone Ravana was gone too. There was no speck of him left in the sky, whose clouds drifted apart and brought forth sapphire blue once more. Shafts of sunlight, and an eerie silence fell on the battlefield, lighting the countless dead and wounded.

During that unnatural silence, Sunlight turned to Eragon. 'You lied to him,' she said without reproach.

'It was necessary,' said Eragon. 'If he knew his children were still alive, he would tear the world apart to find them.'

'And what about the other one, the one Taranis had?' said Sunlight.

'We will have to question the prisoners and find out where he hid it,' said Eragon.

'You will insist on going after him, won't you?' said Sunlight.

'No,' said Eragon. 'I don't think so. I think he has suffered enough, and… well, the wish for revenge is gone from me.'

'Good. You are better without it,' said Sunlight.

'You're probably right, Sunlight,' said Eragon.

Some days later, a cool breeze blew over the sea from the East. It sighed about the tall rocks of a beachside cliff, going in and out of the hollows worn by breezes gone before. And it blew gently on the scales of the dragon who crouched on the clifftop. The dragon was male and large, though like all dragons he could be much larger one day. Dragons come in all colours, most often bright colours, and their scales shine like jewels in the sun. But this dragon's scales were jet black and without gloss, and instead of throwing the light back they seemed to draw it in and make it into darkness.

Though he was young as dragons go, it was clear that the black dragon had been through a lot in his life. The scales on his lower back were newly-grown and slightly lumpy, since the skin beneath them was damaged, and his face was marred by three long scars that went from cheek to forehead. The spikes that framed his head were shortened, only half grown back from some accident, and the end of his tail was blunted.

The dragon's golden eyes were fixed on the horizon beyond the heaving sea, a distant horizon but one which appeared to fascinate him. The dragon's shoulders heaved in a sigh, and he finally looked away, scratching his face with his black foreclaws. His eyes were hollow and lost, but behind the pain there was a solid core of strength that spoke of a will and a spirit that had come far and done much, and would go further still some day. The dragon stretched his wings, feeling the bone and muscle flex powerfully, and leapt from the cliff with one easy kick of his legs upon the stone. His wings caught an updraught from the ocean and bore him upward, and then Ravana set forth from Alagaësia, leaving its gloomy shores behind, his eyes fixed on a future that was uncertain, but that he would face with all the strength that life had given him. He was not afraid any more. He was ready.

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