IT did not know who it was. Before the fire, it had been Durza, but so many parts of it were missing. They had all scattered, entering different bodies, instead of staying together. Fear drove them, and now they were separated. It curled slowly decaying arms around rotting legs, naked by a small stream.
What are we?
A voice spoke within it. The voice was one of those that followed it into this vessel, but it did not know how to answer the question.
What are we? I do not know.
What are we called?
Again, I do not know.
The sun rose over their shared head, making the bubbling pool seem to glow like polished silver in the light. It leaned over, looking at its reflection, silver hair sprouting from its scalp. Dead eyes moved from within sinking eye-sockets, and its face sagged slightly, loosing figure as it was loosed from the skull. Whatever the human had been before, it did not know. A soldier, obviously. But it knew nothing of that life. Unlike Carasib, it had not shared its body willingly- it was already dead. All memories within the man had died with him, leaving It with nothing to build upon.
A noise behind caused It to jump to graying feet, toes sinking between the moist sand. It saw another, with blood red hair and yellow eyes. It too had possessed a decaying body, and it added to its fearsome appearance.
"What are you?" It asked. The fellow Shade offered a grin.
"We were Durza, once. But now we do not know what we are, exactly." It answered, eyeing It hungrily.
"I do not want to join with you," It replied, inching backwards. The malevolent shade guffawed as it pounced on It, ragged clothing trailing behind the creature. It yelped as it felt the Shade's mind close around, enveloping It. It was only two, whereas this Shade was as many as six. It threw off the Shade, rising to its feet as the Shade charged again. It howled as a punch connected to the Shade's face, crashing into its skull. The Shade yelped as brain came dribbling out of the open cavity, and It could see the spirits within attempt to flee.
IT absorbed them all, locking them within the body, sealing them with magic that only Shades knew. The captured spirits banged against the bars of their prison, but to no avail. They were the property of It, now.
What are we called now?
It reflected. Numerous spirits resided within their shared body, instead of just two. It saw how the increase in magic began to revert the decaying process, its skin growing less gray and more white, as nails turned pink instead of black.
"Cambion." It said, aloud, hearing the sound with its own ears.
Cambion took the tattered robes that the vanquished Shade wore, and made its way to the Lands of House Yobar, the only location it gleaned from the body it possessed.
(line break)
GALBATORIX sat with his generals. The Forsworn, save for Morzan, were all gathered as well. A map was spread out before him in the strategy room, marked and scribbled and stained. He looked at the piece of paper impassively as General Kyl of House Ronar spoke.
"The North, deep South, and southeast lands are lost to us. However, most western and eastern houses are still pledged to your crown, My Lord." Kyl pointed a weathered finger to the capital, and circled it.
"Additionally, we still control the core of Alagaesia, which contains the most numerous lands and largest of the Houses. We also have the Urgals." He said confidently. Another General, a mage from House Kenlan, spoke, his eastern Alagaesian accent adding a lick of flame to his words.
"We no longer control as many Urgals as we have before. It seems Durza as gone astray. My mages have attempted to contact him, which proved to be fruitless."
Galbatorix nodded. "So have mine." He concurred.
"The Urgals he commanded seemingly have been killed, at least a portion of them. According to my reports, a rogue mage commandeered them, and ravaged Houses in the deep North. But even those Urgals have fallen silent. Something unallied with us has taken action against the common folk it seems. I do not know for what purpose. What's more . . ." Lord Kenlan's hand pointed at the river valley near the lands of House Yorbar.
"A shade has scryed us. It would look that it once was a part of our weapon, Durza. I do not know exactly what has transpired, but I believe Durza has been vanquished. This new Shade, which calls himself Moluch, claims he can muster an army of Urgals and various other beasts from his current position."
Farland leaned back in his seat, his weathered face frowning.
"So it seems he knows of the intelligence we have received. The Varden forces massing in the lands of House Yorbar."
Galbatorix stroked his chin as his eyes rested on the map before him.
"I never trusted Shades. Still, a surprise attack . . ."
"A surprise attack that would risk none of our resources. Regardless of the result, we win. Soon, Morzan will strike North, and if Moluch is defeated, all we have to do is wait for the weakened Varden to march upon us. It will be a war of attrition, and by the time they reach us, they will be a defeated army, dead men walking on tired legs, holding rusted swords fueled by malnourished ambition." Kinure added, twirling a lock of his long hair between his thin fingers.
"I can contact this Moluch, and give him your orders." Lord Kenlan said quietly.
"Very well. I see no reason not to take this route. However, I want the defectors unharmed. They will be very valuable to me, and I will not have them harmed by possessed beasts." Galbatorix ordered. Lord Kenlan bowed, his mail armor chattering as he did so.
Alauinel smiled, her sharp features beaming. "We will defeat these usurpers, and after we do, our rule will go unopposed."
Galbatorix placed both of his hands on the map, leaning on the table as his eyes focused on the traitorous House Yorbar. They would be the first ones to feel his wrath.
"Let's win this war." He lifted his hands from the table, and pointed at the parchment boundaries of House Yorbar, and they began to smoke as blue flame at away at them. As smoke filled the room, the Forsworn and his other Generals clapped, causing Galbatorix to remember what Morzan had said ages ago, about his foolish dream of statues.
You were wrong, my friend. There will only be victory for us. Nothing less.
(line-break)
"Eragon Drakefyre," Orrin repeated as a young boy knelt before him. A brilliant blue dragon curled around the boy's body, a little bit larger than some of the dessert hounds back in Surda. He was disappointed, to say the least. When he had envisioned a Rider, he saw an armored warrior, well-versed in swordplay and magic, astride a massive dragon capable of felling entire armies. Instead, he saw a green boy and a lizard not even large enough to ride. Lord Yorbar stood by Orrin as Orrin sat in the former's lordly chair. They were situated in House Yorbar's high hall, a light-brown room, filled with sweet-smelling smells as servants played music quietly. A statue of Atmon was found in the center of the room, constructed of wood and ancient stone. Jewels shined in place of eyes on the figure, rubies that seemed to see everything. Orrin focused back on the boy, who dwarfed before the monument. Beside the boy, another Rider, a young-looking man named Brom, also knelt. And beside him, an elf-girl called Arya mirrored his movement.
I wish I was marrying her.
She had an exotic look to her, with her strange eyes and hair. Skin finer that milk covered a thin but curved body. She possessed a sharp featured face that screamed, no, demanded of respect and praise, and it didn't help to mention that she was royalty. The thousands of Elves that had joined them were bolstered by her arrival, as this Arya was supposedly a princess, heir to the Elf lands and member of House Valbhorethlian. Of the elves, there were a diverse group. Orrin saw the elves of wood, elves of the high, and even the elusive and subservient Dark Elves, who seemed to be vassal houses to the High Elf groups. Regardless, the Elf girl, much to Orrin's chagrin, was more valuable than the boy.
I should have named her my champion. This child has yet to even earn his spurs.
The boy raised his head, shaking visibly.
"My Lord?" He stammered.
"My Grace," Orrin corrected. Eragon reddened, dropping his head.
"It is a great honor to receive you, Rider. Though I was expecting someone . . . more seasoned. Though I suppose I let my childish vies of what made a Rider get in the way of reality. It takes years for Dragons to mature, does it not, Rider Brom?" Orrin asked.
The man named Brom nodded.
"It does, My Grace. Though Eragon has learned quickly. However . . ."
Orrin frowned.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I am no longer a Rider. Not truly. The boy needs to learn from a true Rider, to benefit you and your cause fully."
Orrin laughed softly, bemused.
"If by true Rider, you mean one who still has a Dragon, there will only be Forsworn who fit that category. Perhaps I should postpone the invasion and ask Galbatorix if I could borrow one of his Dragons."
Arya spoke, without his acknowledgement of her. However, he let her speak, and his face softened as her beautiful words touched his ears.
"That is not entirely true, King of Men . . . For some time my people have harbored another Rider. Him, and his Dragon."
Orrin was shocked beyond words. The Elves had a Rider this entire time? If Orrin was the Rider, he would have gotten vengeance on the Empire at the first chance he had gotten. Why did this one wait? What is his goal?
"Then why is he not here? Your Queen has not allied with us, but many of her people have taken their oaths without her approval. Honor dictates that he should be among us."
"He . . . he believes in patience, and he believes in strict honor. He will not do anything without the Queen's approval. But he is the only chance for Eragon to truly learn how to master his skills. I do not know if my mother will approve, but on my authority alone I can at the very least get Eragon to Ellesmera."
"I will have to reflect on this . . ."
"If I may intrude, My King," Lord Yorbar started, "It would be very prudent of you to allow this. Drakefyre, as he is, would not stand a chance in real war. It would be better if he spent some time away from the conflict. Allow his dragon to grow, where it will inspire more confidence instead of laughs." Yorbar whispered. Orrin nodded, as the man was correct.
"I will tell you my decision after we meet with the dwarves." Orrin declared. Arya looked alarmed.
"We?" She gasped.
"Yes. The highest generals across all the races will be meeting with them, as we regroup with some of my advisors. We will sojourn into the underground Kingdom, into the city of Tronjheim, where the races will make history. It is an honor, Lady Arya."
And it will allow me some time to speak to you further. I may soon be married, but it does not mean I cannot entertain a paramour.
"Dismissed," Orrin smiled handsomely.
( line Break )
" Why did you request a private meeting with me, Lord Kenlan?" Galbatorix asked. His entire throne room was empty, save for he and the man.
"I thought it best to speak these words to only your ears. The Shade that was once part of Durza . . . told me something."
Galbatorix nodded carefully.
"Yes?"
Kenlan licked his lips. "Caomhim lives."