BROM slipped through painted windows as the wind beat against his back. One strong arm gripped layered stone wall while he eased his legs into a long hall as the moon watched behind him. The aura was too familiar.
Uru'baen.
The crippled Rider landed on the hard floor, using magic to soften his fall. His broadsword chittered quietly; metal tapping against a wooden sheath. Shaven, light brown hair tipped the top of his eyebrows as his eyes scanned ahead. It was in the deep of night that he came here, after a long journey from the Elflands. Islanzadi's order still rang fresh in his mind as he rose to his full height, sticking to the shadow of the wall as he moved.
Kill the Suhureliel Omshurtag.
The castle slept as Brom crept through the fortress. It had grown larger since he had last seen it, several towers now stretching into the bowels of the clouds above.
What are they building? What is their goal?
A foul magic rested here. It reeked of dragon souls, the Eldunari. But they were corrupted and unholy, mixed with the imperfection of flesh. The scent seemed to reverberate in his head, a constant pounding that resounded at the bottom of his skull. It was felt and smelled, a strange effect from an even stranger sensation. Brom knew that Galbatorix had kept the Eldunari of their falling teachers and comrades . . . but he never said what he would do with them. Uncertainty greeted Brom as he moved under an arched path, leading to a hall flanked on both sides by stone soldiers holding several different types of weapons. He closed his eyes and sent out his essence, testing the area around him, looking for the familiar touch of Alauinel.
There.
Brom found it in a matter of seconds. Her own magic was in a frenetic state, as if she was locked in a duel with some other being. Regardless of that, Brom placed his hand on the hilt of his weapon and turned around, honed in on Alauinel location. Rushing hurriedly through hall after hall, feasting chamber after feasting chamber, Brom grew closer to the touch of Alauinel's power. Curving paths covered with cobbled stone lead him to jagged trails that sounded his every step after he removed his silent-foot wards. He followed a long series of stars, climbing up and up until the magic he felt from Alauinel had reached an-all-time high.
What in the blazes is she doing? Brom reached the top of the stairs, opening another door and rushing down another hall. The walls within this one seemed to curve inwards as he ran towards the last door, the final object that separated him from his quarry. He felt his own power well up within up, a strength that he had not felt since the days when he had been Galbatorix's comrade. Power had returned to him after his short tenure with the Elves, super-human training awakening long forgotten skills. Inches away from the door, Brom pulled his sword from its sheath and slashed it across the door frame as he heard a woman moan.
Alauinel?
He stepped into the chamber, hacking away the remaining wood of the door as he saw a man on the bed, his waist covered by blankets while dark hair fell over his face. Underneath him, illuminated by the moon's gaze, was Alauinel. Blue eyes found Brom's, and she smirked at him as she let out another cry of ecstasy.
Scars covered the man's back, wounds that spider-webbed from both of his shoulders all the way down to the sharp bones of his waist. Brom did not have to think long to place the name of this person.
"Murtagh," Brom said as Alauinel let out one last cry, and then gave way to laughter. Murtagh rose his head upwards, allowing his long hair to fall over from his shoulders and down into the middle of his back.
"Caomhim," Murtagh greeted without facing him. Brom stepped backwards, his sword dragging against the coal-black stone of Murtagh's chamber. The boy swung over from his bed, his nakedness somewhat covered by darkness as he walked past Brom, and into his closet.
"You have returned, it seems." Murtagh said conversationally as Brom heard him pull clothing over his body. Brom's eyes settled on Alauinel, who still laid underneath the covers, blue eyes gleaming.
" I have dealings with Alauinel." Brom answered shortly as Murtagh returned to the room. He looked so much like his father: The only difference being his face was rounder and somewhat softer, as opposed to Morzan's more sharp wolfish features. Still, he was not surprised that Alauinel had taken him. She had lusted after Morzan for ages- it was only natural for her to claim his son.
" My dear Caomhim, it has been so long since I have last seen you, and this is how you greet me? You broke down my dear student's door with that large and cumbersome sword of yours. I think he has ill-motives, Murtagh."
Brom scowled deeply as he watched Morzan's son return to the bed-side, pulling a belt and sword from a stone peg on the wall. In the night, the blade shimmered a ghostly white.
The sword of Vrael.
"Student?" Brom inquired, confusion causing him to lower his sword.
" Alauinel prepares me for battle, Caomhim. My Dragon will complete his turning tonight, friend of Morzan. Soon, our wrath will stretch across the realm as we reclaim our Kingdom. You have returned, so now you have a choice." Murtagh turned as he belted himself while he pulled elven gauntlets over his stretched out fingers.
The hands of Evander.
"I see you have been given your Eldest birthrights." Brom nodded towards Alauinel. " I am not here to join your war. I am here to kill Alauinel. And I am here to warn Galbatorix. Golhlobor stirs. Already he rouses the Sealed Elves."
Alauinel let out a soft and bitter laugh.
" You? Kill me? Even in your prime, you were barely stronger than Morzan, and now he has outclassed us all. I doubt you could harm me, dear Caomhim." Alauinel gave him a beautiful sneer, scrunching her nose as at him as she had done years before, when they were all young in mind and body, training within the red keeps of Doru Araeba.
" Caomhim, you have a chance now to live. I am sure Galbatorix will be thrilled to hear that you have returned. However, my father is coming back as well. He has razed the North, it seems."
No. The Varden was supposed to hold the North while Orrin advanced onto Uru'baen . . .
Alauinel seemed to see his facial expression drop, and she let out another sweet-sounding giggle.
"You have grown soft, Caomhim. You support the Varden? After all the Langfelds did to us? Did to Galbatorix? Do you still believe him to be your friend?" Alauinel's face darkened as her voice grew louder.
" I . . . I do. But we must unite, not fight one another. Golhlobor rises-"
"We know about Golhlobor, Caomhim." Alauinel said almost comfortingly as she rose from underneath her covers. Pale breasts bounced as she jumped from her bed, kissing Murtagh before walking up to Brom.
"Golhlobor holds dominion over the dead, it seems. And as a Valbhorethlian, my blood holds dominion over his prison. It was a simple thing . . . pricking my skin and then using my life-force to weaken the seals that contain him. Just a little . . . so as to not incite the attention of my mother or father . . . while he still lived. It was much harder to transmute a decoy seal and then place it back within the tombs of Aryan. But getting the Sealed Elves to plot a rebellion? That was simple. Though I wonder how many they have killed in the darkness before finally showing themselves . . . how many mud-bloods does it take to equal one ounce of Valbhorethlian blood?" Alauinel shrugged as she leaned forward and kissed Brom on the cheek. She then moved past him, gathering her own clothes.
" Why . . . why would you bring him back?!" Brom shouted as Murtagh looked past him, no doubt regarding Alauinel lustfully as she dressed.
"There is someone Galbatorix wishes to reunite with." Alauinel said simply. Brom turned to face her, and saw that she was now covered by a dark robe that concealed the upper portion of her face. Pale skin still gleamed in the darkness, while pretty full lips were turned upwards in a beautiful smile.
" Oh, Caomhim, don't look at me like that! You know how much Galbatorix loved her . . . "
" You did not do this for him. You have ulterior motives, Alauinel. Golhlobor may bring back Alyenne, but at what cost? He will destroy everything, and leave nothing behind but a world of ash." Alauinel strode to the foot of the bed and sat down.
"And why do you think that would bother me? I destroyed half of my country, dear Caomhim. But I want more. I crave more. The screams of children, the cries of women as they are raped and then killed . . . the bellows of men as they attempt to avenge their lost loves. That is what drives me, Caomhim. Golhlobor can give me that release. He is the god of death, and I am anything if not a death-addicted sadist."
Brom felt anger rise from within him as he pointed his sword at her chin. She looked at it dully, and then lifted her neck, pushing it against the sharpness of his blade.
" You always loved this world. What is there to love, I wonder? It is so boring, Caomhim. At least humans die. But us Elves? We can live for thousands of years. You have experienced a taste of this, being over one hundred years old. But what is that? You are nothing but a child in my eyes. Life . . . it drives you mad until you cannot do anything except kill everyone and everything." Alauinel lowered her head, and her eyes glowed as she stared at him.
"Does Galbatorix know of this?" Brom asked as a thin line of blood trailed from Alauinel's neck and down into her bosom.
" He knows that Golhlobor will bring back Alyenne."
" So you only told him half of the truth." Brom spat.
"And you're surprised?" She retorted, lifting her head once more.
"I cannot read your thoughts. It seems you may have become wiser, then. Murtagh, at this point Caomhim's intentions are clear. I have already sealed this part of the castle- no sound will be heard from beyond the walls of these quarters. Fight Caomhim to the brink of death. I believe that even Galbatorix would be incensed if I kill his little pet . . . but I have other uses for him; a spell that Morzan deigned to teach me, of all things."
Murtagh was at Brom's throat in less than a second. Brom leaned his head backward as Murtagh's sword waved across his face. Turning on his heels, he raced for the hall. He would have more room to fight. Murtagh followed, naked feet slapping against the floor. Brom swung himself around, arching his blade for Murtagh's shoulder. The boy caught the attack at the middle of his own sword, pushing Brom backwards as he laughed softly. He charged with a renewed attack, his sword creating sparks as it slid across the floor. They exchanged blows in a beastly dance, Brom barely able to keep up with Murtagh as his one-arm tired. The boy constantly fought on Brom's armless side, forcing him to over-extend his defense.
I cannot beat him with the blade alone.
Brom roared as he savagely slashed upwards as Murtagh jumped in the air to land an overhead blow. The boy grunted as their weapons slammed into another, forcing him flying backwards, landing on the ground and sliding near the frame of his ruined door. Alauinel, who had risen from the bed to watch the fight, looked down at him with contempt.
"Do better, you fool." She hissed as Murtagh rose to his feet. His chest rose as heavy breaths rattled his body.
He may be strong, but he is untrained. I need to defeat him so I can kill Alauinel . . . She is the true threat, even greater than Galbatorix or any of the Forsworn. To have planned this so far back . . . Her father still lived when she weakened and replaced the seal. She must have done this right when Alyenne had died.
Murtagh advanced on Brom, sword raised over his head as his mouth was curled in a concentrated grimace. Brom dropped his blade and stretched his hand outwards, causing a loud boom to rattle the hall as Murtagh again went crashing backwards. Alauinel sighed as she stepped over Murtagh, who rolled over in pain.
"I should have known you would be too much for him. He is strong . . . but he requires more training." Alauinel explained. Sweat beaded at Brom's brow as he narrowed his eyes.
" You're a bad teacher, Alauinel. A selfish bitch that would doom the entire world on the whim of your demented desires." Brom held his hand out in defense as Alauinel raised her own.
"I am a Witch, Caomhim. All Riders are taught the magic of Mages and Wizards . . . but witchcraft? No, that is taboo. Witchcraft and Warlocking are both schools of magic that are much stronger than the incantation bound spells you can spittle out. Allow me to demonstrate."
Alauinel screamed as a ghastly wraith came flying from her mouth, yellow eyes burning as the ghost raised a sickle for Brom's head. He ducked as it passed over him. Whirling around, the creature howled as Brom called his sword back into his grip. The magic properties of his weapon cut through the apparition as it prepared another blow, causing it to vanish in a plume of smoke. He turned his head to see a ball of fire racing towards him. Falling to the ground, he struck his hand to the floor as the heat of the attack reached his fingertips.
"Earthae stenr risa!" A wall of stone came shuddering before him, and he winced as the fire slammed against the stone protection. He rose to his feet while his magical barrier crumbled in an half-ashen heap. He saw Alauinel's sneering grin as Murtagh loomed behind her.
" You're growing weak, Caomhim. And I have just begun." She flicked her finger towards him as a spear of electricity exploded into life at the center of the hall. In seconds, it had struck him. Caomhim screamed as the energy coursed through his body, tearing his cells apart and numbing his muscles. He fell over as snakes of electric current buzzed around him. His vision faded as he licked his lips, shuddering with pain. He heard Alauinel's steps as she walked towards him, speaking words in a tongue he did not understand. It sounded Elvish . . . but there was something else to it. An agelessness that made Brom weary. The words seemed to carry might within every syllable.
"I wonder what your true name, is Caomhim. Let us see if Morzan's research in the ancient language can truly bind one to my whim."