(A/N) I SAID I WAS POSTING ONE CHAPTER PER WEEK! But I lied. I figure why not just focus on Eldest and finish it and then do the other stuff. SOOOOOOOOOO YEAH. There will be character portraits coming soon, so like Tower of Magi on facebook!
(This chapter chronologically takes place after the last Eragon chapter, but then goes ahead to the current time)
"Morzan is my father."
Eragon sat on the smooth grass of Oromis' illusion world, grasping the strands of vegetation between his hands. In the distance a fake sun was apparent in the black sky full of stars, cloudless and vast. Eragon felt as if he could fly into the space above, uninhibited by the forces that kept him on the ground.
" The sins of Morzan are not yours, Eragon. Though many might believe so. It would be prudent of you to keep this information to yourself." Oromis cautioned. He stood some feet ahead of Eragon, his black-accented blonde hair waving softly against a pale cheek.
Eragon looked at Oromis as the elf half-turned to face him. A bright blue eye regarded Eragon through a veil of sun-touched locks, glowing magnificently.
"Arya already knows, doesn't she? You told her and the queen." Eragon looked down to his hands as they groped at the ground, pulling up shoots of grass.
" Yes, they are aware. I had to explain my initial outburst towards you, Eragon. Whatever feelings you may harbor towards me must be directed towards your training. We haven't much time, boy."
Oromis approached Eragon, standing above him as Eragon looked up at the frowning elf.
" We will train here. Glaedr has already gotten in contact with Saphira on the outside."
"What of my friends?" Eragon asked. Oromis offered Eragon a hand, and he took it willingly as he was pulled to his feet.
"They are safe. Your Shade killed many of my kin . . . and numerous elves call for justice. But they will have to understand that the crimes do not belong to you. But we cannot focus on that now. You need to be ready for war." Oromis stepped backwards, opening the palm of his hand. Slowly, an orb of clear glass formed from a liquid-like substance, turning and turning until a perfect circle was formed. Within the object, images began to shudder into life.
" The outside world weeps." Oromis said morbidly as Eragon's eyes widened.
Thousands of Sealed Elves marched across burning and cut down forest. They carried strange weapons- horned bows and swords that were curved and serrated. Bright blonde hair, almost white, graced their heads as they ran, trailing behind their black faces like wraiths. Between them were the Ra'zac. Eragon could almost smell the reek of them as they limped along, ragged black cloaks half-hiding their grotesque appearance. Werewolves and beaked monstrosities, half decayed with burning eyes. But there was more. Above, winged beasts howled, webbed wings slapping against the air. They looked like featherless vultures: long hooked beaks with large beady eyes. Sealed Elves rode upon them like mounts, but Eragon could tell that the winged creatures were nearly as intelligent and dangerous as the ones who straddled their necks.
"The Summer Fertility will begin two days hence. That will give us some time to prepare . . . but now you know what afflicts us, Eragon. Galbatorix is a faraway trouble for now. If these Sealed Elves succeed in resurrecting Golhlobor . . . all will be lost. The death of your brother will have been in vain." Oromis closed his hand into a fist, and the scrying ball vanished between his fingers. Eragon allowed his eyes to drift to the skies above, an amused grin on his face.
"How the hell did I get involved in all of this? The world is filled with so much strife, and I just now have realized it. I wonder . . . I wonder how I could have lived before, ignorant to all that is going on around me." Eragon directed his gaze to Oromis.
"Have you ever felt this way?" He asked. Oromis walked ahead of Eragon, and then motioned the boy to move with him. As they walked, Oromis began speaking.
" I have. I realize now that as Riders, our duty is to defend the people who know nothing of Golhlobor, people who only care that their children reach adulthood, and that they have a good harvest that will sustain their family. Long ago we had forgotten that truth, and I believe that is part of the reason why Galbatorix and Morzan rebelled."
Eragon watched his feet move through the grass.
My father is Morzan.
"What was Morzan like? Truly?" Eragon's voice lightened with the question, almost sounding like a child.
" As a boy, he was quiet. But he was nice as well. A polite child. When he was under my watch, he tried his hardest to learn everything I taught him. The boy bested me at every corner . . . Like I said, in the end Morzan grew even more powerful than I. But before he was Morzan the Black Flame, he was Morzan the boy. I regret the way I treated him in his youth. If I had gotten over my racisms, no doubt your father would be a different man. Distant still, but kind."
Eragon gave Oromis a cynical smile.
" It is unlike an Elf to admit your failings." Eragon followed Oromis across the vast green valley, tall stalks that ended with brilliant pink flowers brushing past his thighs. Oromis moved slightly ahead of him, his eyes focused on something in the distance. Soon, Eragon saw it as well: It was an oval structure that was completely black in color, with two elvish statutes standing watch at either side. Despite its color it seemed to glow magnificently, while the starry sky shone behind it.
"I belong to a proud race, it is true." Oromis said finally as they approached the strange monument,
"Fair skinned with unbeatable beauty and hair touched by the sun itself . . . The Laen Elves are the physical embodiments of arrogance. But despite all of our wisdom, we still failed. Our lands are racially divided. The former princess of the thorn throne is a member of the Forsworn. Our mighty king died in battle against his own daughter. Our own sordid history is filled to the brim with foolish foibles that are the result of our perfections, Eragon. That is why . . . I plan to make up for my own past. Training you is a start. If the others can see how I treat you, a human with Ceryani blood, then perhaps they themselves will change. If we are not untied against Golhlobor, we will surely fall."
That statement sobered Eragon. He saw Saphira then, and Arya. He saw Prince Orik and Elonubum, he saw Roran and Garrow . . . he saw the deaths he had witnessed, he saw the ones he had given out. He then saw the darkness that threatened the world; the evil presence that would soon reveal itself.
" Your training begins now, Eragon."
Oromis stood before the black structure. Now that he was closer, Eragon could see that there was a door at the front of it, dusky silver in color. Light seemed to be absorbed into it, and the door glowed dimly with ethereal power.
"What is it? What is in there?"
"In Doru Araeba, before one learned to fly their dragon, they were first taught to learn about themselves. This structure is called a Reaping Cell. Within it, students were forced to come to terms with their inner demons. For you, this will be a literal struggle."
The Shade.
Eragon swallowed heavily, and stepped forward. The door opened with a metallic creasing sound, a deep iron-laced tone that was similar to the noise that is heard when one removes a heavy tomb door to enter a long-forgotten crypt.
"Eragon, be careful. If you fail, I will be forced to kill you. I have been able to suppress the Shade by sheer willpower on my own part, but within the Reaping Cell, you will be entering the world that your own mind inhabits. A literal living consciousness. You will see things that occurred around you, things that you may not remember."
Eragon nodded heavily, and stepped into the Reaping Cell.
He felt air rush over his body, parting his hair and causing his bangs to beat against his forehead. Raising an arm defensively, he attempted to move forward as light blinded him. He turned around to see Oromis standing in the grassy field, light closing in around the Elf. Oromis nodded as he vanished in the sea of light, causing Eragon to swear underneath his breath as he turned his head forward once more.
The brightness subsided, and Eragon walked ahead. Around him, the landscape was entirely white. His boots clacked against the ground, causing a sound to echo throughout the strange world he was within.
This is my consciousness? It's so empty . . . I would like to think I'm smarter than that.
Eragon grinned dumbly as he brought hands up to the corner of his mouth.
"HELLO!" He cried, his own voice answering him as it faded away in repetitive rhythm before finally falling silent.
Nothingness.
Eragon continued to walk about aimlessly, eyes darting this way and that. Finally, he heard a noise.
A voice.
It sounded like a man. But then there were other sounds as well, shouting screams and vile curses.
Voices.
He followed them, running towards the direction of the clamor until he saw two figures astride gigantic dragons as they flew about above. One dragon was completely black, with layered horns that spread backward from a snake-like face. The other dragon was a bright azure color, similar in appearance to Saphira.
"Caomhim! I trusted you! You were my brother!" The black rider screamed as his dragon clawed the Caomhim's mount across the neck. Blood fell and splattered onto the white floor.
Brom.
The black Rider jumped from the ebony dragon and onto the dying blue-colored wyvern.
He named his dragon Saphira as well. He had said Saphira was the name of a dragon of great legend, but I see now that was a half-truth. Saphira was his dragon, not some faraway and ancient creature. That is why he looked at my Saphira with such love and interest . . .
The black Rider landed on Saphira's back, hair billowing behind him like a dark-colored cape. Eragon could see now that there was a woman with Brom, carrying what seemed like two babes. With a scream, the black Rider slid his blade between the woman's breasts. She slid from the saddle of the dying dragon, falling as the two babies screamed in fear. Brom hurled himself from his saddle and muttered some spell, causing the two babes to vanish. He turned into a blast of lighting sent by the black Rider. With that, the wraiths vanished.
"Caomhim . . . who was he fighting? Who was the woman?" Eragon asked himself as he walked towards the puddle of blood from Saphira. Kneeling, he looked down into it. His eyes widened as he saw a young Garrow marching through the woods. Eragon heard soft sobs coming from the pool, and leaned in closer to find the two children that Caomhim had teleported. Garrow went over to the brush where they were hidden, looking up and calling out to the empty wood.
He got no answer as tears welled in Eragon's eyes. Carefully, Garrow gathered up the babies, and with that the blood puddle drew into itself and was sucked into the white ground.
Brom saved me. All those years ago . . . He saved me. Which means the dark Rider was Morzan. And the woman . . .
"Was your mother."
Eragon looked up to see Durza standing before him.
No . . . not Durza . . .
Me.
Eragon saw himself with fully red hair that reached the bottom of his lower thighs, and unnaturally green eyes flecked with yellow eyed him with humor. A sneering mouth was contorted in a look of contemptuous humor, while pale arms crossed before a thin chest. Shade Eragon wore black breeches with high purple boots, while his torso was adorned with a leather jerkin over a long-sleeved shirt the color of midnight. On his back, he carried a long and thin blade, serrated and evil by design alone.
"You," Eragon started, his eyes narrowing as he rose. The Shade nodded almost cheerfully.
"Yes, me. The one that gave you power to destroy those Elves."
"I didn't want to kill them." Eragon shot back harshly. The Shade raised its hands in defense.
"But you did, didn't you? Otherwise it would not have been so easy for me to take control. You enjoyed killing them, Eragon. You enjoyed the strength you had. You were weak before, and you are weak now. That elf boy was not far off. I wonder how many times Roran has turned in his fiery grave, cursing you for your failures. Oh, Eragon, how could you? You left me to die . . . Your weakness is what killed me."
"Shut up!" Eragon shouted as he rushed towards the Shade. The Spirit smiled as it ducked underneath Eragon's punch, and then delivered a low kick that sent Eragon flying backward. He landed hard on the ground, and he bit down on his tongue, drawing blood.
The Shade approached, drawing his blade as he walked forward.
" You will never be able to protect them. Arya . . . your other friends. They will all die. Either by Galbatorix's hand or Golhlobor's. Or perhaps . . . even your father. He'll kill you just as he killed your mother."
Eragon snarled and rose to his feet, throwing his arms out towards the Shade. With both palms flat against the air, he roared.
"BRISINGR!"
Blue flame exploded from his hand, the force of the attack causing him to stagger backward. The Shade vanished in a bright maw of fire, resplendent against the bleached background. When Eragon blinked, The Spirit was inches away from him. Sharp cutting pain flared across his chest as the Spirit's sword slashed across, red hair flying across the Spirit's green eyes as he attacked. Eragon gasped while blood dribbled onto the ground. Falling over, he felt his head tighten.
"Weak, Eragon. That is what you are. A pathetic creature, not deserving of life."
Eragon jumped from the ground and ran at the Spirit on all fours. He opened his hand, and by no thought of his own, a blade of iron blood hardened in his grip. He vaulted himself in the air and brought his sword down onto the Spirit. The Shade's knees buckled under the force of Eragon's attack, and the white ground cracked, spider-webbing across the vast expanse. Eragon summersaulted from his first strike, landing on the ground. With a frenzied snarl he sent a tendril of blood snaking towards the Shade's feet. His opponent stabbed his sword at the blood tentacle, causing it to liquidize and fall to the floor. Eragon let out a ferocious yawp as he felt his hair lengthen, while his eyes began to darken around the edges.
"Despite all of this, you're still nothing but a weak fool!" The Spirit mocked, causing Eragon to rush at him. He moved so fast that he seemed to vanish in thin air, before reappearing before the Spirit.
His movement breaking the sound barrier, Eragon caused the white walls to shatter, revealing dark depths of nothingness. Eragon grabbed the Spirit's throat, tightening his hands around a pale neck as it laughed . . .
No.
The Shade's bones began to crack.
Stop.
Eragon could feel it taking over his own body.
"NO!" The shade in his grip vanished as he pulled within himself. He could feel it fight against him, could feel the Shade panic.
"You need me! You need my power! If you remove me from your body, you will die as well!"
"I know." Eragon said harshly as his hair regressed, red highlights turning blue.
The Shade was halfway out of his body, a writhing black mist that curled in Eragon's hands.
"You tried to take me over my using my anger. I know now . . . that anger will be the death of me. This must be the lesson I had to learn about myself. To control the rage that I have inside. Roran and Garrow are dead, and there is nothing I can to about that. More than anything, my lesson was to let go."
A bright blade of energy sparked to life in Eragon's hands. He plunged it into the black mist, causing the Shade to release a screeching hiss until finally it dissipated in the wind as the white drew away, revealing the same valley Eragon had been in with Oromis. The Elf himself stood before him, a small smile on his face.
"You did it, Eragon. Your first task is complete."
(linebreak)
"F-Father . . . "
Morzan allowed his gaze to turn to the man who had once been Roran. He was Hagganthil now, his mind filled with created memories implanted by the ancient language.
"Yes, Hagganthil?" Morzan turned his head towards the light-brown haired man. Morzan had shaved the horrid beard off of Hagganthil's face, revealing a strong and square jaw that favored Selena's side of the family. Hagganthil himself looked little like Morzan, but from the texture of his hair and the shape of his eyes Morzan could see the resemblance between them. They were astride horses, at the front of a small party that was returning to Uru'baen.
The North had fallen.
House Pike pledged loyalty to the Empire once more, and gave up Rebel loyalists. Morzan personally executed them himself, burning them to death with his fire. All that remained now were the rebel houses to the South and South East, and the Dwarib factions. Morzan mused that the Elves would put up the most resistance, but that made no difference. They would all fall.
But before that, he had to find Rahadon, or as Roran had once called him: Eragon."
"I do not understand why we return to Uru'baen. Should we not press our assault against the Elves?" Hagganthil asked. Morzan smiled at that. He had kept portions of Roran's mind intact, most importantly his military sense. He allowed Hagganthil to remember the woman he had known as Katrina and their unknown child . . . but he saw them as rebels, now.
"I agree. But I have been summoned to return before I take further action. I believe Galbatorix plans to join the war, soon. The Forsworn will fly again."
"I cannot wait to see the full extent of your power, father." Hagganthil lowered his head and smiled.
Once I find Rahadon, I will turn him as well. The visions I saw of my death by the hands of my sons . . . They will not come true if they are all bound to my will.
The Imperial party went ahead, making their way for Uru'baen to prepare for the conclusion of what may be the last war that ever graces this strange and cruel land.