-BRISINGR-
ERAGON and Thorn had traveled for a night and a midday. They were able to move past the Sealed, who had begun to tire. The creatures, to Eragon's horror, continued to fight each other, or spent their time desecrating the bodies left behind, soiling sacred Elven ground.
Eragon's wounds still ached, but Thorn's magic was wondrous, to the boy's chagrin. Even though he wasn't fully recovered, Eragon's body felt good.
His muscles were responsive, and even though it pained him to walk, it felt as if each step fastened his return to form.
they continued on, passing through the graveland's flats. Horrific laughs and curling screams still clung to the wind.
Eragon's magic couldn't sense anything beyond Thorn as it gradually returned, filling his veins with vigor.
They came upon a clearing. Sealed Elves whispered in ritualistic tones as they raised crucifixes of dismembered corpses. The Sealed ignored Eragon and Thorn as they worked at their craft, gnashing their teeth while beating themselves and their art with knives.
Death permeated through Eragon's senses, hugging his armor as he clenched his resolve. Some of the Laen being hung were still alive. They cried out in pitiful gasps of agony as their stomachs were rent open, grasping hands pulling free fistfuls of organs.
"Steady," Thorn whispered as he continued, looking back at Eragon with a frown. The young Rider cooled, remembering the fervor in Thorn's normally calm voice.
It had been a few hours before they set out.
"Murtagh, I felt him!" Thorn had jostled Eragon awake.
"Are you sure? Could you tell exactly where he was?" Eragon had asked. He trusted Thorn's ability, but he wondered if they were prepared for whatever would be facing them between here, and Murtagh.
He recalled missing Saphira, then. Her wisdom and guidance were constant salves that calmed his misgivings. But here.. he was alone.
"I felt it for only a second. But he's in trouble. I... I felt his.. I'm not sure. It was a mix of things- not death but.. something close to it. Despair. It was tangible from him, Eragon.
Murtagh.. there's something here that is beyond his grasp of understanding. He's never.. he's never felt fear like this. At least as long as I've been joined with him. That's why I could feel him when I couldn't feel anyone or anything else."
Eragon answered him that morning without a second thought.
"Then we have to go. If there's any chance we can locate Murtagh, then that's what we have to do." Eragon told , and he remembered Thorn giving him a quizzical look, and then a warm smile.
"You're a whelp, but you've got heart. I almost feel bad for telling Murtagh you were going to die before we fell into this particular pocket of hell."
Now, death came in bountiful dividends. Thorn lowered his body, his hands flexed and open for any sort of movement or threat. Eragon noticed again how perceptive Thorn was- he was constantly looking at their surroundings, unfazed at all by the bodies and corpses that surrounded them.
What has Thorn suffered to make him like this?
Thorn's slightly pointed ears suddenly perked up, and as he turned, Eragon nodded.
Eragon himself could feel it.
The fog that deadened their senses was still thick in the air, but there was suddenly something else.
Thorn frowned, pulling Eragon closer. They hid in the shadow of a large hill, tall lilac flowers nestling Eragon's unarmored forearms.
Thorn's eyes crossed Eragon, doubt that he was too polite to verbalize coloring his face like paint.
"I can sense it now. Both of them." He said steely. The dragon hissed, bearing fangs in frustration as he opened his hand over the ground.
"He's still alive. But I can't.. I can't commune with him."
Thorn's black roses began to bubble at his feet. Within the growing pool a hilt rose, gradually revealing a sword, serrated and black in color.
"There was a Sealed Elf waiting for us when I found you. It used two weapons. This is one of them." Thorn nodded towards blade.
Eragon's hand hesitated, before encapsulating the weapon within his grip.
FURY!
The Rider bit down on his tongue as the sword's magic ran through him. It was an ancient blade- it filled his mind with images of war and death, scenes of burning cities and ashen fields.
He could sense it pulling at his mind. If he had been any weaker, it might've driven him insane.
Eragon slowed his breath as he slowly eased his will into the weapon. It then quieted.
Thorn smirked.
"You could've told me that was going to happen." Eragon glowered. Thorn offered a shameless smirk.
"My roses told me that's not just any sword. It's an Ængevardal. A blade that possesses the souls of those it slays. It's similar to a Rider's own weapon.. I have no idea how the Sealed found such a thing."
Thorn walked past, tapping the hilt of Eragon's weapon as he did so.
"Ængevardal cannot be worn by just anyone. The Sealed Elves must've used binding curses to wield it. I'm giving it to you because..for whatever reason, you smell a lot like that blade. I'm not surprised it didn't reject you."
Eragon's pupils widened, looking down at the black and gleaming edge of his new weapon.
Thorn turned his head backwards, grinning in the shadow of their hill.
"The Sealed using it was able to conjure flames along the sword's edge. So you have that to look forward to."
Thorn lowered his head, trading a jovial voice for one that sent shivers down Eragon's spine.
"Whatever has Murtagh is just over these hills."
"Are they still fighting?" Eragon narrowed his eyes, trying to see if his magic could sense anything that sight could not.
He felt nothing.
"I can't tell. I can't even feel Murtagh anymore." Thorn's voice shook, anger and fear shaking off of his words as they broke the still air.
"You're hesitant to just go running in." Eragon said.
Thorn shot him a dark frown.
"I'm hesitant to make mistakes."
Eragon smiled.
"Let me go in first. If you can at least watch what's happening.."
Thorn nearly jolted, surprise betraying him. His yellow eyes seemed to glow while he looked at Eragon for what seemed like aeons.
"You could die." Thorn harshly kept his gaze locked on Eragon.
Eragon swallowed, returning Thorn's glare.
"I think whatever Murtagh is fighting.. it's using you. Whatever is out there... it was searching. It.. passed over me, but it seemed to linger on you."
Thorn hissed, a plume of black smoke exhuming from flared nostrils.
"I would be able to sense-"
"We know whatever we're facing has the ability to alter our perception. It's subtle- and it seems to happen when we least expect it. It seems to happen when someone is confident in their abilities. Just like Morzan."
Eragon rose his head, allowing a cool pass of wind rustle his dark brown hair.
"So what are you saying? That Murtagh isn't actually here? I know I felt him." Thorn protested.
"No. I'm confident that he's here. But if Murtagh is still alive, there has to be a reason for it. You had said earlier that you came across a Sealed waiting by me, saying-"
"More would come. It said a name- Vizcelia." Thorn finished.
Thorn was silent as he slowly began to understand.
"But why just me? Why not you too?"
Eragon felt almost as if he knew.
The entity was no doubt looking looking for Riders and Eldunari-
Not a Shade.
He had been separated like the rest, and he was under the effects of sense dimming magic- but within the vortex of Vizcelia's miasma, Eragon seemed to be unseen.
"The Sealed you killed was told to wait by me. I think it found me, then communed with Vizcelia. That's when it was told to wait, because this spellcaster was already tracking your movements, leading you to Murtagh over the span of a day as to not alert your suspicions."
"You might be right, Eragon. But if we're going to do this, we're going to do it my way." Thorn retorted.
Eragon scoffed.
"Starting to worry about me?"
"No. But if you're right, then you're an advantage this Vizcelia won't see coming. You're going to follow my lead so I can ensure it's not wasted.. my apologies, dear boy." Thorn answered with a slight grin.
Eragon smiled back.
Thorn's face hardened.
"With that said, I want you to know that if it comes between saving you and rescuing Murtagh... I will not hesitate. If you falter and compromise this rescue, I am not going to stay here for you. I will save Murtagh. If failure begins to beckon us, I will die fighting that reality."
Eragon nodded.
"Then we don't fail."
They marched to the crest of the hill. Underneath, a pocket of war seemed to have been unleashed on the land. Corpses were gathered here in larger numbers than anywhere else.
Cruel and jagged crevasses scarred the earth, blackened by fire borne from magic. Eragon could clearly distinguish the telltale dull shine of Laen Elf armor still hugging scores of corpses below the hill, twinkling from behind clouds of rolling violet fog.
The mist seemed to be coming from further ahead, directly in the middle of the valley. It rose from within a swirling sphere of blackness, churning smoke floating through the air like lost and wicked souls.
Eragon looked back at Thorn. He said nothing, but nodded solemnly. The young Rider ran a hand across his clavicles, his skin slightly irritated by Thorn's magic.
A black rose, stem and all, sprouted from Eragon's aforementioned clavicles.
Thorn had assured it was only temporary. With the rose Thorn would be able to commune with Eragon directly, keeping their thoughts safe from Vizcelia's powers.
The time is now, Eragon.
Thorn's voice echoed within his mind as he stepped forward. As he did so, he felt Thorn press his palm against Eragon's back. Borrowed magic suddenly swam within him, surging his strength while calming the aches of his still healing wounds.
You should be saving your wellspring, Thorn. I didn't think charity would ever overrule practicality with you.
Eragon turned slightly, only to find the top of Thorn's head gradually sink into a inky rose petal sea.
Go! Thorn commanded.
Eragon ran, magic amplifying his speed as he bounded down the hill. Jumping over bodies and between arching rock faces, he slid down into the valley proper- directly into Vizcelia's fog.
The Young Rider tensed. His eyes lost their brown coloring and turned to Saphira's azure tint, pupils narrowing into slits. It was easier to see- albeit only slightly.
He continued.
It was then he heard laughter buffeted by animal-like shouts. He swiped his sword to his side, crouching low as he ran towards the sound. It grew louder the closer he came, and it was then he could smell the work of spellcraft.
He followed the scent, using his own magic to latch onto any familiar traces of mana-
Sound exploded to Eragon's right. He pivoted towards it, ducking as a black shape passed overhead. Eragon turned on his heels, eyes wide as Murtagh's body skid across the ground and into a bloody den of cold corpses.
"Murtagh!" Eragon began, rushing for Thorn's Rider.
He heard more laughing- it was almost pleasant sounding. It had a joyful, womanly ring that rattled Eragon's composure.
"More...Ceryani..b-but it's n-not time yet..a-are you..him..?."
The young rider turned.
A Sealed Elf walked barefoot out of the fog. Its body was covered in scars, burned wounds, and half-healed tattoos. White hair fell from a darkened head in uneven degrees. The elf's right arm was missing, and a black phlegmatic liquid dripped steadily in its stead.
The Elf carried a disembodied head by the hair, swaying it gently with each deliberately slow step.
Stay calm.
He wanted to look back at Murtagh- wanted to at least see if he was breathing- but he couldn't.
"It..it was so quiet..you..." The Sealed Elf cocked its head.
"That..s-sword..." it began.
The head the Elf carried began panting. It coughed as it gagged, bellowing in pain with a shrill scream that sent rivets of horror across Eragon's neck.
A sword grew from the head's expanding throat, blade marred by black blood as an ornate golden hilt passed thick pale lips.
Eragon's mind froze.
That's Oromis's sword.
The Sealed Elf staggered forward as an arm exploded from its back. It was pale, similar in coloring to Oromis- but at the same time it bore the tint of flesh long dead.
This new limb flexed pallor fingers, calling Oromis's sword into a waiting palm.
Eragon cemented his stance. Now that it was before him, he could sense that magic was abundant within this creature.
"You're Vizcelia, aren't you," Eragon began.
Eragon's rage began to burn.
"What did you do to us?! is she here?Alauinel?" He shouted.
The Elf's eyes, dim but brimming with crude intellect, suddenly widened in coherence.
But it lasted only for a moment.
"N-n..Alau-?.."
The Elf began swinging the head it carried, laughter erupting from the ghastly weapon's chattering teeth as it circled, fanning white hair that blew across a confused smile.
"V-Vizcelia..t-that..one..the p-prayers..they're hers.." the Elf took another step forward.
"That one.. y-your one, I-..took.. you're..n-not him.. b-before..him?"
It frowned.
"Vizcelia..oh.. yes..the hurt flesh..b-blood..that night...w-we d-drank so g-greedily...S-she..Alau-..." Vizcelia let out a belting cry.
"I'm sorry for taking him! I'm sorry! I took it! I drank it! Please make her stop asking!" It chanted with religious fervor.
Vizcelia suddenly released her hold on the head. It flew at Eragon, mouth open.
Eragon sidestepped the attack, pooling magic into his legs as he propelled himself closer to Vizcelia.
The Elf moaned at Eragon as he bayoneted his sword forward, aiming for eyes. Vizcelia shifted its head, Oromis's blade launching over a dark shoulder.
Eragon allowed himself to fall backwards, Vizcelia's stolen sword catching his cheek as he did so. The Rider ignored his wound, dropping his blade as he caught Vizcelia's between the flats of his palms.
"Brëmsa!" Eragon yelled.
The metal breaking spell clapped the wind with a resounding bark that stilled Eragon's heart.
Vizcelia's blade broke cleanly in two-
The Elf grinned at him as it flexed its free hand- it was then Eragon noticed that long and thin strands of black hair floated around the Sealed's fingers.
Leathery hands gripped and pulled growing ropes of hair. Eragon rolled to the left, retrieving his blade while Vizcelia's humanlike mace crashed into where Eragon had been standing, leaving a crater with a howling sob.
Eragon jumped into an upright position, sword cutting downward towards Vizcelia's natural arm. The Shaman laughed, deflecting Eragon's attack with Oromis' broken blade as it lowered its back.
Eragon's body gave way to Vizcelia's strength, but he moved with the momentum, turning his sword into the Shaman with a slashing left crescent.
Root-like brambled thorns shot forth from the earth, some impaling the dead as they closed around Eragon's body with lethal spears.
He pressed a free hand to the ground, releasing a pulse of magic that sent him flying upwards. He looked downward, only to see Vizcelia's head snaking for his legs.
Eragon twisted his body in the air as he fell back to the ground,hopping backwards with a sliding crouch. The head came right for him, twisting as to maw Eragon's neck.
He rose his sword, swiping it horizontally at the head-
Vizcelia pulled onyx locks towards her, twisting black cords of hair between her knees, using the weight of the head to coil it backwards.
"Y-you.. k-know h-him.. d-don't you? Gh-Gh.. her?.."
Vizcelia approached, her makeshift weapon eyeing Eragon with a baneful stare, bleeding from a cut nose as it stilled by thin ankles.
Eragon swallowed, aware of the rose that prickled beside his neck.
He needed to get closer. Thorn and Murtagh were depending on him.
Vizcelia raised her head-like weapon to a waiting ear. The head seemed to be speaking to her, but Eragon heard nothing but incomprehensible shouts.
"I-I t-took him..O-Oromis?.. I just.. wanted..reassurance..he could hear them..thought so too.. I..didn't want him.." The Elf grunted as the arm that it sprouted on its back moved, repositioning itself on Vizcelia's right shoulder.
Why does she know that name?
Fear beyond his own death grew within Eragon. This creature.. what did it do to Oromis?
Eragon's senses twanged. He swung his sword in a semicircle around him, catching an errant piece of Vizcelia's broken cutlass that hurtled towards. At that same moment, the Elf pounced.
Eragon buckled his knees, raising his blade as he jumped to meet the creature-
Vizcelia's sword fragment licked through the air, moved by unseen hands. It left a smearing red kiss across Eragon's calves, goading him off course as blood rained across the ground.
He staggered forward, hissing in agony as Vizcelia slid beside him. He spun on his heels, holding his blade with both hands as he created a lethal circle that would've decapitated Vizcelia- had the Shaman not fallen to the ground.
He gasped as he caught Vizcelia rise to full height from the corner of his eye.
Eragon's arc slowed, they were brought nearly back to back.
Now!
Eragon pinched the rose at his chest, releasing a noxious magic that obscured his presence. As Thorn's rose grew from Eragon, its magic carried the same benefits- it could be seen, but not detected.
Vizcelia whopped in surprise, fumbling in Eragon's mist while his Rider eyes made out her silhouette.
He called spellcraft once again to his legs as he dashed for Vizcelia's back. The shaman turned, hearing Eragon's advance.
But he was too fast. Eragon's sword was nearly upon Vizcelia, weapon crowning at the nape of her neck.
"ERAGON!"
Oromis's face surfaced amongst Vizcelia's ruined back, a pale moon against a sea of black.
Eragon faltered, giving Vizcelia enough time to turn herself into Eragon. The slick sound of sword meeting flesh fouled Eragon's ears.
Oromis's hilt, now stained by Eragon's blood, touched the bare skin of his forearm.
Eragon grimaced, summoning his magic as he dropped his sword. Vizcelia yelped in delight.
Before she could release her weapon, Eragon clawed at her body, dragon like talons digging into Vizcelia's flesh.
"NOW THORN!" Eragon screamed within his mind but also aloud. He released his claws, propelling himself away from Vizcelia as Thorn's rose stabbed itself into the Elf's wounds.
A vortex of black roses swirled from Vizcelia's body. The Elf staggered away from Eragon, grasping at its throat, dropping the head it carried.
Spears of light erupted from within Vizcelia, creating ethereal beams that shone in the darkness. Her body was slowly pulled apart by ebony petals with razor edges.
The Shaman hysterically cooed, face contorted in pained joy as Thorn's petals cut Vizcelia from the waist upwards.
The Elf's upper body tumbled to the ground, bleeding as it looked at Eragon and then back at the other half of its body, still standing.
"I-...s-such a quiet.. t-thing..I..thought-it was you.."
Vizcelia then let out one last gasp before allowing a heavy head to slam against the ground.
Eragon stood, motionless as the fog that surrounded him slowly dissipated.
Behind, a flower's ovule sprouted from Vizcelia's corpse. Petals, wet with blood, unfurled and deposited a shivering Thorn.
Eragon ran to Thorn, kneeling beside him. Thorn's eyes were closed and his breathing was erratic- but he was alive.
"Murtagh.." He whispered.
Eragon understood. Placing Thorn down delicately, he rushed a few paces back to where Murtagh had been hurled.
Eragon suddenly realized that he could finally sense magic normally- the fog was almost completely gone. They were still missing Morzan and Murtaghen, but he did allow himself a small comfort.
They had survived.
Eragon slid beside his brother, turning Murtagh over.
As he did, Murtagh's eyes shot open.
"You're awake!" Eragon exclaimed excitedly-
Murtagh clasped Eragon's head between two hands. A fleshy tongue, large and snakelike, coiled from Murtagh's mouth, forcing itself into Eragon's.
Eragon fell backwards, groping at his throat as the tongue moved down his body.
His vision went black. He saw nothing, felt nothing.
The only thing he heard was a voice.
"It's..confusing..they tell..j-jests...t-those playful whispers.."
NEXT CHAPTER: SOLEMBUM'S CITY
A/N: hey guys! Sorry about the delay! If u haven't noticed I've been rewriting the the entire book and I accidentally deleted like, the entire last part of Eragon sooo I p much have to rewrite it from scratch! Working on a p big battle scene and it's been harder than I thought to conceptualize in a way I feel satisfied with.