BRISINGR.
THE FATE OF DRAGONS
ERAGON and the others flew for Gillendel.
The Dragon Rider's mind flashed to Saphira- then Arya. He conjured his brother next- the last time he had seen him, Roran hadn't even been conscious.
His heart swelled- a sensation that was then closely chased by slinking dread.
Eragon gritted his teeth as they flew.
Even though they suggested returning, Murtagh and Thorn were the first to say the city was lost. Their only hope, according to them, was to save a select few and flee for Feinster to regroup with King Orrin. Eragon remembered being surprised that Murtagh would suggest such a thing. During their brief travels Eragon had seen glimpses of Murtagh's back- saw the ruin that Orrin gifted him.
If Murtagh wanted to return to him, Eragon knew that their chances for victory- no, survival, were slim.
"Keep your senses about you, Eragon." Thorn snarled.
Eragon nearly jumped in surprise. He was straddled behind Murtagh; astride Thorn while a cloudy night sky broke into a stream of running stars. Thorns wings were massive bat-like limbs, fearsome and fanged.
Eragon exhaled sharply.
"You should know exactly why I can't focus." He hissed, cracking mana behind his words.
Murtagh laughed snidely.
"Glower when we're not flying. I'll not have us die due to a lapse of temper." He said, long hair whipping behind him- directly into Eragon's face as Thorn dipped in the air.
The dragon sped low, holding his wings close to his body as they zipped through a series of claw-like mountains, sharp spires dipped in black ink.
They continued across more burning land below.
Eragon sighed, extending his mind to the swathes of trees bathed in flame. He prodded the mana in the air between smoldering leaves.
There was no danger- at least not imminently.
Despite Murtagh and Thorn's chastisement, Eragon greenly went back to thinking.
Eragon thought of his new allies.
There was a fear in their eyes that caught him off guard.
They had ample reason to be afraid- Eragon himself was terrified. However when they spoke to him there was something else- lurking deeper.
Is there something I don't know? Eragon wasn't sure. Murtagh held no alliances with the Varden- quite the opposite. Thorn would obviously follow Murtagh to the ends of the known world if the dark youth asked.
If it came to it, Eragon wasn't so sure that they would fight with him if it meant losing each other. Thorn had warned Eragon of such before they departed.
He needed to reunite with Saphira as soon as possible.
They broke out from a pleasant fog of clouds, meeting a sparkling lake that traveled into the far distance. Aside it, the land stretched for some miles, burning forests mirrored on the water. The dying trees marched until they met Kel'am's clearing.
Eragon's eyes stretched ahead.
The Rider couldn't see it, but they were close.
He could feel the apprehension from both of his companions.
I truly can't blame them.
Sweat beaded on Eragon's brow as his senses were filled with dread. Sickness, palpable from the city at this distance, attacked him in such waves his throat began to close.
The Laen had always been proud of their race- their land. Their rulership over the Xoshan and the enslavement of the Sealed. Perhaps this was their own folly- Even so, their agony was a thick sludge that slithered between Eragon's teeth like porridge.
They did not speak- silent horror taking the place of planning. Thorn fanned his wings as they eclipsed the moon, gliding over shimmering pools.
The Sealed began to become more discernible the closer they flew. Stakes were raised on the riverbanks, Laen Elves stripped and impaled. Their arms were propped up by pointed spears that jutted from rent-open chests.
The corpses were high enough for Eragon to see- they swayed ominously in the air as the music of rustling leaves cheered on. Black smog rose from the forest ahead, obscuring the city.
It was then they saw it.
It emerged from the faraway flames like curling magma. It dripped bits of crackling, red oak that exploded into the forest below. A tail whipped about, lashing at the air like a whip.
Letherbalka- no.
It was something else.
The shadowy creature bellowed almost as if in pain as it struggled into the air. Massive wings rippled as wind caught holes between wavering, scarred membrane.
The neck was long, and the creature's head cocked about erratically as its eyes lolled.
Dread welled from the being. It- Eragon could feel killing intent.
But he could also feel something else- anger..
Hopelessness.
This isn't a letherbalka.
The doomed creature crumbled to the forest floor as Thorn slowed his advance, circling to the left.
"What is that?" Thorn said to them mentally.
"I think... it's a dragon." Eragon answered slowly. An eerie, human-like scream bellowed from the forest's womb. The fires shook as the sky turned black- no,
It's light-
Eragon's ears cracked. Thorn spun leftwards, shielding Eragon and Murtagh as a webbing bolt of lighting missiled past them. Eragon turned, watching as the energy-like spear fell to the ground hundreds of miles behind, encapsulating the surrounding area in a bright, white fire.
"I can assure you, that thing-" Thorn began-
The creature began weeping.
Its cries throbbed the air that traveled into Eragon's ears as they flew.
A human voice was behind the grating, beast like yawps. Eragon shuddered. His new blade sent him waves of unconscious warnings of danger.
"It's interesting, isn't it?" A voice called above the embers.
Eragon's eyes followed Murtagh's gaze. The older Rider spun between Thorn's spikes.
"Look!" He pointed.
Eragon saw as Thorn wheeled in the air.
A figure stood atop a pointy ævergrun oak, half of its resplendent green coat taken by hungry flame.
Long hair trailed behind the figure. It was feminine in shape, armored, carrying a thin blade that pointed at the hell below.
"Without the Eldunari, it wouldn't have been possible." The figure spoke easily, lifting a free hand in the air.
The behemoth, now behind them, moaned as the earth rumbled.
The figure continued.
"It took nearly all of them. That's why- why I had to use the Elves, the Ra'zac. Even the humans...that poor city... I.. was waiting for him- I.." the figure broke down laughing.
"Had to use this! It almost didn't work. I've lost so much.." the figure began crying.
"That's Avela's sword.." Thorn rasped.
"I didn't think she'd survive.." Murtagh trailed off.
"What are you talking about? Who's Avela?" Eragon yelled. His sensed screamed as a shadow passed over him.
Eragon reflexively pushed Murtagh's back forward as he drew his sword. The thick blade met Avela's own thin rapier. He was face to face with his enemy.
It smiled at him.
"Ah, yes. I remember you. I saw you traveling with my dear Caomhim. You've grown since Tronjheim!" Avela disengaged, hopping backwards as Murtagh pursued.
"You and Thorn take care of that.. thing. Get back to Gillendel."
The dark son leapt from Thorn's back, following Avela into the flames.
"Murtagh!" Thorn bellowed.
The behemoth was rustling behind him. Confusion took Eragon's senses- so much had happened. Who was Avela? His mind scrambled as he felt heat pressing against his back.
Weeping, magnified by black magic, filled bleeding ears as another explosion erupted to his back. Thorn roared, wrapping Eragon with his tail as the dragon broke air. Eragon dangled above the wood, debris raining down on them as the behemoth hissed between sobs.
MURTAGH ran. Avela, a member of the forsworn, laughed as he bounded away from the bedlam. His eyes narrowed- now that he could see Avela's movements, he had no doubt in his mind.
Inhabiting that body was not Avela, at least not fully. No, it was someone else. His former master.
Alauinel.
Then that meant Eragon was right. The creature wasn't a Letherbalka- it was Absolearet, Avela's dragon. Alauinel must've combined their bodies, creating some foul creature that begged for death.
Murtagh chastised his mind for distracting him from the task at hand. He bounced between shuddering oak, nimbly dodging flaming branches as they fell.
What did Alauinel mean by using the city? The humans? Murtagh knew about Alauinel's plan to bring back the god of the dead- but his knowledge brought him even more confusion. What was she doing truly? Did she have ties to Vizcelia? The mana that surrounded Vizcelia was similar to Alauinel's own.. was it possible that she could split her consciousness? And if so, why?
Murtagh's brow furrowed as heat assaulted exposed skin.
It didn't matter anymore. He would kill her, and her death would bring more answers than she would ever provide in life.
A wall of flames opened before Murtagh as he leapt forward. He was greeted by an open field, bordered by embering ashes that rose upwards as opposed to falling down to the earth. In the center, Alauinel stood, wearing Avela's body. She was almost a completely different person- her skin was dark brown, with dark hair that passed a wide grin.
"M-Murtagh-" Alauinel began.
Murtagh pounced. He drew his blade, magnifying his speed with mana. In seconds he was inches away from her. Slashing downward, the point of his blade caught Alauinel's forehead as she slipped backwards. Blood trickled from Vrael's sword. Murtagh kept up the assault.
He could tell Alauinel was weaker than she was before. He dug his legs into the earth, digging up dirt and ash as he kicked himself forward.
"I-I.. thought we came to an agreement.." Alauinel said with a smile, ducking underneath Murtagh's vertical slash. The witch slid to the right, reading her blade.
Murtagh's face darkened. He summoned his anger, his hate, his frustration. He allowed his mana to feed off of his negative energy, allowed himself to be consumed by the black art his teacher had taught him.
If only for a short while. If only to beat her.
Murtagh rose his blade to his face, bisecting Alauinel's stolen body as it sauntered closer, a wry smile on her tanned visage.
"There are no pacts between demons and men."
Alauinel chuckled.
"Then die a man."
They charged.