Hope y'all are safe with the corona shit goin on.
Anyway...
BRISINGR.
HE WAS STILL.
Murtagh's body was eerily pale, blood pouring from his stomach and chest. Formerly vibrant green eyes were fogged over in death, staring blankly ahead as Thorn silently held a quickly cooling corpse.
The Dragon had reverted to his human form- Murtagh's blood stained Thorn up to his elbows. An early morning wind softly blew long onyx locks across Murtagh's wide forehead, while the sound of slowly dying trees, eaten by fire, cooed in the distance.
The Rider winced at Thorn's emotionless gaze.
But, Eragon could say nothing. He stood almost as still as Thorn, mouth constricted in confusion.
Death was no stranger to him...
But this.
Murtagh had been so similar to him. Despite their differences, in the short time Eragon had known him, he knew Murtagh was driven by the same blood that flowed through his own veins.
And now..
"Murtagh's dead." Thorn said almost sardonically, eyes narrowing upwards at Eragon.
The dragon held Eragon's gaze with a slight, bitter smile.
Finally, Eragon spoke. Maybe it was unkind of him, but he had to know.
Wind hissed between tense words.
"Murtagh knew that.. thing would be here." Eragon furrowed sharp brows. Thorn chuckled, pulling Murtagh's corpse closer- only to finally lay him down slightly onto the ground.
A bed of black roses sprouted from the earth. Gently, Murtagh's corpse descended within the vortex of shifting petals.
Eragon's eyes returned to Thorn. His face was devoid of tears, and his mouth was gripped in a painful, small smile.
There was however a darkness to Thorn's eyes, a deadened gaze that made Eragon want to nearly sob on Thorn's behalf.
The Rider's own heart stilled.
The feeling I felt earlier... it was death. Beyond any doubt, it was death I sensed. Was it this..? No, I had heard Arya's voice..
Eragon lifted his head, brown pupils passing over the tips of burning pines. Outside of Murtagh's ashen circle, Laen Elf corpses marched ahead between the inflamed wood, suspended on swaying stakes. Despite Absolearet's carnage, many of them still stood, reselilant in their cruelty.
Dread gripped Eragon's thoughts like the death around him.
Thorn hadn't yet answered.
The Dragon's yellow eyes were transfixed on the ground.
Finally, Thorn opened his mouth.
"He did. I knew that much."
Thorn endured another deep grin.
"He told me. But he never told me everything. Not speaking came to Murtagh as easily as breathing."
Thorn's nostrils flared.
"...Alauinel..."
Thorn laughed then, a dreadful and hollow sound.
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know if Murtagh knew about Avela- but Alauinel..they were close in Uru'baen. I sensed a fondness of her within Murtagh. I knew..."
Thorn's eyes flexed unto Eragon's own heavy glare.
"It was obvious to me once I saw Absolearet what Alauinel had done. There's no doubt in my mind Murtagh knew at the very least she would be here, at this point."
The Dragon fell silent.
Eragon was angry. Thorn had carried some sort of information since at least when they had met with Morzan. If even he had independently said something, would they still be in this situation?
Eragon swallowed harshly. He lowered his gaze, softening the words that came from dried lips.
"It doesn't matter now."
Eragon clenched his jaws and slowed his breathing. Now wasn't the time for anger.
They can't stop here. Not with what was at stake.
Right now, Eragon didn't even care if he never knew the full truth- that luxury was almost alien to him. What mattered was the survival of the people he loved.
The prospect of his own possible tragedy sent a shivering reprisal that danced across Eragon's skin.
"Alauinel is heading for Gillendel. I'm sorry Thorn- I truly am. But we have to keep moving." Eragon spoke harshly, his voice rising above the crash of falling branches engulfed in flame.
"Yes," Thorn responded. He rose quickly. His face seemed almost frozen, and he still bore no emotion. His yellow eyes leveled on Eragon coolly.
"I'm sure you can feel it. There's something-" he turned, and pointed between the pines.
Eragon narrowed his eyes.
"-something building in Gillendel. It started before Alauinel left." Thorn finished.
"I felt it." Eragon responded.
Thorn nodded his head upward.
"We shouldn't fly from this point onwards. Alauinel is already ahead of us- we need to try to slip past her, and the Sealed."
Eragon silently agreed.
If they got caught up in another melee, it would only serve to delay them. They had no idea what was waiting within Gillendel- darkness was nearly palpable, reverberating within Eragon's pulse.
I've never felt anything like this.
Eragon nodded affirmatively.
Thorn gave him an empty grin, and sped ahead.
They moved in silence. To either side of Eragon, pillars of fire crackled, climbing tall trunks of trees. Eragon began to notice that there were less and less trees; fields of embering grass punctuated by purple flowers steadily dominated his view.
Gillendel.
Thorn and Eragon broke from the last circle of trees and climbed a steep hill, jumping between jutting pieces of stone. They met a grassy incline. As Eragon followed Thorn upwards, his senses twanged.
Another belch of foul mana. This one racked Eragon's mind, nearly causing him to lose his balance.
Thorn inhaled sharply, slightly ahead of Eragon.
The Dragon Rider hesitated, then joined Thorn at the crest of the hill.
More stakes.
Thousands of them spread between the base of
The hill and Gillendel's broken walls. Corpses were grotesquely impaled upon sharpened wood.
Eragon hardened his gaze as he searched for movement - ebbing magical senses across the sanguinary scene.
Bodies that weren't impaled upon swaying spears of wood were sprawled beside puddles of dark blood.
Some of them bore signs of ritualistic abuse- carvings were frantically etched trenches of flesh, crawling across paling skin.
Thorn caught Eragon's eyes.
The bodies.
Mana seemed to be weeping from them. Fueling a vortex of miasmic energy that howled beyond bloodied stone.
Eragon rose to his full height, standing beside Thorn.
A cruel wind blew across their wide valley.
Eragon caught long hair between scarred hands, frowning at the evil that awaited beyond.
The winds subsided.
Eragon trotted ahead, nimbly climbing down the steep and craggy hill. Thorn closely followed behind.
The morning sun crept behind a sparse patch of trees allowed to prosper within Gillendel's outer reaches.
It was surrounded by hundreds of swaying corpses. The wind caused crude wood to creak incessantly. The sound played a symphony of unease within Eragon's ears.
Past that, Gillendel's walls bled open. Eragon could even see glimpses of the faraway city within, bright fires bouncing between ivory buildings, former beauty still radiant despite the hell around them.
ERAGON!
Flashes.
Eragon screamed as searing pain clawed through his upper consciousness. He hissed, spit spraying from clenched teeth.
He felt it. Pain. A battle?
"Eragon!" Thorn moved for the Rider.
Between dark brown hair, Eragon looked up at Thorn with eyes colder than Murtagh's.
The dragon froze.
We can't waste anymore time.
"Keep moving." Eragon said,looking past Thorn then, trying to decipher what exactly it was they felt.
Alauinel was behind it clearly- but what is she planning? Thorn didn't know nearly as much as Eragon assumed.
He looked eyes with the Dragon once more.
"I'm sorry. I-"
Thorn nodded.
"I understand." He nodded his head forward, allowing Eragon to lead.
They darted between crumbling behemoths of stone.
Death greeted them instantly.
The remnants of horrifying violence bore witness to the evils of their world.
Gillendel weeped.
Eragon's mind buzzed in shock. The city he had seen for the first time, all those years ago...
Smoke rose the deeper they marched. The smog began to steadily obscure the sky. Gillendel grew larger and more cramped, ruined buildings spilling into gore covered streets. Stray fires crackled comfortably from sharp alleys, illuminating bloody corners of ivory walls.
In the distance Eragon could hear chants- but these seemed almost different from the ones he had heard within the Elven graveyard. The sound was melodic, light.. beautiful. Soft yet tremorous voices drifted lightly over a slight pebble of drum. As they traveled the hymn grew more discernible, and it was then Eragon could tell the sound was being carried by mana.
They came to a break between streets. Upon a curving road, they could see far into Ellesmera. Ashen clouds rolled from the south, covering all it devoured in an ebony sheen.
The daytime sky that hugged the city was black and red, a chilling mosaic against advancing darkness.
It was then Eragon heard it. He felt it- felt the scream, at the same time a rupturing bellow crescendoed upwards from the earth.
A light blue glow hummed between the gigantic sea of shifting smoke hovering over Ellesmera.
It was time.
Eragon and Thorn descended.