I missed writing this. I love this series but I needed time off so I wouldn't get so caught up in whatever I was feeling and delete this.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was hard worked and fun to write!
Tell me if you like what I did with Yomir here!
A month had passed, one full moon to another, and in that time Yomir found a measure of peace that he never would have suspected. Durza, the vile shade that tormented his soul, rarely spoke to him. Apparently something of note had distracted him and took so much of his attention that he had little time to torment Yomir. Instead of his usual brand of cruelty he ordered the once Nameless boy to work with the Urgals, to strengthen his body and mind and become impressive enough to be worth not killing.
This was a task Yomir took to with a deep passion, having no desire to end his life even if he was a slave in all but name.
Living amongst the Bolvek Tribe, the strongest and most numerous of the Urgals as he had recently learned, was strange and cathartic. Every day started off with a long run through the forest, practicing and mastering his body by climbing trees and cliffs. Afterwards he would enjoy some sort of heavy food, deer was a common stable as was some sort of meager grains, in the large cave with each table filled to the brim with Urgals of varying sizes and sexes. Men and women, all lived and broke bread together. Of course every few days, Yomir started his days far earlier and went hunting with a troupe of Urgals, bringing back some sort of catch but only after draining it entirely.
No one would eat the deer if that happened, so it always ensured him a large comfortable meal, however Nar Garzhvog did not appreciate this waste of resources and a thorough beating ( in the guise of a spar) ensured that rarely happened more then once a week when he needed to get in a large portion of blood. He did not dare feed on the Urgals, even in combat.
From either place he would move onto training, be it the training fields or during some form of combat. He spent countless hours wrestling, sparring with some form of weaponry (usually with a one handed axe), practicing archery ( which helped during his hunts), or training in the large field Nar Garzhvog had crafted for all of them. His body ached even a month later, the trials of his training ensured that no matter how strong he got he would still struggle, still feel the pain of hard work as he tore through the training.
During the night he studied alongside Herndall Ryuuga, as she educated him in various subjects she knew of. Since he was already literate, a fact that utterly baffled him when he learned this, he spent his time being educated on subjects ranging from herbs and strategy to history and magic...
It was here he struggled more then anything. Despite his intense natural powers, a product of whatever Durza had done to him, there was little he could do with magic. He knew the words of the ancient language that he was taught, he could taste their power on his tongue, but at no point could he tap into the powers within. Even Mind oriented magic seemed beyond him for whatever reason, like a piece of himself was missing. Whenever he tried to put up a front, to stop the mental powers of Ryuua, something seemed to leak out of him in waves, leaving him tired and unfocused and with a horrible ache in his head.
He suspected it had to do with being bound to Durza, having such a monster always tied to your mind could not be safe or healthy, as it was he could always feel the monster's presence almost as clearly as if he was present.
Regardless of the why, this was a source of great disgust in Ryuuga, who sensed a great deal of magic within him.
"Disgusting, a waste of Nar Durza's power. Draji!"
Her rants were frequent and filled with nasty words about his intelligence, breeding and value... and yet she never quit, encouraging and demanding that he spend an hour every day focusing on his magic in the form of mediation. She even brought him into her own mind, allowing him to connect with her magic in her desperation for him to manifest some variation of power.
It never happened, not once in the month since he entered their camp...
Despite this, he was at peace. Progress and time acted as a balm to his weary soul, seeing his body gain muscle and new scars, watching his bruises heal over the course of hours, expanding his mind and touching the minds of others. It was incredible to him, proof that in at least some way his life could one day hold independent value. This revelation made life among the Urgals, who hated and feared him for his powers and status, vastly easier. Ignoring their taunts and sneers their rough and dirty tactics became child's play.
Yet, even with all of the good there was quite a bit of bad. For one he saw signs of his Master's influence, a strange quiet and isolation that washed over many of the Urgals, usually at once. Moments of laughter and jeering often faded off as if the magic within them had rose up, knowing his master would not approve. The sounds of their voices changed when this happened, their roughness and brutish tones shifted and were deeply infused with a sense of velvety entitlement. The voice of nobility and sophistication blended with a taste of sadism.
It was a haunting sound, one that filled his very dreams with nightmares and his waking hours with paranoia.
It was, in this tone of voice, that Nar Garzhvog and Herndall Ryuuga spoke to the entire tribe right then, their voices echoing across the stone floor of the cave they all stood in. Nearly two hundred Urgals, Ugralgras as they were called in their own gruff language that he was finally making headway in learning, stood stock still and listened to their leaders speaking. In the front, with many of Higher ranking Urgals, Yomir stood, clad in his leather armor with a bow on his back and an ax strapped to his waist on one side and a dagger to the other.
"War is coming to the world, and we ride towards it." From his higher perch in the cave, Nar Garzhvog bellowed to his people. "We ride to the Far plains, to join our sister tribes Ertex and Frurnen. A great many battles await us, for the honor of the Great Durza is upon is. Once we gather with our brothers and sisters, we march to even greater territories reminding the world why we are to be feared! One tribe, moving as one. We will crush our enemies and win pride, honor and power. We will be given land, to grow fat upon, no longer trapped in this frigid waste of Stavarosk. Free from the humans, monsters who bind and follow us wherever we go, demanding we cut off our horns and play the part of pet!"
'Elegant but I hear you Durza. Why else would an Urgal speak the common human tongue to a group of Urgals, most of which are still barely capable of speaking said tongue?'
His slaver did not answer but wave of smugness translated it's way through their connection, heavy and cruel in his mind. A reminder of his power.
The voice of Durza echoed through Herndall Ryuua as well, in a far more complete and defined way then when Nar Garzhvog spoke, he suspected that it had to due with her devotion towards the Shade being more complete. He wondered if she was the person through which the spell was anchored, or was loyal to him before the spellwork affected the Urgals? He had no way to telling at this point.
"Victory will be ours, finally our people will step out of the shadows and march the lands with the pride. We are not mice, not Lacked Horn rats crawling on their bellies begging for power and food. We are the Might Ugragla, powerful and unrivaled! As one tribe we will take back what was owed to us, what was promised us! So fight, brothers, fight for our people and know that even in death you sacrifice will lift the tribe beyond anything it has ever experienced!"
The speeches went on for what felt like an hour, and with the completion of each part, the Urgals cheered with a raucous pause that somehow felt forced. As if the Urgals were puppets, playing their parts just well enough not to garner their own suspicion. Their movements were wooden, a glaze over their shiny yellow eyes.
'How sad that must be, to live without your own true self, cast as less then a living puppet.'
When the speeches ended, when then Herndall and Nar stepped off their lofty perches, the various Urgals and Kulls marched out of the door where a hero's farwell was granted them. Dams stood with their children, sweetfaced and innocent despite their dark blood, waving solemn good byes. Many, to his surprise, had tears in their eyes. It was strange, to see such strong spirited being weeping their goodbyes.
'How much of that is Durza's influence and how much of that is them? Perhaps, one day, I will get to see it?'
He dearly hoped so.
Once again he held onto that idea, embracing it and gaining a sense of anchorage through it. Though cruel and hateful, he had been deeply curious about the Urgals. Who they really were as a people but thanks to Durza, he would never know the truth. 'Maybe they would still hate and fear him, or maybe they would gain some respect for me? I have defeated a dozen of them in combat outright, without weapons, and killed two of them before I even started my training. For a people so devoted to combat that has to hold some sort of honor?'
Without any horses, the train of Urgals made their way down a very specific trail, masked as just the space between roots. With primal speed they carved a path through the snow ridden ground. Beasts of all sorts screeched and fled, he could hear them from more then a mile away as they echoed through the forest. The stench of their fear, a fetid sort of scent not unlike morning breathe, wafted in a dozen currents mixing with the naturally pungent sweat of the Urgals.
Absently, he cursed himself for having drifted out of the speeches, now not knowing just where the hell they were going. Where was the Great Plain? Where were the other tribes? Would they end up reaching one of the many towns he had been taught about, like Carvanhall or Ceunon or would they cut through the Great Forest where the Elves were said to live?
'I really should have listened...' Passively, he focused on his connection to Durza, hoping that for once he might pick something of interest up, learning where they were going to go... What crimes they were going to commit, lives they were going to take.
'I hope I am ready.'
"Your mind is quite impressive, young Arya. It has been so long since I have been challenged so thoroughly." The sight of the young, but powerful elf shivering at the sensation of his mind pressing up against her was beyond satisfying for Durza. The sheen of power wavered around the girl, as if his mere presence and the darkness he represented was snuffing out her light. "Know this, Elf, the longer you resist... the more I will play with you. So, please, continue to fight. As I said it has been a while since I was challenged and do so love a challenge. '
The elf, beautiful and powerful, merely glared at him this time. It was clear from the look in her eyes, the clouding of her presence, that she had gathered enough of her strength to augment her already impressive mental barriers. No magic he wielded would shatter such barriers...and it was clear the girl was aware of that.
'Well, that is not entirely true...' He smirked, leaning down to look directly in the girl's flawless slanted green eyes. She didn't flinch, but it was clear that she was afraid if her scent meant anything. 'I could shatter that barrier... however there would be little left of your mind. You'd be left an invalid, squalling and unable to so much as feed yourself. Do you want that? No, very well. It wouldn't do for my guest to be drooling on the ground. I have other ways to persuade you to speak your truths, be sure of that.'
With each syllable, he exuded a tiny pulse of magic, searing and slamming into the Elf's mind with considerable force but clearly not enough to break through.
"What fun we will have together, dear Elf. When I return from collecting my supplies we shall get down to work... but first, there is one small matter we must attend to."
With speeds that startled the concussed Elf, he grasped her jaw with enough strength to dislocate it. The girl gasped slightly, mouth open long enough for him to pour a tiny measure of clear liquid. Almost immediately she recoiled, trying to spit out the potion but failed entirely. Her faint glow, the trace of power belonging to all of the Elves, faded entirely as her magic left her.
"Wonderful tool, is it not? Skilna Bragh, a mixture your people created quite some time ago. Blocks the mind and memories, and if you cannot think then you cannot cast a single spell. We can't have you running away now, can we?"
Her body seized, her black hair flailing like leaves during a storm, before she collapsed against the cot of her cell. All fight vanished but despite that, he felt her potent mental shield only increase in strength as she pulled into herself, away from her battered and drugged body.
It was in this revolting, weak state that he left her, choosing to walk away from her cell and make his way to his current chambers. He had matters of a variety to attend to, no matter how much he would enjoy torturing the Elf. Some things, like commanding the Urgals for Galbatorix came first, no matter how tedious that was. Still, at the very least he had his one time assistant to entertain him.
"How is he doing I wonder...?"
With that question in mind, Durza entered his office. It was a sparse space, grey bricks and no decorations to speak of. In the center was a large desk covered in a variety of letters. On either side of the room was a door, one leading to a personal escape and the other leading to one of his more private chambers, filled to the brim with magical artifacts and other interesting matters that was kept hush from the humans.
Before he even sat behind his desk, words of power escaped Durza's lips, words that he had taught no one, not even his old pet Galbatorix. In an instant, he found the tethers within himself, binding himself to his assistant and to the hundreds of Urgals under his control. Each manifested within his mind, kneeling on a stone floor as shadow and mist. The Urgal's didn't move when he approached them, they couldn't truly be apart of him, instead all he needed to do was whisper to them and his orders and demands would flow through their connection, poisoning their little hearts.
Then there was Yomir, who was chained to the floor despite his kneel. His image was sharper, a perfectly clear image. His eyes, red as Durza's own, wept silent tear of impotent fury.
In the shadow of the boy, chained up against the wall was another copy of Yomir, fainter and barely conscious. It was here that the brilliance of Durza's magic burned within him, he so enjoyed seeing the fruits of his labor lain out in front of him.
"Who would have guessed that all I had to do to leave you obedient and forgetful was steal your True Name... " Kneeling before the boy, Durza placed a hand on either side of his temple, pushing in just enough to feel the boy's fear, irritation, boredom and contemplation. Knowledge flowed through Durza, that of the boy's recent lessons and his current status on the road with the Urgals. "All seems to be in place it seems... " Dark rage flickered in Durza, he kept his voice low but did not make any effort to channel the emotion through the boy. "Do better, be better. You alone may be my salvation from Galbatorix, especially if I cannot gain enough knowledge from the elf or allegiance from whomever is the New Rider. I will not die and you will not fail."
Standing, Durza returned to the kneeling Urgals, taking only a moment to take in their knowledge.
"They will make it to Yazuac in a fortnight... wonderful timing. Perhaps my newest pet will show the promise I need of him there... hmmm yes, I do believe I will be watching ever so closely."
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was a lot of fun to write. I was sort of lost for a bit but I am reinspired and on my way to making this amazing. We will not see Durza's perspective often, but I felt it was important here, especially if we are going to see why he made Yomir and what Yomir actually is. I wanted to capitalize on what he knew of his relationship with Galbatorix.
If you remember the First book, you will know what is coming up really soon... one of the most memorable parts of the book in my opinion, and one of the best parts.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.