Chapter 2: The Grind of Hel.

Roran made his way through dark tunnels, with only the harsh white light of the sphere Eragon had provided guiding him, though it provided more than sufficient illumination, indeed it was a little too bright for his tastes, he would've rather had fire or some other natural lighting implement, rather than his heavenly sphere.

He wondered if that was what the sun was, a glowing orb of white light in the sky? He had always assumed it was a big fire in the sky, or maybe someone had told him that, but this magical sphere looked far more… ethereal than a fireball, and Roran did not believe the sun to be some work of man, but of the gods themselves, so it was only appropriate that it have a more mystical appearance.

But then would beg the question, was god a magic… person? With a start Roran realised he wasn't entirely sure how to term them, magicians, wizards, warlocks, sorcerers, mages, magic-users, spellcasters, were any of these used, or were they just terms the common folk imagined up to describe something they could not fully understand?

He would have to ask Eragon at some point, what words were appropriate and what they meant, if they indeed had a meaning.

But for now there were far more pressing matters than the sun and gods and magicians, namely his love Katrina being locked up in a prison cell somewhere amidst these dank caves.

Who knew how long she had been here? Since the Ra'zac captured her? Or had she gone somewhere else first and only later been brought here? He had been here for only a short time and did not find it pleasant, twice he had almost called out for his cousin's aid, both times stopping himself short as he found it was only shadows dancing in the form of enemies.

He pressed ahead, cautiously as he had no wish to die before he could reach her, but as swiftly as he dared, the light simply followed, it hovered above his head roughly five feet behind him at all times, he had even turned around to observe it and it had moved, not terribly quickly but none too slowly either, to be behind him again.

Of course he'd rather it be in front of him, but you took what you were given, or you took what was not given, and unfortunately in this case Roran could not take more than he was given as he had no idea how to go about taking it. So he'd make do.

He came to a row of doors, cell doors if he'd ever seen one. The ironbound door closest to him he battered open with his hammer, not caring how loud he was or how long it took, indeed he didn't notice the passing of time as he pounded away. Inside he found nought but a corpse. It was not Katrina, it could not be. Eragon himself stated she was still alive, and this body was far too old, just a pile of rotting bones, Katrina had not had the time to become this way.

It still made his stomach drop and his heart clench.

He did not allow it to halt him and moved to the next door, his hammer smashed and smashed and smashed and eventually he managed to break through the lock and opened the cell, he found similar affair in there.

It was almost surprising when he found himself pausing for breath before the third. He had noticed the exertion during the act, too focused, indeed even now he was oddly detached from his own body, desiring only to press ahead and open more doors, to get to his beloved quicker.

He moved on and on the next door broke the lock in seven heavy blows. He had to lean heavily against the door frame, and breathe for a minute, before finally he pushed against the metal, and the door groaned open.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her Rider emerged from the dark tunnels, looking equally as dark as the black depths of the caves far too small for her to enter. His expression was black, his eyes horrifying. He was, so to speak, not a happy bunny.

And yet he was carrying a brand new toy, the Ra'zac he had killed, its sword borne in his hand, clenched tightly in a gauntleted fist. She made no mention of this, instead touching him gently with her snout 'Are you okay little one?'

'No.'

The bitterness in his tone, the anger partly directed in her, though only for asking the question, none of it warranted a response from her, so she just watched softly, waiting for him to speak and not breaking this silence between them.

'This isn't what I wanted' he told her, confessed even, his shoulders slumping, his emotions ranging from sorrow to rage to disappointment, but never to joy or pleasure 'This was supposed to be something more. It… shouldn't feel so pointless. I look at what I did here, and I can't enjoy my vengeance. All is see is a monster, wiping from this earth the last few vestiges of an almost dead race. Nothing more Saphira.'

'They were hardly sympathetic creatures' she reminded him, indeed for all they had done they were quite the opposite. They were the monsters, and he the just hero, ridding the world of their blight. She was not so blind as to be unable to see their point of view though, from that Eragon was exactly what he described, nothing more or less than the executioner.

'That changes nothing' he half snapped 'They were still the last. And I still ended it. All of it…' her Rider paused, and considered the blackness of the cave he had just exited 'He was satisfied, at the end, with just being remembered as some nightmare, a boogey man to scare children with, he didn't want to live, just be acknowledged in history and legend. I wiped out a race Saphira.'

She touched him with her snout, breathing warm air onto his face. He ran a hand along the length of her snout, but couldn't take as much comfort as he would've liked.

Eragon sighed "Roran's reached the cells."

'Oh?'

"And he's now pounding on the doors with his hammer" Eragon sighed louder. He slotted the Ra'zac's sheathed sword into a section on her saddle, where it would be held tight, safe even in flight, before striding towards the tunnels "I'll be back soon."

'Some fishermen saw the battle between myself and the Lethrblaka' she informed him 'You had best hurry for we do not have much time.'

He nodded, though she could not see as he was facing away from her, and was still walking away from where she dwelled.

Once he had vanished into the black tunnels, darkness consuming him entirely and shielding him from her sight, though not from her mind, Saphira curled herself up on the stone ground and decided that, after her exhaustive efforts made for the success of this rescue attempt, she deserved a little nap. Eragon would wake her if anything happened… probably.

...maybe…

She'd keep half an eye open, just in case.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roran flinched when Eragon's hand touched his shoulder, whirling around, his hammer almost swinging, stopping as he met Eragon's eyes.

"Eragon" he said breathlessly, the redness of his face displaying the exertion he had been going through pounding away on the locks of the doors. He took a moment to take a breath, one of several Eragon had heard, the first he had observed, before asking "Did you get it?"

Eragon nodded, not displaying his dissatisfaction at the fact, or the act, or… whatever it had been, he supposed both, and other things as well. He wasn't sure what he was unhappy with, maybe just how he felt in the aftermath.

"Good, that's good" Roran let out a sigh of relief "I've been looking for…" he made to turn and Eragon grabbed his shoulder and shoved him along walking with him to the ninth door along, facing it and speaking a single word, the lock shattering at his touch. Roran grumbled something along the lines of 'Could've done that before' or maybe it was 'Could've given me that' or something, Eragon wasn't sure, he didn't pay too much attention to it.

Instead he let the door swing open and let himself into the blackness of the cell, the harsh white light silhouetting him in the door frame.

Katrina cowered at the end of an iron cot, and the moment she met his eyes, she curled up all the tighter. Her mouth opened and shut just as quickly, and she was shaking. It occurred to Eragon that this was a girl he had known all his life, a girl now stood in complete fear of him. Though he supposed all she could see was his eyes, and his eyes were not pleasant, or so he had been told.

"Wha…" a small, tiny voice, uttered into the dark, at the dark figure before her.

Eragon let out a harsh laugh and pushed Roran in, excusing himself, muttering a spell to release Katrina from the bonds they chained her with without her or Roran noticing. He heard once he was outside her speak "Roran!" a voice filled with hope, wonder and love.

He knew he had to check her, to make sure. But he'd give them a minute, they deserved that, and more to the point he had something to do in that minute.

He entered the room Roran had been hammering away at, and found a man looking fearfully at the door "Who's there?" he murmured, hearing the door swing "What more do you want from me?" the last statement was spoken from desperation, and with much anguish. It would draw pity from another man, from Eragon it drew nothing.

"Sloan" he said slowly.

The butcher frowned and Eragon realised as the man tilted his head to angle his ear that the Ra'zac had taken out his eyes, pecked them most likely. He felt a brief touch of pity, then it faded, replaced by… well not hate, but a dislike certainly. He wasn't sure how to feel about Sloan. On the one hand he had told the Ra'zac about Saphira's egg, indirectly he had killed Garrow, he had also murdered Byrd, Eragon wasn't close to the man by any stretch, but he knew him. And he had taken from Roran the person he loved the most.

It was funny that the last crime was the one that made him feel the most, Sloan's part in the death of Garrow didn't evoke such anger at Roran being denied his love, and potentially being denied her forever. Sloan could not know that the Ra'zac would not kill them, even Eragon wouldn't have assumed that.

'What do I do?'

Saphira didn't respond, he didn't expect her too. She had made her feelings clear on the matter when he had first sensed Sloan's presence yesterday. 'I would not let him live' but she would not question his judgement either, it was up to him and no one else, this was not a decision she would make for him, it was one she would allow him to make by himself.

So he weighed it up, Sloan's crimes against… well, against the simple fact that he was Katrina's father.

And if he was brought back to the Varden others would judge the butcher and he would be hung, if not drawn and quartered first. No, the Varden would not forgive Sloan for his crimes, nor would the villagers he betrayed, and certainly Roran would not forgive him. But would Katrina? Did she care for her father, did she care enough to ignore the crimes he had committed?

It was thinking along those lines that made the decision. Katrina and her potential to care for her father, the potential for her father and his execution to cause a rift between Roran and Katrina. That was what made the decision for him, that simple fact. He made it painless, that was the mercy Sloan received for his position as Katrina's father, and that was all.

"Eragon!" the sound of his cousin's voice drew him from the now completed act of murdering the girl who would soon be his sisters father, and he stood and strode back to the cell. The orb of white light sat outside, while Katrina huddled inside, Roran covering most of the door. He looked at Eragon's worriedly "The light" he said "Katrina's eyes… she…" he looked back at her then back to Eragon.

"Now's a good enough time" Eragon said offhandedly, passing his cousin "Wait there" he told Roran who made to follow. Katrina looked up at him, flinching when she met his eyes and looking away.

"Eragon" she said softly. He nodded, though he supposed it was pointless as she wasn't looking at him "Roran told me… you're a Dragon Rider?" her voice was filled with wonder, and a note of disbelief.

Eragon smiled "That's not the half of it 'Trina" he said, kneeling in front of her, where she was curled up on the cot. He beckoned her forwards, which she did after some hesitation, her feet hitting the floor and her gaze meeting his "Katrina" he said more seriously, this time her gaze did not leave his own "I need to check you for any tampering, by the King, by other spellcasters, you understand?"

She frowned "What do you mean?"

He considered explaining in full, no, that would be a bad idea "If I told you you wouldn't trust a single thought in your head anymore, so just trust me, and don't fight me. Ok?"

Her mouth opened and shut, and then opened again "Ok" she nodded.

"Good" he placed his hand on her forehead. It had been a while since Oromis had taught him these spells, to check for the work of other spellcasters, first he used her memories to confirm this was in fact Katrina, or at least someone who believed they were Katrina and had all of Katrina's memories, and looked exactly like Katrina.

Magic was fucked up.

After that he cast the spells, so many the words merged and became a song, Roran looked at him oddly when he stopped speaking and started singing, but he felt Katrina relax. Her brow losing its creases beneath his palm and becoming smooth and relaxed.

It took him a very long time, but when he was done, he was certain that this was the one, only and original Katrina. It was so strange, he had seen almost all of her, through memories and magic, he well and truly sympathised with this girl, felt the strength of her love, knew the depths of her longing, understood her loathing and love for her father. He understood her, so much, it was almost like… like…

Words tumbled from his mouth, and he heard more than felt Katrina flinch.

"That…" she stared at him, shocked, aghast, like he had intruded on something private, yet confused because she did not know why, or what, he had found.

"Sorry" Eragon told her, not letting his own nerves show. In truth, what he had just learnt… well it terrified him "I'll forget, don't worry" he reassured, and then repeated himself, but in the ancient language "Forget" the word held power over him, not a spell, but more of an oath, he said he would forget, so he would. And so he forgot, and…

Wait.

Why did he just do that?

His brow creased and he gazed intently at Katrina. Had she done something? Was his spell work incorrect and she was not in fact whom he thought she was? But no, he had said it, willingly, so what had he learned that he needed to forget? He caught himself before he put it together, as he still could figure it out, but thankfully managed to stop before he learnt it again. That, he did not want to know "Well" Eragon said, rolling his shoulder "That was a thing" she opened her mouth, so he cut her off "You're eyes, they're hurting?"

She nodded, somewhat unsurely, but not wanting to argue with him, or discuss what had just occurred, Eragon assumed. Having that learnt… well he doubted it was pleasant, even without understanding what had truly occurred.

"From the light?"

Another nod.

"How long have you been in here?"

"I… I don't know."

"When was the last time you saw light? Any light?"

She shook her head "A month? Longer? I don't.."

He raised his hand "It's ok" using his thumb and forefinger he opened her eyelids wide and considered her eye as she struggled not to jerk away from his intrusive touch "Well, I have a solution. Might not be too pleasant though, but you'll be able to see" he didn't add the 'probably' that belonged at the end of there.

'My dearest Rider, what exactly is your plan in the event that, as you fear, her eyes… pop?' Saphira chided.

'Then I'll remake them. Not too difficult, just…'

'Draining. Indeed' Saphira snorted 'And how exactly do you think she will take her eyes exploding in her skull? Well, I presume.'

'She won't notice a thing' Eragon said, beginning his spell, and placing his hand over her eyes. He entered her mind again, careful to avoid anything… anything at all really, and instead took control of her pain receptors, he took all of it, and let himself feel her pain, while masking the pain for her. It was a complex art, like a painting within a painting that fooled those in the painting into thinking it was just a painting, and of course if a paiting was turned around then no one could see what was in the painting. Yep, not even Eragon understood the finer arts behind this, but it was something he could do, steal her pain away and take it for himself.

And so he felt it while he… it wasn't correct to say healed, so rectified her eyes. He could feel every agonising moment. Needless to say having one's eyes tampered with was not pleasant.

His plan was to… reset her eyes, so to speak, bring them back to a different point in time, but that didn't work because he had no reference, so he used Roran's as reference, and made hers match, while not adjusting anything within her eyes, so not colouring them, just altering their reactiveness to light, but that ended up just being how quickly they responded to darkness, how quickly the sphincter around her pupil reacted. So he had to instead go through her eye into her head and adjust her mind's eye, so to speak, and it's responsiveness to light, as technically the eye didn't see anything, the brain interpreted information passed by the eye into images, but he also needed to adjust the eyes pain recepters so that they didn't respond so negatively to the light either.

Basically, eyes were fucking complicated.

But he succeeded, somehow, and once he was done, she could bear witness to light with only minor discomfort, her eyes weren't grossly deformed, nor had their colour been altered, nor had their ability to perceive been altered… much.

'Well done' Saphira told him 'Nothing exploded and neither of you are dead. I'd say tremendous success.'

She was genuinely proud of him, he gathered that much. She alone understood how complex what he had just done was, well actually she understood as much as he did, and he wasn't one hundred percent clear on its complexity. There might be a simple solution, but he didn't know it, so had to jump through a complicated series of hoops in order to do what he wanted.

It was awful.

Roran looked between them as Eragon led Katrina from the cell, he left her in his cousins care striding forwards, passing by Sloan's cell and deciding he'd mention it later.

"My father…" or not "...is he… here?"

Eragon sighed and turned to look at her "I wouldn't bother looking, but he's in there" he tapped the cell "He…" how to phrase pleasantly "He didn't make it."

A shiver rode the length of her body, and a single tear escape her eye, but she spared the cell only a single look "I understand" and walked past it, with Roran's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

When they entered the large cavern where Saphira stood Eragon heard Katrina gasp, at the mere sight of his glorious dragon her breath was taken away. Smiling grimly, he considered the fact that her breath had been stolen by his eyes as well, though for different… and yet also somewhat similar reasons. Saphira was glorious, primal and furious, yet there was an elegance to her form and features, a elegance that did not conflict with her raw nature in the slight, indeed the elegance was because of it.

Eragon's eyes were just raw, raw and angry and painful, like a gaping wound.

"Katrina" he saw, raising his arm to pat Saphira on the snout "Meet Saphira. Saph, this is Kat, 'kay?"

Saphira snorted 'I do not need you to parrot for me, Eragon' she said, making Katrina gasp again.

"You speak!?" she quickly shut her mouth as the dragon's gaze was turned to her.

'Indeed, it is a wonder that you are all so shocked by it. I mean you speak, why should I not?' she shook her head, pushing away thoughts on the arrogance of man 'It matters not. I am pleased to meet the mate of Eragon's cousin' Katrina flushed at being referred to as 'mate', but curtsied 'But enough pleasantries, we need to be off. Dras'Leona may soon be upon us, and if their spellcasters get word, then word will not be far from the King.'

"True" Eragon murmured. He hadn't thought of that, and briefly wondered if Galbatorix might be watching them right now he 'Hmmed' at the thought "Katty, come here."

With Roran in hand she approached, Saphira knelt to let her climb more easily, but she still required Eragon and Roran's help up, and to strap her in as well.. Roran was next up, clambering to sit behind her, and hold her close, Eragon was last, behind them both, not even on the saddle instead sat on hard scales with a spike to cling to.

Saphira turned to the entrance, invisible from this side, and leapt out, letting them drop forty meters before her wings unfurled and with but a few flaps leveled their flight path. Katrina had been screaming the whole time, but its sound was stolen by the wind. Only a faint whisper reaching him rather than the loud ear piercing sound it should have been.

There was nothing quite like being on dragon back.

'Wait.'

The thought surprised even him, even though the thought was there in his head, even Eragon didn't think he was crazy enough to go through with it. But he was.

He looked back, the mountain that they were still very close too, at the pick black spire that towered over Dras'Leona, at the horrific monument to suffering and pain. It was disgusting, there was no glory, no thrill to Helgrind, just cruelty, just mordbiidty, just the human obsession with death and all that came with and beyond it.

A fascination with the abyss itself, with the great nothing, with the very concept of non-existance itself.

Brom once told him that there was a an abyss beyond this life, Oromis expanded upon this, as did the elves knowledge. There was no abyss, there was no void, that was merely an understandable concept. There was merely nothing. A lack of existence, that was what existence beyond life, nothing, nothing at all.

It had, in equal part, scared and thrilled him. The idea that this was his one shot, his only chance, that if he screwed it up that was that, was both terrifying and exciting. There was nothing beyond this, no afterlife, no heaven, no hell, no icy pits, no city of light, there was simply a lack of existing.

That was what Helgrind represented, in his eyes, it represented fear of that nothingness, it represented a deep desperate craving to avoid it, at all costs, even at the costs of limbs. The priests of Helgrind got as close to death as they could, not because they wanted to cross the void, quite the opposite.

It was why revival via magic was so… difficult.

Brom had told him it was impossible, for good reason, it was practically impossible but not theoretically. First of all a… instance of a person was required, deep intimate knowledge, not just of them, but of the inner works of their body. Then magic powerful enough to replicate that instance perfectly, which was not presently possessed by the elves, they could repair but ultimately they just accelerated natural processes, taking what was already there and expanding on it was far less draining than creating it from scratch.

But then existential questions came to mind, given that it would be a replicate, would it still be you? Or would it be another you? Since technically this existence could exist without the original being dead was a truly a revival?

That was one school, the other involved reversal of the damage, but was similar, it simply used the original body and reformed it to that instance in time that one had knowledge of. The same questions arose. The final one felt that all damage must be repairable, or reversible, yet they had not been able to prove their theory, as still some things were beyond the skills of elves.

But he was getting off topic, this right here was about Helgrind, and humans, well, all living beings truly but most prominent here in this human instance, fascination with death.

He hated those mountains.

Eragon's felt his teeth clench and a single word come to his mouth as anger rose to prominence in this thoughts. By all that was, he hated those mountains, they represented the worst of death, fruitless sacrifice, desperation, and fear, no glorious slaughter, no thrill of slaughter, no kill or be killed, simply die.

The word he spoke?

Crush.


So I have some deadlines coming up, and some tests as well, fuck tests, and no chapter 3 all ready, in fact I'm not 100% happy with this here chapter 2 but it'll do, so yeah. Don't expect anything until after the 19th maybe? Of course if I post something next week just know that I'm doing fine on my deadlines... or terribly.

Toodles.

Edit: Minor changes made to this chapter, nothing too important but some details later will be questionable if you do reread it.