Well, this is my third chapter. I'm happy to know that you guys enjoy this story so far. I'll try to keep it that way. And as for your suggestions, I'll keep them in mind. But this chapter is about Eragon and hopefully you'll get an insight of his life. Happy reading! I do not own Eragon but I will continue dreaming.
The large castle doors flew open at his approach, slamming hard against the walls. If he had thrown them open any harder with magic, Gabranth was positive that they would have gone flying off their hinges. Practically stomping down the marble hallways, he took four sharp turns before arriving in front of the two beautifully carved black maple doors that preceded his mother's chamber. He threw them open, seeing how nicely kept the room was only adding to his frustration. Spinning on his heels, he made his way to his servants' quarters. Surely they wouldn't have let his mother waltz off with the intentions of going to the Varden by herself! She may have been Morzan's Black Hand, but that was well over sixteen years ago!
No matter what he told himself, everywhere he went, his castle was empty of any living presence despite him. Gabranth had known that it was futile to search from when he first set foot in his castle grounds; he had found his stable cleaned of his horses. It was only then that he found a letter addressed to him in the banquet room, lying on the long table. It was written in elegant script, meaning that Desdemona must have taken the liberty to explain to him why they weren't here.
Lord Gabranth,
We are dearly sorry for leaving the castle uncared for and deeply regret leaving during your absence. However, we couldn't let Lady Selena embark on such a dangerous journey by herself. You said yourself when you hired us to serve you; we should protect her ladyship with our lives. After seeing how determined she was to leave, we decided that the best way to keep her from getting hurt was to accompany her ourselves. I give you my oath that nothing will befall her and that we shall arrive safely at our destination, the Varden. And we hope that you will not be long in following. If things work out, we shall see you at Farthen Dûr within a week's time.
Your faithful servants,
Desdemona, Finny, Bard, and Rosalie.
Letting out a frustrated yell, he crumpled the letter, throwing it to the ground. Faithful servants? By the gods, they should have knocked her out or locked her inside her chambers. You know they wouldn't do that, not to your mother.
But the Varden! He protested, walking towards the exit. It's almost like sending her to her death! What was she thinking, casting her fate with that lot?
Maybe she was sick of staying indoors so much. You know how much she longed to leave the Empire.
Before he could angrily retort, a soldier ran up to him, bowing as he stopped barely a foot in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, barely managing to contain his anger.
"His majesty w-would like to see you, lord Gabranth." He stammered, realizing the rider's fury. He hurriedly dismissed him. Shall I accompany you?
No, stay and rest, we have a long journey ahead of us. The castle that he had always lived in was given to his mother by Galbatorix. Apparently it was a gift to her when Morzan died to show how much Galbatorix appreciated the red rider's loyalty, giving it to the person closest to him, his Black Hand. However, it had also allowed the king to keep an eye on Gabranth ever since he was a child, for the castle was not far from the king's own majestic palace.
Entering the palace, he nodded to a group of passing soldiers who saluted to him. The guards were expecting him as he came upon them. They swung the doors open and bowed to him, before closing it shut after he entered. He wasn't surprised to find Durza already kneeling on the red carpet before a very displeased-looking Galbatorix. He stopped next to the shade's form, kneeling as well. "Your majesty."
"Ah, Gabranth," acknowledged Galbatorix, his black eyes turning to him. "I am very displeased," he said, stating the obvious.
"Is that so, your majesty?" he asked, knowing fully well the cause of his displeasure.
He sent him a mocking smile. "Why yes, it is. You see, I've received word from Durza that not only has the elf that I rewarded you with escaped, but you also let her take the last egg — along with the rider!" At the last statement, the room gave an unearthly shake, reflecting the king's obvious anger. Gabranth bowed his head.
"I did not let the elf take the last egg, and Brom was there to help the rider escape," he answered. In response, Galbatorix's eyes widened in surprise at being challenged while a cold smirk formed on Durza's lips. Gabranth felt himself smile. If only Durza knew how things weren't going to fall in his favor.
"Are you challenging me, Gabranth?" Galbatorix asked, a hint of menace underlining his tone. Gabranth shook his head and elaborated, but instead of using the common tongue, the words that left his lips were those of the ancient language.
"No, your majesty. When the elf escaped, I went after her. But before I did," he turned to glance at Durza from the slit in his helm, before continuing, "before I did, I entrusted Durza with the egg, for I knew that there was a chance that I might lose it in battle. But apparently for a shade so powerful, he was overwhelmed by a recovering elf, a young rider, and an old man."
"You—!" the Shade's angry outburst was silenced as Galbatorix turned to stare at him.
"You have yet to inform me of this, Durza," he whispered quietly.
"I thought that you wouldn't deem it important," he replied, his head bowed.
A harsh laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Again, from the way they amplified the sound, it seemed as if the room were echoing the King's emotions. "Not important? For a moment, your lack of information almost had me punishing my most loyal subject! I am... most displeased with you, Durza," Galbatorix spoke, his aggravation at Durza's failures clearly heard throughout his words. "I shall deal with you later, now begone!"
He looked ready to protest but stood, and giving Gabranth a scorching look, left the throne room, muttering curses underneath his breath all the while. Galbatorix turned back to Gabranth. "I apologize for that undue anger, Gabranth."
"It is to be understood, your majesty. The loss of something so valuable would render anyone ill-tempered." The king nodded this. Gabranth continued. "Before I leave, your majesty, I wish to request your permission to journey to the Varden."
Shock overwhelmed the king's expression, soon replaced by suspicion. "And why is that, Gabranth?"
"My mother has taken it upon herself to journey to their hideout. And I will not have her throw away her life with a petty resistance group." He answered, unable to keep the anger from his tone.
"And if she refuses?"
"If push comes to shove, I'll eventually have to use magic to show her how serious my intentions are, at having her side with the Varden. But hopefully, it will not come to that."
"Is it because she wants to be with Brom?" He stiffened and the smile on Galbatorix's lips widened. The King knew how to play with his emotions, Gabranth thought. No matter.
"I refuse to let that happen," Gabranth said, his voice filled with such venom that it shocked him. He had never been one to show anger. But Galbatorix seemed pleased. "If I have to, I'll dye my blade red and coat my armor in his blood if he gets in my way."
"Your own father?"
That did it. He lifted his head to glare at Galbatorix. "Never has he been my father. And he never shall claim that title." Not after he abandoned me and my mother. His heart clenched painfully at the thought. The king nodded, a pleased smile on his lips.
"Very well, you have my permission. And while you're there, please do get my precious egg back. I don't want their dirty hands touching something so valuable."
"You have my word."
"Do you need any reinforcements?" Galbatorix asked.
"Nay, if I do, I shall have to bend my pride a little and ask the Urgals for assistance." The king laughed at the displeasure in Gabranth's voice but nodded.
"I will send word for them to obey your commands, when you arrive in the Beor Mountains. The main force is stationed in the city of Ithro Zhada, though its real name as given by the dwarves is Orthiad. It is an old city that is connected to most if not all of the tunnels that run underneath the Beor Mountains. You should find that arriving at Farthen Dûr is but an easy task. However, be careful so as not to reveal any of our spies' identities," Galbatorix explained.
Gabranth nodded, thankful for the information. He stood and with one last bow, left the throne room. He wasn't surprised to find Durza waiting at the end of the hallway for him. As he approached the shade, he wasn't fazed in the slightest by the fire in his maroon eyes. "How dare you!" Durza exclaimed. "Insulting me in front of the King!"
"I would watch what comes out of your mouth from now on, Durza," Gabranth warned, his voice was so sharp it had momentarily surprised Durza. Momentarily.
"You have no right to insult a powerful shade such as myself! Not with your powers!"
"Powerful?" he laughed. "Do not insult me, Durza. I am not in the mood for such useless arguments. And if you don't want to see me irritated, I suggest you remember your place."
"Is that a threat?" Durza whispered quietly, his hand sliding to the hilt of his sword.
"No, merely advice. But since you seem to be lacking some today, I'll gladly offer you some words of wisdom. With the king being so displeased, in your position I would suggest you refrain from attacking me, or his majesty himself will be ripping your heart from your chest."
Durza glared at him before speaking his final statement. "I shall see that you regret those words had left your lips."
"I will wait for the day to come when you pose a challenge to me, Durza," Gabranth promised, turning to leave the hallway. As he walked, he called out for Saphira. Fly to the armory, it's time to test out the dragon armor that was forged for you.
You really want to fight them? Your brother? Your father?
Never call him my father! He replied vehemently. He doesn't have the right.
Eragon…I will see you there, Saphira conceded. He sighed, thankful that she had let the argument drop. Entering a large room, he nodded towards the soldiers and workers that were scattered about the large chamber. Armor of every kind hung off the walls; silver mail, platinum chest plates, and iron wrought helms. But the type that differed greatly from most of the armor in the room was the large dragon armor in the center; silver, with the crest of the Empire painted in red upon the shiny surfaces. Gabranth ordered some of the men to carry it outside into the courtyard where Saphira stood waiting patiently, her tail swaying from side to side as she watched them with bright blue eyes. After a good deal of struggling, Gabranth and the workers stood back to admire their work. Saphira's entire neck, except for the spikes that ran along the top ridge, was covered with triangular scales of overlapping armor. Her belly and chest were protected by the heaviest plates, while the lightest ones were on her tail. Her legs and back were completely encased. Her wings were left bare. A single molded plate lay on top of her head, leaving her lower jaw free to bite and snap, and painted in red on it was the Empire's crest.
This will slow me down while we travel, but it will certainly help if we were to fight the Varden upon our arrival. Thank the gods that it is enchanted, though. I wouldn't want to fly in this underneath the scorching sun. How do I look? Saphira arched her neck and the armor flexed smoothly with her.
Everyone except for Gabranth took a step back unconsciously. Do I have to answer that one?
No, but it's nice to drop a compliment here and there.
Very intimidating, replied Gabranth, truthfully. That pleased her. I'll have to go gather some supplies from the castle, so meet me there in an hour or so. While I'm gone, why don't you try flying about in your armor? If it's too heavy, tell me and I'll enchant it to feel lighter.
An hour it is. Without another word, she pushed off from the ground, letting out a roar of delight as she ascended through the sky. A nearby soldier stopped to admire the sight of her, staring at her in awe. At that point, Saphira spun in a circle, letting the sun's ray dance off her armor. Show off.
She ignored him. As he had said, Gabranth made his way back to his empty castle. Its emptiness making the halls seem even colder than usual. Seeing as there was no one around, Gabranth lifted his helm from his head and gently set it down on the banquet table. His reflection gazed back at him, a face he rarely showed. It's because I've lost the right to show it, he told himself as he did every time.
Four years ago when Saphira's egg had hatched for him, he had endured the harshest and most cruel torture that Galbatorix could devise. And it was four years ago when he had abandoned himself, and his identity. Four years, since he had taken up the title of being the King's rider willingly, since he had abandoned the name Eragon. He had become unfit for such a name. Eragon, the name of the first rider. If he had carried that name, he would only have tarnished it. But there was another reason, he thought. Gabranth shook his head.
And so, Gabranth was born four years ago. The cold hearted person who never revealed his face in public, serving the king with unswerving and cold-hearted loyalty. He sighed, rubbing his temple. Maybe that was why his mother left — she was sick of his emotionlessness, his willingness to serve such a tyrant. Maybe it was his fault that she was condemned to such a life of loneliness without the love of a husband or a proper son.
That was right, Gabranth thought as he tied the bag of supplies on the table. Who would want a cold-hearted son? A son who took his first life at the age of thirteen and continued to kill. A son who only brought pain to her whenever she set eyes upon him, or called his name. He could scarcely remember the last time that his mother had properly smiled without weariness that belay her age, or laughed without the weight of a saddened woman.
Would her life be any different if she had been living with Murtagh in the town in which she hid him? With his fath—Brom. Aye, she would have been happier.Gabranth thought, glancing back at his reflection. Maybe that was why she ran off for the Varden. News of her other son being a rider and of her lover who had disappeared sixteen years ago must have reached her. And she must have longed to be with them. In that case, what was he doing? Chasing after a mother who chose to abandon him? Was this even right?
Do what you believe is right. In your heart. Don't let your mind twist what you want.
But what do I want? He replied, confused at his own feelings.
Look within yourself, Eragon. You've answered the wishes of Galbatorix, of the people, of your mother. But what is it that you wish? Saphira gently asked.
Wishing is childish.
It's not so. Everyone wishes for something in their hearts. The desire for change; for something that causes their longing to appear, takes root — and eventually, you find yourself wishing for it beyond anything.
Maybe.
Do you wish to see your mother again?
He stopped and glanced at his reflection again. What she had suggested was the truth. There was no way around that revelation. He wished to see his mother. To see the person she was before he had become distant and cold. To see her laugh and smile with joy. Let's go, Saphira. The day is getting late.
My, my, why the sudden haste? She teased. A small smile curved his lips upwards.
I thought you knew what my wish was.
Wish granted. He grinned, and with another glance at himself, placed his helm back upon his head. Hoisting the pack over his shoulder, Gabranth left his castle to find Saphira ready and waiting for him. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy. Finally, the adventure that I've been waiting for!
Excited to leave the Empire, are we? Gabranth slid into the saddle that was tied over her armor, slipping the bag into one of the pouches. With deft fingers, he tightened the straps on the saddle over his legs.
It's been a boring four years. To see new sights... It will be wonderful. He smiled, feeling her anticipation and joy through their mental connection.
Then let us fly. You wish to see the Beor Mountains soon, do you not? The dragon let out a roar, and he pulled back slightly as a jet of fire crackled through the air. With a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she brought them easily off the ground, arching southeast towards the Beor Mountains.
For the first time in his life, he was going to leave the Empire, the place in which he was born, and head for foreign land. The home of the dwarves and the Varden. Like Saphira, he couldn't help but feel the excitement that sprung to life in his chest. Maybe, he hoped, he would see that elf again and his half-brother along with his dragon. And if he did meet Brom face to face, he was prepared for the fight that might ensue. The anger and resentment he had felt for the man that was his father had always been harbored in his heart, waiting to be released — and maybe soon it will be. At the horizon horizon, outlined by the setting sun, he could see small specks rising from the ground. One would take them as trees, but he knew that they were something entirely different. The Beor Mountains.
The smile on his lips widened at the thought of what might happen at his arrival in the Varden. If he entered, they wouldn't let him leave as easily, he knew…but no matter. He was ready for it and so was Saphira. Ready for their journey together outside of the Empire.
Well, how did you think this chapter was? Good? Please give some suggestions. And review, I'll like to see what you think of the story so far. It makes me happy to see what other peoples' opinions are of it. Well, I'll try to post the next chapter soon enough! Don't forget to review!