And so here is the other chapter following such a dramatic ending to the last chapter. Anyways, I'm still working on the next chapter and hopefully it won't be too long or I might have to go for one more chapter before I can finish this conflict. I hope you all enjoy this, happy reading.
Darkness in a sea of red…
Was he floating? Was he falling? Or did the world stop all together?
He was in a void that disregarded time, that disregarded reality. His body was numb and refused to move and his eyes refused to open. Was he dead? But if this was death than why was he still here? All these questions and yet no answers to them. There were tales in which death was described as the next greatest journey as a path of amazement and peace. Were they wrong? Or had heaven's gate shut on him and had plunged him into the underworld? Was this the price he had to pay for having a weak heart?
Eragon did not know. The answers seemed useless now with him trapped where he was. As he floated there or falling through space, he felt a sense of loneliness wash over him. There was no one in this space devoid of time. He was all alone. Saphira was gone. His family was gone. Arya was gone. Were they in pain, he wondered. Did they resent him for leaving in such a way? In lying to them and deceiving them?
What was going to happen to him now? He had lost control of his body, had been consumed by the spirit within him. If logic served correctly, half of a soul can not transcend the boundaries that separated the living and the dead. No, it would disappear into nothingness. All of his life to be wasted and his soul unable to ascend to the heavens where the dead rested.
Am I going to disappear?
The thought was so painful to bear it was almost like a stab to the heart. His entire life he refused to shed tears, even a small amount but now when faced with such a plight it made him want to release his frustration and sorrow by use of tears. But he could not for he was dying or will become nonexistent.
Will I be forgotten?
That thought alone was more painful to bear. If he died and his family lived they would move on and soon enough his name will be but a wilting memory to them. Arya would move on. She had a long life ahead of her; if Galbatorix was overthrown she would find another to walk beside. Just the thought of it filled him with an excruciating pain.
Was this the end?
As he floated in the sea of darkness, he didn't expect to hear a reply but one came to him, deep and wise. No, this is not the end for you Eragon Shadeslayer, this is merely the beginning. The voice rumbled in his mind, like a rumble of thunder vast and powerful and oddly comforting.
Who are you? Was he friend or foe? Or something else entirely different?
Names are powerful and I shall not reveal my name to you but know this I am here to help you Eragon.
Help me? A spark of hope erupted in his chest. Was there a way to help him? To save him?
Yes.
How?
The voice didn't respond for a moment but rather let his emotions pour through him. Pride, honor, and strength seemed to flow through him like a waterfall. Then the voice spoke again, you must believe in yourself.
What an odd request. Believe?
In yourself and in others, the voice spoke quietly and calmly, despite the great power its depth held. And do not let your fears overwhelm you for spirits such as Asura uses that fear to control your body. You are not weak.
But I lost to him…My soul was consumed by him. Wasn't that the reason why he was unable to control his body anymore? Because his mind and soul were weak, it seemed like the most logical reason.
You did not lose, not entirely. Before your soul is completely consumed you must break through this trance that he has set over you. You must open your eyes and regain control of your body, the voice said again. That was easier said than done.
Open my eyes? I don't know how to.
Face your fears, Eragon. If you can face your fears, then Asura will not be able to control you as he does now. Spirits like Asura only thrive off of another's fear and darkness.
My fears?
Yes, I'll show you the way but you must see to it that you can make it through before your soul is consumed entirely. For the sake of your loved ones, you must do this, the voice murmured before fading away into the dark abyss that he was confined to.
Eragon frowned, he was unsure of what to do. What was that voice trying to tell him? Who did that voice belong to? Before he could think of anything else, he felt a strange sensation overwhelm him and to his surprise, he was able to open his eyes. Where was he?
I was able to bring your mind out of that deep abyss but only for a moment, the voice spoke, are you ready, Eragon?
Unsure of what to say, he stood in the darkness not seeing anything. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. I am ready.
Then let us begin, Eragon Shadeslayer.
The darkness around him began to shift and change becoming a warm and beautiful field of flowers. Had he been here before? It looked oddly familiar. Walking though the flowerbeds with caution, he made sure not to step on the flowers. What was he doing here? As he walked he saw a figure bent over the white flowers, singing lightly.
Approaching the figure with caution, he froze when he saw the woman had beautiful chestnut hair. It looked so familiar, rapidly approaching the person, he stopped behind her. Could she be? "Excuse me?" Eragon asked tentatively.
The woman glanced up and he was shell shocked to see that it was his mother, but much younger. It was as if she'd gone back in time fourteen years or so. "Yes? Do I know you?" she asked kindly buy cautiously.
He frowned, of course she knew him. He was her son after all. "It's me, mother. Eragon, your son."
Her expression became one of confusion as she stared up at him, her hands stilled over the flower that she was caressing at the moment. "Eragon?" her brown eyes gleamed with concentration. "I do not have a son by the name of Eragon. My only son is Murtagh."
Shock overwhelmed him for a moment as he stared at her and eventually, he felt a deep ache in his heart form. How could that be? His mother always recognized him, no matter how different he looked or sounded. But how could she say that now? "Don't you remember me? I'm yours and Brom's son, Eragon Shadeslayer."
She shook her head, standing to look at him, her expression returning to one of kindness. "I'm afraid that I'm sorry to say this to you Eragon, but I'm not your mother. You must've mistaken me with another. My only son with Brom is Murtagh."
"No!" Eragon argued, trying to keep his panic at bay, "Murtagh is Morzan's son!"
"Morzan's? Good lord, no," her lips curled into a frown. "You must be confusing me, really."
Eragon shook his head, he always recognized his mother. No matter what age she was at. He was sure of it. "I'm your son; I've lived with you for all of my life in Uru'baen under Galbatorix. Together we've lived there for a good amount of years before you left for the Varden and I followed you. Can't you remember?"
"I've never lived in Uru'baen. I've lived in Carvahall my entire life," his mother answered.
He stared at her dismayed. How could that be? That was impossible. Feeling sadness grip him, he tried to keep his pain at bay. This couldn't be real. As he stood there rooted to the spot, his mother held a white lily out to him. "I'm sorry if I've wounded you but I speak the truth, Eragon Shadeslayer."
He accepted the flower, though reluctantly, "It's beautiful," he murmured miserably.
She nodded, "They are my favorite."
He nodded, about to let the statement pass before he took in the sight of the flower again. It was a lily; his mother's favorite flower was not a lily. Glancing at her, he studied her for a long while. Looking past her smile and kind expression, his hand clutching the flower tightened. "You're wrong."
"Pardon me?"
"My mother, Selena, her favorite flower is not a lily but a white rose," Eragon said gaining strength as he began to realize the situation at hand. "And she would always recognize me as her son, Eragon Shadeslayer. You are not her."
She stared at him for a moment, and then to his shock she began to fade away into a black dust as well as the flower within his hand. Within moments, he found himself standing in the dark abyss again. Claiming his heart, he took in a deep breath. That was a heart wrenching experience. Shaking his head, he knew that the voice was waiting for him to prepare himself again.
I'm ready.
Without responding his surrounding shifted again and this time he found himself standing in at the base of a mountain. There was no one else in sight. A roar sounded and he felt himself tense as he saw a large figure dive forward from the sky, diving towards where he stood. Jumping backwards, he was surprised to find that it was Saphira who was before him and strapped in the saddle was Murtagh.
"Murtagh? What are you doing?" Eragon asked as he glanced at his brother.
His older brother glanced at him for a moment, his face showing his curiosity. "Do I know you?"
Like the first time, he felt confusion overwhelm him; they were brothers, weren't they? "You and I are brothers."
Murtagh stared at him for a moment before laughing, "If you were my brother, I would know. But you aren't. The only sibling I have is my cousin, Roran. I'm afraid I do not know who you are, traveler."
"Traveler?" he felt insulted. He was not a traveler. "Where's Thorn?"
"Thorn?" Murtagh laughed again. "I do not know of who this Thorn is."
"Of course you do, Thorn is your dragon."
This sent more laughter into Murtagh as his older brother stared down at him, "No, my dragon is Saphira. Can't you see that?"
Words seem to leave him as he though hard on the fact that Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's. Half of his mind knew that this wasn't real but the other half couldn't seem to shake the cold sweat that seemed to settle over him. "That's not true, Saphira is my bonded dragon. Thorn is yours."
His brother didn't answer but stared down at him with a smile. "You are delusion, friend. Saphira has been by my side since she'd hatched for me near the clearing that I've found her in near Carvahall."
"No, she hatched for me when I found her egg in Galbatorix's castle in Uru'baen on my twelfth birthday," said Eragon slowly but surely. He did not lose his memory, he knew for a fact that he didn't. Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's.
Saphira lifted her head to stare at him before slowly shaking it from side to side. As she did so, he smelt a rather odd scent coming from her. It was not her usual scent of fireweed and another pleasant odor he couldn't place. This scent was much different. Scrunching up his nose, his mind made the connection. She was Saphira and he wasn't Murtagh.
As soon as the thoughts formed in his mind, he found himself standing in the dark void again. He blinked unable to place how he had gotten there at the moment. Where was he again? After a moment of thinking it came back to him, he was where the voice had brought him. That was odd…why couldn't he remember that when he was facing Saphira and Murtagh?
Because I'd suppressed that memory.
Why?
If you knew what you were facing wasn't real than you would lose the will to face your ultimate fears, the voice spoke. Eragon nodded following his logic. There is only one more challenge that you have left to face.
Steeling his will, he took in a deep breath not even sure if breathing mattered where he was. Let us be done with it then.
The sound of birds trilling met his ears as he found himself standing in a verdant clearing. Was this Du Weldenvarden? It certainly looked like it. Tentatively approaching the trees, he froze when he heard the sound of singing. Where was that?
Following the beautiful voice with his acute hearing, he made sure not to trip over the roots of the trees that rested on the forest ground. The more he walked, the closer the singing sounded before he emerged into another clearing in which he found standing in the middle dressed in her usual leather clothing, Arya.
Eragon opened his mouth to call her name, but another voice spoke first. "Arya!" His eyes turned and emerging from the opposite end of the clearing was a male elf. He was young and slender, with a slim but powerful build. His hair was dark and his sapphire eyes bright. He was a fair elf, Eragon thought as he watched as the elf approached Arya, his feet seemingly barely touching the ground. Could that be?
"Faolin," Arya replied with a smile that he had rarely seen on her expression. It was beautiful for it hid nothing, all of her happiness could be seen on the surface. Faolin…that was impossible, he died! As he stood there waiting, his eyes widened in surprise as he watched the male elf approach Arya and then he did something that made his heart stop. He bent down and very lightly, kissed her.
He'd been furious in his life before. There was no doubt about it. But the rage that gripped him as he watched the scene before him unfold was so powerful; it made him want to burn the entire forest down. Unable to watch anymore, he strode forward into the clearing his feet crunching the dry bark beneath his boots, alerting them to his presence.
The two of them instantly turned, pulling hidden daggers from their sides, crouching with the intent to attack. He stopped a good ten feet before them. Faolin stared at him with hostile eyes but it was Arya he was focused on. Her emerald eyes were narrowed and her brows slanted, giving her a dangerous look. After a moment, she spoke, "Who are you?" Her voice rang with a warning; daring him to make a move that she would make his regret.
He frowned, did she not remember him? It was impossible! Keeping his anger at bay, he took another step forward stopping when she raised her dagger slightly. He heeded her warning. "Eragon Shadeslayer," Eragon said watching to see if his name would make any difference. It didn't. Her posture did not relax like he'd expected it to but instead she continued to watch him with a hostile and distrusting expression.
Trying not to let her reaction upset him, he glanced around for Eridor. Maybe he was nearby and could tell him what was wrong with Arya. A minute passed and he still couldn't spot the dragon. "Where is Eridor?" Eragon asked her.
Her lips thinned as she considered him for a moment, "Who is Eridor?"
That wasn't right, Arya would never forget about Eridor. And he was sure she would never forget about him either. They were mates, a bonded pair. But why hadn't she seen that he was Eragon? "Are you feeling well, Arya?" Eragon asked as he took another tentative step towards her.
"Do not come closer," this time it was Faolin who spoke, his eyes displaying an intense expression. Eragon's frown deepened as he stopped mid-step, staring at the elf. Who was he to tell him what to do?
"I do not know who you are but I warn you that if you do not leave, I will not falter in my attacks," Arya warned. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest. She still couldn't recognize him. Why? He didn't understand. What had he done? He reached out towards her, hesitating as he thought of her and Faolin. Was she happy? Unable to think of anything, he sighed tiredly rubbing his face. He didn't know how he'd gotten here but since he was standing before her, he wasn't going to back down.
Moving forward, he saw Faolin move slightly from the corner of his eyes and instinctively jumped back nearly missing a stab to his side. Gathering his anger from before, he waited for another stab to follow. It did within seconds. Faster than Faolin, he reached out and gripped the elf's wrist as he twisted his body away from the dagger letting it pass through air. As he twisted, he brought his foot up and roughly kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backwards into a tree and knocking him unconscious.
Good, with him out of the way, Eragon could speak freely to Arya now. When he turned back to her, he blinked when he couldn't find her. Where had she gone? His question was answered when he heard movement to his left. Turning, he brought up a hand to grab her arm when it went swinging down on him, the tip of the dagger gleaming in the light of the sun. Holding her there, he felt pain slowly build up in him. Why was she doing this? Did she really intend to kill him? "Why are you doing this Arya?"
Then to his surprise, she growled. Never had he heard such a sound from her. Unsettled, he grunted when she twisted and elbowed him roughly in the side of his head. Losing his grip on her, she shook herself free before coming at him again. Refusing to hurt her, he remained on the defense until an opening could present itself to him as she attacked him.
Shuffling his feet backwards, he waited as she went to stab his waist, her left side unguarded. Immediately, he moved in and gripped both her hands. He twisted the knife from her right hand but she refused to admit defeat, trying to use her leg to unbalance him. Eragon didn't want to resort to throwing her to the ground but that was his only choice. As he did so, he hurriedly moved to grab her hands to still them in his iron grip and with his own legs, he pinned hers to the ground.
She twisted underneath him but was unable to free herself. "Arya, calm yourself. Can't you remember who I am?"
Her emerald eyes burned as they gazed up at him, "I've never once set my eyes on you."
He stared down at her, how was that possible? "You're lying."
"I've not." Her words came out in the ancient language, harsh and biting. He stared down at her for a moment. She'd spoke the truth. Momentarily stunned, he stared at her, his eyes catching sight of something. Her eyes weren't the dark emerald that he'd come to love but instead a light emerald. As he stared at her, he felt the answer come to him. She wasn't his Arya.
Again, he found himself standing in the dark void, his heart pounding from the last encounter. That was by far the most heart wrenching. Am I done?
You are.
Then what do I do now?
The voice did not answer him but instead a different one sounded. "Don't let him win, Eragon." It was Arya's voice. It sounded strained and far away. "You're stronger than that. I know you are."
His heart pounded in his chest as he circled the spot where he stood. Where was she? Was she here? It is time for you to return to your mind and body, Eragon. No, wait! Arya was calling for him. But before he could do anything else, he felt a tug on his limbs and then the familiar sensation of falling washed over him again.
What was going on?
Her voice didn't reach him until he felt as if a century had passed since he'd last heard her. "Eragon!" she sounded muffled to him, but he heard her. . "You have to fight it Eragon! You've told me that one day you would find it within yourself to live. But to do so you can't let Asura defeat you. You have to wake up!"
Wake up? He gritted his teeth, trying to will his eyes to open. It was too difficult. . "We still have to march to Uru'baen. We still have to defeat Galbatorix. Your wish is to have revenge against him, is it not? Eragon you must focus and reclaim what was yours!"
That was right; he still had to take his revenge on Galbatorix. He wasn't afraid, not anymore but what would that matter if he died right then and there? Feeling a strong feeling of determination wash up within him, he felt his fingers twitch light and his legs stiffen. Fight. He had to fight Asura. He had to fight his own darkness.
He was a fool to suspect such foolish thoughts. His mother would never abandon him for Murtagh. Saphira would always stay by his side and Murtagh, no matter how foolish he was, was there to help him. And Arya…he loved her. With every fiber in his being. He loved her and he knew that she was content and happy with being with him.
She spoke again and this time, her voice was strong and clear, ringing forth from the darkness. "Return to us, Eragon. Your mother is waiting for you. Brom, Murtagh, Saphira, and all who care about you are waiting for you." Wait for me…
"I am waiting for you."
Breaking from the darkness that seemed to encase, him he saw the dim light waiting for him and reached for it.
Gasping, he groaned at the immense pain that his mind felt. Where was he? Letting his eyes travel about him, he found himself standing once again on the dirt covered ground where they were fighting. What was going on?
Lying about fifty yards away, he saw Arya and the others trapped against the ground, help in what seemed to be the confining grips of claws fashioned from dirt.
Bard's shout caught his attention, "My lord!"
Turning his eyes to his servant, he tried to keep the pain at bay as Asura tried to batter him into submission to gain control of his body once more. He wasn't going to let him. With all of his might, he tried to subdue the spirit if only for a moment to keep him at bay.
"No," when he spoke his voice was his as well as Asura's voice. Each fighting to be heard over the other, but it was Eragon who won the battle. If only momentarily. "The four of you—have to—do it now!" His body shook with effort. Any moment and he was going to lose to Asura once more. "Don't falter!"
Bard nodded, turning his head to Rosalie. "Now Rosalie, this is our only chance!"
The redheaded woman stood, retrieving Zar'roc from where it laid on the ground, holding it out towards Eragon. Her face was set and determined. She raised her hand and threw Zar'roc at Eragon as he stood slightly hunched. He heard shouts of dismay, Arya's and Murtagh's were the ones that tore at his heart. But he must, there was no other way. The red blade sliced through the air and tore through the wards the Asura had set about himself. A loud squelch met his ears as he felt the cool blade of Zar'roc tear through his chest before reappearing through the middle of his back.
Almost immediately, the pain seemed to double in his head, nearly incapacitating him. Clutching at the pommel of Zar'roc with shaky fingers, an unearthly roar tore from Eragon's mouth, the earth shaking below them with such a tremendous power it was unnatural. Gusts of winds whirled about them. After a moment, everything fell silent again.
His vision flashing red and black before him, he felt his chest burn and his throat constrict before he coughed spewing blood from his lips. Am I dying? The wound that Zar'roc inflicted on him was bleeding profusely. Swaying for a moment, he was unable to stop his own fall as he fell to the ground, a sudden coldness washing over his limbs, his vision blurring.
Vaguely he heard Arya's cry which was filled with such agony, fear, and grief, he wanted to reach out to soothe her. But he didn't have the energy to barely keep his eyes open for some reason. The echoes of her cry sounded dimly in his mind as he stared up at the open blue sky.
"Eragon!"
Did you all like it? I wanted to give you guys the perspective of the enternal mindset of Eragon at the moment but this isn't the actual mental conflict between him and Asura. That would be the next chapter I think. Or maybe the one after that. Besides that do review (oh, and what's the deal with coolio? lol) and I'll have the next chapter posted as soon as I think it's worthy enough for you all to read.