Chapter 10: His Affliction.

Hedin, Trihga, Ama, Ekksvar, Durhmer, Shrrgnien and Throv, who he had met earlier, were the names of his seven guards, each one was fuck near unpronounceable but Eragon made his best effort and often completely ruined the word. The guards, at least, got a laugh out of that.

Each raft had a small cabin in the centre, but Eragon preferred to spend his time with his legs crossed before the edge of the raft, on his back, staring up at the sky.

"Beautiful place" he said when Orik sat down beside him. And it truly was, Kingfishers and Jackdaws flitted along the clear rive, while blue herons stood stilt like on the marshy bank which was planked with splotches of light that fell through the boughs of hazel, beech and willow. Occasionally a bull frog would croak from a bed of ferns.

"That it is" agreed the dwarf, lighting his pipe.

The raft creaked with the sound of wood and rope as Trihga steered the raft with the long paddle at the back.

"Hey, Orik?" he said after a few moments.

"Aye, brother?"

"Who was Brom?" the question had plagued him mind for... well not for long really, but once he had found that thought he couldn't let it go "I know he was a rider, I know he killed Morzan, but other than that nothing. Most of my life he was just a storyteller. I don't even know why he joined the Varden."

"He never joined the Varden" Orik said incredulously "He helped found it" he tapped some ashes from his pipe into the river "After Galbatorix became king, Brom was the only rider left alive, aside from the Forsworn."

"Not a rider, his dragon was dead" Eragon said numbly.

"Well, Rider by training. Brom organised friends and allies of the Dragon Riders who had been driven into exile. It was he who convinced Hrothgar to house the Varden in Farthen Dur, and it was he who obtained the elves assistance."

"So why didn't he lead the Varden?"

"Perhaps he never wanted leadership" Orik shook his head "It was before Hrothgar adopted me so I know little about it. Brom was rarely in Tronjheim, he was always engaged in some plot or another, fighting the Forsworn and the like."

Eragon listened to all of it, but one thing stuck him more than all "Adopted? So you parents are..."

"Aye, they're dead. Pox took them when I was young, and Hrothgar was kind enough to welcome me into his hall and, since he had no children of his own, make me his heir."

"Heir? Does that mean that one day you will be leader of Durgrimst Ingeitum" Orik nodded "Well, don't think I'll bow to you either, brother."

That got the dwarf to chuckle deeply "I don't expect it brother."

But that conversation had been hours ago and now it was twilight, the dwarves had hung round red lanterns on each corner of the rafts, red to preserve night vision, if Eragon had heard right.

Eragon walked to beside Arya and joined her in studying the lanterns pure and motionless depths.

"You know how these are made?" he asked tapping it gently.

"It is a spell we gave to the dwarves long ago. They use it with great skill."

"That they do" Eragon agreed pulling his hand away. They remained, watching the lantern, for many moments before Eragon broke his gaze from it and scratched his chin, feeling the stubble that was begging to grow 'Maybe I'll grow a beard' he considered before turning to look at Arya "Whilst we travel, will you teach me more of the ancient language?"

She looked at him, her balance perfect on the logs which swayed with the motions of the river "It is not my place. A teacher waits for you in Ellesmera."

"Really? A teacher?" Eragon paused and their eyes met "Who?" the elf remained silent, even beneath his crimson gaze "I see" he grinned darkly, but it faded, so quickly Arya wasn't certain she had seen it in the first place "I doubt they'd mind, you know, if I was a bit more literate in the ancient language" he told her, turning back to the lantern.

"It is not my place" she repeated.

"So you said... tell me this at least, what does Zar'roc mean?"

"Misery" Arya's voice became very quiet, as if afraid of telling him, or not wanting to "Your sword is misery. As it was, until you wielded it."

Eragon drew the wine red blade, Arya tensed "It still is, Misery, to all who oppose me" he didn't care that it had originally belonged to Morzan, Galbatorix's right hand, nor that it had carved open Murtagh's back, nor that it had no doubt killed countless dragons and their riders.

Brom had given it to him, and that was enough for Eragon.

He grinned over to Arya as he sheathed the sword "Thanks" he said, right before jumping into the water with a great splash.

He swan over to Saphira, noticing that the elf hadn't made a single complaint, despite the fact that he had definitely splashed her, after all that had been his intention 'Oh well, let's fly Saphy.'

She roared as he scrambled up onto her back, using her back spikes to climb up, and shot from the water the second he was half ready with powerful wing beats.

Eragon gripped his dragon with his knees, her hard scales rubbing against the scars, still there from his first flight, and his hands held the spike in front of him, just managing to hold him on as she flew this way and that, almost uncaring if her rider was thrown off or not.

'What are they?' he asked her as they flew, pointing out to three birds, he assumed they were birds, in the distance. At first he thought them falcons, but closer now he saw that they had attenuated tails, leathery wings, and were almost twenty foot long. He thought they were pretty close falcons, in his defence.

They looked rather like dragons in fact, though with slimmer, more serpentine bodies than Saphira, who was Eragon's only reference on what dragons looked like in the flesh. Nor did their scales glitter but were dappled green and brown.

'I don't know' Saphira answered, equally curious, as they approached.

Eragon reached out with his mind and touched theirs, gently.

They recoiled as he did so, their maws opened and a great, piercing shriek was emitted, not only from their mouths, but their minds also.

With a barely controlled thought Eragon tore through whatever mental defences they had and had them completely dominated through his mind, in just under three seconds.

'Honestly, I could have fought them off but noooooo, you had to go and tear apart their minds didn't you?' Saphira muttered angrily.

Eragon rolled his eyes 'You want to fight them? Then go ahead' he slipped off of Saphira's back and sped downwards, but he gave her no time to rescue him as he set the winged creatures on her, ordering them to attack with no holds barred, they would kill her if they could.

Eragon shot to the ground at incredible speeds, it still picking up as he plummeted, angling himself towards the river below.

He shifted in the air, so that he would pierce the water rather than smack into it head on, the force of his drop carrying him deep under the water level and splitting the surface in an almighty splash.

'Having fun up there?' he called to Saphira as he surfaced, seeing that one of the creatures was toasted and Saphira out flew the others with ease.

She kicked one of them in the chest with her clawed appendage and with a mighty roar the other fled, survival instincts kicking in over Eragon's will. He could have forced it to continue of course, but didn't bother, this had been Saphira's victory.

'That was fun' she told him cheerfully, swooping down and landing in the river near him, nearly sending him to the other shore in the wave of her landing. The rafts were a small ways behind them.

As they approached the rafts Orik shouted "Are you two hurt?"

Eragon just laughed "We're fine Orik" he said, pulling himself from the river, water dripping from his clothing and hair "They another species unique to the Beors, cause I sure as hell ain't ever seen 'em before?"

Orik cracked a smile at the riders cheer "We call them Fanghur, they're not as intelligent as dragons, and can't breathe fire, but formidable opponents they are still."

"Not for my Saphira they aren't, are they babe?" he asked rhetorically, grinning at the dragon who in turned lifted a lip, revealing a long row of sharp teeth, her way of grinning back "Good hunting method though" he said, rubbing his temples to try and ease the ache, that first attack had been unexpected and painful "Immobilizing their prey with their mind, I'll have to remember that."

"I'm glad you did not kill them" Arya walked to the edge of the raft to stand near them "They are rare enough that those three would have been missed."

'What she doesn't know of course, is that those three sods will never be quite the same again, given that I ripped apart their craniums. By the way, check out this' he sent Saphira a few aerial combat tactics that the Fanghur used, often against each other, that he had glimpsed 'And I've got more.'

"They still manage to eat enough of our flocks" grumbled Throv, stomping from the cabin and twisting his beard in his hands, a sign of nervousness or stress if Eragon understood dwarves properly "Do not fly anymore in these mountains, Shadeslayer. It is hard enough to keep you safe without you fighting wind vipers."

'You know that's not a bad idea...' said Saphira, more to herself than to Eragon.

"We'll stay on the ground until we reach the plains" he promised 'What isn't?'

'Well, we could look into the minds of birds, both prey and predator, and look at their manoeuvres and learn things from them' Eragon cocked an eyebrow at her 'Think about it' she pressed on 'a fight between a flacon and a sparrow isn't that different than a fight between me and Shruikan.'

Eragon nodded not looking too convinced 'They don't have four feet, don't breath fire, and don't have riders' Saphira grumbled, annoyed at her idea being put down so quickly 'It is a good idea though.'

She looked up proudly 'I know.'

The next morning found Eragon wanting Ascudgamln, or Fists of Steel, which were metal sockets drilled into the knuckles in which various shapes and styles of studs could be placed. Shrrgnien had a set and Eragon had asked him about them last night and now he wanted some, despite Orik's warning that the drill could go too deep and paralyze his hands.

During the night he had even found the courage to scry Roran, and instead of finding a maggot infested corpse or him burning at the stake he was instead just sitting in Horst's house, looking a bit worse for wear, but mostly fine though grappling with a problem.

However, the oddest thing was that, instead of going on and on about getting Ascudgamln, which was really hard to say by the way, he sat on the edge of the raft, his face blank his eyes shadowed by his hair.

It was because of this that Arya approached and stood next to him "Are you alright?" she asked quietly, unnerved by his almost sombre face.

Eragon glanced to her, then shot a glance to the dwarves, most were commanding the barge, but at least one was close to the pair, close enough to hear. Arya's own eyes flicked between Eragon then to the dwarf, then back to Eragon.

Crimson eyes were turned to the water, reflecting horror in the river "Eka eddry neiat" she blinked, surprised both as his use of the ancient language and at his honest 'I am not' which was what he had just said, only translated.

"What troubles you?" she asked, setting herself down next to him and switching to the ancient language herself, understanding his desire for privacy.

"I... had a dream" he started "One that terrified me" his use of the language was stumbling, using spells was one thing, this was quite different. It was like how, when learning a new language, one learned phrases to aid them, useful and generally used phrases, but if, with just a few phrases, one was expected to speak fluently well... it wouldn't be, and wasn't, pretty.

"Do you wish to tell me about it?" she kept her gaze locked on him. He sat hunched over the edge, his hair hanging low, blocking his sight, but he didn't seem to care, or at least, didn't brush it aside.

"I... yes."

Once again she blinked, but nodded, taking note of how pale he looked, he had always been pale, true, ever since she had met him, but today he looked deathly so "Then please do so."

It took him several moments to start speaking "I saw... the sky. But it was black and crimson with smoke, crows and eagles swirled above arrows that arched from one side to another of a great battle" his words were shaky and fragmented, often he had to use other words to describe the word he wanted to use, but overall it wasn't so bad, for someone only half literate in that language "And I saw a man, sprawled in clotted mud, with a dented helm and bloody mail, his face obscured by an arm he had thrown in front of it... and then..." he flatered.

Arya touched his arm lightly, spurring him onwards.

"There was an armoured hand" he continued "The gauntlet was so close that it blotted out half the world. The thumb and last three fingers curled into a fist, the index finger was left to point at the down man with all the authority of fate itself..."

It was a strange way of telling it, almost like a description in a tale, clearly the dream had haunted him. But as he spoke in the ancient language he spoke no lies, so everything he said was, to him, exactly as he said it.

Eragon pulled himself closer together, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"It was like when I scryed you in Gilead..."

"I do not believe you scryed me" she said gently, afraid that is she spoke to harshly he would break "I thought about it for a long time. And I believe that, as I lay unconscious in Gilead, my mind sought aid, wherever I might find it."

He gave her a sideways glance "Drugged, and unconscious, you really believe you're strong enough to contact someone in Teirm from Gilead? And why me? You hadn't even met me by then."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips "I grew accustomed to Saphira's presence during the fifteen years I guarded her egg. I believe I reached out for any that felt familiar when I touched your dreams. Also, I could stand on the gates of Vroengard and still speak with you as clearly as I am now."

Eragon eyed her a moment, re-evaluating his opinion of her, a little bit, then said slowly "It was crystal clear, as if I was really there. I could smell the mud, hear the cries, feel the pain, and practically taste the blood" he met her eyes "It was not a dream."

"Perhaps not" she conceded not leaving his gaze "It could have been a premonition" she finally looked away, staring down into the water "They have been known to occur throughout the sentient races, but especially among magic users."

"A premonition, a prediction of the future?" she nodded "So what I saw will come to pass, regardless" he stood "if I threw myself of the raft night now and drowned it would still happen?"

"You won't" she told him dipping a tawny finger into the cool liquid and letting a single droplet rest on the tip of her finger "Once, long ago, the elf Maerzadi had a premonition that he would accidently kill his own son in battle. Rather than live to see it happen, he committed suicide."

Eragon sat back down, not relaxing.

"He saved his son, and proved that the future isn't set. However, short of death there is little one can do little to change destiny, since you don't know what choices will lead you to that particular point of time you saw."

He nodded in acceptance "Thank you. I have another question though" she nodded "I've seen all that happens in my memories, so can I scry them."

"If you value your life, never attempt it. The elves once tried, all they summoned was blurred image, then the spell consumed their energy and killed them. Even so, the ability to scry the past would be of limited use, and to scry the future one would have to know exactly when, where and what was going to happen, which would defeat the purpose."

"It's strange, people can do unconscious what has escaped even the elves" Eragon sighed and dropped a hand into the river, letting it drag through the cool water.

"It is. Some believe premonitions are linked to the very nature and fabric of magic, or that they function somewhat like dragons' ancestral memories. It is currently unknown. Many avenues of magic have yet to be explored" she placed a hand gently on his shoulder "Take care not to lose yourself among them."

"Thanks" he said as she stood and left.

His twin swords danced around him, red and silver, often only avoiding cutting through Eragon himself by a few millimetres.

Arya, Orik and Thorv watched him, but he ignored them focused on his imaginary battle, he flicked Durza's sword, up into the air and switched Zar'roc from his right to his left hand, then deftly caught the silver blade.

Together Eragon and Durza's sword and Zar'roc sliced through numerous imaginary enemies, ranging from Kull, to dragons, to humans.

When it happened...

Words were breathed into his ear, less than a whisper yet sounded like a scream.

'You cannot escape me' the haunting voice that sounded like a thousand people speaking at once, was the undeniable voice of Legion.

Pain arched up his back, and both Zar'roc and Durza's sword were dropped to ground whilst Eragon screamed in pain.

He felt strong hand grip his shoulder and someone shout at him, but couldn't hear them over the screams of Legion who matched Eragon's own screams,

"Eragon" the pain started to subside "Eragon, are you alright, what's going on?"

Eragon slapped away Orik's hand, and stood pain still arching up his back.

Orik watched him carefully "Are you okay?"

Ignoring him Eragon stripped of his tunic, noticing the huge blood stain on the back of said tunic, and stuffed it into his belt, to keep free his hands. He reached round and touched the scar that had opened on his back.

"Barzul" Orik cursed seeing the opened flesh.

Arya also stood nearby, but none of them held Eragon's attention as his bloodied hands gripped into his hair.

He could still hear them, the murderous screams of Legion, or rather of the spirits that formed Legion, each shouting at him to slaughter and torture.

Then, as one screamed about the simple word 'Kill' they all quieted, then started chanting the word, following a beat only they could hear.

Eragon felt his head start to nod the beat of their chant, but stopped it.

"This is a bad wound, Shadeslayer, could you not heal it elf?" asked Orik, his voice blotting out Legion's chants.

"I could" said Arya looking at Eragon nervously.

"Leave it" he told her, despite her not making a move "It's fine, it'll heal soon enough."

"Eragon, your back is half opened, you've lost a lot of blood, how can that be fine?" demanded Orik.

"Because I say it is" Eragon turned his crimson gaze down on Orik, glaring at him with all his formidable might.

Another slice of pain ripped down his spine, and Eragon's hands lashed at the wound, it didn't really help.

Eragon stomped off into his tent, ignoring Orik's call and carefully sealed the scar, wiping blood away with his already bloodied tunic.

When he turned around it was to find Arya watching him carefully from the entrance.

"Are you alright?"

"No" he answered coldly.

"Can I help?"

"No."

Arya frowned in concern "Eragon, what happened, you gripped your head, like when..."

Eragon scowled remembering the time in the library "Yes, it was just like then."

"What happened... then?"

A cruel sneer twisted his face and Eragon moved to stand close to her, keeping but a few inches between them "You really want to know?"

She nodded, briefly and sharply.

"I heard them" he said, coming even closer to her, to the point where on a thin veil of air separated their lips "I heard Legion" Arya flinched as the words passed his lips "They spoke to me, taunted me, encouraged me, degraded me and complimented me, all at the same time. The Legion has gained a voice."

She shivered when he stepped away.

"Just get out, I don't need this right now" he told her turning his back, after two moments she nodded and left.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to lash out and burn everything to ashes and then burn the ashes, it took him an incredible amount of self-control, and Saphira's comforting presence, to stop him.

It was a few hours later that he finally left his tent in a fresh tunic, his back still panging every once in a while.

"Is there food left?" Eragon asked, his voice cold.

Duthmer wordlessly filled a bowl and handed it to him.

Thorv looked at him with a deferential expression "Are you better now, Shadeslayer?"

Eragon scowled "I'm fine."

"You bear a heavy burden, Shadeslayer."

As that was said Eragon had already started walking away. He didn't need pity, and certainly not theirs, this was his and he didn't need some stupid fucking dwarves feeling sorry for him.

He sat in the darkness beyond the tents, his grip on the bowl tight... and then too tight as the bowl cracked beneath his palm, the burning liquid searing his fingers. Eragon tossed the remnants at the ground.

"You should not treat them so" said Orik, walking up behind him.

Eragon didn't grace that with a reply.

"Thorv and his men were sent to protect you, and Saphira. They will die for you if need be and trust their sacred burial to you. You should remember that."

"I don't need their protection" Eragon growled.

Orik sat across from his, looking sombre, if not sad "Perhaps not."

They sat in silence, Eragon glowering at the ground.

"A lesson every commander must learn Eragon" Orik finally broke the silence "Is to not to lose their temper. I had it beaten into me by Hrothgar, after I threw my boot at a dwarf who left his halberd where someone could step on it" Orik chuckled to himself "Broke his nose."

"I'm not a commander" Eragon voice had calmed, somewhat, but it still held a vile edge.

"You might not think yourself one, you might not be good as one, but you are one, whether you will it so or not" Orik smiled at him sadly "Here" he pulled something from his pouch with a metallic jangle and offered Eragon a knot of intertwined gold rings.

Eragon glared at it but took it, staring at the metal in his palm.

"It is a puzzle we use to test cleverness and dexterity" Eragon had already started fiddling with the bands "There are eight bands. If you can arrange them properly they form a single ring" Orik nearly laughed at the focused expression on Eragon's face "I've found it useful for distracting myself when I'm troubled."

Orik was utterly ignored, Eragon fascinated at the puzzle.

"You can keep it if you can put it..." just as he said 'it' the bands slid into bald and a gold ring was left in Eragon's fingers "...together..." Orik shook his head with a smile "You know, somehow I thought you'd do that."

Eragon slid the ring onto his fingers, a smile on his face as he admired his handiwork.

"So how are those bows made?" asked Eragon as Orik returned from hunting with a brace of long necked geese "Before you said they were made of horn, but horn isn't flexible enough for a bow, is it?"

"It's all a matter of knowing what to do with it" Orik said, placing the geese down "First the horn is cut in half, lengthwise, then the outside coiled is trimmed till it's the right thickness. The strip is boiled flat and sanded into the final shape before being fix to the belly of an ash stave with glue made from fish scales and skin from the roof of a trout's mouth. Then the back of the stave is covered in multiple layers of sinew, they give the bow its snap. The last step is decoration. Done normally the process can take up to a decade."

Orik looked at him "You haven't tried firing your own bow yet, huh?"

"You have a dwarven bow?" asked Thorv looking at him in shock.

"It was a gift, from Hrothgar, for his service during the battle of Farthen Dur. Here" he plucked an arrow from his own quiver "You owe me an arrow though."

Eragon retrieved his own bow, which looked fairly peasant compared to Orik's which was finely decorated with vines, flowers, animals and runes, rather than simple lines of gold.

But Eragon preferred his own. It was simpler, there was less to worry about, and it didn't look so fine that it was unusable.

He pulled it back long and hard, testing the exact limits of the bows strength, there was no way he could snap it, not without trying, hard, to do so.

The arrow was loosed and vanished, disappearing into the trees on the other side of the Az Ragni.

Eragon immediately grabbed his magic "Gath sem oro un lam iet" the arrows darted back to his hand "Here, the arrow I owe you."

Orik smiled in delight, embracing his own bow and the arrows "Wonderful! Now I still have an even two dozen. Otherwise, I would have to have had to wait until Hedarth to replenish my stock. Remind me in Hedarth to get you some more arrows" he said, unstringing his bow and storing it away.

Eragon also packed away his bow and asked Arya, seeing her watching them "Your bow's made of wood, how do the elves make them? I used it and I doubt I could've snapped it."

"We sing our bows from trees than do not grow" she said before walking away.

'I get the feeling I've annoyed her' Eragon told Saphira, carefully placing his bow into the leather case.

'Maybe next time you're offensive to someone, you should apologise.'

'I'll remember that, next time.'


Well, see you guys in a month or so, hopefully not six, more hopefully not a year, and really, really hopefully at least again. But seriously this is going to be a while, my interest has moved on and though I still love and cherish Shade I'm not writing it... yeah that's it really, its not that I don't know where I'm going with it, it's not that I don't have a plan for scenes or have gotten bored following Paloni's plot... I'm just not writing it and when I do I write a bit then get bored. Sorry about that.

Guess I'll see you soon. Toodles.