A/N: Ok, the first part of this chapter is a direct excerpt from the book, so its probably a lot better written than my own. I only used this because I didn't really know how to get to or write Helgrind right. To be honest though, I think its a little confusing... too many words i've never heard of so close together.

Disclaimer: I do not intent to profit from this, so if any of you Random House people or Paoini yourself see this I am using this for entertainment purposes and all rights belong to you guys...

Inheritance: Brinsingr

By: David Ingrassia

Light and Shadow

Saphira kneaded the soil beneath her feet. Let us be off! Leaving their bags and supplies hanging from the branch of a juniper tree, Eragon and Roran clambered onto Saphira's back. They wasted no time saddling her; she had worn her tack through the night. The molded leather was warm, almost hot, underneath Eragon. He clutched the neck spike in front of him—to steady himself during sudden changes in direction—while Roran hooked one thick arm around Eragon's waist and brandished his hammer with the other.

A piece of shale cracked under Saphira's weight as she settled into a low crouch and then, in a single giddy bound, leaped up to the rim of the gulch, where she balanced for a moment before unfolding her massive wings. The thin membranes thrummed as Saphira raised them toward the sky. Vertical, they looked like two translucent blue sails.

"Not so tight," grunted Eragon.

"Sorry," said Roran. He loosened his embrace.

Further speech became impossible as Saphira jumped again.

When she reached the pinnacle of her jump, she brought her wings down with a mighty whoosh, driving the three of them even higher. With each subsequent flap, they climbed closer to the flat, narrow clouds that extended east to west.

As Saphira angled toward Helgrind, Eragon glanced to his left and discovered that, because of their elevation, he could see a broad swath of Leona Lake some miles distant. A thick layer of mist, gray and ghostly in the pre-dawn glow, emanated from the water, as if witchfire burned upon the surface of the liquid. Eragon tried, but even with his hawklike vision, he could not make out the far shore, nor the southern reaches of the Spine beyond, which he regretted. He had not laid eyes upon the mountain range of his childhood since leaving Palancar Valley.

To the north stood Dras-Leona, a huge, rambling mass that appeared as a blocky silhouette against the wall of mist that edged its western flank. The one building Eragon could identify was the cathedral where the Ra'zac had attacked him; its flanged spire loomed above the rest of the city, like a barbed spearhead. And somewhere in the landscape that rushed past below, Eragon knew, were the remnants of the campsite where the Ra'zac had mortally wounded Brom. He allowed all of his anger and grief over the events of that day—as well as Garrow's murder and the destruction of their farm—to surge forth and give him the courage, nay, the desire, to face the Ra'zac in combat.

Eragon, said Saphira. Today we need not guard our minds and keep our thoughts secret from one another, do we?

Not unless another magician should appear.

A fan of golden light flared into existence as the top of the sun crested the horizon. In an instant, the full spectrum of colors enlivened the previously drab world: the mist glowed white, the water became a rich blue, the daubed-mud wall that encircled the center of Dras-Leona revealed its dingy yellow sides, the trees cloaked themselves in every shade of green, and the soil blushed red and orange. Helgrind, however, remained as it always was—black.

The mountain of stone rapidly grew larger as they approached. Even from the air, it was intimidating.

Diving toward the base of Helgrind, Saphira tilted so far to her left, Eragon and Roran would have fallen if they had not already strapped their legs to the saddle. Then she whipped around the apron of scree and over the altar where the priests of Helgrind observed their ceremonies. The lip of Eragon's helm caught the wind from her passage and produced a howl that almost deafened him. A great weight seemed to press Eragon into his seat as Saphira pulled out of her dive and spiraled up around Helgrind, searching for an entrance to the Ra'zac's hideout.

Not even a hole big enough for a woodrat, she declared. She slowed and hung in place before a ridge that connected the third lowest of the four peaks to the prominence above. The jagged buttress magnified the boom produced by each stroke of her wings until it was as loud as a thunderclap. Eragon's eyes watered as the air pulsed against his skin.

A web of white veins adorned the backside of the crags and pillars, where hoarfrost had collected in the cracks that furrowed the rock. Nothing else disturbed the gloom of Helgrind's inky, windswept ramparts. No trees grew there among the slanting stones, nor shrubs, nor grass, nor moss, nor lichen, nor did eagles dare nest upon the tower's broken ledges. True to its name, Helgrind was a place of death, and stood cloaked in the razor-sharp, sawtoothed folds of its scarps and clefts like a bony specter risen to haunt the earth.

Casting his mind outward, Eragon confirmed the presence of one of the slaves, as well as the two people whom he had discovered imprisoned within Helgrind the previous day, but to his concern, he could not locate the Ra'zac or the Lethrblaka. If they aren't here, then where? he wondered. Searching again, he noticed something that had eluded him before: a single flower, a gentian, blooming not fifty feet in front of them where, by all rights, there ought to be solid rock. How does it get enough light to live?

Saphira answered his question by perching on a crumbling spur several feet to the right. As she did, she lost her balance for a moment and flared her wings to steady herself. Instead of brushing against the bulk of Helgrind, the tip of her right wing dipped into the rock and then back out again.

Saphira, did you see that!

I did.

Leaning forward, Saphira pushed the tip of her snout toward the sheer rock, paused an inch or two away—as if waiting for a trap to spring—then continued her advance. Scale by scale, Saphira's head slid into Helgrind, until all that was visible of her to Eragon was a neck, torso, and wings.

It's an illusion! exclaimed Saphira.

With a surge of her mighty thews, she abandoned the spur and flung the rest of her body after her head. It required every bit of Eragon's self-control not to cover his face in a desperate bid to protect himself as the crag rushed toward him.

An instant later, he found himself looking at a broad, vaulted cave suffused with the warm glow of morning. Saphira's scales refracted the light, casting thousands of shifting blue flecks across the rock. Twisting around, Eragon saw no wall behind them, only the mouth of the cave and a sweeping view of the landscape beyond.

Eragon grimaced. It had never occurred to him that Galbatorix might have hidden the Ra'zac's lair with magic. Idiot! I have to do better, he thought. Underestimating the king was a sure way to get them all killed.

Roran swore and said, "Warn me before you do something like that again."

Hunching forward, Eragon unbuckled his legs from the saddle as he studied their surroundings, alert for any danger.

The opening to the cave was an irregular oval, perhaps fifty feet high and sixty feet wide. From there, the chamber expanded to twice that size before ending a good bowshot away in a pile of thick stone slabs that leaned against each other in a confusion of uncertain angles. A mat of powder-gray scratches defaced the floor, evidence of the many times the Lethrblaka had taken off, landed, and walked about thereon. Like mysterious keyholes, five low tunnels pierced the sides of the cave, as did a lancet passageway large enough to accommodate Saphira. Eragon examined the tunnels carefully, but they were pitch-black and appeared vacant, a fact he confirmed with quick thrusts of his mind. Strange, disjointed murmurs echoed from within Helgrind's innards, suggesting unknown things scurrying about in the dark, and endlessly dripping water. Adding to the chorus of whispers was the steady rise and fall of Saphira's breathing, which was overloud in the confines of the bare chamber.

The most distinctive feature of the cavern, however, was the mixture of odors that pervaded it. The smell of cold stone dominated, but underneath it, Eragon discerned whiffs of damp and mold and something far worse: the sickly-sweet fetor of rotting meat.

Undoing the last few straps, Eragon swung his right leg over Saphira's spine, so he was sitting sidesaddle, and prepared to jump off her back. Roran did the same on the opposite side.

Before he released his hold, Eragon heard, amid the many rustlings that teased his ear, a score of simultaneous clicks, as if someone had struck the rock with a collection of hammers. The sound repeated itself a half-second later.

He looked in the direction of the noise, as did Saphira.

A huge, twisted shape hurtled out of the lancet passageway. Eyes black, bulging, rimless. A beak seven feet long. Batlike wings. The torso naked, hairless, rippling with muscle. Claws like iron spikes.

Saphira lurched as she tried to evade the Lethrblaka, but to no avail. The creature crashed into her right side with what felt to Eragon like the strength and fury of an avalanche.

What exactly happened next, he knew not, for the impact sent him tumbling through space without so much as a half-formed thought in his jumbled brain. His blind flight ended as abruptly as it began when something hard and flat rammed against the back of him, and he dropped to the floor, banging his head a second time.

That last collision drove the remaining air clean out of Eragon's lungs. Stunned, he lay curled on his side, gasping and struggling to regain a semblance of control over his unresponsive limbs.

Eragon! cried Saphira.

I'll be okay, just protect yourself Saphira!He thought frantically as he desperately tried to force air into his lungs. A few seconds later his head stopped spinning and he saw Saphira crouching like a cat ready to pounce, the Lethrblaka cautiously circling her. It leapt at her again, but Saphira swung her powerful tail and sent the grotesque creature into the far wall with a squeal.

What Eragon forgot about was that Roran had been riding Saphira as well and was nowhere to be seen at the moment. His eyes darted back and forth at the five identical passages searching for any sign of his brother. He knew Roran had foolishly taken off on his own to find his love, but it was a stupid dangerous thing to do. He reached out with his mind and found that he had gone down the closest one.

Another thing Eragon failed to notice was the black shadowy figure slowly, sealthfully as a panther on a hunt, made its way to his rear. If not for his enhanced senses Eragon would not have heard the distinctive shink of a knife being unsheathed he would never have seen his death coming. With expert precision and speed Eragon drew his blade, spun around, and blocked the Ra'zac's attack all in a single motion.

His opponent jumped back and Eragon noticed its blade dripping some liquid. Poison... I can't let it even scratch me.It lunged again, hell bent on skewering the rider. Eragon blocked again but the creature moved with inhuman speed and slowly but surely the young rider found himself being pushed back towards where Saphira and the Lethrblaka were fighting.

Saphira was becoming enraged. Her opponent moved like a snake, avoiding almost every attack. She roared as a fount of blue flames erupted from her great maw. The scraggly creature screeched as it took off, narrowly missing being engulfed by the savage attack. Saphira took to the air as well, and began trying to eviscerate it with her claws. Eragon, I have no room to move in here. Can you handle that thing on your own?

Yes, I think so...

Good, I'll return when this hideous beast is no more. With that she darted to the exit of the cavern and into the open expanse of the sky. She found though that the Lethrblaka was just as skilled a flyer as she was. It came at her with lightning speed and she dodged, but the Lethrblaka managed to sink its claws into her thigh. A painful bellow escaped her as she turned and sent a torrent of flames at the bat-like creature. This time she kept the flames going even as she flew, her rage fueling the attack so much so that it was all the Lethrblaka could do to to avoid her attack.

Again and again the Ra'zac blocked his attacks. The sword he had taken from the camp becoming unusually heavy in his hand. Eragon wouldn't relent though and struck again, only to have it blocked again. The attack was so vicious though, that it forced the Ra'zac to move its head back in such a way that its hood fell loose and Eragon saw its beetle-like carapace for the first time. They're not even remotely human. It moves so fast and no wonder it doesn't bleed when i scratch it... its got armor as skin.

Just then Eragon rememered something. He felt like smacking himself on the head for being so forgetful. They can't use magic."Brinsingr!" He shouted as blue flame shot from his gedwey ignasia. If the Ra'zac's face would have been capable of showing emotion it would have been shocked. The flame sruck the creatures shoulder and it shreiked almost as loud one of the Lethrblaka.

A cruel smile rose on Eragon's lips as he saw the pain in its face. To its credit, the Ra'zac lunged at Eragon once more. Eragon sidestepped and not stopping to worry about the right spell he let another burst of flame erupt from his palm. This one hit it from behind and it fell to the floor. "This is for Garrow!" Eragon yelled. Weaving together words in the Ancient Language he cast another fire spell, intent on causing as much pain as it had done to his uncle. The flames surrounded the hideous creature in a whirlwind and began to collapse against itself. As the Ra'zac was engulfed in the unnatrual flames it screeched so loud that many of the rocks in the cave shattered. When the fire finally collapsed onto itself nothing remained of the Ra'zac, not even ash.

Just then a sharp pain coursed along his side. SAPHIRA!! Eragon dashed to the exit and saw his beloved partner careening out of the sky, a large visisble gash on her side. The Letherblaka didn't look any better. Sickly burns covered good portions of its body and there were bite marks everywhere.

Eragon... it hurts like fire. I can't fight it any longer. I need to rest... Eragon heard the thud of her landing from where he was standing. Enraged he notched an arrow into his bow. With an animalistic shout he sent it soaring at the creature. Using magic to guide it the arrow pierced the Letherblaka's chest. It let out a shriek of pain but was not fatally injured; at least not yet. "BRINSINGR!" Eragon shouted and the arrow erupted in flame. The creature burned from the inside out, crying out in agony as it litterally exploded in the sky.

Saphira where are you?

I'm hidden in another alcove hidden by this illusion. I am safe. She knew Eragon so well that she didn't even wait for him to ask. I will be okay Eragon, go find your brother...

Thank you Saphira. I promise I'll be safe and I'll heal you when I get back. He sensed her agreement even though no words were exchanged.

Roran was thrown violently off Saphira when the Letherblaka collided with Saphira. He righted himself faster than Eragon had and let his emotions rule his judgement. His brain told him to wait for Eragon before continuing but his desire to rescue his love overcame any sane or rational thinking. He quickly scurried down the closest of the five tunnels.

It was dark in this place, and incredibly cold. The smell of rotting flesh and moldy cave added to the haunting place. The slow dripping of water was the only noise besides Roran's own footsteps. Over time his eyes adjusted slowly but he could still not see more than a few feet in front of him. I must be crazy... I could get my throat slit and not even see my enemy. But one thought of Katrina shattered all doubt and he continued on. He wandered blindly in the dark until he came to one corridor that had a small lantern hanging from the center of the roof.

The sight was enough to make Roran vomit. There was a large wooden table in the center with four shackles attatched. The floor was littered with bones and decaying skulls... human skulls. On the table was the mangled remains of some poor unfortunate man. Roran ran through the room as quickly as he could. He had heard what the Ra'zac had done to Quimby back in Carvahall.

He continued on in the darkness for a long while longer. He felt himself slowly descending, just how deep was he. He felt like he had walked enough to have traveled to the center of the world. A small rat scurried across his foot and he let out a small shout. Realizing his error he remained still and perfectly quiet for a good while. No sounds came so with a relieved sigh he made his way forward. What he failed to notice was that a black shadow moved slowly along the crags and stalagmites of the cave. Beetle-like eyes followed him intently, but this Ra'zac was a lot smarter than his counterpart and would not expose itself yet... no it would wait until the perfect moment. Plus, this was the human he had marked months earlier, it could still remember the scent of this human.

Whether it was luck or something more is unknown but Roran had chosen the right path to take because another corridor opened up and it was lined on both sides with thick dungeon doors. Roran quieted himself and listened for a sign of life. After a second he heard the sound of sobs coming from one of the cells. He rushed over to it and banged on the door. Not remembering to stay quiet he shouted. "Katrina! Is that you?"

Katrina was litterally speechless. The voice she had been waiting for for so long finally called her name. Her love had really come to rescue her. "Yes Roran, I'm here."

Roran was overjoyed. "Hang on for a second, I'm here for you." He took his hammer from his belt and with two strong and accurate blows broke the lock on the door and swung it open. Katrina's vision of his entrance were true, he appeared there, hammer in hand ready to sweep her away to safety. A thick knot rose in his throat when he saw her though. Tears welled up in his eyes and rage and worry overcame him.

His beloved wife-to-be was there naked and pale. She was shackled to the wall with her arms raised above her head, but the worst part was the boils on her delicate skin. "Katrina..." Roran choked. "What did they do to you?" He rushed over to her and quickly broke the shackles with his trusty hammer. Her arms flopped uselessly to her side.

"They tried to get me to tell them where you were but... but I didn't know... They did it anyway.." She began sobbing uncontrollably as he moved in and embraced her. She let the past months experience all come out in her tears. She cried her poor little heart out on Roran's shoulder. Seeing his love this broken was more than he could take and Roran began to weep as well.