Finally rewrote the first chapter... after I wrote the second. No, I am not a logical person. I know this chapter sucks but the next one is better. Really.
SHIFTING WORLDS
Chapter 1: even kings have limits
Uru'baen castle, the dragonhold plateau
"Get on with it, boy!" yelled Galbatorix.
"Yes, Master." sighed Murtagh. The King of The Empire had an infamous temper, and Murtagh did not want to get on the wrong side of it. Especially after his miserable failure concerning his brother Eragon. Galbatorix yelled at him again, something about him being an idiot who could not even perform a simple transportation spell. Murtagh sighed. He was supposed to be performing a spell to transport a jug of water from one side of a room to the other, but kept getting... distracted.
Probably by the fact that he had to enslave his own brother. Probably by the fact he was now a slave himself. Probably by the fact that the Varden were at war with the Empire. Bloody rebels. Bloody Eragon. And bloody, bloody, bloody transportation spell.
Enjoying yourself? The smug voice was normally welcome in Murtagh's head. Now was not "normally".
Shut UP, Thorn, he snarled. Thorn began to prepare a cutting reply, when Galbatorix snapped.
"GET ON WITH IT YOU STUPID BRAT!" he screamed, slamming into his apprentice's mind. Out of reflex, Murtagh struck back, joining minds with Thorn as he did so. In a rage Galbatorix joined with Shruikan, and obliterated Murtagh's mental barriers, holding both his and Thorns minds in a steel grip. Murtagh shuddered as he felt the far too familiar sensation of an all-consuming presence swamp his mind like an icy wave.
He felt Galbatorix sift through his memories before his master's mental voice, so much more calm and calculating than his physical one, boomed through Murtagh's mind, making him cower in fear.
So, thinking about your brother, I see. That's what is distracting you. Hmm. Try the spell again, boy. And this time, get it right.
The last word was threatening, and dangerously soft. Galbatorix released control of Murtagh's body to him, but kept a close watch on his mind. Shivering, Murtagh began to mouth the spell, but could not stop a wave of despair coming over him, and distracting him again.
Galbatorix speared his mind, preparing to teach the foolish boy a lesson, but Murtagh was still speaking. In his shock, it was not surprising he mispronounced a few syllables.
The Kings eyes widened as lightning tore the Skies. The spell was consuming energy at a phenomenal rate. All four of them would be killed!
Murtagh had fallen to his knees, unable to bear the strain. He then collapsed onto his face. He twisted his head to see that the power of the spell had driven Galbatorix to his knees. To his knees! Murtagh could never have imagined it. The King's eyes were closed his face was upturned and contorted into a grimace, and more incredible yet, tears of pain cut shimmering paths down his cheeks. His breath came short and ragged. Numbly, Murtagh realized that Galbatorix must be taking the brunt of the strain himself. Blood trickled from his lip. He's trying to control it, Murtagh marvelled. Galbatorix' eyes snapped open, and his face twisted, and he howled like a dying wolf. He gasped, and tried to stand. He failed.
From his position on the floor, Murtagh saw an expression on the King's face that he never would have believed possible.
Pure, utter, absolute, terror.
Somewhere on Earth
Raellir was bored. She had just finished drawing pictures of dragons. She decided to just lie on her bed and daydream about dragons, fantasy, dragons, myths, magic, dragons, elves, battles, dragons and dragons. It was no good. She was bored, and that was that. What I really need, she mused, is for something interesting to happen. At that precise moment, a hole opened in the fabric of reality and Raellir fell through it.
Uru'baen castle, the dragonhold plateau
Galbatorix gasped, and blinked. A large grey eye stared down at him. Shruikan. He rolled and climbed to his feet, ignoring the pain. Something by his feet moaned quietly. It was Murtagh. Galbatorix kicked him.
"Get up, boy!" he snarled. Murtagh struggled to obey.
"I-I can't, Master." Galbatorix grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and hoisted him unceremoniously to his feet. Thorn growled, but the King ignored him. Murtagh swayed, and grasped the King's sleeve in an attempt to stay upright. Galbatorix, who was still clutching Murtagh's shirt, lifted him into the air and threw him, sending Murtagh skidding across the floor.
He sighed, and sat leaning against Shruikan, with two fingers rubbing his temples and his eyes closed. How did I survive that spell? He wondered. Then he remembered. He had grasped the minds of a large amount of people in the city, on instinct and used them to fuel his spell. It had killed them all, but had he not, he, Murtagh, Thorn, and even Shruikan would now be dead. He hoped he would not have to deal with the repercussions of his act later. That would be somewhat irksome.
Someone knocked at the door. "Enter," commanded Galbatorix, drawing himself up to his full (and somewhat imposing) height and wondering what anyone was doing near the dragonhold against his very specific orders.
A servant walked in and knelt, his eyes flicking between Thorn and Shruikan, and the unconscious form of Murtagh, before finally settling on the floor. The man's breathing was heavy and sharp, and the King could sense his fear.
"Why are you here?" said the King, raising a sharp eyebrow. "I ordered that I was not to be disturbed. And no-one may enter the dragonhold without my express permission. You are aware of this?"
" F-forgive me, my King. I-I was sent here t-to I-I-I-" the man broke off, choking with a sobs of fear. "Please don't kill me!"
Galbatorix sighed. He hated it when his servants acted like this. He supposed he couldn't blame them. He did, after all, have something of a reputation.
"Calm yourself." He ordered, his steely eyes boring into the man.
"Y-yes, my King. Th-the guards wished me to inform you that they have apprehended a trespasser in the palace."
"A trespasser?" queried Galbatorix, raising his eyebrow even higher than the last time.
"Why did the guards not deal with this matter themselves? Why inform me of this? I do not appreciate being disturbed." There was an oh-so-small hint of a threat in that, and the servant did not miss it.
"M-my lord, p-p-please, I-"
"Enough!" barked the King. "Did I not tell you to be calm?"
"Y-yes, sire, b-but I-"
"Quiet. I am not going to kill you." Stated Galbatorix, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Th-thank you, my lord."
Galbatorix's lips twitched with amusement.
"Speak. Calmly. And do not fear. I shall keep my word." He smiled, although whether this was in the slightest bit reassuring is debateable.
The servant took a deep breath and nodded. "As I have said, the guards apprehended a trespasser. A young girl."
"And why should this be of interest to me?"
This time, much to the Kings surprise, the servant grinned, and even dared to look at him.
"But that's just it, Sire! The guards say she fell out of a hole in the sky!"