A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back to my fanfic. Two chapters in as many days, I'm not sure if that's impressive or not. Do tell me if it is, I like to know when I'm being exceptional. In that same vein, please leave a review if you liked the previous chapters, or if you like this one. I only have one at the time of writing, and it's lonely.
To be honest, not a lot of action this chapter, but it's coming, especially when Ragnar and Alden reach Eragon and Saphira. I do apologise for that, but I'll be working up to some serious action later on.
Disclaimer: Nope, still nothing. Yet (mwahaha)
Avery and Fenna landed at the camp, with an impact heavier than they might have liked, on account of Fenna having weakened at the sight of the dead around her. The landing jarred Avery's bones, and he almost fell from her back onto the bloodstained dirt below.
The first thing they had seen, even from far away and high in the sky, had been the long, black scorch marks that scarred the plains, having burnt everyhting in their path completely to the ground. Still a few lingering flames existed, but were dying. As they got closer, they noticed the bodies of dragons, and as they became closer still, those of humans. The sigh sickened them both, and neither spoke during the descent.
On landing, Avery gingerly half-jumped half-fell from Fenna's saddle, and threw up, for both the smell of blood and the sight of it had turned his stomach. The distressed motion of Fenna's wings as they had approached had done little to change that, making his sickness ever worse.
They still remained wordless, so shocked were they by the sight before them. The camp, which had seemed both so large and so strong before their ill-fated flight, was now in tatters, and had never seemed smaller. Every singe tent had been ablaze, and those few more permanent lodgings also bore marks of fire damage, alongside huge, sweeping gouges that Fenna recognised as claw marks.
The very land seemed wounded, even dead, even as Fenna and Avery felt the same. They saw the bodies, but didn't consciously try and identify them, though they recognised the faces, when there was indeed anything left to see. It transpired then, that when they reached the centre of camp, and stood in the footprints of those who had been before them, Alden and Ragnar, they almost didn't notice the dagger that was protruding from the sand.
Avery, look. I recognise that dagger as your brothers.
Avery glanced up from the boot of one of his fellow riders that, inexplicably, still had the foot inside. Nothing else of the body was anywhere to be found, and indeed Avery had only recognised who the foot belonged to on account of the owners near obsessive cleaning of the boot buckle. He nearly threw up again, and was bent double when Fenna got his attention.
I do believe you're right, Fenna. How strange.
Not so, Avery. We didn't notice these footprints, of which one pair at least is Ragnar's.
They've been here, then. Avery concluded. So?
They're alive. Look at these footprints, it is quite clear that they belong to those walking as we have been, that is to say slowly. If these footprints had been from during the attack, would they not have been more frantic?
Avery considered, and despite his lack of aptitude for tracking, he reasoned that it made sense.
Their bodies aren't here either, he said, and how would we, even if Alden had been buried beneath one of these tents, have missed Ragnar? He was, ahem is, huge.
We don't know for sure, Avery, but the footprints suggest-
They're alive! Avery cried, and fell to his knees. That's his dagger, Fenna, you're correct. But why did he leave it here?
I do not know, little one. You humans are beyond me at times.
Though he still felt grief, grief so strong that even as he cried out with happiness threatened to topple him, at the same time he felt such joy that anyone, best of all his brother, had survived the attack. Although, there was still the one question.
Fenna, where is he?
I do not know.
Why...why did he leave?
RTR
There exists, at the very centre of the Hadarac desert, equidistant from each capital of each race, a fortress. Created by an amalgamation of workmen from every race involved in the pact to become dragon riders. Inside, placed there by Arya and Firnen, there existed several things. The first was a gem the size of Alden's head, of the green of leaves and grass and of the very essence of green things, that was Firnen's eldurnari. It had been placed their should any rider need help, or knowledge, in a time of great need. The second item was in fact a collection of items, or rather swords. Rider's swords in every colour and shade and length, for every fighting style developed by every single race. The third item was a saddle, designed so that it could be adjusted for all but the very largest of dragons. And the fourth was a ring, within it set a diamond, and within that there existed a pool of energy large enough to move a mountain.
It was before these items that Alden now stood, having already chosen a sword, one of the darkest black, like coal or smoke or the night sky, that was the same length as his previous sword, that which had been unenchanted and unremarkable. Or, people had said it was unremarkable, but to Alden, it had been as an old friend, and he had loathed to give it up. But he knew, with all the strength of this rider and dragon that had levelled the camp, and that could attack at any time, that he had needed a rider's sword at long last.
He had taken the ring too, and had been shocked and in awe by the amount of energy inside it.
I could turn this castle into sand, or diamond he had thought.
He proceeded to take the saddle too, fitting it to Ragnar who, on account of the fort having been built with dragons and riders in mind, had managed to access the same room. He already had a saddle, and one that looked to be more comfortable to them both than the one he was fitting, but by unspoken consent they had agreed. Anything, they had both thought, to avoid touching the eldurnari.
Having seen Arya struck down, and knowing as they did about that shared bond, they knew the grief of the great green dragon would be insurmountable so soon after the death of his rider. They dare not touch it, for fear of being overwhelmed by that vast, powerful consciousness. Even after the saddle had been fitted, and Alden had donned gloves so as to avoid directly touching the gem, and allocating space in a saddle bag in which to carry it, Alden found himself unable to move. The idea of holding another's being in his hands, especially one as powerful as a dragon's, repulsed and terrified him. He noticed not the light falling outside, as the afternoon became evening. He eventually, as nudges from Ragnar, stepped forward, and grasped the Eldurnari with both hands.
He gasped, for it was cold even through the gloves, and his sheer closeness to it meant the sadness of the dragon emanated towards him, pervading deep inside his mind. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, and heard the low, keening growl of Ragnar that proved he too felt the same sorrow. He stumbled and staggered toward the saddle bag, nearly bucking under the weight of the dragon's mind that, having realised his presence, began anew its lamentations.
He finally managed to push it deep into the bag, covering it with cloth, and the force of will that was Firnen vanished suddenly, and even as he might had Ragnar died or gone far away, he felt a overpowering loneliness.
He felt, for a moment, like he was the only thing left in the entire world.
Ragnar too felt as such, but before Alden, recovered. He growled, drawing Alden back to his senses.
We should go, Alden he said.
Yes, of course. I shall waste no more time. We have food and water enough for our journey?
However long it may be, we are well equipped.
Then let us off replied Alden, more bright and brazenly than he felt.
We shall not delay, nor falter. We set out towards lands distant, out across the oceans blue.
He climbed atop Ragnar, fitting himself to the saddle. Ragner thudded towards the vast window through which he had flown in, and let out a bone-shattering roar as he lept into the sky.
RTR
The Shade, who stood stock still, all in black from the hood of his cloak to the leather of his shoes. While sunlight didn't harm him, he preferred to shield himself from it, as a more pallid, sallow complexion would only serve to inspire fear in his enemies. He had no doubts that, alongside his sharpened teeth and blood covered hands and nails, that he might be mistaken for human, but he didn't need to stay hidden away. Should the entire army have mobilised against him, they might have been able to do him harm, maybe even kill him if they were co-ordinated enough, but the Shade knew that this would never happen. Humans in general were weak alone, and almost never effectively worked together. This the Shade knew, and it was this knowledge that meant he had nothing to fear from being seen. Thus, he had not adopted the guise of ordinary traveller that others might had they been seeking to harm with impunity, for he could do so with no disguise, for none he targeted would escape with their lives and, if they should, no-one could harm him. He had reached the edge of the great plains, and turning towards them, he saw nothing but the heat haze caused by the intense sunlight on the horizon. Scanning further, he could just make out the smouldering remains of the camp that he had seen fit to destroy, but no detail could be seen aside from the steadily rising pillar of black, thick smoke. It would, he didn't doubt, attract attention. There would be envoys sent from every town or city within sight of the sky-scraping smog, but by the time anyone arrived, he would be gone. He almost considered staying, and dispatching of the envoys as they arrived, but decided against it. He would travel, he thought, to Surda, outside of the influence of that High Queen Nasuada. She had been personally involved with the elf-rider of the green dragon, and she would undoubtedly stop at nothing to bring him to justice. She was an old woman now, the Shade knew, but he imagined her fire, the same that had inspired her to lead the Varden against the Empire of old, could pose if not a threat then at the least a nuisance.
His dragon though, was hunting, for the attack on the camp, while not time consuming or difficult, had left her hungry, and had, she had told him, be gone for several days. She revelled in the hunt, in the ripping and tearing of smaller things into yet smaller, bloodied and in her opinion delicious pieces. As such, he was left waiting, until early afternoon.
The light had begun to fall back down beneath the clouds, and indeed behind the hills in the most distant edges of his view. The land seemed to go on forever, bathed in a pinkish light, long shadows thrown by the dying sun. Even so, the beauty held no sway over him, even as that of the elf-rider hadn't. He knew both would have enthralled any mortal man and perchance most elves, and the latter would have had an effect on all people, from the dwarves to the humans to the elves. He however, had long considered himself immune to beauty.
He turned away from the sunset, feeling pain in his joints, for he had been standing for hours and still possessed the body of an elf, prone to injury as much as any other, and saw, cast in his own shadow, the most stunning flower. A lily of so many different tones of gold, quite literally gilded, as if it had been cast by dwarves into metal, and then sung into life by the elves. For he knew, reaching out with his mind, that it was alive, that feeble, but oh so precious light of life flickering inside the flower. And for a moment he found himself unable to move, or even to think anything outside of admiring the flower. He stood this way for 10 minutes, while the sun fell completely below the horizon, leaving only the slightest hint of light.. The pain in his joints had become an ache, but he seemed to himself to be separate from his body, almost gazing at the glimmering lily from beyond himself. Then, the last light from the sun disappeared even as the sun itself had, and whatever spell the lily had cast over him vanished, that awe and admiration and happiness being replaced with rage, and hate, and...
He swore an oath, and the lily burst into flames. Despite its golden surface, it burned and burned, for the flames were magical, and would never go out, until...
The lily exploded, firing shards of molten gold in all directions. One cut across the Shade's face, drawing both blood from his body and a snarl from his mouth. Then, with magic, he threw each an every shard a mile away from him, then knelt in the dirt where it had been. He was panting heavily, not because the magic had cost him much energy, for it had been the same to him as having lifted a finger, but because of that other emotion he had felt upon seeing the flower, and that same emotion he'd felt upon destroying it, and that he now couldn't help but feel.
He felt vulnerable, like at any moment he might meet his end, or worse, find something else that bewitched him as that gilded lily had. He felt control slipping away from him, and was overtaken by fear. He watched, as from kneeling he fell face forward towards the ground, unable to move to stop himself. He yelled out, and hit the ground, recovering quickly and standing, but swaying on his feet.
He felt sick, and weak, like he was dying. He was completely powerless, and in those few moments of fear and weakness, any creature, with the intent or ability, could have struck him down. And again, he stood, nearly buckling and falling again and again, for what felt like hours. And it was for hours, because he only felt himself recovering as the first few rays of sunlight crept over the horizon in front of him.
He couldn't bear to look.
A/N: So, chapter three down, and so far, so bad for our heroes, and even for our villain, really. So, feel free to review, or move on with your life. Remember the fic though, come back again when there are more chapters, because there is more to come, if you want.
I remain,
Ladra