Drukjl was sitting out on the curb with Dýrgrir by his side. He did not look pleased. Human Riders and scholars alike shot them strange looks as they passed the pair. When Shepherd and Errol landed, rather uncomfortable for the Rider, Drukjl got up and advanced towards them.
"They say Frelsa is in there, but will not let any see her."
"You sure, Ram? Maybe it's just your looks."
Drukjl snorted. "They do not let anyone in. They say she is 'stable', but still have kept the doors closed."
Shepherd looked at the doors to the healers'. "Come on, Ram. Let's go see our Girl."
They and their dragons easily fit through the door. This building was one of the smaller ones but gigantic nonetheless. Dragons could fly around easily in large circles on the inside. Drukjl pointed to a pair of huge wooden double doors at the far side of the building, where they said Frelsa was being kept. There were few people there in the waiting room, save a brown-haired woman in the corner. Apparently there was quite a crowd earlier that morning. Everyone was concerned for Frelsa and Kalla. No wonder, any wounds that would warrant several hours of intensive healing was most definitely fatal.
Shahnz the Creep was already there, Dayine standing vigilant nearby. Shahnz seemed to be conversing with a healer, a man with a black goatee dressed in their customary long green robes. The handsome Rider was holding a bouquet of flowers and passed it to the healer, who brought them through the doors. Shahnz mounted Dayine, who proceeded to make for the exit.
As they passed Shahnz, Shepherd remarked, "O-o-oh, flowers huh?"
He flashed him one of his blinding smiles. "Of course, I care about the girls so much. Can't let them think I don't worry about them in their time of need."
Drukjl struggled to hold in his laughter. Errol snarled at Shahnz while Dýrgrir made one of those peculiar dragon laughs.
They reached the double doors, and a healer came out. Not the young goatee man, an old fellow with a wrinkled face and flowing white beard. "Yes, what do you want?"
"We'd like to see Frelsa and Kalla please," Shepherd replied as politely as possible.
The man narrowed his eyes at Drukjl. "You, I thought I told you to stay out!"
Drukjl did not show any annoyance. "I only wanted to see my friend."
"Only wanted?" The man spluttered. "I suppose when you threw my fellow Healer across the room you still only wanted to see you friend?"
"He tried to injure me."
The old healer turned to Shepherd. "Even if visitors were allowed, I would not let an Urgal through these doors."
"How about just me and Errol?" He asked, gesturing to his dragon. He didn't bother using the racial harmony argument. Many humans still did not take well to it.
The healer shook his head. "You cannot see her. She is in a delicate part of the healing procedure."
Drukjl lost his patience. "That's what you said this morning!"
"And she still is!" The healer finished. "Now leave! We cannot accept visitors at this crucial point."
With that the man slammed the doors shut and Shepherd heard him muttering a locking enchantment. He growled in exasperation and retired to one of the padded chairs in the waiting room. Errol stayed at the doors, pacing before them.
"What are we going to do, Ram?"
Drukjl walked over and sat on a chair next to Shepherd as Dýrgrir lay down next to him. "We've no choice but to wait. I would not relish bringing violence to this place of healing."
Errol still paced before the doors. Can we use our thoughts? Find Frelsa's and Kalla's consciousnesses in there?
Dýrgrir shook his head sadly. There are enchantments abound here. It is impossible to project your thoughts past anything in this waiting room.
Shepherd tried anyway. It didn't work. Errol rose on his hind legs and fell forward against the doors, slamming his body on the wooden panes.
Errol! What are you doing!
He slammed against the doors again. They did not move at all. This healer's enchantment draws on his strength. If we put enough stress on the door, he will have to end the spell.
Or you could be killing him right now, Shepherd reminded. That old man did not seem too resilient.
It's a gamble I'm willing to take. You with me Shepherd?
He hesitated. Drukjl walked up to him. "We should follow the old human's words. Just wait until they release Frelsa."
Shepherd didn't stop Errol. Not because he wanted to follow his plan but more because he did not like the old healer. Should they just leave? Wait until Frelsa and Kalla recovered? He realised this was a bit suspicious.
"Come on, Ram. What time is it now? Four hours past noon? She's been in there for twelve hours now. What kind of injuries warrant that long a healing?"
Well, we were doing something stupid, Dýrgrir pointed out.
"Yes, but Errol's wing got torn off! Ebrithil grafted it back on in seconds!"
Shepherd could feel discomfort radiating from Errol and saw an approximation of a grimace on his toothy snout, making the Rider feel guilty for bringing up the subject.
"Remember what he said on replicating flesh? 'Even if you must replicate their entire body, it would only take four hours at most for an experienced healer'. Experienced. And how many of them do you think there are in there? What do you think they're doing to her?"
Drukjl scratched his chin. "It is suspicious, but we cannot just go charging in there, horns bared."
Why…not… Errol answered between slams. Shepherd wondered how the old man on the other side of the door was holding up. Would he stop feeding the spell energy?
The doors budged just a tiny bit, before shutting close again.
There were no dragons in there, but the healers were all as powerful magicians as humans could be.
The doors budged open a bit more and Errol held it there, sticking his snout through the gap and roared mentally and physically, Kalla!
Errol, calm down! Get over here!
No! I… need to know… what happened to them!
Drukjl raised an eyebrow at Shepherd, who shrugged in response. Dýrgrir seemed to be laughing. The Urgal stood up. "We should not bring disruption to this place. We must respect their laws."
"To hell with laws, Ram. Frelsa and Kalla are on the other side of those doors. What do you think is happening to them? Why would they be kept in there for twelve hours?"
"I don't know, but what would Dur Firesword and Dur Firetongue say?"
"They'd say we'd done the right thing, we were concerned for our friends."
Shepherd had also risen to his feet and stared up at Drukjl, still impassive. Dýrgrir, who had been up till then silent, remarked, By right we cannot get punished, it is the privilege of friends and family to visit the injured after the five hour mark.
"Where'd you learn that?" Shepherd asked as he looked at Dýrgrir in amazement.
Some of us pay attention during classes.
Errol grunted. The doors barely opened any bigger than an inch after he slammed into them and kept closing just as fast.
"We should not do this, Shepherd. Call off your firebreather."
He looked back at Drukjl. "You heard your own dragon, they cannot punish us. We have every right to go through those doors and visit her, and see what kind of demonic tests they are conducting on her."
"But in the healer's building? Even if I wanted too, I could not. I would not wish to bring some deadly retribution upon my peoples within Urgralgra Otrag. No Urgal will join you."
Shepherd's spirits fell.
"But a certain dragon might," Drukjl added before leaving the building.
Shepherd glanced at Dýrgrir, who bared his teeth, exposing the nearly tusk like canines. Let us proceed.
Finally! Errol exclaimed as they came to join him.
Another Rider, one Shepherd recognised as a senior member of the Corp, and a yellow dragon came through the doors, and saw them trying to breach the doors. "Hey! What are you doing?"
Dýrgrir growled at him. Errol, you and your Rider should back up.
Shepherd hurriedly ran to one side as Dýrgrir leaped back, taking a running start at the doors, head bent low and roaring as the crown of his head collided with the double doors. The wooden panes were forced open and the dragon held the doors open with his stout body.
Go!
Errol hopped onto Dýrgrir's back and leaped through the gap in the doors, barely large enough for him to squeeze through. Shepherd found a foothold in the bend of Dýrgrir's brown leg and jumped onto his back, careful not to get impaled on one of the ivory spikes. He glanced behind and saw the Rider and yellow dragon nearly on top of them.
Dýrgrir growled and the doors slid slightly forward, closing the gap by an inch or two. Faster, human! He hopped onto Dýrgrir's knobbly head and jumped forward through the gap as the doors shut. On a bench against the wall just after the door lay the old man, unconscious. Shepherd had been amazed he had maintained his spell against two dragons and a Rider and had only fallen unconscious. Healers were made of stern stuff.
They had emerged into a huge room, walls, floors and ceiling all made of polished brown wood, Shepherd knew that they had been enchanted to be protected from dragon fire and impervious to their claws. The room was as long as the whole building, fifty metres in length and twenty in width, made to accommodate the wounded form of the largest dragon. A counted ran the length of one wall, filled with thousands of healing herbs and plants, pickled specimens and strange vegetables. A table had been set up at one side of the room, where Frelsa should have been. Shahnz's flower bouquet lay on the table. The other side where Kalla should have lain, there was only empty space.
Four green cloaked healers relaxed in the room, two of them playing with a deck of cards as they stretched out on the wood floor. Errol completely ignored them, bounding forward into the side of the room where the injured dragon would have been lain out. He roared at the healers both mentally and physically, Where is she? Where did you put Kalla?
The doors behind them slammed open. The senior Rider came through on his yellow dragon's back. He pointed at them. "Get out of here!"
Shepherd looked at the healers' room before him. This was the largest room in the whole building, why had they used it to house nothing and say that there were two patients, grievously wounded, within.
The healers leaped to their feet, kicking aside their cards. They all raised their arms in ghostly unison, chanting under their breath as if they had been trained to do this. Their green robes did not seem that ridiculous now.
Shepherd drew Shorren and backed up until he reached Errol as the chanting of the healers grew louder. Each seemed to chant a different spell, but all to the same melancholic tune. Errol crouched low, and glanced towards the door, blocked by the huge figure of the senior Rider atop his dragon.
"We shouldn't have come here," he whispered to Errol, who growled back in response, They cannot punish us.
The grey dragon slashed in the direction of one of the healers. Where is Kalla! But neither of them dared to advance any further. There was an air of danger to the green robed men.
The healer's chanting rose to a maddened chorus, and their voices overlapped each other in a deafening melody. The senior Rider seemed perfectly fine. The spell must be directed only at him and Errol.
They cannot punish us, he reassured himself.
The Rider opened his mouth and shouted something at them, but it was inaudible over the chanting.
They cannot punish us, he repeated to himself.
He spied out of the corner of his eye the double doors opened a crack. A large brown eye peered through. The healers were shouting now, and at the apex of their melody bellowed a single word at Shepherd and Errol.
"EITHA!"
He was forced backwards onto Errol, Shorren falling from his grip and clattering to the ground. He hung onto one of Errol's spikes, but it seemed greased.
They cannot punish us.
The spike easily slipped from his grasp. As he fell against the ground, the need to sleep overcame him. He saw Errol lunge at one of the healers before tumbling to the ground.
They cannot punish us, he thought to himself as he entered the dark.
The darkness was not like what she expected. It seemed too thick, almost oily. It exerted a pressure on her, making it hard to breathe in the greasy shadows. She felt the solid ground beneath her feet, the rough rope in her hand, Kalla's scales. They reminded her where she was, that she could survive the dark.
She felt a slight pull on the rope connecting her to Eragon, reassuring her that he would lead her to safety. She checked the rope connecting her to Kalla, and realised that it was slack. She called, "Kalla?"
The noise seemed so soft. Frelsa reminded herself she was still in the tunnel. Then why didn't your voice echo? She cursed the part of her brain that kept on doing this kind of stuff. But what if she wasn't in the tunnels? What if she had died and this was her punishment for eternity? She tried to put this out of her mind. "Kalla!"
Where was she? She pulled on the rope and felt something solid on the end. But she had to be sure. A scaly snout pushed itself under her arm. I'm here.
Her heart stopped racing. She held onto Kalla with one hand and held onto the rope joining her to Eragon with the other to guide her path. There was a chittering noise, like some strange beast. I'm safe, she told herself. She just had to follow her Masters.
There was a strong pull on the rope, then it slackened considerably.
She felt how much slack was on the rope. Was she that close to Eragon?
Frelsa walked into a wall. She held one hand to her aching forehead and murmured a healing spell, but nothing happened. Were the shadows muting her magic? Then another more pressing question reached her mind. Where was Eragon?
She pulled on the rope. Nothing. Another pull. There was no resistance at all. No.
More chittering, followed by the sound of hard, pointed legs on stone. Frelsa remembered a story that had plagued her for weeks after she heard it, about the Ra'zac and their children, how they had killed the innocent for fun and gnawed on their bones. She did not care now. She couldn't get any more scared.
Frelsa began to pull in the rope. Metre after metre. Maybe he'd loosened the rope.
Then she knew her answer. Why she hadn't felt any slack. Why it had led her into a wall. She touched the end of the rope in her numb hands and felt the innumerable strands at the end. The cut end, of a frayed rope.
What happened? Has Eragon stopped? Kalla asked urgently.
No…
What happened?
The rope… someone… something cut it.
WHAT!
Eragon's gone.
Frelsa hugged Kalla's neck and buried her face in her scales as she cried. How could this happen? What cut the rope? Did Eragon and Saphira know they were gone? She realised it didn't matter. They were going to die here, slowly, starving to death. Or maybe of dehydration, or maybe whatever beasts she had heard in the dark would find her. But she was sure the darkness would crush her before any of them.
Kalla refused to believe it until she felt the frayed end of the cut rope. She ran around in the shadow, pulling Fresla along, roaring into the dark and screaming mentally for Eragon and Saphira. But only the silence answered.
When did it get cut? Kalla demanded.
I don't know, I didn't even notice until I ran into the wall.
Kalla roared into the dark, as if cursing the shadows.
Something brushed against her leg. She screamed.
Frelsa? What? What is it?
Something touched me! She screamed mentally at her. She imagined Kalla wincing as the noise sounded through her mind but she didn't care. Not anymore. There was a sound like scuttling insect legs in a corner somewhere.
Frelsa heard Kalla snarl. Don't worry, I'll kill it. YOU CUT THE ROPE DIDN'T YOU? DIDN'T YOU?
At first Frelsa thought Kalla was accusing her, but realised that the last part was directed out mentally to whatever creature was unlucky enough to be in a fifty metre radius. There was the scuttling noise again, it sounded for a second. Like the beast in the shadows was angry. Were the Ra'zac hunting them?
A hiss echoed in their minds.
Would you mind not blowing out my mind?
Both of them fell silent. Even Kalla had not expected a response.
And no, I did not cut your stupid rope. There are other, more sinister creatures than me in this dark, and if you want to live, I suggest you follow my instructions.
Frelsa spun around wildly, looking for whatever creature spoke to them. It was useless of course, everything was invisible in the dark. She couldn't even see her body when she looked down.
That voice… Kalla spoke, seeming to try and remember something.
Who are you? Frelsa asked.
I am one of many names, human, but my real name is secret to all. You can call me Solembum.
Werecat! Kalla exclaimed. She obviously knew Solembum.
I'd prefer if you called me by name, otherwise I might leave you here in the dark.
No, no, no, Solembum. I apologise. Where are you anyway?
In front of you.
Frelsa stared at the ground ahead of her and saw something amazing, two bright eyes in the dark, greenish this time. The slit pupils stared straight at her, which should have been impossible to see in the shadows.
Can you get us out, Solembum? Frelsa asked, trying to be the epitome of respect.
Why else did you think I found you?
She saw the eyes move over to where the frayed end of rope should be in the dark. The eyes lowered and when they raised up again there was pressure on her rope.
I will endeavour to lead you to the exit, don't yank too hard on the rope. It's hard enough holding it with my teeth.
And with that he started walking away, pulling Frelsa and Kalla along. She whispered to her dragon, Stay close.
She didn't hear anything in the shadows, so she wasn't sure whether she should be glad that the creatures Solembum mentioned might be gone or fearful that they could stalk her without her hearing.
Frelsa felt the rope pulling her towards the left and dutifully followed. Then they heard it, a scream, a woman's wail. She hugged Frelsa's neck and tried to block out the sound. Your ears will betray you. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.
The baby's bawling that reached their ears a second later seemed real. It was so full of pain, of loss. She wondered whether there might be humans stumbling around in the dark like them, waiting to die by the claws of the beasts in the dark or by the long march of hunger and thirst.
The werecat led them for an impossibly long time, and as she was going to ask if he was sure he knew the way, she felt slack on the rope. She hurriedly pulled it in and felt the frayed end yet again. She screamed mentally, Solembum!
Another mental hiss. Not so loud, human! The path grows difficult to traverse here, and leading you by rope would not do.
His eyes opened again before them, more of a neon shade this time.
Just walk towards my eyes. That's right, towards my eyes.
Her foot fell into a deep crevice and she hurriedly withdrew it. She heard something scuttle somewhere.
Don't mind that, just a bug. Walk towards my eyes, keep walking.
There was more scuttling this time, but also another strange noise, like beaks or claws snapping.
Just a bug, yes. Don't stray, dragon. Follow my eyes.
Then they stepped into the radiance of a werelight, like they had passed through a curtain of blindness and now could see. As they left the shadows, where Solembum's body should have been in the light was empty space. His presence seemed to evaporate the moment they entered the light.
She heard Solembum again. Don't tell Eragon…
Frelsa looked at the ground under her feet, illuminated with light. She looked down at her body, dressed in a drab brown tunic illuminated with light. She touched Kalla who stood by her side, illuminated with light. Her eyes burned from the transition of darkness to light but she didn't care. To her that burn made her feel alive for that moment, not just surviving in the dark.
How irrational do you think my fear of the dark is now, Kalla? She asked.
Kalla was too busy licking the ground in her joy to answer.
Eragon was there, back to her, staring in silence at the piece of frayed rope in his hands while Saphira stood to one side with her head hung, the rumblings of her breathing seemed almost mournful. The werelight hovered over Eragon's head.
"Ebrithil!" Frelsa called in happiness.
He looked up at her and his eyebrows shot up. He dropped the frayed piece of rope and pulled off his rope belt and gripped her shoulders as if to check that she was not a wraith like Vrael. He looked at her with wonder. "How? When I left the shadow, I saw the rope and thought…"
She looked to Kalla for help.
We were tethered to you up until what should be the last stretch. Then we found the rope had been cut, but soon found our way out.
Frelsa nodded enthusiastically.
Indeed? Saphira asked, unconvinced.
"Yes, Ebrithil," she replied as innocently as she could.
Eragon was inspecting them, as if not convinced that they had escaped the dark unharmed.
"Uh, Ebrithil?"
"Eragon, not Ebrithil," he replied as he inspected the scales on Kalla's chin.
"We should not waste time. Let us be on our way."
Eragon glanced at her. "Indeed. I doubt that the deception I instructed the healers to undertake will fool many for long."
"So what if someone found out about the truth?" She asked. Frelsa doubted that Drukjl and Shepherd would believe the story of her being under intensive healing for 48 hours straight.
"Oh, it would not matter. I instructed the healers to perform a unique spell, one that would deal with the intruders in a non-violent method."
"Wake up, Shepherd!"
He woke up. Hard not to when a Kull is slapping you. Prying open his eyes, he looked up into Drukjl's eyes as he crouched over him. "What?"
"Dýrgrir has told me what happened, and I was loathe to leave without you and your firebreather."
Shepherd noticed that he was on the main road, leaning against the wall of the healer's building. Drukjl was crouching beside him with Dýrgrir some distance away. Errol lay snoring serenely next to Shepherd.
He groaned, not out of pain but out of the thought of the blow his social image had just suffered as he lay on the ground.
"What happened?" He asked, feeling bruised and beaten.
"I would have asked you the same."
He looked up and saw that the sky was turning crimson as the sun set. It must be what, six or seven hours past noon?
Shepherd's thoughts were a jumble. "I remember entering that building with you, then going to help Errol, but after that I woke up here."
Drukjl pulled a long face. "Dýrgrir was thrown aside like a cub when the yellow firebreather charged through the doors, but he still saw what happened."
I pushed on the doors after the yellow dragon and his Rider entered, Dýrgrir added. I knew the charm had been broken. The healers were weaving a spell over you and Errol and thought it wiser to keep myself hidden. After you two fell, I saw the Rider conversing with the healers before walking to the door. I left the building quickly.
"And came outside," Drukjl finished. "…and found me dragging you and Errol over to the side of the road. You had appeared on the street, like a phantom at first, but soon turned to flesh. Gave quite a shock to a few scholars passing by."
Drukjl laughed at this. "We have been trying to wake you and your firebreather for a quarter a hjiltund." In response to Shepherd's confused expression he replied, "Fifteen mi-neu-etes as you say." Shepherd smiled at how his companion could pronounce the strange words of his Urgal language but not Common.
Moskva! Errol blurted out as he awoke.
He turned sharply towards his dragon as the steel coloured creature scrambled to his feet. Shepherd! How did we… when did we… I thought we were trying to get into the healers' room?
He retold the story Drukjl had told him while the Urgal and his dragon entertained themselves by snarling at the Riders and scholars who stared too long at them. When he had finished, Errol asked, Then why have we not left on the search for them?
Mainly because we have no idea where to begin the search, Dýrgrir responded.
"That is where you are mistaken."
Drukjl shot to his feet and drew his copper coloured axe. Shepherd was definitely alarmed as well, that someone could hear a private conversation between them, in their mind. Something that should be impossible. Shepherd struggle to stand, Errol nudging him to his feet, drew Shorren and looked at the eavesdropper.
A woman, brown curly hair and clothed in a brown, long-sleeved frock. She had bright, mischievous eyes and was knitting a long green scarf. Shepherd recognised her, "You were the woman in the corner of the healing house weren't you?"
"Yes, and I must say that show of breaking that locking spell? Very entertaining, though there were easier ways to do so."
"What is your name, human? How did you hear our minds?" Drukjl asked, horns lowered slightly.
"Oh, you should know my name, Drukjl. Your elders would call me Uluthrek. As to your second question, I do have some cards up my sleeve."
Drukjl and Dýrgrir immediately relaxed, the Urgal sheathing his axe and gesturing for Shepherd to do the same. He didn't. "Who is this woman, Ram? And what does that Ululutrek or whatever mean?"
"Oh my name in Common is Angela, and that particular title means 'Mooneater'."
"Huh? You… ate the moon?"
"Why does no one ever believe me? Yes, I did eat the moon. And anyways, I think I might have a way to solve your dilemma. Such a nice word, 'dilemma'."
Errol advanced a step. If you have knowledge of Frelsa and Kalla's whereabouts then speak!
"What a temper!" She spoke as if the dragon's anger was a fascinating subject. "You are nothing like Saphira when I met her."
"Saphira?" Shepherd started. "What-"
Angela cut him off, "As I said, a solution to your dilemma. I may or may not be able to tell you how to reach her through a telling of your future."
"You're a fortune teller?" He asked.
"I'd prefer soothsayer. Now, would you like to have your future augured?"
Yes, but get it over with fast.
She smiled at them as she reached into a fold of her frock and withdrew a collection of bones, nine in all. Four of them seemed slightly discoloured. "What are those, knucklebones?"
"Frog bones, actually."
Drukjl glanced at him and Shepherd didn't ask about the frog bones. He sheathed Shorren. Angela simply sat on the rough road and started to inspect the bones. Neither Drukjl nor Shepherd sat down. He did not think his social image would survive another blow if he was seen sitting with this strange woman.
She produced a cage, he didn't even know where she kept it in that dress. The cage contained a little gecko covered in blue scales with a yellow belly. She poured the bones gently onto the ground and was about to release the lizard when Dýrgrir spoke, With respect Uluthrek, but we've little time for prophecies. Our companions may be dying as we speak.
"Oh they're not dying, they're fine, for now…" Angela answered before returning her attention to the cage.
"You have knowledge on this, Uluthrek?" Drukjl asked.
"Might."
Shepherd advanced. "You have to tell us. If we lose Frelsa or Kalla, I wouldn't know how we'd live if they died while we could have saved them."
She nodded thoughtfully as she poked a finger through the cage bars and played with the large lizard. "I would prefer to tell you through the proper way, yes I would. With the extracting of the bones from feces and whatnot."
"What?" He asked in disgust.
You have knowledge? Speak! Errol demanded.
What our agitated companion meant, Uluthrek, Dýrgrir said with uncommon politeness. –is that we are in haste to find our companion. We fear some danger has befallen her.
Angela toyed with the bones and looked at the lizard. "I would like to do it my way, but you are right. She walks into danger, disregarding the prophecies I have told her. And I guess the danger she journeys to must be averted before something inconvenient occurs. Fine."
He had not expected her to yield so easily. He asked expectantly, "So?"
"Frelsa and Kalla journey towards danger through the heart of the volcano alongside Eragon and Saphira."
"What?"
"No questions asked. Eragon and Saphira make these journeys every month or so, but your friends have decided that they'd tag along and earn an early death. You won't be able to follow them through the path they took and catch up with them. There is a second path that will lead you to them, near the peak of the volcano. You would have to devise a spell to keep the air fresh around you up there. But anyways, a tunnel will open every eight hours on the North-East face of the volcano, it lies within a dimple on the face."
When she got up and kept the cage and bones, preparing to leave, Shepherd asked, "That's all? That's all we have to work on?"
"It's more than what you began with."
Granted.
"I would not waste time arguing. If I am correct, the next opening of the tunnel will be in less than an hour."
They were gone when she looked up.
A cat plodded out serenely from the shadows, a large, shaggy black cat with electric blue eyes. The girl is safe. Should we have told them what would happen if they went?
"No, I only fear what will happen if they don't."
They walked through a stretch of tunnel with no wraiths or deep shadow, Eragon's werelight still barely able to illuminate a circle of protection around them. The two Riders and two dragons journeyed in silence. This was a 'reprieve', as he had put it, from the dangers of this underground prison.
The company had been walking for so long, Frelsa was sure that it must be evening by now. Her legs ached and flares of pain shot up whenever she stepped down, but when Kalla offered to carry her she refused. Eragon had walked as long as her but hadn't stopped once or even slowed down. She would not show weakness to him.
On their way through the passage, Frelsa saw a side passage and for the brief time Eragon's light illuminated it she saw deep within its reaches two indistinct shapes, sharp and angular. She peered closer and saw two skeletons there, one of a tall slender humanoid and the other of a huge dragon. Their bones were white as winter, the dragon slumped on the floor and the Rider still sitting upon his steed's back in death. The smaller skeleton still had shreds of armour attached to his body, curious marks ringing the metal edges, almost like bite marks. Just before the light of Eragon's passed the passage, she thought she saw the skeleton's grinning skull turn slightly towards them. She decided not to speak of it.
Frelsa thought of something. "Master, why is this 'Pilgrimage' fraught with peril? Surely whoever made this prison would've wanted the Leaders of the Riders to reach their destination quickly?"
"But it would also be reached quickly by those who could use the power to their own ends. Upon this journey there are three obstacles in our path. The danger to Mind, the danger to Heart, and the danger to Body. The true Danger at the end is the danger to World," he added, rather melancholically.
"The first danger took form in the wraiths of Rider's past. A sea of ghostly phantoms, to weed out the fearful and send them back to the surface. There are many in the past century who thought they could brave this out but were found wandering the island gibbering about ghosts."
Frelsa remembered the bearded old man who emerged from the forest screaming about dead Riders who came to life and lived underground. He had been carter off to the mainland soon after. "The second danger, danger to Heart, took form in a world of shadow inhabited by the demons of your mind. Once you entered, you could not leave save through the other side, and to find the exit one only had to have courage and faith, cast aside fear of their demons and walk into the darkness with greatness in them. Those who didn't, never left the dark."
"Now the third, the danger to Body, we should come across it soon. And when we do, follow me lead. Remember our lessons."
She was puzzled by this, but Eragon was not forthcoming with an answer to this. Frelsa decided to entertain herself by asking another question, "Ebrithil, you said that this journey was futile, but still brought me along. Why?"
"To show you how hopeless your struggle is." She was taken aback by how calm he was as he responded.
But if it was, you wouldn't have brought us along in the first place, Kalla countered.
Eragon nor Saphira answered, but their silence was all the answer she needed. Somehwere, deep down, they nursed the suspicion that she and Kalla just might, just might, be able to help them. She did not know how they would, or whether they could, but the thought gave her courage.
They came to a peculiar area. The tunnel walls were gone and only the floor remained, narrowing to a walkway of only ten metres or so. Just enough for Saphira to get across. They stopped at the beginning of the walkway where the walls and ceiling ended so abruptly. Darkness stretched out in either direction and Frelsa feared that this might be another plain of shadow, but realised that it wasn't as impenetrable and was illuminated by Eragon's werelight.
The walkway itself did not have any railings and had lost all signs of ancient but once fine architecture, turning from neat bricks and tiles inscribed with runes to flat, dusty stone. Eragon's werelight flared in intensity and he began the journey across the path behind Saphira. He glanced back, "The path grows treacherous. Tread carefully. The path will only grow thinner. And try not to fall off. There is enough space here that Kalla could fly down to retrieve you, but just… don't."
She followed apprehensively behind Eragon, slightly fearful. But if he could do it for so many decades she must be able to weather it once. Frelsa began the journey across. The path was wide enough that she didn't fear falling off the edge, but she could see that the two sides were tapering together.
The path grew closer and closer together, soon Saphira had to take off and follow them at a slow pace from above. Kalla soon followed. Eragon glanced at them before she took off, "Do not rider Kalla, without saddles I would not want to risk you falling off."
"How about you Ebrithil? You have a saddle."
"Eragon, not Ebrithil. And I have learnt from experience not to trust many material things in this underground, foremost among them my saddle straps."
He spoke as if the memory displeased him.
How's the view up there, Kalla? She asked sarcastically.
Great, if you're find darkness pleasing. The shadows spread in every direction, the most I can glean about our surroundings is that we're in a giant cavern, more than a thousand metres in either direction.
She wondered how far underground they were for a cave this large to exist unnoticed.
Very quickly, the path shrunk to barely three metres, then only one. Frelsa shuffled one foot forward slowly, before shuffling the other foot ahead. She had a feeling that it was a long way down if she fell, and it would not be very comfortable. Frelsa gave a cry and a section of loose rock gave way beneath her soles, falling into darkness. She teetered on one foot, arms flailing about before she fell backwards, screaming.
A hand grabbed the front of her tunic and halted her fall. Frelsa looked up to see Eragon standing on the walkway, holding her with one hand. He pulled her back up onto the path and continued nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. She, possessed by a strange desire to survey what would have killed her, looked over the side to where the loose stones had fallen.
What do you think is down there? Kalla asked as she hovered overhead.
A series of splashes reached their ears. She replied, I guess we know now. Probably an underground lake of some sort. She wondered what sort of strange beasts lived down there, pale fish whose fathers were unfortunate enough to chance upon this world. Eyeless creatures, never once seeing the light of day.
The path remained at a spacing of one metre for a long stretch, cracks running through and around the walkway alarming her.
Thankfully, the path had begun to widen. Once Eragon saw this, he drew Brisingr. "Draw your sword Frelsa, we near our last obstacle."
What sort of challenge would this be, she wondered, what sort of demon would they have to challenge.
She was surprised when Eragon stopped. He raised his hand and pointed at his werelight, which quickly began to flare to the intensity of a small sun, illuminating their immediate world. The path had stretched back to its original size, ten metres in length and forming a roughly rectangular area. There were huge gates at the other end, huge enough for dragons to fly through. They were black as the shadows, the doors embossed with strange designs and the rims were gilded. To either side of the doors stretched endless limestone walls and the tips of long stalactites were just visible, hanging down from above.
There were several bodies strewn across the area, almost like a bare stone courtyard. A huge skeleton lay on its back, grinning to the heavens. It must have been ten feet tall in life, and what was surprising was the pair of magnificent horns curling from the top of the skull. The Urgal must have been a huge Kull in life, and had died at his peak. He had some rusted iron plates still strapped to his body and a large horned pauldron on his right shoulder. A few furs still ringed his waist like a war skirt. His right hand was curled around a giant wooden club studded with spikes, one a good sized man would have used as a two handed weapon, and on the other arm was attached a shield.
A short dwarf skeleton lay against a rock, head hung low, a scraggly brown beard still attached to his dead body. He was large for a dwarf and a double bladed battle axe made of rusted metal lay to one side. The dwarf had died in a full suit of armour, thick plates of pitted and corroded metal that covered his whole body. The helmet had rolled off to one side, exposing the thick and wide skull.
The last body was tall and slender, an elf most likely. He was garbed in elegant armour, the likes of which Frelsa had seen on some of the older wraiths. The armour had countless teeth and gnaw marks on it and the green and gold metal was discoloured from accumulated dirt and marked with countless blade marks. A cape was visible, a long cape, grey with age and tattered at the edges. He was attached to the wall next to the door by an Elven sword, the blade penetrating through armour and bone and cape, sinking several inches into the stone behind.
There were also curious marks in the walkway, deep gouges in the stone and fire blackened patches. Eragon seemed hesitant, not daring to walk straight towards the gates. Frelsa asked impatiently, "Ebrithil, we've passed the danger. What more is there to fear?"
She was already walking towards the doors when he looked at her. Saphira's voice rang out, Frelsa! Get back! Kalla, don't go!
She wasn't about to stop when their destination was so close.
"That walkway was not the danger, Frelsa. The danger, is before us-"
There was a crackling noise. The alien intrusion echoed around the cavern. She looked up at the stone courtyard, frantically searching for the source of the sound. There was nothing. Then there was another sound, rusted metal sliding against metal. The elven body seemed to glance at her but Frelsa paid it no attention, drawing Delswoir and settling into her sparring stance. She realised that she was nearly ten metres from Eragon.
Then the body glanced at her again as the sound of smooth metal sliding against a hard surface reached her ears. She frantically asked Kalla, What is it?
Master Saphira told you to stop didn't she?
Just tell me what stalks us!
The dragon didn't answer. Frelsa paused. There was a sound, something scraping against the dirt covered ground. Eragon spoke slowly and calmly, "Keep calm, Frelsa. When I say so, run towards me. Understand?"
She felt like screaming. The scraping noise was close. Right behind her. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. Was it that hot here?
Kalla! What's happening? Tell me!
Keep calm, Frelsa. Don't move, and-
Something angular and cold wrapped around her bare ankle. She screamed, and in a cave that sound becomes pretty loud. Frelsa turned around, pivoting on her left foot grasped in an iron grip. On the ground, lying on its belly, was the skeleton of the Urgal. It stared straight up at her in a mocking grin, empty sockets where the eyes would be. The thing's skeletal hand was around her leg.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment, before she started screaming again and stomped on the skeleton's visage with the heel of her foot. The skeleton did not let go. She stomped again and again, hacking at the body. The dead Kull didn't seem to notice, raising his other hand and wrapping it higher up her leg, trying to pull the rest of his stiff skeleton up.
Kalla! Where are you!
She got her answer a second later when a green blur flashed past her vision and she felt the skeleton's grips ripped off her body. Frelsa turned and saw Kalla carrying the writhing skeleton in her claws, swooping up and releasing the body. The Urgal shot forward like an arrow and slammed against the doors, a sharp cracking noise resounding.
Kalla landed next to Frelsa and asked, Frelsa, are you okay?
What was that! She screamed mentally.
"That, my student, was the third danger." She looked towards Eragon, whose face was hidden in a mask of uncommon anger. "I had hoped we could make it past the Guardians without stirring them, but unfortunately not."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Frelsa replied, pleading for forgiveness. "I don't know why I even did that, forgive me Ebrithil, please forgive me."
He replied, "It is in the past." He did not seem like he had forgiven her yet. "Ready yourself!"
The other two skeletons had begun to awaken. The Dwarven one had grabbed his helmet and placed it upon his head, his rusted armour rattling and hefting up his battle-axe, while the Elven skeleton had pulled the Elf sword out of his chest, dropping to the floor where he lay on his knees, tattered cape covering his figure, struggling to his feet. The Urgal had also risen from where he fell, advancing towards them with nothing but his shield in hand.
What are these demons? Kalla asked as she bent close to the ground and snarled.
"No demons, real mortals like you and me once. When this prison was formed, four guardians, strongest of the races in Alagaësia then. An Urgal war chief," Eragon crouched as the Urgal threw its shield like a disc at him, the projectile curving through the air and fading into the darkness after it missed. "-a Dwarf clan chief and an Elven prince. Given the honour to defend this prison after death."
What an honour, Kalla remarked as she growled at the slowly advancing Urgal. The Dwarf and Elf were growing accustomed to their surroundings, stumbling slowly towards them.
1, 2, 3. Where was the fourth? "Ebrithil, you said there were four, where is the last Guardian?"
Pray you do not meet him, Saphira replied grimly as she flew over the courtyard, swathing the skeletons in fire. When the fire cleared, the beings were still marching grimly towards them, pockets of fire burning within them.
"We need to get to the gates!" Eragon commanded, and raised Brisingr to block the blow of the Urgal as he struck with his studded club. Somehow the wood was barely nocked by the weapon. The Urgal struck again and Eragon slipped out under the skeleton's raised arm, slicing across the dead Kull's ribcage. It barely flinched, swinging the club again.
The dead Elf prince targeted Frelsa, the lethargy of his brethren absent in him. He swung the long steel sword like a whip, the blade flashing in a flurry of metal as he advanced, his death grin daring his adversary to try and survive. She barely raised Delswoir in time as the blade swung down, then wasn't even able to try and block as another swing came from below in an instant. She survived the blow that would've gutted her by a fluke, Delswoir's scabbard blocking the swing.
Frelsa raised her hand and pointed at the Elf with her index and middle finger, shouting, "Ganga aptr!"
The Elf didn't stop once, loosing a slice that nearly decapitated her. Eragon noticed and shouted across at her, "Do not use magic, they are impervious to it!"
As she tried to survive, she glanced out of the corner of her eye Kalla swooping down again and picking up the Dwarf. The dragon flew one round around the courtyard before throwing him towards over the side of the courtyard where he would fall into the lake below. One down.
But instead of flying out into space and to his demise, the Dwarf halted in mid-air, exactly where the courtyard ended and fell back down to the stone.
Do not try Kalla, it is impossible to bring them out of this area of the walkway, Saphira informed her as she roared, dropping the Urgal whom she had bit and attempted to bite through. Her snout had a deep gash in the blue flesh, sullying the dragon's perfection. Eragon tried to impale the skeleton with Brisingr, but it was to no avail.
Frelsa raised her weapon to parry a blow from the Elf prince and crying out at the shock travelling up her arm. She staggered back as Delswoir flew from her grasp, and the skeleton's grin seemed to widen, advancing slowly towards her. Frelsa didn't know how, but she knew that the dead Elf did not think he had need to rush to finish off this welp.
She did not know how they could make it past, or how she could survive. Eragon must have been a genius to devise a way to proceed. The skeletons seemed invulnerable to damage or pain. The Urgal still had not managed to land a blow on Eragon but seemed just as fast as the Elf, and hit a ton harder. Saphira flew in deranged circles, trying to dislodge the Dwarf skeleton on her back as he hacked at her hard scales with his axe, Kalla tailed Saphira, trying to knock off the Dwarf. She seemed to notice her Rider's plight and roared, peeling out to save Frelsa. But just as Saphira passed the smaller dragon, the Dwarf, displaying amazing agility for a dead body, leaped from the blue dragon onto the green, attacking Kalla
Frelsa regretted not requesting a set of more protective covering back at Eragon's cave, or better yet, armour, but he had set off in his present clothes and she did not want to stall him by getting a new set of her own. She knew she had little chance against this Elf prince, he struck harder than her and he was faster. The skeleton waited for her to rise, watching as she stuck Delswoir into the stone beneath her for support and watching as she rose to her feet shakily, before using his sword to knock Delswoir out of its position and sending her to the ground again. She cursed openly at the skeleton, to which he did not answer. She was thankful for that, talking skeletons was the only way this could get more morbid.
Picking up Delswoir, she remembered Eragon's last sparring lesson. 'Do not block the attacks of a stronger opponent. Dodge them! Lean back, sidestep. Be a reed and bend in the winds.'
He stared down at her, allowing her to completely rise to her feet this time. She levelled Delswoir at him and snarled just like Kalla would. The action startled her, but she was fed up with this skeleton.
She bent back as the Elf's blade swung within an inch of her face, then hopped aside as the blade came swinging down and collided with the ground. The Elf stabbed at her, and she spun aside and sliced the skeleton across the chest, the green brightsteel carving a path for itself through the armour. The being looked down in surprise, amazed that the girl had actually landed a hit on him. When he looked back, he stared at her with his customary grin.
Knocking aside the skeleton's weapon while his guard was down, she stabbed Delswoir through his armour, adding another hole to his chest plate. She had miscalculated the strike, expecting more resistance she had stabbed hard and the blade passed through a gap in the ribs easily, sending her forth with her momentum. The skeleton pressed both his arms to Frelsa's shoulders and strained to push her away, but he seemed to have weakened, barely able to hold her back. She decided to rub some salt in the wound, and kicked the Elf to the side, forcing the blade to slice through the whole wall of ribs.
Frelsa stepped back and took a moment to admire her handiwork, a huge rent in the ancient armour through which a row or detached ribs were visible. The skeleton just grinned at her. The splinters of bone that had flown away floated off the ground, slipping through the gash in the metal and reattaching themselves to the ribs, repairing the wound. He grinned at his newly repaired ribs, then at Frelsa, before picking up his sword and slicing at her. She had tried to dodge, but was taken by surprise, only managing to raise her left arm in defence and staggered backwards, falling onto the ground.
The Elf had turned his back on Frelsa and had started towards Eragon, who was trying to pin down the Urgal using magic, piling rocks upon the body which kept on resurfacing. He could not manipulate the skeleton's bodies with magic but he could manipulate their surroundings. She had not the time to devise a spell to use the earth around her.
Frelsa staggered forward, Delswoir clattering against the ground. The skeleton did not turn around. She saw Kalla nearing her, the Dwarf still on her back, blood streaming off her scales. Swearing to show the Dwarf's soul her vengance if she survived, Frelsa crawled to behind the Elf. They were halfway to Eragon. She had to act now or her Master would be caught unawares.
Reaching up Frelsa grabbed onto the back of the Elf Prince's armour. He stopped and turned towards her and loomed above the girl, his skull's features appearing infinitely more malevolent in the werelight. He grinned at her as she struggled to her knees. Frelsa had just about had it with Bone-boy's grins.
"Smile at this," she grunted as she raised Delswoir. "-you bony piece of-"
Frelsa plunged her long green sword into the skeleton's knee, fragments of bone flying out. The skeleton buckled as his attacker got to her feet, raising her sword. As the splinters of the Elf's ruined knee began to trace their path back to their origin to repair themselves, she swung Delswoir across the monster's face, sending the lower jaw flying to the far side of the courtyard. "Try and smile now."
Thankfully, this beast did not seem as resilient as the Urgal, who got up even as he was missing limbs and major bones to continue the fight. The Elf fell onto all fours, crawling around in confusion. He was out of action for now. At least until his lower jaw returned and he started grinning again.
"Kalla!" Frelsa called. She saw the green dragon on the ground, the Dwarf still on her back and trying to hack through the tough scales. Saphira was on the ground as well, pinning down Kalla's limbs and trying to remove the Dwarf who kept leaping out of the way of the scything jaws. The Urgal seemed to also be becoming nimbler, Eragon was barely avoiding most of the attacks, and sooner or later he would make a mistake.
Saphira closed her jaws around the Dwarf, strained once then bit him in half, throwing one half to the corner of the courtyard and the lower half to the other corner. She then flew over to Eragon and pounced on the Urgal, trying to dismember him.
Frelsa ran to Kalla's side, and paled at the axe wounds on her back. She couldn't tell how deep they were, but they were pouring out blood. Stay still, Kalla. I'll try and heal all these…
Hello? Any day now Frelsa, Kalla replied after Frelsa froze there, looking at her dragon's blood pooling around her shoes.
Yeah, yeah. I'll-I'll do it. She exhaled and grasped her mental kite. "Waíse heill."
She pressed her hands onto the wounds and shivered as the blood soon covered her fingers. The wounds were mostly superficial, thankfully, and healed easily. The spell quickly replicated the blood lost. Kalla twisted around and inspected her wounds. Humans, annoying, but you do have your uses.
Ha ha, very funny.
Eragon shouted "Brisingr!" and his blue blade which he had buried in the Urgal's head caught fire, blue flames coating the length of the weapon. Frelsa gasped, she had never heard of anyone able to do that with one spell. The two Dwarf halves were crawling rather humorously towards each other.
Uh oh, we've got a shadow, Frelsa.
She looked back and saw the Elf's jaw had floated back to him and reattached itself. He was walking towards them, flourishing his blade in one had while he adjusted his jaw with the other. Not him again, she thought.
He never reached her. A tremor ran through the ground, dust and loose rocks rained from the ceiling. Frelsa fell to the ground while Kalla and Saphira pressed her body flat against the stone, trying to stay stable. Eragon fell to his knees and used his blade to support himself. The Elf was not spared, falling to all fours. The tremors shook Frelsa to the core, making her bones vibrate and her brain seemed to bounce around her skull, aching horribly.
"W-Wha-at is g-going o-o-on?" She shouted.
Saphira turned her neck towards her. The fourth Guardian has awaken. We have no chance at victory against him, get to the Gates!
There was the sound like a huge waterfall, and something rose out of the darkness and wrapped around the walkway they had emerged from, just outside the werelight's illumination. A huge shape, gigantic in the shadows, rose from the dark and stood upon the walkway, huge thin claw like appendages extending to either side, seemingly hundreds of metres in length. Two fiery red spots appeared where its eyes were.
The Elf got to his feet and stared at the fourth Guardian, then straight at Frelsa. His grin seemed to widen and his eyes began to glow with a fire, a fire like that of the fourth but green as Kalla's scales, as if the presence of the huge creature empowered him.
"To the Gates!" Eragon shouted. They had a chance to get past now, while the Dwarf skeleton was down and the Urgal skeleton was still trying to get to his feet. The Elf, however, was in perfect condition, running towards them.
They raced to the Gates, and the dragons strained to push open the ornate obsidian doors. Eragon sent the Elf flying back by slamming a rock into his chest, but the skeleton immediately got up and ran towards them again.
The Doors flew open, and there was a thudding noise, like when Saphira and the largest dragons walked, but a hundred times more powerful. They strained to close the doors, and as they almost slid shut, a bony hand, armoured in elegant Elven armour reached through the gap, stoppering the doors. The scything hand grasped the nearest object, Frelsa, and tried to pull her through the gap.
She placed her hands and legs on either door and strained to stay put as the skeleton opened his gaping grin and seemed to laugh at her, emitting a bone chilling rattling noise.
Frelsa felt something around her waist and looked down, seeing a pair of sharp green claws, pulling her back.
Then they saw the fourth Guardian enter the light. It was a dragon. But not like any she had seen before.
He must have been five times Saphira's size at least. He bore no skin or scales, just pale bones shining in the werelight. Water gleamed off his body and Frelsa realised he must have come from the lake below. The dragon's claw like appendages turned out to be wings, huge and in the absence of the membrane that granted flight the wings appeared like nothing more than giant spindly claws. The beast growled at them, the sound making Frelsa shake where she stood. The dragon leaped forward and snapped at the doors, eyes blazing with fire, maw opened and roaring at them. She did not know how a skeleton could do so, but he did. She shut her eyes and screamed as the sound deafened her world. This monster's roar made Saphira's sound like a purr.
The armour on the Elf's arm began to crumple, crushed by the doors of the Gates. Cracking emanated from the arm but the skeleton's rattling laugh continued. If the dragon hit the Gates before they were shut they would have no chance of holding him back.
The Elf kept on laughing as the dragon lumbered nearer, bones shaking the world around him. She saw a small stone whizz past her ear and nail the skeleton in his burning green eye sockets, cracking a hole through his skull. He continued laughing even as he relinquished his grip and fell backwards.
The last thing she saw before the Gates closed was the jaws of the dragon as he charged them. The Gates shut and shook as the dragon rammed it, clouds of dust and dirt blowing through the bottom. A muffled roar reached them and ended. No more sounds came through the doors.
Frelsa sighed and fell backwards onto Kalla, limbs aching and throbbing, especially her left arm. "Well that's something ain't it?"
Uh, Frelsa?
Yes, Kalla?
Your arm's sliced open.
Huh? She looked down at her left arm and realised that her skin all along the forearm was parted, revealing the crimson flesh beneath. Blood flowed down in sheets.
Aw, f-
30-11-13
Chapter 5's complete, finally. I've had a busy time these few days so haven't been able to write much, and I have a fear that what I did write wasn't written well. If there are any loopholes in this plot just tell me, I'll get them fixed within that same day. I might or might not be able to keep up my '1 a day' schedule but then again, coffee works wonders.