Ilian lowered Arya's weak body to the deck, gently propping her head on a nearby coil of rope. He spluttered through his sobs, "I-I'm sorry, My Queen. I'm sorry…"
It had been so easy, just a quick knife thrust. The dagger had sheared through each and every one of her wards like a hot knife through cool butter. She glanced down at the dark stain on her white gown.
She tried to summon magic to heal herself again, but it was to no avail.
"He told me, He lied to me, He…He…"
Arya turned her head with difficulty and saw Fírnen lying immobile on the deck, fast asleep. His green scales seemed pale and cast a doleful light.
Fírnen…
She reached out weakly to him, for comfort in her last moments at least.
"F-F-Forgive me, My Queen, I was… was a f-fool."
She wanted to say that he was but she knew she had been foolish as well of late.
Strangely, she did not feel as panicked as she assumed she would have been. A strange calm washed over her. No more responsibilities. No more kingdom to rule, no more politics. Just her, free for the first time in her life from the constraints of royalty. At least for a few minutes.
A flare of pain shot up from the wound. Make that a few seconds.
One of Ilian's tears fell upon her face. He got up and held the knife in his right hand, clenching his fist so hard that the skin on his knuckles seemed to have disappeared, replaced by pale, white bone. His sorrow was heart wrenching to her. He might have been a jester who made a royal fool of himself, but he was familiar to her. Where smiles and cheerful brightness had once caressed that Elven face was now a face torn apart by misery and guilt.
"I'm so sorry."
He shuffled over to the deck, mumbling to himself like a prayer, "He tricked me… I'm so sorry… He tricked me… I'm so sorry…"
The Elf had faded to nothing but a dark shadow against the rails. The shadow raised a hand wielding a dagger to his neck.
Ilian's silhouette was still for a while, before slumping over the rails and falling to the water below. A splash soon reached her ears. All that was left of Ilian was now a bloodied dagger that clattered against the side of the ship. She knew she should be glad he was dead, but she just felt sadness for him.
Arya coughed, the movement sending more pain shooting up. She scrabbled at the hard wood, trying to claw her way to Fírnen. She needed him at her side, now more than ever.
Should she try and save herself? For Fírnen's sake at least? She knew what damage the loss of her life could do to him. She remembered Glaedr just after Oromis' death. So sad was he, so sad. Wishing he could die to join his Rider in death. This thought gave her new resolution, and her mind seemed to come into focus. She could not die now, for Fírnen's sake.
Arya placed her palm on the dagger wound, where the slender hand immediately became submerged in a pool of warm blood.
"Waíse heill."
Nothing. Truthfully, she had not expected that one to work. If the blade was enchanted then it would take a much wordier spell to heal the wound.
"Ramvíen thornessa goröth un waíse heill…"
Still nothing. There was not any more pain, which would have been a good thing if more blood had not started leaking out. Numbness started to spread from the wound. So that one did not work either.
Arya frowned. She had never taken much interest in healing, and it seemed that it would now be her downfall. She started conjuring up as many spells she could, invoking the removal of the curse, the replication of flesh and blood, and the creation of a new abdomen among others. All failed.
Her breathing was growing ragged. It was hard to take in air, each breathe seeming to stretch her ribs to breaking point. She coughed again, and dark lines splattered forth and stained the wood before her. Coughing blood? That could not be good.
She fell backwards.
I'm sorry Fírnen…
Frelsa pressed her eyes into her sleeve to avoid being blinded by the burning light. Something held Delswoir aside firmly but gently. Kalla had placed her paws over her eyes to protect them. Seems even dragons have limits.
"No need to fear, child. Not yet, at least."
The light seemed to fade, until it was returned to its regular golden hue, but compared to the nova just moments before, this bright light was almost like darkness.
"Look up, Frelsa. Kalla. Be the first to witness my glorious resurrection."
She still did not dare to raise her eyes from her sleeve.
"Look, children."
She tried to strike with Delswoir but the force held her sword away firmly.
"I said look at me!"
The voice had lost its gentleness, now harsh and with an undertone of insanity. Frelsa did not dare disobey and peeked up.
Her first impression, grey. Something large and grey dominated her view, blocking all other things in the room. Her vision began to come into focus, and realised with amazement that the grey thing was a man. At least it looked like one.
He was tall, very tall, at least nine or ten feet tall, as tall as the greatest Kull. None of his features were visible, indeed no part of him was visible. He was a maelstrom of grey power, swirling like a twister, adopting a roughly humanoid figure. Parts of him seemed to come into focus now and then, sections of the grey twister condensing into solid body parts, a grey arm, a dark leg. Then there were his eyes. Two spotlights of gold in the grey tornado, pure gold. The golden eyes were visible from all directions through his tempest like head so it seemed that he was looking at you no matter where you were. Those two shining lights upon his twisting head seemed the only definite part of him, the only part that did not change, you know, besides the air of impending doom.
"You look upon me at last." He, because the being was most definitely a 'he' by the voice, had an even more pronounced accent and lisp in person.
The being was not as epic as she had thought the Danger would be, but epic enough. She did not dare say a word in the presence of this creature.
Kalla uncovered her eyes and recoiled from this giant before her. She struck, sinking her jaws into the being's legs, but her sharp teeth passed straight through the maelstrom, before her head was sent flying back.
Get back, you beast! Kalla snarled as she hopped back.
"Beast?" The being rose to his feet and turned his back to them. His voice was identical to the mental one he had projected earlier. "Monster and beast we are now…"
His voice sounded doleful and wistful. "Once upon a time, I was a God."
The being turned back to them, his eyes slanted with hate. "And I shall be again."
Eragon and Saphira were on the other side of the room. "Get away from her!"
"Ah, Eragon!" He spoke as if addressing an old friend. "You behold me at-"
The being looked up at the ceiling far above.
"Isnýt Ykona fierl," he spat out in the Ancient Language. She knew enough to understand its meaning. 'Insolent little girl.' Somehow Frelsa knew he was not referring to her. He reverted back to Common. "Might I ask what are the names of the Urgal, the human and their two dragons, grey and brown, who are currently trying to gain access to this chamber?"
Eragon's eyes widened, but he remained silent. Frelsa however, immediately blurted out in wonder, "Shepherd and Drukjl are alive?"
She clamped her hands over her mouth.
"So those are their names. It seems they have discovered the back door, and would have gained entry."
She smiled secretly to herself and spoke to Kalla, You hear that? They're coming!
Oh woo hoo, cavalry to the rescue. Trust me, with them, something's bound to screw up.
"'Would have'," the being repeated. "If not for the doors 'mysteriously' closing just seconds ago."
Told you.
This can't be it, this can't be it!
Errol was swooping in and slamming against where the tunnel had been, raking his claws over the hard rock and carving lines in the stone. Which would have been fine with Shepherd if he had not been riding Errol as he attacked the volcano face.
Slow down, Errol!
Shut up, Shepherd! This can't be it, this can't be it!
"They are brave, but weak."
Saphira had staggered to her feet, Eragon readying Brisingr atop her back. They were their last hope now.
"I could leave now, leave to exact my vengeance upon the Riders and all who scorned mine and mine race. But that's no fun."
The way he said fun betrayed a madness underneath. A madness that this creature knew was there, and enjoyed it.
"I swear, if you harm any one of them-" Eragon began.
"You'll lay down and die for me?" The being turned to Eragon and Saphira. "Come now, Rider. How can you hope to best me?"
Frelsa waited for some curt retort from her master, a secret power or revelation that could mean the defeat of this thing. But none came.
Eragon slumped in his seat and Brisingr seemed to grow heavier in his hands.
"Exactly. Now let's make this a bit more interesting hmmm?"
The being reached down and touched the floor, the golden pinpoints that were his eyes disappearing for a moment.
Errol, stop! Dýrgrir pleaded.
Shepherd rocked violently in his perch as his dragon tried to reopen the tunnel with tooth and claw. It was all he could do not to get his face impaled on the spike in front of him as he tipped back and forth.
No! I have… have to! Errol roared back.
A chip of rock flew out and struck Shepherd on the arm, drawing blood.
Errol, stop!
No answer this time, just more gouges in the rock. Shepherd was beginning to agree with Dýrgrir as a pebble flew overhead as fast as an arrow.
Errol, this isn't the same as back at the healer's! Shepherd said. We need to-
Leave? Errol asked accusingly, like the very thought was unbearable.
Dýrgrir swooped in and tackled Errol, sending both Errol and Shepherd careening to one side.
He swung in mid-air to face Dýrgrir. Die!
Silence, Firebreather! Drukjl commanded.
Errol reared back to dive forward, before Dýrgrir silenced him. Can't you feel it?
Feel what?
Just stay still for a moment. I thought it was your attacks on the tunnel but now…
Shepherd settled into his seat and listened for whatever Dýrgrir spoke of. There was a deep, rumbling, like the sound of faraway lightning.
What is that?
The patches of fiery molten rock on the volcano face seemed to grow brighter.
Please tell me this is not what I think it is… Shepherd said.
It's not what you think it is, Drukjl responded. It's much worse.
The ground and walls seemed to glow brighter. Kalla shifted from foot to foot nervously.
"They should never have come here," The Danger said in a forboding voice.
A tremor passed through the ground, making Frelsa's teeth rattle and her bones shake.
Kalla? What's going on…?
You tell me.
She glanced at their masters. Saphira answered, The Mountain has learned to breathe fire yet again.
The first rock came down like a catapult's missile. A black blur that shot down past them and down into the clouds.
Shepherd stared at where the white wall had swallowed it up.
That, cannot be good.
Definitely not, Errol agreed.
The second rock flew out into the sky, this one leaving behind a trail of smoke. It rose from the apex of the volcano and flew down the South face, leaving a dark line of noxious black smoke behind it.
Aw shit.
The rocks started coming out like a legion of ballistae and catapults were within the volcano, lobbing rocks at the Riders outside. Many of them trailed black fumes. Errol swooped to one side then dived down before rising up to avoid the projectiles.
A huge rumble resonated from the volcano, before it blew itself apart. The entire North face shattered, crumbling into pieces like an egg and revealing the deadly glowing yolk underneath, a lake of lava which flowed down the side of the mountain. The egg shell submerged within the yolk and became a part of it. Huge clouds of noxious black ash rose from the shatter point and spread out across the sky, blotting out the moon.
The Danger cocked his head as he knelt over the ground. "Seems a tad unfair to just kill your friends like that."
Frelsa paled. Kill? He spoke of it like how she had seen men order beers at bars.
"I think I'll give them a sporting chance."
There was a sharp cracking noise and she looked up. Several large objects were falling through the tall chamber, chunks of marble the size of Kalla or larger. She glanced up and saw far above, where the ceiling should be, was a wall of ash. It covered the top of the chamber. One of the falling chunks of ceiling struck the being on the back and his concentration lapsed for a moment.
Eragon took the chance and raised Brisingr up high as Saphira roared, the pair charging the Danger who still kneeled on the floor. The blue dragon flapped once to give herself a boost and fell upon the crouched figure.
He stabbed Brisingr into the Danger's back. "Go, Frelsa! Go while you can!"
Kalla took off, before the Danger reached out one grey hand of twisting energy that coalesced into a claw like grip of flesh and blood for a moment before reverting. "Don't run away now, little mortals."
He brought his tempest hand down and Kalla was flung to earth, landing on her side. This unfortunately meant that she trapped her Rider's leg under her.
Frelsa screamed until her throat grew hoarse. The leg pressed under Kalla's body felt as if it had been held over the furnace for a few hours while simultaneously being crushed under Hothgeir's anvil.
Oh gods! Sorry, Frelsa, sorry, sorry, sorry…
Kalla scrambled to her feet. Frelsa cursed as she gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. She grasped the side of her leg with one hand and spat out the healing spell. Burning hell was soon replaced by a cool wind. She sighed in relief. Well, now we know we can't go out.
Eragon had somehow undone all the straps that kept his legs attached to Saphira, and was now behind the Danger, hanging onto the being with one hand wrapped around his neck as he tried to thrust Brisingr into his neck. Somehow Eragon did not just pass through the being's body, able to find a firm grip on it. Eragon was a tall man, but next to the Danger he seemed rather diminutive. The Danger was obviously powerful, wrestling with Saphira herself, somehow able to hold back the giant dragon with only his hands.
What do we do, Frelsa? Kalla asked. Fight or fly?
Frelsa thought of Shepherd and Drukjl, Errol and Dýrgrir. How they were looking for her at the very moment. How they could be dead at the very moment. She glared at the Danger in hate.
She drew Delswoir and snarled, There's only one option left at this point.
Errol swooped again as a chunk of black stone the size of Shepherd's quarters flew by. Come on, Errol, we have to go!
Wait… just, wait for a while. I see something!
No time, Firebreather! Drukjl stated as Dýrgrir was nearly knocked out of the sky by a rain of rock.
No! Look, see?
Shepherd cried out in pain as something seared itself into his arm, a tiny black rock the size of a coin. He removed the projectile and healed himself. What is it, Errol? We can't wait around!
Just wait! Look, there, through the ash.
Shepherd looked hard, trying to ignore the burning as ash went into his eyes and made them agitated them. He rubbed his eyes and realised how puffy and red they must be by now.
What is it, Errol? He asked impatiently. There's nothing.
No! This time it was unexpectedly from Dýrgrir. Errol is correct. There is light there.
Shepherd squinted into the dark clouds of smog. Nothing but blackness, deep, dark shadow. He was about to speak out when he realised that there was light. A tiny pinprick of gold in the dark. Was he going crazy?
Is that…
Light? About time you saw it, Shepherd.
The ash over the light seemed to part just a little bit wider and they saw a definite wall of gold there, before the ash swallowed it completely again.
Shepherd! Drukjl called. We must go or die here!
Agreed, Ram. Come on, Errol. We have to leave and warn the rest of the Riders.
I have a better idea.
Oh I hate your ideas.
Errol tucked in his wings and made a beeline straight for where the light had been.
Kalla charged forward, roaring. The Danger pulled Eragon off, flinging him to one side, and kicked Saphira like a mangy mutt. He turned to face the green dragon and her Rider atop her back charging recklessly at him. The creature cocked its head at them, before the tempest of his body expanded and the boundaries of it growing more indistinct. Kalla charged still, opening her jaws to clamp around the nearest body part she found, before dragon and Rider tumbled through where the Danger should have been.
They slid to a stop on the other side of the creature, whose essence drew together and formed a whole again.
Eragon got to his feet and ran across the marble floor. Frelsa winced, remembering how hot the ground had been for her. Saphira leaped from the opposite side of the room, fangs bared.
"Ha ha! It has been a long time since I broke beings of your calibre!" The Danger spoke as if this was but a game to him.
Eragon sliced at the Danger's leg, which vaporised before contact and reformed after. He stabbed Brisingr immediately at his target's abdomen, where a hole opened up to let the sword pass through. Eragon rolled under the tempest's legs and joined Saphira, swinging up onto the saddle.
The dragon roared at him, to which the tempest replied, "Oh, the big dragon wants to hurt me! Whatever shall I do?"
Saphira roared again and let loose a torrent of sapphire flames that would have incinerated any living being. Even Frelsa, maybe ten or twelve metres away, flinched from the heat while Kalla looked in wide eyed admiration.
The Danger was gone, the marble and gold ground beneath blackened with flame, thin trails of smoke curling up from the point of contact. Kalla advanced and sniffed the ground cautiously. Is it… gone?
I would not assume so, Saphira warned.
"And you are right not to." The voice seemed to come from all around them. It laughed dementedly. "What will you do now? How will you defeat me when you cannot strike me?"
A chunk of marble fell from the ceiling again. Frelsa looked up and saw far above, a wall of ash, same as before. A few small black rocks fell down to them. But what really caught her attention was the screaming. And the roars. Very familiar screams and roars. She was almost afraid to ask.
Shepherd? Drukjl?
Dýrgrir roared after them. You idiot dragon!
Just follow me!
They vanished into the ash. Shepherd thought the clouds had been dark. This was a whole new world, a whole new spectrum of suckiness. Thankfully his spell was keeping the ash out of their air but the cost to upkeep it grew exponentially. Sieving out ash from air was a lot harder that he had thought.
Errol! You know where you're going? Shepherd asked in fear.
I have no idea! Very comforting.
They flew through the ash, Errol occasionally snarling as a burning black rock struck his body. They heard a roar which undoubtedly belonged to Dýrgrir. At least they knew Drukjl was following them. He soon realised it was the other way around.
Errol collided with something big, scaly, brown and angry, and with a displeased Urgal on his saddle. Dýrgrir roared at them as they careened into open space, Errol! What kind of flying was that?
Hey, why were you in front of me? I said 'follow' me!
Oh sure, that is extremely easy to accomplish in a cloud of ash!
Shut up! Drukjl commanded.
Errol roared in pain as he collided with another large object. Dýrgrir! Stop flying into me!
Stop blaming me for your horrible flying skills, Drajl!
Calm down guys, Errol, can you see what you hit? Shepherd asked.
It's just a stupid… wall?
Shepherd's mouth fell open as he beheld the source of the light they had seen earlier. A wall, made of gilded ivory and pearly marble. The very stone and metal seemed to produce a heavenly light. The fumes and clouds of ash did not encroach upon this area, as if knowing that they were unable to pervade this sanctuary. How it had appeared there was a mystery to him.
Am I dead or something, because I think I'm seeing...?
Seeing it too, Errol said.
He looked around and realised that that wall was one side of a cylindrical chamber, the floor of which was thousands of metres below them in the heart of the volcano. Four large statues ringed the chamber but he did not bother to inspect them. The patch of stone Errol collided into began to detach itself from the mass and fell to the luminescent floor far below.
A roar reached their ears. An echoing roar of some great dragon, that undoubtedly came from below. Shepherd twisted on Errol's back and looked over the side. On the floor far below were tiny, indistinct figures moving around, a small grey speck, another green one and a smudge of iridescent blue.
Got them, Ram! They're below!
I see.
Errol began to tuck in his wings again.
Uh, can you just do a soft spiral down? Shepherd asked.
Sorry, can't hear you, gotta save them now.
You like doing this to me don't you?
Frelsa looked dumbly towards the ceiling. They had actually found her.
Shepherd was screaming like a child who had just been punished, Dýrgrir followed Errol down just as quickly.
"Truthfully I did not think they would have made it."
Frelsa turned to the source of the voice. The Danger was sitting on one of the large rocks that had fallen from above. The huge grey tempesty giant reclined on his rock. "I mean, even with my aid in shattering the ceiling, those mortals are quite foolish."
She wanted to agree with him.
"Anyway, back to business yes?" He slid off the rock and started casually strolling towards them. "This chamber is quite tall and they've still a long way to go to reach us. More than enough time to break all of you."
His twisting body dematerialised again, reforming in an instant in front of Eragon. Saphira slashed at him with her claws, which passed straight through the Danger. Her Rider slashed Brisingr through the being before him, a strike that would have cleaved a Kull from shoulder to waist, but the blade simply swept through the mist like essence.
Kalla lunged forward and Frelsa swung Delswoir in unison with her dragon. The green blade passed through her target's chest but a section of the being's back condensed into sickly grey flesh for a momentm, allowing Kalla to latch onto it with her teeth.
He bellowed with pain, the noise seeming even louder than Saphira's roars, and swatted aside Kalla like a fly. The impact knocked Frelsa off her dragon, and she cried out in pain as her skin connected with the ground. She snatched up Delswoir off the ground and almost wanted to drop it, holding the hilt felt like she was holding a hot coal, but she resisted. Her hands were already a burnt mess anyway. Frelsa got to her feet, but the weight on them just intensified the pain. Kalla was lying belly up and immobile, but this did not bother her as much as it should. Mainly because she was preoccupied with her feet that seemed to be melting. Frelsa saw that there was a ceiling chunk nearby and scrambled up onto it, wincing as her burnt skin came into contact with the rough stone. She hurriedly healed her burns and saw Kalla was beginning to scramble to her feet.
Shepherd was sure that he would die before they reached the ground. Diving straight down on your dragon is dangerous enough, when you did not have a proper saddle it was a death sentence. He felt his body nearly slip off his seat and into open air about four times already, wait… make that five.
The tiny shapes became clearer, definitely Saphira and Kalla. The grey shape seemed like a grey tornado was trying to masquerade as a human. Saphira was right in front of the big grey giant, trying to slash and bite it but her attacks seemed to have no effect. He saw a tiny figure on her back, Eragon probably, slashing his blue blade at the tornado man, similarly useless. Kalla, with another tiny figure on her back which should be Frelsa, lunged forward and the tornado man roared in pain, the sound ringing in his ears long after it ended.
Errol! Mind pulling up a bit? I don't fancy falling the rest of the way.
Don't worry, I might be able to catch you. Might.
He did not dare turn to look behind to check on Drukjl at their speed but a quick mental probe sufficed. Dýrgrir was diving down as quickly as Errol was, the Ram safe on his back.
As they neared, Shepherd realised just how big Tornado Man was. He rose taller than the largest Kull he had ever seen, the big grey giant must be ten feet tall at least! He swatted Kalla aside and she flew across the room. The little figure on her back fell off and scrambled onto a chunk or rock that had fallen from above. Errol saw Kalla's limp body and roared in fury, the bubbling pit of anger that had materialised within him pervading Shepherd's own mind. Errol roared again, Prepare to die!
Errol dived down even further, so close to the ground that Shepherd could see the individual veins within the marble, then the dragon spread his wings and swooped up and towards Tornado Man with claws outstretched. At their speed there would two possible outcomes, one: they pick up Tornado Man and send him flying to the far side of this tube chamber, two: Tornado Man proves to be too fat to be sent flying and Errol and Shepherd become a dragon and Rider flatcake on his body.
The result proved to be neither. The Danger turned towards them and looked up at them with eyes of pure gold. He disappeared. It actually seemed more like dissipating into tiny wisps of Tornado Man. Shepherd sensed the confusion from Errol as he grasped air in his claws. The dragon spread his wings and flapped frantically, trying to halt their crash course straight for the far wall.
They slowed to a standstill and Shepherd glanced behind. He saw Tornado Man was back, facing off with Saphira and Eragon again. He noticed that their attacks were indeed having no effects because pathways for Brisingr or Saphira's claws and teeth opened up within Tornado Man's body, allowing the weapons to pass through harmlessly. Dýrgrir and Drukjl struck, falling like a stone from above the grey giant. They were probably aiming to latch onto their target's back and land a few blows, but he dissipated again, allowing Dýrgrir to fall through open air and land rather heavily on the hard ground.
He looked at Frelsa, trying to find some purchase on the chunk of rock she was taking refuge on. He wondered why she did not just drop to the ground.
"We late to the party?" He called.
"What does it look like?" She replied. Frelsa sounded joyful, or maybe just in awe of his good looks as usual.
"Mind telling us what this party is for?" Drukjl added as he turned in all directions, looking for Tornado Man.
Long story. Kalla began to crawl shakily to her feet.
Kalla! Are you- Errol began.
I'm fine, Grey Head. Just focus on the Big Evil Thing.
"You mean myself?" A voice mockingly asked.
The Danger had reappeared in the centre of the chamber, appearing as if he was inspecting non-existent dirt under his non-existent fingernails. Dýrgrir and Drukjl roared in unison at him, then the dragon leapt forth with fangs bared, the Urgal on his back waving his axe intimidatingly, before they were thrown into the air. More specifically, thrown into the air towards Shepherd and Errol. All four of them tumbled to the ground, where they promptly discovered its burning qualities. Kalla bounded towards her Rider marooned on her rock.
Eragon stabbed Brisingr at his target, which passed through as usual. But when he tried to draw it out the grey storm closed over the wound area. Eragon grunted and pulled back on his sword again, which did not budge. The Danger raised one arm leisurely, and grasped the crossguard of the shining blue sword.
Eragon struggled to retrieve his sword, Saphira continuously tried to bite down or wound the Danger through any means but her attacks simply phased through her target. The huge being placed his other hand on the sword and began to pull it towards him. The huge creature easily took Brisingr for his own, yanking it from Eragon's grasp.
The Danger held the sword up to the light to inspect it for a moment, his golden eyes morphing to slits, then swung it down at Eragon.
The blade was a sapphire arc, flying towards its former wielder. Brisingr halted a few inches above Eragon's shoulder for a moment, probably halted by his innumerable wards, before the blade continued on its path, forging through Eragon and Saphira's flesh alike, shearing through magic and dragon scale.
Eragon looked down at the tear in his tunic that spread from the tip of his right shoulder to the left side of his waist, then continuing in the form of a red tear that carved through blue scales down Saphira's side and through her wing, severing the slender bones beneath the blue membrane and causing them to hang slackly. Just as blood began to spill from his wound and stain his tunic Eragon held a hand over his wound and Saphira's and muttered a healing spell.
The Danger's eyes slanted in fury at this sight and bellowed a spell in a voice so deep that the wording for the incantation was all but hidden. The wounds failed to heal, blood continued to spill down tunic and scale.
The grey giant shook with anger and his body seemed to be less of a tempest now, more like a shadow. "You seek to use my people's creation against me? Such blasphemy!"
The grey shadow swept one hand across his own being and dissipated once more, Brisingr clattering to the ground, giving Frelsa an unobstructed view of her Masters bleeding out before her. Eragon cast a serene gaze at her, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward.
Frelsa stared in shock at Eragon as he sat limp in his saddle, held in place only by the saddle straps. Saphira staggered forth lethargically, barely able to keep herself conscious. Kalla had arrived at Frelsa's rock. Come on!
She stared in shock at her Masters, and it took a few more calls from Kalla to wake her from her stupor. Frelsa slid off the rock and onto Kalla's back, in her daze nearly impaling herself on one of the dragon's ivory spikes.
"Sorry about that, I was just a teensy bit upset at his show."
The Danger materialised again, leaning against the wall behind Saphira. He had reverted to his tempest-like form. "Such a shame to see good warriors go. If only they had been like me, they would have been heroes in my time, but I digress. The show must go on."
He stepped over Saphira's tail, which she still swung meekly in an effort to slow down the Danger. He looked straight at Frelsa. "As always, ladies first, yes?"
Let's kill this bastard, Kalla snarled, the anger within her a visible, tangible thing.
Couldn't agree more, Frelsa snarled back. She was all set to charge in, not caring what happened to her, just wishing for revenge, when she heard a clink.
Shepherd?
Shepherd had landed several metres away from Errol so it had taken a series of humorous hops across the scorching ground to reach his dragon. He knew now why Frelsa had not left her rock chunk.
He had just mounted Errol when he saw Eragon and Saphira as they were cleaved by the Tornado Man. Eragon sat immobile while Saphira still struggled weakly. But what was horrifying was the blood. Human mixed with Dragon, completely drenching Eragon's tunic, flowing down like a river over Saphira's scales. The blood collected into a pool beneath the blue dragon where it began bubbling from the heat of the ground.
Shepherd looked at his fallen Master in shock. It couldn't be. This was the Kingkiller, and the Sapphire Radiance, the leaders of the Riders. How could they just be slain by one blow?
"Shepherd!"
The Urgal's shout brought him to reality.
"Wh-What is it?" He asked meekly.
"Shepherd, find yourself! We have time to mourn later!"
"Time to… time to mourn?"
"Yes, time to mourn. So find yourself again and let's slay this beast."
Did you hear that? Dýrgrir asked.
Shepherd listened intently. "Uh, what?"
A clinking. Like metal against stone, wait there it is!
Shepherd definitely heard it this time. "What is it?" Drukjl asked.
Errol jerked his head at something on the ground. Those.
Shepherd looked down. He did not know why he had not noticed it before, the ground was scattered with panes of some greyish material, as alien as Tornado Man in this ivory and gold paradise. Some of them were as small as rings, others as large as Saphira's head. Whenever Tornado Man stepped on one it would make a small clink, but why?
He continued on his foreboding march towards Frelsa. Errol growled. Come on, Shepherd!
Wait a moment!
What is it? He's going to kill Kalla!
Shepherd begged him to wait a while. Why would the panes clink under Tornado Man's feet? He saw the grey giant phase straight through a chunk of rock. He could go straight through anything he wanted without a second though, so why not the panes of grey? Another clink. Maybe it was just because he did not bother dissipating through it. Maybe because he could not.
Errol! Pick up one of those grey plates for me will you?
Shepherd! We have no time for this! Drukjl scolded.
Maybe… maybe we do. Errol muttered. Shepherd could sense he was beginning to catch on. The grey dragon picked up one of the panes in his mouth and twisted his neck around as much as possible to hand it to his Rider.
This better be something worthy. Drukjl said.
Oh it is, Ram. The excitement was building up now.
He accepted the pane from his dragon, a relatively small sized piece only a metre or so in diameter. The material was surprisingly cool to the touch. He held it at eye level so that the grey giant was smack in the centre of the pane. The giant was only a few strides away from Frelsa and Kalla now, who had begun charging towards their target.
He hoped this worked. "Gánga!"
She was right before the giant, his grey tornado of a body looming before her, dark arms outstretched to embrace her in a death grip. Kalla roared beneath her, Frelsa snarled at the Danger. Delswoir felt right in her hands, Kalla's presence felt right beneath her. And she knew it would feel right to kill this thing. But what was not right was the 'thunk!' sound and the Danger saying, "Ow!"
Kalla and her looked in amazement as the giant stumbled back, holding one hand to the side of his head, his golden eyes shut in pain and what seemed like a grey disc flying away. Frelsa realised that it was one of the many grey panes that had been spread across the chamber when the sphere had exploded.
"What the…"
Another disc shot forth, this one slightly larger. It connected with the being's hand that was pressed against the side of his head, to which the Danger cried out in pain. Frelsa turned and saw Drukjl and Shepherd, both already picking up another pane and getting ready to send it forth.
Why don't they just pass through his body? Frelsa wondered to both herself and Kalla.
Wait… his prison was made with these right? Kalla picked up the nearest pane with her teeth, one half a metre in length. And he was unable to escape his prison easily.
So that means that against these things, Frelsa mused as she accepted the projectile from her dragon.
He's defenceless, Kalla completed.
She held the pane up to her mouth, grasped her mental kite, and whispered, "Jierda mägr aevin."
'Hit many times.' Apparently it worked, the projectile flying true like an arrow and nailing the Danger on the chest, then on the shoulder, then on the forehead. And thankfully, the energy taken to upkeep the spell was small, a result of how light the panes were.
Drukjl eventually decided to not use spells to send his panes forth after the first few flew wide, opting instead to just throw them himself. They were by no means less deadly.
The Danger snarled and bellowed at them, before they were silenced by another grey missile. The dragons would leap around the chamber, picking up choice discs or panes and handing them to the Riders who could not reach them, then they would send them flying at the Danger. The giant kept on trying to dissipate, but a grey disc would strike a part of him and he would return to form. And he was obviously not pleased.
"Stop, I will not be- argh! - subjected to- ow! - such embarrassing treatment!"
One pane flew far above his head and this gave a short enough window for him to enact his vengeance. His golden eyes flared to the intensity of the Sun, his tempest body formed once again into a grey silhouette.
"Stop!"
A shockwave spread out from him, a visible wave of energy and force that distorted the air as it spread out from him. The wave sent the dragons and their Riders flying to the far ends of the room.
When her head stopped spinning, Frelsa was still on Kalla, thankfully upright and not against the ground. All the panes seemed to have gone. The Danger composed himself. "That was rather unpleasant. You all do not seem to understand how this goes, you will try and defeat me, emphasis on try, and fail, after which I slay you all-"
The Danger's eyes widened in shock as a huge pane, six metres across at least, struck him from behind. His golden eyes slid shut and he sank to his knees and took form as a pile of grey mist.
"About time."
Standing behind him was Saphira, and Eragon on her back.
He retained that one image of bravado for a moment, before he slumped forward in his saddle again. Frelsa and Kalla rushed forward to help their masters. Shepherd and Drukjl just stared in shock.
Our Masters have a strong fire within them, Kalla remarked.
Frelsa did not need to reply.
Dýrgrir edged forth cautiously and batted at the pile of mist. His claws went straight through the grey smoke. Kalla went up right alongside Saphira and Frelsa leaned over to help Eragon straighten up.
"Thank you, Frelsa," Eragon winced. His entire tunic was little more than torn rags soaked and dripping with blood. His skin was a deathly pale pallor. Kalla bent her knees and used her body to try and support Saphira, whose scales seemed crimson instead of blue.
Errol inched forth slightly. We can heal you, Ebrithil, just stay still.
No, was Saphira's simply reply.
They were all taken aback. Shepherd asked,"No?"
No, she reaffirmed. There is no healing for these wounds of ours.
"Don't worry, Dur Firetongue. We shall heal you." Drukjl sounded just as absolute.
"No, Drukjl." Eragon sounded infinitely more peaceful than he had ever heard him to be. His face seemed just like how it would be on a peaceful day at the sparring field, giving them a lesson, despite how pale it was. "The magic worked upon us, even we cannot break it."
"We will help you. If the all of us work together, we could support Saphira out of this chamber," Shepherd suggested. Frelsa could tell that even he thought it was a far-fetched idea. Saphira was just too large for them, even with magic, to carry out of the tall chamber.
"And would you then carry us through the ash clouds, across the ruined island and to the mainland across the sea? No, we… must stay." Eragon gave a cough and strings of blood splattered against Saphira's neck.
"Don't listen to yourself, Ebrithil, it is the blood loss speaking," Frelsa said.
"No." He gently pushed aside Frelsa, managing to sit somewhat straight in his saddle on his own. The bloody gouge in his tunic and flesh was nearly invisible now that his entire tunic seemed a mass of blood rags. Saphira's eyelids were half closed, her body begging to shut down. She had never seen a dragon lose that much blood and survive before. Or even a dragon lose that much blood at all. A trickle of blood trailed down from the corner of Eragon's mouth.
"We must stay, and keep the Danger subdued while you escape."
That path only brings death, Dýrgrir reminded.
We will stay and fight with you! Errol said.
Brave, brave little ones. Saphira nuzzled them tenderly with a blood slick snout. If you stay with us, you will die with us. If we went with you, he would find us easily from here and pull us back, even if we went by magic.
"This way, we can ensure that at least you six survive," Eragon finished.
"No! We are not leaving you here to that thing!" Frelsa exclaimed, pointing at the pile of mist that seemed to be slowly taking form again.
"I give that you may give back to this world"
"WE ARE NOT LEAVING YOU HERE!"
Eragon smiled sadly at her. Saphira gently pushed Kalla away from her.
" It's not a choice," they stated as one.
The pile of mist had started to spin and turn like a tempest.
Eragon waved dismissively at them, muttering something under his breathe.
The smoke began to pile up upon itself, reforming the giant's shape.
Her world seemed to crumble, as it had in her dream of Angela's shop. Parts of her world crumbling and fading to black.
Saphira and Eragon turned to face them one last time. He smiled and despite his pale face and the now blood red dragon beneath him, and called, "Remember my cousin's castle!"
Frelsa looked at them, their features distorted through her tears. "Y-Yes, Ebrithil."
He gave her one last grin. "Eragon, not Ebrithil."
Saphira and him turned back to the Danger, like they were welcoming an old friend.
17-12-13
Woo, chapter 7 is d-o-n-e. I tried to do a tenner or a niner, but I only just got back from overseas so I could only manage a seven. Got a bit emotional writing this last one, and if you do too, means I have succeeded as a writer. And btw, do ut des is latin, and an ancient Roman phrase associated with religion, meaning 'I give that you might give'.