Memory: First Battle of the Burning Plains, Part One
A/N: Memory Chapter here you go! In all honesty, as I am writing this right now, I still don't know what memory to do. Last time I did The Battle for Ilirea, and I got really good feedback on that, but yet again, I don't want to do The Battle of Doru Araeba. Grr…. This is too difficult!
Anyway, while I am subconsciously thinking on what memory to do, I'd like to answer a question.
Mr. Krokodyl asked me, "Ubij go"? Is it from Polish?" No, it is not Polish at all. As a matter of fact, it is from a language that I invented myself for my own original story. If you want to see it, just ask. (The language, not the story)
Disclaimer: AND I STILL HAVEN'T THOUGHT OF A MEMORY! Not friggin' mine. I am not in the mood.
*FOUR HOURS LATER (Literally, four hours, like really)
HAHAHA! I GOT IT! I don't know who knows what the Burning Plains are…Okay, never mind, you'd be absolutely stupid not to know. I'm not doing the one Varden vs. Empire; I am doing the very first battle. It's called 'First Battle of the Burning Plains' and it's about how the Burning Plains came to be, so read and enjoy!
E-R-A-G-O-N
Galbatorix, Eragon thought, will pay. The Oath-Breaker currently was winging his way towards their location, well not their location. A hundred or so wild dragons and two bonded dragons and their riders were currently waiting in an incredibly luscious field with amazingly green grass. That would all change soon. Eragon surmised that a near ten thousand of Galbatorix's brainwashed soldiers were under the Forsworn, and were marching fast. Murtagh, Eragon, Thorn, and Saphira were in the field, ready to fight against the Forsworn. Many famous dragons were ready to fight as well, including Miremel, Fundor, Lenora, Opheila, Iormungr, Vanilor, and his son Eridor. Presently, Saphira was with her father, along with her mate Thorn.
Eragon nearly laughed when he remembered when Saphira told her parents that she was mated with Thorn, and then Thorn had to meet the in-laws. Eragon had seen Thorn ready to face any foe, and not quail or flinch at all. But when he met Saphira I and Iormungr, he was as nervous as a cow in front of a hungry dragon. It was definitely a laughing matter then, but not now. They were not enjoying quality time or the like, but rather, they were reviewing battle tactics that would best aid them. Saphira I and Brom were on Vroengard, as a somewhat last resort. Angela and Selena were on Vroengard as well, awaiting word. Only a few riders at the moment in Alagaesia knew where the thirteen Forsworn and Galbatorix was presently, and that was Murtagh, Eragon, and Brom. Reinforcements weren't coming any time soon.
A horn sounded, and the soldiers were less than a mile away. "So it begins," Eragon said to himself.
Fly, fly! Take to the skies, and destroy these monsters! Eridor shouted in all of their heads. Eridor, son of Vanilor and king of the wild dragons. Vanilor was the former king, but he passed on the "crown" the his son Eridor. And of course, the dwarf Orik was with them. Orik, one of his most trusted pure blooded friends, aside from Evandar. The dwarf seemed rather excited by the fact that two half-elves and one dwarf were about to face thousands. Granted they did have over a hundred dragons on their side, but they were the only two-leggeds there, and still, most of those ten-thousand would be focused on the three of them.
"Orik!" Eragon shouted to his friend, beckoning him over. The dwarf ran over and stopped before him.
"Yes Eragon?" Orik inquired.
"I know I have wards on you, but I want to be a bit more cautious. Murtagh and I have incredibly enhanced, well, everything, but you don't. I know dwarves are hellish mighty, but I want to place some enchantments on you," Eragon explained.
The dwarf became wary, "What kind of enchantments?"
"I can easily increase your speed, strength, sight, hearing, all of those things," Eragon said.
"I will be able to kill more men yes?"
"Yep," Eragon said casually.
"What are you waiting for?!" Roared the dwarf. Eragon smiled and began placing enchantments over the dwarf. Dragon sight, Kull strength, elf speed, but he did not increase his hearing. He figured Orik would not enjoy the clamor of battle amplified a hundred times over. Murtagh trotted over to the two and he hefted Arucane on his shoulder.
"Are you ready?" He asked. Eragon nodded, but Orik was more enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. The three of them then turned and faced the oncoming army, less than half a mile away. The three separated so that there was at least twenty feet between each of them, giving them a wide berth of chaos. A tenth of a mile away now; they began stringing their bows. Eragon himself grabbed his own half-elven bow that was slung around his back. The bow was stronger than any other races weapons, including elves. The arrow tips were made of brightsteel, and not a ward in the world could stop brightsteel.
He brought two arrows to the string, and pulled back. When the string reached the release, he targeted a soldier who looked important. He was the one of the only one on a horse, and he seemed to be shouting things to the others. Probably a captain or general, but generals aren't usually on the front lines, he thought.
Saphira... He thought with a tint of sadness. If anything goes wrong, know that I love you so much.
Little one, nothing shall go awry. And you need not tell me, I already know. Saphira said to him. The two shared all of their emotions, fear, anger, hurt, bloodlust.
Good hunting Saphira, he said to his beloved dragoness. And be careful.
You be careful, Saphira joked... or maybe not. Eragon shook his head and aimed at his target once more. The man seemed to be wearing a twirling flame emblazoned on his armor, and Eragon wondered what it meant. Not bothering to dwell on it, he released both arrows, and they hit the man in a split second. One landed straight in his chest, and the other went through the man's mouth. Everyone was still for a full five seconds before a raucous war cry came from the army, and they charged towards the trio. The roar of over a hundred dragons belittled the opposing army. It was like the roar of a lion compared to a goldfish, which is to say, loud.
A good half of the dragons broke off from the others and flew to the ground below to decimate the two-leggeds. Saphira and Thorn among them. With a single nod to each of them, the three began to trot at a brisk pace towards the enemy soldiers.
Over the roar of wind in his ears, he heard Orik shout, "Come on! Bring your pretty face to my axe!" He shouted this just as the three of them were brought into the throng of soldiers. Eragon leaped over the arrows and spears directed his way, and shouted below him, "Jierda!" The spell did as he intended, and the earth below a good one hundred of the men split and it swallowed them up into the ground. He landed with his sword directed downwards, and Brisingr stabbed a man in the chest as he landed. He quickly pulled the sword out of the man's chest and twirled it around, killing everyone who was about to harm him.
Eragon turned and lunged forward, slashing away a spear aiming towards him and used the momentum to turn in a circle and lop off the man's head. Just as the man's head was separated from his body, and arrow whizzed towards him, right where the man's head had been. He quickly leaned to the side and watched the arrow's progress through the air. It hit another soldier dead in the chest. A roar sounded above him, and even though all the dragons had been roaring every since the battle started, this one was close.
He looked up to see the dragon Fundor, the dragon who fought a sea serpent, dive down towards the men and released a licking flame of gold fire, frying all of the men to a crisp. Eragon quickly fought his way out of the reach of the fire, and he heard Orik bashing in the men's skulls and yelling in dwarvish. More dragons dove from the sky, burning enemy soldiers. Quite a few dragons fought on the ground, wreaking havoc everywhere. The two-legged trio knew to stay clear of them, as they might get wounded in the cross-flame.
Once again another man on a horse struck his eye. He seemed to be wearing the cleanest of armor, and was only shouting and directing troops. And it made sense if he was the general considering he was near the back. But to Eragon, he was only a fourth of a mile away.
He parried a strike that would have taken off his head without looking. Of course, his wards would have stopped it, but he didn't want to waste his energy. He sheathed Brisingr and ran forward, killing all who stood in his way with magic. Using one of the twelve words of death, he quickly killed one man, and before he could even fall to the ground, Eragon jumped up onto his head, and launched himself into the air.
Eragon quickly grabbed his half-elven bow, and this time drew three arrows, but once again only put two on the string. The other he held in his hand against the bow itself. He turned the bow to the side and released the string while still in the air. They sailed through the air and one of the arrows landed in his chest. The other missed due to some wind, but Eragon was prepared for that. One arrow lodged itself in the general's chest, presumably his right lung. The other arrow barely missed due to the enormous wind pressure of a dragons' wings.
But Eragon was prepared for this, thus the third arrow. He didn't have enough time to draw back the string and aim, so as fast as he could he set the arrow in his left hand while setting his bow upon his back. He took the arrow from his left hand to his right hand. Five more feet left until he landed on the general. The general did not cry or say anything as Eragon landed upon the man's legs and stabbed the general through the head with his arrow. All of this happened in the span of twenty seconds. Before any could respond to his actions, he shoved the dead man off the horse (Requiescat in pace bastardo) and quickly mounted himself. He kicked the horse in it's ribs, although not unkindly. It was the first time since he began the battle that he took a look around the battlefield. The smell was horrid, and strange smokes were rising from the ground, creating an eerie look around the air. More dragon's were roaring, but not in anger, or a challenge of dominance, but of pain.
He looked around once again, and surrounding the battlefield were over fifty dead dragons. Fifty dead dragons in little over and hour, how could they win?
A/N: Well... that's it. Today is 1/30/13, and the storm was pretty bad, thus the reason I did not post yesterday. It would appear my area has been cursed with horrid weather, but enough of that! Remember to read The Hidden God and Switching Lanes!
Oh, I almost forgot...BOOM! FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS! YAYAYAYAY!