Freedom in chains
Murtagh sat back and looked at his plans drawn upon the rock. The work was going exactly how he planned, although he was not as good as builder as he would have liked to be, but having a dragon and being magician had some perks, namely not relying on anyone else for services or materials. In every essence he was a free man, yet the links that connected him to society were more binding than chains. First and foremost, he had been the Son of Morzan, the sole son, now that Eragon had been acquitted of that burden and through no fault of his own, he felt it more heavily now. Although Eragon was not to blame for this suprise, it had been upsetting to learn of it anyhow and he had felt a certain anger that Eragon would not have fared so well if he was in his position. Any link with the saviour of Alagaesia as they now would probably call him would be a link worth more than a thousand gold chains. Yet Eragon had been just as much a pawn as he had; even more so maybe. Eragon had little choices in the matter and even worse he and the people he had dealt with maintained the illusion he was free to do what he wanted, promising him with a false dawn that would never come.
Secondly, he had finally been accepted in the Varden and was able to fight for them. But then the twins had abducted him, what followed was months of suffering which was only lit by a solitary happy event, Thorn hatching for him. This was then quickly snuffed out as the king subjected them to a range of tortures, which eventually ended in them submitting to Galbatorix. He then quickly learnt their true names, and took the initiative to teach it to them. This had been a very humbling experience for them, not to mention painful, as it laid out their faults as a hunter lays out pelts to dry. He then, at the insistence of Galbatorix's will, fought the varden at every turn, and even had to slay another dragon rider. Finally, he had to impose his own exile on himself as he faced the momentous realisation that the rest of Alagaesia would not tolerate a dragon rider who had served under Galbatorix, willingly or not. Although in the end it had been probably for the best, they needed to heal their souls and staying with other people would distract them from doing the right thing.
As he stirred the stew, in their makeshift pot, cobbled together with magic, he wondered how the rest of Alagaesia was going. Eragon had probably already started building, or rebuilding would be a more accurate term, Vroengard, for where else was such a suitable place. Although maybe there was too much damage wrecked by the fight for it to remain fit for human habitation, although that was Eragon's decision not anyone else's. The elves were probably cowardly hiding in their little forests, licking the wounds from which the war had dealt them, and choosing their monarch. Orik would be trying to lead the dwarven clans through one of the most difficult times in recent history, even as they snapped at his heels when he made a slight falter or err of judgement. The Eldunari that Galbatorix had enslaved would take years or even centuries to fully heal, although it would probably be speeded up by the fact that they had many kin still among them who were sane. Finally, his mind drifted towards the human kingdom, he wondered if Nasuada or Orrin would become King or Queen. Nasuada would probably take the crown; she was a much more likely choice for the Varden, which was in no small way due to the oddities that Orrin exhibited when he was King. Although he questioned the validity of the sources that King Galbatorix had acquired, as many, on reflection, seemed awfully like they were trying to please the king rather than give him the correct portrayal of the circumstances in which the Varden were in.
After he had placed all the stew he would possibly be able to eat in his own bowl, and given the rest which he could not eat to his massive red glittering companion, Thorn. He stared up at the skies, wondering if you could fly up and around those glittering points that seemed so close but just out of arms reach. Thankfully, the last few days had been very nice, no gale-force winds, storm clouds or lightning, and they had been able to see the stars clearly. He and Thorn had decided in the wake of the first reasonably warm day, although it was still below freezing, to venture north and see if anything of interest lay around. Strangely as they went north, they had discovered some old buildings made of stone, frozen away in the ice. After much fire and strength on Thorn's part and his own prodigious skill with magic, they had successfully unearthed, or more aptly de-iced, the rest of the structure. Even though he was very skilful with magic, the work had made him uncomfortably tired. This was due to his previous dependence on the Eldunari for strength, which had meant that the regularity of which he had to fuel magic from his own body had diminished, and thus his performance when he did. After this realisation he had immediately resolved to use magic more often, and now he was slowly improving.
After much searching, and just before they were about to give up, they discovered something of interesting apart from the existence of such a structure so far north. In the floor of the second room, for there were only three rooms to search, there appeared to be trapdoor, and carved in it, were many runes. It was lucky that Galbatorix had had the foresight to teach them the basics of the ancient language and give them a duplicate of a compendium which he himself had compiled. Murtagh had not thought he would have needed it so soon, but he did not know all the letters or words written on the door, and so capturing a fairth of the trapdoor he brought it back to the cave where it now leaned against one of the cave walls. He would have opened the hidden door but it did not budge no matter which way or how hard he tried.
At first he had tried opening the door with brute force, for the spell which Galbatorix had cast to improve the strength of his body still lingered on him, although he was unsure whether it would last forever. Although either way it would be of no significance as he would gradually gain the strength of an elf. After brute force failed him, he turned to magic. He tried numerous spells and even going so far to invoke the name of the ancient language but to no avail, the door still remained resolutely shut. Whatever magic was holding the door shut was not bound by the ancient language, which was strange in itself. Although Murtagh had only recently been aware that you could cast magic without the ancient language, he and Eragon were living proof of that, as well as the rest of the Varden probably. For if Eragon had failed to kill the king, they probably would have been killed by the king or otherwise enslaved against their will. Finally, he resorted to mental probing, opening his barriers in order to reach out into the abyss of the mental landscape, but the further he pushed the tendrils of his mind, the firmer the resistance got until eventually his probe was stopped. Withdrawing his mind warily he had given up, only to just see the ring of the trapdoor, which had a small gem inserted in it flash with a brilliant green which promptly vanished a split second later.
The only few, who might be able to penetrate those mental barriers that were ingrained in the door, would be Galbatorix or Oromis, and maybe not even then. From what he had seen of the elf, his mastery of his own mind was like no-one's he had seen before, not even Galbatorix. To take on numerous Eldunari and Murtagh's own mind and to come close to winning was a feat that few would be able to replicate, even throughout history. The more he thought about it the more he realised that probably opening the door was not a very good idea, anybody who had built this structure so far north and removed from society, would probably have meant for it to contain something dangerous. Yet what would warrant such stringent measures and what would happen if this thing was unleashed. As he was brooding, contemplating writing a piece about the experiences he had had so far, and the fire's embers were slowly dying with every cooling gust of wind, his peripheral vision detected another green flash, but before he could even blink it vanished. One thing was for sure though; it originated in the direction of the stone building they had found.
Arya sighed as she flew over the tree-tops of Ellesmera, of all the things she thought she would do in her job the last thing that would come to mind is singing en-masse. Sure, she thought, she would participate in the elven ceremonies where they were required to sing but she did not think that she would participate in a massive expansion of the elves self-contained domain. She had fought long and hard against the decision of the council to expand the borders, but eventually they had convinced her that it was necessary. Her initial arguments had been that it would be seen as rude by the other races, and anyway the humans needed the wood from their forest. The council had eventually; with the sheer amount of arguments they had come up with, overwhelmed her defences and convinced her that it was necessary. The borders, where the elves influence would wane and even stop entirely, would be the various creeks meandered through the forest as well as the place where spells stopped items of magical propulsion trying to enter Du Weldenvarden. But as she rode Firnen, the flying along with the sense of companionship that Firnen brought, gradually eroded away her worries and she remembered how beautiful the Forrest looked from upon high when she had first seen it. It was then Firnen said "What are you talking about, the forest is nothing compared to my beauty" she smiled at the vanity of dragons and patted his scale, and then finding a hairline gap, she scratched his soft skin underneath. Firnen snorted and a little bit of smoke rolled out of his nostril, slightly warming her skin even as the winds cooled the rest of her body.
As she wandered throughout Nadindel, she remarked how that even if all of the settlement's inhabitants, it would still be a remarkably silent place. Apart from the few elves who had remained behind in case of emergency, there was nobody else here, only her and Firnen. She could almost pretend that they were the only ones there but every so often she caught a glimpse of them, flitting between the trees, dispelling her illusions. But then again, as she heard a roar from above as Firnen dove from the clouds, it was hard to remain inconspicuous and for the peace and quiet to remain unbroken. "I heard that Arya, do not think as queen of the elves you can get away with" she laughed, and in response the birds chirped, as Firnen flapped his wings, buffeting with wings until she eventually fell over. She caught herself before she fell awkwardly on a nearby tree root, but she continued to chuckle as Firnen was looked at her in his peculiar way that she was so fond of. "What is so funny, Arya," she paused as she gathered her wits, and launched into an explanation of what was so funny. Firnen snorted, accidentally letting a few sparks escape, "I will never understand the two-legs, they are so unpredictable." As Firnen shifted his body she noticed that the sun was fast disappearing behind the horizon. "Come, let us get some sleep, tomorrow will be a hard day."
As she mounted Firnen, she wondered how much they would accomplish today, almost every elf in Du Weldenvarden would be participating, but there were many spells of immense complexity that needed to be sung and to top it all off, many of the best elven spellcasters had departed with Eragon. Although she could not fault him for that, he was going to need all the help he could get in raising a cluster of wild dragons, constructing a new city and eventually, when one of the eggs hatched, training the new riders. That reminded her; she needed to consult with the elves that were currently stuck in one of the Dwarven cities, Tarnag she thought. It was an inconvenience to have a two raz'ac, a shade and an unnamed shadow, whatever that was, on the loose. She was convinced that the Dwarves and humans would be able to collectively deal with the Raz'ac, the shade would pose more of a problem, but once they finished their work she was sure that she would be able to convince the council to send a company of elves to assist in the hunt, and hopefully the destruction of the Dwarven shade. The unnamed shadow she was not so sure about but since it had yet to cause to trouble or exhibit any show of force, she was inclined to ignore it, there were more pressing matters. Such as whether she should increase the power of the elven lords to make decisions on her behalf as it was her opinion that she should spend more time consorting with the other races, than babysitting her own people. The council were hesitant about this not because they were bad leaders, quite the contrary, but they thought it might make them power-hungry, nevertheless she thought it could still work given enough tinkering to the elven laws.
Noticing that she had whiled away dawn thinking about politics, she decided to take more interest in her surroundings. Casting an appreciative eye over the monotonous forests below her she absorbed the many details that she saw. Whether it was the number of black feathers on a bird or a creek meandering through the sparse undergrowth on the forest floor, she took it all in, until she came to the realisation that the trees were slowly getting smaller and more spread. Taking this as a sign that they were close to the border, she adjusted her clothes to appear more regal in front of the elves she ruled over. For she knew that they would not expect anything less than her looking her best, well as good as anyone can look after riding a dragon for a few hours. Although most elves held her in high esteem due to a number of reasons, namely her devotion to the elves cause as well as being tortured at the hands of Durza, any tardiness on her behalf would instantly diminish their opinion of her. Any ruler whose subjects did not think highly of them, did not last long whether it be among the immortal elves or the short lived humans.
As she adjusted the tiara, or crown as the humans would call it, she thought of how it originally had been uncomfortable to wear and then gradually as she wore it more and more, it formed into shape. The only downside to that had been that she often forget she was wearing it and when taking a dip in the creeks outside of Oromosi's hut, or now her hut, it sometimes fell off and she had to chase after it as the water carried it away. What a tale that would be, a queen whose only reason to losing her crown was that she did not know if it was on or off her head because it was so comfortable. As her peeling laughter rang through the air, she heard and felt Firnen below her trying to stifle his snorts, until eventually both of them were laughing their heads off. This continued for a few moments, until it disrupted Firnen so much from flying that he clipped a tree with his wing. He went spinning for a second, until he righted himself and climbed in altitude, careful to avoid repeating the same mistake. Seething with annoyance, "Bloody tree" Firnen bellowed "It's lucky I am in a good mood or otherwise", his message accompanied by a stream of green flame originating from his mouth, directed at the sky, scaring a few birds in the process. She was hardly aware of this though as she descended into a fit of laughter at the image of Firnen colliding with the tree.
As the hours rolled by and the trees gradually became sparser and smaller, she fell into a lull, rising and falling in time with Firnen's steady beat. The sun had risen above the horizon and after a half an hour of flying the edge of the forest became visible and then the plains as well, stretching on into the distance as far as the eye could see. As Firnen caught sight of the Gama River, he changed course and by midday they had arrived at the edge of the forest. Elves were lined along its edge and as they drifted downwards in a spiral she could hear their heavenly melodies floating upwards. Smiling, she once again descended into the maw that threatened to consume her life, and more importantly her soul.
A/N Good day to everyone, I am sorry I couldn't fit in the POV's that I said I would but I thought it was more important to get this chapter up than include them, anyway I like keeping my chapters a reasonable size, 5000 words takes quite a while to write. However to make it up, I will include all the POV's I skipped out on in the next chapter plus Eragon. I might be able to get another chapter up by the end of the weekend but don't be disappointed if it doesn't happen.
I have now got a rough outline for the plot of the story. Eragon will find his new place for the dragons in about 3 or 4 chapters, but time in Alagaesia would be about 6 months to a year, the reason I will confine it to this distance/timescale is that you don't want the riders too far away otherwise the new dragon riders will take too long to get there or get lost on the way. The reason why you don't want it less than 6 months is that ships go slower and do not, metaphorically speaking, go as the dragon flies. You also do not want to be too close to Alagaesia and you need to find a suitable mountain range or island as well. This limits their options greatly, which is one of the reasons why it will take such a lengthy timescale to find. I am undecided about whether they should travel across an inland sea, or a small ocean. Thanks for reading and please review, thank you for those who continue to offer their loyal support to my story, I do not know how to pay repay you except by writing more chapters.
P.S. I will do the following POV's definitely, plus a few more:
Eragon (Obviously)
Saphira
Murtagh
Arya
Nasuada
Orik
Potential POV's
Thorn
Blodhgarm
Glaedr
Roran
Angela
Dwarven Magician
Orrin (very slight chance)
I have missed anyone obvious who I should do, or not included one I have already done, please leave it in the review section(Hint: it is below this). Thank you very much and have a nice day