Chapter XIV of Shadow, a work of fan fiction based on Christopher Paolini's InheritanceCycle.
Every week or so, a new chapter will be published, so stay on your toes for more!
I'm thinking about changing the title, if you're interested in voting, please enter a suggestion in the comments. I will pick one to change my title to. Alternatively, you can vote to keep the title the same. Thanks for your support!
Svellbitr is ancient language for ice biter.
Gïrnięn screamed as the burst of heat rose on a collision course with his face. Quickly, he wrapped himself in his dragonhide cloak, using magic to seal it tight yet still let in enough oxygen to breathe. Then he remembered oxygen was flammable. The rising inferno crashed into him, simply working its way around his shapeless form the way water washes around a stone. Then a small portion found its way inside the breathing hole.
From the outside, it looked like the dragonskin bundle holding Gïrnięn burst into thousands of tiny shards, raining down on the Burning Plains. From Gïrnięn's vantage point, however, it seemed more like Deus Ex Machina. Shadow's sick and evil laughter reverberating in his mind, Gïrnięn was confused when what felt like a giant bird-of-prey sank its claws into Gïrnięn's shoulders and flapped away. Gïrnięn froze in shock and fear for the first five minutes, then struggled frantically for the next ten. The unidentified creature only dug deeper into Gïrnięn's shoulders. Looking up, Gïrnięn froze. He was being carried by a Lethrblaka.
Panicking, Gïrnięn muttered spells, but somehow he couldn't get anything to work. Something was blocking the flow of his magic. Shadow's now-way-too-familiar voice, dripping with malice, giggled.
Well, well… maybe things didn't go as planned… But you are still going to die…
Gïrnięn tried to contact Cïtirinus, but Shadow seemed to dampen the mental connection somehow.
No more Deus Ex Machina for you, Gïrnięn… The cavalry won't arrive for a while…
The Lethrblaka finally reached its destination—a cave carved in the side of a rugged mountain, carpeted with miles of evergreens. The conifers were a dark green, almost black, and long, spindly needles protruded from gnarled, twisted branches, having an overall sinister look, like solemn sentinels guarding the gaping maw of the mountain. The mountain's rock was basalt, but it was darker than obsidian and gave the illusion of sucking in the light around it. The mountainside stretched far up into the sky, eventually consumed by dark clouds. The overall effect gave the likeness of a giant, spiny beast with a cavernous orifice guarding a pile of darkened emeralds.
As the Lethrblaka landed, it dropped Gïrnięn, who then attempted to run into the rugged taiga outside. Tripping on a growing creeper, Gïrnięn fell to the cave floor, almost impaling himself on a stalagmite.
"Now, now, don't be hasty…" A foreign voice emanated from behind Gïrnięn. The voice was deep and booming, but still soft, like a gong somehow reduced to the volume of a kitten purring.
Gïrnięn clambered up from his prostrate position on the cavern's floor, warily turning around. A tall, slender figure stood behind him, watching him curiously. In the dim light, Gïrnięn could only make out his almost-glowing white hair and strange yellow feline eyes.
"Svellbitr found you in trouble on the Burning Plains… Now, tell me, what were you thinking, making deals with Shadow and Letæst?"
Gïrnięn inhaled sharply. How did the figure standing in front of him know about Shadow and Letæst?
"I have my ways." A dazzling smile shone out from the darkness. "Many underground connections… That's all unimportant."
"Who are you? How do you control the… Lethrblaka?"
"My name is unimportant. However, if you must, you may refer to me as Sundavr. Svellbitr here is an old friend of mine—I knew him since he hatched as a Ra'zac… All that, once again, is irrelevant. Because you have not replied, Letæst has made… arrangements for you to be at Doru Araeba. His agents are not very careful when making dealings… They forgot even to tell where to meet."
Sundavr stepped forward, into the light. Gïrnięn looked up at his face and fear spread from the most primeval parts of his mind, working its way through his body. The flesh on the right side of Sundavr's face was stripped away, leaving only slivers of skin clinging to graying muscle that barely gripped stark bone. The left side of his face was burned and scorched, skin pale and leathery. The same angular, sharp feline eyes were sunken deep into his skull. His shining white hair was actually bare bone, only a few strands of actual graying hair sticking to his scalp. His torso was emaciated, a ripped tunic barely hiding it. An ankle length ebony cloak was draped from his shoulders, clasped together with a silver sickle brooch.
"My appearance is hideous, is it not?" Sundavr spread his hands, the bone shining through the ashen flesh. "However, being an elf, my battle wounds brought me to the very brink of death. When the members of my immortal race would not heal me, I retreated into this hidden land, the land beneath Tüdosten Lake, with an entrance that can only be accessed through the Burning Plains. A spell woven eons ago concealed the path here, but it cannot fool Letæst. He will arrive soon, searching for you. I assure you I am not associated with him in any way. I can also assure you I do not wish to see Alagaësia overrun by the undead. For this reason, I have decided to aid you. The end of the year is fast approaching, and I shall train you in magic until I see you are prepared enough to go up against Mania…"
Gïrnięn looked up at Sundavr's horror of a body. "And if I disagree?"
Sundavr showed the first hint of emotion he had since Gïrnięn had seen him. "You would allow the earth to be overrun by the undead only because you reserve for me spite? You were worse than I thought!" Yellow spittle flew from Sundavr's mouth.
Gïrnięn wiped the saliva off. "Alright, fine," he said grudgingly, "but I need to contact Cïtirinus, Jinaë, and Chrosiuä."
Sundavr twisted towards him. "No! Only your dragon shall be allowed into this area!"
Suddenly, Gïrnięn fell to the ground, wracked in pain. Shadow's voice vibrated through his skull, its dual charisma and hate splitting into three voices that constantly fluctuated between three separate voices and one unified voice. The message, however, was the same.
We know where you are. We will be coming for you. Await your death…