Chapter XV of Shadow, a work of fan fiction based on Christopher Paolini's InheritanceCycle.
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Gïrnięn grunted with exertion as he chased after Svellbitr. Sundavr had trained him to run as fast as Svellbitr could when walking, and now as fast as Svellbitr flied. The strange bond between elf and Lethrblaka seemed almost as strong as a Rider bond, if not stronger. Cïtirinus was also flapping behind Svellbitr, sometimes slowing down for Gïrnięn to catch up. Gïrnięn was embarrassed about that, but also grateful. Cïtirinus was the best companion he could hope for, practically thinking about Gïrnięn's welfare every second.
Pardon me, but I think you think of yourself a little too highly. Cïtirinus teased.
Hurry up! At this rate, you'll never even make it to Doru Araeba in time for Mania to skewer you! Sundavr's pessimistic voice sounded through Gïrnięn's skull.
Gïrnięn had been training with Sundavr for almost a month now, each day consisting of a grueling routine that tested his physical and mental abilities, his endurance, his skill and his cunning. Sundavr focused on cunning most of all, for Mania was "Much too strong for you to stand any chance against her with only brute force and wrapped in too many wards for any direct spells to take her down."
Sundavr had spoken of Mania in simultaneously disgusted, amazed, and reverent tones. According to Sundavr, Mania was "Something you don't want to know until you actually meet her."
So far, Gïrnięn had learned spells to suck moisture from living organisms, spells to rearrange weather and terrain to his favor, and spells to remove hemoglobin from bloodstreams. He groaned just thinking about it. Right, like Mania's going to be affected by the removal of her hemoglobin.
Suddenly, Gïrnięn was pulled from his thoughts. Sundavr has been peskier than we had realized… His cloak-and-dagger spell have kept us at bay until we slipped through it… Trust us, when we find you, you shall wish that you were never born… Pain engulfed Gïrnięn, and he blacked out.
Another two months had passed, and the end of the year was fast approaching. Gïrnięn had become much more proficient at magic, and his mental capabilities had greatly strengthened. He had a few tricks ready for Mania. As Gïrnięn sat on a rock, watching the clouds roll across the sky. After a while, he became aware that Sundavr was standing behind him. "Sundavr-ebrithil?"
Sundavr grunted. "Good. At least your observation is decent."
"Is there any anomaly?"
"No. We shall leave for Doru Araeba tomorrow at dawn. Pack your bags."
Gïrnięn sighed. "Already? Time slips through my fingers, it seems."
"Shut up and pack your bags. We shall be departing."
Cïtirinus?
I got the message from Svellbitr-ebrithil already.
Well, then, prepare to fly by dawn.
Withdrawing from the contact, but not completely so that he could still get a sense of Cïtirinus' emotions, Gïrnięn headed into the cavern to start packing.
As Cïtirinus flapped over the sparkling Western Ocean, Gïrnięn looked down to watch for Nïdhwhal. He was eager to see the strange creatures, and watched carefully, both through his own and Cïtirinus' eyes. Looking back at the dark, leathery shape of Svellbitr, Gïrnięn marveled at the wonders the world had to offer.
Stop daydreaming, and look ahead!
Gïrnięn leaned forward, squinting. Ahead the dark shape of Vroengard loomed, and some sinister quality lingered about it, like a dark mist settling on the island. Cïtirinus flapped into the mist, and like a knife slicing through butter, his radiant aura dispelled the sinister feel. As Cïtirinus flapped over the island, Gïrnięn spotted gigantic ruins, and a cleared space. Tiny figures stood there, as Cïtirinus landed. Gïrnięn surveyed the crowd.
At the front was a litter covered with a canopy of spider silk. A dark shape lurked behind it. Four corpses stood to attention next to the litter. Three figures loomed behind it: A corpse wrapped in a cloak with leathery wings spreading from its back, holding a scythe stood in front. Its wings were batlike, and the scythe was made of titanium. The cloak was pinned with a silver skull brooch, arcane symbols dancing along it.
A corpse dressed in pontifical robes with powerful, gnarled horns protruding from its head stood to the left, behind the winged corpse. It held a staff with a glowing orb—serving doubly as both a torch and a walking cane. Its robes, though pontifical in style, were a rippling ebony.
A final corpse dressed in full armor decorated with ivory skulls, holding a sword studded with a single, blood-red garnet stood to the right, behind the winged corpse. The blade seemed like polished obsidian shards covering a silver austenitic steel blade. The armor was steel, gilded with green electrum, which glowed weakly in the afternoon light.
The three stepped forward to greet Gïrnięn. The winged corpse's voice slithered out from his mouth, like a mouse escaping from the jaws of a dead cat.
"We, the Trinity Council, cordially welcome you to this… event. I, Lord Dilitiriodis," he gestured to the horned corpse, "Imperator Apokyres," he gestured to the warrior corpse, "and Sir Sklirýnei welcome you to your immediate… encounter with Lady Mania…" He looked up at Cïtirinus. "We've prepared an opponent for your faithful steed also…" Out of nowhere, a giant reptilian creature slithered out. Four heads darted in and around each other. One head seemed to be completely constructed of metal, the other three white, gray, and black.
The creature looked at Gïrnięn at sent its thoughts at him.
How have you been getting along, dearest Gïrnięn?
Gïrnięn jolted. That voice. So familiar. Why? Suddenly he realized the problem.
"But you're- you're-"
The hydra's four heads smile at him in perfect synchronization.
Yes, dear prey, I am Shadow.